Thursday, February 24, 2011

Goodnight, Lullaby Lane...

I am distraught to find out that after 64 years, Lullaby Lane, an independent shop here in the Bay Area has closed it’s doors to its patrons. The economy must have hit them hard - generally known as a shop that catered to less commercial baby things, more expensive things, pretty things. 

I haven’t been here long enough to claim that it was a landmark of my childhood, however there still are strings being played on in the chord of nostalgia. 

When I was pregnant last year my husband and I would take frequent trips there (apart from Target and Babies R Us) just to look around and see a wider variety of strollers, cribs, baby things we dreamed of and got excited about. I strolled around there up until my 9th month, dragging my swollen feet across the shop chatting it up with other expectant mothers,    and rubbing my belly with the enkindled vibe of motherhood. 

Fathers, boyfriends and significant others can usually be found nesting by the gliders and rockers, aghast over the $500 price tag. On Sale. But oh so comfy

This is the little patch of memory I have with Lullaby Lane. 

There were simply some things in there that cannot be found in other shops. 

Goodnight Lullaby Lane. You will be missed. 



Friday, February 18, 2011

Zoo Day!

I had intended to finish this post even before Valentine’s Day rolled in but then laundry and life got in the way and there were things that simply needed to be done. 

Thursday, February 11th 

It was oddly sunny the past few weeks, as if the Pacific was playing a winter prank on our western shores. Isn’t it winter!? I’m not complaining, really. Last Thursday was the perfect day to be outdoors and be with the company of friends - who also happen to be mothers too. All our girls just a mere two weeks apart! The Oakland Zoo was a logical choice for a sunny stroll. It wasn’t overwhelming and as big as the San Francisco Zoo, the vibe was clearly friendly - mostly kids and babies in strollers just like us.  


Time for a sun bath. And that’s exactly what the Gator was doing. It looked so stoic - almost - ceramic and fake. 
Stroller dates are always fun - check out my friend’s red double-duty stroller on the right. 
The cherry blossoms are now in full swing, in bloom and a sure sign that Spring is peeking around the corner (though it feels like it now).  

The girls, still too young to notice the wildlife that surrounds them seemed observant, nonetheless. The nippy wind brushed up against their plump and blushed cheeks as we strolled through the hilly pathways. They may have missed the baboon tearing up an empty Doritos bag (It’s terribly irresponsible -  what people leave behind) but the yellow blooms that hung overhead were surely noticed and the loud cawing of the blue and yellow (well) Macaws, heard. 



Sophie Le Giraffe had a day out too - and met some of her relatives! 

My Loveylove in deep contemplation of which animal is her favorite. Giraffe or Elephant. Tough choices.


Today...



A forecast of winter storms, rain and hail and thunder is set to slam against our Bay Area shores, one system after another.Yet, in spite of this extreme weather, there is always room for enjoyment. Like dessert. The sweetness of moments in days whether it rains or shines is always welcome. This time around instead of the sun in our face we have cuddles in the sheets as the wild seasonal wind ticks of the last brown maple leaf from it’s hold. And when 8:00am rolls around with a thunderstorm and gray skies and the dibble-dopp of rain tapping against the windowpane, we are lulled back to sleep in the comfort of snuggles, and blankets of warmth. Nothing more soothing than a rainy morning and a slow start to a day full of possibilities. 

Tuesday, February 15, 2011

Love is All You Need

A year ago, Love meant something very different for me. We all know that there are varying degrees of love - for your husband, best friend, your parents, siblings, cousins, your children. Being a mother, I’ve realized that it is easy to fall prey to cliches because there is absolute truth in them. Like this one: I never knew a deeper form of love until I met my daughter. Yes it is unconditional. Yes it is the kind that will make you move mountains (there goes another one). But how can anyone not fall in love with a child that smiles with utmost brightness to greet you in the morning. She is the face of joy and the breath of bliss.  



Yesterday when I came home, Hubby had red heart balloons for our LoveyLove and red roses on the table for me. The house smelled incredibly good when we walked in because he cooked and prepared an exceptional meal for the both of us (well, I suppose it’s for the three of us since it’ll end up in my breast milk anyway): Fillet Mignon with Asparagus spears wrapped in cream cheese and prosciutto and a side serving of herb roasted potatoes. Sheer Joy. Dessert was leftover coffee jello I made a week ago and a scoop of Vanilla Bean Ice Cream. Love is savory and sweet and is in the simplest of gestures that make for huge family memories.  


Wednesday, February 9, 2011

What Makes a Home.

I’ve lived in this house for four years. It's not ours but rather a guest house that belongs to my family, which they have graciously allowed us to inhabit while we get our bearings. My husband and I moved to the Bay Area from Manila four years ago which in hindsight was a privileged life of domestic freedom - from chores and other things but that in itself is another entry. 

I’ve become the accidental homemaker in the past years and was completely unprepared when we moved here. 

This house, albeit, severely outdated, has been good and kind to us.   It’s stocked with pretty much everything you might need for a short vacation. Linens. Pillows. Towels. Pots and pans. Washer and Dryer. It is a house that provides, thanks to my thrifty grandmother’s twenty plus years of foresight and an awesome aunt who took care of it for years.  Case in point: I needed a desk - and there it was, though smaller than what I’m used to, but it was there. Or that one time I needed laundry baskets and there were five of them piled up in the garage. Oven mitts, three in the kitchen drawer. And don’t even get me started on the deluge of dinnerware (still bought my own - I find that it is important to have your own dinnerware). Extra storage, a seven drawer mini chest with wheels!  It’s like the house is a genie of sorts, rub it the right way and pooof. There it is. Well, maybe more like a new friend that you make much later in life as an adult. You meet and bring both your life history with you and like pieces of a puzzle there is a shapely spot with the right fit. More than mere structure, or a roof over our heads, it gave my husband and I countless opportunities to learn from each other.


The rooms are themed in hardcore eighties swag. It’s a time machine. Three rooms each splashed with a specific color: pink, green, and blue. The curtains, beddings, lamps, art, and all details large and small considered for thematic consistency. 

Which of course, I am instinctively opposed to. I’m all about the mixed and the unmatched. 

Also, all my life, pink was the enemy. I stayed away from anything pink and sweet and everything that resembled a blushed state. And where else would I end up but in the Pink room. Which now we simply refer to as, our room. We accepted the space, and likewise, the space embraced us with the warmth and comfort of a bedroom ---  and a new appreciation for all shades of pink. 

And yet there is also a deep sense of nostalgia. Maybe because in all the years that my family and I have been staying here - nothing has changed. The furniture is the same, the layout;   it even smells the same. Memories of this space float about like tiny white specs suspended in snow globes.  Even deeper still, it is the house that I have now brought my daughter into and will raise her for who knows how long. I can pretty much say with certainty that the first year of her life will be spent growing up here. Who knows when we can afford our own place. 

I continue to dream...


A rundown of details includes, a very old (yet working) dishwasher, popcorn ceilings, band of wallpaper where a cornice would otherwise be, hi-maintenance curtains, outdated kitchen cabinetry, brass fake fruit bowl with crystal chandelier drops, faux plants,  a horrendously shabby backyard with no upkeep, rusted gate. There is quite literally a laundry list. 

I can feel myself growing reluctant roots in here mostly because this house is not mine and I know that there will come a time when we will have to move and settle down elsewhere. 


Possibilities.

  

It was only after the birth of my daughter that things took drastic measures of change. And how could it not. A pile of laundry, bouncers, a swing, toys, rattles, baby gyms. Everywhere. So many things, for such a little girl. Our little Love brought light into this house and NEVER would I have ever thought - back then as a child, as a teenager on spring and summer vacations here that my girl, my baby - would light up the empty spaces of this house and change it’s energy forever. The walls of this house have witnessed the unfolding of a life from birth onwards and the vibrant flow of that energy will always be the glimmer that makes this house a home. 




Tuesday, February 1, 2011

Happy Friday

(As imported from my previous blog)
It's always a day to celebrate when there's ribbons and bows and zebra prints and baby pink! A long nap followed by happy smiles makes for a great start for the weekend where parties and cousins and friends await!
Having fun with a new program that is on my list of things to master!
Ribbons can be found at SOUTHERNBABYBOUTIQUE!

Sunday. Lazy. Sunday.

It’s the perfect day to be outdoors. The afternoon is crisp, the sky a cerulean dream, the weather; mid-fifties calm. No plans, no schedules, no meet-up and get-togethers, no strings attached, nothing except a humming tune of a day’s passing.
And yet here we are: My mind says “Lay out the picnic blankets! The wine! (Not for me since I’m still nursing - boo!) The cheese! I want the sun in my face! And yet my body cannot deny the animal magnetism that is our bed and our homey sheets. Oh blankie.
The day is not wasted. Outside, something stirs in the garden. The quiet unfolding of a season. Great strides are taken to turn wheels of the year and yet all we see is a tiny yellow bud.
Tiny Buds
Everything has its own time. Even picnics. When all things are hushed, small wonders come about like little faeries that have come to spread glittery dust over your eyes and let’s you see the world for what it truly is.
My sleeping Loves. It may not seem much but in the stillness of her slumber her heart beats to the rhythm of growth (they say it’s when they’re asleep that they grow).
Fast asleep with Floppy the Fluff. Her favorite little toy.
There Hubby too, is resting. His body relaxed, clearing the decks for another long work week ahead.
Today, I am reminded of the intricacy and the inner workings of a quiet Sunday--and grateful for it.
And what about me? The words of Annie Dillard lingers on: Spend the afternoon, you can't take it with you. Even a speck of dust is a constant reminder: Be still. Wait. The day is not wasted. I just spent it on much self-reflection and it's worth every second.

A Change Gonna Come

Another pile of clothes to be stashed away today. With a dresser of fourdrawers oddly too small for a four month old, it’s off with the old and in with the new. Shirts that fall short of her adorable rubber band wrists are sent to a small mound that is a constant reminder of how fast she’s growing and how quickly she outgrows clothes. While I do look forward to so many firsts with her, the schmaltz of her first four months - of how much she’s grown, overcomes my proud and sappy heart.
While on the subject of change. I thought I would keep the tree and the rest of Christmaslinger through the entire month of January. Oh, how wrong I was. Apparently, as fast as the season creeps up on you, a lesson of letting go tags along its skirt tails. And when it’s done, it’s done. And as swiftly as the winds shift, Spring is a crisp, green leaf away with the gift of celebration and change. On a whim, without much thought, we took down the tree and boxed up the ornaments. I thought I’d feel sad but on the contrary, I felt hopeful. Very hopeful. Much reflection took place when taking them down. Twenty-Ten brought me the greatest joy I will ever know, and the most challenging yet. Our daughter: a spreading ray of sunny love. Moving onto the new year, I could quite literally see myself in mirrored globes with frosted snowflakes, moving around the room, putting things away, making space for more memories.
The tree, emptied of all it’s holiday adornment, is a blank slate for all the new year has to offer. (In which case, I expect to have a very, very full tree this year.)
The magic.
The sweetness.
The divine guidance and grace, the countless adventures and happiness Twenty-Eleven has to offer.
We’re going beyond rainbows, baby.

Squeaky Fun

They grow up so fast. That line can probably be found on every single mommy blog out there. Today, our little Love reached out for me. A quiet and sunny afternoon, we were sitting on the couch after a round of snuggly tickles and kisses; she sat on her purple Bumbo with such fleeting contentment, squeaking Sophie La Girafe on one hand while I huddled right next to her in my favorite spot on the couch with my laptop. Then her right hand reached out and touched my left arm while I was checking my email.  More than just the usual playful pat and grab, I think she knew what she was doing. She looked at me and knew that she was sitting beside her Mama and she knew to reach out and pat me as if to say “Hey there”.

Help me.


She left her hand there for a few more seconds, amused by the muted clickety-clack of my keyboard and the homely drift  of a seemingly ordinary January’s day. Then, a coo and smirk later and it was off with Sophie’s head! Followed by copious amounts of drool. Everyday I fall in love with her more and more. 


Then minutes later she knocked out in a peaceful nap. 

And when she woke up, the fog had rolled back in. The kitchen pantry cleaned. The fridge, emptied of neglected produce. Dinner was hastily put together and made.  Clothes washed, dried and waiting to be folded. Whew. 


Now for a round of swat-the-blue-elephant. Joy. 


Hello, Sun in My Face...

So. After much thought I finally decided to have one blog dedicated to my life as a mother and domesticity. 

So much detail goes into being such, and as I am new to motherhood there is simply, so much possibility. 

Mary Oliver writes: "Instructions for living a life: Pay Attention. Be Astonished. Tell about it."

And that's what I intend to do.  To savor the small things in life and discover that it doesn't take much for inspiration to take flight. 


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