Fun With Grandma

Having family in town is always great fun and now that Jordan is old enough to recognize his grandparents, it's not only fun while we're out and about or in and about, but also quite sad as he is still asking where Grandma went (in his way of holding up his hands and making a huh? sound and then looking under the couches and all around for something - in this case, Grandma) and Grandma has been gone for almost a week now.

This time around, when May left and Jordan had to say good-bye to her at the airport, his eyes welled up with tears and he whimpered.  Likewise, every morning Andy kisses him good-bye because Jordan's been waking up at 6:45 ish and Andy is normally getting ready to leave around 7:15 ish.  Yesterday, we realized Jordan refused to give his Daddy a kiss in the afternoon as the three of us were heading out, because in his mind, a kiss is associated with Daddy leaving.  He willingly gave me kisses galore but shook his head stubbornly everytime Andy asked for one.  It wasn't until he was buckled into his carseat and Andy was ready to drive the car that he gave him a kiss.

Our week was full of things while May was here.  We began with some basketball watching while Andy played, had some fancy lunch at Manito Tap House (and blew right through our dining out budget for the month but well worth it despite May and I making fun of Andy for seriously over-hyping the place which was good, but not as amazing as he kept insisting), made numerous trip to Walmart, grocery stores, and the mall, made our way to a Valentine play groups, gymnastics class, had take out from Spaghetti Factory, an elaborate Chinese New Year meal courtesy of May, ice cream with our Groupon, a music store where Jordan got a kazoo and a clown whistle, and storytime at the library.    When Jordan was asleep, we played a bunch of board games and had a blast learning Puerto Rico (new Christmas gift for Andy).

watching basketball before Daddy plays

attentively watching Daddy play!

 

yam chips at Manito Tap House

when going with kids, lunch time is the perfect time

Golf Digest with Grandma

 mall playground!

 play with me Grandma, look at what I got!

play-doh at the Valentine's party

 Grandma made us Spring rolls for New Year's!

 clown whistle and tuba!

 blocks at library storytime with Grandma

 computer time with Grandma

 playing the kazoo

 getting ready for board game fun

We've been constantly telling Jordan that Grandma will be back when Ethan is here.  For now, Facetime will have to do.  

Trying To Be Stylish... A Failed Attempt

I've become obsessed with a few fashion bloggers and find it so entertaining to see what they wear everyday via Instagram and Blog.  When my husband scrolls through my Instragram account (which he does daily at night), he is also subject to what these bloggers post.  Many times, I scream, "Oh, I love her shirt.. too bad it's from J. Crew."  or "Dang!  I want that Theory top!" .... and of course, "Her purse is Prada?!  That is one cute Prada bag though..."  It's great to admire from afar but come on, regular people can't afford that without going into some serious debt, and certainly not me!  His response is normally something along the lines of "Well, it must be easy to look cute all the time when everyone sends you free stuff."  Ha.  I love my husband and how he gets it.

Meanwhile, I will get jeggings from Walmart (seriously, less than $6, yes please!) because I've discovered that's all I want to wear while pregnant besides my work out pants, and blouses from TJMaxx with my luxury spending to continue at Forever21 or H&M, with occasional finds at Macy's - where I expect to become a pro next year since my mother-in-law and her sister are pros, and both happen to be in Salt Lake!

I am also sending my mom photos of what I like - jewelry I can't afford (who spends more than $10 on  a piece of jewelry?  Okay, maybe I'm the only one who doesn't...), rain boots I really don't need but kind of want anyway, and jackets I really don't need but sorta still want.  Duh.  She calls me from time to time while shopping, but lately, she has been ignoring the photos I've been sending and while in LA last time, showed me these bright silver leggings she had purchased for me.  Sorry mom, you know I'm not that trendy EVER, and you know I wouldn't be caught dead in those.  So she took 'em back, told me they were hers anyway, but she was intending to give me hers and go get another pair.  Meanwhile, I continue to ask her when she's getting me the J Brand jeans she promised but instead got herself some.  She also called the other day while at Nordstrom and asked me if I want Coach boots.  "Do they look like the black rain boots I sent you a photo of?" I asked her.  "Well, they are snow boots." she responded.  "Oh," I said, rather dejected, "well what color are they?" I asked.  "Brown," she told me.  And then, I put two and two together and asked her, "Does it say 'Coach' all over it?" to which she responded, "Not coach, but the logo, yes."

"No mom!  I am proud to be Chinese American, but I am not a FOB!"  I will not wear logo shoes.  I sincerely hope she adheres to the photos I'm sending her more.

Yes, trying to be stylish is kind of a failed attempt, but it really does take so much effort and money that sometimes, I'm okay with just being out and about in my CMC sweatshirt and workout pants.  I suppose there are also more pressing matters of life that may matter more... but one day, I will be trendy... one day, just watch and you shall see.


 

Happy Coveting Day!

Valentine's Day is so sweet, but love shouldn't need an excuse to make a grandiose debut on this day only.  Or so I tell myself because Husband and I are both quite apathetic to the day and we justify this by the fact that we've spent more than enough on each other through our recent home purchase (and all the expenses that come with it), that we're moving soon and need to save up, that we're having another kid soon and also need to save up, and that we express our love daily anyway.

I feel like I used to go out of the way to do more when I was single, because single awareness day is so important to be celebrated.  Actually, with my really close friends, we'd always get each other something special if the other was single.  It was a nice and comforting thing to have, especially when red, pink, flowers, chocolates, and sweet gestures of love were ubiquitous and inescapable.

With social media these days, it's become even worse than single days.  I mean, in many ways it's really sweet to see what other people do for their significant others, but for those of us who don't do much, there's this weird unnecessary pressure and inkling to covet that might not have been there before. How we seem to jump over this hurdle is to openly talk about the future when I might get flowers or chocolates or jewelry or we might just plan a spontaneous escapade together!  But when we do that, the dreams tend to become the family we will have, the things we will do together, the places we will travel to, and the missions we will serve.  Take what you can, right?

Nevertheless, any excuse to party is fine by me (this includes St. Patrick's Day, Cinco De Mayo, and much much more... and having a big nice backyard next year will be just the excuse to have more parties!).  I'm hoping to get together with some of the resident wives and kiddos, get one Valentine and do the whole South Pasadena circle tradition where the kids sit in a circle and give a Valentine to the person on their left (or right..?).  Plus, after missing the South Pasadena Valentine's celebration every year we were there (first year, working without kids, second year, kid was too young to care and me too lazy to make it out with him), I want to do something!

Love is in the air.  And if not, every indication that it should be in the form of red, pink, ribbons, ruffles, flowers, chocolates, and chocolate covered strawberries, pink sprinkles, and red hearts will remind you of it.

I do think it will be fun as my kids grow older and we can make Valentine's Day cards together for all our family (will admit, too lazy this year...) do heart attacks for Family Home Evening, and make heart shaped pancakes together.  Plus, who doesn't love buying or making some cute Valentine's for the school parties?  I LOVED the cupcakes the volunteer parents brought to our Valentine's Day parties with frosting and sprinkles, only to learn years later they were out of a box and I could easily mimic it too!  How much I looked forward to those cupcakes every year (twice - once for the Christmas party and once for the Valentine's party... yes, it was called Christmas before all the liberals attacked any reference to Christ or God at school and became the "Holiday Party"), and how much I loved the heart shaped pink rice krispy treats too!  Oh the fun we will have.  Especially in this generation of Pinterest inspired activities with children.

Happy Valentine's Day!  May today and everyday be filled with love.

And to my TWO valentines... I love you both to pieces! 

The L Word

As a child, love is just something you tell your parents and though you sincerely believe it to be true, you know not the tremendous weight it carries nor its consequences.  You know only it is sweet, pure, and openly displayed.  A hug, a kiss, or a simple declaration.  Affection and duty seemed one to me, and I never questioned the love I had for my parents - it was my responsibility as well as theirs. They were likewise loyal to me in their love and never made me think otherwise.

Then six years into my life, a sibling was born and I had very heavy hesitations about where my parents love went.  Suddenly, I was not the center of attention.  Suddenly, it was not all about me anymore.  Suddenly, everyone only cared about this little cute being.  Suddenly, this little living creature that I had openly wished for and voiced to my parents for so long, was now depriving me of the love and affection I deserved.

I eventually learned to like my little brother, maybe even love him, but I never was able to openly express it.  Maybe it was the age difference, maybe it was my immaturity, maybe it was the lack of examples around me, maybe it was the inverse relationship of physical affection and age (as one decreased, the other rose), or maybe it was that we were Chinese and not comfortable making big gestures after middle school.  I'm not sure what it was. .... but the hugs and kisses stopped, even the open "I love yous."  In its place, I was told I was a good and obedient daughter, a value that I believe was revered higher than that of love, and instead of being told I was loved, there were gifts for when I did something well or good... ice cream, a Barbie doll, piercing my ears...

I'm not saying there wasn't love in our house, it just was different than the love I know now.  I don't recall ever telling my brother I love him, but I have started to use the words "miss" and "think" when speaking of our relationship and what the distance between us has generated.  Though I tell my mom I love her, it's not consistent, and it's almost as if just passing by like the American version of "how are you?" spoken, but not really meant to have a follow-up besides to say it because it's the nice thing to say.  My father, I have not told him I love him since maybe the fifth grade.  It feels weird to admit my immediate family seems so devoid of love, but I think we avoid the verbal and physical affections associated with love and instead try to demonstrate it through acts of service and gifts.

But here's the weird thing about love.. it changes.  And molds.  And transforms.  And has so much power.

After I gave birth to Jordan, after I became a parent for the first time... I realized how much more I loved my parents for all that they sacrificed for me.  For my mother going through almost ten months of being pregnant, and for my father for putting up with her throughout this time.  For my mother who gave birth without drugs and had me in the course of two hours (from the time she left the house to the hospital), and for my father who loved me even though I was not the boy he expected (or the boy my grandmother so desperately wanted to meet before she passed when I was three).

I never knew how tremendous that love was until I experienced it myself.

The funny thing about that is... to say I loved my son right from the moment I met him would be a vicious lie told only so I could blend in with all the loving mothers out there.  I did not love my son immediately.  I was scared of him.  His tiny body.  His purple toes.  His bloated eyes.  I was scared of the chance he'd stop breathing out of nowhere.  I was scared of his spit-ups, his tiny gagging sounds, and I was scared I'd ruin him for life (I'm still scared of that.. even now!).  The weight of this huge responsibility of being his mother, his caretaker, his milk supply, his teacher, and his comfort scared me.  And even though I knew I was supposed to love him, I think I wasn't quite ready to love him.  Motherhood is scary like that.  Or was for me.  I just wasn't ready to fall in love with my baby the moment I saw him.

I knew what love was when a boy said it to me.  It was something I usually laughed at or responded with "thank you?" until the day my now husband said it to me (that was the day my stomach leaped, my heart stopped, and my mind went blank, that was the day we kissed for the first time, and that was when I knew whatever we had was something special- not that we'd get married, just that there was worthwhile and meaningful happening).  And ever since, that love has also grown and changed. But it's so natural to love your husband.  You already loved him before you decided to be with him forever.  But a child?  You never even got the chance to fall in love with it or meet it until it was born.. and then  he's just this purple alien who cries and poops and eats.

I've since learned that I really have issues with the L word.  Of people overusing it.  Of people putting too much weight on it.  Of people making such a big deal of it.  And then I realized... I myself was guilty of that.  Soooo soooo stupid.

The L word is a powerful word, but it's more than just a word, it's a  symbol of so much.  Of sacrifice, of giving, of being, of caring, of doing....

I eventually learned to love my son.  Or I eventually fell in love with my son.  I'm not sure when it happened, or even how it happened... but there's a reason God makes those babies so dang cute.  It makes them so much easier to love.

And now, I simply can't stop loving my son.  I am obsessed with him, and I can't believe how fast he is growing and what a little person he is becoming and I absolutely can't stop myself from kissing him everyday, as many times as I can on the cheek, and telling him I love him anytime during the day.  I'm sure he has not a clue what it all means, but I'd like to believe he also loves me when he pats me on the back as he hugs me, when he openly gives me kisses and when he runs to me after a short stint of not seeing me, as if it's the happiest he's ever been to be reunited with me again.  

I know these thoughts on love are all scattered, but I have just been thinking of how much I love Jordan and how that love will be multiplied for Ethan, or if it will?!  Part of me is scared that I won't love Ethan right away, that I will resent him for the time he is taking away from Jordan and me, because I'm already in love with Jordan.  I'm scared I will have the same reaction to Ethan that I had with Jordan.. only with two kids and already loving one, that would be highly awkward and desperately sad.

I know that's probably silly to most people, especially those with two kids who will reassure me otherwise, but I'm being really honest.  What if I don't fall in love with my child immediately like so many moms and it takes time again?!  And then I think of my own struggle with a new sibling, and wonder how Jordan will handle it.  I know we have to involve him and help him love his little brother, but I am scared out of my mind because I remember how not fun it was to share the limelight with my new brother.  Hopefully I was just a very obnoxious six year old too used to my life as an only child, whereas Jordan has only been around for about two years.  Hopefully Jordan is better than I was.

The L word.  What will it mean to me when I have two kids to love?  Will it grow inside of me?  Will I have more capacity to love?

The Right Tools

Even though Jordan is not the greatest eater, even though he occasionally refuses to eat things he once loved and ate willingly, even though he would rather play than eat or for that matter, run or golf or throw a ball than eat, even though eating seems to be the last thing on his mind until he is absolutely famished, even though he will eat rice and noodles, or any carb and is okay with fruits and vegetables but might be a little protein deficient... we have found a work around.

For Jordan, a toothpick has seemed to solve my problems of him not wanting to eat.  He is so intrigued by the little stick that goes into whatever he is consuming, that he eats it up, realizes it's actually good, and then asks for more.  

We discovered the toothpick's splendor during our trips to Costco, where I always just assumed the timing must have perfectly coincided with his hunger.  I was wrong.  It took me a few trips to isolate the trigger for his good sample eating being none other than .... 

A toothpick. 

It's amazing.  He is such a character of his own from his obsession with golf to his eating habits, but whatever he won't try, put it on a toothpick, and into his mouth it goes.  He loves holding the toothpick, and will willingly try whatever is on the toothpick and ask you for more.  It is an amazing and brilliant thing and I'm glad we found the right tools.  Who knows how long it'll last?  Doesn't matter, we're capitalizing on it while we can.  And by capitalizing I mean, Andy brought home a ton of toothpicks from the hospital cafeteria that we are successfully using to feed Jordan protein.   

Constantly Hungry

I'm unsure if the baby is growing or if my hormones are out of whack, but I am continually hungry.  Famished.  And I have been craving sweets a LOT lately.  I love cookies, donuts, cake, ice cream, rice krispy treats, and I am dreaming of a wedding cake with a fruit layer.  Oh how I wish we had a network of single friends getting married every other week here so I could have some cake!

I would blog more but I have to send some work e-mails and my husband just got home from his rotation.  Life is good.

God Will Make Up The Difference

rec·on·cile

1. to cause (a person) to accept or be resigned to something not desired: He was reconciled to his fate.

2. to win over to friendliness; cause to become amicable: to reconcile hostile persons.

3. to compose or settle (a quarrel, dispute, etc.).

4. to bring into agreement or harmony; make compatible or consistent: to reconcile differing statements; to reconcile accounts.

I stared at the looming difference for what seemed like infinite, never ending hours.  In reality, it was only an hour at most, but the weight of the unexplainable difference hindered me from moving forward, prevented me from enjoying the night, and haunted me like a bad dream you can't shake off but desperately try to.  In accounting, we say, if it's immaterial, no further review deemed necessary.  How I wished it was immaterial.  How I wished I could pass for further review.  How I longed and hoped and wished.  It'd be nice to have a staff member do all the dirty work and me just sit back and review, as I munched on a fortune cookie (we used to jack a ton from the free pile at the nearby Pei Wei during busy season).  But there was no staff member.  Only me.  Just myself.  All on my own to figure it out.  And all I remember was sitting there, dumbfounded by my own stupidity and inadequacy, trying to figure out what other adjustments I needed to include, and realizing.. this just does NOT make sense... what on earth am I missing?!

In the background, Andy and his mom (who's visiting us for the week, Jordan is so stoked and we are all having a great time with Andy's schedule hehe) watched an action movie.  I felt so distressed.  Distraught.  Disillusioned.  Disheartened.  Disabled.  Dissed.  Simply ill to my stomach.

Stupid reconciliation!

For the last week, I have been tasked with helping to prepare the documents for the accountants who do our business owners' taxes.  It wasn't until last night when the entire workbook was coming together and I was faced with trying to reconcile a difference of $60k, which by a large public accounting firm's materiality probably is meaningless or de minimis, but in our case, was definitely worth investigating.

I didn't think to ask anyone for help.  I thought I could do it on my own.  I do have a CPA (despite being inactive), and a reconciliation is accounting 101.  As I took a break to study with Andy, he very discreetly reminded me that a prayer seeking some guidance from Heavenly Father might be a good idea.  I'm not sure why I didn't think to do that, especially considering I had a HUGE work mess up in the morning that I quickly, sincerely, and humbly prayed about - mostly that it'd work out but that if it didn't, I wouldn't get fired, and if I did, that we'd have enough money to be okay anyway, and if not, that we'd be okay as is (you get the drift).  I guess I knew with an error, it was a mistake I couldn't fix and needed assistance from above, whereas with this reconciling conundrum, I somehow figured I had the knowledge and ability to figure it out.

I quickly repented and humbly asked for help to solve it or forget about it until tomorrow.  After conversing with God, I opened the computer and took another look.  For some reason, I felt like I needed to understand the adjustments and then after doing that, I agreed out the W-2 wages for each employee once more.  And a-ha!  I corrected some numbers, added some missing ones, revisited the reconciling items I knew should be excluded or included, and then .....

my difference was down to $300.

That might be a lot to you and me on a personal level, but for accounting purposes for the business... it meant I could go to sleep, after giving thanks to God first, of course!

God always makes up that difference that we are unable to.  I think I just sometimes forget, especially when I'm doing something I should know how to do.  Something I know how to do.  Something that seems silly to ask for help with.