Togetherness

Long before I had kids, I pictured myself traveling with them and taking them out to eat all the time. I pictured us in a cafe for breakfast. One kid in a high chair, sitting quietly, while another kid sat in the booth also sitting quietly. We’d converse at a normal volume, eat our eggs and croissants like civilized people, laugh occasionally, and leave without a mess.

Now, I laugh at how unrealistic my vision was.

These days, taking the baby anywhere is a chore. Eating at restaurants results in food all over the booth and floor. Both kids are restless and eager to run around. They’re usually yelling. When the food arrives, Steve scarfs down his meal while I hold G and then we switch. We leave feeling fed but not relaxed in any way.

And yet, going out just the four of us has become one of my favorite things to do. Yes, it’s more work to get us all out of the house. Yes, I still struggle with some anxiety leaving the house. But, I tell myself the pros outweigh the cons. The more we practice getting out, the easier I find it. And, I am loving our adventures together. Whether it’s our regular routine of the library, the bookstore, and Trader Joe’s or exploring something new, I look forward to experiencing life. Together.

Photos by Mo ♥️

Focus

I often feel like I have some sort of attention deficit disorder as a parent. It’s difficult for me to focus on my kids for more than a few seconds before my brain starts to wander. Even when Bub is doing something hilarious to get my attention. Even when G is cooing and smiling in my face. As soon as I realize I’m distracted, I feel the guilt swoop in. I’m a horrible mother for not paying attention to my adorable children right in front of me. How could I not see the gifts before my very eyes? The ones that only last a moment before they’re gone, sometimes forever. They’ll only be little for so long. Focus, Linda! Focus! The judgy, anxious, negative thoughts start to cloud my brain, replacing the random distracted ones that were there seconds before.

The older I get, the more memories my brain collects, which means the more memories my brain can wander to. The more I’m with my kids without a break, the more my brain wanders, because I haven’t given it the time and space to wonder. I used to be able to think about anything I wanted without any guilt.

Honestly, I’m not made for this. “This” being parenting. And because I’m not made for this, I don’t think I’m cut out for it. All my life, I’ve let myself think deeply about things that I want to think about - selfishly. When I became an adult, as soon I wanted to do something, I, more often than not, did the thing that I wanted. Perfectly conditioned to be self-centered by my family, my education, the media, and society at large.

As soon as my kids entered the picture, my world shifted to revolving around them. Physically, mentally, emotionally, logistically, financially. It’s a true mindf***. Thirty years of thinking only of myself and all of a sudden, I’m not able to do that anymore? That’s hard.

What, I’m supposed to be able to stare at a baby for hours now? I’m instantly supposed to be able to play make-believe for hours on end? Asking me to do these things when I’ve had time for myself is challenging, let alone having to do them on a day without any breaks. Yet, I feel immense pressure to enjoy it. You’re going to miss it when it’s gone. There’s that inner critic again.

I wish I had gone to “Parenting School” before having kids. This hypothetical school would wake me up at all hours of the night and time me at how fast I could change a diaper. It would teach me all the “Daniel Tiger” songs I’d need to know for any task or emotion. It would quiz me on how to make a proper bottle of formula. I’d get hands-on training on how to safely buckle a toddler in a car seat. And, the final exam would be to do all of this every day for three months straight while the sound of a crying baby played loudly in the background.

One of the most surprising aspects of parenting is, perhaps, how mundane it can be. Repeatedly building blocks, reading board books, and singing “Row Row Row Your Boat” is…boring and mind-numbing. Four years ago, I could travel anywhere I wanted at the drop of a hat. I could go out to restaurants on a whim. I could stay out late without an ounce of guilt. Now the most exciting part of my day is going to bed without crying.

I became a parent without any training. Zero conditioning whatsoever. So, when I start to feel guilty for not being able to focus on playing Baby Skye in a pretend Paw Patrol scenario with Bub because my brain keeps thinking about a work email, an anxious thought, Timothée Chalamet at the Golden Globes, and the rice that can’t boil over on the stove, I’m going to give myself a break.

It’s no question that parenting is relentless, but how do I stay present in the relentlessness? It’ll take practice, discipline, and more mental stamina than I ever could have imagined. Being present is a practice. Being present is a practice. Being present is a practice.

Baby G

Six weeks after giving birth and I still have a hard time believing I’m a mom of two kids. Kids. Kid, plural. Meaning, more than one kid.

As I look back on my Baby #2 musings, I had a lot of fears going in. Now that G is here, I can say that some of those fears still exist but only faintly. One fear I was able to instantly debunk was not feeling like I could love more than one kid. Before G, Bub was my everything. As soon as they placed her in my arms, my heart doubled. The love is different but equally distributed.

Bub and G are similar and different in many ways, what with being siblings and all. For one, G loves to be out of the house. She wants to see the world. Bub, being a pandemic baby, is more of a homebody. While we spent the first 18 months of Bub’s life holed up at home, Steve has already taken G on daily strolls around the neighborhood, to restaurants, to backyard barbecues, and to Grandma’s on the regular.

True to her behavior in the womb, G loves to move around. While Bub as a baby would happily nestle and sleep on my chest all day, G likes to change positions often and stretch out. She wants to be bounced and walked around. Her eyes flutter at her surroundings. Her lips turn into an “oh” as if to say “ohhhh, look at that”.

Born a pound and a half more than her brother, G doesn’t guzzle milk like he did. He was tiny and hungry all the time. She tends to graze and has been dubbed a “lazy nurser” by the lactation consultant for nursing a little bit before falling asleep and needing to be woken up to continue feeding.

Who knows what these observations mean. Perhaps nothing when it comes to their ultimate personalities. It’s been fun to comment and observe these two little humans we’ve been gifted with, no less.

Friends, family, and strangers have asked if we’re having more kids. If they had asked me the day she was born, I would have told them I might go for one more. But once the endorphins subsided and the exhaustion settled in, I decided that two was enough. I don’t want to pregnant again (I was so physically uncomfortable leading up to her delivery). While I’ll miss having a newborn, I want my life back. Well, at least more of my life back. I will never truly have my life back. Some part of my brain will always be thinking of my children. Taking care of a newborn is a 24/7, round-the-clock, always-on job. Holidays and sick days be damned. In a year, it’ll be nice to have more hours of the day to focus on myself again. In a few years, it’ll be easier for us to take a three-year old and a six-year old on trips. Having a third kid would mean restarting the clock on doing more fun things as a family. Not that we can’t have fun with a baby, it’s just that our adventures right now are more…scaled back.

I’m officially done having kids. That short chapter of my life is resolutely over. It makes me feel old somehow. As soon as G was born, I felt the clock ticking. Blink and she’ll be walking. Turn around and she’ll be in middle school. Wake up and she’ll be in college. Cherish every moment, I tell myself, because it’s all so temporary.

California Calling

When we moved out of California three years ago, we didn’t think we’d be back for a while. And yet, we’ve traveled back twice since then. We just can’t seem to stay away.

This time, we wondered why we left in the first place.

Oakland Hills

We were in a state of flow the entire trip, the most enjoyable one to date with a toddler in tow. It helped that our rental home was high up in the Hills, where we felt like we were floating on clouds. The nicest place we’ve rented, by far.

There were stairs, so many stairs. We counted 50 steps alone to get down to the garden. We embraced them though, our legs now slightly more toned and our cardio slightly improved. The four stories of stairs were well worth the views on views on views.

Sibley Volcanic Regional Preserve

Hiking with a three year-old is interesting. He’s too big for the stroller, which didn’t fare well on the rocky trails anyway. He wanted to stop often to collect and chuck rocks, which didn’t bode well with his father who wanted to hike continuously. And, we underestimated the sun, failing to slather him with sunscreen.

But, we considered it a win getting him out in nature. We breathed in the intoxicating smell of bay leaves, eucalyptus trees, and the super blooms. We said hi to all of the dogs on the trail, missing our own Buddha back in Illinois. Coming from the flatlands, our glutes were grateful for the elevation. When we lived here and hiked Sibley on weekends, we took it for granted. Now, we know how special it is.

While heading back to our trailhead, I went down the slippery slope of asking Bub if he wanted to take a picture of Steve and me. I handed him my phone (on airplane mode) and for the rest of our 10-day trip, he offered to take photos of us - just to feel the phone in his hands. What have I started.

Tilden Little Farm

We came here last year with Bub and it is one of my favorite places for little ones. You can bring your own lettuce and celery to feed the animals. It’s attached to the Tilden Nature Area, giving us the option to hike afterwards. There is something about seeing children gently interact with animals that is such a joy to witness.

Photo by Bub

Mill Valley

Going out for dinner, whether at a restaurant or a friend’s house, became the norm on this trip. I’ve dreamed of having a family that tried all different types of foods and restaurants together. I’m slowly realizing this dream and it took getting over my fear of 1) leaving the house and 2) letting my kid eat something I didn’t cook. Easy for most parents to do. Very hard for me.

In Mill Valley, we went to the Watershed Restaurant, where we ordered the sardines on toast. Crispy sardines on a layer of avocado mash, topped with pickled peppers, on hearty sourdough bread - surprisingly delicious.

After lunch, we looked for a park nearby to take Bub. Steve found Old Mill Park a few minutes away. When we drove up to it, I was in awe. There is a photo on my vision board of a place like this playground. In the photo, a group of children are playing outside at a forest school. Surrounded by tall, strong trees. A place where kids can play freely in nature, in the fresh air. For over an hour, we chucked rocks in the stream, played hide-and-seek between the giant redwoods, and enjoyed a playground so different than the ones we see in Illinois.

Oakland Zoo

We met up with my best friend and his family at the Oakland Zoo, a place with over 11,000 positive Google reviews - the most I’ve ever seen. Before having kids, there was no reason for me to go to any zoo. Wildlife in captivity, overpriced food, children running around like animals. Wouldn’t touch the place with a ten-foot pole. Then I had a kid and was convinced to visit the Oakland Zoo primarily for the gondola ride everyone raves about.

When Bub was a baby, I used to tell Steve that we’d always put Bub’s needs first. We agreed we’d leave any place if Bub ever needed to feed, nap, or go to bed. A nice excuse to have when we wanted to leave a place early. But on this day at the zoo, nobody wanted to leave. Four hours flew by before Steve and I debated whether to stay or go (as Bub tiredly spaced out in the bat exhibit). Excited by all the activities and things to see (the gondola did not disappoint). Full from the cafeteria pizza and hamburger he had for lunch. Exhausted from running in the sun. Thirsty from finishing his milk and only having tap water to drink (I know, I spoil him). We asked ourselves, “Do we let him fall asleep in the wagon? Do we go home now to nap? Do we risk staying a little longer and skip a nap completely?”

I didn’t know what to do. I should put Bub’s needs first. We should have left an hour ago so he could nap in a bed. But, I didn’t want to leave. I wanted to stay and hang out with my friends. Friends I only get to see once a year. I made the not-so-great parenting decision of staying another half an hour and feeding Bub chocolate Dippin’ Dots. We left shortly after and didn’t even get to check out the amusement rides. Pretty sure I was the one who was pouting when we left.

NAPA

Google “kid-friendly wineries in Napa” and Frog’s Leap Winery will appear in the results. Let me tell you that the only “kid-friendly” thing about Frog’s Leap Winery is the garden, albeit a very large and organic garden. I was hoping to order a charcuterie board while Steve sipped some wine, but the winery only offered tastings (which I’m sure is common in Napa given wineries would need to go through the hassle of obtaining food and alcohol licenses). Nevertheless, we had a lovely time running through the flowers, clucking at the chickens, petting the property dog, and pointing out the frogs in the pond.

Steve looked up a couple places nearby we could have lunch at and I chose The Charter Oak Restaurant in Helena solely based on the picture of soft-serve I saw. “I want that,” I told Steve decidedly. “Alrighty,” Steve chuckled as he drove us to the nicest restaurant we’ve ever taken a toddler. Throughout our expensive meal, we caught Bub chucking the housemade playdough the hostess gave us, told Bub repeatedly to put his shoes back on, and tried to convince him to eat a couple of vegetables while he impatiently waited for his ice cream. My only regret is that we didn’t order two soft-serve ice creams.

Friends, food, & fog

Memorial Day weekend was dedicated to seeing our friends and family as much as we could. Difficult with a toddler who finds adult conversations boring. One of us was always entertaining him so that the other could catch up with friends.

Steve and I started to pretend that this was our day-to-day life. We got used to the fog greeting us in the mornings and in the evenings. We remembered to always carry sunscreen with us for when the sun would inevitably appear midday. We thought about which neighborhoods we’d want to live in as we drove through them and which schools we’d want Bub to attend. Even though we’ve made the decision to settle in Illinois, we still wrestle with the dream of coming back west for good. As Steve reassured everyone throughout the week, “It’s not a matter of if. It’s a matter of when.”

The fog in the morning

The view midday

The sunset on a clear night

Goodbye super cool house

Thanks for the photo ops, Bub

Thanks for the largest organic strawberries, Berkeley Bowl

Thanks for the good food and fast service, United Dumplings

Thanks for letting us chat at friends’ houses, Bub, while you sat quietly and ate watermelon

Thank you, Ajanta, for the meal Steve and I look forward to every time we visit

Thanks for letting us borrow the Batmobile, Batman

Our Golden Boy

I’m officially a mom of a three year-old. Bub himself tells me these days that he’s not a baby anymore. He’s a “kid” now.

When my nephew turned three a while back, my sister said that the first few years of a child’s life should really be spread out across several years. It would give us time to figure out the whole baby thing and most importantly, give us time to really enjoy them when they’re small and so cute. Because in reality, damn, do they grow up fast.

From year two to year three, Bub:

• Expanded his vocabulary like crazy - when he first turned two, he could string a couple words together and now, he speaks in full articulate sentences

• Learned (most of) the alphabet (he’s still working on his flash cards with Grandpa)

• Learned to count to 20 (almost - he still says “eleventeen”)

• Can pee on the potty and has pooped on the potty a few times

• Lost his chubby toddler cheeks, grew three inches, and gained 10 pounds

• Can sing songs and dance

• Can play with toys using his imagination

• Can run around at full-speed (down store aisles, around the kitchen island, across the soccer field)

• Has watched entire movies and shows (and is obsessed with the Avengers)

A year ago, I could carry him around without my shoulders aching. And, I could carry him wherever I wanted. These days, everywhere we go, whatever we do requires a conversation. He has strong opinions now. He can charm and negotiate. He expresses himself through stronger emotions. Leaner and taller, he can reach and climb higher. He can be trusted to fetch things upstairs on his own, play independently while I shower, and feed Buddha all by himself. He often tells me, “Mama, you stay here. I’ll be right back.”

Being alone with him isn’t as much of a chore anymore. It’s more like spending time with a buddy. This time last year, I didn’t let him watch any TV, nor was he interested. Now, he watches two to three hours a day. It’s not something I’m proud of, but it gives us the break we need as parents. Plus, it gives us another thing to bond over. I now know the names of all of Spider-Man’s friends, his vehicles, and his villains. On the bright side, we read a lot more. Moving beyond board books, we can read for longer because his attention span has grown. It’s amazing what he can remember and help me remember.

These days, one of my favorite things to do with him is cook. He’ll help me crack eggs (still working on keeping the shells separate) and add and mix the ingredients. Steve says the activities we do together will only get more fun.

As each year goes by, I enjoy him more. Not because he becomes more enjoyable, but because I’m learning how to enjoy being a parent. When he first turned two, I still obsessed about feeding him a healthy diet, keeping him away from every imaginable toxin, and making the right decisions all the time. Over the past year, I’ve learned to relax when he eats a non-organic grape, goes anywhere with Steve, or watches one too many hours of TV. Perhaps because he’s older and not a baby anymore. Perhaps because I really am letting go of the facade of being a perfect parent.

I’m not sure what year three to year four will bring. I am sure, however, that it’ll involve more patience, more awareness of my own downsides, more letting him figure things out on his own. It’ll require calming myself down when he goes to school for the first time. It’ll demand me releasing feelings of guilt when his little sister is born and I can’t focus all of my attention on him. It’s truly bittersweet to watch him grow, but more sweet than bitter as I watch him discover more about himself and the world. Thanks for choosing me to be your mama, Bub. Happy three years to us ❤️