Updates

Good thing this laundry was clean when Rex rolled around in it...

The blog is back. Tell your friends.

Update~ Breastfeeding is still mad hard. However, pumping is a gift from above. I pump in the morning after I feed Michael and I get two good bottles that go into the freezer. We are building up a great supply. When I first started pumping and giving Michael the bottle I really loved it. I found it so much easier to bond with him in that moment, as crazy as that might sound to people who love the breastfeeding experience. I found it so much more enjoyable to sit with him and interact with him. No worries of latching on or pain or keeping him latched on or pain or pain. So I thought I would give him breast milk in a bottle exclusively and just pump, pump, pump. Turns out that's possible, but very unrealistic if you plan to do anything other than pump. So we have the milk in the freezer on reserve. I can rest assured that I can leave the house for more than two and a half hours at a time. L can feed him when he wants, and he's awesome about getting up with him during the night on the weekends. I can defrost some bottles if we are going out for the day and not have to worry about taking Michael into another room to nurse when we are in the middle of doing something social. I still nurse him ninety percent of the time but, I like knowing that I have it as an option.

Michael's got a bit of a cold. Two nights ago, L and I got absolutely no sleep. We laid in bed and listened to him fight with his nose to breathe. He's been congested pretty much since we brought him home from the hospital. I had called the doctor's office a few times, and the nurses assured me that it was normal fluid from when he was on the inside and from being born and it would work itself out. Now he's nearly seven weeks old and not only was it not getting better, but it seemed to be getting worse. And after that awful night of sleep and a little bit of a cough, I said enough is enough and I called the doctor for him to be seen. Basically he's got a cold. Unfortunately, there's little you can do about it because he's so young. We elevated his mattress and turned on the humidifier and try to suck out the snot. Last night's sleep was better than the night before and hopefully it was continue to get better. In the meantime, he's still happy and cute as a bean.

This tsunami stuff is terrible. The news footage of the water coming in is incredible. I can't imagine the fear and sadness those people are feeling. And here we are in Connecticut worried about some rain...

The blog is back. Tell your friends.

Yesterday I:

drove my car for the first time in nearly two weeks.

had *real* sushi for the first time in nearly nine months. (Yummm Alaska roll)

went to Stew Leonard's for the first time in nearly three weeks.

fed my baby nine times.

slept for four and a half hours at one time. (cause my kid's cool like that)

changed my son's outfit four times because his pee can penetrate through just about anything.

stroked his hand as he clutched my finger while he ate each of those nine times.

still, nearly two weeks later, tried to grasp that this is my son. I am his mother.

I still don't think it has sunk in.

The Sprouting of a Bean

Saturday January 22nd started out like every other Saturday. L went to the gym and came home around 10:30. I had been having contractions during the night and that morning, but not with any regularity so I wasn't too concerned at that point. But my womanly intuition told me that I needed to take a shower, needed to shave my legs, needed to put the nursing night gowns Dee gave me into my hospital bag.

We were all set to leave to go to Stew's and I went to go to the bathroom. Blood. Something wasn't right. "Change of plans" I said to L. I called the on-call doctor from my office who said she didn't think there was anything to worry about but why don't we meet her at the hospital to make sure. We rushed around to get the dogs settled and throw our hospital bags in the car, just in case.

At Labor and Delivery we went into a triage room where a midwife took my vitals and prepared for an internal exam. You are between 2 and 3 centimeter dilated, she said. And it looks like your water broke too. The nurse started to look for a vein for an IV. I said, are we doing this because we think we're staying? She looked at me and said, you're not going anywhere, dear, you're going to have a baby, probably in the next 24 hours. And at 12 noon we were admitted.

They moved us down to the birthing room and we got settled in. How long do you think, L said. Could be 12 hours, could be 24 hours, just got to wait it out, our new nurse Meredith said.

My contractions still weren't regular so at 3pm we started on Pitocin. The contractions came stronger and more regular, but I was dilating slowly. I stayed at 3 cm for quite a while. It seemed like forever. But the contractions were getting stronger and closer together. I could see how much it pained L to see me in so much pain. I could see how much it was hurting him to see me hurt. He said, do you want to think about the epidural? Do you want me to get the nurse? And ironically the nurse walked in. If you want the epidural, this is the time to do it. I wouldn't wait much longer than this, she said. So at 7pm the anesthesiologist and his little helpers came in.

Getting an epidural is not fun. Seriously, not fun.

Let's take a step back for a minute. I had gone to the doctor on Thursday. Wasn't dilated. Wasn't effaced. Beaner hadn't dropped. Friday afternoon I went and walked the mall because the doctor said it might help him make his decent. Friday night we went out for dinner and I had spaghetti with sausage because they said spicy might help. So there you have it.

Let's take another step back. We went to the hospital because I was bleeding. Normal, they told me. But it didn't stop. All through my contractions, all those hours, I bled. And bled. Normal, they told me. Now, I've never birthed a baby, but it seemed like a lot of blood. No one seemed concerned, so I tried to go with the flow. (haha).

So its 7pm and I got my epidural and things were better. L got comfy and we watched part of Good Will Hunting and part of Transformers and part of The Dark Knight. At 11pm they checked my progress and I was 8 cm. Yay.

At 1 am the contractions were worse. My mother keeps saying that she doesn't understand how you can push if you can't feel your legs or the contractions. Trust me, I could feel my legs and I could definitely feel the contractions. The nurse came in and checked and Ta-da!! 10cm and fully effaced! Let's get this party started she said. L was asleep and when he woke up the lights were on and people were there. What's happening? What's wrong? Is she in labor? Yes, she's in labor, we are going to start pushing.

The on-call doctor came in and the pushing began. Long story short, there was a lot of "You're not trying hard enough!" and "You need to do better!" and "Stop your crying!" She was lovely and we clicked right away.... grrr. But at 3:15am the Beaner arrived, no longer just a bean. He was a 6 pound, 20 and a half inch long little boy. Michael Benjamin was here. L cried and I cried and we were a family.

My blood pressure was low and I was feeling crappy. I held little Michael while L made calls to the new grandparents. We told them to stay home and come in the morning, and they actually listened.

Michael was all set to go to the nursery for his bath and some tests, and I still felt crappy. They took little Michael and wheeled us to our recovery room. L and slept until they brought Michael back to us around 7am.

Dizzy and light headed, I tentatively held my baby and watched L hold our baby. (It was the first time he ever held a baby!)

Long story short, everyone came and saw the new addition to the families. In the meantime, I couldn't keep any food down and I got up twice to go to the bathroom, and proceeded to pass out both times. Scary for me, probably scarier for everyone else. I was scared to get out of bed, scared to hold my baby. Finally someone wanted to do something and they suggested a blood transfusion. My blood levels were low and it could take over a week to bounce back on its own. (Humm, thought they didn't think I lost a lot of blood??) I wasn't going home light headed and afraid to hold my baby. Blood transfusion it was. And by the next morning I did feel better. And was able to hold my baby. And bond with my baby.

We left the hospital on Tuesday, and here we are. Saturday we woke up thinking we were going for samples at Stew Leonard's and ended up with a baby. Our baby. Our beaner. Michael Benjamin.

The Beaner!

Michael Benjamin arrived on Sunday January 23 at 3:15am. He was 20 and a half inches long and weighed 6 pounds! He's beautiful. I think we'll keep him!!

Weighty issues

A snow day from school on a day where it doesn't actually snow until almost 3 o'clock is the best day ever.

In case you were wondering, I am still not dialated or effaced or any of those things they use use to measure if you are "progressing". However, Dr. Just Graduated From My Residency also assured me that this is not any indication of when I will have my Beaner. Then on the phone I told my husband that I feel a little bit like he wants to stay in there forever. But then I regained reality and assured my husband, The Father To Be, that this is just not possible. He will come out eventually. To which he said, "Get outta my belly!" And we both laughed. I love my husband.

We were talking recently about how I never really had any cravings during my pregnancy. No "I need pizza now or I'm going to kill you" or anything like that. I was into ice tea for a while, and hot chocolate, but those where just passing fads, really. My only aversion has been to my former BFF coffee. Amazing really, I never would have thought I could get through the day without it. I have, however started eating apples and drinking orange juice, two things I never used to eat. I think I've had a Granny Smith apple just about every day for the last 8 months. I love them and it makes the Beaner do a kick boxing routine, and that makes me happy. The orange juice I started to drink because Dee told me it would make The Bean move. At first it worked, but then I think he got tired and said enough already. But I like the taste and oddly it doesn't give me crazy heartburn like it did pre-pregnancy.

Lately though I have been so into sugar. Wednesday night I said to L, I would love some ice cream. To which he replied, no I don't really want any. To which I replied, I didn't ask if you wanted any. And a half hour later he was on his way to the store to buy ice cream (and whip cream and chocolate syrup). Thursday for breakfast I had a hot chocolate and a Boston cream donut. And ice cream after dinner. This morning I made cinnabons, and ate, I think, 4 of them (but not all in one sitting). I also felt compelled to buy a 2 liter bottle of Sprite (we don't ever buy soda for the house, but I've been buying a lot of it lately), I think as of now I have drank half of it. And the night's still young.

But miraculacly I haven't gained any weight in the last three weeks!!

Waiting

Clearly, I would never make it as a *real* blogger.

I try really hard to stay on task. I try really hard to update regularly. I do. Really I do. But sometimes, and I know this will be shocking, I just don't have interesting things to say. At least they aren't interesting to me. And if it isn't interesting to me, how could it possibly be interesting to you?

I am 17 days away from my due date, and as of my last doctor's appointment one week ago, I was not dialated or effaced or any of those things they use to measure if you are "progressing". However Dr. Talks Way Too Softly assured me that this is not any indication of when labor might come on. Which makes no sense to me whatsoever, but she talked way too softly and I couldn't bear to say "What was that?" or "Huh?" one more time.

Our house is full of baby things. A beautiful crib, with beautiful ABC bedding that has been all washed and ready to be slept in. A beautiful dresser full of the cutest little outfits and socks and hats and blankets, all ready to be worn. A beautiful bassinett, with a fitted sheet with little cars on it, all ready to be rolled right next to our bed. A wonderful Pack n' Play, all set up with its changing station and bassinett, all ready for snoozing. A cutie green swing that looks like a little space ship, all ready for swinging. A hospital bag, packed with my pj's, undies and socks, baby clothes and a blanket. And diapers and diapers and diapers, all ready to be pooped in.

And now we have nothing left to do but wait.

This impatient, anxious part of me is very jealous of my dear Dee. She and her husband knew for months, "This is the day we are having our baby." L and I can countdown to my due until the cows come home, but the bottom line really is that the chances of The Beaner actually arriving on that day are slim.

To be honest, I'm really not that worried about actual labor and pain and all of that. I'm not worried about not getting the epidural in time. Really, I'm not. I'm worried about then *when*. When will it happen? What if I don't know that its happening? What if we wait too long and I don't get to the hospital in time? What if it happens next week and I'm at school? I go to bed at night thinking "Will it be tonight?" and then I wake up thinking "Will it be today?" All that not knowing and waiting is maddening.

I go back to the doctor tomorrow. And a doctor I've never met before will check on my *progress*.

And in the meantime, we wait.

Showers of love

My baby shower went something like this...

Torrential downpours.

Torrential tears.

A Tiara.

Lots of presents.

An awesome blue cake.

Lots of things to put away.

Lots of love.

Weird

I really wanted to write a post about how John Lennon died 30 years ago today. This morning I even started to map out in my mind what I thought music would be like if he were still alive. Not to mention any number of music greats that died too young; Mozart, Kurt Cobain, Jim Morrison. But now its just about 8pm, and I just can't put a lot of thought into anything.

I've had a weird day. Sleeping has been hard. Peeing is constant and because the internet has made me afraid to sleep on my back, comfort is little. Let's also not forget the 30 pound dog who takes up so much space on our bed that you'd think she was a Great Dane.

I forgot to set my alarm clock and Gordo waking me up at 6:10 just didn't do it for me. I was exhausted from band last night, concert this past Sunday and the prospect of another concert tomorrow. I put the Christmas playlist on my iPod for the ride to work and when Glee's "Oh Holy Night" came on I started to cry. And I couldn't stop. And I have no idea why. And it was only 7:30am.

School is weird these days. I'm in this weird limbo of being excited that in just a few weeks that awful place will be behind me, and feeling a little bit sad (or is it scared?) at the thought of not being there anymore. People tell me throughout the day that I look cute, or rounder, or starting to waddle, and some people don't say anything at all, and I don't know how to take any of it. Sometimes I'm so busy planning a concert and a talent show that I momentarily forget that I've got another human being inside me. But then I try to bend over or I feel that butt in my ribs, and I quickly remember.

Tomorrow I go back to the doctor for another ultrasound. Both my mother and Gordo will be there. I'm nervous about my mom being there. I can't fault my mother on this one though, everything seems to make me a wreck these days. All that time waiting and wanting and trying. And now, in just about 6 weeks we will have a baby. It is still really hard for me to believe.

Oh yeah, I also cried at the end of Glee tonight. Like really cried, not just teared up.

And that's where I'm at.

So, so thankful

I have so much to be thankful for.

Let's start with this guy...

He doesn't always say the right thing, he doesn't always do the right thing and he eats in the middle of the night and gets crumbs all of the floor and counter. But he's my best friend. We laugh together everyday and he loves me, loves me, loves me. And I love him, love him, love him. I watch him with our furry babies and I know that he is going to be a wonderful father. I have never been more thankful for anything, as I am for him coming into my life.

Speaking of furry babies...

there's these two. The only thing that rivals how happy and thankful I am for my husband is how happy and thankful I am for these two. Lordy, I love 'em. They make me smile, they make me laugh, they make me cry. They are our family.

Speaking of family...

I am thankful for them as well. I wish a lot of things about them a lot of the time. Wish they were happier, wish they were healthier, wish we were closer. But they are our family and I am thankful for them. I mean, who and where would we be without our family? I love them regardless of everything else.

Speaking of everything else...

I've said it before, and I'll say it again; I've never had friends like I have right now. I can't explain how lucky I feel to have found a group of girls that I can trust and count on. Tell things to and know it won't be repeated. Go out and have fun with and laugh and laugh. They make me laugh, they make me smile, and they certainly don't make me cry.

And speaking of being thankful...

(I hope to have a picture on Tuesday. He was very uncooperative at the last ultrasound)

I don't know if I can explain how thankful I am for this Beaner in my belly. I love him already and we haven't even met yet. I am thankful for every little kick and punch, I am thankful for the big basketball belly I am sporting these days. I tear up with I think about how this was our last Thanksgiving just us. That it will be our last Hannukah, last New Year's. Tear up because I'm so excited, and tear up because I'm a nervous wreck. I think about how hard we tried for this Bean. How long we wanted it and how we really were beginning to think it wasn't ever going to happen. And now here we are just about eight weeks away from meeting him. And I am just so, so thankful.

Sunday at the Movies

So a friend and fellow music teacher recently opened my eyes to YouTube. I know, how sad that I didn't know about YouTube. I mean, I knew about it, I just never investigated it. It's wicked cool, friends!!

Then I was thinking about all the semi-cool, semi-lame things that I loved when I was a kid and still love now. And then I was thinking about how I can teach all of these semi-cool, semi-lame things to The Beaner because for a least a few years he'll think I'm the shit. And then I was thinking about how I can teach you all about these semi-cool, semi-lame things because you are at my mercy and will read whatever I write.

Call it 'Sunday at the Movies'. Call it 'A Few of My Favorite Things'. Call it a bit of self indulgence.

First up, Annie. My brother, sister and I watched this movie constantly. We knew it word for word for word. I know all the characters, all the lyrics, all the funny one liners. My sister and I loved "Its a Hard Knock Life" the best because, quite honestly we thought we had a hard knock life. We loved the line "Santa Claus we never see, Santa Claus what's that, who's he?"

Beware: I have a mind of my own.

A few days ago, one of my Facebook friends had a status that went something like "The hardest thing in life is being the parent of adult children."
I have no idea what she was referencing, but when I first read it, I thought about her grown youngest son who had moved to California and who she missed dearly. I feel sad for her because I know how much she misses him, but I know and understand his need to get away and be his own person.
Then it got me to thinking about my own life as an "adult child" and the things that are transpiring within it now.
In two weeks, Gordo and I will have been married for three years. I think back to when we were planning our wedding and debating with my parents about what *we* wanted apposed to what *they* wanted. Such anxiety.
See, Gordo's been his own person, independent from his parents for many years now. Part of me was very envious of that. I, on the other hand, wanted to please my parents. Make them happy; keep them happy. I understood that my parents were right, and I needed to do what I was told, regardless of whether of not I agreed.
So three years ago when we were planning our wedding and Gordo and I wanted one thing and they wanted another, I didn't know what to do. Go against my parents? Tell them that I didn't agree? Tell them its my life and even though you're paying for the wedding that doesn't give you the right to tell me what to do with one of the most important days of our life?
I was 29 years old and Gordo taught me to stand up for myself. Your an adult and you have a mind of your own. Just because they are putting out money doesn't mean that they own you. You tell me when you don't agree with me, he said, why can't you tell them?
It was like a light went off in my head. I am an adult! I do have a mind of my own! I am allowed to disagree with them and we will still love each other tomorrow!
And you know what, we did get our way for the wedding. Because it was our wedding, they already had theirs.
Now we are three months away from having a baby and it starts all over again. You would think that the fact that a 34 year old and a 32 year old are having a baby after three years of marriage would be a red flag that we are adults. Guess not.
The first major milestone in a Jewish baby boy's life is his Bris. His circumcision. At eight days old, just home from the hospital, we will have our family and close friends at our house for bagels and lox, brownies, coffee and to watch my boy's foreskin get taken off without so much as a shot of novocaine. What will he wear for such an event? The yamaka his Grammie Gordon bought for him in Israel, or the one his Uncle Jason wore for his Bris? For days I mulled it over in my seven months pregnant, anxiety-ridden brain. I had to have out with it. I had to confront or the anxiety would eat me alive. Baby boy is already going to sleep in the bassinet that I did and wear home from the hospital the beautiful sweater his Great Grandmother made for him and the outfit she bought for him. Wouldn't it be nice for him to have something from Gordo's family, I said to my mother. But wouldn't it be nice for it to stay in the family and carry on a tradition, she said. That is nice, why don't you save it for when Jason has children? Maybe the tradition of this yamaka will start with our baby, I said. I don't want to hurt anyone's feelings on this, I said, but we would like him to have things that are from Gordo's family too. Is that okay, I said? If that is what you want, then it is okay, she said. She wasn't happy, but she said it.

And everyone lived and everyone is still a family and everyone still loves each other.


My name is Stacey. I am 32 years old and I have a mind of my own. Thank you Gordo (and a few years of therapy) for teaching me how to stand up for myself.

Holy crap we have a crib...

Daddy, Poppie and Uncle Jason putting it together.

Yay!

Yay! Yay!

Big brother and sister approve and are getting comfy already.

And in 13 weeks, give or take, there will be a baby in that room. Holy crap.

Holy crap

I won't lie, I took this picture in the Starbucks bathroom.

Holy crap #1: The baby's room is finished! (I prefer not to call it a 'nursery'). All it needs is some furniture and decor and, of course, a baby.

Holy crap #2: We have signed up for a childbirth class, courtesy of Hartford Hospital. (Well, not "courtesy of" really. "Courtesy of" makes it sound like it is complementary, as in free. It is very much not free.) But it is a childbirth course. We also signed up for a tour of the maternity ward.

Holy crap #3: In a week and a half I will be in my third trimester.

Holy crap #4: Sometimes I catch a glimpse of myself out of the corner of my eye, in the mirror, or sometimes my shadow. Still 25 and a half weeks into this I still sometimes do a double take need to remind myself that that pregnant person is actually me.

Holy crap #5: This past Saturday my Gordo ran his fifth half marathon in four years. He managed to run those 13.1 miles almost 20 minutes faster this time than his last one in January. I can't begin to tell you how proud I was, and still am.

Holy crap #6: When we got home, we were sitting on the bed watching tv and all of the sudden it happened. "Did you see that? My stomach just moved!" We both stared at my belly and then it happened again. "That was weird" Gordo said, half amazed, half really thinking it was weird. It was weird, no doubt about it, but so, so cool. Better yet, its happened everyday since then.

To which I say, holy crap, we are actually having a baby.

Mi Familia

Today

Today I realized that Gordo's next birthday, his 35th will be his first with The Bean. That monumental birthday will also be just about one week before his first Father's Day.

Today I also realized that my next birthday will be just a few days after my first Mother's Day. The day after that birthday will also mark one year since we found out we were pregnant.

Today we are almost exactly 4 months from my due date of January 23rd.

Today. :o)

Lucky Charms

Dear Blog,

It has been 2 weeks since we have seen each other. I know that you have felt neglected and for that I am sorry. But I've been so busy! Busy dreading work, busy being exhausted and busy eating Lucky Charms.

Things have been seriously busy over here in the land of preparation. We stripped wallpaper, got new carpet, put up primer, picked out bedding, ordered a piece of the bedding to match paint to, got refunded for said bedding piece because the company was a pain in the ass, picked out and settled on new bedding that may be just right, picked out paint and put two coats of paint up. We have also been semi successful in getting Rex to not jump and almost completely successful in getting Penny to not bark at inanimate objects. (They will be great a big brother and sister!) We've been busy reading up on car seats and high chairs and strollers and onesies and monitors and and and.

I have also been busy having a love affair with Lucky Charms.

20 weeks and all is well

At 18 weeks.

It took us nearly two years to get pregnant. And now I'm 20 weeks. That's the halfway point, friends!! We are halfway on our journey to meet the little Bean. The little boy Bean.

Somedays I still have to remind myself "You're really pregnant", because it just still seems that surreal. And then there are days when the little guy rolls around, kicks and punches, and I sit real still, in complete awe and completely in love with this little baby that I can't quite wrap my brain around.

In another 20 weeks, or a little more or a little less, we will meet the little Bean. Little boy Bean. And I will tell him about how we wanted him for so long, but that it must not have been the right time. And I will tell him about how when that right time finally happened, we were so happy and full of love for him and for each other. And I will tell him how lucky and thankful we are for him.

Monday

This past Monday, the 23rd of August, everything changed.

On Monday, the 23rd of August, our Bean went from being a Bean to being an Oh my gosh there's actually a BABY in there.

Not only did the Bean go from being a Bean to being an actual BABY, it became a BOY baby.

In that instant of the ultrasound, a moment that literally took five seconds, where the tech rolled over our baby's bum and legs and we saw his little boy parts, everything changed.

It then wasn't "it's legs" it was HIS legs. HIS foot, HIS hand, HIS head, HIS heartbeat.

We went to Babies R Us that night and looked at blue outfits and blue bedding and everything else that might have been blue or green or had cars or monsters or baseballs on it. And for the first time in 18 weeks I could picture an actual baby in that blue outfit because my baby is a boy. And I could see a baby laying in the that crib with the blue and green turtle bedding because my baby is a boy. My baby has an identity. My baby is a boy.

A baby boy.

And today as I sat in 7 consecutive hours of teacher workshop, our little baby boy kicked and punched me with all the might his 8 ounces could muster.

And with all the dread I have about going back to work on Monday, those little kicks from that little baby boy made me the happiest girl ever.

It's a Mr. !!!

And I've bought my first official "boy" outfit. So, so cute.

Of burgers and onion rings

Today's ridiculous meal is brought to you by Bobby Flay, owner of (among other things) Bobby's Burger Palace at Mohegan Sun casino.

On the left is the Bobby Blue Burger. I know, I know, I'm not suppose to have blue cheese. I haven't had it in over 3 months. But I love me some blue cheese, and I am confident that one burger drowning in the aged loveliness isn't going to hurt the Bean. And yes, that is bacon you see on that burger as well. When I tell you that every single bite of that burger melted in my mouth like butter, it is an understatement. Best burger I've ever had? It's certainly up there. Way up there.

In the center is iced tea that Gordo told me I didn't need because we could have shared one drink and it would have saved us 3 dollars. Fair enough, but I wanted ice tea.

To the right is what I might call "the deal breaker". These onion rings were of epic proportion. Enormous doesn't quite do it justice. They were at least an inch or more wide and the biggest one was probably 4 or 5 inches across. They were, without a doubt, the best onion rings I've ever had. Hands down. Ever. Ev-er.

Before we went, my uncle's wife (no, she's not my aunt) told us we had to get the milkshakes, they are fantastic. Well after the burger soaked in blue cheese and the mammoth o-rings, the Bean said, not right now. So we walked and Gordo lost some money, and then I lost some money. Conveniently the restaurant is right next to the escalator to leave the casino and the milkshake taunted me. I consulted with the Bean and we decided, why not. Dark chocolate milkshake it was. It was tasty, I won't lie.

But those onion rings, I just couldn't stop thinking about the onion rings.

So, I wouldn't say I've had cravings exactly, but let me tell you I think about food constantly. All I watch is Food Network and Travel Channel. Not any one food in particular, just food. This week, apparently the Bean wanted burgers and ice cream. We'll see what happens next week.