Little Monkey and Friends

Miss Mina hit the nine month mark this month, and I'd like to note the following critical developments:



Her hair is finally long enough to put up in a "Pebbles" style ponytail. Yes!!

oh, and she's crawling too.



Crawling with a ponytail ... this kid is a powerhouse!



She keeps up with the big kids at the park swings.



Fearless!



And she's perfected the art of sharing floor space ... and photo ops, with her four-legged friends.

Labels: mina; mina milestones

This is my unsolicited public service announcement of the month. Warning, rant ensues.

Parents: As precious as you think your adorable teenager is, as deserving as they may seem, as many times as their sorry self has made the honor roll at school, the don't need to be driving your brand-new, spanking, black four-door volvo. The don't need to be driving any car for that matter. And they do not need to be driving the car while talking on a cell phone. And they REALLY do not need to be driving it straight into my trusty, old minivan while I am behind the wheel minding my own business. You may insist that your precious teenager is the soul of responsibility and maturity. But when they crash your lovely car head first into mine and don't have the decency to even apologize, their cuteness factor is basically nil in my book.

Shall I elaborate?

On April 24th, I found myself sitting behind the wheel of my minivan waiting for a red light to change. All I had on my mind was my grocery list, how to cope with the sorry state of produce at the local Shop Rite, and the reaction I expected when I served Little Monkey a helping of manicotti for dinner that night. I did not expect to be the victim of a head on collision. Funny how these things happen.

She came barrelling down the road, taking a right turn at a speed that would make cab drivers nervous, talking on her cell phone the whole time. Her head faced in a direction opposite the road she was turning on, but her cell phone remained balanced perfectly in her hand. Oblivious to me honking my horn in desperation, she cut her turn too wide. It happened so fast, and yet so painfully slow. She crashed head first into my car. My poor silver mini-van, still waiting patiently for the light to turn green.

If only that light had turned green a minute sooner. I would have been wandering the aisles of Shop Rite cursing under my breath at the sorry state of produce, at the wilted lettuce and brown peppers. Instead, I found myself cursing loudly at the most over-privileged snotty, teenager I had the misfortune to encounter. The following dialogue has been edited to preserve the generally family-friendly nature of this blog.

me: YOU STUPID, STUPID LITTLE GIRL! HOW COULD YOU BE SO F-ING STUPID? YOU CRASHED INTO MY CAR AT A RED LIGHT! YOU WERE ON YOUR CELL PHONE! I SAW YOU TALKING ON YOUR CELL PHONE WHILE YOU WERE DRIVING! DIDN'T YOU HEAR ME HONKING AT YOU??!? YOU TURNED TOO WIDE! YOU CRASHED INTO MY CAR!!

teeny-bopper: OHMIGOD!! Like, what are you so upset about?? Calm down! We have insurance!!

me: I'm really glad your mommy and daddy have insurance, but that doesn't matter!@! Look at what you've done to my car! You crashed into my car while I was stopped at a light!!

And so on.

There are a few precious readers of this blog who personally are familiar with my temper. They know what my temper is capable of when my poor, innocent car gets slammed. (Shout out, Riz!) In general, it's something I keep buried deep in the recesses of my dark soul, hidden from polite society. But, like Bruce Banner, sometimes I Hulk out. It's ugly.

This stupid, snotty, pointy-faced little girl seemed unaware of the fact that I was shaking with anger. She was rambling on and on, demanding to see proof of my identity because she "had been in situations like this before and I need to see your papers."

She didn't seem to realize that I was doing everything in my power not to take my hand, ball it into a fist, and smash it into her protuding nose. I reigned myself in somehow, walked to the sidewalk and called the police.

I have spent the remainder of this week dealing with various insurance types, trying to obtain a copy of the accident report to validate my innocence, and occasionally I pause long enough to remind myself that I was lucky not be hurt. I was lucky that the monkeys were home. Etc.

Look, I was once a snotty-nosed, over-privileged teenybopper myself. I once drove a car I had no business driving, on roads with civilized human beings who did not deserve the insult of my driving alongside them. I possessed an unhealthy sense of entitlement and thought I knew everything too. Lord knows I put my parents through their share of grief and anxiety. But I knew when I was wrong. I knew how to apologize. I did not think the world owed me anything.

I'm still mad. And I have officially hit fuddy-duddy middle aged-ness because I believe teenagers don't belong behind the wheels of a car. They should just park their sorry behinds on the seat of the big yellow bus like all the rest of the kiddlywinks.

The end.

Labels: misadventures

This weekend ushered in the first real spring-like weather we have seen all month. There was no question about it, we were getting outside. All of us. We decided to hit the Bronx Zoo. It's a short car ride away, and offers plenty for everyone. Little Monkey should know - he was there once before.

Being the good sport that he is, Uncle Osman, in town for business, came along too.



Here he demonstrates a novel way to hold a nine month old, the "grip-on-the-thigh-rolls" technique.



Back in the safety of her double-decker stroller, Miss Mina breathes a sigh of relief.


The Bronx Zoo is enormous. Even if you get there early, like we did, seeing everything is impossible. You need a game plan. Ours was pretty simple: Get there the minute it opens, cram in as much as possible till nap time, drive the monkeys home(DO NOT LET THEM FALL ASLEEP IN THE CAR!!!) and throw them in their respective cribs to sleep away the rest of the afternoon.



Once there, I remembered one of the perks of this job. Having kids gives you an excuse to do fun, kid things. Sure, the monkeys enjoyed the trip to the zoo. But did they get as much of a kick out of it as I did? Did they delight in seeing the animated tiny features of the marmosets? Were they as awed by the close proximity of the tigers stolling by? It's hard to say who had more fun. I'm looking forward to going again. The Wildlife Conservation Society has some sweet membership deals that pay for themselves in no time.



Monkeys and tigers live in peace thanks to double-thick panes of zoo glass.



And spring blossoms on trees while giraffes graze on the lawns.

Labels: adventures

Since Mina was born, I have struggled to take decent pictures of the two monkeys together. It's a harder task than you might imagine. They don't cooperate the way I want them to. It's like they think they have their own free will or something.

I've taken many pictures. Most of which never make their way to this site. But, I have found that even if the picture isn't blog worthy, the camera catches certain things.



Sometimes one seems fascinated by the other.



Sometimes, one amuses the other.



Other times, they tolerate each other, resigned to sharing the limited space they have in which to co-exist.



Life isn't always fair. Sometimes one of them gets the short end of the stick, or the room without a view.



Their personalities come out in different ways at different times. One might be feeling reflective, while the other just feels a little goofy.



At times, the spirit of cooperation produces some interesting shots. Can it be that one of them is learning from the other?



Even as we share adventures, each experiences it in his or her own way.



And that doesn't always mean getting along. Or posing nice for the camera.



But when they do, it's nice.



And it leaves me free to take a nap. My master plan is coming to fruition.

Labels: siblings

Because he doesn't have enough in his cultural identity grab bag to keep him busy, I thought I'd add another variable to the equation. Here's one of my all time favorite cuisines, Little Monkey. Get used to seeing it on the table.

I assume that immunosuppressed children should probably avoid raw fish from questionable take out restaurants in Jersey. So, I didn't offer to share my sushi with him. Instead, I gave him the avocado salad and steamed edamame. He wanted the chopsticks. This is what he did with them.



That's right - use them to swirl his food around on the table until the particles disappeared or landed into the waiting mouth of our dog, hiding below. Don't worry about the table - it's covered in hideous green plastic table cloth because I have become that kind of mom. The plastic-table-cloth kinda mom.

I'm probably about a heartbeat away from being the plastic-covered-sofa kinda mom ...except that our sofa is really old. So, I just don't care enough to be bothered.

The sushi was really good though.

Labels: food aventures

I used to make fun of my mother for her shoe collection. Her collection was so vast, it required its own personal space. Her shoe collection was legendary. Her shoe love spawned its own philosophy, which she shared with me.

If it's on sale, and you like it, buy one in every color ... and if they are selling coordinating purses, buy one of those too.

Children of the 80's, you may recall an episode in history involving the one-time dictator of the Phillipines, Ferdinand Marcos. I distinctly recall his wife, Imelda, who achieved notoriety because of her shoe collection. I used to refer to my mother as Imelda, which in my juvenile mind, was the height of hilarity at the time.

Like much else in life, all that past baggage has a way of creeping up on you. One day you're a spry teenage with a teeny waist, and the next thing you know .. you've become your mother.

I have.

But apparently, certain traits I have passed on to my daughter as well.

Mina's shoe collection



A miniscule sampling of mine. The rest of it remains hidden in the shelves of my walk in closet, under my bed, under my dresser, in the hallway, by the front door, in my gym bag, in the living room, etc.



I make no apologies for this. While clothes may come and go, sizes shrink or get too big ... shoes always fit. Shoes help you arrive at your destination. They take you on adventures, walk you along the streets of life. Shoes make the outfit.

Shoes make me happy.

Labels: quirks

When I was a kid, we just hung out with other kids who we called our friends. When we were too young to have a say in the matter, we hung out on the floor of whatever "auntie's" house our mom dragged us to for the morning. While the two of them chatted, we entertained ourselves as quietly as possible so as to avoid the wrath of the mother from above.

These days, these forced social interactions between little monkeys is known as a "play date."




Whoever coined the term "playdate" anyway? Exactly which parties are on the date? The mommies? The kiddies? The collective assemblage of people hanging out together? It's hard for me to believe the playdate is primarily for the benefit of the mommies, since it seems most of the ones I attend preclude much mommy time interaction.

At most, I spend my time running around after my kid trying to prevent havoc and destruction from occurring in someone else's home. I can deal with destruction in my own house. In others', I feel bad. Much as I try, I don't get to sit around and socialize. In some alternate universe, there exists this strange phenomenon known as a martini playdate. I have yet to be invited to one of those, but in theory it doesn't sound too bad. Maybe getting blitzed in the afternoon while watching my child run around someone else's house, might provide just the comic relief I need in my life.

Maybe the playdate is for the kiddie.



Depending on what developmental stage your child is currently in, it's still hard to see the advantage in inviting another child over. No matter how it plays out, it's a zero-sum game with visitor advantage. You have to share toys that clearly belong to you.



It's bad enough having to share them with a sibling ... but some random kid??? Where's the justice in this people? You have to tolerate your toys being mishandled, misplaced, coveted, eaten, etc. And for what?? This kid doesn't even get it. What do the playdates accomplish for the still-drooling set? A new collection of toys to sink one's gums into? That may not be a bad thing. Variety is the spice of life, they say.



I've been doing the mommy gig for two years now - "playing mommy" as some say, and I have attended my fair share of playdates. I feel pretty well qualified to deconstruct the elements of a good playdate. Without hesitation, I nominate our man David, as hosting some of the best playdates around. Together with his baby sister, Julia, his playdates are ones we consistently look forward to.




There are always good toys to eat, and helpful friends who show you how.

If real food is more to your liking, you can bet there will be plenty to choose from.



Including foods from far away lands.



The focus of a good playdate, is by definition, the play that occurs. And when two toddlers are involved, play is a vibrant, non-stop frenzy of activity. David's mom, Nataliya, to her credit, never fails to deliver.



Despite having two monkeys of her own, she still finds the energy to keep one of mine amused. Here, she activates the super charged bubble-blower to give J a run for his money.



And David's toys are pretty hard to beat. Here, little monkey gets to participate in his own real life version of "Hell's Kitchen" with life size props. Yes, chef!

All joking aside, when you see the little ones genuinely interacting with one another (quietly, peacefully, with no blood involved) it can be a rather remarkable sight. Sometimes it really seemed like they were playing together, in a spirit of ... dare I say it? Cooperation??



Thanks again Nataliya for hosting a great afternoon playdate. We had a lot of fun!



However, I suspect Julia remains unconvinced. Sorry about that.

Labels: playdates

When they aren't behaving like the spawn of the devil, the two monkeys can be kinda cute.

I can't state for certain whether these moments balance out the screeching, tantrum-throwing, hunger-strike holding, five-poo a day, wake up at 3:00 in the morning moments. But cuteness can get you far. You can get a lot of mileage out of a few key moments of cute.

Such as these:

Labels: cuteness

This weekend, we were lucky enough to be invited to cousin Cindy and Kenny's traditional yearly Seder.




From near and far, we descended upon the Sperling compound. This year, we looked forward to the ever growing assortment of little ones.
They even had their own table, which cousin Cindy thoughtfully stocked with "ten-plague finger puppets" and corrosponding masks.



Cousin Sherry was kind enough to demonstrate the proper order of plagues for Little monkey. Just keep that "first born" one far away, thanks.


They feasted and made merry.



Over the years, I've been fortunate to enjoy a number of Passover meals with the gang. Each year brings a blend of the time-honored as well as the new.



Such as the traditional Seder plate.



the traditional serving of Gefilte fish ...



Little Monkey introduced this year's twist on the menu - the not so traditional serving of "Dora Crunchy Stars!" Kosher for Passover? Hmmmm...

Other traditions needed a little explaining to some of the newer members of the family. Miss Mina is still not sure about the traditional "watching of the golf game" before the meal thing. She'll learn.




She did enjoy playing with the cousins.



She shared some moments and toys with cousin Skylar.



And listened intently as cousin Maddie explained the importance of voting as a female cousin bloc for all important decisions that need to be made at the upcoming reunion.




Cindy and Kenny have an amazing ability to pull off the challenge of grouping and feeding an enormous assortment of big and little people. It's not always easy.



Yet they somehow pull it off with a combination of humor, grace and awesome toys.





Thanks again for having us over! We had so much fun!

ps - remember those four hour drop off playdates you mentioned, Cindy? Don't be surprised if you come home to two (new) monkeys in the playroom.

Just kidding. Sort of.

Labels: holidays

The vacation afterglow has faded. My birthday pedicure has gotten its first chip. The balmy sunshine days of Florida stand in stark contrast to the chilly grey weather I see outside my window. And so, those post-vacation blues have kicked in.



Like condemned prisoners, the monkeys grimly faced the prospect of returning home. They felt my pain.

Now that we're back, how does one cheer herself up when it feels like the days will never warm up again?

Do I mope?
Do I pout?
Do I throw my monkey's toys about?

No....

We go on adventures! We load ourselves up in the trusty silver minivan and head over to the land where the colors shine brightly - The Crayola Factory!



Did you know that Crayola has 150 different colors in its arsenal? I didn't and it didn't really matter. Our lack of knowlege didn't get in the way of having fun. And thus, those frowns were turned upside down once more.





Mission accomplished.

Labels: adventures

As you can see from the pic above. A wagon ride in the early morning hours brought out an adventurous streak in all of us. It also triggered a rare moment of sibling bonding between my two macacas. For the most part, Little Monkey ignores Miss Mina. At best, he tolerates her, the way more developed mammals tolerate those on the lower end of the food chain.

But here, they actually seem to be getting along.



A development not lost on Miss Mina. She takes advantage of the opportunity to gloat and throw a shout out to homies back in the hood.

Labels: mina play, two monkeys, vacations

And here, Miss Mina gets her glamour girl on with sparkly silver tiara and floral print. Yes!

Upon closer inspection, you'll notice the size 8 1/2 foot of her mother (that's me!) in the background. I point this out because for once, my toes are actually respectably pedicured and presentable. For that I have Mama Perkins to thank.

See below.



Her pedicure is always rockin. Here she displays it in seasonally appropriate Floridian colors. The first day of our Florida vacation, she says - "we have appointments!" And off we went.

It didn't take too much convincing. Part of my Florida week of relaxing in the sun included spa treatments at the local retreat. That plus a massage at the best chiropractor in the world's office, and a night out at a real restaurant made for just about the most awesome birthday week, ever!

Below is my half-hearted attempt (I was too busy eating) at capturing the foodie moment that was my birthday dinner. Here's what remained after the carnage.

My idea of a good vacation used to be one that involved the least amount of physical activity possible. Laying on a beach, in a hammock, with a good book in one hand and coastal breezes blowing through the palm trees summed up my ideal.

No surprise - now that we have monkeys in tow, vacation activities look a little different. Here's how the little ones spent their waking hours. They brought me along to tote the diaper bag.



Some competitive horse racing at the tracks ...



Zooming to the moon with beefy armed action heroes ...



Gettin' hot in the hot tub ... ooh, so hot in the hot tub!



some W.C. Fields inpersonations on the swing...



Burning off the calories at the local gym class ...



Getting a jump start on easter eggs courtesy of Play-dough



Double-fisting chocolate and mango saffron ice cream at the India Festival ...



Experimenting with chalk art under the influence of 60 SPF ...



Building castles in the sand ...



And discovering the treasures that await in Grace's colorful playroom ...

Not a bad way to spend a week, I'd say. Who needs a hammock anyway?

Labels: vacations