Vote for Tyler

Tyler has been entered in a local photo contest. The winner will have their picture printed in color in our local newspaper, with a chance of being on the cover of a local family magazine.

The photos are all located here:
http://www.kpcnews.net/photocontest

Tyler’s picture is the first picture on page 4:
http://www.kpcnews.net/photocontest/?page=4&max=79&month=March

View just his picture here:
http://www.kpcnews.net/photocontest/viewphoto.php?ID=237&month=March
and click on "VOTE" to the right of the image.

All you need to do is click “VOTE” under his picture. Help me out, my dear blog readers!!!! This could mark the 3rd time Tyler has been in our newspaper!!!

The backstory on the picture is here:
http://joegearhart.blogspot.com/2009/01/oreo.html

Charades

I've never played charades before. To get me to list and discuss the myriad reasons why this is the case, I'd need to be lying on a leather couch, talking to a guy whose name is suffixed with the letters PhD. Instead, I'll simply say that it just isn't my "thing". I understand the basics of the game. A person will stand in front of everyone else and start acting like a fool, flapping their arms, hopping on one foot, and pointing at their nose. This is all done in pantomime, because the "actor" is not allowed to speak. The audience then shouts out what they think the phrase is. The actor grows increasingly frustrated that the audience can't see that the answer is - OBVIOUSLY - Chuck Norris. Wash, rinse, repeat.

There are certain signals that the actor can make to help the audience along. If he touches his nose and points at someone, that person correctly guessed the word that the actor was working on. Tugging on your ear means "sounds like". So, if he were to pull his ear and jump in the air, the audience would start shouting "dump", and "bump", and "hump". I only know this because I'm pretty sure I saw an episode of The Cosby Show, or Full House when I was younger where the family played charades.

Here in the Gearhart household, we've been playing charades for the past three or four days. We made the mistake of having Tyler start the game as the actor. He's only 7 months old, so we didn't set high expectations for him. But he was horrible at it. Maybe we didn't explain the game to him well enough (or at all), but Sarah and I have been yelling out our guesses over and over again, and Tyler hasn't once touched his nose and pointed at us. Needless to say, we're still in the first round of the game.

First, Tyler would grab and tug on his ear. "Sounds like", I thought. No problem. Then Tyler would yell and scream. Sarah and I thought of every rhyming word we could think of. Steam, team, cream, deem, slipstream. Nothing. Bell, cell, tell, oyster shell. Zilch. After a few days of guessing, we decided that either he sucks at charades, or we suck at parenting, so we took him to our family doctor. I had to work, so Sarah took him in.

The diagnosis: Sounds like Bubble Smear Chinflection.

Tyler is now taking Baby Motrin for pain (berry flavored), and amoxicillin for the infection.

Double ear infection. *sigh*

To top it all off, we just (last week) took Delilah to the vet to get her ears flushed. She's had ear problems and allergies since the day we got her. We have to put medicine in her ears everyday and give her an antibiotic pill with her food.

DOUBLE double ear infection. *double sigh*

Stuff You Shouldn't Be Doing, Tyler

This picture has nothing to do with the content of this blog. Tyler's teething, so he makes this face a lot.

Tyler has some pretty cool toys. He has this really awesome ball that's got a plastic monkey perched on the top of it. It makes noises and music when you roll it, and the monkey somehow manages to always stay on top. He has a turtle that counts to four, says shape names, and sings to the tune of an Italian song. He also has a spinning top type toy with animals on it. It sings, counts, lights up, and makes animal sounds.

They're great toys and, as a bonus to me, aren't very expensive. I can see how these toys can help to teach things, like cause and effect, and other cool terms that aren't coming to my mind right now. And Tyler plays with none of them. I try to engage him, I really do. I giggle like a little girl while I bat the monkey ball around, amazed at the monkey's ability to balance precariously atop the green and blue ball. My acting ability is top notch. I can fool any child under the age of two into believing that I am genuinely delighted by this marvel of a toy. This is, of course, partly because I am genuinely delighted by this marvel of a toy. I want to take it apart and see how this modern-day version of a Weeble Wobble works.

I hope cardboard isn't unhealthy

Tyler has no such interest. He looks at it - with just a hint of curiousity - for a moment, then proceeds to chew on my slipper. While it's on my foot. And I don't stop him. I'll have to file this post under the "bad parenting" category.

As much as I've been praying that Tyler will develop superpowers, and become a real-life superhero, the one thing I do not want is for him to have any psychic powers. I find myself less-than-amused at his innate ability to find everything that he shouldn't be playing with. If there are ten toys surrounding Tyler, and one of Delilah's chewed-up ropes, Tyler will see the rope, and only the rope, and he will commence on chewing said rope. Why he has no desire to play with the toys that we paid good money for is beyond the scope of my knowledge. I'm going to become a millionaire by developing a product that will be guaranteed to get any child interested in any item of your choosing. It's going to be a sticker that simply says, "Keep out of reach of children". You put that sticker on his least favorite toy, and he'll never put it down again.

Until I manufacture and market my idea, Sarah and I have to try to stay one step ahead of Tyler. I have a feeling that we will be playing this "game" for years and years to come. If we so much as blink after setting him on the floor, he'll have a power cord in his mouth. Tyler must think that "no" is a slang term for "awesome work, my dear boy. Your very survival is solely dependent on your eating cords at any and every opportunity". Tyler's has 2 other favorite items in our house. One is either a plant stand, or the ivy plant resting upon it; we haven't determined yet which of the two he is enamored with. He grabs at it every chance he gets. No amount of "no", or "bad", or "ucky" will dissuade him from reaching for it. When he does get his paws on it, he slides it closer to him. The sound of the wooden legs sliding across the hardwood floor is like a Klaxon alarm for us. We immediately have to charge after him and start with the calls of "no", and "we don't play with that".

Tyler's other, and probably more, favorite household item is Delilah's water dish. I don't know how to keep him out of it. So far, all he's interested in is splashing his hand in it, but I'm petrified of what could happen if left to his own devices long enough. I've been unable to come up with a solution that allows Delilah to get to her water, but still keeps Tyler away from it. Maybe I could install one of those wireless fence systems in our house. Anytime Tyler goes near the water dish, which will be just outside of the boundary, he will be delivered a high-voltage reminder of his lapse in judgment via a wireless elastic headband. I'm open to ideas, dear readers. In the meanwhile, I've got something else I'd like to talk about.

The library group that Sarah and Tyler attend had Valentine's Day treats on Tuesday. So, Sarah went to the store Monday night (yes babe, I just called you out for waiting until the last minute) to pick up some ingredients. She made a chocolate covered strawberry concoction, and it was delicious. Sarah is very gifted in the kitchen. It's win-win for me, because she loves to cook and try new things, and I love to eat. The added perk is that I get to be a taste tester when she makes these delicious desserts. If it weren't for my insane metabolism, I should easily weigh in at 300 or more pounds.

I've jumped off track. While Sarah was at the store, I played on the floor with Tyler. He was having a blast knocking over the towers of blocks that I was building. Unfortunately, our floors aren't very level, so any stacks higher than 6 or 7 blocks is impressive. As I completed one such stack, I turned to Tyler to let him know I needed his destructive assistance. I found myself unable to form words or even thoughts when I looked at him. When thought did finally return, I had trouble deciding on whether I should yell at Tyler, or grab my camera. I decided to do both.

"Tyler!!!", I yelled, jumping to my feet. "Don't move! Where's my camera?"

Yup, he can pull himself up now.

With the help of some living room furniture, Tyler - all by himself - pulled himself to a stand. I didn't run fast enough, though. When I returned, he was crawling to the tower o' blocks to demonstrate his skill at unstacking. Fortunately for my "I have to document this" side, and unfortunately for my "he's growing up too fast" side, Tyler crawled to the entertainment center and pulled himself up, four more times! One of those times, he turned and looked directly into my eyes, and I swear to you that the expression on his face said, "watch this". Then he just let go and plopped on his butt, and smiled at me.

I really was excited, really, and I expressed it as much as I could to him, with high pitched wows, and saying stuff like "good job" and "that's my big boy". But I'm worried that Tyler saw the fear that swam just below the surface of my visible emotions.

Tyler just let go of the only thing holding him up

Oreo

Tyler had his first Oreo cookie last week. I would prefer that he not be given "grown up" foods yet, as he's only 7 months old, but it's a type of tradition with Sarah's family. When the first tooth comes in, and baby can sit up on his own, he's ready for his first cookie. I've learned the art of "choosing your battles", so I just grabbed the camera, knowing there would be some gems in there. If you would like to browse all of the Oreo pictures, they start here. For those of you that don't want to look at picture after picture after picture, here are a couple highlights.

The first step is to give the baby a cookie, and then get very far away.

At first, I thought it would go relatively well. I found myself wondering why Sarah took all his clothes off, and had him in only a diaper.

It almost looked as if he wanted to see what he looked like with a mustache.

It was when Tyler started drooling that I started getting grossed out. He had dark brown drool flowing down his chin, neck, chest, and stomach.

Tyler's chubby hands were equally filthy.

Yeah, all down his chest and belly.

Tyler seemed to thoroughly enjoy this new, sugary food.

Sarah tried volunteering me for bathtime. I told her she was out of mind, because the Oreo fiasco was not my idea. As a last ditch attempt, she said that it wasn't hers either. I told her it was HER family's tradition, not mine. She realized I wasn't going to budge, and grabbed the filthy baby.

Luckily for everyone involved, Tyler cleans up nicely.

A Gearhart Christmas v. 2008

Preface

Christmas two thousand and eight was a fantastic holiday with friends, family, great food, love, and laughter. Like many families and couples, Christmas spans a few sunrises and sunsets for us, as it's the only feasible way to visit my family, Sarah's family, our friends, and still have a small, family Christmas at home. Christmas started on the actual Christmas day, because we weren't ready for it any earlier.

This multi-day celebration was bisected with the scariest moment of my entire life. Today's post is rather lengthy, as I feel it's necessary to tell the whole story, instead of just the part that made my heart stop. So bear with me, and I'll do my best to write the story well enough to keep your attention.

Chapter I - Pre-Christmas

I simultaneously hate and envy the person that says they completed all their shopping and wrapping on December 15th, or even earlier. We finished our shopping on December 23rd, and the wrapping on December 24th. Once that was complete, we put out milk and cookies for the late night burglar wearing the red suit. Upon putting Tyler to bed, we sent word that it was safe for Santa to come (wink, wink) and fill our stockings and leave gifts under the tree. To pass the time waiting for the strike of the midnight hour, Sarah and I fell asleep on the couch. Where oh where did the days of partying until the wee hours of the morning go?

I barely slept that night. Even as an adult, the anticipation of Christmas and gifts is more effective than three pots of coffee at keeping the angels of slumber from overtaking me. When Tyler woke up for nursies at God-knows-what-time, I was ready, Sarah wasn't. Instead, Sarah fed him, put him to bed and returned to ours. When Tyler woke up at 6:37am, I was ready. Unfortunately for me, Sarah wasn't. She brought Tyler to our bed and lay down with him. I sometimes think she enjoys torturing me. Finally, at 8:30a, Sarah - who was facing away from me - says, "well good morning Ty Ty." I jerked myself up and peered over at them, unable to contain my excitement.

Chapter II - Christmas at Home

In a word, Christmas was awesome. In a couple words, Christmas was super awesome.

Last Christmas was special because that's when we told our families that Sarah was 15 weeks pregnant with a baby boy. This Christmas trumped that, a hundred times over, because it was Tyler's first. He loved tearing (and trying to eat) the wrapping paper. I would actually love to give him a wrapped box everyday to open. He made out like a bandit too. His stocking stuffers included food, pacifiers, and a little baby toothbrush. The tree held even greater treasure, in the form of books and toys.

Delilah didn't do too bad either. Santa knows that we're trying to figure out what she's allergic to, so he didn't bring her any food products.

Sarah and I faired pretty well also. Among other things, she got the slow cooker that she so desperately wanted, and I got the new widescreen LCD monitor that I so desperately wanted.

We played with Tyler and his new toys for awhile, until he was ready for his nap. While he slept, we packed up the car with gifts and pies. After getting cleaned and dressed, Tyler was still asleep, so we played Guitar Hero for about 45 minutes. Tyler finally woke up around 1p. Sarah fed him, then we all loaded into the car.

Chapter III - Sarah's Family

Forty-five minutes later, we arrived at Sarah's parents' house. Unsurprisingly, Tyler received lots of toys, books, clothes, and kisses. The food was great. Sarah brought a homemade apple pie, a homemeade blueberry/peach pie, and a homemade pumpkin pie. They were delicious!

At one point, I hear Allison (Aunt Ace) say, "Tyler, are you ok?" I looked down to see Tyler sitting on the floor, holding a pair of his newly acquired pants. He was looking straight ahead, with his mouth open, trying to gag. Before I even got my feet on the ground, Ace was already next to him with her finger in his mouth. After what felt like 2 hours, but was actually less than five seconds, she pulls something out of his mouth. Apparently, Tyler had been chewing on the cardboard tag that retailers attach to clothing. After being drenched in Tyler's spittle, it tore off and got stuck on the roof of Tyler's mouth, toward the back. Tyler was then put under constant surveillance.

We got home that night, put Tyler to bed, then played with our gifts. Sarah read a book using her new booklight, and I tranferred pictures to the computer using my new card reader.

Chapter IV - The Long Drive

We left our house at 11am on the 26th to make the 2 hour drive to my parents' house. We got there 4 hours later. Just as I turned onto the entrance ramp to the expressway, we saw that traffic wasn't moving in either direction. People were standing outside their cars, and police were everywhere. Have I mentioned, yet, that we had an ice storm the night before? I did a U-turn on the ramp (yes, I drove the wrong way on a one-way) and we decided to take a state road North, until it intersected with the expressway again.

Fifteen minutes later, we were cruising at a respectable 40 miles an hour. We seemed to have gotten past all the ice, and were on wet roads. The temperature was expected to hit 40ºF, so that should take care of all the ice we just got past.

Suddenly, although I was driving straight, the car was pointing toward oncoming traffic, and was drifting into that lane. I looked ahead to see three cars heading our way. I pressed the brakes and slowly turned the wheel to the right. Nothing changed. We were heading directly towards the oncoming cars. I considered for a moment that this was going to be deadly for some (if not all) of us. The car was dangerously close to going into a spin. I could feel the rear end trying to slide around. Very far away, I heard Sarah's voice. It wasn't a scream, but more of a statement.

"Oh God."

Immediately, a picture of Sarah, and a picture of Tyler flashed in my head. It seemed that a part of my brain flipped a switch and put me on some type of auto-pilot. I knew what I was doing while I was doing it, and I knew why I was doing it. But I didn't know how I was doing it, because I really didn't feel like I was controlling my own body.

As calmy as if I was taking a leisurely walk through a park, I said "It's cool, it's cool. I've got this. We'll be ok."

I slowly turned the wheel to the right again. I eased onto the gas pedal, praying that the spinning front wheels would pull us back into our lane. Miracle, hand of God, or sheer dumb luck, I don't know, but it worked. I saw a telephone pole with about 20 feet of ice and snow between it and us. I knew that the snow would slow us down, and I decided that I would gladly take damage to the car just as long as my family was safe.

I tried steering to the left, to straighten us out, but there was no traction whatsoever. We left the road. The front passenger corner of the car hit the snow, with an inch of solid ice on top of it. It spun the front end around to face the right direction. We slid along the snow/ice wall and came to a stop. We were sitting as if we pulled off the road to look at a map. The scariest moment of my entire life ended without so much as a scratch on us or the car.

I got out and started stomping the ice so I could have some traction to push the car. I could only get us about 10 feet or so. Luckily, another motorist came to help push. When Sarah got back on the road, she couldn't stop because we were still on solid ice. That, and another car was coming from behind, so stopping would have been too dangerous. I thanked the guy that helped push and started running towards the car. I yelled for Sarah to keep going just as I grabbed the rear spoiler. At that point, I pulled myself along the car. I quit running and my feet were literally gliding on the ice. I actually did think to myself, "Ok, this is pretty cool." as I dropped into the passenger seat. Tyler, my dear son, slept through the entire ordeal, and Delilah was just as happy as before. About a mile later, we had to stop for about 20 minutes because a salt truck was stuck in the road. The driver was shoveling ice under his wheels to get some traction.

Shortly thereafter, the ice really did melt and we were able to continue our trip.

Chapter V - My Family

My parents freaked when I told them the story of our death-defying trip up to see them. I got to see my older brother, 2 of his sons, my younger brother, his girlfriend, my parents, and my grandparents. My sister is living in Kansas, and my other brother isn't around very much, so they weren't there for Christmas.

Tyler, once again, received lots of lovings. He was a bit of a Grumpy-Gus though, because his schedule was all out of whack from the previous couple days. But for the most part, he was well mannered and great to be around. 99% of the time that he sleeps, he sleeps in his crib. We obviously couldn't pack his crib, so we brought the Pack-N-Play for him to sleep in. He did not sleep very well at all. Tyler was up every 45 minutes or so. It was miserable for Sarah, poor girl. She was dog tired the next day.

My parents have one of those "Dancing Santa" toys. When you turn it on, he starts singing Jingle Bell Rock and moves his hips, side to side. Tyler was hypnotized by it. He just sat on the floor and stared at it, completely absorbed. It was hilarious.

The other highlight is that Tyler got up on his hands and knees and skooched forward on them. He's been up on his hands and knees before, but this day is the day that he got up and stayed up on them. Once again, Sarah and I were excited and scared. I keep saying I need to baby-proof the house, but haven't done so yet. I really need to now.

Closing

This has to have been one of my best Christmases ever (if not the best). Tyler puts such a big smile on my face everyday, and warms my heart. We all got home safe, with no near-misses this time. Our house is still a disaster zone, but that's par for the course.

If you've actually read this far, I really appreciate it. I try to keep my posts to a reasonable length, but sometimes I just can't help but to share more than normal.

I Almost Killed Him

Tyler doesn't feel well
(View More Photos)

Have you ever done something with the best of intentions, only to realize later that it was probably the stupidest thing you've ever done in your entire existence? I have. Just last night, as a matter of fact.

A while back, I banished Sarah's dad, my father-in-law, from my house because he made Tyler laugh before I could. I'm sure it's a petty reason, and a pretty harsh punishment, but what has been done cannot be undone. Plus, the banishment only lasted until the next time he visited, so no big deal. It looks as if Sarah's sister, Jillian, and her two daughters (L- and P- in this post) are going to be added to the list of people banished from my house.

Last Saturday, Sarah volunteered me to entertain L- and P- while her and her sister hung out for a few hours. I was frustrated for only a moment, and that was only because I was given about a 2 second notice that I'd be doing so. I got over it right away, because the girls adore me, and I rather adore them as well. I don't know why they like me as much as they do though, because I never was much of a kid person, but I'm learning. P- is absolutely enamored with me. And L- just recently realized how fun and awesome I am. I could speculate on why they've become so attached to me, but not without being hurtful to someone who may or may not be in their lives. So, we'll just simply say that I'm an awesome uncle.

I asked the girls if they wanted to watch "Monsters", and they shrieked with delight. After that, we watched Aladdin, then Tarzan. I say that we "watched" the films, but we basically just had them on in the background. We paid attention to Aladdin because I hadn't seen it in ages, and was pretty absorbed in it. The rest of the time, we played with toys and tickles. When Sarah came into the room to check on us, there were blankets, pillows, and toys EVERYWHERE.

I did have a scare when P- announced that she had to use the potty. I rushed into the kitchen, told them about the emergency and asked, "what do I do?"

Sarah and her sister thought this was the pinnacle of hilarity, while I failed to find any humor, whatsoever, in the situation. I had high hopes of an "I'll take care of it, Joe" response, but I didn't get one. Luckily, the whole ordeal wasn't as terrifying as I thought it would be. I basically had to make sure she didn't fall in, had to wipe her, and button her jeans up. Still, it won't be making the cut on my "Best of Joe's Memories" album, should one ever be produced.

You're probably asking yourself, "Why would Joe possibly want to banish these lovely people from his house? They love him and he loves them. What gives?"

When they got to our house, the first thing L- and P- needed to do was have some dinner. As we were pulling chairs out, P- lets out a deep, mucousy cough and says, very innocently, "I'm sick."

Need I say more? Wanna take a guess who's sick now? Yes, Tyler. Wanna guess who else is sick? Yup, Sarah's sick too. Care to take just one more stab at who else might be sick in our house? That's right folks, all three of us are sick. Bringing sick into someone's house should be a felony offense, punishable by death. I won't be able to make that into a law until I am elected Supreme Chancellor (it's close now. Very close), so banishment will have to be the acceptable alternative.

Needless to say, Tyler isn't happy, Sarah isn't happy, I'm not happy. He's fussy when he's eating, and has trouble breathing when we lie him down for sleep. He lets us know this fact by screaming and crying. Last night, Sarah asked me if we could prop his mattress up a bit so that Tyler doesn't have to lie flat. This sounds like a job for SuperDad! I ran upstairs, grabbed two spare pillows, folded them both in half, and wedged them under the head end of Tyler's mattress. I love solving problems. I get such a sense of accomplishment from doing so. It was a bit of a chore to get Tyler to fall asleep, but that's what makes Sarah a wonderful mommy. After he finally dozed off, she put him in his newly modified crib and the boy slept until 7:30 the next morning.

Sarah called me to tell me the great news. I was so proud of my sloping mattress contraption. But then Sarah said, "I think it's propped up to much."

That's when I realized that I had done something very, very stupid. Tyler, over the course of the night, had slid all the way down and was completely covered by his blankets, including his face. That's how Sarah found him.

Knowing he was fine helped me get over the initial shock pretty quickly, but it's been on my mind since then.

I can see it now. The headline would read, "Infant dies after father props mattress to near vertical position". Then there would be a bunch of statistics about SIDS, and the various charges that the county prosecutor was pressing against me.

This really did freak me out. The thing is though: I should know better. If I read an article like that in the paper, I'd be all over the father, calling him an idiot and wondering what he could possibly have been thinking at the time.

I'm not the overprotective type. If Tyler falls down and bumps his head, I'm going to ask him what lessons he's learned about gravity. If he scrapes his knee in the driveway, I'll explain that when two substances are rubbed together, creating friction, the harder substance will always win. And when he inevitably follows in his father's footsteps and falls out of a tree, I'm going to sit him down and ask him two questions.

"Remember when you fell down and bumped your head?"

Through his sobs, Tyler would say, "y-y-y-yes, d-d-daddy."

"And didn't I warn you not to f*** with gravity?"

My point is, I don't think I'm being overprotective in beating myself up for making a stupid mistake. It's done though, and I've learned my lesson.

I'm fairly certain that Tyler slept the entire night BECAUSE of what I did, though. He has a habit of getting his arms and hands out from under his covers every night, and always has chilly fingers in the morning. Before you suggest it, mittens won't work; he's a thrasher, and they'd just come off. Being trapped at the end of the bed, covered in blankets to the point of near-suffocation helped him stay snuggly and warm, so he slept soundly. Morbid? Slightly. True? Probably.

This is a picture that P- DEMANDED that be taken of her and I