Geisha School Dropout

Mother's Day

I don't say it enough, but I really do love hanging out with my kids.  They make me laugh, and their personalities are so vibrant, I can't help but admire them.  But it is getting to be increasingly more difficult to just unplug from all the other responsibilities I have and just enjoy them, undistracted.  On Sunday, I made a conscious effort to "be here now," and hopefully I did right by them.  You never know with kids; their hearts are so big, you can act like any old asshole and they'll love you and make handprint crafts for you anyway.

We had Mother's Day brunch at an adorable boutique hotel near the Queen Mary, and the weather was perfect.  We dined al fresco on all-you-can-eat ceviche, oysters, omelettes, coffee-rubbed beef tenderloin, paella, and of course, mimosas.  It was awesome, and hopefully my mom approved.  Although you never really know with Korean moms either.  

Come to think of it, I spend a lot of my spare brain cycles wondering if I'm a total fuck-up or doing fine in a variety of arenas.   I am good at a few things.  I have impeccable taste in music, I can turn anything into a raunchy joke, I rock at standardized exams, I can bridge the gap between nerds and "normal" people, and I have a good appetite, both literally and figuratively.  None of these things really come in handy when raising small children.  But hopefully one day, there will be an intersection between the curves of Isaac's and Emi's development and my personal skill set, where I can show them that their mom is actually good for something.

I guess what I'm trying to say is this: I've been a late bloomer all my life, and parenting is proving to be no different.   So, I'm a pretty mediocre mom for now, but wait until they need to take the SAT man, I'm all over that shit.  

Early Morning Reverie

 

Oscar wakes up this morning at 4:47, whining to go outside.  This is an hour early for him, but I throw on a sweatshirt and pick him up.  The motion sensor spotlight attached to the garage clicks on to greet us.  The chickens grumble at our intrusion from inside the coop.

The rooftops are covered with frost, the grass crunches underneath my slippers, palm fronds litter the streets, Oscar's pee steams like coffee...now and for the next couple hours at least, it really feels like winter here in Long Beach.  

My heart is heavy because my friend lost his dad yesterday after a long fight with cancer.  I am acutely aware of how the air feels when I breathe it, sharp and cold as it goes in, yet warmed up by the time I exhale.  

And for now at least, I am so grateful to be here, for the opportunity to experience the quiet before the flurry of life and activity that commences when the light strikes the horizon.  I tell myself to remain grateful once the flurry does commence.

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PS: So many things have happened since the last time I truly wrote on here.  Emi is at yet another new school, Tim has a time-intensive new job, Isaac is struggling with making and keeping friends, I am very busy trying to juggle an increased workload with the increased domestic responsibility.  I'm also not feeling very reflective as of late, therefore my radio silence.  I steal blips of material comfort from food, Facebook, and retail therapy.  If left to my own devices, I will turn into one the passengers of the Axium in "Wall-E."  I need to metaphorically get off my hover chair.

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PPS: Tim and I are deep in the grips of LINsanity.  We spent our Valentine's dinner reading up on his game that day, watching this clip over and over again:

Wow, right?

He's amazing.  He will continue to amaze.  And he went to HARVARD???  Be still my ajumma heart!

Tim is absolutely in love.  He even has LINsomnia; he stays up to ungodly hours devouring articles, watching game clips, learning about basketball and how Lin approaches it.  It's cute to see him get into sports.

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PPPS: How YOU doin'?

Sponsored: Natural Presents for EVERYONE - including Myself!

Thanks to Walgreens for underwriting this post. I was paid as a member of the Clever Girls Collective, but the content is all mine. Visit http://www.walgreens.com/beauty.

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I am a firm believer in natural and organic food and products, but as a mom I just can't bear to spend a ton of extra money trying to create an non-toxic household.  Luckily, the market for these kinds of products has grown to the point where you don't have to go to exclusive stores or pay a high premium anymore.  In fact, here are some examples of healthy, environmental, and reasonably-priced gifts you can find in your neighborhood drugstore.

For the Kids

I believe it is especially important to provide kids and babies with natural products as much as possible, but often the steeper price tags make us moms a little hesitant to buy organic or all-natural stuff on a day-to-day basis.  However, that's also the exact reason why they make great holiday gifts, though!

Here is an example of a bath and body set that is sulfate-free, isn't tested on animals, and has gentle vegan ingredients.   I've always thought grapefruit is such a great scent for kids; it's fresh- and clean-smelling, and matches their sunny dispositions.

 

 

 

 

For Men

This category is super-easy.  There is a brand called Every Man Jack that specializes in men's products, and their stuff is vegan and sulfate-free.  Best of all, they work really well and they smell great too (although they do have unscented versions of almost all their products for the sensitive guys out there).  Every Man Jack makes it easy to introduce the man in your life to the cleansing/toning/moisturizing/sunblock regimen he really should have been doing for years now without overwhelming him.  Grab a few skin, hair, and shaving products, arrange them in a shower caddy, and voila, you will have a cleaner, handsomer man!

 

 

For the Ladies, Including Moi

My friend got me some Out of Africa products for my birthday last month, and I am a total shea butter fanatic now.  It turns out that shea butter is absorbed into the skin much faster and keeps your skin moisturized for so much longer than normal lotions, and my skin looks so much healthier now, especially my hands.   I just figured that the little crackles and crosshatch patterns were a result of aging; turns out my skin was just dry!  No Parabens, Sulfates, Petrolatums or Phthalates; Cruelty-free and Eco-Friendly.  Try it and see if your skin will lap it up like mine does.  

 

 

While we're on the subject of hands, another recent discovery is non-toxic nail polish.  I had no idea it existed until I saw this Keeki Holiday Nail Set online.  I am aching to try it out!  Manicures and pedicures are two of my favorite ways to unwind and pamper myself, but I always feel uneasy smelling all the chemicals and wondering what they are doing to my nails.  My curiosity is piqued.

 

 

 

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Merry Christmas and happy shopping!  If you have encountered any other great finds, please let me know!

Questions from the Audience #4

Erin asks: If you had a day to do whatever (and whoever) you wanted without consequences, barring any obstacles or even physics or the laws of time and space, what would you do?

 Two words, my friend: SMITHS REUNION.

Morrissey and Marr: I can make them get back together, I know it!

After that, I would definitely take the day off, send the kids to school, and bend space-time to accomodate a lot of hedonism and world travel.  I'd flag down The Doctor (not the current one, but David Tennant, ohoho yes) and make him take me all over the universe in a blue Police Box.  I'd definitely visit my friends strewn across our little blue planet and invite them to join us.

Mmmmm...lovely

The day would culminate in a Last Supper-themed feast/rave/orgy/photo shoot styled by David LaChappelle where Morrissey is Jesus, I am the Virgin Mary, and the apostles are my favorite drag queens and members of the Stone Roses.  Lady Gaga will be Magdalene, washing everyone's feet with her mouth.  There would be  real flying cherubim and the spread would be epic: Moroccan, Ethiopian, Korean, Indian, Greek, Mexican, and those are just the models, dahling!  The food would be even more delicious.  Vomitorium would be off to the right, of course.

Because of the time travel aspect, I have to assume this already happened because LaChappelle has already captured it:

Questions from the Audience #3

Anonymous IMer asks: How has your love story with your husband changed since you first fell in love?

Oh, jeepers.  The short, smart-ass answer is, "A shit ton, give or take a shit."  The long answer deserves more time and thought than what I'm about to say here, but I'll limit the focus to just the "love story" part of our relationship (i.e., not our co-parenting, the daily banalities of marriage, or what-have-you), and just from my point of view.

First and foremost, I think it's important to point out that I was 23 when we got married.  I was a baby, and didn't know myself and/or my potential selves, let alone all of the intricacies of Tim's psyche.  All I really knew was that our connection ran deep, like animal-brain, pheromone-level deep.  I could just stare at him for hours, talk to him for days on end, memorize every pore.  My heart rate would palpably slow down if I just leaned into his neck and breathed him in.  And of course, there were fireworks every time we touched.

(Sounds so cheesy and stalkery now!  But I shall go on.)

Because this kind of affection inevitably cuts both ways, and probably also because I was still very much at the mercy of my depression, I really, really needed him.  I had this juvenile desire to spend every moment together, so any meal, movie, or laundry folding session spent apart wounded me.   I also thought the relationship would end quite often, so I would constantly miss him, sometimes even when he was right there next to me.  As you can guess, Tim felt suffocated and would pull away at times, which made me feel worse.  The whole thing was pretty unhealthy, and I really had to grow up quite a bit and learn how to be my own person.  Unfortunately, this was when I was also trying to figure out how to be a mother, so Isaac's early years were tumultuous for Tim and I couple-wise.

Nowadays, things are much more stable.  I still like to smell him, but I'm more comfortable in my own skin.  I've developed and nurtured my own self-identity, learned to recognize where I end and other people begin.  So now I'm fine being alone, with or without the kids, and that's very much a good thing.  Having a home to call our own with the little family farm out back helped me greatly, too.  Once we were able to put down roots somewhere, my spirit really started growing.

We still can talk for hours, make each other laugh, and we go out a couple times a month to concerts, movies, dinners, drinks, etc.  But now the stakes aren't so high, perceived rejections aren't constantly plaguing me, and I feel more relaxed.  There are still fireworks, but toned down a smidge because our house is small and Emi has an uncanny "business time" spidey sense.  I think she wants to ensure she's the baby of the family.

So, moral of the story is: relationships are extremely tough to sustain because you are not just dealing with two people over a certain period; you are also dealing with the people they morph into over the years as well as the shifting whirlpools of their environment.  So at any given slice of time, are the partners compatible at that moment?  Hopefully so, but chances are there will be time periods of incompatibility.  And I think that's okay.  If you're really in it for the long haul, when you look over at your partner and find an almost-complete stranger who isn't up to snuff, at some point you will have to think, "I will wait; this person is worth waiting for."  Of course, the two of you could always find other people who are already at the levels you need, but what's the fun in that?  :P

Questions from the Audience #1

Sonya writes: What would your 33 year-old self say to your 13 year-old self?

Okay, attempting to channel myself at 13...seventh grader at a 7-12th grade academic magnet school, falling in love with every junior and senior boy who walked passed me in the halls, all perms and bangs and glasses and braces and biker shorts.  I was on the chubby side and clumsy, but was very interested in current music, movies, and fashion.  Basically invisible to the popular people, especially the upperclassmen, but my friends and I were tight.  Our clique was known for being goodie two-shoes, and within that group I was already deemed a bit of a loose cannon with the loud laugh.

First and foremost, I wanted to be a cheerleader.  At the time, they represented all that was awesome about America.  I loved the uniforms, even in our school's colors of brown, gold, and white, and dreamed about one day being able to get a set of my own, putting my hair up in a ribboned high ponytail, and having a smiley sorority of friends.

To that end, I auditioned for the junior high pep squad early in the year.  It was my first time learning a choreographed routine, and my try-out was abysmal at best.  Needless to say, I didn't make it, but one of my best friends did, and although I was crushed, I was sincerely thrilled for her.  She actually went on to be a member of the pep squad every year, and was the varsity squad captain our senior year.  She even let me try on her uniform (didn't zip up, but still thrilling)!  And although I was sad, I knew I had a lot of specific skills to work on, so I wasn't too discouraged.

Life went on.  I didn't try out for cheer in 8th grade, recognizing that my body was getting even more uncoordinated as I was going through some uneven growth spurts.  But I did try out for junior varsity mascot, thoroughly convinced that my combination of goofiness and sassiness would be such a great asset to the noble field of Mascotry, but I still wasn't what they were looking for.  Then every following year, I auditioned for mascot again, giving it my best at the time, and every year my biology teacher would frown sympathetically and tell me the bad news.

Until junior year, that is.  I finally was able to dance convincingly enough and choreographed a hilarious routine with my audition partner.  Because I would be a senior the following year, that officially made me varsity mascot captain!  (Oh, the power and the glory!  Ha ha ha!)  But during mascot camp, something really clicked between me, my team, and my mascot instructor.  We were awesome!  I was even invited to audition to become an instructor myself.  I was on top of my little bitty world, and I was so grateful for every second of it.

Therefore, I don't know what I would tell that 7th grade girl.  She had more gumption and guts than I do now.  If I told her not to attempt the things that would absolutely break her heart, would she really benefit?  So much strength, courage, and humor came from that suffering.  

I would just hug her and tell her to just do her thing, but maybe tell her to not get so sad when things do start to get harder in the later teen years.  That people were and will be cruel to her, and to realize that it was their problem, not hers.  That Kurt Cobain is going to kill himself the next year, and from then on, the romanticism of suicide will crawl into her psyche and take residence there, seemingly harmless, until it really threatens her life in college.  Maybe just watch out for that, and don't let it cut her so deep.

Also, in college, keep her head up; keep going to class, no matter how dismally she performed on her first midterms.  There is so much glory in redemption, none in self-destruction.  Don't give up.  Channel the girl who tried out for pep squad every single year with the same optimism and spirit.

Oh, and if she want to dance with that boy, go up to him and ask.  Lots of dances wasted on waiting.

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Do you have a question for me? You can ask me anything, about motherhood, depression, not living up to your parents' expectations, my personal Top 5, hobbies, what I'm wearing, anything!  Please comment below or email me.

Hello, Grey Dog

Post-Birthdaypalooza come-down in full effect here, ladies and gentlemen.  Regret, aka the Grey Dog (i.e., Depression the Black Dog's bitch half-sister), has decided to hang out for a bit.

I only had 2.5 days until Tim would leave for Japan, and I messed up Tuesday night and Wednesday morning by being a total Doomsday Douchebag with him and the kids.  Tim will come back home on Monday, and I will try to make amends, if he'll still take me.

I especially missed my friend Renee today.  A woman of wise words and indomitable spirit, she always knew how to slap some sense into me then hug me right afterwards.  I needed her guidance, so I visited her blog.

I found this, to this day the best treatise on marriage I've ever read.  I seem to have forgotten that daily I must choose to love my family.  Kind of too late for yesterday; I will start today, though.  

I also found this, which made me laugh through my tears:

God, she totally would have sent me this if I had told her I had chickens, along with a note asking if she could crash at my coop if she ever were in town.  She had a wicked sense of humor, that one.

I miss you, lady.

Finally Growing Up

Today is my birthday.  I am 33.

I just took this picture a few minutes ago.  I don't look too different from last year, but I feel like I have grown up a bit; I can see it in my eyes.

Nine weeks ago, I started a diet and exercise regimen.  It's under the guise of participating in the Long Beach Losers challenge, but mostly my brain just decided to do it, actually do it, for real this time.  I've lost 12 pounds so far.  

They have been by far the hardest, slowest pounds I've lost in my life because I'm not taking any shortcuts.  I walk a 5k four times a week and the other three days I work on strengthening my upper body.  I'm recording everything I put into my body to make sure I am staying on target nutritionally; I wear a heart rate monitor to make sure I'm not working out too easy or too hard.  I keep reminding myself that these changes have to be slow in order to be permanent.  But I am so impatient!

At this rate, I'll be at my high school graduation weight in April.  My BMI will still be considered unhealthy, but I think I'll be happy stopping there.  I will never be a petite person, but I'm totally fine with that.  My milkshake will still bring a couple boys to the fence, if not into the yard.  But more importantly, I'll be able to keep up with Emi in a footrace (Isaac is already way faster than me).

Here are some personal goals I have for the following year of life:

1. Camp outdoors with tents, sleeping bags, the whole nine yards.

2. Travel to a country or state I've never been to before.

3. Teach the kids to sing in harmony on a Simon & Garfunkel song.

4. Bike from my house to my parents' house via the San Gabriel River Bike Trail.

5. Run a 5k!

6. Build something with wood (maybe a new coop?).

7. Work harder to spread the love and help my fellow man.  I am admiring the Occupy movement from afar; maybe it's time to lessen the distance.

This year's birthday jam: "Thirty-Three" by Smashing Pumpkins, of course!  I've forgotten how stunning the video is.

My Personal Prophets

There are a few people in the world whose words I trust completely.  Not only do I have the utmost faith in their intelligence and competence, I also believe that they have nothing to gain by fooling people with meaningless rhetoric and other shenanigans (for that reason, I don't think a politician would ever make it on this list, but pre-presidency Barack Obama comes close).  Basically, if they take the trouble to say something, it's usually because they know what they are talking about and have evidence to back it up. 

Not to say that they are perfect (except for Mr. Rogers, whom I believe to be infallible), and this is definitely not a complete list of my personal heroes, but I just find it so reassuring (and increasingly rare) to be able to say at times, "I believe it because he/she said so."

Personal Jesus:

Fred Rogers

The Apostles:

David Attenborough

Ellen DeGeneres

Rachel Maddow

Kurt Vonnegut

Jane Goodall

Garrison Keillor

Levar Burton

Neal Stephenson

Michelle Obama

Grace Lee Boggs

Carl Sagan

Noam Chomsky

Douglas Adams

Nate Silver

John Cleese

Fictional Characters I Similarly Revere:

Albus Dumbledore

Dexter Morgan 

Yoda

Data

The Doctor

Poetry, Oh No-etry!

Tim was toodling around with Garage Band this weekend, and he asked the kids to spit out some song lyrics.  Here is a sampling of what they came up with; I was very surprised (and more than a little heartbroken) by the dark imagery:

there's a flower that's prettier than the others
it spins when the wind hits it
the flower wants to have 18 petals
right now it has no petals
people picked them all 

Isaac (age 7.5)

 

home was home
home was fragile
i saw a sign that said no thank you.
when i was old,
i was strong and i flipped through the air
one day i saw a little star in the morning
i saw a sign that said No!
one day i went into the garden
and i saw myself floating on a lily pad

Emi (age 4.5)

Man, was that depressing or what?  Isaac's little petals ravaged by the envious hordes, and Emi sounds like Ophelia floating down the river!  I resolved to start playing less Radiohead and more Mother Goose around the house.  My poor little babies!

Which reminds me: I have discovered that my kids have huge gaping holes in their nursery rhyme knowledge bank.  When prompted, Isaac couldn't fully recite "Humpty Dumpty," and he had never even heard of "The Muffin Man."  How was that possible?  I totally freaked out and went into intense stage mom mode, drilling him on the last line of "London Bridge" and barking at him to repeat it back to me.  I then freaked Tim out while maniacally singing all EIGHT verses of "Mary Had a Little Lamb," and so I recomposed myself for fear of additionally scarring the children.  I couldn't help the gusto; nursery rhymes were the bread and butter of 1980's ESL classes, and they brought back lots of very old memories!

Apparently the National Institute of Environmental Health Sciences (NIEHS) also takes Mother Goose and Raffi way too seriously, because they have compiled a comprehensive list with links to full lyrics and MIDI files on their website.  Let the educatin' commence!