Work It

Brian is my favorite person in the world (no offense to the rest of you) but I don't want to spend 24 hours a day with him.  This is what I keep telling myself to justify the fact that I don't want to stay home with Rhys. 

Somewhere along the way I got the idea in my head that if I loved Rhys "enough" I'd want to be a stay-at-home mom.  My infuriatingly logical brain then says, well, since you don't want to stay at home, you must not love him enough.  But, wait, brain.   I love Brian a ton and yet I don't want to be with him all day long.  So, my love for Rhys isn't flawed just because I need more in my life than taking care of him.  Ha, take that logical brain!  

When I first went back to work my desire to do so did not feel contradictory to my love for Rhys.  My precious baby was in the excellent care of his wonderful father.  Now that we're getting ready for daycare, the mommy-guilt has arrived and though its weight is heavy, I still want to work.

There are obvious reasons for my desire to work: money, personal satisfaction, adult conversation, intellectual stimulation, etc.  Perhaps less obvious is this...I love knowing that when the inevitable mistake occurs, it's just not that big of deal.  Yes I will feel bad, but Nordstrom will not go under.  I am simply not that important, thank goodness.  I frequently preach perspective to my team:  "we're not saving lives here, people!"  As a stay-at-home mom, I'd have a much tougher (impossible?) time keeping things in perspective.  Letting the inevitable mistakes roll off my back would be a serious challenge.

I think when Rhys is older, he'll understand my desire to work - he seems to have it too.  He did some supervisin' this week when Brian was mowing:

  



         

 

Six Months

Today was Rhys' six-month doctor check-up.  I look forward to these visits because we get to see how much Rhys is growing and I dread them because of the vaccines.  So, the good stuff first...

Weight:  18lbs, 2.5oz (62nd percentile)
Height:  27.5" (84th percentile)
Head circumference:  46cm (94th percentile)

With a head that big, is it any surprise that the kid gets tired and frustrated in tummy time?

We got kuddos from the doctor on the long stretches Rhys is sleeping at night.  I'd love to show you a picture of him performing this wonderful feat (he looks so precious in his little pj's snuggled up with Lamby) but of course I won't let Brian anywhere near our sleeping angel with a camera for fear of waking him.  Brian did manage, though, to snap this sweet sleeping pic when we arrived at the doctor's office today. 

And, yeah, Rhys is no lightweight. We've continued our effort around solids and he's making great progress, so I don't imagine he'll be thinning out anytime soon.  Well, actually, if he has to fight Elliott for his meals, he might.

Then there are the vaccines.  A liquid taken orally and three shots.  Painful for Mom, Dad and Rhys - the cute band-aids are little consolation.

All-in-all, though, a great check-up.  We're are so lucky and so very, very grateful for this happy, healthy baby. 

Ouch

Brian injured himself playing softball.  No, I am not joking.  He dove for a fly ball and hurt his shoulder (made the catch, though) and twisted his knee getting out of the batter's box.  At the time, of course, he played them off like no big deal and even when he got home was in good spirits about his injuries.  The next morning, though, was a completely different story.  He was hurting for real.  He was hurting so much that he called his parents to come take care of Rhys so he could lay low and ice.

Brian has been incredibly empathetic about the pain I've endured since Rhys' birth so I tried very, very hard to reciprocate.  But, seriously?  It was difficult.  I gave birth to a human being.  He played old-man softball.  They just aren't even in the same league (pun intended).

Rhys was a little more understanding.  He helped his dad ice.

Maybe, though, Rhys wasn't acting of sympathy.  Maybe he just was feeling guilty that we don't actually have any ice since our freezer it is chock full of breast-milk. 

In addition to taking care of Rhys, Gramma and Grandpa had to keep running out for ice. 

He's already feeling better, so I expect Brian will make a full recovery.  Maybe next time he'll remember that we're parents now - old, sleep-deprived and out-of-shape.  And, of course, blissfully happy because we've got this little guy in our lives.

   





   

Week in Review: The Good, The Bad, The Ugly

The Good
So many good things to report...

Brian and Rhys spent Thursday with Gramma and Grandpa Wynne.

(Complete tangent, but I must tell this funny story.  We recently babysat our brilliant four-year-old niece Norah and at one point we asked her a question about Gramma and Grandpa Wynne.  Her response? "Who are those guys?"  She knows her grandparents very well but, obviously, does not refer to them as Gramma and Grandpa Wynne.  They are Gramma Mary Pat and Gaga John.  Duly noted.)

Anyway...Brian and Rhys spent the day with them in order to 1) get out of the house since the cleaners were coming (yay!) and, more importantly, 2) help celebrate their wedding anniversary.  I can never remember how long they've been married, but it's somewhere in the realm of forever and a day.  Even more impressive is that they still like each other.  Happy Anniversary Gramma and Grandpa Wynne!

Today is my first Mother's Day and it was made all the more special by the presence of Auntie Audrey and Uncle Damiao.  They just popped by, as they do more often than most would expect, on their way from Shanghai to Denver.  We are always happy to see them and grateful for the effort they make to visit.  You'd think I'd have a nice picture of them with Rhys, but no.  Instead, I have a nice picture of the three of us that Damiao took...

 
Rhys is rolling over like a champ.  Well, from back to belly that is.  Once he gets on his belly, more often than not, he's stuck.  And he's not too happy about it.  I actually don't think he's that interested in getting back on his belly.  I think he just wants to make forward motion, so I wouldn't be surprised if he starts crawling before he figures out how to roll back on his belly.

The Bad
My boss resigned and her last day was Friday.  I thoroughly enjoyed working with her and I will miss her a lot.   


The Ugly
We finally executed our months-in-the-making plan to feed Rhys solids.  And?  Not a fan.  He enjoys sucking on food well enough, but to actually have food in his mouth with the intention of consumption?  Um, no thanks.  See his cute/ugly face for yourself...

Direct From the Source

Rhys knows I've been posting lots of stories about him and he wanted the chance to speak for himself.  He's been babbling up a storm lately, but every time we try and film him clams right up.   So far, the video below is the best we have.  Please ignore the hiccups, bug eyes and drool and enjoy the little bit of talking we were able to capture.

A Rant and Some Giggles

Parenthood has given me a new found respect for insomniacs.  I feel so incredibly sorry for anyone who struggles with this terrible affliction.  Rhys woke up to eat last night at 3:15 and he went back to sleep afterwards just fine.  I was not so lucky.  My first mistake was allowing my brain to wake up and start thinking.  Bad idea.  Terrible.  Once my brain gets going, it's hard to slow it down.  I must make a concerted effort to just not think while feeding Rhys.  It's a meditation of sorts.  My second mistake was rocking Rhys for a bit after he finished eating.  His nightime feedings are the only time he's motionless (and therefore snuggly), so it's quite hard to resist the urge to sit and enjoy it for a bit!  Last night I was powerless and the cost of cuddles was no more sleep for mama.

Of course I tried to fall back asleep.  And every minute that ticked by left me more frustrated and upset.  I should have just gotten up, but I didn't want to let the insomnia win.  (Yes, I realize how ridiculous that sounds).  Rhys has permanently changed my life in a lot of ways, but I am determined to not let sleep be one of them.  I will regain my champion sleeper status.    

Now that I've indulged myself in the woe-is-me sleep rant of the week, here's a series of hilarious self-portraits that Brian took the other day.

 How cute are these boys!?!

Heels of Steel

Rhys is destined to either be a soccer player or swimmer.  He kicks his little legs nearly non-stop.  In this video, you can't see his legs, but just know they are powering the motion.

The kicking itself surprises me (where's the snuggly little baby I ordered?), but what really gets me is how unfazed he is by whatever it is he's kicking.  He uses the same velocity whether in his chair, on the floor, or in the bathtub.  Wood and porcelain be damned, the kid has got heels of steel.  He'll often kick his crib mattress or the slats when he first goes down or first wakes up and it is loud!  As Brian said today, it's like he's playing a bass guitar in his room.

Heaven help us when he starts using those legs to propel himself.  We will be chasing after him endlessly.

As an aside, Brian has a weird thing about "eating" wood...he will not eat any food on a stick and it even wigs him out to watch someone else partake.  Yet he's the one who gave Rhys that wooden spoon to play with.  A father's selfless loves triumphs over the wood-in-the-mouth heebie-jeebies.

Pull the Trigger

When faced with a decision, Brian and I think and analyze and contemplate.  A lot.  We're both naturally like this and our union has seemingly only intensified that characteristic in each other.  The classic example that demonstrates our analysis paralysis is the adoption of our cats.  For several months we discussed getting cats.  We talked about the pros and cons.  We checked out books from the library.  We talked to friends.  We considered other pets.  Then one Monday morning my friend Alisha tells me, '"yeah, we decided to get a kitten this weekend."  What?!  You mean you decided and did it all in one weekend?!  The Westbys know how to pull the trigger.  The Wynnes do not.

So, in classic Wynne form, rather than just feed Rhys solids we are analyzing our way down the path.  Several weeks ago we took a class.  Since then we've been allowing him to suck on various foods here and there.  This weekend we got out the high chair.  We even let him sit it in it.  And, though not part of the plan (gasp!), we let him suck on a red bell pepper all on his own.  Brian actually suggested we just go ahead and feed him some food.  Whoa.  Don't worry, I put the kibosh on that.  We gave him a little bit of formula this weekend and I didn't want to overload his system with too much new stuff.  Phew, spontaneous decision averted.

I don't know what it is, but I'll happily put it in my mouth...just like everything else.

You're not going to take it away, are you?

Dad, I can't understand why you don't like peppers.  They're so good!

  

Extra! Extra! Read All About It!

Brian and I have talked a lot about our sincere intention to simply allow Rhys to be who he is.  We hope to do our best to present him with different opportunities in life, but ultimately let him choose what he likes and wants.

But there is one exception.  We really hope that Rhys likes to read so we're going to encourage/push it as much as we can.  (Well, actually, there's another exception.  Brian really hopes that Rhys likes trains.  I have no idea why.)  Right now when we read to Rhys he's mostly interested in grabbing at the book and trying to put it in his mouth.  I'll admit, that can be a little frustrating, but I have decided to take it as an early sign of his love of books. 

Brian has been further fostering Rhys' love of reading by giving him magazines and newspapers.  I came home one day to find the latest edition of The Economist pretty well crumpled and torn.  This made me quite happy for several reasons.  First, as with eating books, I take it as a sign of Rhys' interest in reading.  Second, I generally find The Economist to be boring so I felt it deserved Rhys' love/abuse.  Third, our house is overflowing with magazines (thanks Gramma and Grandpa Wynne) so its demolished state was a good excuse to recycle it. 

Today, after he was done with it, Brian let Rhys enjoy the newspaper:

Hmm, what's going on in the world today?

All done reading...now I destroy!

Me and my dad.  He's the best.