And the madness begins.

M and I were talking last week. The Friday after Thanksgiving marks our crazy season. We love the Holidays, but BOY are they WORK! It's a non-stop whirlwind the entire month of December. Our calendar is booked solid with some sort of activity or get-together EVERY weekend - and even weeknights are filling up. I should stop complaining, though, because despite the craziness, I do love the Holidays. I love catching up with friends - I love the merriment - I love the happy glint in the kids' eyes every time he sees the Christmas tree.

Of course, as you all know, Santa pictures kick off the Holiday season for us. I like to get them done the week of Thanksgiving, as there are no crowds and the kid is in a much better mood when he hasn't had to wait in line for a half hour. Here are this year's "official" pictures (the ones I bought from the Santa photo people). And yes, it's my mommy obligation to match their clothes. ESPECIALLY for Holidays:

The kid and the babe together:


Just the babe (since this is his first Christmas and all):


And some outtakes taken with our own camera:

Love this one because the kid is telling Santa what he wants for Christmas. Notice the babe's expression is one of complete indifference.


And this just captures the kid's age. If you have a three-year-old, you know what I'm talking about. You ask them to smile and you get all teeth. He looks like he's constipated.



For a retrospective of past Santa pictures, click here.

Here, though, is where early Santa pictures backfired for me. The next morning after visiting Santa, the Kid woke up and RAN into my bedroom. With a hopeful look, he sweetly asked me, "Mommy, is it Christmas morning?!?!" Makes logical sense - he did, after all, see Santa the night before. And I've been reading him "The Night Before Christmas" every year. This is what happens when you pair a dumbass Mommy with a too-smart kid.

Giving thanks...

So tomorrow is Thanksgiving. A time to be thankful. So please indulge me in the obvious. A post of things that deserve my thanks.

I don't mean to sound smug or condescending, but really, it's not my style to only give thanks once a year. I think it's important, and I vow to teach my kids the importance, of being thankful every moment of every day - and voiceing that thanks at least once a day. Our blessings are bountiful, and while we may not have the latest and greatest toys or the biggest and best house or the designer-of-the-moment stuff, we are rich in so many means. I have a wonderful, happy, healthy family. I, myself, am truly happy. My boys are incredible lights of joy in my life - and my husband is my love, my support, and my strength. The three of them - my heart, my soul, my love are the greatest blessings I could ever receive. I thank God for them every day of my life.

I'm also thankful for my career - for my husband's career. I thank God for the means to support and provide for our family. While we still may struggle to pay for the mounting bills that come with adding to the family, in economic times such as these we are lucky to be able to put food on the table. Did you know that 1 in 8 Americans go hungry? That is STAGGERING. Especially in a country of plenty.

You know what else I'm thankful for? My crazy extended family. My loco friends. My co-workers, my clients. Because they support me, they make me laugh, they make me cry. They make me, ME. I am the sum of my experiences and interactions...and enriched by all those I encounter. So to all of you, thanks.

I hope that this Thanksgiving season finds you and yours well - and well blessed. In the spirit of giving and giving thanks, I'll link you to my post from last year - all the organizations are still there and still struggling to meet demand, even moreso now.

I was duped...

When the Babe was born, I could hardly believe how much he slept. VAST difference from the Kid, who woke every 20 minutes. Holy sleep deprivation, Batman! But with the Babe, I had to wake him for feedings, which was SO new to us. I hovered over his bassinet for fear he wasn't breathing - he slept that long and heavily. He would regularly sleep for 3-4 hours at a time. And was sleeping "through the night" (actually sleeping 6+ hours at night) by 6 weeks old. I *almost* felt guilty about it.

But now, at 4 months old, the Babe (and me, obviously) is waking every two hours. HE'S KILLING ME! It's 6:00am and I'm writing this post. Now, being awake at 6:00am is not too bad. But it is when you were up at 2:00am. And 4:00am. And 5:00am. SOMEONE STOP THE MADNESS.

Some photo sharing

It's been a while since I've used my blog to brag about my kids...but seriously, they are cute. Here are photos from the past few months - as I realized I never posted any of my maternity period, the birth of the babe, or the kidlets together. So without further ado...

Maternity photos - these were taken by a good friend of ours who happens to be a great photographer. Taken in May, 2008:




Love this photo...but it looks like the Kid is kicking the Babe...



Ahh...much better. Brotherly love starts early.



And then there were four...





My boys. My lazy, lazy, boys. My entire world on one queen-sized bed.



Some pictures taken by our photographer friend (same one that took the maternity photos above). The Kid is about 41 months (3 years, 5 months old) and the Babe is about 3 months old:

Keith takes the words right out of my mouth...

Although I could not ever imagine being as eloquent.

A disclaimer here - I realize that some of you reading this blog may not agree with me. That's ok. Feel free to flame away. I would never take away YOUR right to do so.

A bit of background here. Earlier this year, the California Supreme Court, in an impeccably written decision, acknowledged the rights of same-sex couples to marry. They acknowledged it as a CIVIL RIGHT. One that would declare any law suppressing such right unconstitutional. I read a lot of legal decisions in my line of work, and I have to tell you, they were prudent yet clear in their logic. They eschewed reference to morality and religion, as well they should. The decision focused on a singular idea - the recognition that an individual's capacity to establish a loving and long-term committed relationship with another person and responsibly to care for and raise children does not depend upon the individual's sexual orientation. Chief Justice Ronald George stated in his majority opinion, "An individual's sexual orientation -- like a person's race or gender -- does not constitute a legitimate basis upon which to deny or withhold legal rights."

The words from Chief Justice George is what is at the heart of the issue for me. Yes, I have close family members who are gay. I have good friends that are gay. But regardless of that, laws outlawing ANY INDIVIDUAL'S right to marry are discriminatory. It is as simple as that. What's the difference between disallowing same-sex marriage and bi-racial marriage? Not that long ago, I would not have been able to marry my caucasian husband. I look at my BEAUTIFUL children and they would not be here if laws like these were NOT declared discriminatory. It's not about religion, morality and the like. It's about LOVE.

So last week, while I was elated with the result of the Presidential Election, I was angered and enraged that the voters of the state of California overturned this decision and rallied to steal BASIC CIVIL RIGHTS from same-sex couples. The campaign run in support of Propostion 8 (the proposition that overturned the Supreme Court decision) was shameful. Some crap about schools teaching kids that men could marry men and what not. Bullshit. You're going to try and get to my vote by scaring me about my KIDS?! And what they might (even though they WOULDN'T) be taught in school? Look, parenting is tough. I get that. But you know what's EASY? Teaching kids YOUR family values and YOUR family beliefs. You don't have to believe that homosexuality is morally "right". You don't have to instill values in your children about homosexuality. What you teach in your home is your business. I'm not going to encroach upon that. So why block another person's pursuit of happiness? Why insist that someone that they cannot have what you have?

It sincerely disheartens me. The whole situation. Because as a parent, when I look at these laws, these decisions, these referendums, propositions, etc., my first and foremost thoughts are of my children. One of my sons may be gay. Both of my sons may be gay. How could I look at them and tell them, "well, you can be grow to be happy...but only to an extent."? We need to fight for the rights of ALL, because you never know if the "someone" they are taking rights from is you...or the one that you love.

But Keith Olberman says it all in this video clip. Love him or hate him, he took the words right out of my mouth. Can I get a what, what?



Editing - you know, this is such an important issue to me that I'm going to post the text of my man Keith's commentary. Just because when my kids read this years from now, video may be dead. LOL. Skip over this if you've already watched the video...

Finally tonight as promised, a Special Comment on the passage, last week, of Proposition Eight in California, which rescinded the right of same-sex couples to marry, and tilted the balance on this issue, from coast to coast.

Some parameters, as preface. This isn't about yelling, and this isn't about politics, and this isn't really just about Prop-8. And I don't have a personal investment in this: I'm not gay, I had to strain to think of one member of even my very extended family who is, I have no personal stories of close friends or colleagues fighting the prejudice that still pervades their lives.

And yet to me this vote is horrible. Horrible. Because this isn't about yelling, and this isn't about politics. This is about the human heart, and if that sounds corny, so be it.

If you voted for this Proposition or support those who did or the sentiment they expressed, I have some questions, because, truly, I do not understand. Why does this matter to you? What is it to you? In a time of impermanence and fly-by-night relationships, these people over here want the same chance at permanence and happiness that is your option. They don't want to deny you yours. They don't want to take anything away from you. They want what you want—a chance to be a little less alone in the world.

Only now you are saying to them—no. You can't have it on these terms. Maybe something similar. If they behave. If they don't cause too much trouble. You'll even give them all the same legal rights—even as you're taking away the legal right, which they already had. A world around them, still anchored in love and marriage, and you are saying, no, you can't marry. What if somebody passed a law that said you couldn't marry?

I keep hearing this term "re-defining" marriage. If this country hadn't re-defined marriage, black people still couldn't marry white people. Sixteen states had laws on the books which made that illegal in 1967. 1967.

The parents of the President-Elect of the United States couldn't have married in nearly one third of the states of the country their son grew up to lead. But it's worse than that. If this country had not "re-defined" marriage, some black people still couldn't marry black people. It is one of the most overlooked and cruelest parts of our sad story of slavery. Marriages were not legally recognized, if the people were slaves. Since slaves were property, they could not legally be husband and wife, or mother and child. Their marriage vows were different: not "Until Death, Do You Part," but "Until Death or Distance, Do You Part." Marriages among slaves were not legally recognized.

You know, just like marriages today in California are not legally recognized, if the people are gay.

And uncountable in our history are the number of men and women, forced by society into marrying the opposite sex, in sham marriages, or marriages of convenience, or just marriages of not knowing, centuries of men and women who have lived their lives in shame and unhappiness, and who have, through a lie to themselves or others, broken countless other lives, of spouses and children, all because we said a man couldn't marry another man, or a woman couldn't marry another woman. The sanctity of marriage.

How many marriages like that have there been and how on earth do they increase the "sanctity" of marriage rather than render the term, meaningless?

What is this, to you? Nobody is asking you to embrace their expression of love. But don't you, as human beings, have to embrace... that love? The world is barren enough.

It is stacked against love, and against hope, and against those very few and precious emotions that enable us to go forward. Your marriage only stands a 50-50 chance of lasting, no matter how much you feel and how hard you work.

And here are people overjoyed at the prospect of just that chance, and that work, just for the hope of having that feeling. With so much hate in the world, with so much meaningless division, and people pitted against people for no good reason, this is what your religion tells you to do? With your experience of life and this world and all its sadnesses, this is what your conscience tells you to do?

With your knowledge that life, with endless vigor, seems to tilt the playing field on which we all live, in favor of unhappiness and hate... this is what your heart tells you to do? You want to sanctify marriage? You want to honor your God and the universal love you believe he represents? Then Spread happiness—this tiny, symbolic, semantical grain of happiness—share it with all those who seek it. Quote me anything from your religious leader or book of choice telling you to stand against this. And then tell me how you can believe both that statement and another statement, another one which reads only "do unto others as you would have them do unto you."

You are asked now, by your country, and perhaps by your creator, to stand on one side or another. You are asked now to stand, not on a question of politics, not on a question of religion, not on a question of gay or straight. You are asked now to stand, on a question of love. All you need do is stand, and let the tiny ember of love meet its own fate.

You don't have to help it, you don't have it applaud it, you don't have to fight for it. Just don't put it out. Just don't extinguish it. Because while it may at first look like that love is between two people you don't know and you don't understand and maybe you don't even want to know. It is, in fact, the ember of your love, for your fellow person just because this is the only world we have. And the other guy counts, too.

This is the second time in ten days I find myself concluding by turning to, of all things, the closing plea for mercy by Clarence Darrow in a murder trial.

But what he said, fits what is really at the heart of this:

"I was reading last night of the aspiration of the old Persian poet, Omar-Khayyam," he told the judge. It appealed to me as the highest that I can vision. I wish it was in my heart, and I wish it was in the hearts of all: So I be written in the Book of Love; I do not care about that Book above. Erase my name, or write it as you will, So I be written in the Book of Love."

A year ago today...

I began blogging. Truth be told, I suck at blogging as I can't seem to keep up, but I try. I ventured into this online experiment to capture the craziness of my every day life - if only as a veiled attempt to sharpen my weakened mommy brain. I meant it seize the hilarity of babe and toddlerhood...and to prove to my kids that mommy didn't make this shit up. (apologies to those of you who don't realize that I swear like a trucker - and my apologies to truckers everywhere for the sweeping generalization)

Anyway, it seems that I may have strayed from my original intentions. As I look back on a year of posts, it seems that this is not all about the funny things my kids say or do, but more about me. More about my thoughts, hopes, and other opinions that I want to pass on to my children. Like they don't hear enough about them. ;-)

That's ok. I've evolved. The blog has evolved. I want my kids to know that I'm not just mommy. When they are old enough to read and understand these words, I want them to know that mommy isn't just all about nagging them to wash their hands, or bugging them about their days at school...but that mommy has arbitrary thoughts, irrational fears, imprudent feelings and grandiose hopes. That mommy is, unbeknown to them, HUMAN.

And thanks to everyone who takes time to read this blog. Because really, why do so? I'm not that interesting. :P Most of all, thanks to my mommy friends that read and "talk" with me. You gals keep it real. Keep on keepin' on, mamas.

Although...as I celebrate my "blog-iversary" (I just made that up), I did want to share a memory that I will cherish forever...so I better write it down before I forget.

A month or so ago, I'm driving the kid to preschool. Well, every morning, we say prayers to thank God for all the blessings he brings in our lives. Our usual M.O. is that the kid starts off with a list of things that he is thankful for...it usually includes whatever he is holding in his hands, so it goes something like, "Thank you Jesus for my pillow, for Thomas the tank engine, for juice boxes". You get the gist. Well this particular morning, after rattling off a litany of toys, he finishes off with something that brought immediate tears to my eyes. He says, "...and thank you Jesus for baby (the babe's) smiles. They are so cute. I love my baby brother."

I love being a mother.

A birth story.

So I've been MIA for a while. And things have happened in my absence...a LOT of things. Just glance over to the picture on the right hand side of this blog. ;-)

The babe was born this past July. And, like his kuya before him, he came with fight in him. But he has filled our lives like I never imagined. I can't tell you what it means to me to see my two sons together. My heart swells with pride and tears fill my eyes. Of course, I am filled with the wonderful hormones of a post partum nature, but still...the mamas out there get me. :P

I guess I owe this blog a birth story. So here goes...

During the first week of July, 2008, I was the crabbiest person I can ever remember being. Remember, I was DONE with being pregnant about 4 or 5 months prior – so you can imagine how I was at 39 weeks. M had the bright idea to start his paternity leave a week before baby was born, so that left us alone together for almost an entire week. We almost killed each other. I swear, it was the stuff that marriage is made of.

Thing of it was, the plan was for a 39-week induction. But the hospital I was to deliver at has a policy of not scheduling inductions unless the mama is over 41 weeks. The OB can call every shift, though, to inquire about bed availability and see if you can get in…it’s like some highly snooty restaurant where the only things on the menu are excruciating pain and epidurals. Anyway, every day that week was an effort in futility, and having never been induced before, I didn’t realize what an emotional roller coaster it was going to be. It’s like I woke up every day to get my game face on…only to realize the game was cancelled. UGH. Finally, though, on Saturday morning, the heavens opened and so did the L&D ward. ALLELUIA!

I went in around 2:00pm and they very leisurely broke my water and started me on a pitocin drip. Interestingly enough, they told me I could have my epidural at any time…weird, because I thought I had to go through some labor before they’d give me an epi, right? Um, apparently not. But for some insane reason, I opted to hold off for a bit. Well, contractions started hard and fast – but they were tolerable. I wasn't sure if they were tolerable because I had grown to tolerate them (i.e. I was stronger) or because compared to the last time, wherein I was unmedicated for much of my labor and ALL of my delivery, these contractions paled in comparison. The contraction monitor had some pretty large spikes in it, though, so the nurse came back and asked me several times if I wasn’t sure I wanted my epidural sooner rather than later. After about an hour, I relented to the drugs, they gave me an epi and I QUICKLY progressed. Anyway, at about 7:00pm I started pushing. Eeesh. Forgot how hard that was. It took some work to get the babe out because he was turned this way and that (he came out, apparently, with his head to the side – ear up). The babe was born an hour and 15 minutes later. Remembering that I pushed with the kid for 3 hours (with no epidural – AY!) the OB commented as I was pushing, “Geez, mama, your boys make you work!” No shit.

Get this – the babe weighed and measured the EXACT same as the kid…7 lbs, 10 ounces and 20.5 inches long.

The post partum stay in the hospital was VERY different this time around. We were at a different hospital, sure, but the combination of M and me being second-time parents (and thus, the teensiest bit more relaxed) and the babe being a newborn who REALLY liked to sleep just made it easier. Good thing too, because I was nursing a VERY bruised tailbone this time around. With the kid, I felt achy all over and all beat up because of the nature of the delivery and a class III tear. While, I felt better overall with the babe's delivery, he kept hitting against my “protruding coccyx” and gave me some good bruising. Dude, a bruised tailbone HURTS and takes a LONG time to heal.

But all in all, I can't complain one bit. The babe is absolutely beautiful and our family feels so much more complete. And let me tell you, the kid is absolutely ENAMORED with his baby brother. He can't get enough of him. It's really quite cute. From the moment he was born, kuya absolutely watched over him. I have to tear them apart. Let's see how long this lasts. ;-)

In a word...

Electrifying.

That is the flavor of the night. In fact, that has been the flavor, at least for me, for the past 12 months. And if I get to the heart of the matter, that has been the hope for me since 2004.

I had heard of Barack Obama before 2004 – mostly in quips about his name, his status in Congress, what not. But I didn’t know much about the man or his politics. I never really paid attention to a senatorial candidate from Illinois…I guess I didn’t see the need. But in a streaming video from my computer at work, I watched this man deliver the keynote address at the 2004 Democratic National Convention. A convention where the Democratic Party nominated a candidate I could not get behind and because of that, I didn’t even bother to watch the DNC on TV. But sitting at my computer, I watched the keynote speaker and I KNEW there was a candidate I could get behind. Now at the time I first saw this address, I was newly pregnant with my oldest son. Granted, I was bubbling with hormones, but I was overwhelmed with emotion. As I am now on this historic night.

Here are the words that hooked me…4 years and 4 months ago.

“it's not enough for just some of us to prosper. For alongside our famous individualism, there's another ingredient in the American saga. A belief that we are connected as one people. If there's a child on the south side of Chicago who can't read, that matters to me, even if it's not my child. If there's a senior citizen somewhere who can't pay for her prescription and has to choose between medicine and the rent, that makes my life poorer, even if it's not my grandmother. If there's an Arab American family being rounded up without benefit of an attorney or due process, that threatens my civil liberties. It's that fundamental belief -- I am my brother's keeper, I am my sisters' keeper -- that makes this country work. It's what allows us to pursue our individual dreams, yet still come together as a single American family. "E pluribus unum." Out of many, one.”

This is the truth that I hold deep to my heart. This is the EXACT truth that I had decided long ago to pass on to my children. No matter what I do as a mother, if my children grow to adulthood with the value of the importance of their individualism within a GLOBAL community, then I have done my job. As a parent, you determine which values are nearest and dearest to your heart, those that will drive many of your parenting decisions. This has been mine; that my children understand that they are connected to everyone on this earth. That they are respectful of ALL people, no matter their race, their age, their socioeconomic status, and NO MATTER their circumstances. That because they may have plenty – there are PLENTY out there that do not. And that it is their duty, their obligation, to help, to motivate, to DO SOMETHING to ensure that everyone is treated with respect and love. That they must strive to a benevolent life.

President-elect Obama has been my candidate from the very beginning of this presidential race. I will say that I would not have been terribly disappointed in the nomination of Hilary Clinton as the candidate for the presidency. Truth of the matter is I honestly believed that I would see a white woman president before I saw any non-white male in that office. But Hilary Clinton has never electrified me in the way Barack Obama has in speech, in action, and in politics. I have to point out that I have done the research into our President-elect’s politics and I like and agree with some but I disagree with others, but hey, you can’t win them all. But I do believe that overall, his politics will work for the greater good that I believe in.

I will repeat it, tonight I am overwhelmed with emotion. The kid and the babe were not in bed yet when the election was officially called in favor of Barack Obama. I saw what I did not think I would see in my lifetime. But I cannot tell you how much it meant to me to turn to my boys, look them in their eyes, and tell them that ANYTHING was possible for them. And I truly believe that. I never did before. I guess I never really believed that people in this country could or would look at my children and not see their slanted eyes, their dark hair, and the tint to their skin. But Barack Obama GETS THAT. He gets what I spoke about in this post. And to have a president that gets it is so important to me. That consciousness will take our diverse country far. To places we have never seen. I am excited. I am electrified. My sons, I write this because I want you to know and read the hope that I have for our country, for our family, for you.

Today is the day...

For me to come back to blogging. I have been lax, I know...four months from my last post? I apologize to my one reader. :P

Today is the day I see history will be made. I am wearing my Obama blue.

I will back later with a more thoughtful post. I am back to work full time now after a 4 month maternity leave and I'm off to a morning meeting...back to the grind.

History...

has been made again. I don't even have the words to express my excitement. You go, Barack.

Already?

Sigh. If you're a mama too, you know how much this breaks my heart.

To my son...

on the occasion of your THIRD birthday:

Ok, ok so I'm late writing this. You turned three about 2 1/2 weeks ago. But get used to it...this is how mommy rolls. Not that you are not the foremost in my thoughts in any given waking moment of my life, it's just getting those thoughts typed or written out takes some time for me. Trust me, it will happen to you as well.

So this is going to be long. Pull up a seat. Maybe don't read this all at once, read it in small chunks. Mama's got a lot to say.

I can hardly believe that it's been THREE years since you came into this world and changed it forever. And you did. You changed it forever. Just by being here. Just by being you. I know that sometimes in life, in this great big world, we might feel insignificant. Please know that you are not. I will promise to teach you that you are not. I mean, don't get me wrong...understand that while you are the center of my universe, you're really not going to be the center of EVERYONE'S universe, but that's ok. You still make an impact. On everyone you meet. Remember that...and make every encounter count.

Ok, enough with the sage advice for now...back to the nostalgia. Three years ago (give or take a couple of weeks) I was a different person. Your dad was a different person. Suddenly, we had this tiny human being thrust into our arms...and we were freaked out. I mean, really, as much as we had thought we prepared, we weren't prepared. We had the crib set up, the clothes washed, the diapers lined up on the changing table. We had the car seat installed, we had the room decorated, we had the diaper bag packed. But we were FAR from prepared.

You came into this world with fight in you. Did you want to leave the safety and comfort of mama's womb? No way. It took me almost 3 hours to push you out. I NEED to add here that the 3 hours of pushing was WITH MY EPIDURAL TURNED OFF. But, I digress, no need to wax nostalgic about that part.

Regardless, you came. And while we didn't know if you were going to be a boy or a girl beforehand, when the doctor told me that you were a boy, it was like he was telling me that I was in a hospital. I almost blurted out, "No shit." (remember, I had no epidural and was still in significant amounts of pain - so don't hold the cursing against me.) You know why? Because I already KNEW you. I knew you because you lived inside of me. I knew you because you were a part of me. And just because you were (and still are) now living outside of me doesn't mean that you are not as connected and as much a part of me as you were back then. Son, I know you, I feel you, I feel your feelings 100X more than you feel them. When I look at you and you're feeling sad, my heart is smattered into pieces for you. When I know that you're frustrated and angry, it takes every fiber in my being not to just make things right for you. Please understand that if I could, I would feel EVERY bad feeling for you, so you wouldn't have to feel it. But as it is, the hardest part about being a parent is to sit back and let your kids feel and just learn life.

Those first few days were crazy. Your dad and I could barely believe that we were responsible for this tiny human being. I won't say there weren't stumbling blocks, but we figured it out - for the most part. But you taught us a lot. You exuded your personality from the beginning. You hated being swaddled...you hated being buckled in the car seat...you hated anything that would restrict your freedom. Yes, you've been fiercely independent from the get-go. You had to see things and do things, you were not content to just sit and rest or (heaven forbid!) sleep. Especially if there were things to do and stuff to see.

But as independent as your spirit is, you still want your cuddles. You loved sleeping not next to, not near, but ON TOP of mommy and daddy. You loved being right next to mommy while she was walking around...baby carriers were some of our best investments. But the caveat? You had to be facing the world. You had to be seeing stuff. None of this face buried in mommy's chest and falling asleep stuff...you had to be looking around and seeing what was going on...taking it ALL in. Three years later you're still that way. You want to be independent and act like you can do it all on your own...but when it comes down to it, you want to just climb up into mommy and daddy's arms. And that's fine by me. You know it's the safest place in the world.

But because you are a mover and a shaker...you definitely honed your gross motor skills to serve you best. You pulled up in your crib at 4 1/2 months old! I walked into your room and almost fainted. Then at 5 months, you were crawling and crawling fast! Too fast for mommy. The rest...well, let's just say that you're a VERY active child. Rare is the time when you are sitting still. The only times I can get you to sit in one place is when you are reading books - which you absolutely LOVE or using the computer - which, you're gonna have to show daddy a couple of tricks on. Kid, you never cease to amaze me. Your capacity for learning astounds me. You are a total sponge. Which has it's good and bad qualities. Mommy and Daddy have to be VERY CAREFUL of what they say nowadays.

In all of this independence, though, I always see a kindness in you. You love being around people. You are so sweet and gentle with your cousins. Your face lights up with pure joy when you see your Lolo & Lola, Papa & Nanny, Ninang, and, on occasion, your parents. With us and with your friends at daycare, you give and share...you are incredibly social and rarely shy. I love that I see a smile on your face 95% of the time. Because your smile can light up a room. It's infectious - and you willingly and happily spread love whereever you are. There is nothing I enjoy more than seeing the world through your eyes...because the joy you find in things is absolute and unadulterated. And all you want to do is share that. Remember that feeling as you go through life.

In three years we've learned so much together! Mostly, we've learned to expect the unexpected. To let go of convention and to just roll with the flow. You've taught mommy and daddy to never underestimate you...because really, trying to keep one step ahead of you is a herculean task. So really, we're faking it. You're still young enough that we can fool you with that. I fear the day you figure it all out...or that you are old enough to read this.

At three years old, you are still the precocious, independent, affectionate and benevolent person you've always been. You love Thomas the Train...seriously, how does a toddler recall every single train's name and look just by seeing it once? You love using the computer and playing games on noggin.com and playhousedisney.com. You know, I only showed you once or twice how to use the mouse. But after seeing me do it, you know to hop up on the computer chair, launch the internet browser by clicking on the icon, use the dropdown menu to access your bookmarks, and click on the website of your choice. Color us impressed. You navigate youtube.com looking for videos of your favorite disney rides. Although, your obsession with watching the roller coaster rides strikes fear in a mother's heart.

So three years have gone by. My goodness, three years. Three years of laughter, tears, snuggles, giggles, some yelling, some frustration, but lots and lots of love. More love than I could have ever dreamt possible. In you, son, I see my heart living outside of my body. And when you look up at me with those big, brown eyes, I know the reason for my very existence here on earth. I know how important my role is on this earth. And you've changed me. You've changed my habits, my ideals, my very soul.

Your dad and I have loved every minute. Lemme tell you, there are times when one would think we weren't loving it. But we are. We most definitely are. You bring a warmth and light into our lives that we didn't even know we were missing, but we couldn't imagine life any other way. In fact, in three short years, it's hard to remember life before you came into this world. It may have been a little more calm and controlled, but it most certainly wasn't any better. Sure, life is more hectic and more harried now. But we wouldn't change a thing. Our eyes may be weary from lack of sleep, our backs may be tired from chasing you around, but our hearts are full. And that's all we actually feel.

I cannot wait to see you as a big brother. Your baby brother is due in about 2 months. You don't realize it yet, but your life is gonna change forever, buddy. For the better, I promise, even though it won't feel like it. I must admit that I'm feeling a bit guilty about it. Knowing that you'll have to share mommy and daddy now. It won't be just the three of us anymore...our family is growing. But again, I know you...and I know you will love your little brother with a complete heart. That's just who you are.

I know this has been long-winded. But even as I look back on it, I don't think I captured the love, the pride, and the joy I feel because of you, my son. It's impossible to put that feeling into words...at least for me (although, you're probably thinking I've put down PLENTY of words at this point). Look, bottom line, we love you. We just do. So much. Can't say it better than that.

Happy Third Birthday, baby.

Love, Mom

Feeling crafty...

So the nesting has begun. I started taking sewing classes when the kid was born and have been doing little (easy) crafts here and there. I've always loved crafts - not all, but some - but you just get a good feeling when you know that you've made something with your own two hands, know what I mean? Anyway, I started out with easy stuff like PJ pants for the kid. But honestly, how many pairs of cotton pants does a kid need? Especially when he's rough on his clothes and can't wear thin cotton pants to daycare because he'd rip them within the first hour? In all honesty, boys clothing isn't so much fun to sew. I'm going to try my hand at making a romper for baby-on-the-way, maybe a diaper cover or two, but every other project revolves around general baby stuff. Carriers (pouches, ring slings, wraps and the like), blankies, burp cloths, and the like.

Girls clothes, on the other hand, are SO much fun to make! And really cute to boot! Here's my first venture into little girlie clothing...a ruffle skirt and applique tee. It's actually MUCH simpler than it looks, and I think it came out so cute! I had this leftover fabric from a bag I made (got to get a picture of that) and it was just enough to tweak out a nice outfit. Anyway, I made this for the adorable daughter of a VERY good friend of mine. It felt good making something for a mama who so unselfishly gives of herself every minute of every day. She's going through a rough time right now and I just wanted her to know that EVERYONE else knows what a kind, loving, and UNSELFISH person she really is. Everything she does, like most mamas, she does for love of those that she loves. You're too cool, A. Really. Anyway, I can't WAIT to see this on K (hopefully it fits!):




Just for fun...here are some other projects I've done...I should actually try and collect pictures of all of them, as I end up giving a lot away as gifts.

Rag Quilt for a friend's newborn (different "K" than above):


I actually made the kid's costume this year. Just took a cheapo hoodie set from Target and sewed on some fleece. He was a honu:



Just wanted to add here...with Mother's Day and my birthday coming up, if any of my dear loved ones wonder what they might get me, I wouldn't be opposed to this.

Bits and pieces...

heard from the kid over the past few weeks. He is INCREDIBLY verbal right now. M and I can't believe we were ever worried about his verbal abilities. Seriously, you can't shut the kid up nowadays.

- While walking into daycare, I asked the kid if he wanted to wear his jacket. He paused, looked around and said, "Well, it's a little chilly." I'm suddenly the mother of an 83-year-old.

- While he brushed his own teeth last night (quite ineffectively, I might add), I reached out to take the toothbrush from him so that I could do a more effective job. He shoots me a look of daggers and says, "Mom, it's my turn, FOR A SECOND!" Really? When did the kid become a recalcitrant teenager?

- At Easter Sunday service, the priest, during homily asked the congregation to yell out "Alleluia!". The kid LOVED that and yelled it out at every prompting. Well, it's about 4 days past Easter and he's still yelling and feeling the "Alleluia!" (note - he pumps his fist in the air during such exclamation) Good for him. Maybe he'll save us all.

- While playing with his Thomas the trains and train tracks, the trains fell off track and the track went askew. He exclaims emphatically, "Oh NUTS!"

- While sifting through Easter candy and presents, every so often you'd hear a little voice mutter, "This sucks."

And how much of this should I blame on my parenting?!?!?

Some action shots...

Just some shots that I've taken over the last couple of weeks. I just like how they capture the kid:





Love this one. It just cracks me up. We went to Disneyland a couple of weeks ago and the kid and M insisted on riding the Matterhorn. Of course, the prude in me was hesistant, but between the two of them asking to go on it, I relented. Here's a shot of them before they got on. I'm seriously laughing my ass off because of the kid's expression. I told him to smile and I get this "Ok, I've got to poop" look:

Here comes Peter Cottontail...

I simply cannot believe that Easter is this weekend. We're still listening to Christmas music in the car (heck, what are you supposed to do when the kid is SCREAMING to hear his favorite version of "Jingle Bells"? - plus, it's cute because he sings along). But so with the change of season, I enacted mommy's ubiquitous right to drag her child to the mall and take a picture with a frightening rendition of the icon of the appropriate season. Here's the 2008 edition:



and, for good measure (mostly because I like retropectives), here's a retrospective:

2007:



2006:



I would like for you all to appreciate the comparison to the retrospective of our Santa photos. For both Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny, the kid makes the progession from:

Year 1 - "Who/what the hell are you?"
Year 2 - "Oh my good GOD! Whoever/whatever this thing is, get me AWAY from it!"
Year 3 - Coy but cautious acceptance, only with the knowledge that this will be over soon.

Can't wait to see what year 4 season brings us. Of course, we will be doing it times 2.

Can I get a what, what?

Not that I ever meant this blog to be all about video clips from other websites. But whatever. This one spoke to me. You go, Keith.



By the way, I used to work in the circulation area of "The Daily Breeze". I used it to help sop up a spill from the office water cooler once.

You don't need to tell me.

I suck at blogging. I already know.

Take a sad song...

I know my bladder is squished to nothing right now, but I do believe I actually peed my pants laughing at this clip. Some SERIOUS cuteness:

Calling all my homeys...

Girls, you out there? We're setting up the girls' night out NOW. Oh my god, I'm so excited. This is one of my FAVORITE TV series. I never get to the movies anymore, but I'm booking a babysitter NOW. I know, I'm shallow. I'm in good company. Label me, I don't care.

Shoulda...

I know this may be TMI (too much information) for some of you readers, but this pregnancy has brought with it a whole host of digestive complications for me. Fun stuff. First it was constipation...well, at times, it's STILL constipation. Lately though, my intestines and bladder have been smushed to almost nothing, so when the train starts choo-chooing, there's no stopping it. In other words, when I have to go, I HAVE TO GO. Such was the case this morning while driving to work. What can I say? Mama had to go. So I pull over to the nearest restroom stop on the way which happened to be a nice food joint called "Corner Bakery". Of course, I've got the kid in the car with me.

As I pull up to a parking space, I'm still wrestling with the internal struggle - do I leave my kid in the car strapped in his carseat or do I do the responsible thing and get him out and take him with me? Well, better judgement, twangs of guilt, and paralyzing fear that the couple eating a lovely breakfast on the patio would call Child Protective Services the minute I locked the car got to me, so I haul the kid out of the carseat and rush him into the restaurant and bathroom with me. As par for the course, though, the entire time he is asking me (loudly) what we are doing and if mommy has to go potty. Once I shuffle him into the stall with me (thank goodness the larger handicapped stall was open) I close the door and grant myself sweet relief. But is it really much relief? Here I am, balancing my bare ass over the toilet seat (heaven forbid any part of me actually touches the public seat - even with a seat cover) trying to grab the kid's hands as he walks around a dirty, germy stall touching EVERYTHING in site, cringing in horror as he does so, and shushing him to be quiet because he is loudly asking me, "mommy, are you going pee pee or poo poo? Mommy, here's paper - wipe your vagina!" Then comes the balancing act of wiping, flushing, pulling up my pants...all with one hand because the other hand is firmly gripping both of the kid's arms so he won't put one hand in the toilet while it's flushing and the other hand in the maxi-pad disposal to see what's in there.

Next time, CPS be damned. I'm leaving him in the car.

What do you mean 5 more months?

Ok, I'm tired. I'm really tired. Being pregnant the second time around is a *tad* different. I'm cranky. I feel huge already. I'm uncomfortable. And I'm only about 20 weeks along. And you know what? I know I'm only going to get crankier. Get bigger. More uncomfortable. Friends and family should run and hide NOW.

The avalanche

Oh my god, my kid has a lot of clothes. Seriously. It's a lot. His closet is pretty big...takes up a whole wall of his bedroom...and it's full. Now, in my defense, he wears a ton of it. All of it, as a matter of fact. While some of that is due to my laundry aversion (I figure if he has at least 14-20 outfits I can go 2 weeks without doing laundry) some of is due to the fact that the kid wears through clothing like nobody's business. He goes to daycare where a few times a week he comes home in a different outfit than what I sent him in. Right now, in our Southern California "winter" I'm layering him, which means he's wearing twice the amount of clothing at the beginning of the day than he would at mid-day. Also, the kid REFUSES to wear a blanket at night. I mean he HATES any type of covering while sleeping. He's been like that since day one. So, when the temperature drops in the middle of the night and mommy and daddy are under a down comforter, all I can do for the kid is dress him in 2-3 layers of PJ's. Let's take a minute to do the math. For the sake of argument, 2 layers of PJ's per night...he gets fresh PJ's every night (which is more than I can say for mommy)...figure in my hatred of laundry...well, really, we need to stock about 20 pairs of PJ's this time of year. No wonder I have to shove things into the closet.

But, truth be told, a LOT of it is because there is a crapload of REALLY STINKIN CUTE stuff out there for kids. And seeing the kid in an adorable outfit makes me SO happy. Like REALLY happy. It's my crack, the children's clothing. I'm sure you've noticed in the sidebar linky's to my favorite sites. Notice how one of the links is a clothing shop link? I seriously LOVE mini-Boden stuff for kids. You can't find stuff like this everywhere. It totally suits the skater/thrasher look that has become the kid's signature style (Don't worry, I see you all out there in cyberspace rolling your eyes at the notion that my kid has a "signature style" at age 2. Don't think that I myself don't think I'm crazy at times.) But the cute factor is SO high. Check out these adorable outfits for spring. Please ignore the raised arms. For some odd reason, when I ask the kid to smile for the camera, he raises his arms. I don't ask questions.:





Lest you think that I spend this much money on the kids' entire closet, let me tell you, I'm in love Old Navy for the kid as well. Right now, they are having their baby and kids sale - everything is 40% off! I cannot stand the cuteness of these patchwork shorts...mostly because they have matching daddy shorts (thanks Mama for tipping me off to them)! ARE YOU KIDDING ME? I will have the cutest family EVER! By the way, they are simply adorable with these polos.

Wow, this post was pretty shallow. Whatever. Like I said, it's my crack. Other stores that feed the addiction: Hanna Andersson (especially for infant clothing - swoon!), Lucky Brand Kids, Tea Collection- let me tell you, baby #2 will be decked out in their daily tea line, Naartjie - love their summer stuff for daycare. and occasionally Gymboree and Janie and Jack, although I truly believe that the Gymboree corporation is run by Columbian drug lords. That company knows how to suck you in no matter how many times you've sworn them off. See how much time I spend on this? But the first step is admitting to yourself that you have a problem. For what it's worth, I know I crazy. Now, what's that next step again?

Coming out

Today I am 17 weeks pregnant. Well, at least according to the ultrasound I had at 10 weeks, 1 day pregnant. This pregnancy has been so different than my pregnancy with the kid. With the kid, we had been actively "trying" for the better part of 7 months. I was charting my basal body temperature, keeping close eyes on last menstrual cycles and ovulation days. With the kid, I knew I was pregnant even before the stick turned pink. Um, not so this time around.

This time around I was shocked. Really, truly shocked. And when I went to take a store-bought test (I cheaped out and bought the one with the 2 lines...one is the control line and the other line tells you if you are preggers or not), I didn't really believe it. It's not that I didn't WANT to believe, M and I have always wanted/wished/hoped for a second child and our decision to stop with the birth control was made consciously and carefully, but this happened a lot faster than the first time. When I took the store-bought cheapie test, that second line was FAINTLY pink. Like barely even there. It drove me nuts! Was I or wasn't I? Lesson learned - don't cheap out when buying pregnancy tests. Spend the extra $3 and get the digital one. Skip your freakin' Starbucks and GET THE DIGITAL ONE.

Anyway, we are elated to be adding to our family. The kid is quite clear that he's going to be a kuya and that there is a baby in mommy's belly. He hugs, talks and kisses the baby quite often. At first, he didn't quite get it and when M and I told him there was a baby in mommy's belly, the kid lifted my shirt, pulled on my belly fat (yup, there's enough to pull on...even when not pregnant), and demanded, "take it out! Get out, baby!"

Last week, though, I caught the kid staring at my belly button. He met my eyes and asked, "Mommy, what's that?" while pointing at my belly button. I explained to him that mommy's belly button was there to keep the baby alive...and that that's how the baby gets food. So, being the benevolent big brother, he scoops up some water in his cupped hands (he was in the bathtub), holds his hands up to my belly button and offers the baby a drink. I can hardly stand I'm laughing so hard. Flash forward to today. I have fallen asleep in our living room chair and the kid is snuggled up to me watching TV and eating his cheerios. I wake up and find that he's lifted up my shirt and there is a cheerio in my belly button. Seriously. You can't even make this stuff up.

Supa Tuesday - Part deux

Just wanted to add...it's almost 11:00pm here on the left coast and I'm still GLUED to the election results on TV. I really can't remember the last time I was so interested in primary or caucus results. But I've been watching and reading about both Democratic and Republican nomination races since the Iowa caucuses. Note - I am NOT a politico. In fact, I am normally quite apathetic when it comes to politics. However, this is a party train I can get on. Whoo whoo!

Supa Tuesday

I'm excited. We are living in an amazing and exiting time. For the first time in the history of the United States of America, there will be either a woman or a black man in a VERY good position to become the next President. Either a woman or a black man will be the democratic party's nomination for President of the United States of America. I honestly never thought I would see this in my lifetime. Years ago, even before I had children, I had hoped that my children would see it happen in their lifetime, but I wasn't too optimistic. Call me cynical.

But it's happening, it's really happening. And I feel proud. Not because of any of my own efforts, I'm not necessarily proud of me, but I'm proud of this country. I'm proud that there are enough Americans out there who can plow through all the bull$hit that's out there and stand up for what they believe in - stand up for change and have their voices heard. I'm proud that I can tell and give real-life examples to the kid that tell him, when it comes down to it, that while gender and race may make it harder/easier to achieve whatever your goals may be, they certainly don't automatically qualify/disqualify you from them. That's seriously cool.

I actually voted in California's early voting two weeks ago. They had polling places set up around the county and they were open for about a week. Conveniently, they set one up right at the University where I work. Thank goodness because the last time I tried to vote with a toddler in tow...well, let's just say I didn't (not that I didn't do vote, I just drove back and forth to my polling place/daycare so that I could vote without a 2 year old pulling on my legs and trying to press all the buttons himself.)

So I placed my vote for my man Barack. LOVE me some Barack Obama. Would LOVE this country to have a President Obama. Now, truth be told, I did feel a twinge of guilt about not voting for a woman. I almost felt like I'd betrayed my ideals as a feminist. But at the heart of feminism is freedom and equality, right? The freedom to make those choices regardless of your gender? Well, then, my choice was for Obama. Of course, I will still be elated should Hilary win the nomination, they are, in my opinion, close in position on many of the issues most important to me. Should Hilary win the nomination my complete rally of support will definitely go to her. But there is just something about the way Barack speaks. He's got a way about him...a way to move people...a way that Hilary just doesn't have. I actually find Hilary to be more divisive than Barack. So my rally cry is Obama '08. Spread the word, friends. It's supa tuesday.

What fun! I've been tagged!

Ok, I'm a little giddy. Like the dorky non-athlete who never gets picked and is suddenly picked. I've been tagged for a fun blogging game from my wonderfully witty Mama friend. So here goes. I'm a newbie in the blogging universe, so I hope I get this right.

The rules:

1) Link to the person that tagged you.
2) Post the rules on your blog.
3) Share six non-important things/habits/quirks about yourself.
4) Tag at least three people at the end of your post and link to their blogs.
5) Let each person know they have been tagged by leaving a comment on their blog.
6) Let the fun begin!

And here are my answers:

1) I have an unnatural fear of birds. Seriously, it's almost paralyzing. And I've never even seen Alfred Hitchcock's movie, "The Birds". Doing so may cause me to seizure. Birds just freak me out. The thought of one in my hand, flittering and fluttering around is completely horrifying. When M and I were looking for houses, we went to an open house of what would have been the perfect home for us. Single story, large backyard (unheard of in these parts), 3 bedrooms and in a perfect neighborhood. Well, as we toured the home, I stroll into the master bedroom, liking everything I see. Then I face M, who is standing there stone-faced. He tells me, "Ok, don't freak out, but turn around slowly". I follow directions and come face-to-face with two parrots sitting on a perch. NOT IN A CAGE. Just out in the open like that. Of course, I freak and RUN out of the house. Seriously, who the hell leaves birds out in the open like that when they are holding an open house!?!?!? Anyway, needless to say, I couldn't face buying that house. No matter how perfect. Oh...and don't even get me started about the time an ostrich (YES, A FREAKIN' OSTRICH!) tried to kill me on the Kilimanjaro Safari ride at Walt Disney World.

2) I hate the rain. I do, and boy do I feel guilty about it in drought-stricken Southern California. I know we need it, I know it's so beneficial, but I hate it when it rains.

3) I can't live without carne asada tacos. I have to have them. They are an addiction. And they have to be made from GOOD carne asada. Not like the "steak taco" knockoffs you get at chains like Chipotle. That stuff's crap. I want it grilled in manteca, marinated for hours, and served in a fat-laden tortilla. You can't get that outside of Southern California. It's one of the main reasons M and I never moved out of state. I kid you not. We're that shallow.

4) I love hot showers. LOVE LOVE LOVE them. I take two a day. I know it's wasteful use of precious resources (see previous reference about drought-stricken California) and my skin is dry as a lizard because of it, but they feel good. So sue me.

5) My eyelids crease funny. Well, one does. My right eyelid has a typical fold. The single fold like people of non-asian descent (even though I am asian) . But my left eyelid has a triple fold. Like it doesn't crease in just one place. I think it makes my eyes look lopsided, but anyone who I've ever pointed it out to insists they cannot tell. Maybe it's just me. We are, after all, our own worst critics at times.

6) My right foot is ever so slightly larger than my left. And my big toe on my right foot protrudes upward moreso than the left. Hence, I've got a tiny hole in my right Ugg boot. Makes me sad...I love my Ugg boots.

Ok, so there are six quirky things about me. Took me longer than I expected to come up with them. For my first time, I hope I did ok! Anyway, I'm supposed to tag three others, but again, as a newbie to blogging, I don't have that many friends who are blogging. Well, not any that might have already been tagged. But, I'm a stickler for rules, so here goes:

Tagging now: Maureen - seeing if I can get her in before her lenten deadline, Ann - because you know, she doesn't have enough to do with 3 kids (one a newborn), and Joyce - but I'm sure she's done this before (sorry mama, I ran out of blogs - LOL!)

Bittersweet...

My baby is growing up. Every mom out there knows how this simultaneously makes your heart sing and weep. I got a call last week from the daycare directress. She asked me if I had started thinking about preschools for the kid. I mean, it's always been in the back of my mind, but having someone outside of your own family bring it up as a necessary and inevitable next step is just jarring, I guess. The kid is in a childcare program at the University where I work. He is currently in the Infant/Toddler Center and the way the system goes, the care is seamless, so he simply moves on to one of the two preschools on campus. Like I said, I knew it was coming, but preschool just sound so grown-up! My baby goes to daycare where ALL the infants and toddlers go to daycare. Where the babies are supposed to go. Only that he isn't a baby anymore.

So I went to visit the two different preschools last week. Both are wonderful programs, and honestly, it's going to be tough choosing between the two. I am blessed to say that when doing a standard pro/con list, cons were hard to find. Both had a number of pros and it's just a matter of deciding which pros are more important to us...and to the kid. But when visiting the schools, all I could think was that these kids seem so old. So grown up. So much like little people and not like babies anymore. And a lot of the kids in the classrooms I visited, I've known since they were babies. They were at the Infant/Toddler Center with the kid as well...and they've grown and moved on. I wondered if their mothers felt the same way I did standing there in the middle of the controlled chaos. But they are mothers. Of course they did.

I know I sound melodramatic. Even weepy and pathetic. Honestly, I am proud...because the kid is independent and smart and can do a lot of things on his own now. Haven't M and I been working so hard all along so that he can grow as such? But it was only yesterday that he was a helpless infant, who, with those big, brown, wonderful eyes sought out mommy at all times because he was dependent on me...for nourishment, for comfort, for everything he needed but could not provide on his own. Now I realize that I was and am just as dependent on him...for almost the very same things. I wear my heart and soul outside of my body in the form of a dynamic, precocious, energetic, but benevolent little boy. Who, as it is, is not going to be so little for very long.

And the propaganda begins...

As you may know, we are working on potty-training. Lord, give me strength. Anyway, part and parcel with potty-training is learning body parts...and the inherent differences between boys and girls. While I had taught the kid the tagalog words for body parts, including female and male genitalia, the tagalog words for penis and vagina are strikingly similar. So, I have, of late, taught him the words in english.

Tonight as the kid was yammering on about this thing and that (remember, age two = verbal explosion), he turns to me and says, "Mommy - a vagina! (the kid) - a penis! Daddy - a penis!" Well, he got it all correct, so I acknowledge and congratulate with a hearty, "Yes, honey! That's right! Very GOOD!" Then he pauses for a minute and looks up at me in almost a half-whisper, "Mommy, Daddy's is a BIG penis."

I was rolling my eyes so hard they almost got stuck backwards in their sockets. M needs reinforcement from a 2-year-old, apparently.

From the mouths of babes - part dos

Ok, so as you know, the kid is totally obsessed with the "It's a Small World" ride at Disneyland. Well, as he watches the YouTube version over and over again, he likes to click on the "related videos" on the side of the video he's watching. Yes, my 2 1/2 year old knows how to use the computer mouse, totally understands the "point-and-click" to get what he wants. You know what? I barely had to teach him. Honestly, I think I showed him only once or twice. It's amazing what they can learn when it something that can get them what THEY want. Seriously, you'd think it would be this easy with potty-training. But I digress.

Anyway, so the kid is pointing and clicking at various related videos and some come up that aren't very good quality. Like the picture is grainy and the sound is splotchy. So as he's clicking around and viewing the poor-quality clips, I hear him exclaim, "This Small World sucks!" Goodness. Should I be proud, at least, that he used the word, "sucks" in its correct context?

I wish...

I wish:

1) that I were taller
2) that I was wittier...or smarter than I actually am
3) that bacon had the nutritional properties of spinach and broccoli
4) that I had an iPod adaptor in my car so I wouldn't have to listen to "Hella Good" by Gwen Stefani umpteen times over during the drive to work/daycare and back home again
5) that laundry would do itself
6) life could be managed without stress and with more sleep

But, I'm happy that:

1) at 32, I still have a small, yet perky a$$.
2) that colleagues, friends and family think I AM wittier and smarter than I actually am
3) that my kid WILL eat broccoli (although he prefers bacon - hey, he's human, right?)
4) that I am listening to "Hella Good"by Gwen Stefani instead of "Fruit Salad" by the Wiggles
5) housecleaners come to "reset" my house every other week
6) I am still sane...and that I'm genuinely happy.

Mama told me there'd be days like this...

because apparently, I wasn't such a well-behaved child either. Last night, when we got home from work/daycare, the kid was in top form. I mean, we simply walked in the door and he started throwing some attitude. First, he demands to go upstairs and play with his computer and, before going up the stairs, proceeds to overturn 2 baskets of clean laundry on the living room floor. When I asked him to pick up the clothes, he screamed, "NO!" and starts to head up the stairs. No sooner do I tell him he must pick up the clothes before he plays on his computer does the kid go into full-on tantrum mode. Ok. I wait. He's done. He then picks up said clothes. But this is only the beginning of the evening.

I'll spare you the gory details, but in a nutshell, the next hour and a half was filled with at least 2 more tantrums, more demands (from the kid, not from me), some pushing and hitting (again, originated from the kid, NOT from me), and at least one time out. I mean, I knew that 2 years old was going to be tough, but MY GOD will I survive? Then, M called on his way home from work to tell me he'd be home in about 20 minutes and it was like the skies parted and heaven shone upon me. At the time I was making dinner and getting it ready to put it in front of the kid, thinking, "Thank God - when M gets home, he can feed the kid and I'm going upstairs to lay down."

Well, as I'm putting together the kid's dinner and telling him to get to the table, he runs into the kitchen and sees his dinner. He raises his hands and starts clapping, exclaiming, "Good JOB, Mommy!" Then he sits at the table and I sit next to him. He leans over and looks up at me with those big, baby brown eyes and says, "Mommy pretty - I lub you mommy!" And my heart melts.

So even on days like this, it's TOTALLY worth it.

Breaking Down Barriers

I love my husband. I do. I truly love him. For all the complaining I do about him, I know there is no one else in this world who I could share my life with so completely, so honestly, and exhaustively. Don't get me wrong, the man does drive me crazy more often that not, but how boring would it be if he didn't? But you know what? He gets me. He gets us. And that's REALLY special.

We definitely have our differences. Actually, we've got many. First and most noticible, we are a mixed-race family. I am Filipino and M is Caucasian. We grew up in different ethnicities, different cultures, different traditions. Now, we both grew up in Southern California, so while there are a lot of similarities, there are still just as many differences. When we first got married I explained to M my feelings on a bi-racial family. Truth of the matter is, Southern California is host to many, many different ethnicities, and, for the most part, I've always had a very diverse group of friends, even growing up. M did too. Because of the diversity of the area in which we live, I will say that I've never experienced outright acts of bigotry or discrimination, at least against me. Thankfully. But don't for a minute think that I'm not completely and consciously aware that I am different. That I come from a different background and culture. That's not a good or bad thing. It's nothing that hangs over my head or anything. It's just there. It's just a fact.

So I tried my best to explain this feeling of "different" to M. God bless him, he tried his best to understand, but without living it or feeling it in your heart, he and I both knew he wasn't really "getting" it. But my purpose in explaining this to him was so that he would know that his own children would feel this way. At least sometimes. And maybe more acutely because they would be bi-racial. Who knows...I am not bi-racial so I don't understand how that might feel. But M needed to know that even in a diverse society these issues are out there. It's easy to ignore them or live your life thinking/believing that they aren't there. I guess I was just trying to raise awareness.

M means so much to me because he embraces our differences. He embraces and loves that we come from different backgrounds. Even more important, he embraces the significance of raising children with the knowledge and appreciation of their heritage and cultural background. M supports and is excited that I try to speak to the kid in Tagalog...that I am adamant about my children being multi-lingual. He loves to try new and foreign things, in fact, he's more brave about it than I am.

Anyway, the reason I bring this up is because M told me the other night he was watching Oprah (and I'm sure he's going to KILL me for blabbing to the internet community that my husband watches Oprah - sorry babe) and an especially moving piece came on. It was called Breaking Down Barriers and it was an in-depth look at a "typical" American High School. What it revealed was underlying racial and class tension that you wouldn't automatically assume was there. But it was...and this high school accepted a challenge to attempt to create a more unified community. The episode touched something in M. He told me that now he felt he understood what I was talking about when I explained the "awareness". And he felt it because he understood that one day, almost certainly, he would have to deal with someone saying something or doing something or judging his kid not because of his character, not because of his personality, but because of his looks. Because of the color of his skin or the slant of his eyes. And that broke his heart.

I love that I share my life with someone who has the ability to open his mind and heart to let this stuff in. I love that I am raising my family with a man who will teach his children to do the same. I can be an awesome mother...I can try and give my children everything they need and want. But I cannot teach my son to be a man. Thankfully, he has one of the best examples I've ever met.

It's A Small World

So the kid is recently obsessed with "It's a Small World", the ride at Disneyland. And I mean OBSESSED. To the point where he is singing the damn song every 5 minutes. Like belting it out at the top of his lungs. The other morning, M and I woke to "It's a Small World" at a volume that would have the neighbors calling to complain at 6:00AM. The kid has the vocal volume of Whitney Houston. No need for a microphone.

His grandparents took him on a trip to Disneyland last week. He forced them to ride the attraction FIVE times. Then, when they tried to leave, he cried. He threw a tantrum. A tantrum of proportions so big that a cast member came over and made him an "honorary citizen of Disneyland" just to shut him up. Good thing mama wasn't there.

Want to know how far the obsession goes? I happened to stumble upon this video on YouTube. Thank you ru42 who shot it. The kid watches this on the computer practically 10 times a day. It allows me to take a shower and do some dishes. God bless YouTube. When it starts, he pumps his fists in the air and declares, "Go Small World! Go Small World!" Then he goes on to sing along...the WHOLE time.


Distressing news, though. Apparently the Small World ride at Disneyland is in need of some serious rehab. Figures. It's an old ride and the boats scrape along the bottom. So, starting January 17, it goes down for rehab and doesn't reopen UNTIL NOVEMBER. Crapity crap crap. Looks like no more Disneyland visits until December, 2008.

I am a derelict blogger

There. I've admitted it. I haven't blogged in almost a month. To my one fan out there who checks my blog, my sincere apologies.

The holidays are tough. My work schedule allows me to take about a week and a half off around the holidays due to campus closure, but honestly, those are the days that are the most hectic and stressful of the entire year! I do love the holidays, but I have to say, they take a toll on you. I couldn't wait to get back to work - if only to relax from my "vacation."

As if we didn't have enough going on over the past couple of weeks, we dipped our toes into the potty-training arena. It did not go well. And at this point, I'm perfectly ok with sending the kid to kindergarten in diapers. I had these grandiose ideas of going cold turkey and believing that the kid would be potty trained in 3 days. What in the hell was I smoking? Idealistic thoughts of a first-time parent.

So now we are back to work, the kid is back in daycare, and we are settling back into our routine. Thank the stars. I gotta say, I am definitely a routine person. I know that doesn't sound sexy...in fact, it makes me sound boring and fuddy-duddy. But I don't care. I love my routine. It keeps me going...let's me know that something is getting done. Less stressful than being on a so-called "vacation." To me, vacation equals chaos...and mama no likey.

I will attempt, in this new year (I don't do resolutions) to keep up with the blogging. To come out of the land of neglect. And, for my one fan, some pictures from the holiday season...please enjoy.

Every year on Christmas Eve morn, we head to Laguna Beach. We usually have a nice breakfast and take pictures on the beach. This year, however, we got a late start and ended up just having a late lunch. But here are some pictures:

This is cheesy, but I love it. Every year, we take a picture of the kid next to this miniature tree. I just like to see him grow every year. Please pay no attention to the "I might be constipated" smile on his face...when you ask the kid to smile this is what you get:


Building sand castles with mommy:



The tree and all the presents on Christmas morn:


Parking garage from Plan Toys - highly recommended! And a new bike!



and finally...the family shot: