shokufeh is…home

A week from today, we’ll be on the mainland! Yay! More importantly, we’ll be seeing family and friends. It’s been more than 1.5 years since we’ve visited Chicago, our home before here, or New Orleans, my home for the majority of my life. In the interim, we’ve seen family members – my Mom and Anis in China last spring, Meisa in San Francisco last Labor Day weekend, Sam’s family in Orlando last December, my parents and Anis in Israel in March* – but this trip will have the added benefit of being visits to “home.”

And my parents get to see their grandchild, or rather the belly that is housing him or her. We all traveled together on pilgrimage, but none of us knew Bean was present at the time. All we knew was that I was burping a lot and kept asking my mom for Lemon Altoid Sours.

And I get to see my Ameh**, who is making a trip to Chicago to see her only child, and to see my belly. I have never gone this long in my life without seeing my Ameh – she was with my parents in the hospital when I was born and after she moved away from Louisiana, I visited her at least once a year.

Now if I could only see Naysan. That hasn’t happened since December 2003. That’s just crazy in the Family Mojgani.

*I seem to be into the asterisks these days. Listing these out makes me feel like we travel a lot, and that I live a charmed life being able to travel to such places. I guess that’s one of the advantages of having a far-flung family.

**Note to you new readers: “Ameh” is the title for paternal aunt in Persian. I have only one Ameh, Meisa’s mother. She is very proud of being my only Ameh. And when my brothers have children and I become an Ameh, my Ameh will become the only Ameh of an only Ameh.

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Here’s a coupon for 30% off today through Saturday:
http://content.retailperiod.com/footlocker/?0COrgy-XBMj.dxV3GjQursMjlg0

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Things my mouth really enjoys these days:

Bean is not opposed to either, and seems to really like the former. Sure, it could just be the sugar rush s/he is experiencing, but I like to think that my child has discriminating tastes. (Watch that sentence come back to haunt me, with Bean ending up like that annoying little girl in the Ensure commercial: “I don’t think I like waffles.”)

*Do you like how the link I used has the word “nutrition” in its url, but the page is blank except for the picture?

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Does anyone else think it’s ironic that Americans obsess over whether there is MSG in our Chinese food (to the point that Chinese restaurants post signs of “No MSG” as a badge of honor), yet we stuff our faces with snacks (like chips) of various kinds with MSG as an ingredient?

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This morning, my monthly prenatal visit included the glucose screening. After reading and hearing from so many women how nasty the drink is, it wasn’t as bad as I expected – it was like an extra sweet Sunkist. I got kind of sleepy, and felt a bit nauseated toward the end of the hour, but the overall experience was pleasant compared to what I’d anticipated.

So now I have to wait for the results of the blood test. I don’t think I have gestational diabetes, but I guess I have no way of knowing without the test results. (Many of the symptoms of diabetes – frequent urination, fatigue, hunger, thirstiness – are a normal part of pregnancy.) Selfish as it may seem, if I do have it, I’d like for the doctor’s office to forget to call me: I’m leaving for the mainland next week and I’ve got an eating agenda, which includes beignets.

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This weekend, while shopping in various places, I witnessed a few things that I thought I’d share. But this is not idle sharing – I felt each of these had an associated lesson.

Observation: Crazy pregnant woman having a meltdown in Border’s. Through her tears, she could be heard asking her husband if they could go home now.
Lessons:
1) I am a crazy pregnant woman. (Gold star to those of you who recognized that the observation was of myself.) I’ve been under the impression that my emotions were relatively stable, despite all the physical changes I’m going through. I was wrong.
2) I am no longer allowed out of the house past 10:00 at night, and really should be in bed and asleep by then.
3) I am no longer allowed to stand up for more than 1.5 hours at a time. The line between my knees and feet feeling okay and feeling like they would appreciate amputation is too abrupt and should best be avoided.

Observation: Woman sitting on a toilet. (This was not me.)
Lesson:
When in a bathroom with brushed metal partitions, beware the stall next to the handicapped stall. In this particular bathroom, the handicapped stall juts out just enough to provide a surface that reflects the adjoining stall. Which means that people washing their hands inadvertently catch sight of whoever is sitting on the toilet in that stall.

Observation: Woman’s exposed derriere. (Also not me.)
Lessons:
1) Do not wear thong underwear when wearing a skirt that just covers one’s bottom.
2) If one is wearing a skirt that just covers one’s bottom, ask companion to carry backpack, so that the backpack does not scrunch up one’s skirt, exposing one’s bottom to all passersby, while one stands there unaware.
3) While I am capable of telling a stranger that their zipper is open, I am lacking in the skill of telling a stranger that her bottom is showing.

Observation: Woman, probably in her 30s, trying on white shoes, while telling her companions that she hasn’t bought white shoes since high school. (Do I really need to clarify that this was not me?)
Lesson:
That woman did not read my entry of week before last. Or, she did, and just doesn’t value my opinion.

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As might be expected, given that our names are Sam and Shokufeh, my husband and I are having some trouble agreeing on a name for our child. He leans toward simple, I lean toward unique. He leans toward English, I lean toward Persian.

About a month ago, I suddenly awoke in the night, with a name for Bean in my head. “Oh, that’s a great name! I should wake Sam up and tell him…. No, he probably wants to keep sleeping. I should write it down…. No, it’s so good that I’ll remember it when I wake up in the morning, and I’m too tired to get up and find a pen…. I’m so glad that Bean told me the name she* wants.”

The next day, hours pass without this rapid exchange with myself cming to mind. Midmorning, I remember my thoughts of the night before, except that I can’t remember the name, the name I was so sure I’d remember. But I eventually brought it to the surface of my memory and called Sam. “What do you think of the name Navea?”

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I’ve discovered a potential new use for my big brown belly: Rorschach tests. With all the extra blood I have circulating, when I press on my belly with my finger tips, I get white blots. I think it would be fun to press patterns in a routine and ask people what they see.

But when it comes down to it, I think I’m a little too modest for such shenanigans.

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Sometimes I get actors a little mixed up. So, all day, as I saw the headlines about Colin Farrell and his sex tape, instead of picturing the bad boy himself, I though the actor involved was Will Ferrell. Talk about confusion – I can’t picture Bullseye and Buddy the Elf at the same party, much less played by the same person.

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Belly: Week 24

Bean is not what you would call an active child. Not even out of the womb, and already following in my footsteps. My very slow footsteps. The slow footsteps that would result in my PE teacher telling me I didn’t have to finish the mile, because he was tired of standing there waiting for me to finsh. While other pregnant women complain about the jabs and kicks their children are inflicting on their innards, I welcome Bean’s activity. But it tends to be very irregular – a jab here, a kick there, rarely in succession.

However, this morning it was driven home to me that Bean has indeed inherited Sam’s love for food. Yeah, great combo, I know – my inactivity, Sam’s love for food…. I have got to make sure Bean befriends every jock on the block.

Anyway, the inheritance from Sam…. It was manifested in more than the MegaGrab bag of chips I just ate (that’s 4 servings, if any of you are counting). I was responding to an email my mother had sent me – an article about a woman who was asked to leave a *$ because the manager thought her breastfeeding would make the other customers uncomfortable. As I typed that I will feed Bean whenever and wherever he or she gets hungry, Bean indicated being on board with that philosophy – there was movement like none I’ve experienced to date. I’d think it was over, and it would start up again – like a party in the pants. Mmm, you tell ‘em, Mom, just keep the milk coming.

Hmmm, maybe the way to make sure Bean is not the inactive slug I was and am is to talk about food all the time.

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