Remember to be Thankful

I was nine in the winter of 1979, as Martial Law was in full flux. We rode on the back of a jeep on a dark dirt road on our way to Dad's home town. We brought over six large boxes, three which had gone missing at the airport, filled with endless supply of Tang, an array of candy, bottles of Sanka instant coffee, toilet paper, second hand clothes, shoes, and books. We made our trek from Hawaii to the province of Ilocos Norte in the Philippines to visit relatives.

As my parents found it important that we made a connection with our ethnicity, Dad wanted to make sure we met our Lola, grandmother, before she passed. Lola was in her eighties and slept in a cot in the kitchen. As much as I wanted to hug her and lay my head in her lap, her head was infested with lice. I was told it was normal. In the kitchen to the right a 20 x 20 concrete slab that stemmed water pump to bathe. To the left, sat a wood burning stove also used to generate hot water for the shower. The kitchen door opened to a jungle of a backyard that housed a deep hole in the ground that was the bathroom. Besides swatting the squad of flies as I squat, the fear of falling into the stench hole was a death defying fear. Nonetheless, the likeliness of venomous snakes taking a snip out of my bare bottom while going to the bathroom was 90/10. A half a mile down a river ran infested with crocodiles and pythons. That was usually where the laundry was done.

The relatives were ecstatic to finally meet their American relatives. We were treated like royalty. Cousins ceaselessly hugged and communicated with us, “Do you know Billy Joel? Do you have a television? A color one? Toilet? Do you have a toilet!” As Mom provided the gaggle of cousins with candy, clothing, and shoes, their eyes sparkled like Christmas morning. We were showered with further hugs and laughter. Dad along with uncles sat on the porch playing the accordion, acoustic guitar, saxophone. They created music that sounded like home.

Shellie's Proverb: A mouse that chases the cat is not using his head.

Every now and than when I feel like the world has dealt me a joker card, I think about that month long trip in the Philippines. The trip that opened my eyes to hard ships. A second in my existence, where Christmas was midnight mass and tinupig, sweet rice and coconut wrapped in banana leaves. A minute in my life, when we rang in New Year by dragging empty cans on the dirt road and dropping cherry bombs down the center of a hollow bamboo. A month in my life, when my cousins were content playing in the jungle, taunting the water buffalos, or swimming in the river. A memory when my uncles found enjoyment and laughter in their music and in each other. A thought when my aunt's were pleased to provide food on the table. This is an experience that will never be forgotten.

Being thankful should never be one day a year, but a way of thinking. I do my best to never take electricity, running water, plumbing, and health for granted. How my dad, who made a hundred fifty a week, managed to finance this trip along with supporting a family of ten, I will never know. I am truly grateful to my parents for opening my eyes to the world outside of our home. Because with out that enlightment, I would not have a scope on appreciation.

Lesson: A hungry grasshopper must use his chopsticks to find his way to the bottom of the bowl.

Gender Love

I've made it to 16 weeks! That's four months in human terms. Thriller! So far, so good! Knock on wood. According to the books, Kitchstar should be about the size of an avocado, 4.5 inches to be exact! In the next three weeks, Kitchstar should go through a tremendous growth spurt, doubling weight and adding inches to length. A possible kick is even possible at this point. Shane and I are totally enthralled! Every Sunday night before bed, we grab our week by week book and read up on the kid's weekly progress. I get all warm and fuzzy when Shane takes interest. It's the first time. He can't tell you who Donald Rumsfeld is, but he can tell you that unpasteurized cheese causes listeriosis.

Tomorrow, we're scheduled to see Dr. Sue McDonald. Unfortunately, Shane may not be able to attend as he may be stuck on a job. Nonetheless, the show must go on. At this point, the ultrasound will be able to indicate the gender. To add excitement to surprise, we will not be finding out the gender. We're going old school yo. We're living on the edge. We're just praying for a healthy Kitchstar. Otherwise, we look forward to the big surprise! There's something about not knowing that will make the arrival of Kitchstar even more captivating. So get your bets on boys, the pool is on!

Shellie's Proverb: A dish without salt is bland.

Thus far, my pregnancy has been smooth. Knock, knock on wood. Not one visit to the porcelain queen. Girls, I swear by ginger root. If any of your are suffering from mild or heavy morning sickness, simply steep ginger root in hot water and I promise there's hope. My weight gain is only in my belly. My food cravings are dormant. I'm keeping active with swimming and prenatal yoga. Over and out this is the Kitchens bidding you tata for now.

Lesson: A Grasshopper must practice the art of appreciation to become master of his own temple.

The truth is always a surprise!

Disclaimer: No fur-bearing animals were harmed during the creation of this entry. Allergy alert: may contain cinnamon, but I doubt it. Return for refund where applicable. Not recommended for persons with sugar-restricted diets. Batteries are included -- good luck finding them. May cause irritability, frightmares or warts after prolonged use. Contents under pressure. BHT added to preserve freshness. Caution: this product has caused some laboratory rats to tear through their cages, fly across the room and brutally murder hundreds of innocent people. Shake well before using. No vacuum tubes or other user-serviceable parts inside. Not to be combined with other radioisotopes except under the advice of a physician. Avoid prolonged exposure to ultraviolet light. The truth is out there. Use no zippers. Not intended for use by children or liberals under the age of five. Printed on unrecycled dead trees and we're proud of it.

I cannot preface the abundant surprises that I incur everyday. It's truly amazing. A miracle. Am I ridding myself of this larvae existence and finally getting my medal to butterfly? I am privileged to experience such an opportunity to morph.

I'm sure you've come to your wits end listening about how my stomach is growing, but it's stretching at epic proportions! It's like a huge solid growing ball. Kitchstar hasn't started doing the Irish jig in my belly, yet there has been moments of minimal cramping like a quick pinching jolt. Is it normal? It makes sense, the body is accommodating growth spurts by stretching and pulling. Furthermore, an occasional sneeze sometimes sends additional pain in the core of my belly! Pregnancy and painless? Gimme a break sister. Note to self, please inquire with Dr. Sue McDonald as to the normality of this cramping.

Headaches. Apparently, it's common during the first trimester, but hello I'm in my second. Personally, I could do without the torture. Headaches? I get them once a year. Lately, they're as common as fruit flys in the summer. I don't understand, I've been indulging in many glasses of water a day. I eat well. I receive ample rest. I'm finally regular, but I won't mention the personality of my stool samples which are completely miraculous themselves. I must make an appointment with my Chinese acupuncturist. I adore eastern medicine it is utterly amazing. The evidence is clear, just look at the average life span of a Chinese person.

Shellie's Proverb: A plant with no fruit is unbearable.
Got leakage? Exactly. It's disgusting! My faucet downstairs drip, drips, drippin'. Normal? Honestly, it's like my urine seal is dysfunctional. Oddly enough, it's not urine. It's stuff of milky consistency. Blah, yuck, eek! Oh, the horror! Today, I walked from my office to the bathroom and every alternate stride a squirt of liquid gave way. I was befuddled! Has my bladder gone weak? What the phuu? As I sat in the bathroom stall, slacks off and panties down, urine was not my culprit, it was milky. No, it wasn't an infection that consisted of feta cheese or any dairy curd of the sort, it was white liquid. Note to self, please mention the daily discharge to Dr. Sue McDonald.

Furthermore, bosoms, boobs, whiffle balls, in the scientific term, breasts are lawless. How do women do it? I went from flat to fluff riding on the rails that it could be frisky. Nay, this pair is weighty and nipples are pout it could blind Helen Keller. One word, cumbersome. Jesus lord of bras, show me the way? I hear you naggy women rolling your eyes in the background, "Sheeyat, have fun with them? Dress'em up!" I do dress up except directly south there's a heap of rising belly that's as discreet as the great wall of China.

I have come to accept that every woman is different, yet I know I am not alone. Isolated incident? Not by the hair of my chiny chin chin. What the future has up it's mischievous sleeve is just a sunrise away. Thus far, I am very fortunate to be experiencing a healthy pregnancy. My heart goes out to those women who haven't had such luck. For those of you who have romanticized pregnancy, I used to be that way too until surprises began to sprout like warts on a witches nose. If they are any other women who can vouch for my transition, "holluh!" Indeed, pregnancy is a miracle and I look forward to embracing every swelling inch of it.

Lesson: A Grasshopper that doesn't remain on his toes will never be surprised.

Harmony

As my wardrobe begin to cease blood circulation, I decided it was time. Purge. Sniffle. It was my time to face the music. Sob. I began to remove the items that were inappropriate for my pregnancy. I began to slide my goal items i.e. mid riff and relinquishing my early twenties into the past. This was healthy for me. It was my last farewell to my foolery. It was time to fess up and act my age. Now, grow the hell up.

I folded my clothing that delusionally kept me hanging on. "Change is always good," I remind myself trying to maintain a positive attitude. As my belly hasn't popped outward, the buttons and zippers on my pants are telling me different. As I neatly fold my clothing, I wonder to myself if I'll ever fit into my designer jeans again. I am slightly ill with the idea that maybe that setting sun shall never set. I'm scared. The sight of stretch marks. The future of saggy boobs. As DJ Hughley, Kings of Comedy, once said, "Women they're always worried about their bodies. They're nails. Shit! Stretch marks, soppy titties, bad nails never stopped a man from wanting to have sex with a woman." In those words, I find motivation and inspiration. Regardless, Shane is stuck with my stretch marks and soppy titties till death do us part. Chuckle.

On the brighter side of the moon, most of my friends that are moms have dropped significant weight when nursing and have maintained to keep it off. Maxine, Meaghan and Zaachila look phenomenal! Can I be so fortunate! There's a little faith that I can keep in my pocket. Regardless, I have to remind myself to expect nothing. Subsequent to giving birth, will I be concerned with weight? Will I be so preoccupied with the infant that I would take on the persona of a slob? Are my concerns simply superficial? Is my need to self preserve just short for selfish? I just don't find a reason to let myself go, if I don't have to. Sometimes fate just has it in for you from the start.

Shellie's Proverb: A slug with no motivation wouldn't get it anywhere.
One refrigerator box load of clothes and an hour later, my closet and my two dressers were cohesive. Uncluttered. Neat. Although to any other person it would remain to be seen as just a hunk of clothes. Shrug, I can't help it, I'm a sucker to fashion. As my Virgo reared it's organized brain from under the shrubbery, I psychotically began to take on the tidal project of the living room. Our living room and dining room that sheltered our clutter of knick knacks, artwork, guitar, paper work. How it got to this point all falls on me. Since we were moving out soon, it would be productive to get the packing party started. I couldn't see past the medley of junk that orchestrated this madness. I was riding hard on my Zen wave. Needless to say Shane was pleased to see my motivation in cleanliness as a rarity. Myriads of piles heaped up in the middle of the room consisting of donations, trash, filing, and photos. This was a video camera moment, as I am not a typical Virgo, this was my eclipse.

Later that night, we sat on our couch admiring the simplicity. The absence of the rubbish really brought sparkle to our home. The candles brought a blanket of warmth to our surrounding. It was cozy. In the grand scheme of things, I was making room for the baby mentally and physically. "Do you think we can keep it like this?" Shane inquired. "I don't know," I chuckled, "but we can always try." For the first time in a long time, I felt a sense of fulfillment. A well rounded sense of accomplishment overwhelmed my soul.

Lesson: A Grasshopper must always give in to the way of the wind to live in harmony.

Cheese

Alien abduction or the Attack of the Body Snatchers, choose your sword. Pregnancy has the tendencies of being uncontrollable and unforeseeable. Just when I thought it was safe in the world of Shellie, my gums gave way to blood from a gentle morning brush. Seriously, it was like I was gargling blood. Heck, could it be all the sugar babies I was popping like pills? I quit smoking three years ago, yet I could be paying for it now? Could it be that I avoid the dentist like church on Sundays? Not too keen, I know. My concern for the well being of my gums was now code red. If I lost my teeth before forty, simply because I procrastinate, will be with the understanding that it was deserved. Thankfully, I have a dentist appointment tomorrow.

According to pregnancy facts, about fifty percent of pregnant women's gums bleed from flossing and brushing due to higher progesterone levels, which make gums react more to the bacteria in plaque, in addition to, the increased blood supply to my mouth. If not cared for it could develop into periodontitis, a more serious form of gum disease in which the infection goes beyond your gums into the bone and other tissue that support teeth. Some studies have even found that pregnant women with these conditions are significantly more likely to go into labor prematurely. Other research has shown an associate between chronic gum disease and preeclampsia, a serious pregnancy complication marked by high blood pressure and protein in the urine. I must brush after every meal to prevent this.

Shellie's Proverb: A man with no teeth is careless, although a donkey with beautiful teeth is still a jackass.
As I’ve scratched my butt with my dental benefits, my teeth and gums suffer the procrastination blow. Robert Fuji, forte teeth, worked hard for his dollar. He scraped the mortar off my teeth until his arm fell off. Poor guy! Frankly, Mr. Fuji was sweating his sack off. My teeth will fullfill his nightmares full of squirms and screams. He'll wish he's never met me. As his weariness settled in and his hands shook from much scraping, he concurred that gum vulnerability is common in pregnancies. Between gums, hormones, weight gain, appetite swings, frequent urination, irregularity the only good thing going is my voluptuous bosoms that weigh like two mini pot belly pigs.

To think that mom went through it ten times. What a machine! My hero! To think that women all over the world squirt these suckers out, is miraculous! Thus far it’s been fourteen weeks and I feel that my quibbling have been perpetual. I try to keep my complaints to a pittance, but where would the condition of this blog be? I need to revel in the joy of this special Kitchstar. How about a limbo party at a midget convention! I need to cease my clucking! Seriously, is everyone in agreement? I don’t enjoy listening to my clamor so why should anyone else? I need to hold a blithe outlook and soak in the bliss of our great fruition. Optimism. Giggle. So here’s to brushing, flossing, and to a healthy and sublime pregnancy!

Lesson: A stable Grasshopper must always take a bite of the meatier section of the pork bun.

Nesting

For those of you who are able to nest, consider yourselves lucky. I, on the other hand, live in limbo land. I live in a land of delays, permits, construction, and spontaneity. I live in a chaotic world that is ever changing and evolving. As we anticipate for the permits to go through, which may arrive at any moment, we will be forced to seek shelter in another home. Seeking shelter is not a problem as our resources are plenty. It’s adapting to another environment that reeks.

This pregnant woman is mourning the one important aspect of having a child. That is the nesting period. I believe that I am secretly and silently freaking out, but mums the word. I mean I should be relaxing and taking it easy, but in the back of my mind the rumbling of the storm is brewing. The thought of moving into another home and turning that into a cozy household only to move one last time into the house that we were previously in is really menacing.

Shellie’s Proverb: A zebra with no stripes is just a horse.
I should look on the bright side. A year from now, we’ll be in a beautiful home that we’ll never have to depart, but I live in the moment. The forecast for the next six months should be positive, but all I can feel is anxiety. Is this good for the pregnancy? Is it good for me? I have put off looking at baby essentials to avoid the packing and moving nonsense never mind looking into a nursery. There are worse things in the world like soldiers dying in Iraq for an invalid purpose that is unknown to me, but come on.

Shane’s positive with the future. Sometimes I would even say clueless from my perspective. It’s different now. It’s different, because we have a potential baby that will throw a wrench into the spokes. I believe he’s doing his best to provide a home for us and I honestly appreciate his efforts, although I cringe at the idea.

I am trying my best to make my first pregnancy a memorable event, but it’s really hard knowing we’re going to be nomads. Is it selfish? Is it normal? I never had a nursery when I was born so what’s the big ordeal? Am I being absolutely yuppie? I chose this life from the beginning. That's right, I’m not walking into a brick wall knowing that I did not have a thing or two to do with piling the bricks. Buying houses just to flip it was convenient for the bank account, but is now fluent to my insanity. Sob.

Lesson: An organized Grasshopper can never predict fate.

Sew What!

As my belly begins to rise like a round piece of dough so my wardrobe becomes hideously limited. I’ve been fighting the world of elastic waistband, empire cut blouses, and baby doll dresses. Instead, I’ve been coercing my waistline to squeeze into my usuals. Does the term, “Snap into a Slim Jim,” come to mind? I’ve dabbled into the maternity clothing galaxy, and I’m appalled by the cost and the production. Designers are making a whopping kill on such drab outfits. Well except for the Gap, because they have such adorable shrugs and chunky sweaters. Although Paper Denim, Habituals, Diane Von Furstenberg have all jumped on the band wagon. It’s incredibly horrible.

Some people knit while others crochet, but I prefer the art of sewing. Last week, I stopped by the fabric store to select some really fabulous material. I will proceed to sew my maternity clothes while my short legs can still reach the pedal. Why not? I enjoy sewing and I’ve been doing it since the seventh grade. If you observe very carefully, most maternity clothing entail elastic and empire waistline. So it won’t be too long before my wardrobe will expand to match my waistline.

Shellie’s Proverb: A flower with no petals is just a bud.
Purely, I am not vain, yet I like to be polished? Not a crime. This body is blowing up like a hot air balloon and I refuse to look like a galoot when it happens. I’m okay with my portliness, but is it a felony to be stylish? Why should I give in to stretchy polyester blends or gabardines? Therefore, I will remain true to myself. I will not give into the dark forces of drab stretch cotton and velour scoop neck blouses.

Instead of decompressing in front of the television, I can do both! I can simultaneously be lazy and productive, the perfect antithesis. Designer I’m not, seamstress I’m barely. I have an empty closet to fill, regardless, these clothes are not a one time showing. The Kitchens are procreating for humanity.

Lesson: Smart grasshopper must learn to make rice before he can eat it.

Shriek!

The second trimester has been enchanting! Hallelujah, there is sunshine outside of this viperous black hole. I am a spry spring chicken! On Saturday, I took Chloe for a hike at Fort Funston. All this energy has me feeling like I could sprint to the top of Mount Everest. Well, you catch my drift. A month ago, this slug couldn't make it off the couch. I am making it a point to get my cardio and free weights on. Yes, I am enrolling in prenatal yoga, but there's something about yoga that bores me to timbers. Certainly, I understand the circumference of benefits that yoga provides, but the whole breathing, stretching, and meditating is so deathly monotonous. Please don't get me wrong, besides the fact that I am as limber as concrete , I used to be yoga obsessed that was until I discovered boxing. I'm just in bliss with my butt not imprisoned to the couch.

Shellie's Proverb: Never trust a tortoise that doesn't come out of his shell.

My food cravings have dwindled and I'm back to par. Well, I did give into a sausage mcmuffin on Sunday, my husband nursed a slight hangover, but that didn't stop me from noshing on two hash browns. So besides that stumble, I'm back on the organic and cage free kick. Eating healthy is crucial. Considering that I live in San Francisco, makes it easier for me to enforce the organic and free range code. Are you kidding? It's all the rage in this city from the neighborhood store to the restaurants. I'm just glad that I don't live in the South or Midwest where I would be subject to trans fat, high caloric and portions the size of an elephants caboose. (Please insert sense of humor here.)

I am thrilled to disco that I can make it through meals without doing a face plant into my meal. I am joyous to know that I can fulfill my chores and errands without forfeit. I am enraptured by the change in the weather. As I have been threatened by the forecast of the third semester in which my narcolepsy relapse may occur. For the next two and half months, I will bask in the rays of my second trimester sunshine. Happy days are here again!

Lesson: A young Grasshopper must always go off the path to discover direction to Shaolin.

Top Dawg

A few concerns have arisen regarding the almighty Kitchen household. Is the honeymoon over? Are the walls crumbling? Has it gone awry? Keep your jock straps on sister Mary(s), surely everything is fine. My hormone faucets ruptured, it happens. Shane is safe and so am I. We are all cool like pickled cucumbers. It's just sometimes I tend to magnify my rantings a thousand fold. My confessions are a merely a heavy exertion on events. Certainly, without disagreements, improvements would cease to exist. Don't worry loyal Shane fans he has come out unscathed. He is well aware of my entries, considering that he contributes to my daily dallies.

Shellie's Proverb: A country with no rice always goes hungry.

Perhaps, he is freaking out about the baby, as he should. As the male species can never put the trigger on their emotions, my husband proceeds to increase his extra curriculars. That's normal too and it's all malleable. I'll take that over a wife beater any day. I've been with musicians, gamers, and techies and that my friend is mental abuse. Regardless, I don't blame my bout with hormones exclusively. In the past years, I've learned to tame that wild animal we women refer to as PMS, although this spontaneous hormonal flux is a tasmanian terror.

We're doing a great job thus far. It's been a little choppy, but nothing that we can't hack. So you loyal members of Shane's fan club can take a big whiff of your jock straps, because it's all going to be alright. He's still on for the annual Golf Tournament in Scottsdale. I am forcing his attendance to Carr's wedding in Texas. We have an understanding with snowboarding. A don't ask and don't tell policy. The Kitchen dome is in tact. Shrill.

Lesson: Grasshopper must suffer most terribly to achieve enlightness.