Feel the Illinoise

Every summer, I am without fail bombarded with photos of people’s glamorous vacations. Drinking vino in Portofino. Roadtripping across New Zealand. Ramen-shop hopping in Tokyo. From celebrities to friends to acquaintances, it feels like everyone took an epic vacation this summer but me.

It almost entices me to book an international getaway.

Almost.

As I Google “nonstop flights to Oslo”, I’m reminded of how wiggly G is and how much she’d hate being cooped up on a plane for 9 hours. How restless Bub would be waiting at a busy baggage claim when all he wants to do is run around. How neither of them could care less about trying new cuisine, taking photos, and admiring scenic landscapes.

They don’t care where we are. They want freedom to play. They want food when they want it. They just want to be with Steve and me.

As much as my free-spirited, restless heart wants to roam the earth, it’s not the right time.

So instead, we made the most of our summer staying local. We visited every nature center in the county, played in our neighbor’s garden, and treated my sister’s home like an Airbnb when she went on a trip.

Now with the sun setting earlier, the temps getting cooler, and the trees beginning to turn, I look back fondly on our summer. The summer Bub was four and G was a baby.

The Morton Arboretum

Fabyan Villa Museum & Japanese Garden

Hickory Knolls Discovery Center

Springbrook Prairie

Shabbona Lake State Park

HOME

My Sister’s

Last Firsts

This week, I celebrated my last baby’s first birthday. G is officially a one-year-old. No more telling people I have a baby at home.

I could cry at the drop of a hat thinking about how fast my kids are growing. The days are long but the years are short. It’s truly unfair, especially when they’re little and just so freakin’ adorable. I started writing this post on March 4th, so clearly I’ve been dreading this birthday milestone for a while.

Dreading and looking forward to it at the same time. Here I go again, a complex web of contradictions.

I am tearfully rocking my baby, I mean, my toddler to sleep because she will be ever so slightly heavier and older and more independent tomorrow. At the same time, I’m thinking about all the things I want to do with my life after she leaves the nest 17 years from now. I simultaneously want my freedom back and my children to stay in their preschool years forever.

I can’t believe a year ago we were bringing her home from the hospital. I can’t believe today, she’s walking and climbing and communicating. She’s drinking from a straw and prefers solids. I can’t believe that this is the year she’ll learn to talk, to run, and maybe move out of her crib. Tell me how the first year of a baby’s life makes sense. Seeing her grow from gremlin to a little girl in just 12 months is mind-boggling.

What’s also weird is that I don’t even remember Bub at this age. I had to look at photos and videos to remind myself, which made me terrified that I might someday soon forget what G is like at this very moment. Oh please let me remember her chubby cheeks, the sound of her babbling, her toddling to me with arms open wide. A big toothy grin on her face. I want to remember all of it.

Now I’m crying again.

35, From Survive to Thrive

Last year, when I turned 34, I remember writing that, “Instead of being just fine, I want to thrive. I want 34 to be more of what I’ve been doing, more of what I want. More prioritizing of health! More physical movement! More ways to fill my soul! And maybe, just maybe, one more kid.”

Well, the kid part certainly happened. I’m realizing now just how contradictory my statement was. The last sentence completely nullifies my first three intentions. Having a kid, for me anyway, meant eating less healthy food, less exercise, and less soul-filling activities. Being pregnant meant spending the first three months bed-ridden, the next three months eating as many pastries I could get my hands on, and the last three months of it barely able to walk on a slight incline on the treadmill. Soul-filling activities were replaced with trying to fit in as much work as possible before my maternity leave. 34, in reality, was really about surviving.

Still in the infant phase with Gertie, I’m recognizing that 35 likely means more of the same survival skills 34 required. I barely leave the house and I don’t see that changing much this year. I try to cook healthy meals and exercise, but I’m not sure how much more time I can devote to the kitchen and gym, especially when I start working again. With two kids now, I have to cram even more into the same hours. Not an easy task.

As I go to bed on my last day of my 34th year, the laundry is piled up on the bed, wrinkled and unfolded. Toys and cushions are strewn across the living room floor from Bub building an obstacle course. (He succeeded. It’s definitely an obstacle to carry Gertie from one side of the room to the other now.) I find myself burnt out from responding to my three-year-old, who constantly wants my attention, and my two-month-old, who constantly needs my attention.

Maybe it’s okay that I don’t have the energy right now to come up with different intentions for this year. Maybe it’s okay that 35 is about letting things simply be, about letting myself live life without pressure for perfection or for big moments. Maybe 35 is embracing the imperfection, relishing the mess, and noticing the tiny beautiful things.

Ode to Home

Ode to Oak Park,

Where we learned to live as a family -

Away from family.

The place that gave me space

To recover from postpartum anxiety.

The home Steve built with his bare hands,

Every finishing fearfully chosen,

Brands that supposedly promised

Safety for our children.

The home Bub learned to say his first words,

Where he learned to run and

Climb stairs.

Where he transformed from

Toddler to boy.

Organic parks with diversity -

Where our children could play

Barefoot and free.

Field, Lindbergh, Constitution.

Spacious and green without pesticide pollution.

Access to the city

With all its dirt, grime, and

Wondrous glory.

Sun, sand, Montrose Beach,

Field, Shedd, Planetarium -

Showed Bub how to be adventurous.

Dragonfruit, figs, tomatillos,

Asian pears, and purple potatoes.

New foods from the co-op

That opened up our tastebuds.

The library that broadened our minds,

Where Bub learned to love

Planes, trains, and automobiles,

But also dim sum, pumpkins,

And superheroes.

Thank you, Oak Park,

For two years of learnings and,

Moments of pure bliss.

Our first home as a family,

Where Bub learned to piss

On the potty.

I arrived terrified of the new

And leave stronger, slightly wiser -

Open to the unknown

With a now calmer view.

Thank you.

SUMMER 2021

SUMMER 2022

SUMMER 2023

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