Dear Phisherman,
"Look BIGGER this coming new year with these trial pills"???! Do you realize who you're talking too? Have you not heard the news? I don't need no stinking pills, I'm growing a baby and have no trouble "looking bigger," you. . .you. . .you. . .JACKNUTS!
Sincerely,
Monkey Brain
Thursday, December 31, 2009
Party like it's 1999
Ten years ago tonight, I was at my friend S' parent's house out on Long Island for a huge house party to celebrate Y2K. Remember that? We were so afraid that the computers would crash and the world would end? I ended up going to sleep early with a migraine, whoo. hoo.
Ten years ago, I was a pack a day smoker of Camel Lights.
Ten years ago, I had no romantic prospects, and wondered if I would ever get married.
Ten years ago, I lived in Boston.
I can't believe how much has happened in the last ten years, and I don't even know how to write about it, but I'll give it a shot.
In October of 2000, I quit smoking and except for a few slip-ups here and there, I've been relatively smoke free.
In July 2001, my friend S told me that he would pick me up in any city with a major airport west of the Mississipi. And with the Dixie Chicks' "Wide Open Spaces" playing in my head, I bought a one-way ticket to Denver, CO with only a couple of hundred dollars to my name, no apartment, no job. I didn't even have a sleeping bag, and when we camped in the Rocky Mountains, I covered myself in clothes to keep out the cold.
On August 5, 2001, we drove on I-80 into the San Francisco Bay Area.
The day before Thanksgiving 2001, I took a one-day temp job doing data entry on a bankruptcy case and the course of my life changed dramatically. It was a start-up made up mostly of temps, who set up camp on one side of the floor. Everyone was pretty nice, except for this kind of creepy guy who didn't really talk.
On July 5, 2002, I had my first date with that creepy guy, who turned out to not be so creepy after all.
In November 2002, I got my first job with health insurance, at the company that had brought me in for one day.
On April 8, 2004, I accepted Josh's (creepy no more) marriage proposal.
In October 2004, I celebrated my smoke-freeness by walking 60 miles over three days to raise money for breast cancer. I also got a new job in solar, working for the utility whose 2001 bankruptcy got me that one-day temp job.
On July 2, 2005, Josh and I got married in Healdsburg, CA.
In December 2005, we went to Hawaii for the first time (Kauai) for our honeymoon.
On November 15, 2006, I had a miscarriage. After crying our eyes out, Josh told me this: "First, we know that we're fertile, so that's good. Second, if we have a kid anytime in the next couple of years, we wouldn't have had that baby without this miscarriage, and I bet we wouldn't be able to imagine life without that baby." Truer words were never spoke.
On October 2, 2007, we welcomed Jacob Prewitt Henig into our lives and I can't say enough about that.
In April 2008, I took on a $50M project to bring more solar to low income apartment buildings in Northern California.
On March 22, 2009, I challenged my fears and ran a 5k.
Sometime in May 2009, we made Keiki.
10 years ago, I was at a party. Tonight, I'm eating Thai food with my husband while we watch "True Blood" and our son sleeps in his crib, and his sibling dances in my belly. No cigarettes, one glass of wine, and when I go to bed early tonight, it will be with much happiness.
And there you have it, Internet. Looking forward to the next 10 years.
Ten years ago, I was a pack a day smoker of Camel Lights.
Ten years ago, I had no romantic prospects, and wondered if I would ever get married.
Ten years ago, I lived in Boston.
I can't believe how much has happened in the last ten years, and I don't even know how to write about it, but I'll give it a shot.
In October of 2000, I quit smoking and except for a few slip-ups here and there, I've been relatively smoke free.
In July 2001, my friend S told me that he would pick me up in any city with a major airport west of the Mississipi. And with the Dixie Chicks' "Wide Open Spaces" playing in my head, I bought a one-way ticket to Denver, CO with only a couple of hundred dollars to my name, no apartment, no job. I didn't even have a sleeping bag, and when we camped in the Rocky Mountains, I covered myself in clothes to keep out the cold.
On August 5, 2001, we drove on I-80 into the San Francisco Bay Area.
The day before Thanksgiving 2001, I took a one-day temp job doing data entry on a bankruptcy case and the course of my life changed dramatically. It was a start-up made up mostly of temps, who set up camp on one side of the floor. Everyone was pretty nice, except for this kind of creepy guy who didn't really talk.
On July 5, 2002, I had my first date with that creepy guy, who turned out to not be so creepy after all.
In November 2002, I got my first job with health insurance, at the company that had brought me in for one day.
On April 8, 2004, I accepted Josh's (creepy no more) marriage proposal.
In October 2004, I celebrated my smoke-freeness by walking 60 miles over three days to raise money for breast cancer. I also got a new job in solar, working for the utility whose 2001 bankruptcy got me that one-day temp job.
On July 2, 2005, Josh and I got married in Healdsburg, CA.
In December 2005, we went to Hawaii for the first time (Kauai) for our honeymoon.
On November 15, 2006, I had a miscarriage. After crying our eyes out, Josh told me this: "First, we know that we're fertile, so that's good. Second, if we have a kid anytime in the next couple of years, we wouldn't have had that baby without this miscarriage, and I bet we wouldn't be able to imagine life without that baby." Truer words were never spoke.
On October 2, 2007, we welcomed Jacob Prewitt Henig into our lives and I can't say enough about that.
In April 2008, I took on a $50M project to bring more solar to low income apartment buildings in Northern California.
On March 22, 2009, I challenged my fears and ran a 5k.
Sometime in May 2009, we made Keiki.
10 years ago, I was at a party. Tonight, I'm eating Thai food with my husband while we watch "True Blood" and our son sleeps in his crib, and his sibling dances in my belly. No cigarettes, one glass of wine, and when I go to bed early tonight, it will be with much happiness.
And there you have it, Internet. Looking forward to the next 10 years.
Wednesday, December 30, 2009
Spam
Dear “Sweetsugarlips,”
You just turned 18? Congratulations! Oh the places you’ll go, the people you’ll meet. You can vote now, good for you!
Sincerely,
Monkey Brain
You just turned 18? Congratulations! Oh the places you’ll go, the people you’ll meet. You can vote now, good for you!
Sincerely,
Monkey Brain
34 Weeks: Stats & Cantaloupe Brain
BP: 102/72
Fundal Height: 36cm (36 weeks)
Weight: +1 (I TOLD you it was the cookies!)
In the great VBAC/C-Section debate, we are undecided. Low BP is a good sign that I won’t have preeclampsia, a form of pregnancy induced high blood pressure, which can only be relieved by delivery, which would mean C-Section (no inductions, remember?). I’m still measuring 2 weeks ahead, but that is steady from the last few visits, so the good sign is that baby is not continuing to grow faster than my birth canal would like.
The longer I stay in the middle zone, the more comfortable I get with either type of delivery. I have moments of really wanting to power through a med-free vaginal birth, but that seems like an extreme fantasy. What does feel good is that I’m doing what I can to stay healthy and so far, my body is cooperating. We’ll see how these last few weeks go, but for now I’m still enjoying this middle place.
Evidently Keiki is the size of a cantaloupe this week, and my own melon feels a little mushy inside. This week I’ve had a serious case of nesting. Nesting plus Monkey Brain plus 3rd trimester pregnancy fatigue makes for an ugly scene.
So far, we have Jacob’s new bed and a bigger dresser for the kids (KIDS!!) to share. We hung curtains after having a jury-rigged budget situation that looked like a sheet hanging over one window ever since we got our new windows in October. A new faucet to replace the old one from 1972 that was so low that as long as you didn’t put dishes in the sink, it would be just fine. And as long as you didn’t move the spout in any way, it wouldn’t spit at you. A new showerhead, bath spout and knobs means that we can turn the shower on and off without fear that one might fall off again and we’d need to use the pliers to turn on the bathwater.
And when I say we, I don’t mean me. I mean that my brother Ben put up the curtains, and Josh found the plumber, and I frantically added items to the Honey Do list. And since I can’t do much with this big turkey (cantaloupe, my A$$!) strapped to my belly, I sit frustrated by my lack of physical ability to help while my mind goes on, listing all the things we “need” to do.
You see Internet, when pregnant with Jacob, we pretty much had everything set long before he was born. We both had the anxiety that drove us to get the crib, wash the clothes, install the car seat. That was before we had a little person who wants to play Legos instead of letting you read car seat reviews. That was before poopy diapers and bath time, and one more reading of Chicken Bedtime is Really Early took precedence over buying Dreft to pre-wash baby clothes.
With Keiki, our mantra has been, “Oh, we have everything, we just need a new car seat.” While this is true for the most part, we still have to get out the Moses basket, wash the newborn clothes, find a place to store them, and be ready. And Keiki could come in as soon as three weeks. THREE WEEKS!!!! It doesn’t help to get all bent out of shape, but what can you do when you are 8 months pregnant and can’t walk off your anxiety without Braxton-Hicksing yourself into submission? Well, you make a big list of stuff to do and spew it at your spouse. Honey, I’m sorry you married a crazy crackpot who may be crazier by the minute.
At the end of the day, we do have everything, I just need to get to the pool or something and burn off the nervous nesting energy. Although I must say, our new drapes look quite lovely, and I can’t stop washing dishes with our shiny new faucet.
Fundal Height: 36cm (36 weeks)
Weight: +1 (I TOLD you it was the cookies!)
In the great VBAC/C-Section debate, we are undecided. Low BP is a good sign that I won’t have preeclampsia, a form of pregnancy induced high blood pressure, which can only be relieved by delivery, which would mean C-Section (no inductions, remember?). I’m still measuring 2 weeks ahead, but that is steady from the last few visits, so the good sign is that baby is not continuing to grow faster than my birth canal would like.
The longer I stay in the middle zone, the more comfortable I get with either type of delivery. I have moments of really wanting to power through a med-free vaginal birth, but that seems like an extreme fantasy. What does feel good is that I’m doing what I can to stay healthy and so far, my body is cooperating. We’ll see how these last few weeks go, but for now I’m still enjoying this middle place.
Evidently Keiki is the size of a cantaloupe this week, and my own melon feels a little mushy inside. This week I’ve had a serious case of nesting. Nesting plus Monkey Brain plus 3rd trimester pregnancy fatigue makes for an ugly scene.
So far, we have Jacob’s new bed and a bigger dresser for the kids (KIDS!!) to share. We hung curtains after having a jury-rigged budget situation that looked like a sheet hanging over one window ever since we got our new windows in October. A new faucet to replace the old one from 1972 that was so low that as long as you didn’t put dishes in the sink, it would be just fine. And as long as you didn’t move the spout in any way, it wouldn’t spit at you. A new showerhead, bath spout and knobs means that we can turn the shower on and off without fear that one might fall off again and we’d need to use the pliers to turn on the bathwater.
And when I say we, I don’t mean me. I mean that my brother Ben put up the curtains, and Josh found the plumber, and I frantically added items to the Honey Do list. And since I can’t do much with this big turkey (cantaloupe, my A$$!) strapped to my belly, I sit frustrated by my lack of physical ability to help while my mind goes on, listing all the things we “need” to do.
You see Internet, when pregnant with Jacob, we pretty much had everything set long before he was born. We both had the anxiety that drove us to get the crib, wash the clothes, install the car seat. That was before we had a little person who wants to play Legos instead of letting you read car seat reviews. That was before poopy diapers and bath time, and one more reading of Chicken Bedtime is Really Early took precedence over buying Dreft to pre-wash baby clothes.
With Keiki, our mantra has been, “Oh, we have everything, we just need a new car seat.” While this is true for the most part, we still have to get out the Moses basket, wash the newborn clothes, find a place to store them, and be ready. And Keiki could come in as soon as three weeks. THREE WEEKS!!!! It doesn’t help to get all bent out of shape, but what can you do when you are 8 months pregnant and can’t walk off your anxiety without Braxton-Hicksing yourself into submission? Well, you make a big list of stuff to do and spew it at your spouse. Honey, I’m sorry you married a crazy crackpot who may be crazier by the minute.
At the end of the day, we do have everything, I just need to get to the pool or something and burn off the nervous nesting energy. Although I must say, our new drapes look quite lovely, and I can’t stop washing dishes with our shiny new faucet.
Tuesday, December 29, 2009
Monkey Brain
Dear Self,
If you call the faucet a sink ONE MORE TIME, we are through, Missy!
Sincerely,
Monkey Brain
If you call the faucet a sink ONE MORE TIME, we are through, Missy!
Sincerely,
Monkey Brain
Spam
In Re: I sent you a deadly animal
Dear Phisherman,
Actually? You sent me a DEAD animal. On Christmas Eve. Thanks for nothing, Bub.
Sincerely,
Monkey Brain
Dear Phisherman,
Actually? You sent me a DEAD animal. On Christmas Eve. Thanks for nothing, Bub.
Sincerely,
Monkey Brain
To the dead rat in my holiday crate
Disclaimer: This is a true story about finding dead rats in my garage. For those of you readers who may be disgusted by this (I am when I think about it) and never want to visit my house, please remember that we all have the equivalent of a long-dead rat somewhere in our lives. And if you don't, you’re either in denial or we can’t be friends because you are too damn perfect.
Dear Willard,
As I searched through my garage on Christmas Eve, looking for Josh and my stockings, I stumbled upon a crate full of holiday decorations. At first I was excited (paydirt)!
And then I saw the droppings.
And then I saw grey fur.
And then I ran in the house and said to my husband, “There’s something that I’m afraid to look at.” And God bless him and the United States of America, he confirmed my nightmare as I stood convulsing with the heeby-jeebies on the threshold to our kitchen. And then he removed you, and threw away the crate and everything. He said your corpse was light; you had probably been there for a long, long time.
I know that after we had the exterminator run you and your kind out of our attic and garage last April, we should have done a full clearing and shop-vacced the crap out of our garage. But then spring turned to summer and early pregnancy, and morning sickness, and blah, blah, blah Monkey Brain, and since there was no more scratching in the walls or on the ceiling, we kind of forgot about you and yours.
And then, Josh found the baby rat dead in a box by our underused Bowflex (Really, universe? You think I’m going to work out in that space without having panic attacks?). And then we cleared out some garage space and found a crate with evidence of you and your family. Clearly you were hungry if you felt the need to eat half of my heating pad. And while I appreciate how easy you made it to sort through that crate (EVERYTHING IN THE TRASH!!!), we didn’t have the energy to go through every crate and box that has been sitting in our garage since we bought our house in July 2008.
And then, the Christmas spirit had to take hold of me and I wanted to find those damn stockings. I’m really glad they weren’t in your crate; it would have sucked to throw out my mom’s hard work.
I hope it wasn’t long and painful. Josh and I have been wondering, were you clocked by the rat trap near our water heater and then wandered around in a daze until your little body just curled up and died? Please tell me that there are no more of you, because there is a baby tub on a high shelf that I am really scared to pull down.
Sincerely,
Monkey Brain
Dear Willard,
As I searched through my garage on Christmas Eve, looking for Josh and my stockings, I stumbled upon a crate full of holiday decorations. At first I was excited (paydirt)!
And then I saw the droppings.
And then I saw grey fur.
And then I ran in the house and said to my husband, “There’s something that I’m afraid to look at.” And God bless him and the United States of America, he confirmed my nightmare as I stood convulsing with the heeby-jeebies on the threshold to our kitchen. And then he removed you, and threw away the crate and everything. He said your corpse was light; you had probably been there for a long, long time.
I know that after we had the exterminator run you and your kind out of our attic and garage last April, we should have done a full clearing and shop-vacced the crap out of our garage. But then spring turned to summer and early pregnancy, and morning sickness, and blah, blah, blah Monkey Brain, and since there was no more scratching in the walls or on the ceiling, we kind of forgot about you and yours.
And then, Josh found the baby rat dead in a box by our underused Bowflex (Really, universe? You think I’m going to work out in that space without having panic attacks?). And then we cleared out some garage space and found a crate with evidence of you and your family. Clearly you were hungry if you felt the need to eat half of my heating pad. And while I appreciate how easy you made it to sort through that crate (EVERYTHING IN THE TRASH!!!), we didn’t have the energy to go through every crate and box that has been sitting in our garage since we bought our house in July 2008.
And then, the Christmas spirit had to take hold of me and I wanted to find those damn stockings. I’m really glad they weren’t in your crate; it would have sucked to throw out my mom’s hard work.
I hope it wasn’t long and painful. Josh and I have been wondering, were you clocked by the rat trap near our water heater and then wandered around in a daze until your little body just curled up and died? Please tell me that there are no more of you, because there is a baby tub on a high shelf that I am really scared to pull down.
Sincerely,
Monkey Brain
Monday, December 28, 2009
It's the end of the sleep as we know it
While the impending arrival of Jacob’s sibling will certainly put a wrench in our sleep, Josh and I have made a conscious choice to alter our ability to get a good night’s sleep for the next, oh, lifetime. This weekend, we purchased and assembled a bed for Jacob. WITHOUT BARS.
You see, when your child is in a crib, you know exactly where they are. And once they are past the SIDS stage, and you keep the knives out of reach, they are pretty much as safe as it’s gonna get in their little wooden cage. That is, until they pull off their diaper and smear poop on the wall and maybe eat some of it, but that only happened once, I SWEAR.
At first, he was not impressed and did NOT appreciate our messing around with his room without a toddler change management permit. We tried to win him over with talk of a “big boy bed,” but he couldn’t care less. This is one of the many things about Jacob that I love. He sits there sucking his thumb, fiddling with his ear, never trying to crawl out of the crib, never wanting to be bigger than he is. I need to remember to savor this when he wants to drive at 13 and get married at 30 (just kidding!).
Once the bed was set up, he came in again and loved it. He rolled around and played “sleep,” directing me to “Take you glasses off, Mama,” knowing that if I’m wearing my specs, I’m not really sleeping.
This is the end of an era. Once he is fully sleeping in his bed (we are in a slow transition starting with weekend naps and building up to week nights), there is nothing to stop him from getting out of it, other then abject fear, and I still want to save that parenting technique for a rainy day. So we’ll have to lock the baby gate, close the doors and hope he doesn’t learn to climb up to the high shelf that stores the bathroom chemicals while we snooze away.
Sometimes, on the weekends, Josh and I sleep through Jacob's initial wakings and he falls back asleep. Those days are long gone, my friends. A new day will come soon when I will wake up with a little toddler face near mine, and who knows how long he’ll have been there, my three foot stalker watching me sleep. And after I stop hyperventilating, he’ll say, “You awake?” and I’ll see that it’s 5:30 am, and I will have to be awake, won’t I?
You see, when your child is in a crib, you know exactly where they are. And once they are past the SIDS stage, and you keep the knives out of reach, they are pretty much as safe as it’s gonna get in their little wooden cage. That is, until they pull off their diaper and smear poop on the wall and maybe eat some of it, but that only happened once, I SWEAR.
At first, he was not impressed and did NOT appreciate our messing around with his room without a toddler change management permit. We tried to win him over with talk of a “big boy bed,” but he couldn’t care less. This is one of the many things about Jacob that I love. He sits there sucking his thumb, fiddling with his ear, never trying to crawl out of the crib, never wanting to be bigger than he is. I need to remember to savor this when he wants to drive at 13 and get married at 30 (just kidding!).
Once the bed was set up, he came in again and loved it. He rolled around and played “sleep,” directing me to “Take you glasses off, Mama,” knowing that if I’m wearing my specs, I’m not really sleeping.
This is the end of an era. Once he is fully sleeping in his bed (we are in a slow transition starting with weekend naps and building up to week nights), there is nothing to stop him from getting out of it, other then abject fear, and I still want to save that parenting technique for a rainy day. So we’ll have to lock the baby gate, close the doors and hope he doesn’t learn to climb up to the high shelf that stores the bathroom chemicals while we snooze away.
Sometimes, on the weekends, Josh and I sleep through Jacob's initial wakings and he falls back asleep. Those days are long gone, my friends. A new day will come soon when I will wake up with a little toddler face near mine, and who knows how long he’ll have been there, my three foot stalker watching me sleep. And after I stop hyperventilating, he’ll say, “You awake?” and I’ll see that it’s 5:30 am, and I will have to be awake, won’t I?
Spam
Dear Phisherman,
“Harddrill her today?” If “her” is my living room wall and you are willing to come hang my new double-curtain rod, count me in!
Sincerely,
Monkey Brain
“Harddrill her today?” If “her” is my living room wall and you are willing to come hang my new double-curtain rod, count me in!
Sincerely,
Monkey Brain
Sunday, December 27, 2009
Pillow Talk
"You know, I kind of understand how Edward feels about Bella. The uncontrollable attraction and obsession, just being totally drawn to something."
"Is that how you feel about ME?"
"That's how I feel about cookies. . ."
"Is that how you feel about ME?"
"That's how I feel about cookies. . ."
Saturday, December 26, 2009
Spam
Dear Brandie,
Yes, I did get your e-mail, but I’m just not going to respond, so please stop. Listen Brandie, you’re a fine girl. What a good wife you would be. But my life, my love and my man, is Joshy.
Sincerely,
Monkey Brain
Yes, I did get your e-mail, but I’m just not going to respond, so please stop. Listen Brandie, you’re a fine girl. What a good wife you would be. But my life, my love and my man, is Joshy.
Sincerely,
Monkey Brain
Friday, December 25, 2009
Thursday, December 24, 2009
Jacob’s Other Family
Every weekday, Josh drops Jacob off at daycare, where he is loved, loved, loved. And while I am grateful that he gets another form of parental attention in addition to all that Josh and I provide, there are moments.
Sometimes, when I think about daycare, I can certainly empathize with Fundamental Latter Day Saints (FLDS) co-wives and their potential jealousy.
Sometimes, when I think about daycare, I can certainly empathize with Fundamental Latter Day Saints (FLDS) co-wives and their potential jealousy.
Wednesday, December 23, 2009
Spam
Dear Phisherman,
You sent a glitter to me? A real live glitter? I'm all about the Christmas bling, but I didn't buy anything for you, and as a WASP, I can't receive a gift without returning the favor. Thanks all the same.
You sent a glitter to me? A real live glitter? I'm all about the Christmas bling, but I didn't buy anything for you, and as a WASP, I can't receive a gift without returning the favor. Thanks all the same.
33 Weeks: Pineapple Dreams. . .I Wish
Well, I’ve rallied a bit since last week. I can’t do too much, but I don’t feel like I’m going to fall over. I can’t walk far, so I’m looking forward to working from home in a couple of weeks and hauling myself into the nearest YMCA pool for some weightlessness.
The main thing this past week is that I’m no longer sleeping through the night. I never really sleep through the night while pregnant, waking up every few hours to change position or pee. But lately, I actually wake up and can’t get back to sleep. This feels like Mother Nature’s way of preparing me for the caring of a newborn, but don’t you think I should be stockpiling sleep while I can, and not stripping it from me in advance? Oh Mother Nature, what a cruel mistress you can be!
The main thing this past week is that I’m no longer sleeping through the night. I never really sleep through the night while pregnant, waking up every few hours to change position or pee. But lately, I actually wake up and can’t get back to sleep. This feels like Mother Nature’s way of preparing me for the caring of a newborn, but don’t you think I should be stockpiling sleep while I can, and not stripping it from me in advance? Oh Mother Nature, what a cruel mistress you can be!
Tuesday, December 22, 2009
Monkey Brain
Seen on Facebook in reference to a friend’s homebrew video:
“Try dry hopping the finishing hops or don’t steep it as long.”
Dry hopping? Finishing hops? Long Steeping? Is this some sort of fertility treatment for bunnies? My monkey brain is going in rapid circles like our old dog Maggie when she was ready for a walk.
So. Much. To. Comment. On. Monkey. Brain. Exploding.
“Try dry hopping the finishing hops or don’t steep it as long.”
Dry hopping? Finishing hops? Long Steeping? Is this some sort of fertility treatment for bunnies? My monkey brain is going in rapid circles like our old dog Maggie when she was ready for a walk.
So. Much. To. Comment. On. Monkey. Brain. Exploding.
Monday, December 21, 2009
Monkey Mama
Sometimes when Jacob wakes up, he’s peed out of his diaper and his jammies are a bit wet, so after I plopped him on the floor recently and found my own shirt a little moist, I shrugged it off. I SHOULD have changed him right there and then, but my belly was already squealing, and Daddy was nowhere to be found. Lifting him again was just not an option. What’s a little wetness among friends, right? He’d get changed soon enough.
Onward we went, into the kitchen for a little chocolate soy milk and Gorilla Munch (Gilla lunch!) cereal. A few minutes into breakfast, I noticed some water spots on the kitchen floor. Huh? There’s no milk with the Gilla Lunch. Then I notice that Jacob, still in his feety pajamas, is sloshing around the kitchen. How are his feet wet? And then I go in to check the front of his diaper, and all I get is a feel of little toddler penis through his jammies. I should not be feeling little toddler penis, I should be feeling crinkly full diaper. Did Daddy FORGET to put the diaper on last night? I’m still dazed and confused, not seeing the reality in front of me.
And so I strip my kid, right in the kitchen, and somehow, Jacob has made his way into his bottoms (which snap to the tops, making it very difficult to get little hands down the pants) and pulled down the front of his diaper. I’m both shocked at my pee covered son, who has no sense of self-consciousness, and kind of amazed at the MacGuyvering skill that allowed him to do this to himself.
The worst part? The part that goes on my list of embarassing mother acts? I scooped up the naked boy, and with an eye on the clock and not enough time for a bath, gave him a sponge bath with Baby Wipes and put on his nice Christmas outfit and sent him off to Josh’s school for the day. Smelling a bit like pee. Where, oh where, is my handbasket?
Onward we went, into the kitchen for a little chocolate soy milk and Gorilla Munch (Gilla lunch!) cereal. A few minutes into breakfast, I noticed some water spots on the kitchen floor. Huh? There’s no milk with the Gilla Lunch. Then I notice that Jacob, still in his feety pajamas, is sloshing around the kitchen. How are his feet wet? And then I go in to check the front of his diaper, and all I get is a feel of little toddler penis through his jammies. I should not be feeling little toddler penis, I should be feeling crinkly full diaper. Did Daddy FORGET to put the diaper on last night? I’m still dazed and confused, not seeing the reality in front of me.
And so I strip my kid, right in the kitchen, and somehow, Jacob has made his way into his bottoms (which snap to the tops, making it very difficult to get little hands down the pants) and pulled down the front of his diaper. I’m both shocked at my pee covered son, who has no sense of self-consciousness, and kind of amazed at the MacGuyvering skill that allowed him to do this to himself.
The worst part? The part that goes on my list of embarassing mother acts? I scooped up the naked boy, and with an eye on the clock and not enough time for a bath, gave him a sponge bath with Baby Wipes and put on his nice Christmas outfit and sent him off to Josh’s school for the day. Smelling a bit like pee. Where, oh where, is my handbasket?
Sunday, December 20, 2009
Spam
Dear Tri-Cleanse,
I don’t need to fight holiday fat because I have a big Christmas goose growing in my belly. Thanks for the offer, but I think giving birth and the subsequent emptying of my uterus will be enough cleansing for me.
Sincerely,
Monkey Brain
I don’t need to fight holiday fat because I have a big Christmas goose growing in my belly. Thanks for the offer, but I think giving birth and the subsequent emptying of my uterus will be enough cleansing for me.
Sincerely,
Monkey Brain
Monkey Brain
“When I ask you this question, you are supposed to say, ‘What’s that over there?’”
“Okay.”
“How many ADD kids does it take to change a lightbulb?”
“How many?”
Sad face. “You’re supposed to say, ‘What’s that over there?”!!!
“Oh yeah.”
“How many ADD kids does it take to change a lightbulb?”
“What’s that over there?”
“Wanna ride bikes?”
If you ask me, I think that the fact that I said “How many” instead of my given line was a better demonstration of ADD.
“Okay.”
“How many ADD kids does it take to change a lightbulb?”
“How many?”
Sad face. “You’re supposed to say, ‘What’s that over there?”!!!
“Oh yeah.”
“How many ADD kids does it take to change a lightbulb?”
“What’s that over there?”
“Wanna ride bikes?”
If you ask me, I think that the fact that I said “How many” instead of my given line was a better demonstration of ADD.
Friday, December 18, 2009
Monkey Pic
This is what happens when you want to eat your dinner in peace and happen to leave the baby gate open and don't question the fact that the toddler has been silent for 3 minutes. 3 MINUTES! And this was a full roll, I'm talking 267 sheets of 3-ply, quilted softness.
I Don't Think You're Ready, For This Belly
Here you go, reader, a nice preggo picture. I've always hated having my picture taken, but this was a good hair day, and my outfit is quite pregalicious.
My expression here is pretty much the same one that I had in my Kindergarten photo. My mom was at school that day and when she found out, she marched me back to the photographer and made them take it again. When the proofs came back, she actually liked the pouty face so much that she ordered a whole set of them. Score for sullenness!
Thursday, December 17, 2009
Monkey Cook: Garlic Bread w/Cheese & Parsley
If you like garlic as much as my friend P, you will love this recipe. This is yummy, easy, and fit for two or a crowd. This recipe serves 2.
2 wide slices crusty bread, like focaccia or ciabatta (I used Acme Herbed Focaccia slab, but for some of you, Berkeley may be too far to go)
2-3 T butter*
5-6 cloves of garlic, grated (I actually used Trader Joe’s frozen garlic cubes)
3-4 T chopped flat-leaf parsley
3-4 T grated parmesan cheese (optional)
In a small skillet or saucepan, melt the butter and garlic on low heat until the butter is half melted (you don’t want it to burn) and then turn the burner off. Stir the mixture until it is like a paste.
Spread the paste evenly on each slice of bread (don’t be stingy!). Sprinkle each slice with parmesan cheese & parsley.
Broil the toast for about 5 minutes, until the top is slightly brown. Eat, repeat. As mentioned, this can be multiplied for a crowd as the measurements are not so precise. If you are looking for specifics, sorry bout that, this is a real Monkey Brain recipe!
*To counteract the butter, I paired this with a simple chopped salad: romaine parsley, grilled chicken breast, balsamic vinegar, and about 1T of parmesan.
2 wide slices crusty bread, like focaccia or ciabatta (I used Acme Herbed Focaccia slab, but for some of you, Berkeley may be too far to go)
2-3 T butter*
5-6 cloves of garlic, grated (I actually used Trader Joe’s frozen garlic cubes)
3-4 T chopped flat-leaf parsley
3-4 T grated parmesan cheese (optional)
In a small skillet or saucepan, melt the butter and garlic on low heat until the butter is half melted (you don’t want it to burn) and then turn the burner off. Stir the mixture until it is like a paste.
Spread the paste evenly on each slice of bread (don’t be stingy!). Sprinkle each slice with parmesan cheese & parsley.
Broil the toast for about 5 minutes, until the top is slightly brown. Eat, repeat. As mentioned, this can be multiplied for a crowd as the measurements are not so precise. If you are looking for specifics, sorry bout that, this is a real Monkey Brain recipe!
*To counteract the butter, I paired this with a simple chopped salad: romaine parsley, grilled chicken breast, balsamic vinegar, and about 1T of parmesan.
Monkey Brain
Forgive me Father, for I have sinned.
It's been, well, it's been a while since my last confession, which was probably sometime in the early 90s in the chapel at Kent School. And it was the open confession of the Episcopal Eucharist, not a one on one. . .
Anyhoo.
I've been trying to represent San Francisco values, but tonight, I bought blueberries.
Non-organic.
From Chile.
You see, Jacob really likes blueberries, and they're not in season. The thing is, Josh and I are leaving him for a babymoon, and well, the kid's gotta have some comfort.
It's been, well, it's been a while since my last confession, which was probably sometime in the early 90s in the chapel at Kent School. And it was the open confession of the Episcopal Eucharist, not a one on one. . .
Anyhoo.
I've been trying to represent San Francisco values, but tonight, I bought blueberries.
Non-organic.
From Chile.
You see, Jacob really likes blueberries, and they're not in season. The thing is, Josh and I are leaving him for a babymoon, and well, the kid's gotta have some comfort.
Wednesday, December 16, 2009
32 Weeks: Jicama Baby, One More Time
I know, citizen's arrest, Pun Police. I just couldn't help myself.
Over the last two days, I've been hit with a tsunami of third-trimesterness like nobody's business. I went for a 20 min walk with a co-worker at lunch yesterday, and had a tight, painful belly for the rest of the day, completely worthless by the time I got home. Also, during my afternoon meeting, Keiki had what felt like a demonstration of Elaine Bennes' dance moves, only at hyper speed, causing me to exclaim and freak out my fellow meeting attendees. Keiki is kicking like mad and getting hiccups (which is still cool and not yet annoying), head-butting my cervix and causing lots of chaos in my belly.
I feel woozy and exausted, and right now it feels like I could pass out, but I'm not that sleepy. This does not bode well because I have 8 more weeks, and I need to rally somehow. I haven't exercised since last Sunday, so I'm hoping to get to the pool and get some energy back.
Right after I typed this last sentence, when I thought I might fall face first onto the keyboard, Jacob ran into the room, freshly escaped from the bath and his towel-wielding father, completely naked.
"Naked little boy!" I said.
"Naked little boy! Naked little boy!" he aped as he climbed onto the snuggler to greet me. Recaptured and burritoed into a towel by Daddy, he cried out, "Bye Mama! See ya tomorrow!" and I feel like a car battery that's been given a jump start. Thank Heaven, for little toddlers.
Over the last two days, I've been hit with a tsunami of third-trimesterness like nobody's business. I went for a 20 min walk with a co-worker at lunch yesterday, and had a tight, painful belly for the rest of the day, completely worthless by the time I got home. Also, during my afternoon meeting, Keiki had what felt like a demonstration of Elaine Bennes' dance moves, only at hyper speed, causing me to exclaim and freak out my fellow meeting attendees. Keiki is kicking like mad and getting hiccups (which is still cool and not yet annoying), head-butting my cervix and causing lots of chaos in my belly.
I feel woozy and exausted, and right now it feels like I could pass out, but I'm not that sleepy. This does not bode well because I have 8 more weeks, and I need to rally somehow. I haven't exercised since last Sunday, so I'm hoping to get to the pool and get some energy back.
Right after I typed this last sentence, when I thought I might fall face first onto the keyboard, Jacob ran into the room, freshly escaped from the bath and his towel-wielding father, completely naked.
"Naked little boy!" I said.
"Naked little boy! Naked little boy!" he aped as he climbed onto the snuggler to greet me. Recaptured and burritoed into a towel by Daddy, he cried out, "Bye Mama! See ya tomorrow!" and I feel like a car battery that's been given a jump start. Thank Heaven, for little toddlers.
Tuesday, December 15, 2009
Seen & Heard
“Do you want a little brother or little sister?”
Silence.
“Do you want a girl baby or a boy baby?”
“Or. . . how ‘bout a Mommy?”
“Well, we already have a Mommy.”
Keiki is sooo going to rock his world.
Silence.
“Do you want a girl baby or a boy baby?”
“Or. . . how ‘bout a Mommy?”
“Well, we already have a Mommy.”
Keiki is sooo going to rock his world.
Spam
Dear Phisherman,
Do I want my meaty lever to go up and forward all night? Erm, no thanks, we’re having veggie burgers at the Henig household tonight.
Sincerely,
Monkey Brain
Do I want my meaty lever to go up and forward all night? Erm, no thanks, we’re having veggie burgers at the Henig household tonight.
Sincerely,
Monkey Brain
Monday, December 14, 2009
Monkey Brain
“If I have a vaginal birth, will you get me a Push present?”
“Mmmmm. . . Probably not.”
You are VERY lucky that you’ve been doing a lot of dishes lately, buddy.
“Mmmmm. . . Probably not.”
You are VERY lucky that you’ve been doing a lot of dishes lately, buddy.
32 Week Checkup Stats
BP: 113/62
Fundal Height: 34 cm
Weight: +5lbs (3 of which are the direct result of baking six dozen cookies and subsequent swap for other even more delicious cookies yesterday)
I happily have not much to report, I didn’t even have questions for my OB! Blood pressure staying low is really good, and while the fundal (heh heh) height is still a couple of weeks ahead, the fact that it has remained steady is a good thing. Next visit should be the same, but week 36 I get a cervix check, which will tell us what’s going on down there.
This afternoon, I felt one of my favorite third trimester experiences for the first time (this go around): fetal hiccups!
Fundal Height: 34 cm
Weight: +5lbs (3 of which are the direct result of baking six dozen cookies and subsequent swap for other even more delicious cookies yesterday)
I happily have not much to report, I didn’t even have questions for my OB! Blood pressure staying low is really good, and while the fundal (heh heh) height is still a couple of weeks ahead, the fact that it has remained steady is a good thing. Next visit should be the same, but week 36 I get a cervix check, which will tell us what’s going on down there.
This afternoon, I felt one of my favorite third trimester experiences for the first time (this go around): fetal hiccups!
Sunday, December 13, 2009
Gleek
Sue-ism of the week:
"Bring it on, William. I am reasonably confident that you will be adding revenge to a long list of things you’re no good at. Right next to being married, running a high school glee club, and finding a hairstyle that doesn’t make you look like a lesbian."
Oh, Sue. I’m going to miss you during Winter Break. . .
"Bring it on, William. I am reasonably confident that you will be adding revenge to a long list of things you’re no good at. Right next to being married, running a high school glee club, and finding a hairstyle that doesn’t make you look like a lesbian."
Oh, Sue. I’m going to miss you during Winter Break. . .
Grateful
I was watching a recent episode of Oprah, featuring writers Nicholas D. Kristof and Sheryl WuDunn, authors of Half the Sky, and it broke me wide open.
They featured the story of Prudence, and African girl experiencing complications from pregnancy. After being driven 75 miles to the nearest hospital, she went untreated, and the fetus died and began to rot inside her. She received a blood transfusion from Kristof and his cameraman, and still, without antibiotics an infection raged through her body.
I tell myself that 100 years ago, I may have died giving birth to Jacob, and whatever my feelings and issues with that experience, both I and my baby are healthy and well as the result of good medical care. I forget that it’s not just 100 years ago, it happens every day in countries that do not have access to the basic medical care that I take for granted.
I know that the plans that I’m making for Keiki’s birth, the emotional work that I am doing to get over my last birth experience, all this time and emotional attention, is a luxury. I don’t mean to belittle my journey, because while it is comparatively luxurious, it is still mine. I just want to also acknowledge and express how grateful I am that no matter how the next few months go, I have access to a wealth of resources and care, and for that, I am blessed.
They featured the story of Prudence, and African girl experiencing complications from pregnancy. After being driven 75 miles to the nearest hospital, she went untreated, and the fetus died and began to rot inside her. She received a blood transfusion from Kristof and his cameraman, and still, without antibiotics an infection raged through her body.
I tell myself that 100 years ago, I may have died giving birth to Jacob, and whatever my feelings and issues with that experience, both I and my baby are healthy and well as the result of good medical care. I forget that it’s not just 100 years ago, it happens every day in countries that do not have access to the basic medical care that I take for granted.
I know that the plans that I’m making for Keiki’s birth, the emotional work that I am doing to get over my last birth experience, all this time and emotional attention, is a luxury. I don’t mean to belittle my journey, because while it is comparatively luxurious, it is still mine. I just want to also acknowledge and express how grateful I am that no matter how the next few months go, I have access to a wealth of resources and care, and for that, I am blessed.
Saturday, December 12, 2009
Spam
Dear Phisherman,
Too little, too late, my friends. How is 80% off Pfizer going to help me when I don’t take Ritalin? In case you haven’t heard, my eggo is preggo, so I’m off the stimulants.
Sincerely,
Monkey Brain
Too little, too late, my friends. How is 80% off Pfizer going to help me when I don’t take Ritalin? In case you haven’t heard, my eggo is preggo, so I’m off the stimulants.
Sincerely,
Monkey Brain
Monkey Brain
Do you ever look at your kid's toys and feel the urge to sweep them all up and give them away, just to avoid the Sisyphean task of putting them away each night? Erm, me neither.
Letter to a New Mom, vol. 1
Dear S,
This week, you were introduced to motherhood and all the joy and madness that it entails. You are the newest in the late 2009-2010 baby boom, and baby Max is beautiful.
One of my favorite memories of you is from sophomore year. You taught me that before you have a baby, your cervix is soft, like the flesh at the tip of one’s nose, and that after, your cervix is hard, like the front of your chin. You kept mixing up “cervix” and “clitoris,” so to demonstrate, you kept poking your nose and then your chin while saying “Cli-tor-is,” in a high, sing-songy voice. So welcome to the world of hard cervixes and soft bellies (your body will return, I promise), sleepless nights and exploding poop, drool and sloppy kisses.
I hope that giving birth to a three month old has the same benefits that it did for me: longer sleep sessions. May your little tank give you at least 4 hours of rest once in a while, and may your boobs remain chafe-free. I love you and can’t wait to meet Jacob’s newest friend.
Love and kisses,
Monkey Brain
This week, you were introduced to motherhood and all the joy and madness that it entails. You are the newest in the late 2009-2010 baby boom, and baby Max is beautiful.
One of my favorite memories of you is from sophomore year. You taught me that before you have a baby, your cervix is soft, like the flesh at the tip of one’s nose, and that after, your cervix is hard, like the front of your chin. You kept mixing up “cervix” and “clitoris,” so to demonstrate, you kept poking your nose and then your chin while saying “Cli-tor-is,” in a high, sing-songy voice. So welcome to the world of hard cervixes and soft bellies (your body will return, I promise), sleepless nights and exploding poop, drool and sloppy kisses.
I hope that giving birth to a three month old has the same benefits that it did for me: longer sleep sessions. May your little tank give you at least 4 hours of rest once in a while, and may your boobs remain chafe-free. I love you and can’t wait to meet Jacob’s newest friend.
Love and kisses,
Monkey Brain
Friday, December 11, 2009
Spam
Dear Snoring Solution Site,
Have you bugged my house? How do you know that my hubby has a cold?! YOU PEOPLE ARE EVERYWHERE!!!!
Sincerely,
Monkey Brain
Have you bugged my house? How do you know that my hubby has a cold?! YOU PEOPLE ARE EVERYWHERE!!!!
Sincerely,
Monkey Brain
Spam
Dear Phisherman,
I don't know, having a big beast in my pants sounds quite dangerous. And frankly, I don't see how it could make me a beast in bed. I mean, sometimes, Jacob likes to bring in his lion or tiger from his Fisher Price alphabet menagerie, but I think that's all our bed can handle. Gosh guys, do you think we're living on the African savanna here or what?
Sincerely,
Monkey Brain
I don't know, having a big beast in my pants sounds quite dangerous. And frankly, I don't see how it could make me a beast in bed. I mean, sometimes, Jacob likes to bring in his lion or tiger from his Fisher Price alphabet menagerie, but I think that's all our bed can handle. Gosh guys, do you think we're living on the African savanna here or what?
Sincerely,
Monkey Brain
Eight Crazy Nights
This Advent season, I’ve been introducing Jacob to some of my Christmas traditions, like a Christmas tree, Advent calendar (chocolate!) and Advent wreath and candles. He’s most intrigued by the wreath and candles, which he likes to blow out every night and sing “Happy Birthday.” The first time I impulsively inserted “Jesus” in the final refrain, and it’s kind of stuck. With all the Jesus happening in our house, I think it’s only fair to inject a little Jewishness into the scene.
Unlike my frenzy of decorating and tree trimming and humming of Christmas hymns, Josh is pretty neutral. He’s neither repelled by all the Jesus around here, but he’s not running out to get a menorah either. So mainly this Jesus guilt is all me. I want to model inclusivity to Jacob, and make sure that he understands where he comes from on both sides, and the best way that I know how to do this is through tradition.
While I grew up in a town where we had a lot of Jewish friends and got a taste of it, I don’t know all that much about Jewish cultural traditions beyond some Yiddish and that our family friend A’s potato kugel on Christmas is one of the best things I ever tasted. So, I’m starting with what is familiar and comfortable to me: food. While I have ambitions of brisket, I’m trying to be realistic about my current energy stores.
Thus, I present to you the Henig’s Hanukkah 2009: Eight nights of latkes. Basically, I’m going to do my best to create some Jewish sides over the next eight days as an entry point for Jacob and myself. I’ll mainly stick to latkes (potato, zucchini, carrot and yam, oh my!) and mix in a potato kugel and veggie kugel for fun. We won’t be doing 8 presents or the lighting of the menorah, but this is a starting point for me to help honor Josh’s ancestry.
As I’ve mentioned, Josh’s grandparents were the only surviving members of their family. Without them, I would not have the family or life that I have right now, and I am so grateful for that they made it through and created the family that exists today. I’m not going to diminish my own background and traditions, but there is plenty of light to shine on each of our worlds, and if anything, celebration of light is what this season is all about.
Unlike my frenzy of decorating and tree trimming and humming of Christmas hymns, Josh is pretty neutral. He’s neither repelled by all the Jesus around here, but he’s not running out to get a menorah either. So mainly this Jesus guilt is all me. I want to model inclusivity to Jacob, and make sure that he understands where he comes from on both sides, and the best way that I know how to do this is through tradition.
While I grew up in a town where we had a lot of Jewish friends and got a taste of it, I don’t know all that much about Jewish cultural traditions beyond some Yiddish and that our family friend A’s potato kugel on Christmas is one of the best things I ever tasted. So, I’m starting with what is familiar and comfortable to me: food. While I have ambitions of brisket, I’m trying to be realistic about my current energy stores.
Thus, I present to you the Henig’s Hanukkah 2009: Eight nights of latkes. Basically, I’m going to do my best to create some Jewish sides over the next eight days as an entry point for Jacob and myself. I’ll mainly stick to latkes (potato, zucchini, carrot and yam, oh my!) and mix in a potato kugel and veggie kugel for fun. We won’t be doing 8 presents or the lighting of the menorah, but this is a starting point for me to help honor Josh’s ancestry.
As I’ve mentioned, Josh’s grandparents were the only surviving members of their family. Without them, I would not have the family or life that I have right now, and I am so grateful for that they made it through and created the family that exists today. I’m not going to diminish my own background and traditions, but there is plenty of light to shine on each of our worlds, and if anything, celebration of light is what this season is all about.
Third Trimester Tired
Last night, 7:45 pm:
“Are you going to sleep right now?”
“Yes, I’m sooooo tired. Will you get me my phone/alarm clock?”
“Sure.”
“And my night guard?”
“Yes.”
“And can you find a way to go pee for me?”
Silence.
“Are you going to sleep right now?”
“Yes, I’m sooooo tired. Will you get me my phone/alarm clock?”
“Sure.”
“And my night guard?”
“Yes.”
“And can you find a way to go pee for me?”
Silence.
Wednesday, December 09, 2009
31 Weeks: Would you like some caviar to go with that placenta?
Babycenter.com: 4 navel oranges? That’s all you got?
This week I’ve been thinking about the whole birth plan, which is slowly coming together. One part of our birth plan is to limit hospital visits. When Jacob was born, I thought that I would want visitors, and we pretty much had an open door policy. In retrospect, my inherent self consciousness (uh hello, no shower, flimsy gown, no bra?!), dealing with a uterine infection and the accompanying fever, as well as recovery from abdominal surgery was so overwhelming, that dealing with visitors was sometimes too much.
At the time, I was too overwhelmed to acknowledge that or do anything about it. This time, I’m trying to make some decisions in advance so I don't need to think about them in the moment. There is also the added visitor limitation of our hospital due to H1N1.
Everyone has their own comfort zone and preferences. For example, my walking buddy, F, is from the Dominican Republic and they have very different customs that make a WASP like me cringe. She was telling me that births in the DR are huge family events. Folks sit around the birth room for the entire hospital stay, eating, drinking, socializing, and celebrating. Visiting hours are ignored, and Mom and baby have little to no privacy or alone time.
My favorite story of F’s begins like this: “This one time, I was catering a birth, and there was caviar. . .”
Catering a birth? CATERING a birth? CAVIAR?! I can just see the doctor delivering the placenta while the F sets up the Belgian waffle station in the corner. To each their own, right?
This week I’ve been thinking about the whole birth plan, which is slowly coming together. One part of our birth plan is to limit hospital visits. When Jacob was born, I thought that I would want visitors, and we pretty much had an open door policy. In retrospect, my inherent self consciousness (uh hello, no shower, flimsy gown, no bra?!), dealing with a uterine infection and the accompanying fever, as well as recovery from abdominal surgery was so overwhelming, that dealing with visitors was sometimes too much.
At the time, I was too overwhelmed to acknowledge that or do anything about it. This time, I’m trying to make some decisions in advance so I don't need to think about them in the moment. There is also the added visitor limitation of our hospital due to H1N1.
Everyone has their own comfort zone and preferences. For example, my walking buddy, F, is from the Dominican Republic and they have very different customs that make a WASP like me cringe. She was telling me that births in the DR are huge family events. Folks sit around the birth room for the entire hospital stay, eating, drinking, socializing, and celebrating. Visiting hours are ignored, and Mom and baby have little to no privacy or alone time.
My favorite story of F’s begins like this: “This one time, I was catering a birth, and there was caviar. . .”
Catering a birth? CATERING a birth? CAVIAR?! I can just see the doctor delivering the placenta while the F sets up the Belgian waffle station in the corner. To each their own, right?
Tuesday, December 08, 2009
Spam
In Re: Are you a wine fan?
Dear Zagat Wine,
Yes please! (in 9 weeks or so)
Sincerely,
Monkey Brain
Dear Zagat Wine,
Yes please! (in 9 weeks or so)
Sincerely,
Monkey Brain
Monkey Brain
Don't waddle, don't waddle, don't waddle, don't waddle, legs together. . .
Maybe just a little bit. Just a tad.
Oh, that's soooo nice. . . .
QUACK.
Maybe just a little bit. Just a tad.
Oh, that's soooo nice. . . .
QUACK.
Monkey Cook: Asian Beans & Greens
I am a very experimental chef. I love reading cookbooks, but have a hard time sticking to the true directions (um, Monkey Brain?) In my early cooking days, this had somewhat disastrous results, but after a cooking class and many episodes of the FoodNetwork and Rachael Ray, I’m getting the hang of things. Josh is a very good eater, but also honest enough with me about my creations. This is a recent play on “Beans & Greens,” a classic Italian Dish, but it’s an Asian twist, and it was a success so I thought I’d share it with you. It takes 30 min or less to prepare, and very comforting on a cold winter night.
Asian Beans & Greens w/chicken sausage
1T Sesame Oil (canola would work as well)
2 small yellow onions (about the size of tennis balls), or 1 big one, halved then thirded (is that a word? Basically you want larger slices like you see in Chinese food)
3-4 cloves garlic, minced or grated (add as much as you want if you love garlic)
1 large package Trader Joe’s Southern Greens Blend, or about 8 cups of chopped dark greens like kale, mustard or Swiss chard
1 can black beans
10 Aidell’s chicken teriyaki sausage (3-4 sliced chicken apple sausage links will work just fine as well, as would tofu)
1/4c teriyaki sauce or marinade (I used Soy Vey Brand)
1-2 c chicken stock
1 package ramen noodles (if you don’t have these around due to early pregnancy cravings, any pasta will do or even rice. I would estimate this recipe calls for 2 cups pasta or rice, but you could add more for sure)
1. If cooking pasta, or rice, put a large pot of water to boil (or start your rice cooker). If using ramen, you can do that at the last minute.
2. Once pasta/rice is cooking, heat the oil on med-high for 1 min in a deep skillet, wok, dutch oven, or large pot. .
3. Sauté the onion & garlic until the onion gets soft, 3 min or so.
4. Add the greens in batches as they may overwhelm the pot, and toss the greens with teriyaki sauce.
5. Add in chicken stock in half cup increments with each batch of greens to help them wilt. Cover and simmer for 5 min, until greens have wilted down by half.
6. While greens are wilting, drain and wash beans (to get rid of some of the salt). Add beans to the greens.
7. Add in chicken meatballs, turn off heat, and cover pot.
8. Once pasta/rice is done, fold into the beans/greens mixture. If you did steps 1-7 before your kid got home, you may need to reheat the meal once he goes to bed.
9. Eat.
Serves 4, or 2 with leftovers for 1 if one of you is pregnant.
Asian Beans & Greens w/chicken sausage
1T Sesame Oil (canola would work as well)
2 small yellow onions (about the size of tennis balls), or 1 big one, halved then thirded (is that a word? Basically you want larger slices like you see in Chinese food)
3-4 cloves garlic, minced or grated (add as much as you want if you love garlic)
1 large package Trader Joe’s Southern Greens Blend, or about 8 cups of chopped dark greens like kale, mustard or Swiss chard
1 can black beans
10 Aidell’s chicken teriyaki sausage (3-4 sliced chicken apple sausage links will work just fine as well, as would tofu)
1/4c teriyaki sauce or marinade (I used Soy Vey Brand)
1-2 c chicken stock
1 package ramen noodles (if you don’t have these around due to early pregnancy cravings, any pasta will do or even rice. I would estimate this recipe calls for 2 cups pasta or rice, but you could add more for sure)
1. If cooking pasta, or rice, put a large pot of water to boil (or start your rice cooker). If using ramen, you can do that at the last minute.
2. Once pasta/rice is cooking, heat the oil on med-high for 1 min in a deep skillet, wok, dutch oven, or large pot. .
3. Sauté the onion & garlic until the onion gets soft, 3 min or so.
4. Add the greens in batches as they may overwhelm the pot, and toss the greens with teriyaki sauce.
5. Add in chicken stock in half cup increments with each batch of greens to help them wilt. Cover and simmer for 5 min, until greens have wilted down by half.
6. While greens are wilting, drain and wash beans (to get rid of some of the salt). Add beans to the greens.
7. Add in chicken meatballs, turn off heat, and cover pot.
8. Once pasta/rice is done, fold into the beans/greens mixture. If you did steps 1-7 before your kid got home, you may need to reheat the meal once he goes to bed.
9. Eat.
Serves 4, or 2 with leftovers for 1 if one of you is pregnant.
Monday, December 07, 2009
Spam
Dear "Mark",
I have to say that I disagree with your note. I don’t think that my life will be worthwhile if my penis grows a little. I think it would be full of confusion and major physical discomfort, seeing as I AM A WOMAN.
Sincerely,
Monkey Brain
I have to say that I disagree with your note. I don’t think that my life will be worthwhile if my penis grows a little. I think it would be full of confusion and major physical discomfort, seeing as I AM A WOMAN.
Sincerely,
Monkey Brain
Monkey Brain
Tonight, I was looking in our utensil drawer for a clothespin to use as a bag clip, and I found the remaining package of uncooked green beans from the last time I roasted some. Which was Saturday night.
Sometimes, I really miss Ritalin.
Sometimes, I really miss Ritalin.
Sunday, December 06, 2009
Offsides
It's totally normal for your in-utero kid to kick you around your hip bones, right? RIGHT?! I mean, there's no way that Keiki may have gotten loose? Or that there are TWO OF THEM??????!!
Spam
Dear Phisherman,
“Your staying pole will be like a magnet for gals”??? You are making my job so easy! Maybe you are reading my blog and enjoying your moment in the sun, basking the mockery of Monkey Brain?
Sincerely,
Monkey Brain
“Your staying pole will be like a magnet for gals”??? You are making my job so easy! Maybe you are reading my blog and enjoying your moment in the sun, basking the mockery of Monkey Brain?
Sincerely,
Monkey Brain
Lessons from a Marriage, Vol. I
Ask most marrieds, smug, happy or miserable, and they'd probably agree that trust is one of the most important pieces of a good marriage.
So last night, when Josh said, "I'm going to cut Jacob's hair," I gave him the scissors and let him have at it. Oh the urge to Micro-mommy was strong, I tell you what, but I held back. I put aside the visions of Jacob looking like a Mr. Bigglesworth from Austin Powers in our Christmas pics, and went into another room.
The result? Short, very short. Maybe cut his hair dry next time short. But he's adorable, and Daddy did a very nice job.
To return the favor, Josh let me cut his hair this afternoon. Isn't one trust session enough?! But that's what marriage and parenting is all about, pushing through those comfort zones.
I am happy to say that Josh still has hair on his head and I did not snip off his ears, and my comfort zone is sufficiently stretched for one day.
So last night, when Josh said, "I'm going to cut Jacob's hair," I gave him the scissors and let him have at it. Oh the urge to Micro-mommy was strong, I tell you what, but I held back. I put aside the visions of Jacob looking like a Mr. Bigglesworth from Austin Powers in our Christmas pics, and went into another room.
The result? Short, very short. Maybe cut his hair dry next time short. But he's adorable, and Daddy did a very nice job.
To return the favor, Josh let me cut his hair this afternoon. Isn't one trust session enough?! But that's what marriage and parenting is all about, pushing through those comfort zones.
I am happy to say that Josh still has hair on his head and I did not snip off his ears, and my comfort zone is sufficiently stretched for one day.
Saturday, December 05, 2009
Gleek
Sue-ism of the week:
"You wouldn't know if your Glee club is using your office to breed rabbits for pets or for food, and you know why? You are too busy chasing tail and loading your hair with product!"
"You wouldn't know if your Glee club is using your office to breed rabbits for pets or for food, and you know why? You are too busy chasing tail and loading your hair with product!"
Spam
Dear Phisherman,
Christian ministry courses? For serious? I mean, a couple of posts about church, and that’s what you come up with?
Judaism, Jew, Jewish. Israel. Take that, Spammers!
Sincerely,
Monkey Brain
Christian ministry courses? For serious? I mean, a couple of posts about church, and that’s what you come up with?
Judaism, Jew, Jewish. Israel. Take that, Spammers!
Sincerely,
Monkey Brain
Thursday, December 03, 2009
To the deceased spider in my kitchen
Dear Mr Spider,
My husband tells me he found you sneaking in from our garage this morning, and that your body (not including your legs) was the size of a quarter. A QUARTER! What the heckadeedoodle have you been eating, Mr. Spider? Those cereal bars are for Jacob! I'm sorry, I should be more sensitive. Of course, I of all people would house a spider who eats their feelings.
They say that where there is one, there are more nearby. Are you trying to send me into pre-term labor? This baby still has some cooking to do, so please send a message from the Great Beyond to any other friends nearby to STAY AWAY.
Know this spiders: we are bigger than you, smarter than you, and have access to large boots and chemicals and we're not afraid to use them.
Sincerely,
Monkey Brain
My husband tells me he found you sneaking in from our garage this morning, and that your body (not including your legs) was the size of a quarter. A QUARTER! What the heckadeedoodle have you been eating, Mr. Spider? Those cereal bars are for Jacob! I'm sorry, I should be more sensitive. Of course, I of all people would house a spider who eats their feelings.
They say that where there is one, there are more nearby. Are you trying to send me into pre-term labor? This baby still has some cooking to do, so please send a message from the Great Beyond to any other friends nearby to STAY AWAY.
Know this spiders: we are bigger than you, smarter than you, and have access to large boots and chemicals and we're not afraid to use them.
Sincerely,
Monkey Brain
Wednesday, December 02, 2009
30 Weeks: Return of the Cabbage!
Keiki, it looks like this week you are a plain old regular cabbage (Napa? Sonoma? Napa! Napa! Napa!). Ten more weeks and you should be here! I know this, not because I am clairvoyant, but my doctor and I have agreed that there will be no lingering in the hot tub for you, young (gender to be determined)!
Try not to come exactly on time, eh? Your cousin’s first birthday is your due date, and the double fun of a joint birthday may not be all that fun in a few years. As it stands your grand entrance may overshadow her first shot at real sugar, so you’ll have your work cut out for you.
Hear that? Oh, that’s God laughing his butt off as I tell you what to do. What am I thinking? You just do your thing little Keiki. Although if doing your thing means head-butting my cervix one more time (seriously, it’s like an ice pick!), you are totally grounded.
Try not to come exactly on time, eh? Your cousin’s first birthday is your due date, and the double fun of a joint birthday may not be all that fun in a few years. As it stands your grand entrance may overshadow her first shot at real sugar, so you’ll have your work cut out for you.
Hear that? Oh, that’s God laughing his butt off as I tell you what to do. What am I thinking? You just do your thing little Keiki. Although if doing your thing means head-butting my cervix one more time (seriously, it’s like an ice pick!), you are totally grounded.
26 Months
Dear Jacob,
You are 26 months today! In the last month, you have turned into quite the little despot. I mean, you are still your wonderful little self, but it's interesting to see your "Terrible Two" side come out in full force.
Lately you have been very vocal about your likes and dislikes, which usually takes the form of you pointing at the offending individual and saying, "Go Ober Dere!" I have mixed feelings about this. Sometimes it hurts my feelings. Sometimes I like it when you prefer Daddy, which leaves me time to read Us or People magazine undisturbed. And sometimes I am so proud of you for expressing yourself and demonstrating your needs. I'm still learning that and I'm 34 years old!
In a couple of months you are going to be a big brother, and instead of kissing Mama's belly, you will be kissing a real, live, floppy little thing. Just try not to bop it over the head like you did a couple of weeks ago with your baby cousin.
Back to the whole "terrible twos" thing. Nights are getting more difficult lately. I know you are hungry but you won't eat anything; what happened to my tofu, avocado loving baby? How can you not like chicken noodle soup? And the screaming when I don't allow you to watch Shrek? And the running away when we try to get you into the bath? Do you really want to be the kid at daycare who smells like pee pee? I know you are a speedy little thing, but we will always catch you, just so you know.
Somehow, through the pregnancy hormones and general tiredness I have managed to keep you safe and alive, despite your somewhat maddening behavior (just eat the damn veggie burger already!) That's because you are suddenly a kissing, cuddling snuggly little bear cub, leading Daddy and me on ghost chases, hiding under the covers, and loving your polar bear/drums pajamas. You steal my shoes so I can't go to work, but then you say, "Have a great day!" and give me the best hug in the world.
Please know that even if you think I'm being mean when I don't let you rot your brain by watching Kung Fu Panda on infinite repeat, I am always on Team Jacob.
love,
Mama
You are 26 months today! In the last month, you have turned into quite the little despot. I mean, you are still your wonderful little self, but it's interesting to see your "Terrible Two" side come out in full force.
Lately you have been very vocal about your likes and dislikes, which usually takes the form of you pointing at the offending individual and saying, "Go Ober Dere!" I have mixed feelings about this. Sometimes it hurts my feelings. Sometimes I like it when you prefer Daddy, which leaves me time to read Us or People magazine undisturbed. And sometimes I am so proud of you for expressing yourself and demonstrating your needs. I'm still learning that and I'm 34 years old!
In a couple of months you are going to be a big brother, and instead of kissing Mama's belly, you will be kissing a real, live, floppy little thing. Just try not to bop it over the head like you did a couple of weeks ago with your baby cousin.
Back to the whole "terrible twos" thing. Nights are getting more difficult lately. I know you are hungry but you won't eat anything; what happened to my tofu, avocado loving baby? How can you not like chicken noodle soup? And the screaming when I don't allow you to watch Shrek? And the running away when we try to get you into the bath? Do you really want to be the kid at daycare who smells like pee pee? I know you are a speedy little thing, but we will always catch you, just so you know.
Somehow, through the pregnancy hormones and general tiredness I have managed to keep you safe and alive, despite your somewhat maddening behavior (just eat the damn veggie burger already!) That's because you are suddenly a kissing, cuddling snuggly little bear cub, leading Daddy and me on ghost chases, hiding under the covers, and loving your polar bear/drums pajamas. You steal my shoes so I can't go to work, but then you say, "Have a great day!" and give me the best hug in the world.
Please know that even if you think I'm being mean when I don't let you rot your brain by watching Kung Fu Panda on infinite repeat, I am always on Team Jacob.
love,
Mama
Tuesday, December 01, 2009
Spam
In Re: Are you a stay at home mother?
Dear Glenda,
No, I’m not a stay at home mom. Listen lady, I’m doing the best that I can, and if that means I work and someone else helps raise my child so that we can live in a house in an expensive state/region, than so be it. I mean really, can’t we women just support each other instead of---
What’s that? Oh, you just want to help stay at home moms make some cash on the side? Oops, my bad. I’m a little pregnant and hormonal you see. . .
Sincerely,
Monkey Brain
Dear Glenda,
No, I’m not a stay at home mom. Listen lady, I’m doing the best that I can, and if that means I work and someone else helps raise my child so that we can live in a house in an expensive state/region, than so be it. I mean really, can’t we women just support each other instead of---
What’s that? Oh, you just want to help stay at home moms make some cash on the side? Oops, my bad. I’m a little pregnant and hormonal you see. . .
Sincerely,
Monkey Brain
Semantics
By my count, the house that I grew up in contained 24 rooms and 5.5 bathrooms, from the basement to the third floor, not including closets. In sharp contrast, I choose to live in a house that is less than 2,000 square feet (less than half of 20 Maple’s first floor alone) but that’s for another time.
Like me, my mother is a lover of words. So in addition to the usual words (bathroom, kitchen, bedroom, etc) the lexicon of my childhood home included a powder room, a front hall closet, back hall closet, vestibule, butler’s pantry, parlor and library. My siblings and I re-named these rooms by their use, so the “back hall closet,” which housed soccer balls, shin guards, tennis rackets and balls and other sports accessories was called the “sports closet.”
We are WASPs, so as you can imagine, this resulted in some fiery showdowns:
Mom: “Will you put your ice skates/cleats/racket in the back hall closet?”
Child: “You mean the sports closet?”
Mom: “Yes, the BACK HALL closet.”
Recently, my brother-in-law was looking for something in our house; let’s just call it a hoosywhatsy for the sake of this story.
Me: “Oh sure, it’s in the media room”
B-i-L: “You mean the tv room?”
Me: “Uh, yeah, the media room.”
Ahem.
Hello, Kettle? This is Pot. You’re black.
Like me, my mother is a lover of words. So in addition to the usual words (bathroom, kitchen, bedroom, etc) the lexicon of my childhood home included a powder room, a front hall closet, back hall closet, vestibule, butler’s pantry, parlor and library. My siblings and I re-named these rooms by their use, so the “back hall closet,” which housed soccer balls, shin guards, tennis rackets and balls and other sports accessories was called the “sports closet.”
We are WASPs, so as you can imagine, this resulted in some fiery showdowns:
Mom: “Will you put your ice skates/cleats/racket in the back hall closet?”
Child: “You mean the sports closet?”
Mom: “Yes, the BACK HALL closet.”
Recently, my brother-in-law was looking for something in our house; let’s just call it a hoosywhatsy for the sake of this story.
Me: “Oh sure, it’s in the media room”
B-i-L: “You mean the tv room?”
Me: “Uh, yeah, the media room.”
Ahem.
Hello, Kettle? This is Pot. You’re black.
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