Wednesday, September 30, 2009


My kid wants her independence.
She doesn't like to sit still for diaper changes.
She pushes DH's hands away when he attempts to help her pierce food with her fork.
She happily tells us when she's done with her meal.
She says, "nap" when she's tired and wants to rest in bed but still occasionally fights sleep.
She protests sitting in the stroller sometimes.
Still, she's a pretty cool kid and I think a lot of it comes for DH and I focusing on developing a good relationship with her and listening to her needs.
She'll tell us when she needs a poopie diaper change and sometimes a wet diaper change. She may not sit still for the wets but I've learned she'll stay standing and I can do a vertical change.
She wants to use her fork and without assistance. It may take longer and sometimes, she'll stop and use her fingers but she's mighty proud when she gets her food in her mouth and savors the morsel.
She may not finish all her food but I'm not a force feeder. As long as she gets a daily portion of fruits, veggies, grains, protein and breastmilk, I'm happy. So when she wipes her mouth, whips off her bib and exclaims, "Up!", I let her go and in return, she wipes her seat and clips the seatbelt closed before playing.
Sometimes when she asks for a nap, all she wants is cuddling and nursing in bed. As long as she gets 13 hours a day on average, I don't freak out. We all need downtime. Now when she fights the sleep at night, that's when I whip out the Ergo and she knows I mean business, Ten minutes in the Ergo and she's out or settled. Mommy loves the Ergo.
She first protested the stroller at our local market, on the check out line, during a rainy day. She went stiff as a board. That set me back. Now, I know if I can just get her seatbelt onto her shoulder, she'll settle.

Tuesday, September 29, 2009

In her comfort zone

I don't know how I feel about this. Actually, I'm actually kind of proud and happy which is surprising.
On Saturday, after my daughter took her first swim class, I took her to the children's museum. It was the first time I went to the museum. It was not the first for my daughter.
As soon as we got to the museum and entered, I took her jacket off and she took off and didn't look back. At first, I followed her around like a chicken hawk. Then I noticed two things: 1) she didn't look for me and 2) all the other parents, were nearby but not hovering. Ok, there were a few hovering moms but those kids didn't seem to interact with the other kids.
Not wishing to be labeled, 'the helicopter mom', I slowly backed away. I wasn't as far as most of the parents but I wasn't on top of her either. And as I backed away, I also allowed myself to soak the museum up. I didn't just fixate on my child.
I usually allow her to fall and get back up by herself but I haven't yet allowed her to figure out social interaction issues. I started to at the museum. I realized I can't be there when someone takes her toy or pushes her or cuts her on cue. She is going to need to figure those out. I can guide her, which I did when she took a boys light bright peg but for the most part I was proud of her reactions. She didn't seemed phased too much and only disliked when a child tried to climb over her to get to the co-pilot seat on a trolley.
TG wandered to and fro and played happily at first by herself but then learned to interact with some of the other kids. She also liked to walk to adults, pull their pant leg and wave hello.
I only interacted with her when she either was doing something potentially dangerous, like climbing into an exhibit that wasn't meant for climbing or when she took another child's museum toy or when a child potentially was doing something dangerous around her, like climbing over her.
I actually found myself enjoying and feeling proud that my 14 month old played well by herself and with others. I felt proud she didn't always look back for me. I saw a confident kid who felt safe to explore and essentially learn without hesitation.
We stayed until closing and when we got home, she refused to go to bed until she could see her dad and tell him all about her day.
As I sat there listening to her babble on to her Dad, I realized we have a great kid and I only hope our relationship with her continues to grow stronger.

Monday, September 28, 2009

Get Back to Basics

This past weekend, DH and I got a little testy at each other. Usually, we know we're a team and work together and help each other but this past Sunday, exhaustion got the best of us. We apologized an hour later and we knew we didn't mean to be punchy.

A fellow mom in the neighborhood actually described the relationship husbands and wives have after child best. She said that it's not that she means to make their home into a business like atmosphere but essentially, she does what she knows and she manages her home like her job.

Later on, I read an article in Kiwi Magazine where the author, a stay at home dad, said that a mother is the CEO while the father is the Director of Development or something similiar.

I suppose the similie is apropo for me. I try not to make it sound like I'm bossing or forcing DH to do something he doesn't like to. Sometimes, I just need things done and when your juggling plates, it's just easier to be succinct.

To my mom my succinctness comes off as cold and sometimes abrasive. To my husband, I suppose it sounds bossy sometimes. Funny thing is, I often lapse into my mom's tendencies to explain/justify everything. I don't know what DH thinks is worse, that or my precision speak.

I suppose being parents and a spouse to each other alters your dynamic and you need to be mindful that one dynamic doesn't spill over often. I can be succinct with family items but when it comes to being a spouse, I need to be more patient and slow down.

You'd think that I'd need to be more patient and slow down as a parent and in a way I do. I just need to be more mindful to be patient with my spouse. That's the trick. As a parent, you realize you need to slow things down for you learning toddler. As a spouse, I need to slow things down because I shouldn't rush our relationship either. Whether it be doing dishes together or sitting and watching a program or just talking about our day, I need to remember my to do list will always be there and this time next year, I'm not going to care if we cleaned our closet or took that trip to the farm in the rain.

I think that was God's message in the readings on Sunday. As our priest said, "It may sound harsh to cut off your hand or pluck out your eye but essentially God is telling us to forget the stuff that doesn't matter and focus on what does."

What matters is my family and my husband and God.

Friday, September 25, 2009

Parenting in the city: Registering for classes

I had my first foray into registering for classes in the city this weekend. After much deliberation with DH, we agreed to sign TG up for swim classes. Unlike other registrations where I emailed or went online, this registration required my presence.
Now, I'm not sure if this is the same in other parts of the country, but in NYC, registrering your kid for anything is a near all day affair, testing your patience and your planning skills.
Unfortunately, against my better judgment, I didn't plan as well as I should have. Essentially, if registration starts at 12 noon, you should be there at least by 10:30am.
I liken it to the days when I would camp out to get tickets or be the first to see a midnight screening of a movie. You need to be that diehard to be a parent in the city.
I called the director the week before to ask her how the registration process went and she told me that coming that early was unnecessary. I should have known better. 2.5 tense hours later, we got into a class but just barely. The parents lined up in this hot, humid, gym locker smelling corridor tensly waited to see if a staff member would come out to the printed list of classes and cross out their desired class in super red marker.
It's like high school again. That one tiny piece of paper posted on the bulletin board lets you know if you got into drama club's rendition of Merchant of Venice or if you'd be spending your semester in concilatory glee club.
Add to the tension, my lack of preparedness in the food category. I ate breakfast at 8am. I went to church and then beelined to the registration. Now, I know Jesus is filling but the stress, the tension, the berating I gave myself for not being prepared and the breastfeeding caused my stomach to do 360's 1.5 hours into my wait.
So here are my tips for any parents who stumble upon this and for myself for the next go around:
1. Don't listen to the director. Arrive early.
2. Bring a book.
3. Bring a pen.
4. Bring all necessary paperwork, documents, doctor's notes, checks, etc. Check and double check before you leave your house.
5. Bring snacks.
6. Bring a drink.
7. Bring your headphones. Most of the time, parents bring their kids. Kids are cool. Kids waiting on line after 2 hours are not cool.
8. Talk to your fellow parents on line. You'll pass the time together and you'll get tips on other events or classes.
9. Catch up on phone calls, especially calls you prefer to be short and sweet. Trust me, you won't be rude. Other parents are doing the same.
10. Catch up on emails. You'll be able to send an email off without being interrupted.

Thursday, September 24, 2009

Anticipating Leaving

With the new found independence of walking solo, TG is now more aware of my departures and isn't very fond of them.
She doesn't throw a tantrum but she does get super clingy in the morning, especially if she notices I begin my getting ready to go out routine.
I'm slowly becoming an expert in walking with a toddler under my feet, clinging to my legs.
My last refuge, the bathroom, has now become a center of conflict for our daughter. She runs away from the toilet if you flush it. The noise frightens her. DH thinks this is great since we don't have to worry about her playing with the toilet or toilet paper. I'm concerned with how this is going to translate for potty training but in the immediate future, I'm more concerned at the dilemma that TG faces when I'm in there.
You can see the psychological dilemma she faces clear as day. She wants to be with me yet I'm on the toilet, the loud noisy scary doodad in the otherwise fun room.
A few days ago this played out in a scene found in any parenting sitcom, if they allowed toilet humor, literally.
I was in the loo, doing my business. TG toddles over, pushes the door open and looks at me with longing. She walks into the bathroom but stops short of the toilet. She stands there and you can see the cogs turn. Do I go to Mom or stay here safely within distance of the toilet?
Finally her desire to be with me usurps her fear and she toddles to me. As she reaches me, her fear takes over again and she proceeds to try to climb into my safe arms.
Here I was trying to push her down and she's developed the strength of a 7 year old pushing me back.
Since then, she's developed a coping mechanism. Whenever I'm in the bathroom, she'll open the door but stay at the edge of the bathtub. She'll leave the room and come back to 'check' on me but has decided to stay away from the toilet for awhile.
I guess my only refuge now is literally my pantry.

Wednesday, September 23, 2009

She walks around with my DSW card. Should I be worried?

TG is now walking on her own. She's toddling around the apartment at incredible speeds. Her new found freedom also means that we're putting shoes on her more often.
We tried Pedipeds for awhile but she didn't seem to like them and didn't seem to walk as well in them. She would walk like a dog with snowshoes on, get frustrated and take them off.
Since DH and I have wide feet and since foot issues run in the family, I'm not joking with shoes. After lengthy research and unscientific polls around the neighborhood, I decided to try Preschoolians. My daughter loves these shoes. She actually tries to put them on her feet to let me know she wants to go outdoors.
They are pricey though. Preschoolians come with this see through panel so you can see if your child's foot is growing out of the shoe. So the other night, I noticed her big toe and second toe had reached the near tip of the shoe and decided we should look to get the next size up. Preschoolians come with a measuring device that is akin to the old fashioned shoe sizer you see at your neighborhood mom and pop shoe store.
As I was perusing the sneakers, DH and I find she walks better in sneaks, DH comes over and starts reviewing the shoes. We pick the pair we like, a nice cute old school purple shoe, and I proceed to purchase it.
DH: Holy cow! Is that the price? That's like $10 less than the cost of my sneakers. PG: They are built well, are machine washable and she actually walks well in these shoes.
DH: True. At least they'll last awhile.
PG: Ugh, actually they say toddlers grow out of shoes every 3-4 months.
DH: What? Are you kidding me? That's a girl thing right? That's how the shoe fetish starts.
PG: Sorry to burst your bubble but your running sneakers have a 3-4 month shelf life too.

Thursday, September 17, 2009

Mommy confessions

My daughter is over a year old and I've never put her in an overnight diaper. I change her diaper 3-5 times a night because she wakes up requesting it and I've never even thought of using overnight diapers.
Why? I think the idea of letting her stew in her pee seems wrong. Now I know it's not really stewing but I suppose I feel like if she wakes up for a diaper change, I should change it.
Well today, I ordered some overnight diapers. They should arrive tomorrow. It's not that I think she should stew but the simple fact that she has now opted to pull and tag at her tabs while she is sleeping and needs a diaper change. It's also the fact that she likes to flip over like a flap jack while I'm changing her diaper. She moves alot during the day so I've mastered the vertical diaper change but at night, she's moving around because she just wants to get back to sleep.
With the overnight diapers, I've also come to the conclusion I've passed that 1 year mommy mark. I know technically I passed it a few months back but I'm now at that point where baby books and magazines have come to their conclusion. Sure I can find a book on specific toddler related issues but for the most part, I'm winging it now.
Questions are now looming in my head:
Should I buy new shoes in the next level (crawling, walking, running etc) now?
Should I try to reinforce using the fork for eating and not just stabbing at the plate?
Should I try to switch her from the 6 ounce bottle of breastmilk to a cup of breastmilk? She will drink water from her canteen and a cup but she prefers to drink breastmilk on tap or via a bottle
How many shoes do I need to buy for her?
Should I try to introduce more 'crunchy' foods even though she only has 4 teeth?
It's also discipline time and trying to teach her patience. Teaching a toddler patience is like trying to flip a frog onto a lilypad.
I've started trying to teach TG to calmly wait for me to finish my meal before I set her down from her chair. I want her to learn patience and consideration. Right now, when she wants to do something else, she immediately gives me the sign for 'up' and then says 'up'. In other words, "Lift me up. I would like to do something else now." or as Bill McNeal would say, "This displease me." Fast forward to 3:12
Actually, watching my toddler brings out alot of Bill McNealisms. Toddlers are naturally centric and what made Bill hilarious was his own centric tendencies.
I digress.
My little girl is now starting to display traits, personalities and preferences. She's more vocal and opinionated. She's no longer a baby but a becoming a person right before my eyes.

Wednesday, September 16, 2009

Happy Birthday, DH!

DH turned the big 40 yesterday.

Normally, I'd go all out and do something ridiculous.

This year, with a toddler in tow, we dialed down the festivities.

He got a great heart rate monitor which he and TG love. I'm glad it's being put to good use too.

He also received a beautiful gift from TG from Patriarts. TG got him a beautiful rendition of one of his personal protectors, St. Genesius.

It's a Catholic thing.

He had a hard day too and I felt awful as everything was out of my control.

Not only did the sound on his laptop die, his phone died as well. We spent several hours on his birthday at Apple getting tech support. By the way, I know it's not the employees but a corporate policy but Apple makes it gosh darn hard for you to fulfill their warranty policy. I mean, I'm sure that a simply fingerprint on the darn machine voids the warranty.

Long story short, by 3am the following day, a total of 5 hours with tech support, he got a replacement phone. His laptop is still in the shop but at least he has a phone.

He tried really hard not to displace his displeasure and all I could do was feel for him.

He did say when he got home at 3:30am that he loved his dinner (he chose: baked chicken and mushy peas) and dessert (a healthy grilled dark chocolate sandwich with toasted almonds). Most importantly he said that TG's gift helped him through the day.

It's almost Halloween already?

I'm usually better than this.
By now, I should know what I'd like TG to be for Halloween. She's too young to tell me herself so I get these early years as liberty to dress her up as I please.
Unfortunately, between my husband and myself, our standards are ridiculous.
First, I'd love to be the mom that makes costumes but time does not permit this. Maybe when she's older.
So I'm open to store bought costumes but I refuse to pay full price for an outfit that will be worn for 3-4 hours tops.
So our neighborhood has a great parenting board where every year around this time, parents swap or sell their costumes at super affordable prices.
Unfortunately, if you aren't Quick Draw McGraw, you'll have a hard time snatching one of these up. A fellow mom offered to sell us a super adorable outfit but DH was disgusted by it. Why?
Not because it was dirty or what not but because of what it represented:

My husband has some painful childhood memory of moths that has caused him to have the hatred of a thousand suns towards anything that resembles a moth or butterfly.
Now yes, a dragonfly is not a moth or butterfly but it's got a chunky body and chunky wings.
I suppose I have nothing to say as I was totally freaked out by a lady bug on my toe when I was 4.

So I guess it begins, our neuroses will transfer over to our child in some way. Our child will probably never be a butterfly or a ladybug. She'll never go to a butterfly exhibit at the museum or the zoo.
DH's luck, she'll grow very fond of them and he'll have to face his fear.

Monday, September 14, 2009

Words to Live By

Jesus said to them, "Come, have breakfast." -- John 21:12

Death by Brown Rice

My husband for a very long time has been on this gym kick. Now it's grown to eating healthy.
I'm all for this but it's slowly killing me.
I think I mentioned the scales before.
He has to measure out all his food. He logs all his food. He brings the scales everywhere.
Everytime I cook something, I need to measure it. Not only do I have to measure it, I have to save the nutrition facts for him. If I don't have nutrition facts (veggies, fruits, etc), it takes him a year and a day to figure it out.
It has gotten to the point, I find that I'm a short order cook. I cook TG's meal, DH's meal and then my meal. Why? Because it's easier to give him calculations on his food alone rather than tell him the total of all the food I'm cooking and then divide it equally even if we have the same food. Why? Because my husband is not smarter than a 5th grader when it comes to math. Yes, my husband gets flustered when I say that I've cooked 3/4 cup of rice but that is good for 3 servings for us: 1 for him, 1 for me and 1 for my lunch the next day.
The man's brain seizes and his world stops.
Anyway, today's slow papercut comes courtesy of Kohinoor Brown Basmati Rice.
I have DH the package and he immediately got upset.
DH: Great! It's in grams. What am I supposed to do?
30 minutes later he exclaims, "I don't mean to be a pain in the ass, but I don't think I can eat this."
Let me step aside to give you some backfill.
DH doesn't like anything new. He's a finicky eater. It took 7 years for him to finally eat seafood and enjoy it. It helped that it was served at our wedding.
When he said he was going to go healthy, I knew this would be a challenge. So when he asked for brown rice, I bought a small 2 lb bag. I didn't want to buy a huge package to find he would not eat it.
Well, he does eat it, especially when I make my special brown rice and egg medley. Anyway, last night, he made the last batch of brown rice so I picked up a 5 lb container of Brown Rice.
So here I am. It's witching hour (4-6pm for non-parents). I need to feed my child, bathe her and get her ready for bed. DH has said he'd do both after he eats dinner. Mind you, I have not eaten either. And he has the nerve to come out and say he's not going to eat the brown rice.
For the first time in my life, I said something only a mother would say and I didn't direct it to my offspring but my spouse.
"I bought 5 lbs of brown rice. I'm going to cook this rice and you are going to eat it."
Usually when we have disagreements he becomes a blockhead and twists the screw tighter but this time, he started to but stopped. I'm guessing something inside told him to back down. I knew he wanted to start more. I saw it in his face. He had a question for me. Usually that question hits me like a two by four but this time, he didn't ask it.
Ten minutes later... I"m paraphrasing because I can't bear to write down the lunacy.
"Well, it just seems to be alot."
"The calories."
"It's rice. It's going to be alot."
"Yeah, but 600!"
"You're only eating 1/4 cup."
"You cook 3/4 of a cup."
"3/4 of a cup equals 3 servings for us."
"Still how do you calculate 1/4 cup of rice when they give me the nutrition facts for a serving in grams?"
Now I know, grams and ounces/cups in regards to volume is like apples and oranges but it's done. It may not be to the tenth but it's done.
By this time, my daughter who is tired, cranky and in need of a bath is waddling with what can be described as a 454g of pee in her diaper. If she could, she'd probably change her own diaper at this point.
"You're not going to give her a bath while I eat, are you? Why can't you wait? You're always in a rush."
It's 6pm at this point. TG usually likes to go to bed around this time.
I change her diaper and set her down by her toys. She's not having it. She keeps whining and asking for 'Up!' which means she wants me to carry her to do something, usually to bed, to eat or to go outside. I quietly set her down again, grabbed the groceries I had tried to unpack before and walked into my pantry and closed the door.
Yes, folks, I looked myself in the pantry. I could hear DH making himself dinner and TG walking towards the pantry but I needed a break.
I'm not sure what happened because 5 minutes later, I hear DH giving TG a bath in the bathroom. I step outside and his food is on the dining room table covered.
I'd never thought I'd have to find solace in my pantry before.

Friday, September 11, 2009

She's walking!

Two days ago, it started. TG has been cruising for some time now. We originally predicted she'd be walking by the beginning of September. We were off by a few weeks.
Two days ago, she started off walking down our hallway without the aid of her wheely bug, shopping cart or wall. The usual sound of shuffling hands and knees is now replaced with the sound of two bare feet.
Now, she's walking from the kitchen to the bathroom. Sure, she falls once or twice during her route but she makes with a big grin on her face. She's proud of her own accomplishment and that's better than a mother's or a father's pride.
Today she spent some time walking in the lobby hallway with G, a neighbor. Watching the two toddlers toddling warms the heart on this cold, rainy, dreary day. They are still too young to really interact with each other but when one found a 'special' spot (stairs, steps, mirrors, outlets), the other followed their lead.
I look at photos my husband sends to me while I'm away and my little baby looks more and more like a person. I can't believe this little 20+ lb kid came out of me. I made this person. Not too shabby. Too bad I can't add that onto my CV.
I learned a few things this week:
1. Toddlers walk like Muppets or Muppets walk like toddlers.
Honest to God, I'm waiting for TG to start doing the pigeon.

2. I never knew why strange toys or gadgets would be lined up for sale in supermarket aisles. Now, as a mom to a toddler, I understand why small jars of playdoh or squishy balls are placed there. You need something to distract hands from knocking cans of peas of the shelf. Pretty sneaky, supermarkets!
3. I have yet to trim my daughter's nails while she is awake and I'm not ashamed to say I will gladly continue to trim her nails while she sleeps up until she's old enough to trim her own nails. An image of me sneaking into her college dorm to trip her nails appeared and gosh darnit, I am not ashamed.

Tuesday, September 08, 2009

This is my daughter's website

It's not her website perse but it is the website she typed into my computer and somehow made into my homepage.
I've learned:
1. She's ok, apparently and
2. She's a freaking genius. How does a toddler figure out how to default a homepage?

Oh, the sink is clean for once in the last 7 days.

There is a little something that drives me nuts. It's all psychological, I know.
I have a tendency to overextend myself. I'm an exhausted mom yet I'll martyr myself so my husband can do something he likes to do.
I don't like the martyr role. I don't flaunt it. I'm actually kind of ashamed by it. Still, I'd much rather prefer to skip the nap and take care of something else so that DH can go do his thing.
I don't want him to acknowledge that I do this. That's not why I do it. I do it because for me, I'd much rather have a happy man than a pissy man in the house. For me, it's not worth the battle. I have enough to deal with battling my compulsive need to have a clean sink.
What drives me nuts is when I do overextend myself, occasionally it is misinterpreted mostly to be something that I would never do or intend. This leads me to get upset because it makes me think my husband thinks I'm that type of person.
"I can drop you off at the gym after our errands and you can take the subway home."
This turns into, "why would you drop me off to do errands and make me take the train home? I'll take the car and go to the gym early."
I know it's simple miscommunication but why would he even think I'd drop him off to do errands?
When these moments happen, I know my tone changes. I get very offended but I also try to remind myself to suppress it.
I tell him to drop it but God love my husband, he is either dense as a board during these times or can't help his tendency to be too frank and undiplomatic.
"You don't need to get upset over this silly thing."
"DH, drop it. Just drop it. It's good."
"But I don't understand why you are getting upset."
"Please drop it. I said I'm good."
"But you don't sound good. You sound like you are getting upset and I don't understand.."
At this point is usually when I lose it. It usually starts with me saying, "I asked you to drop it but you didn't want to drop it. I was doing ok but now, yes, I'm upset." Then I proceed to say tersely why making me feel like I'd do something nonsensical or self serving is upsetting me.
The argument ends as usual with, "I deserved that. I'll just go now."
But the argument doesn't end there. I'm all riled up. I'm upset. I was perturbed, tried to drop it but you dropped the salt into the pot of boiling water and now I'm left to percolate by myself.
Why can't he just drop it?
Why can't I stop being so martyr-like?
If I'm smart, I'd stop offering and just let it be.
I wish I was less accomodating.

Wednesday, September 02, 2009

I don't know how my husband does it.

He sleeps through TG's crying or fussiness. Thankfully, TG doesn't cry too much but when she occasionally does cry, it is awful. I'll explain.
A few weeks ago, TG was having an unusually fitful night. We suspect it was a dash of her being overtired (she only naps 45-60 minutes w/DH) and a pinch of teething. When she has a fitful night, she does two things: 1. clutches her lovely with a grip you would not expect a 1 yr old to have and 2. nightfeeds or sleeps with body parts touching me.
Of course, during the night, I have to make pitstops to the loo. In this particular case, I had been holding it in for probably over an hour because everytime I moved away from her, she'd wake up and whine.
Nature called however and I couldn't hold it anymore. I quickly got up and ran to the bathroom hoping I could go and come back before it became a deafening siren. Not to make you laugh or be too descriptive but as you hold it in, you collect more in your tank so relieving yourself does not take what you would deem a normal time frame. As I'm in the bathroom, all I could hear was, "Maaaammmaa! Maaaammma! Maaaaaaaaammmuuuuummmma!"
I thought to myself, maybe just maybe DH can change her diaper and that should calm her down just long enough for me to return.
"Maaaaammmmuuuuummmmmaaa!" Clink Clink The sound of the rattle in her lovely "Maaaaaammuuuummmma!" Clink Clink.
I finish up and wash my hands and rush back to the bedroom to find the following: TG is off the bed crawling in the dark with her lovely clutched in one hand trying to make her way to the bedroom door, the dog, trying to avoid the crawling ball of noise heading towards her and DH asleep completely oblivious to the chaos happening less than 3 feet away.
I pick up TG and her face is a glossy mess of tears and boogies. I wipe her face and change her diaper and settle her back into sleep. For the rest of the night, TG has not only her foot on me but her arm clutching me and nurses until the wee morning.

Tuesday, September 01, 2009

I cannot cook under these conditions!

Here is a dishwasher update.

I still have dishes in the sink and dirty dishes in the dishwasher. I'm still handwashing TG's dishes myself on a daily basis. There is a funky smell coming from the kitchen but I'm certain it is from the trash and not from the sink.

Mentally, I've gone to my happy place and now prep on my cutting board. Everything around me has become white noise. DH has also come to 'assist' and has now decided to help pack and/or unpack a dishwasher as I prep and cook in our tiny galley kitchen.

This was particularly helpful as I cooked our traditional anniversary dinner, steak, yellow rice & peas.

The difference this time was DH is now calorie counting and wearing a heart monitor. Apparently, the heart monitor doesn't calculate his caloric burn if he's in resting. He didn't find this out until after a full 24 hour day wearing it.

God bless the folks who do this all the time. It has become a ridiculous session of calculators and measuring cups, scales and what not.

Why is my husband counting calories? Because he wants to be healthy. I applaud his effort, especially as he is smack in the middle of the normal BMI range, his BMR is great and he exercises 6 days a week on average. I'm snarking because this has impeded my cooking which has been stunted as is as I have a toddler toddling around.

The problem I have is simple, if I say anything about his borderline obsessive compulsion, I'm impeding his way to good health. Nevermind, he eats more aspartame than anyone I've known. Honey, Dannon Light and Fit is really not that fit and just because the light white bread has less calories doesn't mean it's better than the whole wheat bread.

Anywho, the gauntlet was dropped the other night when I forgot to weigh the chicken I prepped before seasoning it. So I figured, if I just subtract the amount of chicken I didn't cook from the weight noted on the package, that should give him a rough estimate of how much the chicken weighed pre-seasoning. Apparently rough estimate is not enough as I calculated the uncooked chicken in ounces and the packaging had the weight in pounds.

To add to my dismay, the post cooked measuring of the pasta I made for lunch, went awry when the freaking cheap scale tipped over sending my crab pasta to the floor to the waiting mouth of my elderly deaf dog.

So now, when I go into the kitchen, I go to my happy place and focus on my little cutting board.

Check out Tiffany's blog for more 'My Husband is Annoying'.