My 18 month old’s bedtime buddy of choice today was a raw sweet potato….🤨😂🤔🤪#whatisupwithmykids #remembermyoldestwiththesneaker
Because all my avid fans asked (ha), I’ve put this list together to give them a glimpse of who I really am. In no particular order of importance or relevance whatsoever, here’s what kind of person I am:
1. I don’t have any notifications set up on my phone. Lord knows I don’t need something constantly dinging or popping up – or worse, squealing “katalk!” at me (the Asians will get that one) – I have enough noises startling me and begging for my attention as it is.
2. I’ve always wanted to be a mom. In fact, I’ve always wanted to be a stay at home mom. Ever since I can remember, the thought of running around raising babies seemed blissful and fulfilling to me. (Yup, I was crazy! But also, I was right 🙂 )
3. I am borderline obsessive-compulsive. I like having certain foods together in one mouthful in bite sized portions. For example, chocolate (or anything sweet) must go with milk. One bite chocolate, one sip milk. If I’m out of milk, but I still have one remaining bite of chocolate, I have to go to the fridge and pour myself exactly one more sip of milk. Very similar with Chinese food (or any Asian food really). The ratio of savory food in my spoon to plain rice (to balance out the flavor) needs to be 1:1. I could go on, but I won’t. *Shrug. Beats me. We all have our quirks.
4. I have been known to finish entire bags of baby carrots and tubs of hummus in one sitting. Yes, one tub of hummus is 8 servings. But I’m eating all those carrots!! They cancel each other out, right?
5. I will carry every single grocery bag I have in my trunk into my home in one trip, or I will die trying. I mean, two trips?! Back and forth?! Seriously, what a waste. I have more important things to do.
6. I officially found my first white hair six months ago, thought about writing about it, and then forgot. Anyway, it was a sad, sad day. It’s these kids, I tell you! Darn them! *Sigh… The things we go through for those little pudgy faced rascals… Oy, they’re really so cute though…
7. I really enjoy scheduling time with people. I literally gain satisfaction (maybe even a rush of endorphins? Would have to get my brain scanned and come back to you) from going into my calendar and writing down “Lunch with Leslie” or what have you. I guess that’s why I’m pretty good at keeping in touch with people (well, admittedly it’s getting harder the more kids I have…). But I’m usually the one to send that extra text asking, “Hey, you said you were free next week? What day is best for you?”
8. My world came alive when I had kids. I see everything in more vivid colors now. Basically, everything is beautiful to me. I find beauty in everything….except….those decorative cabbages hotels like to plant in their yards…I just can’t…cabbages as flowers? I don’t get it.
9. I am very good at ignoring and shrugging off small, insignificant details. Most of this came about since becoming a parent. Some things simply don’t matter to me. Whether baby’s socks match, whether my hair is properly styled on any given morning, whether I’m wearing pajamas as I rush to get my son to school the second before he has to sign a late slip. Having children (also, losing my mom) has made me really come to the decision that some things just aren’t worth stressing over. Like, at all. A good segue into…
10. I’m a “no frills” mom, as you may or may not have noticed. I am usually sleep deprived, stiff, sore, late, AND anxious or stressed about something. Despite all this, I’m actually very happy, but here’s an anecdote that I think paints a pretty accurate picture of my mom style.
— at an outdoor bazaar, a while ago, back when I only had two kids —
Friendly, well meaning vendor: Hello! Here is our selection of children’s socks! Are you looking for boy’s or girl’s?
Me: Boy’s. My daughter will just use his when he grows out of them.
Nice lady: Ok! What does he like? We have Spiderman, Paw Patrol, Ninja Turtles…
Me: Oh, we’re not picky.
Nice lady: Any particular colors?
Me: I’d really like just a bunch of the same – like 20 of the same exact sock. No colors or shapes is fine. Actually, black is good. That way the stains don’t show. The short kind that he can pull on and off himself.
Nice lady: Here you go!
Me: Perfect, thanks!
Yup! My mantra in life is essentially: “Keep it as easy and simple as possible”.
And that about wraps it up! Ooooh, speaking of presents! Happy early Christmas!! And whoever loves me the mostest, please buy me for Christmas 1) a dishwasher 2) 10 pairs of women’s large socks in blue, 10 pairs of big boys’ socks in black, 10 pairs of medium girls’ socks in pink, and 10 pairs of baby socks in green. (My most updated genius idea for sock organization – they’ll take 2 seconds to identify, right? Total time saver!) oooor choice 3! Paper towels!! Loads and loads and loads and loads of paper towels!! Thanks, you da best 🙂
For those of you who haven’t heard, I’m on child number 3 now. It’s been….real. It’s been real. Humbling and excruciating and glorious.
But considering I feel my level of sanity (insanity) being home every day has on average, stayed about the same despite the fact I have ADDED A KID I think says something!! 😉
I’m getting the hang of this parenting thing. I’ve learned a few tricks. Gotten faster. Gotten smarter. Definitely gotten cooler. 😏😎
And here’s a picture of my third doing yoga in wolf ears, just cause. 😂
I have a love/hate relationship with Legos.
That’s not true. It’s just hate.
Ok, I should specify. I mean the small legos. The ones that come by the hundreds and thousands in a box. That have the pointy edges and are just the perfect size to crunch and stab right into the small of your foot or between your innocent, unsuspecting toes. That always seem to find their way perfectly into the exact path you walk in the middle of the night from your bed to the bathroom. Or the crib. Or the table to get the whining toddler the water.
Yes, I love creativity. Yes, I believe children should let their minds run wild and free, and CREATE and HAVE FUN! Let them be kids, for God’s sake! Yes, yes. I just can’t do Legos anymore. I tried for so long. Off they go. All of them. Into little plastic baggies and readied for the next donation opportunity. God bless the mom who courageously accepts them into her home.
Sorry, Legos, you’re just not making the cut. At least not for now. Maybe I’ll bring y’all back when all three of my kids are over 4 and can clean up in a more consistent and orderly fashion. We’ll see.
So, while I was in CA, I had my bag stolen. My Handy Dandy Helpful (anyone know that book?) diaper backpack from Lullababy (Thanks, guys! And…sorry, guys…). What happened was we were wrapping up our little exploration of the downtown San Diego area, and were getting loaded into the car, when Y said she had to pee. You know how we are when our 3 year olds say they have to pee: we drop everything, grab their hand, and run. So, I quickly said to my husband YoungJoon (Ooh P.S. Congratulations to him for becoming a citizen! You can call him Kai now! hehe…), “Can you put the stroller and the backpack in the car?” and he said “Yeah”.
I had left the bag on the floor (Cue eye roll. Yes, yes, I know, I’m setting myself up) right next to the tree we were parked in front of. So, Y and I use the bathroom at some random business I walk into that I happened to actually study a bit while I was waiting – it’s called Hostel on 3rd (anyone ever stayed there?) and it looks pretty interesting, but I’m not sure I would ever trust staying at a place like that. Anyway, we walk the 15 steps back to our car, jump in, and leave. When we get to our destination, an In N Out about 20 minutes away, I ask my husband for my bag.
“My gray backpack with all W’s stuff in it”
“Oh I don’t know; did you leave it in Hwajeong’s car?”
“No…I left it by that tree…and I asked you to put it in the car…”
“You never said anything about a bag, just the stroller”
“… If you didn’t pick it up and put it in the car, then it is not in our possession. We’re going back.”
“Are you sure you brought it from the house? Or did you leave it somewhere while we were walking around?”
“No, I didn’t. I’m 100% sure. I know sometimes I forget things and can be absent minded, but in this instance, I have 100% recollection that I took the backpack off and placed it next to that tree back where we parked.”
So, I pray the whole drive back that the guy that told me Californians are all heroically friendly and kind (certainly nicer than New Yorkers) was right.
Doo doo doo doo doo
Pulling up to previously parked at spot
Exiting vehicle… hoping… praying… NOPE. Nada. The bag is gone.
*Sigh. I mean, of course it is. Life is cruel. People are heartless and pathetic. Oh well, nothing surprises me anymore. So, I start to accept my fate – the most valuable things in there were my $300 Benz key and my iPhone. I waved a symbolic goodbye. It does sting when people take things from you, but at least I still had what really mattered – my husband and my kids. At the end of the day, that’s truly, truly all that matters – the people. I hugged my baby extra tight when we got back to the In N Out.
But then! My brother in law is so smart. He reminded me of the Find My iPhone feature. So, we went to a Best Buy and tracked it down. Found an approximate location. The police said they would be willing to meet me and just supervise as I approached the house and asked if they would please return my phone. That’s all they could do.
We decided it wasn’t worth the trouble and tried going ourselves. My husband and his friend knocked on the door and asked and were denied. Not sure it was the right house, cause the location is only approximate. BUT they proceeded to use the Play Sound feature (that works even if the volume on the phone is off) and lo and behold, the phone started moving, so hmmm. The phone was speeding down the highway and ended up at a shopping center with a Starbucks and a sky diving place and I don’t remember what else. There was no point going into the Starbucks and searching for someone looking guilty…where would we start? How would we even do that? Walk up to each customer and yell menacingly, “You! It was You! Give me my diaper backpack!” Actually, I did have this idea that I thought was pretty smart: Run into Starbucks in a huff, make a huge scene, scream something like “Everyone, stop! Freeze!” until the place was quiet, and then play the sound on the phone and try to figure out where it had come from or look for someone jump out of their chair (we totally should have done that!)
At this point, I leave and my husband and his friend and brother stay to search. They said the phone did move around a bit, and then finally, it just stayed still, at which point they searched in the bushes where the navigation seemed to indicate.
Two hours later, we’ve all given up. It’s 6 pm. We all reunite and move on with our lives.
Then, around 10:30 pm, we’re all in our hotel room after our dress rehearsal (our trip to CA was mainly for my sister in law’s wedding) hanging out and chatting, when my sister in law hands me her phone and says, “Diane! You’re calling me!”
“Hi, yeah, I just found this phone, so I’m calling you.”
“You found it? Where did you find it?”
“After work when I was walking out to my car, I found it in the bushes.”
“Oh wow, thanks for calling me! Can I get it back from you? Can I come meet you now?”
He agreed and gave me an address, but then I was waiting in the car with my brother in law and friend (I’m not a total idiot), and we look at each other and are like hmmmm let’s think this through. It’s late, it’s dark. What if this is the same person who stole the phone and this is part of his plan? What if he’s a professional phone thief that just goes around looking for phones, then calls people to meet him in the middle of the night, then when they show up, he jumps them and takes their money- or worse?”
We decided to call him back and say listen, it’s late, can we meet tomorrow. He said sure. The next day, however, was my sister in law’s wedding, and it was just crazy. I had no spare moments to call or to meet anyone. That afternoon, he calls me asking so are we going to meet? I say I’m really sorry, I’m so busy, can we meet tomorrow? We decide to meet at his job (a restaurant) right before he starts his shift.
Next day. It’s around 12 pm. I call from my husband’s phone (which I’ve been using to communicate with him the past 2 days) when I arrive, and walk out with my brother in law to meet him. He explains again how he was just walking to his car and saw the phone in the plants. (For the record, throughout the course of our smattering of short conversations, I did ask if he had also “found” a gray backpack, but he said no)
My best guess is that whoever took the phone originally got nervous somewhere along the line, whether it was from seeing the same car following him/her around, or seeing a bunch of guys searching in the bushes, or hearing the alert sound play a thousand times as the phone spastically switched between Lost Mode and Found Mode. The location Caesar (the phone returner’s name) found the phone at was the same approximate location we had tracked the phone to earlier that day – the same shopping center as the Starbucks. Maybe the thief really did decide to just toss it and be rid of the stress.
I dunno; I believe Caesar. He never acted suspicious and he was very communicative. I never felt like he was hiding anything. I mean I guess when I saw him in person, he didn’t say much, and barely looked me in the eye, but maybe that’s just his character?
So, Yay! I got my phone back! The thing that made me the most sad was the thought of losing all the great photos and videos from our trip so far (SeaWorld, Lego Land, San Diego Zoo, etc.) I have a really cute video of W clapping to one of the songs during the dolphin show. I’m super grateful!
Also, fun fact: my phone had a smudge of chocolate on it. At least I hope it was chocolate… didn’t care to taste test it. But how weird is that?? That was not my chocolate… I didn’t have chocolate the day I lost the phone (hard to believe, I know). But like what kind of person doesn’t even do a quick wipe on a phone if they spill something on it?… Or maybe when he found it in the bushes, the chocolate was already on it. And he didn’t want me getting pissed that my phone wasn’t exactly how I had left it and blaming him like, “Hey, where’s my chocolate?!! I was saving that!!”
I’ve noticed I have a pattern of stubbornness when it comes to being a theft victim. I instinctively put on a defiant face, hold my head up high, and proclaim to the universe that I will not let these instances affect me. It reminds me of the way the Divine Principle (my church’s main Scripture) explains that God simply cannot acknowledge anything evil. Evil is not in His Plan, and therefore he has no choice but to ignore it. Addressing it is acknowledging its legitimacy. (Not calling myself God, ha! Just noticed the comparison. Also, I’m actually very forgiving of criminals. I try to consider what may have happened in their lives that caused them to resort to crime. And I hope with all my heart they somehow find a better way and find real meaning and real love.)
But to sum up my philosophy, I refuse to change my life in any way (besides what’s necessary, like canceling my credit cards and getting a duplicate driver’s license). I am NOT going to spend money on a new diaper bag when that money rightly belongs to something else. I’m going to make due with what I have. I have enough bags lying around. One of them will be my new diaper bag – right now I’m just using a plain tote bag I got free from Victoria’s Secret last year. Not the sturdiest thing, but it’ll work fine if I don’t stuff it to the brim or put a brick in it (maybe I should start carrying bricks around seeing as how thieves seem to be drawn to me…) I will not let this experience affect me emotionally or financially any more than it needs to. I will not buy a new diaper bag, because then the thief wins!! Never! Over my dead body.
Any ex phone thieves out there? Care to weigh in? Was it Caesar?! Am I completely naive?
My daughter helped me decorate the Father’s Day cake the best way she knows how…with her fingers… 🙄😂
When my kids are asleep… 😆🤫
#justforfun #justforlaughs #parenthood
Ah, 3 year olds.
I’d forgotten how annoying they are… So dramatic, so illogical. Toootal divas. Everything has to be exactly a certain way (and I guarantee that way will change 7 thousand times), or they lose it.
Let me explain to you how ridiculous my life is right now. My daughter is currently passing a cup of almond milk back and forth between microwave and fridge to get it to just the right temperature. This is what I’m hearing:
“It’s too cold!” *scamper scamper *beep beep
“It’s too hot!” *scamper scamper *swoosh swoosh (what sound does an opening and closing fridge door make anyway? Well, you get the idea)
“It’s too cold!” *scamper scamper *beep beep
“It’s too hot!” *scamper scamper *swoosh swoosh
*Facepalm. I can’t… What… What is happening…
And the screaming!! What is it with the screaming!!! She is getting so sassy and rebellious these days. She looks me dead in the eye and quips an emphatic “No”. Like she’s challenging me, DARING me to say otherwise. She clenches her fists, widens her eyes, and convulses her body in rage, and screams til she’s red in the face.
I just want her to grow up.
And yet I want her to stop. She’s already learned too much. She’s learned that it’s pistachios, not “pikachus” (I wanted that one to last forever!). She’s learned how to put on her own pants (working on shirts). She’s learned how to have a replacement toy ready to hand her baby brother if she takes one out of his hand, so he doesn’t cry.
I’m holding tight to her remaining adorable linguistic habits. She still says anyone instead of no one. As in:
Mama: Y, who’s sitting here? (in this empty chair)
She still says “cited” instead of excited, “byoofuw” instead of beautiful. She still beams passionately, “I missed you soooooo much” every time I come back to her after being out for 2 hours.
And in reality she’s really not that bad at all. I’ve dealt with way worse three year olds in this family… Won’t name any names… 😆
All I wanted was to go about my morning simply and peacefully- my head low, keep to myself, keep out of trouble. Go through our regular routine – feed the kids breakfast, change clothes, brush teeth, off to school. But noOooOooOo, we would have none of that nonsense. Nope, absolutely not. There was no way. It was just too much to ask.
T (now 5) decided he wanted to get a haircut (who do they think they are with their little tiny brains having their own little tiny desires…well, actually in T’s case, whatever desires he has, he makes them HUGE. He makes them KNOWN. He has steadily honed his skill of pestering and prodding and aggravating and infuriating until he breaks you…). One of my husband’s good friends (we call him Samchon – “uncle” in Korean) showed up to church on Sunday with a brand spankin new haircut, and T decided he wanted one just like it. I specifically explained to T that it was still too early (too cold; not yet “Spring” enough on this snow covered 23rd day of March…God, I hate the weather) to have the sides of his hair shaved and the top of it long and flowing off to the side. I asked him to wait. No, he wanted it now. I said let’s do it after school. He said I said that yesterday. I said I don’t have any experience cutting hair; let’s go to the shop later today. He said he wanted me to cut it. Sigh. This is the boy I exploded at a few days ago for being obnoxious and defiant telling me he hated my lunch and wasn’t going to eat it (I made him eat it). I still feel bad. I mean there are ways to get your message across and elicit change without losing your cool (So I hear. Any and all instructions welcome below!). So I gazed at his adorable little face (my face) and his skinny little body (when did he get so tall and skinny?) and I nodded ok. He gave me his word that he would accept a compromise of just a trim today and a more thorough, shorter cut in 2 or 3 weeks. We had 30 minutes until we had to be out of the house. We shook on it. My fate was sealed.
So, listen guys. I personally think I did a hell of a job. My first time cutting a boy’s hair! It looks half decent, no? It did take me the full 30 minutes – maybe a bit more. We were closing in on being late for school and the kids hadn’t eaten breakfast. Aiyaiyai what are you thinking, Diane, just WHAT are you thinking, really? I guess I felt like a challenge?! A little race against the clock to really get the blood pumping and start the morning off right?! *Eyeroll. I was almost done. A little snip here, buzz there, comb this bit out, even that bit out. Aaaaand….. THERE! Done! Good enough. T had been smiling the entire time – very fidgety, but he made it through. He was excited.
He walked to the mirror. Of course this wouldn’t be Parenthood if he smiled and said, “Thanks, Mom, great job!” He LOATHED it. He screamed at the top of his lungs and proceeded to wail and wail as if I had just burned all of his toys.
I should have known.
I should have known.
The rest of the morning is a blur of tears and screams and threats and bribes and questioning my choice to become a parent. I thought 5 year olds were past tantrums. To be fair, though, I realize full grown adults can also have the same reaction about a haircut gone wrong. I’m sure he’s not the first person, young or old, to swear they would never leave the house until their hair grew out.
We did finally get to school. Only 90 minutes late. Ironically, I have to go to T’s school at 1:30 to watch him receive his Student of the Month certificate.
My daughter literally just looked at the hair scissors and said to me, “I want to do a haircut Umma!” Lord help me.
I recently realized I totally take for granted the fact that I can enjoy four distinct seasons. (Fact you already know #139: Some states essentially have only one season!) That’s one great thing about living in the Tri State area (among many other things! No, that’s not the ONLY good thing about New Jersey ha ha very funny…)
I love the transition between seasons. It feels mysterious and expectant. One period ends and another begins. My heart flutters with hope. Possibility. Like the possibility of buying new clothes… what did you think I meant? 😉
I wouldn’t mind moving, though. During our recent Thanksgiving trip to Alabama to see my sister in law’s family (Congratulations on Baby #3!), I found myself retracting what I had said during our first visit about never even considering moving there because it was just too dang hot. I realized that was probably because I was pregnant and my body temp was off the charts. Also, my logical brain and emotional brain were scrambled up like a bunch of eggs.
I love the idea of experiencing life in different parts of the country and the world. I seem to thrive on change actually. I get restless/antsy if things stay the same for too long. I noticed this especially when I was pregnant with my first, and then had my son, and then went back to work, and then stopped and became a stay at home mom. All of these four events were about 9 months apart. The consistent changes kept me engaged and excited. It all worked out perfectly actually.
Ah good ol’ New Jersey. Snow in March. What else ya got, Mother Nature? Bring it on! (But just let it be Spring before April, please. Thanks.)