Little Monkey and Friends

Sometimes I wonder whether we are the luckiest people in the world, or the unluckiest. After our ordeal Friday night, I'm still not sure. I lay on the couch sleeping, Jeff was beside me watching tv, and the Mina monkey was in her swing. Suddenly, I awoke to the sound of what I thought was either a loud thunder crack, or a tree crashing through the roof of our house. Jeff and I both leaped up and ran up the stairs to our bedroom to see what had caused such a sound. Was it the roof? Was it Jordan falling out of his crib?

There, we saw the following scene:




And here is our bedroom in all its glory, following the collapse of the ceiling. The debris you see scattered everywhere is concrete-reinforced sheetrock. That's right, CONCRETE. Additionally, bits of wood, nails, rusted screws, and insulation of indeterminable origin, saturated with water, also rained down upon the scene.



This is what concrete-reinforced sheetrock looks like up close. We have been blissfully sleeping beneath this sword of Damocles for over a year now. The scary thing about this whole incident, apart from the fact that it occurred at all with no warning whatsoever, is that the chunks of concrete and ceiling fell directly onto our bed, and also Mina's bassinette. The concrete chunks crushed the roof of the bassinette completely. Given the weight of each piece, had Mina been sleeping in the bassinette, her head would have been crushed as well. I don't quite know why the ceiling was insulated with cement. It's true, they "just don't make them like they used to anymore." Thank God.




I'm trying to keep things light here, but part of me does find it odd that now, both our kids have had their own brushes with death. While Jordan's was certainly more dramatic, Mina's was just as random and freakish. Which leads me back to my orginal query. Are we the unluckiest or luckiest parents in the world?



I think I know the answer to that.

Yesterday, Jordan got to live out a childhood dream that he doesn't even know he has yet - to be a major league baseball player. Ok, well that might not be his dream. And that might not even be my dream for him. But you gotta admit that a 20-year gig with big money and little chance of a career ending injury is pretty sweet...

Anyway, yesterday was Shea Day! Each year my firm hosts a family event at Shea Stadium where you get to run around on the actual field where the Mets play and sit in their dugout, eat hot dogs, etc. Pretty darn cool if you ask me.

So we packed up the entire family and headed out to Shea. As you can see from this picture, Jordan looks right at home and ready for any ball that comes his way.

A versatile player in the mold of Babe Ruth, Jordan can also throw some heat by the best of the power hitters. Here he is warming up for his Shea pitching debut...

But the highlight for Jordan appeared to be the big guy with a ball for a head (a.k.a. Mr. Met). "Ball" being his first and favorite word, Jordan reacted like this guy was the Easter Bunny.

And here's the entire clan posing for a photo op on the Mets infield.

It felt truly special to be there with them. The Mets do hold a place in my heart since I was raised to be a fan by my grandmother. I remember going to her house after school some days and finding her in the kitchen watching a Mets afternoon game. She would explain the rules to me and even the strategy of play. I'm sure she would have gotten a kick out of seeing me standing on the field at Shea with my beautiful family. Part of me likes to think she did.

-Jeff

First, proper attention must be paid to bathing and bath products. Always have your attending servants on hand with soothing balms and lotions. Delicate skin such as mine requires vigilant pampering. And the subject of hair is a whole other story. Mine in on the abundant but fine side right now. This hairstyle is in its transitional phase. When it comes in, it's gonna look great.


True beauty comes from within. After a long day, I like to lay on my fleecy blanket and meditate. Deep, cleansing breaths help revive my inner spirit. While I ponder the mysteries of life, my attendants scurry around like so many leaves in the breeze.


Eleven days into this gig, and I feel fairly confident that I've got the cute thing under control. I can't understand why my mom can't get it together though. She's been looking pretty raggedy lately. I've made it a point to remind her every two hours or so, of the need to nourish one's self. I like to tell her at night, around 4:00 am. It's quieter then.

While spending the afternoon at the Children's Museum of Manhattan, Jordan's air space is rudely invaded by a hideous, sky- blue plastic croc/clog - the ubiquitous crap shoes of the summer. God I hate these things. And with a pale pink zip up, no less? Oh girl, please.

Not sure what the Mina Monkey is thinking here, but the battle for couch space has clearly begun. I distinctly recall territorial lines of division that my brothers and I created growing up. The car, in particular, was prime battleground, with all of us jockeying for the front seat. Can someone please tell me what was so enticing about sitting up in the front seat right next to your parent? And why would one of them so calmly forfeit the front seat to one of their tantrum prone children? I'm not giving up my front seat to any of my monkeys. Heck no. Sit in the back, with the toys and graham cracker crumbs.

We also had formal rules of protocol for all the television watching that went on in the house.

Foremost among them was the concept called "My choice." He who holds the remote control after arriving first into the tv room was deemed the Decider for all channels. Leaving the room meant sacrificing the "choice" to whomever next called it out. Unless of course someone was kind enough to "save" the choice for you.

"Will you save my choice till I get back? I'll bring you cookies too!"

"No way. I'll get my own cookies and eat them in front of you."

What usually happened next, was that the choice holder would call out to a parental unit to "save" the choice from afar. Only they were allowed this priviledge. Too busy to be bothered with our nonsense, one of them would agree without consideration for how their decision affected the delicate balance of sibling power struggles.

The only other rule we agreed on was that our youngest brother had no choice. He could be overruled at any time. Such is life at the top of the sibling food chain.

I see those genes have carried over. God help Jordan though if his sister is anything like I was.


Monkey Sr. shall be assigned the role of peace maker in our family.

(With apologies to the Cure.)




Miss Mina likes the nightlife. While other babies occupy their days doing constructive things like "tummy time" and drooling, the Mina monkey sleeps. She sleeps in our arms. She sleeps in our bed. She sleeps curled up next to me, latched on to my body like the proverbial little monkey. But, she does not sleep in her bassinette. Not for any appreciable length of time that is. And when night falls, the mina monkey awakens ... ready to be wined and dined and entertained. Notice how her eyes glow like little orbs of moonlight...like disco balls...like Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds.

Sorry. Those hospital grade drugs were pretty potent.




Yesterday, Little monkey spent the afternoon with his buddy Grace at the pool. Grace's mom was kind enough to cross the river with food in tow, and visit the menagerie known as the Trimarchi family. Three monkeys in the house, three adults and a dim-witted, hyperactive Brussels Griffon all under one roof made for an interesting sight. Here, Grace samples a muffin while Jordan maintains strict dietary self-discipline as usual. It's a good thing one of us in this family has a trim waistline.

-Sadaf

Here's Mina during one of her rare moments when she's not sleeping or attached to Sadaf.


And here's Mina sleeping in Mommy and Daddy's bed. She's definitely a snuggly little monkey. She wont last too long in her bassinet... but coming into our bed is a sure fire way to put her right out. Bad habit, we know. But its only Day 4 - stop being so judgmental!

You might also notice that she likes to sleep on her side. No matter how much we try to put her on her back, she rolls onto her side, puts her hands up near her face, and passes out. Unusual for such a tiny baby, but hey man, whatever it takes!

Hey Everyone! I've finally been granted access to one of the most closely guarded blogs in blogosphere history... and boy do I have a lot to say...

If you hadn't yet guessed, I'm Sadaf's husband, Jeff, a.k.a. Old Monkey or Monkey Sr. And if you really hadn't yet guessed, may I suggest clicking on the blog ad to the left and purchasing a clue (stop looking... its not there...). Just kidding!

First of all, it looks like I'm gonna have to change my name to "Jordan & Mina's Dad" - kinda rolls off the tongue, doesn't it?

That aside, I bet you're all wondering how our little Mina is doing on her third day with us. Thankfully, everything is going very well (says the parent who does not have to breastfeed). We have been getting to know Mina quite well over the past few days, and boy does she have a little personality! As you can see from below, the Mina monkey is not very happy to still be at the hospital and was quite anxious to get out of there and check out the crib ("crib" meaning "house" but also literally meaning "crib"). So we moved quickly to get her checked out of the hospital. We were the first of 15 babies to leave on Monday (fifteen babies!!!)

When she got home she got to see Jordan again for the first time since his visit to the hospital. Jordan smiles innocently, probably thinking she's pretty harmless...

But before you know it, he is dutifully pushing her in the baby swing, as she relaxes knowing that she has him wrapped around her finger...

That's it for me (for now). I'm sure Sadaf will update you on the trials and tribulations of breastfeeding soon... as well as Mina's first Doctor's visit (which went very well).

Thanks for checkin' in!

Monkette is currently sleeping off her first big birth day and night of revelry. Here are some first hand pics of the action.



Little monkey does some guest blogging from mommy's bedside computer, no doubt sharing his opinion on how it feels to be a big brother.



Old monkey chats with the guest of honor, whose floppy pink hat set the tone for the evening's dress code.



Grandma H smiles big for the papparazzi.



Grandma B gets a glimpse of the princess herself, while mommy tries to remember how to hold a newborn.

Break out the cigars!
Samina Pearl Trimarchi was born at 10:33 am today, weighing in at 7 lbs, 9 oz. Both mother and baby are doing fine.

Good morning, people!

Still in labor, happy to say ... contractions every 2-3 minutes. No pain, just dull pressure.

Monkey,Sr. is sleeping away in the room with me. Little monkey is under the watchful care of Grandma H.

My observation of the morning:

How did women get through early labor without in-room, bedside intenet access?

Here's the update. The 'rents have joined Sadaf and company in New Jersey. From what I understand, Grandma Helene is also there helping take care of Jordan. Jeff's paternity leave started today too, so she has plenty of support.

According to the voice message the old man left, the hospital staff is monitoring her contractions and she might deliver anytime tonight or tomorrow morning. Not that I know anything about it, but apparently inducing labor doesn't mean instant delivery. Judging from Sadaf's last post, it does however mean a prolonged state of chemical bliss.

More updates as they become available.

p.s. Here in Boulder, drugs can sometime lead to curious behavior.

I am so high. Seriously, everyone deserves an epidural at least once in their lives.

No, no. Not quite yet.

I just called Sadaf at the hospital and she's doing fine. I offered to post blog updates for her as I imagine they'll make her put the keyboard down at some point.

News, no doubt will be forthcoming.

Oh, and in case you didn't know, I'm her younger brother Osman.

Internet access from the hospital, my own little room, and surrounded by the sounds of silence...it feels like I'm at a day spa! But in reality, I am currently blogging from the hospital where monkette and I are hooked up to a fetal hear rate monitor. After my weekly checkup this morning, the doctor decided to admit me and begin inducing this afternoon. No worries. Just a precautionary measure we're taking in light of some observations she made while I was in the office. Baby's heart rate looks good, her picture on the ultrasound looks normal, and they promised me I could have my epidural on demand. With that reassurance, I am just going to lay back in this hospital bed and wait for monkey #2 to make her arrival. I wasn't expecting this today ... but it's all good. I had to have this baby sometime.

While I ponder my inability to stick to schedule, the monkeys in my life find ways to occupy themselves as we wait this out. Due date is officially today, and so far mina-monkey-on-the-way appears to be in no rush to vacate her current abode. Jordan was almost two weeks late, which in hindsight might have been a good thing, as circumstances turned out. Since we are seriously hoping for a little less drama this time, I'd rather not wait another two weeks before monkey #2 makes her appearance.

(Warning .... rant begins)

It's not that I'm particularly looking forward to round the clock feedings and sleep deprivation again. It's more to do with the fact that I am tired of walking around with this massive beach ball implanted in the center of my torso. I'm tired of the looks I've been getting at the local pool ... the ones that not-so-subtley suggest that maybe I should be at home with my feet up, rather than risk going into labor in communal waters, I'm tired of the Shop Rite check out guy wishing me good luck every time I waddle down his check out aisle, barely squeezing past the candy bars and batteries, I'm tired of breaking out in a flop sweat in the middle of the night, I'm tired of wearing Monkey Sr.'s grungy t-shirts. I would like to say bye-bye to the miscellaneous aches, pains, mystery contractions and leg spasms I've been experiencing for the last three months. I'd like to be able to wear my seatbelt again without feeling like I'm cutting off my own air supply.

All right, there's more. But I'm going to stop complaining because I know there are women out there (Lord help them) who have had more difficult pregnancies than me. I will grin and bear it and wait this out.

As an aside, I was discussing the situation with dear mum last night, and asked her what her experience had been with the three children she delivered. She was very clear on the fact that she had to be induced with me. She was induced with her youngest child. But when it came to the second, she got a little hazy.

"I don't remember what happened."

"What do you mean you don't remember? You don't remember whether they had to drag you into the hospital and force you to deliver?"

"Oh Sadaf...you know...maybe. I don't remember."

After further interrogation, she conceded that yes, she was in all liklihood, probably induced with her second child too. All I have to say is, what the hell drugs were they giving women in the 70's and where can I get some?

While I rested a bit on Saturday, Monkey Sr. and son spent the day at the Bronx zoo visiting friends of the human and animal persuasion. Above, we have ... monkeys in repose!



Grace was nice enough to spend the day with us. Here, Grace demonstrates the "Hear no Evil" monkey pose while balancing a hat in one hand. Excellent coordination, Grace.


Little monkey really liked the goats. The goat really liked the floral patterned Hawaiian shirt.



Monkey scans the gate, channeling his inner animal-rights activist. Hmmm...there must be a way to let mr. goat out.

Monkey and Grace are returned to the safe confinement of their own portable captivity units. Grace enjoys some refreshment while Jordan wonders how his right hand blew up to gargantuan proportions in one afternoon.



ps, re: monkey-on-the way: I had yet another ob/gyn appointment last Friday. I am still pregnant over here, and apparently not looking to go anytime soon, based on the doctor's exam. My due date is still officially July 13th. Will try not to go into labor before next Saturday, as it would be nice to have Monkey, Sr. around for the actual driving me to the hospital bit. I think I may be the only pregnant woman I know who is trying to keep the baby inside her at this stage of the game.

Mr. Moo goes for a ride.

This holiday weekend, we spent much of our time in preparations for the monkey-on-the-way. Her bedroom is set up, her clothing washed and put away, and various other odds and ends are being taken care of - hopefully before she makes her appearance on or about July 13. My very long list of things to do is gradually getting checked off, thanks in part to Monkey, Sr.



Of course, the best part of the weekend has been the relief in knowing the little monkey is all better and back to his old self. His tests came back fine, and he's been fever free for many days now. We spent the morning at the playground where he talked with the animals.



And played hide-and-seek with dada.

I don't know if it's a Jersey thing, but boy are fireworks popular here. For the past three days, every neighboring town has had a local fireworks display, including our own - which we got to see from our deck. It's been a pretty impressive sound and light show. Unfortunately, since little Monkey falls asleep promptly at 7:30 every night, we haven't been able to bring him to see the lights in person. What we have managed to do is drag him to the local holiday carnival. There, we forced him to ride the merry-go-round, the little jalopy cars, and eat lots of sugary substances. He particularly enjoyed the red sno-cones and chocolate ice cream.

I was very proud of our parenting that day, especially as I laughed at the sight of monkey's full-face chocolate ice cream mustache and beard.