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

Days Like These

This trip, he couldn’t get enough of the pool and swimming on his own (with floaties)

The best vacations are the ones where I forget what day it is because one glorious day blends in with the next. Such was the case on our second trip to Florida as a family. We got into an easy routine of waking up, eating breakfast, swimming in the pool, breaking for lunch, taking a nap, going back into the pool, taking a bath, eating dinner, playtime, and then bed.

The days flew by, which is rarely the case back home when we’re trying to entertain Bub all day while balancing work. We decided this time to not bring our laptops and truly disconnect as much as we could. Our skin lapped up the humidity, our hair textured from the chlorine, our bodies tanned by the sun. Quality time together, as a family, with minimal distractions. That’s what I want our vacations together to be about.

The theme for this trip has been going with the flow. Compared to our first trip a year ago, this one has been much more relaxed - mainly due to my headspace. Because we’ve done this trip before, I had a better idea of what to expect and pack. Instead of a large suitcase, we fit everything into a carry-on. Unlike last year when I was still extremely strict about what we fed Bub, we ate at a couple restaurants this trip. I did my best to balance cooking meals and letting him have sweet treats. But, he’s at the age where it’s getting harder to hide snacks and desserts from him. The horror of feeding him non-organic anything a year ago would have given me a panic attack. This time in my pregnant state, we shared popsicles by the pool and near the end of our stay, he had ice cream for dinner.

Restaurants, sugary popsicles, ice cream for dinner?? I don’t know who I am anymore. The drastic difference between Vacation Linda a year ago and Vacation Linda now is wild. I think I like this version more. Sure he’s exposed to things that aren’t necessarily healthy for him (which was going to happen anyway despite my worry). But in return, he has a more relaxed mama who can actually enjoy herself - and him - for a change.

Steve is another huge reason why I’ve become more chill. We’ve learned (painfully) from last year’s vacations what spikes my anxiety. He now does his best to work around them or at least, help me work through them. This pregnancy has also forced Steve to own more of the domestic duties. He habitually does the laundry, no matter what state or house we’re in. He did most of the cooking this trip and almost always cleaned up afterwards. A husband who cooks, cleans, cares for the home, and is an attentive dad. He does it all his own way and perhaps not always the way I would prefer, but I’m finally feeling a load taken off of me.

Parenting is such a trip.

Zonked after a long day of travel the day before, swimming, pizza, and listening to adult conversations about work

Enjoying the sun and warmth as much as possible

Finally got a smile for a photo!

First family trip to the Royal Scoop (make mine a double)

The Naples Children’s Museum is a blast, including an extensive exhibit on India (this is Bub driving me around in a tuk tuk)

We could have spent another hour in the workshop area, but we all needed a nap

Have been wanting to go to the Audubon Corkscrew Swamp Sanctuary for a while

Taking a break at the Otter Watch bench

The swamp where we saw a 12-foot alligator and several baby ones

Exhilarated by the alligator sightings

But, very much tired from the humidity and 2.5 mile walk

One more alligator sighting

Way out yonder where the crawdads sing

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 ❤️

NYC Getaway

This trip was a chance for me to quite literally get away from the mundanity and complacency of my life at home. After two back-to-back weeks of Steve traveling and me watching Bub on my own, I needed a break to rejuvenate my soul.

Deep down, I fear a banal existence. I crave creativity, progress, and originality. I seek diversity and difference. Things I miss when I’m living the motherhood routine day in and day out in the ‘burbs. I struggle to incorporate these values into mine and Bub’s life, especially when I’m serving up the same meals and activities everyday.

I knew NYC was the right place for me to get away. I’ve written about my love for NYC before. There’s something about this city that revitalizes me. The array of cuisines, the unique boutiques, the insane museums, the ease of getting to it all by subway. I’ve always found New Yorkers so kind and welcoming. Somehow, I feel at home.

A bit ironic when my very goal is to get away from the word.

This trip, I ate where my heart desired. Fluffy blueberry pancakes with melted maple butter at Clinton St. Baking Company. Hot dog with onions, sauerkraut, and mustard from The Hot Dog King. Sushi at Sugarfish. I pampered myself with a prenatal massage and facial and felt like a queen. I perused secondhand stores with all the time in the world.

I made a point to visit the Crossings exhibit at the Met, where Robert Colescott’s and Kara Walker’s versions of Washington Crossing the Delaware made me excited about art again. I found inspiration in the early 20th century American paintings of our natural landscapes. A reminder of the abuse we’ve inflicted on our environment, wildlife, and indigenous communities in just a short century. I imagined how different the world would be had colonizers learned from them instead of conquering them. Before I left the museum, I stopped and stared at John Brown storming into the frame with abolitionism. For the first time that I can remember, I went to the art museum and breezed by the European exhibits and instead, spent more time in the American ones. For someone who once wanted to major in art history and move to Europe, this was a significant moment for me - symbolic of my recent resolutions in life.

I used to dream about being a mom in the city. Glamorously pushing my baby in a stroller while crossing Fifth Ave - my long hair waving in the wind. Walking through Central Park with my toddler, stopping at the zoo. Discussing fine art with my 10-year old as we ponder a Van Gogh at the Guggenheim. Skipping to a date night dinner with Steve at Gramercy Tavern. Riding the subway on weekends with the whole family.

Then, I had a kid and intense postpartum anxiety. Triggered by cigarette smoke and carbon exhaust, terrified of construction sites and congested places, my dreams of having a family in the city were dashed.

But this trip, I saw tons of children, seemingly everywhere. I saw parents pushing strollers with multiple kids - in narrow restaurants on Lexington, on the subway, in the chaos of SoHo, through the crowds at Chelsea Market, and at 8:30 pm at the Met. I saw parents walk down the street with their kids without batting an eye at the smoker or noticing at all the truck that sped by. These parents appeared to stroll with ease. These parents are my heroes. And guess what, I tell myself, their kids are thriving.

Someday, maybe someday, I’ll bring my kids to New York City. But for now, I’m going to keep it to myself and enjoy it as much as I can.

Trips to Remember

For the past year, Steve and I have been debating where to settle and move our family. We explored moving to:

• Other areas in Illinois

• California (both the Bay and Santa Barbara)

• Munich, Germany

• Ann Arbor, Michigan

• Vermont

• The Berkshires in Massachusetts

• Upstate New York

I made pro/con list after pro/con list. I researched schools, grocery stores, hospitals, and airports nearby. I inquired about rental homes and calculated expenses and savings for every option. We dreamed about hiking in the Alps, learning to snowboard, going to UMich football games, enrolling Bub in a Waldorf school surrounded by forest. We took every idea and ran with it to see how far we could take it.

In the meantime, Bub went from being a toddler to becoming a kid with his own opinions, desires, and needs. He solidified his relationships with his grandparents, cousins, aunts, and uncles. He saw himself part of a community…a community I was so desperate to get away from.

Being in Illinois reminds me of a traumatic childhood, of my social anxieties in high school, of my awkwardness. It reminds me of my unfulfilled dreams of becoming a journalist in a big city, of living abroad, of meeting people who would broaden my horizons about the world. There’s so much more I want to do in life and yet, becoming a mom has put almost all of it on hold or moving at a snail’s pace.

Last week, I woke up with an epiphany. Creating distance between Bub and his current community might hinder him more than sending him to a school that uses pesticides, doesn’t serve organic meals, and isn’t in the mountains. I didn’t want him to resent me for moving him across the country to keep him “safe”.

Sure, I’d love to live somewhere with mountains in the backdrop. Yes, I’d love to hike through the forest every day and find a community of moms who prioritized the same things as me. Of course, I wish I was raised elsewhere and my family lived in ritzy New York or tropical Hawaii instead of in-the-middle-of-the-cornfields Illinois.

But, these are the cards I was dealt and I need to make the best of it. And most importantly, I need to do what’s best for my kids.

Steve and our families were ecstatic about my ultimate decision. Steve breathed a sigh of relief and said, “This makes the most sense financially.” My aunt told me, “I knew you’d come around.” My parents responded with, “I told you so.” I was happy our support system was pleased, I guess. We’ll need their help in August when Baby #2 arrives. I mean, what was I going to do in a new state and town when she arrives and we need someone to watch Bub? Do I deliver on my own while Steve watches Bub? Does Bub hang out in the delivery room with us? Do we pray the delivery is short and during Bub’s school hours? Asking a relative to fly to our new home at the drop of a hat seemed like a tall order.

The one thing I hadn’t figured out was what to do with my feelings of settling. Soon after I made my decision, I woke up in the middle of the night in a panic and feeling restless. I needed to get out of Illinois, out of this house, out of the routine of being a mom, even for just a day. I needed to be reminded of how nice home is. I needed to miss it. Steve encouraged me to book a trip somewhere and he encouraged me to do it whenever I was feeling this way. It could be as small as a staycation by myself or as big as a trip to New Zealand. By allowing them/us to stay in Illinois with a support system, I could leave as often as I’d like and go wherever my heart desired (budget depending). This was our compromise, our solution to settling. Go on trips to remember how good I have it at home.