Friday, September 25, 2009

The perfect storm

...of poop.

On Tuesday, I took Rolo into the city to run an errand at the RMV. We hopped on the bus, hopped onto the orange line and voila! Chinatown RMV. He slept until I was called up, but I knew that he was due to wake up soon, and as soon as he woke up, he would need to eat. I love my son, but breast feeding on the T was just not happening. It was a nice day, so I figured I would walk my way through the park and find a secluded tree or something so I could feed him when he woke up. and then we would be on our way back home.

Walked slooooowly through the park. Nothing. Ok, I'll wait out his nap in Starbucks. Thirty more minutes go by and I am wondering if this kid will ever wake up. Oh! He starts to stir! Success! Ok, now I just need to find an out of the way bench or something and set up camp. I walk up Charles, find a nice quiet side street, walk a ways down, settle down on a stoop, and pull out the Hooter Hider. Awesome. We will be on the T in less than 20 minutes.

About halfway through, he starts to squirm. Then squirm some more. Then the spit up eruption starts - digested spit up. Awesome. I try and deal with wiping that under my cover when I hear it.

Explosive poop that starts to leak out of his diaper. Oh lord. I balance him in one hand and reach for the diaper bag with another. I am technically still decent, the cover is doing its job, so I go to work on getting him changed and cleaned up.

I lay out the changing mat on the stoop and put on a new diaper. And he fills that diaper before I can close it. By the time I turn back with a second new diaper, he has gotten poop all over everything. Anyone who has experienced this before knows that getting a onesie with poop on it over the head of a squirming child means that you will smear that poop all over his back. Awesome. So now, I have a screaming, naked baby trying to roll off a changing pad on a concrete stoop off of Charles. Breathe in. Breathe out.

So finally I clean him up as best I can, throw a new onesie on him, strap him back into the stroller and then turn my attention to getting myself put back together. Oh, what's this? The construction crew working on the house across the street is coming back from lunch? Hey boys! Like the show? I'm so glad.

Finally, we are back on Charles, on the T and then waiting for the bus in Davis. I look at him lying there, perfectly unaware of the all the chaos that occurred just 30 minutes ago, and can't help but smile. How could you not?

No question here...

When he was born, my mom couldn't believe the resemblance between baby me and Rolo. It wasn't until she pulled out my baby pictures that we all saw how strong the resemblance really is. These pictures don't really do it justice. It is the overall facial expressions that really hit home. As I look through my baby pictures, I see how my face changed and how his is changing in the same way. The funny thing is, you can see the same smile in my dad's baby pictures. What can I say? He is his mother's son. (That chin is his father's though... can't take credit for that:) )

Sunday, September 20, 2009

Dance of a 1000 Hands

My mom sent me this video recently. Here is the info from the accompanying email:

There is an awesome dance, called the Thousand-Hand Guanyin, which is
making the rounds across the net. Considering the tight coordination
required, their accomplishment is nothing short of amazing. All 21 of
the dancers are complete deaf-mutes. Relying only on signals from
trainers at the four corners of the stage, these extraordinary dancers
deliver a visual spectacle that is at once intricate and stirring.

Its first major international debut was in Athens last year at the
closing ceremonies for the 2004 Paralympics. But it had long been in
the repertoire of the Chinese Disabled People's Performing Art Troupe
and had traveled to more than 40 countries.

Its lead dancer is 29 year old Tai Lihua, who has a BA from the Hubei
Fine Arts Institute. The video was recorded in Beijing during the
Spring Festival this year.

Friday, September 18, 2009


I am in love. With a TV show (surprise, surprise...). AND I have a new TV boyfriend. The OC's Ryan is a thing of the past. He didn't sing and dance.

Sigh - he is like the cute high school teacher version of JT.

The show is another thing altogether. It is like a funnier, slightly less campy take on HSM. I missed the first two episodes (I might watch them now, actually...) but this episode was great. Four numbers, one of them original. Acapella, choreography, cute dorky white guys that sing and dance, boy band dance moves, it is my idea of the perfect show. All the numbers from last week episode were great, but this version of Mercy blew me away. Dancing AND singing AND life lessons every week!? Bring it.

spot on - sort of...

So, one of the blogs I follow pretty regularly (it is on my Google Reader feed) is Marriage Confessions. The writer has a sharp sense of humor and the couple is a few months ahead of us with the whole baby thing, so the blog is easy to relate to.

Anyway, she is sponsoring a giveaway on her blog, and I thought I would try my luck. I took the HomeGoods style test and it looks like I am Bohemian Casual. Here is breakdown:

You are interested in creating a place where people feel relaxed. You have a variety of interests and influences and so appreciate different styles, cultures, and objects. Your home is cozy, with comfy chairs, throw pillows and places to set a drink or a book. But it also feels creative and visually intriguing, because you have an artist's eye that allows you to find objects that appeal to you in a unique and personal way—whether from your travels or from a local shop. This gives your home a feeling of being laid-back, and maybe even a bit quirky with its mix of pieces—some of which are classic, some handmade, some ethnic, and some just rich in meaning to you.

You value order. You feel happiest if your home is well organized. You understand that when your house is in order, your mind feels clearer. Rather than a lot of meaningless objects or overly-designed items, you are happier with a few well-placed things. Your home is your respite from a busy life. Try to avoid letting things into your home that you don't really love.

The first para is not entirely true. I am a Crate and Barrel/Pottery Barn whore. Sure I have some Asian inspired pieces, but I got them at CB2... I am also less of a collector of things, I am more prone to putting up pictures of our travels. One of my goals in life is to have as few boxes as possible when we move. Clothes kitchen stuff, pictures, the baby, these are important. Chachkies, not so much.

The second para is spot on. I hate, hate, hate clutter and having things just lying around. Unfortunately, having a kid upped my OCDness, which was pretty bad timing, let me tell you. Since I am home all day, I see no reason my bed should not be made, the sink should should hold a single dish, the laundry basket should be more than half full, and the coffee table have ANYthing on it, even the remotes. I am constantly picking up and putting away, determined not to let baby stuff take over the house. I understand that in a few years, even a few months, the baby will be crawling and there will just be stuff everywhere. But, now, he is a newborn; he has no stuff. He has clothes that belong in the nursery, toys that should not be out unless they are being used, diaper bags that live in the car seat. Sadly, turning into my mother is driving Josh crazy. I need to come to terms with two facts: 1 - I will not be able to keep this up once I get back to work, and 2 - I cannot expect Josh to maintain my obsessiveness when he stays home with Rolo in December. Good thing Josh doesn't read the blog:)

Monday, September 07, 2009

Food recap!

Although I haven't been blogging about it, I HAVE been cooking (some). Here is a sample from the past month or so.

We accidently bought a pack of eggs, when we already has a full pack, so I needed a way to get rid of a case of eggs fast. Ice cream! The buttermilk ice cream I made the weekend before Rohan came was wonderful. The actual ice cream didn't look photograph so well, but I like this eggshell picture quite a bit.
The day before we went to the hospital, my mom and sister came over for brunch. I wanted to make waffles, but we didn't have any syrup. We DID have some peaches that were on their way out. Stewed peaches with brown sugar, butter, and cinnamon with fresh, whipped heavy cream was a perfect topping. My mother practically licked the bowl:) Definitely a repeat recipe.

DVR did not come naturally to us. First we DVR'ed shows we knew we were going to miss. Then shows we liked. Then shows we may like. Then I realized I could DVR the Food Network! Woo hoo! Most of our DVR library is Barefoot Contessa. I have been making more and more of her recipes lately, with great success. I made chicken picatta last week with salad and mashed potatoes. Also a repeat recipe.
I have made Smitten's dimply plum cake with peaches many, many times, always with half peach pieces in a square pan. Here, I tried peach slices in a spingform pan. Although it looked better, this version didn't have as much moisture IN the cake. The larger peach pieces oozed juice, whereas these smaller pieces simply dried up on top, leaving the bottom cake part a bit dry. Well, knowing is half the battle:)

Friday, September 04, 2009

well, that was a bust*

A few days ago, Rohan and I got up around 8, I fed him and then.... drumroll please... I put on some work out clothes and got ready to go for a run! I know. You can get up off the floor now.

I walked purposefully to the bike path and got ready to book it to Davis. There I am, jogging stroller, baby, water, I am good to go. And away I go! For about 45 seconds. And then I stopped. It seems even my most snug nursing bra was just not doing the trick. Sadly, my sports bras are too small for me (I should just throw them all away, really), and I don't want to buy new bras until I stop nursing and can assess the damage. Poo. How many freaking bras can I own? Bras that don't fit anymore, unsupportive nursing bras, sports bras for the next 5 months, and then a whole new set of bras this winter? Bras ain't cheap, people! Gah.

Anyway, so I stopped running and walked purposefully to Davis, and then walked even more purposefully to Starbucks (it had been AGES) and got myself an quad iced mocha and headed home. About half way through my venti, I pictured what I must look like. A 20-something mother, in work out clothes, expensive sunglasses, and an even more expensive jogging stroller, strolling down the bike bath with her cell phone and Starbucks. Sigh - I am such a cliche.

* No pun intended...