girlfiend

My laptop is in the shop again (people, it is foolish not to purchase the extended warranty, as the next time it goes in because of overheating or a faulty power supply -and I truly believe that there will, indeed, be a next time- I’ll probably get a new one.) so updating sort of sucks. I can either use Boyfiend’s slow work laptop or my old slow desktop and I’m way too impatient for that.

But life is good. The Fiendling is getting cuter and more grown up every day. The other night he fell asleep and I put him in the crib in his room, not the pack ‘n play in our room. I planned on leaving him there for night, for the first time. As we got ready for bed, Boyfiend asked, “He’s not sleeping in there is he?” I said that I’d planned on it. Boyfiend wasn’t too keen on the idea. He went into his room and brought him back into ours, which was good since he uncharacteristically awoke twice that night. He’s slept in our room ever since, and even though it will be nice when he sleeps in his own room I’m really glad Boyfiend wasn’t ready, because I wasn’t ready either. It’s good to have him close.

He’s getting more coordinated too. He can roll over from his tummy to his back and he’s gotten much better at holding onto things. Occasionally he even picks up a toy that he’s dropped. He sits up really well if he he’s propped on a pillow or if he has a hand to hold onto. Sometimes if I let go he doesn’t keel right over- he sits unassisted for a moment before slowly sinking forward. He plays for much longer periods of time, on his play gym or in the exersaucer. He’s also more interested in his surroundings. He’s content to sit awake on someone’s lap, just looking around.

Oh, and he giggles now. Once after a burp, a few times after kisses right below the ear. Last night he giggled in the shower. Was it the water or his dad’s naked body that was so funny? We are so lucky to have such a happy baby. Really, incredibly, indescribably lucky.

Tomorrow morning we’re heading back to my mom’s (for two nights, no longer) and we’ll be back here in the city for the 4th of July. AFter that we’ll probably go back to the shore for another night or two, then Boyfiend leaves for a sailing trip. That will be the first time I’ll be on my own with the Fiendling 24/7.

Random plug: For all of the parents reading or for those of you who have a baby gift to purchase, Babygadget is a kickass site.

Four is the number of nights we managed to stay at my mom’s before we couldn’t take it anymore. Well, before I couldn’t take it anymore. The french fry thing was bad, but when she made me and the Fiendling go for a trip to Sam’s Club with her, only she didn’t know where it was, it was kind of the last straw. It’s bad enough going to that hellhole, but after I’d gone in a 45 minute circle and we weren’t there yet and the Fiendling was crying and I was starving I thought I might kill her. I didn’t, even after I was forced to nurse the Fiendling while walking around the store. (Have I mentioned I’m good at multitasking?)

Then last night we watched My Date with Drew and I somehow managed not to kill her even when she spent the entire movie complaining about how creepy the guy Brian, who wanted the date with Drew was, even though he wasn’t creepy, he was just a big dork. The woman did not shut up for the entire 90 minute movie. Her voice makes me shudder.

Last night I overheard her complaining to Boyfiend about how unsophisticated my eating habits are because I didn’t like her cold cream of broccoli soup. Only I never said I didn’t like the soup. I’m sure she knew I could hear her, which is why she started whispering after she used the word unsophisticated. Such a bitch. Boyfiend insisted she didn’t say anything else, but I don’t know that I believe him. I just think he was trying to keep me from telling her that I’d hardly call her microwave cookbook recipes sophisticated.

I’m going to have to learn how to build up my resistance. She talks to hear the sound of her own voice and says the most ridiculous things which she immediately contradicts. And she’s mean. She picks fights. “Remember when you went on that bike trip? They called me and told me you cried because it was too hard. You were such a baby. Waah waah waah.” Um yeah, I remember that when I specifically said I wanted to stay home for the summer you sent me away on a bike trip when I hadn’t ridden a bike in five years. Remember that? I do. I also remember that it took about a week before my body got used to riding 30 miles a fucking day and it was hard enough being an adolescent girl without being the adolescent girl everyone else on the trip had to wait for at each stop. And why would you bring this up fifteen years later at breakfast?

So four nights, ended up being two nights too many. We’ll go back later next week but we’ll only stay for two nights. I think that keeping the visits short and sweet may save me. I can only keep from fighting back for so long.

I’m sitting in bed at my mom’s house in a wet t-shirt. This is rather unusual, as I can’t actually remember a time I did this on purpose. But alas, my breasts were the size of cantaloupes this morning and I needed to apply a cold washcloth before going back to sleep. I woke up sort of cold and wet, but the Fiendling hasn’t eaten and my right breast is still the size and texture of a softball. I really hope this morning’s engorgement is not indicative of another overproduction issue. Because that stretch of time, which took more than a month of recovery, really, really sucked.

You know what else sucks? My mother telling me I need to diet. When she said I shouldn’t have an English muffin with breakfast, that I should stick to the protein of eggs and bacon I got a little annoyed. When she made shoestrings for dinner (my mother, though she deep fries them, refuses to call them french fries. They are shoestrings.) she only made enough for herself and Boyfiend, I got really annoyed. Though I wasn’t on one, she inflicted a diet upon me. My mother decided I was on a low carb diet and shouldn’t eat fries. Sweet.

Yes, I want to lose weight. Yes, I still have 22 pounds to go before I’m back at pre-pregnancy weight. Yes, I am exercising and not eating cheesesteaks for dinner every day. But I exercised and watched what I ate before I even got pregnant. I eat junk food sometimes, but mainly I eat pretty well. I generally avoid stupid carbs, like processed white breads and stick to whole grains and whole wheat bread and crackers. But fries with dinner one night? It was so insulting.

I have lost a few more pounds. Not many, but I’m now at my fattest pre-pregnancy weight ever. I now weigh what I did when my mother sent me on a teen tour for a summer because she didn’t want me around. I sat on a bus and ate for a month and gained 15 pounds. We were at an amusement park and we played one of those games where the guy has to guess your weight within 2 pounds. I didn’t believe him when he guessed mine and I was mortified when I stepped on the scale and weighed 134. That’s what I weigh right now. At least it’s not 165.

I can fit into a few pairs of my old pants. They button and zip, but because of the squeeze factor and resulting muffin top, I don’t plan on wearing them for another 5 pounds. I’m just pleased they fit over my ass again.

So drooly. So cute.

Meatloaf

One lb meatloaf (pork, beef, veal) mix
One lb ground turkey (white meat or 7% fat)
Half a large vidalia onion or one small white onion chopped
one cup breadcrumbs or rolled oats (you can substitute a slice of bread torn into small pieces)
2/3 cup ketchup
3 large eggs ligthly beaten
fresh herbs- maybe a cup?
salt and pepper to taste- maybe half a teaspoon of each

knead with your hands to mix all ingredients- don’t overmix
bake in a nonstick or well greased loaf pan (free form works if you don’t have one)at 350 in a preheated oven for 60-75 minutes or until meatloaf reaches 160 degrees
drain fat and let sit for a few minutes before serving (serves 8 )

That’s the basic recipe- you can experiment from there. I change and add ingredients every time I make it depending on what’s in my house at the time. You can use any combination of ground meat. I use half turkey to make it slightly healthier. I like the meatloaf mix, but if I only have ground beef it works just as well.

The most important thing for me is the fresh herbs. I usually have fresh rosemary, cilantro, parsley and basil in the freezer (yes I know that’s frozen, not fresh but it’s not dried) and I’ll throw in enough so it looks like every bite will have some green in it. You can substitute with a few teaspoons of dried- any combination of basil, thyme, parsley or Italian seasoning will do- but really, fresh is better.

I throw in some parmesan cheese or mozzarella if the meatloaf’s heavy on Italian herbs.

You can also put a few strips of uncooked bacon on top before baking- Boyfiend loves it because of the bacony goodness and I don’t because it’s not crispy, but it does add some flavor. If you’re going that route you can make a ketchup/brown sugar glaze on top (1/4 cup ketchup mixed with 1/8 cup brown sugar or barbecue sauce if you’re lazy). It’s not my fave, but Boyfiend really likes it. I prefer savory to sweet.

Once you’ve made it a few times, you’ll get a feel for how you like it. Before then, you can take a spoonful of your mix and fry it quickly to see if you like how it tastes and adjust from there. And if you don’t want to cook inside you can make it into patties and grill it outside, like burgers.

While I’m at it, here’s a guacamole recipe. Not related, but it requires no cooking and it’s delicious.

Guacamole

3 ripe avacodos, halved, pitted and peeled
one small onion, chopped
3 jalapeno peppers, seeded and finely chopped
one small tomato, chopped
juice of 1 1/2 limes
slightly more than half a cup of fresh cilantro, cut into smallish pieces (Do not substitute with dried. Yuck.)
salt and pepper to taste

Mash the avocado with a potato masher or fork then add the remaining ingredients, mixing until everything’s combined. Serve with tortilla chips.

Part I

Philadelphia, while geographically large, is a very, very small city. Starting when I was 14, to the annoyance of many of my friends, I couldn’t go anywhere without running into someone I knew. It’s not just me. Philadelphia’s just that small. You’ll run into a kid you made fun of in middle school in the grocery store, a friend’s creepy boyfriend from high school in line at the movies, and a person you had a mad, embarrassing girl crush on at a party. When Boyfiend and I were broken up he was sighted on two separate occasions by two different people out with another woman. I even ran into him in a bar drinking with the “I like purging things” girl he’d known years earlier. Ouch.

The internet makes Philly even smaller. Some time last year at the gym I couldn’t stop staring at a woman on the elliptical machine in front of mine because I recognized her from pictures on her blog.A few days ago Chris Lehmann left me a comment. Here’s the part that’s pertinent to this conversation:

As an aside, I was walking to work / Jakob-day-care-drop-off today when a couple and young child that looked remarkably like y’all wandered by. I thought, hm… maybe they’re up in their old neighborhood… so I asked if they blogged.

It wasn’t you.

Later that very same evening I was eating dinner outside at Rembrandts with my mother, Boyfiend and the Fiendling. I saw a guy a few tables over with a small child. He looked familiar. I noticed that he was looking at me as well. Eventually I placed him- It was Chris and his cutie-patootie son Jakob. I walked over and said hello. Sure it’s not unusual for people to run into bloggers in real life, but on the very same day as a comment like that? Only in Philadelphia.

Part II

We all know I’m not that great of a person. I’m not bad, but I can be bitchy and snarky and obnoxious. I’m nosy and a gossip. I tell insensitive jokes and listen to Howard Stern. Before my pregnancy I was a bit of a lush and smoked. A lot. I’m sure if I were to take more time I could add plenty to this list, but for now I’ll leave it be. Anyway, shortly after I wrote about the ketubah incident, the ketubah artist’s husband found the post and left a comment:

Hi,

I’m Nishima’s husband, Alon. I happened across your post - we had no idea that your Aunt had ordered the “wrong” ketubah.

We would be happy to make “Summer of Joy” for you at no cost. We still have all your information on file.

I was flabbergasted, and really how often does one have the opportunity to be flabbergasted? I was also a bit embarrassed. The whole saga seemed embarrassingly overdramatic and silly. And I wasn’t sure if I’d used the F word in my post. But I called. And Alon and Nishima Kaplan came through. The mailed me the “right” Ketubah a few months later. It’s beautiful and exactly what we wanted. If you need a ketubah, Art Ketubah is the place to look. Good things do happen sometimes.

Part III

Target.com has better customer service than the actual store. Sometimes. I ordered a swing for the Fiendling and used a gift card. However instead of using the gift card, they charged my credit card instead. When I called, the customer service representative couldn’t uncharge my card, but she applied a $15 credit to my account. Unfortunately, when the same charging-my-credit-card-not-the-gift-card- scenario occured a few weeks later I was not so lucky.

Speaking of customer service, Fisher Price kicks ass. The swing stopped working after 3 days. I called customer service and within a week they’d sent me a brand new motor and the swing was back in swing.

I’ve also been buying a ton of baby gear to leave at my mom’s shore house because anyone with a child can attest to just how much of a pain in the ass it is to shlep the bouncy seat, the playmat, the stroller and all of the other 900 items you need when you travel. Craigslist has worked out really well for me. Everyone’s been so nice and honest and easy to deal with. Except for the asshole who told me to be at his house Tuesday at 11.30 am and sold the damn stroller to the person who was there 20 minutes before me to buy the changing table. He told me when to come. I said I’d be there. He said okay. When I got to his house, a crying Fiendling in tow, he shrugged and said, “Oh. You’re here for the stroller. I wasn’t sure if you’d show up so I sold it.” Dick.

This, the best subject line ever, somehow evaded the spam folder: A miserable person is one who truly enjoys a fart but can’t

I sent my mom the link to my flickr site the other day, where the name “Girlfiend” is prominently displayed. I’m thankful my mother’s computer savvy-ness stops short at eBay, because my mother suspects I have a blog, but doesn’t know exactly what one is or how to find one. Obviously my mother does not read this blog. I’m sure that a day may come when she finds it, but I hope that if she does I’m not around.

The other night I dreamed that my mother did find my blog. She discovered it by searching for girlfiend and saw a picture of the Fiendling on the front page. I was in the room, as she scrolled down the page and read, then as she began to explore the archives. I was waiting for her to find something that would upset or anger her, but my crazy Aunt Bea was around and I was supposed to take her out. I knew I was in trouble and I knew the link would be passed around to the rest of her family and friends. It was a terrible dream.

By the by, I’ve been kicking around the idea of changing the name over here. While “I Like Purging Things” really amused me at the time, I’m sort of over having the blog name acting as a big middle finger to a girl Boyfiend used to fool around with( a girl with a live-in boyfriend who sent him an email telling him he was her soulmate with the words, “I like purging things” explaining why she was telling him all of this 10+ years later.) Any suggestions? Suggestions with the words rambling, random, or thoughts in title will be ignored.

My little Fiendling was three months old yesterday. He wears overalls now, not just baby suits with feet.

He’s grown up so much in the past week. It’s incredible how quickly he learns how to do new things. All of a sudden he discovered that not only does he have hands, but those hands can grab and hold things. He went from flailing to grabbing in the space of a day and now he’s fascinated by his toys instead of just mildly amused.

I love that he holds things and plays with them now instead of just staring at them. It’s hard work, but he’s learning how to coordinate his hands and feet to shove his toys in his mouth.

He was so little when we brought him home. Scrawny. He screamed from hunger before my milk came in and we were exhausted and scared. I was terrified I wouldn’t be able to feed my baby and terrified I’d never sleep again. Now look at him.

He’s such a little meatball, all pudgy and delicious. He has dimples on his hands and his elbows and michelin man thighs. And he eats so much he sleeps. For six, seven or eight hours in a row. He’s sturdy now. A real boy. My Fiendling’s a baby, not a newborn.

I am so happy.

Look at the shayna punim. See how cute she is? Now go to her fundraising site and help her get to Israel. Every good Jewish girl needs to visit the wall at least once, and she’s shamelessly begging for your help.