The Simple Bear Necessities.

March 18th, 2011

Ryan, the bear, on the farm....a bear on a farm?

It is funny that we keep finding ourselves observing Ryan. We try to catch him becoming more like a person that can think and act on his own, instead of by innocence and necessity. See right now he is just so pure and so sweet. He hasn't been clouded by deception, temptation, lies or hate. He may not like not pooping for 2 days and cry about it, but he is constipated with a pure heart (and a full butt.) He may like mommy's milk coming from mommy rather than from the bottle, but it is not like he is pulling into the drive-thru and sneaking an extra boob during Lent. Nope, this baby is just simple....simply sweet. 
As his Mom and I continue to watch our boy grow and continue do things he has never done before, we are doing so during his daily routine - 9am Eat, then to the bath, then change into fresh clothes, then straight to the funky farm, which we have named, the Beekman. (See Fab Beekman Boys) After his play time on the farm, he goes on to nap, eat, poop several more times before bed time. Going through the routine we look forward to the things we can always count on like his smiles, the laughing, the kicking, the arm-pumps and growling like a bear. Ang calls him her little growly bear. It is very funny.  Sometimes when he is in between a growl and a laugh we get a real loud one. GrrrrrOOowwll! When I change his diaper, he gives me a growl. Even as he is in dreamland he growls. You never can tell if he is happy or pooping. Although you should be able to tell by the explosions, mentioned in the "Greatest Show in Diapers" entry in February. 
He loves his time on the Beekman. He doesn't love the tummy time, where he exercises his muscles by laying on his tummy. Rather he loves to lay on his back and look up at all the dangling farm animals. There is a cow with a mirror, which reminds me of the Eli Lilly field trip in 5th grade. That is when we saw the cow with the window in his belly so you can see his innards working, ewww! Also dangling from the Beekman are other animals like the lamb that plays "Old MacDonald" as well as the a Chicken that rattles and a pig that jingles.  Dunno why Ryan loves this farm so much, but he does. He lays there smiling, kicking, grabbing and growling. In perfect parent fashion, we watch him like it is the best thing on TV.  Ang will look at me and say, "did you see him do that?" I will reply, "Yes, I bet no other kid has grabbed a toy that fast, he is soooo smart!" I will ask the Doc next visit what upper percentile he is now since he is doing such advanced motor skills...you know... grabbing stuffed animals.....and he is so young...beyond his days. He is young, right? I mean I still refer to his age in weeks and not months. 
I am sure in some parent magazine Ang and I aren't supposed to be oo'ing and aww'ing over the boy and that we are spoiling him and this may cause him to grow up hating his parents. It's not like we are dressing him up and plastering it all over the internet.....oops. I mean we love this boy, how can we not?  Oh well, I love it, we love it. He is so much fun to watch, the new things and the normal things. We love that he is sweet and innocent. I guess being so simple is what makes him so sweet...our simple growly bear. He can not act for himself and only does what is necessary. Maybe that is the secret to his sweetness, him depending on us helps too. We better savor this now because before you know it he will tell us the baseball threw itself through the window. We will get frustrated and we will have wondered whatever happened to his bear necessities, his simple bear necessities.

Lyrics from the song:

The bare necessities of life will come to you
They'll come to you!

Look for the bare necessities
The simple bare necessities
Forget about your worries and your strife
I mean the bare necessities 
That's why a bear can rest at ease
With just the bare necessities of life

I'd Like to Solve the Puzzle.... (a tribute to Grandma Carter)

March 4th, 2011

Ryan playing against himself and himself!

There comes a time in every person's life when you feel that the crazy things you say will come true.  It is never anything like "I hope this light changes to green before I get there so I don't have to brake" or "I hope I wake up with washboard abs in the morning." It is puzzling how God decides which requests go in the "granted tray."  I am sure I will never figure it out, which is why life remains exciting. Well recently I opened my mouth and if you know me, that is expected to be quickly followed by an inserted foot. This time is different. (I think I just heard a jaw hit the floor from every teacher from my past) This time I really wished for something out loud and against usual luck, I feel it is coming true. Here is the story -I warn you, this is a funny tragedy....okay? This past Fall, we lost Ryan's Great Grandma Carter. In the weeks and days leading to her final departure,  the entire Carter family (Ang's Mother's side of the family) had a chance to get to know each other better. Grandma Carter, Ryan's namesake, was one of those people that was so selfless and sweet. Every family member stayed the entire time she was in the hospital. It was amazing, but she deserved nothing less. Well as she was moved from intensive care to the hospice wing in the final couple days, we all had a chance to hang out in the room watching her final moments. It sounds terrible, but it was therapeutic. We were all hanging out, laughing, crying and telling great stories of a woman so special. One day the doctor came in after some readings and gave her a few hours after they took her off the respirator. Two days later we were all joking because it was perfect Grandma fashion to hang on because she didn't want to miss anything. She didn't have faults just quirky-isms. For instance, she was "nibby" or current on every ones lives.  So when Ang and I came back from IU and bought a house, we had a 3 week period before we could move in, so we stayed at Ang's folks....next door to Grandma. Every time we'd go out and come home late, we could count on her peeking at us through the window.  She isn't nosy, she just doesn't want to miss anything. So in those final moments of her life. We all stood around the bed, looking at her, praying and telling stories. We watched her take her final breath. We all sat there starring at her and hugging each other - it finally happened. Ang was 6 months pregnant at the time (this is were my opened mouth comes into play) so I said to everyone I hope her soul goes to the nearest unborn baby! Oh that made Ang happy and sad. I meant it too. If I could have my new baby end up sweet, selfless, hard working, love everyone, love his church and ends up a bit nibby - I would have won the lottery.  I know this entry seems like it is about Grandma more than Ryan, but hold on I am not done. 
Ang and I are new parents, right? So we are still in the curb feeler stage. We have the feelers out in pursuit of the perfect way to get Ryan to go to sleep, stop crying, burp, take a bath and oh yea, stop crying. (did I say that twice? sigh!)  One day a few weeks ago, as we blindly try to establish a routine for sleeping, we find that this kid will peek with one eye closed in the middle of a deep sleep. What the? Just sleep ding-dong! Ang and I often stare at Ryan in heart filled awe and thank the good Lord for his blessing. In doing so we often catch ourselves laughing at Ryan spy on us with his peeking eye. One late night I was working on the computer, looked over at the baby monitor and saw Ryan, laying in the bassinet, staring at Ang asleep next to her. I thought to myself, just go to sleep ding-dong! Then it hit me in the head, like a nun with a ruler, what I said at the hospital that Fall afternoon, "I hope Grandma's soul goes to the nearest unborn baby."  I chuckled to myself. Ang and I are constantly laughing about his inability to fall asleep because our social-butterfly...(cough)...I mean social-pterodactyl with laser beams will miss something, just like his Great Grandma Carter. 
Grandma Carter had a few things she loved to do or considered routine. These are things you and I would normally categorize as "-isms" as if to say, that is just Grandma being Grandma. Grandma-ism! Grandma always patted us on the butt and we'd laugh. Which we have found is the best remedy to getting him to sleep...put him in our elbow-pit face down, rocking and patting his butt. Ironic? A few other Grandma-isms are she saved her dinner roll in a wrapped napkin and put it in her purse. She'd always take with her, cans of caffeine-free Diet Coke in a handy pack and store it in her trunk next to styro-foam cooler which houses her bathing suit, just in case. Grandma is famous for watching Wheel of Fortune every day. If she missed it, she and Grandpa would record it on a VCR tape. How can you not absolutely love this sweet woman? :) 
      To back up that part of Grandma lives on in my son, I have the most convincing evidence yet: Ang and I have done everything we could to entertain/stimulate/teach Ryan. We have bought him the Baby Einstein Lullaby Soother an aquarium music box that lights up and is....soothing! (oh yeah, it attaches on the crib) We have bought the Little Moses and Baby Jesus  DVD's at the Christian Bookstore. We have  bought dozens of dangling toys, vibrating animals, rattling farm toys, music playing stuffed dolls and from the DVD's to the moo-cow bracket the thing he likes best, is watching Pat Sajak spin the wheel on Wheel of Fortune. Really Ryan, Wheel of Freaking Fortune? He just lays on his funky farm with the dangling, vibrating, rattling, wasted money just so he can squawk, smile, laugh and kick while watching the timeless Ms. White turn a white light box to reveal an upper case letter in Arial Bold. One day when he is older the puzzle is going to be "SAME NAME" and it will read CHRIS AND SUCKER STEENO. Why did we spend all that money on that crap? Does this mean I should buy a Nintendo with the WOF game or record the shows for him to watch any time he needs to stop crying, or needs stimulation of the mind?
      No way to avoid it, I can not discount that higher powers are at work here. You know what they say, "ask and you shall receive." Well I have to say, we couldn't be happier that he has some Grandma in his soul because we all miss her something bad. Even though it is puzzling what requests God grants and which ones he does not grant, you just have to have faith that he knows what is best. On that Fall afternoon when my request was made, I am  just glad that when he spun the great wheel in the sky, it landed on "Granted" and not "Lose A Turn." Now it is up to us to teach Ryan that he was blessed with the gift of love. The best way to honor this gift is to sit in front of the TV at 7:00pm EDT, turn it to NBC and when the Category is GREAT PEOPLE, before the first letter is turned he should know that the answer to the puzzle is GREAT GRANDMA CARTER WAS A GREAT GRANDMA.

The Greatest Show in Diapers

February 27th, 2011

How many times have you caught yourself praying for something and it never happens? I pray all the time, but sometimes I catch myself praying for something that I know I will not get, like "Dear God please let the crying stop!" "God, please release the air bubbles inside little dude's belly!!" or "God if you silence my baby now, I swear I will never ask for the Packers to win again and yes you may continue to make me bald." As an adult and life-long church goer'er, I know that you should pray to God for the strength to deal with a crying baby three straight hours with maturity and poise. Something tells me that no matter how much I pray for silly things, the bigger lesson is that I have to learn to deal with this without Moses splitting the the air pockets in Ryan's belly or any other miracle for that matter. Gas and farts are just too small of a problem. Especially with the turmoil in Libya, slavery in Africa, the NFL season in the brink of lockout and Justin Bieber cutting his hair. I realize there are great problems in the world. That just does not compute though at 3am when my little ball of gas is corked up like a bottle of champagne. So on the hunt to find the cure for my buckaroo's Colicky tum-tum, I seek the local CVS pharmacy. I am confronted by Little Tummy's Anti-Gas Drops, Gripe Water, which is a licorice smelling Colic drops and a generic version of Mylicon. We first started with the generic version of Mylicon....after 5 days of no results so we try the Gripe Water. The Gripe water worked the first 24 hours, but sure as the Bears do suck, the little dude continued to store toots for the winter. We need a remedy that works! On a outing with my brother's family to the grand baby store, the even less personal version of WalMart for babies, we were on a hunt for a cure to release the farts! Krista, my sister-in-law, described each product to me and what worked for my niece. So thinking what worked at home and what she says, I bought the Little Tummy's. Five days in to these damn drops we realized they suck too. In the meantime we have heard every horror story and read every M.D. website possible. So finally we called the doctor and explained that we either want an answer, prescription or to take the baby back and to give us a refund. After explaining to us the legalities, not to mention the ethical issues, with giving a baby back, the doctor gave us a name for a good shrink (for me, not my wife) and a suggestion for Mylicon drops, not the generic. Crap, I think this is what Krista suggested in the first place. Ten dollars and 43 cents later I am home in front of my baby and proceed to take the eyedropper, dip it in the bottle, squeeze the squishy top to suck the cotton-candy-pink-goo into the clear tube until it reached .3ml. As soon as I place the dropper into the mouth of Ryan, a powerful glow illuminated, blinding me. A burst of air immediately blew across the entire room causing items on the shelves to fall and the power to flicker. It was reminiscent of the time in the Indiana Jones movie when the lid is removed from the Ark of the Covenant.....okay, I am exaggerating a bit...a tiny bit. It was amazing though. We gave him his first set of drops on Wednesday and it is now Sunday with no long, drawn out screaming fits. I actually slept 5 hours straight on Thursday evening and Ang was sleeping in 3 hour increments. I read the side of the bottle and realized that the generic and the real Mylicon drops are NOT the same. Regardless of our deepest gratitude to the Mylicon company, I wish they would have warned us somewhere on the label or the packaging, "Warning: your baby will experience powerful and exploding farts, smiling may occur." I can not begin to describe the deafening force coming out of this nine pound farting machine. It sounds like a cannon shooting Evel Knievel over a heard of buses and if you catch him sleeping, it is similar to machine gun fire. This really brings a whole new meaning to holy crap! I prayed and it happened, but something tells me I am still going to go bald, the Packers control their own destiny and Justin Bieber will still be a cool dude regardless of his hair. In this crazy five week ride, with our baby boy, I have to thank the big guy for each precious moment. I have deemed this 'The Colic Circus' and even though he is finally farting cannon balls and has become the Greatest Show in Diapers, I need to save my prayers for when he is old enough to try and light them on fire.

You Don't Gno-me!

February 10th, 2011

Every day for the past five days Ryan has a keen sense of knowing when we are tired or in need of sleep. He has developed this cry making pterodactyls sound like song birds on a spring morning. Why the crying? Ever heard of colic? If you haven't, it is a baby term for gas build up in the baby giving them the incredible ability of loud crying and throwing fits. I believe Colic is an acronym for Crazy Out-of-control Loud Insane Crying. As we have to deal with these emotions, I realize I can't call it a good day or a bad day. This is multifaceted and too complex, i must take the bull by the horns and form some strategery. I have discovered that this kid has to be dealt with in categories similar to homeland security threat levels. Level Blue, which I named "Aw, He's Just a Baby," when he is sleeping or napping and this is his peak cuteness. Level Green, which is cleverly named "Rolling With the Gnomies", (a play on words from the song, Rollin' with the Homies) meaning he is in his car seat and we have a 95% success rating for 'no crying' incidents. Level Yellow or "He's Awake!" and being awake has a significant risk of crying and he is just toying with us, waiting for the exact moment in which to pounce. Then there is Level Orange deemed "Holy Crap" because this is a cry in which can only be defended by a diaper change. You can only hope that this means he will quit crying after a fresh diaper has been wrapped around his tooshie. If not this could escalate into a Level Red my friends, oh yes, a Level Red or "Brace Yourself Fool!" Just when you are sitting in your rocker looking at his sweet face wondering how could God give me such a precious gift, he does an about-face which can only be described in to steps. First is the build up. The build up is a teaser, like maybe it isn't going to be a cry at all, maybe just a fart or a deep sign, or grunt. Do not fall for it. This is just a warning, DO NOT LET YOUR GUARD DOWN. The second step skips crying and goes straight into screaming......God awful, ear drum piercing, toe curling, glass breaking, Sasquatch deterring, SCREAMING! 

I have only had three weeks with this kid and just when i thought I had him down and i know him inside and out, he throws a wrench in my spokes. My sweet Candyland, kite flying from a toadstool image of him is gone, the bubble is burst, the dream is ka-put. It is like I don't even know him any more....or at least I only know Hyde, or is it Jekyll?  Okay, maybe i am being a bit too rash because it is 2:50am and I just got him to sleep from a major fit, or that I am sleep deprived. Either way i need to regroup and take a step back to remember the good things (pause).......okay I am back. I have to remember that for the past five years Ang and I have wanted and tried to have a baby. After countless doctors and oncology visits in different states, we became discouraged. I remember praying one day a year ago that if God ever blessed us with a baby, I wouldn't care if he cried every day because it would be worth every minute of lost sleep. So i guess I have to live up to my word and love to live with the crying and fits. So every time we awake to the awful...i mean sweet sounds of colic crying, i will pretend it is the wind whistling through the tail on his kite, he flying from a toadstool.

We are the Champions!

February 6th, 2011

Coach Mike McCarthy gets a Gatorade bath while holding Ryan Steeno.

Did you know that Ryan was born right before the NFC Championship game? Well he was. I can actually say the happiest day of my life was the day the Packers went to the Super Bowl. Kickoff was at 3:30pm and Ryan was born at 1:34pm which gave us just enough time to clean up baby, clean up mommy and sit back to watch the game. Even though we never had a chance to sit and watch the entire game, we did have it on in the room. We gauged as to when to look at the TV to see how the Pack were doing by the cheers and jeers coming from the waiting room. Sure enough the Pack won beating the stupid Bears (which no one likes because they are stupid...face...people) and are now off to the Super Bowl. 

    Two weeks later, on Super Bowl Sunday, we are watching the Pack put the hurt on Pittsburgh in the first half  and stay alive in the second. As a Packers season ticket holder, I have to tell you, I wanted to be there bad. There is no way I can leave my Buckaroo to watch his first Super Bowl by himself? The lil' dude has known nothing but the Packers since he was born....2 weeks ago. A few examples are his car seat cover is a quilt hand-made by a wonderful woman at work, Tammy, his first Packer outfit was from Mike Lucas (who named Ryan during pregnancy, "Little Mikey") but he's only 7 pounds so he will have to grow into that one. Luckily our Green Bay family sent a newborn-size Packers onesie and his Aunt Krista just gave him a Packers fleece blanket. He was set for the game, the only thing we needed to do now is take his shirt off, paint him half green and half yellow so we can run outside in the snow. In reality, since he is too young and fragile to do that, we stayed inside...clothed...in the warm. What a killjoy, eh?! This didn't go as well as I hoped because as the game went towards the end of the third quarter he dozed off. What the! How can you fall asleep knowing the Steelers are making a move to come back and win this game? He is sleeping, looking cute. That didn't hinder, every time the Pack would do good, his Aunt Scoop from running over and giving him baby high-fives and his mother making him do baby arm-pumps. I sure would like to know what he dreams about in a time like this, but I will tell you this - I found him this morning laying in a puddle of orange Gatorade, in his crib and confetti in his Pampers. This may have just been his greatest adventure yet!

You're a Rock Star

February 2nd, 2011

Something tells me that the reason people have been in and out of the house over the past two weeks is not because I have changed our brand of kitty litter to the sweet aromatic Fresh Step or that I have drawn a new mural on the giant chalk board in our living room. I will even venture to say that no one even cares that we have a new item added to our Packer room (the new 2011 NFC Champions plaque.) Every time people come over, they bring food or presents, hand it to Ang and then grab Ryan. I stand to the side in utter confusion. How can they walk right by the Packer room, make a bee-line past the DaVinci worthy mural and find the tiniest person in the house? My cat weighs 3 times that kid, look at her....make goo-goo faces at her. So my mission is to try and work in all my new things, I have for show and tell, into the "adult" conversation between Ang and the visitor. It usually goes something like this:

Visitor: "oh, he is so cute, i think he looks like Chris."

Ang: "he is cute, I wonder if his eyes are gonna stay brown or turn colors"

Me: " yeah, I know"....(inner monologue)...look at my packer plaque!

Visitor: "His toes are so long!"

Ang: "I think he will be able to pick things up with them when he is older like I can!"

Me: "I heard Arron Rodgers has long toes, have you seen my packer plaque? Yeah, it is in the other    room, just past the mural, I drew, with chalk, cool huh?"

Visitor: "i love his full head of hair!"

Ang: "i can't believe he hasn't had any fall out yet"

Me: Can you smell that, it is the sweet smell of Fresh Step kitty liter...nice eh?"

Ang: (rolls her eyes and shakes her head) sighhh!

After my many attempts at show and tell I figure out that I just can not compete with this kid. He has it all, cool clothes, the James Dean shy act, a full head of hair, the ability to make the room laugh and say awwww (in a sweet manner, not like they do for me as if to say awwww, he must be special) Nope this kid has it all, the works-he is a rock star. As i sit aside holding my packers paraphernalia in one hand and chalk in the other I see that I need embrace the situation and not be jealous. So i will kick back and bask in his Rock Star spotlight. I just hope the next set of visitors do not think his Packers plaque-necklace and mural pajamas are too much.

 (See all his visitors below)

 

Bath Time, Sweet Prince

January 30th, 2011

Can you remember the times in which someone has ever bathed you? (keep it PG please) No? That is because as far as any of us can remember we have always bathed ourselves. There are only 4 reasons that someone else should ever give you a bath: you are a baby, you are in a nursing home, hospitalized or you are pre-twenty first century royalty. Well, I think that Ryan thinks he is royalty and not the baby. Why? Well he is obviously not hospitalized and he is much too young to be in a old folks home. That only leaves he is a baby or he is royalty. If he were a baby then he would fuss during the bath time. He should fuss because he is naked and wet and being held weirdly. This is just not the case. I really feel he thinks he is royalty. He looks at me as if he is saying "wash behind my ears good man....oh yes, be sure to wash my hair...all of it, and DON'T GET WATER IN MY EARS!.....what is the matter with you, get the boogers out of my eyes!" Plus, he is constantly having pictures taken of him as he is getting his bath by the Momarazzi. We do enjoy the no fussing. He is so cute and we get a chance to know him more each bath we give him. I guess no matter what the case is, he is worth every picture and every Spock-like eye gazing command. So as we dry him off in his array of towels with cute animal hoodies, we look forward to tomorrow where we have another chance to say "it is bath time, sweet Prince!"