always thinking

safe

2012-01-27T21:00:00.003-04:00

early this morning, I got a phone call from the allergy clinic telling me another patient's cancellation has opened up a spot for mischaela to receive a challenge for her wheat allergy. in my half-awake state, I eagerly accepted the appointment for later in the day and thanked God for the winter storm predicted to cripple our city - the cancellation came on account of someone else not wanting to travel into the city for the appointment, but since we live in town, it wouldn't be as much of a risk. plus, my husband doesn't back down from a winter storm easily.

with the appointment scheduled for 12:30pm, I packed mischaela's lunch in front of her, highlighting her slice of whole wheat bread, slathered with peanut butter and honey, and decided to wait until our appointment to feed her.

starve and tempt. I did my best to give her the most motivation to eat that slice of bread.

as usual, the appointment was delayed and mischaela really disliked being poked and prodded by the nurses and doctors. oh, nothing painful like needles, just the usual gathering measurements of weight, height, temperature, blood pressure and taking note of existing marks or rashes on her torso, but it might has well have been open surgery to her. kleenex!

we finally started the challenge and slowly, over the span of an hour, mischaela ate the slice of whole wheat bread, eagerly, might I add. and in between each feeding, she happily played and entertained herself in the hospital room, occasionally asking me for more food. there were no hives appearing, no irritation apparent, no trouble breathing, etc. it was amazing.

by 2:45pm, she had finished the eating part of her challenge, completely missed her afternoon nap, and proceeded to play for the next hour of observation. with 22 seconds left on the timer, our allergist doctor came by one last time and deemed her capable of tolerating and ingesting wheat.

YAY!

with the instructions to feed her wheat at least once a week for the next month, keeping a close eye on her tolerance level, we were sent home with the gleaming hope that mischaela will no longer be allergic to wheat at the close of a reaction-free month.

we bought some french fries for her to indulge in on the way home.

and I'm dusting off my old recipes in gratitude and excitement.

older

2012-01-26T20:09:00.001-04:00

while mischaela and I are playing in the living room, I get up to pour myself a glass of water.
mischaela: where you going?
me: just going to the kitchen to get some water.
mischaela: no! come back! sit down here! [points to spot on the floor next to her]
me: mommy will be right back, I just need to get some water. you go ahead and play, I'll be right back, okay?
mischaela: okay.

while eating cherries, mischaela offers one to my aunt.
mischaela: shay shay share cherry with mm ye po (grand aunt in chinese).
aunt: oh, thank you shay shay.
mischaela: [watches my aunt pop in the whole cherry with concern] seed. no eat seed!
aunt: oh yes, I will not eat the seed.
mischaela: [pushing her seed plate over] put seed here.
aunt: [still not producing seed out of her mouth] okay, I will put it there.
mischaela: [still concerned] put seed here! no eat seed!
aunt: [takes seed from mouth and places it on the seed plate] okay, put seed here.
mischaela: yeah.

on a particularly windy day, I carry mischaela into our local library after putting her jacket hood on.
mischaela: windy!
me: yeah, it's very windy today. are you cold?
mischaela: yeah, cold! [with her little hand gripping onto her hood fringe] shay shay hold hood.
me: good job, keep your hood on.
mischaela: mommy, no hood.
me: yeah, mommy's jacket doesn't have a hood.
mischaela: mommy, wear hat!
me: oh yeah, mommy should wear a hat, eh?
mischaela: yeah, mommy cold, no hat.
me: I know, mommy's cold because she has no hat. next time I will remember to wear a hat.

shaping up to be a shining older sibling.

pregnancy

2012-01-15T01:28:00.001-04:00

a few notes from the current pregnancy thus far:

I have not really been keeping track of weeks, months or referring to any pregnancy books. as soon as we got the 12-week ultrasound results coming back encouraging and positive, I chilled out a lot.

I have felt the most tired and nauseated of all three pregnancies. and in similar form with my previous pregnancy, I'm getting the 20-week ultrasound tomorrow and I'm still fighting the nausea. first trimester morning sickness is a bunch of baloney for me. try at least first half of pregnancy, always feeling sick.

because of my exhaustion and sickness, my husband moved his office back home and gets mischaela up for breakfast, eats lunch with us, puts her down for her afternoon naps, and has been changing all her poopy diapers. I appreciate him so much.

I can't seem to get enough salty foods with this pregnancy. strangely, sweets accentuate the nausea this time around. we had a near catastrophe when we ran out of instant noodles for a few days before our holiday travels.

I am carrying this baby higher than abel or mischaela. I think this will mean new stretch marks higher in my torso. awesome. but it also means that I'm not in too many maternity clothes yet, just my fat pants and long shirts.

my body definitely feels more depleted this time around. it's probably a mix of third pregnancy and a summer that was pretty tough on my system that has left me with less in my reserves. I have never felt so dependent on prenatal vitamins before. I'm so thankful for them.

and this baby feels a little more chill, so far. less amount of sharp movements like kicks and turns, but more slow stretching and little flutters. I also didn't really feel anything pronounced until a few weeks ago, whereas I started feeling lots with mischaela at 14 weeks.

baby, we look forward to seeing you on the ultrasound screen tomorrow and anticipate your arrival with joy and hope. be nice on mommy, okay? thanks.

negotiator

2012-01-11T21:50:00.001-04:00

a common conversation between mischaela and I:

mischaela: mommy, more marshmallow and rice krispies.
me: you just had some shay shay, you only get 2 marshmallows for snack.
mischaela: shay shay eat 2!
me: yeah, you ate 2.
mischaela: shay shay eat 2 more.
me: no, mischaela, you only get 2 for snack. we're going to have to wait for dinner if you're still hungry.
mischaela: one more?
me: no, mischaela, no more marshmallows.
[mischaela pauses and ponders]
mischaela: apricot!
me: you want to eat an apricot?
mischaela: yeah! apricot! two!
me: [chuckling to myself] oh-kay. 2 apricots.
mischaela: [proudly smiling to herself] oh-kay, 2 apricots.

totally becoming a mini female version of her daddy.

I've got two negotiators in my house that I've got to constantly reason with now. yoinks.

struggling

2012-01-09T23:13:00.000-04:00

I've been mia. I know. partly due to this pregnancy's tiredness that I can't seem to shake, and partly due to a bit of writer's block that I succumb to easily because vegging and napping sound so much nicer than thinking.

in effort to blow through this current writing lull, my return to frequent posting will begin with a heart issue.

for the past few months I've been struggling with motherhood. I've never thought of myself as a natural mom. I never grew up dreaming about being a stay-at-home mom. even when I was pregnant with abel, I was nervous. but because we later found out about his chromosome defect and that he would not live long after birth, there was a strange sense of relief that motherhood would be a little longer in the distance for me. when I was pregnant with mischaela, I tried to come to terms with motherhood, but still, I formulated only a partial surrender in the form of part-time work after maternity leave. for every past pregnancy and born child, I knew there would be a portion, large or small, of my familiar, previous life as a working person to return to. I was comforted, in a weird sense, that my life wasn't going to defined by my offspring.

I don't know why I fight motherhood so much. when I'm among a group of moms, I let myself feel a little outcasted. I become the kid standing by the wall during recess, watching every one else run around and play, secretly hoping someone would invite me to play, but scared that they won't like the kid I am inside. my resistance to being defined by motherhood translates into being standoff-ish in the company of other women who have children. and then I often leave their company feeling lonely and misunderstood.

with this pregnancy, the reality of not returning to any part-time work for a significant chunk of time has left me feeling lost. seeing the vortex of stay-at-home-momness inching closer and closer with every week that passes, frightens me. and just what am I afraid of? I don't own curlers, I only have one pair of sweat pants, I don't know if I've ever eaten a bonbon before, and I don't have a tv to watch soap operas on. I guess that's just it, I'm afraid of other people hearing the phrase "I'm a stay-at-home mom" and them picturing the real me as a smelly sweatsuit clad, bonbon eating, soap opera buff with curlers falling out of my hair. ridiculous, yes, but more accurately, I'm afraid my identity will become lost in the mommy-world and suddenly I'm limited to conversations about potty-training techniques, comparing developmental achievements, and trading judgements cloaked as compliments.

there's more to me than wiping bums and negotiating over 2 more cookies.

though my conversational topics would betray my thoughts as somehow they always turn to mischaela.

I'm a walking contradiction. I can't stand it.

but it's not all wrapped up in what people think, it's also the fear of being consumed with "mommy, sit here, watch shay shay play", day in, day out, that I'm afraid will leave me a stranger to all the things that have been a part of deb in the past. will I take another photo of anything outside of my house again? will I have the space to be creative anymore? will I be able to complete complex sentences about in depth issues with people who have a developed vocabulary, on a regular basis?

as much as I've been looking forward to meeting this baby growing inside me, and as much as I absolutely love every day I get to spend with mischaela, I've been giving myself some mental space to mourn the loss of no longer being the person I've been used to for all my working life. that in place of outside income, I choose to embrace the humble position of being a loving mother to the children I get to raise. that I continue to remind myself that I "get" to raise these little people, and that's an incredible gift. because as much as I fight the term "motherhood", being mischaela's mom, abel's mom, and this coming child's mom, is something I truly desire and know is for me to embrace.

thanks for listening. would love to know I'm not alone in this.

relief

2011-12-15T22:22:00.000-04:00

[written a couple of weeks ago when we went for a 12-week ultrasound to meet the baby growing inside of me]

that morning I sat down on my living room floor and tears began streaming down my face and within seconds, I took off my glasses and sobbed into my hands. mischaela paused and quietly watched, standing barely two feet in front of me. I thought about pulling myself together. so I tried. but it was making me nauseated. so I continued to allow the tears to stream down my hands. after two minutes of stillness passed, mischaela walked up to me and opened one of my hands to put in her fistful of cheerios. she walked back to her snack cup, grabbed another fist full and dumped them into my hands. she then began methodically eating the cheerios out of my hand, one by one, happily telling me, "mommy, hold chee-chee. shay shay eating!"

"mommy is sad, mischaela." was all I could whisper in return.

I am sad. and afraid. and torn. and I wish I didn't feel this way. I'm afraid I'll go to that hospital room and see on the ultrasound that my baby is not developing well. I'm afraid there will be no heartbeat. I'm afraid something will be wrong with me. I'm afraid of going there alone. I wish trusting that God has the best outcome in mind meant I could stop thinking and remembering. remembering the first time I lay in that hospital room hearing the news that my unborn son would die. remembering the pain of bearing that pregnancy. remembering the grief that invades and breathes hot in my face every time my heart longs and yearns for him again. I miss him. and it aches. and I don't want to go through that again. but I want to be willing to walk faithfully through whatever God has for me. I don't know if I can go through with this.

my husband came running down the stairs later that morning to tell me that someone had offered to watch mischaela so he can take some time off work and come to the appointment with me. I breathed a sigh of relief. and I was thankful to know my husband will be with me for this one.

on the drive down to the hospital, I was nervous. I wished for calmness, but a storm was swirling around inside me. my husband squeezed my hand as we rode the elevator to the seventh floor.

we saw a familiar face as we got off the elevator. it was dr. v. he stopped midway through the conversation he was having with a colleague and warmly greeted us.

"it's so good to see you guys. and if you're here, then there must be some good news!" he rubbed my arm gently.

I sure hope so.

we sat in a surprisingly uncrowded waiting room and within minutes were called to start our ultrasound. it was the same room. the same room we first saw abel and mischaela. the same pink curtain drawn the same length around the bed. the same screen that blankly stared back at us while we waited for the examination to begin. the fellowes was being thorough with his preparations. I wanted him to show me that my baby was okay already.

it began. he probed around for a few seconds and quickly found our baby. for a gripping moment, I couldn't recognize what we were looking at and all the worst case scenarios began to flood my mind.

"there's your baby. and there's the heartbeat, nice and strong"

I breathed a huge sigh of relief.

and as he continued, he took time to highlight the different organs and limbs, repeating every time that everything looks normal and healthy. dr. v. came in and smiled warmly at what he was seeing on the ultrasound monitor. all the anxiety and turmoil started to lift and I held back tears as we saw our baby roll and turn. "every thing looks great you guys," dr. v. kept reassuring us, "every thing looks great."

we left the hospital that afternoon feeling like a huge weight had been lifted off our shoulders. I felt like I could breathe again. we replayed the ultrasound procedure over and over again, reiterating how we each felt the moment we saw the heart beat, when we could make out the profile that revealed a nose bridge, how the brain was developing normally, and each time I would exhale deeply and my husband would knowingly agree with a reassuring, "yeah, I know."

but there were still tears.

tears from emotional exhaustion. tears from relief. tears from that dull ache that still finds its way to the surface and hovers over me. and I remember how I long to be with abel. how missing him still cripples me. how his life continues to teach me.

how grateful I am that we get the chance to walk through this pregnancy journey again.

caterpillar

2011-12-05T22:30:00.000-04:00

the obsession began when we borrowed an animated version of the very hungry caterpillar from the library and mischaela watched on repeat for as many times as I'd let her. it was then solidified on the dark drives back to my parents' place during our most recent visit when she actually saw the moon, a sight she often misses since she sleeps at 7pm, and requested I tell her the story over and over again of the little egg that lay on a leaf.

it seemed appropriate that I incorporate the very hungry caterpillar somewhere in her birthday sweets.

here are the ingredients to make babycakes' famous (incredibly famous if you've ever been to new york apparently) vanilla cupcakes. I think this spread cost 5 bagillion dollars, something like that.

gluten-free baking requires anal precise measurements. I don't tend to cook or bake this way, so this is me being really, really disciplined. look at that plateau!

the batter all mixed up and always runnier than wheat cake batter.

and bam! baked, moist, and yummy. no graininess, no crumble, amazing. thanks babycakes.

for the cupcake toppers I started by rolling out some white fondant, then cutting out 1.5" circles.

then poked some straw holes for 16 of the 20 circles.

I present to you my no. 1 paintbrush. I think it consists of 2 bristles, something like that. plus a smattering of food colouring, and yes, thar blows a fine bottle of fermented potato juice. vodka helps thin out gel food colouring so it's easier to paint on but still retains the intense pigmentation. the alcohol evaporates. true story.

painting the hungry caterpillar.

after 1.5 hours, here are the 20 completed cupcake toppers, ready to be dried.

I iced the cupcakes with some berry flavoured buttercream icing, topped them off with the little painted circles and sang our little girl a birthday song.

here are some close-ups. apple and pear.

strawberry.

piece of chocolate cake.

the big fat caterpillar.

and the butterfly. note the thin legs.

it's so much fun creating for my daughter.

two

2011-12-04T22:42:00.000-04:00

mischaela, today you turn two. for the last little while, I've thought lots about how to celebrate your birthday. I waffled between making it big or keeping it small, giving you big gifts or choosing simplicity, but in the end, my heart was overwhelmed with gratitude at the thought of your life - so your daddy and I decided we needed to celebrate well.

I love your incredible sense of focus when you immerse yourself in a task. those beady little eyes show such concentration and determination as you work hard to command your tiny fingers to perform exactly as you please. and when you accomplish what you were aiming for, those same eyes beam with pride and joy as you explain to me how you purposefully stuck that snowman sideways because he's sleeping.

and my heart smiles at your creativity, imagination and sense of humour. somehow they're related when it comes to you, mischaela. you'll often come running up to me and tell me be quiet because you've just put some tiny figure down to sleep, and after we've spent 5 seconds in silence, you tumble back to your slumbering friends and "boooo", wake them up, laughing and smiling at the thought of their wake up time.

during that tiring week of potty training attempt #1, I learned how much resolve you can have, and at such a young age. and how much expectation you seem to hold for yourself. both of these things were eye-opening and left us a little scared. for me, it felt like a mirror into my life, and I was scared both for teenage hormonal years, and for you, because I want you to be resolved over the right things, and hold realistic and proper expectations for yourself. be less like me in this regard and by Grace, I hope to direct you to a better way of life.

though you are quite the resolved and determined little girl, I am thankful that you are also easy-going and flexible. you hardly protest when we have to leave the toys at the library, after a short negotiation of "mon mo minute" (translation: one more minute) of course, and respond with easy obedience when we show you your boundaries. this I will try to remember when we inevitably go through our bumpy days, months, and years.

I've enjoyed being able to hear a little bit of what you're thinking this past year as you've grown so much in vocabulary and talking. I laugh to myself every time you ask for a cookie, or pretzels, or popcorn, when I've offered you a snack of either cheerios or raisins. and how lately you've become obsessed with putting on your mittens so you can "pick up NOOOOO!" (translation: pick up snow) you've surprised me with how much you retain and learn every day. one day you opened your right hand towards the ceiling and exclaimed "reeach... guy!" (translation: reach... sky; translation of the translation: reach for the sky) and proceeded to tell me it was from the video, toy story. why, so it is, so it is.

I love how you say "hi, mommy" to get my attention, your soft kissable cheeks, how much you still love to cuddle with me, that you ask for craft time, how you know what you want and aren't afraid to express your desires, how you make both daddy and I happily sigh at the end of each day as we recall all the cute little things you did and how much you squeeze our hearts.

I am thankful every day that we get to hang out with you. that God gave us the task of raising you. that by His grace I'm learning how to cherish and teach you. that I get to be your mommy, and you are our little shay-shay. thankful for the yesterdays that filled a year, and looking forward to whatever tomorrow brings.

happy second birthday miss mischaela.

love,
mommy

bowling

2011-11-19T22:13:00.001-04:00

a couple of weeks ago I had the fun project of making the birthday cake for my church's 4th birthday. with little energy to spare this time around, I opted for a large-ish centerpiece type of cake instead of assembling a team to execute cupcakes again. the theme was a bowling party. I think because 4 year olds have bowling parties? I don't know these cultural references as I was raised in a chinese home where I was allowed to have 1 birthday party. ever. my parents were flexible and gave me 2 in the end. I chose age 10 and 12 to have those parties. that's right, I waited until I turned 10 to have the party. that's classic chinese principles being applied to childhood right there: saving up.

so the original idea was a bowling trophy in a large square cake form. then my husband made some silly comment about making a small amount of cake pops to add some whimsy, and like the glutton for punishment I am, I said, "good idea!"

this is the original small amount of cake pops being readied for bowling pin transformation.

after being chilled to be more easily handled, I shaped each one into a bowling pin.

I like to complicate my life.

here are the original small amount of cake balls being prepared for bowling ball cake popage.

this is the saturday afternoon prior to delivery time and my husband is faithfully helping me dip the chocolate bowling ball cake pops, while I shape and dip the bowling pins. mischaela was super cooperative by happily doing her own crafts, making christmas cards, i.e. peeling sticker backings off christmas foam stickers and piling them onto card paper. here she is dumping the entire bucket of stickers onto the table. we both shrugged our shoulders and encouraged her in her creativity.

ten minutes after that photo was taken, she gave me a heavy card laden with 12 snowmen. good job mischaela!

here are some of the bowling pins and balls in its final form, covered in chocolate and ready for consumption.

between then and this last photo, disaster struck. my main portion of the cake buckled under pressure and began leaning and sliding. after a few attempts at remedying the problem, it became clear that the cake mix cake we were using could not hold such an ambitious shape, my structural posts were bent, and our incredibly warm house was just adding to the meltdown. at about 4pm, I made the painful decision to turn what was a disaster into... more cake pops.

not pictured: me poking my eyes out.

not pictured: my husband poking my eyes out.

not pictured: us poking each others' eyes out.

after what seemed like endless rolling, molding, dipping and drying bowling cake pops, we finally completed our task at 12:30am. oh, I did end up whipping up a smaller centerpiece cake that had part of a bowling lane on top so we could poke bowling pins and a bowling ball after delivery.

what's important to note in this photo is that both my husband and I, I blame fatigue, failed to see the crucial error in our solution to transport over 300 cake pops, in that don't ever. EVER. stack cake pops more than 2 or 3 layers high.

not pictured: the mortified look on our faces early the next morning when we discover that the bottom half of that huge tupperware of bowling ball cake pops had cracked under pressure. we resorted to weeping and gnashing our teeth due to lack of poked out eyes.

not pictured: me giving myself a time out in the kitchen after the main cake suffered a side swipe when my helpful but panicked husband and aunt was trying to salvage the cracked cake pops.

here is half the final project in completion, the other half is not pictured, but you get the idea, lots of bowling pins and bowling balls. (sorry, low quality iphone photo - I lacked the motivation to lug my dslr that morning)

thankfully, not a crumb was left for me to bring home. I attribute that to the fabulous people that eagerly took the cracked pops in support of leaving the nice ones for their friends, the fact that every body else in the world cares a lot less about the preciseness of their sweets than yours truly, and that there were 350+ people in attendance.

glad to be a part of this community.

thirty

2011-11-13T19:48:00.001-04:00

yesterday, I turned 30.

many months ago:
me: I think I'd like to make a bigger deal about my 30th birthday.
husband: yeah?
me: yeah. I think I'd like to invite people over and actually have a party. but I guess I'd have to do the organizing... and do I make my own cake?
husband: no, you shouldn't make your own cake.
me: well, I don't mind.
husband: don't worry about it, we'll celebrate your birthday well.

a few weeks ago:
me: I think I'd like to have dinner with some close friends. but the trouble is, I wish I could have a huge dinner, but then it would get crazy and I'd be concerned about everyone having a good time.
husband: ... well...
me: I would invite [list a few names], but then I'd want to invite all these other people too... maybe I should have a dinner but then have a small gathering afterwards where all the other people can come.
husband: ... uh...
me: I don't know. maybe we shouldn't do anything. I don't like making people feel excluded.
husband: [blankly stares at me]
me: what do you think? what should I do?
husband: [panics] oh deb, why do you have to be so difficult!
me: what? what do you mean?
husband: [through slightly gritted teeth] I was arranging something.
me: oh! sorry! I didn't know! I didn't hear anything, so I assumed nothing was happening and I was just going to make something happen.
husband: of course something is happening!
me: sorry! I didn't know. what's happening?
husband: will you stop saying stuff?
me: oh, of course. of course. I won't ask anymore questions. sorry.

last week:
me: um, not to pry or ruin anything, but I just wanted to check if you called my brother?
husband: [gently glares at me - if you knew my husband, gently glaring would make sense] why are you asking me these questions? of course I called your brother.
me: sorry, I wasn't sure, I just wanted to make sure you called him.
husband: yes, I called him.
me: okay, just asking.
husband: stop asking questions about your present.
me: I didn't! okay, I'll stop asking questions.

a few days ago:
[I walk to the kitchen to get some water and walk past my husband who's typing away on what looks like a spreadsheet on his laptop]
me:[as I'm passing by] hi.
husband: [quickly pushes his laptop screen down and covers his work] hey, will you stop that?
me: sorry! I would have assumed you were working.
husband: well don't come back until I'm done.
me: okay, okay. I won't look.

two days ago:
husband: uh, I'm going to sweep the house a little.
me: okay.
husband: we haven't done that in a while and I figured we should just tidy up a bit.
me: can I help?
husband: no, you should just relax and take it easy. I'll do it.
me: okay... I don't mind.
husband: no, just sit and relax.

yesterday:
husband: I've got a couple of errands to run. I'll do it when mischaela is napping. so you stay home and I'll run the errands.
me: okay. I've got some groceries to get too.
husband: I'll get them for you.
me: okay. whatever you want.
[after running errands]
husband: are you done looking in the fridge for today?
me: what?
husband: are you going to open the fridge anymore?
me: I don't have to if you don't want me to...
husband: okay. don't open the fridge.
me: okay. from now on, I won't open the fridge.

we enjoy a lovely dinner with some close friends at a quaint french bistro and my husband casually invites the dinner party over to our home to hang out and play some games. on our drive home, I wonder if my brother's girlfriend's car has arrived yet. I don't see it so I assume they'll come later after we put mischaela down. as we walk into our quiet house, with our dinner guests trailing behind us, I set my coat and bag down in the dining room when a crowd of friends jump out of my living room yelling "surprise!"

and surprised I was.

there was cake, and lots of food, and an incredibly generous collection of gifts that my husband organized a pool of money go towards, that I actually opened in front of my friends - something I have not done since my last birthday party at the fun age of twelve, and chatting with some friends I have not been able to see in a while.

after spending the last couple of years as a mom, always home and doing the humble duties of running after a young child, and keeping a home, it was strange to be in the spotlight and accept the care and encouragement from friends and family in such a public manner, but I felt celebrated and loved.

I am thankful for my husband who painstakingly kept this truly a surprise for me. and for a person who can keep very little from me, and for someone like me who apparently asks too many questions, this was a pretty big deal. thank you friends and family for your kind words and generousity!

restored

2011-10-30T21:20:00.000-03:00

over a week ago, we started potty training mischaela. it was a combination of reasons that made me want to try it now, read: early. it was the longest foreseeable period of time my husband and I will be both home, giving mischaela the biggest window of opportunity to conquer the toilet. in addition, according to articles on the topic, mischaela was displaying certain signs of readiness in how she could sit for long periods of time, hold her pee in for more than an hour, and most markedly, tell me whenever she was peeing or pooping in her diaper. and according to my mom and aunt, both my brother and I, and both my cousins were potty trained by 14 months... with a lot of work on my mom and aunt's part. so it seemed possible that mischaela could do this.

and so we began.

the first day started out promising, with her peeing in the potty within a minute of me putting her down to sit, followed with 6 other successes that entire day. she really wasn't a fan of the bare bum approach I was taking with her, but seemed to like feeling successful. but then, day two was when it began to unravel at an alarming rate. she went from tolerating potty time, to peeing only when she wasn't sitting on the potty, and crying terror every time we took her to the washroom. by day three she stopped playing with her toys altogether, resolved to hold her pee in for hours, and clung to me like saran wrap to itself. each day passed with increasing trauma and anxiety. my sweet little girl turned into a stressed out monster, who began to wake multiple times in the night crying "ma ma, up! poo poo, no!" leaving me exhausted and frazzled. she knew what she needed to do on the potty, but somehow couldn't make her body respond perfectly to her wishes and that was it. her world as she knew it, was over. she couldn't handle the frustration. she hated feeling our frustration. my little over achiever felt like a failure. and it broke my heart to see her feel so deflated in life.

on one particularly terrible day, I would go as far as stating it was our worst day ever together, she was on time out number two during her bath time, time out number TWO people, during bath time - bath time, the guaranteed happy time of any and every day, where my husband and I closed the door to the bathroom and left her standing on the bathroom mat naked, but dry - we have a heart, and stood outside the door waiting for the two minutes to pass. after those painful two minutes were up, my husband and I opened the door only to find mischaela bawling beside a half-unraveled roll of toilet paper, with her hand desperately pulling on more while pointing to her tears and exclaiming, "wet! wet!" she had seen us tear off many pieces of toilet paper in the past week to wipe her numerous tears and for customary purposes, wipe her (dry) bum during potty time. but in her most darkest hour, she could not for the life of her figure out how to tear a small square for herself, resulting in a seemingly never-ending stream of toilet paper tormenting her pain.

it was a sad moment.

but kind of funny. and my husband and I exchanged a silent chuckle at the scene while we bent down and comforted our little miss mischaela.

and for many following nights, my husband and I lay exhausted on the couch and wracked our brains for ideas to tame this disaster, control this train wreck, bandage the gaping wound, when finally, it became clear that now was not the time to tame, control or bandage, but a time to reassess and restore. after consulting with my aunt and dad, and various other parents who had encountered similar battles, we decided that we'd give mischaela the choice.

the next morning, we asked mischaela if she'd like to wear her underwear? or a diaper? and without hesitation she said, "dia-pah". so diaper it was.

and now, at the end of every day, I am thankful I get to clean up her toys. because it means she is full of life again and playing.

we'll pee in the potty another day.

therapy

2011-10-26T22:56:00.001-03:00

remember when mischaela used to be happy all the time, laughing and making jokes about everything? remember when mischaela would actually tell me when she was peeing in her diaper, instead of holding it in for 4+ hours at a time since commencing toilet-training? remember when pooping was a simple thing that required a little hand holding and diaper cleaning? remember when she would sleep through the night instead of waking up every time she felt the need to pee and cry about not peeing but pee anyway and still cry about it - which is fairly often since she's so backed up from 4+ hours worth of pee? remember when each day wasn't filled with anxiety over bowel movements and urination? remember when the washroom was just a washroom and not a torture chamber?

yeah. me either. it feels like ages ago.

toilet training.

don't do it.

just kidding.

sort of.

nickname

2011-10-18T15:47:00.005-03:00

about a month ago, mischaela and I were looking at some family photos and I was asking her to identify each member. we went through her extended family names correctly, and when we got to our immediate family photo, she pointed to my husband and said, da da. I pointed to myself and she said, ma ma.

me: [pointing to a 7 month old mischaela] and what about this person?
mischaela: [pause]
me: who's this?
mischaela: [softly] shay shay.

and since then she's consistently referred to herself as shay shay. one time she said mi shay shay ah. but usually, it's shay shay eat, or shay shay close, or shay shay s*it - she means sit, but it comes out otherwise.

of the possible nicknames out there for her, I'm glad she chose shay shay, and that she chose it for us.

return

2011-10-15T21:14:00.002-03:00

it's been too long friends. apologies for the silence. it wasn't intentional.

we've been traveling a little and spent the last week and a half with my parents. I, slightly nervously, left mischaela with my parents while both my husband and I joined in some overnight work meetings for 3 days. this is the first time mischaela has been apart from both of us. ever. she's not even two, so it's really not that big of a deal, but the first time always seems a little nerve wracking. turned out mischaela had a great time with my parents, my parents loved every minute they got to spend with her, and we skyped her in between meetings to soothe my nerves.

and there's nothing like coming home from a few days away to the excited embrace of an almost-two year old. wiggling from joy in my arms while hugging my neck and exclaiming, ma ma!

if I could just bottle that elation to sniff on those you don't remember what it was like to be 14, MOoOOoM days, I'd be set.

typewriter

2011-09-26T23:23:00.002-03:00

a few weeks ago, I responded to an email advertising a free typewriter posted on my local freecycle group. did that last sentence make me sound like a hipster? I'm not a hipster by the way, because a) it's gotten way too mainstream, and b) I messed with a typewriter.

back to the point, an email came back stating where and when I could pick said typewriter up. I decided to go on a rainy morning with mischaela. as I drove into a sketchier part of town, my eyes began to shift ever so slightly. as I turned into a dead end street wherein the houses got more and more run down, I started to doubt the wisdom in doing this with no accompanying male adult who so happens to have a black belt in kungfu. as I realized the pick up location was at the last house on this street that had given me the full on creeps, wherein there were no window coverings, no lights on inside, the front door was slightly ajar, there were random boxes and tires strewn across the au naturale lawn, I could feel a chill crawl up my spine.

I got out of the car with my thumb strategically placed on my phone, keys in my hand so I could safely lock mischaela in the car, and I searched for the typewriter that was supposed to have been left outside in a cardboard box for me. I peered into a couple of boxes closest to the curb but couldn't find anything that resembled a typewriter. instead, there were lots of shoes. shoes of previous victims? my mind could barely contain the crime scenes from one too many cop shows.

I went back to my car and debated whether I should try again. I double checked the email, gave it another risky shot, returned with my palms sweaty. I looked at the email again, noticed a phone number was left and decided to call. after 9 rings, a man with an east indian accent gently answered. he asked me if my car was parked outside, I said yes, he told me to wait a minute. though I felt strangely calmed by the man's voice, I still plotted racing down the street, and never turning back, because he was taking a minute, to sharpen his axe!

but after a minute, a slim man wearing a farmer's straw hat, with a long, incredibly straight and white beard came walking out of the house with a typewriter thoughtfully covered in plastic cradled in his arms. I got out of my car to meet him, he told me the G key was missing and asked if that was all right, I told him it would be just fine. I'm not being dragged off to be hacked into pieces, a missing G key is perfect. if I had my camera on hand, I would have taken a photo because the gentleness of that man in his perfectly innocent farmer's hat juxtaposed in front of the axe murderer's house was quite the sight to behold.

I started to carefully dismantle the typewriter to both clean out the years of neglect, and to give the shell a bit of a boost. I used dishsoap diluted in warm water, cotton cloths, and lots and lots of cotton swabs.

it took a couple of days to get it all clean. mostly because I had a "helper", who engrossed herself quite enthusiastically to a point where she didn't want to be finished "cleaning it up" [translation: she rubbed a wet cotton swab over and over the space bar for days]. I've got 10 other typewriters that need a cleaning and a greasing by sundown, chop, chop.

oh nos, a spring mysteriously fell out and I don't know where it should go. oh well.

I decided to go with robin egg blue. also known as tiffany blue. see? not a hipster.

then after careful coats of tiffany blue, I attempted to put it all together.

and attempted and attempted for a good 4 hours of my life. maybe it was the spring. but after recruiting my husband to problem shoot with me, we finally settled for a bit of a hack job where not all screws could be tightened, the typewriter had to be propped up in the front to type properly, and words could only be typed between two wiiiiiiiiide margins.

it's true, artists suffer for their art.a little too much sometimes.

anticipating

2011-09-26T00:19:00.002-03:00

about a year ago, I listened to a sermon that really challenged my heart. it was about fear. and the application point was to give something valuable away. this thread has run its way through, and unraveled some nicely packaged sections of my life over this past year. it was this thread that sparked the idea of inviting my aunt to move into our home. I am anxious about being provided for, so I gave away part of my home. and up until this weekend, I didn't truly feel the sting of sacrifice.

due to various factors and fairly unmovable situations, our storage room needed to be cleared out to make space for a washroom in the basement. the storage room that keeps the art table. my art table. my art table that had to be vacated. I know, seriously? an art table? do I even watch the news? am I even aware that there's a world out there, needing stuff? an art table?

but for anyone out there who finds life in creating art, perhaps you'd understand. for everyone else, this is what the table meant to me. this table housed all my art supplies. my husband purchased me this table at the beginning of our marriage. this art table has symbolized my own space to create and express my ideas and thoughts - for years. a space where I could live in my little world of pictures, and colour, and shapes, and ideas. an art table that was now in direct opposition of the washroom renovations in the basement.

as a person who is still struggling to understand my identity as a mom, giving up the symbol of my artistic outlet is one that cuts deep. as a wife, I try to make decisions based not just on my own needs, but also for my husband's desires as well. as a mom, I constantly make decisions to give more, ask for less, all in the name of nurturing a young child. as a niece who invited her aunt to live with her, I am additionally considering another person's way of life. it was and has been hard not to feel possessive over so small a thing as my art table.

stripping feelings and attachments clean from the picture, it's just a table. it's a table that I have not had much time to work on. it's a table that has a counterpart in the office/guest/deb's hobby closet that also has a table that I can create on room. it's a table that isn't really that fancy. it's a table that can be sold.

it's a table that I'm struggling to sacrifice.

but

I choose to give it away. because deep in my gut, I know it's something I need to do. the point of giving something valuable away is that it pushes me to sacrifice. the point of sacrifice is that it sucks and hurts. the point of the pain is to make me see One Day clearer. One Day where there will be the art table of all art tables, and it will be prepared for me. One Day when I won't have to cram all my creative supplies into the tiny closet of our office/guest/deb's hobby room. One Day when I won't run out of time or space. One Day when I won't have to wrestle with all these needs and wants and desires. One Day when I'll solder, and paint, and sew, and knit, and sketch to my heart's content.

but for now, here's hoping that someday, maybe it won't hurt so much to give up something.

summer

2011-09-16T22:29:00.000-03:00

it was officially chilly today. fall, we welcome you. summer, we bid you farewell.

thanks for the sweetness of fresh picked blueberries.

thanks for ice cream in take out boxes.

thanks for green grass and blue skies.

thanks for open doors and cool breezes.

thanks for gritty beaches and sandy toes.

thanks for squishy feet from puddle splashing.

thanks for wild flowers and tall apple trees.

thanks for belly laughs and squinty giggles.

thanks for the memories.

love,
deb.

flooded

2011-09-13T14:26:00.001-03:00

recently made 40 cookies for another children's event at my church with the theme this year being superheroes. and before I get rebuked by my faithful readers and concerned friends, these cookies were easier and less time consuming than last year's cupcakes, so no worries, I barely broke a sweat with this one. ahem.

for a split second, I entertained the idea of making tiny superhero scenes out of fondant to be carefully balanced atop iced cupcakes, but I remembered my determination to live a simpler life for the well being of all around me, and went with superhero sound effects on cookies.

this was also the first time I've used the "flood icing" technique. and man, what a time saver. I knew about the flood technique, but just never decorated enough cookies to make it a point to learn and apply. especially this technique wherein the flood icing is thick enough to outline and melt together at the same time. thanks sugarbelle for your helpful tutorials.

here are a few leftover cookies I decided to decorate in the same style for a friend who's birthday recently passed. I outlined the shape with black to create that cartoon feel, then filled the outer colour first, and finished off with the yellow middles.

after drying for a few hours, I took a black food colouring marker...

and wrote on the icing.

love these food colouring markers. such a time saver and can create such sharp edges and detail.

and heck, since I had icing leftover, I took one of mischaela's gluten-free cookies and made her something special. another tip: use candy making squeeze bottles to hold flood icing.

added a few black details with the food colour marker.

intended to wait until the party to give mischaela her cookie so she'd have something to eat while everyone else ate gluten-filled cookies, but here she is, in her carseat, on the way over to the party, making sure the caterpillar wasn't eating through her cookie.

dinner

2011-09-08T22:54:00.000-03:00

it was 4:30pm. my eyes kept checking the clock. it was getting close to dinner time. dinner was yet to be made. I didn't want to be the one to solve that problem today. so I sat and drew pictures with mischaela. checked the clock again.

4:47pm. my mind started to think about the artery-clogging fast food coupons we had stuffed in our miscellaneous pile, and soon a barter with my conscience began.

4:53pm. I try to remember if I even defrosted any meat for dinner. I linger with mischaela. my aunt comes home. she's tired. I mope a little about lacking motivation to get up.

5:10pm. I can hear my husband plugging hard away at work. I wonder how late his day will be. I consider expressing my tiredness to him, knowing he'd give me the permission I'm searching for to scrap plans to cook dinner.

5:12pm. I gather myself, and with a sigh, I head to the kitchen to start dinner.

being responsible is such a drag sometimes.

normal

2011-09-02T22:08:00.001-03:00

since returning from our travels, we have had non-stop guests flowing in and out of our doors up until today. today was the first day where everyone returned to their respective homes and I felt the rhythm of normalcy again. normalcy is good. guests are good too, don't get me wrong, but after trekking across the globe, finding predictability and lowered expectations are things I've been craving.

I think my body needs a break too. it's been a bit of a gong show with my stomach parasite testing, antibiotic taking, violent cough hacking, leading to something funky going on with my muscles or back or ribs or something, trying to get in appointments to fix said funky issue while the entire health community went on vacation, and having to cope with a more clingy mischaela who mildly sprained her wrist somehow during one of her nap times earlier this week. it's possible that the stress I pile on myself when hosting guests, aggravates any developing or existing health issue, because today, the first day of normalcy, my muscles felt just a little looser. that, and also mischaela seemed to be healed up and cling-free.

now to finally organize the office/guest/hobby room. and oh, hello september. please be nice.

box

2011-08-27T22:58:00.000-03:00

it started with her clopping wooden animal pieces around the living room. then I spotted the box in the corner and introduced mischaela to the lovely world of cardboard imagination. I cut open some windows in the cardboard house the cow was living in. then she attempted to squeeze herself into the house. I told her she was too big. so I ran upstairs and grabbed another cardboard box and cut out a car for her to drive.

when it came to drawing on the stereo system, I made sure an auxiliary jack was included.

girl knew exactly what to do.

love experiencing imagination and creativity through fresh eyes.

grateful

2011-08-25T14:19:00.000-03:00

earlier this week I was moping to my husband about how nice it must be sometimes to work in an office and have physical and mental separation. I think I was mostly speaking out of the void of personal space hosting people naturally brings. but after a few days of figuring out a new routine only to see my husband long for the little moments in mischaela's day, I realized I'm the lucky one.

grateful for dipping fingers in oceans. grateful for wet bellies and salty toes.

grateful that though it took a season of frustration and exhaustion, I get to be home with mischaela.

uncertainty

2011-08-23T23:19:00.000-03:00

change, within reason, doesn't bother me. uncertainty on the other hand, does. I would more likely respond to the phrase let's switch things up better than I would we'll see. change often refreshes me. uncertainty almost always drains me. this is where I've been living the past few weeks. surrounded by lots of change and ideas of change, but swimming in an ocean of uncertainty. often times there are few things to be done about the uncertainty, but wait for clarity to come. I think my problem comes in that waiting period. the waiting period is often filled with somewhat meaningless activity because I'm searching for resolution, grasping at hints of clarity, suggesting management.

like if my husband told me, deb, let's change up our date nights from tuesday to saturday morning, I'd be game. easy. no fuss. no resistance. other than but tuesday night is cheap movie nights! but if he instead said, deb, let's switch date nights from tuesday, I'd likely ask, to when? and if he replied, I don't know, I'd probably pop a blood vessel in my neck.

I want to be more comfortable with uncertainty. I've been working on this for years now. gratitude has helped in huge ways, seeking tangible things to be thankful for in the moment repositions my attitude to a better perspective. choosing expectations that include accepting uncertainty from the get-go has also helped. but help me here, how does one embrace uncertainty well? this is not rhetorical. if anyone has a helpful suggestion, please comment. I know some people just handle uncertainty better because they don't by nature splice every thought in their mind to millions of instances, so if you're one of those people, give me something more than, don't think about it so much.

thanks for listening,
trying not to wring my hands in the midst of uncertainty,
deb.

nervous

2011-08-21T22:14:00.000-03:00

we haven't gone through our normal routine for 3 months now. normal as in my husband working full-time in a downtown office, and myself working part-time hours from home while full-time mothering mischaela. while we were overseas, my husband would be out doing some work, but his hours were less structured and my responsibilities were much simpler. since returning, we've been vacationing and enjoying the luxury of having each other around to accomplish tasks around the house, tag teaming naps, and relaying errands. mischaela has had attention available to her almost every minute of every day for the past 3 months. my husband and I saw each other constantly. we had housekeeping for 7 weeks. this is going to be a shock to my system. I can't help it, worst case scenarios are already racing through my mind of how this return to routine will proceed, and there's a lot of crying being anticipated. from all parties involved.

perhaps one of the greatest concerns I have is how well I'll live out my desires to keep a healthier rhythm for me and my family. all of me wants to approach returning to a new routine with courage and resolve, but part of me knows my people pleasing over achieving pride filled tendencies will be bullying its way to the front lines. it's trying to incorporate fresher perspectives into my life, but realizing my life is soon going to involve more people that I need to answer to, and knowing that implementing new changes will be in direct opposition of the easy, familiar, old way.

bracing myself for tomorrow. and reminding myself to embrace gratitude.

last

2011-08-19T14:13:00.002-03:00

today is the last day of our vacation. I don't think I'm ready for it to end.

pickings

2011-08-15T21:35:00.001-03:00

with my mother-in-law stopping by for a quick visit, we planned a blueberry picking day trip today. we love blueberry season here. it's the best u-pick experience in my opinion. no pits like cherries, no crouching in the beating sun like strawberries, no thorns like blackberries and raspberries, can cram lots into one's tummy, unlike apples, peaches, pears, and other such larger fruit, it really is perfect. and if you recall, we pretty much do this every year.

we parked mischaela in her stroller right into the blueberry bushes again and she loved it.

but being mobile and all, she asked to walk and proceeded to ditch the berry picking and opted for ripping off dandelion petals for me instead.

mischaela, the blueberry bushes are behind you.

mama's got two boxes to fill.

reality: my husband and my mom-in-law did all the hard labour while mischaela picked flowers and I took pictures. life's pretty grand.

stillness

2011-08-10T20:11:00.001-03:00

near the beginning of our adventure overseas, I was struggling. a lot. it was the sickness, the challenging environment, the fears, the number of weeks left that punched me in the gut and spat in my face. I remember fighting to persevere, to seek joy, to find contentment, to live in faith that we didn't travel halfway around the world to wither and die, but to be a part of Something Greater.

there were probably two times where I entertained the thought of changing plane tickets to return home earlier, one such low point where I even daydreamed about traveling alone, leaving mischaela behind for my husband to take home. she wasn't the problem, I was. it was tough. but slowly, with every shift in attitude, decision to trust, I began to experience joy. each reminder to myself to find a better perspective was slowly followed by a surging sense of expectation and hope.

and all those nights sitting alone in a quiet room turned from longing to be a part of what everyone else was doing, to an opportunity to reflect and experience stillness. stillness that had completely escaped me prior to this trip. stillness that got swallowed by being a full-time mom, part-time employee, niece helping her aunt pack and sell a house to move into her basement, grandchild who's grandmother left her painful disease for heaven, daughter who helplessly watched her mother experience losing her own mother after years of being her primary caretaker. stillness that I knew was missing, but didn't know how to reinstate.

stillness that on those nights alone halfway around the world, took over my frustration and whispered in my heart. stillness that gave me a better perspective on the life we left behind. stillness that I was reminded needed to be incorporated into our every day upon returning home. stillness that helped me accept that I cannot and will not do that ever so illusive everything.

I became firmer in my decision to not increase my work hours, but rather to embrace this unique time I have with mischaela. because work will always be there, but this time I have decided to take with mischaela will not. because being mischaela's primary caretaker is something I think I need to do, and I would like to grow in this capacity. I became clearer in understanding how the twenty four hour clock works, in that, if I take on another responsibility, I will need to remove an existing responsibility, because I cannot do as simple a thing as adding another hour to my life. and my husband and I spoke at length about both of us being more careful to not fry ourselves during the daytime work hours so that in the evenings when we have some family and couple time, we're not exhausted and impatient from the get go. that we'll actually want to converse, grow in our relationship, connect deeper as a family.

I always find myself surprised at the things I discover and learn while away from home. it's not usually what I expect to learn, but always what I need to learn.

waiting

2011-08-03T12:57:00.001-03:00

after a night of reflecting, pondering, and discussing our future with my husband, I was excited to come home to the lingering thunderstorm with the hope of capturing it with my camera. in my pitch black bedroom, with my camera resting on the windowsill set to bulb, I blew through 74 shots in the span of an hour before landing with this photo. I feel lucky to have captured such a moment of sheer power and magnificence. I almost gave up. trying to anticipate lightning is completely unpredictable and when to press the trigger is literally like a shot in the dark. I know lightning is coming, but when it will strike, and whether I'm aligned properly to capturing such a fleeting moment probably describes the jumble of thoughts that occupy my mind. thoughts about family, job, location, involvement, all the big stuff of life. but when the moment strikes and I have readied myself to seize it, it's absolutely breathtaking. and so I wait.

home

2011-08-01T21:36:00.003-03:00

after being away for over two months and hitting five countries, it's good to be home would be a gross understatement. we're on vacation for the next few weeks and I'm incredibly thankful. there is so much to think about and process. as soon as mischaela went to bed our first day home, I packed up half her toys with the lingering intention to sell more, because clearly, she happily entertained herself with a little bottle full of buttons and coins, crayons and a drawing pad, a small selection of stuffed animals, and a few books. seeing how little people live on, and how well mischaela can live on much less, the itch to purge even more has remained. sometimes I wonder if I'm being cruel, but then I remember that I care more about her character than giving her stuff. and there are many other people out there that actually need some of that stuff.

today we went to visit abel's grave marker. my good friend esther requested the visit. my aunt picked some flowers to bring. mischaela loved wandering the grounds.

when it was almost time to go, mischaela came waddling up to abel's grave marker and placed a little rock on top. I asked her if it was a present for abel and she nodded yes.

and I wondered how her view of the world will be impacted by her older brother's life. it's good to be home.

readjustment

2011-07-20T17:03:00.001-03:00

after reliving the hour of 9am three times, we made it to dublin for a short vacation on the way home from our summer in a foreign country.

I brushed my teeth with water straight from the tap and marveled at the luxury of fresh tap water. ate fish and chips. my stomach hugged me for it. fed mischaela berries and she laughed and danced in excitement. stepped out onto the road in plenty of time to avoid getting hit by anything and got pulled back by a local trying to save my reckless life, and was reminded of traffic rules and common obedience that I need to now adhere. sat and listened to the sounds outside and remembered the peace silence brings. went to purchase groceries, by myself, and my heart swelled at the reinstatement of my freedom, and the near extinction of fear.

woke up a couple of times in the early morning to coax mischaela to patiently adjust to jetlag... some things never change.

even after all the challenges I faced while overseas with mischaela, I had mixed feelings about leaving for a slow journey home. for the last half of our time away, we had finally figured out how to manage and even thrive, so I felt I was not yet ready to leave. all that hard work, enjoyed for such a short time. it was also the people that became our community, our family, that made it additionally melancholy to leave. all those people, never will the time passed become reality again.

somebody asked me if I'd ever haul my family overseas to live long-term in a foreign land, and I replied after some thought that I would, if that's what we needed to do. because it would work. and we would figure it out.

but for now, we'll drink fresh water thoughtfully, eat berries joyfully, and appreciate my freedom as a young mother to a little girl deeply.

another

2011-07-12T05:34:00.001-03:00

due to spotty internets, the two posts previously written will hopefully be recovered and posted after I return home and work some techie magic. fingers crossed.

and possibly my last installment of giving readers a visual taste of our surroundings, here are a small collection of snapshots from the past weeks.

another day, another discovery of amazing colour and patterns under the unassuming make shift tarp market.

I really love their intricate attention to detail and lavish adornment on almost anything.

another day, another rickshaw ride. orderly traffic will be a shock, and I'll need to retrain my mind to look right first.

turns out the cutlery and dishes we brought for mischaela was more useful than anticipated.

decked out in patriotism. patriotic only once a year, and only when in foreign countries.

another day, another walk along the shore, slash boat dock, slash laundry drying service.

another day, another load of laundry to wash the stains of monsoon mud down the washroom, slash kitchen, slash laundry room drain.

did I ever tell you about the time when the last egg fell and broke next to the toilet, then the toilet paper roll also fell next to the toilet while I tried to use a few squares to clean the egg up, leaving the whole roll contaminated with raw egg, our dinner empty of protein, and much weeping and gnashing of teeth? yeah. good times.

another day, another downpour.

that poured and poured and poured. from morning til night.

and for you mischaela fans out there, when in rome...

love from halfway across the world.

words

2011-06-28T01:32:00.001-03:00

since the beginning of this journey mischaela has exponentially increased in her vocabulary. something magical happened in her mind right after her 18th month marker. every day brings new words she tries to sound out, new sounds for me to decipher, and new moments for my husband and I to gush over her development. every night I rattle through a list of words to help her practice as I get her ready for bed, and without fail, whenever we get to the animal portion, it goes as follows:

me: mischaela, can you say bird?
mischaela: burh.
me: very good. bird. can you say doggie?
mischaela: whoa whoa!
me: yes, doggie says whoa whoa, but can you say doggie?
mischaela: whoa whoa!
me: ...okay. how about cat? can you say cat?
mischaela: [in a higher pitch and said in a softer tone] maaw.
me: cat says meow, but can you say cat?
mischaela: maaw.
me: right. how about lion?
mischaela: woaw.
me: and sheep?
mischaela: mehhhhh.
me: can you say cow?
mischaela: wooooooooo.
me: moooo, yeah. cow says moo. what about light? can you say light?
mischaela: ai-ight!

and the words that follow the animal section are repeated appropriately. animal section is my favorite part to rattle through with her.

resourcefulness

2011-06-24T12:31:00.001-03:00

we bought a hot plate upon our arrival to our current location with the intention of being able to feed mischaela some gluten-free meals. with our three stomachs lacking the correct germs to make peace with the local cuisine, this hot plate has saved us all from many nights sitting on the porcelain throne of regret. I am so thankful for the hot plate.

it's been an adventure figuring out what ingredients to purchase, how to use them, and how to work with the limitations of a hot plate teetering on a washroom sink. it's been a lesson in resourcefulness and creativity. and how sometimes mischaela lacks the appreciation of such resourcefulness and creativity. ahem.

so here is a recipe from me to you if anyone ever so happens to find themselves in a hotel room with a hot plate, one pot, and some of the following ingredients.

the wrong kind of rice, like a short grain with no stickiness, so I went with a risotto inspired direction. fancy. I put in what I think is one cup. either way, one part rice.

be sure to grab an 18 month old to stick their pudgy hands in for a blessing.

rinse rice. I did not rinse. I was saving our bottled water for more purposeful uses. add 3 cups/parts water, one tbsp chicken stock, and 2 tbsp of butter.

finely chop a small onion. I used our trusty leatherman. lifesaver over the many miles we've travelled.

cut off the kernels of half an ear of corn. fend off 18 month old from eating the corn raw.

toss the chopped onion and kernels of corn into pot of rice mixture. bring pot to boil over hot plate, then reduce temperature. my hot plate is rather fancy and had a congee setting, which I used for the duration of preparing this meal. stir occasionally to ensure the rice doesn't stick to the bottom too much.

meanwhile, dice 2 plum tomatoes. wonder what the safe distance from a toilet to cook is, shrug ones shoulders, move plate slightly closer to the edge of sink and further from open toilet.

when the water has been absorbed, or boiled off to a point where the rice still feels a little soupy, but there is no excess liquid settling at the bottom of the pot, toss in the diced tomatoes.

and finely chopped green onions.

crumble some cheese. mine was uber processed and in triangular wedges because the fancy, unprocessed cheese was four times the price.

sprinkle in the cheese with a pinch of salt, half a tsp of black pepper, a pinch of sugar, and stir. turn off the heat, cover the pot, and wait about ten minutes for the rice to soak up the last bit of liquid.

spoon portions onto eating vessels, we are lucky enough to have some plates. season with a little more salt and pepper if desired, and enjoy.

or if your name rhymes with fishayla, bawl and cry for most of the meal because mommy and daddy decided to make eating a proper meal of dinner on this fine day an issue. ah, children.

I've tried some other combinations as well. the time I added corn and raisins, instead of onions, corn, tomatoes, and green onion, was more popular with the 18 month old who's name rhymes with fishayla, so feel free to be creative.

glimpse

2011-06-22T13:49:00.001-03:00

another glimpse into the beauty around us. when monsoon rains wash all things muddy, the importance of colour and creativity become visual sanity.

any street corner or alleyway can be a family's livelihood. there are many hidden gems to be found here.

ah, the renewal of vibrant colours.

my husband holding onto mischaela in the back of a speeding rickshaw.

our new accommodations have given me the opportunity to cook some food. our stomachs are much happier as a result. this is indeed my washroom sink.

crowded in the back of yet another rickshaw.

mischaela gets her first haircut, compliments of yours truly wielding small safety nail cutting scissors, wiggles, chips, and the confines of a fisher price booster seat. I'd say it was rather successful.

the two loves of my life hamming it up together on father's day.

lesson

2011-06-17T06:09:00.001-03:00

this has been a different experience beyond anything I have ever spent anxious nights sweating about. I have had opportunities in the past to spend months overseas with my husband while we both worked and those all had their challenges of health, culture shock, emotional strain, excitement, triumph, frustration, discovery, wonderment, heartbreak, heart change, but this is my first time overseas as a mother. and I have no idea how to do this.

all the underlying concerns of personal safety, health, well-being has transformed into this walking, sort-of-talking, touching-everything, curious-about-anything people-magnet called little miss mischaela and I am constantly battling fears.

fear that the last sketchy man that leaned in to kiss her left more than just a good intention. fear that the moment I let her out of her carrier for self-exploration all the neighborhood's stray dogs will sniff out her cookie-crumbed fingers and lick them with their ring-wormed, rabies-coated, diseased, DISEASED, tongues. let's not even venture into the thought that a set of stray dog's teeth find their way through her thin skin. fear that the last restaurant that we fed mischaela some lunch from, where upon paying the bill, a rather well-fed rat was sauntering on the edge of the wall, will translate into another ten diapers full of diarrhea and my mind wrought with contingency plan after contingency plan. fear that the knee-deep milky brown water we had to wade through while avoiding unidentified floaties enroute to the grocery store for filtered water will leave us flat and out due to some undetermined sickness depleting us of all energy to care for our baby girl. the fears keep coming every corner I turn.

as a mother, and being one that overthinks, always thinking truly is a curse sometimes, all of this has proved to be a stressful combination outside of my western world bubble. if not stressful for me, definitely for my husband who has to remind me of sanity and optimism, sometimes on a moment by moment basis.

and for whatever reason, I have thus far been sick for a total of two of the three weeks we've been at this. many of those sick days completely immobile in bed under all the blankets available, minus the hours spent on the porcelain throne. and on those immobile days I've found myself lost, discouraged, unsure of how to cope, and feeling incredibly lonely. I keep searching for the reasons that we came up with to take us to this place at this time, often to argue with those reasons and resolve to better judgement next time.

this is not easy. and there are many days I don't think I can make it through another five weeks. and I have no idea how to be a mother here. or at home for that matter, but at least at home I know how to cope. I had my mind prepared for certain aspects but my unreliable health has really wedged a massive rusty wrench into this whole living overseas with a toddler business.

but something unfortunately humbling broke through tonight as I spent yet another night alone and quietly trying not to disturb a slumbering child, while struggling and wrestling with my own issues of surrender. unfortunate because it means this trip wasn't and isn't a mistake, but a new place for me to experience my Comforter and Friend. though I search for CLEAR and OBVIOUS reasons that would ease my doubt and make those bed-ridden hours pass with defined purpose, it's the confusion and lostness that has driven me to a more meaningful place of deeper trust and companionship. strangely, being depleted of all self perpetuated strength gives place for a Greater Comfort to befriend. that even in the midst of all my fears and wanderings, He can break through and still my soul. and from that, I realize I am being made new.

experience

2011-06-10T02:10:00.001-03:00

some sights from afar. pair it with lots of honking.

mix it with lots of sweat.

check out the guy sharpening knives with the grinder operated by the turning of a bicycle wheel.

embrace the rains.

learn new ways of eating.

embrace the rain.

find new ways to play.

mercies

2011-06-09T02:21:00.001-03:00

I still don't know how to handle jetlag with mischaela in a graceful manner. after all our travels together, jetlag is still a wrinkle I don't know how to smooth out. the problem is mostly in my own impatient expectations and my constant annoyance at the existence of time zones. self inflicted problems. I seem to excel in finding those.

we were on day four of our journey and I had probably only slept for no more than two hours at a time, totaling less than four hours per 24 hour day. it was from the lack of sleep from having to hold mischaela during almost all our flights, then trying to keep her from constantly crying while jetlagged, soothing not working, then trying to have her sleep with us, only to invite her to flop on top of me to sleep, then roll off to lay tucked under my arm to sleep, then roll lower until I started to worry she'd fall right off the bed, on and on it went all those long, sleepless nights.

by night four, I had contracted my first bout of diarrhea that brought along its debilitating friends, fever and chills, and we were trying to let mischaela "cry it out". in her sleep pod, right. next. to. our. bed. by hour two, yes, hour one, two, we were totally exhausted. my husband was worried about me, I was freezing and in pain, mischaela was starting to sound hoarse and raspy, and we were both ready to snap. so my husband did what I couldn't do and got up calmly to pick mischaela up, sit on the cold bedroom tile, hold and softly sing to her until she fell asleep.

I lay there feeling frustrated that this is what jetlag had reduced us to, hoping mischaela would finally get her much needed sleep, wishing my husband could sleep, willing my stomach to stop doing flips, attempting to warm myself, trying not to picture a ticket home, trying not to picture a ticket home, trying not to picture a ticket home...

and I whispered to my husband, I feel so discouraged right now. and that's all I could muster. we both shed some tears in exhaustion. mine mostly in bitter defeat, his in empathy and concern. and we remained there, quietly letting mischaela sleep, feeling the emptiness of the moment, wondering when relief would come.

I finally fell asleep. mischaela remained asleep. my husband successfully laid her down between us and also got to sleep. until the morning woke us up and new mercies refreshed our ragged hearts.

that night was perhaps the most discouraging of all nights thus far, and I wanted to write this post to remind myself of a better perspective. that those times come, but they also go. and His mercies are new every morning.

and for all those who are monitoring our health from afar, mischaela is on day three of some antibiotics with no more diarrhea and a return to energetic play times and undisturbed sleep times. I am no longer feverish, keeping more than just bread and Gatorade in, and coaxing my stomach to feel less traumatized by all pastes in shades of yellow. not exactly an easy task given our surroundings.

crazy

2011-06-05T12:07:00.001-03:00

in honor of my husband who dropped whatever he could afford to drop to care for mischaela while I lay in bed battling yet another case of the loose bowels and fever, I snapped this photo at the end of a harried day from the vantage point of groaning in bed.

this was also the day where mischaela would get her round of loose bowels, leaving more than a couple yellow smears on my husband's bed, which then developed into a diaper rash, and while her rash was being aired out, she rounded out the afternoon with a healthy dose of pee, also on my husband's bed. thankfully, we secured some hot water to cook some simple rice noodles for mischaela after we found out our electric kettle was no longer working. and she only cried for 20min after we put her down. a monumental improvement from 2.5 hours of yelling. just another crazy day in a crazy place.

adapting

2011-06-02T15:08:00.001-03:00

the first week here wasn't terrible, but it was challenging. we arrived in our room at 3am, that was about half the size of the one pictured below, still swaying from the hours spent on airplanes, mischaela having eaten nothing but snacks for 24+ hours, all three of us sweaty, and ready for a good, long sleep. tired as I was, there was also a huge sense of accomplishment from surviving the longest trek we've ever taken as a family. we did all fall asleep, relatively quickly, and proceeded to oversleep and miss breakfast completely. it would be the last time we ever slept between the hours of 3am-9am for the next seemingly unending days of jetlag with a small child. that is all I will say about that. for now. not enough time has passed to make it laughable yet.

kindly, we got to switch to a larger room, allowing mischaela to sleep, or rather, bawl, more than 5 inches away from my bedside. pictured below is where we find ourselves now. there's enough space for her little body to piddle around maneuvering carefully between luggages and beds and eating areas and working spaces. it's a tangible reminder that space really is a luxury, especially considering how even larger families live on much less. keeps challenging me to be generous with the space that has been given to me.

and though it looks unsafe, mischaela is strapped into a chair that's tied down to a wide, heavy, low shelf because this prevents her from tipping her light, plastic booster chair backwards during mealtimes. here she is enjoying her meal of rice noodles and soup, the first substantial dinner she ate all week. that's all I'll say about that as well. for now.

week one down. too far away from the finish line to recap what's left. but nonetheless, it will be good. ready for week two. I think.

smiles

2011-06-01T12:16:00.001-03:00

about a week has passed on our journey and this is a quick post to let y'all know we're alive and doing well.

after a 28 hour journey with an eighteen month old over too many time zones, I'd say we've come out on the other side of the globe fairly unscathed. still settling into a routine, which means jetlag, jetlag, jetlag, and upset tummies, but this is our adventure and adventures have bumps and bruises along the way. battle wounds build character and tell great stories.

little miss mischaela is all smiles, when she's not bawling from jetlag, ahem, and pulling out her bag her charms to win the hearts of all those around her. she's a superstar everywhere we go.

so glad we can do this together.

soup

2011-05-23T20:42:00.001-03:00

it seems surreal that 2 weeks ago, my grandma passed away, and that 1 week ago, my aunt moved into our basement. so much has happened. this month has felt more like a year. dag yo, my 30th birthday flew by without me even noticing. no, not really, but I probably have the bags under my eyes that would beg to differ.

I know I've been a little mia on the interwebs and I've deprived mischaela fans of their regular dosage of her antics... so without further ado, she loves noodles in soup.

that huge bowl is not an exaggeration. her little tiny body can pack in that brimming bowl of soup and noodles like it was her death meal.

that huge spoon is, however, an exaggeration, but mostly to reduce the amount of soup spillage over the inches of precarious spoon delivery from bowl to mouth.

but once the soup is gone, noodles are best handled by little fingers.

better yet, go straight to the source.

going, going, gone.

week

2011-05-16T22:41:00.000-03:00

a week ago I left my family behind to help my mom. I got to see the sun. for more than 5 minutes at a time.

this was the day of my grandma's cremation service. a body is simply a body. without life breathing through the veins, she seemed almost unrecognizable.

I have never witnessed a cremation process up until the pressing of the button and subsequently hearing the roaring heat being held back only by a metal door.

I flew home, grabbed my baby girl and husband and hugged them long and hard.

then I switched gears to plan a yard sale.

and we moved my aunt's house vacant.

and we cleaned my aunt's house spotless.

and we jammed the final belongings into the car, then into my basement.

we survived.

and now I have one week left to pack for a two month excursion.

I'm looking forward to my massage tomorrow afternoon. amen.

away

2011-05-11T01:29:00.001-03:00

on sunday, the beginning of our last week of house insanity, that was already headed downhill, didn't quite make the sharp turn at the bottom and was sent careening over a cliff's edge.

for the first time in a long time, I packed my bags and traveled alone. I took a flight to be with my mom for a few days, just me, no husband, no child. it's not the most ideal situation, what with mischaela being sick and clingy and needy, leaving my husband to take time off work to be able to tend to sick, clingy, needy mischaela, me absent for a couple of days in the midst of the last week of house insanity... but there's a reason for the timing and I've been trying to joyfully embrace the circumstances.

there were tears streaming down my face as my husband drove me to the airport after I told him I'd miss him and mischaela. my mind was swirling with uncertainty, not knowing what the next couple of days would hold, for me, or for the two loves of my life I was leaving behind. I kept reminding myself to let it go, let the anxiety and worry go, that I'm not as crucial a piece of the puzzle as I like to think I am, that life will carry on well without my constant attention.

and though there's lots to do and care for where I'm at, there is also a simplicity in having one task: help my mom. my mind can have a mental break from trying to juggle all the elements of my life as a mom, life as a wife, life as a contributor to my team at work, life as a niece helping my aunt sell her house, life as someone who needs to ready my family for a major trip in less than 2 weeks. and though I initially struggled to see the timing in all of this, I am thankful. having a mental break from feeling like every minute of every day was being timed to the last tenth of a second has done my emotional state some much needed good.

here's hoping it translates into a positive attitude for the rest of this week. no, let me rephrase... here's choosing it translates into a positive attitude for the rest of this week.

mothers

2011-05-09T12:59:00.000-03:00

it was already clear my mother's day wouldn't be particularly special this year and I tried to just accept the fact and not let everyone else's cheer and merriment leave me feeling left out. I had a dinner to cook for friends, I had some moving house insanity to care for on behalf of my aunt, and mischaela up and got sick. no break in sight for a while. what was originally planned as a semi-break, wherein my husband would take mischaela with him for the afternoon so I could at least cook in peace, got altered and I had an unimpressed, sick, clingy, whiny baby girl unwilling to let me leave her side, not even for a second without bursting into tears and wrapping herself around my legs. in the midst of all this, my cell phone was lighting up with text messages from people wanting to purchase my aunt's BBQ and would I take less money for it, would I just sell the BBQ cover, how about the clearly marked not included propane tank - would that be for sale... on and on it went. I felt mostly frustrated at the hand I was dealt for a day I was trying not to feel sorry for myself about. very frustrated.

after a frantic prepping of dinner and frazzled responses to phone calls and texts, I managed to bring mischaela back into a calm state when my phone went off twice with two more texts. I sighed. picked up my phone and read:

husband: hey, aunt is coming over now.

oh good, relief.

and then...

my mom: poh poh is gone.

grandma is gone? gone where? and then it hit me. my grandma finally took her journey to heaven. and I stood there. blankly staring at the text. I dialed my mom's cell. her shaky voice answered. she was alone. and I could hear the sorrow in her silence.

with mischaela perched on my hip, dinner bubbling in the oven, my aunt turning into my driveway, I hung up my conversation with my mom and readied myself to break the news to my aunt. just like that my grandma was gone. after waiting so long, that was the day. she got her wish for heaven, and celebrated mother's day free from pain and suffering.

and now mother's day will never be the same.

much love to all those who desperately seek Comfort and Grace on occasions such as these. happy mother's day in memory of the ones we lost.

move

2011-05-08T10:11:00.001-03:00

a couple of weeks ago, it was decided that my aunt's house should be vacated to sell by mid may. which means she will move into our basement by mid may. which means there's a heck of a lot of cleaning to do y'all.

this is what has occupied every spare moment I used to have, which wasn't a whole lot, to pack, organize, sell, throw away, get annoyed at buyers, be impressed with buyers, recycle, free-cycle.

this morning I have a bit of an unexpected breather as little mischaela developed a slight cough a couple of days ago and we thought it best to keep her from infecting all the church nursery babies and give her a chance to recover. and probably due to some fatigue on my part, I'm taking this opportunity to let my body fight back the hints of a cold that have been trying to surface.

moving is crazy. even if the process is stretched out for months or more, moving is always crazy. upheaval, sifting, remembering, forgetting, tossing, keeping, managing, organizing... it takes its toll on one's mind.

this is our last week of house insanity. goal in mind is may 15. may there be grace.

fear

2011-05-03T23:53:00.001-03:00

with each year that passes by and mischaela gets older, the anniversaries of abel's birth and death brings a new level of irrational fear in my heart. the older mischaela gets, and the more time we get to spend together, the deeper the feelings of regret and longing for days I'll never get with abel sting. on good days, mischaela is a reminder of incredible joy and hope. on bad days, her life is a reminder of the lost joy and hope in the life of her older brother. those bad days are full of internal conflict and turmoil. I see her smile and I love how it brings a smile to my soul, but almost just as quickly, a weight of sorrow flattens me. and somehow it turns into fear. fear that this joy will be taken from me. the mind's conversation intended to remind me to seize the moment, threatens me to enjoy else one day, this will be torn from my hands. it's wanting to hold each minute of every day thoughtfully, only to have it spiral into what if I lose her too? and I spend my energies grieving a death that I may never see.

I want to remain suspended in that place where seizing the moment ends with embracing hope.

mama

2011-05-02T00:29:00.000-03:00

for a long time mischaela would not say mommy, mama, or any related variation. a common conversation between the two of us would flow as follows:

me: mischaela, can you say daddy?
mischaela: dadaaa.
me: mischaela, can you say poh poh? (how mischaela calls my mom)
mischaela: po po.
me: good job. yeah, poh poh. what about yeh yeh? (what mischaela calls my husband's dad)
mischaela: yea yea.
me: how about gong gong? (my dad)
mischaela: guh guh. ggggguh....
me: yeah, good job. what about mommy?
mischaela: [pause. looks at me and raises her finger to poke me] DAH!
me: no, mischaela, mommy. can you say mommy?
mischaela: DAH DAH.
me: no, mom-my. or ma ma, can you try ma ma?
mischaela: DAH [walks away laughing to herself]

we've done this at least twice a day for the last 2 months. other people have tried with no success.

a few days ago, I resorted to withholding buttons from mischaela to coax her into trying ma ma. she paused for a long time, weighed her options, pondered her possibilities, then softly managed a ma ma.

opening

2011-04-29T23:42:00.001-03:00

I consider myself an open person.

to a certain extent.

I've come to realize that I go to great lengths to keep the raw wounds of grief under wraps. intellectually, I feel comfortable discussing and dissecting, philosophizing and theorizing, sharing after I've had the chance to digest, process, and conclude. but the messy, uncontrolled, overwhelming moments of utter discouragement and disappointment, I keep to myself and on occasion allow a very, very select few see a glimpse of my internal struggle.

at the core, I'm most uncomfortable with the idea that others feel uncomfortable. that if I display an intense pulsating wave of pain and sadness, often in the form of uncontrollable tears, sobs, and an almost physical collapse of my body, anyone who bears witness to such a scene would undoubtedly, at the very least, shift awkwardly. and then I'd feel the pressure to regain control of myself. then as I'm calming my emotions, I feel I have to begin to form words, sentences, paragraphs to explain why the sudden outburst of emotion, help witnessing parties feel less helpless, tell them I'm really okay. "sorry about that, it's just not easy. I appreciate your understanding" is what I often hear myself saying. so most times, it's just easier to try to keep it together until I can safely release the pain privately.

I don't really know how to invite others into a really private pain.

I know I don't have to.

but I've been struck with something else this time around, and it's that for whatever reason this story has been written in my life. and it is for me to tell.

a week ago, someone asked me to share my journey with abel. and this person wanted me to dig deep into that really vulnerable place to honestly tell my story. and it left a big stinking mess of pain and tears that I had not expected. in my mind, I knew I needed to take this opportunity to tell my story, but everywhere else, I fought to protect this incredibly fragile scar. I didn't want it to reopen, I didn't want it to have to heal again, I didn't want it to make me feel weak, vulnerable, and needy.

and I realized that I need to cling to the Person who will always Restore me, no matter how many times the wound seems to reopen. it's His story. and He's asking me to tell it. and I need to trust that He'll hold me together.

battle

2011-04-15T20:50:00.000-03:00

half the battle with grief is simply that, battling grief.

I often find myself resistant, hardened, and frustrated that grief seems out of control, or completely controlling. my first reaction to a sudden surge of sorrow is relief and then right on relief's heels, impatience. I feel relieved that sorrow comes because it reminds me that I love and I hurt and that I'm alive. but just as quickly, I feel impatient because I want it to pass. life moves forward and I don't want grief to chain me to the ground. and so the battle wages.

and wages.

until I come to a place of acceptance that I need to embrace and let grief run its course. give it some space, some peace, my surrender. and it hurts. but it's necessary. because healing is hard. but to remain unhealed is worse.

and then strangely, when the moment comes for me to let go of the pain, and walk towards the new level of restoration that grief sent me on, I sometimes get stuck. stuck at the edge, unwilling to move forward because I want to coddle the pain, I want to let the pain turn into bitterness, I want to remain wounded and devastated. if I don't, who will remember? is what lures me into that deep pit of despair.

late last night, as I anticipated the next morning where I had to get up, be a loving mother to mischaela, tend to my work, care for my family, I asked for Grace to be able to step off that edge, to soberly look forward, and to embrace the freedom as much as I had embraced the grief.

and I felt like I could breathe again.

remember

2011-04-14T22:30:00.003-03:00

it was a hard day, full of tears, grief inflicted exhaustion, confusion of opposing thoughts and emotions, and a choking pain that couldn't get swallowed no matter how many times I gulped. seeing mischaela pitter around joyfully swinging her arms in her carefree dance made the sorrow sting sharper today, sorrow over the days I'll never get with abel.

there are still days where my world caves in and I can't see beyond the darkness.

but I will not grieve without hope.

in the moments where I am angry that Heaven holds my son, remember the many days of Real Joy that have been given in Restoration. remember the new mornings filled with anticipation. remember the joyful tears of realizing Grace in my healing. remember the freedom of letting go. remember that the One who holds my tears is trustworthy. and He loves me.

"I don't have time to maintain these regrets when I think about the way that He loves us."

happy birthday abel.

life

2011-04-13T23:21:00.000-03:00

what is it about life that will make people drop everything

take vacation

rearrange their schedules

come home from work early

want to skip class

fly miles

to see, to engage, to hold, to cherish?

what is it about life that will make people fear losing it? that even at the end of a full and long life, with the anticipation of Better Things to Come, still cling so dearly, so desperately for another day of painful suffering?

what is it about life that comes so easily to some, is tossed aside by others, is taken away from some, is breathed so painfully by others?

what is it about life that can still devastate the heart of a parent three years after it came and went?

differences

2011-04-04T01:02:00.001-03:00

on the road again with mischaela. this time the trip is only a little over 2 weeks with 2 stops, and includes seeing all immediate family members, so it's pretty much a walk in the park. ahem. biggest differences I've noticed in mischaela's ability to cope have been

much less stranger anxiety, much more friendly to family members
less overwhelmed in the midst of lots of loving and caring people who have been following our family with much concern and support over the many years, but still shy and a little clingy
having a slightly harder time adjusting to sleeping in new environments
loving the attention of familiar faces

we also discovered her love of chinese soups (not medicinal ones, just normal yummy, non-black coloured ones) and her ability to climb stairs. it helps that there are lots of carpeting at my in-laws. we'll see how the transfer of skills apply when we return to our slippery hardwood stairs.

what I love about making a trip like this is intersecting the lives of many old friends. technically they're my husband's old friends, but it always feel like they've adopted me as their old friend as well. it's the unique opportunity to drop in for a short time once a year to catch up, share honestly, encourage freely, and wish there was more time and less distance.

pocket

2011-03-28T22:45:00.000-03:00

then she discovered pockets.

and subsequently began to fill them with buttons.

until her pants started slipping from the constant pocket pushing and weight of buttons.

buttons

2011-03-27T22:56:00.001-03:00

mischaela and I gathered all the loose buttons lying around the house into a glass jar a few days ago. intending to leave it in a drawer upstairs, mischaela overruled my intentions with her cuteness as her little hands held the jar tightly to be brought downstairs to her play area.

while I was getting her a snack, mischaela started to take a couple of buttons at a time and stash them in her musical table's compartment.

back and forth she went. a few buttons at a time. from the glass jar to the table. then back again for some more. her steps quickened with enthusiasm as she delved deeper and deeper into her task.

for 30 minutes, she pittered between the jar and table an uncountable amount of times.

now it's become one of her new favourite activities while she's playing. once the jar is empty, she reverses the sequence and returns buttons, a few at a time, to the jar. I guess that table was worth the $5.99 I paid.

tank

2011-03-25T23:51:00.002-03:00

these 2 photos also survived the purge. actually, my husband was about to chuck 'em but I saved them for the memories.

this was my husband's first car. it was sold to him for $1. he had just graduated, moved halfway across the country, and started working in a humbly paid job. the day after he gained possession of the car, a big snowstorm hit, the first snowstorm of the season actually, and his car had violated a brand new bylaw which stated that all cars needed to be off the streets for plows to efficiently clear all roads. the car got ticketed, towed and impounded, and in the end costed him over $200 to get back.

the car also burned a lot of oil due to its age and decrepitness, and once when he had started the car and left it running in the driveway to warm up while he ran inside to get something, he returned to find a neighbour standing by his car, waiting to lecture him about the environmental hazard that beast of a machine was and how it was contributing to the death of his young children. will somebody please think of the children?

often referred to as the boat, or the tank, it was incredibly comfy inside with royal blue velour bench seating, although soft and cozy, often got soaked on rainy days due to an improper seal around the front windshield. my husband kept black garbage bags for us to sit on during storms and warned me to wear splash pants before picking me up for a date. we were early in our dating relationship, and I guess his thoughtfulness successfully wooed me.

we often got hollered at while barreling down the street, people shouting get that piece of junk off the road, stop killing the environment, road hog, and the like en route to our hot dates to walmart and wendy's.

the dashboard always showed the car in the park gear no matter which direction we were going, the gas gauge would read full until it was completely empty in which case the needle would violently set to yellow light E, and only 5 out of the 20 heating strips worked on the back windshield. in the end, it couldn't pass safety and my husband had to pay a junkyard $40 to accept this piece of work.

we laughed. we cried. it came. it went. we remember.

drawer

2011-03-24T22:39:00.000-03:00

credit to my husband for these photos. mischaela emptying the bottom 2 drawers' contents is a regular occurrence during dinner prep. it keeps her entertained and my hands free to do as I need.

and just to throw it out there to anyone who might have some good suggestions, what could possibly be done to cabinet doors that are no longer being used? I'm thinking of repurposing them, but have yet to find a winning project to tackle. open to ideas.

help

2011-03-24T00:10:00.000-03:00

been trying to teach mischaela how to talk. every day I try to give her a new word and repeat other words she knows. for a while, I've been encouraging her to say mommy, help when she is stuck on something. it usually ends up sounding like peh, peh, PEH!

just these past couple of days, I've been noticing that she has less patience and is easily frustrated when something isn't going the way she wants. I keep reminding her to say help before I give her a hand, but this has only further frustrated her. then it occurred to me to give her an encouraging word instead of offering help and within seconds, she figured her problem out, I cheered her success, and she walked away proudly.

ah, seeking independence and encouragement. got it.

old

2011-03-23T16:35:00.001-03:00

just for fun, here's something that survived the purge. my brother and I about 20 years ago.

my husband was quite liberal with his purge of photos proclaiming we've gone through our embarrassing wedding slide show already, we don't need to keep old awkward photos.

but I couldn't resist. this one is too awesome.

what, you didn't shop in the clearance section of adult sized glasses? ya missed out. and yes, that's an expo '86 shirt in '91.

less

2011-03-19T23:49:00.001-03:00

current side project at home: taking contents of entire basement and simplifying it down to convert our 3rd bedroom into an office that can morph into a guest room when needed. also been paring down and purging like crazy all over the house. making room for another person. no, no, no, I'm not pregnant. just plans for my aunt to move into our basement, and subsequently share our living space with us.

it's feels so great to simplify and discipline oneself to keep less. letting things go is therapeutic.

we went through our closet and edited almost half the contents. feels freeing to walk in and see only clothes I like to wear, clothes I can currently fit into, clothes that convey my reality.

we went through our printed photos and cut 4 albums worth of memories. a number of them our honeymoon fail whale photos from our non-digital cameras while on a bird and whale tour. some photos of people we don't really remember the names of anymore. a small smattering of a certain somebody's ex girlfriends - he's not unwilling, just a little more pack-ratty than yours truly. and doubles. oh, why are there so many doubles? because they were free, that's why.

we went through our book collection and gave away over half our books. and I look at our selection now with much more meaning and appreciation, knowing each one carries chapters of life change for one of us, paragraphs of challenge, sentences that compelled us.

I look forward to the completion of this project. like many things in life, the process is messily insightful, but the end result will be infinitely satisfying.

in a world where there is often too much, I want mischaela to know that less brings gratitude of the important things.

pout

2011-03-18T20:28:00.000-03:00

thanks for sticking around even though I've been more sporadic with my "daily" posts. daily, ha! my full time maternity leave caring for an almost one year old self had high and unrealistic hopes. my husband was away last week and by the end of it all, I was just tired. and it's taken almost a week for me to feel less tired. another round of applause for people who have to solo parent. it's a tough gig.

last week I decided to cut the final nursing feed that mischaela has been indulging in every morning. she definitely doesn't need it, and she wasn't always enthusiastic about nursing, but it was more out of habit, it was part of her morning routine. I didn't have any strong reasons why I wanted to stop, I just thought it was a good time to call it quits and take back my body. and take it back I did. she has only protested once or twice but I think it's more so out of confusion. hey! we had a routine here! what's going on? moving forward is what's going on, baby girl.

now let me ask you some questions mischaela. what does... a bunny do?

yeah, good job! a bunny wriggles its nose.

can you... give mommy a smile?

okay. sure.

what about ... are you stinky stinky?

right. okay then. you finish your blueberries.

we're working on it. and I promise, that's not her default look.

marker

2011-03-10T20:33:00.001-04:00

it's been on my heart to remember and be encouraged from the past years I've spent with my husband. before anyone starts running off with questions and concerns, my husband and I are doing great. we love each other deeply. but it has definitely been one of those seasons where we are putting more effort and energy to keep our relationship growing and healthy. for whatever reason, both of us have a lot on our plates and we're finding the hours slim where we get to just enjoy each other's presence without a million other things edging their way into our thoughts. marriage requires work and commitment, and sometimes it comes easy, and sometimes it takes more force to keep the momentum going.

recently I unpacked the last box from our move. yes, the move that happened 5 years ago. ahem. it was just a box of random things sitting on the floor of our bedroom's closet and I just never took the time to unpack the darn thing. for a box of things that didn't get used for 5 years, I should have just taken the entire package and dropped it off in a donation box, but just to be sure, I sifted through and found a couple of documents that have great sentimental value. one was a letter from mcgill architecture.

in my last year of high school, I only applied to 2 universities, one of which was mcgill, the other was the one in my hometown - the better one. mmmhmm, that's right, I said it. at the time my brother was away in another city studying, and my mother had gone back to school to get her masters. with me entering university, there would be 3 tuitions to pay for on my dad's pastor's salary. which means we didn't have the money for me to study away from home. perhaps it was possible, but I didn't want my parents to carry that additional financial burden. so in my application process I remember asking for Direction and Guidance, and my specific request was for acceptance from mcgill with a scholarship, else I would remain where I was and study close to home.

after months of praying, the day came. I received a thick package with the return address of mcgill admissions office. I inhaled deeply, closed the door to my room, opened the package nervously, read my acceptance letter, read the line that informed me that due to higher than normal volume of applicants, no scholarship could be offered to me at that time. I then stuffed all the information back into the envelope, pushed the entire thing deep underneath my bed, wept in disappointment, silently ate lunch and returned to class that afternoon.

it was a significant marker in my life that taught me how to Trust and choose Obedience. but I didn't choose Joy, I spent the first year in university carrying a burden of bitterness. bitter at the One who withheld mcgill architecture from me.

in my second year of university, I met my husband. he had just moved halfway across the country to work in my hometown. we became friends for a year before we started dating. after a couple years of dating we got married.

I don't know what would have happened if I ended up going to mcgill, but the Direction I was given to stay ended up bringing me to one of the best things that has ever happened in my life.

a couple of years into our marriage, we were helping my parents clean out the house to prepare for their move when my mom found an old fax. like, shiny thin curly fax paper old. it was an offer for my dad to pastor a church in my husband's hometown dated years and years ago. if my dad had accepted, my husband and I potentially could have been childhood friends.

life's fascinating.

the mcgill letter serves as a marker in my life. a marker of learning how to Trust. a marker of what could have been, but what Better resulted. a marker that changed the projection of my life. a marker that pointed me to meet my husband.

experiment

2011-03-09T23:57:00.000-04:00

this morning I gave mischaela a pep talk to let her know that mommy was giving her 1 hour of quiet time in her crib. that she didn't have to go to sleep if she wasn't tired, but that she could play by herself until mommy came and got her. but if you feel tired mischaela, you can go ahead and sleep if you'd like. certain that she'd stay up and babble and play with her stuffed friends like she's been doing during most of her first nap this past week, I left the room and proceeded to get a little bit of work done. it was day one of my experiment to see if she was ready to go from 2 naps to 1. she remained quiet. for an hour. I crept into her room to check on her state only to find her completely knocked out and snoring softly. I let her sleep. returned an hour later and ended up having to wake her.

expecting her to probably play for most of her second nap as she's also been doing for the past week, I again put her down after lunch and told her it was nap time. again, she was immediately quiet and I didn't hear from her for another 2 hours.

I thought back to my first interaction with her this morning which included her pointing to my mouth, to her mouth, my teeth, her teeth, me feeling her gums for coming teeth only to find the tip of her first molar poking out, and me exclaiming, oh mischaela! you have a big tooth in the back. good job. I guess it was teething that was keeping her from sleeping as she usually would during this past week's nap times. and I guess she's not a 1 nap kid yet. phew.

thankful I don't have to rework my schedule just yet.

does the constant guess work with children ever go away? no? didn't think so. too bad.

lower

2011-03-08T19:39:00.003-04:00

sometime during her second nap, mischaela got up in her crib and reached high enough to dial her room's thermostat to the max temperature. by the time I went to get her up, her face was flushed, her hair was sweaty, and the room felt like the sun. no wonder she wasn't sleeping well for the last little while.

in the process of lowering the crib mattress, I realized after much confusion and slight frustration that this old crib was a little crickety and required some forceful persuasion to free up the proper mechanism. starting to sweat myself, due to inferno room, physical exertion, and emotional heat from frustration, I kept flipping between forcing the mechanism to release the mattress, and consulting the instructions, before it became clear that the crib had been improperly assembled.

back to the task at hand, this time mischaela armed with lots of snacks, and myself armed with proper dismantling tools, I ended up taking apart most of the crib before finally being able to lower the mattress, to the lowest. setting. with the crib assembled the proper way, my forehead sweaty, and mischaela excited to check out the latest adjustments, we finished setting up her bed the way it used to be.

later on, mischaela poop got on my hand, my own stomach turned on me, and dinner got made.

she started giggling and laughing when I high-fived her during dinner. thanks mischaela. I needed that.

also, I miss my husband.

side note: some may notice that the latest photos are directly linked to my flickr page. this is solely due to my blog image storage being maxed out and me only wanting to pay for one thing to store my images online. I did however, change my flickr permissions so that anyone can download the images, or rather, my mother-in-law can download the pictures of mischaela.

today

2011-03-07T22:43:00.000-04:00

today I threw dinner plans out the window and took mischaela out to the mall where we shared a food court meal. it's a luxury I don't usually get to indulge in with my husband's work schedule, but since he wasn't home for dinner tonight, mischaela and I got to hang out and enjoy each other's company without the busyness of cooking looming over our heads.

today mischaela started bawling after I told her daddy loves her right before putting her down for the night. she hadn't seen him all day. tears welled up in my eyes as I tried to comfort her, telling her that she would see daddy soon enough.

today I started pulling together all the posts I have written in the past about abel to be pieced together for a page on this blog. various people have asked if something like this existed and it's been on my mind to do this for a while, I just haven't given myself the time to work on it. reading old posts are emotional. not necessarily sad, just emotional.

today I didn't do any dishes. I think I'm going to pay for this tomorrow.

knapsack

2011-03-02T22:30:00.003-04:00

it's only been these last couple of days that I've realized mischaela has been saying this and that for a while now. it sounds like dis and dat, but I finally clued in when she kept saying dis, dis, dis, in response to my question, what is this? and when I asked what? what is that? she said dat, dat.

this?
dis!
that?
dat!

well that's one way around naming specifics because technically this and that would sufficiently answer almost every question I ask her.

here she is, ready for academia in a totoro knapsack.

crawl

2011-03-01T23:55:00.000-04:00

just a glimpse into some after-dinner play between mischaela and my husband. she was originally walking around, but got distracted with her toy in the kitchen causing her to slump into a sitting position, so when my husband called for her to find daddy, she excitedly crawled to find him. it was the first time she's ever crawled so efficiently. she never crawled as a baby. and still prefers to get up from a seated position by climbing up on mommy or daddy. what a silly little girl.

nap

2011-02-28T21:54:00.001-04:00

after I woke mischaela up from her afternoon nap, I went to open the blinds and put mischaela down on my bed for a quick diaper change. mischaela still groggy from her sleep, let out a few sad and fading cries. I held her lower body gently asking her what was wrong. she pittered out and before I knew it she fell back asleep, my hands still resting around her ribcage. I paused, watched her fall back asleep, and remembered the times I got to sleep with her when she was a newborn. I kept my arms wrapped around her little body, laid my head on her teddy bear beside her, and took in the moment, giving my body and brain some stillness, dozing between watching her and allowing myself some sleep. she slowly opened her eyes 15 minutes later to see me lying next to her, poked my nose with her pudgy finger, and let out a low chuckle.

safe

2011-02-26T23:54:00.000-04:00

armed with her aerius allergy medication, a car for a possible fast ride to the hospital, and her epipen, I decided that we'd cautiously introduce other potentially problematic foods into mischaela's diet in the hopes that she will not get a reaction and we can generally worry less about her dietary risks. I don't endorse this way of doing things at all, but because we aren't slotted for another visit to the uber busy allergy doctors until I don't know when, and we have a fairly significant trip coming up where I'm slightly on edge about how mischaela will tolerate the foods half way around the world, I figured it'd be "safest" to figure this out while we're home, and everything is familiar, and we know what we're keeping an eye out for, exactly what to do, where to go, how to handle a reaction, etc.

thankfully we can cross almonds and peanuts off the list. no reaction. except that she loves peanut butter.

sunny

2011-02-24T22:37:00.000-04:00

we've been slowly giving our living room a decor update. it's been a project in the making for many months now. this week our new photo enlargements came in the mail and today mischaela and I switched out old photos for new ones. after taking down and changing 5 frames for the 5 new photos, I stopped. mischaela promptly marched over to the wall where the remaining old photos and frames were left untouched, and pointed eagerly for me to take those down too. I told her we had no more photos to put up for now. she quietly returned to piddling around holding onto her crayons while I cleaned up.

when my husband came home, she led him quickly to see the project we had accomplished, giving him a proud smile as he admired the work.

this kid. dang, my heart hurts with joy.

creativity

2011-02-23T23:50:00.000-04:00

lately I've been recognizing many areas in my life where I see yellow warning flags of physical, mental and emotional tiredness setting in. not just an o, I feel a little tired, but I'm sure sleeping in will help. but more like a constant tiredness that only accumulates rather than dissipating. the kind that sinks in below the skin to the core of my being. flags like wanting to crash after putting mischaela down for the night, every single night. or being completely weighed down by that one additional simple request leading me down the path of pressure, expectations, worry, stress, ah! or feeling too overwhelmed with trying to keep up with life's pace that I begin to avoid and ignore anything and anybody.

for a long time, I had thought the best way to address this issue was to buckle down and just work harder. push, push, push. turn aside from fun things, don't waste time with things that won't give me a check mark on my to-do list, put every last second into making it work. but after many years of running on gas fumes, it finally hit hard that to truly recharge, I needed to figure out ways I could satisfy my emotional drain, not just my physical and mental demands. things like having good, quality conversations with someone that energizes me, doing something creative, journaling, or reading a good book somehow hold the mysterious key to keeping me emotionally stable in an incredibly demanding time. and the more drain I feel, the more I should work to refill my emotional tank, not less.

this I know, but this I have not been doing.

in the name of not having time or energy, I had let many creative ideas ferment in my mind, while plugging away at all the things that need seemingly more immediate attention... until I arrived at the point where I could barely form thoughts, phrases, words to figure out what went wrong and what I could do to properly redirect. I had emotionally constipated myself. and it was really uncomfortable.

a couple of nights ago, after some conflict, then resolution - coincidentally about date nights, my husband suggested we paint together for this week's date night. I affirmed that it was a good idea.

and when I actually started to put paint on canvas, something incredibly strange and fascinating began to happen: I started to feel recharged. I spent the next several hours working out the idea in my head and by the time I had to set my brush down, I felt like the fog in my mind had been lifted, emotional plug released. no task got accomplished, no hours got added to my day, no projects got completed, but somehow, having been carried by Creativity, I suddenly had enough to keep me going.

and today, I picked up my camera again.

intense

2011-02-21T20:31:00.002-04:00

I haven't quite found the words to describe what's lately been going on in my head. or perhaps it's more accurate to say, I've got too many words, and too many ways to say it, so I'm left lost for the right way to express myself.

the intensity of life is leaving me breathless.

it's one of those good, but hard times. every hour of every day seems to be filled to the brim, and yet I'm still straggling at the back of the pack. the opposing thoughts of keep pushing, you'll get there and will you just relax a little, woman? make me a little seasick as these thoughts toss me around like I'm a sinking dingy in a raging storm. I keep reminding myself are you alive? yes. are you sheltered? yes. are you clothed? yes. are you fed? yes. is your husband or child lacking in any of the above? no. then it's been a good day. I wish I could simply live in that truth. and remain there.

it's the will we have enough for then? will we be safe there? what if we don't this? what if she that? that strains my soul. and then ripples into every other aspect of my life. a marriage requires affection and attention. parenthood requires affection and attention. being a contributing member of society requires affection and attention. what is the source of all this affection and attention? I don't think I've been tapping into the Right One.

day

2011-02-15T23:28:00.000-04:00

for the first time in over 14 months, I got more than 4 hours to myself, unattached to a child, unaware of said child's moment by moment activities. my husband gifted me with a work day's worth of time to spend time reflecting, reading, journaling, sifting through thoughts, considering change, surrendering fears. there were a lot of things zipping through my hyperactive mind. void of constantly considering the next move of a child's day, thoughts and ideas flew through my brain at the same rapid rate. the sheer volume of thoughts almost flattened me. but it was an incredibly humbling, encouraging, and meaningful day. I will work to be more eloquent in my description of what happened beyond it was good.

I am thankful for the opportunity. thankful for the space to think. thankful for being able to read books that make my heart beat and bleed. thankful for the encouragement to face some fears I've been avoiding. thankful for a clearer picture of how to walk through this season of my life. thankful Someone is constantly, persistently, lovingly present.

befriending depression

2011-02-14T23:59:00.001-04:00

I wrote this a while ago and I saved it as a draft as I stepped away and let some thoughts sink. then as I read this post again, I was reminded why I felt compelled to write this in the first place, to help me process walking alongside someone battling depression, and to appeal to others who may have traveled a similar path, on either side, for guidance and encouragement.

a close friend just e-mailed me to tell me she has depression.

I sat there re-reading the e-mail, trying to make sense of it all. how could this happen? what happened? didn't she see? couldn't she stop it? didn't I see? couldn't I stop it? and I felt frustrated. frustrated that she is far away. frustrated that I can't be there. frustrated that if I had been there, things could have been different. and then this surging sense of anger surprised me. I suddenly went from frustrated to angry. angry that this was happening. angry that she is facing depression. angry that she, in her depression, alienated herself from many people, from me. angry that she didn't see the symptoms sooner. angry that she didn't stop it. then I became angry at depression. didn't it know there's a lot going on already? didn't it know that we don't have the time or energy to deal with this? didn't it know that it's not welcome here?

I felt like a fool. thinking and feeling these hot emotions, not knowing what to do, judging thoughts filling my mind, becoming exasperated... at the heart of it all, I was feeling utterly lost. feeling blindsided by this overwhelming reality of depression in my friend's life. fearing that she's really sick. fearing depression will forever define her. fearing that depression is contagious. fearing the unspeakable. fearing that I'll lose her.

and the anger came back. indignant. no! depression, you can't have her. you won't. she's not for you to take. leave her alone. leave all of us alone.

all the while, the e-mail stared back at me, with words asking for grace, asking for support, asking for companionship smacking me in the face over and over again. all I can feel is my lack of grace. my lack of willingness to refrain from judgment. my lack of understanding in how to be a support. my lack of desire to be a companion to depression.

and I felt like the most ridiculous hypocrite.

in my darkest moments of grief, all I longed for were those identical things, grace, support, companionship, and when given the opportunity to give that to others, to someone I love deeply, I immediately returned with punishment, contempt, and abandonment.

depression is my friend's socially awkward relative. and I need to befriend this socially awkward relative. because I love her. because depression won't take her. because depression will be her mentor. because depression will be my teacher. because she will know Grace through this.

table

2011-02-14T22:03:00.000-04:00

went to a local thrift store looking for a little stool and maybe some crayons for mischaela. new crayons are clearly too expensive. ahem. I was just wondering if people would get rid of nice unused boxes of crayons since I was going there anyway for a stool. turns out they do. and I scored a nice new box for $0.69.

after acquiring a nice wooden stool for $3, mischaela caught a glimpse of a musical table and she emphatically kept pointing and saying dow! dow! dow! I think she meant down. I let her down and watched her press buttons, flip switches with much enthusiasm. no sounds came out, but it didn't seem to matter, she found her meaning in life as she knew it. after a few minutes, I told her it was time to go home and in her babble she started to plead with me to take this home with her. I paused and debated, evaluating her attachment, unwilling to shell out money for a thing that will just get moderately played with and then overlooked until I resell online. with one tiny mischaela hand grasped around my pant leg, and the other clinging to the table, she squeezed my heart caving me in and down searching for the price tag. $5.99. well. all right then. I flipped the switch to make sure it made some sounds and it did, so we dragged this bulky toy into our shopping cart and headed for the check out counter.

from discovery to home, mischaela grunted and struggled to keep all limbs attached to this table, letting out intermittent protests from the confines of her car seat. after reaching home, I battled to quickly but thoroughly toothbrush clean this very forgotten table with mischaela climbing all over me to get full access to her little piece of heaven. I flipped the switch on after I finished my final wipe down. it sounded choppy. lights randomly flashed. some words came out loudly. some barely discernible through the static. it was $5.99 deb, seriously. she didn't even care that it didn't have sounds or lights.

after we put mischaela down for the night, I couldn't resist the pull to see if I could fiddle and fix the sound problem of this table. after unscrewing all 20 screws, I checked all the connections, wiggled some wires, shone a flashlight on the whachamacallitgreenboardwithresistorsandsuch, then flipped the switch back and forth, trying to remember my grade 12 physics labs. it was $5.99 deb. seriously. she didn't even care that it didn't have sounds or lights. I sat and pondered, gently prodding wires and flipping switches.

then I noticed that the lights and sounds worked smoother when I flipped it to the softer setting.

interesting.

then.

and only then.

I unscrewed the battery cover. replaced the batteries. flipped the switch on. fiddled with the buttons and features of the table as music and lights came blaring back into my happy ears. my husband looked up from his e-mailing in amazement and exclaimed deb! you fixed it! what did you do? and in the tune of the abc that was bopping from the table I sang, I changed the battery.

as I screwed the table back together and placed the battery cover on, I noticed a factory note engraved in the plastic that read: replace batteries when sounds play slowly or distort, or when unit works erratically.

I never said always thinking was a good thing.

definitely

2011-02-13T23:22:00.000-04:00

definitely down with a cold. definitely didn't like nursery this morning. definitely cried so hard she puked a little while kind, patient, SAFE people tried to console her. definitely got nervous every time my husband or I walked a couple of steps too far from her after nursery torture was over. definitely gave her some blackberries to console her once we arrived home. definitely still melt my heart cute.

and definitely growing hair too long to sustain her awesome fauxhawk. sorry mischaela fans, her hair is waving left.

cookies

2011-02-12T22:01:00.001-04:00

the foundation recipe for this gluten-free cookie was found here, but I added a few ingredients to up the nutritional value and aside from that slight grainy feel that can't be avoided when baking with gluten-free flours, I think these cookies are actually better than wheat cased cookies. they are really soft and chewy.

gluten-free monster cookies

3/4 cup butter, softened
1 cup lightly packed brown sugar
1/4 cup white sugar
1 tsp vanilla
1 egg (or 1/4 cup egg substitute)
1 1/4 cup white rice flour
1/2 cup brown rice flour
1/4 cup corn starch
1/4 cup tapioca starch
1 heaping tsp baking powder
1 scant tsp baking soda
dash of salt
1/2 cup instant oats
1/4 cup semisweet chocolate chips
1/4 cup raisins

beat butter in a medium bowl until fluffy. beat in brown and white sugar until well combined. add vanilla and egg, mix. in a separate bowl, stir white and brown rice, corn and tapioca starch, baking powder, baking soda and salt. stir in flour mixture with butter mixture. fold in the oats, chocolate chips and raisins (can add nuts here if you'd like).

put batter into refrigerator for 15-20 min. preheat oven to 375 degree F. spoon 1-inch balls of cookie dough onto cookie trays lined with parchment paper. give each cookie lots of space as these will spread more than wheat based cookies. bake for 6-8 min until golden brown. let cookies cool on tray for 10 min before removing them from tray to cool completely. if you try to move them too early, they'll crumble really easily.

comfort

2011-02-11T23:40:00.000-04:00

somebody who's name starts with an m and rhymes with ishayla has been rather cranky these past couple of days. a combination of lots of teething and the onset of a cold I think. every time I get her from a nap, she's pointing to her mouth, sometimes to her teeth, sometimes deep inside her mouth. I think she's telling me that her gums hurt and that her throat feels sore. thankful for nap time, bed time, tylenol, and being able to snuggle with my baby girl because that's what comforts her the most.

time

2011-02-10T23:49:00.001-04:00

when real time 45 min feels like 10 min, great conversation has ensued. but when I can't remember what the heck I even said for those 45 min, it means I should go to bed earlier. thankful for losing track of time.

banana

2011-02-09T21:00:00.002-04:00

not letting gluten-free intimidate me is my game plan for coping with the level of stress I have when I think about our big trip in a little over a few months. the better I can grasp gluten-free here and now, the better we'll handle gluten-free somewhere completely out of our comfort zone... I hope.

and I hope these recipes will help any other people out there who are dancing gluten-free.

I tweaked the carrot muffin recipe and hoped that a moist banana bread would pop magically out of the oven, and it did!

banana bread

3 medium bananas, ripe and mashed
1 egg, beaten
1/2 cup sugar
3/4 cup vegetable oil
3 tbsp plain yogurt
1/2 tsp vanilla
1 cup rice flour
1/2 cup tapioca starch (also known as tapioca flour)
1 heaping tsp baking powder
1/2 tsp baking soda
dash of salt
1/2 cup raisins, soaked in boiled hot water for 10 min to soften, then drained; or 1/2 cup chocolate chips if raisins give you nightmares, wuss.

in a medium bowl mix bananas, egg, sugar, oil, yogurt and vanilla until combined. in a separate bowl, mix flour, starch, baking powder, baking soda and salt. add flour mixture to banana mixture in 3 batches, folding in until combined after each addition. fold in raisins (or chocolate chips, or even nuts if you're into that sort of thing). pour batter into greased medium loaf pan. bake in a 350 degree F oven for 30-40 min until toothpick comes out clean when poked into the center of the banana bread.

frame

2011-02-08T23:45:00.001-04:00

my husband and I got to spend the evening together on a date. together. outside. it's been a long time since we've been able to do that. so it's worth noting. we had a quiet dinner together, then armed with our camera gear, our heavy duty tripod, and some props, we slopped around by the shore taking some photos. he was very patient with the test shots and my light adjustments while the wind blew around him and his slush submerged feet got more and more wet and cold. o the things we I make him do for a good shot. we warmed up later over some hot drinks and good conversation. I love having fun with my husband.

outing

2011-02-07T21:37:00.000-04:00

for a high self motivator like myself, working from home has its pitfall in spilling over to just doing this one more thing every moment I look at my laptop. which is often. and when mischaela is awake and we're doing stuff together, it's hard not to keep thinking about what needs to happen over there and who I need to respond to soon. I don't compartmentalize very well. I blame the double X chromosome.

removing myself from the presence of my laptop has helped a lot in switching from work to mommy mode. and whenever the roads are clear enough, we have a little outing. today, we I went for a leisurely snowy hike with mischaela perched on my back in her new carrier. she ate some snow. we joyfully watched dogs run by. I moved her close enough to feel the rough texture of tree bark. we imitated the bird sounds we heard. every time she saw the big frozen pond, she started laughing. it was the refreshing break we needed.

progress

2011-02-06T23:17:00.000-04:00

last week an incredibly generous friend endured the tears of a heartbroken mischaela after we dropped her off at our church nursery. this friend took care to bring her out of our ear shot so my husband and I actually sat through the whole service thinking mischaela was perfectly happy. when I went to get her after everything was all said and done, turned out she had just managed to stop crying 10 minutes ago. I felt so apologetic, but our friend graciously waved my guilt and affirmed that all he cared was that we got a chance to sit through a whole service without worrying about mischaela. I was so grateful our friend was so willing to serve our family in such a way.

today, we weren't sure how nursery would go down, but after warning the workers that she'd probably cry and that we were available to be called when needed, we handed a worried mischaela over and hoped for the best. she did indeed cry, but managed to calm down within a few minutes. progress!

I am really thankful for people who will endure a child's protest and tears because parents need to be elsewhere for the time being.

market

2011-02-05T21:03:00.001-04:00

we woke up early this morning and managed to get ourselves out the door within 30 min so we could spend some time walking our local farmer's market together. it was an incredibly beautiful and crisp sunny morning. the scents of fresh bread, brewing coffee, blooming flowers, unearthed vegetables mixed with the hum of chatter and joyful notes from an accordion wrapped me like a warm blanket. the market was just starting to get a little crowded when we were ready to leave.

I remember having a dream about 6 years ago where the only scene that planted in my mind was one where my husband was walking in front of me, squeezing his way between people, passing stalls at a farmer's market, carrying a little girl on his back in a carrier. I woke up from that dream feeling a surreal sense of peace, wondering if it was dream of comfort, fresh on the heels of our first pregnancy ending in a miscarriage, wondering if our baby had been a little girl? and now as I recall that dream, I wonder if it was given to me as a reminder of Providence.

tipped

2011-02-04T23:18:00.001-04:00

with guests expected to arrive later this evening, my procrastination got told off by my sense of panic and I decided to make something fun, creme brulee. because I was in a slight state of panic, I did not stop to take process photos or else, I'd be able to share my personal recipe for creme brulee. maybe next time?

after carefully taking the brulees out of the oven, one pan knocked the corner of my counter just slightly, but enough to tip some of the water the brulees had been baking in, into one of the brulees. deciding that would be the one I would eat, since I had measured just enough for 6 servings for our small gathering of 6, I carefully tipped the hot jiggly brulee in the sink to pour out as much water as I could before gravity had its way. successfully, I got almost all the water out. feeling like I had narrowly dodged a silver bullet, I moved swiftly to put the brulee down with the others to further cool. but in my swiftness the dish slipped and...

gravity had its way.

deb, do not swear. do not swear. do not swear.

regaining composure, I spent a few minutes examining the scene, debating what I could possibly do. after some consideration and since I had already decided this one would be for me, I crossed my fingers, hoped I was diligent with my last counter wiping and...

heck yes, I saved it. and I ate it with friends later tonight.

freedom

2011-02-03T20:07:00.000-04:00

one of my favourite ways to destress and clear my head is to go outside. it's quite simple. doesn't have to be an elaborate road trip or an extravagant many-goal oriented errand run. just the sense of freedom is enough for me. after a couple of days holed up at home, opting to stay safe rather than downhill skiing with my car, having a shoveled driveway and clear-ish roads was enough to make my heart sigh of relief. relief that I could step outside and refresh my cluttered mind. freedom is what I needed today and being able to go somewhere meant a lot to me.

snow

2011-02-02T23:00:00.000-04:00

taking a moment out of a stir crazy day to play in the massive amounts of snow, at the base of abel's covered tree. much to mischaela's disappointment, I had to cut it short, partly due to the wind and heavy snow factor, and partly due to the looming dinner preparation factor. it was a good time and a bright spot in our day.

carrot

2011-02-01T22:03:00.006-04:00

I've finally got a fairly good grasp on what gluten-free food to feed mischaela day in and day out, and have been building a collection of foods we can all share in together, but I've been trying to figure out how to increase the variety of selection without breaking our budget. I spent the last few months buying store-bought gluten-free foods to see if mischaela even likes a certain type of texture or flavour to save myself the work of getting all the ingredients, making it all from scratch, only to have her reject my blood, sweat and tears. with all the experimenting and handing over our hard earned cash, I think I have a better sense of what mischaela's taste buds enjoy, so with that, I've plunged myself into making gluten-free goods for this household.

through reading recipe book after recipe book, compliments of the fantastic local library, and sifting through online collections and recommendations, I've tried a few baked goods out. my first attempt was horrible, and on her birthday no less, but steady improvement has been made.

but today, today it was beyond triumphant. adapted from the allergen-free baker's handbook by cybele pascal, she gave me the building blocks, I tweaked with what I had and what would save me money, carrot ginger cupcakes with orange buttercream frosting.

carrot ginger cupcake

2 medium carrots, finely grated
1 tsp fresh ginger, peeled and grated
1 egg
3/4 cup sugar
3/4 cup vegetable oil
3 tbsp plain yogurt
1/2 tsp vanilla
1 cup rice flour
1/2 cup tapioca starch (also known as tapioca flour)
1 heaping tsp baking powder
1/2 tsp baking soda
1/2 tsp cinnamon
dash of salt

orange buttercream frosting

1 cup vegetable shortening
3 cups confectioner's sugar
1/4 cup orange juice
2 tsp orange zest
pinch of salt

first, grate 2 medium sized carrots.

then grate a chunk of fresh, peeled ginger that measures approximately 1 tsp. I like to grate on the floor, more leverage.

add 1 egg (or egg replacement), 3/4 cup sugar, 1/2 tsp vanilla, 3 tbsp plain yogurt, and 3/4 cup vegetable oil. mix until combined.

the cheapest form of gluten-free flour I have found: rice and tapioca flour from the chinese grocery. God bless the chinese. still works out to be a little more expensive than wheat flour, but MUCH cheaper than other fancy-dancy crazy expensive rice flours. if anyone knows where I can buy this y&y rice flour in larger portions, please let me know.

add 1 cup rice flour, 1/2 cup tapioca starch, 1 heaping tsp baking powder, 1/2 tsp baking soda, dash of salt, and 1/2 tsp cinnamon. stir until combined. will look liquidier than the average wheat based cupcake batter.

spoon into muffin tins until about 3/4 full. I used mini-muffin tins to suit mischaela. and due to cheapness, I do not have mini-muffin tin liners, so I just lightly coated them with some non-stick spray. the liquidiness was making me worry a bit at this point, but I decided to push on and just see what happens in the oven.

and what do you know? they rose and looked completely normal after being baked at 350 degrees F for about 20 min. bake until toothpick comes out clean when poked into the center of a cupcake since all ovens are not created equal.

I took a bite out of one when they cooled slightly, to make sure I wasn't going to serve mischaela something awful, and wow, I couldn't even tell they were gluten-free. they were so fluffy and soft and delicious. I was anxious to get her from her nap to let her have a taste.

she was a little cautious at first, taking a short moment to inspect what this new thing was, but after her first bite, it was over. she polished it off and I was so happy with the results, I gave her another one.

there's nothing quite like seeing my kid love something I worked hard to make.

after she went to bed, I gave the icing a whirl. I halved the recipe so only a small portion would get iced and those would mostly be for my husband and I to enjoy.

and enjoy we did!

globe

2011-01-31T20:32:00.000-04:00

it's been an emotionally tough start to the week. that's meant to be a fact, not a complaint. so when I witness the calm of snowfall, I find it comforting. the way the countless snowflakes drifted softly at 12:30am felt like I was momentarily living in a snow globe. and sometimes I wish life could be predictably contained in a tiny glass dome. but for now, I'm thankful for comfort.

cinnamon

2011-01-30T20:33:00.000-04:00

about 30 hours prior, this pan was full and being pulled from a hot oven waiting to be drenched with coffee maple icing. and now, none but a dirty pan soaking in the sink remains.

thankful we got to share these with friends while we hosted people in our house again.

let me implore any breathing human being* out there to make these cinnamon rolls. seriously.

*but only if you aren't on a gluten-free, lactose-free, glucose-free, fructose-free, fat-free, or happiness-free diet.

saturday

2011-01-29T21:56:00.000-04:00

one of my favourite outfits on mischaela. she was sitting on the bottom step waiting for us to get dressed and ready for a fun-filled saturday. between her naps, we went out and ran some errands, walked around and shopped, sat and ate. I love low-key saturdays. is it too early to look forward to the next saturday?

year

2011-01-27T23:35:00.000-04:00

clearly I didn't take this picture today. acknowledged. but I was looking at some old files and noticed this photo was taken almost a year ago. mischaela had her fair share of skin issues for the first 8 months of her life, and particularly so in those first few months. she also scratched herself and lot and we were both apprehensive about wielding a tiny nail clipper to trim her tiny fingernails at the beginning.

a year makes a huge difference in little people.

my husband and I seem to bring up "another child" in conversation more frequently these past few months. it's mostly due to mischaela being a lot more interactive and fun and independent. and not due to our lack of memory of how much I really lack the ability to gracefully survive last trimester pregnancy, and how sleep deprived and exhausted newborns can make us... we've done a good job of frequently reminding ourselves of the newborn reality...

my point is, I was reminded of how incredibly thankful I am that we are where we are as a family when I saw this photo. I'm thankful we experienced that newborn reality together, but I am really grateful that we are where we are now.

but for the sake of not leaving people hanging on the "another child" topic, no, we're not pregnant, no, we still don't sense another child is where we're headed in the near future, but the possibility that another child is in our future is perhaps slightly, SLIGHTLY higher than it was a while ago.

phone

2011-01-26T23:52:00.002-04:00

my husband is on the phone. he is on the phone with his mom. she just returned from a nice trip. she also just read my dizzy post. she wanted to make sure I was feeling better. I am thankful I've got lots of people who care for me. and sometimes I forget that some posts I write will cause some people to worry. sorry. my dizziness dissipated that night and I woke up the next morning feeling normal. I will report my latest health adventures to my doctor. much love to my family members.

tissue

2011-01-25T23:00:00.000-04:00

made these for a baby shower a few months ago and rather than crushing and throwing these away, we decided to cluster them together, and hang them in the middle of our living room. they're tissue paper flower pom poms. and they've taught mischaela what flowers are.

I don't know when we'll take them down.

but they brighten our house and mischaela loves trying to touch them while we hoist her high.

dizzy

2011-01-24T20:16:00.000-04:00

for some strange reason, I woke up today with my head spinning and my body weak. every turn of my head, every change of position threw me into this dizzying twirl causing me to close my eyes wishing it away. my husband promptly took a sick day to stay home and take care of mischaela and I. it was the first time I felt completely free to just remain immobile and rest since having mischaela. I guess all the other times I was sick, there was something else going on, we were somewhere else, my husband was away, my husband had meetings he had to attend, leaving me to suck it up and just do it. but today. today, I rested. and my husband worried why I was so dizzy. but then it dissipated by the evening, so it may have been a case of really low blood pressure.

side note: even when I was carrying a full term child in my womb, with my blood volume doubled, and fluid being retained in every possible last inch of my body, I still managed to shock nurses with how low my blood pressure would measure. a doctor once jokingly asked if I was alive.

thankful for my husband. and I think he was thankful he got a full day to hang out with mischaela. they seemed to be having fun.

pizza

2011-01-23T19:55:00.000-04:00

this is mischaela's first take out pizza. it's gluten free. it cost too much money. it was what we needed on a night when we managed our time poorly leaving us in a pinch with no dinner cooking and 3 hungry people. thankful for people who serve gluten free food.

tutu

2011-01-22T22:15:00.000-04:00

it's never a bad day to wear a tutu while browsing through books. I love the quiet moments of play before mischaela goes down for the night. we're all full, we're all together, we're all piddling around.

mom

2011-01-21T11:41:00.000-04:00

today was my mom's birthday. we skyped her in the morning. mischaela was in the process of feeding them, my mom and my aunt, cheerios through the screen when I took this photo. to say I'm thankful for my mom would be a huge understatement. and as I thought about her today, wishing we were closer to celebrate her life more appropriately, I decided to take a trip down memory lane.

here is a small selection of memories that stick out in my mind when I think about life with my mother.

I can't remember how old I was, but it was a really stormy night and I was young enough to be frightened by loud booms of thunder. my brother and I were sharing half of a tiny room with my grandma, and I woke up to the peals of thunder but soon realized I was the only one awake. trying hopelessly to fall back asleep, I looked out into the dark kitchen through our open door and noticed a figure. my heart skipped a beat, but then as I recognized the figure to be my mom in her pajamas, standing outside the doorway quietly checking on us, I felt comforted. I didn't say anything or move to let her know I was awake, but just knowing that she woke up and got up to make sure we weren't awake and afraid, gave me enough calm to fall back asleep.

when I wasn't quite 10, I remember walking from the church, where we were living at the time, to the park down the street. it was just my mom and I. we were holding hands. but what stands out in my memory was that we were wearing the same t-shirt design, matched with pleated red shorts that had two folds at the cuff. the t-shirt had a knock-off donald duck on it, what can I say, we are chinese to the core. and I took care to wear white socks with my white sneakers that day because my mom was wearing the same combination. what I cared most at that time was being exactly like my mom.

by the time I reached 13 or 14, I started to give my parents some grief. because I was 13 or 14. and there was one incident where this boy who was much older than I, wasn't acting very appropriately towards me. to my complete embarrassment and teenage death, my mom pulled that boy aside one day and told him to stay away from me. I remember feeling so angry, misunderstood, and disrespected, but now when I think back on that time, I would have done the same. and told my husband to polish his shotgun.

when I got over my teenage identity crisis, I remember most fondly our kitchen conversations that would start at 10pm on a saturday night and last until 2am on a sunday morning almost every week for a few years. my mom would come home from choir practice, fix herself a cup of tea, I would settle myself into a kitchen stool and we would weave in and out of conversation until my dad came home late from preparing his sermon for the next day. we talked about everything.

over the past few years, our relationship has changed again. I hope this time around, I'm less selfish and more aware of all that goes into being a mother to a daughter. I wish I could put into words what it has been like for me to see my mom be a grandmother to abel and mischaela, but all that forms is a huge lump in my throat, and grateful tears streaming down my face.

I am really thankful to have a mom like mine. happy birthday mom.

night

2011-01-20T23:51:00.000-04:00

look, I'm outside. at night time. and it's not a photo of mischaela.

for whatever reason, this week I've been taking more opportunities to interact in a more meaningful way than just passing by or exchanging a couple of sentences with people outside of mischaela and my husband. whether it's because I've grown a larger capacity, or mischaela is no longer a needy newborn, or a combination of the two, it feels refreshing to not constantly be stuck in the tiny world of making my little family unit work. for a while, it felt too overwhelming to entertain a lot, to seek out new relationships, to build on existing meaningful ones, without the constant terrible thought of I wonder if I can get free babysitting out of this?

tonight I went out and got to know someone I've wanted to get to know better for a while now. and it was fun. it was meaningful. and I went home feeling recharged. on the way home, I stopped and snapped this shot. thankful for the renewed desires to reengage.

clementine

2011-01-19T22:51:00.001-04:00

today was the best work day, as opposed to weekend day, we've had in a couple of weeks. I felt less overwhelmed with work projects. mischaela napped well. I felt more optimistic that finding a routine was almost at our finger tips. my back pain subsided. mischaela complained less and played happily by herself more while I rushed to make dinner.

side note: pre-dinner time is always dicey because she's hungry, I'm hungry, we're both waiting for my husband to come home from work, I'm juggling dinner, I'm giving mischaela the opportunity to learn how to be independent, we gotta get this over here to do this so we can sit down and make this look like this so we can pick this up and go, go, go. there have been tears during this dicey time, especially day one of me insisting that mischaela learn how to play by herself while I make dinner. it quickly lead to her being relegated to her mat in the living room because she wasn't being cooperative with self-play in the kitchen giving her good reason to cry for 20 minutes finally sobbing on her big stuffed doggie when I managed to get the food all going and check on her. heart break. yes, I damaged her fragile emotional soul, but in exchange she markedly became more resilient and I can now cook in relative peace, knowing she is happily playing, and we are all smiles for daddy when he comes home.

every time I write about potentially damaging mischaela's fragile emotional soul, I feel the need to brace myself for tyrannical extremist motherhood to come breaking down my door and screaming in my face.

all that to say, it was a good day. and we had fun sharing a clementine together at snack time.

cheerios

2011-01-18T10:10:00.001-04:00

I'll try to refrain from posting iphone pictures for my project smile, but when the moment comes and I've got mischaela doing stuff like piling cheerios all over my work space and my skype going off with team members discussing important projects, motherhood tells me to pick up my phone that's sitting next to my computer and capture the scene, instead of ditching it all to get the right lens on my awesome camera, fiddle around with settings, only to capture a toddling child cackling away as she dumps her cheerios on the floor after all the ones off my computer got devoured.

or I guess motherhood could also be saying stop what you're doing and pay attention to your child.

or possibly, get that child out of your work space and let her learn independence.

motherhood can be bossy. and confusing.

this is my life. cheerios on my laptop. motherhood while working.