More things Koreans like...

11) Mercedes Benz - not BMWs.  Those are for young kids.  Older Koreans love the Benz.  I once rolled up on my Mom's house during one of her poker games (see #14) and saw 4 Benzs lined up across her driveway.  Looked like a Sopranos sit-down.
12) Karaoke - Ok, I won't use a Japanese word to describe what Koreans like.  Norae-bang.  There that's a Korean word to describe what Koreans like to do:  sing in front of their friends, peers, fellow church members.  Don't matter who - when asked, you get up and start singing from your repertoire.  My parents practice their songs during the week.  It's serious stuff.
13) Toothpicks - Yup, the men love toothpicks.  You pick one up on the way out from your soon dubu, kalbi fest and pop it into your mouth.  You remove it later when you need to smoke.  Women take a more covert approach to toothpickin'.  They will cover one hand over their mouth while the other hand works the instrument in between all of their teeth.  Word to these women:  I see what you are doing!  The hand does not help!  Do this at home!!!
14) Poker (gambling in general) - Nothing makes my Mom happier than gambling.  I'm not talking about video poker or loose slots.  I'm talking about 21 and poker.  As my brother said, when she gambles - she forgets that she is a Mom.  We are like foster kids.  She throws some money at us and runs away, mumbling something about meeting us back at the hotel room.  It's crazy.  2 or 3 a.m. is not unusual time to see her again.  It's amazing.
15) Cold hard cash aka scrilla - I can count on my fingers how many times my parents bought me a present that was wrapped.  Screw the bow.  Usually I got a really old card (Happy Birthday Niece) my Mom found in her drawer somewhere with a little somethin' somethin'.  As a child, this was disappointing - but as an adult - I love it.  In fact, I lurve it.  More people should give cash.  Good for the giver and recipient.

Phlegm City

We're falling like flies here in Phlegm City.  First Dbonz sneezed four times in a row on Thursday and then big sis started hacking up luigis.  Mom held out for a few days, valiantly trying to drink a lot of lemon water, vitamins washed down with Diet Coke.  Now, she's got chills and they are multiplyin.  It's not electrifyin'.  It sucks.  One day alone with two sick kids was about as much as I could take.  They should make a special brand of tranquilizer for staying at home with kids.  Not full-strength but just enough to take the edge off.  Mommy's little helper.  They could sell it in the tampon aisle.  :-)

Cleaning chili off the carpet

I saw this 'Office' episode where Kevin, the HR guy, accidentally dumps a giant pot of chili on the office carpet. He tries desperately to scoop it back into the pot with anything he can grab which turns out to be a manila file folder. His weak attempts are ineffective and he ends up slipping around in a giant, goopy mess - somehow making it all worse with each stroke. Kevin's goopy incident made me think of some of my more difficult days here at the ranch. Love the kids; hate the mess. My 2 y.o. son is adorable but he has been driving me bonkers for days....waking up in the middle of the night for no reason. Then creating havoc during the day, making messes, biting his older sister and generally being a loon. I'm told this is normal behavior for boys. I'm not happy about this feedback at all. I'm biding my time until preschool - hopefully he won't get kicked out. In the meantime, I will keep scooping up the chili...

On a brighter note, I published a guest post at Kimchi Mamas on my daughter's Korean school. Check it out here.

That's right....I ran it. Booyah!

Fuel for my fire

These things fuel my fire:
Smiles of my babies
My giant fleece blanket aka the marshmellow
Clair de lune by Debussy
Giant vat of Korean soup (any kind will do)
Jumping on bubble wrap
Hot coffee from Peetz
Love of family and Jesus Christos
Massages
New Yorker
Vanity Fair
Nora Ephron
Woody Allen movies
Moonstruck
Stewie from Family Guy
Brian from Family Guy
Eating meals while laughing hysterically with friends
Perfect black pumps
Led Zeppelin
Alicia Keys
D'Angelo
Donuts

Mad Men

I get a big smile on my face when I realize it is Sunday.  Sunday night means Mad Men.  Great writing, women with real curves, a successful mousy woman, smart-mouthed Slattery and Mr. Hamm.  Here's to you Mad Men - hope you will go on forever...

UTERUS, O UTERUS...How do I love thee!

Yesterday, a doctor confirmed that I will need to have a hysterectomy in the next few years.  I need this because my uterus (aka my baby case, baby bucket, ol' trusty) has several benign tumors called fibroids.  I've had this condition since 2003 and have felt and watched them grow and shrink with each of my two pregnancies.  Now I have one big tumor (big bertha) and it's pressing on my bladder and just making life uncomfortable.  The uterus is an under-appreciated organ, the Rodney Dangerfield of the body.  It's not the heart, lungs, intestine.  It's just a fetus sleeping bag for 9 months and then it just fills and empties with blood every month after that.  Despite its low profile, I have the utmost respect for my uterus because it defied the odds and kept my babies safe by not expelling them prematurely (as many doctors warned me) and not leaving them with dented heads (not a real danger but one I conjured up).  I used to think that several of the fibroids kept my daughter company when she was in there.  In my imagination, they looked like that purple character from McDonalds (see image).

Now faced with losing my uterus, I feel very upset.  People need to stop messing with my abdomen!  I've had 3 abdomen surgeries in the last 6 years!  (2 c-sections, 1 appendectomy) Stop fucking with my guts! I know exactly how the recovery will be and it's not pretty.  I'm not a stoic person.  When faced with great illness or pain, I plummet into self-pity and usually depression.   I can't help it and I wish I could say it wasn't that way but I like to be in control and also am a creature of habit.  When you can't get up or walk around without feeling like you're going to rip open your guts, it's easy to get a little down.  So I don't know what to think about this...maybe writing about it will help.

What Koreans like...

I've been reading this website called Stuff White People Like.  It made me laugh like a hyena....farmer's markets, camping, eating outside, moleskine notebooks, trains and Mad Men.  So here's my take on stuff Koreans like....based entirely on watching my parents and corroborating it with other friends...

1) Church - Even if you are not a Christian...you will go to church, a Korean one.  Church=social club. Plus your kids might meet their future spouse there!  I did not but that's a small detail.
2) Dial soap - Old school orange version.  It will cure all ailments according to my parents.  From eczema to getting sick a lot.  "Dial kill da germs."
3) Roe (fish eggs) - Personally this makes me want to puke but my parents treat this like black gold. Let's just throw in fish eyeballs too.
4) Slippers - Once you take your shoes off at the front door, you slip your feet into some nice terry cloth slippers and scuff your way to the kitchen to boil some tea...
5) Barley tea - Dark brown tea made with barley....hot in the winter and cold in the summer.  I love it.
6) Burberry - Raincoats, visors, quilted jackets, golf gear, purses....ya gotta have it....real or fake, don't matter.
7) Plastic or glass containers - My mom must have 4000 small glass/plastic containers to store even the smallest amount of food leftover from any meal.  One orange segment? Put it into a tiny container!  It looks like an Escher drawing in the fridge: staircases to nowhere....
8) Golf - most obvious one.  I think it has to do with being able to rate your ability vs. someone else's.  After you get your PhD, how will you know where you rank?
9) Serialized TV dramas - Korea produces the most widely watched drama shows in Asia.  They are translated into all languages.  I happen to love one the most - My Lovely Kim Sam Soon.  This show rocks.  My parents rent these shows on DVDs - checking out 10 at a time! Highly addictive...
10) Fruit after dinner - After dinner, we used to watch TV while my mom cut apples.  We ate apples every night - varying occasionally with watermelon, grapes or pear but apples were a mainstay.  My mom even taught me to cut an apple in the "right" way which I still do to this day....

My Ahbuhgee...

In early July, we celebrated my Dad's 70th birthday with a big fancy dinner party.  The room was full of my Dad's friends; some of whom he has known for more than 50 years.  I grew up with many of them, seeing them at BBQs, church camp, and the occasional smoky house party with loud karaoke music (we hosted a LOT of these).  In the 80s, my parents loved to party:  8-10 families in the house, Johnny Walker, Stoli, open mics complete with dirty jokes.  It was crazy but fun.  These same people now greeted me with smiling familiar faces now lined with age.  I put a lot of effort into the party planning.  I created a an extensive slideshow of my Dad's life and a trivia game about his life, quirks and hobbies.  He loves doing the laundry, go figure. No one got drunk and I didn't faint during my toast.  I was happy no one could tell that in the weeks leading up to the birthday that I was an emotional wreck. The panic in the days before the party would ebb and flow.  I channeled most of it into the preparation for the party; hence the lonnngggg slide show.  I busied myself to stave off the reality.

Dad turning 70 just stopped my breath.  70 sounded so old.  Before my Dad reached his seventh decade, 70 used to conjure up images of a bent over old man using a cane with white flowing hair: Gandalf from Lord of the Rings.  My wide-faced, tan Korean Dad looks nothing like Gandalf.  He works out at the YMCA four times a week, plays golf every weekend and looks like a trim 50 year old.  Heck, many of my friends told me that they found him attractive (gak!).  I realized that I was emotionally wrought because I thought he would live forever and here I was faced with a significant sign of his mortality.  His life will end just as mine will someday.  It didn't help that I turned 40 the day before his party.  I had to swallow two big milestones; each felt like a heavy, cold anvil.

We've come a long way - my Dad and me.  We didn't always have the greatest of relationships.  He's a bit of a rageaholic, type A, perfectionist.  He was always head of his class since he had to win scholarships to pay for school in Korea.  He expected me to be the best.  When I misspelled a word during a district-wide spelling bee, he berated me on the way to the car.  Nice.  This guy had NO filter.  He was so strict.  I remember crying into my big bowl of gomtang (Korean soup) because I couldn't sleepover a friend's house.  "What's a sleepover?" he asked.  "You have a perfectly good bed upstairs!"  He's also very traditional:  women serve men, women keep the home.  This pertained to my Mom the most.  For me, he wanted something different.  He wanted me to be Carly Fiorina - a CEO.  (talk about contradictory).

But during the last 10 years, we've built a new relationship.  I've confirmed that we actually have a lot in common.  He is an artist (painter), loves to read (all of Steinbeck's novels), and go to museums.  He also loves to go out to eat.  A bon vivant.  Most importantly, he became a Christian recently.  His heart has been softened by God's grace.  It's amazing really; a miracle.  I should never underestimate God's power.  He marinated the heart of this rageaholic with his Love.  He's definitely not a softie still but I'm glad that we still have this time together not to right past but at least to add another chapter.

Summer observations

1) Summer is actually very short.  Basically 9 weeks which are going by like THAT! (insert snap sound)

2) I've actually gotten closer to my little Sophie.  We have more stretches of downtime to hang out and be silly together.  

3) Both my children are growing up so fast.  Each morning they look a wee bit different.  A longer leg, a leaner face, or maybe even facial features that have been slightly rearranged overnight. Weird, right? 

4) Oh yeah, I also turned 40 but I'm ok with it.  (more on that later)

5) My 20 month old son talks now.  He says no, mine, owie, dooce (for juice), does (toes), mommy, daddy, ami (for grandma), points to his nose.  He also recognizes Thomas (choo-choo) and Elmo (Ellow).  

6) He's also is a little tyrant.  If he were a factory, his only product would be tantrums.  If he were a river - his only flow would be anger.  The one mitigating factor is that he has eczema and though it has ebbs/flows - it looks friggin awful and he looks miserable.  It's like torture to watch him scratch, howl, get up and then sit down, unable to figure out what to do.  All I can do is cover him in Aquaphor, cortisone, distract him and then call the doctor for another appt.  It's been hard on me and most of all on him.  

7) When he wants anything, he says Mommy at the top of his lungs, hurls himself on the floor.  When that doesn't work, he'll scratch his legs (because this always works) and howl "Owie!"  This makes mommy move fast like a kid at a carnival. 

8) The warm weather and long days are glorious.  I wish they would never end.  

9) Next weekend, I'm going away with some old high school (even gradeschool) friends for a 1969 birthday celebration.  Should be fun.  Ok, I lie - I'm nervous about leaving my eczema son and little girl and hanging out 90 miles away.  Deep breath....

10) I thought I would hate being 40 but I like it so far.  Feels like an accomplishment (not about aging) but about just building a nice life for myself.  Kids, nice hubbie, career, etc.  

Happy summer, dudettes!!!

Gooey puddle of mommy love

My girl has been out of school and in a science camp for three weeks. So I have six hours with just one kid, the younger one, the squirrely one. I didn't know what to do with him. So we went to the park, grocery shopped and hung out at the mall. He's a handful all by himself. Call him "the bigger pain in my ass." I love the little guy but he drives me cuckoo. When I was pregnant with my first child, I thought I would make a better mother to a boy than a girl. Now that I have one of each, I believe that I am a better mom to a girl. Boys confound me. They are physical rather than emotional. My 20 month old boy is a tasmanian devil. A whirling dervish and destruction machine. Today he broke several picture frames, destroyed his dresser drawers and ate dirt. Ick. He loves to dive headfirst down stairs and jams fistfuls of food (no matter the size) in his mouth. His hands are always sticky and damp. Gak. It's amazing he's in one piece at the end of the day. Good thing he's close to the ground and has a layer of padding all around. Though after a piping hot bath when he's clean and smiley - I melt into a gooey puddle of mommy love. I is a goner.

Proud Momma

Tonight I watched my daughter dance in her first talent show. As she twirled across the stage with several other girls, I gulped and thought - my baby is all grown up. I remember when she was a roly-poly infant, giggly toddler and then petulant preschooler. Now she is still babyfaced but her features are solidfying into the girl she's going to become. She still plays with cars on an imaginary track on the carpet but she also tells me that I should wear my black shorts instead of my white ones. It's not just my girl, both my children are growing up quickly. My toddler boy's chubbie (very bite-able) legs are thinning out (oh no!) and he's starting to run (oh shit!). Time is speeding up. Time is weird. During the afternoon usually around 4 p.m. - time slows to a crawl - I can practically hear the ants outside my window yawn. But one day you look at your kids and say - what the hell happened to my babies?! And these are the babies that you complain about to your friends over wine when you are alone.

I do bitch and moan about how hard childrearing is - how hard it is to run a house - to keep on top of everything but when I look at my kids and see how fast they are growing - I just want to press the pause button, take them into my arms, hug them and freeze that moment when they are in my arms, they smell so sweet/fresh, they smile at my silly jokes and they are so innocent. I will always treasure this time in my life when I was turning 40 - my daughter was a fairy princess and my little boy ran from me with his saggy diaper butt. Ah, the bitter with the sweet.

More car wash than spa...

On Saturday, I went with my friend Shirley to the Imperial Spa in San Francisco, a jimjilbang or public bathhouse.  We were scheduled for a scrub and massage.  This ain't your Swedish, oily, Enya-soaked odyssey on 250 count sheets.  This is MASSAGE, K-town style, ya dig?  That means you will be handled, moved and abused by a Korean lady in a matching bra and panty set.  (I never could figure out why they do that but oh well.) But first let me describe the scene.  Me=totally naked.  I'm totally comfortable naked.  I'm not sure people love to see me naked but their problem.  The room is like a giant shower stall (tiled with drains on floor), not unpleasant but utilitarian looking.  There are three massage tables with giant plastic tarps on them.  I laid down, eyeing my friend Shirley over the woman in between us. We smiled sort of like you do when you're about to go down a steep slope of a roller coaster.  My lady said - "face down" so I laid on my stomach and wiggled my toes.  I immediately feel this giant gush of warm water down my back and body.  AHHHHHhhhhh, me feel like a giant 145 lb baby.  Then another one.  I could cry big mom tears.  Then she started the "scrub" part of my treatment. She is scrubbing me raw - every part of my body - in between here and under there.  It's not for the bashful.  Why do people pay for this?  Let me preface this by saying that Koreans believe soap does not make you clean.  What makes you really clean is removing the top layer of skin on your entire body.  I think the medical world calls this your epidermis?  I'm kidding.  Really if you are ever in the hot bath long enough, try rubbing your skin.  You will see a dark grey worm of dead skin appear.  To a Korean mom or grandmom, this dark worm is the motherlode, black gold, Texas tea - a sign that she has made you clean.  Of course you will be red afterwards and possibly sore - but you are skinless er, really clean.  Either way, there is no dirt there any longer.  So back to me, so Jeney my Korean masseuse is rubbing me every which way and it doesn't hurt.  I've never gotten my deh (Korean for dead skin) removed ever in my life so she's breaking a sweat here in her matching panty set.  At one point, I think she was panting because it took so much effort.  Once she was done, she poured a couple more buckets of hot water on me and told me to stand up and dry off.  The massage would soon commence.  Wow, I wasn't expecting such a thorough massage.  Boobs, bum, inner thigh but not my dark continent.  I was floored.  No polite questioning of my comfort level or would I mind this...nope!  Just goin at it with vigor.  Afterwards, she gave me a cucumber (real chopped up veggie) facial and washed my hair.  I was glowing and happy - this feeling lasted  until I got home and even after my kids were whining and my husband asked me a lot of questions about where things were, etc.  My Korean bathhouse experience was awesome I highly recommend it!  But only if you like being naked...

Turning corners...

I'm sleeping more!  My kids are 5.5 years and 15 months.  My 15 month old is finally sleeping through the night.  He is so cute.  I love his big cheeks and the ones on his face too (ba dum bum).  His big sister is a bona fide elementary school kid; she loves school, her teacher and recess (duh).  I love doing her hair before school; she wears pigtails or just a pin on one side. She just learned to read!  I can hear her reading to herself in her room some nights; it's so cute. During a visit to the library, I overheard her "reading" to herself which meant in a low speaking voice that disgruntled a lot of senior citizens.  I told her to be read to herself silently so she did:  now all you could hear was a loud breathy whisper:  "Clifford didn't want ice cream so he walked across the street to the car wash..."  I can't believe that her kindergarten experience is almost half over; school gets out June 10.  I already signed her up for summer camp after reading some mom's freakout online about getting a jumpstart on summer.  She is an overall sunny person, a great big sister.  She is always looking out for her younger brother - keeping him from getting hurt (grabbing a knife) and then turning around and (unintentionally) hurting him in the process (tackling him to the ground).

She is very observant and pretty mature for her age.  I sometimes feel like I'm speaking with someone twice as old as she is.  She's also a little bossy and exacting though not to an obnoxious degree.  She has a hard time with the girl cliques (yes there is such as thing as a 5 year old queen bee) but we're working through each situation.  It's so hard to do this with her because it brings up my own fear of rejection and disapproval.  I remember the many times I faced or avoided (girl) bullies in my school.  It was and is so much easier for me to tell off a man than a woman.  Bad of me, isn't t?

Wait, I can yell at pretty much anyone as long as I feel justified.  I have to be (extra/double extra) sure of myself but I have been known to yell at someone if I feel like I'm getting the raw end of the deal.  It's the crispy kimchee in me.  All that spicy fermentation needs an outlet.  I digress. My daughter is facing that pack mentality of (most not all) girls that drives me crazy.  I understand the need for companionship or common ground or even to not feel like a loner freak. But I don't understand or feel comfortable with the whole let's all dress like each other, do exactly the same thing and all hang out at the mall together.  I never understood it when I was 12 either.  I wish I could give her a mental shield and helmet to wear as she goes through these next 15 years so she can deflect the mean words, judgment and conformist bullshit thrown at her by her fellow girls.  Whew, I'm glad I'm turning 40.  

25 Random Things Re Me

1. I tried out for the movie Joy Luck Club and made it to the next level after cattle call.  They asked me to read for the character Waverly.

2. I taught Sunday School.  

3. I worked at Tower Books when I was in high school.  

4. I used to drink gin and tonics - now I can barely drink half a glass of wine.

5. When I was six, I wanted to change my name to Maria.  I loved Mexican dancing with those big skirts.

6. I can't sit down to eat in my kitchen unless it is totally clean.

7.  My first car was a bright orange VW van.  Yes, I took my driver's test with it.

8.  Sometimes, I wish I still smoked.  (I know, smoke kills)

9.  I love steak, cake and Korean food but not all in one day. 

10. My favorite childhood memory is riding my bike with no hands around my neighborhood.  

11.  I have my own Razor scooter.  

12.  I ran my first 5k six months after my daughter was born. I didn't lose ANY weight.

13.  I love karaoke.  The sappier the songs the better.  

14.  I hate pedicures.

15.  When  my little brother was born, I looked into the crib and thought - when is someone going to pick up their baby?

16. I've always wanted to be a writer.  A famous writer.

17.  I have a very large head.  I wear a men's L or XL.  One time I won a contest in my office for largest head (measured by circumference).  Luckily the head measurer covered for me and said someone else won.  I might have won for smallest hands.  

18.  I've been told that I'm a very good listener and give sound advice.

19.  I believe I will die one day of too much diet coke.

20.  I hate Sunday nights.

21.  I took piano for 8 years and still can't really play a tune without music.

22.  When I lived in NY, I saw Al Pacino, Madonna, Uma Thurman, Al Franken and Jackie Kennedy!

23.  My favorite pasttime is talking with friends in a nice restaurant with all the time in the world.  

24.  I cannot walk across the Golden Gate Bridge without breaking out into a cold sweat.

25.  I used to be able to walk across the Golden Gate Bridge.  

Nannyland....it ain't no Disney

I went to the library today with my two kids for storytime.  It was packed with children and their caregivers.  Not moms but caregivers, the PC word for babysitter these days.  I was astonished at the small number of moms that were present.  These nannies were fine nannies - their charges looked clean and well looked after but the whole scene made me feel strange.  It felt as though mothers were now extinct and nannies were the new species to care for children.  I felt like a weirdo like I churned my own butter!  The nannies gathered together and you could tell they were all friends by the ease in which they took care of each other's children and their conversation.  The library lego table was their water cooler and they obviously came here frequently to exchange gossip, talk about their employers and other stuff.  I wish, wish, wish that I had subtitles to the whole conversation.  I know a few Spanish words so what I picked up was mas (more), trabajo (work), quando (when).  So from what I could piece together one of them was bitchin about either having too much or not enough work.  heh. I can't say any of them were great a discipline or "being present" for their kids.  In fact, most were having fun than working.  $25 bucks an hour for hanging out at the water cooler.

Hey I've got a good one!

What did the hat say to the coat rack?
"You stay here. I'm going to go on a-head!"

Random thoughts going round and round

I haven't blogged in a while. I've been on the "hamster wheel" of parenting as my good friend PCho would say. These past two weeks have given me a chance to hibernate, shop (gotta keep the economy going), eat carbs, and sleep in until 10 a.m. several days in a row (amen!). So I emerge now roly-polier, more relaxed, with less cash and a little discombobulated. I always have a ton of random thoughts in my head so I'd like to spew them here. Sort of like a discount bin at Marshall's. No wait that sounds unsavory - how about a beautiful basket of Hermes scarves?

1) I'm so excited for Barack Obama to become president. We've hyped him up quite a bit. As a PR professional (ahem!), I believe he has no where to go but down. Media rollercoaster, here we come! I will be watching the inauguration Tuesday, Jan. 20 - wearing my team's colors: red/white/blue!
2) 2009 is the year my fellow '69ers turn 40. Gasp. To those over 40, please turn away from the screen lest you judge my next few thoughts. I can't fucking believe I'm turning 40. I can't process it. It seems like the beginning of the end. My friend's mother said turning 50 is worse but what can we do? I will just have to become more fabulous.
3) My son is walking! He speaks: da-da, do-do. He points to me and to himself on command. So cute, yeah? Don't let him fool ya. The boy is like a violent badger at times. He has the strength of a much bigger man. He claws, screams and kicks too. It's an education since my daughter was very gentle. Even at 14 months, he wakes up a few times a night due to his eczema (poor baby) but we are hanging in there. His Daddy and I take turns. The other night I held his (not so small) body in my arms and I felt like crying because I was so tired of it all. My emotions are so unpredictable. When people ask me how I am, I often don't really know. The true sign of being a mom: You don't really know! ha!
4) The eerie quiet of Dead Week a.k.a. the holidays. This is probably a blog post unto itself. I have always had a hard time with the holidays. So much expectation both met and unfulfilled. I was always the anxious kid around the holidays who didn't know what to expect and felt like the whole event was weird. That sentiment has stayed with me. I'm not like a lot of other people I know who relish this season: hot chocolate, big cozy sweaters, decorating trees, etc. I do LOVE gifts - not so much receiving them but for giving them - wrapping gifts, the anticipation of watching people open them - hoping that they will appreciate them, etc.

That's it for now...can't wait for school to start! Freedom!

Dbonz

Daniel is my smiley boy.  He smiles even when he is sick.  He has this persistent cough but he still manages to smile when you call him or meet his eyes.  He has this giant oval shaped head - it's hard to explain but it sits perched upon this stocky little body.  I'm so used to Sophie's tranquil girly serenity that his little ball of fists and fury sometimes overwhelm me.  Oftentimes, I laugh at it because it so cute.  I guess it's like when forest rangers take in wolf puppies.  So cuddly and soft until one day they eat your cat.  Ok, bad analogy.  I do think I'm in for a helluva ride with both of them.  Hopefully they won't challenge us too much.  Lord have mercy.  Even as I wrote that sentence I know they will challenge us for every ounce of sense we have.  But for now....

He is so sweet.  I can't pass by his room without him making a happy grunt or needy cry.  One time I actually got down on the ground and crawled by his room so he wouldn't see me.  It didn't work - he heard the scuffling plus I'm not that agile anymore.  I had to quit my job as a mime long ago.  I'm so curious as to what my little boy is going to be - will he be a stocky little athlete who's happy go lucky and hangs out with football players?  or will he be a quiet artist (please God no).  I guess I wish for him a very happy life - one where he knows who he is, how much he is loved, the fact that he can love others and finally that he has a passion in life - a focus where he enjoys putting his time and God-given talents.  But please don't become a minister, please not a minister.  Oy.  

Thank you, God.

It's been a while since I've posted.  A few things have happened in the last month:

- kicked my sleeping issue - its all anxiety issues...same stuff, diff. day.  it's a third generation problem.  I blame my Confucian ancestors who were probably repressed, anxious warriors.  

- Daniel is now walking (at 1 year!)

- we had S' first parent teacher conference (yikes tho it's all good)

- my good friend, P, left me for the Jerzey Shorr where she actually gets to visit all the places I read about in my New Yorker.  Eat a lot of good K-food for me, Cho-P!

- hosted my first official playdate in kindygarten incl. providing a nutritious lunch for two 5 year olds!

- finally admitted i need daycare - economy or no economy.

- finally admitted i need a housekeeper.

- finally admitted i need to chill.

- finally admitted that I need peeps.  not the easter candy.

- finally admitted that i will turn 40 next year.  Holy nutburgers, Batman!

Funny lines from S-child:

- Upon leaving Peetz after Dbonz took an impressively smelly poop in his pants about 2 minutes after we got there, she looks at me and says, "Mom, we should name him In-n-Out Poopburger!"

Sweet lines from S-child:

- I know you get tired of hearing me say this all day but Mom, I love you.  

A memory I will cherish forever:

- Watching Dbonz and S-child freshly bathed (of course) playing in their PJs in Sophie's room - climbing over each other. Fighting a little bit but sharing the same space and being sibs.  So innocent, beautiful and awesome.  I could watch them forever - if only they wouldn't make any demands on me. 

A fact you don't need to know:

- I'm growing out my bangs - so is my daughter.  

peace out.  

Comment on sleeping habits

I've been having trouble sleeping again. Old habits die hard. Anyway, I was talking to my friend Debbie and told her that when you don't sleep with underwear on - the whole bed becomes like a giant pair of underpants....you know the sheets on the bed are like your underwear...never mind.

Sundays

Dear Sunday:

Why do I loathe you?  I don't even have a 9to5 job and I still loathe you.  You do not bring the fresh air relief and giggly giddiness of Friday night (can I remember that feeling before kids?) or the ripe, sunshine-y fun of Saturday.  You are Sunday.  A utilitarian type of day; just 24 stainless steel hours.  A day of chores, a big leaky day, ticking away our precious moments of free time before Monday.  I usually go to church (www.alcf.net) on Sundays - it helps center me, focus on God and brushes the inside of my brain with Comet.  I come away feeling lighter, refreshed and jazzed for a burrito.  Today I missed church.  I felt like a big bowl-less goldfish, flopping around gasping for life force.  I'm so freakin' dramatic.  Ok, so I felt a little floaty without my Jesus dose.  So now I'm downloading gospel music (cause I like my Jesus music laden with R&B grooves and a giant back-up choir) and feeling better.  

The list you've all been waiting for!  Small Town Girl's anxiety list!

1) My kid's allergies - wheat, corn, peas - this kid is going to live on sushi.  Watching him like a hawk so he doesn't pick up his sister's food or old crumbs off the ground.  No more ER visits please!!!

2) My career replaced by profound knowledge of infant poop, vomit and pee!

3) The crazy economy, our dwindling 401Ks, terrorists, what if that old dude wins the election?!

4) My old 60s (untouched, totally original) rancher.  When I watch "Mad Men", I recognize my kitchen.  

5) How all this affects my sleep.  I used to have crazy GI problems in elementary school due to stress, those were replaced by anxiety attacks in college/young adulthood.  Now I'm just a sleepless bag of doorknobs when I get stressed.  

6) No more stomach muscles.

7) Too much diet coke.  Yes, I believe I need to stop this terrible habit of drinking canned drano.  It's not good.  

That's all for now.  hey, it feels good to barf this out online.