A Lesson In Building Sand Castles

Action Shots!

A Healthy Balance.

I *may* be indulging in *a few* treats while on vacation, but I'm also getting a mini-workout the rest of the time, too.

He's Still Got It.

(My apologies for the slow down in blogging...our Internet wasn't working for a day or two...which was paaaaaainful).

A Conversation With Warren

Warren had just arrived back to the condo, after an evening stroll to the grocery store.

Warren: Soooo...on my way to the store, a group of girls driving by hollered at me. (A hint of pride in his voice).

Amanda: Really? Like...a Cat Call?

Warren: Yup. (An undertone of cockiness in his voice).

Amanda: Okay... so what did they say?

Warren: "I bet you have a tiny dink".

Amanda: (nearly spits out her water, and starts choking on it through her laughter). Uh...huh. (snort) And (cough, choke) you're PROUD (snort, snort, cough) of this? (tears are flowing now).

Warren: Hey. I'm forty, I live with a toddler, and I'm walking to Von's to pick up baby shampoo and juice boxes. I'll take what I can get.

The Walk Home...

...on Daddy's shoulders.

This Is Rhys. In Heaven.

Best. Park. Ever.

We found an amazing toddler outdoor play area about a 20 minute walk from our place. It was huge. Fully enclosed. Had baby swings, a slide, sand pits, 2 trains and more toy riding cars than a little boy knows what to do with. And surrounding it were tennis courts, basketball courts, a 5 years+ playground, a pottery studio and archery field.

The City of Manhattan Beach is doing something right.

Warren and I sat and ate our hot & fresh breakfast bagels, while Rhys explored in his charming deadpan way. I'm sure I'll end up with more photos of this park before our vacation ends.

Whispering to the ants:

This is it boys... we've been spotted!:

Unconventional

An unconventional way to sit on a stroller:

An unconventional way to have 'a sit down':

Mmmmm...finally.

The Beach.

Counting grains of sand:

No exaggeration, these two spent at least 45 minutes by the water, just watching the waves and surfers.

Warren got his workout doing this over, and over, and over, and over.

I was sitting far back on the beach, and I could hear Rhys' laughter over the roar of the waves.

Keeping It Real, Post #2

THE VON'S INCIDENT

The first day or two of a vacation, especially with Rhys, is spent 'settling in' and 'getting our barrings'. And the most important part of settling in, is getting food. So here we are, halfway through our first full day in Manhattan Beach, and all we've really done is go to to 2 grocery stores.

I give myself an 'F' grade on yesterday's trip to get breakfast items, because what was the one thing we forgot to buy? Coffee.

So our first task of the morning was go get a coffee. Luckily we chose this vacation rental for it's fabulous location, and we are a 10 minute walk along the beach to Starbucks. Iced Americano Misto please!

We continue on to Von's (like Safeway) which is another 2 minutes up the street. We needed lunch stuff, some dinner stuff and other odds & ends.

Cue Meltdown of Epic Proportions. Warren is traumatized by this meltdown. In fact, I think he said 'let's never speak of this again'. As I rushed around the store to get everything on our list, Warren was roaming aimlessly around the Von's parking lot with a thrashing, screaming, crying toddler, as hipsters enjoying their morning coffees in a street side cafe watched.

All I could think was 'better here than on the plane'.

Now, Rhys and Warren are napping, and I'm blogging on a chaise lounge by the window, listening to the birds.

After nap time...BEACH and 85 degrees Fahrenheit!

Keeping It Real, Post #1

THE 'PIZZA' INCIDENT

I know I painted a pretty picture of our travel day yesterday. It was a great travel day, for sure, especially considering we're travelling with a nearly two year-old. The plane ride was great. Rhys only had one melt-down when we first got to our seats. We couldn't figure out why he was freaking out so badly, until we realized he didn't want to sit on our laps, and instead wanted to sit wedged between us, where the arm rest would go (this was before we knew for certain we had the the row to ourselves). Once we decoded the tantrum, the rest of the flight was a breeze.

But I'm a fan of keeping it real on my blog. The day did not end has perfectly as it had started.

We arrived at our vacation rental, which is a 2200 sq ft 4 level split condo, steps from the beach and the ocean. We were thrilled to find a nice open main floor for Rhys to run around in, and more space than we needed everywhere else. We were on the 'we've made it!' high. Then I eventually looked at my watch and realized it was nearly 6:30pm local time, meaning it was 7:30pm our time. Back home Rhys would be in bed. But we hadn't even eaten dinner yet, and all Rhys had in his tummy was fish crackers and fruit jube jube snacks.

Warren did a quick google search for pizzerias and grocery stores. First he found a 'local family owned deli & market' with a pizza place a block from it. Perfect! That sounds charming! So off we went. The grocery store was easy to find, but turns out 'family owned market' is another term for 'moderately over priced convenience store'. But, it did the trick. We got breakfast items and beer (they sell beer EVERYWHERE in the US!). After loading the stroller, and our arms, with heavy plastic grocery bags, we continued on to find the pizzeria. Google didn't let us down. There it was, a block away. Fantastic! We order a large Hawaiian.

Then, the meltdown. 'Out! Out'! OOOOOpeeeeeen!" Rhys whined and screamed to get out of his stroller, but we were on a steep sidewalk by a busy road, with people everywhere. So I took Rhys down to the pier to distract him. Meltdown continued, the sun started to set, and a cool breeze started to come off the ocean. My arms were sore from the grocery bags hanging off them. And no sign of Warren or pizza. Then a mom and dad with two kids in these little push-car toys came whizzing by, their children squealing with delight in their toy cars, and Rhys lost it even more. 'Car! Car! Caaaaaaaaar!' Cry, cry, thrash, thrash, whine, scream. Cold wind picking up. Couples on dates starring. And no Warren or pizza.

It had been almost half an hour now. We were quoted 15 minutes. I started to panic. Did Warren misunderstand me, and think I was taking Rhys back to the condo? Maybe he's there already? But I have the key! God, could he be that STUPID? To not even CHECK the pier to see if we're there? He doesn't have a cell phone, either!

I was filling with rage. I could feel the heat rising off my face. So I pushed that heavy stroller up that steep sidewalk back to the pizzeria. And by God if Warren wasn't still in there I was going to LOSE MY MIND. I storm up to the door in a fury, only to see Warren sitting inside. He looks up to see me, and raises his hands and holds up two fingers.

Being a woman is complicated. You would think my rage would melt away, knowing my husband DIDN'T go back to the condo without us. But no, my rage simply transferred to the fact that our pizza still wasn't ready, and this was somehow Warren's fault.

Finally Warren comes out with a big pizza box. I calm down. We walk back to the condo. We open the pizza box that reads 'Best Pizza in Los Angeles!'. To see the most pathetic pizza I have ever seen in my life. Limp, thin crust, with hardly any toppings. It was the kind of pizza you fold up and eat like a taco.

All we could do was laugh and say 'Wow, Americans have terrible taste in pizza'.

The silver lining on this terrible quest for a quick & easy dinner, is that as I changed Rhys into his PJ's at 8:30pm local time (9:30pm our time), he pointed to his pack n play and whispered 'bed...bed...bed'. "You want to go to bed?", "Yeah". And he was out for the night.

Arriving in Lalaland

"Rhys, you're going on an AIRPLANE today!", is what we kept telling our deadpan son, in an attempt to stir up some excitement. The toy plane he got from his Uncle James yesterday helped too.

We got to the airport nice & early, as my husband always insists we do. And our plane was an hour and a half late. Luckily Rhys was very content watching the 'ay-panes' and the 'tucks'. Considering he'd only had a 10 minute cat nap in the car, instead of his regular 2hr sleep, we were thrilled with our little pilot in training.

We knew he'd be excited to be on the plane, but we weren't sure how he'd react to the loud rumblings of take off. Well, turns out that take-off went as well as it could have in my most naive dreams. He fell asleep. 30 minute cat nap ensued.

Then, some fish crackers and a Madagascar DVD did the trick (and the empty middle seat between us didn't hurt):

"Look Ma, a lion!":

Landing was the next unknown. Would it freak him out? Nope. After the wheels hit the ground, he squealed " Again! AGAIN!".

While waiting for our luggage, I took a photo of Rhys beside our $5 baggage cart. Oh, LAX. A free baggage cart would have been nicer.

Though travelling can be gruelling, even when it goes smoothly, this is why we do it. The destination is worth it.

Heads Up!

This is just a heads up, for anyone out there who may still be popping in here once in a while to see if I'm still alive...

We're leaving on a plane tomorrow and heading off on a week long get away, and I plan to post photos and stuff. Figure, on vacation I should have the time & motivation to blog. I really like reading back on well documented vacations...so, please don't give up on me!

Cheerio for now.

Fear and Self Loathing in Las Pregnancy

Since that first day of feeling awful, I had a string of days where I felt just fine. Then my first doctor's appointment where my quirky-rarely-says-the-right-thing-doctor reminds me that because I'm in my 30's now, my risk of miscarriage goes up. And that feeling really, really sick is a sign of a healthy pregnancy. All I felt was really, really tired. She actually told me "miscarriage usually happens around 6 or 7 weeks. So, if you wake up on Monday barfing your guts out - that's great! If you wake up Monday feeling fabulous, that's baaaaad".

Thanks Doc.

I hate to harp on this. I hate that my mind instantly goes to this bad place. But miscarriage is traumatic, in the truest sense of the word. At least it was for me. Trauma lingers. It's an experience I still play back in my mind. I'm terrified of having to go through it again. Or worse...my friends and family going through it with us again.

Anyway. I've now had a short string of days where I feel like ass. The fatigue is beyond description. I'm literally, no exaggeration, in bed by 7:30pm some nights. The second Rhys is in his crib I collapse in bed to rest 'for 10 minutes' and wake up 3 hours later to stumble to the washroom in a haze and clumsily take out my contacts, only to collapse again 45 seconds later, mascara smudged under my eyes and my underwire bra still on.

The fatigue acts as a nice segue to the Self Loathing part of pregnancy I had forgotten. Because of the crippling fatigue and the constant underlying nausea, I have no energy and zero motivation to do anything after Rhys is in bed. So laundry piles up. Dishes pile up. Garbage starts to stink. Towels and socks litter the bedroom. Rhys' toys don't get put away at night. And I start to hate myself. I'm lazy and using pregnancy as an excuse. At least that's what the mean bitch in my head is telling me.

Story Time and Plane Spotting

Bedtime story time with Rhys is pretty routine, but the other night he noticed the Paddington Bear on his dresser was wearing a hat. "Hat! Hat!" he squealed and pointed to the box of sun hats in his closet. I put a hat on his head. Then he pointed his 'bossy finger' at me, then the box of hats. Okay...guess he wants me to wear a hat, too. Oh, and the monkey sunglasses. He insisted on those as well.

Warren came into the room...."What The....?" Glad he took a photo!

Since Rhys always notices planes in the sky, we thought it would be fun to take him plane watching off McKnight Blvd. Turns out it's a pass time for elderly couples and creepy bearded men in trucks too.

I wish I hadn't forgotten the video camera, so I could have captured him saying 'Bye-bye Ay-pane'.

New Post

I had this sitting in my drafts forever, and finally posted it.

Just an update on Rhys at 19 months...yes, I'm a little behind.

Because he's 2 months away from two, doncha know!

A Tale of Two Portraits

Waaaaay back when Rhys was 14 months old (he's 22 months old now, doncha-know!) Warren picked him up from daycare like any other day, but this time he announced:

Warren: Sooooo.....ya. Today was picture day at daycare.

Amanda: Um. EXCUSE ME? But he was wearing his BUG SHIRT! And I'm pretty sure it has a stain on it! Did you know today was picture day?

Warren: Ya. But I forgot.

This truly felt like failure as a mother. To not commemorate my son's first 'class portrait' by dressing him in a snazzy outfit. Now all I could do was wait and see how it turned out.

Behold:

Rhys 14 months old, First Class Portrait

I have to admit, at the time I was somewhat horrified. His cute little Mona Lisa grin, his adorable little hand gripping the chair arm, his charming little shoes...all overshadowed by his lack-lustre, scrubby clothes.

But now, I love how the portrait captures his sweet young self, and I don't even notice the clothes.

Then when he was 19 months old another photographer was scheduled to come take photos (it's quite the booming business, these portraits). I was not going to let the same thing happen, so a handsome knit sweater did the trick.

I love the 'old school' style of the first portrait, and I love the candid , modern style of the second two. My little man takes a good photo, no matter what his silly mom dresses him in.

Flipped A Switch

It seems ridiculous, but the day after discovering I am, indeed, pregnant again...it feels like someone has flipped a switch in me. The fatigue. The headaches. The stomach cramps. Makes me realise how in most situations, pregnancy tests are not necessary.

When you're pregnant, your body lets you know.

January Baby

Today I found out I’m pregnant with our second little Bubba Smooch.

Wednesday May 11th. I just spent the last 13 hours on set shooting a TV commercial. It’s a funny coincidence, because I found out I was pregnant with Rhys right after a shoot as well.

What’s not-so-funny is that I had taken a pregnancy test 4 days earlier because it was Mother’s Day and I wanted a glass of wine, and the test came up with a sad one-pink-line NOT PREGNANT. So I had a glass of wine. And I let Warren know that we’re out of luck this month.

Cut to the end of our shoot day. I’m rushing in the door at 8pm, I have to pee SO BAD, and I’m craving the post-shoot celebratory chilled glass of white wine and a taped episode of Survivor. But aunt flow hasn’t shown up yet, so as I fumble to get my pants down before I pee my pants, I’m also fumbling to open the damn wrapper on the damn second pregnancy test from the two-pack I bought. I barely get it ‘in place’ in time. Place it on the counter, enjoy the relief I’m feeling and get up to wash my hands. I glance down. TWO pink lines. T-W-O. TWO. Pregnant.

I’m not proud of the thought process that followed...GULP. WTF? The first test was WRONG? Sharp pang of happiness ripples through my heart. Then – Crap! I can’t have a glass of wine tonight.

Warren was sitting in bed, looking exhausted. I hadn’t even said hi yet (due to the urgent need to pee).

Warren: So, I’m going to see a movie, Thor, with Martin and Daryl in a few minutes, is that cool?

Amanda: Yup. But I just need to tell you that the pregnancy test I took before was wrong, because aunt flow didn’t come today and I just took a test because I wanted some wine and we’re pregnant.

His jaw literally dropped. It was cartoon like. We were both in shock. Honestly.

Not because we didn’t want this, or didn’t expect it. But we’d made peace with the negative pregnancy test. We had more time to mentally prepare for this leap we were preparing to take. Instead of a January baby, we were now going to try for a February baby. Fab! February is a great month for a birthday.

But now, I look forward to the magical little January baby we’re going to meet. Besides, January is the PERFECT month for a birthday, if you ask me.

Toddlers and Tiaras, Here We Come.

Rhys found Warren's 'Napoleon Dynamite' wig in a drawer. Nuff said.

19 Months

Rhys, at 19 months old you....

...are graduating from the ‘baby class’ at daycare. You’re now in the ‘pre-toddler’ class.

...wake up very grumpy most days, and we can’t figure out why.

...generally don’t like eating in your high chair or booster seat, and have no patience for eating dinner. At meal time, after a fight to get you in your chair, you will promptly pick up your bowl or plate and announce ‘Dun! Dun! Dun!’ before even taking a bite.

...still like broccoli.

...would live on bananas and plain rice cakes if you had your way. And maybe oatmeal and yogurt and cheese on special occasions. And spaghetti if the Queen was visiting.

...love your ‘didi’ (soother) with a passion unseen by humanity in recorded history.

...like to colour and play with stickers and play-doh.

...say the following words (some took us a while to figure out):

• Ay-pane (airplane)
• Ah-Dun (All done – usually after dinner or a bath)
• Kanye (colouring)
• Up (open or up)
• Nana (Banana or Nana)
• Cah-Cah (Cracker, referring mostly to rice cakes)
• A-pole (Apple)
• Bid (Bed)
• No
• Book
• Simmee (Shimmy – From the Wiggles song ‘Shimmy Shake’)
• Bite – There is a book you have with pictures of animals and things – penguin, duck, monkey, butterfly, flower, carrot – and everything in this book ‘bites’ according to you. You say ‘bite!’ and put your wrist up against it. Totally odd. You’ve never been bitten or nearly bitten or anything. What are they teaching you at daycare?! Who’s teaching you that a carrot can bite your wrist?
• Emmo (Elmo)
• Quack Quack (Duck or Bird)
• Raaarrrr (Lion or dinosaur)
• Baddy (Bradley – my mom’s dog)
• Poop (you usually announce when you are going poop – especially if we’re in Chapters and there are lots of people around – I’m thinking it might be time to start potty training?)

Mr. Serious Plays Guitar

This is Rhys, shortly after Christmas, playing with his Aunt Kayley's new fancy karaoke machine with it's fancy 'echo' feature on the mic. Then Grampa tries to teach him to play guitar.

The guitar part is a perfect example of Rhys' deadpan/serious mood, where you're not sure he's even enjoying himself.

At the 1:24 mark he does his standard 'spontaneous raised arms' thing, as soon as he notices me taping him.

Welcome to the Rhys Channel

All Rhys All The Time

Here he is (17 months-ish) feeding himself Cheerios and milk whilst sporting ridiculous morning hair:

SHEESH!

Yesterday, I was totally razzed in the comments. My girlfriends were mocking my sideways video. I am, after all, a 'TV Expert', doncha-know. I know all about TV production and aspect ratios and render codecs and yada, yada, yada. So how could I do something so 'amateur' as turn my video camera sideways?

Well. Now I'm on the defensive thank-you-very-much.

Clearly, my girlfriends missed one key detail - that the video was shot using an iPod. Which naturally has a vertical screen. I didn't turn a 'video camera' sideways, I merely shot using the devices' natural handheld position. And, I admit, in the back of my mind I thought to myself 'Geez, I wonder how this will work?". But then I thought to myself "It's a MAC product! They totally know what they're doing! By even allowing me to record this way, there must be an easy work around! It's a MAC!"

Never ASSUME, because then you make and ASS out of U and ME.

But my girlfriends didn't stop there. They started to suggest things that OF COURSE I had thought of and tried. Which, for a brief moment, was insulting. BUT, this also made me go back and look at what I had tried, and I found a better way. I also regained my trust in Mac products. This was truly a 'human' error.

I still get You Tube errors, but I did successfully rotate the video :-)

So, Dear Grilfriends, I Thank-You.

My readers thank-you too. Behold...a rotated video!

Rhys Blows A Whistle:

Also, here is yesterdays' video, rotated, for good measure...

Rhys Daddy Shoes:

And lastly, for the Grandparents (because it's like - 4.5 minutes long)...

Rhys in the bath at 18.5 months (yesterday):

Test Test, and a Lesson Learned

This past Christmas I was totally spoiled by my family. One gift that was a special surprise, was an iPod Touch from Warren.

The new generation iPod touch has a camera and records video, just like the iPhone. So I've been whipping it out to record little snippits of Rhys - moments that I never would have captured with our 'real' video camera.

Once I finally figured out how to get the footage off my iPod and onto my computer, I realised that shooting vertically wasn't such a good idea. All the video was sideways.

Another tough lesson - it appears that the iPod footage and You Tube don't like each other. It seems like I'm stuck using Blogger's crumby video upload tool. So, this post is basically a test to see if blogger likes the footage. In the preview I'm seeing as I write this, Rhys' head appears to be cut off :-(

One and a Half

Rhys, today you are a year and a half old and I can hardly believe it.

Some days, however, you seem more like a two year old, so I shouldn't be that surprised. I've heard of the 'Terrible Twos' and some moments feel like you're already there.

You've got personality. You've got attitude. You've got preferences. When you decide you like something, you want it all the time. When you learn a new word, you say it all the time. Without a doubt, you are the ruler of our house and I challenge myself everyday to remember that your dad and I are the grown-ups and we are in charge. Because it rarely feels like we are.

I've been reminiscing a lot lately about your newborn days, and how back then I could place you, in my mind, in a perfect little box that contained all my hopes, dreams and expectations for you and who you would grow up to be. You are busting out of that box everyday. Each day reminds me that you are your own little person. I do not control your feelings, your moods or your interests. As much as I'd love to have control over some of those things, at least some of the time, I'm glad I don't, because it's been a lot of fun getting to know you. A movie, a story, a book - they're all more exciting when you don't know what's coming next.

Rhys, you are a clown. And I love you, Bubsy.

(Rhys wearing his mama's new EMU boots. He said 'Booo, Booo!' and, with a bit of a struggle, but the boots on all by himself.)