Random Advice for My Best Girls, V1.

There is a time that I doubt putting my thoughts out there to the masses..(the lone 30 that read).  But then I think about my girls and snippets of advice that I want to make sure that I tell them.  I am not going any where but my thoughts are so random, I just want to make sure that I write them down...hence this entry.  I would like to call this:  Random Advice for My Best Girls, V1.  (Because there is probably more to come.)
1.  Don't wear hose if you don't have to.  Laurel--you have your dad's skin tone where you will be tan in the winter.  Rachel--my skin tone; I am sorry.  But during the summer, a close shave and good moisturizer..both of you are good.  But Laurel, if I catch you going bare-legged in the dead of winter, your legs will be covered with the most orange version of No Nonsense (in the red packet!)  And even worse, no hose with open-toed shoes! I will openly mock you. (I call it tough love.)

2. Never dry shave.  With the smallest of sections..no, don't just whip it over with the razor.  It will feel fine for a little bit, but after a while it will be sore and then you don't even want to look at it.  Just get some lotion prior to reaching for the Bic..really.

3. Always have a clean tissue in your pocket.  I have this awful issue of my nose running in the most nervous situation.  You never want to have to use your sleeve.  (It seems okay as a 4 year old but as a 34-year old?  Not so much.)

4. If you are ever in a social sit down meal situation..always with a fork!  You don't have to get a salad but never a sandwich where meat may dangle and slap you in the chin!

5. Don't chew gum!  Really?  (Or Laurel, as you would say, "Seriously?") You don't need to chomp for fresh breath..brush your teeth or pop a freakin' tic tac.
 
6. In any work/school environment, get to know the admin and custodial staff.  They know everything and everyone..really.

7. Sometimes your strength of the day is facing the day.  Just getting out of bed is a feat in itself.  That is okay.

8. Regardless, where you are or your age, take a "no thank you bite".  There are dishes that you may disgust but if you don't just try...it may take away from an experience that is bigger than that one dish (with funky looking meat, sauce and some sort of vegetation.) Trust me..

9. If you have a boyfriend (or girlfriend..whatever) and after a few months, you cannot fart in front of them..let them go.  Not person is worth severe gas pains.

10. While shopping, if you are debating a purchase, regardless if it is expensive soft cheese or a pair of good shoes, put it back. A purchase is definite, not doubt at all.

Again..random but useful for my girls, Wang.

It was a pretty low key, local circus. Not that Barnum and Bailey stinky elephant circus.

When I was a kid.. (as I write this statement, I picture my mom sitting at her desk sucking in her breath and then saying "Oh, Christ").  Anyway, when I was a kid, manners were everything.  I think my mom even said that poor manners were a sign of stupidity.  (Or maybe that was profanity..but regardless..have good manners and watch the profanity.)  When I was really young, I remember being given something, anything and before I could even digest the situation, there was a voice from above.."What do you say?"  And immediately I would say, thank you.

As I got older, my manners remained intact.  I never believed that I can say "please, thank you or excuse me" enough in any situation.  I wanted my girls to be the same way.

At Laurel's first parent teacher conference, when we were told that Laurel had the very best manners, I felt as if I was told that she was Ivy bound.  (You probably aren't surprised to know that Ching actually mentioned the phrase "ivy-bound" during the conference.)  Before she goes to any play date or birthday party, I tell her to remember her manners.  As she gets older, some sass pops up as she says, "I know, I know".  I jokingly say that her tone isn't polite.

That is why yesterday just seemed strange.  Laurel was over at a friend's house playing and as they were about to leave for the circus, they invited Laurel to come along.  (It was a pretty low key, local circus.  Not that Barnum and Bailey stinky elephant circus.)  I knew she would have a great time and while she was being dropped off at home, Laurel sprinted through the door and went right to the family room.  I was livid.  I told her to march herself back into the entry way and say thank-you. (Oh Christ, I used the word "march".) After the mom left, Ching and I read Laurel the riot act about not saying thank you.  And then she cried.

As I mother more over time and become a little more hardened, I don't feel bad (about her crying) but I do think about the situation.  Perhaps Laurel had said thank you on the way up to the door?  Or maybe Ching and I weren't worried about Laurel saying thank you but what the other mom would think of us when she didn't.

I don't want Laurel (or Rachel) to become a person that just responds with a the same rhetorical, "Thank you".  Like using, "fine" or simple salutations.  I would like her to know when to be polite instead of the cue just to say "Thank you."

So I mother with a simple please and thank you and hope to God I don't drop the f-bomb around them.

While growing up with my younger sister, Jess, I frequently was called "Ju-Jes-no, Jude"

Recently I have reverted to calling the girls "Hey!" and "No!" (Laurel is "Hey!" because she tends to ignore me or not pay attention and Rachel is "No!" for obvious reasons).  I just cannot retrieve the right name for the specified girl.  I know which kid is which--it isn't that bad.  But when I need to say their name in a pinch, I can't do it.  Right now I just feel lucky to only have two kids.

This issue seemed to pop up when Rachel started her Terrible Two regime.  While she turned two last week, this behavior of sheer stubbornness and the bull in a china shop persona started a couple of months ago.  She moves like a tornado and I usually have to yell her name to stop, put it down or get off.  Perhaps because my nerves are frayed, I can't retrieve her name so I just start with "No!"  This has followed to Laurel who just doesn't seem to pay attention.  So rather than doing a Laur-Ra-La combo, I just yell, "Hey!"  (While growing up with my younger sister, Jess, I frequently was called "Ju-Jes-no, Jude")

I thought I was going to avoid this problem giving them names not starting with the same letter.  Well that theory was shot to shit.  Nothing could help me, not different letters, sounds or even gender.

I know it is going to get worse with age.  (Another reason not to get a dog since someone is going to be called the dog's name.  I am putting it out there now.)  So currently, for my sanity, I try not to even use a declarative and they remain nameless.  I try to yell with my eyes as much as possible.

I won't start to worry until she is trying to put an apple on top of Rachel's head.

Laurel is now watching to the Olympic Opening Ceremony for the fifth time on DVR.  She loves watching the parade of the countries.  As each country enters on the track, she likes to say the country name, the number of athletes and what the flag bearer is going to participate in during the games.  There have been some countries that I could not pronounce (some that ended in -stan), some countries that I didn't know where they were.  And of course, we both giggled when we they announced "Djibouti".

She casually asked what sport she could play to join the Olympics.  I didn't want to burst her bubble but I did gently tell her that training for the Olympics took years of dedication.  This was not an after school activity that she could join with a small fee from Mom and Dad.  She looked at me quizzically when I said dedication.  I told her that it meant focus...she then understand completely.  But she didn't seemed fazed.  She calmly said that she wanted to do archery several years from now.  Seems random but she does archery twice a week at her summer camp.  I won't start to worry until she is trying to put an apple on top of Rachel's head.

I hope she remembers her interest of these games.  Currently, I love watching the Olympics, summer more than winter.  Swimming is my absolute favorite..during the last summer games I decided that I needed to swim at least three times a week at the Y.  I did but then a year later was pregnant with Rachel.  Swimming has been put on hold for a little bit.

The first games that I watched and remember are the 1984 games in Los Angeles.  I was 12 and I remember the athletes coming in with blue track suits.  My best memory was watching Maine native Joan Benoit win the marathon easily...her suit was taupe with a red piping.  Distant second was the memory of gymnast Mary Lou Retton.  She was from West Virginia...not from Maine.  She seemed cool as after the games she was endorsing Wheaties and some popular brand of hair mousse.  (Again, this was 1984, mousse was volume genius for hair)  The most disappointing and confusing was Mary Decker.  She was running a long distance race and tripped with Zola Budd.  Budd was favored to win and was in front when the tangle happened.  Needless to say, Decker fell, and Budd fell to the end of the pack.  Decker blamed Budd but technically it was ruled that it wasn't (Budd's fault).  Decker also waved Budd off as she tried to apologize.  At 12, I was kind of embarrassed that this woman represented my country.  (I got used to this type of embarrassment as I share the same citizenship as the Kardashians.)  The second most disappointing was the President Reagan only inviting gold medalists to the White House after the Games had come to a close.

Last night, during the first viewing, Laurel had so much Olympic joy...and a lot of questions.  The opening ceremony was a little too "Lord of the Rings' for me and Laurel kept asking me about the Industrial Revolution.  I really couldn't remember what I had learned several years ago.  I kept looking at Ching to help me out (I know he knew!) or get on Wikipedia.  I shifted focus on what the games mean..work, dedication, sportsmanship.

Today Laurel repeated the same goals of the game.  I was pleased that she remembered those today rather than "Djibouti".  Secretly, I kept thinking what I saw last night as they interviewed Gabby Douglas.  Is the scrunchie coming back?  (Hope so!)

Not one, but two people thought I was crying at work today.

Not one, but two people thought I was crying at work today.  Someone walked by.."Are you crying?"  Um, no..And what the hell do you want? (Yeah, this is pretty much how I am when I am not mothering.)

When I was talking to my mom this morning, apparently I had some odd lilt in my voice because she asked, "Are you crying?"  "Hell,no...I don't freakin' cry at work".  Oh shit, blog topic..let me write this down.  (This is how the blogs happen.)

Not only do I not cry at work but I don't believe in it.  If I see a woman crying at work,  I am not supportive.  I usually give them an evil eye to get their ass into a stall of the ladies room. (And don't freakin' come out until you are put together!)

Over all, I am not much of a crier.  I don't cry when I am sad...more if I am frustrated and pissed off.  If I do cry, it's bad because my face gets all twisty--lots of tears and mucous.  My voice gets very high so I can't fake not crying.  If I am crying, and you asked me a question, you will regret it.  I am a puddle and the situation gets very awkward..for you (sucks to be you and you will try to pretend that you don't know me.)  You want to get the hell out of there and I am just melting.

I don't want to cry at work because I feel that it sets a precedent.  Does it make me look weak?  And it could it happen again if stress prevails?  It is not about just being a crier, it is about anyone over emotional at work--woman or man or that man who I swear acts like a woman.  I have sat next to many a person that will go ape shit over bad phone calls (and slamming the phone down) or slow computers that result with a bitchy myriad of swears.

Perhaps crying shows that I have feelings and I am not as hard as I would like to show.  I would rather not show that soft side...it is protected with that hard candy coated shell that I call snark.

The word, "pie" has seven syllables of embellishment goodness.

Last week, I waxed poetic about Laurel liking me.  While she still likes me, I think she edging closer to the stage by being embarrassed by me. It's there..lurking..ready to get bigger.  Laurel (and Rachel) need to know that their mom is weird..perhaps a touch of crazy.

This issue came up last night.  When I heard about the passing of Sherman Helmsley, I immediately went into song. I started singing the theme song of the Jeffersons...you know it:
"To a deluxe apartment in the sky. Movin' on up,  To the east side. We finally got a piece of the pie".  (I just don't sing the words.  There is a lot of musical embellishment on my part.  The word, "pie" has seven syllables of embellishment goodness.)

Laurel looked at me like I was a freak.  She didn't roll her eyes but there was this primal fear that I was not normal or something?

Really Laurel?  Just a few days ago, we were singing the (probably) one hit wonder of The Wanted.  While we can yell/sing about Chasing the Sun, we can't appreciate the incredible gospel styling of one of the best theme songs of my generation?  Well, Laurel...let's call it now.  Get used to it.  I am a little weird:
1.  I have a little "Yay!" habit.  If something excites me, I tend to react with a delayed moment and then yell a high pitch "Yay!" complete with jazz hands.
2.  I talk to myself because I am constantly trying to remind myself of what I was about to do.  It looks weird...get used to it.  Not only can you see my lips move, there are hand gestures too.
3.  At the end of any good workout, I give myself a fist pump like I just kicked the winning goal.  I don't care if anyone sees me.

I don't think Laurel should waste energy now being embarrassed.  She should save it when she brings home a boy...just sayin'.

Just another 45 year old grifter wearing Forever 21 and sporting a fake Birken.

I don't like Andy Cohen.  He makes me feel dirty every time. And I can't help but go back for a little more!  Endless cycle of saying that I won't watch, but I do, then I feel disgusted and then I swear no more but then I take another peak.  God damn you AC!

Andy Cohen is the "brain child" behind the Housewives empire.  I use the word, brain child, loosely even since he thought the word betwixt meant perplexed rather than between...idiot.  He seems to be afraid of some of these women too.  While he rightfully should, because some of them have boobs big enough to that would take you out if they turned to the left suddenly.  And I am confused too.  Some of these woman aren't even married.  Some are divorced, single and miserable or single and banging a married man.  I hate that I am putting too much thought into this.

The whole series started innocently enough as a take off of the series, Desperate Housewives.  Five wives of Orange County  became part of a new reality series.  It was a little bit about shopping, crying over men and being bitchy.  But over time, the participants (in several cities, not just the OC) have become a cartoon of the worst side of women.  Bitchy, boozy broads yelling and trying to one up each other.  (I have compared this series to going to a zoo and being entertained my watching the monkeys throw their own poo at each other.) My favorite "one up" is living beyond your means, flashing labels and then reading ten months later that they had any money.  Just another 45 year old grifter wearing Forever 21 and sporting a fake Birken.

They treat each other horribly and seem to want to re-visit junior high.  I have a little bit of a mean side but compared to these women, I am freakin' Tinkerbell.

Maybe I am annoyed because there is no talent behind this form of entertainment.  It is so cheap that I feel insulted.  But the television will remain on, perhaps in the background, on yet another re-run of Law and Order, SVU.

My words could figuratively tear the scalp off this kid.

I think I have to call the mom of one of Laurel's "friends."  I have talked about this girl before now.  She is the one that told Laurel that she met Katy Perry.  She is always trying to best Laurel.  While Laurel was telling her about summer camp, Laurel told her that she would swim twice a day.  Of course, Katy Perry's biggest fan told Laurel that she will swim three times a day.  Really?  Usually it is little shit stuff like this that Laurel will randomly mention.  I don't know why she hangs out with this girl.  This association didn't bother me before now.

A couple of days ago, Laurel was eating a little packet of cookies.  It was one of those 100 calorie packs (Ching is a big fan.)  Laurel told me that her friend told her that she needed to count calories and I should do this for her too.  Because I don't, I am a bad mother.

First of all, I am a big girl.  My words could figuratively tear the scalp off this kid.  The bad mother comment will slide.  But, God damn, telling Laurel that she needs to count calories?  I understand kids needing to eat well and stay active but don't tell my kid that she needs to count calories.  Her body image is sacred to me.  I want her to feel beautiful and confident and I am all ready dreading the day when she will not want to leave her room because she will hate her clothes, hair or skin.

I don't know when this incident happened during the school year.  I am not sure if it was recent or not.  So I am debating waiting until this little pain in the ass strikes again before I call her mom.  But then if I do call the mom, what kind of ramifications would this have?  Would the mom understand my point and communicate it clearly to her daughter?  Or would this girl torment Laurel even more?

So I lie in wait...And you know, I will blog about this later.

Please let her not have just watched a John Hughes marathon on Oxygen.

Usually an uneventful task...I am just watching my tab get higher and higher as the groceries are scanned one by one. (Jesus, the meat hasn't even been scanned and I am at $104?) The girl, about 17, who is bagging my purchases looks at me with suspicion.  (Oh Christ, I probably almost hit her on Walnut during my drop off routine.  She was probably just trying to get to homeroom at Newton North.)  Anyway...she starts this conversation:
She: "You look like someone famous.  But I can't remember her name."
(Oh freak me...Please let her not have just watched a John Hughes marathon on Oxygen.  Throw me a bone...give me Julianne..not Molly.)
Me:  Perhaps Julianne Moore? (I try not to sound desperate with this guess.)
She: Yeah!! Don't people tell you that all the time??
Me:  (I wish)  I have heard this but not as much as I would like.
She:  Really??  You look just like her!
(The cashier, also 17, joins the conversation.  She looks at me.  I go into confession mode.)
Me:  I don't care.  Julianne is really cool.  I will glom onto that compliment anyway I can.
Cashier girl laughs and then asks what this actress has been in for movies.
She:  She has been in a lot of stuff..9 months..The Kids are All Right...
Me:  Boogie Nights (Awesome Jude...the movie about porn.)..

Just a little look into JCW...Julianne Moore is the coolest and if I hear that I resemble her, it puts me on cloud nine.  Ironically, I have only been told when I am at my absolute natural..not make-up, hair--not really straightened.  Perhaps I should take this to heart when I think I should add more make-up.

This girl who bagged my groceries made my day.  I do tell her this.  She so needs to start waiting tables...I would have given her 25%.

Sakes alive..my world expanded!

Recently, I celebrated Rachel's second birthday.  But something also happened two years ago around the same time that probably saved the Wang marriage.  I was gifted the IPhone.

Prior to getting this phone, I never charged or even turned on my cell phone.  If there is anything that would bug the piss out of Ching Wang, it was this.  When he couldn't get in touch with me on that random occasion, he would go over the deep end.  The verbal onslaught that would ensue...of course, more verbal crap from him; more eye rolls from me.  I hate talking on the phone.  I avoid it outside of work because at work, I am on the phone all the time.  The cell phone that I had was just a phone and I was sure as hell not going to use it.

But there was one device that was always charged:  my Ipod.  You never know when you could have an opportunity to listen to music or play Tetris.  I was on a flight back in 2004 and I sat next to a man with an Ipod.  I had never seen one that close and I was so intrigued that I went out of my comfort zone and asked him about it.  (To talk to a stranger on a plane...so out of character for me.  I felt like I was hugging him.) I found out how he downloaded music and how easy it was to access so many songs.  I looked down at my clunky disc player and the sleeve of CD's that I would carry around.  Out of the 250 CD''s that I owned, there were probably only 3 that I listened to all of the songs.  I had to get my hands on an Ipod.  (This is when Ching started thanking all I-devices because it was an easy Christmas gift.)

Over time the little brick of the original Ipod turns into the Nano. (Again, a gift from Ching.)  Not sure if he needed another gift idea or not but, he pressed upon the idea that I should get an Iphone.  Ridic!  The phone aspect sullying my lovely Ipod.  No thank you...But Ching gets so pissy about the phone issue.  I relented mainly because I want him to shut the hell up.  So I get the Iphone right after Rachel was born.

Sakes alive..my world expanded!  Screw the phone part...Internet on the fly, music, videos, kindle app,  blog notes, camera...I could go on and on.  But then it holds the parental device sent down from Heaven...download a game and your kid is happy for hours..on a plane, restaurant or any waiting scenario.  Laurel's faves are Battleship and Feed Me.  It is just a matter of time for Rachel.

This phone has been charged everyday AND on since I have owned it.  I know Ching wants to say, "I told you so" but he knows better.  But he can get in touch with me when he needs to and, holy crap, I can get in touch with him too.  (Who knew?)  No arguments...well until Laurel asks for one in a couple of years.

I thank you Steve Jobs, where ever you are.  There are a lot of jobs that could probably help the Wang marriage...little did I know that it was called a Steve Job(s).

Did he see the amount of wine bottles in the recycling bin?

Oh crap.  There is nothing more ominous than getting an e-mail from your significant other asking if you can leave work right at 5:00 so "we can discuss things before Lisa gets home with the girls".  Well that makes me want to run right home.  I know we are not planning a big party.

What bugs me the most is that my mind will go to something that I potentially did?  Did I spend money and I forget to tell Ching and now his spreadsheet has run amok?  Did he see the amount of wine bottles in the recycling bin?  Did I....why do I do this?  Ridic! Come on JCW!

Someone was trying to guess the three potential topics of choice that I could come home to:  I am now the major breadwinner.  Yikes...don't want to go there.  He really wants another Wang.  Perhaps I should have Rachel with me eyeing something to chomp.  Or he has finally chosen that luxury car that he wants to lease.  Also ridic.  We have two kids with a love of anything that produces crumbs which are all over the backseat all the time.  Also, we are still have our trusty 10 year old Corolla.  I wouldn't even drive said luxury car AND (you can tell this is really a sticking point) what Ching wants to get isn't what I would consider luxury.  I may sound pompous saying this, but luxury shouldn't be easily attainable.  I don't want the stereotypical luxury BMW or Lexus that are peppered all over the Pike.  Deep down, I think I am a Benz girl but again, a Toyota have never let me down.

You know perhaps the issue is that I am afraid of what a potentially benign conversation may hold.  Recently, we have been like two ships passing the night.  Work..girls...home late from work (him, not me). Holy cripe, we need to talk more often than this if dread is my initial reaction.

I hope it's not a big deal because if it is, I will have to be supportive and perhaps give him a hug.  But again the dread lurks like a bad burrito.  Not sure if it's the ominous tone or the thought of giving a hug.

God, am I frigid...

I was blessed..she picked a very conservative coral. (Oh sweet baby J..thank you.)

Laurel likes me.  She really likes me.  This may be an odd thing to say but I know it will be a matter of time when she will not.  We will butt heads and probably, I won't like her very much either.

So now, I appreciate her wanting to tell me about her day.  In a few years, it will be likely when I ask her about her day and she will either say "fine" or "nothin' '".  Even when I am tired and on a tough commute home (because both girls are hungry, thirsty and we are 15 minutes away), if Laurel tells me anything about her day, I try to stick to it like a static.  Recently, she told me about a new friend she had made.  She told me about her needing arm guards when doing archery.  She talked about being scared of strict teachers in the first grade.  I told her that this was okay because I am strict.  She laughed at this...according to her I am strict only twice every month which after a little multiplication she figured that this was 24 times a year.

Currently,  I am flattered that she has asked to join me in my spin class because she wants to be around me when I really like what I am doing.  I do have to chuckle because when she is old enough to actually join me in that class, she may not want to be seen with me (and my gross, uncool gym clothes from Target, not Lulu Lemon.)

Right now we have fun in the car trying to figure out lyrics and singing really loud.  Right now our favorite is the chorus of Chasing the Sun by The Wanted.  I was a freakin' hero by downloading this on her personal play list.

She will hold my hand in the parking lot when I ask her to and won't claim that it is stupid and that she is old enough to know.

While she gives me small gestures that I treasure, I try to do the same.  This weekend we went to get a pedicure together.  She picked a blue polish for herself and asked for acceptance.  I was fine with this color as long as it was just for her.  She loved it for herself and I told her is was beautiful on her and let her pick out my color.  I was blessed..she picked a very conservative coral. (Oh sweet baby J..thank you.)

This polish exchange brought me back to 1985.  In the Maine Mall, there was a store called The Earring Tree.  This store was a couple of hundred square feet of just...earrings.  Walls were covered with earrings (of 80's) glory..big, metallic, dangling or pastel.  I would pick out these atrocious earrings, trying to have mature taste.  While we were not buying, my mom would tell me what good taste I had.  I know this seems like an odd, random gesture..but it sticks to me just like an the onion bagel.  While I was in high school, every morning she would ask if she could make a bagel (my favorite--onion) for me for breakfast.  Every morning...regardless of my mood or how I treated my younger sister.  "Can I make you a bagel?"

Right now it is a balancing act.  At her age, I parent and we like each other.  In the future, I will try to parent and avoid the easy route of trying to be her friend.  I know that I will want to give in and be cool but this can't happen.  (With my luck, that freakin' Paul will be lurking.)  This will be very hard.  I will hope that we can get through that period of mother and daughter and emerge as two adults wanting to be each other's friend out of choice, not just because we are related.

But right now Laurel is just six and a half...yay!  I appreciate the songs we sing and the blue nail polish.  The boundries are there and I try to keep them as defined as possible.  But again, this is easy at six and a half.

That pout would make Angelina cower in shame.

Nothing could ruin my day today.  One of my best girls had a birthday and turned two.  She is so beautiful and gives me so much optimism.  When I look at her spunk, it matches the euphoria that she gave me when she was born.  While I know what she will bestow onto the world, I wonder what that will mean for the rest of you?  I look at the traits that she has now at two and I try to imagine how this will play out:

Rachel will not perform. This weekend, Ching and I tried to get Rachel to exclaim "I'm two!", when asked "How old are you on your birthday?".  During the the weekend, she would answer us...But when in front of her pre-school teachers, no go.  This morning at school when I asked her "How old she was?", she looked at me like I should give her some cash under the table.  She plays hard to get.  JCW...this is good.  At such a young age, she will not cow tow to anyone!  (Screw you pretty boy jock in high school!)

Rachel will never need collagen in her lips.  That pout would make Angelina cower in shame.

Right now, when she thinks, she will roll her eyes upward and to the left.  Looks cute now but this is an eye roll that will piss me off from 2016 to 2025, if I am lucky.  Will this be the eye roll to rock the work in the publishing (my dream) industry?

She will be very polite...Even though, right now for thank you, she says "mel com" for your welcome.  That's right.  Rachel thinks that saying "thank you" is actually saying "your welcome" which as translated into "mel com".  And for please, that would be "meez!" (Right now, when she demands, it kind of sounds like. "Please bitch!"  Again, her intent is polite.  She will be a very polite girl!

She has such an interesting puzzle/color/sorting trait.  OCD or maybe a future love of of spread sheets?  I put that in there for Ching.

Oh Christ...she loves the bags.  She will even use the word purse (as opposed to my ghetto phrase of pocketbook).  Will my old Coach bags suffice in 2023?  Or will this bleed me dry?...I am not sure.

While it is the terrible two's right now...I have a feeling this stage will be easy compared to what I have in store with my girl, Rachel J...

I was freaking huge but huge in a very expensive dress.

Rachel's birthday is tomorrow.  I have been blessed twice.  And like I did for Laurel, this is my version of what happened on the day that (Rachel) was born.


While you were born on July 16, I often think of July 15 as the day that you were born. Two years ago today was a day with some drama and some waiting at a stand still...all for you.

You were born into a family with a big sister waiting for you.  When Laurel was three and a half, your dad and I decided that we wanted to be blessed with another little girl or boy.  Since we were not first time parents, we felt that our experience put us ahead of the game.  Your dad and I thought we could handle more than just one major life event.  Expecting another Wang wasn't enough, we thought we could sell our condo, buy a new house and move into that new house prior to your due date of July 17. This all seemed doable when I we listed the house while I was 18 weeks along. (I swear that you must have had a devilish grin even at 18 weeks.)

Around the same time as the listing, we found out that you were a little girl.  I was very surprised because I truly thought you were going to be a boy just like your sister. Obviously guessing genders...not my strong suit.   We didn't have a name for you until the day before you were born but in the meantime, I called you Phyllis.  The name was such a retro name of a time when I was a little girl.  You don't hear the name Phyllis being used all that much so I thought it was my duty to put it into play albeit temporarily.  The reaction from people was sheer gold when they would ask me what I was having and then I would start referring to us as Phyllis.  The look on their face: You are not going to name her Phyllis, are you?

The pregnancy was relatively tame and I was lucky.  Like your sister, I did have a rough first trimester with lots of nausea.  Your sister would tease me with nausea through out the day.  You, other the hand, would give me breaks and only show up mid-morning and during my commute home. Brushing my teeth proved a challenge since I tended to throw up and then brush my teeth...there was a part of me that thought you would be amused at this vicious cycle.  When I finally made it to second trimester, I would go to the gym at lunch.  I tried to remain as active as possible and quite frankly wanted to gain less than the 41 pounds that I gained with Laurel.

While your sister didn't know exactly how I got pregnant, she did know where you were in me and more importantly, how you were going to come out.  She found great pleasure in saying the words, uterus, birth canal and vajay-jay especially when we were out in public.  For some reason I wasn't bothered because her sheer excitement for your arrival surpassed any sort of embarrassment.

The third trimester was a challenge.  It was nothing that you were doing but more other distractions.  While our condo sold relatively quickly, we lived near this wacky neighbor that we thought could jeopardize the whole process.  I didn't realize how hard packing was going to be.  (My thought was that if your dad was doing a lot of the physical lifting and moving (with the movers), I should do the packing.)  And then there was the heat.  While I knew that I was going to be pregnant in June/July, the summer was unseasonably warm.  And my ankles paid for it---when you are older, you will understand the grossness of fat ankles.

With the heat, matched the same craving that I had with your sister---ice and snow.  Unfortunately, I couldn't get snow but I got slushies and popsicles.  To this day, I can't describe it but that granular, icy goodness just tasted so good.

While we finally moved into the house that you would always know as your first home, I still had to get through one more event before you could arrive.  I was serious, you could not come out until my cousin Hannah's wedding.  Your sister was a flower girl but I really wanted to see Hannah get married.  A few days prior to going up to Maine, I had an OB/GYN appointment--no dilation.  That was good but just on to be on the safe side, I was keeping my legs shut with a little extra force.  (Honestly, my butt could have used the toning.) My fear came from the fact that this wedding was exactly two weeks before you were due.  Your sister was born two weeks before she was due.  Your dad and I hoped for the best and had a hospital mapped out in Maine, just in case.

The wedding was beautiful.  As always, your dad cleaned up nice and your sister looked too grown up for four and a half.  I was freaking huge but huge in a very expensive dress.  Only you Rachel, would get me to a wedding looking like a Two Ton Tess and truly feel okay about that.

So...no more wedding, no more move...you can show up anytime.  But you didn't.

During my final week of work, my OB said that I was two centimeters dilated and did some sort of membrane sweep.  She said that you could arrive within the next three days.  Awesome!  My last day of work was Friday, July 9th and your sister went to stay with Nana for a few days.  But nothing happened.

This is when I felt desperate and started to research foods that would induce labor.  Pineapple..didn't work.  Spicy foods...didn't work. Tonic water...nothing.  I really didn't want to use my maternity leave on the front end but all I could do was wait.  (Ironically during this waiting, I got Laurel from Nana's house.  Not only was she homesick, but a little confused why I was still pregnant.)

On Wednesday night, I absolutely couldn't take it anymore.  I told your Dad that I had to get stuff done around the house.  I made a very long list, including a very long walk around the Y's track.  Thursday was my day to get it done.  After I dropped your sister off at pre-school, I went home to take a short nap.  Needless to say, I just needed 60 minutes to feel like a new woman and to get my list started.

The alarm went off at 10:00 and I was really to go!  When I stood up (thankfully on a hardwood floor), I immediately peed my pants.  It is very weird to be embarrassed and alone at the same time.  I then go into the bathroom and try to pee, but nothing.  Well this is freakin' ridiculous. (Too soon for "ridic".)  So I decided to change and put on clean undies but as I lift my leg to get them on, I pee some more.  "Oh my God...this isn't pee!  It's fluid!  I haven't even started my list yet!"

Quite frankly, the list is the least of my worries because here comes the comical cycle (#1) of me trying to get clean undies on while I am leaking out a storm.  Clean myself...wait until anymore comes out? No?...lift my leg up to put on clean undies and more fluid comes out. Absolutely no rhyme or reason and I thought this is supposed to come out like a gush?  It is like a slow leak as if someone just decided to start poking a hole and then decided to stop like she had nothing to do with it. (Rachel---I am looking at you.)

While I finally "womaned" myself with two pairs of undies and a couple of pads that I thankfully still had from my recovery from Laurel.  Then comical sight #2: I my shuffling along but dragging a towel behind me to clean up my trail.  (If this sounds embarrassing, it was.)

I call the doctor's office and explain my predicament.  The nurse asks that I come into the office (in Back Bay..with lots of people around...that could potentially see me leaking)?  I kind of want to beg her to come to me but I can do this!  All I have to do is call your dad and he will meet me at the office (which conveniently was very close to his office).  So I towel up the driver's seat and take my phone, my wallet, keys and a couple of pads.  I have all of this in my hands.  It doesn't even occur to me to put it in a pocketbook or at least a Shaw's bag.

(I forgot to mention...there are absolutely no contractions happening.  I thank you for that.)

It is a pretty short trip from Newton to Back Bay but I know that your dad has whipped out his spreadsheet to figure out the minimal amount of time it should have taken me.  After 15 minutes, he is calling, checking to see where I am.  I am about to do the walk of shame through Back Bay station.  As I am walking and squishing along, I am hoping that the closest homeless person, student or someone late for work cannot see that my shorts (albeit dark) are very wet and there may be a stream of liquid running down my leg.  Holy frick, I hope I don't run into anyone that I know.

I am finally at the office and your dad is there.  They have to confirm that my water has broken (as if I couldn't do that) and to check the heartbeat.  This is about the time, you decided to take your time...a very calm heartbeat with very little movement.  Again, it seems like someone just wanted "to see what would happen" if you kept poking.  As I was hooked up to a monitor and your dad  and I decided that your name should be Rachel Jessica.  I did try to make one last request for Chandler but got shot down.

I was given the choice of going right to the hospital or to go home and wait a little bit.  I wanted to go home...I needed to take a shower.  I was told that if nothing happened, I needed to get to the hospital by 8 am the next morning to be induced.

I got home, showered and then primped.  When your sister was born, I had no make-up on but after looking at those pictures, I realized that was a mistake.  While I was ready to go at any moment, that moment clearly was not right now so your dad and I got home and just waited. There was nothing on tv.  I didn't eat anything (with the hope/fear that I would go into delivery mode soon).  I was very bored.  So there I was...just sitting some sort of hospital pad, on the couch.

And then Nana showed up.  After 15 minutes, she wanted to know why nothing was happening.  (Well, clearly, you were in control.)  So we watched some more bad television and then at the acceptable time, your Nana started dipping into the grape.  She then insisted that I needed to move.  My first task was make dinner.  Yes, that is right.  I made dinner for your dad and Nana.  (Laurel was off doing something fun with Lindsey.)  If I recalled a grilled everything--steak, zucchini and plums.  I put gorgonzola and drizzled balsalmic vinegar on the grilled plums.  While they ate my meal, I ate something very bland.

I was than presented with the second task of walking up this huge hill near our house.  Please keep in mind that there were absolutely no contractions happening.  What were you doing in there?

Your sister got home with Lindsey.  They had gone to a carnival and was under the impression that I may be gone when they got home. Needless to say, your sister was still very confused why I was still there and you had not shown up yet.

I watched probably the most boring television until 11:00 willing something to happen.  Nothing...so I got ready to go the bed (took off the make-up) and came to the realization that I would have to be induced (because someone was very, very stubborn.).  So at 11:12, I closed my eyes...

And my eyes flew open at 2:12.  Holy Cow...that was quite a wake up. Another one at 2:15...I had to use the wrought iron headboard pull myself up to the sitting position to get my breath.  Are you freaking kidding me?  This has got to be a joke..nothing and then this? Another one at 2:18.  "Ching...Ching...Ching...we have got to go NOW."

Luckily your dad, while groggy, moved quickly to get dressed.  I just stayed in my pj's and just went into the bathroom to brush my teeth and to pee.  As I was peeing, I realized that I really had to go to the bathroom but there was no way.  The last thing I needed was to have you in the toilet or later in the Corolla.  (I don't think your dad would be good with that type of mess.)  I came to the conclusion that I would hold it now but I would be pooping on the table later.

While your insistence was to come RIGHT NOW...it was ideal that it was in the middle of the night.  There was no traffic and we were able to get to the hospital pretty quickly.  (It would have been quicker if Daddy didn't originally pass the entrance.)

True to to form, the reception nurse was very slow and I wanted to throw up right then and there.  I knew at that point, I was 30 minutes out from being a new mom and this woman just kept saying.."just a minute".  If anyone deserved a punch in the neck.  But I couldn't say anything...literally...let alone punching someone in the neck.  (You know that is a joke...Mommy has never punched anyone.)

As I was finally changed into my gown, it was confirmed that I was 10 centimeters dilated.  I was asked if I was intending on having a natural childbirth.  While the word "yes" was coming out of my mouth, I realized
what they meant.  This was not a difference between a C-section and a vaginal birth.  This was about drugs. I quickly took my yes back and begged for the drugs. I was told there was no time.  You were coming in less than 20 minutes.

Are you kidding me Phyllis?  Do you know how big your sister was and the damage she did?  You want me to do this al fresco?  I had no choice.  (All the while, I think your dad was confused how all of this just happened within 60 minutes.)

So I gave everything I could.  Within a couple of minutes, you were out, screaming your head off.  (You were neither drugged up nor calm like your sister.)

You were a tiny bit smaller than your big sister but so strong.  You seemed to have lungs made of steel.  I realized that you will do what you want...when you want.

And I can't believe what you just allowed me to do. I am euphoric.  What a perfect morning:  I have you, healthy, swaddled and asleep.  Your dad is napping and I got blueberry pancakes and bacon to celebrate.

I gave up cool when I started sporting double car seats.

The Wangs are a two car family.  We have a 2003 Corolla and a 2010 Honda CRV.  The Corolla has been paid off and our goal is to have this car until it dies.  (Ching likes to think that this will be Laurel's first car.  She has all ready told me it won't be as she turned up her nose.)  I like driving this car.  It has been dinged, rear ended and splashed with paint (you know from that stalker that hated us when we employed his estranged wife as our nanny).  I like the visibility of this car too, especially in rotaries and on the Pike.  The CRV is a lease.  It is okay but I don't care for the lack of pick up or the visibility.  I drive it in bad weather (when I have the girls) but if it's sunny and I am alone, I take my trusty Corolla.  I don't care how uncool I may look.  I gave up cool when I started sporting double car seats.

Yesterday, the Corolla needed an oil change/service.  Ching dropped it off while I was saddled with the CRV.  He also picked the car up, paid $66 and thought every thing was fine.

Not fine..but he didn't notice until this morning.  When he noticed, the girls were packed and ready to go (with him) in the CRV.   I didn't realize there was a problem either so as they are about to leave, I ran upstairs for some alone time.  Neither regularity nor peace and quiet are my friends.  But this morning I could feel like a new woman.  As I am about to settle in, Ching comes upstairs, yelling my name.  So I get up...hoping what he has to say will be quick.

Oh, it is not.

CCW:  Jude, the hood on the Corolla will not close completely.  The safety latch is holding it down but I can't get it to release to see the problem.
JCW:  (I can so take care of this.)
CCW:  So your options are this...
JCW: (Options?  I can take care of this.  Holy Crap, I have to crap!)
CCW:  I think the car is safe to drive...or if you want, could take it back to the servicing garage and hop on the bus that takes you right to South Station.
JCW:  Ching...I think I am okay.  I will take care of it.
He said a couple more things that just sounded like adult noise as if I am a Charlie Brown character.  I just want to go back into the bathroom.

Finally, he has left.  And finally I have a skip in my step and probably 1.5 pounds lighter.  While I go outside and check out the car, I know exactly what I need to do.  The car is old, just reach under the hood and unhook the safety and slam the hood down.  Of course, I was successful unlatching the hood but holy crap, is this latch rusty.  This is the problem.  But I still can't get the hood all the way down.  Oh man, I have to go back to the dealership that serviced us yesterday to get the hood down.

I don't want to go for two reasons.  First, I am wearing white linen pants.  Going into any sort of car repair environment with grime may not bode well.  Secondly, I hate having to explain myself to a mechanic.  I feel like they are about to call me "little lady" and blow me off.  The last time I got the oil changed, I was 6 months pregnant with Rachel.  The (Corolla) was overdue for an oil change for many months.  As I was sitting there scarfing down a couple of donuts, the mechanic brought me the chunky oil evidence to never do this again.  Really?  Anyway, since that experience was a boatload of shitty, I am armed with my service receipt from yesterday and my ultra defensive Attijude persona.

The men at the garage where very nice and explained what I knew.  The latch needed to be replaced (not today) but soon.  They got the hood down and while, perfectly safe, told me to leave the hood down or the same issue would happen again.  Easy enough...but oh man I have to explain this to Ching.  He will jump to a conclusion that will leave me stammering like a freakin' idiot and I will have to say everything twice.

JCW:  The car is fixed but the latch on hood is very rusted. Not today, but they suggested that it will need to be replaced.
CCW:  Jude, are you telling me the hood needs to be replaced?
JCW:  No...the hood doesn't need to be replaced.  It is the latch and cable that hooks the hood.
CCW:  What?
JCW:  (Are you kidding me? You kind of assured me that the car was safe for me to drive and you can't understand that ONLY THE LATCH NEEDS TO BE REPLACED.)  Ching, just the latch on the hood needs to be replaced.  It isn't defective, just old and rusty.
CCW:  Oh...Okay...we can discuss it later.

What the hell was that?  Just brush it off...  It's Friday, it's sunny and God damn, I am 1.5 pounds lighter.  I should make friends with fiber more often.

They are taking into account your broader shoulders and pectorals (or what I call your man boobs).

Since the Aquascutum incident of 2003, Ching will always ask for my input on his clothing purchases.  In the morning, he needs no assistance while getting dressed.  He cleans up well and doesn't wear anything weird.  Stays conservative...white or blue based dress shirt, dark suit and conservative tie.  You may think this is boring but I welcome the fact that this is not another Aquascutum.  Back in the fall of 2003, Ching ventured out to buy a couple of new suits.  I asked if he wanted me to come with but he said no.  I wasn't offended until he came home with a suit bag.  While one of the suits was a standard Brooks Brothers, the other caused too much excitement...from him, not me.  This suit was from Aquascutum, a store that I never had any interest to go in and browse.  Until recently, this retailer was UK based.  I found the men's suits a little too flashy and cut a little too tightly.  As Ching pulls out the jacket (as the pants were still at the store being altered), I did my best to not show my "What the Freak?" face.  (Skip Ridic...this was serious.)  He was so pleased with himself that he got the suit on sale (and I believe still well over $1000). When I saw what he bought all I could think of was "how big were her tits?"  The suit was dark brown with a pinstripe.  Some people are prejudice about dark brown, but I am not.  It was the pinstripe---it was a pink pinstripe.  I am not joking.  This was a dark brown suit with a pale pink pinstripe.  Needless to say, this suit wasn't worn often because the tie options were very limiting.  And Holy Christ on Crutches--a terrible suit.

So through out our marriage, I am asked about many clothing choices ranging from casual to formal.  Sometimes I am glad to give my input.  But sometimes, I just want him to make his own decision on those J. Crew v- neck sweaters.

Last night, Ching was picking out a fitted athletic jacket.  While the color was standard...blue, black, grey, the slippery slope was being addressed with the size.  And God damn...it is a small, medium, large type sizing.

CCW:  Not sure if I should get a medium or...
JCW:  (Large..just say it)  Or a Large?
CCW:  Jude..I always get mediums.
JCW:  How are those mediums treating you right now?  (As I eye the little 100 calorie cookie pack that he is eating)
CCW:  Whatever...Look at these chest circumference measurements.  You must know since yours is bigger than mine?
JCW:  Ching do you think that my chest circumference is larger than yours?  (Obviously he hasn't seen the shrunken dirty pillows in the light recently.)  They are taking into account the measurement of your chest all the way around.  They are taking into account your broader shoulders and pectorals (or what I call your man boobs).  I think a large would be better.

I don't know what he ordered but I have a feeling it won't fit and I may be wearing it this fall.

When will that voice say, "Chill, Judith Chill"?

Tonight, I am just putting this out there, hoping other moms do the same thing.  (Someone through me a bone.)  When you are doing a simple task like folding laundry, emptying the dishwasher or making a lunch, do you look at the clock and say, "I will give myself (an arbitrary number) to get this task done?  Once I have established a base time, the next time I do the same task, I always try to achieve a better time.

As I confess this, I don't feel like I need to scrub myself raw out of shame but I do feel a little crazy.  Why the hell do I do this?  I am not rushing to get to something fun.  More likely than not, I am just getting to another task like getting Laurel another snack.  This trait is starting to permeate my entire life:  when I commute; trying to get through a list at work or even just changing my clothes at the gym.

Currently I call it my "Run Judith Run Syndrome".  My daughters watch a cartoon, Phineas and Ferb.  It is a very good, creative cartoon about two boys that are trying to get the most out of their summer vacation.  Each day they create something new or do something incredibly fun and out of the ordinary.  One day they decided to create these lighting fast shoes.  The first prototype were faulty and didn't stop.  While they put these aside and created better ones, their older sister Candace (who is trying to bust them to their mom)  put them on.  She then would race through from task to task, unable to stop.  All the while, there was this background track saying, Run Candace Run.  It was a creepy robotic voice.  Anyway, when I try to go from task to task with more speed, I hear that voice saying Run, Judith Run.

When will that voice say, "Chill, Judith Chill"?  Jesus Christ, not only is this insane but I certainly am not going to go around bragging that I can empty my dishwasher in 4 minutes, flat.

If an angel came down to bless the perfect vacation, this would happen (wavy lines...wavy lines...wavy lines of goodness):

I want a vacation.  Sometimes I feel guilty asking for more while I know that my life is very good. Sometimes, I don't think I should want more. (Perhaps it is that WASP guilt, not sure...) The Wangs are vacationing in Maine at the end of August conveniently while there is no childcare or camp available.  But I am not going to lie, I am selfish and I want more.  I will take the time with my guy and girls, but I will take what I can get and if an angel came down to bless the perfect vacation, this would happen...wavy lines...wavy lines...wavy lines of goodness:

1.  I don't want to cook meals or decide on meals.  I don't care where we are eating.  Just put something in front of me and I will eat it.  What the girls are eat is up to them.  I know Ching will eat whatever...

2.  I don't want to drive anywhere.  I don't want that freakin' woman telling me that she is recalculating.  I also don't want to sit in the driver's seat watching someone else displaying (sketchy) driving habits.

3.  I don't want to pack for anyone or have to track clean vs. dirty clothes on the trip.  And since I am going there, I also don't want to check if someone has socks, boxers, etc.

4.  I want to sleep alone and in a quiet room.  This sounds terrible and I will have relations when and where ever but I want my own bed like the Sofitel Chicago (the best bed ever) and in my own room.   I also don't want to make sure the girl's are sleeping soundly.

5.  During the vacation, I want my skin massaged,  hairless and moisturized. And I don't want to do it myself.  Again, I can take the pain, I just want to lie there and do nothing.  Please tell me that every woman wants this?

6.  I want Four Seasons concierge 24 hours a day because in their mere gesture and politeness, I am putty.  I tip very, very well.

Just six simple things.  I don't think it is out of the ordinary.  I just need to cozy up to Beyonce to get this...

All the while, the OB is playing Jenga with your organs to get the kid.

Breathe in and out...You are a strong woman and can remain calm.  Ironically the test of my resolve during the day had nothing to do with Ching and the girls.  I don't want to discuss what tested me but it reminded me of my potential of gathering my strength and remaining calm.  Perhaps I am just sentimental since it's Rachel's birthday in a couple of days and I tend to appreciate the gift of strength that she (and Laurel) instilled in me.

Because I run a few miles each day, I have been asked (very infrequently) if I am training for a marathon.  I quickly say no and think quietly, "I gave birth twice, that was my marathon. I have the resolve of steel."

Deep breath in...Blow out

I was able to experience child birth twice---drugged up with Laurel and naturally with Rachel.  I think of the experiences as amazing and lucky. (Now...at the time, while grateful, "luck" would not be the first word to come to mind.)  I truly believe that the harnessed strength that I had with both girls, having both girls, could have lifted a car over my head.  Ching thinks he has the secret on Wang family focus...nope, that would be me.

Deep breath in...Blow out

That was my experience. But the resolve of any mother is quite astounding.  I pushed as hard and as fast as I could to avoid a C-section.  (This just happened to work for me.) The resolve that you need for this astounds me even more.  As a mother is giving birth, she can't move, with a sheet hindering her view. (Sidemouth--sounds like conception)  All the while, the OB is playing Jenga with your organs to get the kid.  (Ching doesn't even realize how lucky he was just seeing me poop on the table.)

Deep breath in...Blow out.

But then there is my friend Lesley who may have the most resolve of all.  Her older daughter was born in Vietnam.  Lesley and her husband flew over to meet and bond with her for a week thinking that they would bring her home on the flight back to Maine.  The way Lesley explained it to me, the paperwork wasn't complete with her daughter.  While she was assured that the process would be done soon, Lesley couldn't bring her home on that original return flight.  I can't imagine the strength and resolve it took for her to get on the plane having faith that she would be reunited with her girl.  They were..but to this day, I don't know how she did it.

So I breathe again and harness my resolve...granted deep breaths were highly overrated.  While you could do your best with them, you were always wondering where the hell is that epidural guy when you need him?

So while Rachel sleeps and I realize that I still have another couple of years of her fury, I hightail my ass out of there.

There is an odd changing of the guard that is happening between the Wang girls over the weekend.  I will cut to the chase--I don't like it.

While I love Rachel dearly, I also love her when she naps.  On a Saturday or Sunday, she is an absolute whirlwind---running, clanking on noisy toys and demanding something. And when she demands, she does it with such force that I can't help but move just a little faster.  (Mo' Milk!!  Meez!)   Changing her diaper, I feel like I am wrestling a small animal (that's kind of mean.) She is fearless while climbing and jumping off of things. She can play on her own, but I always make sure that I am nearby just to police the situation.  Laurel, on the other hand, just as active, but because she is older, I don't have to watch her.  Maybe she is on the computer, dancing or just playing some imaginative game.  So you would think as soon as Rachel goes down, I would get a little peace.

Oh no, not so much. Laurel is now on those clanky toys that she has no interest in while Rachel is awake.  She is now jumping on the coach and then playing pillow game.  (I hate pillow game...all of the coach cushions are thrown on the floor and then jumped on.  It's not that just the mess of the pillows annoys me, it's seeing what is under those coach cushions.)  Then the snacks..one after the other.  And she can't get them herself.  Apparently there is a man that lives in the 'fridge that scares her so I need to go with her to get the snack.  This man is the ice maker in the freezer.  She doesn't believe me when I tell her there is no man in there, just some ice cubes shifting.  Granted, I don't have to wrestle Laurel to the floor but I do have to make sure she doesn't use half the roll in the bathroom.

I know it is obvious that Laurel wants the same attention that I give to Rachel because she is younger.  I get that.  So while Rachel sleeps and I realize that I still have another couple of years of her fury, I hightail my ass out of there.  I leave Laurel with Ching.  I have grocery shopping to do.

..."the trying to convince yourself" is the red flag. He is ab-so-freakin' not the one. Walk away...

As a married woman, I am grateful that I am not out there, in the masses, trying to find "the one".  I work with some young women (and when I say young, they were born when I was about to apply to college), and they are in the mere stages of finding that soul mate.  But the process of dating is a bitch.  I think fondly of it (with Ching) but then suck in my breath like a bad cramp while thinking of the many terrible mistakes...the mistakes that weren't even worth shaving my legs for the event.  When the process isn't going the way it should and seems to last longer than you thought, the subject of settling lurks like a mold.

In college, my sister always had a boyfriend.  For several years she was with a man named Steve.  He was a couple of years older and a nice guy, in a Subway eating, spreadsheet loving, frat guy sort of way.  He was always nice to me and seemed to treat Jess well.  But he wasn't for Jess.  For someone else, he was a good catch, but for Jess, not so much.  This is the crux--knowing the man that you are with is a good catch but not for you?  Can you make them a good catch if you work hard enough to look past the little things?  Looking past the little things is what I define as settling.

Jess and Steve didn't mesh.  Jess is very active.  If you looked at Steve, the word active didn't come to mind.  I couldn't see him sitting at a family dinner with my Mom and me...I don't even think I could be snarky because I wouldn't want to make the situation weirder than it was.   Every gift giving occasion brought up some sort of anxiety.  The gifts were nice but not for Jess...and she didn't seem to want to give him anything either.  He wanted to stay near his family (in the Mid-Atlantic) and Jess wanted to come home to Maine.  So many little things...

I got a call one weekend back in 1999.  She walked away, realizing that she needed more.  She deserved more.  So scary for her because she was walking away from something, not right, but tolerable.  She was taking the chance of being alone versus being with someone who wasn't quite right for her.  Absolutely not overnight, but (thankfully), enter a guy named Jon.

Jon is now my brother in law.  When "Jess and Jon" met, it was confirmation that her risk of walking away from something safe was the way to go.  She gushed about him. (Side mouth comment..I kind of made fun of her for it.)   She bought him gifts and he bought the most amazing gifts.  (My favorite call was when he gifted her a mountain bike.  She loved to be outdoors and to bike.  I don't think Steve ever got on a bike.)  They worked together on their relationship.  I am sure, not an easy relationship (hell, he married my sister) but one that got them to this day.

Two kids later and eight years of marriage, they seem to still get each other.  And my family gets Jon too.  There isn't that awkward, "Oh Christ, Jon is coming over."  He is a part of our family.  AND I can be snarky with him.  He totally gets it.

They spent the past week in a cabin at a major lake in Maine with Jon's parents.  Jess was beyond excited to spend the week with her children, her guy and his parents.  Her excited rivaled back in 2000 when she got that mountain bike.  Needless to say, a decision back in 1999 that definitely paid off.

So there you go...if you are trying to convince yourself that he is the one, "the trying to convince yourself" is the red flag.  Moving in together isn't going to fix it.  Getting married isn't going to fix it and, holy crap, a baby isn't going to fix it.  He is ab-so-freakin'  not the one. Walk away...

Ching borrows some (gorgeous) chick's phone and I am trying to get shade from that lone tree.

As we celebrate a wedding anniversary this week, let's get down and dirty and celebrate the first Wang argument.  I tell this story because the outcome is so amazing and, forever, the state of Hawaii will be my fave.

Ching and I went to Maui for 12 days after our wedding.  Our days were beyond awesome.  Everyday we had some sort of activity that we planned with our biggest decision of where we would have dinner...fancy or casual?  There were so many beaches to visit...black sand, pink sand, rough or gentle surf, etc.  One day we went to what was considered a very natural beach.  There were no buildings around...this beach had sand, water and one tree that could offer shade.

As a side note, a little pop culture to consider.  When we went to Maui, the movie Blue Crush was released the year before we got married.  This surfer chick movie inspired an MTV reality series of surfer chicks that wanted to turn pro.  I loved watching this show because these women were so athletic and brave.  I wanted to think that I was the same.  I was convinced that I was taking surf lessons in Hawaii.  (Because, that's right...I could rule the surf.)

Back to the story, I am about to go into this semi-rough surf and bounce with the waves.  But...holy shit, the waves are big.  I turn, back to a huge wave.  This wave treats me like a little bitch.  I am rolled under water four times.  I finally get into air and realize that my knees are scraped all to hell and I have sand/gravel in every orifice.  My surfer dreams are dead.

But Ching loved the waves.  He was out there in the water for the longest time.  (And he looked pretty freakin' amazing.  Give me a break, we are newlyweds.) After seeing his young bride tossed like a rag doll, he decided that he should take his keys out of his bathing suit pocket.  He calmly put the keys on our towel on the sand.  When I realized that the sea wasn't for me, I went back to the towel.  I saw the keys and decided that having them just lying on the towel wasn't good so I moved them inside our bag  near clean towels that would probably be pulled out within seconds.

As we finally get ready to leave and gather our things, we realize our car keys are gone.  Ching and I are desperately trying to find our keys to get back to our honeymoon abode.  Not on the towel, but not in the bag.  Did they fall out when Ching pulled out a clean towel?  Needless to say this is the crux of our argument.  How could the wife move the key BUT how could the husband just leave it lying near the sand?  We even dig in the sand like we are searching for lost treasure.  Nothing...no key.

Neither one of us have our cell.  A bone of contention until I got my IPhone.  And let's assume this is the only bone of the day with this fight.

Ching borrows some (gorgeous) chick's phone and I am trying to get shade from that lone tree.  I am very pale.  Even with 70 SPF, I burn badly.  Any tan that I do get isn't really a tan...the darkness achieved are my freckles getting darker and deciding to merge.

Our hosts at the timeshare (that we were gifted as a wedding present) call a cab to get us back to our place.  We would call Alamo, explain the situation and get ready to pay a massive loss key fee.

Right before the cab gets to us and as the Wangs are not talking, we have to go back to our car to get the rental info.  As I approach the car, I am pensive and pissy.  (How could he freakin' blame me?  Is this marriage even going to last?  What a dick...  I don't care what he says, I am not giving back my ring.)  I open the door because we left it unlocked.  This car was a convertible.  If you want to take our stuff, just open the door rather than slash the top.

The key was in the car.  Really...someone found the key on the beach with the car description on the key chain.  This anonymous person went to the parking lot, found our car and PUT THE KEY IN THE CAR!  Hawaii is an amazing place.

Ching and I are astounded.  We stay and pay the cab that came for us and explain the situation.  As we get in our car and drive back, we are silent.  Ching then tells me that he doesn't blame me.  Wow...hit me in the face with a 2x4.  You don't blame me?  I calmly state that no one is to blame and we are lucky of the outcome.  (I, then, look for some liquor.  Be the bigger person JC newly W)

The squabble was ridic but the outcome was beyond amazing.  But a lot smaller than what we would face over the next nine years and for many years to come.

Rather than a cozy outfit for their kid, they may just want you to listen.

I found this letter today.  When Laurel was five months old, I had a colleague about to give birth.  I wanted to tell her everything, prepare her for things that I didn't know.  Looking at this letter six years later shocked me.  As a new mom, I needed to share but didn't have an outlet..no essays or blogs.  This letter (to my colleague) was a temporary outlet.  As I show you this letter from August of 2006, please keep in mind that I didn't erase anything.  (Good Lord, JCW in love?)

The lesson for the day is this...if you know a new or an expectant mom, please let them tell you their story.  Rather than a cozy outfit for their kid, they may just want you to listen.

Take a look at JCW back in 2006...

Going to the Hospital

Make sure you cut your fingernails down to the nub..I felt like I was going to scratch Laurel.  Also, they show you this trick when calming her down (I will show you) that uses your pinky.   I thought my fingernail was going to jab her mouth.

I kind of wish I had a little make-up..I know, so useless but there were a lot of pictures taken!

At the Hospital

I was shocked about a couple of things that were so uncomfortable:

            1.  Checking Cervix Dialation—holy crap it hurt and it’s not quick

            2.  Getting all the fluid out /firming up the uterus—it took a long time for me, but they do press down on your stomach to squeeze it out.

Epidural

            First of all, I wanted to French kiss the guy who administered this—apparently that is a common reaction.

            I thought the process was really quick—it’s not.  I could not sit up due to contractions, one after the other.  They had me lie there curled up (like a shrimp).  They had to wait until I was contraction free to put the needle in and to connect the epidural goodness—two separate things.  I thought it was one fell swoop.  Once it was in, it was very precise.   They checked the placement by putting ice packs on my hips and legs.  Some I could feel and some I could not.  All I could feel was pressure but I could feel every contraction and feel myself push.  Some women have said they didn’t feel like they had control but I totally did.

            If there is ever a time that I feel mentally or physically weak, I remember the moment she came out (which is a very strange feeling—no pain, but weird).  I felt like I could have lifted up a car.  Ching said that I pushed like a champ..honestly, I think I could have gotten a second push gift. 

            They don’t want the needle to move in your back so they tape you up like a mummy.  When they took off the tape, they joked that they were waxing my back.

Hospital Stay

All the staff wants to hug you which I hated.

Take stuff from the room when you leave—it’s there for you to take.  We took a couple of receiving blankets (because that size was the size we used when we learned how to swaddle) and the large bed pads that they kept under me while I was in bed after I gave birth in case I leaked.  Those pads are great to keep on your counter when you bathe your baby.

Aftermath

These are some of the things I felt after I gave birth:

            I wanted to tell everyone my experience.  I was strong; I felt great and I wanted to share.

            I really appreciated the situation I was in with Ching.  I have a great guy, financial stability, supportive friends, family and work environment.  Both of us were mature and not surprised with this situation.  I couldn’t imagine being able to do this without any one of these things.

            I fell in love with Ching again—and obviously became a sap.  But he was so great with me and loves his little girl.

            I was ready for #2.  Selfishly I want a second child so I can appreciate the first part more since I will know now what I am doing.

Breastfeeding

            It’s okay to stick with breast feeding for any other reason other than nourishing your child—it’s pretty tough so any motivator is good.

            My milk didn’t drop down until Thursday (she was born on Sunday).  When it happened, I didn’t know what was going on.  It was very reminiscent of the time when I was 12 and got my first period.  While I knew it was going to happen and was educated on the topic, when it actually occurred, I freaked out.  Ching’s reaction was “I don’t know what’s going on but you have got to have milk in there because you are huge.”  Nice

            Your boobs become completely functional—there is no turn on anymore.  When I started feeding Laurel, the lactation consultant recommended massaging them before she latched on so the flow would start.  I would be hanging out (really hanging out) and Ching is helping with the massage part.  He was treating my boob like a shoulder. I had to tell him to take it easy.  But it does make you chuckle that just a few months before you wouldn’t have caught me just sitting on my couch with my girls hanging out.

            I have only breastfed in public once—that was on a plane.  While I had an aisle seat, I hung a receiving blanket over my shoulder to hide “what was going on”.  It was fine.

Depression

            I was on Prozac from week 22 up to and after her birth.  Post partum didn’t really hit me.  I was very weepy around the time she was re-hospitalized because I felt like it was my fault.

            But here are some things that could have thrown me for a loop but thankfully didn’t:

            My girlie parts felt terrible for 4 days after birth.

            I was overwhelmed knowing that I would never sleep late again.

            My stomach still looked like I was a good 5 months pregnant for a couple of weeks.

Sex

Couple of random things—if your man actually wants it during the first 8 weeks of baby’s life, he is not working hard enough.  Both of you will be too tired.

It’s very weird to all of a sudden to not want to get pregnant after many months of either wanting to be pregnant or being pregnant.

Gifts

            Never feel guilty about taking gifts from people.  They are so happy for you and think about all the gifts you have given in the past.

Diapers

Stage 1 and Newborn are very different in size.

Always buy in bulk.  You can google diaper and wipe specials.  Amazon has a lot of specials and you can have them shipped for free.  (It’s called super saver shipping)

Learn Children’s Songs-if you don’t have a toy or book handy, songs always work.—my favorites are:

This Old Man

Old MacDonald (dog, cat, pig, horse, sheep, chickens and ducks)

Doe a Deer (from Sound of Music)

Twinkle Twinkle Little Star

Itsy Bitsy Spider

When I didn’t know the word, I would google the title.

Detergent

Dreft is expensive—Use baby All.  It’s half the price.  I mainly do Laurel’s laundry separate because I like the smell.

Travel

For car rides over 3 hours and plane rides, we gave Laurel a small bit of Benedryl.  She was 5 months at the time.

When renting a car, do not use their car seat.  The tend to be on the bigger side (for toddlers) and they charge you $9 a day.  For an 8 day trip, it cost $72.  We should have just bought one at our destination.

Maternity Leave

Don’t feel guilty if you want to come back to work.  I needed adult socialization and I feel like I am a better mom to my girl.

Annoyances

            I cannot tell you how many times, people called me telling me to get more rest.  Well I could have if they hadn’t woken me up with the phone call.

Thank God I have my blog...

I commonly refer to this malady as having a stick up my butt.

Nine years ago today, Ching and I hosted our wedding in York, Maine.  I have been told it was a very nice wedding but I couldn't get past my bridal snit fit that just settled over me like a dark cloud.  I commonly refer to this malady as having a stick up my butt.  You can't see this malady in the pictures and I don't think I ruined any one's celebratory mood.  But to this day, while I will fully admit my behavior and poke fun at myself, I am a little ashamed.

Ching and I decided on a medium sized wedding at the beginning of July. Honestly, I had never really dreamed about my wedding day.  The only thing that I wanted to commemorate our marriage was a big ring.  The wedding?  Not so much.  Ching really did want to have a nice wedding because (while not said aloud) it was his way of getting his family together and feeling proud.  He probably also knew that I would clean up real nice.  We invited 165, and 140 said yes.  About 25 guests were mine, 115 were Ching's...

I woke up on July 4, 2003 to a beautiful sunny day.  I will admit that I was fuzzy, not hungover, but not as refreshed as I thought a glorious bride should be. (Peeps starting coming into town the night before and Ching and I hosted several at a local bar.)  Pushing that aside, Ching and I had a very nice breakfast at the hotel.  (Yes, we did see each other before the wedding.  Remember that we are all ready married.)  There were a few hours of hanging out prior to him dropping me off at our venue so I could be primped and prepared.  I was trying to get in the mindset of being glorious...you are a glorious bride!

I just wanted to have some fruit and sparkling water as I was getting ready.  But my mom brought wine--that's not what a I wanted.  Push it aside...You are a glorious bride!  I ended up drinking Diet Coke and a very heavy turkey and bacon club.  I had this odd anxiety that this "getting ready" was very boring for the ladies and I started to sweat.  People were having a good time.  A good time, damn it!

Because I had spent 15 months planning for this day, I seemed more tired of the event than the actual event.  I kept telling myself...this is the day!!  MY day.

My hair looked great...my make-up picture perfect which is another way of saying "Kim Kardashian heavy".  But when my mom was helping me into my dress, I didn't want to wear it.  I failed to realize that having a form fitting dress on a hot day wasn't good.  Needless to say, the dress was zipped up without incident but I really wished that I had gone floaty and ethereal rather than stunning and dressed to kill.  (I did look good because it was MY day!)

Ching and I decided to take pictures before the wedding because we didn't want to take the time during the cocktail hour---hand's down the best part.  As we are taking pictures, I couldn't get my mouth to stop twitching and the photographer was acting like a twit.  I won't name names because it's unprofessional but if you are planning a wedding in Portland/Southern Maine and want to avoid this woman please let me know.  She kept having a fit that the videographer was in her way.  He wasn't and she was ruining my day!

I was incredibly grateful when the pics were done and I went upstairs to wait until the ceremony.  I was sitting with my friend Kathy who was a glorious bridesmaid while being 36 weeks pregnant, her husband Jon and an old friend that I hooked up with years ago.  Wow...that wasn't awkward.  I then find out that Ching is pissed at the lack preparation of the venue's coordinator.  Oh God, please let Ching not be pissy when I walk down the aisle.  At this point, I gave myself any swipe of deodorant.

I walked down the aisle myself.  I was 31 years old and didn't want to feel given away and it was MY moment.  But God damn...all those eyes on me.  I didn't know what to do so I started saying hello to people was I made eye contact.  This elicited some giggles but it didn't bother me.  I met Ching (absolutely not pissy) and we carried on with the ceremony.  It was so hot...I was worried that my friend Kathy was uncomfortable in the heat.  We were told to sit down during the ceremony and I was afraid of not being able to get up and down easily in this dress.  Focus on the ceremony...focus on the ceremony...I have no idea what this guy is talking about.  What the hell is he talking about?  Can we just go?  Give me my ring and the cocktail hour.  Thank God it's done.  (On the video, you can hear Ching very clearly let out a very loud sigh as we walked up the aisle as CCW and JCW. )

Oh crap...you didn't even think about this Jude!  People want to hug you now.  One after another..huggy, huggy. And then we start taking family pictures.  First my family and this is when a broken strap was heard around the world. My dress had these very small beaded straps and as I was bending over to pick up my bouquet, one of them broke.  Holy Christ, you would have thought I just broke my leg.  Ching is picking up the beads like we are going to re-bead the strap.  My sister goes in uber-MOH mode and tries to get a sewing kit/safety pin, etc.  My mother isn't paying attention and immediately I am pissed about that too.  (Because it's MY day!)  My aunt senses my stress so she runs up to the bar to get me a gin and tonic.  Nice gesture but I don't drink gin (after an incident in 1992) and all I could think about was the waste of good liquor and the extra $8 on the Wang's bar tab.  The fix was simple.  We cut the other strap for continuity.  There was so much cuppage support sewn in the front that anyone would stand at attention in that dress.

My favorite moment of the wedding was waiting to be announced as Mr and Mrs Ching Wang.  Ching and I made small talk and it just felt comfortable.  I was truly happy in that moment.  I focused on that moment while we had our first dance.  Ching refused to take dance lessons so we ended up swaying like a couple of 8th graders at a junior high dance.  I kept telling myself to shut the inner voice up...you married a very good man AND you didn't settle.

God, I was hungry.  I tried to eat but was interrupted or felt the need to greet people.  So many people traveled such a long way to celebrate with us.  But as I was greeting people, I noticed what my issue was. I don't want to be a bride at this wedding...I want to be a guest!  This is an awesome wedding...free liquor is flowing (and I have had none), the hors d'oeurves were amazing (I had a stuffed mushroom), the dinner seemed nice (I had my salad and a bite of fillet) and the cake?  Apparently, it was so good that someone, who I will not name, had three pieces.  I had a bite.

I tried to make the effort by throwing myself on the dance floor but by 9:00, I just wanted to leave a blank check for the cost and go home.  I was tired and I just wanted to get the hell to Hawaii.  I had that feeling that you have on Christmas night...you know, all the planning and then it's over.  I was also mad at myself for not enjoying myself.

While I joke about my inner sourpuss on 7/4/03, I do remember what went very well.  We had buses that took guests to and from their hotels so their could drink freely.  These went like clockwork.  Ching and I decided to get several large colorful rubber balls that the kids could play with during the cocktail hour.  It was so nice to see the kids, running back and forth, kicking the balls while their parents could mingle.  I heard the food was amazing and that was my first priority.  Ching and I were toasted several times over with some very funny speeches.  Ching and I paid for the majority of the wedding.  We were so good at staying within budget that when we went to our honeymoon, we lived like a king and queen.  (You better believe he whipped out the spreadsheet on the way to Maui.) But regardless of the wedding, Ching and I are still married, right now happily, with two healthy girls.  A perfect wedding couldn't top that.

But if these girls come to me wanting a big wedding, I will try to bribe them with a small outdoor ceremony on a lake in Minnesota with a family dinner at a Chinese restaurant.  And then they will go to Ching who will let them be the glorious bride that they should be...

Drips of sweat are running down my spine and I don't think my deodorant is working anymore.

I think it's pretty bad that I am grateful that I didn't go ape shit yesterday.  There is always a fine line...as a mother, sometimes the line is blurred between advocating for your child or to just voice frustration from the break of routine.  You may roll your eyes because you know the obvious answer.  But is it obvious when you are insane when the traffic is bad and you are delayed from getting your child even though you know your child is in a safe place?

This is where my questioning began.  Yesterday...(blurry lines as we step back to yesterday...)

There are renovations presently happening at Rachel's daycare/pre-school.  The facility is part of a college campus so while the renovations are being done, they moved the children to large rooms in a building right next door.  But this move didn't go as smoothly as I cared for on Monday morning.  I found the building (while it was all ready 82 degrees...I know I am being a bitch baby but I was wearing a silk top).  Rachel and I go up to the second floor to her interim room.  The room is gorgeous:  high vaulted ceiling and bigger than my first apartment in Brookline.  Rachel just wanted to run around this room and then she quickly finds the trucks.  (Every time she says, "truck", I giggle every time.)   I figure out where to put her stuff and wait.  While the time is 8:00, there was no teacher in the room or a note saying they were outside.  I wait a couple of minutes and then pry Rachel away from her new indoor playground.  I go to the first floor where the older/younger pre-school are housed.  The teachers look at me blankly as I explain there is no teacher upstairs.  (Are you freakin' kidding me...time's a tickin'! Because, I will admit selfishly, it is about me.)  Finally the director of the facility, who is visibly stressed with the change says that Rachel's class is on the playground (which you cannot see from this building.)  She offers to take Rachel from me, but I am a martyr and say that I can take Rachel down to the playground.  Drips of sweat are running down my spine and I don't think my deodorant is working anymore.  Rachel's morning teacher is there and I am about to complain that there was no note saying where she was...but I don't.  Rachel is safe and cared for with her...she always is.   With Rachel, I also have her 2012-2013 school year paperwork for the new year and the check for her yearbook.  Yeah, Rachel is 2 and she is going to have a yearbook.  Her yearbook is more expensive than mine was when I was a senior in high school.  (In case you graduated from Westbrook High School in 1990 with me, the cost was $22.  Rachel's is $35) I am asked to run it upstairs (of the building that is being renovated).  I am assured that it is okay to go up there....great. As I drop off the paperwork and the check, I am not afraid of breathing in anything bad or getting in the way...I just don't want to see butt crack.  (If you knew CCW's love for loose pants, you would know my pain.)  My six minute drop off has now taken me 21 minutes...I am beyond pissed.  But I don't think I am as pissed as another parent who cannot even find the room to drop off his son's lunch.  And this guy has a bachelor's from MIT and an MBA from Dartmouth.

I blatantly ask myself if I should have voiced my displeasure or just let it lie?  Rachel's health or well being were not compromised.  The transition wasn't fluid and there should have been signage to help the parents.  My time was comprised but this was out of the ordinary.  Should I be pissy for an extra 15 minutes?  All day, I contemplate sending the director a stern note.  But I don't because this was my inconvenience that had nothing to do with Rachel's care.

This morning took place without a hitch.  I dropped Rachel off at the playground and then dropped off her stuff in her temporary room---it took 8 minutes.

Christ...did I dodge a bullet.  I am grateful I didn't send that e-mail.  There are only a few people that you never want to piss off and your childcare provider is one of them. (Even though that yearbook for a 2 year old is kind of weird.)

I am thinking about putting them in the front yard and locking all the doors.

At 6:44 tonight, I get a text from Ching.  He is still on the pike because of an accident but he should be home soon.

I want to respond:  "You are lucky to be stuck in traffic.  Because you absolutely don't want to be around the girls right now.  Seriously, I am thinking about putting them in the front yard and locking all the doors. "  They haven't stopped whining since we got through the door for a myriad of reasons.  First Laurel banged her leg on the door. (There wasn't even a scratch and I will doubt it will bruise.) Then she was hungry...then thirsty...then hungry.  It is a cruel circle but at least I can get her to go in the other room.

Rachel is another story.  Her words and whining meld together and I can't understand what the hell she is saying.  And she won't go play in the family room.  Rachel just hangs on my leg while I am trying to get dinner.  She is a pesky little sucker that just won't let go--it's like a whiny, 25 pound tumor.  At one point, I tell her to knock it off.  She does but then whips out this pout that is quite impressive.  I have never seen her lips that pronounced--I don't think botox or an allergic reaction could do that.  Her eyes do something flinty too.  I try not to think that she just put a curse on me.

I know Ching is minutes away.  (He would never text that he is still very far--that is kind of a tease in my book.)  I am tired, as are the girls, but feel guilty that I should do more.  Well, maybe not...that feeling quickly passes.  During the last two months I told Ching not to make a big deal of Mother's Day or my birthday.  Right now I want a God damn do over...