Mama, Dada, Vava

As some of you know, I've been a little busy these last two weekends playing pretend mom to my niece and nephew while their parents were on vacation in South Korea.  In hindsight and with sincere regard to Mother's Day just passing and Father's Day upcoming, I am compelled to write a tribute to all parents, if they will accept it.

"Is this what parenting is like?  If so, man it's so painful and hard."  The first time this thought crossed my mind was not when I was giving Eddison a bath the first Friday night they stayed with me, or when I made Olivia choose one out of the two Barbie movies that she wanted while we were at Target, or getting up at 2 am to make a bottle for Eddison or negotiating reading time with Olivia.  The first time I thought this was the first Sunday night on my long drive home after dropping them off with their maternal grandparents.  It was so painful and hard to leave them - not because of anything to do with who I was leaving them with, but because I would miss going to bed without Eddison hugging my arm, mumbling 'vava' (what he calls me) repeatedly, and gently touching my face to make sure I was still laying next to him while he feel asleep.  Because I would miss Olivia's sleepy voice saying good night to me as she snuggled up with Eddison and me.  Because I would wakeup without them looking at me with the sun softly glowing behind the drapes and Olivia would ask "Phau Va (aunt Maiva) what are we going to do today?"  Because for a few days they were all my heart needed to be completely happy.  And I must admit, I cried my eyes out on my long drive home that first Sunday night wondering if I was a good auntie or not; and if they were happy, well fed and not wanting, during their short time with me.

During that short time, we even established a small routine - Friday nights we went to Target to grocery shop (and for me to spoil them a little).  In the evenings, Olivia would read, draw or play games after dinner while I gave Eddison a bath.  Then I'd set the shower for her while I put Eddison to bed.  (I was so proud the second night when she said "Phau Va, the temperature is perfect this time," regarding the water for her shower.)  After her shower, we'd watch The Little Prince while in bed to help Eddision fall asleep.  Then, after Olivia fell asleep, I would get up to do the dishes.  Our day hours would go by so fast:  Facetime with their mom and dad in the morning after breakfast; Elmo for Eddison and drawing for Olivia while I cleaned up the kitchen; family events and birthday parties in the afternoons, and a day and slumber party with the other four pieces of my heart (my other nieces and nephews except Emma because she was with her grandparents).  Then, Sunday would be upon us again.

This last Sunday, however, I told myself I wasn't going to get all emotional about it again.  I decided, selfishly, I would drop off the kids a little later so I could have more time with them.  As we drove to my brother's house to pick out Olivia's school outfit for Monday, and before I drop them off with their grandparents, I heard sniffling in the backseat.  I turned to look and Olivia was quietly crying.  I asked her why she was crying and she said "I don't want you to leave us."  Of course, this totally broke me, but I tried to sound calm and asked her to not cry because it would make me really sad.  A few tears escaped me though.  I told her I don't want to leave them, but I have to go to work the next day.  I told her my plan was we would hangout at their house until almost their bedtime, and then I will drop them off at their grandparents and they can go right to sleep.  Although still sad with her big puppy eyes, she was agreeable to this plan.  And, eventhough Eddison can't really talk yet (except for a couple words), I thought he was feeling sad too because he started whimpering, and when we got to their house, he clung on to me, and chose to be with me over watching Elmo, while I did some chores at their house.

That night as we drove to their grandparents' house, all I wanted was to make sure they weren't sad.  So I asked Olivia where we should go on vacation this summer since we all went to Washington DC last summer.  I could tell by her quiet demeanor that she was thinking about me leaving them.  But I asked her if she had been to Florida (which I already know she had, twice).  When she said she had, I asked her if she would take me some day, and what she thinks we "have to, have to" see when we go.  This lifted her mood, and she started talking spiritedly about Disney World, the beach, pool, sun and all the other happy memories she had on those trips.  Eddison chimed in with his own stories before falling asleep somewhere between Brooklyn Park and South Minneapolis.  When we arrived at their grandparents' home, grandma [mom] told me that last weekend Olivia cried and cried because she missed me so much.  I gave Olivia a big bear hug, and Eddison a kiss before I left.

Then, I responded, "I think we're going to be ok this time."

For two weekends, not even full weeks, just weekends, I was the "sole provider" for my niece and nephew, and I am resolved that parenting has got to be the hardest job because essentially no other skill will do but LOVE.  I love all my nieces and nephews to the moon and back, and this experience has given me a glimpse at the emotional, heart wrenching, stomach churning, breath-taking and soul searching reality of what it must be like to be a Real parent, and to LOVE someone(s) so much your ribs, lungs, heart and head hurts just thinking about being apart from them.  I commend all the parents out there, and thank each one of them for doing their best - and most of all, I thank my "mama" and "dada" (as Eddison would say) for being so loving and strong to encourage me when I'm down, guide me when I'm lost, and love me even when I didn't quite know how to love myself.

Thank you, sincerely.  

Something Out-of-the-Blue...

The scariest dreams aren’t so much the ones where I dream of monsters or murders.  The scariest dreams are the ones that feel completely real.  Its the ones that have almost everything physically and emotionally correct, and the only way to realize its a dream is realizing the small details are completely absurd. 

I haven’t been feeling too well these last couple of days, and haven’t ventured out of my house except for absolutely necessary errands - such as a job interview.  Even with this sunny exceptional March weather, I have no desire to join society in it’s goings-on.  I’ve been nursing my pains with hot tea, tylenol and spicy food, and I’ve got a load of dishes to wash.  I’ve also been contemplating if I should open the $120 bottle of wine I recently received as a gift.  But mostly, I escape into documentaries and read books.  This afternoon, however, I found myself escaping to stranger places….

My mother was in the kitchen, she was cleaning or washing the dishes.  The warm sun filled the muted house spotlighting dust particles as they danced in and out of the light.  I went out the back door and walked across the large yard into the pole barn.  The doors were wide open and the same lustrous light poured in wherever it could.  The barn was still and hummed quietly.  I got onto an old ATV and burst out of the barn.  My long hair swirling, and my skirt fluttering where I had not tucked it under my bum.  I sped across the field until I reached the foot of a hill.  I parked the vehicle, wrapped my scarf around my shoulders and began walking up the shaded hill.  The sun was low on the horizon, and as I ascended the hill, sunlight peeped out brighter and brighter.  I watched my shadow become more and more pronounced beside me as I climbed up the hill.  A strong wind gushed back and forth, and my long floral dress swam to one side then another along with my hair and scarf.  It felt peaceful with the sun glowing against the pale blue sky, even the thrashing winds felt cleansing and welcoming.  

I reached the top of the hill, and saw my shadow standing beside me.  We raised our hands in the air, our scarves dancing, and I screamed as loud as I could.  About one hundred yards from the bottom of the hill was a fence.  It ran endlessly from one side to another.  I looked off into the distance, and saw a vastness that felt oddly familiar.  I let out another loud yell.  I felt joy and pain as my voice rang out from me.  Then, I dropped onto the tall soft grass, and fell asleep on top of that hill.  

Hours had gone by until I awoke to the sound of a vehicle coming towards me.  I opened my eyes, and the sun was in its exact place.  The wind had passed.  I still felt tired - lost almost.  I slowly turned my head to one side.  Blinked slowly, and felt like something was switched on inside of me.  I could see a figure riding an ATV coming nearer and nearer.  It was my father.  When he reached the bottom of the hill, he turned off the vehicle, stepped off, and waved to me.  I knew it was time to go home.  

When I finally arrived at home, the house was glowing with sunlight.  My parents were sitting at the kitchen table, and wanted me to take them somewhere.  We got into my car and I drove them into the city.  

But that’s not the end.  It’s the journey back that slowly made me realize I had been dreaming.  By this time, I knew in the far corners of my mind that I was dreaming.

My parents and I were in St. Paul.  We went to their usual places they like to visit when they’re home in MN.  Then they wanted me to drop them off to visit my sister-in-law’s mother.  She had been very sick, and they wanted to visit her before they went back to Missouri.  She was at a hospital in Brooklyn Park.  We drove across town until we arrived to a strangely familiar location that was not Brooklyn Park.  It was a hillside city that had its central plaza on a ledge protruding over a large body of water.  I’d been here many times in other dreams.  I parked the car in a ramp, and we went into the plaza.  

There were coffee shops, storefronts and busy people buzzing from one place to another.  It was a lively place.  My parents went off into one direction, and I was suddenly wandering the streets alone.  It was hard to tell if I was inside or outside.  There was so much to look at, and so many people humming around.  Then I found myself in front of some kind of transportation station, and trying to buy a ticket for the next boat, but I couldn’t read any of the signs or pamphlets.  I wandered off from the ferry station, and found myself in an empty corridor with cheap carpeted floors and steel walls like a hallway fashioned after the inside of an elevator. 

I walked down the hallway until I reached an elevator door.  I stood in front of the elevator waiting for the cart like I knew where I was going because I’d been here before.  Then, my parents showed up at the end of the corridor and said it was time to go.  Without hesitation, I left the corridor and left with them.  As we walked away from the plaza, I noticed there were homes built right into the side of the hill like hobbit holes except without the warmth of hobbits.  

My parents and I drove off once more.  The sun still shining brightly, and the sky still clear and pale.  I had promised to dropped them off at my brother’s, so I did that.  At least I know did that because I was driving alone now.  

On my way to wherever I was going, I remembered that I was supposed to help a friend with some short film he was making.  I arrived on the set to see that they were almost done shooting.  The set was in a large warehouse, and even though it was sunny outside, the warehouse was dark.  They were producing a film on how to scare kids.  My job was to give them ideas and pointers.  I watched the actors, and film crew and felt uneasy.  It didn’t feel right.  I looked around and realized I didn’t know any of these people, and as a matter of fact, I have no clue about filmmaking.  As the director was talking to me, my mind started to realize I was in a dream.  I could hear my thoughts:  Wake up!  Wake up!

I felt an urgent needed to wake up.  I could feel myself laying on the sofa in my living room.  I was no longer in that warehouse, but I could see myself sleeping on the sofa.  The book I had been reading was open and laying on my chest.  My soft throw draped over my legs and the two sofa pillows underneath my head and shoulders.  I tried to wake myself, but nothing stirred.  The sunlight poured into the living room.  I jerked and felt awake, but every time I tried to get up from the sofa I would find myself back in the sleeping position.  I knew I hadn’t actually woken up.  I told myself to move - wiggle my toes, flex my fingers, breath in deeply and exhale - anything to get my body to wakeup because by now my mind was awake.  I did this three times, and finally I jerked awake and stood up from the sofa.  I looked around, and sunlight poured into the living room.  The blanket was draped on the sofa arm and the book was closed on top of the ottoman.  I felt chills.  I sat down on the sofa again, and got up freely.  I walked over to the dining room.  Drank a glass of cold water.  Then I checked my cellphone.  

I had been sleeping for two hours, and it was now almost 5pm.  I decided it was time to open that $120 bottle of wine... besides, I would never wear a floral dress to ride an ATV and climb a hill.

Filter Filter Filter!!!!

Early this summer when I got my promotion, I was happy and scared at the same time.  Happy because I knew I deserved the promotion, but scared because its been a while since something this great has come my way so easily.  I was sure the good fortune would quickly be followed by some misfortune.  After all, I have been fighting, fighting for the last four years to keep myself together under the weight of many stresses.  More than anything, I was afraid the good fortune would disturb the sense of calm I had recently found.  

There are some people who can always maintain a positive attitude, and never despair.  I am not one of those people.  I am almost always worried about something, but I try hard to keep my anxiety in check when I walk out the door.  I always say “change is good” but there are times I say it because I need to remind myself of that fact.  

So I had a lot of hardships these last couple years.  I fought back, and did my best to overcome them.  I have come to the point where a big part of the fight will be with myself and allowing change to happen as it naturally will.  There are some things I don’t want to let go of, but not letting them go might be more harmful in the long haul.  

In a way, I have caged myself in my ideals, and I held on to childish dreams.  Did I really think that one day my family would live in five houses surrounding a lush court yard where we would play croquet and drink tea?  Or that all the people I love(d) and I would never part ways?  I guess for some time I did.  So much of what I desired depended on other people.  Though I’ve always considered myself to be quite independent, I’m learning that there is this other thing I’ve lost touch with:  Individualism.  It’s starting to become clear that Individualism is going to be that sacrifice in the long haul.

I know I was more individualistic when I was younger, but as I grew up I thought it was childish that I couldn’t try to see things more from other people’s perspectives.  I went to great lengths to be more intuitive, and to listen before I talk; to weigh all matters at hand before jumping to conclusions, and to always be honest about what I thought.  Eventually, I decided that that was how I could achieve balance in my life by weighing it all out.

I saw balance like a seesaw, or a weighing instrument that one might typically see for ads relating to justice.  On one side was me, and on the other side was the world.  Yeah, I know this is sounding a bit narcissistic, egocentric and maybe a little hypomanic, but that’s what blogs are for, and just follow me here, ok (in the like of Barney Stinson).  I thought if I could balance myself with everything in my life, I could find peace or some kind of calm state of being.  Now, I don’t think balancing life can be done on a scale with two sides measuring for equal weight, but balancing life is more like atoms and particles moving at super speed and I just have to let it happen in which ever crazy way its going to happen because its the momentum that keeps it balanced.  And, inner peace isn’t something that I can achieve on a constant, but its more like sunshine that I should enjoy while it lasts.  And individuality isn’t one of the supersonic particles of life that is out of reach, but it is the filter that I see myself and life through.  

I can’t explain what this all means or how it means, but I like the idea of more individualism.  I’m going to slowly introduce it back into my life one shade at a time until I get the filter just right - or not at all.

Others to Keep

I don't know how other people are, but I often find that I don't fully accept and understand that I won't be here forever.  Maybe it is my selfishness that makes me forget (or deny) that there will be someone else to love, regret and cherish Life after I am gone, and in her time she will have her own triumphs and hardships.  The same will be true for her and everyone else.  Time is a tool of our lives, but also the whip that runs us down.  It is, in the end, Life's ultimate addiction.

What do I do with that thought?  I need more time, more time for this and more time for that, but at the same I am getting more tired and worn out.  Some times I start to loathe that there is no end even though an end is certain.  The weight of worry grows heavier as time presses on, and I start to question How I am living because it is too late to contemplate life.  I search my memory, and I realize that the genuine good things are enough to tolerate the weight of suffering.  Memory is the great endurance of time. This is where I should attempt to make the best impact in some small and genuine way.    

Always I know I am small in the universe - smaller even than dust in a banquet hall.  I have no significance among great things, but nonetheless, I have purpose.  I am nothing and everything to this world that I am a part of.  That is the only identity crisis I face.

The loathsome day will arrive, and after I have been spent and pressed thin, all of me will fade along with other Things.  Time will take its toll and by then I suspect the price will not seem too heavy.  For now, I can only influence the fractions of time and space that are mine, and everything else is for others to keep.

Short: Sophie by the River

The river called to her.  She found herself on the riverbank that summer evening gazing out into the calm water.  There was nothing particular on her mind, but there was a pulling at her heart.  Something curious and longing festering there, and it was looking for answers in the depths of the river.  The river was still as a photograph even as a breeze swept under the bridge that connected downtown to the governtment island.  In her heart, Sophie, felt moved by the river like there was some secret to be revealed at any moment.

She carefully observed the riverbank, bridge and water for anything extraordinary or interesting.  She peered into the dark waters, but all she saw was the reflection of the city lights.  She sat another ten minutes then got up to leave.  As she stood up, a slight ripple danced along the river's surface.  A mild wind whipped through the bridge and slapped against the water.  The surface swelled as if something glided under it.  A chill crawled over her, and hurried her away from the river.  She got on to her bike and peddled away.  

She peddled along Seventh to Hope Street.  Her team was meeting at The Boss Club with Robert.  He had some urgent news to share with them.  

Lifesaving Little Creatures

A good friend is like the stories you like to tell over and over gain.  The things you've been through together are so deeply embedded into who you are that certain portions of your memories are theirs.  Good friends are truly lifesaving little creatures who make the hardships in life more bearable.  Personally, I don't take my friendships lightly.  I only accept the truly battered, worn down and experienced friends.  Being around them is as easy as putting on my favorite pair of blue jeans.  

We all (should) want to be that friend who is fun and dependable, but we know that someone has done that repeatedly for us too.  It may not always be the same person, but good friends lend you their strength when yours alone is not enough.  Friends are my ultimate cheerleaders whether its a good idea or not.  They will be there to pick me up when, alas as they predicted, it was a bad idea.  Seriously, how many times did I fall off the chair lift at Lutsen, and still my friends kept showing up at the top with me to watch me fall off until I didn't.

You might ask me, how does one develop such meaningful relationships?  Respectfully, I accept the question.  The first thing is know what kind of friend you are because this is where it starts.  Second, is find people who are going to be the same kind of friend you are because this minimizes the drama that follows when you don't quite meet each other's expectations.  Thirdly, do stupid things together and suddenly those stupid things don't seem stupid, but they strengthen the trust.  If someone can do stupid things with you, you know you've got a good friend and something to blackmail them with if all else fails.  Lastly, don't cling on to them like a life jacket because no one wants to be friends with a sinking ship.  Accept that someone hotter will come along and you're going to have to share your friends with their boyfriend or girlfriend.  If you find yourself jealous of the time they spend with their significant other or you feel you should be included in all their dates, then friendship is not what you're looking for.  

I have friends I haven't spoken with for months.  Life happens, and you carry on, but when you do get a chance to chat, it could go on for hours.  I have good friends who are my family members, and many of my good friends feel like family because I could never get rid of them easily.  

Overall, good friendships aren't based on some shallow meet and greets.  Long lasting friendships have substance, and sometimes involves substance abuse (though I highly do not recommend nor do I deny).  Good friends are supportive and nurturing.  They tell you its a stupid idea, but still offer to help if you need any.  They give you the hard truth when a dress is too tight to wear even if you're in Vegas but buy you spandex incase you get the itch to try it on again.  They lose their clothes in your closet, celebrate your birthday harder than you, send you flowers when you're down, visit you when you're hurt, or maybe they might find themselves having an awkward breakfast with your parents because driving home was just too dangerous.  And I must not forget, they tell the best stories about you whether its true or not.  

Curiosity Calls! Discover Me!

Blame it on too much Cosmo as a teenager or cheap horoscopes, but one of the best discoveries I've had in my life is reinventing myself.  Geminis are apparently good a reinventing themselves, and are flaky and full of themselves.  I know that's such a cheap description, but I have found that its easy for me to change my mind about things and that sometimes is described as flaky.  I can handle life so much better when I know that its not forever.  Not saying that I don't hold on to somethings far past their expiration dates, but generally I try let myself down easy when time has run out.

But, there are some big things in my life that are tough as a mountain to move, and no amount of reinvention has changed where I stand against its monstrosity.  For example, Mike.  He's one of the biggest mountains I've ever created for myself.  I have poured ten years of emotional baggage into this man, and I still don't want to commit to him and I don't trust him. The toughest part is that the solution is so simple, but the consequences seem too scary.  I mean this is LIFE.  When you mess up your life, there's really no one else to blame but yourself.  I should allow myself the courage to mess up, get back up, try new things and explore.  Yes.  I need to explore.

Explore and discover.  I've done good share of that in my professional life.  In the roughly ten years I've been full-time in the workforce, I've changed my profession four times from Insurance Sales, Journalism, Grants/Finance and now Accounting.  Yet, I think with the new things I'm learning and adding to my skills set, this may not be the end of my professional web.  I am very interested in getting into project management, change management and information systems.  At the same time, I still dream of writing.  I could.  I can.  I should be whoever I want to be as soon as I decide so.

So, then it baffles me when grown people act like there is nothing they can do to help their situation (though there are some situations that can't be helped, but usually those situations are illegal or have legal implications).  I'm fairly compassionate, but I'm equal parts tough love.  I know what its like to keep making the same mistakes over and over again, but I also know enough that its because I'm not ready to move that mountain.  Nothing else.  Absolutely nothing but myself hinders me from achieving what I want.  I'm sure it baffles people, and they might think "she's had it easy.  she's naive to think that way."

I haven't been through it all, but I've been through enough to test my perseverance against those who'd break me down.  It has definitely changed who I am.  My conviction has been tested against failing dreams and broken hearts.  Through the tears and sweat, I am on track to realizing those dreams and mending those hearts.  But each time things got hard, I had to ask myself "Who are you?"  And every time, the answer was slightly different.

Reinvention isn't a change of clothes or a new hair color.  It takes commitment, determination and sometimes, desperation.  Above all, it requires a flaky, naive and careless kind of Hope (and curiosity, meow).