Dropoffs in the Rain

 It is raining today and the children are huddled inside my car awaiting their turn to step out in the carpool line.  The teachers were wearing raincoats, hustling kids out of the car, through the rain, onto the covered walkway.  Where are their umbrellas?  I asked out loud.  They always carry umbrellas on rainy days to keep the kids dry.  The car door opens and I say no thank you to their PE teacher, who looks back at me with incredulous eyes.  Today I'm not going to let the girls get wet, I say.  Today I'm going to park, walk them inside with my umbrella, one at a time.  Just today, I tell the girls.  Just today because mommy doesn't have to rush to work.  But really, who are we kidding.  I will always hold an umbrella over their heads, for as long as I can. 

On Reading

 It is impossible to read Stephen King's On Writing and not write something.  I realized today that reading, just like Stephen King describes writing, is a serious business.  Not for everyone, but for me.  It is not for relaxation, fun, or escape.  It is for learning and living.  I read to see the whole expanse of humanity when I only encounter a sliver of it in my daily life.  It is to zoom in and zoom out, from fictional pages to real lives.  Lines blur, truths come into focus, and I marvel at it all.

 

Isla turned 5 and Olivia turned 8 this month.  We have wrapped them in this warm cocoon of a home for the past 8 years.  At times stifling, at times chaotic, at times LOUD, but always filled with love.  I hope we will always be as content in this little life of ours as we are at this moment, rough around the edges but soft in the middle.

Before long...

 "It is not a question of time or distance or money or the coming apart bicycle of an old man's health... The truth is, like all places in the past, it cannot be found any longer.  There is no way to get there, except this way."  - This is Happiness by Niall Williams

The place that lives in my memory is only arrivable by train, only during daylight hours.  It is always perfect long sleeve weather, no light jacket needed.  It always smells like light traffic, a hint of motor oil blended with concrete roads.  It is grey, but not in a stark kind of way.  It is warm with welcoming arms and smiling faces.  Just now, I remembered twinkling eyes, soft hugs, my head always coming up to mid-torso, never higher.  It is home.  

Caste

Reading Caste, and feeling my brain both expanding and exploding.  Isabel Wilkerson, thank you for spoon feeding us a breakdown of the most complicated social dilemma of this country (and the world). 

It was in the making of the New World that Europeans became white, Africans black, and everyone else yellow, red, or brown.  It was in the  making of the New World that humans were set apart on the basis of what they looked like, identified solely in contrast to one another,, and ranked to form a caste system based on a new concept called race.  It was in the process of ranking that we were all cast into assigned roles to meet the needs of the larger production.  

None of us are ourselves. 

p53

In 1994, when I stepped off that airplane, little did I know I would be cast into a caste system (the middle caste, as it were), a social construct that is singularly American.  I had spend my entire subsequent years to "fit in", but into what, I didn't know until now.  It was an innate "fight or flight" response I had to assimilate or fail.  In doing so, I had given up my unique identity and rooted more and more tightly to my assigned caste (for as it turns out, one cannot move from one caste into another).  It is not social, it is not racial, it is not cultural, it is all of these and more.  

I have not felt like myself since.  Now I know why.  And in that, there is clarity and relief.  

I have tried to explain my trips of homegoing, how nice it is to hear my native tongue, to look around and see similar complexions and features.  What accounts for that instant sense of arrival and belonging?  I have not understood it until now.  When I go "home", it is the ultimate reclaiming of self, just another human on her native land, no more and no less.  The opposite has always been an undercurrent of my life in this country.  Since the Pandemic, since the era of Trump, it has been imperative that I identify it, name it, and speak out against it.  Not to traverse castes, but fight to abolish it altogether. 

IXD

We knew we wanted a second baby.  Isla completed our family.

I found out I was pregnant with Isla in May, same month as O.  I was on a stretch of swing shifts and walked around the hospital in the evenings with expectant happiness.  We had just sold our first home and building a new one in my favorite part of town.  At the time, we rented a small apartment barely big enough for the three of us.  I had all kinds of plans to use the apt gym and get in shape.  But alas, I peed on a stick and two lines popped up.  I spent the next 10 months laying on the couch.

Olivia was two and the sweetest little toddler, deep into bubble guppies, nursery rhymes, and potty training.  I remember many hours of napping by her on the couch as nausea and fatigue hit.  I also binged all seven seasons of Gilmore Girls, dreaming of the little girl growing in my belly. 

We moved two more times between May 2017 and Feb 2018.  The little apt was in no way able to accommodate another human being (not to mention my mom would need to stay and help).  Right before Thanksgiving 2017, we moved into a condo in the same complex.  Then two weeks after Isla arrived, we moved into our newly built house.  

The only thing I wanted from my second (and last) delivery is that I wanted the baby to come on her own time.  No induction.  No rush.  A few days before my due date, around 3AM Feb 5, 2018, I woke up with odd twinge in my lower abd.  It wasn't pain, it wasn't contraction, but it came around every 10 min and kept me from going back to sleep.  Olivia and S are both sleeping soundly.  I remember waking S up and telling him to go back to sleep, I'll just drive myself to the hospital and see what's going on. Surely this cannot be contractions.  I was scheduled to work that day anyways.  If it turns out to be nothing, I'll just get an early start to my work day.  S groggily agreed.  I emphasized that we do not want to wake up O and drag her to a hospital at 3AM. 

I remember driving myself in the dark.  Our rental was very close to the hospital and an easy 15 min drive.  The weird sensation kept coming back, getting stronger and stronger.  By the time I parked in the Women's Center, I had to wait for one to pass before getting out of the car with my bag.  I checked myself in, got hooked up to the monitor, and was told that indeed, I was in labor!

I will always remember that morning as a mixture of happiness, expectance, and peacefulness.  I remember S dropping O off at daycare at 6:30 AM before coming to the hospital.  By then I had already gotten my epidural.  There was an brief episode of bp issues but mostly it was just waiting.  At close to noon, my water broke, my epidural ran out, I was fully dilated, and my OB came to check on me all at the same time.  He asked me to try giving it a little push and out came Isla!  She was ready!  She was soft and warm, small but mighty, and she had a loud baby cry that I can still hear.  I vowed to note every moment of this last delivery, my last baby, and I did. 

Isla was not a good sleeper in the beginning, I remember waking up with her every hour that first night.  But if anything parenthood has taught me, it is to just go with the flow.  We brought her home the next day as well, with much less anxiety.  I was determined to not stress about breast feeding, didn't even open my pump those first few months.  Isla was a good eater and soon became a good sleeper.  She wore all of jie jie's hand me downs and spend many nights in little sleeper (that has since been recalled) by my bed. 

O meeting Isla for the first time in the hospital.  I had hoped they would get along, but had no idea they would be best friends (literally what Isla calls O).

Baby Isla, wearing the same sweater going home as O.

Isla, age 3, little beauty.

 

OMD

Have I ever written down the story of O's birth?  Maybe I have.  I'm in a reflective mood these days, so why not.  Someday little O may appreciate knowing all the details of her birth that only a mom could tell.

I still have a teeny weeny bit of regret that we rushed O into this world.  Sometimes I wonder if that's why she didn't nurse well, was such a bad sleeper for so long (two long years of tumultuous nights), and still so very small.

Olivia was induced at 39 weeks and 4 days (plus or minus a few).  We induced her for many reasons, one of which was her little belly showed slowed growth on the US.  But also, I got tired of waiting and my OB was on call on the night we selected.  

I was scheduled to check into the hospital at 7pm.  S and I ate dinner at a little Canton restaurant.  We knew vaguely this would be the last dinner we would have as a family of two (I had a spinach salad), but didn't dwell too much on the fact our life was about to change forever.  

We arrived at my little hospital and settled in.  From the first moment until my epidural twelve hours later, induction was PAINFUL.  I had agonizing contractions but was not dilated enough for an epidural.  When I finally did get an epidural around 7AM the next day, I promptly fell asleep.  Epidural is magical, period the end.  My water broke shortly after and Olivia was born at noon.  If I could sum it all up, it would be induction, do not recommend.  Epidural, highly recommend. 

First impression of this baby - so dainty.  Little ladylike features, little face, little lips, and translucent skin.  She slept very soundly those first 48 hours.  So much so that I somehow thought - we got this.  We took her home after only one day in the hospital (a decision I would come to regret for years).  By 2pm next day, we packaged her up and headed home.  Her going home outfit consisted of a strawberry onesie and a purple cardigan.  I remember S driving very slowly home.  

Once we got home... how do I put this... all hell broke loose.  Six years later, I still remember these first few hours, days, weeks, with a lot of PTSD.  Olivia would not sleep unless held.  This means I somehow cannot tend to the tedious OCD order of my life that I need in place in order to function.  Simple things like laundry (between spit up and poop, we went through ALL of her clothes in the first 24 hours), figure out how to use a breast pump (I was obsessed with bf from the get go), and unpack the hospital bag (I have always been someone who needed to do the unpacking as soon as I get home.  It's almost like a ritual) loomed over me, slowly driving my post partum mind crazy.  

Breast feeding was a hurdle that I could not get over (actually I never did with this first baby).  When would my milk come in, would I make enough, is Olivia hungry and therefore not sleeping?  We had brought home little bottles of infant formula from the hospital that I was convinced we wouldn't need.  Around 7pm on our first day home, S popped one open, and O downed the 2oz bottle like she was starving.  This sounded off a loud panic button in my brain.  MY BABY IS STARVING.  I have been "nursing" her with my empty boobs every three hours all day.  I immediately tore open my breast pump set (I needed to see what was coming out) and found, to my horror, that one of the funnels was broke.  I cry not for the first time that day.  I call the hospital in panic.  I tell them I am Dr. so and so (used in this context o persuade influence and attention) and I was sent home from the hospital with my new baby and a broken pump.  How did they expect me to keep her alive?!  I spoke to the charge nurse who calmly told me that she would get a new set ready for me.  I then sent Steve to the hospital (by this time it was around 10pm) to get this new set. 

A working pump did not end my anguish.  At some point S held O in football position and said "look at her, she is fine.  You need to calm down".  O's eyes open and stared at me the whole time.  Steve's mom was there that night too, I can't even begin to guess (or care at the time) what she thought of me. 

O would not sleep well for the first two years.  S and I decided early that he would sleep in the bedroom down the hall.  It was the only way he could get some rest and I see no point in having two zombies around the house.  One of us had to carry on.  Now, two babies in and six years later, he is still int he bedroom down the hall.  No regrets in that decision.  We make it work. 

O turned six years old a month ago.  She could win a contest in sleeping through the night and loves her room (she was four and half when she slept on her own).  I will never look back onto those early days with anything other than desperation and anxiety.  I did the best I could, that I know for sure. 

Ready to head home!  The purple sweater is one of my favorites. 

This is 6!  Thriving in Kindergarten.

And then... shit happened.

 Two rules of adulthood.  Life isn't fair and shit happens. 

Well, I have had a shitty week, 10 days to be exact.

After a year of careful existence, Olivia gets COVID.  We have kept her home from in-person Kindergarten (one of only three kids in her class to pick virtual learning).  We have limited her playdate to ONE girl (whom we haven't seen since before Christmas).  We drove around town looking for semi-empty playgrounds and parks.  There have been no extracurricular activity of any kind.  Swim, art, dance, all put on hold.  

For O's birthday on 2/11, we planned to stop by her cousin/birthday twin's house to drop off presents.  However last minute they decided to come here instead.  The two previous times they dropped by were on Thanksgiving and Christmas, and then only to drop off food/presents, fully masked, and out in a hurry.  In fact, for Christmas, I bursted into tears before they took off.  So many sacrifices in 2020.  We haven't really been around our closest family since the cousin/birthday twin started back to school sometime in September.  So on 2/11, instead of a driveway gift exchange, I texted the birthday twin and her mom to come inside with masks on.  The grandparents were here and they had a birthday cake for their other grandchild.  Everyone was masked, except for Olivia and Isla.  

2/13, O's aunt texts us she has COVID.  We panic.  We send my parents home (they came here for O's birthday, drove 6 hours, only to be sent home less than 24 hours later).  We count our fingers and toes to calculate the risks.  We knew the girls would be at highest risks, since they were unmasked (I actually had a mask for O in hand, but put it down when they took longer to arrive.  This decision I will replay in my mind a hundred times in the next ten days).  The cousin/birthday twin did take off her masks to eat cake and Isla was on her lap at one point!

The mind grapples for hope.  We tell ourselves that the aunt wore a mask pretty much the whole evening.  S and I didn't go very close to her (I might have compromised the six feet distance but I'm vaccinated).  S stayed far away from his family (bless him).  Then another sigh of relief when we found out the cousin/birthday twin tested negative!  I call the pediatrician office and we decide the risks are still low.  I talk to my friends and hear stories of intermingling with infected people without transmission.  I try to put it all behind me and go on with life.  Please please let this be another close call (for there have certainly been other close calls before).  

2/19.  S and I decide to take the girls in to get tested even though they have had no symptoms.  Just to be sure, our pediatrician recommended, given some delayed complications from COVID.  At 3:30 PM, both girls get swabbed.  It was a Friday and we had taco night planned from our favorite Mexican place, Ceviche.  Steve took off in his car to get the food while I drove home with the girls.  The result would take 15 min, I knew.  I expected a call from the office.  When the phone ring, I jumped up, ready to celebrate the good news.  When she said, do you have a minute, my mind fumbles for why I need a minute.   She informs me that Isla has tested negative, but Olivia has tested positive.  I remember thinking - I need to sit down.  My mind spins and I think how is this possible.  I tell my pediatrician that no, she has no symptoms.  Did I gasp?  Cry?  Try to hold it together?  Before I even hang up the phone, I see Olivia laying like a puddle on the floor.  I tell her to stand up and she tells me she is tired.  Shit.  I take her temp and it read 102.  Shit Shit.  I text my pediatrician about the fever (I love her) and she calls me back.  I definitely cried now.  I remember my hands shook as she told me to write down the various supplements I should get, how I needed to alternate Tylenol and Ibuprofen, how I need to separate O from Isla and S.  I remember watching Isla run circles around Olivia and wonder how I will keep them apart for 10 days.  

I called a close friend who gave me a pep talk and ideas on what to do.  She reminds me this is what we have been telling our patients to do for a whole year, surely I can follow my own instructions!  This gets me moving.  I gather up Olivia and put her in the upstairs Jack and Jill, which is her room and her study/school room.  I shut all communal toys that Olivia and Isla have shared into a closet that Isla can't open.  I pack a bag of toiletries and clothes for me to stay with O.  I don't think neither O nor I took a moment to say bye to Isla.  When S got home, he took her behind closed doors until O and I could get settled.  We haven't seen her face in ten days (we also almost haven't seen S in ten days except for one time when Olivia opened the door before S could get downstairs.  We waved to each other.  I cried).  Taco that night was on a tray left outside of our quarantine rooms.  Steve has managed to bring up punctually three meals a day for the following ten days.  Isla called for us outside our door the next morning.  I sobbed while Olivia looked at me wide eyed.  How confusing it must be for her to hear us, but not to see us (as the days progressed she would yell "yei yei are you ok?  mama are you ok?"  We would yell back "we love you Isla").  I kept telling myself to be strong for O, which I have been, to the best of my ability.

Let the records show that O is an above average toddler in terms of lovability.  Being closed within confined space with her for ten straight days confirmed this.  She whined only a little, complained only a little, and amazed me with her adaptability in every way.  

Tomorrow Olivia will fly out of here and be reunited with S and Isla.  I will probably cry more tears.  I doubt I'll ever look back at this time with anything other than terror and relief (that everyone ended up ok).  There are many lesson to be gleaned.  For now, I will continue to keep all my fingers and toes crossed and pray for the end of this pandemic.  In case anyone is wondering, the aunt isn't sure how she got COVID.  The gym, maybe.  I blame no one except myself.  

My Babies

So much is happening in the world, some certain, some uncertain.  The cuteness of Olivia and Isla is my only constant.  

My two winter babies both with approaching birthdays.  One almost SIX, one almost THREE. 

Olivia's first year of Kindergarten is almost coming to an end (yes it's only the beginning of the second semester but I know how time flies now... so may as well ben the end).  It has been virtual this whole year, despite my forever optimism that this Pandemic will be under control, and I will see my baby bouncing into the school grounds once again.  That hope is getting slimmer but not completely gone.  She is THRIVING even at home!  Such a good little reader (favorite books - Piggie and Gerald and The Dragon books) and so very diligent with her numbers.  She is careless though, and its hard to make a five year old check over her work.  Olivia asks about "when will the virus end" and "it wasn't there when I was little, how did it get here"?  Parenting is all about reassuring kids about things we are not even sure about, right?  

Isla has had one leisure year.  For a baby who got sick every two weeks at daycare, this has been the healthiest year of her life (how ironic and also knock on wood).  She loves her Jie Jie and loves her snacks.  We finally got her to stop sucking her thumb (in anticipation of eventually returning to school) and semi trying to potty train her.  Isla loves pretty much all the toys O loves (scooter, barbie dream house, her piggie).  She loves the Llama llama books.  

We drive around looking for empty playground for them to play on and see grandma/grandpa whenever we can.  My parents have stayed for a few week stretches and that has made Olivia's year.  Hoping 2021 brings more play dates!

What do you like about yourself...

In the spirits of this blog post - 

https://cupofjo.com/2021/01/what-do-you-like-about-you/#more-234121

I like that I have a set of rituals that define who I am.  I read and therefore I am a reader.  I am always on time and therefore I am punctual.  I scrapbook and make photobooks and therefore  I am nostalgic.  I am compulsive about cleaningness and therefore I am tidy.  I put on nice clothes to go out and therefore I am put together.  

These things help me not waste time on feelings of guilt.  For example, when I yell at my kids to clean up in the middle of Saturday morning, I tell myself that's just who I am.  When I put on makeup to put gas in car, that's just who I am.  When I fold laundry in the middle of the night AND put them away, that's just who I am.

2021

 2021...

May you not crumble upon the weight of gazillion expectations...

I have been knee deep in reading.  Among them, This is the Story of A Happy Marriage, by Ann Patchett.   I have officially declared her to be my favorite author.  I have not had a favorite author since R. L. Stein in fifth grade.  Back then I wrote a letter to him.  Maybe I'll write a letter to Ann.  Yes, we are on first name bases.  After reading her book of personal essays, I have seen her soul and we are soul sisters.  It is that simple.  

I am listening to Becoming by Michelle Obama.  I am curious how to raise little Michelle Obamas.  I was listening along, semi-engaged, doing dishes and folding laundry.  Then, out of the blue, she says "kids know at a very young age when they are being de-valued, when adults aren't invested enough to help them learn.  Their anger over it can manifest itself as unruliness.  It's hardly their fault.  They aren't bad kids.  They are just trying to survive bad circumstances."  De-valued.  Is that what that feeling was all those decades ago growing up in a cut throat academic environment?  It's hard for anyone to imagine me as unruly, but back then, I was definitely not "good".  Once a teacher told me to my face that I will never amount to nothing.  Till this day, ask my parents, they will tell you through clinched teeth who that teacher was.  Clearly, as I sobbed in the kitchen today, I still carry that burden with me, all these years later.  It is why I stay on top of Olivia's school.  She is five.  It's not because I want her to be top of her Kindergarten class.  I'm trying to spare her the feelings of inadequacy, of devalued.  

2020 Election

Where were you when you heard the big news? 

I was at work, live streaming CNN from my phone app.  I brought a phone charger to work for the occasion.  After four sleepless nights and restless days, I was not going to miss the moment of the announcement.  

It was Saturday, Nov 7th 2020.  I had stayed up past midnight almost every single night since Nov 3rd, in hopes of some good news.  From horror on the first night to muted thrill on Friday night, I was exhausted but most invested I have ever been in an election.  When I looked at my work calendar in the beginning of the year, I was relieved to see I was off work on the 3rd and 4th.  Little did I know, four days later, we still didn't know the final result of the 2020 election.  I downloaded the CNN app and returned to work.  It was mostly on mute, because I work in the reddest part of North Georgia.  

I have never been very invested in politics.  First time I looked up and paid attention to an election was when Obama won in 2008.  I didn't vote.  I was in medical school and tunnel vision was name of the game.  I remember tearing up for progress, and blogged about hope.  Fast forward to 2016.  I was shocked at the election results but told myself it "couldn't possibly be that bad".  After all, the US government is all about checks and balance.  

I was wrong.  The following four years yielded horror after horror.  Just when you think it couldn't possibly get any worse, the administration showed no regard to humanity, no regard for peace, no regard for common decency.  

I registered to vote sometime in 2017.  And I waited, patiently, for the 2020 election, for the moment when I can join the country and kick (I mean vote) him out of office.  I am slightly ashamed to say my hatred for him runs deep, it is personal. 

When CNN announced for BIDEN-HARRIS at 11:25 AM, I cried.  I saw the new counts for Pennsylvania came up and unmuted my phone.  I sat forward, my heart stopped, and when Wolf Blitzer projected the presidency for BIDEN, I screen captured that moment.  I sat in relief, happiness, tears of joy.  Wolfe said "for tens of millions of Americans, this is the end of a nightmare".  

I pray for safe transfer of power.  I pray for the future of this country.  I pray for the shining beacon of hope to regain its brightness.  For four years, it was shrouded in the dark grey shadow of a narcissistic and unconsciounable leader.  Please, let this be a new beginning. 

"The arc of the moral universe is long, but it bends toward justice."  - Dr. Martin Luther King

 

 It has been almost four weeks since O interacted with another kid.  It hurts my heart to think about it.  But unwilling to make sacrifices is how we (as in the country) ended up here, five months in.  It would also break my heart for her to get sick, important to remember that as well. 

We are all making sacrifices in this new way of life (well except Isla I suppose).  Virtual Kindergarten requires more of parental involvement than I ever thought would be required of S and I.  If something can be heartbreakingly cute, that would be watching O navigate online school.  I both want to just let her be and "pretend I'm not here", but also constantly remind her to "pay attention" and "sit up straight".  I have never been good at letting things be...

As one day blurs into the next, I have never been so conscientious how big my babies are getting (I have never spend so much time with them either).  Isla is stringing words together, sometimes skipping a verb, sometimes adding an adjustive.  It is so cute we all grin from ear to ear when she speaks.  There is a lot of "what's that noise mommy" and "where daddy is"?  She is refusing to be potty trained, as in no amount of bribery can get her to pee even once on the potty.  Oh well, will cross that bridge another day. 

Olivia is 5 and making some strides in her reading skills.  We love our Piggie and Gerald books the best.  She always takes the part of Piggie and I always take the part of Gerald.  Bedtime is always giggly when we read this series.  

Lately

Nothing much happening over here, and yet our whole lives have changed.  2020 held all the promises of an auspicious year... that number alone, so bold.  Yet here we are, a pandemic.

I found myself walking a tight rope.  BE CAREFUL I say out loud (to everyone, so much so that Isla tells us "careful" all the time now) and think to myself.  I step on eggshells at work (I wore protective booties to work for awhile), wash my hands twenty thousand times a day (not accounting the hand washing before and after hand washing), and don't even take off my mask in the bathroom.  On the other hand... I let my neighbors kid come inside the house yesterday!  Ugh... in my defense, she is only 4.  She is Olivia's only friend in the neighborhood, and she rings our door bell all on her own and sits on the front steps until we open it.  Also in my defense, Olivia has played with NO OTHER KID since March!  I probably shouldn't have let her inside (twice), I probably shouldn't have let her have dinner with us, I probably shouldn't have stood so  close to her mom as we took her home. Olivia and Isla had a ball though... I mean shrieking with laughter.  But is it worth it?  It would be different if our neighbor has been socially isolating, but they haven't, that I know for fact.  It would be different if our State numbers didn't look so apocalyptic, which it does.  It would be also be so so different if there was an end in sight!!!  which there isn't.

This too, shall pass... but when?!

When I was eight years old I was convinced I had some terminal illness.  Sixteen... I thought... just let me live till I'm sixteen.  A number so big that surely by the time I reach it, I should be tired of living...

Then when I was twenty eight years old, alone, on my own, with no romantic prospect for miles in sight, I thought just give me a glimpse of the future, let me see if I end up with a family...

Here I am, thirty eight.  No longer alone, no longer on my own.  I have two babies and a man that does his very best to take care of each and every one of us everyday.

It is charmed life, I would say.

Random...

Playing catch up... that's just life these days.

December 2018

Isla has four teeth, and she uses them to the maximum.  Her little mouth opens in anticipation of any and all food.  So far (in addition to baby food), she does ok with soft bread and a little rice.  Anything else she just holds them in her mouth. 

Isla loves to clap little hands, and "talks" to everyone especially Olivia.  She loves it when we sing to her, and dislikes it when we take toys to of her hand.  Sweet little Isla had her FOURTH cold this year.  May it be the last one (this year at least)...

zoom in on the teeth!!

Isla's first Christmas, first in our new house.  It was everything and all a blur at the same time, as is life.  I had this Christmas off and enjoyed it to a maximum.  Olivia got the PonyCycle, which in typical Olivia style, is more of a hit for us than for her.  Six months in, she is warming up to it... although ever so cautiously.  I love that about her.

January 2019

Still quite attached to her thumb.  Isla is getting ready to wear off of BF.  I had a really hard time making peace with that milestone.  Somewhere around here, I had my second bout of mastitis.  I will always miss nursing Isla.  Her little sounds of joy and contentment.  I'm so grateful I had a second chance at it.  

On Pilates...

I have been doing Pilates since May.  Three months after having Isla, I felt so weak.  There was no core to speak of.  Everything was soft and mushy.  I took Olivia to the playground and attempted to hoister myself up a rather high step while holding her (except... it wasn't that high).  My leg almost gave out.  It was embarrassing.  I have always prided myself on having some sort of exercise routine, but I have let myself go... for the past two years.  It's not anything other people can tell, it's not like I gained a lot of weight.  But I can tell.  I was flabby, weak, out of shape, and out of breath.

Enters Pilates.

It was both hard and gentle, exactly what i needed in my post partum state.  Unlike the more grueling exercises (and I have always been what you would call a cardio junkie), this one felt GOOD for me.  All the pulling and stretching and lengthening have strengthened me, both mentally and physically.  I have stuck to it eight times a month for the past six months, and it hasn't felt like work.  I will eventually go back to some kind of cardio, but for now, this is exactly what I need.

Halloween 2018

My favorite holiday!  No seriously, it is up there with Christmas and my birthday.  :)

I took PTO not only one but two days.  Olivia is Snow White again this year but unlike last year, she got REALLY into it!  Our friends came over and we trick-or-treated all over the neighborhood.  Running from house to house.  My new neighborhood didn't disappoint.  And we couldn't have asked more perfect weather!  Olivia really isn't all that interested in the candy, just the idea of hunting and gathering.

A little crew with Kelvin and Ella

Isla skipped out on trick or treating this year because of a cold, first one this fall. 

Little Apple stayed home. 

One of my podcasts had a parenting expert on.  She pointed out that parents today struggle with uncertainties unlike any before - climate change, politics, social media.  We over compensate by tightening our grips around our little domain.  As a result, we become hyper-critical control freaks.

Sounds about right.

Tomorrow is my wedding anniversary.  Six years ago, S and I flew to San Francisco and spend one chilly Monday morning at the City Hall with Alex and Alex of IQ photo (they are witnesses  on our wedding certificate).  To this day, that is one of my favorite days of our relationship, one of my favorite adventures of us.

Life Lately...

When you are so behind in blogging and in life that the only proper title to sum it all up is... lately...  That's where I am.  It has been a hectic stretch of days and weeks, leading right up to my FAVORITE season and FAVORITE month.  Fall!  October!

 

Sweet baby Isla is 8 months old.  She can do nothing wrong.  We are all so in love with her, Olivia especially.  She refers to her as "my baby", and it melts my heart every single time.  Isla is sitting tall, still a tiny bit wobbly, and no where ready to crawl.  So what if both of my babies inherited my athletic genes (or lack thereof)!  There is nothing Isla doesn't love to eat-  homemade, store bought, chunky, smooth... you name it, she will open her little mouth and gobble it all up.  

Shortly after turning 8 month, we discovered one baby tooth.  That one tooth is keeping me on my toes during nursing.  I'm still nursing Isla.  My current (ever-shifting) goal is Christmas.  Hoping to get her further through the winter season.  And maybe, trying to hold on to these sweet baby days a bit longer. 

Finally a good school picture!  At the same time... but wait, is my baby so big??

Our annual family pictures turned out... just ok...  It was soooo hot.  I don't have a single good one of the girls alone because, well, Isla wasn't feeling it.  Shortly after this one was taken Isla fell backwards and Olivia caught her.  We told O good job, to which O replied - she is my baby.  

I am full of mood swings these days.  There are so much joy, so much cuteness, so much passive aggressive nagging, so much appreciation of my husband but just as much dissatisfaction and overall wishing for more.  I suppose this is life.  Katie Couric once said to know when you are in the sweet spot in life - that moment in time when your children are young and your parents are healthy.  That me!  That's where I am.  Face it, this may be as good as it gets.  If so, I am content.  More than that, I am grateful.