Meaningful.

So that's what a half digested peanut butter sandwich looks like on the floor. I will save you the photo opportunity right there. Here's a good way to start the year right, a clear reminder that children are vessels of surprise and delight, where just moments ago we were happily eating breakfast and doing Eskimo kisses and all that jazz, when out of nowhere, a gag and that was that. 

This is nothing new,  really. It's happened more times than I can easily remember and I only have a two year old. My reaction though, now that's one thing that never changes. I caught myself, deer-in-the-headlights witnessing this purge in slow motion HD. So real it hit my shoe, jammies and left an offensive sensory mess on the floor. I think we both had a slight out of body experience. Poor Mandarin was just as shocked as I was, not expecting breakfast to take flight from her so soon. 

I finally snapped out of it, asked her not to move while I cleaned up a bit, and did what any mother and child would do in this scenario. Get naked in Tahiti. Contain the outbreak. Minimize contamination. Leave clothes behind; head straight for the shower. Load the washer. 

She then asked me, "Mama, are you mad?"

"Of course not" I said.

"Aww...I'm soweee..."

"It's not your fault, love" I uttered. 

"We're just cleaning you up"

She then smiled and unexpectedly said, "I'm so proud of you, Mama". 

She was obviously sounding off something she heard from both myself and her Dad, but to hear this kind of validation from your two year old, regardless of whether she knows what she's talking about or not, feels good. To hear your own child say that, pulls you right back into the moment, no matter where you are. No matter how far your mind has wandered off. 

I had an entire post written up and saved in my draft section not knowing how to end it or if I even wanted to post it. I knew it was clearly unfinished so I just left it there. I really didn't want to simply recount Christmas Eve and Christmas morning with a laundry list of what transpired. I'm trying to find meaning; I am going to share it, it might as well be meaningful. 

Oddly enough, I found it yesterday when Mandarin and I were taking down the tree and packing up Christmas ornaments. This entire season embraced Mandarin with so much warmth that every time she sees anything remotely associated to Christmas she'd say, "Christmas everydaaay!" and packing up "Christmas" seemed to profoundly confused her. 

And there it was.

I realized that I must have clocked out during the holidays because with the exception of Christmas day and Mandarin's pure excitement and joy (definitely one of the true highlights of my the year) it dawned on me that I  wasn't emotionally centered. I couldn't write about it without making it sound like Wall-E's daily log. Dressed in Pajamas....playing cards...Gin tonic was excellent...dinner...dessert...midnight. I somehow lost my center, dislodged by some probable event (still) unknown to me but nonetheless affected my general outlook in life. I'm definitely not unhappy. I just haven't lived in the moment. I haven't paid attention to the details.   

As the week progressed, I went through the motions of the household while sneaking in a trip or two to pick up a new Christmas tree (for next Christmas) and to hoard buy every ornament I came across with. Shopping for the last faux tree standing in a department store is like being faced with wolves in the woods. Alas, in the end, we got to checkout first and the lady was too slow for our Ninja (credit) slice as we took home one of two trees she needed.

Hello, 2013!

We spent New Year's Day at the Beach. It was freezing and windy, but the sun was high and it was a clear day, free of fog and drizzles, that being out was the best thing we did for ourselves. I constantly  need to remind myself that we are fortunate enough to live within a few miles from the beach. 

It was a good place to start the year, humbled by the great expanse that swelled and shifted waves, crashed into rocks and chased us back into the shoreline  We picked out smooth and well rounded stones and hurled it back into the water, the way I would rid myself of empty resolutions that never find certitude. 

Well, it is the new year, a good time to purge and start anew. Exorcise ourselves of hesitation, insecurities, or whatever demons we shared a drink with and once again be reminded that however broken we are in the past year, we can always start free and clear when we want to. Because we can.

So without making resolutions, I start the New Year with a reminder.  I must be present in all things. Pay attention. Find my center and move forward from there. That day at the beach, Mandarin drew rainbows on the sand like she already knew that this new year brings with it the promise of good, happy and hopeful.

Pick a spot. Plant a seed. Watch it grow. (A revelation from a hilariously witty TV Show I've been watching). This is how 2013 ought to be.  

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Being Thankful.

Last night's full moon marked significant change; this week's storm gates swung open like an invitation for winter to step in. Meanwhile the magic that surrounds a sleeping child is a wonder every parent can bathe in, rain or shine.

"Tell me, What is it you want to do with your one wild and precious life?"
 - Mary Oliver

I try to touch base with my environment to keep myself grounded, extend my feelers just beyond my well known sensitivities and I know in my bones that it changes the manner in which I perceive the world. Having moved and lived here in the last five years has changed my monsoon driven rhythm, it is oddly familiar yet different, more prominent in the change of its seasons and I just recently found myself craving for the richness and harvest of fall, and the hearty coziness of winter. I've become, wait for it,  festive. 

Taking it all in, is what it is. Just the simple things. Like a silver Reindeer made in India that I found for $6.00.  Cue the sparkles.  

*

Now that I know it'll be raining for the remainder of the week, I'd like to take a brief moment for an inevitable face-palm for completely forgetting to buy a bottle of much intended weed killer for the front of our house.  Next week it'll be the Twilight woods of Washington. C'est La Vie. Life moves on even for the unsuspecting weed that survives through the toughest of conditions.

Meanwhile, this weather is making me dream of homey things to do like crafting (What!?) and putting together a quilt and staring at my white antiquarian (yet hardly vintage chic) stove, indulging in my seasonal and yearly fantasy of finally buying a Le Creuset or Staub dutch oven with an imagined passed-down from-generations-legendary rustic recipe of  Coq Au Vin. Of course, there is no such recipe but in my imagined world of things, I have an exciting eclectic foodie heritage.   

Thanksgiving week has come and gone and was unexpectedly held here at home, without much preparation. It was a smaller celebration, tightly knit around immediate family members including some who drove from Auburn, WA and in spite of the lack of a traditional Thanksgiving spread (Turkey and all ) it was probably the best and most meaningful Thanksgiving I've had so far. Our family has grown once niece bigger, Mandarin has blossomed into a little girl, life has unfolded wonderful surprises- especially for good friends of ours and the year that started out on a sour note is turning out to be memorably sweet.  

With the closing date of getting this house drawing near, we are incredibly thankful for a home we have already grown into and while there is much work to be done, life in itself is progressive. We move to keep things whole - time and again Mark Strand comes into mind and in the same regard, even Mary Oliver and how to make the most out of this one wild and precious life.

For now, on this rainy Friday morning, sipping a cup of roasted green tea while in my animal print jammies will do just fine. Wild.  

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Home and Back Again

I've been so caught up with finding a suitable place to write at home, I've actually forgotten to write. I'm seriously considering taking the Narnia route and turning the last untouched frontier of this house - the coat room, as a possible creative space for my wandering thoughts.

Why I spend so much time trying to figure out where I can possibly have my own nook, cave, or corner doesn't come much of a surprise. I'm a crab and is very much in need of her own shell. We can thank the zodiac for that; thank you cosmos. 

In the nearly three months that I fell short of updating my blog, it's as if this space skipped beat that spanned a lifetime. Deluge of memories in the 12 hour flight back to Manila for some long overdue family time, and when it was happy, it was intensely blissful. Watching Mandarin run and play with her cousins and grandparents, my best friends - her godparents. It was unbearable to leave, and yet just the same I knew I couldn't stay. Between  an emotionally tumultuous goodbye that I had already started to fear a month into our trip, the plane allegedly getting struck by lighting and our flight getting cancelled and having to re-do goodbye's all over again the next day, it was an emotionally turbulent flight back home.

Home. The operative word here. Is it possible to call two places home? One where a past life thrives with nostalgic memorabilia and another where the current one resides. It is a blessing as much as it is a cursed longing for finding one's own place in the order of things. Having left in the peak of summer and arriving back just in time for fall; the change of seasons bearing the appropriate scenery of a life that has significantly changed over the last few years. 

One thing to note, as I have discovered. I have a copy of Gaston Bachelard's " The Poetics of Space" on both sides of the Pacific that I call home. Possibly, the most copies I have of a the same book. One left under a bed in a hotel in Hong Kong, another in the room I grew up in, and one that I keep by my bedside like a bible. All because the deep psychology rooted in the spaces we create, cook, sleep, and play affect us in more way that we initially care to understand  and I carry this book with me because it has given light (and poetry) to the spaces I occupy.

As my family and I now transition into becoming homeowners, a day I thought would never come, I find that I have extended my feelers past the room we sleep in, the kitchen, and a sliver of the living room. Like a switch going off, the official word is in - we are buying the home we have stayed in for the last five years. I have taken a stand against ALL fake plants, spray painted gold mirrors for a contemporary feel, removed dust-catching empty memorabilia that poses no great emotional attachment to anyone anyway (except to fill up a house that no one used to live in back then). 

The husband and I have virtually remodeled this home into an HGTV worthy space in our head, our creative neurons firing way ahead of a true working budget, but then again that thought on its own is the beauty of it all. We can dream of a space knowing it is ours it will be ours and someday; sometime very soon we can peel off twenty year old wall paper off the wall and paint that mother a bright bold shade like a declaration of ownership. We have arrived. 

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Here and There

The desk that I am currently working in is a great mirror of the random events in my life as of late.  A beach themed birthday card that opens to the first few chords of Hawaiian-nified Somewhere Over the Rainbow, a little bag of Excedrin migraine pills and Orange Dayquil poppers, a Costco coupon book, my very much neglected planner, a few embossed glittery stickers, keys, pens and markers, a Mickey Mouse DVD, a nine inch rubber number 1, business cards, and a very filthy square of measuring tape which has seen its share of DIY projects.

It's been so long since I last posted, overwhelmed with other things that need immediate attention like the peaks and ranges of laundry that's piled up in the bedroom. Difficult as it may seem, as with other things in life, you just need to sort through it one by one until you emerge from the throes of clutter with a calm sense of Zen.  Which I am still, currently, desperately trying to achieve. I still manage to function with the daily toils of life, plan events and attend parties and baby showers - even bachelorette parties and weddings. Especially the past two months which was chock full of weekend excitement catching up with well loved friends and family. Basically, I've gone off my hamster wheel of daily routes, exhausted, yet nonetheless thankful that I at least do not live a life of stagnancy.

"When they smashed my heart into smithereens, be a bright red rose come busting the concrete." 

Hitting it right home, Coldplay. 

We are emotionally pivoting between two life changing events, coming home to visit family and friends after many many years of not having done so. Meeting new family members, and properly grieving for a beloved few that have gone. Young and old. The other event is buying a house. A grueling process that I have now discovered is every bit emotional as it is financial. It is a delicate line to cross. Moving into a house you've already lived in for so many years with furniture and personal touches of taste and character that isn't yours, yet living with it as if it were your own, having its story weave into your own.  Now somewhat halfway between the journey and the destination, you can't really tell what is yours and what isn't. 

If only it was as easy as diving into a pile of laundry. There simply is a lot to sort through. I could load everything and leave it to its cycles of wash rinse and repeat for an hour or so knowing the outcome every single time, clothes that smell fresh like a breeze running through a field of flowers. At least that's what the box says. I think it smells more like the comfort and satisfaction of something being sorted, cleaned and folded. 

I can't help but feel slightly guilty for neglecting my dearest blog for the past few months. It's gotten me through complicated times and will most definitely anchor my sanity for the coming months ahead. Specially now that we're leaving in a few days, crossing the Pacific away from our morning blanket of fog and crisp summer afternoons and landing into the current unpredictable monsoon season that beckons childhood memories and the warm fizzle of nostalgia. Both of them, now home to two different sides of myself where there's probably a story that needs to be told all while jumping right into the thick of it. 

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Hello, Blog.

What happened?

It's Friday  Saturday MONDAY already!? Seems like I just posted my last Friday Five a few hours ago. But alas, here I am rambling away, losing time, and trying to reel in where the rest of my week went.

Let's see. There was a beach trip. A donut the size of Mandarin's head. A laid back holiday at home. A very important interview I attended where I discovered I had a jovial Minnie Mouse sticker stuck on my shoe ( which of course I discovered post-interview), and a bad case of something I caught in the air that gave me a hacking cough and made me lose my voice. I think I sound like Rachel Ray, except not as perky.

Follow me on Instagram @sevenhurricane 

Meantime, Mandarin's vocabulary has increased at exponential speed. There are simple words she says that  make me ask her what it is again and again just to hear her say it; like bath. She says baaf which I find too cute for words. Or when we say surprise I syllabicate it for her and she says it with precise detail and yet when I ask her to say the entire word, her eyes light up and with full breath force she utters, Priiice!

This morning we sat on top of the stairs before heading down for breakfast and exchanged I love you's like we do each day, except this time she looked me in the eye and said,  I've you mama (that's I Love You in Mandarin speak). Suddenly everything difficult about being a parent so far, the patience you invest, all the worry you spend, and the effort and hope that you cast out like a net with eager anticipation of what returns, diffuses in to the lightness of feathers taking flight from the ground.  

She may not know it yet, the power of words. But as a mother, I do. ♥

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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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Ordinary Days

Sometimes all one needs is an ordinary day to get back into the groove of things. Ordinary days anchor us into the grit of our daily struggles, our pain, our joy. So when an extraordinary day pops up it catches you by surprise, and makes it all the more significant.

I'd like to say that we just jumped in the car in a spark of spontaneity and wandered around the city, landing in a fantastic Mediterranean cafe, bestowed heavenly blessings from the Goodwill gods of thrifting to land the holy grail - my holy grail of pre-loved things . A ten dollar (ha!) Le Creuset dutch oven, maybe a designer handbag, and a fabulous vintage dress.  

But we didn't.

In fact it was a loosely planned day to strut around Fillmore street. There was, in fact, a fantastic Mediterranean meal (which we found on Yelp) of shared vegetable moussaka and a sample platter of La Mediterranee's Best: spinach and feta fillo, armenian potato salad, chicken pomegranate, hummus, warm pita and a warm glass of morrocan mint tea. 

Thrifting too, was on the up and up. A couple of (new) belts, a pair of sunnies, and a Beatrix Potter illustrated book of rhymes for Mandarin all for under $7!!!

As for my dutch oven. Not even close. No cigar.

.99 cents, yo!

Just looking at this makes me hungry. Let's not forget Mandarin's grilled cheese with feta! So good, I couldn't help myself with a serving.

cookie monster

Winding down at home reading the Anthropologie catalogue with freshly baked chocolate chip-toffee cookies and some french roast coffee. 

And finally, topping the day off with some home made Chicken Alfredo sauce with Wild Mushroom Fettuccine.
Some ordinary day - which of course, turned out to be more than what it started out to be! 

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Oh, Hello.

I just packed up Christmas at our house. Say what? Yes. It’s nearly the end of January and today was the only day I found time to box up the tree, the family of snowmen, stockings and ornaments. Back in the box. Back in the garage. It’s not all the product of procrastination either. The variables that factor into this delay include an appendectomy, a stroke, emergency rooms, a mistaken and mindless comment from a a clueless ER doctor stating the presence of metastatic prostate cancer, a pandemic of hypertension among family members, and a daughter who has now entered the Cling-on phase. All she does is cry out for me the second I put her down or leave the room for a nano second; and may I just say that this girl’s crying voice is of the disarming variety.  All these and a tumultuous uproar of emotional (personal) noise. Some issues at hand that make me want to: A. Seek therapy.   B. Meet up with an old flame - the cigarette (which I probably won’t because it’s too much of a hassle to quit - again). C. Be a porker and shove an entire box of chocolate covered macadamia nuts in my mouth.  When the ship you’re sailing is rocked, finding one’s bearings is seemingly dim. Eventually the day breaks and calm waters do ensue but until then or at least for now I’m just coming up for air. 

That’s what I wrote last night. This morning I woke up feeling like myself again and not the the growling monster I went to bed as. It felt peaceful waking up next to Mandarin this morning and seeing her so easeful and calm gave me the serenity to get over the occasional stress of motherhood. My palm still perfectly fits the side of her face just like it does with my hubby’s face and I find it meaningful that the emancipation - the mere act of opening one’s hands begets forgiveness and receives it just the same. All while being open to all the good  that we forget is always there. I want to take this moment of clarity and put it in a locket to take with me anywhere I go as a constant reminder of hope.

January keeps trying to knock me down, but I’m still standing. And all I have to say to that is: Yes. Thank you. More please.  I’ll be ready, February. 

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A New Year.

Not exactly my idea of a celebratory new year's eve - and day.

Lunch and Dinner of watered down coffee and a cold PB & J sandwich c/o the hospital vending machine because the cafe was conveniently closed on weekends.
The Kindle never fails to entertain. 

It came out of nowhere. The sharp pain in his abdomen that shortly followed our Skype calls with family in Manila. It was twenty minutes to midnight there and almost eight in the morning here. The fog had just barely lifted and the sun was slow and steady in its waking. It was a peaceful and reflective start to the last day of the year.  

I made breakfast (festive holiday pancakes of snowmen and christmas trees) carefully scaling down my recipe to accomodate only two servings instead of the usual four. Leftover pancakes are no good. Hubby couldn't eat, writhed in pain and decided to head back upstairs to sleep it off. What we initially thought was the stomach flu, indigestion, and at some point a urinary track infection turned out to be appendicitis. Too see someone you love in pain is pain inflicted on yourself just the same. Of course it took 17 hours before we figured this out and finally decided that the ER was the best place to be. Blood tests, a CT scan and the best indicator yet - a hand poking around the abdomen to make you feel, Yeah, that's an inflamed appendix you got there. 

This is all new territory for both of us. He's never been hospitalized before, and I've never seen him so helpless in all our 15 years together. It was difficult being in the waiting room alone. There was literally no one there with me except crickets, possibly a tumbleweed rolling across the filthy hospital carpet with dust trailing behind it and my racing thoughts of worst-case-scenarios. The procedure which only took a little over an hour seemed like a five hour wait. I get nervous like that. I paced around the hallway wondering which door my Hubbs would come out of that I unknowingly and conveniently hung around long enough just in time for a middle aged nurse with a warm smile to come out and call my last name. 

"The doctor will be out to speak with you." 

She's smiling so it must have gone well. Look at her eyes. Smiling. Good. 

A few seconds later, the doctor walked out the thick swing doors like a rockstar strutting back on stage for her encore performance. Confident and happy. She actually took a picture of Hubbs' appendix and graciously shared it with me - I would have set it nicely on Instagram and shared, but knew better that vintage looking filters still won't amp the cool factor of an inflamed internal organ.  An appendectomy is a standard hospital procedure, not exactly your hardcore medical variety, and hundreds of it are probably performed everyday, but there is still a very short percentage of things going wrong in the operating room. I was so relieved when the nurse walked out smiling.     

Now that we've all taken a breath and it's all recuperation and recovery from this point on, I must admit that celebrations are in order.  Sometimes we are faced with situations that run against what we believe is how things should be, such as, this is how a holiday should be spent and that everything else that contradicts that would be considered a cessation of all things good and happy. 

This was not my idea of a celebratory start button for the year, but it was a damn good way of making the essential things come into view, setting the tone for the months ahead. To be thankful for life and to celebrate it in every possible way I can. Thankful for family (who would take care of your daughter, no questions asked - in spite of exhaustion and sleep deprivation, who will  pick you up, drop you off, and bring things to the hospital for you when you need them).  Thankful for excellent doctors and wonderful nurses. Thankful for friends who sincerely care about you. 

This new year brought an alternate view to celebration. There is much more to applaud and commemorate in it that than a silver, shiny ball dropping at midnight and the clink of champagne glasses. 

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Back Home

We made it back home safely. After bouncing about in hotel rooms and a number of different beds within the span of a week, we are back to a house that although may not fully be ours, is definitely home; for now. Back to a bed that probably isn't as comfortable as the fluff and tuft of crisp white 1500 count cotton sheets we slept in, but is where we snuggle in as a family, taupe duvet, floral pillows, milk stains and all. Back to our lovely clutter of hellish laundry - the aftermath of a week's worth for the three of us. 

Mt. Shasta LOVES you.
It's such a joy to see symbols in nature - at least what we make of it.
This was in no way photo shopped to shape out a heart - it really was there!  

Although the drive was long, Mandarin slept, played, read (well not really read but looked through her books)  and watched Mickey Mouse and Little Einstein, and alphabet phonics on our makeshift tablet / player. We were pummeled with rain and fog and extremely terrible standstill holiday traffic (12 hours to Seattle from Jacksonville, Oregon) and chilly temperatures that made you fluff up your feathers for a little more warmth. 

I really meant to blog on the road but found the schedule too hectic, (coughing) toddler in hand and oh just about 35 people celebrating Thanksgiving in a lovely town just twenty minutes off Seattle. Somewhere between soaking in small town charms, long drives, ferry rides, precious baby nap times, eating copious amounts of stuffing, turkey, roast beef, pies and WA state micro brews, I lost time for myself and found that if you surrender to the tide you learn how to drift through the joyful chaos.

And while we did have a fantastic time, there wasn't much time for a gratitude time-out. To stand in the corner and quit complaining that we had to wake up far too early, sleep late, maybe not sleep at all, wear fifty layers of clothes, get cold and work up a sweat shortly after, and not have much time to sit back and relax and pretty much do nothing. Knock back a few good IPA beers and sing Pearl Jam's Breath until I hit all of Eddie's notes. Or lose my voice. Whichever comes first. 

What does it take to be happily satiated?

I will not pretend to know the answer to this question. It seems that in everything that I do or anywhere I go there is always a certain time when that pinch of loneliness, a shadow of darkness, an echo that sounds off from a place that I am familiar with but cannot exactly find, comes up to the surface and reminds me that it's there.  And it's not because I am not thankful. I'm not sure why it's there, but it is and has been a part of who I am for as far back as I can remember. It may be the voice of shifting hormones or sadness or PMS that momentarily shifts my perspective and empties me of the sense of appreciation. 

The point is; it doesn't matter what you don't have. What  I  don't have. Siblings (I envy those with siblings...damn only-child-syndrome ), a house, a decent shoe rack, financial freedom, a Balenciaga Bag and Kim Kardashian's engagement rock ring.  

Now that we're back home, I've had time to reflect as the dust settles from our tracks. It is easy to give thanks, sure. Thank you for the food on our table. Thank you for clothes that keep us warm. But to be thankful with meaning, to feel fortunate way down and deep in your gut for the good things you have going for you. That's a challenge because, frankly, it's much easier to complain. 

What matters is what is actually there. Here and now. My parents, my besties (M & A), my closest cousins, our closest friends, uncles and aunts, a home, Mandarin memories, a kind and loving husband (who thankfully, really is my best friend of many many many years), a worn-out Steve Madden cross body that does the job, and a little girl that delicately whispers a most amiable "uh-oh" right before she nods off to sleep. There it is, straight from the gut.

♥ More photos from the trip to follow! ♥

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Falling Back

Chores caught up with me and held me hostage all day yesterday, leaving me exhausted and incapable of reflecting on our little weekend of wonder. In spite of the threat of rain, Saturday, we drove about a hundred miles south to Monterey Bay to take Mandarin to the Monterey Bay Aquarium - to make memories. There will always be room for memories in this house. 

It really got me thinking; the huge responsibility we have as parents to give our children the gift of experiences and good memories before they venture out into the world on their own. And if you as a parent haven’t realized it yet, planning ahead is key, and a change of lifestyle definitely factors in. Children pay attention to every. single. thing. Yes. They’re watching you - not Children of the Corn watching you - but learning from you by example. These lessons and the bank of memories they carry with them will shape them to be the kind, responsible, brave, smart and happy adults we all hope them to be. 

Every second, the frame of a memory is created. We memorialize the occasion by remembrance, much like the very act of framing a photograph; the physical manifestation of memories.  It is terribly easy to take specific things for granted. I talk about gratitude and savoring the small things a lot because there are many days when I struggle to be thankful and complain about the silliest things. Today, it's my horrible pillow that keeps giving me stiff necks. It gets flat as a pancake. I should toss it. But then, gratitude...thank you for five hours of uninterrupted sleep.

Ok. So I'm still really learning how to use my camera in low light and as you can see in one of those photos, Mandarin is terribly whitewashed with the flash, though I liked the idea that I did get their reflection from the glass.
Much more lessons to be learned.  

Thank God for photos because, let’s be honest though: she will not remember. Not the fries and halibut she tried for the first time for lunch at Phils Fish Market or the glowing jelly fish that floated in a ballet spectacle right in front of her in a dark room of awed guests, or that while making our way through the crowd surrounding the display of Puffins, Mandarin turned around uninterested by bathing birds because she was more interested in watching the chorus of people watching the puffins. Too young to remember for sure, at least not this deep into her childhood and I cannot begin discuss how incredibly fortunate I feel to be be there. To be HERE. To be present during possibly the most significant and important years of her life. The part where she learns about love - and pretty much everything else that will build character in her later years. 

You know you want a bite. 

I am not a parenting expert, but I am a parent and I've come to realize that at the heart of my daughter's understanding and discernment is her sensitivity to feeling.  Children, I would assume are all similarly the same. They can feel if they are very much loved or neglected, sad, happy - all of which precedes language before they even fully understand what those emotions mean. 

I want her to always feel loved, appreciated and happy - all while she's still oblivious to the wiles of the world. I want to prolong her innocence for as long as I can because that is one magical thing that once lost, they may never get back.

Let's see. Who seems more excited for the splash of water?

So. Monterey Bay. This coastal town delivered wonders for our weekend. Glowing wonders. Mandarin touched a starfish for the first time, the cold water iced her fingers and the feel of the starfish, I could imagine it must have seemed so exotic. She had an unexpected close encounter with a Bat Ray that startled and fortunately, didn't scare her. And those moon jellies, simply put, were stunning and hypnotic in the blue glow that surrounded them. 

It almost felt heavenly. 

 Every second has to count. How to make it count; therein lies the challenge of parenthood. It is both difficult and similarly exciting. Especially with the holidays coming up, there are more occasions to celebrate, more memories to create. Memories that aren't just for her, they're ours too.

While on the subject of taking the time and making time to celebrate, it's - well - timely that we gained back an hour over the weekend too. A full hour to read a book do laundry do watch Oddities or learn how to put together a Beauchene skull. ..... I'll have to figure this one out in the next few days. 

These days the sun dips into the horizon by 5:30pm and the day settles into its jammies much earlier and so, snuggles are definitely in order. Books before bedtime, too (I've started reading her Christmas stories to acquaint her with Santa Clause, christmas trees, elves and all the trims of the holiday season).

And yes we've started brushing our tooofees (her teeth came out pretty late).  

She may not remember all the details. So we'll be here to remind her.  Tell her stories of how she cooed out for the birds, and called out to the fish and how when she saw the Kelp forest and all the fishes for the first time the shape of her dainty mouth was a perfect "O" for a most wondrous and perfectly uttered WOW. 

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Make it Work

It is quiet around the house these days. My parents left over the weekend and went back home to Manila, all the party clutter from a few weeks ago have slowly been washed, tucked, folded and kept and the house that withstood the tornadic wind of dinner parties and delivery boxes, premium outlet shopping bags, and a deluge of toys - is still standing. 

Breakfast for one. The cup that always makes my day.

And what had been months and weeks of preparing breakfast for six, is now breakfast for two. Mandarin and me. Somehow, I do enjoy the quiet moments and I am thankful for the bouts of clarity that come with it, but then on other days it is the very same air of quiet  that poses as the frenemy of an idle and vulnerable mind. I allow these emotions to filter through me with almost porous intent because I’ve learned that barricading them, brushing them off as insignificant, leads to major emotional backlog. 

It was probably one of the most difficult goodbyes I’ve had, crying spells and all that jazz.  All the more because of the time my parents spent with Mandarin. And I ache every time I am brought to the reality of how far we live apart, from my parents and my husband’s parents - so I tell myself - that’s just the way it is. C’est la vie. We’re here now and we’ll just have to make the most of out what we have. And be happy while we’re at it!

So, moving forward we took a break on Sunday and spent some much needed time with the family we are grateful to have here - cousins and a brother. An afternoon of burgers and BBQ and a petting zoo for kids was the perfect relief to a hot day. 

Britney? Gimme Gimme...

Befriending a Tortoise and what she would probably ask Santa for Christmas. 

Or maybe she'd like a pony!

On our way home I noticed The maple leaves of our tree out front, on cue, has started changing color. It’s leaves were fringed with ochre tones as if  sometime when we were all asleep the autumn hands of this season’s turning came and magically combed through it’s foliage.  We welcome this change and in fact even look forward to it. 

A few days before my mother flew back, I placed my vintage (handkerchief) bunting across the Balinese divider that we put up against a stark white wall. I asked her how it looked and wasn’t too happy with the faint whisper of disapproval she let out, which she followed through with “is it a fiesta?“  through a smile and a jaunty “but if makes you happy seeing it there....” 

Well.

It makes me happy seeing it there. It’s like a smile that flashes every time we enter the living room and although it might be a decorating disaster to do so, I find that it brightens up the room. And yes, it is fairly festive in here but only because there is always something to celebrate; especially in the minutia of things. 

There's always something to celebrate. 

The sense of wonder that we all should never lose. 

That’s me making the most out of it. 

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