Ryan x 4

This morning Ryan went on dissertation about how "we need to be nice to people, everybody has to be nice to people, it's just the nice thing to do"....to which I, of course, agreed with.  She gives me that look and says "mom, I was talking about you....you need to be nice to me" - I responded by asking if she was referring to when I called her out for not listening to me while she was attacking hugging her sister. She says "Mom, I said, we're talking about you.  Not me.   You need to be nice to everybody in the world". Regardless, here are four shots of my mini-me.

Lightening Bugs

It didn't take long into the new year for our first round of storms and tornado sirens.  And I swear the weather gods ONLY wreak havoc when Grant is out of town. The other night the tornado sirens went off around 2:30am (and considering last New Years homes were torn to shreds not 2 miles from our house, we take that shiz seriously around here now). So I grabbed Ryan and Reese and we made our way to the basement.  Ryan dressed for the occasion in the blue tutu she opted to wear to bed.  She was full of questions, Reese was only concerned with laying her head on my shoulder with her blankie.  I thought I might get some opposition for turning on the TV to watch the weather reports but Ryan got all serious on me and said "mom, we'd better watch the weather".  As Grant later put it when I relayed the story, she is a girl after my own heart with her love of Doppler and all things radar related.  The sirens came and went, all was 'safe' so we went back to bed.  Ryan, of course, camped out in my room. About an hour later I could hear Reese calling my name (she NEVER wakes up in the middle of the night) so I went to get her and Ryan, out of a dead sleep, was on my tail about 2 seconds later asking "do we need to go back in the basement?" - as if I was going to leave the girl high and dry to fend for herself.  My heart.  I brought Reese in with us (a first.....and a last) although the comic relief at 4:15am was worth the lack of sleep.  Somewhat. Ryan laid there in the dark explaining to Reese what had happened "Reesey, the weather is bad, very bad, so bad it could make you want to cry".  Then the sky opened up again for round 2 and we had a light show and loud thunder.  Naturally Reese 'oooohhhhed and awwwwwwed' at all the thunder and clapped at the lightening.  She doesn't scare easily.  And Ryan questioned me about hail, "what is it?" - I told her how it was frozen rain, like little pieces of ice hitting the window (side note, I am already getting stumped by her questions sometimes, where did my college education go?) and she turns to me very matter of factly and says "that's just like my book, Leo the Lightening Bug, they're making lots of lightening so that we can all go ice skating tomorrow".  This continued until 5:15am when I quickly realized that the three of us in bed together was never going to equate to sleep.   Up we were and downstairs we went.  Ryan straight to the door to see if she could go ice skating.   Darn those lightening bugs for not erecting a rink in the backyard.

5:15am. Notice the good parent in me had by this time advised my ballerina to throw on some pants and a shirt.
Needless to say, naps were on the agenda that day and mom was in bed by 9pm that evening.

The Grinch and an expanding vocabulary....

So I suppose there is one benefit to my children being obsessed with The Grinch this holiday season and watching it no less than 1,349 times so far, besides the obvious reasons of course (educational value and diversity)....Jubilation.
Ryan now uses the word 'Jubilation' as often as she can.  I was just bringing Reese upstairs to change her shirt when Ryan hurries us along telling us we need to move faster or else 'we'll be late for the jubilation'.

Thank you Grinch.

Lend a hand...

So we've been talking a lot lately about helping each other and being nice to each other; you know, versus the usual try and annihilate each other off the face of the planet.  Anyway, I overhear this conversation take place the other day in the bathroom.
Ryan:  Reese, Reese come here please.
Reese ignores
Ryan's super sweet, angelic voice (yes she does have one every now and then):  Reesey, please come here.  You wanna help me in the bathroom?
Reese wanders in
Ryan:  Reesey watch, you can help me go to the bathroom.  Wanna help?  Come on, I'm going stinky and you can wipe my bottom for me.  It'll be fun.

Oh sweet Jesus.

A 'Make it work' moment....

brought to you by Ryan Stiff.
The other night, dad was out at the Cardinals game so mom wanted some peace and quiet and selfishly attempted to get both girls to bed by 7:30pm.  I can hear the laughter from here.  Stop.  Of course Reese wasn't the issue, my little monkey went down easily.  It was Ryan.  She stalled and stalled and stalled.  I finally thought I had her so I went downstairs, made my hot apple cider, grabbed my blanket and settled onto the couch to watch my beloved Project Runway.  Within 2 minutes, the pitter-patter of feet became more pronounced.  Ryan was at my side all sweet and cuddly (can you say m-a-n-i-p-u-l-a-t-o-r) and asked to lay with me and watch my show.  Honestly, I was too lazy to fight it this time and entrenched in learning the latest challenge so I let her sit with me.  Pass the Kleenex please because who would have guessed my little girl would get totally hooked on the show!  She sat still as can be and watched intently the entire time.  At one point she turned to me and said "mom, is this my show" and I said "no, it's mom's show" and she says, get ready for it, "mom, maybe, maybe it could be my show too?" and of course I said "we could share, it could be our show and we can watch together", she says "yes, yes, our show".  When I would fast forward through commercials she would get all stressed out saying "momma, stop, I want to watch the sewing show, have patience!" --- PS...'have patience' is her latest go-to phrase (clearly I've said that one too many times around here).  So we watched and learned and loved Tim Gunn.  And go figure that when the runway show started, Ryan had her opinions.  "I like that one mom" or "Ohhhh, I don't like those pants".... PSS....she was really not a fan of Joshua's awful plaid pants.
I think I died and went to heaven!

In totally unrelated news because I would like to accompany this post with a picture....an old fan favorite has now become an obsession with Reese.  The kitchen sink.
Have no fear, the butcher block of looming kitchen knives is off limits. No calls please.

The staples...

Ryan sat down this morning and decided to work on her 'grocery list'
She rattled off a long list of items we needed to go buy...
In case you can't read her cursive, she told me (in a very particular order) that we must buy:
french toast
raspberries
blueberries
chocolate cake
breakfast
granola

Leggo my Eggo....

The past few days, a certain pint-sized human has raided the freezer, busted open the Eggo waffles (whole-grain blueberry for the health conscious out there), and retreated to the couch with a frozen snack (not treat). Within a 48 hour period, five of these processed delights went missing.  I was on the verge of calling Benson and Stabler to crack the case of the missing frozen waffles.

Rest easy, citizens of Kirkwood, for thankfully the culprit has been apprehended. Frozen handed.
Guilty as charged:
But oh so worth it...
Could eating a frozen waffle not sound any more disgusting? But alas, the little lady often tells me "mom, these are delicious, they are my favorite".

To each his own. Eggo that is.

Ryan-isms....

The girl is a hoot, that's for sure.

Me: Ryan, please come sit down for dinner
R: Okay, one minute
Me: Dinner is on the table, back away from Dora
R: Okay, one minute
finally sits down, takes one bite and says:
R: No thanks mom, my belly is full, thanks for trying though

Ryan spotted one of our wedding photos the other night and makes a big gasp and says "mom, you're a princess"
seriously? you can have whatever you want kid...for all eternity

You may start to notice a theme with my cooking here, but keep your comments to themselves please. As Ryan sat down to a nicely prepared meal of pork chops, carrots and potatoes*, she tries one bite and says ever so politely "mom, this is not my favorite"
*3 dishes people, three effing dishes! The Stiff clan is used to one entree, maybe a side on a good night but three, three courses, that is gold my friend and unfortunately this evening it, quite frankly, blew. So off we went to Ted Drewes for some damage control.

Ryan is a fantastic negotiator and the queen of stall-tactics. ANYTHING you say is countered with a more favorable option in her opinion. Future lawyer or lobbyist in the making.
Me: One more slide Ryan and then we're going home
R: Five more slides mom, then we leave

Me: One more book and then bedtime
R: Two more books mom, two more (accompanied by the holding up and waving of two fingers in my face)

Me: Here is a lovely snack of raisins before we eat dinner
R: Mom, let's have a Popsicle, then dinner, then raisins

On the subject of Popsicles.....Ryan can also tell you the difference between a snack and a treat. Don't you dare confuse the two. Crackers, gold fish, raisins, cheese......all SNACKS. Popsicles, ice cream, snow cones....all TREATS. Heaven forbid you offer a snack after you have said 'treat'.

You know you're about to be used when the little lady says "come here, I want to tell you something really special" --- let the warning sirens ring b/c you are about to encounter the cutest of all stall tactics.  After you have read ONE book, tucked her in, placed and kissed all 15 stuffed animals on her bed and are halfway out the door this little, angelic voice says "mom, come here, I want to tell you something special".  The first few times you fall for it (you're only human after all) you wander back in, she comes up with something adorable like "mom, I love you, you're my best friend, read me two more books" and that my friends is how a 34 year old, college educated woman gets totally played by an almost-three-year-old. 

'Fire' drills and going commando...

So last night we had some crazy weather, tornado warnings, hail, thunder, lightening, you name it.... Of course the weather only seems to be this bad when dad is out of town. Awesome. Thankfully this time it wasn't in the middle of the night but instead at the more respectable 8pm-ish hour. Reese, of course, was asleep. 6:30pm on the dot. So imagine her surprise when the tornado sirens went off and I flew like a crazy person up stairs to grab her and her blankie and then got the three of us all situated down in the basement. I was explaining to Ryan (who just thought she had gotten her wish to play downstairs) that this was actually a safety precaution because the tornado sirens went off. She looks at me and says "fire drill mom, fire drill". Fine. Call it what you will but we're hanging down here for a bit.

Thankfully our shelter is kid-approved with a sea of toys and a nice big TV for mom to watch the impending doom:
Reese got a second wind and was psyched to play with her sister but every two minutes or so, she'd walk over to me and lay her head down on the couch and suck her thumb. She'd chill for about 5 seconds and then muster up some more energy and continue playing with Ryan. She must have had 10 pit stops for rest in a 30 minute period.
Earlier in the evening (and I apologize as a select few have already been made aware of this story), I was cruising the internet, Ryan was playing quietly, and I look over and see this:
When I ask her to please put her pants back on she says, in the most deceivingly angelic voice you've ever heard, "no thanks, I'm too busy decorating". I then ask her why she took her pants off in the first place. She looks at me like I am a complete and utter moron and says in a very matter-of-fact tone....."So I can dance mom".

Of course.

Backseat Driver

As Ryan approaches her third birthday this summer, I'm learning that the more you teach them, the more they can use that knowledge against you. We often work on red light, green light, stop sign, etc..while driving around town in the fashionable Mazda. No biggie, right. Until the other day when we're humming along, Ryan and Reese quietly chilling in the backseat, and out of nowhere comes this terrifying "mama, stop!!!!!". Naturally, I'm a bit startled thinking one of the two misfits has hurt the other, escaped, let a stranger in the back with them, you name it. No, instead it is a frantic Ryan scolding me for turning while the light was still red. "No mom, you can't go. STOP. You have to wait until the light is greeeeennnnn."
So this weekend we'll spend some time reviewing the later chapters of the driver's manual and concentrate on the concept of "right on red".
Side note, we were actually heading home from our beloved Target. Ryan is going through a phase where she is apparently a vampire and can't be near the sun without freaking out. So we went in search of glasses. I let her pick out her very own new pair and wouldn't you know she picked the most hideous, terrible version available.....Dora. Really? You don't want the cute pink with white polka dots or even just the plain pink? I taught her a lesson though*, she got her pair and mom bought the cute plain pink pair to swap out at a later date. That's right, take that picky toddler.
*clearly, this is sarcasm

I wub you...

There's nothing like a toddler professing her love...especially when it comes out sounding like "wub". The last two nights in a row, as we lay in her bed as part of our bedtime routine, Ryan has turned to me and said "Mama, I wub you. You are my best friend. Can I have a hug?". I'll give you a moment to soak that in and recompose yourselves.

Okay now? I know, too cute for words, right? Granted she probably lifted a twenty from my back pocket while she said it but for now, it'll be permanently planted in my mind as quite possibly the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me. Minus the moment Grant gave the okay for new appliances.

And another person she wubs....good ole' Ronnie:
and of course, dad, for taking her to see Ronnie on a dreary Friday morning before school. Our little fashionista has a thing for scarves, should you be wondering.

Ice, ice baby....

So we have been held hostage in our own house by the weather for about 24 hours now and then end isn't really in sight.  School has already been cancelled for tomorrow.   Here's a brief recap of our captivity:

 Somebody is happy to have mom and dad all to herself

Baking muffins to help pass the time away

 One of the godsends this winter storm has been a dry erase board and some markers.....if all is too quiet in the world, rest assured Ms. Ryan has done something questionable:

Secondary TV seating:  when we want to strangle Nick Jr. and Disney, it's time to bust out the car DVD player so mom and dad can catch up on the real stuff

Two of my favorite quotes today:

1.  Ryan to Reese:  Reese stop it, Reese I'm serious!

2.  Ryan's new response to anything asked of her:  Sure, okay*

*it's also her response that in reality means "I didn't even hear what you asked, I'm just saying 'sure, okay' to get you off my back.  I have zero intention of doing what you just asked me to do"

10 years too soon....

I envisioned this conversation happening when Ryan was about 13, fully engrossed in teen drama, but not at the ripe old age of 2.5.  I was all excited to pick up Ryan from school today, as we got loaded in the car I asked her all about her day:  who she played with, what they had for lunch, what she did in gym class, the usual....Her response:
"Mom, I don't want to talk right now"
Sigh.  At least I have Reese, right?  She still likes to talk to me.

Let there be light!

You'd think the sleeping issues in our house would be due to the baby.  Oh no.  As we've said many times, Reese is a sleeping connoisseur, it's Ryan who likes to party into the wee hours.  In my next life, I'm developing a crib for toddlers/young adults.  One in which you can't escape.  One in which you sleep all night.  Somewhat akin to a jail cell.  Anyway, bed time has been a b*tch for oh, 4 months now.  Dare we say we finally discovered the trick last night?  Drum roll please.........a nightlight (whatever, I know, parenting 101, but we Stiffs can be slow).  I put one in her room, it illuminated the entire city of Kirkwood, she said "oooh pretty lights" and then stayed in bed without protesting and fell asleep.

Of course she woke at 4am to urinate on her floor, but who doesn't do that, right?

Modest...

Me:  Ryan, I love you.
Ryan:  I love me too.

We're all God's children, right?

Well I suppose that includes our friends at Yo Gabba Gabba as well.  In last nights' prayer roll call before bed, this is what Ryan had to say:
"Please bless mama, dada, reese, muno, grandma, papa, foofa, ella, barbara, broby, john, jack, plex....amen."

For those of you not versed in DJ Lance talk, Muno, Foofa, Broby and Plex are not usually mentioned when we chat with the big guy upstairs. 

And Ryan had a boyfriend named Eamon (pronounced a lot like 'amen') at her last school so the girl is all sorts of confused when prayer-time comes around.

I take shower!

So Ryan, remember her?  Hates water on her head?  Finally, finally listened to mom and dad last week and realized if you look to the ceiling while getting your hair washed the water doesn't get in your eyes.  Talk about stubborn.  Whoa.  We've been preaching that nifty little trick since her hatred with water on her head began, months ago.  Anyway, imagine my surprise last night as I was finishing up my shower and Ryan came in the bathroom, didn't say a word, but started stripping down to her birthday suit.  She opened the door and said "I shower too".  Well, okay then, hop on in.  She was reluctant at first and I even offered to hold her to keep her head above the mist but no, "I do it myself".  So the little mermaid stood there.  And stood there.  And stood there.  Our 50+ year old house isn't too generous with the hot water so when it got too luke-warmy for me to bear, I jumped ship offering to take my first-born with me.   Again, no "Two more minutes, I showering".  Almost ten minutes later and the girl is still standing in there mesmerized by the falling water, hair totally soaked by the way.  I go back in to check on her and get a whiff of an unpleasant odor, open the shower door and there is my precious child squatting like a linebacker with a grunt on her face.  "Are you trying to go potty?" I ask her...."Close the door mama".  Right.  I'll close the door but your dirty little rear is coming with me. 

Water on the head - success
Poopin' on the potty and not in mom and dad's shower - not so much

Walk away.......backwards

Another Ryan-ism, and one she uses frequently.  "Walk away" is the usual response to a number of situations:  being asked to do something she doesn't want to do, going to bed, and most often, when she needs some alone time on the potty.   The other morning, a very tired and crabby Ryan reluctantly went to her bathroom to go potty.  Dad came in to help and Ryan, with the attitude of a 13 year old girl, took one look at him and said "walk away daddy, walk away", when Grant didn't immediately follow her demands, she began shaking one leg (while on the potty) in attempt to shoo him out of the bathroom "I said walk away".   You know she really means business when she adds the 'backwards' in for clarification.  She told Aunt Barbara recently to 'walk away...backwards' when Aunt Barbara had the gall to stick around to see if Ryan needed help in the bathroom.  'I do it myself'.

Special child she is. 

Here are a few Tuesday morning treats for y'all: 

Obviously we're big on our Santa pajamas (or 'ho-hos' as they are called by the toddler set). 

Decorating

During Ryan's nap time yesterday, she opted to spend her time 'decorating' her room, rather than catching a little shut eye.  After helping mom decorate for the holidays, the girl has channeled her inner Nate Berkus and loves to 'decorate' all over the house.  I could hear the pitter-patter of feet in her room yesterday afternoon as she repositioned her bowl of beloved headbands on every available piece of furniture she could get her hands on (in the confines of her tiny bedroom).  Later she told me:  "I decorated mama".
Anyway, you may be wondering what the heck the picture below has to do with a design savvy toddler, but I'm getting there.  In a long-winded, rambling version with too many details.  Due to her nap time being preoccupied with obviously higher priority tasks, at around 4:30PM she laid herself down on the couch, watched a little football and finally zonked out. 

And hell have no fury like a 2.5 year old being woken from a deep slumber for dinner. 

Two minute drill....

Well, Ryan has learned a new phrase.  "Two minutes".  Every question and/or statement is answered "Two minutes".

Ryan, please pick up your toys. 
Two minutes mama.  Two minutes.

Ryan, finish your dinner.
In two minutes.

Ryan, time for bed.
Two minutes, I'm too busy right now. 

Say goodnight to Reese, she's going to bed.
Mama!  Reese wants two minutes!!!