Election Day 2012

Posted on November 6, 2012 by ajummama

Typing with my warm new baby sprawled out, snoozing on my lap. He loves my body heat or “skinship” as Korean FOBS like to say. If I put him back in his bassinet, he will fuss so I will let him be, while also getting in some “me” typing time.

October has already come and gone. Ellis Zachary Kim, our beloved boy #2, E.Z. Kim with his huge, intense eyes and full head of lush McDreamy hair, arrived on the first of the month, just as CA Gramma arrived to take care of his older brother so that mama can get to the hospital to push (and pull) him out. Couldn’t have timed it more perfectly. He graciously even allowed time for me to “train” Gramma on Micah 101 through my contractions. Since we didn’t know if he’d be a “he,” we decided on his full name while driving to the hospital, on that bright and sunny October evening while I bit into a chicken parmesan sandwich between contractions. Though not adhering to the family five-letter naming rule, the too fresh “Z” initial of Zachary nor the meaning (Hebrew for “remembered by God”), could be passed up.

“Ellis” is an homage to immigrants, as in Ellis Island, though discovered when Daddy was reading Sports Illustrated almost immediately after we found out we were expecting baby #2. He was attracted to the name Ellis Valentine, some baseball player of yesteryear. And naturally, Mama was sold instantly because of the immigrant connection. After checking the meaning (“My God is the Lord”), we knew our baby girl OR boy would be ELLIS. Now we got an MLK and Ellis. Already nudging them to be passionate about civil rights and the immigrant plight.

Too many memories from October to type out right now (nervously typing out my choked thoughts because the boys will wake up in 3…2…1…). Also some unexpected life lessons like: Don’t choose the sushi bar to sit at if you are going to squeeze in a hearty, postpartum fight with your spouse. It’s not just about you getting much-missed raw grub into your tummy. The sushi bar is an experience for you AND the sushi chef/owner. He wants to have some fun with you to fill in his boredom from a slower night and will NOT hook you up with extra fish if you are too busy arguing, not allowing him to lecture you on the history of Okinawa. Then, the gushing Japanese waitress will gingerly place her hand on your back and ask if you are pregnant in the same tone as if she were asking you, “Are you a celebrity?”

As always, I digress. Today is Election Day. Day Two of being on my own with my two babies now that CA Gramma has flown back home, after showering my boys with so much love and care. Having never made it outside yesterday and with an impending nor’easter on its way tomorrow (I still can’t get used to that word – it seems like only old white men who say, “Is it cold enough for ya?!” should be saying “nor’easter”), we three made it out this morning for a brisk walk. Ellis hasn’t been out more than a handful of times and dude needed some Vitamin D.

Daddy had told us that we will vote together as a family tonight but when we saw blue and white signs all over our co-op to VOTE HERE (VOTE AQUI), I decided to head to the polling site “just to see.” Our double stroller is not quite here yet (long story) so I was strolling E.Z. in a twice-handed-me-down snap n go while Micah was running around.

We ended up in the basement polling site. I got nervous as I realized that Ellis was in an unventilated, enclosed space with many people, probably many of whom are sniffly like me in this colder weather. I left him in the hallway with one eye on him. I contemplated actually voting since I was already there and it wouldn’t take too long with the late morning crowd being sparse. I spotted a Korean neighbor in the voting booth. I wanted to yell across the room and ask her, “Eeeeyyy, can you watch Ellis parked in the hallway for a few minutes while I vote?” We always speak Korean to each other and I paranoidly thought that the poll workers may think I’m trying to influence her vote in our own language so when Micah ran outside, I followed. Without voting.

Micah started exclaiming, “Abu? Abu?” while peering into my eyes. What the? Just as I was about to kneel down, nose to nose, to whisper, “WHO DO YOU WORK FOR?” (too much passionate viewing of “Homeland”) and shield him from the poll site bouncer who may radio in this Asian toddler Nicholas Brody, Micah finished his phrase: “Abu Joosssss, Abu Joosss.”

So we walked around the block one more time, doing what we were supposed to be doing anyhow, naming the colors of all the parked cars, and went home to some Abu Joossss (apple juice). We will be back tonight for family voting time.

King Kim

Posted on September 18, 2012 by ajummama

A storm is on its way here in NYC. Outside my window as of now, only gusty winds and gloominess, the perfect backdrop for someone to write a page-turning murder mystery. I should be nursing my mild headache by lying down during Micah’s nap, but I was itching to jot down some thoughts, with a little Mozart on for dear Belly Baby who isn’t getting his/her share of music while in the womb.

Sorry, #2. It ain’t that kinda pregnancy this time ’round. My o.b. told me that second and subsequent children suffer from benign neglect while in utero. She herself had kept thinking, “OK, Belly Baby, I will pause and think about you now,” as she approached the delivery of her second and third children but bam!, it came time for their delivery. She assured me that it is normal and natural. Completely benign.

Last night, after 1 am, we heard Micah wailing through our baby monitor. Very unusual as he sleeps soundly through the night and even if he does wake up once, it’s usually to regroup for a moment and kiss and cuddle with his animal friends. But last night, he wailed so sorrowfully and persistently, like he had had a nightmare he just couldn’t shake.

Kevin and I lie there wondering what we should do. On the one hand, we really should leave him be as he ain’t gon’ be able to creep once newborn becomes our roommate indefinitely. Two’s company, three’s a crowd – is that the saying? Then four will be a zoo. But on the other hand, let’s give the man some love since his world as he knows it is about to be turned upside down.

When daddy went to spring him, he refused to be held and ran into our room squealing, shouting, “Daddy, Ahppah/Ummah!” like it was a Saturday afternoon, not past 1 am on a worknight. He still likes to call me “Ahppah” (“daddy”) as a term of endearment though now he is switching off with both “Ahppah” and “Ummah.” I tried to lie very still and whispered to K, “Do not engage. Just close your eyes or else he’s gonna think it’s party time,” to which K responded, “Shutta the mind, and shutta the mouth,” (his simple advice for my recent bouts of insomnia).

M was babbling with bright, alert eyes and trying to get me to respond. He had brought his animal friends along for the sleepover. It was quiet for a few moments so I peeked with one eye and gasped. He had brought his little face nearly nose-to-nose, forehead-to-forehead with mine in the dark, grinning so cheesily, proud that he had surprised me with the face-off. He looked like a mischievous kindergardener, not my baby. I woke up in the morning, completely forgetting we had a visitor in our bed, when I maneuvered my massive body to the other side, and saw this little dude with a grown-out buzzcut, cuddling with my Snoogle, completely konked out. He slept in a bit longer than usual, nestled in between his two favorite warm bodies. And a hidden third in mama’s belly.

As I got my bearings, I heard the boys in the kitchen. Daddy was washing some dishes and M was crying. “What’s going on you guys? Where’s Micah and why he crying?” Micah walked out from the kitchen in his footed pajamas and wiped his tears when he saw me approaching. Daddy explained, “He’s crying because I wasn’t paying him attention while I washed the dishes.”

It hit me all over again. Li’l Kim, his Majesty, had never been ignored until now. As typical first-time parents of today, we have been so very doting, responding to every sound he’s ever made. If he says, “hi, hi, hiiiii” 23 times from his carseat, I match each “hi” with my own. With enthusiasm. If he babbles nonsensically to me about his animal friends, I always let him know that I understood each sound coming out from his little mouth, though I had no idea what he said and why he continues to call a penguin “babo.” So today, when Daddy was so exhausted that he didn’t engage his boy while doing a few dishes, M got so hurt.

He is in for a rude awakening.

I am so curious as to how he will react to his little sibling. I know whatever jealousy he will experience is so natural and even good for him, to realize early on that he cannot be the center of everyone’s universe. But it is so fascinating to think about the changes he will face, the emotions he will go through while not being able to articulate them.

His world right now consists of stopping in the middle of Costco to ask us to bring it in, bring it in, to surround him in his shopping cart seat, and shower him with multiple double hugs and kisses on each cheek. He loves to hold both of our hands while walking in the middle, pausing to peer up at both Daddy and Ahppah. Those hands will soon be full with another bundle and we can’t respond to every laugh or whimper. I know. Parents with three or more children are laughing at me right now for my scrub status in parenting.

35

Posted on September 6, 2012 by ajummama

When I was around 35 weeks along with Micah, I stopped working. I ended up having less than four weeks before he arrived and that in-between time was such a blessing. I had been able to commute on the subway and work full-time because I thought, “That’s what you do. Work! There ain’t no baby just yet.” But once I let go of this rule I had imposed on myself, I realized I was able to do it only because I was on auto-pilot – it was something I just did because of course I should keep working as long as I was physically able. But there was no intentionality behind it, just a (natural) drive to receive a few more paychecks to cover increasing baby-related expenses. I ended up trading in money for time.

When I stopped working, my body started exhaling, melting into the bed and basking in rest, like a turtle sunning on a rock. I was able to invest in quality rest everyday. Something not readily valued in today’s society, especially in rush rush rush NYC, but oh-so-necessary and healing. I’m pretty sure I moaned in my sleep a few times. The rest was so delicious, the kind where you sleep with a small hand towel under your face as you cuddle with your Snoogle because the drool will flow.

I would wake up whenever my body told me to. If I had had insomnia during the night, I could catch up by sleeping in. I didn’t have to run errands on my short lunch break. For the most part, I would find myself with only one item on my to-do list for the whole day like, “Try making scones,” “Meet Anna for lunch on Austin St,” and of course, “Daydream about baby.” Enjoyable, short to-do lists. I could take walks. Or not. I was wealthy with time. I also tried to learn to be kinder to myself for once. I didn’t have to DO anything if I didn’t want to, other than hydrate, eat well, and think pleasant thoughts for baby. I didn’t have to feel accomplished by checking off a long to-do list. Very unnatural for this child of immigrants who is naturally hard on herself.

This time around, I am not as wealthy with time or rest. I do crave some more of each before we are in the thick of it again, the sleep deprivation and exhaustion. Two other life-improving features I find myself craving: a parking spot preferably in the driveway of an actual house and a washer/dryer unit within that house (our co-op will not allow it). I should be content with our present home as it is a blessing that we prayed for in 2010, but the heart wants what the heart wants.

Instead, I am wealthy with cuteness via my toddler who toddles around all day with his bright eyes and smooth dolphin skin. Yesterday, we started the rainy morning off with a load of laundry in the basement. The load consisted of all of his stuffed animals and some of his drooly bibs. Such a small task requires much more energy with a toddler because he will turn it into an adventure. We have to wash his friends often because they are overkissed daily.

Once we get into the elevator, he immediately finds all the slivers of reflective surfaces so that he can give himself loud kisses. “Mmmuahh! Mmmmuahhh! Mmmmuuahhhhhhh!” I also have to cover the panel of alarm buttons that is perfectly within his reach. We walk down a long underground hallway to get to the laundry room. While walking, he feels very affectionate towards me and hugs my leg. He stops to look up at me with pleading eyes like the Puss in Boots Antonio Banderas cat in the Shrek movies. “Up? Up? Up?” He would like to be in my arms. Down the looong hallway. I hate to refuse but I do. I would love to always cuddle with my morsel, too, but I need him to get used to my not being able to pick him up for a while.

I try to distract him from the rejection by making it into a chase. He squeals. He just has to stop at the boiler room to check out what the workers are doing in there. I wrangle him away. We finally get to the washing machine. I’m worried he may be shocked to see his friends, Bear, Elephant, Mr. Mets, Lion, and many more, get dumped into a machine that will spin them silly, drowning them in suds, looking like a scene from Titanic. “Micah, it’s bathtime for them, okay?” He actually helps me by placing them in there one by one, solemnly, like we are performing a ritual.

Still carrying a bottle of detergent, I decide to let him walk outside in the courtyard for a little bit before the rain returns and we are forced back home to wait for the wash to be done. But he refuses to come back into the building as he checks out every gutter, dead leaf, bush and puddle. No matter how many times I pretend to walk back into the lobby without him, he doesn’t care. He wants to roam free. No separation anxiety since he knows I won’t really leave him. Dude is confident. I hide behind a tree so he will come looking for me and we can get home so I can sit for a spell but he is not falling for it.

He’s had it with my fakeouts. When I walk farther away, acting like I don’t have my eye on him at all, he throws himself on the ground. Lately, he wants a LOT of attention from me, almost like the baby has already arrived. And why not? He has always received 100% of my attention. We are always together. He is in for a rude awakening come October.

I am panting and sweating. I just want to sit down. I’m still holding the damn detergent. He wants to stay out. Finally, he hears one of the groundskeepers’ walkie talkie go off loudly with static so he runs over to me, about to cry. I soothe him and explain it is like a phone, that it was loud but not scary (“No ah-yah, Micah!”). We get home after more elevator kisses to his reflections and my pleading with him not to climb stairs once we got to our floor. After just a few minutes, we have to go back down to transfer his friends into the inferno, the dryer.

I catch a glimpse of myself in the elevator. Grey roots, sweat beads on the upper lip and lower eye regions, disheveled low ponytail in 80s leopard-print scrunchy, no bra, in the most comfy rainbow “dress” I should not wear in public even though it’s still within my building, wishing I could look only half as elegant and accessorized as Mrs. Roper.

That was about one hour of our morning. The rest of the time we play, read, dance to his favorite song, John Mayer’s “Heartbreak Warfare” while I’m making sure he doesn’t fall off our high bed when gets too excited during the chorus. He also climbs my stomach from time to time because it is big and inviting. Oh Lord help me when I do this with a newborn attached to my teat.

Marveling in the Mundane

Posted on August 10, 2012 by ajummama

On the phone with the husband:

K: Ji-yah! Remember to eat the pack of mesclun and endives for lunch. They have to be eaten soon.

(We have a bad habit of throwing away produce because we postpone eating them).

Me: Well, I find salad to be more of a dinner or a never kind of entree.

K: (laughing) Thanks for always reminding me why I married you.

He married me because my eating habits point towards a proclivity for getting real round?

Then I remembered that while we were dating bi-coastally, pretty early on in the courtship, we were walking around Manhattan when I saw someone stroll by, devouring a gooey slice of pizza, folded in half, NYC style. I started to whimper and growl like a dog, even patting the ground with my paw to express my ravenous hunger. I was just being myself. I also knew that many a Korean-American menz would find me too quirky or “weird” to fit into their mold of wifey, which was fine because I found their mold to be hella boring.

But Kevin didn’t trip. He simply responded with that pleasant mug of his, “We’ll feed you soon, dear.” Little did I know then that this dude was full of quirks himself.

We recently celebrated our five-year wedding anniversary. We fondly recalled those bi-coastal dating days when we were law students who visited each other in SF and Boston only as much as our class schedules and financial aid packages allowed. I would cry sometimes, telling him, “I feel like I am dating a voice. Like in Charlie’s Angels. What if we don’t make it? What if we just wonder what could’ve happened but we just run into each other one day with our respective spouses who were only geographically more desirable? Oh, Kevin, that would be SO SO sad!” We didn’t do Facebook or Skype back then though they may have been available. I bought Kevin a webcam as a gift, but his laptop was so old it could not handle such a device.

Kevin laughed at me as usual. “You watch too many movies. We’ll be fine.”

My biggest wish was to partake in the mundane like “normal” couples. I was sick of these hyped up visits where we would pine away for each other for at least two months at a time. We would plan such DATE-like events each time we made it to the other’s coast, to take in so much of the sights in each city to maximize our time together. I told him I craved going to a CVS together to pick up some toiletries or just buying some hamburger meat together at a Stop N Shop.

The Lord answered our prayers. Fast forward to five-plus years as a married couple with a kid and a belly baby and we have basins overflowing with the mundane. (Literally. I see Micah’s drooly bibs in a basin in our bathtub, awaiting a wash tonight). And add to that my third trimester aches and pains:

Me: How you gonna just leave stuff on the floor? You KNOW how much I hate bending down these days. I know you so quirky you don’t mind sleeping on top of yo clothes or books but to pass by and SEE your boxers on the living room floor but not pick them up? Oh, uh-uh, Que Bin!

Kevin: Ji-yah. You know you wore my boxers last night because you said your pajama bottoms were choking your belly? So uh, YOU actually left them on the floor. (He picks them off the floor for me.)

Me: Well, they must’ve just fallen off from my belly sweat or something then because I would NEVER do such a thing! (Tryna bat my eyelashes, I am smiling sheepishly, Kevin shaking his head).

These days we are pretty exhausted from day-to-day life as still new-ish parents. Kevin works all day at the office but helps out SO much before and after work, even more than usual because he knows I am wiped out too and that we don’t have local relatives to drop by regularly to help out. But even though it’s hard, we always remark on how much more fulfilling and FULL these hard days are than when we had all the time in the world for “Curb Your Enthusiasm” or Korean bee-dee-o marathons on lazy Saturdays or even when we were able to travel so much more on a double-income with no kids.

Me: Oh, you took out the trash already? Thank you! Thanks for lining the trash can with the plastic bag already, too!

Kevin (tired, bleary-eyed): (sighing) WHAT!? I DID line the trash can already! Look!

Me: I know – that’s why I said THANK YOU! Oh, man, you thought I was being sarcastic? Am I that much of a wise-ass? That is SO sad!

(We both smile). Kevin is about to come back with something.

Me: Don’t you start, boy!

And as if on cue, there is Micah, waking up from his postponed nap this rainy, humid afternoon. We are all about to get schooled in the mundane, Advanced Placement classes, in the months to come as Belly Baby arrives. As long as we can laugh, we’ll be fine…right?

Nekked playdate anyone?

Posted on August 3, 2012 by ajummama

The weather report is displaying the dreaded cactus and blazing sun icons for today. Heat wave has hit again yesterday and even worse today. Just strolled 1.72 miles in this nasty heat. To and from Micah’s last day of Vacation Bible School (VBS) Mommy & Me. What a special week it’s been. Such a blessing in so many ways. Reminds me of when I would get so attached to my Sunday school teachers and retreat/revival speakers that I would ask a few of them if we can be pen pals (no emails back then) because I didn’t want to say goodbye forever.

So if it’s so unbearably hot again, why didn’t I drive? So many reasons. Unless I can drive from a permanent parking spot to parking lot, I generally don’t bother driving in NYC. While I usually love strolling around everywhere, not driving can sometimes make me feel stuck during the week. Yet when I think about what I need to do to actually drive, I usually end up walking. Looking for our car somewhere in our neighborhood, collapsing and lifting the stroller into the trunk, fanagling M into the carseat, then returning to circle around for a parking spot in the heat for God knows how long, having to wake him up from his nap, risking him not going back down for a true nap at home. I simply refuse to do it especially as I get bigger and less tolerant. Plus, I am so scared of getting lost and not being able to recover as I mostly did the subway thing since I moved to NYC in 2005. Gotta work on this fear.

Only about ten more weeks until Belly Baby arrives.

This heat definitely affects our day-to-day activities. Some thoughts:

Walking by a pharmacy with the most glorious air conditioning, I wondered what type of immoral act I would be willing to commit if we were held hostage in this heat. Maybe immoral is too strong of a word but something that goes against my faith and values just for a blast of a/c. I’m human so if I were told that Micah, Belly Baby and I would have to stay in the heat for ____ minutes with no relief or shade, I’m sure I would succumb to some degree of depravity for some a/c. Imagining where I would draw the line. Throw in an icy drink – would I renounce my faith? Ask God for forgiveness later?

I used to pay to go to hot yoga. The irony. (But I wasn’t pregnant and strolling a toddler in an overstuffed stroller and wearing a bra with underwire).

It’s too hot to get ourselves to a playdate, something we usually love to do. It’s too hot to even host one, the easier alternative these days, because I would be nekked and that would be inappropriate. At least for the kids. Maybe a couple mamas would join me.

I wish walking around nekked on really hot days would be legal and normalized. I enjoy it so much. One of the reasons I enjoyed not having a roommate for several years in my 20s.

Oh, no. M hasn’t been napping in his crib after all. He’s calling for me before I’ve had a chance to eat. That’s what I get for blogging on my break. So grateful that the weekend has arrived. Weekend = Daddy driving!

“Jesus Christ”

Posted on July 27, 2012 by ajummama

Had so many things to write down from our trip back home to LA but if they don’t get typed out right quick, hard to capture the essence of the memories. So many pictures still on our camera. Hope to write about them eventually but not holding my breath especially with my recent bout of drowsiness and lethargy. We in Third Trimester Territory now!

A big entry like “LA Trip” is too daunting to write up during a half-hour break but thankfully, venting/tattling flows freely from me like water.

Micah has been to LA three times now. First trip at 11 weeks old after the seven snowstorms in NYC made mama pack up the family and flee. Second trip at around 13.5 months old. Third trip was a few weeks ago at full-fledged toddler age of about 19 months old. Worst flight yet.

Early a.m. flight means he needs to nap while on the plane especially after we woke him up around 5 a.m. Hard to succumb to the much-needed nap due to sensory overload and no place to stretch out since he is still in our laps. We start paying for a seat once he turns two. We brought a bag full of distractions: snacks, toys, books, my phone, our tablet. We are all strapped in but we do not take off. For 90 minutes. Having to restrain him is brutal. He wants to walk up and down the aisles or at least have daddy take him around in his arms but he has to stay seated. We try to distract him with our bag of goodies but they aren’t too helpful. Kevin is exasperated trying to restrain him but I am so worried about getting lightheaded that I still manage to eat a boiled egg during this stressful time. (I am willing to share my bounty but Kevin is having too hard of a time to even think about eating. I eat his egg, too).

Even after we take off, it’s not pleasant. Micah is whining because…who knows why? He’s a toddler. I apologize to the passenger sitting next to me. “I’m sorry about this. It’s gonna be a long flight for all of us [nervous laughter]. It’s hard for us to hear, too.” She was from Brooklyn, young and hip. “Don’t even worry about it. I’m a nanny. I’m gonna sleep the whole way with my earplugs on.” Thank you Jesus. That brings a little relief during this whiny period. Speaking of Jesus…

There is a lovey dovey couple sitting in front of us. The dude is clearly whupped on the gal. They are kissing and smushed up against each other, nuzzling. Direct contrast from the harried, sweaty couple behind them – us. The “Fasten Your Seatbelts” sign keeps lighting up so we have to restrain Micah many times and he is protesting. I have a blanket around my neck, dry cereal all over my body, a few packets of snacks on and under my thighs, fake food toys under my butt. Kevin has crazy eyes under his glasses and whispers, “Ji-yah. It sounded like I was abusing him in the restroom. I’m so embarrassed. Micah screamed and peed all over me as I tried to change his diaper. I’m not gonna lie. If there was an eject button in there to jump out the plane with a parachute, I would not be here right now. I’m sorry to have to tell you.”

We both started laughing because Kevin sounded like me for once. He never complains but this time, he admitted that he would’ve abandoned us by choosing to fall from the sky instead of being where he was now. He started laughing some more when he saw just how much crap was strewn all over me.

“Que bin, I really can’t wait to do this next year with a newborn, too! Just imagine that for a moment.”

Oh, back to Jesus.

Micah started another round of whining as he wanted to nap but couldn’t get his bearings on this packed plane. The gal in front of us stops making out with her boyfriend to exhale dramatically and exclaim, “JESUS CHRIST!” when Micah got going again.

Oh no she didn’t. Did I hear right?

“JESUS CHRIST” again as she adjusted herself on her dude’s shoulders.

“Que bin, you KNOW I’mma have to fight her now!” My body grows hot.

“Ji-yah, don’t! She has every right to be annoyed. His whining is annoying, even to us.” He always play devil’s advocate. To offset my playing the devil.

“OH MY GOD. Of COURSE she has every right to be annoyed but she needs to be a decent, empathetic human and talk trash about us to her friends once we deplane, not passive-aggressively exclaim ‘Jesus Christ’ after each whine. That would be the courteous thing to do! We are doing everything we can and her ‘Jesus Christ’ is so wrong! As if we aren’t stressed enough!” (I start to passive-aggressively talk trash about her loudly, daring her to turn around and respond. Choice words about entitlement, not having enough balls to complain to our faces, and related matters.)

And speaking of my Savior and Lord, Jesus Christ. I never appreciated it when people used his name in substitution for a choice curse word. I would never do that to y’alls gods.

I thought about what would happen if I did tell her off especially in my agitated state. How the air marshall would have to get involved and how I may be banned from future flights. And I did want to return and present my newborn to my loved ones. So I held my tongue.

But when she went to the restroom, I was so tempted to tap her dude and say, “Psssst. Hey. You may think I’m just a crazy lady with a whiny toddler but one day you will recall my words. You may think you in love now with that skinny li’l gal but ohhhh trust me, someone who keeps loudly muttering ‘Jesus Christ’ about a whiny toddler lacks heart. NOT wifey material. You’re gonna want you a woman who maturely and patiently waits to vent until after the flight. I wish her many bad flights with triplet babies about ten years from now. But you. You can change your fate by letting her go.”

I smiled as I fantasized about being able to tell him that. Micah was in better spirits after a short cat nap on our laps. I took him back to the flight attendant area to explore and chat with them. I tattled on the “Jesus Christ” gal because tattling usually makes me feel better. They made him a balloon with their latex gloves. A beautiful mama of four kiddies, flying alone, joined us and presented Micah with a makeshift puppet she had made out of the vomit bag. Now that’s true wifey material.

Our flight back to NYC was just about perfect as it was in the afternoon. He was able to nap at the gate for about 90 minutes before we got on the plane. Many empty seats, too. No whining. No “Jesus Christ.”

John Quinones

Posted on July 18, 2012 by ajummama

As Micah and I strolled to the library this a.m. for our weekly summer storytime, I had to pause because rivers of sweat had deposited into my right eyeball and it stung. I was fidgeting with my eye, hoping we weren’t running late since I couldn’t walk any faster without overheating in today’s heat of 97 degrees, with a “feels like” of 107 degrees and humidity as high as 67%. Okay, I actually don’t know what the ranges are for humidity percentages but now I know that 67% is nasty.

A lady suddenly appeared by my side in a sports bra, running tank top, and spandex pants. At first, as soon as she started talking, I thought she would surely turn out to be one of those scammers who tell you an elaborate story about their car breaking down just blocks away and how they need exactly $13 to get home and that any amount would be helpful. However, she ended up asking, “Do you know a nearby park…

…for jogging?”

Again, I had had to pause because my sweat was pouring fast and furious just from STROLLING LEISURELY. I felt like John Quinones from ABC’s “What Would You Do?” was going to pop out to judge my reaction so I said, “Are you really trying to jog today!?” Surely Mr. Quinones and his camera crew would give me a pat on the back for at least trying to dissuade her. She smiled and said, “Yes.” I reluctantly told her about a park farther away and a reservoir a bit closer since she was on a mission, but added my two cents again: “I really don’t think it’s safe to jog in this heat but please be careful!” I would hope that Mr. Quinones would still gimme credit for trying to stop her.

I had so many questions for her but couldn’t jog after her to ask them.

After the walk to and from the library and an impromptu, quickie playdate before his nap where I got to replenish with some cranberry juice on the rocks, I am now forced to cancel our plans for the afternoon. As much as I want to meet up with our beloved playdates, it is seriously dangerous for us to trek back and forth again. Both summers before my babies arrived are proving to be extra brutal! Although this heat seems to be my muse for blogging – two posts this week!

p.s. Extra emphatic NYC-hating day as we officially lost Jeremy Lin to the Rockets today. Obbaaahhh! We will miss you!

Know Thyself

Posted on July 16, 2012 by ajummama

Fourth heat wave of the summer in NYC. Got lots of delicious rest this weekend thanks to the always helpful hubby and almost no commitments (no birthday parties). As I enter my third trimester, I’m feeling more lethargic perhaps due to my growing girth alone. This morning, I woke up wanting to take Micah out to a playground before his nap even though I knew we were in for a “scorchaaa.” I didn’t have time to eat a real breakfast because I wanted to head out as soon as M was done eating and honestly, I can’t eat when he’s awake because he will climb onto my lap or ask me to stop so we can play. The more we dillydallied, the harder it would be to actually get out into the world.

I strapped him into the stroller with some Goldfish and a couple books while I rush rush rushed – quick ponytail and sunscreen application, brush teef, grab his drink, bibs, wipes, extra diaper, my small yogurt drink (which I can’t drink in front of him because he will bogart) and emergency granola bar (which I can’t eat in front of him because he will attack it and sit there with his big innocent eyes ackin’ like he didn’t do nothin’ even with a very guilty chocolatey goatee). The longer he was strapped into stroller, the higher the chances were for the whining to start, especially as he kept dropping his books and wondering why I was taking so long. And it was already getting hotter so I had to make my exit before having to turn on the a/c again, only to turn it off a few minutes later (that whole cycle of not getting out the house – augh!).

I grabbed a green dress I used to wear all the time while dating Kevin. Used to wear it so regularly in the summers that he would call it my uniform. Very flowy and roomy so I tried to slip it on today during my morning rush. Not so flowy or roomy. It almost tore at my broadening rib cage but I kept it on because I knew I would end up a sweaty mess trying to take it off. One of those dresses that will tear some time during the day with any sudden movement. Not “may” tear but WILL tear, just a matter of when. But we had to go.

On our way to the park, it got hotter. Very little shade as we walked for blocks. I drank my small yogurt-on-the-go smoothie in one gulp and even ate my granola bar while I strolled. Got to the park and did our usual: some swing time, going up and down the apparatus with him, including this Indiana Jones type bridge that I’m finding harder to balance on. It’s getting hotter even with some spots of shade. Rivulets of sweat now rolling down my face, neck, and bressesses. I don’t feel too well. I am drinking my water consistently but not feeling stable at all. I grab him from a tunnel he’s enjoying and I strap him back into his stroller after only about 30 minutes. Relieved that he does not protest leaving the park. He says “bye” to the swing, slides, sprinklers, Chinese grandmas. He seems ready to nap too.

On the way back, I feel worse. A familiar feeling. I’ve passed out maybe around ten times in my life, due to period cramps, high altitude, low altitude, dehydration, and more. But I was never with my baby before so I start forcing myself to talk while strolling so that I don’t dare pass out. My knees feel wobbly. I start panting and forcing exaggerated breaths in and out like I’m in labor and M laughs, imitating me while babbling his fave words of the weekend, “Dadddyyyy, Dada, Dadddyyy, Ahppaaah, Dadadada?” Alright already, we know who you love! Talk about kicking a gal while she’s down. I just want to make it home.

Halleluyer, I am SO grateful to get home. I grab a banana for a quick “shot” of potassium and M just as immediately grabs it from me to play telephone before taking a tentative bite himself. I grab it back and take a few quick bites.

Lessons learned (I hope):
1) Be real. For other gals, a small yogurt drink and Kashi bar may suffice as breakfast but for you, that amounts to nothing. You need to at least have a banana, juice and big bowl of cereal because you know you will digest that sh*t in one block of strolling. Yes, what would really nourish is a bowl of meeyukgook and bahb with a fried egg and bahnchan to start the day off SOLID but no time to eat such a feast when M is standing there with his pleading, “UP!? up? Up?”

2) Know thyself: You are prone to passing out! So don’t think, “Oh, being pregnant does not mean I’m disabled. I can do my daily playground run even when NY1 keeps on talking about the Fourth Heat Wave of the Summer.” Stay in and even let him watch some tv! Maybe playground runs aren’t meant to be so daily any more.

Imagine if I had passed out! What would happen to M? I suppose the other mamas/nannies/grandparents would watch him while I came to? Or ’til the paramedics came? They would’ve said, “Wow, she must’ve fainted from high atop the apparatus because her dress is torn in half!”

Stay cool y’all!

worked almost as hard as rajon rondo today

Posted on June 7, 2012 by ajummama

When I started my first full-time job at a public relations/strategic communications firm in West Hollywood, CA, my (older) girlfriends would ask me how work is going. I would give them the stinkeye and say, “I can’t believe you heffas didn’t tell me to brace myself for working life. You could’ve WARNED me about how FREAKING EVERYDAY it is! How you get home and you have so few hours left in your day but you have to get your ass to bed and repeat it all over again the next day! No wonder people are so much nicer on Fridays!”

So I really appreciate necessary buzzkills. Folks bombarded me with warnings about marriage: how hard it can be and how you HAVE to work at it. My own mama drilled it into my head that marriage is NOT a fairy tale where you turn into a princess. (Although, I could never have thought that growing up, watching my parents in their marriage, as there is no fairy tale starring a princess always having to placate and serve her fiery-tempered, macho, complex prince. But I digress.)

Similarly, I had heard some tidbits about pregnancy, about the nausea and the weird cravings. My mama had two very rough pregnancies, where she threw up daily for the first six months, lost weight instead of gaining the recommended amount (until the final trimester). While carrying me, her doctor actually advised that she abort me because it was too taxing on her health as she could hardly keep liquids down. So I braced myself for the worst and in both cases, with marriage and pregnancies, my reality was a pleasant surprise compared to the buzzkilling warnings I had been equipped with.

So when people ask how hard it is to take care of a toddler while pregnant, I always say something about how it can be hard most days, but not nearly as hard as it will be once the new baby arrives. You know, just bracing myself so that I am not shocked when it is crazy hard. I think I am trying to be my own buzzkill and this somehow helps me put things into perspective when I have a particularly hard day.

LIKE TODAY:

1. Doctor.

I took M to the doctor to check out a lingering cough that has been stubbornly hanging on for a month now. I called this morning and they said to come in 15 minutes from that phone call. I wore the shirt I had slept in and speedwalked 12 blocks to make it on time, all the while calling a couple local mamas to doublecheck their toddlers’ vaccine schedules, against M’s schedule. I get lightheaded and queasy if I don’t eat so I was strolling fast, on the phone with my Bluetooth, and trying to eat a PB&J sandwich with one hand.

As soon as our doctor approached M to examine his ears and take his heartrate, he lost it and wailed loudly into my ear for almost the rest of the appointment. I could hardly hear what the doctor was saying.

I was drenched from sweating through the entire appointment. I looked like I had played a quick game of pick-up basketball in the shirt I had slept in. So of course, right at that moment, I run into someone I know, also there for his baby’s check-up. (I don’t even remember what happened to my PB&J. I hope I don’t find it.)

2. Playground.

On the way home, I decide to give M some playground time though he was very close to his nap, especially after all that energy he expended wailing through the doctor’s appointment. He ran around for a few minutes, while I talked to nannies and mamas. I placed him in the swing. Dude started sleeping right there in the swing, looking like a drowsy puppy. I speedwalked home because I needed him to take a real, fat nap in the crib, for my sake and his. Thankfully, I was able to remove him from stroller to crib successfully, then proceeded to prepare and consume my two lunches while he slept for 90 more minutes.

3. Frypan to the head.

He is starting to get antsy in his high chair. In order to get him to sit in it for lunch, he likes a wrestling match as an appetizer, meaning I have to coax him with a hearty, wrestling match in my bed. We wrestle as he giggles with delight, I hold him upside down, hanging him off of our king bed with his adorable, drooly upside down smile, and we just tumble about before he agrees to sit in his highchair. Again, I am a hot sweaty mess.

I was so pleased that he ate his bowl full of meeyukgook and rice that I rushed to the kitchen to see if I can get him to eat an orange while still seated. I dropped the orange from its bowl so I bent down to pick it up. Next thing I know, a small frypan falls down to hit me upside the head, like I am Wile E. Coyote. I lurch up to see where the hell it came from so that I can properly blame my husband for its lethal placement on the counter, when the bowl that was holding the orange, shatters onto the floor. SHATTERS. Meanwhile M is in the living room, starting to get annoyed in his chair. He starts imitating me loudly, “Uh-OHHHH, Uh-OHHHH, Uh-Ohhhhhh!”

I sweep the shards. I go down on my knees to wipe up every last shard. I am panting. My belly feels uncomfortable. I just wanna sit for a bit in peace. M is getting more upset but I don’t want to release him as he will inevitably come into the kitchen. I clean up everything but I am spent.

(Last week, I was trying to open up a small table to eat off of, lost my bearings and crashed belly first into the wall. Why am I turning into a cartoon character as this pregnancy progresses?)

4. TV intervention.

M starts begging me for some tv and his begging scares me because it is so pleading, like a crack addict. I try to divert his attention by tickling him and wrestling with him to get him to laugh. It works. He is laughing and smiling his Denzel smile, drooling rivers onto his seventh bib of the day. I am laughing at how happy he looks. We both throw our heads back to laugh. Then we connect, as in his forehead connects with my smiling, exposed top row of teeth. He has my toothmark in his forehead, from our laughing collision. He does one of those cries that is eerily silent for many seconds before he starts wailing.

I soothe his toothmarked bruise the only way I know how. We wrestle some more. He rewards me with laughter. All is forgiven.

5. Further diversion.

I still don’t want him to fiend for tv so I take him outside to our courtyard. I stupidly take a ball out with us because I know how balls bring him pure joy and how he always wants to play with another kid’s ball at the playground. Taking the ball out resulted in my playing fetch for one city block’s worth of courtyard, while M asks for “Mah! Mah! Mah!” (More, More More!). Both M and I are drenched in sweat.

And of course, his new thing. He wants to be carried. After our impromptu soccer match, he pleads with me, “Up? Up? Up?” with his clear, wide eyes, to carry him home instead of his usual running ahead of me. I try to get him to chase me instead, to make a fun game out of it, but he sounds like he’s about to cry and pleads again, “Up? Up? Up?” I end up carrying him and the oversized ball home. Of course I drop the ball three times on our way home which means further bending down and picking up, with M happily in my arms.

My belly baby kicks me and sticks his/her head right into my bladder. As a warning.

6. Giving in.

I give into his tv craving by letting him watch some Sesame Street Youtube clips. He especially enjoys the Will.I.Am, Bruno Mars, and Hootie Sesame clips. Note to self: Tell Kevin about the Hootie clip.

7. TWO MORE HOURS ‘TIL DADDY GETS HOME!?

Oh, Lord. There are still two more hours ’til daddy gets home. This is what happens when we don’t have playdates or activities lined up. But I am too scared and tired to take him to the playground lest he ask me to carry him.

Instead, I take us back to our beloved courtyard, my favorite default playground. This time, I take a picnic blanket though I doubt he will rest with me. M surprises me by actually lying down on the blanket with me for a few seconds, looking at the sky. I am so in love all over again, looking at the sky with him. I am so blessed. The sky is so beautiful. My hormones kick in. I want to cry. How am I so blessed to lie here with this tender morsel?

He’s had it with the sky after about seven seconds. He grabs my wallet and takes out all of its contents. I later find my library card near a tree root, my credit card by a squirrel.

“Up? Up? Up?” I am a sucker. I cannot resist though I no longer feel comfortable carrying my 23-lb boy around for more than a few seconds. But I carry him home once again. Doorman adds to my load by handing me a big package. By now, I think I heard Belly Baby mutter, “Bitch!”

8. More Youtube clips. But M is so picky like his mama, that he grabs my hand for each clip that bores him, for me to click onto the next one. He is going through a phase where he will not let me rest at all. Even when I’m on the toilet, he grabs my hand to come follow him. And he strong!

9. Daddy comes home.

Anti-climactic. I ask him to please let me just act like I’m not home for a bit. I write this blog post. I hope I can stay up to watch the Celtics game, Game 5 against the Heat. I’m not gonna edit this. Just wanna share it now. And THIS is easier than what life will be like come October. At least I’ve been warned.

Memorial Weekend 2012 – just the 3.5 of us

Posted on May 29, 2012 by ajummama

Time capsule post:

Our holiday weekend was delightful in that we were able to have LOTS of family time, by resting and feasting together. Micah gets extra joyful when all three of us are together and he squeals, “dada, dada, dada!” all day. Even when dada steps away to take out the trash or move the car, he asks, “Dada? Dada!?” on the days he is home. We had to take it easy because Micah had a powerful cough and cold but it was short-lived. So was my copycat cold. We had to cancel our visits to our newborn friends since they are more susceptible to catching wicked colds but for the most part, Micah got better pretty quickly. The doctor even advised that we take him outside since the fresh air makes li’l ones feel better.

It was dangerously hot so our plans to go to Central Park and the beach were rerouted as I asked for naeng-myun and superior mall air-conditioning instead. I rarely want naeng-myun but this weekend I needed it.

Most of our weekend revolved around good food and staying cool. I thought about (and envied) my two local mama friends who gave birth to their second babies, one week before this heat hit. Great timing. But still grateful for these next four months with just my firstborn.

On Memorial Day, we braved the hipsters and sweat-dripping humidity to go to Williamsburg (Brooklyn) for brunch. I told Kevin, “Wow, I didn’t expect the hipsters to sport American flags on their t-shirts! How patriotic and festive today!” He responded with, “They’re being ironic.”

Micah was not into eating much this weekend but he was into beverages, maybe because of his cold coupled with the heat. He downed all of his daddy’s mango lassi on Saturday and here he is enjoying his first(?) milkshake:

Sampling mama’s peanut butter milkshake. Here’s the approach…

the discovery and enjoyment…

“step away from me all y’all. don’t make me stick my head into this here cup” aka the devouring

fried devil eggs, steak and eggs with cheese grits, chicken and waffles. M was fine with just the milkshake.

What a difference a year makes:

cheeks for dinner – 5.18.11

This year, M was at the park, running around and cautiously approaching the sprinklers, but not yet running through them since he likes to observe first. Grateful for a beautiful long weekend!