My son can be a sweet boy. Recently, when my wife told him she loved him, he turned to her and said in a sweet voice, “Awwwww, such a precious mommy.” We have no idea where he got that, but it was sweet nonetheless. Another example of the potential he has to be sweet was one recent afternoon when my wife was generally not feeling well, he went and got her a cold glass of water without her even asking. He just wanted to help his mommy feel better.
Unfortunately, with his little sister, some of his sweetness evaporates. I guess this isn’t all that uncommon. The fights my brother and I had as children have legendary status. I wasn’t necessarily a sweet big brother, in fact, I was downright mean. At some level, I probably feel some sort of guilt for trying to torture my brother (although I have a difficult time finding it), so I want my son to be a different big brother . . . a sweet big brother.
The good news is, our son isn’t usually overtly mean (although he’ll occasionally take things from her and refuse to share – and drawing blood is only an occasional consequence). Like many younger siblings, our daughter clearly looks up to her brother. She often follows him around the house and mimics his behaviors (unfortunately, this includes both good and bad behaviors). On one recent occasion, she followed him into his room in an effort to get him to play with her. He was clearly annoyed by this and certainly didn’t want his little sister tagging along, so he picked up one of the dogs toys, threw it out of his room and yelled, “Fetch!” I’ll give him points for being creative, I would just yell at my little brother, “Get out!” and push him out of my room. What is most interesting is that our dog doesn’t even fetch, so what made his think his little sister would fetch is anybody’s guess.
Despite this, we continue to parent him to be sweet to his sister and we believe he will eventually grow to understand she’s not just a pest, but his loving little sister. In fact, just recently, my son found a bag of M&M’s in the house. Chocolate being his third favorite food group, following closely behind cookies and Cheetos, he did not delay in tearing the bag open and digging in. Suddenly, without warning, my son found the sweetness he so often displays for us and, without being told, offered to share his M&M’s with his little sister. Has it finally happened? Is he warming up to his little sister, anxious to serve her and share with her? It was finally here, the moment we were waiting for, the moment we knew would eventually come. He’s not me, he’ll be a good big brother.
Then, while our daughter was momentarily distracted by this surprising turn in generosity, he ran. Yes, he ran and hid so that he could finish off the rest of bag without the hassle of having to share with that little pest we affectionately call his sister, the kindness just a simple diversion. Baby steps, right?
Tuesday, March 8, 2011
Monday, March 7, 2011
Momma, you drive me . . .
My wife, being in a wonderful mood, danced her way into a room where my son and I were sitting watching television, and in an effort to entertain us, she began serenading us in a loud and somewhat sarcastically opera-style singing voice. We allowed this to continue for a minute without interruption before my son finally responded to this “intrusion” of his regularly scheduled programming with the following comment, “Momma, you’re driving me . . . “ I am certain his plan was to tell his mother she was driving him crazy, but as we all know, that would not be the wisest choice of words to utter, even if they are true.
Now, you’ll notice he showed some wisdom and did not finish his comment. He stormed into that sentence with a lot of confidence, but as he worked his way through the actual words, he quickly trailed off until he was quiet. The room was silent and you could tell by the look on his face that he had realized what he was saying and who he was saying it to. My wife and I just stood, staring in silence, watching closely for what would happen next. You could almost see him thinking through his next move carefully. He was probably already concerned that he had gone too far, but by our lack of immediate response, he must have figured there was a small window of opportunity to recover from this near blunder and his mind started strategizing.
This moment seemed to stretch on as his mind searched for a word or sentence he could insert into his wayward bound comment that could potentially save the day. After a few seconds of searching, stumbling over unintelligible words and coming up empty, he went to his go-to, feel-good comment, “I love you Mommy!” Now, play that phrase through your mind in the voice of a 4 year old boy, while he adds a little extra sugar in an effort to play up his cuteness. After a momentary pause, my wife and I could do nothing except burst into laughter. The sense of relief that spread over my son’s face when we started laughing showed he understood he had dodged a bullet. He understood he found the right words at the right time and it was clear he also understood he had almost stumbled upon the absolute wrong words at the wrong time.
His re-evaluation of his commentary gave me a sense of pride. Obviously I am not proud he was about to tell his momma she drives him crazy. I was proud in that at only 4 years old, he is already assessing the value and impact of his words. Ideally, he would have done this assessment prior to the words leaving his mouth. To his credit, he trailed off before his tongue landed on the key word, “crazy” (and probably the word that would have landed him in the most trouble). Now, the challenge is for me to apply this lesson learned to my own life the next time my wife is driving me . . .
“I love you!” Maybe that will save the day if I say it in a cute voice.
Now, you’ll notice he showed some wisdom and did not finish his comment. He stormed into that sentence with a lot of confidence, but as he worked his way through the actual words, he quickly trailed off until he was quiet. The room was silent and you could tell by the look on his face that he had realized what he was saying and who he was saying it to. My wife and I just stood, staring in silence, watching closely for what would happen next. You could almost see him thinking through his next move carefully. He was probably already concerned that he had gone too far, but by our lack of immediate response, he must have figured there was a small window of opportunity to recover from this near blunder and his mind started strategizing.
This moment seemed to stretch on as his mind searched for a word or sentence he could insert into his wayward bound comment that could potentially save the day. After a few seconds of searching, stumbling over unintelligible words and coming up empty, he went to his go-to, feel-good comment, “I love you Mommy!” Now, play that phrase through your mind in the voice of a 4 year old boy, while he adds a little extra sugar in an effort to play up his cuteness. After a momentary pause, my wife and I could do nothing except burst into laughter. The sense of relief that spread over my son’s face when we started laughing showed he understood he had dodged a bullet. He understood he found the right words at the right time and it was clear he also understood he had almost stumbled upon the absolute wrong words at the wrong time.
His re-evaluation of his commentary gave me a sense of pride. Obviously I am not proud he was about to tell his momma she drives him crazy. I was proud in that at only 4 years old, he is already assessing the value and impact of his words. Ideally, he would have done this assessment prior to the words leaving his mouth. To his credit, he trailed off before his tongue landed on the key word, “crazy” (and probably the word that would have landed him in the most trouble). Now, the challenge is for me to apply this lesson learned to my own life the next time my wife is driving me . . .
“I love you!” Maybe that will save the day if I say it in a cute voice.
Friday, February 25, 2011
Daddy, it's tastes like sunshine!
When it comes to healthy eating habits, my son and my daughter are nearly polar opposites. While my daughter will try and eat anything (including the dog food we put out for Tucker the family pet), my son’s first response to eating a new food is, “No thank you.” When pushed a little further, he will typically say, “I don’t like it.”
“But son, you haven’t even tried it yet.”
In a matter of fact response, he’ll say, “I know, but I don’t like it.”
When forced to try new foods, my wife and I have the pleasure of experiencing front row seats to a Greek tragedy of Shakespearian proportions. First, we get the crunched up face, the squinted eyes, the trembling hands, and the low groan as he lifts the food towards his mouth. Once the spoon holding the terrible poison we are forcing our son to ingest hits the inside of his mouth, we get the full body seizure, followed by the uncontrollable gag reflex. While the first few times we found this to be quite entertaining, even asking for the occasional encore and considering signing him up for drama classes and auditioning him for child acting roles, the novelty soon wore off as each bite of his food was like a three act play and a simple dinner could drag out for an hour or more.
I guess I shouldn’t complain too much as he comes by these behaviors honestly. I was not the most adventurous eater as a child. I had a similar response to foods I didn’t like, especially spinach and beets. In fact, beets were my least favorite with their disgusting red/purplish juice bleeding all over my plate, trying to invade my macaroni and cheese (one food I loved). I would build a macaroni wall to stem the flood of beet juice, sacrificing a handful of tasty macaroni to save the greater population. My mother will tell you that there is still an outstanding “cold case” in my family that alleges that I once murdered a fern whose pot was positioned just a bit too close to my spot at the dinner table. When my mother wasn’t looking, I’d allegedly hide chunks of whatever food I refused to eat at the base of the plant, eventually killing the plant and stinking up the kitchen with rotten meats and vegetables. I’d remind everyone to reserve judgment as we operate within a legal system of “innocent until proven guilty”. Thankfully, the evidence was destroyed before DNA testing came into existence.
Nonetheless, you can imagine our surprise by a recent comment my son made about a new food he tried when, with a smile on his face, he gave the creative description, “it tastes like sunshine.” After the daily drama we witness when trying new food, I thought our son was sure to be an actor, but after that type of literary description, he might be a writer (at least the food industry may consider using him as a consultant to describe their products for advertising purposes). You can predict my disappointment when I found out the food he was describing as having the flavor of the sun was a yellow cream Oreo cookie.
Our pediatrician once told us that exposure to new foods is the key to getting children to like a diverse and healthy diet. In fact, I read one study that said it takes a child an average of 14 exposures to a new food before they actually enjoy the taste of that food. Well, if it takes 14 tickets to the drama I described above, I’ll pass. I’ll try one act of the Ryerson food drama and then I’ll pass him the plate with the Sunshine Oreo’s!
“But son, you haven’t even tried it yet.”
In a matter of fact response, he’ll say, “I know, but I don’t like it.”
When forced to try new foods, my wife and I have the pleasure of experiencing front row seats to a Greek tragedy of Shakespearian proportions. First, we get the crunched up face, the squinted eyes, the trembling hands, and the low groan as he lifts the food towards his mouth. Once the spoon holding the terrible poison we are forcing our son to ingest hits the inside of his mouth, we get the full body seizure, followed by the uncontrollable gag reflex. While the first few times we found this to be quite entertaining, even asking for the occasional encore and considering signing him up for drama classes and auditioning him for child acting roles, the novelty soon wore off as each bite of his food was like a three act play and a simple dinner could drag out for an hour or more.
I guess I shouldn’t complain too much as he comes by these behaviors honestly. I was not the most adventurous eater as a child. I had a similar response to foods I didn’t like, especially spinach and beets. In fact, beets were my least favorite with their disgusting red/purplish juice bleeding all over my plate, trying to invade my macaroni and cheese (one food I loved). I would build a macaroni wall to stem the flood of beet juice, sacrificing a handful of tasty macaroni to save the greater population. My mother will tell you that there is still an outstanding “cold case” in my family that alleges that I once murdered a fern whose pot was positioned just a bit too close to my spot at the dinner table. When my mother wasn’t looking, I’d allegedly hide chunks of whatever food I refused to eat at the base of the plant, eventually killing the plant and stinking up the kitchen with rotten meats and vegetables. I’d remind everyone to reserve judgment as we operate within a legal system of “innocent until proven guilty”. Thankfully, the evidence was destroyed before DNA testing came into existence.
Nonetheless, you can imagine our surprise by a recent comment my son made about a new food he tried when, with a smile on his face, he gave the creative description, “it tastes like sunshine.” After the daily drama we witness when trying new food, I thought our son was sure to be an actor, but after that type of literary description, he might be a writer (at least the food industry may consider using him as a consultant to describe their products for advertising purposes). You can predict my disappointment when I found out the food he was describing as having the flavor of the sun was a yellow cream Oreo cookie.
Our pediatrician once told us that exposure to new foods is the key to getting children to like a diverse and healthy diet. In fact, I read one study that said it takes a child an average of 14 exposures to a new food before they actually enjoy the taste of that food. Well, if it takes 14 tickets to the drama I described above, I’ll pass. I’ll try one act of the Ryerson food drama and then I’ll pass him the plate with the Sunshine Oreo’s!
Monday, February 14, 2011
Sick and Tired
Sorry for the slow posting time, the truth is I have very little to post about myself right now as I haven't been feeling very well. So, stay tuned, I have big posts in the future. In the meantime, I am so proud of my wife who is serving as a food coordinator for the Extreme Makeover: Home Edition build in the Chattanooga area. As of today, the old house has been demoed and the new house is on it's way. She actually got a tour of the Extreme Makeover: Home Edition bus as seen on TV. She was told that the cast actually does watch the family audition videos on the bus as protrayed on the show. I am certain you'll be hearing much more about this fantastic project. In the meantime, I'll try and get back to running, this cold has me coughing all day and all night, so if I can get past that, I'll be ready to go.
Tuesday, February 1, 2011
Run for Hope
Yes, I am doing it again, I am running the Nashville 1/2 Marathon on Saturday, April 30th (that's 13.1 miles . . . slightly further than I drive to and from work everyday). So what is this about, have I lost my mind? Well . . . yes I have. But at least I am doing it for a good cause. This year I am running for the nonprofit, People for Care and Learning (http://www.peopleforcare.org/). They have titled this event the Run for Hope. No, it isn't Matt Ryerson's Hope I can Run, it's the RUN FOR HOPE!
PCL has done a tremendous amount of work in SE Asia serving those in poverty with very little hope. They have supplied water filters for children who were drinking filthy river water and built homes for families living in the streets. This is an incredible organization with incredible leadership. It is definitely something I support and something you can get behind.
I say all that only to let you know I haven't totally lost my mind (only partially) and I hope that you can find a way to support me in this effort. To give, simple go to my fundraising website at http://www.active.com/donate/pclrunforhope/mattryerson and give. You can give a set amount or a per mile rate (remember, that is 13.1 miles . . . ouch!)
Keep visiting the blog and I'll keep you updated on my training (and pain).
PCL has done a tremendous amount of work in SE Asia serving those in poverty with very little hope. They have supplied water filters for children who were drinking filthy river water and built homes for families living in the streets. This is an incredible organization with incredible leadership. It is definitely something I support and something you can get behind.
I say all that only to let you know I haven't totally lost my mind (only partially) and I hope that you can find a way to support me in this effort. To give, simple go to my fundraising website at http://www.active.com/donate/pclrunforhope/mattryerson and give. You can give a set amount or a per mile rate (remember, that is 13.1 miles . . . ouch!)
Keep visiting the blog and I'll keep you updated on my training (and pain).
Monday, January 17, 2011
The Roar of a Family Snore!
Many have been accused of snoring. I am one of those who allegedly broke the silence of the night with a low rumble. And for many of us, we believed we were the unfortunate victims of an unfounded conspiracy in an effort to embarrass us. Of course, the reality of the situation is that we weren’t there to give a denial . . . or at least not conscious.
Recently, however, my greatest fears were confirmed when my family came into town for a visit. After a big lunch, while we were watching the big football game in front of the fireplace on a cold afternoon, a few of my family members fell asleep for an afternoon nap. Now, in an effort to protect the innocent, I won’t share the names of the accused, you see, I would never embarrass my own mother and brother like that. I was about midway through my nap when I felt a small rumble and I wondered if the load in the dryer was unbalanced.
As I gathered myself into a more awake state, I started getting worried as it sounded as if our new home had been placed in the middle of a railroad track and the afternoon freight was making its way through our living room. That didn’t make any sense, so as I tried hard to determine the source of this growing rumble, I suddenly experienced a jolt of fear down my spine as I realized I must have missed a storm warning during my nap and there was a tornado bearing down on our house. A moment more and I gained my full bearing and realized that this sound, which could only be described as a combination of a Grizzly Bear charging me while brandishing a revved up chainsaw, was actually coming from my napping family.
Then it hit me, the nasty allegations, the teasing and the complaining may have been true. Could it be possible that I too, the gentle and caring person that I am, sounded like a diesel engine wood chipper in my sleep. I remembered the allegation that my own son, only three at the time, had so carelessly lobbed at me while we were on a vacation and all sleeping in the same room. Upon awaking the first morning of that vacation, my son turns to my wife and says, “Mommy, what was that sound last night?”
“What did it sound like?”
“GRRROWWWWWLRRRRRR!!!!!” my son screams in his re-enactment.
My wife starts laughing, “That was probably Daddy snoring, just try and sleep through it honey.”
My son pauses, looks at her and says with the most serious face, “But I hear it in my dreams!”
Alright, I get it. So it was true. So my wife has suffered through years of interrupted sleep by the sounds of a dog fighting ring in our bedroom. I just want to be clear, it’s not my fault, I inherited this problem!
Recently, however, my greatest fears were confirmed when my family came into town for a visit. After a big lunch, while we were watching the big football game in front of the fireplace on a cold afternoon, a few of my family members fell asleep for an afternoon nap. Now, in an effort to protect the innocent, I won’t share the names of the accused, you see, I would never embarrass my own mother and brother like that. I was about midway through my nap when I felt a small rumble and I wondered if the load in the dryer was unbalanced.
As I gathered myself into a more awake state, I started getting worried as it sounded as if our new home had been placed in the middle of a railroad track and the afternoon freight was making its way through our living room. That didn’t make any sense, so as I tried hard to determine the source of this growing rumble, I suddenly experienced a jolt of fear down my spine as I realized I must have missed a storm warning during my nap and there was a tornado bearing down on our house. A moment more and I gained my full bearing and realized that this sound, which could only be described as a combination of a Grizzly Bear charging me while brandishing a revved up chainsaw, was actually coming from my napping family.
Then it hit me, the nasty allegations, the teasing and the complaining may have been true. Could it be possible that I too, the gentle and caring person that I am, sounded like a diesel engine wood chipper in my sleep. I remembered the allegation that my own son, only three at the time, had so carelessly lobbed at me while we were on a vacation and all sleeping in the same room. Upon awaking the first morning of that vacation, my son turns to my wife and says, “Mommy, what was that sound last night?”
“What did it sound like?”
“GRRROWWWWWLRRRRRR!!!!!” my son screams in his re-enactment.
My wife starts laughing, “That was probably Daddy snoring, just try and sleep through it honey.”
My son pauses, looks at her and says with the most serious face, “But I hear it in my dreams!”
Alright, I get it. So it was true. So my wife has suffered through years of interrupted sleep by the sounds of a dog fighting ring in our bedroom. I just want to be clear, it’s not my fault, I inherited this problem!
Friday, January 7, 2011
May old acquaintance be forgot and never brought to mind . . . what the heck is that about?
And so we begin again. A new year is upon and with it brings new opportunities, new beginnings, and a fresh start. The record is wiped clean. Is this all really true? Do we really get a brand new beginning with the New Year? Probably not and that is why we probably fail at so many efforts to start new habits in the form of New Year’s Resolutions, but what is the harm in trying, right?
I have a great advantage (or disadvantage, depending upon on your perspective) in that I have hundreds and thousands of readers (alright, maybe one of my resolutions should be to stop exaggerating . . . nah) that can hold me accountable to my resolutions. Once I put them down on this paper and it gets printed in the newspaper, I will have friends and family asking me, how’s that resolution coming?
The challenge is coming up with a resolution that is not only interesting, but reasonable as well. I really want to change my life for the better, but I don’t want it to be too hard to do (seriously, who wants to sacrifice that much for a resolution). I don’t want to create one where I eliminate things I already do, but one where I begin doing new things. So what do I do? How do I come up with something new?
I asked my son, what he thought and what his New Year’s resolution was going to be, he said, “What’s a resolution?” That helped me create my first resolution; don’t ask a four year old unreasonable questions. No, that is eliminating something I normally do, so let me change that, my first resolution will be to better educate my children on the issues we are discussing. That would certainly be new and would require an immense amount of patience, which I don’t have. So, resolution number one is to improve my patience through intentional activities with my children. Good one, thank you son.
My daughter is even more challenging and would require even more explaining, since she is only two, but I asked nonetheless. “Merry Mismas!” she yells in response with great joy and spirit. This is her pronunciation of Merry Christmas and not quite an answer to the question I was asking. She doesn’t realize it is a week after Christmas and 357 days until next Christmas, but she is living life like its Christmas Eve. That’s it! I’ve got my second resolution – live life like it’s that special time of year, every day, filled with spirit and joy. Boy, that one might be tough, but I’ll give it a shot.
For a third resolution I must look to my wife, the rock of our family. She spent the entire holiday season giving to others. She has an unconquerable spirit of service like nobody I’ve ever met. I’ve got it! My last resolution will be to better serve others. I mean, I’ve got the best role model I know under my own roof. There, that wasn’t so hard was it? More patience, spirit and joy, and serving others – these are my New Year’s resolutions . . . we’ll see how long these last.
I have a great advantage (or disadvantage, depending upon on your perspective) in that I have hundreds and thousands of readers (alright, maybe one of my resolutions should be to stop exaggerating . . . nah) that can hold me accountable to my resolutions. Once I put them down on this paper and it gets printed in the newspaper, I will have friends and family asking me, how’s that resolution coming?
The challenge is coming up with a resolution that is not only interesting, but reasonable as well. I really want to change my life for the better, but I don’t want it to be too hard to do (seriously, who wants to sacrifice that much for a resolution). I don’t want to create one where I eliminate things I already do, but one where I begin doing new things. So what do I do? How do I come up with something new?
I asked my son, what he thought and what his New Year’s resolution was going to be, he said, “What’s a resolution?” That helped me create my first resolution; don’t ask a four year old unreasonable questions. No, that is eliminating something I normally do, so let me change that, my first resolution will be to better educate my children on the issues we are discussing. That would certainly be new and would require an immense amount of patience, which I don’t have. So, resolution number one is to improve my patience through intentional activities with my children. Good one, thank you son.
My daughter is even more challenging and would require even more explaining, since she is only two, but I asked nonetheless. “Merry Mismas!” she yells in response with great joy and spirit. This is her pronunciation of Merry Christmas and not quite an answer to the question I was asking. She doesn’t realize it is a week after Christmas and 357 days until next Christmas, but she is living life like its Christmas Eve. That’s it! I’ve got my second resolution – live life like it’s that special time of year, every day, filled with spirit and joy. Boy, that one might be tough, but I’ll give it a shot.
For a third resolution I must look to my wife, the rock of our family. She spent the entire holiday season giving to others. She has an unconquerable spirit of service like nobody I’ve ever met. I’ve got it! My last resolution will be to better serve others. I mean, I’ve got the best role model I know under my own roof. There, that wasn’t so hard was it? More patience, spirit and joy, and serving others – these are my New Year’s resolutions . . . we’ll see how long these last.
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