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There are a few things going on. Or maybe there are few things going on. Last night, as I assessed once again that I’d have to clean up the kitchen to cook dinner and then clean it up again, I … Continue reading
@postaday 261; #postaday2011.
If you are my friend on Facebook and you have a birthday, I always try to put Hau‘oli Lā Hānau on your wall, especially if you live far away. It’s Hawaiian for Happy Birthday. It’s my way of showing my appreciation for Hawai‘i, my home for more than 30 years. It’s a little Aloha Spirit sent in your direction.
Today is Kid1’s birthday. I love this day and I love Kid2’s birthday. Moms have every right to enjoy their children’s birthdays. After all, we were there, RIGHT? I was telling my girls last night that I still remember giving birth, as both of them were delivered naturally. I remember Kid2 feeling like a train coming down and out…a slow, giant train, LOL. I had to hold back when it was her time, the doctor said I was pushing too fast. I guess I wanted to get it over with.
John and I went over to Kaiser Moanalua 12 years ago 10 p.m. the night before and walked the halls because I was hardly dilated. It’s true, when it’s your first child, you really think that is the moment when it’s actually hours and hours and hours away. That’s a lot of mileage in hospital halls and stairways.
My water secretly broke for Sophie. It popped, and her little head stopped it like a cork. So that was kinda weird. I didn’t even know it! Giving birth for the first time is a mixed bag of experiences. Don’t be a baby when you’re having a baby, because it’s all about the baby and now you’re no longer entitled to act like a baby for the rest of your life. Man up. Or, maybe I should say, WOMAN UP because Man Up isn’t nearly as demanding. LOL. Putting a baby to your breast for the first time is a very weird thing to do, too. All this stuff you have to do on faith. Lo and behold, your body functions in the way it was designed, eventually.
So I remember things. She was born the Year of the Rabbit on the Chinese calendar, so she has a lot of bunny stuff, even a commemorative stamp. I remember sitting her down in front of the TV for the first time to watch an Elmo Xmas special. OMG, she was riveted. She’d sit upright in her playpen and watch Sesame Street, a sponge concentrating on all of the input, processing it as fast as she could. I remember putting her down for a nap, going into the living room to collapse in my chair only to be startled when she woke me up and proudly hollered “ABC!” in my face! She had climbed out and came over to me. Nap times are really for moms. Kids just don’t get the memo.
Now she’s a budding scientist, is helping a University of Hawaii graduate student with his dissertation on asteroids, plays viola and piano, skipped a grade way back when, and is the site manager for all things apple at home. She’s younger than her peers, but she’s mature beyond her years, and her sister Kid2, and John and I are very proud of her.
It’s a difficult thing for me to see that she is 12 years old. Children grow so fast. Her childhood is so different from mine, and I’m glad of that. I hope her future is, too.
My kids are my gift to the world. Wait until you see what they can do! And yes, all of our children are gifts to the world. Malleable treasures, all. We are their stewards. Parenting is a tough road. But I wouldn’t take a step backward for anything!
@postaday 260; #postaday2011.
I bet she voted for President Obama, as did I. I bet she thought she was morally obligated to show her concern for a child with a cough. But really, I don’t know what she was thinking as she stopped the masters swim session last night to bring to my attention (and my coach — Kid1’s social studies teacher, and Kid1’s school principal) that she noticed my daughter was coughing. News flash: Kid2 has been coughing since the first week of school. Why wouldn’t I be aware?
It was all I could do to not whip my right arm down and spray a wall of water at her. Really? You think I’m not AWARE?
Unsatisfied, she then went over to my daughters, who were playing in a different section of the pool and told them:
@postaday 237; #postaday2011.
How do you feel when you get to work on Monday? I get to my cube and decompress from my weekend. I literally sit down and my body goes aaaahhhhh. The weekends are so busy despite how restful we try to make them. I am up to the middle of season two of Mad Men, did some swimming, ushered at the annual Society of Professional Journalists Gridiron event, rode my bicycle, took a kid to robotics, the girls had piano on Sunday, and we decided against going to University of Hawaii wahine volleyball last night. John and the girls are coughing too much. I do not know how I’ve dodged this latest bronchitis bullet.
I also pulled the plug on Mine Craft. Even if it does help people become more savvy in this ever evolving technical world, my girls don’t need what I like to refer to as mind cr^p sucking away at their spare time, followed by Sunday evening panic attacks about not having homework ready. Plus, it fuels the bickering that seems to smolder when the girls’ virtual worlds go up in flames, or the wolves have the run of the house with the lava flow, or the time when they both learned to build and then explode everything with TNT. A growing spreadsheet of codes helped the girls become virtual goddesses. I couldn’t stand it. Now they sleep again. Now they get homework done. They’ll find something else. They always do. And I’ll make a new rule. I always do.
Still watching updates from my East Coast friends on Twitter and Facebook to see how they’re doing. Perhaps the last weekend of the season won’t be a loss for those who have rented or rent homes down the shore. Sand replenishment programs might be shelved for a little bit, though. Some people would like the idea of that.
@postaday 155; #postaday2011.
I’m not a big baby, but my heart is heavy, it aches, it’s been in darkness for so long I can’t remember when I felt completely happy. I get that euphoria when I work out at the gym, go for a swim, or ride a bicycle, but even then sometimes the thoughts and worries fill me, complementing the rhythm of my pulse, my breath, my pace. Exercise clears my head, and I’ll soon head out for a workout. Then I’ll feel better. But the problems remain, the ones I cannot solve, the ones I am helpless to control.
Indeed, some things are out of my hands, but it doesn’t mean I can forget them. Such as Sophie. She’s at UH this week. This morning we chatted. Good times are limited to the actual learning. During the down times, the socializing times, the youngest kid on the block isn’t included. She’s got a good head on her shoulders. She doesn’t want to party. She’s 11. I’m glad of that. But my heart aches because this isn’t 100-percent fun for her. While chatting this morning she told me she wants to be an astrobiologist. Does anyone even know what that is?
An excerpt from today’s chat:
Sophie: haha yup