Gratitude Challenge Day One

Posted on September 18, 2014 by ajummama

I usually scowl at Facebook trends / chain letter taggin’ but am down with taking pause to share what I am particularly grateful for.

1. Having to learn patience. Over and over again. Lemme explain how I am learning to at least TRY to be grateful for this.

As I’ve mentioned on this blog in almost every post, Ellis and I have to “commute” to our parking space by strolling three blocks away, then drive about 12 minutes to pick up big bro Monday thru Friday. In traffic.

This week’s drive: Red lights galore. I thought I might end up on the news today when one red-lit left turn arrow done stayed red for almost three minutes straight with two blocks of cars waiting to turn left and with me trying to take deep breaths but feeling Incredible Hulky. I half-expected the likes of one Mr. John Quinones knocking on my window, like he about to sell me flower bouquets but instead saying, “Can you roll down your window, ma’am? This was a social experiment to test people’s road rage on Queens Blvd.”

Driving home later tonight, I saw once again, red light after red light, a whole row of them even after rush hour was long gone. Then I saw each of them turn that beautiful shade of bright green, one by one, like a row of Rockettes’ kicking up their legs.

So I BECAME grateful for the realization that red lights, on the road and IN LIFE, only mean that green lights be comin’, can I get a witness?

2. Came home from a workshop tonight only to get a call from Kevin saying I need to run home after parking the car because Ellis woke up crying inconsolably for Mommy. I am prone to stay out after parking the car, sitting there, enjoying the still night, responding to emails, making it my mobile office. This time I ran home. Thanks for still needing me hward because you and brother growing up crazy fast.

3. I’m all about life-long learning. I love that when I want to grow in a certain area, God provides me with resources and says,”Here you go. Hollaback with what you learned.”

Tonight I attended a great workshop called “Nurturing Your Soul with Monastic Wisdom” about intentionally creating the space to hear God by examining our lives and noticing recurring themes and patterns at the end of the day, or a big review at the end of the year, so that we can better navigate our future.

It’s easier to just escape through social media and TV and other vices at night, especially after long, grueling days, but it was some real meaty and wise stuff that will help our family come up with a Rule of Life/family mission statement.

Psssh, this was not a “challenge” at all. Very easy. (Poppin’ my gratitude collar)…

Father Knows Best?

Posted on September 17, 2014 by ajummama

I acted like a teenager yesterday, abruptly hanging up on my parents via Skype. I just said, “BYE!” after getting salty towards my dad. Usually I let Ellis and his grandparents do at least seven rounds of goodbyes and air kisses to the computer screen before finally hanging up.

I never have the chance to talk to him these days as he spends most of the year in Japan without regular Internet access.

So when he is in LA, I try to Skype as frequently as possible to show him his swiftly growing grandbabies.

I ended up pouring my heart out about things that hurt and anger me in my current life stage. I was getting riled up just talking about it. Nothing to do with him. As always, the angrier I got, my Korean game stepped up.

I really wanted my folks, especially my dad, the person I seek the most validation from in the whole wide world, to just say, “Yes, I understand. I can imagine.” After all, I had been vulnerable enough to share my heart again instead of just hiding behind my baby, making chitchat only about him.

“WE FEEL YOU, BELOVED DAUGHTER,” would have hit the spot, too.

Instead, my dad said something like, “Aigoo, don’t say a peep more! THESE ARE THE HAPPIEST DAYS OF YOUR LIFE. Trust me.” Of course, he said it in Korean, so some of this is lost in translation.

I said something snarky like, “Oh really, Daddy? This coming from someone who said he can never babysit again because it was too damn hard when he was only SECOND-CHAIRING IT? Too hard even when only helping my mama out here and there during our annual trip to LA? That’s all you can say? These are the happiest days of my life?”

Today, I was beaming as I enjoyed Ellis at our Mommy and Me Zoo Class, a class I had been wanting to attend for so long with one of my boys, but wasn’t allowed to bring a tag-along sibling to. The zoo understandably said we must adhere to a one child-one parent ratio, or else it’d be too distracting. So after Micah went off to full-day pre-K, Ellis and I were able to get our zoo class on.

I just drank him in as he sat on my lap, petting Nona the Turtle and Emma the Snake.

A mental picture flashed before my eyes: how ecstatic our family of four was when Micah overcame a potty-related fear in our tiny bathroom while Daddy was giving Ellis a haircut in the bathtub. We hooted and hollered as if Micah had just received the call for his Nobel Peace Prize nomination.

I thought about how happy we are to reunite with any member of our small family after any departure, however short. “Mom, you back from the gym!? We missed you. Did you miss us?” “Daddy! Did you miss me SO much when you was at office? Did you keep thinking about me and go, ‘awww, Micah!’?”

Damn it. These ARE the happiest days of my life. While my dad and other first generation immigrant parents can work on being a bit more affirming, he was right.

I’ve said this over and over again but despite being stretched so thin, these are the highlight reels of my life.

One of my beloved bridesmaids so eloquently wrote to me this week, “Isn’t it so interesting how we can straddle so many different emotions at once?”

Tough in so many ways – marriage, finances, inner life, nurturing my faith, limited career options on the Mommy track – but yes, these ARE the days that I will look back on and crave the smoove, perfect cheek of my still-innocent boys.

See? See?!

Posted on September 15, 2014 by ajummama

My guilty pleasure, “Bachelor in Paradise,” came to an end last week. One moment that stayed with me was when Claire poured her heart out to the camera about wanting to finally find a man who would just SEE her for who she is and say, “Hey, I want you. You are it. I’m signing up for all of it.”

Last week was my firstborn’s first week of full-day school. Pre-kindergarden.

It surprised me by turning out to be a bigger week than I had imagined. After all, he had already been attending nursery school in the mornings so this was just an extension of that, right? Not quite.

And it wasn’t just about getting the logistics down, driving to and from another neighborhood everyday, timing Ellis’ and my morning activities, lunch, and nap so that they would all be completed in time to walk to our parking space three blocks away (though I’ve still had to wake up Ellis from his warm, toasty nap each day). Then, we finally get to go pick up Big Bro just in time for us to be waiting eagerly on the sidewalk by his school door, like paparazzi. I even snap a pic of him on my iPhone just to record how happy he looks after enjoying school all day, and also about reuniting with his family.

That is our favorite time of day, to catch a glimpse of our very own Micah, strutting down his school stairs with a radiant Denzel smile and a backpack bigger than his torso, exclaiming, “Mom! I only cried so little today!” We are his own little entourage of two. Ellis has even cheered loudly as Brother walks down to us.

Back to Claire from the Bachelor. She just wanted a dude to see her for her and say, “Yup, I see you, even your weaknesses, and I still want to be with you.” Somehow this reminded me of my boy starting school.

I have been at home with him since weeks before his birth. I see him. All of him. I know everything about him, from bowel movements to quirks to weaknesses to stremfs. I know his body better than I know mine. I know what sets him off, what makes him happy, what makes him sad. This is such a precious time because it won’t always be this way.

I see him for him and because all of his traits are a part of him, and I am the one who birthed him, he is the one for me. Now that he will be spending his days with his two teachers and 17 classmates, I wondered, “Will they be able to SEE him? Beyond him winning the #1 Crier award at dropoff the first few days, will they be able to SEE my Micah as I see him?” I hoped so.

Of course it takes time but slowly, I wanted them to be able to see the boy that I see. I’m sure all parents want the same for their precious little ones. And big ones.

Before his first week, I observed him at Orientation. He and his new classmate were playing house when she said, “You spit when you talk.” I gave them their space and just observed. He asked her, “Me? I DO? Me?” while rivulets of drool rolled down his chin.

So this is what it was going to be like to let him do his own thang for a full day. I wasn’t going to be there to run interference when classmates said things, or pushed him. He tends to freeze when attacked and I wasn’t going to be there to remind him to use his words.

And I know he ain’t perfect either. If he don’t act right, I wasn’t going to be there to tell him to come correct right quick.

Definitely some growing pains for Mommy. To send him off to grow and learn on his own.

I also didn’t think about the effect this going away to school business would have on Little Bro. I had heard on Facebook that many little siblings were having a hard time. Though my dude does ask about Micah hyung wherever we went, especially when we saw things that reminded us of him, which was pretty much everything since we three were rollin’ deep, homies 24-7 over the summer, my little guy also relished that Mommy was able to SEE him, just him. In fact, he loves to say, “See? See!?” after pointing at anything these days. “See? Supe-man!? See? Bah-Man!? See see? Mommy, see? Animals, see!? Squirrel, squirrel ova they-ah!? See?”

Yes, I see you and everything that you’re pointing to. What a treat it is to see you without having to split my attention. I get to see you with laser-sharp focus, with new eyes now that brother is off to school for the day, and I am honored. I am excited to see you grow up this upcoming year.

I love this concept of truly being able to see someone.

When you make friends in your 30s, you want them to be able to see you beyond your current struggle with your job or your spouse, or even your life stage, that you aren’t JUST the circumstances you met them during, but a whole person.

The question always seems to be, “Who do you even WANT to see you? More of you?” As I get older, the answer is, “Not as many as befo’!”

Therein lies the beauty of childhood friends, your people you can use shorthand with to say, “This is me. You’ve seen me, warts and all. And you’re still around!”

When you start dating someone, you want them to be able to see your quirks and weaknesses and not just put up with them but welcome them as they are a part of you.

And even as I write this very typical Mommy post, I hope that folks can see that while I sound like Just Another Mommy, waxing poetic about her kids, this is just a part of me. Just as I am, though I fear eyerolls and being insufferable as I am fully aware that anecdotes about your kids are usually only interesting to you or their relatives.

Speaking of “see”? I’ll SEE y’all later. It’s almost our fave time of day!

Honk!

Posted on September 8, 2014 by ajummama

This is Part Two from the previous post, so it may not make sense as an independent post:

I was relieved to hear Kevin challenge me instead of agreeing with whatever I said in my agitated state. “But I think it’d be good for you to go to church. You always feel better. Then afterwards, you can have the rest of the day to exhale.”

So I drove me and Micah to church the next morning since runny-nosed E needed to stay contained at home. I saw a parking space on the street so I pulled over to the left to grab the spot. Immediately, the car behind me honks.

I have Honk Rage. HONK HONK HONK. As SOON as the light turns green here in NYC, HONK HONK HONK, HONKY TONK TONK! Honk You! Most Honking City I’ve ever lived in (Seoul doesn’t count because I was too young).

Perhaps I should have pulled over farther to the side? Had I not signaled? Not sure. I just know that honks invite the Michael Douglas from “Falling Down” from within me to come out and play. They transform this Calculus Camper into a wannabe thug who wants to respond to your honk with, “Oh, aight, you wanna go in? Let’s go! Just don’t hit me in the face, son.”

As the car passed by me, I thought, “And I’ll just bet it’s someone from my church, too. Augh! Why do we even bother, coming to church week after week, trying to come correct, then go forth and honk away in this nasty concrete jungle. I AM SO OVER EVERYTHING! I should have stayed my ass home.”

The car passes me and the driver looks right at me, to see who had the audacity to pull over to park and cause an inconvenience. Sho ’nuff, it IS someone from church. For some reason, it makes my agitation grow though no previous ill will towards this person. Even though rationally, I know that maybe they were honking only to tell me to move over a few more inches.

But I don’t want to be rational. Just one of those “F*CK EVERYTHING AND EVERYONE!” moments as I was already agitated.

After a tough Saturday, I CRAVED some rest in the form of sitting in the sanctuary and hearing a life-giving, refreshing sermon. I needed it. Spiritual spa.

Because Micah was having a hard time staying in his Elephant Room without his friends there on his first day, with mostly kindergardeners, I took him with me to the sanctuary to show him how close I would be to his new classroom. In a moment of wishful thinking, or denial, I LEFT MY JOURNAL on my seat, perhaps subconsciously thinking that by leaving it there, I would get to come right back by myself. To shed my negative thoughts and replace them with Word.

However, when we got back to Elephant Room, I saw just how out of place Micah felt on this first day and I promised I would stay the whole time, and would never sneak off.

During his Elephant activities, I told Micah that Mommy needs to run back for less than 30 seconds and get her notebook from the sanctuary since she was staying with him for the rest of his class. He started shaking his head vehemently and crinkling his face. Since I had left him earlier and Micah had started bawling, I didn’t want him to cry again if we could avoid it.

“Fine, Mommy will go back right after service and get the notebook.”

We went back and it was gone.

I asked the ushers and everyone was really good about looking for it. I checked the Lost and Found, and spoke to the person in charge.

I started feeling really weird, like my face was going to crumple up just like Micah’s. I felt really prickly, worn and fragile. PLUS, THIS WAS MY JOURNAL.

“I’m sure it will turn up,” assured a friendly face. But this didn’t comfort me at all. In fact, it made me feel similar to when Kevin says, “Calm down!”

I couldn’t believe it but I just sat down in front of the sanctuary and started to cry. I wished I had stayed my ass home. I didn’t need any more irritations.

Obviously, it wasn’t just for the journal though I did feel mighty naked and out of control to have it floating out there for anyone to pick up and read through, even without malicious intent. MY JOURNAL. As open as I already am, blogging for my tens of readers to see, the words in my journal are on a whole ‘nutha level of raw and uncensored thoughts and emotions. For anyone to pick it up and peer into made my eyes water and my heart beat fast.

Just then, a familiar face saw me crying and let me fall onto her and cry. “It’s my journal – I can’t leave and just hope it turns up.”

She promptly ran downstairs and found it for me in the one place I had neglected to check because I was moving too frantically from spot to spot, literally running through the church, holding Micah’s hand. Someone had turned it into the front desk. I hadn’t checked there after someone told me there is no staff at front desk on Sundays, only on weekdays. I felt beyond foolish.

The tears were for a lot of things. Stress. Frustration. Exhaustion. Burnout. Worry about the future. Not anything new. How I can’t get extinguish my envy when I see grandparents helping out regularly so that friends and acquaintances alike can reclaim their couplehood without the kids in tow. In fact, lotta grandparents were helping out even more as the kids grew older.

It was such an appropriate analogy, my having to choose between fetching my journal (WRITING/ME TIME) or staying with my kid (MAMAHOOD).

Before I had kids, I needed long stretches of quiet for myself to devour books, write, think, swim, decompress. Just because I became a mama doesn’t mean that my natural constitution immediately reconfigured itself and I can do without those life-giving things. I am still at my best if I can have longer, more frequent blocks of quiet for my overthinking brain to cool off.

But reality is that my kids come first to my wants. Most of the time, I’m okay with that as that is what a Mommy does. I even embrace it because it feels like I was born for this. But I’ve come to also realize that if I neglect to take care of myself in these ways I have labeled as pure luxury, I won’t perform at my optimum level..

I felt so annoyed that Micah wouldn’t “let” me go fetch my notebook, though I know he was really thrown by his new surroundings. Then, I started beating myself up over a lot of miscellaneous, irrelevant crap, including my crying about the damn journal.

It’s just hard sometimes, and even harder to say that especially using these trifling examples of “sacrifice.” Big deal – I had to stay with my boy at his Sunday School. But it wasn’t just that. It was an accumulation of thangs. And I know I should be thankful. Always. That guilt makes me feel worse.

As a Mama, I expect myself to be selfless but oh, how selfishness rears its ugly head. I want uninterrupted time to myself. I want to watch MY TV shows. I want to listen to MY music in the car. I want to attend MY service at church. I want to be able to talk to Kevin without interruption. I don’t want to share my mochi ice cream.

Why I gotta be the adult all the time? Just because I AM one?

YES. The answer is Yes.

Growing up is hard to do, even for a Mama. Growing pains are not just for the youfe.

Running on Empty, a status update, not just a River Phoenix film

Posted on September 8, 2014 by ajummama

I misplaced my journal in public today.

Well, to be accurate, I knew exactly where I had placed it but it was no longer there when I returned.

Today was Step Up Day at church for our little guys, as Ellis is about to turn two on October 1st and Micah starting pre-Kindergarden tomorrow. Daddy stayed home with Ellis, who was supposed to be officially jumped in as a Giraffe. He had a runny nose so we wanted to be courteous to his classmates and not spread the love.

Micah was joining the Elephant Room, made up of fellow Preschoolers as well as Kindergardeners.

We had been talking about it all this week, as well as about his upcoming new school. He was excited. He was ready.

When we walked in, he changed his mind. He said, “Where are my friends?” The room did look very different from the Giraffe Room and he didn’t know one classmate or teacher. He was the youngest dude there, with his end of the year birthday and the only new kid from what I could surmise.

I tried extra hard: “Ooh, there’s Pastor Rich’s daughter! Oooh, there’s V, remember she came over to watch Jeremy Lin basketball with us a while back with her family? Remember you went to VBS with O?”

On my better days, I would have been HAPPY to stay and get him adjusted to his new surroundings, even feeling like it was a treat to be able to observe him in a classroom setting.

But Lord, I was in a mood. Lemme back it up.

Yesterday, our family went to play at a Back-to-School Festival at a local park after I ran to the optometrist for a wonky eye in the morning. We got there and it was super hot and humid like we knew it would be. But we thought it’d be a cute, celebratory event for our preschooler. And it was. And I got to hold my friend’s new son.

We got back home just in time for Kevin to finally enjoy himself a Daddy’s Late Afternoon and Night Out. I even wrote him a (rare) tribute on Facebook because I truly appreciated all that he does for us, even though sometimes I get jealous that he “gets” to go to the office and use his computer without two warm, brown little monkeys climbing his body to take over the keyboard. And twisting his titties.

I was really excited for his time out and even sent him out early. After all, I do this all week. I got this. What’s an extra day of unpaid overtime?

As soon as Daddy left, Oh My Lawd. I lost all control.

We started off by doing some cute arts and crafts from the Back-to-School Festival while it stormed outside. But the never-ending day started going downhill quickly afterwards. Downright brutal. It was still humid out despite the intermittent storms, yet I refused to turn on our extreme A/C with Ellis’ nose running. The heat added to everything. I also refused to give them any screen time because screen time is a reward, not a right, though in hindsight, I see that it could have been a reward for Mommy.

It was need after need, fight after fight, repeating myself to no avail, yelling, cursing under my breath, trying the opposite of yelling by whispering to get them to obey me. I felt like I had ADD as I would begin to do something then completely forget what urgent thing I had run into the room to do as one of them would demand something else. Then another spill.

They would egg each other on. If one of them demanded something from me, the other would feel left out and demand something too. There was no reasoning.

After feeding them dinner by bribing them with Transformer tattoos so that they wouldn’t skip another meal, I hid in our tiny kitchen to do the dishes for some down time. I felt like stabbing myself in the forearm to match the frustration I felt on the inside.

I also started feeling sorry for myself, thinking about local mama friends who get weekends off thanks to their parents or in-laws. I knew I was starting to travel down a dirty path of envy and bitterness.

I also knew that bedtimes weren’t gonna happen. That’s a whole other topic I don’t want to get into, lest I receive comments on all that we’re doing wrong.

By the time, Kevin walked in the door (kids still not sleeping, yelling “Hi, Daddy!” from their room), I looked like I had been at the sauna with my damp face and disheveled non-ponytail. I announced that I was not going to church the next day because I felt like I was running on empty and that I need to be alone in a quiet space.

I felt like a car that was long overdue for maintenance. About to break down.

I haven’t even begun to get to the meat of this post…
-To Be Continued-

How Did You Get Here?

Posted on September 2, 2014 by ajummama

I just got off the subway after a topsy turvy day on Roosevelt Island with the boys and our small group of buddies.

It also happened to be the hottest day of “summer” on this second day of September, the day after Labor Day.

I learned that I should follow my gut about certain excursions with the kids, like the Rockettes Christmas show that Micah wasn’t ready for, a Central Park picnic I didn’t take a stroller to, the 12 hour day in Manhattan, and several others in the Kim Outings Hall of Fame.

Despite a nagging feeling to pass on this group excursion, I went because I wanted to catch our buddies before our respective first days of school. I couldn’t shake this feeling that it was going to be a tough, raisin-in-the-sun type of long day with unexpected stressors.

Oh, and it was going to be a humid 92 degrees out, but I wanted to seem down!

The subway elevator that went eastbound from Roosevelt Island was unexpectedly broken on our way back home, after tram rides, playground, my failed attempts to feed them, sprinkler fun, rest stops, sunscreen applications, and bathroom breaks. And stroller protests. And my eye abrasion/infection that showed up out of nowhere.

Did I mention 92 degrees?

Our other little buddies went home earlier and didn’t need the elevator because they either didn’t have a stroller or had a Daddy to carry down their Strollerus Prime.

My friend and I were forced to take the only working elevator down to catch a train in the OPPOSITE direction, westbound into Manhattan, farther from home, to get to another elevator subway stop in Manhattan that would eventually take us in the right direction.

Of course, by then, it turned out to be rush hour so we were lucky to even be able to fit our huge doublestrollers onto the subway at all.

As I was shoving my butt into a seated passenger’s face in order to fix Micah’s stroller seat, the young man asked, “Would you like to sit down so you can fix his seat?” I thanked him profusely and we got to chatting, while my friend was crammed in on the other side of the subway car.

He ended up telling me his story. I love stories.

He is a 21 year-old Puerto Rican from East New York and he just got released from his second prison term. We chatted about our respective days, first about how we were experiencing different types of exhaustion, then onto racial dynamics and implications (one of my favorite topics), his time in prison, NYC, God, and more.

I noticed that my stop was coming up so I said, “I’m totally gonna have to interrupt you to ask you a question as a mama. When you look back at your life, what do you think could have helped you stay up? What could have helped you from going down this particular path? I have to ask because I’m the mama of these two young men konked out in the stroller and I gotta do right by them.”

I confess I was fishing for an affirmation in the form of, “If only my mama had been a stay-at-home mom until I was at least five years old, taking me to museums and playgrounds all over NYC, including the Roosevelt Island tram on a hot day like today.”

His answer?

Idle time. He had gotten into trouble because he lived in a bad neighborhood and was bored after school let out. He didn’t have an afterschool center where he could have discovered creative outlets for his restless energy.

This conversation with a perfect stranger on the subway is still percolating. I had already been thinking a lot about the different trajectories our lives take.

Our head pastor is also Puerto Rican and from East New York. Rich has mad Brooklyn pride, always trying to hoot and holler, “I’m from BROOKLYN, y’all” any chance he gets when he preaches. In fact, HE GREW UP ON THE SAME BLOCK as the young man I met on the subway!

Somehow, Rich was able to stay out of trouble and today, he is a pastor of a deeply impactful church in Elmhurst, Queens.

Though Rich is a bright dude, it wasn’t that he was simply “better” or smarter than the Subway Guy.

Sure, one can argue that we all have to take personal responsibility for our choices but it isn’t so black and white. The factors that lead to the different paths our lives take include different influences, decisions or series of decisions, missteps, a case of wrong-place-at-the-wrong-time, serendipitous good fortune, and most of all, timing.

Any one of these things can change the entire arc of our lives.

Ultimately, he was the only one who could take responsibility for certain choices that he made. However, different factors were at play to shape the mind of a young boy in the projects, leading up to his being incarcerated at the age of 16, then again at age 19.

I have always been fascinated by how so many different “ingredients” make up our lives and trajectory they take.

The family we are born into. The class we’re born into. The country we’re born into. The person we end up marrying. Having children. If those children have special needs or become ill. Just to name a few.

Sometimes, I wonder, what if I hadn’t met and fallen for this boy from CT/NY? What if Kevin hadn’t met this crazy girl from Cali? What if neither one of us had ever gone to law school? (Then we wouldn’t have such student loans! But I digress…)

And also about the future, “What is our family’s vision? Is our next step only to move into a bigger, nicer space and live the picket fence dream or should we do something radical and countercultural?”

Though I often wonder, “How did they get here?” about others, like the young man on the subway and millionaires, the pressing question I am grappling with these days is, “What is next, Lord? What am I called to do? Who am I called to be?”

But right now, I am called to join my family for dinner.

YOU the Mom, SuperDad!

Posted on August 25, 2014 by ajummama

Kevin was doubled over in the corner near the sanctuary at church yesterday.

On September 7th, the boys will be moving up in rank in their respective Sunday School classes. Since he will be turning two in October, Ellis will be officially stepping up from Nursery to the Giraffe Room and Micah, as a preschooler, from the Giraffe Room to the Elephant Room.

I had told Kevin that we should just drop off Littlest Kim in his future classroom so that he can get adjusted and have a Sunday or two where he can attend WITH hyung (Big Bro).

Kevin mumbled something about, “Well, he could poo so maybe I should stay,” and some other excuse like, “But will he be able to follow direction?” Kevin has been gifting me with time to go to service when one or both of the boys needed a parent during service time. (Though he is an altruistic and selfless dude and always has been, this act ain’t completely saintly, since I am much kinder after I’m fed a good sermon.)

Kevin was hesitant about sending off our baby to an actual Sunday School class instead of the baby nursery he’s been hanging out in during his entire church attendance. But Daddy had no choice because in one split second, Micah grabbed Ellis’ hand and they both walked into the Giraffe Room, without looking back even once.

We kept peeking in to see if one or both may need Daddy to hang around.

Nope. They sat with their backs to the door and started coloring like it’s their job.

Just as I was thinking, “Wow, DO YOU KNOW WHAT THIS MEANS!?…that we have time to run out before service and grab me a Chicken Mushroom bun,” I looked over at Kevin who had literally doubled over in the corner like his appendix had burst, while carrying the diaper bag I had told him we didn’t need to bring in.

When he finally straightened himself out, I noticed that his eyes were red and he was breathing hard, with his hand over his heart. He was sheepish and laughing at himself but he managed to spit out, “But that’s my baby! He can’t be sitting in a classroom like that!? NO! I’m not ready.” He even confessed that the excuses he had made earlier about why Ellis should still stay in the nursery were bogus reasons.

As I processed this, I judged myself. Here I am, the mama, and I don’t even bat an eye when her baby marches right into the Bigger Kids’ room for the very first time without a parent. What’s wrong with me?

And then I realized it’s because of who he is. Sure, he’s the baby but he is pretty much P.I.M.P.: laughing after diving head FIRST off a steep slide, toddling up to all of our co-op staff to give multiple high-fives and daps, grabbing museum employees’ hands to carry him up so he can see an exhibit better when Mommy and Daddy were otherwise occupied, and singing along in the car.

Big Bro, on the other hand, was still wearing a drenched bib at age two, and would let other kids hit him as he stared wide-eyed, ever cautious and observing, always standing back and observing. I was emotional when HE, my only child at the time, was ready for Sunday School.

In other ways, though, Ellis seems like more of a baby than his big bro was at this age. After all, Micah had already become a big bro at 22 months old. But because of Ellis’ outgoing personality, he didn’t seem like he should be “confined” in the baby nursery any longer.

But Daddy had been the one who stayed with him in the church nursery on many a Sunday, when there weren’t enough volunteers to leave him with. Daddy was the one to witness Ellis still playing with the other babies and playing peek-a-boo from the communal pack n play.

This was the first Sunday in MONTHS where we were able to sit together to worship. I kept looking over at him and each time, Kevin was about to lose it. Tearing up, laughing at himself, taking deep breaths, then tearing up again, shaking his head.

You the Mom, SuperDad. When people told us that this ALL goes by so fast, I didn’t realize the specifics. FAST as in YOU ONLY HAVE THE FIRST THREE YEARS to attend Mommy-and-Me type activities together. TWO YEARS in the church nursery, apparently. After that, it’s school for a big chunk of the day and soon, birthday parties and baths on their own. NO WONDER parents are always chanting, “ENJOY EVERY MOMENT!”

I’m so glad that Kevin, our rock, was the one who was overcome with emotion this time.

A real man won’t be ashamed to get verklempt over his boy growing up.

A real man won’t be ashamed to weep and convulse when emotions hit deep.

A real man won’t be mad at his babies’ mama when she publishes this while he at the office.

In Pursuit of Magic

Posted on August 21, 2014 by ajummama

People are always looking for signs. For meaning. For something more.

At least, I know I am. I know I can be completely ridiculous and try too hard at times. Recently, a friend who prays a lot asked me during a casual conversation, whether we’d like to have more kids. I raised one eyebrow and peered intensely into her face as I thought aloud, “WHY? Do you know something? Has He mentioned something? Who sent you? ARE YOU A PROPHET?”

Even on my “Bachelor in Paradise” guilty pleasure show, there is a scene where Claire is having an emotionally intimate moment with her dude on the beach, sharing about the death of her dad. Suddenly, she squeals as she notices a turtle going out into the ocean after laying a bunch of eggs. She says it is a sign from her dad. New life=new beginnings.

I especially love stories where parents have DREAMED of their child’s name, gender, or arrival.

My heart hurts when I hear of the signs that parents receive after they’ve lost their children. When they are dealing with their unimaginable grief, their child’s favorite animal just happens to show up in their backyard, or a red cardinal ends up visiting them EVERY SINGLE DAY while on vacation.

Or in the case of Kevin and Marina Krim whose two beloved children, Lulu and Leo, were murdered by their nanny in NYC in October of 2012.

Marina posted on Facebook:

“I accepted that Lulu and Leo’s physical presences were no longer with me and I needed to learn to connect with their spiritual presence. I needed to use my 5 senses ‘outside the box’ to connect with Lulu and Leo. Once I started to do that, little everyday things began to take on new meaning. This was the beginning of my lifelong scavenger hunt — clues that my Lulu and Leo were leaving me to find.”

[The title from this blog post is from Marina Krim’s post “My Pursuit of Magic” which I could not find a link for.]

One can argue that such signs are frivolous and reaching for connections when there aren’t any. Sure, there is no proof of any connection and it can all be chalked up to coincidence but you also have a choice.

To look for magic or not.

Today, I ended up being out with our boys from 8:30 am to 5 pm, for three back-to-back-to back activities. I just wanted to eke out the remaining sliver of summer.

During our second activity of the day, around the sixth hour of being out, AFTER the lucky little guy emerged from his beauty sleep in the car+stroller, I was WIPED and started to beat myself up.

“You have no one to blame but yourself. Being out like this all day, about to fall flat on your face when you should have gone home after lunch and before naps.”

I had hoped that I could rest a bit if both of them had fallen asleep during the ride over but alas, Micah and I ended up cruising all over the park and zoo while Baby Bro snoozed.

I really didn’t know how I was going to make it, strolling about 100 pounds after an already active morning, wrangling both of my wriggly guys who had just MacGyver’d out of the public bathroom stall at the zoo to expose me in my huge Korean underwear.

Thankfully(?), I only exposed myself to a friendly nanny from our co-op who happened to be visiting the zoo to pick up her charge. I was able to exchange warm greetings while the door remained open.

The boys and I ended up in the aviary. That was when things started getting magical.

Recently, we had only speed-walked through the aviary because we were always with our little buddies. I would chat with the mamas as we chased our kids up and down the ramps. We never really stopped to admire the macaws and blue-billed ducks and other winged creatures.

I noticed for the first time today, just how mesmerized my baby was. Micah, too, but especially Ellis.

And just as I had started beating myself up for being out all day and burning myself out with two more days left in the week, a skinny white bird perched in front of us, within touching distance from us.

He showed no signs of flying away.

We were beaming, thrilled to be in his presence. To have him stay awhile.

As cheesy as this sounds, I felt all this love and gratitude gushing out in that moment. So grateful to be alive and for the very reason I was so wiped out: TO BE PLAYING WITH MY KIDS TOO MUCH!

Just minutes before, I was sighing as I zipped up my shorts, about to konk out in the bathroom while peeing but as I clenched my boys in my arms with this amazing white bird with blonde tufts of “hair” joining us, I was gifted with a precious memory I can tuck away for good.

I received the “sign” to be, “It is all worth it, Mama. Your toiling away for them is NOT for NAUGHT.” I got pumped with a jolt of energy to last me a few more hours.

The thing about the pursuit of magic? The more you look, the more you’ll find.

8.8.gr8.

Posted on August 8, 2014 by ajummama

8.8.14: You delivered.

You don’t just LOOK fwine with your double 8s lookin’ like curvy infinity loops but you are a BEAUTIFUL Friday after an abundant week of museums, library, zoo, “safari”, pool, playgrounds, and of course, our courtyard.

Baby Bro is ready for WWF. Wrestling Name: ThirdWheel

I kept thinking Kevin was a safari employee thanks to his shirt.

On this 8.8 we ended the week by enjoying a picnic in the park with our good friends, some who we’ve known since Micah was not even four months old and Ellis was only a glimmer in his parents’ eyes, and some other good folks we’ve picked up along the way.

In honor of 8.8, here are eight simple thangs I am so gr8ful for (gross, but I couldn’t resist!) in addition to this weather I have long been awaiting:

1) a handful of buddies we can be ourselves around, to lay down our picnic blankets together to cobble together a nice quilt on our patch of grass and dirt

2) being able to witness these buddies grow up. When they were infants, we’d place them down on any blanket and just take pics of them in their Mets gear or their “Who Wore it Best?” Carter’s ensembles. This was the extent of their “playdates” as they couldn’t walk or talk so they had no choice but to humor their camera-crazy moms. Now they are playing, learning about conflict and how to apologize, how to love their friends while giving them space, and so much more.

3) summer watermelon on our picnic blanket “quilt.” even sweeter and more mouth-watering when shared.

4) fellow mama friends you can leave your kid with for a few minutes when you washing sand out of your other kid’s eye.

5) the handsome older gentleman who works at or owns the local Japanese market. I couldn’t fit our doublestroller (Strollerus Prime) into the small store so I parked the kids right in front of the door while I was in line to pay for a few rice balls (I was famished after feeding the kids).

They looked right at me, smiling, then smirking, as Micah got out to release his baby brother(!) Baby Bro smirked right back, looking right into my eyes, as he started to climb out. The gentleman told me to finish paying while he watched the kids for the next few minutes.

What was touching was that he not only watched them but ADORED them. He was squeezing Ellis’ cheeks and patting Micah on the head. He has three grown kids and was so kind to my boys. Made me feel like I was living in a small town for a moment.

6) We love our museums but hands down, nothing beats good ol’ dirt and grass and trees and boulders and rocks for our kids to explore. Here’s to you, Mother Nature!

7) the perks of living on the East Coast where a roadtrip means you can knock out a few states at once. Excited for the rest of our summer.

8) TTLIF! Thank the Lawd it’s FRIDAY! Daddy will be around to help out all weekend as we explore more fun places together.

8.8 Eve aka 8.7

Ruben Studdard had “Sorry (for) 2004,” Here’s Mine for 2011

Posted on August 7, 2014 by ajummama

Babywatch 2014.

As a life-long baby enthusiast and Elmira (“I want to hold you, love you, kiss you and squeeze you tight!”), I still get at least three rounds of goosebumps and shivers when I see a birth announcement on Facebook. A new life is among us. I think about the family’s first moments and naturally reminisce about our own in 2010 and 2012.

My favorite part is the first picture and the Name Reveal. It is so Lion King.

I no longer have babies. At 22 months old and 3.5+ years old (44 months old if you wanna be gross), they are full-fledged toddler and soon-to-be preschooler.

As I reminisce about the first few months of my firstborn’s life, I would like to take this time to officially apologize for 2011.

When Micah was a newborn, our Thanksgiving 2010 baby, there were times when I naively thought this motherhood thang was cake. After a whole year of getting showered with platitudes in various forms of “Oh, get ready for your world to be rocked!” or “Life will never be the same as you know it,” it wasn’t as bad as all the hype. I was nursing, cuddling, and falling in love ’round the clock. Most blissful I’d ever been. I didn’t give one crap about losing my freedom or no longer accessorizing.

I then began to hear some tales from the trenches, some confessions from mamas with older kids. About something called tantrums. And how their kids have the uncanny ability to stoke the fieriest fireball of anger within them. I honestly could not imagine my sweet angel baby, bursting with cheeks for days, EVER displeasing me, much less angering me. I even worried, “At this rate, I am going to be so attached to this sweet little human that I don’t think I can rejoin the work force. Ever.” My mama laughed at me and told me to give it a couple years.

This naive former self flashed into my mind today at Boston Market. My boys and I were going to stay out all day so I wanted to grab a decent lunch for them between events, while packing my own lunch to save money.

They were getting too riled up, egging each other on while standing in line with me so I seated them at a small table right in front of the line where I can keep my eyes on them, Ellis in a highchair and Micah in a regular chair. They were cracking up and squealing with delight.

What’s wrong with laughter and delight? Who am I, the Happiness Police?

Nope. I’m Mama and I know that the laughter was getting too amped up. I saw Ellis trying to climb out of his highchair, one leg already swung over, and reaching for the pepper. Micah was already out of his seat, reaching for the paper menu pyramid of today’s specials. I’m no fool – even a good thang like brotherly excitement can lead to nekked sumo wrestling on asphalt in about 90 seconds flat. I rushed back and yanked the pepper and menu out of their little hands and brought the boys back in line with me.

Ellis started to gag like he had swallowed wrong. The moment passed.

Until he actually hurled seconds later. The line quickly dispersed and no one could look me in the eye as I caught his vomit in my hands. Whatever I could not catch, I wore. It was a very NYC moment as no one dared to offer up a kind word or a few napkins.

“Keep it moving…moving away from Throw Up Mom and her two Littles.”

I waved down a cashier and said, “Hi, I’m so sorry but my baby just threw up while we were in line,” so that they could properly mop up that nastiness immediately.

Fortunately, Ellis was not sick at all. He had either had too much (green) breakfast smoothie and scrambled eggs a couple hours prior or I had been holding him too tightly around his tummy when holding him in line after he and Big Bro had gotten all riled up. So, Dude was still a ball of energy.

In the bathroom, the Li’l Kims still wanted to play with everything. The door lock, the door handle, the trashcan, the toilet handle, my dress. Micah wanted to engage me in deep conversation.

This is the exact moment I got overwhelmed, not the vomiting in line.

“Mom!? MOM!? *I* didn’t throw up right? Only Ellis, right, Mom? Mom!? Mom? Do you know what? Do you know what? I had a nightmare. I did. Last night. I had a nightmare about four giraffes dying. Did you hear me, MOM? Do you love me?”

He then went on to try to hug Ellis when they both had Vomit Feet and I was trying my best to clean up. My patience was wearing thin. I stank. I had to repeat myself over and over again before I could wash off both of them in our makeshift public sink shower. They continued to get attracted to the trash can with the fliptop lid.

We continued with our day and all was salvaged.

Not the worst parenting stress moment BY ANY MEANS (chile, please!) but I just remembered how I truly could not imagine even getting ANNOYED by my beloved offspring in his infancy.

I am sorry for my smugness and naivete of 2011, and tail end of 2010.

As I type this, I can hear Kevin getting frustrated with them as he tries to corral them to bed. Never have I heard a more comforting sound.