Hello Friends,
I promise to do my best to be brief. I really don't think I have much to ramble about anyhow, but usually once I get going it's harder to stop than I'd like to admit.
While I know that you've all been super pumped about me finally having my boy I have to admit something. Things are not going as expected.
Clearly the only thing to do is make a positive/negative list.
The positives:
My seed will not die with me.
He's long and lean and even though you might not think it looking at him, strangely strong.
He already clearly has a way with the ladies...no joke, I've never understood how the word "swoon" was a verb until I saw first hand how their knees buckle in his presence.
I could probably go back and see when Rilyn started squatting her own body weight, but I'm pretty sure Ryder is doing it sooner and with much more determination.
He already whispered in my ear how much he hates Porter.
His birth perfectly corresponded with the arrival of 8 point bucks, bears, coyotes, and wild turkeys in my front yard (compared to Rilyn's corresponding with drive by shootings, in home gun point garage robberies, and general "Auroraness").
Where Rilyn raged, snarled, and "whacked a daddy", he smiles, smirks, and smiles some more.
The negatives:
He hates me.
Seriously friends!!! How is this possible? It almost feels like the joke is on me.
Go back and read the old blogs. Even if I had nothing with Rilyn at this age I had one thing to fall back on. The human swaddler. Ryder spits in the face of the human swaddler.
I was also a useful tool come two in the morning when the only thing that would comfort her was to swaddle her (in a real blanket), side position, "SHHH" her, and jiggle her little head (and that friends is 4 of the 5 "s"'s) at the same time.
I've literally tried every one of those.
And every single stinking combination of some or all of them that are mathematically possible.
Results are results. None worked.
You'll never guess what did work. Just the touch of a Mom.
Here's how bad it's gotten. I honestly believe he waits for me to unleash a real good projectile spit up.
Two days ago I was holding him as Anna was finishing up Rilyn's bath. Within 3 seconds there was spit up everywhere.
And if you don't know what everywhere looks like picture the worst horror movie ever. And then picture that movie having a baby with the devil himself just so they could have their own baby that could really pile on the gore.
That my friends would describe about 10% of what my son is capable of.
Anyways, as I was trying to clean up I knew by the amount left on his chin that there was more.
Yes, more undiscovered, lurking, vile smelling spit up.
And that meant there was either more on me, or more on a piece of furniture.
You might think it'd be worse on me, but no, I assure you it's not. Spit up of this caliber does not immediately stand out. It waits for one of two things.
1) It can be days later, but the second your nose gets within proximity it releases the assault hounds on your nose.
2) Somehow, it'll stay wet for days until you happen to touch that piece of couch that hasn't been touched in a while.
Know what's even scarier? When 1 and 2 team up and the scent knocks you to your knees only to find that the hand that was put on the rug to stable you ended up in undiscovered floor spit up.
Anyways, back to the story. The problem was that no matter how hard I looked I was unable to locate the lurking spit up land mine.
He also sneak attacked me with a smile so I probably got distracted.
And that friends is how I discovered scenario #3.
What do you think I found ALL OVER MY PANT LEGS the next morning at work?
Do you think I looked manly to my co-workers all day having to cross my legs praying to John Elway that they wouldn't smell it?
And do you think I didn't know how hosed I'd be if any of them happened to smell it, fall to their knees in disgust only to find that their hands also ended up in the pile of spit up Ryder left there weeks ago?
That's right my friends, my son already has me living in fear.
I promise to do my best to be brief. I really don't think I have much to ramble about anyhow, but usually once I get going it's harder to stop than I'd like to admit.
While I know that you've all been super pumped about me finally having my boy I have to admit something. Things are not going as expected.
Clearly the only thing to do is make a positive/negative list.
The positives:
My seed will not die with me.
He's long and lean and even though you might not think it looking at him, strangely strong.
He already clearly has a way with the ladies...no joke, I've never understood how the word "swoon" was a verb until I saw first hand how their knees buckle in his presence.
I could probably go back and see when Rilyn started squatting her own body weight, but I'm pretty sure Ryder is doing it sooner and with much more determination.
He already whispered in my ear how much he hates Porter.
His birth perfectly corresponded with the arrival of 8 point bucks, bears, coyotes, and wild turkeys in my front yard (compared to Rilyn's corresponding with drive by shootings, in home gun point garage robberies, and general "Auroraness").
Where Rilyn raged, snarled, and "whacked a daddy", he smiles, smirks, and smiles some more.
The negatives:
He hates me.
Seriously friends!!! How is this possible? It almost feels like the joke is on me.
Go back and read the old blogs. Even if I had nothing with Rilyn at this age I had one thing to fall back on. The human swaddler. Ryder spits in the face of the human swaddler.
I was also a useful tool come two in the morning when the only thing that would comfort her was to swaddle her (in a real blanket), side position, "SHHH" her, and jiggle her little head (and that friends is 4 of the 5 "s"'s) at the same time.
I've literally tried every one of those.
And every single stinking combination of some or all of them that are mathematically possible.
Results are results. None worked.
You'll never guess what did work. Just the touch of a Mom.
Here's how bad it's gotten. I honestly believe he waits for me to unleash a real good projectile spit up.
Two days ago I was holding him as Anna was finishing up Rilyn's bath. Within 3 seconds there was spit up everywhere.
And if you don't know what everywhere looks like picture the worst horror movie ever. And then picture that movie having a baby with the devil himself just so they could have their own baby that could really pile on the gore.
That my friends would describe about 10% of what my son is capable of.
Anyways, as I was trying to clean up I knew by the amount left on his chin that there was more.
Yes, more undiscovered, lurking, vile smelling spit up.
And that meant there was either more on me, or more on a piece of furniture.
You might think it'd be worse on me, but no, I assure you it's not. Spit up of this caliber does not immediately stand out. It waits for one of two things.
1) It can be days later, but the second your nose gets within proximity it releases the assault hounds on your nose.
2) Somehow, it'll stay wet for days until you happen to touch that piece of couch that hasn't been touched in a while.
Know what's even scarier? When 1 and 2 team up and the scent knocks you to your knees only to find that the hand that was put on the rug to stable you ended up in undiscovered floor spit up.
Anyways, back to the story. The problem was that no matter how hard I looked I was unable to locate the lurking spit up land mine.
He also sneak attacked me with a smile so I probably got distracted.
And that friends is how I discovered scenario #3.
What do you think I found ALL OVER MY PANT LEGS the next morning at work?
Do you think I looked manly to my co-workers all day having to cross my legs praying to John Elway that they wouldn't smell it?
And do you think I didn't know how hosed I'd be if any of them happened to smell it, fall to their knees in disgust only to find that their hands also ended up in the pile of spit up Ryder left there weeks ago?
That's right my friends, my son already has me living in fear.
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