Yes, it's really me writing this post

Those who really know me know this -

I don't exercise.

I don't like to work out. I don't like to exert myself. I just don't like it. It's all... hard and stuff.

However, I have recently had a tiny change of heart. I mean, I think I look relatively thin but I'm nowhere near in healthy shape. One word - Flabby. I might look fine to in clothes but looks are deceiving under drapey sweaters. Also, why do you think I wear black all of the time? I just want to feel healthier and have more energy. I drag my knuckles around the house all day from fatigue and low energy. This in turn causes me to be grumpy - to my kids, to my husband, actually...to anyone in the 100 yard vicinity of me.

So I have decided to do something about it.

No, I haven't joined a gym or anything - because I'm too cheap - but I've am going to take the plunge and try this:

I'd like for someone to hold me now. Thank you.

When I was in line at Walgreens waiting to purchase the DVD, the cashier actually pointed to it and said "OOH, she's mean". Fantastic. Just what I need to get this flabby vessel in shape. I mean, have you seen her berate some of those contesants on The Biggest Loser? Although, I must say from experience that sometimes being mean gets the job done. Ask my family,

Anyways, I'm sharing my workout news with you because I figure I will document my progress and see if I notice any changes to my body/mind/spirit. I am not going to do this for 30 days straight but the idea of the workouts is to work your way to 30 days on increasing levels of intensity. I will probably aim to work out at least 3 times a week.

And sorry, I won't be posting any pictures of my "badly in need of a tan and a good sloughing" body. After all, I am a very vain person who has too much shame respect you all too much. Yeah, something like that.

So... tomorrow is day one. I'll let you know how it goes.

Life lessons, one day at a time.

As we were leaving the playground, I spotted a mom walking towards the park with her little girl in tow.  The girl might have been 3 or 4 years old, wearing a fuschia sweatsuit and rainbow tennis shoes. I felt bad that we were leaving just as she was arriving, for she looked like she wanted to play with all the kids.

The mom sat down on the curb as her daughter continued walking towards us to the slide. As we passed her, I let out a cheerful hello. I turned to Evelyn, expecting her to follow in response but she simply stared at the girl and looked away. I tried coaxing her to say hello, to at least be polite enough to acknowledge her existence but for some reason, she kept avoiding eye contact. Feeling slightly embarassed for myself and sympathetic towards the little girl, I said goodbye and we all kept walking on to our car. As i opened the doors to hoist everyone inside, I asked Evelyn why she hadn't said anything to the little girl and her answer shocked me.

"I didn't like her face", Evelyn told me matter of factly as she stepped inside.

"Why? What didn't you like about it?" I asked.'

"I didn't like it. It was dark" she replied back quietly as she nestled into her booster seat

This is the part where a thousand tiny little knives plunged their way into my heart.

The little girl was of Indian descent, dark face, dark hair. Not unlike people she's seen before but nevertheless, too dark to be acknowledged by my five year old daughter.

Shocked, I immediately admonished her for saying and thinking such a thing. The next few hours were spent having a terse discussion with Evelyn, trying to explain to her why what she said was inappropriate and in fact, wrong. I explained to her how she might not realize it, but that we are different to most people just like that little girl at the park is different to her. I explained to her about not judging people based on their outer appearance but by the kindness of their hearts. I tried my best not to scold her but deep down, I was very hurt and angry and ashamed. How could my child possibly feel this way, let alone know to feel that way about anyone?

If there is anything John and I try to instill in our kids, it's kindness and acceptance. We both know how it felt to grow up being the minority and even in this day and age know what it is like to be the only yellow face in a sea of white. But we don't want her to ever feel ashamed of who she is, who she was born into this world to be. We want her to know she is a Korean-American. She has a culture and values different from many of her school peers. We want her to be proud of who she is, always.

At the end of the night, after I had exhausted all of my efforts to explain to her what had happened, I told her simply:

God made us all different. Some people have black hair, some people have yellow hair, some people are brown, some people are light. Some people are nice and some people are bad. And yet, God loves us all because He made us all. So we have to try to be like God and love everyone, regardless of what they look like or what they might do.

My explanation may sound elementary but she is in kindergarten so it's rather apropos. I guess after trying to always overanalyze and criticize the world in which we live, sometimes the best answers are the most simple.

I think Evelyn understands why I was so upset and I hope she realizes what I was trying to teach her. I did my best to turn the situation into a teaching moment and certainly hope I succeeded but there is still a lingering pang of sadness in my heart. I just couldn't believe that something so mean had come from my daughter's thoughts.

Maybe I'm overreacting to the situation since she is still just very young but I think yesterday's incident was a stark slap in my face. It was a reminder to all of us that it is not the responsibility of the school, teachers, media or caregivers to teach our child important life lessons and morals. It is our job as parents to mold our children, to teach them well......and to lead the way...?

Hmm... that sounds like part of a song doesn't it? Whitney Houston, anyone?

All I have left to say is this - This parenting job, it is really challenging. And really important. And quite possibly the most important job I'll ever have.

So I better not screw it up.

Wesley - one week later

So it's been a week since Wesley's turned one and GUESS WHAT, GUYS? He's already becoming a menace. I left him for a few seconds to go in the office and came back to this:

"What? I got bored. Besides, I'm a little bitter about my hair. I mean, LOOK IT THIS BOWL. and what is with this pink bib? Huh?!"

He also has this FABULOUS new habit of banging his fists on the table if I don't shovel his food in his hole fast enough. He even has the nerve to throw the spoon back at me when I hand it to him. I scolded him a little and he gave me the puppy dog look and tears started to well in his eyes. I'm so mean but he looks so cute when he does that. Heh.

In other more pleasing news, Wesley has started to take a few steps. Here he is being coaxed to walk over the remote control. Again, he's wearing the pink bib with his banded fat boy sweats. Niiiiiiice.

Protecting my cubs

This is where I feel it is needed to defend my crazy little son. I'm sure if you were to go back and read my older posts about Oliver, you'd think he was some out of control brat. And while he sometimes may be a little out of control, he is most certainly not a brat and he is not a horrible kid. He's a little crazy, a little unpredictable but incredibly sweet and funny. He loves to giggle and learn new things everyday. He's also not even 3 yet.

So when I hear people who don't really even know him. or um, me for that matter, say things like

"That Oliver. Man.........He's something else" *Shakes head in disbelief and disgust*

The mama bear in me wants to growl back, "That Oliver WHAT?!?!?" and then claw their eyes out. Uh, kidding, kidding.

Kind of.

Ok, not really.

No kid is perfect. Not yours and not mine and not that other kid at the table next to you. Oliver is definitely more sensitive to things than his big sister. If he misses a nap he's extremely grumpy. His appetite knows no bounds and he has a hard time computing the word "no more"into his demanding little brain and stomach. He has an infectious laugh and the cutest squinty eyes when he's happy. He loves to be free (like a dog off a leash, I like to say) and run around outside with his sister and friends. He likes when I sing him a song and hold him tight before bedtime. He drags his trusty green blanket all over the house, taking the time to stop and take a deep whiff of the fabric before continuing on his way.

Is he a little harder to reason with? Sure. But remember, he's not even 3 yet. Does he drive me crazy when he wanders off while we're at the store? Of course. Does he have some aggression issues against little Andrew and Chloe that he may need to work out? Um, YES. Do I have moments at home when I wish I could lock him in the closet? Yes No Maybe. Does he need a haircut? Depends you who ask.

For all of his crazy antics when we're out and about, no one who doesn't know us should really be judging us by what they see. Being a parent is a tough job but I think being a mother is even more difficult. People are so quick to judge the mom for anything the child may or may not be doing correctly but if the father does something, anything at ALL then it is somehow praise worthy. It is almost as if the baggage of judging and being judged comes with being a mom.

It's like the minute you push the baby out of your body, the world says "Congratulations! Let the judging begin!" Instead of lifting each other up, we've resorted to tearing apart the parenting choices of others. When Oliver's having a day when he's particularly out of sorts, I feel this silent judgement being cast upon me. People wondering why I can't control my son, why my son isn't as behaved as the other kids, etc...I feel this especially from people who don't have kids. People who don't yet know.

I admit it, when I was childless I often used the phrase

"When I have a kid, he/she isn't going to (Insert offense*)".

*cry on the plane
*freak out at a restaurant
*flail on the ground in protest
*sleep in my bed
*fall asleep in my arms
*Seriously, this list could go on...

And then I actually had a kid(s) and God was like "HA HA HA, remember when you said this?" and then SHAZZAM! Lightning struck or whatever and the said offense actually happened. to ME.

I think people spend way too much time tearing each other down when we should be giving more of an effort to build one another up. As fellow Christians, parents, friends, we owe it to each other to lend a hand of support, a word of comfort or just a nod of understanding. Now is that too much to ask?

So before you all go judging me or my kids or the person next to you who is not wearing shoes in a public restroom, take a step back and maybe give them a chance. and an old pair of flip flops?

I'm tired. The end.

Ah, here's to another chapter written in the Oliver Saga.
Today was a doozy, people.

DOOZY

I'll keep it short by just saying that we had to leave a birthday party at Point Defiance Zoo before it even began. Yes, it was that fantastic. Imagine lots of tears, whining, flailing and hissing.

Oh and Oliver was pretty worked up too. Heh.

He hasn't napped in, Oh I don't know, what feels like about one million years, so the 2:00pm start for the party already had me quaking in my flip flops. Prime meltdown time! I was hoping (in vain, might I add) that he would somehow cooperate and be calm and cool.

HA HA HA HA HA! I'm so funny! Phew!
*Wipes tears from eyes*

Anyways, he was just basically uncontrollable today. Let's face it, the odds were not in my favor. I was grossly outnumbered 3 to 1 since John had to work today. You'd think I'd be used to the gross outnumbering right? Imagine me chasing Oliver while wearing the baby in a sling and waiting for Evelyn to catch up since she was running after me like I was going to abandon her.

Please. Abandon the good one?

Usually when he acts up I just try and deal with it the best I can, but today I decided I needed to be much more militant in my discipline. If he couldn't control himself, I'd follow through with my previously empty threats to "calm down or we're going home." I needed him to understand that his behavior was simply unacceptable. And let's face it, ANNOYING.

So anyways, I (literally) tossed him in the stroller and wheeled us the hell out of that place. I was able to contain my anger until we got to the car and then did what any self respecting parent would do.

I rolled up the window and yelled at him like a crazy woman.

He was crying so much he gagged and vomited all over himself. At this point I was so irritated I decided to just keep driving and let him soak in his vomit until we got home.

I know!

Mom of the Year 2009!

He eventually fell asleep from the sheer exhaustion of being evil. When I pulled into the driveway, he woke up with a look on his face that was like,

"Wuh? What happened? Why am I covered in vomit and where is my piece of birthday cake, lady?"

He acted like nothing had ever happened.

NOTHING.

*Sighs*

Sometimes I wish I drank.

Time out, drama queen style

Lisa said the last post was kind of sad (?!) so I thought I'd post this video.

Go ahead, call CPS. Tell 'em I said HI.

*At one point, she screams so loud the camera practically overloads because of the decibel level.

Awesome.

**Don't forget to pause the blog music for full video effect.