I’m luckily in a position where I can run up to KC and visit family while Ryan goes on business trips. Holding Ruth in my six-month pregnant arms while squatting over a gas station toilet because gawd forbid I take the time to put down toilet paper and then lifting my six month pregnant leg to flush the toilet even though in two seconds I’ll be washing my hands at the sink sometimes makes me question if it had been a good decision or not.

We normally make a couple stops to various Walmarts to walk around and have a change of scenery. But in general, she’s a good road tripper. On the way home, she slept for two hours and then sang nursery rhymes with me (and the cd) for the last two. No stops, no not much crying, and content for the most part.

I normally try to start the trip right before her afternoon nap, but Ryan’s flight was in the morning and I was just itching to go. So after playing with her next door neighbor on the sidewalk for a few minutes, we took off. And am I glad we did. Because not three hours after we arrived, she got sick. Like, unidentifiable chunks down my shirt, in her hair, everywhere sick. I had to strip down to my birthday suit in front of my mom and jump in the bathtub with Ruth.

I told myself it was just a practice run for when she (hopefully) arrives at this next one’s birth. I think back on Ruth’s birth (click here to read it) and am amazed that I literally walked around buck naked with no care in the world. It makes me cringe. And now you’ll cringe with that image in your head… and my work on this earth has officially been completed, goodbye.

After our bath, Ruth slept on my chest the rest of the night. It was nice to snuggle her normally busy body.

The next day we started to see a glimpse of the old Ruthie, but her eyes still looked tired. Or maybe she was just sick and tired of me pointing out circles everywhere, including on grandma’s sock.

Ryan’s trip lasted 5 days and by the third day, Ruth was officially back to her old self again.

And by old self, it meant that she would have nothing to do with me or grandma but only wanted grandpa (“papa”). We tried everything. Grandma put on some cds to try and dance our way into her heart. We thought we had her too, watching her stand in grandma’s shadow. But really I think she just wanted to stand as close to the kid-unfriendly fireplace as possible.

Again we thought we had her when she started playing with the little people. On her knees she started rocking to the music. It made grandma laugh, but no dice from her end.

So we each got up and tried enticing her with our dance moves.


I even put my pregnancy at risk by jumping around with her on my shoulders. What I won’t do for acceptance.

Nada.

But then she went to papa and all was well.

He even got kisses. Whatever, Ruth.

And he was followed while trying to go to the bathroom. Double whatever.

I have a suspicion it’s because they have the same sleeping face. Evidence A:

In other news, literally, Ruth got her first dose of O’Reilly’s talking points. We rolled out the little TV into the living room because I’m lazy and demanded it be done from the cocoon I created in the love seat. Ruth was quickly taught how to turn it on and off. Her hair acted as the antenna.

At first she was excited but it quickly went sour when she actually started listening. That’s what the news will do to ya, Ruth. Don’t become cynical just yet. At least wait until you’re two.

I tried to take her mind off of it by building a mini village for the little people. I’m tempted to get on ebay and just order a large lot of these, I love them so.

The toilet and vanity are my favorite. Hope he lit a match.

But Ruthie preferred to press the applause button on this little remote thing. She is officially her mother’s daughter.

When we first arrived, before she vomited all over my chest, I did my little joke for the grandparents.

Ruth, what does a cow say? Moooo

What does a sheep say? Baaaa

What does mommy say? NO!!

Later, I expanded and asked: What does Daddy say? NO!!! What does Grandma say? NO!!!

Then, What does Grandpa say? Papapapa

Yep, Papa was spared the Mommy Dearest interpretation. Mom suggested I get it on video before it becomes too rehearsed. So here it is… but little did I know that Ruth had already discovered the secret world of making people laugh. Watch her look at grandma when we ask her the question.

What does Grandma Say?

As I told a friend the other day, I’m really starting to feel like Ruth’s my little friend now. She makes me laugh out loud, makes me pull out my hair, makes my heart hurt, and makes me want to give her kisses all day long. Her dad feels the same way, with less pulling out his hair, but just as many kisses.