House of Night

I've been indulging in guilty pleasure reading again, this time with a teen vamp series. The House of Night books tell the story of Zoey, an average high school student until she's "marked" as a fledgling vampire and sent off to a vamp finishing school. The story lines have been interesting but there's a few things that annoy me:

• I solve the mystery before the end of the book. That means I'm reading along wondering when the imaginary characters are going to catch up with what I already know. I hope this is simply immature plot development and that the writers, a mother/daughter duo, will become more skilled as time goes by. I'm only on the third book in the series so I'm hopeful this is the case. I had the same opinion of my favorite pleasure-read author, Laurell K. Hamilton, who has grown light years as a writer from her earliest books.
• I loathe the use of the term "brown pop" for a dark colored soda. The authors, P. C. & Kristin Cast don't hesitate to use brand names such as Doritos or Starbucks but they can't seem to make themselves write "Coke", "Pepsi" or "Barq's". Seriously ladies, cut it the hell out. It sounds stupid. I googled, to make sure I wasn't hating on some regional colloquialism but no, "brown pop" isn't one.
• U-we-tsi-a-ge-ya. The Cherokee word for daughter. After the first time you explain that "u-we-tsi-a-ge-ya" is the Cherokee word for daughter, there isn't a need to keep explaining. Each time Zoey's grandmother visits or is on the phone you use the term AND the explanation at least twice. Trust me, we've got it by now. Define it once per book and be done with it. I realize you're writing for teens but even they have a memory.

To be fair, here's a few things I love:

• The mark. What a nifty idea! When a teen who carries the vamp gene enters into the period of time where he develops into a vamp (or dies, read the books, you'll understand), he is marked by a crescent shaped tattoo. When a fledgling finishes vampire puberty and enters adulthood, that tattoo is filled in and more decoration is added, such as Celtic symbols or other intricate designs. This is so much more exciting than just being an extraordinarily beautiful vampire.
• Teens being teens. The authors don't sugarcoat teenagers. They portray them as they are: nice, bitchy, thoughtful, catty, scatterbrained, horny, shopaholics and more.
• Diversity. There's gay fledglings. Can you imagine coming out to your parents as a gay vampire?

Don't take my word for Gospel, go out and pick up a copy of the first book, Marked, and read it. Let me know what you think. If nothing else, it's better than watching mediocre television.

Singing the Parenthood Blues

All I'd like is to be able to sleep for as many hours at a time as my body would like. And that is something that apparently won't happen ever.again.in.my.life. Or at least not until after I stop nursing and/or Ryder goes to college. This morning I was so exhausted after the 3am feeding and the 7am marathon nursing session that I slept through the next demand for food--an hour later. Jaime says I mumbled "Mama called it" when he brought our crying son to me. He asked "what?", wondering what I called. I replied "the green box". Of course. Makes perfect sense. Uh huh. I don't even recall hearing Ryder crying much less the talking in my sleep part. It's a good thing my boy had already hoovered the boobs dry or else they'd have possibly exploded. I did get a little extra sleep, though.

But the good news is that he laughed today. My sweet papoose actually laughed. Why did he laugh, you ask? Because he'd just finished peeing. On his daddy. Oh yeah, we are in for a wild ride with this child.

A Month Old

Already! Ryder's already over a month old, really. One month and 4 days old. Growing like crazy, sleeping (except when we want him to), eating, pooting, pooping and peeing. Oh, and puking. We've entered the spit up phase of newborn life. I don't have a scale but I think he weighs in the 7lb range...maybe 7.5lbs or close to 8lbs even. He's still in newborn clothes but has outgrown his preemie outfits.

Just when the sleep deprivation was at it's worst, Ryder's aunt came to town. Tía Kim was a miracle worker with a gassy baby boy. She left after five days during which I don't recall doing much other than sleeping. Oh, and visiting The Salt Lick for lunch. Here's my boy with his first BBQ dinner. Too bad he chose breastmilk with a Similac chaser instead of that delicious pork rib.

This week we've had milestones. Ryder slept for more than two hours in a row overnight! He's also mastered the art of belching like a trucker. And one day, in the Newborn Trifecta, he managed to pee, puke and poop on me all in the space of a few short hours. The poo part was most amusing to Jaime but not so much to me, considering I was changing Ryder's diaper at the time and will now need to have my comforter dry cleaned. I'm washable, so it's all good.

And Baby Makes Three...

Ryder Joseph in his first family photo. He weighed in at 5lbs, 14oz. None too happy to leave his warm & cozy womb, he loudly protested his entry. Trust me when I say he has rock & roll lungs. He might've practiced his pedal kicks in utero but this little drummer is destined to be a lead singer.

Ryder's original due date was March 15, 2009. My c-section was scheduled for February 18th. My body decided that waiting was no longer an option and jacked up my blood pressure, resulting in a birthdate of February 16, 2009. The emergency c-section was interesting and slightly scary but all's well that ends well. I didn't get to hold my son until 26 hours after he was born but I'm making up for that now, snuggling him as much as I want.

Ryder was born on his grandfather's birthday, a quirk of fate since we'd discussed my grandpa's name during the name-choosing-negotiations. My grandfather is Lonjino S. Contreras. We'd chosen Joseph for his middle name, just like Jaime's. It's a Dilworth family name and I wanted a family name of my own for our baby's first name. However, everyone agreed that Lonjino would become Lonnie and that a Lonjino Joseph in Texas would surely be called Lonnie Joe. And a guy named Lonnie Joe sounds like he's headed straight for the penitentiary. Definitely for a life of crime. Can't you hear it? "Lonnie Joe, where you headed with that rifle?". Or "Damnit, Lonnie Joe! I told you I'd help rob the gas station but I don't wanna cart off the ATM. It's so heavy it'll ruin my truck winch." Luckily I had the fateful dream that would bring the name Ryder into play.

I'm happy with my name change. I whisper to Ryder over and over that Mommy loves him. Daddy loves him, too. Life is good.