Little Monkey and Friends

We got back tonight from our trip to Florida. As our favorite exploradora likes to say, "We did it! (lo Hicimos!)"

Once you introduce children into the planning process known as vacationing, the complexity increases exponentially. In our case, the formula looks something like this:

where x = young, hyperactive monkey

2x(air travel) + (luggage) + (need to nap, eat, diaper changes, be entertained, clothed, bathed, and cuddled) - (ability to consume alcohol before 8:00 pm) + (nagging sense of responsibility that keeps one from leaving child unattended for prolonged periods of time) = ?

Math has never been my strong point, but you get the idea. As Monkey, Sr. likes to point out - with kids, there is no such thing as a "relaxing vacation." Much as I might wish otherwise, the concept is an oxymoron. And I'm just the moron for the job.

The only way to make the best of the situation is to surround yourself with like minded (long suffering) souls who understand your pain. Vacation with them, or better yet, vacation at their brand new home in the Florida beaches where the sun shines all day and the air wraps its balmy breezes around you with a welcoming hug.

So, that's what we did. We deposited ourselves, our kids, our diapers, luggage and toddler tantrums at the home of our favorite Floridians - the Perkins. In turn, they fed us, babysat our kids, took us to the beach, soaked us in their pool, in the hot tub, barbequed for us, tolerated our young monkey's food pickiness, our other monkey's food passions, our early morning wake up calls, our colds, our taste in movies, and our love of lounging around and talking about the kids after they go to bed. After a week of this, I'm thrilled to report that we're still on speaking terms!

Future posts will spell out more of the details of our week. For now, this tired and sun-kissed mom just wanted to say a quick thank you to two of the most generous and wonderful friends we could hope to have. We feel pretty honored to have gotten the chance to vacation at your beautiful home. Thanks for making it such a wonderful adventure.

and I can relax.

And the monkey can too. I know he's capable of it, he has the genes. We saw for ourselves last summer. See below.



In less than 24 hours we'll be cruising at an altitude of who knows, but it's high enough; and I can put the rest of this month behind me. I am going to forget about the flu week, the childcare dramas, the plumbing disasters. I am going to forget about being slammed with snow and ice and shovelling, and cleaning. I am going to pretend that I am not turning 35 years old or that I have more than that number of grey hairs in my ever thinning mane.

For one week, I am just going to chill out.

Of course, it wouldn't be us if we didn't have just one or two last minute ordeals to endure. Today's was the requisite heart clinic check up. J's clinic visits are thankfully few and far between these days, but we still have to go every few months. In general, they usually suck. No amount of preparing the monkey beforehand ever alleviates the hysterics that he goes through once there. But we try our best to get through the morning.

I'm going to take it as a good omen that today's visit passed quickly. We went from blood draw, to echocardiogram, to EKG, to doctor exam with minimal waiting. Lots of tears and shouting, yes ... but not too much waiting. And whew - it's over!! Absent any complications, we don't have another visit until late June or July. That is awesome.

I can't believe we've gone from two clinic visits a week to one every 3-4 months. I was thinking about it this morning as we drove over the GW Bridge into Manhattan. As usual, traffic inched along, while the overcast sky rose up in testament to my foul mood. How did we manage to do this back then? Jeff had just begun a new job, we had just moved into a new apartment, and we had this brand new month old baby who had given us the scare of our lives. Twice a week, in the cold winter mornings, I bundled him up and made the trek into the city. Twice a week, we sat there in the crowded clinic waiting room, where I was forced to breastfeed Jordan as unobtrusively as possible. Twice a week, I held him down while they took his blood and monitored his heart function. There were times I thought I would fall asleep standing up. The round the clock care that a newborn demands takes its toll on every parent. And we were no exception.

But, as we drove to the hospital this morning, those bitter days seemed so far away. For all my complaining,sometimes I think we are the luckiest parents in the world.

So wish us luck.

On Friday, the monkey posse will be boarding a plane for their first ever flight. Once upon a time I used to love flying. I thrilled to the quake of a plane beginning take off. Flying was fun, an adventure. Looking at the sun sparkling off the clouds in the air felt like peering in a hidden world. Friday's flight has me feeling differently. Am I nervous? Heck yeah, I am. Not because I harbor some irrational fear of flying. Not because I dread long delays in an airport or flying while brown.

I'm in fear of what it will be like cooped up in an airline cabin with two pint sized monkeys, ages two and 8 months old. The two year old - aka Little Monkey, is not known for his patience or love of the unknown. He isn't a big fan of being confined to tight quarters, and he has yet to grasp the concept of "inside voices."

On the topic of voices, monkey #2, aka Miss Mina, has recently discovered her voice, and apparently is once belonged to an opera singer. Not a good opera singer, mind you. She's got one akin to those I remember from Looney Tunes cartoons - the ones who shattered glass with their high pitched squeals. But dang, does she love that voice of hers. Naturally, she exhaults in sharing it with us as much as possible. However much I admire her new skill with the fondness of a parent, I suspect others won't share in my sentimentality.

We will be prepared. We will have mindless kiddie entertainment (Dora), nutritionally questionable snacks (chocolate), and time wasting activities planned for those lulls when all hell is about to break loose ("play with clay!).

I hope they let me bring that clay on board. I am so counting on that clay.

No matter what, no matter how nerve racking the odyssey will be - what awaits us at the end will be worth it.

This week's snow storm hit us pretty hard. Once the snow and sleet finally ended, we began to dig ourselves out. Little monkey braved the polar conditions of the front yard long enough to discover a snowdrift which accumulated alongside the house.

"Oooh...mountain!" He said.

Yes, little monkey. For now - a mountain it may seem.

But I'm proud to say, he did climb it, slip down its soft incline, and scramble up to try again.

Pictures with Dada, taking a break from shovelling.





Who needs earmuffs when you have Ipod ear buds, eh, dada?

Overall, the storm wasn't that bad. We got hit harder last year. See..



And this is what Little Monkey and dada looked like then.



Yep, still the same red, frostbitten ears.

Labels: Jeff, Jordan outdoors, winter

I'm the oldest of three siblings. Being the oldest brought with it a few random perks. I got to say, "I'm the oldest." For a brief period of time, I got to boss around two obedient little slaves. That was about it.

Almost all of these token status symbols were negated by virtue of being the oldest, only girl in a first-generation South Asian religious family. Needless to say, I had to do the lion's share of breaking in the old folks and schooling them in the the American way. By the time the youngest - Riz, hit adolescence, they were pretty much beaten down and accepting of any manner of nonsense. I like to think I had some part in this. I've never been properly thanked by either brother, but that's ok. As my mom likes to say, "I'll get my reward in the Hereafter."

I digress.

Riz and I are separated by an age gap that swallows a generation. The eight years between us means he never fully appreciated the same goofy tv shows I watched as a kid, or the music I grew up listening too. What was cool in my time is now played on the classic rock stations with that faint unpleasant odor that accompanies both nostalgia and decay.

But for all our differences, we remain siblings. We both grew up in the same home, ate the same food, and shared the same air space. Even though his only stated memory of me is when I walked out the door, suitcase in hand, off to college .. I remember a few things about him growing up. I can't say I remember him as much of a student ... smart, yes. Student? No.

He's surprised us all though. My little brother, the one who could barely make it to school on time in the mornings, the one who would fall asleep standing in the shower, the one who would emerge from his bedroom in a cloud of mysterious smoke rings.. is on the verge of becoming a doctor ... a real doctor. Our little macaca has grown up, gotten himself married, and fulfilled every desi parent's ultimate fantasy.

This May, we get to call him, Dr. Riz.



And let me be the first to publicly congratulate him and tell him again - Riz, we're so proud of you. By the way, I say that without any trace of vintage Parvez family sarcasm. Really. I'm proud of you.


This week, in keeping with that honored med school tradition, he found out where he "matched." For the laymen, this means the hospital where he is matched to begin his four year residency. And the lucky institution is located in....drumroll.....Pittsburgh! Hurray!

I did a quick google to discover what Pittsburgh has to offer the young and upwardly mobile. Apart from the sports stuff and the Heinz ketchup corporation, Pittsburgh has good bread. They also have famous sandwiches. And for those of a literary bend, Pittsburgh features as a backdrop in the following written works.

Reading is important, you know. After all, books contain all manner of useful information - like how to identify diseases, what medicines to prescribe for them, how to dress wounds, and how to perform plastic surgery. Eh-hem.

Miss Mina has recently developed a fondness for books. Maybe she'll grow up to be just like her uncle.

And that would be ... a love of bagels.

It's been one of those kind of weeks. You know the kind? The kind that makes you just want to crawl back into bed, pull the blankets up, and try to drown out the sound of the monkey's baby monitors chattering away at 6:00 in the morning.

But, if there's one thing I've learned as a mother, it's this - you can never shut those monitors off. Even when you turn the sound down all the way (yes, I have), I still hear them. I hear those little monkey voices in my head. I can hear them almost anywhere in the house, no matter what noise-deafening activity I am engaged in. That's what happens when you become a mom. Those squeaky little voices burrow into your heart and make a permanent home there.

So, I listen to the monkey music that starts up at all hours of the day and night. It's ok. We're used to it. We haven't slept properly in over two years. But, the lack of sleep is hitting us hard at the moment since the majority of us in the house have been struck down hard with a mysterious stomach bug. I think I was the first to succumb, late Thursday. Little monkey followed in rapt succession, and Monkey, Sr. is the most recent victim. The three of us are in various stages of misery.

The only seemingly healthy ones in the house are ...

Miss Mina





And Oscar.

My only explanation is that the amount of doggie cooties the two of them share together via Oscar's daily kisses has provided Miss Mina with an immune system superior to the rest of us. I don't know how she can tolerate that doggie breath of his though.

So, consistent with our usual pattern of illness, we've gone through the requisite stages of vomitting and nuclear diapers. I've been scrubbing everything in sight from dawn to dusk while trying to entertain a whine-y and tired toddler. Monkey Sr., had my back until he was waylaid. But he's trying, to his credit. Ashen-faced and nauseous, he lays there on the floor of the playroom supervising Miss Mina's activities, hoping to catch a moment of rest. Ha!



Prior to getting sick himself, Little Monkey tried to help out. Here he tests the bottle to make sure it's ok for his baby sister.



He even demonstrates the proper way to latch on. Open wide, now. Like this!




Ok, there we go. Put 'em to work early. That's my motto.

What can I say? It runs in the family.

Labels: Jordan, play

And neither are two siblings. Having two kids so close in age together (sigh) is an ongoing learning experience (doesn't that sound diplomatic?). Having one kid makes me an expert on nothing other than that one kid. That's it. Having a second one right away doesn't guarantee me any easier time of it. As much as I'd like to believe I've got a head start on issues like sleep training, first year milestones, growth percentiles, and such, the truth is, I don't know anything. As Miss Mina reminds me, every kid is different. Take for example, the issue of eating.

I have reported ad nauseum, on Little Monkey's relationship with food. To sum it up for any new readers - if it ain't chocolate, it ain't worth it. While I can sympathize, I can't in good conscience support this type of lifestyle at this age. Miss Mina, on the other hand, approaches food with an entirely different attitude.



Bring it on, she says. Like ... now.



Miss Mina, unlike her brother, had an early interest in real food. I just follow her lead.



And it's taken us in some adventurous directions. I've given up trying to limit her exposure to new food in gradual, controlled ways. She's just beyond all that. These days, I just let her sample whatever we've got on the table. Beef stew? Check. Rice and beans? Sure. Pasta .. so last week. Avocado? Barely fazed her. She grunts in the direction of what attracts her eye, and I just spoon a bit into her mouth. Nine times out of ten, she'll eat it and look at me for more.



But, I guess that's part of the fun of having two kids. Apart from twice the number of diapers ... you also get twice the opportunities to observe little people grow up. Those endearing quirks that make us who we are develop at a young age, and it's fun to watch it unfold. So far, Miss Mina and Little Monkey are like night and day.

But we have a long road ahead of us. And I'm guessing the journey will be eventful.

I took a lot of pictures of Jordan during his first year. I tried to keep the digital camera charged up and accessible most of the time. Naturally, I missed plenty of great photo ops when he was doing the kind of goofy baby things you want to remember. But once, I did manage to get pictures of him when the light was just so, and his expression was just right, and it was totally unplanned.. It was a hot August afternoon, and I had him on the kitchen table. He was engrossed in figuring out the wonderous object in front of him - the napkin holder. This series of pictures is among my favorite.









Fast forward .. February 2007. My little guy is now two years old. Seen in the winter light, the effect is a little different. In some ways, he's changed. The baby fat seems to have melted off, his features have come out, he's gotten taller. But his quintessential nature remains the same. Intent on what he's doing, curious, and thoughtful - here he plays with his train set while I snap away.