Rye's First Movie Night

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A Reality Check from Grandma

Grandma E sent us an email today with a couple of photos of the little girl...one taken shortly after we brought her home (Grandma E has like 400 to choose from...I'd insert one of those winky smiley face emoticon dealies here if I was into that sort of thing) and one that was taken (probably by a proud uncle on his iphone...there is also no shortage of these) about a week ago.

The point of the email was one that we've talked about several times and one you hear over and over again from parents with kids of all ages: they grow up so fast.

I know I'm not seasoned enough to be lamenting with those parents who are getting ready to see their kids off to college again after christmas break, but wow. I already need this to slow down.

See photos for reality check.

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All I want for Christmas

All I want for Christmas is to never forget this moment.

What's in a Name...

Rye is a cereal grain that is hardy and tolerant of frost and drought.  It is, therefore, often grown when and where other cereal grains fail.  Its resiliency and hardiness are characteristics derived from the strength of its root system and its efficiency...rye typically uses 20 to 30 percent less water than wheat.

The purposes for which rye is cultivated are broad.  Its most recognizable end use is bread, though rye bread has traditionally been considered less "luxurious" than its cousin, wheat bread.  It is the bread of the people...utilitarian.  The grain is also cultivated to feed grazing animals and to benefit the environment by reducing erosion, promoting water retention in soil, and reducing the need for and use of herbicides.  (http://www.gramene.org/species/secale/rye_intro.html).

The Oxford English Dictionary simply says that rye is "a wheatlike cereal plant that tolerates poor soils and low temperatures."

Of course, rye is also sometimes used to make a spirit known as rye whiskey.  It is rumored to be deliciously intoxicating and the near forgotten traditional preference of persons of discriminating palate.

Our Rye is not named after whiskey, nor is she necessarily named after a wheat-like grain.  However, we hope that she is as unique as her name and will endeavor to instill resilience, sturdiness, and a hint of deeply rooted traditional charm in this little girl as she grows.

rye (the grain)

Rye (the Pilmer)

So... this happened

The (over)Stimulation Station

We call this the (over)Stimulation Station.  It came with a Ritalin prescription.

Here is a Rye's Eye view...

(I had this dream in college one time after an all-nighter...of the non-studying sort).

I Just Like this Picture

I took this photo with my phone, using one of those polaroid apps.  Nothing particularly special...just another cute shot of baby Rye.  These things pretty much take themselves...

On another note, it looks like the little girl has her first bug.   Nothing terribly alarming...but, stand by for stories of all-night consoling laced with projectile vomit. 

Rye's first journey in the Yuppie-Mobile

I used to laugh at all the attractive young parents wheeling their little treasures around the park in these things.  Now I am one...well, I'm wheeling my little treasure around, at least.  I hardly feel young or attractive after two and a half weeks at home on an infant's schedule.

Ellie and Rye

Meet Ellie.  This is her looking disinterested and unaffected:

We adopted her in January, 2009 shortly after losing Marley, who had followed me for thirteen years from San Angelo to Lubbock and ultimately to Denver.  She's about two-and-a-half years old and still adjusting to civilization.  We don't know where she was or what she did before we got her, but we've extrapolated that none of it was leash related.

With all that said, she has a very sweet and gentle disposition and has not given us a reason to worry about her adjustment to Rye.

She's been interested and curious about Rye, but not overly rambunctious around her, which has been nice.  She has managed to sneak in a lick to the face or two...which seems to be about all she is interested in.

I set my camera up and staked out a position like a National Geographic photographer trying to capture the mating ritual of a shy spider monkey to get the shot below...

Three More Days...

I've been off work for two weeks now and will be going back on Monday.  That means I have three more (working) days of stickin' it to tha man.  In the meantime, this is what I did instead of going to work this morning.

Ordinarily, I would not post such an unflattering photo of myself on the internet, but the sheer cuteness on the other side of the equation more than compensates for my bedraggled appearance.  Plus, looking like a disheveled mess is something the man won't stand for.  So take that, man!

Happy Birthday to Me

Today's my birthday.  I don't usually get too wrapped up in all that...but this year I got a pretty rad early birthday present.  It was a set of faux lambswool carseat covers and matching steering wheel cozy.  Just kidding, it was a baby.

This is a picture of Rye responding to Rhoda singing Happy Birthday to me.

fussy \fuhs'-ee\ adj : hard to satisfy or please.

This is what Rye looks like when she's sleeping:

Or like this, if she's not wrapped up like a burrito...

Unfortunately, she looked like that for maybe three hours between 10pm last night and  6am this morning.  The rest of the time, she looked like she ate a stink-bug and sounded like she was being dunked in an ice-bath.

A quick rhetorical question...when did the word "fussy" make its way into my vocabulary?  Until a few days ago, I seriously don't think that word had ever come from my mouth.  Now I say it or one of it's derivations like 50 times a day.  Like this morning, when I told Rhoda that I was going to blog about how Rye fussed all night.

Rye's First Bath

Everyday events and incidents are magnified exponentially when a baby is added to the equation...particularly a first baby.  This is something that I previously always found a bit annoying about new parents.  Hmmm, I guess perspective is 9/10ths of the truth...or something like that.

I'm going to vigorously resist the urge to tell the world about Rye's bowel movements (for now).  Instead, I'll just tell you that she had her first bath yesterday.  That's a pretty big deal.  Here are some "during" and "after" photos.

An Assortment of Photos

Well...we've not been accused of professional photography, but this'll do for now.

Rye's First Week

Rye Opal turned seven days old last night at 8:56 as we observed our first Thanksgiving as a family. If family traditions begin haphazardly and develop through incidental occurrences, we're off to a good start. I wouldn't change anything about our day yesterday and would happily repeat it annually. When I look back on this Thanksgiving years from now, it is unlikely that I will remember that Texas A&M handed the University of Texas an embarrassing home loss (though that...was...AWESOME!), or that the Irish Setter somehow bested the Boxer in the Purina National Dogshow as Jessica Simpson lip-synced her way through the Macy's Thanksgiving parade. What I'll remember is that I was truly as thankful as I've ever been on a Thanksgiving day. Pretty amazing stuff.