Wednesday

Obviously meant as yesterday’s post, but you know how it is...

Wednesdays, I say, are good days to reflect on the weekend that passed and the weekend there is to look forward to. What’s gone down and what’s up and coming. It is the threshold of the week where you walk way from one It’s a mid-week pause from work or in my case as with the case of many mothers out there fully back in the throes of stay-at-home stupors, neglected domestic duties and mid-afternoon snuggles in bed. These are the peaks and valleys we live in, and somewhere a surprise waits in suspense only in its own knowing, giving our days something special, however small or seemingly insignificant it may be. Ripples in a pond. How these small things affect us.

Everyday, our Mandarin grows; a world of possibilities in her fingertips.

Easter weekend was abundant with Spring energy for Mandarin’s first egg hunt! A day with friends and family, the park we landed was verdant with perfectly trimmed grass, pruned bushes, and gorgeous trees.  We had registered weeks in advance, and by the number of families and children there it was no surprise that the event was sold out. They had zones for the egg hunts, though there wasn’t much hunting to be done. 

1. It was an open area. 

2. The eggs were not hidden, but rather scattered about. 

3. I suppose you could say they were free-range eggs.

4. We were late and the only eggs left were half opened colored eggs, looted for it’s candy.  

It was like a mine of empty, albeit colorful egg (plastic) shells. Nonetheless, it’s not like Mandarin can run around just yet so we zipped her around in her toddler seat enjoying the view of her cousin and two of her friends. 

The Curious Kitty...

Who eventually got hungry...

Needed a break from the hunt.

Our lovely girls , all just two weeks apart!! No there wasn’t a pregnancy pact, it wasn’t planned. 

Someone mentioned that she looked like a gift with her bows.  And what a special gift she is indeed. 

Tuesday's trip to Golden Gate Park turned out to be one of those unplanned perfectly beautiful days.  

While at the park we indulged in some well needed afternoon sunshine and with it a few thoughts of when and where we will finally be able to own our first home. We spoke of deal breakers like short driveways, dreams and ruminations of homey kitchens, and anthropologie linens, and an entire room for Mandarin and a bedroom with enough space for both hubby and I - and of course the Daffodil Free-arm Sunbrella from the Crate and Barrel catalogue for the patio.  

$800 for an umbrella? Seriously?

It makes me feel hopeful to dream yet similarly, saddened that we cannot financially afford one just yet. Then there is the challenge of unemployment, the threat of bills and groceries. And now with a growing 8-month old, the palpable fear that we cannot provide the best for our daughter. Because isn’t that all we parents want? The best for our children, without compromise.  

And so I nudge myself and bring to mind the mantra that I’ve openly allowed to flow within my consciousness: Savor the small. It is not easy to find contentment in the mundane cycles of of weeks and days and in spite of our struggles we are happy.

Some days it takes a trip out of the house, say --- to a park. A picnic. A quick stroll to get some fresh air. 

but on most days we don't let emotions take the best of us

on most days, all it takes is a smile. 

*

The happiness of life is made up of minute fractions -- the little soon forgotten charities of a kiss or smile, a kind look, a heartfelt compliment, and the countless infinitesimal of pleasurable and genial feeling.” 

 - Samuel Taylor Coleridge    

Tweet

Full on Spring

Spring has made its way to our doorstep. When I walked out this morning to check the mail the Maple tree that had been bare (except for that last brown leaf that hung on for dear life) now bourgeoned with delicate light green leaves; tiny hands fluttering in the wind greeting the sun. 

And so goes the wardrobe, clothes, make-up, accessories and all the necessary ducks in tow; thick clothes tucked into corners of the closest, boots kicked back, sandals and wedges surface up front along with all the pastel shades that I have recently, very recently,  become friends with. 

Betsey Johnson. Homemade baby clips. Chatterbox and Viva Glam V. Cath Kidston. YUM.

Exactly one year ago today, I was in my second trimester recovering from the throes of hormone shifts, unexplainable cravings, and superhero senses. I distinctly remember looking out the window and being awed by so much roses that seemingly grew out of nowhere. Our backyard, an otherwise drab oasis of cement, weeds, spiderwebs, and two stalks of the most stubborn persimmon trees that refuse to grow and bear fruit, comes alive with the surprise of color, complements of Spring. What a sight to behold considering we don’t pay much attention to it. Such happiness in its blooms; nothing short of a message of renewal. 

I was never a big fan of roses, until Rachel Ashwell made them chic and shabby- but even then - years ago I was in denial of a side of me that was so incredibly florid and feminine.  My pregnancy was a culmination of all things maternal, effeminate and pretty.  The floodgates opened the day I cut those roses, arranged them with glee in an old blue and white pitcher, and placed it in the foyer so it can greet me every time I go downstairs.   I was forever changed, my daughter had given me the gift of insight. 

Our roses pink, red, yellow, and plum- wild yet unperturbed, a revelation in an otherwise drab backyard.  They are reminders of nature’s renewing force within and all around me. Today, the buds rest quietly like hands in prayer pointing to the heavens, sleeping beauties waiting for the kiss of Spring. It’s no     that they’re referred to as Ovoids the buds, egg shaped, is probably the best symbol of new beginnings.  I can’t help but feel that I would have come full circle when I take the blooms back in the house as I did exactly one year ago. 

Easter too, is a two days away. Another chance to celebrate, as evidenced by the sweetly colored chocolates in grocery isle, the abounding stacks of eggs, and migration of a certain bird specie:

And their gruesome fate... 

There is rabbit food too, of course. 

We can feel new as we purge our closets and our spirits of its clutter to make room for all the good things the year has to bless us with.  And suddenly we feel much lighter...

and smile wider

My sweet penguin...

laugh louder

Thank God for Blackberries to capture moments on a whim

we savor the small things like sunshine after a week of rain, or tiny green leaves, or the fact the tiny human you are lovingly raising is saying "Dada" and "Mama" even if she doesn't know what it means just yet. And so we switch gears and move forward with optimism on overdrive for all the good things the year has yet to give, with an open heart and a spring in our steps.

Tweet

Baby Food Basics

I just recently started making homemade baby food after about a month of giving Mandarin Stage One Gerber food cups.  Oh and if you’re wondering who Mandarin is...for the purpose of this blog and to protect those concerned we shall here forth refer to my daughter as such. Also because her cheeks look like she stuffed two cuties - oranges -  in them. Love.

Check out these delectable Cuties. 

Orange Cuties

Back to baby food. 

Round 1: Green Beans. The first puree of fresh green beans did not turn out the way I expected it to. I didn’t use enough water and the puree wasn’t smooth enough, and as I fed it to her, I found that there were fibers and tiny bits of beans still floated about. Choking hazard! Mandarin still ate it nonetheless, but gagged all the way through as I sifted through the puree, taking out all “solid” looking things.  I figured she wasn’t a fan of green beens, because the first time I gave it to her from a Gerber cup, not only did she gag, she got the “ewww” shivers, gagged deeply, and shot me a horrified look as if to say “what the frak is this!?”

And yes. That was a Battlestar reference. 

The second batch of green beans; I made with a bit more water ( used the water that steamed the beans ) and blended on high puree for a little over a minute. Of course this would depend on how much beans you’re making. I made about a cup of chopped beans (ends trimmed) which yielded four 2 oz cups. This time around she was more receptive to the texture - and the taste. No more gagging! 

Pureed Green Beans: They pop out easily from the silicone mold. Store in another container so you can make more. 

Reading up on baby eating solids led me to the information that starchy fruits and vegetables like bananas and sweet potatoes can further contribute to constipation. The health benefits of course still outweigh the consequence of constipation so I make sure to give her MORE fiber in beans and pears and mix it up with other veggies. Having breastfed her for seven months (and still going) her body needs to get used to the consistency of solid food, and though it make take some time, a pasty consistency to her B-movements is nothing short of an A+ for me!

Round 2: Pears. High in Fiber and easily digestible. I bought a whole bag of it and discovered that 2 whole pears yield five 2 oz cups. Other than a tablespoon of water to help cook the pears, nothing else is added to the puree. Straight off the saucepan to the blender on high, it took less than a minute for the pears to puree into a smooth treat. At first she gagged, as with most food that is introduced to her. But our little Mandarin made friends with Pear in no time, and now, next to carrots may just well be her favorite food. I thought the pears tasted fabulous too and will soon make frozen PearPops for hubby and myself. A good and healthy snack in lieu of Haagen Daz bars. (You reading this, Mom?)

Round 3: Carrots. What more can I say...she loves them! 

Cut and steam...About 1 cup of chopped carrots with 1/3 cup of water yields 61/2 oz of puree.

Puree!!!! 

What I find amazing though is that homemade food is at least three shades strikingly brighter than store bought food! Makes you wonder what’s in those jars and cups - even it it only states green beans and water. Our pediatrician did say that nutrition wise they’re all the same, but somehow one just can’t help and think about the additives in there. I’m no baby food purist. This doesn’t mean that I think store bought food is any less better nutritionally than homemade other than obvious reasons. In fact nothing beats the convenience of a vacuum sealed pack and as long as you don’t open it you can carry it around like a protein bar to immediately feed a hungry baby . Homemade food is admittedly cheaper, greener (no plastic or glass jars to deal with) and if you have half an hour a week, you can make and freeze enough food for that entire week.

It’s a matter of choice and opinion much like breastfeeding and formula. There will always be someone who’ll tell you that one is better than the other; the way I see it, balance is key. Homemade food when you’re home, store bought when you’re out. Why not right? Whatever works.  Only a mother would know what is best for her child, and whatever choices any mother makes - well -  at some point we all channel our mother and pull out a stern because I said so. The bottom line is  even if you're new to motherhood, trust your instincts.  You really do know what you're doing even if you think you don’t. 

Tweet

Sew Be It.

And sew it begins. Clueless, I walked into Joann Fabrics yesterday to find some backing material, embroidery floss, some pins and needles for the QUILT undertaking I’ve set my heart on doing. I left the store with everything on my list coupled with knots in my gut for the mission on hand. 

Fabric of choice for the quilt's back part

How do they do it? Those amazing DIY women who make crafting seem so easy, and still manage to sneak in a gorgeous all-telling photograph of each and every step.  Probably all second nature to them for sure, but I am positive that it can be learned given the proper motivation. 

The sewing machine used to be the best Lola (grandmother) appendage. Just right in there with thick glasses, a perm, floral dusters, Lola kisses, and the odd smelling perfume with the viscosity of glue. Growing up, only grandmothers sat behind them yet these days either I’ve rapidly aged in my thirties or the prospect of getting behind this daunting machine has become more of a creative outlet. The sewing machine is now like that mystery girl you bump into at a Radiohead concert with the Anthropologie scarf and the feather earrings that you want to be friends with. You know you have things in common but you don’t know where to start the conversation.  

My grandmother is a grand master of the sewing craft. She can make everything from table linens to curtains to pillows, so there must be a tiny speck of genetic DNA that made its way into my cup of capabilities. 

Still.

Out of the box It smelled like musty cinnamon. Is there even such a thing? I know I’m supposed to wash it, but given that the listing mentioned that it’s twenty years older than me, I can’t just throw it in the wash and bleach the antiquated dust out of it. Must handle with love. 

Yardage, batting, french knots, binding, yo-yo’s, cutaways, feed sacks, tacking,  -  these are all jargon to me. Give me iambic pentameters and villanelles, oxymorons and synecdoche and I can have a conversation with you. At this point, I am clueless and yet hopeful to the possibilities that stand before me in this crafting threshold. It only takes one step to walk through. 

So. What to do after the quilt top you've purchased arrives? 

Say, HI. 

Hello there. 

I can already tell that we’re going to have a long and lasting friendship.

Tweet

One. Two. Three Things

1. A Road Trip. 2. What was I thinking!? 3. Dada!

ONE

Last weekend at Lake Tahoe was... interesting to say the least. It had been planned months in advance and between the chaos of shopping for fleece buntings for the baby, waterproof jackets (which of course turned out to be too big) and gloves, hats, and thick puffy coats to be snow-ready, we were thrilled for our first family road trip! 

The drive to Tahoe was idyllic. It was a sunny drive; three cars, three families (with three more on the way but later in the afternoon) we had our infinite playlists ready for hours and hours of car-eoke.  That’s right. I sing in the car. Some people sing in showers. I don’t - because I sing in cars. Hubby knows this very well. Meanwhile, driving was smooth and our little cubbie was warm and sleepy in her car seat which I, of course, turned into a warm fleecy haven of pink and fluff. 

The house was completely snowed in when we arrived. It was 5:00pm and the sun was slowly pulling down the shades of the day along with the temperature. So, imagine our disbelief when my friend and I  walked through the house and discovered that there was NO HEAT. NO WATER - NO WAY. The pipes were frozen stiff, the master bedroom’s deck door was pushed open with a pile of snow, and there were freaky looking Raggedy-Ann dolls sitting on top of a quilt-topped twin bed in a room small enough to be called a closet. 

The fireplace was the best place to set up camp with blankets and coats while the men shoveled snow and checked out other lodge options. So there we were, babies and mothers, a fat WTF question mark looming over our heads, and an argument with possibly the absolute worst property manager on the planet. 

It was a long night. We were moved into a lodge hours later after a kind man was hired to shovel a path for us to walk through, which he labored over for nearly five hours. Some shuttling was involved back and forth from one house to another, SUV’s getting stuck on icy roads, disorientation in the darkness of night, freezing temperatures.  

Outdoor freezers are awesome.

And to the management and company that leases out houses that have NO HEAT and NO WATER on a freezing winter night, knowing FULLY WELL that there will be THREE six month old infants and FOUR children there, as stated when the agreement was signed, is completely unacceptable. The fact that PG & E shut down both the gas and water THREE WEEKS (as evidenced by the statement they left) prior to our signed agreement, and two MONTHS prior to our arrival tells us that there are seriously some legal issues that need to be resolved.

We pretty much had three houses in three days. The first had no heat. No water. Frozen pipes. The second had one bathroom - for fifteen people. The third had the heat locked into place, nosebleeds ensued. The weekend turned out to be a piece of thread sticking out from a new sweater that you pull and unravels into a mess of threads and a new sweater with a new hole. 

Oh, but there was snow. and lots of it. Falling snow will always be magical, even more so when they land your daughter’s lashes - and it makes her smile.  It made it all worthwhile.  

TWO

The quilt search is over! Yes! But what was i thinking when I bought a quilt top!?

A quilt top means (oh my) I HAVE TO FINISH IT. It’s not a quilt until it’s quilted. I have never sewed anything to save my life. Ok, that’s a lie. ONCE in high school. Potholders, I think. But that was years ago and this is a project that I have to finish just in time for spring flings with parks and other forms of recreation. Nevertheless, the colors are gorgeous, the vintage fabric lovingly sewed together for the perfect mix of organized chaos, and the blue stripes offer a unique flair of the French countryside. Can one fall in love with fabric?  

Certainly.

THREE

She said Dada!! Is it too early? Probably not. Whether or not she knows what she’s saying, she’s let the word loose morning, noon, and night ever since consonants and vowels started rolling around in her tongue. 

Oh these milestones. We are grateful for every single one of them. 

Tweet

SIX Months!

Ten things I know for sure about our 6 month old LittleLove:

1.   Eating solids is a challenge of patience, but once her attention is caught, she  

       will lap it up, even chase after the spoon!

2.   She loves to stand and jump. On your knee. Your belly. Your foot. The 

      bouncer. Couch. Bed. Table. Floor. 

3.   She fishes for your attention and once she catches your eye, she flashes the 

      biggest smile!

4.   My god, the girl loves to laugh - and what a voice!!!

5.   Elephants, Giraffes and Bunnies are her favorite animals. 

6.   Anything she gets her hand on she will put in her mouth. Even your finger. or hair. 

7.   She’s a morning person and is never grumpy when she wakes up.

8.   When she’s happy she opens her mouth (as if to eat you) and crinkles her nose.

9.   Why she loves label tags on her toys, blankets, and clothes I will never know. 

10. She loves the outdoors - trees and flowers and the wind in her face.

The past six months just flew out the window and there is so much to savor in the life of a growing child.  It’s like driving and while most things are a blur because you’re fixated on the road, there are things that catch your eye. A red door, a victorian house, a flame tree in full bloom and hard as you try to take it all in you can’t just hit the brakes and stop. So you take a photograph with your mind’s eye and recreate that image in your mind, but unlike a real picture you can never have the exact image on hand. 

I want to savor these little things. The milestones alone are incredible. Little things that are actually big things.

yummy yummy yummy I got love in my tummy

Now, her curious little hands love to touch and grab EVERYTHING. She’s discovered details, like buttons on her pants and (of all things) label tags. Holding a piece of paper with her fingers is amazing considering her hands, just a few months ago, didn’t even have the dexterity to pat a ball. Or to pull my hair. And to swat Daddy’s chin. 

So many fleeting moments in a day like the unique complexity of bubbles that pop even before you can get to them. I have to keep reminding myself how important it is to savor the small.  

Being with my daughter every single day since the day she was born, I would consider a privilege. I’m not going to lie and say that it’s all peachy. I’ve turned, quite literally into a human pacifier, there are areas of neglect around the house and there are breathless, whimpering days when a help me escapes my lips like a bat out of hell.  

Our baby’s half a year old. What a privilege and a gift it is to watch her grow and play and discover the world around her.

And to the world. Just you wait. A smile and her bright eyes and you are forever changed.   

Tweet

What is Paradise but a Garden.

Sunday at the park ( San Francisco Botanical Garden )was the perfect weekend local getaway. Just the three of us, walking through the arch of Magnolia trees with winding pathways that led to various continental cloud forests, ancient plant gardens, a waterfowl pond, and a great meadow and a redwood grove. It’s still too cold for a picnic by the pond with friends, family, and the curious waterfowl skimming the pond along with the rest of the wild and wondrous ecosystem that thrives in the park. 

I’m feeling it. The spring fever of quilts and picnics. Sandwiches. Poetry. The wind, sun, and mild weather - so many afternoons to spend. 

“In the Spring, at the end of the day, you should smell like dirt” - Margaret Atwood.

And there were benches...everywhere, were you can sit and watch the sunlight move across gardens and groves. There is a familiar stillness in the park. Like when fog moves through the trees in a state of peace, it is a vision of calmness that resonates from the cloud forests to the inner garden of our quiet soul. 

And though most (if not all) the benches in the park were placed in remembrance of lives that once were, they are undeniably inviting - to sit in solemnity and celebrate the life that continues to unfold before you; ever changing.

What is paradise but a garden!

It helps that every single plant, flower and tree had tags otherwise it would’ve just been “oooooh that pink- hanging- thing is soooo pretty” and “Puuuurple flowerrrrs!” 

Our little Love, always fascinated by trees and flowers was quietly observing the beauty that surrounded her, a change from her usual afternoon babble - the language of trees that effortlessly lulled her to sleep.  

The vast expanse of the park draws out the creative spirit in each and every one of us. 

The annual flourish of Magnolias is a BIG event at the park! Ad and posters everywhere - how FABULOUS is that?! Only in San Francisco.  

This is by far the most fascinating and largest botanical garden I’ve been to (can’t say I’ve been to much, really). Like I always say, the possibility of how much dynamism thrives in the park will surely be stunning, and when spring comes forward and everything is in bloom our bearings will be set back to the garden. 

Magnolias bloom mid-winter and is a sure sign that Spring is a turn away.

And so...

The park beckons in Spring. 

* * *

Let it be known that I am on the hunt for the perfect quilt. One that I can carry with me through the seasons. I want the organized chaos of printed fabrics squares preferably hand tied backed with a simple fabric that can withstand years of grass laying, sandy beaches, bedroom ruffles, drools, tugs, and hugs.  Let’s not forget affordable. 

Looking through the usual shops, I see a lot of vintage varieties - I think a prefer a new quilt with a bohemian look; perhaps in this case it’s best to start with something new and build new memories that will weave into the fabric itself rather than buy something that is actually vintage (albeit tempting as those that I’ve seen are gorgeous). 

Well, If Man can shop globe, Mama can shop Ebay or Etsy. Game on. 

Tweet