Craving Radical Acceptance

Posted on June 13, 2014 by ajummama

I’m obsessed with the idea of “Radical Acceptance” as the key to emotion regulation.

But I’m pretty sure that one of the hidden goals of radical acceptance is not to make you beat yourself up when you can’t achieve it. Especially in the midst of a harried moment.

For the big and small things in life. Big like marriage, when I try to change Kevin instead of accepting him for who he is. Small like parking, though it feels big sometimes, like today, when I’m already so tired from this week of rain and fitful sleep.

I keep telling myself not to get mad over and over again about the same thing because it’s so futile and a waste of emotional energy. And yet…

On our way back from the science museum today, the boys konked out as I’d expected. I wore #2 and strolled #1 in our cheapie stroller that he can hardly fit into. I also had to carry two bags because the image of cleaning out congealed milk later tonight grossed me out.

I could hardly stroll Micah because he was so heavy and the circulation in my hands were cut off from carrying the bags. Ellis was heavy and sweaty on my chest, no longer a baby at 20 months. It was too hot to close up the Ergo nap-flap to support his head so every few seconds, I would hold his head up and blow some air into his bangs.

Just then a woman driving pulls up right next to us, window all the way down, just to exclaim, “WOW!”

Two blocks later, I finally started down our courtyard when I saw a home aide, pointing at us and laughing, so excited to be able to show her bored and weary charge, a senior citizen, the comical sight of a short pack mule mama inching her way home with her two sleeping children. I smiled back at her because I know she meant no harm and I was actually glad if the sight of me could make a frail old man smile.

I’ve tried to practice radical acceptance by saying, “For now, this is our life. Parking out yonder in whatever kind of weather and schlepping these precious morsels who are very cute but still unhelpful.”

But in the heat of the moment, especially with my hormones out of wack this week, mental health tools fly out the window.

I start going down the dark path of unhelpful, harmful thoughts, almost like they are beckoning me; thoughts ranging from envy of those who have it easier than me to even ‘Shut the f*ck up’ thoughts towards those who have it easier but don’t seem to know it.

This is the way it goes down sometimes…Lashing out against one thing I can’t change in my life then the emotions evolve – snowballing – beyond the initial response to the one thing.

AND THEN I beat myself up by thinking, “B*tch, you also in that category, as the object of envy, with your husband as supportive and helpful as he is, unlike some husbands. And think about those who have it much much worse, wishing they had your problems. Remember how you used to pray for even a far away parking space!? How soon we forget, Israelite in the wilderness!”

But these thoughts don’t help either. In fact, the “others have it worse” ideology serves to only make me feel guilty.

When I think about how This Too Shall Pass, it doesn’t help in the moment because I realized, “Hold up, wait right there. When we do move on up, Lord willing, and we finally able to park right in front of our place, my kids won’t even need to be strolled or worn by then!”

Ironically, these past four years was the exact time we needed door-to-door service. I know I’ll look back fondly at these schlepping memories of the early years but it’s tough in the moment.

Why is it so hard to just say, “Sometimes, it’s hard. PERIOD.” Because I believe it’s all so relative so therefore, I need to shut it.

I’m trying to equip myself with better ways to handle daily stressors, through the Word, safe communities, books and other emotional health resources, but it’s slow going on days like these.

Battling Strollerus Prime and Mazd(a)cepticon: Rainy Day Edition

Posted on June 6, 2014 by ajummama

The lengths we go to to play somewhere other than our place.

I mentioned that yesterday, the day Ellis went missing for two minutes, we initially thought our trip to the local science museum was cancelled due to heavy rain.

But when it let up, our friends and I decided to meet there as planned.

First of all, if someone is waiting for me somewhere, I get crazed. I tense up and try my best to hustle while sweating rivulets, pressuring myself to get there fast, even though I knew the rain had thrown off everyone’s schedules and we hadn’t even agreed on a set time.

I packed up the boys, their lunches, umbrellas, and their doublestroller that is heavier than it’s ever been with the weight of my growing boys. We may have to give in and buy Micah one of those stroller boards he can stand on instead of sitting with his legs dangling towards the ground and head protruding above the canopy.

After squeezing the long contraption into our snug elevator and strolling out the lobby, I realize I hadn’t grabbed the rental car keys. Totally forgot that we were using a rental this week.

The thought of rushing back with about 75 pounds of toddlers+stroller was too much so I grabbed a familiar face and begged him to do me a big favor and stand there with the boys while I sprinted upstairs for my keys. I made it back in record time and thanked him profusely. Micah referred to these 88 seconds as “when that man babysat us.”

On the way to our parking space, it started to rain again. I buckled the boys into their carseats and attempted to break down the stroller. This thing was a huge Transformer. Strollerus Prime is never too heavy for the hubby to break down and load into the trunk but for me? OOOF!

You know when you are trying to break apart something and you start sweating and you wanna curse in the most creative ways? Strollerus was stuck and oh-so-heavy. I actually took several deep breaths and practiced mindfulness so yay(!) for progress.

I finally got it to fold but couldn’t maneuver it into the new small trunk.

Slipped a bit outta my sweaty and rained on hands, when the stroller handle punched me in the jaw. Then it landed in such a way that a long, sharp vertical prong violated me. What would our kid look like?

It continued to rain on me, mixing with my rivulets of sweat and I thought about scrapping the whole trip and strolling back home with my tail between my legs. I was already emotionally spent from Ellis’ vanishing act.

Strollerus cooperates and I finally drive off.

“Uh-oh, Micah, something is wrong. This car sounds very strange. Please let Mommy focus, okay? We can’t talk right now, please!”

Micah says, “Mommy, why this car sound like Bumblebee? Or is it a Decepticon?”

I even wondered if I was driving a stick shift, which would be impossible since I don’t know how!

I suppose I should have pulled over right then but that would be way too logical. I just tried harder to step on the gas. We couldn’t go past 40 on the highway! I came to my senses and pulled over on the local streets.

I stared at the, er, car parts that say “Park” “Rear” and “Drive.” Your name escapes me at the moment (gearshift!?). I call Kevin at work and sarcastically lash out, “Is your family’s safety not too important to you? Why didn’t you give me a heads up about this Decepticon? Like how to drive it?”

And as I was talking, I realized that I had to shift the thingamajiggie into the FAR RIGHT to truly be in Drive mode. I had been driving in something called “M” mode.

Kevin answered, “I didn’t think to tell you because I thought it was too obvious.”

ok, NOW, it's obvious but not while I was driving with precious cargo

ok, NOW, how to drive this Tetris looking mofo is obvious but not while I was driving with precious cargo

Reminded me of the time I was brand new to NYC. After the first day of taking the NY Bar Exam, I couldn’t get to Kevin’s place because I was looking for the “Fulton St” stop on the subway. I went back and forth about four times in the humid July heat until someone on the platform finally saved me by informing me that “Fulton St” is also known as “Broadway-Nassau.”

Obviously.

I apologized to Kevin later for lashing out about the Decepticon but asked him to always put himself in my shoes and err on the side of OVERexplaining if necessary.

“Practice explaining things as if you’re talking to an alien from several planets away. Don’t ever assume that something is obvious.”

The boys and I ended up having a blast at the museum with our friends. It was well worth the trouble.

We went home to curl up with our Transformer books.

Two Minutes

Posted on June 5, 2014 by ajummama

Ellis left home today.

Most panicked two minutes of my life.

Micah was home from school due to “Anniversary Day” aka “Brooklyn Queens Day.” I have yet to Google what those NYC days mean.

It was raining dramatically so we thought our local trip with friends was cancelled. We painted and did a quick science experiment all before 9:30 am.

We said our goodbyes to Daddy as he rushed out of the house for the subway. Micah and I were talking in the kitchen while I was making a breakfast smoothie. I figured Ellis was rolling around in the boys’ room or on our bed or quietly playing with toys or quietly looking at one of his fave books.

After about a minute, I started calling for him.

“Ellis!? Ellis!? Where are you? Mommy can’t hear you!”

I quickened my pace as I looked for him in the bathroom, the boys’ room, our room, our closet he likes to play in. Nowhere to be seen. Or heard. No adorable babbling or exclaiming.

I got frantic right quick.

All the adrenalin of sheer panic hit me at once and I felt like I was jumping out of my own body and also like I was going to poo out all of my organs.

“ELLIS!? ELLIS!?” Micah sensed my panic and grabbed onto my clothes as he started to cry. He started echoing, “ELLIS! ELLIS!”

I ran out the front door to see Ellis standing there, not quite at the elevator yet, staring at our door.

He was wearing his Superman cape. He wasn’t tripping. Little dude knew we’d come for him.

THANK GOD he didn’t go for the stairs or get snatched up by some deranged visitor. This adventurous little one who always goes for the stairs knew that once he was all alone, it was a whole different ballgame so he bess stay put.

Apparently he had left when Daddy rushed out. I was in the kitchen so I was none the wiser.

Lesson learned.

NEVER go into the kitchen again.

But seriously, lesson learned: Watch everyone when they leave home for a proper goodbye, no matter how rushed or busy. THEN LOCK THE DOOR BEHIND YOU.

Grateful for no mishaps during those two minutes. Heart still beating fast as I type this six hours later.

Joy Injection

Posted on June 4, 2014 by ajummama

I am a new woman.

I feel like I just got a joy injection a few weeks ago.

Joy shouldn’t be so circumstantial but dag, weather is a big factor for me. I don’t dare take this long overdue sun for granted. Thank you, Lord, for temps in the 70s and 80s here in NYC after the Polar Vortex we endured this past winter.

This “solar vortex” got me relishing each day so much more. Each day has one common denominator: We outdoors! We in the sun! Mama loading up snacks and food and drinks and scooter, not puffy jackets and gloves and winter hats. Halleluyerrrrr! This Californian needs to be outdoors as much as possible for maximum joy infusion.

I literally stopped to smell the roses everyday this week after our daily playground run.

I took the boys on an impromptu trip to the zoo on Monday. We went without our buddies for the first time in a long while and though we always treasure Friend Time, it was just as wonderful to go on our own.

It allowed me to pause and just drink in my kids, study them real close, and realize all over again, “It wasn’t college, it wasn’t when I turned 21, it wasn’t even when I got hitched. *THIS* is IT right here. I want these moments to play over and over again in the highlight reel of my life when I meet God.”

I drank them in as Micah directed Ellis to “look at hyung (big bro), look at hyung!” as an example of how to climb in the nearby playground where we ate lunch. Lunch meaning I ran after them to shove some Boston Market turkey and meatloaf into their little mouths while they checked out different apparatus, but I was still happy to be frolicking about OUTSIDE. With little clothing.

When the animals in the petting zoo weren’t eating the barley pellets we had bought to feed them, Micah wondered aloud, “Why aren’t they eating, Mommy!?” One of the zoo employees overheard and explained that one sheep had hurt his leg so he couldn’t eat, but that “you can feed Micah,” referring to the black goat with tiny white spots.

As soon as she said that, my Micah the Human couldn’t help but break out into the most precious, sheepish (no pun intended) smile. When Micah the Human proceeded to feed Micah the Goat and his homies, one homey would kick his one leg out repeatedly against the fence to signal, “Please, some more, please!” Micah would continue to grin as I channeled Elvis to do the voice of the goat. “Thankyouverrrmuch, thankyouverrrmuch!”

When we hung out that night on our bed, just the three of us after Ellis had already succumbed to sleep in his room, Micah imitated the goat by tapping his tanned leg against our headboard, reenacting the moment for his dad.

So grateful for this joy boost and excited for the summer.

“There is no sun without shadow and it is essential to know the night.” – Camus

outdoors

Not Just the Most Popular Korean-American Girl’s Name

Posted on May 30, 2014 by ajummama

When I happen to score some down time during the day, like now, about one hour of nap overlap between the boys (if and when Big Bro succumbs to a late nap), I have plenty of tidying up, organizing, planning, or preparing to do.

I am choosing to write instead. For mental health reasons. I gave Kevin a heads up about this. I let him know that if I can squirrel away some quiet moments during the day, I will most likely use it to open up the laptop without one monkey trying to convince me that it’s YouTube time or another monkey climbing up my body, babbling, “mmmma-mmmmmmaaa!” in such an irresistible way with his Puss in Boots eyes and delectable cheeks that the next thing I know, I got him banging on the keyboard with his strong little fingers and mama forgetting which email she had to respond to.

In case people are wondering, it’s not just the physical work of looking after little ones all day, the hypervigilance I wrote about before, but the invisible emotional energy you are expending. So I choose emotional health by doing something calming and enjoyable during these precious breaks, even though I technically have the time to do the pile of dishes or get the stroller packed up for our evening excursion into Manhattan.

Emotional energy like:

Being patient spill after spill,

tantrum after tantrum,

after someone makes a run for it, out of the playground with a proud smirk on his 20 month old face,

running to grab the little guy who is more fearless than Big Bro at the same age, climbing up some advanced apparatus while you were adjusting Big Bro’s scooter helmet for him,

watching Big Bro slide down a new, steeper slide then realizing that Little Bro’s bedtime prayers were answered: the perfect Distracted Mommy opportunity had presented itself to jump into a shallow lagoon that had accumulated during the rainstorm,

speaking calmly, like a hostage negotiator, to convince both boys to climb down “slowly…slowly…easy…” from something they got attracted to.

So this morning, I had exactly 30 minutes to get ready and out the door. I really need to get everything ready the night before but again, I plead mental health reasons for wanting to completely exhale late at night and NOT have to be a responsible mama in advance.

Well, I learned my lesson. I hate having to rush so I will definitely prepare what I can the night before. I can’t even watch my husband’s favorite show “24” because the countdown stresses me out way too much (and that movie “Before Sunrise” where Ethan Hawke HAS to get to the airport and I’m freaking out way too much about the countdown to actually enjoy the movie).

I kept hearing the countdown in my head as I made a smoothie, one cheese quesadilla for Micah to eat at the playground after school, one egg and cheese quesadilla for Ellis, packing small fish boocheengeh for them to nibble on, their drinking cups, Oh, Ellis you climbed onto the table and spilled the water on a book, lemme change you, doh, I gots to brush my teef and tie my hair and change, Ellis, get down from that chair, you will Ah-Yah! Ellis please, we have to get into the stroller now. No Ellis, we can’t take that outside. Oh, Ellis, Mommy just has to run and grab the library books.

Then things got real harried as I scrambled to grab Micah’s scooter from our tiny coat closet, where everything fell out as I tried to finesse his scooter parts and helmet out. The entryway had a few stray toys and shoes that I ran over with our huge doublestroller, thereby breaking Micah’s toy saucepan.

I can’t make a clean getaway as a HUGE BOX OF DIAPERS we got delivered yesterday had the audacity to CONTINUE TO REMAIN THERE.

That is when things go left in my head and I start going down a familiar path.

“I told Kevin that one of the big obstacles to peace in my day is the damn lack of space, especially this entryway. I told him a countless number of times that if he and I can both do our part to at least clear the entryway so that when I’m rushing out the door, I don’t have to try to maneuver my way out, RAGING. And by ‘he and I’ I clearly mean ‘he’!”

“I guess he just doesn’t care enough to actually move this HUGE BOX OF DIAPERS for me. God forbid he make my life any easier even after I’ve asked him so many times to please help in this way.”

Then, I caught myself. There was a flash of a word that zapped onto my brain, not unlike the countdown I kept hearing earlier. Holy Spirit, is that You?

The word was GRACE. Not just a common Korean-American girl’s name.

GRACE. Something Kevin pours out to me daily. And Kevin does more than most husbands I know.

Yet when there is a huge box of diapers that just happened to be impeding my path, something I didn’t even notice myself until I had to rush out, instead of tapping into some GRACE towards my husband whom I used to shower with grace (in the B.C. era – Before Children – and even more so during our long distance dating era), I went down a dark path that sometimes ends with a dramatic (rerun) finale called, “Does He Even Truly Love Me?”

So tonight, I’m going to think and talk about Grace and why I hoard it these days. One reason is because I’m skurred that if I gift him with too much Grace, he won’t respond to my requests for change, or receive them as Urgent. Even though he explains to me that it would only spur him on to do better, I keep thinking that my angry outbursts would do a better job of getting him to never dare leave the huge box of diapers in my path again.

Grace seems too soft.

Maybe, just maybe, to hold myself accountable, I will choose Grace over Criticism for the next week and see what happens.

See why no Korean parents ever name their girls “Criticism.”

On Heightened Alert

Posted on April 22, 2014 by ajummama

Read somewhere that sometimes, raising up these little ones is like raising wild animals.

I noticed that after the BEST days, whether it be a sunny, gorgeous day at the zoo with friends or exploring Manhattan, admiring the display of giant Faberge Easter eggs (more Mama’s thang than the boys’), I am not quite able to exhale, even hours later when Daddy got next.

I wondered why this was the case since I much prefer these adventurous days outdoors to the cooped up house arrest days of yesterweek’s polar vortex.

It is due to the perpetual heightened alert. You really have to have eyes in the back of your head, or at least on the side of yo face, like other animals.

When I was single, in my 20s, I remember attending a small church plant at someone’s house. There was a mom who visited with her baby / toddler and as soon as she entered the house, she would NEVER watch after her own kid. Of course, I don’t know her story, maybe overtired, maybe had zero support, but also it’s a personality thing to be able to relax so much that you leave it to the crowds to watch your child while you’re having a grand ol’ time.

As a person who was generally on heightened alert even before I had kids – too much alert, just noticing everyone’s energy at a gathering or noonchee-bah’ing (reading people’s micro-expressions) at any given time, I couldn’t FATHOM how a mama could just Be On Break (at least without asking someone to please watch her child for a moment) and assume that OTHERS, mere acquaintances, would keep her child from playing with knives.

While I am proud to be an attentive parent, too much alert isn’t good for my health either. I’m sure it adds to irritability and exasperation but it is SO very hard to turn off.

Even when hanging out in our small home, my attena is up – ears tuned in to pick up cries of pain from the other room, like the boys fighting after their hug fests go awry or worse, SILENCE. Silence followed by hysterics from falling off the desk that Ellis had climbed this morning before we headed out for the subway.

[Of course, I’m learning to let them fight it out instead of hovering or rushing to their aid for everything, but they are still so little, especially the second one.]

Outside, heightened alert is cranked up a couple notches. We are not contained. They are not contained.

Possibility for more fun, and we ARE fun-seekers, but always the behind-the-scenes energy spent on heightened alert.

This energy is not captured in the picture-perfect moments displayed on Facebook. I think this energy is a type of at-home parent stress. Working parents have plenty of different stressors, the stress of juggling, spending enough time with their little ones, entrusting them in others’ care, but definitely different from this heightened alert for most of the day.

Chatting with a mama-friend while our boys are climbing a jaggedy boulder. Chatting but ever-aware. Chatting but making sure the younger ones won’t fall and bust their lips open. Chatting but making sure the big ones aren’t grabbing the thorny plant as they talk about dinosaurs.

Laughing but keeping one eye on the child who is about to cozy up against the couch right by friend’s window with no child-protective bars. Catching up with Kevin’s co-worker but making one son stop using my purse as a swing.

This is why chatting with some mamas with similar-aged kids is so easy, like water flow. Actually, water flowing intermittently.

We understand that we will be interrupted 18 times before finishing one story: “So what was I saying?”

“I’m not sure but two tangents ago we were talking about expectations and then you were about to tell me…wait…ELLIS! ELLIS! CLIMB DOWN NOW! You are NOT a big boy!”

Today we took an impromptu subway ride into Manhattan to enjoy the weather before the rain hits tonight and Micah goes back to school tomorrow. I tried to take lots of pictures but always on heightened alert. Making sure the newly fearless Ellis doesn’t nosedive into the fountains on 6th Avenue or moshpit himself into a bed of lilies by Rock Center, beaming and proud.

Even when I start to decompress, due to my bat hearing and sensitive constitution, it takes me a good long while to get my groove back, especially when I hear other babies’ cries from all the different floors of our co-op building, not exactly a Calgon vibe. This is why exercise is key! Easier said than done but when I get a workout in, I can shake that nervous stress off.

Speaking of sounds, I’m hearing raccoon-rummaging sounds from the boys’ room. Sounds like Ellis never succumbed to a real nap today due to sensory overload: subway, Rock Center Plaza, giant Easter eggs, Daddy’s office, more subway.

Time for heightened alert at the playground. Be well.

Bro, you bess NAP on high alert too cuz I’m about to Three Stooge you.

Do You?

Posted on March 30, 2014 by ajummama

“Hi! Wow, the last time I saw you, you were pregnant with him,” I said, pointing to the baby she was wearing in her carrier.

She looks utterly confused. She has no idea who I am.

Jihee, please, girl, just keep it vague and say you seen her around at the park. AND KEEP IT MOVING.

Oh, I kept it moving. Kept my mouth moving.

“Yeah, we were stuck in a storm together at _________ Park last summer. It was a crazy downpour. One of those torrential downpours, remember? We had to stand under the train tracks together for a good long while since it was coming down so hard. You were just about to give birth. Time flies, huh?”

She looks downright bewildered the more I talked.

Self, stop talking now since she is NOT going to remember that one random day in July.

But I kept thinking if I broke it dee-own for her, it would click! She may recall those moments that were playing so vividly in my head when I saw her at our mutual friends’ kiddie birthday party.

“You had to take out a potette for your little girl right before the storm hit and we had to wait it out together?” I was feeling like Chris Farley in the “Re-re-remember when…?” sketches on SNL.

Now at this point, even *I* knew that I had to leave it be. I could have gone on to say that she and some other mamas were making jokes about how “potette” is a funny word for portable potty, how she was telling us that you can totally use plastic bags from the market instead of buying the expensive refills for those things, and other details that kept gushing forth in the movie reel playing in my head. Images of her being way pregnant.

I’ve always been like this, remembering stuff that other people couldn’t care less about, not just now because I am at home with the kids, swimming in the mundane rather than speeding along on the “fast track,” whatever that means.

She smiled, still a bit uncomfortable, and found her way towards her friends, the people she actually knows.

Naturally, we end up bumping into each other again because her baby was playing near the rest of my family in a different part of the museum. Kevin starts saying, “Aww, how old is the little guy?” about her baby and AGAIN, I hear myself say, “awww, and he wasn’t even born when I ran into them last.”

She looks thrown off AGAIN and mumbles softly, “Yeahh…..I guess.”

AUGH! This was such a painful little interaction. And I had invited it.

On the rainy drive home, I told Kevin, “Yo, I feel like a doofus. I think I just gotta shut the hell up! I get so excited and happy to see familiar faces even when they are TOTAL strangers who only wanna talk to THEIR people. It doesn’t sink in for me that these people are not interested in a ‘remember when’ moment. Why do I embarrass myself? And did you see me hug up on that other mama just cuz I hadn’t seen her in months? She didn’t see that coming but I’m such a hugger! I just have too much jung for people, it gushes out before I can stop it, like an excited puppy!”

Kevin was firm. “No. You don’t have to shut the hell up. You just keep doing you. If they don’t remember you at all, don’t be embarrassed. That’s them and you’re you. If you get excited and want to bring up meeting them, go ahead. Still do you.”

“Really!? I feel so stupid that I bust out hugs or remember stuff in SUCH detail. I just gotta act like I don’t remember and that I’m not as excitable as I really am. I should learn to just not mention it. I just get so dang bang-gah-wuh.” (Happy to see someone.)

“No, I say Keep Doing You.”

We had arrived at home so I took the sleeping second son into our home while Kevin temporarily parked on the street, watching March Madness in peace, on his phone, as Micah snoozed.

Once I got home, I iMessaged him from our bedroom: “Hey, you know my crazy infallible memory? Remembering every detail about being stuck in the storm with that lady I scared off today? I got the wrong woman. She had bounced before the storm hit and I was actually stuck under the subway tracks with another mama, her girlfriend.” (To which he replied: HAHAHAHA)

I do love the message that Kevin had for me, but maybe I need to be more refined as I creep towards my 40s? Not busting out with bearhugs on the subway platform when I run into a mere acquaintance, or saying, “heyyyyy, remember when….?” to a stranger (especially when I got the wrong person!?).

But then again, some of the friendships I’m now blessed with have sprouted from the most random of initial interactions.

Do You? or Do You, But Less Doofus’d, More Refined?

Do I even wanna be more refined, though? photo by Jodee Debes

Charles E. Quest

Posted on March 26, 2014 by ajummama

What’s the opposite of a Bucket List?

Things I Need NOT Cross Off My List before I croak, and am more than fine with never experiencing:

I have never eaten an Arby’s sandwich (or an Arby’s anything).

I have never gone to Applebee’s. I had to look up how to spell it (Applebee’s or Appleby’s? apostrophe?).

I have never had a nosebleed.

I have never seen any of the Star Wars movies.

I have never had a coffee or soda habit.

I have never been to a Chuck E. Cheese.

Chuck that. I had never been to a Chuck E. Cheese…until two Sundays ago.

Kevin takes the boys there on his own every now and then, especially during this endless winter when outdoor play is not an option. They visit their friend, Chuck, to give me some time to myself. It’s become their boys’ club.

When I was sick one weekend, Kevin hit up the usual spots with the Li’l Kims. They’d already explored the museum and mall, before he sent me an iMessage (technically, I still don’t have text on my phone):

“We going to Charles E. Quest.”

Later, I found out that he had meant to type “Charles E. Queso” for “Chuck E. Cheese” but autocorrect had struck.

I’d always been certain that I would naturally loathe the place. I have zero interest in video games or arcades. In fact, they give me major headaches. Can’t deal with stale air. Hate mice, hate noise. And terrible pizza is a terrible waste of calories.

On another frigid Sunday, the boys were headed to see Chuck again and I needed to stop by Target within the same mall so the boys’ club gave me a ride. I realized that passing by the boys’ stomping grounds with nary a looky loo was just plain silly. NOT going somewhere JUST to keep the Never-Been-There routine going was pointless, so I dropped by to see what this Charles E. Quest had to offer.

Wow. Just wow.

Immediate thought: Good Lord, this must have been what the Superdome was like after Hurricane Katrina.

Teeming with too many children and too many weary parents.

Dirty. Even the air. Stank like parmesan cheese stuffed into a pair of size 12s. Well-worn size 12s. And balls.

No order. There were no sections. No separate eating area from the game area.

Where you ate was smack dab in the middle of where you played.

Commotion everywhere.

Kids taller than me were running around. Fast.

More lights and sounds than Times Square.

AND A SALAD BAR RIGHT NEXT TO THE PRIZES. A salad bar!? Right next to where you redeem your tokens for a prize.

I had to call Kevin to locate them amidst the din and blinking lights.

He saw the “Oh, uh-uh!” look on my face as I took it all in. The boys were entranced by sensory overload.

“How can this really be your first time here? You never went as a kid? You really that surprised – whaddid you expect?” he CHUCKled.

“I thought there would at least be sections so that you can eat and THEN get your game on. You actually volunteer to come to this Superdome with the boys!? Is that really a salad bar or are my eyes wigging out from all these flashing lights? I could imagine an ICE CREAM bar next to the prizes, but SALAD? In case you just have to have some greens while up in this piece? Look at that canned baby corn, just waiting for someone to holla!”

But then again, Kevin loves video games so he’s probably been waiting to have kids so that he can swing by a spot like this on the reg.

It wouldn’t be wholly fair if I gave this spot a 100% negative review. At least it is free admission unlike every other kiddie play place. But “You get what you pay for!” never rang truer, especially for highly sensitive souls like me, with my supersonic hearing and low threshold for noise.

Charles has another thing going for him – his security. I wasn’t able to walk out with Micah and Ellis because they had come in with their Daddy. I had walked in alone after them, thereby not receiving a stamp on my hand. When you enter, an employee stamps everyone with the number of people in your party, and will not let you leave unless everyone in your party is present to leave together. So, the boys got to leave, only with Kevin, once their infrared stamps marked “3” were verified under the special flashlight. I liked that.

This is a much needed security measure as this is THE backdrop for a Lifetime movie about a desperate dad abducting his child after a bitter custody battle, while the boy is hunched over a game of “Need for Speed” (after a trip to the salad bar and token redemption bar).

Chuck E. Cheese’s: where a kid can be a kid…and Daddy can play video games, and have wings and greens…and Mommy can swing by at the end for a cute family sketch that only costs one token or approximately 33 centavos.

50 Degrees of Separation

Posted on February 27, 2014 by ajummama

I’m not doing well. Burrowing in a deep dark pit, like a small rodent taking a dustbath. Squirming.

On the morning of February 13th, we fled to LA in the midst of Snowstorm Pax. I used to be really into storm names but I can hardly keep up with them now that we’ve had storm-after-storm-after-storm, sometimes within the span of a week. Have to admit that for all the anxiety that Pax caused us prior to flying out, I did like the name.

When I called the Korean cab company the night before for 5 am pick-up to JFK, they said they would not be able to reserve a car for us due to the impending storm. We’d all just have to wait and see as this storm was predicted to be a doozy. I called them back at 4 am and they said they’d send someone.

My heart was beating wildly as we loaded up the freshly awoken, footed-pajammied little ones into the cab. The snow was falling down steadily and our surroundings were already white.

We still did not know if our flight would be cancelled but it seemed highly likely according to the forecasts predicting about a foot of snow, starting 4 am through 9 am. Our flight was scheduled for 6:55 am, smack dab in the middle of Pax, but Kevin had not received a text from the airline regarding any cancellations or delays.

Kevin was somber and reminded me to manage my expectations: The flight could get cancelled after we arrived at the airport. It could get postponed by a few days since many of us would have to book a new flight. To please not get my hopes up until we actually made it off the runway.

Even after a minor delay of about an hour to de-ice the plane, we touched down at LAX on time! I still can’t believe how lucky we were. I arrived to emails from friends assuming we hadn’t made it out.

“Mommy, you dunno if we can fly out? But the plane is right there!”

We were on the only flight that made it out of the storm that morning. If it had been cancelled, we would have lost about three days of our trip before the next available flight.

During the whole flight, I wanted to raise my hands in Halleluyer! We had made it! These morsels didn’t know how much I worried about being able to flee. They just knew that there was a small tv in front of them.

And now, after shaving my legs upon touching down at LAX, to rock glorious short shorts and flip flops in a land that was at least 50 degrees warmer, we are back.

The thing is…while here in NYC, I thought I was holdin’ it down relatively fine. After all, I’m going on nine years this October. What choice do I have but to live life yul-shee-mee (“diligently”)?

The only place I’ve ever experienced being someone’s wife, someone’s attorney, and someone’s mama is here in NYC.

But this winter has definitely been siphoning my mojo from me. I didn’t even know about the robbing of the mojo until faced with the possibility of being stuck here for days longer if our flight were cancelled, then actually experiencing healing and calm just by spending time in my hometown, with the sun literally warming my body and soul. Sun + Family + Friends + Being able to walk out the door without winter gear = Life-giving visit.

Reminds me of that movie, “The Bridges of Madison County,” where Meryl Streep was married to a nice but dull man. She remained devoted to him and was a dutiful wife and mother, holdin’ it down at home as best as she could in the only life she knew, until Clint Eastwood comes into town and shows her what she’s been missing.

LA was my Clint Eastwood.

Nibbling on Cara Cara oranges in the sun,

slurping down oysters at the Santa Monica Farmer’s Market,

swinging by the local playground in shorts and flip-flops at 6 pm IN FEBRUARY,

getting photographed in Malibu with the sand between our toes,

subsisting on authentic Mexican food including homemade tortillas, spicy chilaquiles, and too many nacho platters in the name of “vacation,”

talking unabashedly with girlfriends who’ve known me for at least a decade,

watching my sons, especially the playground deprived newbie frolic about on beautifully plump, bare toddler feet, feeding ducks, hiking mountain trails, and riding ponies – ALL THINGS YOU CAN DO IN THE OUTDOORS when it is not a frozen tundra framed with weeks-old snow.

This winter has been the most brutal yet. The lowest temps (first time I heard of “Polar Vortex”) and the most snow. According to our doorman, it has been the worst winter since 1983 or 1984.

I remember the winter of 2010-2011 producing at least seven snowstorms before we fled to LA with our 11 week-old firstborn.

When Cali friends would often comment, “How do you handle living out there with the two little ones?”

The answer was simple.

“Because I have to. Because this is all I know.” You mean, there is an alternate universe where I wouldn’t have to carry my child over a snowbank, while the other smaller child waits patiently in his stroller for his turn to be carried over the same snowbank?

Or where I won’t be slippin’ and slidin’ when the bigger child refuses to cross the street in the middle of a traffic jam?

(Yes. See Clint Eastwood above).

This trip to LA was especially painful due to how tough things have been emotionally and on the homefront. Reminds me of the movie “Sliding Doors” with a drab-lookin’ Gwyneth Paltrow back in the day. This trip was like watching what my life would have been like had I walked through a different door, raising my boys with my tribe, in the sun, dealing with traffic and smog instead.

(I know there is no benefit in regretting or thinking “what if” but that is where I’m at now, a bit of wallowing before I climb out of my pit.)

I realized, through this trip, that our values and must-haves are ever-evolving.

For instance, I now know that I NEEEEEED sun the way I NEEEEEEED exercise. It is healing. It provides energy that I didn’t know I was missing until I noticed how alive folks were in SoCal while many people here seem to just DEALING with life during these harsh winter months.

When we hiked Coldwater Canyon, I wanted to jump into so many of the conversations that women were having with one another as hiking in and of itself lends itself to quality gabbing. And again, the sun energy was so potent. People would shower Micah and Ellis with so much affection and open adoration in a way that was markedly different from NYC. They didn’t hesitate to step to us just because we were strangers.

Everyone’s energy was on and poppin’ because they weren’t spending it clearing snow off the roof of their cars, shoveling their cars out to go food-shopping and considering that a victorious afternoon, or stuck running with active toddlers in the basement hallways to burn off their energy since outdoors is almost never an option these days.

I tried not to overschedule during this visit. I usually try to meet at least one friend per day while I’m there and while that sounds so doable, it’s stressful to arrange. The few girlfriends I did reconnect with made me have another Sliding Doors moment.

Imagine the revolutionary concept of being friends since junior high, high school, or college, then becoming mamas and raising our kids together instead of the way I did it. “You’re a mom, I’m a mom, we live in walking distance, so let’s at least try to be friends.” Don’t get me wrong. The local mama friends that I’ve been blessed to do life with are gifts. They kept me from going at this all alone and will always hold a special place in my heart when I look back on my boys’ early years, especially the raw first year.

Also blessed to have my spiritual communities through church and small groups.

I’m just talking about the organic way of being friends for years first and then naturally navigating through motherhood together.

So we’re back and I’m taking it pretty hard. Prior to the day we flew back home to NYC, I called the airline a few times to brainstorm about how I can stay back for at least another week. But I was jerked back to reality when Micah took a big fall smack onto his nose on parking lot asphalt.

We all boarded the plane as planned. Suddenly, I was on the plane again, being transported to my colder life in NYC and already in Mom-on-Plane mode, like grabbing a sippy cup in the nick of time when Micah just HAD to pee as the plane took off the runway. And humiliating myself by asking Amy Poehler for a picture at THE WORST POSSIBLE TIME.

So while I can do it and I have done it, I no longer want to do life in this way, where good weather days are treated like holidays. I do agree that there is no place like NYC even though I’m tempted to fight with (annoying) NYC enthusiasts who will cut you if you won’t bow down to it being the Be All End All and dare compliment another city. It just ain’t for me at this mature age and life stage.

Being a sensitive soul prone to intense emotions, I neeeeeeeed my sun. I need my tribe. I need my mojo back.

And when I miss the novelty of frigid temps or humid summers, I can always visit.

2.27.14 back to running laps in the basement hallway. even if mama bothered to bundle them back up after naps to go outside for fresh air, too cold to stay out for long.

EZ Pass Whilst Swervin’ in the Slush…

Posted on February 5, 2014 by ajummama

“Think there’s something wrong with our car. There’s a dark yellow cartoon that keeps popping up on the dashboard. Lookin’ like a car with squigglies around it. Am I okay to keep driving today?”

“That just means the car is swerving,” explained Kevin.

“Oh, aight then. Not sure what it’s telling me to do because I’mma keep swervin’ in this slurpee snow globe.”

A couple days ago, we had another snowstorm. I should have kept an accurate count as to what number storm this is in the past two months or even in 2014 thus far. Could these frequent snowstorms be attributed to the polar vortex?

We got more than 8 inches here in NYC and it brought us a gorgeous winter wonderland. Soft, fluffy snow and trees with powder-white branches, encased in an icy shell, looking nearly edible. A party planner would drool over this backdrop.

2.3.14 my gentleman callers outside our window

2.4.14

Snowbanks are so high by the curb that I have to lift my boys over them while I am forced to step knee-deep right into them. A groundskeeper in our co-op asked me, “Aren’t you cold?” and I realized I hadn’t even zipped up my jacket as there was too much carrying of gear and bundling up of the little ones, plus random Micah artwork I was holding.

The aftermath of the winter wonderland is hitting us hard today. We had more snow AND freezing rain overnight AGAIN so the streets are even slushier and that cartoon on my dashboard is showing up more frequently.

“YOU SWERVIN’, LADY.”

“Yes. Thank you.”

People are annoyed by this mess yet I’m starting to wonder if I’ve Turned.

This October will mark my 9th year living in NYC. Though I was raised in LA and schooled in both LA and the Bay Area, I have never had the experience of being a married woman or a mama in Cali. I’m curious what ajummamahood in my home state would be like.

Would I strangely miss all this weather drama if we were to relocate to sunny SoCal? Could I have Turned so much that everyday temps in the 70s could possibly…bore me? The many months of brutal cold and humid summers are vexing, no doubt, but I wonder if this has become my New Normal so much so that I would twitch in a land where I don’t have to check the weather updates constantly? I’m sure a part of me would actually miss Mother Nature’s mood swings.

This week has been an unexpected move towards deliberate gratitude. It had become too easy to audibly groan with the slush and lack of sun all around – being forced to stay home and surrounded by drudgery – but strangely, I’ve also experienced unexpected pick-me-ups in the midst of these bad weather days.

For instance, I’ve been getting so blessed with good parking, better than in good weather. I rolled up to Bible Study at a friend’s place and was able to park in a spot that someone had JUST dug his car out of, leaving a perfectly cleared spot for my car, like a small coffin in the snow. It was too good to be true. I asked around, “Is this a legit parking spot!? Or is there a fire hydrant hidden away in the snowbank?” The other dude digging his car out of the snow said, “Nope, you’re good! You can park there.”

This has been happening a lot this week. Parking blessings. A BIG DEAL in these parts. Truly unexpected.

Last night, Micah and I were returning from Long Island when I got distracted for one second. (I’m driving more than usual during this slushy mess for some reason). I rely 100% on GPS so I actually have no clue where I am without the GPS lady’s voice directing me. Either she didn’t direct me early enough, I just didn’t hear her over Micah’s Music for Aardvarks CD, or I ended up looking at the map that goes along with the GPS voice and I missed the highway I was supposed to continue on.

I found myself driving on an unfamiliar part of the highway and noticed a tollbooth and a beautifully lit bridge coming up.

I called Kevin on speakerphone. “Yeahhh, so I’m on this beautiful bridge. It has a gross name: Throgs Neck Bridge. No possible U-turn before a tollbooth right?”

“What?! Jihee-yah, how did you end up over there? No possible U-turn.”

“Well, we not gonna be home for a good long while then. Wish me luck.”

Micah chimes in, “Mommy, we lost? You don’t know where we going?”

Siighhhhh….”I’m so sorry, Micah. Mommy made a mistake and yes, we are lost but we will get home soon. We are going to turn off your music so Mommy can CONCENTRATE and listen to the GPS better, OK?”

“OK, Mommy. Watch the road!”

There on that bridge, I wanted to practice mindfulness and a deliberate gratitude. “Mindfulness” and “gratitude” have been such buzzwords in recent years that I may have rebelled against them at times, but they are so necessary in my life right now, especially to combat the word that I keep meditating on unhealthily instead: DRUDGERY.

The drudgery of picking up the toys and shoes and winter hats and wiping down chairs and picking up dropped sippy cups leaking milk onto the rug and playmats. Begging the kids to eat, now Ellis, too, since he doesn’t feast the way he used to. Repeating myself constantly.

Gratitude hasn’t been coming to me all that naturally, the way it used to my very first year of mamahood where even the drudgery was connected to the awe and wonder of having my first baby. Lately, I’d been feeling like so much was a dang bother, like simply leaving the house with kids, making sure they aren’t overheating or exposed to the elements. And our brief trips out, mostly for school dropoff or pickup, consisted mostly of rushing back in with our winter gear to avoid the chill of the polar vortex or the slush and slip n slide of snowstorm #7.

My NATURAL inclination was to beat myself into a bloody pulp for getting lost driving a route I’ve done a few times now (though never in the dark).

“What the hell is wrong with you? How you gonna get lost, even with the GPS and now you have to spend money going thru a tollbooth you have no business being anywhere near! Oh wait, you need to make a U-turn right past that tollbooth at the next exit so that means you gotta pay again? Way to go, blowing $15 on toll after saying we must save more money this year!”

But a small miracle occurred in my inner dialogue. I didn’t follow the same mental route I usually take. (Perhaps to match the usual route I didn’t take going home?).

I opened the window a smidge to get some fresh air up into my nostrils, thanked Micah for being so helpful and patient (and even encouraging), tried to enjoy the spontaneous excursion via bridge and got us home after about a 40 minute delay.

As we drove to our parking spot, Micah cheered, “Mommy! This is our home! We not lost any more.”

When I walked in the door, Kevin looked apprehensively at me. He knows how badly I beat myself up when I make mistakes. Something I definitely need to work on as it has wreaked havoc on me for years now.

He was surprised when I smiled and said, “Yeah, so I’m not gonna throw a fit. Totally was gonna go that route but I am so tired and thankfully, we only got lost. No accident. And hey, you know I love a beautiful bridge. Maybe not worth $15 for a drive-by but oh well, memories.”

“I still dunno how you ended up on that highway but hey, stuff happens.” I could tell he wants to crack up about my clumsy navigating even with the Godsend of an iPhone GPS but he wouldn’t dare just in case I decided to beat myself up after all.

“And if it makes you feel ANY better, we do have an EZ Pass so we’re going to be charged less than that. Wow, I have to say I’m proud of you for being able to let it go. We all make mistakes.”

Huh, EZ Pass. I like the sound of that for beyond saving money at tollbooths. Next time I sweat the small stuff, I’m going to give myself an “EZ Pass” out of it, as long as I learn my lesson and do better the next time I’m in a similar situation. Such a small step but it was progress for someone who self-flagellates like it’s her job. It was amazing to not go down the same treacherous path and salvage what remained of the evening. Thankful for the bad weather to make me check myself.

Progress, Not Perfection.