Little Monkey and Friends

It's not even noon and I am seriously beat down today. Long night, no sleep, monkette trying to make her escape via kicking her way out, doctor appointment at the crack of dawn, etc. Later, as I stood there in the park, swinging the monkey mindlessly back and forth, I could barely contain my yawns. It already felt like a LONG day. Running around after him, playing hide and seek behind the slides was fun and a quick pick me up, but the hour was growing late, and naptime was calling.

And then I got home and checked my email. Friends who are currently travelling the globe wrote and updated me on the progess of their trip. They are deep in the midst of exploring China, where, I was informed, my website is officially banned. The rules of internet censorship in China are a little hazy and random, so I'm not 100% certain why this site is banned. The speculation is that it may have something to do with China's official one-child policy. There you have it. My ramblings have officially been stopped by the Great Firewall of China. Apparently, this site's content falls into the same subversive category as those operated by the Falun Gong, and the BBC News.

Bet the monkey doesn't realize his mom is such a bad a$$.

Scenes from today's playground adventure. The monkey discovers the joys of sand, heavy machinery, and shovels.

Summer lovin', had me a blast. Summer lovin', happened so fast..


I met a girl, crazy for me..


I met a boy, cute as can be...


Summer days .. driftin' away ...but uh-oh those summer nights...

I'm glad Monkey is not the only one who's benefited from surgical all-stars. I came across this article that had me fascinated. And what did you do at work this week? I love that he paused long enough to consume a pop-tart. Indeed, a man after my own heart.





Cherry pop tarts - what every well equipped operating room should have. Lorelai and Rory would be proud.

Hawaiian shirt ... check.
Cargo shorts ... check.
Baby gap summer sandals .... check.



Putting your child to work cleaning up the backyard slide ...
priceless.








Today, the monkey had his 16 month well-baby check up with the pediatrician. Of all the doctors on monkey's rolodex, there's something about the pediatrician that I just love most of all. I can't quite put my finger on it .. maybe it's his choice of kid-friendly ties, the way he gets the monkey to smile and laugh, maybe because I know his wife is expecting their second child the same week I am, or maybe it's just because I love the sound of "well-baby" visits. At any rate, Monkey and I went in today, he got a shot, weighed, measured, and pronounced healthy and developmentally on track.

Of course, no visit is complete without giving me something to worry about. So out came those baby charts again, and we discussed how the monkey seems to be on the short and skinny side right now. What this means long-term is up in the air, because it's too early to worry about right now. While Monkey will probably never play "Ball!" with the NBA, I'd like to know that he's at least growing. He's still on the charts for growth, just on the very low end of the curve.

Then we discussed more fun stuff, like what Monkey is "up to these days." Climbing things? Oh yes. Copying you? Yep. Trying to "help"? Yep. Repeating words? Yep. Eating well? Err...when he's in the mood.

But on the subject of words, for my own amusement, earlier this month, I jotted down a list of words that Monkey routinely uses these days. I did this to take my mind off the fact that Monkey was sitting next to me in his high chair throwing his food around on the floor, while Oscar hovered nearby, always ready to clean up.


Here, in no particular order, are the words currently in Monkey's vocabulary:
dots
box
juice (pronounced dooce)
baba (meaning his milk)
mum (which could either be me or his stuffed cow)
moo (definitely his cow)
book
ball
kick
wall
"what's that?" (pronounced ah - dat?)
shoe
dada
achoo!
nay (as in what sound does the horse make?)
balloon (pronounced ba-oon)
ta da!
key
mama
cheese
down
'ights (as in lights)

and most recently today - "cots", meaning apricots.


Given this extensive list, you can imagine what stimulating conversations we have daily.

Samantha Loredana Feld! Born on, Saturday, May 20th at 6:21 am, weighing 7 pounds, 8 ounces and measuring 20 inches long. Monkey Sr, little monkey, and I got to see the little peanut in person and she is a cutie-patootie all right. Congratulations guys!




In completely unrelated news, congrats too to this guy



- Bonny Jain (I LOVE this name!) for winning the 2006 National Geography Bee.
Not content with kicking ass in national spelling bees, it appears that Desis are mounting their next attack wave on the venerable institution of geography. Where is homeland security when we really need it?

Want to test your own geo knowledge? Try this quiz that Mr. Bonny himself created. Keep in mind, the kid is 11 years old, and in 7th grade (umm...I think I was 13 when I was in 7th grade..)


[Photo source] - Scripps National Spelling Bee

So, Memorial Day approaches and hence the unofficial start to the summer. Am I the only one out there not doing something fun this weekend? I think I've reached a serious level of pathetic-ness when all I have to look forward to is the opening of the town pool so I can drag monkey to yet another activity. I'm hoping the baby swim classes will be offered at a good time, and I can convince him to join in the aqua-baby fun.

In anticipation of this, I have been experimenting with Monkey's bath again. Monkey is one of these strange children who has gone from loving his bath, to recoiling in terror at the sight of the tub, to going back to loving it after some serious psychological de-sensitizing techniques I subjected him to a few months ago. I knew those Psych 101-105 classes in college would come in handy. Heck, I should join the team at CTU, they need some good psych people on staff. Jack's torture techniques could use some work.

These days Monkey can't get enough bath time, which is fine with me as his increased mobility means more baby grime.

So, in the tub, I've been getting him to try a backfloat. Panic ensued as the Monkey's eyes widened in horror at the experience of flotation. We've played splish splash games. Naturally, he loves that - anything that results in mommy looking like a bigger mess is always fun. And of course, toys in the tub, floaties and plastic animals that spew water from their mouths always make him smile.

Wait till he sees the swim wear apparel I have in store for him. I figure if I can distract people with cute baby in swimwear, they'll be less inclined to notice the preggo whale waddling around in her Old Navy maternity bathing body bag.

Tagged from Random Thoughts - pictures of us from then and now!

Once upon a time, I was actually a little monkey too. Check out this wardrobe ensemble. (Err..thanks mom.) It appears the the monkey gets his fondness for choo-choos from me. It also looks like I still don't know what the heck to do with my hair.




And now...hmm..still got that killer fashion sense, which I am unleashing upon my own little monkey daily.

Ok..so what do you see here? Cute kid, seemingly harmless. Got a funny little grin, and likes to play in the backyard. That's about right. Given the amount of time I spend with him, I thought I knew him pretty well.



So, you can imagine my surprise, when I walked through the living room this morning, en route to get the newspaper from the front step. I almost missed it. But out of the corner of my eye, I saw a little red shape, curled up amidst the grey ashes. Look close now. Can you identify the object laying there? It's Elmo.




As best I can figure, Monkey opened the gate of the fireplace screen, threw Elmo in, and shut the door. The "Open - Close" game has been a big hit with him for awhile now. He opens and closes his closet, the kitchen cabinets and doors, etc. But never have I seen him act as judge, jury and executioner with his toys. I can't imagine what Elmo did. But seeing him laying on the funeral pyre like that was a little disconcerting. After being confronted with this act, Monkey tries to exit the scene of the crime. Looks like it's time to buy another baby gate.

I like walking. Even in my current Blimpie proportions, I still like being outside, in the fresh air, moving. It's the one form of "exercise" I still do. Sometimes, I suspect, I'm doing more waddling than anything else. But I ignore that sneaking suspicion and soldier on. I'm hoping the monkey will share my fondness for this activity, as I am counting on it to help shed the baby weight after monkette is born.



Often, our walks will include the furball. Here, monkey learns how to help Oscar into his leash.



A few practice rounds in the safety of the living room, and we're good to go.



Although Oscar looks grumpy at the prospect of being steered by the monkey, his basic good nature wins out in the end. Here, he takes a rest after a lap around the track.



Walking with the monkey and the furball, while pushing a stroller and waddling around 7 months pregnant gets me my share of looks. I also get comments. Inevitably some genius feels the need to remind me that I "sure have my hands full!" Yes, thanks. If you really want to see some maneuvering, wait till Oscar squats down to take a poo.




I also get the "oh so cute" variety of comments - as in "oh, your baby is so cute," or "Oh your dog is so cute!" Sometimes, I amuse myself by mentally tallying who's winning the cuteness competition that day. I have yet to get a comment along the lines of "Oh - you're pregnant - you're so cute!" Although, come to think of it..that would probably just freak me out.

As much as I'd like to wax eloquent on the virtues of motherhood, I find myself a little worn out by the actuality of it to dwell on the sentiment. It's enough to say, on this holiday, that any mother out there who is doing what she can to give her kid a good life, deserves some recognition today.

There are no perfect mothers. There are just us humble and flawed individuals doing the best we can, day in and day out. Hopefully, along the way lessons get learned, and kids grow up into decent human beings. That's good enough in my book.

So, Happy Mother's Day to those of you out there mothering the heck out of your kids. Keep on keepin' on.




Jordan contemplates a future so bright, he's gotta wear shades.




And finally a special shout out to my own dear mum, who managed to raise three kids, none of whom turned out to be ax-wielding serial killers (not yet, anyway). Go mom! Did I ever tell you what an amazing woman you are? Yeah, you! Here we have Grandma B breakin out the sweet numa numa dance moves at monkey's birthday party last January.

Hangin' around, nothing to do but frown.
Rainy Days and Mondays always get me down.

Days like this I just go stir crazy. Grey and drizzling outdoors means no park. It means a boggy mess of a backyard. It means muddy paw prints all over the floor. It means hours and hours of awake time that need to be filled for the monkey. As tempted as I am to sit the monkey in front of the shimmering lights of the plasma tv, I just can't. After about a half hour of approved television (baby Einstein or Sesame Street- take your pick, kid), I see the glazed curtain fall over his eyes and can almost picture his brain cells shriveling. The cringe inducing guilt forces me to mobilize whatever remnants of creativity still remain in me. He has his whole life to watch bad tv (right, Monkey sr?). But for now, while I can control him (bwah!), I'd rather he be doing things, experiencing things, running around and being a kid not a zombie.

So..this is what we've accomplished so far today..

Following breakfast, we had a mini arts and crafts session. Or a version of it anyway. Our version consisted of monkey and me sitting on the tiled floor of our kitchen with our chalkboard placemats and drawing. Err...scribbling...err...pushing the chalk onto the surface of the placemat in interesting patterns.



Monkeys' efforts fell more into the category of modern art. But thanks to the lovely people at Uncommon Goods, for a few minutes of creative play. Monkey's version of arts and crafts took an interesting turn when he decided it was more fun to topple the container of chalk over and watch them shatter into many pieces. Then, he carefully picked each piece up, inserted it back into the container, and proceeded to shake the box rapidly like a rattle. Excellent! Two toys in one!

After that, we had a quick session of "run around the living room while mommy huffs and puffs behind me!" This is a game always guaranteed to bring a smile to monkey's face, a sharp rise in my blood pressure, and a corrosponding certainty that I am about to go into labor any minute.



Monkey pauses for a minute to laugh at the lumbering photographer.

Ok..so what next. Snack break, obviously. As monkey sat on the counter next to me, contentedly sipping his milk and nibbling grahm crackers, I introduced him to one of my favorite rainy-day cds.



There is a road, no simple highway,
Between the dawn and the dark of night,
And if you go no one may follow,
That path is for your steps alone.

A few crackers later, a diaper and outfit change, a phone call, and a packing of the bag..and we were off to the local library for one-hour free play time! Hurray! I bundled the monkey up in his Gordon's Fisherman rain coat, pulled my hair back into the ever fashionable mommy-tail, and took off.

Apparently everyone else had the same idea, because the play room was packed. Nannies lined the perimeter of the room, most of them ignoring their charges, while toddlers of all shapes and sizes ran about amidst the toys. Monkey loves this crap. I try to follow him around as best I can, while maintaining some distance and allowing him to explore. I intervene only when I see physical violence looming in the form of an older child with no adult in sight.

I really hate being so judgemental, but I just want to sigh when I see how some of the nannies behave with their kids. They look so bored. They cluster together, chatting, ignoring what's going on in front of them. The kids play, which is great, except when something goes wrong...like one of them tumbling down, or getting smacked with a toy by another child, or wandering around lonely and aimlessly without anyone interacting with him. Yeah, I saw all these things this morning and more. I don't think kids need to have someone hovering over them every minute of the day. There's a lot to be learned from independent play. But I also think if the job is so boring you can't conceal your disdain for a few minutes, then it's time to do something else. I also don't think a crying child is something to laugh about with your friends.

In all fairness, I also saw an amazing nanny. She was actually on floor level playing with her little guy, showing him toys, explaining how some things worked, teaching him the concept of sharing when monkey came over to them to investigate what sparkly object they had. She explained how to take turns, praised her little guy when he let monkey take a turn, and actually seemed to take pleasure in the fact that he was doing something well. I wanted to hug her. I also wanted to kidnap her, take her home with me and store her for future use.



All good things must end. Monkey is safely bundled up in the car seat for the journey home ... and NAP. After which mommy will count the hours until lunch, then dinner, then bath..then bed time.

Sunshine..please come back!

There are heroes whose jobs have them saving lives. There are those who mistakenly think their jobs involve writing. And then there are those whose jobs make others miserable. I met one of those guys today. I met someone whose job involved making kids cry. Maybe he didn't realize it. Maybe he was just seriously devoted to achieving the perfect camera shots. Maybe he really wanted to be a nightclub doorman. Maybe he just needed another smoke break. Or maybe he was the next Coppola and I'm too ignorant to realize it.

At the park today, we had the misfortune to run smack into a production crew filming footage for a show that airs on Nickelodeon. I had no idea who these people were, but a fellow mom informed me that one of the individuals on the "set" looked like the new guy on Blue's Clues. So, I'll go with that. Blue's Clues decided to film on a playground in New Jersey. And not just any playground - a park. A park that happens to have at least three other playgrounds designated for children above 2 years old. They chose not to film there. They chose to film in the section of the park situated directly next to the under-2 play area. For the uninitiated, many playgrounds have recommended age guidelines, which are useful. The older kids, whose play can get a little rough, have their space. The babies and toddlers have theirs. Everyone's happy.

Or so I thought.

Every time I turned around, a man from the crew ("Mr. Shoo!") came over to ask us to move, because we were in the shot, or asked us to make our children be quiet (right, let me yell at my monkey who has the audacity to giggle as he runs around), because they were recording. I swear, I cannot for the life of me ever recall a time when someone suggested that the playground was a place where kids should use their "indoor voices." We complied a few times. I actually took the monkey out of his baby swing and moved him to other equipment. This is a task easier said then done, btw. Monkey loves him some swing. Still, kicking and screaming, I took him away. I even at one point, early on, left that area of the park and brought him over to the train ride (choo-choo!). Which, happens to cost money, so I can't spend all day there. Then we tried sections of the park designed for older kids, but as expected, monkey is a little small to fend for himself among the bigger primates. So, back to the baby section for us.

Until, I just couldn't take it anymore. After being told, again, that we were in the shot, I just picked up the monkey and left the park. Mr. Shoo won this round, but I'll be damned before I ever watch Blue's Clues again.

ps - the production trailer parked across the entire width of handicapped parking spaces in the lot across from the playground. I just had to add that. And no, they did not have a parking pass for it. Good thing all the physically challenged people chose to stay home today. I hope they weren't watching Nickelodeon.



Despite being unceremoniously kicked off the playground, the monkey holds no grudge.

As we count down the final months before baby #2 makes her arrival, we find ourselves in the throes of home improvement projects. Thankfully, the above picture is NOT actually a room in our house, but it might as well be given the lack of preparedness we currently face.

It's funny (and not in a ha-ha sort of funny) how we both seem to be mired in this fog of denial right now. I just can't make myself think about what it will be like to have two monkeys in the house. Maybe it's my own misguided attempt at self-preservation or maintaining sanity. I just can't begin to imagine what our days will look like.

The closest I came to actually picturing it occured today as I was carrying the little monkey down the stairs (for what felt like the gazillionth time). When monkey #2 (monkette? Monkita?) makes her appearance, am I going to be carrying them both around at the same time?? What if I have to tend to her upstairs but the monkey is downstairs? Do I leave him, unattended, run upstairs, bring her down, or bring him up? Or do I just install monkey #2 in one of those wrap around baby slings and WEAR her on me in some type of primative third world solidarity statement?

My heart rate is increasing at the moment, and I find myself feeling a little faint, so I will change the subject completely.

The good news -

I was recently informed that my blood glucose level was abnormally high, thus triggering a panic attack at the thought that I may have somehow developed gestational diabetes. Gestational diabetes?? Diabetes??? A follow up test last week ruled that out, and I have been given a clean bill of health. Now I just have to explain the black and blue bruises along the veins in my arms that make me look like I've been pounding heroin.

Sure, those are from blood tests...All four of them. Ok, so no gestational diabetes. Just really bad luck getting a sloppy phlebotomist who saw me as her personal pin cushion. Too bad the heroin chic look is about 10 years way over. Oh wait, given the bump, I couldn't have pulled that off anyway. Never mind.

In celebration of my non-diabetic self, I indulged in some ice cream cake at the home of a fellow preggo, also due this summer. Thanks N! Bring on the chocolate!

ps - I'm just kidding. Sort of. But I'm also kind of thinking this is probably the last time I'm going to be pregnant, so I might as well indulge a little. Right? Right?