Dayjamas

Toe jam parade

Kiku is obsessed with picking her toe jam.  I'm not sure where she picked this up because I know she's never seen me do it.  Her dad, on the other hand...ahem.  They both have those long, skinny toes.

Sometimes she'll be completely immersed in an activity and just stop suddenly, rip off her socks, and proceed to inspect the areas between her toes.  I don't see any reason to stop her - she just seems so satisfied when she finds something - but it is a little gross when we're out in public at, say, story time at the library, and she's digging in there while the other kids are having their snack (and no, she doesn't eat it).

Half-hatched

On a recent trip to the Zoomazium at the Woodland Park Zoo, Kiku sat inside a dinosaur egg.  The shell is made up of four puzzle pieces, and parents try their darndest to put it together correctly while squirmy toddlers wait to be hatched.  It's not an easy task!

Ouchies

JJ had this to report after dropping Kiku off at preschool:

Kiku did great when I dropped her off this morning. She immediately ran over to the teacher and lifted up her pant leg and announced "I have an ouchie!!!", and all the kids came over to look.

Nia rocks!

I went to a Nia class this morning and I feel like a million bucks.  I've been trying to shake the weather-induced blues lately and it really helped me break out of my rut.  I feel light and energetic, and can feel a bit of creative energy percolating.  I want to shout out, "hello me!  It's nice to see you again!"

What I love about Nia is that it incorporates different types of movement (dance, yoga, and martial arts) and focuses on strengthening the mind, body and spirit from the inside out.  It's low-pact and really allows you to let go and enjoy your body.  I remember going to aerobics classes in the 80's and the instructor shouting, "feel the burn!  No pain, no gain!"  Those classes always felt like more of a chore than anything else.  After a Nia class, I always feel one step closer to being in tune with myself.  I look forward to going as much as possible, and this is coming from someone who once joined a gym and only went seven times in one year (yes, seven - it was a very stressful year).

I'm really looking forward to getting back into shape.  I gained 55 lbs. while I was pregnant and although I managed to lose most of it, I'm still holding on to ten extra lbs. - which is significant on a 5'3" frame.   I really miss the old me.  Sometimes I look in the mirror or at a recent photo and cringe.  Is that really me? 

With the help of Nia, lots of walking, and good nutrition, I'm going to get my old self back.  Dammit. 

It's only a day away

Kiku belting out Tomorrow from the Annie Soundtrack.

Is one enough?

I can’t tell you how many times I’ve heard the question, “so, do you think you’ll have another one?” this past year.  Everyone wants to know.  My in-laws, the neighbors, the mail carrier.  It can be a complicated question to answer when you haven’t quite figured it out yet.  Usually I tell people that we’re “on the fence” and “thinking hard about it.”  But they still keep asking.

It seems like everyone I know is either pregnant, trying to get pregnant, or just had a second baby.  I only know a few couples, as in two, who have decided without a shadow of a doubt that their kid will be an only child.  One dad has already gotten a vasectomy. 

I was an only child.  I didn’t mind.  Sure, I played by myself a lot, but I also had loads of friends, many who I still keep in touch with and consider to be part of my family.  Sometimes I wished for an older brother – someone who could protect me and show me the ropes -  but for the most part I was fine being an only.  Kiku is incredibly social and independent like I am.  She loves being out and about, seeing people, engaging with strangers, and interacting with other kids.  She’s already developing little friendships at preschool (which is heart melting), so I’m not particularly worried about her making friends.  And she’ll also be closer to family once we move back to northern California later this year.   

But I am concerned about her being alone if something should ever happen to JJ and I.  I hate thinking about this morbid stuff, but shit happens.  JJ is leaning towards having only one.  Kiku can be a tough cookie and we’re still exhausted and sleep deprived.  He has a brother who he has nothing in common with (except their parents) and knows there’s no guarantee that Kiku and her sibling will get along.  What if they fight constantly?  What if our relationship is strained even more?  Is it worth taking the chance?

I’m leaning in the same direction as JJ, but part of me yearns for a bigger family.  Even though I was fine being an only child, I think it would've been easier to deal with my grandmother passing (and other family issues) if there'd been someone to experience it all with.  The other thing is that Kiku absolutely loves babies.  She’s always playing with her dolls, feeding them and putting them to sleep.  She’s even been asking for a little brother or sister since many of her toddler friends have started having siblings.  Then I think about me.  What about going back to work and continuing to develop myself?  When is that going to happen if I have a second baby?  Will I want to stay home again?  I feel like I've lost so much of myself since having Kiku, and even though I'm starting the rediscovery process, I'm afraid of what will happen if there are two pairs of little feet running around, especially if the second one is as intense and strong-willed as the first.

I just don’t know.  I saw my OB/GYN a few months ago and she told me that we should probably start trying for another baby within the year if we wanted another one.  It’s the age thing.  She also told me that it was time for my fist baseline mammogram.  A mammogram?!  Damn.  Am I really 38 years old?

So we need to decide pretty darn quick, because I’m not too keen on the idea of being pregnant at 40+.  I know plenty of women do it, but pregnancy wasn't easy for me and the idea of doing it all over again, at 40, is daunting.   

It must be SAD

I think I have Seasonal Affective Disorder.  For the past few months, everything has just felt really hard.  I haven’t been feeling good about myself or my life - past, present or future.  I’m not interested in food (very odd) or socializing (even stranger).  I feel sluggish and tired most of the time.  Thing is, I’m not a naturally depressive person.  Sure, I feel down at times and can complain like the best of them.  But I’ve always been a glass half-full, everything will be ok, down right optimistic person.  I’m a survivor.  At least I used to be.

This isn’t the first time I’ve felt this way since moving to the Northwest.  We had relatively mild winters the first two years we lived here, but last year I remember feeing just as blue between the months of January and March.  Maybe even April.  That’s a fair chunk of the year to feel like crap just because the weather sucks.

So what to do about it?  Exercise is helpful, but it’s hard to motivate when you feel like you’re being weighed down by a concrete slab. I’ve been popping vitamins and trying to drink lots of water.  Emergen-c packets have become my morning staple.  I’ve read a little about light therapy, which sounds potentially helpful.  And then there’s coffee.  Seattle hasn’t become an espresso mecca by accident.  I quit drinking coffee when I got pregnant and never went back.  I’m a single-tall-decaf-latte person now, but maybe it’s time to start sippin’ the strong stuff again.  Hello Peet’s, I’ve missed you. 

I’m starting to worry about how my mood is affecting Kiku.  She seems as energetic and upbeat as ever, but I still worry about it.  I’m not an especially emoting person, but lately I’ve been sobbing a fair amount and she’s taken notice.  Last night after dinner I couldn't keep back the tears when I was overcome by a wave of sadness.  Kiku handed me her stuffed bear and said, “mama, are you sad?”  Then she gave me a big hug and I felt a little better.  It was heartwarming and heartbreaking all at the same time.  Part of me wonders if showing more emotion is actually good for her.  JJ keeps reminding me that kids are extremely resilient.  He’s right…but I still worry. 

What I need is a week in a warm, sunny location.  Hawaii comes to mind.  So does Mexico.  What I wouldn’t give for a tropical breeze, a walk on the beach, and a Pina Colada by the pool. 

A not-so Betty Crocker moment

Some days I secretly feel like trading in my daughter for a different model. Take today for example.  It was a dreary afternoon and the sky was pissing down rain.  The last thing I felt like doing was going outside.  But what to do with an energetic toddler?  Must think of a stimulating inside activity.  TV?  Kiku was done with TV after watching ten minutes of her favorite movie, Annie.  She’s not the kind of kid that can watch endless amounts of TV.  Sometimes I wish she were. 

I racked my brain while we played with blocks, then puzzles, until I decided that we were going to bake some chocolate chip cookies. 

Now, I have several mom friends who bake with their kids all the time.  They talk about how much their little ones love to help stir, add ingredients, and sometimes just watch out of curiosity.  What fun it is!  A few of them even purchased the pricey Learning Tower so their kid could have a better view.  Not my kid.

Our experience goes something like this.  Kiku adds a few ingredients to the mixing bowl and stirs gently.  Innocent enough.  Then she grabs some flour mixture and sprinkles it on the counter.  She looks for my reaction.  Then she starts eating flour, and swiftly moves on to the sugar.  She scoops batter onto the floor, and more is flung to the far reaches of the kitchen.  All the while, I’m running interference while actually trying to make some cookies.  It wasn’t fun.  For either of us.  It ended with an award-winning tantrum and some burnt cookies.

It's not like this was an unfamiliar experience, but it's been a while since we’ve done any baking and I thought it was time to give it another try.  I wish I could be the kind of person who didn’t care about big messes.  I wish I could just let go.  Flour in the hair, eggs on the walls, food fights, everybody having a dizzying good time.  No, that’s not me, at least not anymore.  I'm too tired.  I just want to bake cookies. 

I realized that I had some serious expectations.  In my mind, we were going to share a wonderful mother-daughter experience that I never got to have with my own mother.  I found myself wishing that just once, my daughter could be less intense and strong-willed.   But that’s not who she is.  We don’t get to pick our kids as much as they don’t get to pick their parents. 

Kiku is just not ready for baking right now, and maybe one day it will be a bonding experience for us.  For now, I need to reel in my expectations and appreciate her for who she is. 

Gung Hay Fat Choy

Culturally impaired

This weekend I'm throwing a little party for Chinese New Year.  I'm mostly Chinese (with some Japanese and a little Irish thrown in) but my husband is Jewish, my family lives in another state, and we live in a less-than colorful community, so I thought I'd add some cultural flavor to our lives by celebrating the year of the Pig.

I sent out an Evite last month and relaxed, envisioning the party going something like this:  serve dim sum, moon cakes, and jasmine tea, and hand out red envelopes "lei see" to the kids.  People eat, talk, laugh, a kid spills juice on the rug, someone cries, and then they go home.  A piece of cake.  But as the date approached, I realized that I had no idea what I was doing.  Decorations?  Music?  Entertainment?  No clue.  All my family ever did to celebrate Chinese New Year was go out for dim sum, or have a ten course meal at a Chinese restaurant.

My family has never been very traditional, and the cultural traditions we did follow pretty much ended when my grandmother died in 1992.  I was never taught how to cook Chinese food, mainly because my grandmother (who raised me) rarely cooked it herself, preferring instead to cook dishes from her native land, Denver, Colorado.  The only culinary reminder of being in a Chinese household was the pot of rice that appeared on the dining room table every night, regardless of what else was being served.

I also never learned how to speak Chinese, despite spending grades K-3 in a Chinese bilingual classroom.   My grandparents could speak a little - just enough to get by in Chinatown – and they only used it at home when they didn’t want me to understand what they were saying.

So yeah, I feel like a bit of a sham.  I look the part and can dress the part, but I’m not really authentic.  Thank god for the internet and a kick-ass Asian market, because I found everything I needed to know to throw a traditional Chinese New Year’s party.

Gung Hay Fat Choy!