Friday Five: Nine

1. Fisherman's Wharf Carousel Ride. 2. Cheeeeese! 3. Road to the Beach! 4. Zoe finger puppet. 5.  Busy Bee at the beach. 

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Weekend Wonders

I just crawled out of the laundry basket I lived in for the past few days. Sorting, washing, drying, folding and putting clothes back in their respective places. Our old washing machine finally sputtered into the great beyond and left us with another unexpected, albeit very necessary purchase. Yay for being an adult! 

We had guests staying with us last week and it was admittedly a mad scramble to conceal the pile of clothes that had built up, the kitchen that wasn't as squeaky clean as I had hoped, and the fridge had  its bottom crisper turn into a zucchini grave of sorts. 

Today I am scrambling to find the words for an end of the week post about the fun and memory markers that transpired over the LAST weekend. I am way behind in posting, it's Friday and tomorrow, another weekend cycle begins again.  

When did days start moving so fast?

It doesn't help that navigating with Blogger's recent face lift caught me off guard and this new terrain is making it difficult to fit work projects, home duties, blogging, and thinking all in one breath. It'll take a while before this yields to second nature stature, because certain buttons that used to be here, are no longer there. This and that.

Nonetheless in spite this and last week's adult life obstacles the past week was teeming with firsts for Mandarin.

Her first carousel ride! She seemed tentative at first, not knowing what to expect while I strapped her securely onto the big-eared bunny she chose. "Part of your World" from The Litte Mermaid started playing and the carousel came to life and steadily spun around. The wind caught her hair as she moved up and down as a wordless wow escaped her lips, such a pure moment of wonder that is now forever imprinted in my mommy bank of memories. I was of course mindlessly singing the Disney song oblivious to other parents nearby, a foreshadowing of how I may possibly embarrass my family when I revert back to an eight year old when we go to Disneyland sometime in the near future.

By the time we took our guests to Ghiradelli square, Mandarin was knocked out. Not even the lure of ice cream in Ghiradelli chocolate dipped waffle cones could rouse her. I'd wake up for chocolate on any time of day! 

Saturday cranked up the heat for a birthday party complete with a Hello Kitty bouncy castle, a cotton candy machine, and an ice machine for watermelon slushies. Mandarin bounced, ran, laughed, and took food from the buffet table on her tippie toes for seven straight hours, without a nap.

I had to climb inside the bouncy castle because Mandarin refused to enter it without me - and let me tell you, I haven't been inside one of those in decades but the heat coupled with extreme bouncing (from the other kids) was not only exhausting, but nauseating and dehydrating. So within a few minutes of leaving Mandarin bouncing about, barely moving from the spot I left her, I heeded the call of instinct and took her out to play elsewhere. My brave little girl, once adjusted to a new environment can stay there for as long as time permits. 

We woke up Sunday morning thinking of the slow and steady start we'd have for the day when the world beach surfaced and in an hour an a half we were up and ready to hit the sand and surf. We had to intended to meet up with friends at Half Moon Bay, relishing in the brightness of the day as we drove past the coastline of the Pacific.

Half Moon Bay, oddly enough was so foggy and sun deprived, we turned back and drove back into the warmth of the sunny side of Pacifica. Rockaway Beach, not exactly the best of beaches but the perfect place to drive to for some immediate need of some Vitamin D.

Watching waves

They'll be great friends.

We'd love to live by the Beach. 

Mandarin's first encounter with sand was as expected. She was scared out of her wits and clung on to me; toes, legs, arms, and fingers - until she felt the water. As if something had turned in her mind, something familiar that she was always comfortable with. Before the receding tides pulled away for a second time, Mandarin was on her feet. Grounded into the shore, strong, unafraid of the vast expanse before her and the grainy composition of sand. The freezing water shocked me electric. It didn't seem to bother her at all because she went from being clingy to chasing tides.  Soon enough, what had shortly scared her had flipped and became an opportunity for curious playing.

She called upon the waves with glee, and while many - even adults would be afraid of waves coming at them, Mandarin eagerly awaited them, and greeted the water with much bravura often times mesmerized by how her toes would be slightly buried as the tides pulled away from her feet.  

This memory alone could last me a lifetime of bliss. We were so happy to watch her experience the ocean; something that will always stand before her as the boundless expanse of her being, wide and deep with all great possibilities that the world has to offer. And like the coming waves I take cue from my brave little girl and stand vigilant on shore waiting for all the wonderful adventures that will surely come and solidify as memories; sand between my toes, the cold water a constant reminder of what it means to be present. 

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Friday Five: Eight

Just a few inspiring things that that we came across with in our week.  

1. Spring bouquet given by Mandarin on Easter day.  2. Blue Easter Hat ($2.99!) 3. Mandarin's favorite car (The Wiggles  always come to mind when she plays with this). The details are exceptional. 4. Big cheeky smile! 5. Classic Literature for toddlers - I need to have them ♥.

New Friday Five format = more room to play :) 

Happy Friday! 

♥

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Easter Weekend

Easter weekend delivered a healthy serving of family, friends, and felony.
Say what? You read that one right.
But first, egg hunting!

In the 15,000 spring colored eggs that quivered under every child’s breath in the verdant grass of the park, not a single one was left for my daughter and her friends.  We missed the noon mark by two minutes! Which is exactly how long it took every single child in the park to bag those eggs in their pretty baskets. Last year wasn't any different either; with the girls not being able to walk just yet we merely strolled around the park.
And so, my friends and I decided right at that moment to set up camp next year, get our war paint on (lipgloss and sunscreen) and Alpha-mom our way into the park for some goodies. All in good fun, of course. :)

Trading eggs with a good friend. 

Nevertheless, we were somehow prepared this year. Our contingency plan worked out well for the kids. Maybe it's a mother's instinct to do so, but we brought our own novelty filled eggs - just in case. We didn't think they'd run out of eggs, at least I didn't. I thought, if it got too crowded for our toddlers, then they can have a separate hunt of their own. Just a few minutes late. So, we soldiered on and happily scattered the eggs on the grass and let the kids run loose . It was an open park, so hiding the eggs weren't an option so we set them on the grass, a splash of color suddenly rolling around in the lush greenery.

We laughed in the face of our staged egg hunt or as my brother-in-law called it -  forced fun, as I planted our colorful eggs all over the grass and without much thought I uttered "We are in charge of our children's memories" through a smile. "If they've ran out of eggs for us, we bring our own".

And why not? Because at the end of the day it doesn't matter who put those eggs there as long as it was fun for everyone. It pleasantly caught me by surprise too, what mother's are willing to do for their Littles. If only for the good and happy memories it will create. 

Kids of all ages.

Which now brings me to the felony. 

The buffet place we decided on for lunch after our time in the sun had a little corner with a wooden bench all set up in pink and pastel for the Easter Bunny. Mandarin was running back and forth across the room playing with her friends, probably fueled by general aroma of sugary sweets on the dessert isle. Suddenly I noticed her dart across one end of the the room towards our area, our friend's daughter on her tail, and a staff member of the restaurant behind her. 

Apprently, Mandarin had borrowed the (toy) carrot from the Easter Bunny's lair. She was running as fast as her feet could hustle, mouth open, wind in her hair, holding up the plastic carrot like an Olympian's torch.  She went straight for the wall right next to the fire exit door where we were seated nearby and cornered, had no option but to give me the carrot. Which she did, willingly, followed by a wailing complaint that took several minutes to pacify. 

We all had a good laugh and while this memory of Easter weekend will probably be one of those that will be re-told in many of our dinner tables through the years, I was sadly too slow to draw out the camera for photo evidence. 

Of course, at this age she still doesn't know any better and I wondered if she took in any of the lessons I  tried to instill in her at the moment about not taking what's not yours and not complaining when asked to return something. 

Silly Rabbit.

Easter Sunday was uplifting. We were out and about with family; Mandarin picked out some wildflowers and gave me my very first spring bouquet. It doesn't matter that they came from weeds, they were lovely and heartwarming just the same.

Back home we fired up the grill and got creative in the backyard with some sidewalk chalk. Suddenly, the cosmos appeared on the pavement and all other possibilities emerged, like shapes and balls and a finger's taste of chalk - that did not seem appealing for a second helping. 

Chalk dust is not tasty. 

We spun around in circles and laughed out loud with abandon. And the day fizzled out with a smile on everyone's face. 

We face the week ahead full of opportunities to make good of something that unexpectedly goes wrong. 

Much like having all your eggs in one basket, colorful and creative ideas are there for the taking. You just have to pick one, crack it open and see what surprise lies ahead. 

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Seven Years Hitched

I'm not entirely sure why they call it the seven year itch. This idiom has made its way through the pages of George Axelrod's play to the movie with Marylyn Monroe and finally into our every day lives. Enough of it at least that it's the first thing that comes to mind when everyone finds out that you've been married for seven years and pretty much all other years in proximity to the seventh. Sixth year: seven year itch is coming up. Uh-oh. Eighth year: You survived. How was it? It's not the Mayan Calendar of marriages, and it is certainly not the end, at least for most people.

Do couples really feel as if by some invisible hand that they've been cordoned off into some subconscious section where there is an inclination to be unfaithful, lose touch with their spouses and ultimately the very partnership they share? I highly doubt that it takes seven years for a marriage to get testy, especially these days. You have marriages lasting months, weeks, even days.

We don't belong there, because we choose not too. I think my hubby and I have been fortunately blessed that, in spite of the fact that we argue like two kids in a sandbox at times, we make up for it with surprise attacks of affection. And bouts of laughter. Seven years married, yes. But we've been together for fifteen years. I always say, if we had a child in our first year together we'd have an angst-ridden teen by now who chews gum all the time and doesn't look you in the eye when being spoken to.

So, this weekend - Sunday (hardly date night) we arranged some family members to spend some time with Mandarin for a few hours and we made our way to the city. When you've been running around with a toddler and all the necessary strings attached to having one, it felt odd just carrying my purse and not watching out for the stroller, Mandarin's quilted jacket, her backpack, sippy cup, and snacks. Ah, the glorious entourage of motherhood.

I opted out of horse drawn carriage rides, baroque serenades, the opera tickets and the general Jane Austen package in what we may now consider date night of the 21st century. Watching twenty-four tributes hack each other to death and fight for their lives only to survive the daily toils of dystopia. This, followed by a  meal of designer cucumber slices with fancy words like lemon aioli and a fat, juicy slab of steak. Dinner and a movie.  

We haven't been on a date since Tori Amos' concert, haven't seen a movie (in theaters) for about a year and half and haven't been on a dinner date since Mandarin was born. As simple as it was, it was a perfect way to spend our anniversary. Nothing extravagant. A seemingly regular thing to do even on a weeknight and something we ourselves used to do, and yet given much gravitas this time around just because for a few hours, we can be just another couple you see on the street. 

It felt familiar, like the echo of your own voice, of a life that tunnels behind you. It felt - for a sliver of a moment there, like something was missing. Maybe it was holding Mandarin's little hands, or being used to carrying her on my hip, or having her trail along with us - the very basic rhythm of family life when being out and about,  that being a couple suddenly felt oddly, new. Off beat, even. 

Isn't that strange? Being parents is what we now consider to be normal. Of course, it's not like you lose parenthood just because your children are back home. It just brings the obvious into context; often forgotten by the daily hustle of family life. Date night should be an integral part of any relationship, and this day reminded us of that. It doesn't matter whether it's dinner and a movie, a Radiohead concert (which I'd gladly take any day!), or a beer in the backyard.  

Walking into the cinema level, though seemingly mundane was like seeing an old friend and pleasantly discovering you're still able to pick up where you left off - so we manage to find our bearings soon enough and ease into each other's company, just like old times.

Navigating through the adventures of marriage and seven years into being hitched; well that's good anchorage right there. 

Lighting was very dim at the lounge, these are the salvaged photos from my phone - thanks to Photoshop!

Driving through sunday night's subdued Embarcadero was peaceful to say the least.  The glimmer of streetlights, the open street, emptied restaurants and bars that are otherwise teeming with life on other days of the week was a refreshing sight to see. My husband mentions that we can turn up the music tonight because Mandarin isn't sitting behind - no delicate eardrums to ruin. And what pleasure it was, even if for a fifteen minute ride, to channel the music deep in your bones, a kindred thing he and I used to do from the time we met in college. Some things, thankfully, never changed in the last fifteen years. So we turn up Cage the Elephant as we veered into the freeway and eagerly made our way home. 

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