Pregnancy Fucking Sucks

So help me God, if any of you show this post to my wife, I will come to your house and burn everything you love. Do not test me...

Remember when this idea was a novelty, not my life? Me either.

Pregnancy is awful. For everyone. It's uncomfortable, exhausting, and just downright gross. And that's just my side of the story.

I know what you're thinking: "You poor baby, life is so hard. Imagine what your wife is going through." You want to rant and rave about how terrible it is to carry a beach ball around on your midriff all day everyday. And, believe me, I know. I do live with a woman who is 9 months pregnant and has been over it since about 2 weeks before conception.

There in lies the problem. Or, should I say, the source of all the sucking. Since I am a dutiful and loving husband, I have made a very concentrated effort to pick up the slack around the house. But as the pregnancy slides into it's last legs, that line of slack seems to be getting longer and longer. Suddenly I'm responsible for EVERYTHING around the house. I do all the cooking, all the cleaning, all the housework. I chase Eli everywhere, all day, everyday.

He looks like a superhero, but he's actually just trying to catch the bus.

Have you ever tried to simultaneously prepare a delicious meatloaf with roasted vegetables, take out the trash, and keep your son from throwing all the toilet paper down the drain? It's nearly impossible. Don't worry though, tomorrow your neighbors are going to do you a huge favor and babysit Eli for the night so you and your (beautiful, hardworking) super-pregnant wife can go have a relaxing dinner somewhere special.  But what's that? Your wife is too exhausted from working all day that she can't even decide what kind of food she wants to eat? You go back and forth about it so many times, inevitably snapping at each other (for no good reason), that the only solution capable of being agreed upon is to buy a frozen pizza from Safeway and watch yet another goddamn six-episode session of CSI: Miami!

Wow, that sure was relaxing. Can't wait to get up tomorrow and do it all over again.

In this modern world, there surely must be some way to circumvent all of this. Can't we just grow our babies in test tubes like CIVILIZED people? What ever happened to the stork myth? Is there any validity to that? Anyone?

If only...

And I can't exactly say that I'm excited about the birth. Eli was an emergency C-section (that's a long story all its own) so we kinda skipped all the gross stuff. The prospect of watching the (amazing, strong) woman I love more than anything get ripped in half, spewing every imaginable fluid out of places you never even knew existed... Golly jeez, I just can't wait. I think a placenta might be the grossest thing in the entire history of everything. And I've only seen one on that video the hospital made us watch.

Mother Nature is an asshole.

Inevitably though, as hard as these 10 months may be (yeah, pregnancy is 10, not 9) you can't argue with the payout. Once I get that baby girl in my arms, I may not ever let her go. I am gonna love her so hard.

All day.

Everyday.

Yeah, kinda like that.

Notes: I love you sweetheart. You're the better half of this marriage and I couldn't be or do anything without you. I just needed to blow off some steam. You know how it is.

How to Discuss Gender With Your Toddler, or What the Hell am I Supposed to Do Now?

Hell if I know.

Me: Are you a big boy?

Eli: NOOOOO!

Me: Of course you are

Eli: Not big boy. I Eli!

Lately, Eli's been making a lot of the comments and asking all the questions that paint a very clear picture: He's discovering the ever mysterious landscape of sex and gender. Ever curious about his own penis, and nearly as curious about mom and dad's bits-n-pieces, it feels like I'm as new to this whole thing as he is. What do you do? What do you say? I don't want to give the poor kid a complex.

Preach it, sister.

You see, I grew up Quaker (most of you probably knew that already). And here's the thing about Quakers: They're weird as shit. Don't get me wrong, that's what makes us awesome, but it's still weird as shit. Here and now is not the time to explain what a Quaker is, so if you don't know: Find out. If you want to. But all you really need to know right now is that Quakers (or at least my version, don't ask) are super liberal. And I mean Super Liberal.

I often hear people talk about growing up in an ultra-conservative family, and now, as they walk through the world, there's a little voice in the back of their head spouting all the dogma of their early years, forcing them to look at everything through a filter of (quite often) a philosophy they no longer believe or even respect. 

The same thing happens to me. Except, for me, I see the world through a rainbow-colored screen that makes everything Diverse (we love that word) sparkle a little brighter and everything that causes Conflict (but we hate that one) is politely swept under the rug. When my son pulls his penis out in public, I think: "Well, it's important for him to feel comfortable with his body," and THEN run over to tuck him back into the diaper. All toy guns and Barbies look like the devil spawn, attempting to morph my children into their little brain-washed corporate slaves. And when my son asks me things like: "Where's mommy's penis?" I totally freeze up.

Umm... What?

What I want to say is: "Boys have penises and girls have vaginas." But, then, isn't gender a social construct? And sex and gender aren't the same thing, right? That's what this article I just looked up says anyway. Questions like this get all tangled up in my brain and what I end up wanting to say is: "Mommy doesn't have a penis. She has a vagina. But the jury's still out on why."

You know what this reminds me of? The ever classic question: "Why is the sky blue?" Well, umm... Because light is both a particle and a wave. When it comes into our atmosphere, it is constantly colliding with molecules like oxygen and nitrogen, bouncing all over the place. And since light is a vast spectrum, with only a tiny slice fitting into our visual range, lots of that light doesn't make it through the clouds of molecules. Ultimately, the light that we see now appears a certain color due to the amount of atmosphere it had to pass through in order get to your eye. Blue represents a shorter distance and red the longest, which is why the sky turns red and orange in the evening.

Yeah. Try explaining that to a toddler.

Oh, NOW I get it!

And so goes the gender/sexuality issue. These questions and answers are just too big for the little guy. But, again, I don't want to give the poor kid a complex. I don't want to accidentally give him the wrong information, ultimately screwing up his personal identity forever. I want him to be happy. To grow up into whatever and whoever he wants to be. If he and his college boyfriend want to spray paint each other hot pink and hang out at manga conventions, then so be it. Just so long as the paint doesn't rub off on the sofa. That would just kill his mother. As far as I'm concerned, there are only three things he is not allowed to be: A murder, a rapist, and a junkie. Beyond that, as long as he's happy and not hurting anybody: Go. Do as you please.

I hear and read about things like "Gender Neutral Parenting" and I just shake my head in confusion. So much of this stuff just feels like everyday life to me. Eli's clothes aren't covered in sports kitsch, because neither my wife nor I likes sports. And Grayson won't wear tons of pink, because pink is ugly. That's pretty straight forward. I've seen little boys garbed in pink and purple, and it feels like their parents are intentionally trying to gender bend their kid. And, at least to me, that seems like the kind of thing that'd give your kid a complex.

Heh heh.

But who am I to tell other parents what to do with their kids? Nobody, that's who. There are 3 people in this world that are allowed to criticize my parenting skills: Jessica, Eli, and baby Grayson. That's it. Grandparents are permitted to question and suggest, but I am under no obligation to listen.

We ended up telling him that mommy had a vagina. And that boys have penises. And so on. Because, the truth is, you gotta pick your battles. And this one, the mythical pure gender identity, is not mine. There is no perfect parenting. There's no Grand Philosophy or Flawless Method that will deliver your little dude (boy-dude or girl-dude) through childhood unscathed. They're gonna come out the other side kinda fucked up. And probably because of something you did. Might as well get used to that idea now.

Notes: For the record, if Eli decided he was gay or trans, I wouldn't care. But if he decided he likes manga, I'd be devastated. And on the spectrum of "Super Liberal" my parents were fairly middle ground. They did a pretty good job with what they had, too. I also do still consider myself a Quaker, so don't kick me out guys. I'm sorry I called you weird!

Pork Chops with Garlic Mushroom Gravy, Mashed Potatoes, and Berbere Brussel Sprouts

All agreed, it certainly looks delicious

I'm gonna lose some "Chef Cred" for this saying this, but I'm not in the habit of being dishonest: I don't like pork. It's supposed to be this superbly versatile, all-in-one protein that every chef on TV seems to go gaga for. But I just can't bring myself to love it. It tastes like dried out chicken, with the texture of dried out beef.

Before I continue, let me make an important distinction. When I say things like: "I don't like pork," I'm not talking about bacon. I love bacon. Everyone loves bacon. Even people who don't eat bacon love bacon. So don't bring up bacon as a defense of pork. You're preaching to the choir.

Despite my distaste for swine, Jess has a tendency to buy it. Pork is often on sale, and can be quite cheap even at regular prices (which is probably why chef's love it so much). And so, continuing the trend of a thrifty kitchen, I work with what I have. There's nothing particularly special about this pork chop dish. But it's easy and has a lot of flavor. And uses ingredients that you probably have tucked into your pantry, which is the point.

Sizzle

Start off with the chops. I had three. The perfect version of this recipe would include four. Season up the pork with some salt and pepper, and drop them into a medium heat pan. I put a bit of bacon grease into the pan, but any oil would do. Just a couple minutes per side. We're not cooking them here, just putting some color on. Once nice and browned up, take them out of the pan and set aside.

Other ingredients

Now drizzle just a tiny bit of olive oil into the pan. Once that heats up, put some thinly sliced garlic into the oil, and let it sautee for just a minute or so. Just until they start to turn gold. Then, open up a can of cream of mushroom soup, and dump the whole thing into the pan. Just as quickly, pour in a half a cup of milk, and stir to combine. I also put in a little paprika, onion powder, and mustard powder.

Mix, stir, mix, stir

Once the gravy is beginning to bubble, put the chops back into the pan, put a lid on it, and drop the heat to a simmer. Let it sit this way for about 10-15 minutes. Half way through, turn the chops over and stir the gravy, making sure to scrape the bottom of the pan. Afterwards, pull the lid off, stir again, and let the gravy reduce to your desired thickness.

Simmer and bubble

The chops were good. Again, nothing landmark, but crowd-pleasing and easy. The real break away hit of the meal, however, was the Berbere brussel sprouts... I know, right? "Who woulda thunk it?" (© Chuck Fager, 2012) Berbere is an Ethiopian spice blend. It's spicy and earthy. And, as I was pleasantly surprised to discover, pairs REALLY well with brussel sprouts.

In case you've never heard of the stuff, or want to know what it looks like

The preparation is extremely simple. Trim your sprouts, toss them with olive oil, salt and pepper, and as much of the Berbere as you want. Be warned, it is spicy. I used about a teaspoon. Roast them at 425º until they're brown and crispy outside. I had really small sprouts, so I roasted them whole. Took about a half hour.

In case you were wondering what sprouts in an oven looked like

Something about the funky-cabbagey flavor of the sprouts harmonized with the spice elements (note: spice, not spicy) of the Berbere. Together there was almost an anise note creeping through. I highly recommend trying this. It's always a fun surprise to stumble on to something delicious.

Notes: There were some mashed potatoes mentioned in the top line. But you don't need me to tell you how to make mashed potatoes. Also, "thunk" is in fact a word. My dad would be happy to point that out to you. And, apparently, so would I.

Adventures in Potty Training!

Accident? Or DISASTER!

The Mission: Leave the house, sans diaper, for 1 hour.

Mission Status: Catastrophic failure.

Casualties: One pair of underwear, 5-7 paper towels, parenting cred.

Debrief (hahaha!): We took a trip down to the playroom, killing some time before lunch. About 10 minutes in, another parent points out that Eli is trying to take his pants off. Upon running over, I discover that he has thoroughly soiled his underoos, and is doing a pretty good job of smearing his thighs and knees. We whisk off to the bathroom to get cleaned up. The underwear was a bust, straight into the garbage. Fortunately, the pants didn't receive much in the way of poo-punishment. So, I wiped him up, and put him back in the pants.

But Asa, I can hear you saying, where was your stash of backup clothing?

Whoops

That's an interesting question. To which, I humbly respond: You know what, you try to wrangle two 2-year-olds into their clothes, jackets, boots, and stroller, and remember everything all the time. Yeah. So there! Now, if you'll excuse me... 

We go back to playing, lots of running and jumping, playing ball. 30 minutes later, the same parent alerts me to Eli pulling down his pants. Again. He had whizzed himself, poor little dude. At which point, I decided it was time to go home.

You know, Asa--

Oh, here we go again...

It's just that, well, if you were to, say, put a backup set of clothes in the stroller, they'd always be there when you needed them.

Thanks for the advice, didn't realize we had a parenting expert in the house. I'll be sure to do that next time.

Notes: You know, if you ask me--

I didn't, by the way.

--I would keep an extra pair of clothes in the diaper bag. That way--

No. Absolutely not. I am ANTI diaper bag.

You're what?

Save it. That's another post.

"Go Playroom!" Shouted Eli, enthusiastically.

Simple, but effective

Today, Eli and I are hanging with one of our toddler pals at the Green Lake community playroom. As you can probably see from the photos, it's just an indoor playground, well equipped with mats, and specially designed for smaller kids. Sometimes I refer to this place as "Perfect." It's warm, dry, and even has free wi-fi. And best of all, it's totally enclosed, which greatly decreases the likelihood of your child wandering off while you write your blog about parenting.

Lots of places to climb

I cannot emphasize enough the importance of a place like this, especially in a town like Seattle. Nearly all the community centers in my area have some kind of offer like this. The center in Shoreline (the town just to the north of me) opens their gym every weekday for a few hours in the morning for toddlers and youngins to get a little outdoor time, without all that pesky outdoor stuff (ie. Seattle weather).

The gym in Shoreline, enjoying a tea party

For any desperately bored, stir-crazy, water logged parent in need of some stimulation, look in to your local county/city resources. Spending exorbitant amounts of money on tumbling classes and "Mommy & Me" yoga sessions is a waste of time and energy. Your neighborhoods are likely filled with places like this.

Hide and seek

Here's a list of all the Seattle play rooms and gyms. I realize that's not much help if you don't live here, but perhaps it'll give you some ideas of where to look for your town's opportunities. These centers also supply a massive list of classes and activities for you to sign up for. The aforementioned tumbling classes, lots of song and dance type stuff, outdoorsy things, sports, and so on. The business of kids is a big one, with lots of people trying to convince you to spend lots and lots of money on entertainment for your child. But with a little practical searching, there are always economical solutions waiting for you. They're just not very well advertised.

Notes: As we were leaving this morning, I could hear a group music class for little ones in an adjacent room. Lots of hollering and tears all layered over a woman attempting to sing and play guitar. Honestly, I'm not sure I see the benefit.

Keeping Sane

Let's face it. Kids are boring.

Yeah, I said it.

Sure, they're the sweetest, most adorable things you'll ever encounter. I've never smiled so wide as I do watching my kids naked butt running excitedly down the hallway. His belly laugh is more fun to listen to than the best symphony ever written. And I still get a little misty when he hugs and kisses me, just because he feels like it.

But romanticizing this relationship is easy when you're not in it all day. Every day. These idyllic, picture perfect, hallmark moments aren't happening in a constant stream of cute overload. The fact of the matter is, there's a lot of tantrums, dirty diapers, vomit, and just plain old downtime in between all that sweetness. Somewhere after the eight episode of Yo Gabba Gabba! (in a row) you're about ready to hurl a plastic truck through the TV screen. And your back can only take the roughhousing for so long.

So what do you do?

The solution I've come to is cooking a lot. I suddenly got good at doing chores: cleaning, dishes, taking out the trash. TV doesn't charm me as much as it used to. But when you find a good, long-term storyline show, that'll help you kill some hours. In the first two years of Eli's life, I've managed to watch all five Star Trek shows. Yeah, even Enterprise. I want to read a lot, I really do, but find it just puts me to sleep. My weekly comic book fix definitely helps break up the week.

Who's got suggestions and ideas? Or maybe just wants to have a delightful little discussion in the comments section of this blog? Well, go for it. You've got my blessing.


Notes: Yes, technically there are SIX Star Trek shows. But do I really want to watch the animated series? Sure, it's only one season, but... I don't know. Maybe Eli would like it.

Thai Curry (green) Mashed Potatoes with Kale

Thai Curry (green) Mashed Potatoes with Kale

Yeah, you heard that right. Sometimes I find a lot of random crap in my pantry. And lately I've been trying really hard to use what we have in the house. Not just dream up some idea, run off to the store, spend money, and have my wife be disappointed in me. Which sometimes results in wild ideas such as this.

The ingredients. Garlic, not pictured.

We start with potatoes. Those are some red and yellow babies. I don't peel them. Boil the spuds in chicken broth. For, you know, more flavor and stuff. I use this chicken base stuff, cheaper and easier than buying broth. (yeah yeah, i should make my own stock. shut up.)

Meanwhile: sautee some garlic in olive oil. Do this on low heat, garlic burns fast. Also, when you dump in the green curry simmer sauce, it won't burn and explode all over the place. You won't need much. Once it's clearly hot, drop a bunch of kale (ripped and washed, of course) and WILT that SHIT!

I actually used bacon fat to sautee the kale.

Now that the potatoes are done, drain em and throw in some butter. Scrape in all the kale and sauce and stuff. And mash the hell out of it. Taste, to make sure you didn't do it wrong. If it's good, then congrats.

Let's see that final product one last time...

Delicious.

What a beauty. Oh, and what's this?

Also for dinner...

Did I forget to mention that I'm also making pot roast? Well, I am. And it's gonna be awesome.


Notes: Can you omit the butter and the chicken broth to make this recipe vegetarian? Yes. Should you do these things? No.