Just a Dream

Lien (yelling to J from the bedroom to the office): You know what? Next year I'm going to learn how to sew and just make everyone gifts.
J (yelling back in a bemused sort of way): Oh yeah? And when are you going to find the time to do this?
Lien (in depressed realization mode): In my dreams?
J (because he thought so): yeah

***

A girl can dream that she can do cool things can't she? Hell, I dreamt I could write a blog post every single day for a month. I almost did it! I didn't do it, but damn if I didn't try. I dunno, sleep and time with my kids seemed so much more valuable. This month not only did I write a blog post every day (almost) I also took my kids to museums, movies, the park, birthday parties, out to dinner, to bookstores (down the street up, up the hill, and through the woods...) AND I managed to get the vast majority of my work done and still managed to make it to class (most of the time) with A's and B+'s for most of my papers. I think I did pretty good with NaBloPoMo all things considering. Of course, Yoda is admonishing me in my brain, "No, try not, do or do not...there is no try." Ahh! Shut up Yoda! You're making me too nerdy.

Lien has been...

1) Feeling really really fatigued for some reason, possibly due to an allergy or anemia or possibly winter depression. Lien had not considered this before but Fingkasil suggested it over at KimChi Mamas so now Lien is perturbed that this might be so thus...

2) Thinking of leafy green vegetables. Have not had spinach in a long time.

3) Told by two different female relatives today that if she were a man, they'd totally marry her; to which, all Lien could say was that she was already married and they'd have to fight J for her. Besides, Lien can't marry them, they're relatives and that would be icky.

4) Booking a trip to New York City in January with her hubby and little ones. She has absolutely no clue why she is going, only that the airfare was cheap and there are museums with art and giant dinosaurs to be had. Too bad about that snow and freezing and winter thing people outside of Cali keep complaining about.

5) Worried about finals. She has a major final paper due next week as well as another one a week after. No. of words/pages typed = 0.

6) Having a lot of back pain. She's been having back pain since March 1, 1996 when she was in a car accident involving her tiny Nissan Sentra and an 18 wheeler. The 18 wheeler didn't even know it had hit her and kept going. The accident totalled Lien's car but she survived with whiplash and back aches that have been bothering her ever since.

7) Meeting up with other bloggers and their families, such as Carol over at Bokumbop who was very nice. Unfortunately, the place where they met was extremely crowded and the timing was bad as it ran through JT/Sweet Pea's nap time and he was a grumpy/hyper/tyrant monster for most of the meet up. Sorry Carol! Next time!

8) Very behind on the whole blogging and commenting thing. Still here, still alive, still reading, just not commenting or posting much. So much for NaBloPoMo. Can't wait till finals are over.

These random things were brought to you today by the number eight, the letter y, the third person perspective as well as Angela who tagged Lien for another 8 random things.

Gifts Schmifts

J and I went shopping today and other than some clothes for the kids, we didn't buy much in terms of quantity. For some reason, I'm just not in the gift buying mood yet. I guess like my papers I just need the full on panic of a close deadline to really get creative and buy everyone socks. We DID end up spending about $1000 though. Thanks to this little new love of mine; an AT&T Tilt. We bought one for each of us. It's a PDA, portable TV, mp3 player, 3 megapixel camera, gps, video player, and oh yeah, phone. Screw the iphone.

P.S. We also took the kids to see Enchanted. It was a bit over the top but cute and the kids enjoyed it. JT (aka the more manly Sweet Pea) sat through the whole thing and was incredibly well behaved. Whew!

Thanksgiving Thought

Thanksgiving is almost over, it's 11:42pm. Food was good, tons of relatives come over, yada yada. I'm TIRED. Some of us, including me wanted to go to bed and be up early to go shopping. Unfortunately, relatives are still over, still partying; little children still aren't in bed. Anyone else want to kill some relations after this day? (Well, maybe not kill, that's pretty harsh. Maybe maim a little?) Hope yours was happy.

Hope

On Saturday as Evie and I were leaving the park, we stopped for a bit to let Evie wash her hands. A few feet away from us, a man was refilling plastic water bottles, oblivious to our presence. He was thin and dirty with his belongings wrapped up in plastic bags by his feet. He didn't even glance at us even though we were so near. He looked hungry and I found myself thinking of the holidays and wondering if this man had anywhere to go, anything to eat, or anything at all to look forward to. I found myself digging in my pockets for whatever money I had; maybe cheer him up a bit. All I had was a twenty dollar bill; I hesitated. Twenty dollars would be a lot to give a man who merely looks destitute. I mean, he hadn't even begged for anything, he was just refilling water bottles and ignoring us. Perhaps I should ignore him.

Instead, I tapped him on the shoulder, gave him the twenty and said, "Happy Holidays!" A surprised look passed over his face and he grinned a joy and gap filled smile, he hesitated and then said, "Oh thank you! And a happy new year to you! I mean next year!" His smile became shy and he seemed to shrug at the lack of words.

"I hope you buy something good to eat," I said.

"Oh, I will!" he replied.

As we walked away, Evie asked, "Is it because he's poor?...And he has no one to take care of him? I'm very lucky I have a mommy and daddy to take care of me. We should help poor people."

I only smiled sadly and said, "Yes, we should help those less fortunate." Of course, by then, the cynical side of my brain which had been silent during the exchange chimed in with its doubt.

The day after, I went out for a bit with my cousins and told them I had to stop by an ATM because I had given the last of my cash to a homeless man. One of them admonished me, "Chi Lien! You should have just donated to a homeless shelter or something! You don't know what he was going to do with that money! You could have just bought him some food."

Of course she was right, I don't know what that man did with the money I gave him, he could have bought food or drugs or alcohol. The truth is when I gave him that money, I only hoped that he would do what he felt was best for him. In my mind what was best was food, it may have been different in his mind. Perhaps he thought I was a chump and went to buy his drug of choice to forget the pain of his situation. I don't know. I can only hope and wonder and not regret twenty dollars I probably would have frittered away on snacks or something equally meaningless to me.

I realize now that I didn't judge the man's character because he was homeless. I only judged his need because he was poor. I think sometimes, people put up barriers to justify not helping the homeless. It's easy to think every homeless person is mentally ill or has a substance abuse problem or is too lazy to work. I know statistics prove that many and maybe the majority are, but that does not negate their need for help. It is true that donating to a homeless shelter would have helped more people, but there is something about looking at someone who is right in front of you that makes the need to do something, even a little thing such as reaching into one's pocket more urgent. Sometimes I do look away, but I'm glad I dug down and put my hope in that man. I can't exactly go find him and ask for my money back and so all there is to do is be glad. Being regretful is a waste of time and besides, all charity is hope. I have a small donation automatically deducted from each of my paychecks. That money is donated each quarter to a few charities that I picked. I'm glad my company has a program which allows me to give so effortlessly, but there is no certainty that those funds aren't being abused either. All I can do is make my small difference and hope.

****

This turned out a little longer and more meandering than I thought. Maybe I should stick to memes till I have more time. I hope everyone has a lovely day tomorrow (even if you're in a country that doesn't celebrate Thanksgiving). May you always have the loves of your life nearby to be thankful for. Goodnight.

Toddler Boys Aren't 'Sweet'

I think I need a new blog handle for the Sweet Pea. I mean, not to get into the whole thing about societal expectations of masculinity and how I shouldn't cop out and re-nick my boy something more "macho", but honestly, he's getting older and...yeah, I guess I don't really want anyone to be confused that the Sweet Pea is a she. When I started this blog, he really was my little Sweet Pea. He was just a cuddly, roly poly, little 14 month old baby boy who totally fit the image of a little "Sweet Pea". Now? He's now a...hold on, I'm counting...32 month old? He's losing his chub and he likes running around going, "Hai yah!" with karate chop action or racing his sister back and forth through the living room with his arms tucked like chicken wings. Before he loved anything that could possibly fit into his little mouth, now he's more particular and likes trains, planes, and automobiles. How typically male he is now and how typically female a title such as, "The Sweet Pea" all of a sudden seems.

So! What should I call him now? If you have a blog, how do you pick all the handles for all the characters in your life? Should I go do another Evie and just call him the nickname we use for him out here in the real world? Should we rename him something more big boy-ish like...I dunno...Mister Sweet Pea? (That is SO lame Lien.) Any suggestions? Or should I just stick with Sweet Pea because like a pink dress shirt, he's comfortable enough with his masculinity to go there? (Or is it that I'm comfortable enough?) Oi, it's SO much easier breaking gender rules with girls than boys.

Home/Work

I need to read two books tonight and write a few papers on them by class time tomorrow morning. Short papers true enough, but what with the business of life to be done, I hadn't had time to do this bit of homework. I think the kids miss me. I took Evie to one of the offices I work out of today and she was so excited just to have some time with just me I guess. She claimed she had a good time listening to my entertaining co-workers talk and mingle with their funny stories. In return for a glimpse of my adult non-mommy related life, she was extremely well behaved and impressed the lovely ladies at the office with her quiet ways. "Other kids would have been bored out of their skulls and bouncin' off the walls!"...or something.

I don't think the day was completely boring for her as we did have a nice mommy and daughter lunch. She chose sushi and so we went to a sushi joint near my office and each had a 99 cent ice cream cone from the Rite Aid next door for dessert. I really do enjoy these times alone with my Evie. Sometimes when you have two, it's hard to see the individual qualities of each child. Evie has always been quiet when she is amongst adults. Shy is not the word; reserved? Definitely thoughtful, she drew pictures for two of my co-workers that she interacted with today. In order for the gift to be equal, she drew them both the exact same picture. A small house with a bright blue pond.

It's been awhile since I've spent some individual time with the Sweet Pea and I'm well overdue. Where Evie is quiet, he's rambunctious with a whole different energy that is amplified by this particular stage in his young life. Everything in the world is interesting. Everything in the world must be touched and explored; that lamp, that rock, this vibrating toothbrush, mommy's hand, mommy's eyes, mommy's cheek. Lick! Ewwwwwwww!

Watching Weight

As of this moment, I have absolutely no idea how much I weigh. Sorry, I'm not comfortable with giving any details on approximations either. Let's just say that every time I step on a scale (the same scale that I've always stepped on), depending upon the time of day, whether or not I've eaten or had something to drink or if I've gone to the bathroom. I fluctuate about three pounds. Considering the fact that I'm almost certain I've lost about two pounds since the Thursday before last when we started this whole weight watching business, a three pound fluctuation on the plus side makes me pause and want to go eat a donut. I mean, if I'm not losing any weight even after dieting and exercise (I've been walking), what's the point right?

I wish I could say I were made of stronger stuff, but stick a plate of something yummy in front of me and my resolve buckles faster than a container ship hitting a bridge. Such are the triumphs and defeats of quixotic weight loss I guess. I've been very good lately. I've almost totally cut out my daily cream filled coffee as well as any sugary drinks and replacing them with water or tea. I'm purposefully staying away from Starbucks and Peets....mmm...Staaarrbuuuucks...fraaapppaaccinnnooooo...(:sniff: no more, no more for me).

Yes my friends, I've been good. Which is why I thought today, since I had a few extra points, I could indulge in some home cooked Vietnamese food at my auntie's house. In my family (the vast majority of which is extremely thin and can eat me under the table), Sundays are for eating. Luckily for us, we have tons of aunties who are fantastic cooks and love nothing better than to eat and feed us themselves. I have a theory that all Vietnamese families are foodies really because I have yet to meet a Vietnamese person who didn't like to eat.

Today had the added benefit of being one of my little cousins' birthdays and so there was a feast to be had of Banh Xeo (a crispy, savory crepe), crab and shrimp noodle soup, and a variety of other delights. I had weighed myself before I left for my auntie's and was perturbed to find that I appeared to have gained back what I had lost and so when I did get there and she put a plate of fresh crispy banh xeo in front of my face, what else was I to do but wallow in my failure and eat TWO of them? Granted that's pretty much all I ate all day and it was delicious but still. Weakness, oily, fried crap, bad. Yeah. 15 points each turns out. Ouch. As Loyal Reader Alice pointed out, Vietnamese food really does have a lot of hidden fat and carbs. (Hi Loyal Reader Alice! Thanks for reading! Good luck with your diet as well! :wave:)

Still, I didn't feel too guilty, I felt defiant in fact. I defy you Weight Watcher's Diet! You aren't the boss of me. I walked on the treadmill for an hour to make up for some of the calories I consumed, feeling triumphant that I got to eat what I wanted today. It's back to the diet tomorrow, but I think Sundays, I'll be back to eating whatever I feel like. Maybe if I limit all the special eating to Sunday, I won't feel too bad and not really hurt my diet too much. That and I'll have something to look forward to; yeah! And you know what? The scale didn't punish me today. It says I weight less than I did this morning.

Today's Stuff

So it's 11:13pm according to my system clock. Oh, 11:14, my bad. Only 46 minutes left of Saturday, November 17, 2007. 46 minutes left on my NaBloPoMo deadline for today and I have absolutely no clue what to write about. As usual. Supposedly this whole exercise was to get me write more, but somehow I think in practice it's been more about me typing more rather than writing. A few posts so far have mainly been my typing whatever has come to mind, thus a lot of disjointed posts.

For example, the Sweet Pea went all day without peeing in his pants today. Good. He pooped in his pull up. Bad. What more can I say about that? I'm not in a very descriptive mood since, you know, it IS almost midnight and I'm kind of tired AND I doubt anyone wants to hear about poop. Ooh, Miss Evie and I went to a a friend's 6th birthday party. (Hmm, my friend's kid's birthday party? But my friend's kid is Evie's friend too? Yeah, I guess "a friend's 6th birthday party" is accurate enough without going into too much detail on the exact details of our relationship with the birthday child. You need not know that I knew her parents first.) Where was I? Ah yes, no where. We are at the party which was at an lovely Oakland park of which I had no prior knowledge. I love these kinds of discoveries. It was a beautiful, modern and cool place that was right next to the Oakland estuary so it had a marina view and probably a view of The City (since we're on the left coast, that's San Francisco). We didn't exactly get to stay long to explore or enjoy our friends' company as we had to leave to pick up something that could not be picked up later, but I did promise Evie that we could come back some other time. Which we will. I believe my exact words were, "We can come back tomorrow."

What is it about parenting that makes me a liar? I mean, I try to tell the truth, the whole truth, so help me dude/tte upstairs. But go..odness knows, some promises are made simply to get to where you need to go. My mom later told me that she's going to take the kids out of town to my little cousin's birthday party. Oops, sorry baby. At least this one wasn't my fault.

11:28pm, good enough?

Pre-Mature Celebrations

Approximately 8:30am this morning, the Sweet Pea was sitting on the toilet in front of an appreciative captive audience. I waited with bated breath staring at his wee wee (that sounds completely awful, and yeah, we use cutesy names for body parts around here, but hey, that's what I was doing); in case it decided to make some pee pee in the potty. After a few minutes, he peed. Success! Applause all around, toddler boys were tossed in the air joyfully and jelly belly bribes are given. Hopes were high that today might be the end of our diaper days.

Fast forward to approximately 8:30pm tonight, I have been home for about an hour and my mom had told me how the Sweet Pea was a potty training wonder and hadn't peed in a diaper all day. In fact, she was so confident that he understood the concept of peeing in a toilet that she'd left him without a diaper. Of course, the Sweet Pea was no where to be found and I had to go looking for my little wonder to find out if needed to go again.

He was in our home office, next to J's desk chair staring at his crotch. One day I'll look back on today and wonder why the hell I needed to feel his bottom. Were the wet spots on the carpet not enough? Did I really need to feel that wetness for myself? Apparently I did, and felt my arm do a violent recoil as soon as my skin registered the feel of his soaking pajama pants. Back to the drawing board. Tomorrow we'll keep the pull ups on.

7 Songs Meme

More memery, this time courteous of a tag from the amazing Ms. Glennia Campbell over at The Silent I. What it is, is simply a list of 7 songs you currently dig. On a day to day basis I listen to a lot of hip-hop and R&B with some NPR and a bunch of kid friendly songs thrown in so it's no surprise that this is my list:

1) "O Mio Bambino Carro" from the opera "Gianni Schicchi" by Puccini. More specifically, the version that's on the HBO Classical Baby Music Show DVD. The Sweet Pea likes that DVD and so do I for that matter. They don't dumb down the music, it sounds like they recorded with an orchestra rather than a single xylophone like some baby music series I could name. He knows this song as "the cow song" since on the DVD it's sung by an animated cow, natch. For those of you who think perhaps I shouldn't let my baby listen to a song about a love sick child telling her father that she would jump into a river and drown herself if she doesn't get her man; my baby doesn't understand Italian! It just sounds pretty.

2) "Wait for You" - Eliot Yamin. Evie and I like this one, sentimental, sappy, and trite, what more can you ask for from a slow jam?

3) That "Bubbly" song by Colby Caillat 'cause it makes me smile.

4) "Stronger" by Kanye West, mainly because of the video as I'm an Akira fan and they obviously borrowed a lot of elements from that movie.

5) "The Way I Are" by Timbaland and Keri Hilson because it's fun and upbeat.

6) "Over the Rainbow" by me, because it's one of the few songs the Sweet Pea wants me to sing at night these days that will put him to sleep. The version I channel is Ella Fitzgerald's. The Sweet Pea calls it "sowayha sowayha!" (Those who think I overuse exclamation marks have obviously never met my children.)

7) "Get it Shawty" - Young Lloyd...everyone needs a guilty pleasure. ^_-

Hmm, I'm so behind on what's currently out. If you read this, tag, you're it!

Cravings and Stuff

I missed posting yesterday because as J pointed out, I was passed out from work and school which caused me to stay up an unconscionable amount of time. So that is why, the entire day I've been thinking about what to write about when I got a few free moments. Perhaps something about something I heard on NPR this morning regarding voting. How every vote counts and many elections are much closer than people think; that we live in a purple nation and that the primary colors of red and blue are far to simplistic. I thought about how I when I register to vote, I am not going to pick a party because I too am purple. To describe me as democrat or republican is also far too simplistic as I see positives and negatives in both parties. I admit though that I'm a deep bluish purple.

I was also thinking about another topic relating to the latest post from Matt Harding over at Wherethehellismatt.com. I guess Matt had met a black man, named Lloyd, who had lived in Thailand for seven years but felt that he couldn't belong there because he felt the people were racist. Matt and his friend being white men, replied with the typical white response of how they had similar experiences in places like Africa. Matt realized how inadequate this response was and in my comment, I said I wished white people would just acknowledge that they could never understand. But again, I was thinking about that situation and how nothing anyone could say could make things better or at least more equal. I thought about how, even I, as a minority, but an Asian American, could never understand what an African American feels. We have some stuff in common but to be honest, it's much harder to be black and I can never know what that feels like. I thought about how Matt was honest with how he felt his answer was wrong. I appreciated that.

I thought a bit about how my job sort of sucks and maybe I should write about that. I thought about how I should bully J into writing a post about the kids since he spends more time with them than I do these days. I thought about being honest about how I miss them when I have these long hours that need to be done and how far away my goal of finishing this degree feels. But in the end, you know what I REALLY want to write about now that I'm at it? I really want to write about how I'm absolutely craving a Vietnamese egg roll, a cha gio.

Who the hell am I kidding? I'm craving a whole lota cha gio/lumpia/egg rolls, whatever you want to call them. The crispier the better. I can imagine eating one right now. Dipped in a bit of nuoc mam/fish sauce/nam pla whatever you want to call it; the crunchy, savory, sweet and spicy hitting my taste buds all at once. So that was the real impetus for me tonight, the thought of some egg rolls I don't have in front of me. My diet is SO in trouble and huh, I did write a little bit about what I thought about after all.

HD DVD player cheap cheap!

So Lien's been bugging me for the last few days to write a post. So here it is.

It seems like the major retailers are gearing up for a very ugly (for them) holiday season, with the economy going south, the USD slipping, and high oil prices, they're worried, and rightly so, that people aren't going to shop as much this holiday season. Pre-Black Friday sales have already started, with Walmart advertising a $100 hd Toshiba player, with 5 free hd movies via a mail in rebate, available in store only. BestBuy, in hopes of advertising their new business geared website, decided to one up them and offer it online for $100.

I ordered that, figuring that regardless of who wins (personally I think Blu-ray will), a hd dvd player and 5 free hd dvds was still a pretty good price, plus I've got netflix, which allows you to rent hd dvds. Anyways, long story short, they sold out of the Toshiba hd-2 dvd players. I expected to receive a refund and maybe a 10% off coupon or something, but was really surprised when they said they were going to send me the next generation model which just came out, msrp of $300, which also comes with 2 free hd dvds included in the box, bringing it to a total of 7 free hd dvds. I think the previous model sold for $200.

So that brings us to our first hd dvd experience as a family (minus the wife, who was sleeping after being up for 36 hours straight working on her work and some papers for school). Preparing early for my new HD dvd player, I queued up some hd movies on netflix, Transformers, some misc ocean documentary, and some other movie I forget. So I set up my new player, pop in the "documentary", which in reality turns out to be more of a screensaver, granted, a very pretty screensaver.

So the sweet pea and little goose plop down, one kid sitting on each leg, and we start watching the screensaver. There are tons of fish swimming around coral reefs and of course clownfish swimming around sea anemones, and sweet pea starts shouting "NEMO! NEMO NEMO NEMO!" "DOOOORI!!! DORI!" as the colorful fish swim around. The view switches to another camera, which is focused on a lobster, and sweet pea goes from shouting "DORI" and "NEMO!" to "AHHHHH SCARED!". And then there's a sea snail or something that's clinging to the sea wall, and it lets go and falls to the ocean floor, and sweet pea finds this hysterical, laughing and giggling uncontrollably. There honglien, happy? I posted:P THE END

J

Crazy Parents and the Teachers Who Loathe Them

My cousin Hongie (previously referred to as H02, I think) is a fifth grade teacher at a public elementary school that serves students from primarily upper middle class families. She is fully credentialed and is fully entrenched in her third year of teaching at this school. She received her bachelor's from UC Berkeley, a masters in education at UC Davis and hopes to pursue a PhD program studying more of the same at some point in the next few years. Her students seem to like her and she does her job well and thoroughly. In other words, she's a pretty smart gal, I love her to bits, and am pretty proud of her. So needless to say, when someone irks one of my peeps it gets me a little irked too. That and Hongie would like to query the internet on this situation and to confirm whether or not she was right.

Apparently, Hongie had recently closed the grading on this first trimester for her students and one particular child got a D+ on the last multiple choice test that was given. This D+ caused the child's grade in one subject to plummet from an A to a solid B+ at 89%. The child happens to belong to a woman who volunteers in Hongie's classroom quite a bit. The poor child supposedly came home crying when they found out they had gotten a D+ which upset their mother who called Hongie to complain and yell at her. The mother, per Hongie, said that Hongie should round up the B+ to an A because:

1) Apparently her child had always gotten straight A's before
2) The D+ upset them and "lowered [their] self-esteem"
3) If Hongie had only closed her grading for the trimester earlier to a period BEFORE the test, they would have gotten an A.

This parent was SO upset with my cousin that she hung up on her after yelling at her which sort of upset Hongie who called and asked me if she did the right thing. My answer? Hellz yeah! If my kid got a D+ on a MULTIPLE CHOICE test where there was only one answer and they had plenty of time to study and do well, I would be upset with my kid NOT their teacher. In fact, Evie on occasion has brought home tests that were less than perfect which prompted us to encourage her to study more, pay attention more, and try harder. We did NOT ever blame the issue on her teacher.

Now, if there were some indication that her teacher was treating her unfairly from the other students then perhaps I would find out why but the odds of a teacher prejudicially grading my child on things that have clear and obvious answers is so completely out of the realm of possibility that I don't think I'd ever really consider it. The point is teaching a classroom is not the parents' job no matter how much time he/she volunteers in it. It is not up to the parent to tell the teacher how to grade their students and parents definitely don't have a right to yell at the teacher anytime their child does poorly. If one's child doesn't appear to be learning or if something appears completely out of whack, sure, contact the teacher and find out how to help the child learn. If it really is the teacher who is incompetant, then by all means talk to the principal to find out if the child can move to another class or perhaps another school.

Perhaps I am old fashioned or just not taking a power position on education matters but I truly believe that when it comes to my child's education in the classroom, I should leave it up to the experts and provide any additional enrichment I feel is necessary outside of the class. Isn't the point of sending our children to school about whether or not they are learning what is being taught rather than whether or not they are getting straight A's? How do you feel about this? Was Hongie right to refuse to give into her student's mother's request to raise their grade? Do you feel that their mom had a right to call Hongie and complain in such a manner? How would you have handled the position if you were the parent or the teacher in this situation? Inquiring minds would like to know.

Alone A Little

My parents took the kids out of town last night to visit my aunt and her family and for once in a long while, the house was absent of small children. It's amazing isn't it; how wrapped up your life becomes when you're charged with looking after new lives. I was grateful to my mom and auntie for requesting that they be brought along. I definitely needed a break. My body needed a break from being climbed on. My arms needed to recover from constantly having to carry little bodies. My voice needed to return to normal from the high pitched stern mommy-tone that had become common place. J and I basked in the glory of silence for a little while and then went to do our own activities. It was nice to be alone for once, I read a little, watched a lot of TV, and slept.

Thanks Mom.

PS Some of you have asked how the diet is going (since Thursday). The answer is, the diet is going well, I've been following the rules and limiting myself to 28 "points". I have no idea what the algorithm is to figure out how many calories equal a point which explains why when J and I went to the movies earlier today and saw Dan In Real Life (which was funny and sweet although a bit predictable and convenient); I had some mint Dibs which were 420 calories with 280 fat calories. 32 freaking points. >_<

Boys Have Bangs Too

Dear Ms. Lee,

I am an admirer of your hair clips. My sister owns several and I think she looks beautiful with them. When she shares and puts one on me, I think I look quite dashing. They are the perfect clip for straight and thin hair such as mine and my sister's. I am writing, however, to suggest that your selection of Kiddie Clips is very limited.

The current collection perpetuates strict societal gender roles by containing design intended only for girls. After all, there are many young boys in the world who would like to share in the pleasantries of putting accessories in their hair (not to mention the obvious advantages of having a hair clip when one is short on paper clips). Why should little girls (and older sisters in particular) have all the fun and convenience?

Might I suggest a collection of hair clips that would appeal to your more masculine customers; perhaps designs with favorite male characters or themes such as pirates, power rangers, or skulls? Imagine the possibilities!

Thank you for your time and understanding.

Sincerely,

Mr. S. Pea

Ash Girl

Tonight Evie and I were treated to a local private school production of Timberlake Wertenbaker's Ash Girl by my good friend Veronica as one of several belated birthday gifts. The play itself was a modern retelling of the story of Cinderella with the seven deadly sins (amongst others). Considering the play was acted primarily by girls (including the prince who was purple haired) and junior high and high school girls at that, the play was quite well done. They presented some pretty dark material with surprising maturity with many of the performances well acted. Evie loved it despite the darker elements and two hour 8pm to 10pm running time. She even got to take a picture with the lead actress during the reception after the play. The girl's name was Simone, but Evie will forever know her as Ash Girl. She and wants to go again either tomorrow or Sunday but we'll see.

So far Evie has pretty much loved every play she's ever seen. We've been to some local theater as well as school productions and she's been quite happy with all of them. J on the other hand, hates theater. He's been bored with almost every show we've ever seen (except the one that had kung fu in it, that one we both agreed was awesome). Now that it seems that Evie loves theater, I can leave J at home and take her with me when I want to see something instead. Yeah, who needs husbands when your children can grow into your fun companions?

Just kidding J! You know I love you, especially when you fix the faucet and wash the dishes. We need a day for just us. Wanna date this weekend?

PS That awesome hair clip Evie's wearing was made by the incredibly talented Ms Kim E. Lee. Thanks Kim! Hurry hurry and order your own here.

Doing Something About It

Thank you for your support ladies!! Of course, J, being a man and therefore misogynistic and blind, argued that my readership is primarily women and so my sample size and demographics are flawed, therefore, the results of my poll are flawed. Whatever dude. You owe me a new passport, because, alas, it is too late to simply take a new picture. We had already turned in the applications, which is why I was so...annoyed. Still, there are definitely measures to prevent a future chinless (too much chin?) picture.

That is why [deep breath] I decided to get off my fat ass and join weight watchers online. What I signed up for is essentially this weird little point system where everything you eat has a point value which supposedly makes it easier to count calories...or something. I only get 28 friggin points per day, which I think equates to something like 1000 calories, and I really don't want to talk all that much about it because today was the first day of following the point system and all I got to eat was a persimmon, a bunch of grapes, 2 pieces of Vietnamese sausage (which I ate BEFORE I signed up and didn't realize they represented so many points!), two pieces of Halloween candy because they were staring at me and going "eat me! EAAATTT MEEEEE!!!", a big bowl of beef chao/jook/congee, and a small bowl of Vietnamese vermicelli salad with more sausage aka bun cha lua. Vietnamese food isn't exactly the most filling in the world. And I think I'm ending the day with 1 point leftover and sipping water. ( Correction: -1 points. I just ate another persimmon. Done with eating for the day.) I've been on the chubby side since I hit puberty but ever since I had Evie and the Sweet Pea, the three letter F word has been a more apt description. Eh, I'm SO hungry. I realize that list looks long but I never realized how much I ate until today (which I'm not entirely sure was really that much more than what I DID eat today, but it just feels like I'm missing a meal).

Wish me luck?

In other news, Evie brought home her 1st grade picture. Now if I could actually find her kindergarten picture we could do a comparison. (Our scanner didn't do a very good job at scanning the picture. Hrm.)

Miss Evie, Age 6, with her mother's chin:

Passport Problems

Ok y'all. I am totally reaching out to the internet on this one. Yes, J said he was sorry, but now he has to suffer! Suffer for what you ask? Well, I'm glad you asked because let me just tell you I think I married a cheap ass mofo.

Yesterday, as you all know, was the illustrious day of my citizenship oath. Of course, the first thing I wanted to do on my first day as an American was to set the wheels turning to get the hell out of this country so our little fam went and applied for passports. The passport applications, if you're not familiar, require two pictures of specific dimensions and appearance. Rather than screw around with taking and printing pictures ourselves (since there were services that do that and the picture is supposed to be able to withstand a process that exposes it to 275 degree heat; which I wasn't sure our home printed pictures could do) we went to a place that specialized in passport photos. Needless to say, mine looked way beyond shitty.

Ok, to be honest I hate taking pictures. I always have and I always will. It's most likely a self esteem issue but I'm almost certain any picture that has my ugly mug in it is pretty crappy. Still, at least most pictures I've taken, even ID pictures, have had some indications that I have a chin. I know I have a chin. I can feel it! If I look in a mirror, there it is! But unfortunately due to either the photographer or the flash or the sudden need for me to point my chin down and look at the ground, the passport picture that was taken yesterday made me look like an Asian Jabba the Hutt with bags and dark circles under my eyes. I am not kidding it was that horrible.

I complained to J immediately but he said, "Who cares? Nobody looks at the picture!" I look! And I demanded that I take another picture. Of course, taking another picture meant paying another $15. A new passport costs $97 and expires in 10 years. J thought that I was being vain and refused to let me take another picture and was giving me a hard time about wanting to "waste" $15.

So I ask you internet friends, am I wrong for being a little peeved about this? He later said he was sorry and that he, "didn't realize it was such a big deal." Still, I'm still mad. I figure every single time I look at that passport (when it does come back, 12 weeks now!) I'll get annoyed and whine complain. I even told J that that's what was going to happen! The guys at the passport office can be my witnesses but I believe I said emphatically, "[J] What's $15 compared to 10 YEARS of me complaining every single time I think of my passport??" Am I being vain? Would you have taken the picture over again? Or in my case, should I just...correction, should I make J, pay for another passport with a more acceptable picture? (I'm okay with looking like a cow, but I draw the line at fat alien slave-owning slugs.) Even if I'm being vain, every woman is allowed a little vanity right? Our self esteem depends on it.

Civis

This morning I took the oath to become a United States citizen. I’m not entirely sure why, but I decided against dressing up as an Oakland A’s fan or even in my usual slacker uniform of a t-shirt and jeans. In the end I left the house in my business casual work clothes and shoes with heels. The Sweet Pea was left at home with his great-grandma and my sister volunteered to drop Evie off at school. J took the day off to go with me and together we ran out the door to catch a BART train to San Francisco. I would have loved to take the kids along but it was a school day and it would have been hard for the Sweet Pea to sit through the ceremony.

The oath was being held at The Nob Hill Masonic Center and I pondered aloud what it meant for American citizens to be sworn in at the local Masonic center. I didn’t have to ponder for long as it soon became abundantly clear that the court house setting I had previously envisioned would not have been adequate. There were 1511 people there waiting to be sworn in along with countless family members and friends who came to support their loved ones.

Together, we represented 95 different countries from Afghanistan to Zambia; as rich as the United Kingdom, Sweden and Norway, and as poor as Burma, Laos, and Sierra Leone. Together, all 1511 of us, were herded like cattle into the large auditorium with signs that pointed our relatives and friends to the balcony. Other signs asked us to have our “Alien cards” and notification letters ready in order to be pointed to our designated sections and seats. It seemed, for that short while I was waiting in line, that this supposedly momentous event was very impersonal. Any hope to have a loved one sitting next to me to hold my hand as I move forward with this new status as a citizen of somewhere was gone. I looked at my surroundings and saw that I was also over dressed and should have worn my tennis shoes. I wondered who the free masons were and thought of how the founding fathers of the United States had a great many members amongst them. I thought about my addiction to the internet and information and how I’m so used to having knowledge at my fingertips. I thought about the giant stained glass windows that portrayed brown faced men and how refreshing it was that they weren’t pink faced. I looked around me and saw people who looked like me. I listened and heard the language of my childhood, a non-English tongue I could understand. A woman was admonishing her mother the way I sometimes admonish mine for fussing with extra paperwork when it wasn’t needed.

Today I took the oath for United States citizenship with one thousand five hundred and ten other people. Together we had disparate pasts from 95 other nations. We heard speeches that told us that no matter what we did prior to this date, we were not Americans. Living here for more than five years did not make us American, making a life here and assimilating to this culture does not make us Americans, navigating and putting up with the giant bureaucracy that is the United States Citizenship and Immigration Services does not make us Americans; taking this oath does. I thought about all the Americans who by accident of birth got a free pass on the oath.

J, my accidental American husband, was in the balcony somewhere, it was impossible to tell where and equally impossible for him to find me. Of course he had forgotten his cell phone. The words “technology” and “crutch” went through my mind quite a few times. Our master of ceremonies greeted everyone and explained the program. He welcomed everyone with several sentences in English, Spanish, Cantonese, Russian, French, and requested members of the audience to suggest one more country. The Filipinos were the loudest and were treated to a welcome from our multilingual MC in Tagalog. I thought that was cool. I wished the Vietnamese weren’t so quiet. For some reason it would have been cool to hear a white man speaking Viet. I didn’t say anything during the entire ceremony outside of the oath.

Next came a video on Ellis Island which was really an advertisement for the relatively new USCIS (which was created from the carcass of the century and then some old INS and bastardized by the Department of Homeland Security). We had been told by our MC that the line to get into the auditorium would be the last immigration line we would ever have to stand in. Now, he told us, we get to stand in citizenship lines. During the video I saw the citizenship lines growing longer and longer as I thought about the implications of showing a video about Ellis Island and not Angel Island or even with any mention of Angel Island to a crowd of immigrants waiting to be naturalized in San Francisco of all places. “100 million Americans can trace their ancestry to someone who passed through Ellis Island” the video said. 100 million more-than-likely European Americans I thought. During the years that all those Europeans were pouring into Ellis, Asians were restricted due to racist laws such as the Chinese Exclusion Act. The back of my mind knocked at my cynicism.

I had to look up again to look at the faces around me. Who cares about the past now? We’re speaking an oath that leaves the past behind in memory. Many of those faces looked like mine, their skin had a familiar complexion. We are here together and I teared up a bit thinking of what it meant now, for once in my life knowing for sure that I can stay for good and that I can belong here forever and ever officially. They showed another video with pictures of the different immigrants who became naturalized citizens and was surprised to see a picture of Vietnamese boat people flash on the screen. This is what we came for, I left the doubts behind and stood up when they called my old country, “Vietnam” and took the oath to relinquish my ties with the old country and defend the new amongst my peers.

8 Random Things

Thanks Kim, for tagging me on this one.

Rules:
Once tagged, you must link to the person who tagged you. Then post the rules before your list, and list 8 random things about yourself. At the end of the post, you must tag and link to 8 other people, visit their sites, and leave a comment letting them know they’ve been tagged.

1) Sometimes when I’m bored and not feeling like I need to know anything about what’s going on in the world, I search for pictures and information on fruit. Is it weird? I really find some weird comfort in looking at pictures of fruit. Tropical fruit is especially of interest to me, especially fruit that I’ve tasted before but is unavailable in the US. Sure we can get almost anything canned, but the memory of the taste and smell of a fresh mangosteen sometimes crosses my mind when I look at a picture. Then, for just a moment, I’m not where I really am.

2) I’m almost certain that this is also weird and very random, but another thing I occasionally do when I really really don’t want to be where I am is plan a dream vacation, because, I just really really need a nice long vacation. Next summer. I keep promising myself next summer, but of course, something always comes up; school, my work, J’s work, family obligations, you get the picture. Also, we can’t just leave the kids at home (we’ve never left them for more than two nights) because what good is seeing the world if you’re constantly missing a few important people you wished were there. Of course, taking two kids along means doubling the price of a nice long vacation and maybe I’m really cheap or something but I have a hard time justifying spending over five grand in two weeks right now when I’ve got tuition on top of our other expenses (contrary to popular belief, living with my parents ain’t free). Yeah, weird and pathetic, I know. Next summer, really! We’ll have passports by then.

3) My favorite tree to climb when I was a kid wasn’t really a tree. It was a bush. I would climb into it, hide, and dream silly little girl dreams of far off places and parents who weren’t dirt poor. It was a special bush, so much so that I still remember its scent and little red berries. We have a picture of me standing in front of it floating around in my parent’s photo albums somewhere. God I was a tiny kid.

4) I have a dent on my forehead. If I lift my bangs it’s clearly visible. It’s been there almost all my life and is quite deep. My head is a bit deformed there. When I was about two years old one of my little aunties wanted to carry me but accidentally tripped and fell. She was bruised and bleeding too, but my skull was literally cracked open. My auntie got the beating of her life for this little accident and I got a souvenir that I feel when I wonder about the person I am at the moment. I wonder when my fingertips run across the deep scar and the hard smooth bump that will never go away; what if. What if I didn’t have this bump, would I have been a different person? Was I brain damaged at all? Sometimes I feel very dumb and simple or crazy or shy and I wonder if I could have been someone else if I didn’t have a bump on my head.

5) I’m afraid of the dark.

6) When J and I got married, I wore my tennis shoes. I wasn’t allowed to wear my glasses so I decided I should at least wear comfortable shoes.

7) The doctors that helped deliver Evie and the Sweet Pea were really hot. When I was in labor with Evie, my mom told me she was quite pleased with the doctor’s looks since she was convinced that that would mean the baby would be beautiful too. I hadn’t really noticed what the doctors looked like while I was having contractions but when I did notice, for a little while all I could think about was how hot Dr. Hatch could see my you know what.

8) When we eat out, I like keeping our table clean and then tidying up everything for the waiter or bus person to take away. I’ve also been known to wipe the table clean for them after they take our dishes away. I’ve been told that this is a really OCD thing of me to do, but I can’t help it.

Wow, 8 random thing about me turned into 8 really weird things about me. I’m curious how Waya, Hedgehog, Kimberly, Eliaday, Glennia, CityMama, Jooliyah, and Jonathan would do it.

Little Aunties

Today, we went to visit J's dad (...J's dad and his family?...J's side?...wow, no matter how one writes in-laws, it always sounds awkward). It wasn't such a bad visit, we haven't gone in a long while even though they only live an hour away. Mostly, it's that we've been busy which is in itself strange to say since sometimes we were busy simply spending time with each other. I guess it's just hard enough making time for us as a little family much less other important people in our lives.

Anyhoo, the kids appeared to have fun hanging out with their aunties and J hung out with his dad who picked us two giant bags full of fresh persimmons and Asian pears from their fruit trees. J's youngest sister is two months younger than Evie and the girls had a great time playing with each other. Another of J's sisters (he has 5 half-sisters, 3 belong to his dad and step mom) and I sneaked away to hunt for a particularly elusive box of instant noodles that J was craving. She's a senior in high school this year and we talked about college and which schools she was applying to; how cool it'd be if she ended up going to the same school I did. I could conveniently provide her with rides back home and an endless supply of instant noodles! It was nice talking to her especially since she seemed to be ok with hanging out with her frumpy old sister in law.

Actually, that's a point of pride for me that I get along alright with my in-laws, particularly my little sisters in law. I've known them all since they were around Evie's age and watched them grow. For some of them, they're closer to me than they are to J and I'm glad that I'm someone they feel they can talk to. Since they occasionally read this blog, (HI!) I'll try to stick with a positive honest point and say that I could have had much much worse.

Back to deeper thoughts later this week, I promise. Tomorrow, the 8 random things meme that Kim tagged me for. Ta ta for now! (The Sweet Pea has been watching Pooh's Heffalump Movie a lot lately. Someone save me.)

Out: The Oakland Zoo

It is a generally agreed upon fact that the San Francisco Bay Area is beautiful; gorgeous even. A few weeks ago J observed that we pay so much to live here and yet we’ve been missing all the things that make this area special. Part of this of course has to do with J and I both working jobs that usually take up more than 50 hours of our time each week. The other part of it is that because of our jobs and grueling commutes we end up completely exhausted when we get home and weekends are more often spent catching up on sleep than getting out the door to enjoy our wonderful locale.

This past week has been one of those weeks where we both wished we could get more sleep. Despite my best attempts at taking a little nap after I picked up Evie from Vietnamese school today, I couldn’t resist the giant eyes that were staring into mine as the Sweet Pea pried open my eyelids and looked in. Nor could I say no to the little girl piled on top of me. After J had mentioned that we should take advantage of our area perks a bit more, we had agreed to take the kids out more anyway. I had thought to push these activities off till next weekend since I was exhausted but I don’t know if the kids would have survived another week of cabin fever. Thus, as a matter of survival, (my survival, since the little ones seem to love bugging me rather than J, who got to blissfully play a video game throughout my ordeal) we decided to take the kids out.

They were given three choices, a movie, the Oakland Zoo, or the Chabot Space and Science Center. These choices had more to do with the facts that they are each less than 7 miles from where we live and that we’re members of the zoo and science center than anything else. Evie chose the zoo and her little brother, not knowing he has his own mind and opinion, pretty much agreed. An hour and a half later (because that is how long it takes us to get ready) we were out the door with less than two hours to enjoy the zoo. Thank goodness we’re members.

The Oakland Zoo is the perfect size I think. It’s not too big and not too small with a decent collection of animals both familiar and exotic. You could see the entire zoo in one afternoon and still have enough energy to enjoy the mini amusement park that’s attached. Since we only had two hours and we could, in theory, come back whenever we wanted, we cheated and went on the sky ride and saw many of the animals that way. The zoo is located in the Oakland Hills and so not only did we see lions, tigers, giraffes, elephants, bison, camels, and elks on the sky ride but a fantastic view of the bay as well. Beat that San Francisco Zoo.

We then spent an hour or so visiting the boas, parrots, chimpanzees, gibbons, and baboons before we took the kids to the Children’s Zoo where they checked out some tortoises, bunnies, lizards, and tree frogs. The kids had a blast climbing on the various giant animals and insects that are placed throughout the Children’s Zoo and J and I had fun taking pictures of them. (Alas, still no nice pictures of them together.)

Next up was the little amusement park area where the minimum height requirement was 36 inches for all the rides except for the carousel and train. Poor Sweet Pea being the tiny little guy that he is, barely made the requirement and had to be measured three times by two different attendants before he was let on the rides. It’s a good thing we put him in some thick soled skater shoes today. I doubt he’d have made 36 inches without them. If he didn’t, we would have had a screaming toddler on our hands and an equally upset Evie since we would have gone home rather than have one little one sit aside while the other went on rides. Anyhoo, the kids went on a few rides and to cap off our lovely afternoon at the zoo, we decided to take the zoo train…which derailed. Seriously.

After the zoo we went and had dinner at a local Denny’s where we had pancakes and juice. While I know we live in an area that’s basically a foodie’s wet dream, Denny’s just seemed like a good choice for something fast, and family friendly. The kids fell asleep on the car ride home and I thought, yeah, today was a great day. Our local zoo, with its simple and relaxing fun is just the tip of the iceberg. How can sleep really compete with all the activity and beauty that we have all around us? The kids weren’t perfectly behaved but it was relaxing just seeing them run around joyfully living up a few hours outside of home. We don’t have anything planned for tomorrow yet, but I’ll be keeping my eyes open.

Grease Monkey

I am, to put it simply, somewhat of a failed hypochondriac and germaphobe. Whenever I'm sick, something in the back of my mind nags at a more sensible lobe the fact that I just might be dying. I wash my hands innumerable times a day but can actually function in the world by touching surfaces I need to touch without breaking down. I always wonder and think about the amount of germs present when I allow my kids to follow the five second rule but I don't do too much about it. I think a lot of my failure as an OCD crackpot has to do with the fact that I married a complete slob and together we produced children who are also slobs.

Without going into too much detail, I think I just gave up. Nine and a half years with a man who pretends the laundry basket doesn't exist and that is why his dirty socks remain on the ground is enough to drive anyone...WE INTERRUPT THIS BLOG POSTING TO ALLOW THE DEFENDANT (WHO IS NOSY AND SHOULD MIND HIS OWN BUSINESS) A CHANCE FOR A REBUTTAL: "A least they're not all over the house! At least they're not under my desk! Wait a minute! What dirty socks? Where?! Where?!" (So you've been good lately J, but you know you're guilty. GUILTY!) NOW BACK TO OUR REGULARLY SCHEDULED BLOG POST...batty in a different way. Of course, socks are the least of my woes and worries. What really and truly broke my quacky ways, was my dear disgusting hubby's oily forehead and nose. The man is in desperate need a better skin care regimen because that T-zone is GREASY. AND, he'd try to touch my forehead with it in some moment of hypothetical tenderness as I recoil in disgust. Eskimo kisses are another favorite form of torture...and...

I totally forget where I'm going with all this as a child is nagging me to feed him in order to demonstrate how his hands are much more useful as food delivery systems than chopsticks, spoons, or forks, but NaBloPoMo day 2 down? Eh...All this TMI? You betcha...

NaBloPoMo and the Naked Toddler

There’s something that happens when I’m sleep deprived. First of all, I’m not really present. Perhaps it’s a consequence of eyeballs being open for so many hours or that I’ve been forced to stay conscious for so long but after being up for more than 36 hours primarily in a sitting position in front of a computer or in a classroom, I feel separated a bit from my body as my head feels numb and my muscles ache. I had to work for 14 hour straight through the night and then head down to class to do a presentation. Needless to say common sense goes out the window as decisions are made by the gut rather than by the brain. I have a feeling war and malicious or masochistic acts and agreements are made when the brain is addled with lack of sleep.

This quite possibly explains why I have signed up for NaBloPoMo (National Blog Posting Month), which starts today. It might also explain why up until 15 minutes ago, I had a naked toddler holding on to me for dear life as he sat on a toilet for the third time in his life.

Somehow, sometime, I had allowed my mother to push me into potty training the Sweet Pea even though I have absolutely no fucking clue as to how to potty train a little boy. I mean, little boys are supposed to pee standing up right? Yeah, not a skill I know or can pass on. Hence the sitting on the potty with me singing the ABC song and Twinkle Twinkle Little Star by request and on repeat with my mind floating above my head and my shoulders aching. The naked toddler naked because he had no clue that he shouldn’t have peed in his pants and soil his too long shirt with it. It's highly doubtful he really understood that this would lead to him having to hold on for dear life lest he fall into the giant toilet that looks as though it could swallow him whole. Why don't we have a potty chair? I don't know. We only just started this afternoon when I discovered Sweet Pea running around with a flatter butt.

Needless to say my friends, we are totally unprepared for potty training. We are totally unprepared for NaBloPoMo. I wasn’t prepared to work and stay up for over 36 hour straight but somehow I was able to work through the night and then somehow made it down to Santa Cruz and back without killing myself or anyone else on the drive to and from. Somehow I was able to do my presentation for class without sounding too much like I was sleep deprived and unconscious with my eyes open. I’m not quite here and present for this yet, but as with everything in this business of being, I’m sure we’ll make it work. Somehow.