Mediocre, I Love You, Fake Death

We all know that Ryder likes to be the best and he never misses an opportunity to let me know how much better he is at being a person then Chase is. 

 

The other night, I woke up to my 4 year old laying next to me in bed in only his hand-me-down SpongeBob underwear that are a little too stretched out in all of the wrong places.  He leaned over to me and groggily asked, “Mom, is Chase mediocre?”  He then clapped his hands together and fell back asleep.  

 

One day this week, Chase was being a real jackhole before getting on the school bus.  He decided that he was mad at me and refused to say he loved me before he started walking to the bus so I did the adult thing and kept yelling, “I love you” over and over again until he was loaded on the bus and it drove off.  Ryder witnessed this but didn’t say anything. The next day, Ryder waited in the car while I stood outside and got Chase on the bus.  When I got back in the car to take Ryder to daycare, he asked me, “Well how did that go? Did he even say he loves you? Because I love you.” 

This kid knows how to make you feel loved and unloved at the same time.  That’s talent.  

On an unrelated note- this morning Ryder brought me an apple slice that he had left over from breakfast. After he stood in front of me while I devoured the apple I didn’t even want, he asked, “Did that taste normal?”  I said, “Yes.”  He simply replied with a faint, “Ok...” as he walked out of the room backwards while maintaining eye contact until he wasn’t visible in the doorway anymore.  I still don’t know if he did anything to that apple and I can’t stop thinking about it.  

 

  

Happy Holidays from our family to yours!

So, I know that I give Ryder a lot of grief for being a tad bit "extra."  But I'm starting to think that maybe he gets some of this quality from me.  The other day, Ryder was sitting on our kitchen island and let me have the first bite of his diced peaches.  He asked me how they tasted.  So of course, being the stellar Mother that I am, I couldn't just say that the peaches tasted good and thanked him for sharing a bite of his tasty, tasty snack. I had to put my hands up to my throat, roll my eyes back in my head, make a gurgling sound and fall to the ground pretending to die.  Apparently, I'm quite the actress because when I looked up at Ryder from my death position on the ground, he was sobbing.  I don't think I'll be winning any "Mother of the Year" awards anytime soon.

Watch, Voice Recordings, Tired Mama

Just when I think I have parenting Ryder down, he throws me for a loop…

The other morning before Preschool, I saw Ryder slip something sneakily into the pocket of his pants with his tiny syrup and fuzz filled fingers. It’s important to him right now that all of his pants have pockets and I try my best to remember to check his pockets before leaving for school because he has been known to sneak a thing or two to school.

Well, when I checked his pockets this particular morning, I found a little blue watch that I had forgotten all about.  Chase saved his money last year and bought the watch because it could take pictures and record short voice messages but had long forgotten about it since a few days after he purchased it, our dog chewed off one side of the band.  Luckily for Ryder, he is no stranger to hand-me downs and defects in things intrigue him more, so I should have known this is an item that Ryder would enjoy.

I knew there must be some odd reason Ryder wanted to bring the watch to school (ya know, because he can’t actually tell time) so I scanned through the pictures and all seemed innocent.  There was a picture of Chase smiling, a picture of half of Ryder’s face and a few blurry ones.  All seemed fine.  Then I remembered about the voice recording feature.  I pressed the little orange button to play the first voice recording and to no surprise I hear a squeaky, 4 year old voice yelling, “Boobies!”

With one eyebrow raised, I look to Ryder for a response and he just smiled at me and stated, "That's funny."

Apparently, Ryder spent the morning, while I was blow drying my hair, creating many, many short voice recordings that all consisted of nothing except him yelling, “Boobies” in different voices. (With the exception of a few giggles here and there.)

And not just a few voice recording. I deleted 51 of them.

Upon questioning, Ryder informed me that he was going to show his watch, and its magnificent features, to his friends at lunchtime. 

Long story short, he went to school empty handed and I went to work feeling like a hero for shielding the world from being subjected to Ryder’s voice recordings.

When I picked Ryder up from school that afternoon, as he was walking down the hallway towards me he asks loudly, “Mom, guess what I snuck in my sock today?” And I shrugged my shoulders, because at this point I couldn’t even guess what kind of contraband my 4 year old might have smuggled in his sock, after I was pretty sure I did a good pat-down earlier that morning.

He then hands me a toy cockroach and simply says, “I pranked everyone all day” as if it were all in a day’s work.

I love my child, but damn this mama is tired.

Ryder likes to add his own sprinkles to cake now.

Politics, T-R, 2020

Just some recent political jabs brewing within the Revermann household.

Ryder: "What words start with a T-R? Does Truck?"

Me: "Yes. Truck starts with a T and R."

Cory: "So does Trump."

Me: "Also, trash."

 

Text message exchange between Cory and I:

Cory: Why doesn’t Trump wear glasses?

Me: Because they won’t fit up his ass along with his head.

Cory: Cause he’s got 2020.

Me: We’re divorced.

I Cried at the Dentist Today... And it Wasn't Even My Appointment.

Yesterday was a day.  I couldn't even write about it yesterday because the wounds were still too fresh. 

This was my day in a nutshell via a text with a friend:

Friend: How's your day going?

Me: I cried at the dentist today... And it wasn't even my appointment.

So Ryder has a cavity.  We had a referral for a pediatric dentist months ago to get this cavity fixed, but the appointment got rescheduled a few times due to COVID.  His new appointment was scheduled for the end of August. However, he hadn't slept all week due to tooth pain, which also translates to Mom hasn't slept all week.  One night, I even resorted to driving around town at 2am to calm him.  Didn't work.  But I learned that I like our sleepy little town at 2am.  The lake is very peaceful. 

Any who, I called the pediatric dentist to see if they could get Ryder in any earlier than his August appointment and to my delight they could get him in later yesterday morning.  

Ryder said he was very excited to go to the dentist until we got about 5 minutes away and he started telling me that his stuffed animal- Dragon- was nervous to go to the dentist.  And it was all downhill from there. The first task was to have the dentist look at his teeth, which he happily complied with but then it was onto the X-ray room.  Ryder refused to be cooperative.  He screamed at the top of his lungs for what felt like an eternity. This isn't typical behavior for Ryder.  He is usually pretty compliant when it comes to following directions. Sure, he may give tasks extra "flare" as he is doing it, but this wasn't cute "flare."  This was, the house is burning to the ground and we all need to evacuate immediately. Everyone at the dentist's office was patient and kind.  Actually more patient and kind then I would have been.  They tried and they tried.  I tried and I tried until we just couldn't try anymore (you know, without scaring the other kids in the dentist's chairs).  The next option was, for a lack of better words, a baby straight jacket or sedation. Since we already knew Ryder would need to have some dental work done, they suggested putting him under to do all dental work in one day, including the simple X-rays.  So that's what we are choosing to do because having a fully sedated Ryder seems like my favorite kind of Ryder. (Kidding, but not really.) 

After we left, I was so overwhelmed with the quick planning and rearranging of the day (I like to pretend that I'm very "go with the flow" but I'm not.  I like structure and order and hate everything else.), overwhelmed and embarrassed about my child turning into a demon, and not feeling good myself. 

So after the appointment I found myself, 33 years old, parked in the McDonald's parking lot, sobbing into my already perfectly salted fries, licking spilt sweet and sour sauce off of my shirt because I had no pride left to give a crap about actually using a napkin.  And besides, all of the napkins were already soaked with my over-privileged, overwhelmed tears.  I'm pretty sure I hit my rock bottom at that moment. 

After there were no more nuggets left to consume we headed home.  I had a whole hour drive home from the dentist to collect my thoughts and get my act together (I knew I needed to get my act together, because frankly, I think my tears scared the teen-aged boy who was working the drive-thru at McDonalds.  What a sight I must have been.  A slightly middle aged, blonde haired women all of 100 pounds wearing a T-shirt that sported a sloth doing yoga on it, with makeup running down her cheeks, bloodshot eyes, sobbing through a pandemic protective mask as she's handing a teen-aged boy her tye-died decorated credit card to pay for her lukewarm lunch.) Like I said... rock bottom. 

When Cory walked in the door from work he asked Ryder how the dentist was (already knowing damn well it was a complete shit show). Ryder's response: "Mom cried like a little baby," as he rolled his hands into little fists that he raised to the outer corners of his eyes and turned in little half circles to make a crying motion, which he followed with a chant of, "Waah! Waah! Waah! Waah!"

So in other news, Ryder has lost electronic privileges until he is 42. And now only one child is listed in my will.

Cannibals and Corn Dogs

We went on a quick family vacation and it turns out going on vacation with Ryder is…fun.

We decided one evening to drive through a state park on their relaxing nature drive.

Ryder (out of nowhere while looking out the window): I love cannibals.

Chase (appalled): What?

Ryder (un-apologetically): I like everything about them.  Even their furry humps.

Me (hoping I’m not raising a complete monster): Where did you learn about cannibals?

Ryder: From the Cat in the Hat.

Cory (chiming in as he always does right before shit hits the fan):  You love camels.

Chase and I simultaneously: Oh!

After driving through the windy turns on the relaxing nature drive, Ryder gets car sick and vomits all over himself, his car seat, the floor, a blanket, my hopes and dreams  (okay, not really my hopes and dreams but his puke was everywhere.) 

Fast forward to a few days later on our way home from vacation when we enter a gas station.  I carry him into the gas station because he got an owie on his foot a few days earlier and couldn’t walk for an entire weekend.  You know, the kind of owie that is already mostly healed, but you accidentally look at it again and remembering the tiny, minuscule pain you once had makes you cry and somehow makes you develop an obnoxious limp.

Any who, Ryder looks longingly through the sneeze guard at the last, lonely corn dog shimmering from grease in the overhead fluorescent lights.  He whispers in my ear, while not breaking his eye contact with the corn dog but now placing his hand delicately over his throat as he speaks, “Ever since I got car sick, my throat has been telling me to eat a corn dog.”

So the kid got a corn dog, with ketchup. On the side of course, because your corn dog touching ketchup prematurely is “disgusting and gross” and leads to not eating said corn dog.  Do I really think his throat had been whispering to him for days tell him to eat a gas station corn dog?  No. But I admire his effort.  

"I Hate That Guy."

Ryder has always been a little much.  His personality is larger than his body- and it always has been that way (and I hope that it always stays that way- except at bedtime).  As it turns out, not all of his peers are as impressed with him as he is with himself.

A couple of years ago I was at a softball game watching Cory play.  For some reason (I can’t really remember the reason why) Ryder was coming up to the ball field a little later than us with my parents.  While sitting on the hot metal bleachers, there were a couple kids playing in the dirt with their little toy trucks right next to me.  Their ages looked to be around 5 and 3 years old. 

From a distance, I caught a glimpse of my little sweet, curly haired Ryder marching his way to the ball field from the parking lot, strutting a dollar for concession stand treats in one hand and his larger-than-life personality in the other.  

This also caught the attention of the children playing in the dirt.  The oldest boy momentarily stopped pushing his toy truck through the dirt and turned to the younger boy and said, “Hey, there’s Ryder.”  The youngest boy looked up in the direction of my little toddling, toddler and announced, “Ryder? I hate that guy.”  He then turned his attention back to pushing rocks with his toy truck, unimpressed. 

The personality is large with this one. 

On This Episode of Raising Ryder... April Fool's Day

  

At dinner, Chase whisper’s rather loudly into Ryder’s ear, “Ryder you are cute.” He pauses and then continues, “April Fool’s.”

Without even taking his eyes off of his plateful of store brand macaroni and cheese, he punches Chase right in the face.

Chase then cried into his macaroni and cheese.  And I just kept eating my grown-up pot-roast from across the table.  Mainly because it seemed like the situation had already worked itself out and there was no need for me to cry into an already perfectly salted pot-roast.

Also,

Ryder learned about April Fool’s Day in school and decided to play a prank on me. 

Ryder yells from on top of his thrown in his bathroom: “Mom, I’m done.  Come wipe me.”

Me: *Walks into the bathroom.*

Ryder: “I’m not done.”

Me: *Walks out of the bathroom.*

Ryder: “I’m done.”

Me: *Walks into the bathroom.*

Ryder: “I’m not done.”

Me: *Walks back out of the bathroom.*

Ryder: “April fool’s. I’m actually done.”

I walk back into the bathroom and bend down next to Ryder with a wad of toilet paper in my hand to help him wipe and he asks me, “Mom, do you have a great life?”

Me: “Well buddy, great isn’t the describing word I would use right now.”

Ryder: “I’m funny.”

Me: *Signs to herself and thinks: I thought parenting would be better than this.*