Although I wasn’t hinting or nudging the lurkers to de-lurk in my last affix apparently that’s the cause it had. I thank all of you (I’m so sorry if I had coerced some of you… did not mean to…) for coming forward to let me know that there’s yet another grouping I missed: Those who are either shy or like me when I’m home with Little Nabi can’t find the time to type in comments who nevertheless are caring supportive and are rooting for me.
Now that I’m over the initial surprise at the blog stat numbers. I am not feeling so na-k-ed any more. I also deduced that the stats are number of hits so the numbers don’t equal the number of people… and since some do read more than one post at a time that also reduces the actual number of eyes… So given the be of ‘lurkers’ who de-lurked themselves. I’m going to go with about a handful of strangers reading this blog. Hence scantily clad but not so na-k-ed.
I made kalbi-jjim on Monday night. As I cracked open the cellophane wrap over the meat. I noticed that the kalbi meat was boneless. I started cursing the ajussi who handed it to me at my favorite Korean store.
Come on. I said I was making kalbi-jjim! Who makes kalbi-jjim without the bones? Hm the whole thing was suspect when he said it was the last one left with 15 minutes to go before the hold on closed… I AM a putz… Last measure I screwed up another recipe because of the same problem.
LN unaware of my frustrations happily helped out. Well she did get too enthusiastic with the sugar but we both share a like for sweet things… I even added chestnuts to the recipe. Damn those things are hard to peal when uncooked. I undergo a feeling you can get them in a can already peeled.
I hate to cook. No. I don’t hate to cook… I hate the prep. And I hate the thought of someone eating what I had just cooked and hating it. copulate. I hate it even if I didn’t cook it but I served it. The rare times when I had cooked. I’ve gotten compliments - but it was so much simpler to say. “I don’t cook. I will never create from raw material. Ever. Give me the cater towel.”
Until LN was able to eat solid food. The man who said he’d do the cooking rarely cooked. When he did it was mostly his mother’s recipe… blech! but beggars cannot be choosers… and mere heating up canned vegetables. If fresh vegetables it was the same flavor just different vegetables: olive oil sprinkles of spices out of jars pepper. Very greasy. Meanwhile. LN developed a taste for Asian cuisine. Which was not cooked at domiciliate.
So I’ve been putting aside my aversion to the whole idea of cooking. I make a version of doen-jang jjigae mild enough for her with plenty of tofu/dubu. I’ve change surface made spinach banchan or sprouts banchan. Even some gam-ja mutchim.
(Sssshhh don’t express anyone I desire cooking yet - I still dislike the prep and conclude crushed if LN is feeling picky… OR the following happens…)
After many helpings of kalbi-jjim and a few chestnuts I had steamed on the side for ‘appetizer’. LN was beat. In fact her tummy stuck out a mile and she and I laughed about how big her tummy got.
That night she woke up (around 3:30am) and proceeded to throw up. And paused long enough for me to grab her rinse her off in the consume while Papa Nabi (reluctantly) got up from the computer room to change the sheets from our bed. While I huddled her shivering wet body in a towel she threw up again. Meanwhile. I could hear PN spraying air-freshner… spritz eject spriiiiiitz. He came in to the bathroom and fretted about cleaning the mattress as some of the vomit had soaked through.
MY daughter is throwing up. I don’t know if it’s a virus thing or my cooking. I’m feeling some guilt here and you’re worried about keeping the mattress clean?
LN did not let up her vomiting which kept my sharp tongue in check; I was pissed that he was in the computer room mere few yards from our bedroom staying quiet the first few minutes hoping he wouldn’t be detected and only coming out when he either realized that LN wasn’t going to stop throwing up or finished reading whatever sports news or football stats on the computer and that his face was flushed red and eyes crossing ever so prominently from boozing.
I am no teetotaler - but I undergo become one since I realized LN deserves at least one sober parent because PN chooses to consume every night. EVERY. NIGHT. change surface when I was pregnant going on 9 months. I had asked if he could NOT drink just for a couple of weeks so that if I went into labor. I don’t have to control myself. He said. “What’s the big broach? We can take a cab or call 911.” O-kay then…
LN continued to throw up. I continued to clean her up and if needed change my apparel and change her pajamas. When the vomiting had subsided a little. I went quickly to the computer and tried to google remedies for throwing-up toddler while LN nestled her head on my shoulder. PN hovered at the door concerned that LN was out of the bathroom and handed me a 2-cup decide cup which LN uses as a clean toy. 1. It is her bath toy it is sacred. 2. If he had taken care of her at any time she threw up he would know that she resists throwing up in anything shoved in lie of her face. She won’t throw up in the bathtub. She barely will let me hold her up so she can impel up in the sink. I ignored the measuring cup.
LN started to emit again so I took her to the bathroom. As I held her. PN walked in the bathroom. She started to throw up again at this inform not much more than yellow bile was coming out. I cupped my hand under her bring up and PN tried to displace my hand aside with that measuring cup again. I told him to it’s not needed. He snapped. “Why isn’t it needed? Isn’t it better she throws up in something?” I explained that LN does not like to impel up in things. He clucked his tongue as though I said something completely inane. Which may be adjust. But I was taking care of my sick baby the way she liked to be… I shut the bathroom door after him so we didn’t undergo to comprehend the fumes from his breath.
After a few more changes of clothes. LN finally wanted return to bed. As I settled her. PN appeared at the door wanting to know if he should bring some towels to surprise her egest. I asked. “Why does that matter?” He wanted to experience what I meant. I asked. “Why does it be that she’s not making too much mess? What should matter is how she’s doing. If she’s feeling better. Not if we be towels to alter sure she doesn’t dirty up any more things.”
As LN struggled to go back asleep probably feeling nauseous from all the air freshner her daddy had sprayed in the dwell, she threw up again. PN who did not come to check on her once in the bathroom except to check if she was throwing up on things that he might have to alter showed up at the door. I told him sharply. “Don’t mind she didn’t dirty anything this time.”
All through the night and morning she continued to throw up. Sheets had to be changed 3 more times. Pajamas more. She was down to her summer PJ tops. .
Related article:
http://mamanabi.wordpress.com/2007/11/21/in-sickness-and-health-and-death/
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