Remembering a deleted social media post

 I'm going to do my best to remember and rewrite the post I wrote about a pivotal moment, the "jumping off" moment of my and The Man's relationship. 

In the spirit of one of my favorite television character's, Sophia Petrillo ... picture it: It's December 2001. Your favorite spicy Sagittarius is turning 23 and decides she would like to have a birthday gathering at the illustrious Holy Cow. Did it deservedly have a 2.7 star rating on Yelp? Indeed. But this birthday girl enjoyed having a good time, and was neither rich or bougie so she fancied the Holy Cow to celebrate with friends. Your girl is still not rich or bougie and grows weary of writing in the third person.

A week before I had attended a friend's birthday celebration at a different San Francisco night club. Being that this was a mutual friend, The Man was also there. We had been introduced a few months before but hadn't seen each other again until that evening. If I'm being completely honest, I found him to be very handsome and a bit intimidating. This was a very good looking fellow. But if my memory serves me correctly, when we ran into each other again I think I already had a drink with the birthday girl and was feeling a bit more courageous. If we go by his memory, he said I loudly and slowly reintroduced myself to him, making him wonder if I thought he was thick in the head. No, I didn't think this, it was just very loud in the club and I was also humble enough to think that he may not have remembered my name. Anyway, I can't remember all that we talked about or even if we spent the majority of time together. But I did remember thinking he was as witty as he was handsome. So I took a chance and invited him to my birthday gathering the following week. He told me he had a prior commitment but that he would try to stop by afterwards. 

I was hopeful but also realistic. It was a Friday and he would have worked all day and then had an event in San Jose. The likelihood of him going to San Francisco and arriving near midnight after a long day and a long work week was slim to none. After a year or so of fruitless crushes and dates, I knew better than to put all my happiness in to him attending. That evening, a small group of us got ready at a friend's house and we headed over to the Holy Cow. Oh, how I loved that seedy club. They played great music, served strong drinks, and there was not an ounce of pretentiousness. I remember more friends joining us, a large group of us dancing and many of taking a break in their outdoor patio area. It was such a fun night.

The Man texted me after 11 PM to let me know he was on his way. I was overjoyed - this good news made a great evening an even better one. Sometime near or after midnight, he arrived and I'm certain he looked so handsome. Beautiful, even. He already knew a few people in the group because they were mutual friends but he was still new to many. And this is important to note because two things happened that still make me laugh. I cannot recall the order but two friends, out of concern, took me aside separately that evening. See, at some point The Man and I went outside and there was only one seat available. He sat down and told me to just sit on his lap. It may sound prudish but that was something I never did. I certainly never sat on a random guy's lap but even men I knew, I was too self-conscious about my weight to do this (another time to write about another issue). But I enjoyed his company and was so happy to see him, I gingerly - and I mean, gingerly - perched myself as close to sitting at the top of his knees so that I was putting as little weight on him as possible. 

The first friend pulled me aside and asked me if I was OK. I think he was genuinely worried this rando-to-him roofied my drink. I could tell that he wondered if I was so impaired that I was now sitting on some stranger's lap. I assured him that I knew The Man, that I had talked to him just last week and actually met him a few months ago. And then I introduced them to each other. It had to be shortly after - because I can't imagine I was comfortable sitting on The Man's lap for a long period time - another friend pulled me off The Man's lap to talk a few feet away, too. I'm certain she said something like, "ElleDee, do you know this mother f*cker?" (How I miss this friend who now lives across the country) Because she is the one who introduced me to the Holy Cow, who I went many, many times with, and knew I never sat on a man's lap so seeing me like this was shocking to her. Surely I was coerced, drugged, or something nefarious. Like my previous friend, I assured her that he was a good guy. After being reassured, I'm pretty sure she said something like, "God damn, he's hot." Fair. 

We all danced, drank, took breaks on the patio, and the night ended when the lights came on. The Man offered to drive me and one of my friends back to the home of another friend. Of course I said yes. When we arrived at the home, my friend goes on ahead so we can have a bit of privacy. It's at this time that The Man gave me a small box and wished me a happy birthday. We hugged and said good night. I changed into my pajamas and rehash the evening with my friend. We are sharing a bedroom my other friend generously lent us so that we didn't have to back to our parents' houses that evening. I opened his gift in front of her and we were both stunned that it was a gold ring with a tiny diamond. "What does it mean?!" I'm sure we screamed. For goodness sake, my friends and I had all met our fair share of commitment phobics at this point so why on earth would this guy who has had one good conversation with me last week give me a diamond ring for my birthday?!

I had many celebration drinks at this point of the night (morning) and had decided to chalk up the meaining of the ring to him being the Oprah of diamond rings. "You get a ring! And YOU get a ring! And you get a RING!" The Man clearly must like to give rings away like candy. What a strange, strange guy. Lucky for him, I thought, I'm not delusional or else I'd read way too much into it. 

Because I was awkward and didn't know how to communicate properly with men I was interested in, I didn't do or say anything. A few weeks go by and we finally connect. I cannot remember if I finally called or if he did. But I remember teasing him about the ring and how I told him I needed to educate him that while I was OK, he should be careful of who he gives rings to because of what they typically mean. And he told me that when someone gives a gift, the recipient usually calls or writes a note to thank the gift giver. Well, damn. He had me there. He was so quick-witted, and so fun to banter with, that I found him to be interesting and funny. It was a very memorable start to what would be the most important romantic relationship of my life. 

This one was really easy

I'm grateful for being able to spend my latest birthday in one of my most favorite places in the world with some of my most favorite people in the world.

It's not the best photo but it has all of in it with a hazy background of where we are. 

I loved Hawaii the first time I stepped foot on Oahu in 2001. I couldn't believe that I hadn't known how amazing this place was until I was 21 years old. I had childhood neighbors from HI, friends who vacationed in HI, but I was not the least bit interested until I went on a girls' trip with a college friend and absolutely fell in love with a place. I think the only two other places I loved as much were the Philippines (there is something magical about being with family and appreciating your ancestral land) and Washington (Sister loved it and showed me all the places she loved therefore I also loved it).  

I credit Hawaiian culture for helping me love my tanned skin and be more accepting of my body type. As proud as I am of being Filipino, colorism is an issue and so is weight. Growing up, I had wished I had lighter skin and really wished that I was underweight. Even at a size 4, I remember going to the Philippines and my relatives calling me curvy. Dancing hula, being immersed in Hawaiian culture and visiting Hawaii helped me appreciate how beautiful tan skin can be and also how all types of bodies can exist on a beach. To be fair, that's not just a Filipino issue, for the longest time America celebrated skinniness (let's face it, still does) so it felt like everywhere I turned, my type was not considered beauty. And I love that HI refuses to be colonized and bucks that belief in every which way. 

I visited Hawaii every year for several years (some years on Oahu, a few on Maui). The Man and I got married on Oahu, honeymooned on Kauai, and then the visits became less frequent after having two children. I've always wanted to go to the Big Island as it was the only inhabitable Hawaiian island I hadn't visited and we were able to make it happen this year. And it is the very first time I've ever celebrated a birthday in Hawaii. 

It felt pretty special to do this. We also stayed in an AirBnB for the first time in Hawaii and ohmigerd, it has made all the difference. Being in one hotel room with one bathroom has felt extra tight now that Bun is a teenager and Bean is basically the size of one. The Man found a beautiful home high up on the hills with incredible views.

My view as I wrote in my journal

Normally I don't like being so far from the water because I love the ease of stepping out of a hotel room and being minutes from the beach. But the quiet, privacy, and peace we have here, along with the convenience of two bedrooms, 2 1/2 bathrooms (I cannot stress enough how this is a game changer), kitchen, living room ... basically, a whole house to ourselves with beautiful ocean views from most rooms in this house is extraordinary. I feel absolutely blessed. 

I see that my kids prefer having the beach more accessible and restaurants and shops being in walking distance. But they see the positives in what we are experiencing (having their own bedroom and a massive bathroom is a gigantic plus) and are happily along for the ride. Well, Bun is having to do a lot of homework for independent study and has requested we not take a vacation during school. The Man & I wanted to give it a go because travel and room/board is so expensive when schools are on break but won't be doing it again because we feel bad for the kiddos.

With all the health and housing issues my mom is going through (that would be many posts and has been many therapy sessions) and my role at work somewhat in question (boo to funding issues), I was having a hard time looking forward to this trip even though I had really been wanting to go. But things going as they were leading up to this trip were very stressful. And it felt like one of the worst times to possibly go. But then my mom's housing situation was solved, her health was somewhat steady, and it seemed that my job was hanging in the balance a bit less. 

And now we're here. And it's beautiful. And I'm one year older, in relatively good health, with my absolutely lovely family. Life feels good right now. 

Gratitude, continued

 After my last entry, I wrote in my paper journal an entry about my daughter. Then I skipped a day. But I'm back! And here to thank ... my junior high best friend, T. I've known her since I was 11 years old and she was 12. We weren't best friends back then. More like frenemies. We called each other friends but sometimes weren't very good friends to each other at all. We stayed friends throughout junior high and up through high school. And then we found ourselves being best friends our senior year. 

We stayed close after graduation and then she got married while I went to university. We still stayed close though she moved to Washington and then Colorado. As life would have it, we drifted apart. Then she moved back to California and we drifted our way back to each other again. But our kids were different ages so we stayed in contact but not very closely. And then, in 2013 (I remember because I started a job in Oakland and we met up just down the street from it), we decided we would try to do weekly hikes. And we've been meeting up ever since. Those hikes occurred while I was great with pregnancy (I remember because I thought there were times where I would have to tell her to just leave me behind), family deaths, other tragedies and hardships in our lives and everything in between. Hikes became knitting sessions, then pole fitness classes, and always coffee dates in between. We have talked about trivial things, important things, heart breaking things. She has attended my dad's funeral, listened to me sob about my sister, be frustrated about my mom's declining health and everything in between. We've gone to a women's spiritual retreat, more pole fitness classes, and many other things. 

T is a soul sister. She sees the positive in life and will hold my hand while we bemoan the negatives. I am grateful for this friendship that has gotten bigger when I needed it to and hopefully it's done the same for her. 

Gratitude over Anxiety

 That's what I'm going for. I was talking to my therapist yesterday about all the anxiety I have from the uncertainty of work and care for my mom. I won't into details but who wouldn't be worried when it comes to their livelihood and the care of an elderly parent with a host of serious medical issues? I feel on edge, not quite drowning but certainly overwhelmed. It affects my sleep and perhaps it's easier to call it anxiety than depression. I don't know. 

So we talked for a bit about this constant dread because it was affecting how I felt about life and not celebrating or enjoying the good moments. Because it felt that impending doom was around the corner. Dark and dramatic, perhaps, but we're still dealing with grief remember? She suggested focusing on gratitude, worrying that it might seem trivial or condescending when she said it but I assured her that I was on board. That I had done it before but, for whatever reason, I strayed away from it and wrote down all my worries. And that's probably why I didn't look forward to journaling and avoided it for days. Then weeks. Then months. 

What am I grateful for today? I will highlight my son, The Bean. A friend offered to help pack up my mom's room at her old facility when I found it was abruptly closing. This is a dear friend who is typically reliable. Well, she had to cancel last minute for a not-so-great reason (though I value her telling me the truth) and I had already told staff that I would be coming so would have felt bad for cancelling. They had to be mildly inconvenienced to let me in so I felt obligated to follow through. I was already feeling a sort of way with having to do this chore, feeling guilty that I hadn't seen my mom in a few days and now feeling put out that a friend cancelled. I asked Bean if he would come with me. I could tell he was not excited, as he had chores to do specifically on Wednesday and he was also hungry. But he looked at how disappointed I was in being cancelled on and with almost no hesitation (it was probably a second or two), Bean said he would help me. I told him thanks, eat a snack while I picked up his sister, and be ready to go in 10 minutes. 

My boy is 11 years old and very much the baby of the family. Look, I was the baby of the family so I know the role well. Unlike me at his age, though, he has more chores and more expectations put upon him in terms of helping around the house. So we drive to my mom's former facility, dark and cold outside, and without any complaints he packs as efficiently and neatly as he can. And by golly, he did a solid job. It wasn't like having another adult with me but it was far better than me doing it by myself. He was such a sport about it and I was the one to call it quits for us rather than him asking if we could stop. I had promised him McDonalds on the way home (a rare treat) and gave him the $10 we found in one of my mom's jacket pockets. 

I'm grateful to have a son who chose to help his mama out even though he was tired from school, hungry, and had a schedule his brain had already committed to (like my daughter and me, we like to know and stick to a schedule, especially when it comes to chores. Hi, I'm the tree, meet my apple.) My kids are their own personalities even though my husband and I see flickers of us in them. And Bean is someone who is the baby of the family, doesn't like to be inconvenienced, and won't necessarily be a martyr - again, also the baby of the family and totally get it. And yet ... he is very loving and giving, particularly when he thinks someone needs help and he can do it. I don't think I give him enough credit for this. So today I am very grateful for my baby boy.

They say you should journal every day

 ... and I have the best intentions to do just that but when I think about putting my pen to paper (journal), I'd rather go on a social media app, a pop culture website or just about anything else. So I'm wondering if unearthing my blog will inspire me to write a bit more. It's certainly faster to get my thoughts out this way.

So, I have been wanting to switch careers but stay in the nonprofit sector FOR YEARS. I just wasn't sure what it looked like. I wasn't interested in being an executive director or CEO but I also did not want to stay in fundraising, I was burnt out. I planned on seriously searching for a new job a month after I graduated. I started putting feelers out, asking for informational interviews with former colleagues, former supervisors, and my greater professional network. I thought about teaching, though I intentionally did not pursue a PhD because I didn't want to teach and research. But I figured why not see. But I continued to only be approached for fundraising positions. 

Then my Sister had her catastrophic stroke. And I could hardly function personally or professionally lives. And then my mom's physical and cognitive health was declining. Again, I felt like I was underwater. I dreaded waking up because I knew it was going to be another day of obstacles. I wasn't suicidal but I surely wasn't joyful. I had been invited to take part in a Women of Color Leadership Fellowship and instead of networking or working out a career plan, I was pouring out my soul and feeling like I was unprofessional because I couldn't stop crying. But it felt like I was dealing with something with my mom just about every day. Whether it was her falling, or forgetting her purse, or not making it to her doctors' appointments. I felt like I was responsible for so much. 

So I stayed. I stayed at the job that felt secure even though it was severely flawed. There was security with being with the devil you knew. I mean, it wasn't awful and it surely wasn't the worst place I had worked at, I just knew that it wasn't challenging me in a good way and I certainly wasn't using the education I obtained. It was a decent enough environment, I was fairly compensated, and the flexibility of a hybrid schedule was probably my most favorite aspect of the job. 

I won't go into details but this job eventually became insecure. The stress of not making the organization's fundraising goals got to leadership and there were poor decisions being made. And even though I should have been "safe", I wasn't and I quickly learned my job was unjustly on the line. I updated my resume and actively applied like it was my second job (it was.) This search was a long five month process, and many interviews, often times with the same organization, they just had a lengthy, multi-interview application process! It came down to two jobs I liked most. One was in fundraising but with a world renown institution and promised to view fundraising in a completely different light than any other organization I'd been part of. And the other was a Chief of Staff role with a small local church doing audacious things in the community. Almost two years after I graduated, I was in a career changing role.

Little things

 I think about my Sister every day. There are also small (and, of course, big) things that really make me wish I could pick up the phone and text or call her. Though we lived in different states and would go up to a week without talking, we were close. We lived big and full lives independent of one another but we told each other just about everything. We knew of each other friends and coworkers, we knew about small annoyances and big challenges. 

It was a small thing that made me think of her yesterday. For the last decade or so, Demondoll has fretted about her hair thinning. I told her I didn't see what she saw but she was certain her scalp was showing more. I'm the one with thicker hair and she was the one with more hair. So we both had our insecurities about volume. The other night, I tried Paul Mitchell's Lemon Sage Thickening Spray and Garnier Fructis Mega Full Thickening Lotion together. And yesterday I had so much volume. I thought to myself, "Oh I wish I could tell her about this. She would love it." And I would have made her try this combination the next time she visited. Normally, my day-old hair would be flatter because I produce a lot of oil. And yet my hair still had volume from this combo and she would have wanted to give it a try even more.

It's silly and insignificant. But we cared about this kind of thing and I wish I could send her these products so they could make her happy and more confident. I wish we she was still here so we could talk about small things. Heaven knows there are big things happening right now that I wish we could discuss. But these small things - they mattered, too. Little sisterly, best friend things you talk about with your sister and best friend.

For the most part, I've loved being the baby of the family

 Being the baby of the family meant that family members doted on you. In their eyes, you're still the baby. While it can be annoying not to be seen as a teenager or young adult, it was nice. I had a good relationship with my parents, especially after becoming a parent myself, and with my siblings. My sister always said they were dirt-poor when she was growing up so I also appreciate that my folks were more established when I came around. I can honestly say I never needed anything. My needs were certainly provided for and most of my wants, too. 

What no one tells you as the baby of the family is that you will most likely be burying everyone. It makes sense but no one talks about it. And while it is dark to think about my parents' passing, I knew that would eventually happen. My parents were always the oldest parents in my class or friend group and that was because I was an "oopsie-daisy-we-can-still-get-pregnant" baby. And my sister is/was 13 years older than me so, to her chagrin, sometimes people mistook her for my mom (we both looked young for our ages so I get why she was put off - she would have been a very very young parent. 

I thought I would have 30+ years with my sister. If I can be completely honest, I naively never thought about my sister passing away. I took it for granted that we would be growing old together. That eventually, our busy schedules would sync up by being less busy and we would visit each other more, maybe even take trips together. I also always thought I'd have her to lean on when things got hard with our folks. And when our dad passed away and our mom just became more like herself (stubborn, hard-headed, but much less independent), I thought we would commiserate, brainstorm and problem-solve. Because this gets more challenging, particularly emotionally.

But I am by myself. And I am overwhelmed. And I am still grieving.

I have a mom who refuses to believe she is too frail to travel but has been hospitalized after both times she has traveled internationally. I have had to pick up the pieces and deal with the consequences of her poor decision-making. People wonder why I can't just put my foot down with her but if you actually knew who she was, you'd know that she was a force. And, for most of her life, it has served her well - her grit and determination. And she's always been the practical one in the family, the one in charge of finances and made the household go 'round. But she's in her 80s, experienced and is experiencing a host of health issues, and lost her husband and her daughter within the past 5 years.

I try to remember this when I'm overwhelmed but it's very hard. Because it's just us three (my brother has high support needs so he's not part of any decisions or expected to help) and I'm also grieving. And I work full-time, am married and have two kids. So my mom's needs affect them too. Though my sister lived two states away, it was a relief to know I had someone if there was an emergency and certainly helpful when needing to vent. Plus she contributed as much as she could like being in charge of our mom's transportation and coordinating that complicated ordeal, week after week.

I'm trying to feel hopeful but I am restless and anxious. And overwhelmed. And grieving.

I don't want to say goodbye

Last Friday, when I flew up to see my sister we had what I've come to dread - the Family meeting. This is when Sister's medical team requests to meet with the family to provide an update on her progress and talk about the next steps of her care. It's never good news. It's never a time to celebrate and high-five each other. But my brother-in-law requested they hold off for a day and have it on Friday so I could attend. I truly appreciated being included though, as I mentioned, I've quickly come to hate these meetings. Unfortunately, the meeting was what I thought it would be. Her medical team asked us what we thought she would want. Because the best outcome they predicted, based on her lack of responsiveness, her tests and scans, was that she would be able to hear and maybe be able to see but she would not be able to process what she was hearing or seeing. 

All our hearts broke again.

We were all holding onto hope that her brain would recover from her strokes and that she just needed more time for the swelling to go down. But it seems there is too much damage from her initial stroke and then all the small ones she had while in the hospital. She had just gone through too much and that is why she was no longer responding to anything but pain. It was decided that her care would change from life-saving to comfort care after close family and friends said their goodbyes. 

We flew our mom up Saturday afternoon to see DD for the first time in the hospital and also to say goodbye. Our mom had recently been in the hospital herself late last June and we didn't want mom to put herself in unnecessary danger. We figured that we would wait until sister moved from ICU to Acute Care and then both would be a bit stronger to see each other. My sister, when still responsive, had held up her hand in a "wait" or "stop" position when we mentioned mom wanted to visit her. Knowing how anxious and worried my sister gets around our mom, it made sense that she made that motion. And her husband, knowing my sister the best, also felt it was the best decision for both of them. Our mom still desperately wanted to visit but without anyone helping her book flights, hotel or transportation, it would have been impossible for her to do it herself. So she waited. 

As expected, it was very difficult for our mom to see DD with a breathing tube, IVs, her head shaved and, most of all, knowing this visit was so she could say goodbye to her daughter. My mom and I went straight to DD from the airport. We stayed just before visiting hours were up. I had booked us a hotel room less than 10 minutes away so we took an Uber there. It was the first time in a long time since I spent the night in a room with our mom. Notorious for being loud, she did her best to be quiet so I could rest. I really appreciated her efforts even though neither of us got much sleep that night.

We joined my brother-in-law in the morning to visit with my Sister again. They were allowing up to four visitors and appreciated that her other visitors wanted to give me and my mom visiting time, along with my sister's husband and son. Whenever one of us needed a break, there was a family member or friend ready to step in. There were also others who visited specifically to say goodbye so we wanted them to have their time with DD, too. And around 2:45 PM, we were allowed to have six of us gathered around as my sister's nurse and respiratory therapist removed her IV and breathing tubes. We all cried and continued to sit around her. My mom and I had to say goodbye in the early evening so we could make our flight home. We hated to leave her.

We had no idea when she would leave us. Her nurse said it may be a day or so. It is now five days later and she is still here. This saddens me greatly because it just goes to show how strong my sister's body is. It's only her brain that isn't allowing her to be with us. But it's the one that matters most - over her heart, lungs, and kidneys. I have cried every day since returning and am thankful to my brother-in-law for his calls and online updates. I can only imagine how hard this has been for him. I know he is grateful for anytime he has left with her but I also know this very long goodbye has to take a toll both physically and mentally. Because he knows that she will eventually go. And I mourn for her now because even though she is still with us, she also isn't. This is the longest I've gone without speaking to her and I'm so so sad that I won't ever get to talk with her again. 

A rollercoaster

 This is the 3rd time I'll be going to Seattle this month. Before my sister's stroke, the last time I was in Seattle was for my nephew's - her son's - high school graduation in 2018. Before then, it was sometime before The Bean's birth so before 2014 because I only had one baby then. Because of my babies and our parents' limited mobility, DD often traveled down to see us. She would come when our parents were sick or if I needed help. Or for holidays, special occasions, or funerals. 

Two days ago, I thought I was going to say goodbye to my sister. It has been a tough 22-now-23 days. Just about every day my brother-in-law calls with updates. And almost every day, it feels like it's one step forward, two steps back. Because I'll hear that she had a good day, a boring day, and we rejoice in the ordinary of it all. Then on other days, we hear find out she had a setback or that she isn't progressing as they'd like. Most recently, a doctor told my B-I-L that they were not confident my sister would wake up. 

In the past 23 days, my heart has broken over and over again. I have imagined the best and I've imagined the worst. The best is her needing major rehabilitation and it's bizarre to think that 23 days ago, that was the worst. One month ago, our mom being in the hospital with pneumonia and the flu was the worst. Two months ago, it was me not knowing what to do with my career. It's incredible how perspectives can change in an instant. 

My husband has been a rock for me. He has tried to alleviate some of the responsibilities I have as a parent (he has an awful commute so I take care of all transportation to and from school and activities for our kids, as well as meals). He's also the one who gently but firmly has made sure I'm taking care of my health since my sister had undiagnosed high blood pressure and diabetes. He also has assured me that I can talk to him about all of this so I don't have to keep it bottled up inside. 

He told me it seems like I'm taking my sister's crisis much harder than my father's death. I loved my dad very much. He was one month shy of turning 82 years old yet it was still a surprise to all of us when he passed. His passing was very quick, less than 24 hours. It was my mom who had been in the hospital for several weeks just before he passed. I told my husband that while I really missed my dad, I also knew that the body he was living in frustrated him. I knew he hated being frail and having to spend so much time getting dialysis. He was frustrated by his physical limitations and didn't like depending on other people to help him. I took comfort in knowing that he was finally free. 

My sister is only 57 years old. Again, perspective is a funny thing. When I was a kid and even a young adult, 57 seemed ancient to me. Now I know there is so much more potential life left, decades in fact. Her son is 22 years old. We didn't talk about it much (I think we didn't want him to feel rushed and, honestly, he IS pretty young) but I know she looked forward to his wedding and him having children. As for me, I was looking forward to the time when I had fewer obligations and could visit her again like I did in my 20s. Visiting her was so peaceful - it's where she taught me how to knit and entertained my interest in going to all the local coffee shops to find the best coffee. And finding places that potentially made the best oatmeal. We would knit and drink tea or coffee and chat. Or take walks. I cherished those times and, just like how I felt about going to Hawaii with my girlfriends, I looked forward to the time when I could make those visits with her again. 

We are never promised tomorrow, I know. But when going through the day-to-day, one can't help but get pulled into the daily routine and think that one day in the future, we can look forward to the things we want to do. And I unwisely assumed that my sister would always be there because she always had been. Since I was born. So her life hanging in the balance is shocking to me. It's something I've never imagined. And it's devastating. I cling to hope and sometimes wish I didn't because when I hear that she may not ever be with us, I am gutted. And this has happened over and over again. But as my B-I-L has written, where this is life, there is hope. And my sister continues to breathe on her own. So I pray throughout the day that she will wake up soon, whole and healthy.

A love letter to my Sister

The two posts before were drafts that I hadn't realized were never published. It's been a long time since I've been here. What brought me back to this little place was seeing my Sister's blogspot on her FB page. Though she hadn't written anything since September 27, 2011, she still had it listed. We both started writing in 2005 and it was just one way for us to keep in touch.

My Sister is fighting to stay with us right now. She had a hemorrhagic stroke almost three weeks ago and our lives have forever changed. At first, I was devasted to hear that she would lose mobility on her right side and possibly her speech, though they said she may be able to gain it back. But in the past three weeks, she has had many ischemic strokes while in ICU, a craniectomy, and other setbacks along the way. Who would've thought that losing mobility and speech would be the best-case scenario?

I turn to this little place because it's where she and I would "talk" through our writings. And I've been praying so much for the past three weeks that maybe this is another form of prayer. 

My Sister is one of the best people I've ever known. She was like a second mom to me when I was growing up. She is 13 years older and gave me the attention and patience that my parents didn't have. They were great parents but they were busy ... and tired. My sister would play with me, braid my hair, take me with her to school, shopping trips, friends' homes, fun outings - she was just a great big sister. I remember having classmates who were jealous of how nice my sister was to me because theirs were mean and made them feel like a pest. Not my sister. She always made me feel loved.

And as I grew up, that never changed. She always encouraged me to visit her and made time for my sporadic calls. My sister came for long visits after I birthed each baby to help and just be there for me. She did the same for our parents when they fell sick, or when our mom wanted to go to the Philippines but didn't want to leave our dad alone. My sister came and kept him company. Even though he resented having what he called a "babysitter", we know he enjoyed her company. Because my sister is sweet and kind. She is so happy making other people happy. She finds joy in bringing joy to others. She's just an incredible human being. That's why I don't understand why she is in a hospital right now. I don't understand why someone so wonderful, kind, and giving is suffering. 

I know miracles can happen and I keep praying for them. But I'm also incredibly sad and frustrated by all the challenges that keep coming her way. The world is a better place with her in it. I am certain of that. The lives she touches are better for her being in it. She and I used to lament how some people couldn't stand how happy we are as individuals. Admittedly, I think I'm saltier than her. A little more jaded, a lot more attitude. My sister can't help but beam sunshine. She's really that good. She has the biggest heart. So I continue to pray that she can pull through. That she can come out whole and healthy. Because I love her so, so much.

Part of August, in a nutshell 8/22/15 9:28 PM

Reunion: Vegas and Zion 8/22/15 9:33 PM

The last time I wrote here, popular social media platforms didn't exist yet.

 It's 2021 and holy crap, a lot has happened. Kids, in a snapshot ...

- mom started her doctoral program in Aug 2019

- Papa passed away in Nov 2019

- Pili passed away in July 2019 (it was an awful year, to be honest)

- Then the world shut down Feb/Mar 2020 because of a global pandemic (some of us thought it was going to last six weeks. It lasted for over a year and is still continuing but we're not completely shut down like we had been).

- Nana had three major non-scheduled surgeries and one scheduled open heart surgery during the pandemic.

- I left a job I loved because the toxicity was overwhelming.

- I started a new job during a pandemic while continuing to work my way through my doctoral program (I planned to potentially start looking upon graduating but life is funny)

- I've deleted social media apps on my phone to help me focus. So of course I resurrect my blog! But I need an outlet for my random thoughts (or daily musings, if you're fancy).

To the little but all-consuming loves of my life

To The Bun and The Bean,

It’s been so long since I’ve written here because there has been no time. Well, scratch that. I haven’t made time because there are so many other things that are more important – including you two! I think I was also disheartened to see that all the photos I’ve posted no longer work:( How can I stroll down memory lane when the photos have disappeared? Ah well.
Anyway.
I’m in my 4th year of my j-o-b. Kids, this might not mean anything to you until much later. Like, when you’re gainfully employed. But I’m so very thankful to have a job that I enjoy tremendously and has afforded me the best commute in my career. I am about 20 minutes from home and while it is too far to go home for lunch, it’s nice to work so close to home.
Ava, the proximity of my job enables me to volunteer at your school every-other-week. It means so much to me to have you know that you’re important to me. I don’t care to hold a PTA position because I want to volunteer in roles in which you can see and talk to me. I want to know the kids in your class and see how they interact with you. I want to see you eat snack and know that I packed enough in your lunch box.
 Oh, that lunch box. I think that you think I don’t want you to buy school lunch because I don’t want to spend the money. That’s partially true. If it was a truly nutritious school lunch, I would be OK with it. But I know it’s not that good for you. And if you’re going to have a “not that good for you” lunch, well then I can pack that for you! But I aim a little higher most days;) I’m not a natural chef but I want to know that you have enough food for snack and lunch. I want you to know that maybe you can’t tell right now, but it’s how I show I love you.
On that note, I’m sorry that I snap at you sometimes. Or that I seem irritable. I hope that’s not what you remember most of me. I was telling a colleague that you and I have different personalities but there are enough similarities that cause us to knock heads. But I hope you always know that you are absolutely my favorite girl in the whole wide world. You are so beautiful, inside and out, that I am in awe that you came from us. You are so special and I hope you know that I feel that about you.
As for you, Mister … oh, Evan. You are a feisty little thing! You are so LOUD. And that statement is coming from a loud person! You challenge me and push me but you know what? I am thankful every day that you’re a Mama’s Boy. And I hope you stay one forever. Oh my goodness, do you know that when I give you this serious “You’re in trouble” look, you break out into a big smile and then laugh?! And then I laugh because I can’t believe that my look has NO effect on you except to make you laugh.
Last month, Evan, we transitioned you from Monique’s home day care to a preschool. Well, you were in the 2-4 year old section which is technically a day care but they are officially a preschool. We put you in twice a week with the intention of having you go four times a week. You hated it:( You cried so hard when I left you and then you cried with relief when I picked you up. That was something new for you – I’d never seen you be so relieve to see me you cried.
I was torn. I knew the preschool was just lovely. Ava had attended the same preschool when she was 4 years old. But it was different for you and me. I didn’t like that couldn’t tell me what made you so sad. I didn’t like that I had to leave you bawling. I didn’t like that you got hurt on your second day even though I know it was perfectly innocent. But all these signs were telling me that this just wasn’t the right time for you. If we didn’t have your Nana to take care of you, maybe we would’ve just waited for you to get used to it. And even though it’s very inconvenient to take you to Monique’s, we have to do what’s best for you.
At two years old, I think you just crave that personal attention. You are the only baby at Nana’s as well as Monique’s and it was obvious when I heard you would follow around one teacher the entire day, you needed that one-on-one attention. Sure, some people said you would eventually adapt. But you know what? You’re only going to be two once in your life ... I just want to let my baby be a baby. So I pulled you out of preschool and we’ll revisit the idea in a year or maybe two. But can I just say that you, my son, do not shed a tear now when you go to Nana and Papa’s or Monique’s. It’s like you realized how good you have it now:)
I do really like my job. But I look forward to Thanksgiving and Christmas breaks when I am off work and we get to sleep in and hang out. I also know that by the time those breaks end, I’ll be itching to go back to work. But I long for those moments of us lounging in the morning and taking our time to start our day.
I love being your mama, kids. I really do. I love you both higher than the sky and bigger than the world.

Xoxo,
Mama

Uh, hello? Is this thing on?

I feel like I should write out Adele's lyrics to "Hello". I think this is the longest gap of time I've had between posts. Would you believe me if I told you that I've thought about this blog at least a couple times a week? But when I would eventually get a pocket of time, I just didn't feel like writing. I thought of various things I wanted to be sure to write down so I wouldn't forget. But then, wouldn't you know, I forgot what they were. But it never occurred to me to just let this go and walk away. I'm stubborn that way. Right there, I can of so much I want to write about. I want to start writing personal letters to The Bun and The Bean so they can read it later and know what their mama was thinking ... and that maybe she really isn't that cray-cray. She just has a lot to think about that they didn't know about. I want to maybe even write letters to The Man but that's a little more sensitive because, well, those are very personal thoughts that most likely have to deal with conflict or relationship complexities. Essentially, not all cupcakes and roses:p I want to write about what my one word is for 2016, when I chose it, and how I'm going to use it to reframe my thoughts and actions so I can be a better self, wife, mama, daughter, sister, friend, professional and overall human being. I want to write about how my daughter wrote me a beautiful note with misspellings but so much wiser beyond her years, how it gave me pause and how it was a wakeup call that I was not doing things as well as I thought I was. And, shockingly enough, although it was something I have been fixated on for years, it was sort of an almost afterthought it this rambling of things I want to make sure to write about - I finally, finally reached my weight goal. How it happened and how I feel now. I must say that even though it was the last thing I thought about it when it came to things I want to write about in my blog, this was incredibly hard, and even though I am by no means a skinny minny (I will always be curvy unless I get very ill), I feel healthy and good, inside and out. Guess I should get started writing, right? Well, the 30 minutes that I took to write this has now eaten into my morning schedule and I'm now a half hour behind in getting myself, The Bun and The Bean ready. I'll leave you (well, really ME b/c this blog is read by only me) w/ two things that have captured perfectly what I struggle with on a daily basis. I know I'm not the only one but I can only speak for myself. There's a video of Jada Pinkett Smith that has gone viral b/c she talks about the challenges of finding balance in taking care and being responsible for herself, her husband and her children as well as fulfilling her dreams while helping her children and husband fulfill their dreams. It is a very good video and what she said spoke to me. http://omeleto.com/219456/ It also reminded me of an interview that really resonated w/ me regarding a woman CEO saying women can't have it all. And that you have to cope, know you are doing your best, or you will die of guilt. So I thought I would repost that article, in case anyone else, man or woman, struggles with balance. When I posted it on FB, some of my friends thought it was depressing. I found it to be the opposite. It made me feel that if this incredibly intelligent and successful woman is struggling, I don't feel so terrible about struggling with this, too. http://www.theatlantic.com/business/archive/2014/07/why-pepsico-ceo-indra-k-nooyi-cant-have-it-all/373750/

Happy 1st birthday!

I MEANT to post this on your birthday, exactly one month ago on your birthday! I even uploaded it on that day. Oh, I have the best intentions. Life is just so busy. Superbly blessed, but b-u-s-y!

My little mister. My Coffee Bean.  (I nicknamed you that because you kept me up my entire pregnancy! Thank you for being a good sleeper like your sister and letting me make up for all those hours I was awake while pregnant.) Happy 1^st Birthday! A whole year has flown by.

Just like with your sister, I don’t know where the time goes. You two are growing up so fast.

I remember being pregnant with you. I remember telling your Daddy, “There isn’t enough room for both of us! I feel so FULL. There just isn’t enough room!” (My stretch marks say otherwise.) I loved taking pictures with your sister and you in utero because I could see us both grow as your due date drew closer.

You are an incredible baby. You are so sweet, serious, yet silly and fun. You are extremely cuddly. You are super duper handsome (you look just like your Daddy. When he calls you handsome, it’s almost narcissistic!;) You are a big boy – and not just the Asians say this. I can’t believe such a big baby came from me.

You bring out the best in all of us. You make me a better mama, your Dad a better daddy and your sister a better sister. I can't explain it, you just do. I guess it's because you prove that love isn't like a cup of water. That it is capable for us to love even more than we already did. You are such a blessing to us.

- Posted using BlogPress via iPhone

Mama's at a work conference

My job isn't perfect. But it is one of the best jobs I've ever had. They invest in professional development by encouraging us to attend conferences. They also let me stay at the hotel where the conference is held (always nice).

My digs for three days/two nights.

I'm grateful for this and my previous experiences make me an appreciative person. It's also kind of nice to stay at a hotel all by myself!

I'm also extremely grateful for my family because there's no way I could go anywhere overnight without their support. My husband and mom changed their daily schedules around to make up for my absence. I cannot say enough how much I love and appreciate my village.

Of course, I miss my family. I got to talk to The Bun the past two nights. It's the craziest thing because I talk to this girl every day in person. But when I was listening to her talk over the phone, it struck me how adorable she sounded. I loved listening to her talk and could hardly believe this little girl chatting on the phone is my baby.

They're holding hands. He was knocked out and she was just hanging out.

I've enjoyed my little time away. I was able to educate myself about my field and get a little bit of grown up time and alone time. It was nice but I miss my family - my husband who makes me laugh, my beautiful children and my adorable pups.

My son with his super chubby and kissable cheeks AND fauxhawk<3

- Posted using BlogPress via iPhone

Time did it AGAIN

It got away from me!
So much going on.
One of my pups had surgery. We realized how pretentious it sounded when we said, "We're talking our dog to UC Davis for surgery on her ACL" but, really, we did it to save money. And boy, did we ever. We were quoted $1,000 more to do it in the Bay Area so it was well worth it to drive an hour and a half to Davis. She is currently on the mend but won't rest. Pili believes she has a bionic leg. She doesn't.
My little baby boy is teething. He's got TWO teeth breaking through his gums. This makes for a sad baby but I mourn a little for the fact that my last baby is no longer going to have baby's breath.
If you've ever smelled it, it's highly addicting. With The Bun, and now The Bean, one of my absolute favorite places to kiss is the chin. One, it's super soft and naturally chubby. Two, and more importantly, it puts my nose right near their lips which is usually open because they're giggling. And that's when I get a hit of that awesome baby's breath. It's sweet and only lasts until they have teeth.
Then they get that other breath:(
So I'm sniffing his mouth as much as possible before those teeth come in. I know, it's a weird thing to read but truly, there are few things that naturally smell as sweet and pure as a baby's breath. No joke.

My beautiful baby boy.

There's something about looking at my babies sleeping, especially my youngest baby, that makes me catch my breath.
This baby, this small being who babbles, has that unmistaken sweet baby breath and smells like baby powder, this is the last time I'll experience my children in this form. At this age. I'm not going to have any more children so all their firsts are also going to be my lasts. I may be blessed later in life to experience these again as a grandmother but these moments are my last as a parent.
My handsome 9 month old and my beautiful 5 year old will some day be in their 20s, and then 30s, leading their own lives wondering why their mama is always willing to hang out with them. At the drop of the hat.
Parenthood is lovely and cruel. We spend years loving, teaching and nurturing our children. Then they grow up and want to lead their own lives, understandably, but sometimes very far away. And parents just have to accept it. Or maybe their close by but life is crazy and there's little time to spend with their parents.
And parents just accept, love, and take whatever time they're given.
I know this is my future because it's what I've seen and even what I've done and do with my own parents. Work, my own little family, chores, friends and yes, rest, all take up time.
But 30+ year ago, my world revolves around my parents, just as my kids' worlds revolve around The Man and me.
This circle of life. Crazy, isn't it?

- Posted using BlogPress via iPhone

Slower than molasses but ...

... last time I checked in here, I was 3-4 lbs away from goal. Despite the gluttony that was my tropical vacation (for which I have no apologies!), I'm now 1-2 lbs from my goal.
This is a big deal for me.
I will not be a skinny minny at my goal. I'm sure that some will look at me and think I should keep going. But 1) it is realistic and 2) medical professionals evaluated me from head to toe and came up with my goal so 3) I'm totally behind it.
Clothes fit me differently now. I know I've written about it before but I can't find it in a quick search and I'm pressed for time so I'll repeat myself. How little ol' lady of me ... which I fully embrace.
Today I posted on IG a photo of me in a pair of pants I haven't worn in a long time, maybe 2 years. Well, I was surprised by how loose they fit because my stomach is quite soft. It's sort of an optical illusion - my stomach is trimmer but also much softer. I think it is about the size it was when I got married. While I weigh less now than my wedding day, I did have a personal trainer whip me into shape:)
But, as I've mentioned before, I'm making a concerted effort to be kind to my body. To be forgiving and loving to my body. I really like this online article because it reminded me that my body has been through a lot and I am absolutely blessed to have given birth to two beautiful babies.
So I thank my body because, while my belly is softer than my youth, it has trimmed down so much I didn't even realize it until I tried on these pants. And these are the smaller sized pants of my 10 pairs. I wore size 8 pants for a year or so after The Bun was born. I wore size 6 pants about the time I got married.
I debated holding on to these pants because, frankly, I'm scared that I will gain the weight back. And almost all of them have been hemmed professionally so that certainly added to the cost! But after being approximately this weight for months now, I think it's time to free up the room in my closet.
I'm not a completely changed woman. My downfall is chocolate, always has, always will. But I'm much better at nourishing my body with good stuff like vegetables and (mostly) staying away from junk food.
Thank you, body! You've been very nice to me.