Week 56: Be generous with your life rafts

You will have an opportunity to learn what it feels like to be pulled underwater, to be left to sink or swim. I hope at that point you would at least know how to float. More importantly, I hope you would learn from these experiences and throw others a life raft whenever possible.

Mondays

Every Sunday night, I am plagued with the scenario of the day to come, the dreaded Monday morning where traffic awaits a mama whose heart was once again broken by the sight of her baby girl in the arms of her loving grandmother, blowing kisses goodbye.  Sunday nights never fail to make me resent my nine-to-five (in my case, nine-to-seven), that while helps pays the bills, robs me of precious fleeting time with my daughter.  The one saving grace is that the scenario I play in my head of how tragic Monday was going to be never really materialize to that extreme, save for the heartbreak of morning goodbye.  Sometimes, it does, but most Mondays are quite harmless when it actually arrives.

But without the tragic anticipation of Mondays, I wouldn't have mindfully break a time-sucking routine so that I can enjoy little moments, before it all goes away.  It is my typical nightly fashion that I crank up the computer for a couple extra hours of work after my girl's out for the night.  Gone are the days of a nine-to-five job.  The people of this working generation are putting in at least nine-to-seven, and a extra few hours in the night.  It is necessary to be competitive, to stay ahead, to keep a job.  But Sunday nights are not for working; they are for reflection and inflection.  I enjoy sitting there with my sleeping girl, to feel the weight of her body on my arm, to memorize the shadow that her long lashes cast on her sweet face by the dim night light, to listen to her steady breath and the sucking rhythm on her binky.  I am reminded that at some point soon, we would have to get rid of that thing.  I dread that day.

I can't honestly say that having a baby changed my routines significantly.  My greatest time sucker has always been my day job, and I will continue hold it so long as we are benefiting from it one way or another as a family.  The night hours continue to be too short to fit all the things I wanted to do into a day.  What has changed is a shift in full attention.  In those short glorious hours that belong to me, I choose it and I own it.  Whether it is to take my girl to the park, or to craft the night away while her daddy take over for the night, or just to just clean the bathrooms, they are deliberate choices to dive my whole self into the task, because any half-assed effort would make me pay a high price in opportunity cost, one that I'm just unwilling to shell out. 

Come Sunday nights when I choose to stay back in the bed where my girl remained asleep in the crook of my arms, I am fully aware of the burden it puts on an already tragic Monday morning.  But what I have came to realized is that on most days, the cost of the alternative is greater than what I am willing to pay.

brownie: balance

Sometimes, I have really thick skin, to the point that others may call me callous, to certain situations that I don’t think is worth my while.  Other times, I can be an extremely deep thinker, possibly putting more meaning to a situation where it is shallow.  

My position at my day job allows me certain visibility into the commander’s heads, habits and whims, and at times I am not sure I like what I am seeing.  The pride, politics and egos that come with their positions are often times bigger than the company they are trying lead.  I am most disheartened by the glass ceiling that it places on a careered woman in a predominantly male industry.  Most of all, I am sad for the broken dreams that were inherent in the concept of “you can do anything you put your mind to” I embodied growing up.

I’m unsure what breaks my heart more, the reality of it in my own life or the realization that the dreams of that the same concept will one day crumble at my daughter’s feet when adulthood arrives and contradict everything I instill into her in her youth.  

I don’t know what kind of person my daughter will turn out to be, because who she is will be partially influenced by her external environment outside my control, I am sure that I will nurture her creativity and feed the dreams that she can be whatever she wants when she grows up.

I trust that she would be a positive influence to her environment.  She will influence others, and she will be influenced, and in these interactions she will change.  Her confidence will build, her interests will morph, but through it all, I want to enable her to find balance, in earning a living and living, in moving and be moved, in making and be made.  I want to instill a confidence in her to recognize the things that make her happy and dwell often in that place, and the awareness that pains of life are usually short-lived and riding it out often create a better being in all of us.  

There are times when I worry that my different upbringing will hinder on my parenting capability to this particular child.  I speak two languages fluently and mostly likely will push her to also know both of her mother tongues.  What if she doesn’t want to make the effort to know both because she simply can live with just one?  I was the high school valedictorian and she will be pushed to be as “smart” as her mother, most likely not from me but from those surrounding me.  What if the pressure becomes too much for her?  I was raised in a third world country and I experienced firsthand the cruelty of life for those who are disadvantaged.  I would urge her to be grateful and count her blessings.  What if the lack of experiences makes her turn a blind eye to helping others?  

I often think about our differences, and how much of my beliefs I am willing to alter to accommodate a child of a different time, so that I can raise a well-rounded, independent and above all else, kind human being.  Only time will tell. 

mystery of life

There are many instances in my life when I am humbled by the mystery of life.  I don't do a good job at practicing religion, nor do I do a good enough job of teaching my girl of our religious belief, but I am a woman of faith, and there are events that occur in my life that prove to me that there is a higher being and a greater purpose to life. 

This past year of my life passed by in a blur, and it coincidentally happened concurrently with the birth of my daughter.  Having her in my life have inspired me in ways I could not have imagined.  I am more present, because this wild and precious time is fleeting.  I am more passionate about the things I love because I want to be able to embrace the things she will love one day.  I work harder at love and minimize the hate. 

With her as my inspiration and as the backbone of my choices, I have made many leaps of faith that I prayed would be the right choice.  Luckily, those choices have proven to be much positive and economical than I could ever have dreamed them to be.  Though I would like to take full credit for them, attributing the positive outcome to thoughtful choices and years of accumulated wisdom, but if I were being completely honest, those choices might as well have been made with the flip of the coin. 

While some recent decisions has to take course and play itself out, I have found peace with them no matter how uneasy they make me feel in the present.  I am certain that in the end, they will again prove to be the best choice, the right choice.  But while I'm in the waiting place, I am sometimes uncomfortable and stressed.  Whenever I'm in the deep of it, I am reminded to toss my worries to the wind, that I did what I must, and realized that the twenty four hours in the day is ticking on by, and I rather spend as much of it taking walks, holding hands, giving kisses, with my girl.

The rest will work itself out. 

Week 55: You can be a great many things

Pursue more than just what you are good at. You can get good at anything you practice. Consequently, choose your habits wisely.

One: oh, the places you'll go!

As much as I was willing time to stop, it didn't obliged.  My girl turned one.

As much as I bitterly greeted this day as her mother, I am also proudly celebrating this great milestone, just as I have many milestones before in her first short year of life. 

The concept for Lia's birthday party began as a rough scratch in my head around the time she was six months old.  I knew I wanted pinwheels, lots of it.  More importantly, I wanted something that we can look back to years from now and we would be brought back to a place in time, a certain nostalgia, appropriate for the time that it represents.  It is true that at a young age of one, she would never be able to comprehend it beyond the pictures that she will eventually see, but it doesn't mean that I will ever forget.

I will always remember how fast this time had flown by.  The work it takes to get here is now a blur, but the memories is forever sketched into my head and my heart.  As I blindingly but joyfully try to figure out my role as a parent, I am also acutely aware of the greater struggle of raising her, of allowing her to be her own person, of developing and molding her into a good person I know she will be. 

We often love to read at night as part of our nightly bedtime routine, I came across a Dr. Seuss Oh, the Places You'll Go! and it occurred to me that it would a perfect representation of the first year.  So, a theme was developed and all that was left was a lot of late night work to bring the concept to life.
We celebrate birthdays big in our family.  It is the one day of the year that is truly our own, to dwell in the attention that is lavished onto us.  As much as I would like to say that I am doing it all for her, all the work it took to put together her party was admittedly all for me.  Anyone who knows me knows that I love a great party, one that is thrown not in a lavishly expensive sense but in a full-of-heart sense, because I am one of those who put together a party with my whole heart, finding a meaningful theme and creating through concept and execution details that speaks beyond the paper and glue, fabrics and thread.

This is my passion.  Through the years, I finally understood it.  So I cultivated and embraced it, because it makes me happiest when I am making, with my two hands.  Despite how much more expensive it is to make, as opposed to buy, there is no monetary unit to measure a creative outlet that exponentially results in more passion to other parts of my life, as a parent, as a career woman, as a wife.

The one thing that I want my girl to know and understand is my passion point, and that I derived a lot of happiness from it, but it is all very insignificant compared to my love for her, because it is in the commonplace moments of being her mother that I feel like I am the luckiest girl in the world.

Until next year...

Week 54: Gaps in geography and lifestyle are the biggest detriments to relationships

Work hard to bridge those gaps.  Maintain an open mind to others' lifestyle choices and visit friends often.  The road to a friend's house is never long.

working mama

I carry the struggle of a working mother every single day with me. Some days, the battle raged bigger than others. For instance, I took Lia in for her 1 year check up recently. Unbeknownst to me, she got a slew of shots that left my heart ached longer than her aching thighs and arms. Consequently, it left her super fussy. Next to us, there was another mother in the same situation, and out of the corner of my ears, I heard her negotiated with her son that if he would just put up with it a little longer, they will go to the park afterwards and have some fun. I couldn't hold the same negotiation with my girl because right after that, I get to drop her off to grandma and off to work I go. It broke my heart.

Week 53: There is exquisite power and opportunity in the lonely moments

We are creatures that thrive in social environments and we are most comforted in the company of others. Therefore, when we are forced to be in our own company, we can wilt within ourselves.

Realize that there is a great power and opportunity in those alone moments, where you can best connect with yourself and your environment. Revel in them. Seek them out. I promise you will find revelation in the enormity of this world, and be thankful for your place in it.

follow her lead

The ease of our nightly routine these days make me wonder if the hardship of our girl's early days really existed or if they were only a figment of my imagination. I remember distinctly the around the clock every two hour feedings and the lack of sleep that resulted with from it. There were days when I had to will my body to go to sleep at 8pm because I knew that I would have to be awake during the hours the world sleeps. As vivid as these memories, they seemed to have happened a lifetime ago, because nowadays come nine o'clock, my girls eyes beg for a bed and as soon as it is found I know she would be out until the morning.

Over the weekend, an extremely busy, tiring but fun weekend, my girl goes down to sleep every night like a light, not needing much comfort from this equally tired mama. On Sunday night, as I set the alarm clock for the following Monday morning, my tired baby was stirring in her attempt to put herself to sleep, she sat up in her slumber with her eyes half opened, her hands frantically searching for something. I reached out to try to sooth her back to sleep and instantly when she found my arm, she took it, wrapped it gently on her torso with my fingers resting comfortable on her cheeks, and she went back out. I stayed that way for the next 30 minutes with her, needing to stay like that more for myself than for her.

My big girl, somehow over a span of the last week, learned exactly how to communicate what she wants. Almost as automatic as the day she turns one, she exhibits behaviors suiting of her new big girl status. She is opinionated, she is talkative (in that baby mumbo jumbo way). And in the midst of all the craziness of the day of a mom who also works full time, I am validated by these simple instances where I am sought for comfort to finally put a tossing baby into deep slumber. I provide that comfort, and it is only made possible with trust that is built over time. She counts on me. She seeks out for me. She needs me. I have been there, and trust is built.

Being a mother has by far been one of the hardest yet easiest journey for me. Trying to figure out the language of an infant is hard but they are also so easy to forgive mistakes. For the most part, I realized that most often times, if I listen closely and follow her lead, we both have an easier time figuring each other out. I wish I can say the same for some of the other tasks in my life...