The Worrywart Strikes Again!

While I’m not quite sure how to write this succinctly without sounding absolutely ridiculous and paranoid, I’m going to just put my fears plainly. My baby boy plays with baby dolls and girl’s toys. What does this mean??? Does it mean anything at all? (I would take a picture of him carrying around a baby doll while wearing dress up Disney Princess heels like he had been over the weekend but for the life of me I can’t find either of our two cameras.) Is it wrong that this bothers me? He’s only 21 months old for goodness sakes!

This of course, is entirely hypocritical of me. For the longest time, I’ve been absolutely disgusted with what passes for girl’s toys versus boy’s toys. Is it just me or are toys geared towards little girls completely lame? You’ve got your dolls, your toy kitchen, toy food, toy cleaning gear, and if it’s pink, even better. Boys on the other hand, seem to have toys which actually require them to use their brains a little bit. I mean, think about it, Legos, K’nex, chemistry sets, dinosaurs; basically toys which can encourage your kid to become interested in science, math, engineering, archaeology or basically anything not geared towards domesticity is generally geared more towards boys. This is an opinion that I developed long before I had kids and I swore in vain that MY daughter would not own any dolls or toys which would make her think that girls are only good for cleaning, cooking, child rearing, and shopping. Thus, over the course of five or so years, we accumulated a good amount of toys which were pretty universal to either sex (i.e. building blocks, various balls, train sets, hula hoop, teddy bears, etc.)

Enter the relatives and well meaning friends who think that a little girl should have a few little girl toys and all of a sudden, the Little Goose’s mountain of toys now contains two baby dolls, one Barbie, and two pairs of Disney Princess dress up shoes. While the Little Goose has not shown much interest in any of these items, the Sweet Pea has zoomed in on them. The dolls are of special interest him as he says, “baby,” gives them hugs…and then proceeds to throw them around or yells, “bad!” and smacks them on the forehead (I have NO idea where he got that from).

On the one hand, he’s probably just emulating us by caring for a baby doll the way we care for him (minus the throwing and smacking parts) which is fine. It means he has a tender side and kids like to emulate their parents…or something, right? But then there are the shoes, he likes walking around in them. I’ve always kind of liked wearing heels since they make me feel taller, but I’m not quite sure how I feel about my baby boy wearing heels, pink ones with fluffy bows at that!

It bothers me that this bothers me. I’ve always allowed me daughter to play with whatever she wanted to and I’ve provided her with toys which are not traditionally for girls, and so I feel like a total hypocrite for being concerned that my son wants to play with toys which aren't traditionally for little boys. I haven’t gone so far as to take any toys away from him or made any fuss about it that he could tell but part of me wants to discourage him from playing with these things.

So what does one do in these kinds of situations? Just say screw it, right? He's having fun. Hmmm…Although, maybe I should make blue shirts for the dolls. Believe it or not, I detest pink.

It's Been Raining

I just realized that this week, while not blogging on my own site, I’ve left some unsympathetic and harsh criticisms everywhere I go. In other words, I’ve been a whiny, touchy bitch this week. (Well, not really, but I do wish I could take back some comments I made online.) But dude, I've been having a bad week. (Not a valid excuse I know, but I wish it were.) I scratch someone’s bumper by accident in a parking lot and instead of running away, I left a note for them with my number even though it was just a small scratch. The honorable thing to do I say. And seriously, how much could touching up a scratched bumper cost? Nevermind that part of me was hoping they'd have mercy on me and just drop the issue since it was just a tiny scratch. Like really tiny, no dent even. Itty bitty scratch. Of course they call back this week and say that it’s going to cost about $700 to repaint the whole bumper because you know, of course I had to hit a Lexus and of course said Lexus's bumper is made out of some special material that can't really be touched up because the paint would just chip off…did I mention that it was an eensy weensy itty bitty nothing of a scratch? I should’ve hit them harder. :Sigh: I should keep repeating that I’m an honorable person and honorable people don't whine about doing what's right so I should just stop complaining and pay up. Which I will end up doing anyway, but damnit, honor is friggin expensive!

My boss also informed me that I am no longer a systems engineer and can no longer afford to remain anonymous. I am now something of a project manager…what the heck? Apparently, when I quit and was rehired, I didn't actually get my old job back, I was rehired as something of a PM...or something. I just know I now have to deal with an inordinate amount of spreadsheets and unresponsive people. (Being on the technical side of things for most of my working life, the love affair with Excel and Powerpoint that business people have is totally perplexing to me. Have these people never heard of databases, data integrity, queries...Access at least?? At least learn how to use Excel and Powerpoint to their fullest potential. Thank GBH I know VBA.) My work load has now doubled (as if I didn't already have 300% of my time filled up). I have four totally different projects that I have to complete within the next few months and require that I actually have to communicate with people to get these projects done. I wonder if I should have mentioned to my boss that I'm agoraphobic, although I doubt it would help.

I held my first meeting this week. I mean, I've been in meetings before, I was a senior level engineer, but other people did the majority of the talking so it was REALLY nerve wracking. I crammed on the research for the project (since I had less than 24 hours to prepare) and it felt as though the majority of what I said was "Um..." I should also mention that it was a conference call meeting and the only time that I could schedule it was halfway through one of my classes and so I was calling in from outside the lecture hall...which is near a bus stop. I think half of the "ums" preceded apologies about being interrupted by buses passing by. :sigh: I get to do a status meeting in front of our project directors on Tuesday. :pound head on desk:sigh:

This week's mantra: "My life is good, my life is fun. I can DO this! Mind over matter!"

Oh, let me also mention I have two midterms on Tuesday and the Sweet Pea has developed the disturbing habit of leaping off furniture with a high pitched, "YAH!"

Mantra mantra mantra!

Lying liars!

Guess kids learn to fib early. I was attempting to put down the sweetpea for his afternoon nap. He's been telling us when he goes to the bathroom for the past month by grabbing his crotch and telling us "poo poo", so I guess that's the first step to getting him potty trained. I put him down on the bed, and he grabbed his crotch and said "poo poo, poo poo" so I went out to grab a diaper and prepared to change him. Diaper? Check. Wipes? Check. Gasmask? Damn, don't have one. As soon as I took off his pants, he started cackling manically, so I checked his diaper, and it was clean, totally dry, totally empty. He just sat there laughing his ass off while I pulled his pants back on, then 30 seconds later, fell asleep. I'm renaming the boy, from now on he'll be known as little butthead:P Anyone else notice that Lien's GBH swear is remarkably similar to GHB, or roofies?:P GLHFDD

Red Light Means Stop

The day was ending late as I finally exited the freeway towards home. The streets were bare. The light rain that we had received just half and hour before lingered on the streets and reflected in distorted colors the streetlights of International Boulevard. I was speeding a bit but I was eager to get home. Babies and a husband were waiting there, ready to give me a warm or gruff welcome. Which I would receive would depend upon whether or not the day had gone well for them. Me? I was returning from my far off school, a few hours of shopping, and dinner with my favorite cousins on the way home; a little time to myself which I wheedled out of my husband after I had told him that I was heading home early because I wasn’t feeling too well. Shopping makes the body much better. Obviously.

Full around my midsection with a diminished bank account, I recounted in my head yet another nice evening of plenty…plenty of fun, laughter, and good food along with an uneventful, though late drive home. I stopped at a red light and yawned contentment when I saw him. He was as old and worn as his one beige overcoat. He was filthy and had a child’s knit hat stretched to the limit of its seams across his head. Shivers caused his corrugated cardboard sign to bob up and down. It read, “PLEASE HELP GOD BLESS."

The luxury of my life suddenly bore down on my shoulders and I sheepishly looked away. The smell of the dinner I bought my husband and kids made me think that I should roll down the window and hand it over to this poor man who was shivering and probably starving in the cold and my internal monologue runs, “Perhaps the extra jacket I have could help, or perhaps the few dollars that I keep in the car would allow the man to take a bus or something to someplace warm. Perhaps…perhaps…the light should turn green and I should just move along.

The homeless are everywhere, my money and my food would be better donated to a shelter or organization devoted to helping the homeless. I will look one up as soon as I get home I think to myself. God this light takes forever. What if there were crazy people about? It’s cold and dark and late and this is Oakland after all. Perhaps I shouldn’t roll down my window, what if that man is crazy? Don’t look, I can’t help him. I need this jacket. I need this food. What if he uses the money I give him on alcohol or drugs? I shouldn’t give him any. But God, it’s freezing out there and getting colder by the minute. Don’t look; compassion should be coupled with correct action. Tomorrow I’ll go through all the old clothes and jackets we don’t use and donate those. Tomorrow we’ll make a difference. Tomorrow will be different…what if I forget? I wonder what he did wrong? I've seen hungrier people (children!) in Vietnam. This is America. I wonder what happened. Could it happen to me? Green!” Go.

Scooby Dooby Doo Oh Where Are You!

As a kid, one of the staples of my Saturday mornings was Scooby Doo. Every Saturday morning I would wake up early just for the cartoons (:sigh: my kids will never understand the sheer joy that Saturday morning represented prior to the advent of Nickelodean). Scooby Doo, while not one of my favorites, was definitely a character that I didn't mind watching. He was a silly foodie, I loved that. As an adult, it strikes me that there were so many aspects of Scooby Doo that just went right over my head (which I won't mention here) and I'm glad that Scooby has stayed popular all these years, however, I still prefer to watch him with my adult brain turned off and just enjoy the silly antics and Scooby's cute chuckle. I found out yesterday while reading the latest Time magazine's Milestones section, that the creator of Scooby Doo was a Japanese American fellow named Iwao Takamoto, who learned how to illustrate from fellow detainees while he and his family were interned during World War II. All my childhood was spent looking for role models and cool people who looked like me. How was I to know that there was one behind one of my childhood cartoon friends? Mr. Takamoto passed away last Monday at the young age of 81. May he rest in peace knowing he made kids like me a little bit happier on Saturday mornings.

The Keys to Geekdom

I know I know, everyone's talking about Apple's iPhone, but me? What do I want?? This... The R2-D2 M.E.S. Isn't it CUTE? It'd cost me $2500 when it's available in March. I just want to hug it, and use it to watch something incredibly sappy like Sense and Sensibility (mmm...Mr. Darcy)...yes, I'm weird, but you already knew that!

On New Year's Resolution No. 1

Ah change, I smell thee in the freezing January air (lows in the 20s they’re predicting, in the fucking San Francisco Bay Area, what the fuck? Note to self, recycle more.) My dear friend and colleague Sunset Plumeria finally convinced me to join her by checking out the cult gym she’s been going to 5 or 6 days a week. Never mind that the it’s a self defense combat school that specializes in the likes of Krav Maga and Eskrima with a number of work out classes that make my flabby ass sore just typing about them and the fact that I haven’t done anything more strenuous than get in my car and drive in over five years (dang babies, dang work, dang lottery which tempts me with dreams of easy fortune and disappoints twice a week!) Also never mind that the school is in Santa Clara, about an hour from home, although conveniently located as a midpoint of sorts between school and home and a decent place to wait out rush hour traffic. Never mind because the location of the school and types of classes it teaches isn’t, from what I discovered, the most painful aspect of taking a work out class there. Forget the fact that I’m sore and there are muscles hurting that I forgot even existed (hello abs, I haven’t seen you in YEARS but glad to know you’re there, OW!) The most difficult part of starting a work out regimen at a gym/school an hour away from home due to the constant pressure of friends, relatives, and flab…? THE DRIVE HOME! Oh my dear GBH, did I never notice all the fast food joints between Santa Clara and Oakland till now? Does the temptation for something really good yet really bad for you ever hit as hard as right after a workout? On the one hand indulging in some yummy In-n-Out burger, Jack in the Crack Box tacos, with some Panda Express orange chicken over rice, chased with an Oreo Shake complements of Burger King would be total overkill and render the whole hour long work out where you discovered once again that sometimes when you’re really working out you’re not sure if those are tears blinding you or the sweat streaming down your forehead COMPLETELY useless…and then some; but damnit such suffering needs to be rewarded by SOMETHING right??? And that something had better be something sweet and bad for you. (And did I mention that there’s a Popeye’s right off the exit for home?) :Sigh: But dear readers, you will be happy to know that I survived the fast food gauntlet, even though I REALLY wanted to stop and indulge since I think I had earned it. My aching muscles plead for some sugar of some kind to ease their pain, but alas, I took the high road and ate what my mom cooked (it was so weird I have no idea what it was, but it was healthy since I spotted carrots and broccoli somewhere in it and it didn’t taste half bad once I dowsed it with some soy sauce…ah, Mom’s proverbial cooking, may I never allow my children to suffer as I have). No, I was GOOD. I took a shower, finished up some work, spent a bit of time with the kids and passed out with them. I did my first work out in years, the trip home, and lived to tell about it. Now all I have to do is survive the weekend till the next class on Tuesday. Wish me luck! =)

Doors

This is the M Family Emergency Broadcasting System, this is not a drill, repeat, this is not a drill. Sweet Pea has figured out how to open doors, our lives will never be the same. God have mercy on our souls. Lien says I should take pictures of him opening the door, but dammit, I don't get combat pay, and I'm too lazy. This has been a broadcast of the MFEBS, check back frequently for more updates, but they probably won't be coming from me:P GLHFDD good luck, have fun, don't die J

A Salute

hot water boiling three minutes long time waiting steaming noodles yum! Momofuki Ando passed away at the age of 96 on Saturday. I had never heard of him before yesterday when he was discussed for a moment on NPR, but he is credited with inventing the instant noodle for the purpose of feeding the masses cheaply. That he did indeed. As a latchkey child and a poor starving college student twice over, instant noodles have been a godsend. Instant noodles are a poor Asian family's answer to bologne on wonder bread (which isn't too bad in and of itself I might add). Instant noodles are yet another example of something I take for granted almost every day of my life and make my modern life possible. And somehow, even in a small way, instant noodles (particularly instant pho..mmmm) helped keep me connected to my Vietnamese heritage when I was living in a sea of whites, hispanics, and blacks. It's amazing when you think of it; how many inventions you use and abuse in your life? (And how many of those inventions weren't thought up by Thomas Edison? In school, the only inventions ever worth noting were American inventions.) Today I give a nod and a moment of silence for a man who helped my life with his invention...with my bad haiku and poorly written post, good job Lien (it's the thought that counts yo!) Mr. Ando I salute you. Your invention of the instant noodle did indeed help keep poor people like me from starving. Your Momofuku Ando Instant Ramen Museum is now on my radar should I ever visit Japan. Rest in peace kind sir.

Yo!

HI ALL!

Two days of Disneyland, one day of Disney's California Adventure, and one day of the Museum of Natural History of Los Angeles County later, I’m glad to say I survived our last minute vacation. We decided at sometime at the end of the 2006 (i.e. about two weeks ago) that we would run away and spend some time just amongst ourselves…and my in-laws as they were planning on a 3 day Disney vacation and we tagged along. Despite rather cramped quarters, a good time was had by all, including J who got to spend some quality time with some of his family despite his abject and absolute dislike for all things Disney.

We got home on Sunday night and as with all breaks from the real world, there’s always a heap of stuff to take care of when you return to reality. I’ve got piles of work to complete, a new quarter and two new classes to start working on, not to mention bills, email, and blogs to maintain. Most of me just wants to spend all my non-working hours planning my next vacation or sleeping. In a way vacations are really bad for me since it takes me awhile to recover. Oooh, walking around Disneyland with the kids. I lived the wild life and now I can’t go back to the way things were. GBH help me.

Will slowly transition back into blogging, bear with me. I think we just need a bit more rest.

^_^

P.S. We finally closed on the house. Thanks to everyone who sent good house closing thoughts our way. YAY!!!!!!!!!!!!