Ryan

Dancing King

Ryan is an INCREDIBLE dancer. It is so good... and so funny... that I cry everytime. I have nearly an hour of video footage of him dancing, and next time the music moves him, I'll make sure to use my digital camera so that I can post some footage.

So, first, you should know that Ryan's preferable song to dance to is "Domo Arigato Mr. Roboto" by Styx. From the 80's.

Next, you need to know that Ryan rarely wears clothes, and usually strips the second we get home from anywhere. So, when he dances it's usually in the buff.

Finally, if you know Ryan, you know that he is an extremely over-dramatic, charismatic, animated child. So, imagine him dancing interpretively around the living room: flinging himself on and off the couch, on and off the floor with his bare butt in the air, dancing slowly, quickly, like a robot, using various props... it's really too, too funny to put into words.

But I will find a way to post a video. Clothed, of course.

The Long- Awaited Video

Ryan dancing his brains out to "Mr. Roboto". Everyone has a favorite dance move. Note the fiercely "into-it" facial expressions, dance move narration, the cymbal clapping, and the "Killroy" stomping.  ;-)

Insomnia

I woke up the other morning at 3:00 to the sound of Ryan sitting in the bathtub, playing with toys.

"What on earth are you doing??"

"I don't feel like sleeping, and I didn't want to wake up Aaron!"

All I want For Christmas

"Mom.... I'm going to tell Santa that I don't want any JUNK."

Where do they get this?

Me: What do you want for breakfast?

Ryan: A balanced meal.

Eats his bowl of Wheaties with rice milk and a banana - no protein, I admit.

Ryan: Mom! I'm still hungry!

Me: Well, what do you want?

Ryan: Another balanced meal.

Dramatic much?

Ryan came into the room the other day screaming, "MOM! My toenail is ripped and I can't pull it off or it will bleed EVERYWHERE!!!"

I said, "It's ok, Ryan. I'll get the clippers, and I'll cut it off for you so that it won't rip anymore."

I cut off his deeply ripped toenail.

Ryan threw his arms around my neck, giving me a huge hug, then stroked my cheek with the back of his hand. He looked lovingly into my eyes and said, "Oh honey, you are always saving my life."

Thank God it was "Hay"

I was picking Ryan up from Options School today, and it was a dark, stormy day. All the parents were in the lobby waiting for the kids. Ryan's cute class of Kindergartners came out, and, in true LOUD Ryan fashion, he yelled, "It's already nighttime, and I was like, 'When the hay is my mom going to pick me up?'"

Everyone burst into laughter. Some thought it was so funny that he thought it was nighttime because of the storm, others thought the "when the hay" was what was so funny. Me? I was counting my lucky stars that in this church building, Ryan used his discretion by saying hay. Not sure where the hay he picked that up, but it was relief all around.

Lemonade Stand

A few days ago, we had a big garage sale. I made a deal with the boys: I get all of the money from selling your toys, and in exchange, you can get the money you get from a lemonade stand. That sounds fair. They agreed.

The boys wore their pirate aprons that Mimi made, and proudly sold lemonade at the bottom of our driveway. I think we found that sales is Ryan's forte. As soon as someone set foot on the driveway, Ryan would say, "Would you like some lemonade?" They would say, "Sure!" And he would say, "Ok, it's fifty cents." And they would say, "Oh... let me do some shopping first, and I will get my lemonade when I'm ready to leave." And Ryan would say, "Do you think you're going to want ice or no ice? I'm going to start getting your cup ready." And they would say, "Probably ice." And Ryan would say, "Good. We have ring ice." Then he'd model the ice cube on his ring finger. If people were taking too long with their shopping, he would run a cup up to them. He was so assertive, how could anyone resist?

I didn't have to assist with the lemonade stand a single time, and the boys sold 72 cups! Aaron helped for about 3 hours, and Ryan didn't leave his post once for EIGHT hours. He was so dedicated. I've never seen Ryan so dedicated to anything, or see him see anything through to completion, so I was really, really proud of him. Of course, it was a tough lesson for Aaron to learn when we divvied up the money, and he did not get as much as Ryan got.

Yesterday a chimney cleaner came to clean our chimney (what else would he be doing here?) I found out after they left that Ryan sold THEM lemonade, too, and got a dollar from them. I was SO embarassed. I explained that when someone comes to clean our chimney, we GIVE them lemonade, and as much as they want. We don't SELL it. How embarassing...

Death March

Since around Christmas, Ryan has been saying, "Mom, I'm ready to be a hiker." I've explained to him that hikers don't whine. This is a big deal to me. I can't STAND hiking with a Whiner. At the Warming House, we have a rule: You can't whine. You can weep, but you can't whine. Hiking with a whiner will bring you down to have a miserable experience faster than anything.

Josh is a self-admitted whiny hiker. Josh always thinks he's the ONLY one who's tired, thirsty, sore, blistered, etc. He's the ONLY one, so he must remind everyone constantly. Everyone else must feel perfectly comfortable, or they would be whining, too, right?

Aaron's always known the rule. Hikers don't whine. Starting last summer, when he was five, Aaron became a hiker in my book. He could hike long distances without whining. So, I took him on progressively harder, cooler and more fabulous hikes, because I could trust him not to ruin the day. And now he's pretty hardcore. And he tells everyone he's an "Outdoorsman." Aaron is my favorite hiking partner. He doesn't whine, he's super fit, he's about the journey and not the destination, he reminds me to take time to smell the rose quartz, he's great conversation, he's full of wonder and excitement, and his phenomenally-fit six-year-old legs hike the exact same speed as my not-phenomenally-fit 29-year-old legs.

Ryan's a whiner. Ryan can't even eat breakfast without whining. We call him Whinin' Ryan. But, he's been pretty jealous of the hikes I take Aaron on, and it's started becoming important to him that HE be included and seen as a hiker, too. He's been telling me for a few months now that he's ready to be a hiker, and that he's not going to whine.

Yesterday was the test. It was a beautiful day. I took Aaron, Ryan and Brandon on a hike in our neighborhood up a mountain. Our "neighborhood", mind you, is a small, rural mountain community, tucked into a small valley in the Rocky Mountains, and surrounded on all four sides by National Forest land. So, a hike starting on the border of our community is just as rugged as any other mountain hike in the area.

We were going to climb a nameless mountain in the area. There are two ways to climb the mountain - to go straight up the front side of the mountain is 1.5 miles. To go around the backside of the mountain is less steep, but 2.5 miles. I decided to go the long way, because the terrain would be easier for Ryan.

After a half-mile from the turn-off to go around the mountain, the trail appeared to peter out. I'd only hiked in this area once before, so I didn't feel confident about finding the trail again, so I said, "We're going to turn around and go up the steep way." I kid you not: Nobody whined. Nobody had whined up to this point at all. Ryan fell so hard that his shoe flew off, and he still didn't whine. He weeped, but didn't whine. Aaron's loop on the bow of his shoelaces kept getting hooked on the hook of the hiking boot on the other foot, and tripping him down to the ground. Major frustration and some scratches until we got it figured out, but no whining.

We started up the steep face of the mountain, that was full of loose rock and scree-like terrain. We were being blasted in the backs with 60 mph wind gusts, too. I was thinking that between the awful wind and the loose terrain, I didn't want Ryan coming down the mountain this way, so we would go down the back of the mountain... the way I'd originally wanted to come up until I lost the trail.

We got to the top, and marveled at the great view of our community, far below. We could even barely pick out our house, over two miles away. Aaron said, "I feel like we're in an airplane!!" Ryan was super proud of himself, and I was even prouder. No whining, and I knew he'd make it all the way back just fine.

We started down the backway, and, on this shaded side of the mountain, encountered a lot of snow and ice. There were also recent footprints, so we knew we were following the trail still. I was thinking that none of the terrain looked familiar to me, but that all of the trails had to lead back to our community eventually... right?

Down, down, down we went. Eventually the trail got down to a gully, crossed the gully and started up a new mountain in the complete opposite direction of our neighborhood. Now I knew we weren't on the right trail. I had a really hard desicion to make... we'd gone about 2 miles down so far. Way down, in fact. There was a chance that another, easy half-mile down, and we'd be back in our neighborhood. There was also the chance that we were headed to God-knows-where, and that a half-mile would be a half-mile further lost.

I was ready to panic. It's one thing to be "lost" by myself. (And by "lost"of course, I mean that I knew where we WERE, I just didn't know where we were GOING.) But, to be lost with two small children is a whole different ballgame. I know what my limits are. I know I'm capable of hiking 25-miles+ in a day, if I had to. I had no idea what my 6-year-old, and especially my 4-year-old on his first hike, were going to be capable of. I knew that I was already exhausted and sore, and could barely motivate myself to get back up that mountain - how was I going to motivate the kids?

But we didn't have a choice. We needed to turn around. The kids didn't seem nearly as upset about it as I was. And still, no whining from Ryan, bless his little heart. He did, for the first time, ask to hold my hand. I think he needed a little extra pulling.

We trudged back up the mountain. I know Aaron was enjoying the "survival" aspect of this. His favorite videos to watch are adventure racing and Man vs. Wild. I told the kids that we could stop to rest when we needed (although I hate dawdling too much until we're comfortably where I KNOW where we're at), but that we needed to ration our water, and not drink until we got back up to the top.

Aaron reminded me, from Man v. Wild, that one way to stave off dehydration is to chew on pine needles like they're gum. "And they'll also give us Vitamin C, mom." ("Vitamin" pronounced "V-it-amin" and not "Vite-amin"... because that's how Bear Grylls, the English Man vs. Wild, says it.) So, the kids enjoyed chewing on pine needles. Aaron also found trees that would make good shelters, piles of pine needles we could use for bedding, etc. I think he was half-disappointed that we didn't get stranded out there.

We made our way again across the snowfields. Slipping, sliding, falling. And then we were finally back to the top. It was going to be a long way down, slipping, sliding and falling on ROCK, with the wind blasting us in the face.

About 1/4 of the way down, Ryan whined.

He sat down, huge pout on his lips, on the verge of tears, and said, "I HATE HIKING!" I sat down next to Ryan, yelled for Aaron and Brandon to wait (Aaron was practicing his "scree run" technique, as Bear Grylls had taught him.)

I sat down next to Ryan and said, "Ryan, I am SO proud of you. This was such a hard hike, I know it was. I would have never taken you on such a hard hike. You ARE a real hiker, honey. You are. And, you've proven to me today that you can go on real hikes now. I'm super, super proud of you. You should be proud of you, too. Any other hikes will seem easy-peasy compared to this one. You got to our neighborhood today in a way that most people never get to see, because they can't hike as good as you can. I know you're tired. I know your legs hurt. I'm tired and my legs hurt, too. But, we have a choice to make... We can pout and be mad and sad all the way down, or we can be proud of ourselves and happy that we did so well all the way down. What's your choice going to be?"

"Be proud."

And he was. He totally changed his attitude. It was slow going because of how slick it was, and the slick rocks kept me from being able to assist him by carrying him or anything, but he had a good attitude.

We got back to the car and Aaron said, "I could climb that mountain two more times!" Show off.

When we got home, I showed Ryan which mountain we'd climbed. I said, "We're going to call that mountain 'Ryan's Mountain'."

"Well, that's a silly name!" he laughed.

I'm so, so proud of Ryan. I had no idea he had it in him. All in all, he hiked about 8.5 miles. I promised to take him on a much shorter and much easier hike next weekend.

Broken Nose

Two nights ago, as I was on my way out the door to Aaron's Parent-Teacher Conference, Ryan, the most accident-prone 4-year-old you've ever met, had an accident. (You may remember the "running with the lightbulb, falling with it on the hardwood floor, and having glass surgically removed from his hand three months later incident.)

According to witnesses, he jumped off his bed, landed on his tippy toes, and from there fell flat to his face. He split his lip - again - (he split it last week from bedroom stunts, too), and had a bloody nose. He was inconsolable for about 15 minutes. (That never alarms me - he's often inconsolable when I don't allow him to play the computer, too.)

When I'd gotten home from the conference, he had cried himself to sleep. The next morning - yesterday - he woke up with a swollen and badly bruised nose.

When I was a kid, like in 6th grade, I broke my nose. The doctor told us then that two black eyes means a broken nose. If you hit your nose hard enough to give you black eyes, you've done broke your nose.

Ryan has bad bruises on both sides of his nose, and a black eye on one side. It looks terrible. It's swollen enough to make him not look like himself. I have no doubt that he broke it. Noses are very easy to break.


My friend who used to be a PA told me that they won't do anything for Ryan until the swelling goes down. My mom reminded me that nothing can be done for a broken nose. But, now I've decided to take him in this afternoon - if something can be done to prevent an ugly nose bump like Josh and I have, I want to do it. Poor Ryan - his face used to be so perfect. I get sad everytime I see his nose. I told him this and he said, "Oh, honey - That's ok. Just read your book and then you don't have to see my nose."

Dance Party

On Thursdays, while the laundry's cookin', Ryan and I dance our brains out... primarily to pop music. It's so fun. The only thing that allows the uninhibited dancing of too much to drink is dancing with a four-year-old.

Today when I was dancing, I was thinking of two things:

1.) If I dance/crouch down to Ryan's level, I will get a killer workout for my gluts and quads. For even more workout, dance while holding the 25 pound baby.

2.) Will Ryan always love "my" music this much? I always hated having to listen to my mom's oldies music from the 60s when I was growing up. It was so lame. Ryan, at this point, loves my 80s dance music. At what point does my music become "Oldies"? And will he still like it? I'd like to think he will, because he likes to dance, and there's been so much less great dance music in recent years. (Save Mika's "Love Today"... great dance song.)

Dance party's over. I need a shower now.

Veganism

"Mom, I like being a Veganer."

"You're not a veganer. You're not even a vegan."

"YES I AM!!! I eat vegan CHEESE!"

"Yes, but you also eat meat."

Reader Ryan

Ryan started reading this week! Unbelievable! I had no idea he had it in him! Aaron read really early - starting the second month of Pre-K... and here's Ryan - Reading nine months before Pre-K even starts. Crazy.

For a couple weeks now Ryan has been telling me he could read. He knows it's a big deal that Aaron reads, so I just pat his head and say, "Of course you can, honey."

Well, I'm a bad mom. He really can read. And here I thought he didn't know his letter sounds, and especially what the lower-case letters look like. In actuality he knows both. And he can put those letters and sounds together to make words.

I think Ryan is like my sister was when she was little. She never wanted to TRY and she never wanted to FAIL, so she would just not know anything until she knew everything. Same with Ryan. I tried so hard to teach him his colors as a toddler. He would shake his head, say "I don't know" and even say "I'm too little." I was really starting to worry about how phenomenally uninterested he was in learning his colors. And then, he woke up one morning and knew them all perfectly. There was no in between.

This year, I was thinking that it was surprising Ryan wasn't writing his name yet, when many kids are by this age. He wouldn't even try. Didn't have any interest, whatsoever. And then, he woke up one morning, and not only could he write his name, but he could write the entire alphabet. It's almost like he's secretive about learning stuff, and he doesn't want people to even know he's trying to learn stuff until it's good and learned.

The bad news is that Ryan still has a year and a half until Kindergarten. If there's one thing I've learned this year with Aaron it's that having an advanced child in the public school system sucks - at least in the very early years. I was shocked how much work and time it took to get Aaron's needs met, and get him work at his level.

So, I'd made up my mind with Ryan - please stop counting to 100 - you will have to relearn how to count to 10 when you get to Kindergarten. I don't care if you don't learn another cognitive thing in preschool - it will just make life harder and more boring when you get to Kindergarten.

And here he is learning to read behind my back. How dare he? I'll bet he's secretly been learning this whole time that Aaron's been learning. He, of course, was never going to tell me until he could do it well. I wonder what else he's secretly learning right now?

What was my line again?

The week before we went to see Santa, all week Ryan said, "Mom, I'm going to tell Santa to bring me WHATEVER toys he can find." It is, afterall, about quanitity and not quality.

Then - the big moment.

Ryan ran up to Santa and threw his arms around Santa's neck to give him the biggest hug Santa's probably ever gotten.

Santa: What would you like for Christmas?

Ryan: Ummm... ummmm... oh.... ummmm... eee.....

Ryan sat nervously, eyes shifting back and forth, trying desperately to rememebr his "line".  Finally:

Ryan: A BICYCLE!

Santa: And if I can't bring you a bicycle, what would you like?

Ryan:  Ummmm.. hmmmm.... mmm....   uhhhhh..... A STUFFED ANIMAL!

When he was finished, I had to know:

Me: Ryan, why did you ask for a bicycle? You already have your own bike and Aaron's old bike.

Ryan: I know I have a BIKE, but I asked for a BICYCLE!