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.

Flight of the Butterflies

Posted on June 12, 2014 by ajummama

My Beloved Boys,
I’m writing this while my head is still a-buzz as a non-coffee drinker drinking iced coffee for the second time this year, so please excuse the clumsiness.

Also, I slept like a ninja with one eye open, after fetching Ellis when he cried in his crib in the middle of the night. I had to be ready to pounce if he ever got too close to the edge, which he loves to do. Your daddy had already been summoned to fetch Micah Hyung, whose initial cry got you going. They ended up entwined on the couch, Hyung cutting off Daddy’s circulation.

Mama feelin’ some feelin’s again this month but what’s new? My heart lights up when I see plush new babies hanging out in our beautiful courtyard or on my Facebook, with their parents looking exactly like how your daddy and I looked when studying every millimeter of your brand new face(s), feet and hands.

Fascinated. Captivated. In awe of the miracle of having created a delectable little human.

When I see these new kids on the block, then look over at you big boys scootering and running about, they look like fetuses. You’ve become rough and tumble BOYS right before my very eyes, though at the same time, it’s snuck up on me.

Last week, Micah, your class released butterflies after weeks of watching them transform from caterpillars. You told me that each one was named after you and your classmates as you recited all 13 names of your classmates/butterflies.

The symbolism was not lost on me. As we approach nursery school graduation, your teachers were freeing you guys to flutter about in the world, or at least out into preschool. How precious to name each one after you and your adorable classmates!

On your first day of school, the sparrows did me in, and now, the dang butterflies got me verklempt.

You told me, “Micah the Butterfly flew out first, Mommy!” You quietly sang me the song you learned, with bright eyes and accompanying hand motions:

“I’m a little caterpillar, cute and green.
Hiding in my chrysalis, can’t be seen.
Wait a little while and you’ll see why.
Pop! Now I’m a butterfly!”

Oh, my ex-caterpillar son, Mama hears you, Mama sees you! You’ve grown so much, about to graduate as a butterfly!

This week, I brought it up to your teachers because I just couldn’t get over the cuteness and wanted to hear more about it. “That was so precious that y’all named each caterpillar after the students so that when they were released, it was symbolic of next week’s graduation! That really touched me, Ms. B.”

Ms. B and Ms. C looked downright confused. I repeated myself and added, “Oh, and how did you keep track of which caterpillar was which since they all look the same?”

Ms. B explained, “Oh! Um, that’s a really cute idea but we didn’t name them after the students. Seems like maybe Micah imagined that or named them with his classmates.”

Of course, that touched me even more that it was your idea, or something you and your buddies had conjured up together. Mama loves a good story.

When I strolled you to school on the first day, you still looked babyish, a few months shy of three. You were frozen as you settled into your new surroundings, sitting back-to-back with a fellow frozen classmate. Now, all of you are so playful with one another, like a little family. Actually, you now look a bit silly sitting in a stroller, with your feet dangling and your head protruding above the canopied tops.

Next week is game time, son. I promise not to do the ugly cry at graduation. Well, I promise to try my best. I am so proud of you, my White Tiger, ex-caterpillar, butterfly firstborn.

I love you to the moon and back,
Your Mommy/Mama/Ummah

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

The Dark (K)night

Posted on May 30, 2014 by ajummama

Micah is so obsessed with this cool Batman character that when we finally introduced “Frozen” to him, he kept singing what I thought was, “Let It Back, Let it Back!” instead of “Let It Go, Let it Go!” I thought, “Man, this son of mine done flipped the script and remixed the song about shame by saying Let the Shame Git Back On You. Should I be concerned?” Then I found out, he was singing, “Let it BAT, Let it BAT…” as in “Batman,” even rebelliously pointing at Elsa and Anna, scolding them, “No, you Batman and Batman!”

He even told me somberly with his signature earnest expression, slight drool pooling on his tulip bud mouth, on his smoove-skinned three-and-a-half year old face, “When I am Micah, people say to me sometimes, ‘you cute, oh you nice’ but when I am Batman, people say, ‘Who is that!? Cool! I feel safe, wow!'”

This struck me as profound.

I feel lost these days, even with the anchor of husband and two sons I get to hug and kiss in buffet portions.

I’d take “cute” or “nice” any day, but I am amazed by this little human’s assurance in his Batman identity that he can assume simply by donning his worn out, cheap Batman costume. His whole posture and countenance is different when he comes home from school and puts on his Batman garb, complete with sunglasses he added under the mask and Little Bro tagging along as a superfly Superman.

I wonder what my Batman costume looks like. I don’t feel like I’m enough these days, pouring myself out for my kids. I feel like there’s so much potential in this 37 year old brain and body that I’m not able to tap into. And it’s not as simple as “Well, why don’t you go work outside of the home then?”

In some ways, being an at-home mama is truly my calling. Not in the domestic duties as I get overwhelmed easily with all things housework but in the engaging my kids and gobbling them up and showing them affection and telling them stories for days. Plus, now that I’m a mom, I have to be more selective than ever regarding what type of paid job is worth being away from my kids. Can’t be whitefisting through some meaningless job just for that paycheck. Anyways, I don’t want to digress too much as this is a loaded topic, something I’m not ready to blog about.

Micah has also expressed sadness about the upcoming end of his school year. We’ve been blessed with a good first school experience. He said he wants to take his teacher with him and that if he gets new teachers at a new school, he will be very mean to them. It touched me as I recalled how quiet and serious he was on his first day of school.

It also made me think about how different toddlers are from us grown folks. Change scares him. He loves his current everything. His routine, his classmates, the objects around his small classroom, his teachers.

On the other hand, Mommy feels beyond ready for change. Almost idolizing it. As blessed as we are with our lives, we’ve outgrown our current life in so many ways. Many families in our ‘hood are making the grand exodus away to the ‘burbs for their next chapter. Makes me wonder what’s next for us, how we can clearly identify our individual and family goals, and how we can achieve those goals to break out of our status quo.

So, to combat worry, I am practicing mindfulness. It is hard! I wake up, pray for strength for the day with the kids, and purposefully pause to listen to the birds chirping outside the window. I look into my kids’ eyes as they talk or try to communicate with me throughout the day. I enjoy the warmer weather and our enchanting courtyard.

I even try to play mind games with myself, to trick myself into fully embracing and even enjoying the annoyances of life which persistently chap my hide. I try to change my perspective by reminding myself that I am blessed enough to have a parking space albeit three blocks away, and a laundry room we have to visit in the basement of our building. They will someday be part of the Kim family narrative, “Remember when Micah and Ellis were three and one, we’d have to go visit our car blocks away and make a little fieldtrip to the laundry room?” And it will make me appreciate what we’ve (hopefully) moved onto.

Sidenote: I have noticed that when trying to Change Perspective, the “At Least…” method does not work for me. “At least you don’t have bigger problems than this, you should be lucky that you only get annoyed by these mundane factors…” It makes me feel needlessly guilty and pissy.

What is next for our little family. I’m nervous. What if we don’t figure it out? Sooner than later please? What if I’m a loser? What if I never realize my potential? What if my husband doesn’t feel the same urgency I do?

Please Lord help me to be still and stop striving. To know that I am enough because You made me and therefore, I don’t have to grasp and claw for my worth. To know that You are Lord and take comfort in that. That even though it may not be evident that You are on the throne, You are. Please gift me with patience, the very thing I try to teach my own kids, while we wait on You for direction. Thank You for Your Word:

To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven:

A time to be born, and a time to die; a time to plant, and a time to pluck up that which is planted;

Ecclesiastes 3:1-2

“Taste and See…” even when you can’t feel it yet

Posted on May 22, 2014 by ajummama

I feel strongly. With every cell and through every pore and arm hair, especially the big emotions like joy and sadness. Sadness which speeds right along to anger many times, anger being my default, though I am working on slowing down this synapse.

So when I hear about others’ milestones like getting married or expecting a precious baby, I get so thrilled, even for strangers. I’ve hugged many upon getting wind of their news, and walked away wondering if I even knew their last names. Fine, first names.

The hope of a new beginning. The big milestones you’ve always imagined and wondered about (though I don’t think I ever dreamt about walking down the aisle, other than wondering who the dude at the end would be).

I remember attending many weddings in my 20s. The night before each wedding, I would feel my stomach doing somersaults, wondering how the bride could possibly go to bed before such a big life event.

This means I also feel the dark stuff with full force. When I heard about our friends’ son’s/Micah’s little buddy’s diagnosis and ensuing battle for his health, it was something that shook me to the core.

And please, I hesitated to write about any of this as I know FULLY well that this ain’t MY story, MY pain. Actually, ever since I heard about the hospitalization, I didn’t want to write any more.

Even as a mere outsider looking in, trying to walk alongside our beloved friends as best as I know how, everything else seemed pointless. Beyond stupid. Why bother?

How can I write trifling status updates on Facebook per usual when someone I know beyond acquaintanceship is going through something so tough? Am I gonna blog about my still normal life? Why? How?

It’s not the type of news I can hear and keep it moving.

Then I heard of more stories of suffering within the past month. All involving young boys ages five or younger.

Of course, not the first time I heard of suffering – just turn on the news. But something about this time, hitting a friend so suddenly, as the rest of us prepare for the summer and sort out preschool plans.

It is some bullshit.

I know that life and love, every good and perfect gift, comes from You, Lord. They are just that. Gifts. We are not entitled to any of it, but come now. When the health of a little one is involved, I can’t help but cry out to the heavens with my fists clenched.

“O taste and see that the LORD is good; How blessed is the man who takes refuge in Him!”
Psalm 34:8 (NASB)

Lord, I’m having an Israelite in the wilderness moment but it’s hard to see your goodness and wisdom right now. I’m sorry that I look at You with suspicious eyes.

I’m also feeling like a fat roasted luau pig being able to enjoy this glorious weather we’d been longing for, tagging along on my firstborn’s first real fieldtrip, while my friend’s family will be in the hospital for at least a few more weeks, then figuring out their new normal.

I take it to another level by looking at all of us with “normal” problems as fat luau pigs even though I know I shouldn’t compare. By the way, I don’t know why I keep thinking of fat roasted luau pigs as the image for spoiled, without something real to worry about.

But I find myself doing it, judging any complaints that still fall in the realm of minor. “Really? You complaining again about parking issues? That your child won’t sleep well? OUR FRIEND IS IN THE HOSPITAL and probably wishing for these mundane problems!”

Or people who say bonehead things, speaking too assuredly when they haven’t walked through the same trial.

God has never ever promised us a healthy, wealthy life, free from pain. But I guess unbeknownst to me, I’ve been banking on it for me and my loved ones, though it makes no sense at all and it is downright entitled thinking on my part.

Kevin urged me to write again. So I’m here, clumsily testing out the waters again on my tiny blog.

Lord, can You please allow us to taste and see that You are Good?

I Love You, Bros

Posted on May 7, 2014 by ajummama

Oof. Lots of pain. In the news. In friends’ lives. Just too much these past couple weeks.

In our own home, too, when Kevin and I just cannot communicate effectively or hear each other since we are fixated on getting heard and understood first. Built-up resentment. Disconnection.

I want to thank the two dudes who help me to pause. Drink in their juiciness, their innocence. Force my heavy heart to shift during those moments I gaze at them.

My boys.

You TWO. TOGETHER.

First of all, my Ellis. I have to confess that when I found out at your birth that you were, just as I had suspected, another boy, I thought you’d be Micah 2.0 and that it would be a case of, “Oh, I already have one of those at home!” Blessed but not as exciting.

Quite the contrary. You look nothing like your brother, for one. Although…you look exactly like my mom. You’ve shown yourself to be my first Ellis, my only Ellis. The roundest, cutest circle eyes like Puss in Boots and a comical pout. You are more anime than flesh and blood boy.

I have a tendency to record my harried moments with you guys more than the perfectly delicious moments.

Thought I’d at least capture a couple brother moments with Micah nearly 3 1/2 and Ellis 1 1/2.

Oh, how you both love John Mayer’s “Heartbreak Warfare.” You both squeal with delight and throw yourselves on our bed, entranced while the CD has a few second delay before the track begins. Ellis even beams and says, “shhhhhh!!” before the song comes on, with his little pointer finger to his pouty mouth.

A few weeks ago, you guys were so quiet, which I thought could only be a bad thing but when I walked into our bedroom and saw you both sitting on our high, King-sized bed, in deep thought. You were studying on your own, Micah his Jesus Storybook Bible that he loves so much, and Ellis staring at his Story of Easter book, at the page with the Asian family singing at church. Oh, my little Korean Flanders boys. What a sight.

At that moment, I wanted to pull out another sibling from my womb just to see him/her perched along with you two, on the big spacious bed. Who am I kidding? There have been plenty of other moments, too.

It warms my heart to see you guys as best friends already. Even as you run around with other little cuties at the playground, no one is your Boy, like only your Bro can be. You hug each other so tightly that you end up on the floor of our lobby, with passersby having to go around the small heap of Korean boys.

You guys hug at least four times in the morning, as if Micah is going off to war instead of 2.5 hours of school.

“Bye, Baby! I’m going to miss you, Baby! I see you later with Mommy, OK?!”

I love that your second name is Baby. Actually, we hardly ever call you “Ellis.”

When I mentioned to Micah that Ellis cried at Mommy’s Women’s Bible Study meeting for the first time, Big Bro asked if it could have been because he missed his brother too much.

When Ellis accompanies me to pick up Micah from his school, Micah is so proud and announces, “This is my baby brother Eh-wiss!” as if the teachers and classmates hadn’t known that already.

I recently corrected Micah’s pronunciation of “Eh-wiss” but I do regret it now. Preschool speech need not be corrected in its unadulterated, adorably imperfect state.

You guys want to horse around so much that I paused mid-stroll to reconfigure the stroller seats so that you guys can face each other. Of course you guys promptly began to swat each other and kick, my two stooges.

You two imitate each other and yelp whenever you are reunited. Micah likes to do fake falls from his little scooter so Ellis started doing the same. Micah eggs Ellis on to say “Ahpuhdah!” (Korean for “it hurts!”) even though I ask him to at least give him a more positive message to mimic.

I never knew that brothers would bond this deeply and this early, while one is still a roly poly baby (at least in my mind). It is a type of cuteness that makes my teef itch.

I am blessed to be able to watch your moments daily. Feeds my soul though I do get crazed by all those spills.

I hug and kiss you guys about 77 times a day. Though Micah asks me, “Mommy, do you really love me?” almost everyday, I hope you do know that I am so very in love with you both.

Thank you for being my sons. You are my only Micah and my only Ellis. And I don’t mind one bit when you guys get obsessed with me because I know that I will yearn for these days soon enough.

“Set your minds on things above…”

Posted on May 5, 2014 by ajummama

Never say never.

I never thought I’d be interested in shows like “Wife Swap,” “Celebrity Wife Swap,” or “Supernanny” and I wasn’t until fairly recently. Now I look forward to “Celebrity Wife Swap” and save space for it on our DVR when I remember to record it. And I wish “Supernanny” was still on the air.

In fact, I was affected by an episode of “Celebrity Wife Swap” the other night.

Here is how ABC synthesizes this episode that I was impacted (poisoned) by:

Robin Leach is best known as the host of the long-running television series “Lifestyles of the Rich & Famous.” Today, Robin keeps a lavish lifestyle in Las Vegas, NV complete with expensive cars, elegant dinners, fine wines and champagne, and his “Lifelong Heartstring,” Joan Severance. Robin and Joan enjoy spending almost every evening out on “The Strip.” Meanwhile, in Los Angeles, CA, Eric Roberts and his wife Eliza live a quiet life, complete with a squirrel sanctuary in the backyard. Eliza, an actress in her own right, is not only Eric’s partner in life, but partner in work as Eric’s manager and radio show co-host. Eliza is constantly working and even built a bicycle workstation where she multi-tasks the majority of the day.

But it’s not all “champagne wishes and caviar dreams” when Eliza arrives at Robin’s house and shares that she does not drink alcohol nor enjoy Robin’s love of fancy dinners and late nights on the town.

In Los Angeles, Joan feels out of her element in her new environment, which includes lots of pets – and the job of feeding the squirrels – a task that Joan does not immediately take to. Joan also soon learns how busy Eliza’s days are. From chauffeuring Eric to his numerous auditions and answering calls and sending emails to running a household, Joan yearns for her pampered life back in Las Vegas.

When it’s time for rules change, these women have a few surprises for their new families with Joan bringing more work/life balance into the Roberts’ home and Eliza giving Robin a lesson in the art of simplicity.

After we turned off the TV, I said to Kevin, “That’s IT! I want Robin Leach’s life. NOW. Champagne wishes and caviar dreams, not leftover almond butter and jam sandwiches that the boys refused to eat during our playground run. And I’m not talking about just having a little more disposable income no mo’…I want to MAKE IT RAIN!”

Another Warren G(hee) moment, with a Robin Leach additive.

I want to be able to spend as much time with my kids but still be disgustingly rich. Even though I know how blessed and rich I am to be able to stay at home, albeit on a budget sandwiched between two sets of law school loans, I plead greed after watching Robin Leach stuff his face with his nightly caviar.

I bet he doesn’t have to choose between buying a nicer eye cream or going out for Mexican food as a family. Again, I know that I am still DAMN rich compared to most of the world, with many having to choose between feeding themselves or their kids, but please indulge my First World greed for this post and maybe a handful more in the future.

He and his lady friend could fancy any of their extravagant whims at any time.

Then boom, I found myself sitting in church the next morning, listening to our Pastor Rich, launching a new series from Colossians, specifically on being “Raised With Christ” and the directive from Colossians 3:2 to “Set your minds on things above, not on earthly things.”

Rich reminded us that being raised with Christ means that God’s FUTURE life is available to us in the present to ENJOY and DISPLAY, like an advanced movie screening of joy and peace.

He also provided us with a quote from Soren Kierkegaard: “Purity of heart is to will one thing.”

While my champagne wishes and caviar dreams may remain as mere wishes and dreams (or lust and greed), I must set my mind on things above. And I will be better for it. I can have joy and peace by willing one thing – GOD.

With my fleeting lust to be filthy rich a la Robin Leach or Jihee Lee(ch), it was easy to come correct and reset my mind on things above.

However, when I heard news about a lovely and dear friend’s little boy getting sick, it was much harder to ONLY will one thing. No, not just God but healing healing healing NOW NOW NOW. And while You’re at it, Lord, health of all loved ones at all times, please!

I was comforted by yet another quote Rich shared with us. Even the esteemed Henri Nouwen struggled with double-mindedness. Wanting GOD and…:

“Indeed, how divided my heart has been and still is! I want to love God, but also to make a career. I want to be a good Christian, but also to have my successes as a teacher, preacher, or speaker. I want to be a saint, but also enjoy the sensations of the sinner. I want to be close to Christ but also popular and liked by people. No wonder that living becomes a tiring enterprise. The characteristic of a saint is, to borrow Kierkegaard’s words, ‘To will one thing.’ Well, I will more than one thing, am double hearted, double minded, and have a very divided loyalty.”

Teach me Lord to will only one thing. YOU.

But I have to be honest with You, especially since You know all my thoughts and desires anyhow. PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE heal our friend.

Please.

Thank You for giving us a blueprint for life through your commandments that will only set us up for Hope especially when nothing makes sense. Not necessarily champagne and caviar but something immensely richer.

You Fed Me Fried Fish(tail)

Posted on April 28, 2014 by ajummama

We rolled to Smorgasburg in Brooklyn Bridge Park on Sunday after church. About 100 food vendors.

Always nice to enjoy the waterfront and milder weather with, well, a smorgasbord of savory and sweet to nosh on. The downside is that food “fairs” like these are deceptively pricey. You don’t think about it because you’re not going to a fancy sit-down restaurant with cloth napkins.

You think that because you’re eating standing up, outside, from makeshift booths, you’re feasting on cheap eats but as you leave, strolling the kiddos on the cobblestoned streets of Brooklyn to your car, you come to realize that you paid $9 for six, tiny lumpia, $6 for an ice cream cookie sandwich, and $3.50 for a blueberry corn popsicle, just to name a few.

And you ain’t exactly full.

As usual, I ended up chitchatting with people among the crowds, asking people what they were eating and if it met up to the hype. Met a Chinese-American dad and his mom, with four kiddos and two cousins who are now living with them. Talked to a couple mamas with their double strollers.

The most memorable part of the food frenzy was when we sat down briefly at a picnic table to feed the boys. We ended up sitting next to an older couple who was doing work. The grandma, her chicken and waffles, and the grandpa, his fish n chips. It was a whole fish, fried, tail and all.

The line for the fish fry was absurd so I asked him if it was really that good. He was going to town on them, his hands full of fish juice and accompanying herbs.

He came up for air just to break me off the fishtail to try. He handed it over near my face, like we were family. I felt sheepish and shy, and honored, to have this stranger break me off a piece of the fish, no boundaries screaming, “I do not know you.”

I said, “Oh, no, you don’t have to do that! I don’t wanna take your food…” but he wasn’t gonna play this game.

And I got my taste of the deep fried whiting.

I sat there for a few moments, taking in the sky, the crowds, the music, the water.

I felt like weeping.

I missed my dad.

Even though I am now a parent myself, I think there will always be a vacuum in my heart, hovering around or encased within the God-shaped one, to be loved DEEPLY by my parents. I KNOW they love me so much, but to be able to bawl into their bosom/chest and feel the love of a mama/papa bear for her/his cub.

This isn’t something I consciously think about daily as I Mama Bear my own cubs but once in a while, as I fall asleep at night, or wake up from a vivid dream, oh, how I long to bare my soul to my earthly parent and be truly seen, heard, accepted and prized.

Kevin has noticed it in more recent years as my dad has become less and less accessible, spending more and more time overseas just to cobble together some income in his twilight years.

Kevin said that I seem to be yearning for the love and guidance of a father, and that sometimes, even when he is loving me as best as he knows how, as a best friend and husband, I seem to be looking past him, searching for that fatherly love.

I told this Irish man and his wifey that his gesture was so touching, to be offered food like we was family. He shrugged it off and said with his charming Irish accent, “It was good. I wanted you to try it.”

His Irish-American wifey, born and raised in Brooklyn, added, “He talks to everyone everywhere we go.”

Me, too. I don’t plan to and it’s just in spurts here and there, not whole life stories a la Forrest Gump but I do like these micro-connections.

And then I stumbled upon this article from The New York Times last night before I finally succumbed to sleep. The article states: “When we talk to strangers, we stand to gain much more than the ‘me time’ we might lose.”

Thank you, kind sir, for feeding me that fishtail. It hit the spot.