Little Monkey and Friends

We are currently in the midst of day 5 of what shall be known as "Monkey's First Stomach Virus." Needless to say, between the pediatrician visits, the clinic check ups, and the unscheduled trip to the emergency room, it has been an absolutely exhausting few days.

A well meaning soul (you know who you are) called to chat the other day, and after I debriefed him on the state of affairs, he asked, "So what else have you been up to?" At that point, I had to laugh.

What else have I been up to? Hmmm..

Changing poopie diapers 10 to 12 times a day - check.

Trying to coax a dehydrated monkey to drink something, anything...for the love of God, drink something!!! 15 - 20 times a day - check.

Doing multiple loads of barfed on laundry, including my own, every day - check.

Bathing the monkey - check.

Bathing myself...working on it, but pretty much, yes.

Calling one or more doctors every day with more illness related questions- check.

Shopping for the limited food Monkey can tolerate right now, preparing it,and frantically worrying whether he will manage to keep it down - check.

Accompanying monkey to doctor visits, sitting beside him in the E.R, and holding his hand while he was rehydrated, examined, and inserted with an IV line - yep, got that covered.

Endless rounds of Old McDonald in the waiting room at the hospital for clinic - check.

Obsessively cleaning every inch of the house to destroy whatever virus caused this calamity - check.

Trying not to strangle our attention deprived dog - check.

Laying awake at night praying that the little one makes it through this experience unscathed...check.

The bright side of the situation is that we have been repeatedly assured that this illness is common enough for the little monkeys, even those who haven't experienced a heart transplant. In other words, "it's perfectly normal." Those are good words, reassuring words, and words that remind me to embrace normality, even when it's yucky and exhausting. Absent serious complications, the monkey should be able to sail through this in the next few days and be back to his laffy-daffy self eventually. Whether Jeff and I will recover is debateable, but we're both trying to keep sane. And that's about all we can do.

And that my friends, is what we've been up to. That's the reason why I haven't posted in awhile, and the reason why the old monkey has been staying home from work.

Oh yeah, I think we also managed to get the little monkey's best friend, David sick in the process. Sorry dude.

NYC is a fun place to be for many reasons - among them, random celebrity sightings. On Sunday, the little monkey had his first celebrity run in at the Chelsea Piers toddler gym. There, he got to see the Saturday Night Live alumna herself, Molly Shannon, and her two kids.



The sight of a celebrity with babies, no less, causes the monkey to lose his cool, as he strains like a tourist for a good look. Like father, like son.



Grace, on the other hand, was way cooler and took to the slide with abandon.

All right, enough with the sappy posts. I don't know what everyone's getting all teary-eyed for. On to a new topic.

Once upon a time, we aquired a young pup whom we named, "Oscar." Being good and conscientious parents, we did our best to bring him up right. Included in this was the not so fun task of housebreaking. All the required reading for new dog owners pointed us in the direction of using a crate to achieve this purpose. Crate training was heralded by all the professionals as the fastest and most efficient way of house breaking a dog, because it took advantage of a dog's natural tendency to avoid eliminating in his den. To the dog's mind, the crate took on the qualities of a den.

So, Oscar was crated during the day, for set periods of time, and did quickly learn to eliminate outside only. For the most part. Once upon a time, Oscar also used to sleep in his crate at night, but those days seem to be long gone. Those of you who know Oscar personally can probably attest to the strengths and weaknesses of his crate training as well as his other skills ... or lack thereof.

Since that time, Oscar has pretty much forgotten about his crate as a den. He sleeps with us now, and has no interest whatsoever in leaving the marital bed. The crate sits there neglected and forlorn. So, you can imagine my pleasure and surprise when I looked up from the computer today and saw this:










I swear I did not stage these pictures. The monkey crawled into the crate and sat there. He also could not seem to figure out how to crawl out, which made me pause for a minute to consider the possibilities. But common sense prevailed.

In other news, preliminary blood tests are back, and all seems ok so far. The doctor also diagnosed a mild ear infection, probably a result of the lingering cold. So, a round of antibiotics should hopefully do the trick.

I don't know about Valentine's Day. It's commercial. It's a Hallmark holiday. It sells roses and chocolates and forces people to scramble to come up with ways to express their love for one another. But I have a good V-day story to share anyway for cynics in the house.

For the old monkey and I, today marks the unofficial "when we started dating" anniversary. For the record, we have now known each other for 14 years. For all of my friends out there having the baby talks lately, I wish you could have been over at my house yesterday. Having a baby isn't always fun and cuteness and soft cuddly little baby kisses. They are fun, they make life interesting, and yes, they make your heart want to burst with love. But they can be more than that.

Suffice it to say, it was a LONG day. The little monkey isn't well, and by the end of the night, I felt it - between the long hours of no napping, the fever, the runny nose, the trying to get him to eat, the meds, and the grand finale of him throwing up all over his crib at bedtime. When the old monkey got home, I was collapsed on the couch, in tears, clutching the phone after speaking with the doctors, who informed me that I need to bring him in to the hospital tomorrow for blood work.

I felt run over. The little monkey has been doing so well lately. All signs suggest this is just a cold, and nothing serious, but with him, nothing can be left to chance. That's the thing - it will never be just about normal baby worries. There is always this cloud lingering over every incident that portends disaster. And despite how well he is doing, all the success he has had, the very fact that he is alive ... despite it all, I still worry.

A lot.

And many of those worries seem to be whether I'm good enough of a mom to take care of him the way he deserves to be cared for.

Jeff came in, sat down next to me, and spent the next hour talking me through all the reasons why he was so proud of me and why we will get through this and everything else. For every instance I told him I felt inadequate as a mother, he had something positive to say. And after all that, he got up, fixed dinner, and we sat down to eat at 10:00. This morning there was a card for me on the counter wishing me a happy v-day, and a small bag of Godiva chocolate hearts.. I feel like I got the best present I could ever have hoped for - someone who's there to lift my spirits when they are down, to encourage me when I want to give up, and someone who I seem to fall in love with a little more every year. Jeff, old monkey, You are the best husband, father and friend I could ever hope to have. You are the kind of man I pray our son grows up to be.

love,
the wife.

The weekend started out calm enough. The old monkey gave me a much needed break on Saturday and took the little one out to the city to play with Grace. While I recovered from a particularly tiresome cold, the monkeys frolicked at gymboree.

Although we knew a storm was brewing, we weren't able to appreciate the full effect of it until we woke up Sunday morning.



And saw this...



Not one to miss a good photo-op, the little monkey bundled himself up and headed outdoors.



Where he learned the fine art of catching snowflakes with one's tongue.




And digging for buried treasure beneath the drifts.

In between his busy schedule of snow diving and rug shredding, Oscar makes a guest appearance at Sweetnicks, for weekend dog blogging.

With the monkey's naps dwindling, we are now forced to find ways to keep him entertained for longer periods of time. Until the weather warms up, most play outings are indoors. Yesterday, our mom's group had a playdate at Funtime Junction, a kid's fantasy fun land, complete with toys, rides, climbing equipment, and junk food galore. The best part about these adventures? We get home and the monkey crashes for a solid 2 1/2 hour nap. Ahhh...there is a method to my madness after all.





Welcome to my lair, little one. Come spend money!


The monkey is drawn to the lights of the arcade.


The spider game..


And a chance at the wheel.


He races after the big kids..


Is turned away from the ride because he is too small..



then finds some friends his own size.

The Verrazanno Bridge harbor from the roof of our old building in Bay Ridge, 1/11/04 - a week before the little monkey made his appearance. Unlike this year, the weather was so cold, the harbor looked almost frozen.




Braving the rain and yuck on Saturday, we ventured out for a trip back to the old 'hood in Brooklyn. Our mission, drop off the monkey with Grandma H and meet up with friends for a late lunch. Bess, our trusty silver minivan, carried her load with grace - two hungry thirty-somethings, one baby, one dog and enough gear to open a trendy baby and/or dog themed boutique that could rival any I've shopped at.

The car ride was a breeze, the monkey dozed off for awhile, and we met up in Bay Ridge to show off the little guy to old friends. After that, the monkey was unceremoniously dropped off in Gerritsen Beach, along with furball, to have lunch with Grandma and a playdate with Charlotte. From one end to another, the monkey got a mini tour of the Brooklyn nabes, albeit facing backwards in his car seat. But the scenes from Ocean Parkway, to Park Slope, to the BQE where just as I remembered it, even with the downpour.




When you want a burger, there's no better place than Bonnie's Grill - we've known for years that it rocks, but nice to see it's appreciated by others as well.



Relishing the rare child-free moment, we thought we'd grab some coffee before heading out. Instead the old monkey re-enacted his own one man version of the McDonald's infamous "I can't believe how hot the coffee was!" incident at Ozzie's, a Park Slope coffee bar. Trying to balance a hot beverage in a flimsy container and that piece of white chocolate mousse cake was, in hindsight, not a good idea. Hot coffee splashed painfully across his bare wrist, and cafe patrons watched with the langorous gaze of seasoned don't-get-involved new yorkers. If there are any representatives from Ozzie's currently reading, We reserve our right to seek damages in a court of law.

Driving through Brooklyn on a cold and wet day is not the best time to appreciate what the city has to offer. Grey and soaked was the dominant theme of the afternoon, but despite the lousy weather putting a damper on things, I was still reminded of why I miss Brooklyn. It's tough to sum up what makes it such a great place, and every ex-Brooklynite who looks back with nostalgia on his or her time there has their list of favorites. Here's mine, in no particular order:

Walking the furball along Shore Road with the Verrazano Bridge just off in the distance;

Thursday night sushi;

Joya

Smith Street restaurant row;

the off leash dog hours at Prospect Park;

Bagel Boy bagels;

Cebu - a great neighborhood restaurant for those nights you just didn't want to cook;

Muses - a great place to hang pre baby;

The Gate - a greatplace to hang post baby, and dog friendly too;

Century 21 browsing time after work for that random impulse buy on discount;

complaining about the predictably bad service at Paneantico's;

and most of all, of course, our friends, with whom we have shared both the good times and the bad. Thanks for spending the afternoon with us.

Last night, the little monkey took his first steps, unassisted. And like any good parents, we were there, with camera in hand. Of course, he may have been a bit distracted by the howls of laughter we emitted as we watched him stumble like a drunk sailor across a span of about a foot and a half. But, judge for yourself. Here's the video.