The Hard Truth

This was the thought that arrived on a cloudy Saturday morning while my family and I were still huddled in bed. This is the hard truth of motherhood - motherhood in migration.

I was of course being reflective of the events of the precious evening when Mandarin blatantly reminded me of my place

1. What was I even thinking bringing a toddler to a restaurant catering all-you-can-drink sake bombs to twenty-somethings who barely understand the meaning of pacing your drinks. This was irresponsible on my end; hunger, the lure of Japanese Shabu-Shabu, and admittedly just to be out with  (pretty much) everyone got the best of me. Had I known it was as bad as it was going to be, I wouldn't have even considered taking her there.

2. When going to the said place, given a very late reservation of 9:00pm means you will be seated at 9:45 and start eating a little past 10:00.

3. Toddler bedtime + short afternoon nap + belligerent and drunken crowd noise = mommy and me meltdown. The best thing to do was to leave, mid-meal before the next round of paper thin slices of beef even had the chance to cook because my instinctive solution was to remove her from that environment.

While I can easily say that all mothers out there completely understand this scenario, the hard truth that immediately commanded my attention was that - while all possible mothers there had someone to leave their children with, I on the other hand, did not.

I've heard several opinions about this and it's easy for someone who has a parent or grandparent or a sibling to leave their child with at a wink's notice to say that they should learn how to cope with their environment. Knowing what I know about my child; that she is very much opinionated, knows what she wants and is capable of traumatizing an adult in the manner in which she cries, that she can set off mass chaos with the voracity of her howling protest- how can I possibly leave her with anyone and not feel any sense of guilt? Guilty for the person watching her, that is. It is debilitating to say the least. Embarrassing (at times) even. Because I have no more excuses. Whether she's tired, hungry, sleepy or groggy - the reason she cries the way she does is because I am her only sense of comfort and security. This of course is expected, being a stay at home mom. 

And if it were a process, it will be a long and treacherous one. 

This was something I didn't foresee when we moved here. Getting lost. The sense of emotional space I would have to deal with as a mother, without close proximity to the people I would otherwise - ask for help. 

*  *  *

I wrote that draft a few weeks ago, with every intention of finishing it but hit a dead end when I fell short of  finding transcendence in my struggles. Because there always is; says the adult in my head. I could've just deleted the draft and moved onto other things, but felt that that particular evening was definitive of how I've now decided to alter my perception of  how things are versus how I think they ought to be. 

So this weekend I tried to find my bearings by taking Mandarin to a park to simply let her be. The girl loves to run and explore. Allowing her to play and discover to her hearts content was liberating, the fresh albeit cold air, cathartic. It is simple days like this with my family that I like to pitch in my anchor and steady my sails for the bliss and battles to come.

Happy Baby  =  Happy Mommy  =  Happy Family.

The internet (surprise!) harbors an alarming hoard of inspired words to live by. One in particular that I came across with:

"Life is not about waiting for the storm to pass...it's about learning to dance in the rain."

                                                                            Source: sodahead.com via SevenHurricane on Pinterest

Of course, it's got me thinking: Migration is a bitch. There is it is. The simple truth. The hard truth. There are blessings of possibility and curses of detachment.  It gives you opportunity with a side of isolation and pure moments of bliss with dismal echoes of gray discomfort. It is the constant turning of these binaries that can sometimes make settling into a life difficult. Manageable. But difficult at times.

I moved to a country known for vast spaces, interstate freeways and super sized opportunities and dreams only to find myself living a limited fraction of what I know I am fully capable of - with the biggest responsibility of my life nonetheless - Mandarin and motherhood.  Now that I've finally (and painfully) admitted this to myself, I take it to duty to sift through my cluttered thoughts to find MY voice. To find MY place in the order of things, and ensure myself that I will have the tenacity to never get lost again.

When was the last time you danced in the rain?

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All You Need Is Love.

Image via: heythingschange

Even nature knows that love abounds. 

Simple and understated is how our Valentine's evening went. I got a bouquet of perfectly red long stemmed roses (I may not be the sappy romantic, but I would take flowers any day) and Mandarin was lovingly handed a heart shaped balloon, that she of course brought to bed with her.  A home-cooked meal; a nice fat juicy steak and herbed potatoes, a good movie and some family snuggle time is all the lovin' this family needs. 

Happy ♥♥♥'s Day!

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Feeling Good, February.

This weekend gave us a double take with 65 degree weather, full on sunshine, blue skies and all the shades of summer - except that it's not. It doesn't feel like winter 'round here and we're not complaining.  So the family and I packed up what little gear we had, took our bikes and the baby trailer on the road to have our day in the sun with some much needed heliotherapy. I say this, sounding like the ultimate bike enthusiast, but truthfully up until Saturday I have NOT ridden a bike on a paved road for at least ten years. Let’s just say, it’s a good thing that one doesn’t forget how to ride a bike and found my stride within a few minutes and partially went numb (legs) within the first mile or so. So out of shape. The water and the day’s clarity and warmth, the smell of salt in the air was a nostalgic invitation into beaches I have not driven my toes into for years.  Either way, it was a good day to be out - even if I was on wheels. 

The week also delivered lovely surprises. Mandarin learned to say the shortest word she’ll ever come to know. NO. Just when I thought she finally understood what I meant by saying it every time she toggled with the knobs of the stove, in spite of the fact that it already is baby proofed. I’m surprised she didn’t learn it earlier, opting to say more syllable friendly words like apple, purple, ball and a good number of animal sounds from Old Macdonald’s farm. I’m pretty sure the word stop is also in the forecast of her ever expanding vocabulary. While I am amazed at her development I am even more pleased that she has awakened into the value of choices. The fact that she has an opinion about the daily options of her precious little life reminds me of the miracle of every child’s prodigious growth and development. While she may have mindless moments of saying no to every single thing now as a toddler, the weight of this word carries the full embodiment and integrity of choice. As an independent individual, this will prove useful in her teen years when peer pressure comes into play. 

What can I say…the girl knows what she wants as early as now. And I’m fairly certain that when it comes to the Nth serving of cheerios though, it’ll always be a yes. 

In true mommy and me style, I also learned to say NO on a few things around the house this week. Old school kitchen tiles which I can’t really do much about, twenty year old wallpaper and our couch’s outdated blue fabric. On a whim I googled what-to-do-with-ugly-sofa and was entertained to find that there is in fact a contest on The World's Ugliest Couch, which admittedly made ours look more like Pottery Barn’s finest, as opposed to some of the Cosby sweater couches on there.  Some couches were so incredibly bad that if you threw it,  the dumpster would spit it back out. Incidentally my search also led me to Ugly Sofa a company that sells Brand X slipcovers for much much much less. I always knew I would never spend a ridiculous amount of money for what is essentially a sheet over your couch, I would gladly do it for a fraction of the cost.  

I was ecstatic. Over the moon. I gleefully made my way to the living room stood right in front of both couches and barked “NO” wagging my finger as if it offended me. No! No more. There is hope and salvation from the chokehold of eighties furniture after all. Just a few more weeks until the living room can actually have a fresh makeover into the current century. So I turned up some Led Zeppelin and danced like a madwoman.  All while saying, Yes. Yes. YES!

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