Bionic Mamas

you're not losing a vagina, you're gaining a son


Comfort Crafting

Sugar here. I have not been feeling super about a) not getting the job/promotion I applied for at my office and b) now having to work under the person I competed against and c) not being able to just f-ing quit. Obviously now is the time to do lots of craft projects, which usually make me feel a lot better. I knitted fingerless gloves for myself, mittens for the bean (which he won’t try on, but I know once it’s freezing out he will wear) and started a fair isle pattern hat. Also, and this is the exciting part, I decided that I was never going to have time to make the sofa cover we desperately need while the bean was asleep. So…I just made it while he “helped.” I actually showed him how to use pins and he did indeed help me pin my pattern to the fabric. This was slower than me doing it myself, but WAY faster than trying to put him off while I did a thing he wasn’t allowed to do.

We’re done!

In which no one stabs any fingers…

This picture is a total lie, in that our apartment is not neat, nor do we usually have tulips hanging around.


Those tulips, by the way, are a result of the Bean’s habit of saying “I just want a flower to make me happy…” whenever he is tired or sad. Bionic got him some the last time she went shopping.


Still dreaming about Giraffe

Sugar here. Remember this? And this? Well, I’m still working on it, veeerrrry slooowwwly. Here we go with pages 2 and 3 from my story about Giraffe:

Giraffe had a ticket to the city. He wanted to live a glamourous life.

So, Giraffe left home.

Coming next, a scene inside the train, as soon as I figure out how to draw a cricket wearing cat eye glasses.

When I was a kid my mom’s best friend and my “fairy god mother” was a children’s book writer and illustrator. I loved getting new books from her. She gave me a book called Hello Irina when I was very small. In it, a horse takes a boat and then a train from Russia to the coast of France to be with the wild white horses she has heard about. I stared at the picture of the horse on the edge of the field dreaming about leaving home for what felt like hours. (Now that I know a two-year-old, I realize this was probably more like 10 minutes.) I didn’t realize it until I was home this summer and saw the book again, but Giraffe’s story is a lot like Irina’s. The Bean loved Hello Irina when he saw it at my parents’ house this summer, so I have hope that he will like Giraffe.


video interlude

Hi everyone, Sugar here. Bionic told me yesterday that she very much appreciates everyone’s supportive comments on her last post and is still working on processing everything. In the meantime, I thought you might enjoy some video of the Bean:

Saying goodbye to me in the morning:

And loving the Google Doodle from yesterday.

And I would also like to personally thank Google for inspiring the Bean to allow me to practice the piano. I told him I could play Clair de Lune if he would let me at the keys without freaking out, and he did! Progress!


things that go bump in the night

Sugar here again. We’ve apparently entered a phase where the Bean finds a lot of things scary. A LOT of things. Like dogs. And the moment in the movie just before the toys get to meet the train. (Because of the narrative tension? I have no idea.) This past month I seem to be the idiot who is set on introducing him to the scary things. Go me!

The first case in point: kids night at the Botanic Garden. Kids night was supposed to feature a puppet show about vegetables. This did not seem terrifying to me in any way. Unfortunately, however, it featured not puppet-sized puppets, but tall adults dressed up as gigantic vegetables, screaming into microphones. (Pro tip: the reason to have a microphone is so that you don’t have to scream, but I digress.) I had walked over to the show with the Bean and was cheerfully pointing out a large eggplant wearing glasses when I realized the Bean was shaking. Actually shaking! I immediately walked him away again, but when we got back to our picnic blanket all he wanted to do was leave. “Where is that purple guy? That purple guy wearing sunglasses and a carrot on his head? I don’t like that purple guy. Where is he? Is he coming here?” We’ve been fielding questions like these for weeks now.

eat your veggieeeeeess………

Then, a couple of nights ago, I read the Bean Owl at Home. In that book is what I thought was a charming story about Owl getting frightened by his own feet under the covers because they looked like two lumps. I finished reading that story, which ends with Owl deciding to sleep in his chair, and was going on to the next one when I heard a small voice say, “those lumps are scaring me.” Fantastic. I’m scaring the Bean right before bed. Brilliant.

So, I showed the Bean what my feet look like under a sheet and explained that the lumps were just feet. Isn’t that funny? Just feet! He laughed. Then two seconds later he said, “the lumps are scary. I don’t like the lumps.”


So then I tried to demonstrate with the Bean’s own feet. This entailed me running around the room looking for an acceptable blanket. (He hates all blankets.) “I don’t like that blanket.” “Okay, but it’s just for a minute, to demonstrate!” “I don’t like that blanket.” “What about this blanket?” “I don’t like that blanket either.”

I finally found an old muslin baby blanket that he would consent to have draped over his feet. We made two lumps. He laughed. But I’m still not certain that the scary lumps are forgotten.

On the other hand, the Bean is also doing a terrific job of scaring us. The day after the purple guy incident, he woke up in the morning, turned to me and said, “There’s a ghost coming across the street.”

“Really? What does it look like?” I asked.

“It’s gray. It has a large head and two legs. It’s coming to our apartment. To look at us.”

In my head I heard “I see dead people…”

Then, just yesterday, he told Bionic that the gray ghost was coming to our building again. This time, it wasn’t going to come to our apartment, but the reason it was coming to our building was to look for people. To eat.


Food for Difficult Days

Sugar here. Bionic says all she wants to eat this pregnancy is meat, and also, that spicy food makes her tummy feel better (?) so on Sunday I tried this recipe for the East African version of meat-in-a-pocket. It took two hours from start to finish, but it sure was a tasty breakfast. (Disclaimer if you try this – it is NOT HEALTH FOOD. Also, after reading a few other recipes, I didn’t use a whole egg in each, but instead poured a little beaten egg over the meat before sealing the packet). If you are very considerate of your health, you are going to want to get a dental check up and learn about dentures depending on your age.

Here I am making them:
And eating!

Then yesterday I had my horrible eight-hour job interview (I’m trying to get promoted). Eight hours is not an exaggeration. I started at 9 am at HR and ended at 5:05 pm in my boss’s office. In between, I had a jury of my peers (9:30-10:45), a jury of everybody else in management (11-12:30), lunch interview with my boss and more peers (12:45-1:45), interviews with faculty (2:00-3:00), led a discussion for most of the above (3:15-4:00) and then interviewed with my boss again (4:00-5:00). Then I nearly died. Thankfully, I had some natural stress relief products on hand to help tide me over for the next few hours more.

When I got home Bionic made me a dinner of risotto, garlic spinach, and ethical veal (well, as ethical as eating a baby animal can be, anyway). It was delicious. And thank you Jenny F. Scientist for sending her the recipe!


I held a tiny sleeping bundle and now I’m sappy

Sugar here. I’m writing this post even though we haven’t gotten past the nuchal yet (the appointment is Monday). I feel a bit superstitious about writing anything at all about Bionic’s pregnancy until after we hear those results, but here I am doing it anyway.

Yesterday evening Bionic and I took dinner to our neighbors across the hall who just had a new baby and got their clothes online, find more about it at this site. Our friend answered the door and talked to us for some time with the new little guy sleeping against her chest. Eventually I mentioned that I hadn’t seen him in the flesh before, and she just up and handed him to me. And there he was in my arms contentedly sleeping away, and there I was feeling all mushy. I do not think of myself as a baby person, but holding that tiny baby suddenly made our decision to try to have another one seem so great.

Before last night I was not feeling not-great, but I was feeling apprehensive about sleep deprivation, our lack of space, the inevitable question of money, etc., etc., and nothing about the new possible baby felt real yet. Now it feels real. I am so grateful to our neighbor for jolting me past that hurdle BEFORE the new baby arrives this time.

In other news, I spent last night in a very narrow bed with a toddler and six (six!) very pointy toy trucks. I am hoping one thing this new baby may do is sleep better than the bean, egads.