Duh & Nuh-uhh

Ugh

2011-04-19T18:50:00.000-07:00

I have done it to myself. And all of it is self-inflicted and 100% voluntary to pursue intellectual fulfillment. But can I just say, for the record, that I am loathing, absolutely loathing this exam period. I am particularly loathing the material of a course with the deceivingly benign title of "Partnership Tax." It is a hideous mess of laws that Congress over the years tried to "simplify" and made an even bigger mess of things. This is not like calculus or physics or computer programming -- where I knew that my brain was having some problems grasping the material but the subject matter was logical and gave further credence to my general belief that the natural laws of the universe help point to an intelligent designer of infinite wisdom. The subject matter of Partnership tax is Congress made and is totally f***ed up. I don't think I've ever had nearly as much dread over an exam as this one -- and that includes two bar exams. Ugh. Ugh. Ugh.

There's a huge curve for the course. 20% is passing. 75% is an A. You read that correctly. 20% is passing. But it's little comfort. After all, there is the pesky little matter of my pride.

On a totally unrelated note, Sinjin seems to be a Lady Gaga fan. He often listens to it while riding around with me. But when I played the "leaked" new single, Judas, while we were eating breakfast the other day, he started dancing in his seat and said, "again" when the song was over. He then proceeded to make me replay it 4 more times. I guess I've got a little monster in the making.

The Bag

2011-03-18T08:23:00.000-07:00

Not Including diaper bags, it's the biggest bag I've ever owned. And I clearly appear not to be used to the size, since I've knocked 3 items onto the the floor with it over 2 days. The most recent one was a box of books and cds at a book sale.

The Bag Lady

2011-03-16T19:47:00.000-07:00

I'm no fashionista. Most of my personal aesthetics, whether it be my clothes, shoes, make-up regimen, hair, or whatever, is almost entirely informed by comfort. I think I could contrive to look at least mildly fashionable if I tried, but the comfort consideration reigns supreme. If I wear a non-chunky heel higher than 1 1/2" for longer than 10 minutes, my mind immediately thinks of foot-binding. I started wearing thigh highs instead of regular pantyhose years ago because wearing them would make me think of girdles and corsets. The horror. The horror. So I still wear no make-up, wear draw-string pants, and shuffle around in my crocs when I go to Korea. My aunts used to make suggestions regarding my overall presentation, but they've pretty much given up. Even my cousin who used to lie to me about our supposed destination only to take me clothes shopping merely pats at my hair and shakes her head in disgust when she sees the crocs. Clearly, I am a lost cause.

Despite my cheap streak and overly drawn-out tortured process for making purchases over $50, I have been known to drop a pretty penny on items that were made to maximize comfort. I have a special soft spot for shoes. I have two pairs of battered loafers that have been with me for 8 - 10 years. They were never Christian Louboutins or Jimmy Choos even when they were new, but they cost much more than my usual $50 ceiling since they were made from a pretty well-known German shoe company. And I couldn't believe it myself when I came home with a pair of ballroom dance heels whose price would have made an impression on the more fashionable shoe fetishists because they were so comfortable and I figured I'd just wear them as regular shoes. But for the most part, much of my comfortable gear runs right around my $50 limit. And I sometimes on occasion make an exception with shoes, but it's pretty rare. And I certainly don't care whether they bear a designer label.

Bags, however, are another story. I have a bag complex. It developed during my married life. And my complex makes me a little sad. For it is a mark, however minor it may be, of some sort of damage and pain to my psyche. My inner voice barks: there was a time when you didn't have a bag complex. You were like teflon! So invincible! So, so, SOOOO secure! It all started when I got a bag from my mother-in-law with a designer label early on in our association. Even then, however, I just didn't think that she'd spend that much money on me. So I did some research on the telltale signs of knock-off bags and sure enough, it was not a genuine designer item. I wouldn't have cared if she told me that she bought me a cute knock-off bag, but I interpreted the events to mean that she was trying to pass off a knock-off as the real thing.

Many years later, I confronted her about it. She vehemently denied a duplicitous motive. And I believe her. There are so many things she doesn't bother denying or has played word games about and it is because she is guilty of bad acts, thoughts, or intent. But the damage had been done. I had vowed since that incident that I would only get nice bags for myself. I was worthy of a good bag, dammit, even if my mother-in-law didn't think so (or so went the internal narrative). The Other J has his own bag complex. And even though he knows I believe his mother, he still feels bad about the whole thing and he has a thing for me having only designer bags.

These days, I mostly carry around a diaper bag (non-designer). And was vaguely in the market for a new bag since I predict that I'll be carrying my diaper bag around for a good while still. When I'm vaguely in the market for an item, it can take anywhere from 6 months to 6 years to make a purchase. But I got a $100 coupon from a luxury goods store. And the Other J would prod me regularly on whether I got my new bag yet and hinted darkly about the expiration date on the coupon. When I casually mentioned it to a girlfriend that I wanted to go peruse the store, she came with me. When I didn't see what I wanted, I told her that I was going to go to another branch store 20 minutes away. She volunteered to come with me. I was mystified at the time, but she later said to me: "You've been talking about getting a new bag the entire time I've known you. I didn't think you'd actually get it unless I came with you." So I have a new bag. And I have guilt about how much I paid for it. And it's a light pink, so unlike my usual dowdy, solemn color palette. It's cute. But when I look at it, I know it's the result of a bruised ego and psyche.

I vow to carefully guard my mental health, lest I develop other complexes and spend us out of house and home.

My Twilight Zone

2011-01-05T19:01:00.000-08:00

I had the thought back in the summer when I first joined as I chatted with a very friendly woman who was a "summer member" who had a home at the beach: well . . . how unusual. I like meeting new people and can be sociable enough on occasion, but I'm not exactly what I'd call friendly. But as I got drawn into a conversation with this very toned, older (not sure exactly how much older), very tanned and I mean, very evenly, deeply baked, unnaturally tanned, woman, I really felt like I was having an encounter with an exotic bird. She was so unlike other people I had met in my "normal" life. I was mostly amused and didn't realize at the time that joining a gym would open up a strange, surreal, new world to me -- often making simultaneously uncomfortable, hilarious, flattering, yet mortifying moments for me.

There are different ways I could approach how all this comes about, but I think it's best approached from the dance-based exercise classes angle. I take one straight dance class at the gym, there's a choreography-heavy dance/fitness hybrid class I love, and several times a week, there's a class that's mostly like an aerobics class based on some simple dance based moves and steps. We'll just call this last one fitness trend "W". Now, I like "W" classes because I find it a lot more fun than traditional fitness classes. But there are "W" fanatics who go to every available class, wear "W" gear (tank tops with logos prominently displayed, cargo pants with bizarre strips of long fabric weighted with clips at the end that flare around when you shake your hips and spin), fight for their spot like demons in front of the mirrors in the first row, and go on "W" events and vacations with the "W" founder. Sometimes some of these women come to class late and go straight to the front and make other people make space for them. While I legitimately enjoy "W" classes and attend as many classes as some of the devoted of the devotees, it really just serves as a workout for me and I, probably understandably, don't want to be viewed in the same vein as the "W" fanatics.

But it's hard not to recognize people as the months go by. The same people who like one-type of dance based class go to the other dance-based classes. And over time you chat briefly with your neighbors. And I should note that it's the older ladies who are most friendly towards me and other women my age and younger are generally not as friendly. But whatever. It really was neither here nor there for me.

But something strange started happening. The Other J said that I probably couldn't describe it without coming off sounding "braggy" and I just feel somehow deeply, deeply humiliated to be writing this stuff down . . . but it began as a slow trickle, but it's been happening with some consistency, and it's been getting more lavish lately (adding to my discomfort, mortification, and humiliation). People come up to me and compliment me:

"I just love the way you dance."

"My name is A. I thought I saw you in the Shop Rite parking lot with your husband the other day. I wanted to come up and tell him just how good you are. But of course, he already knows that."

"I love to watch you when we do that song."

"You're really good."

"I've been meaning to tell you for months -- I love the way you dance."

"I would pay to watch you dance."

To this last kind, but misguided compliment-giver, I wanted to say, You should ask for a refund from that show. But I say "thank you" and quickly move on to another topic. I find the compliments and quasi-girl crush like behavior mystifying and embarrassing. And the women who are complimenting me are middle aged to+ women who probably haven't taken a lot of gymnastics classes and did cheerleading (I know, it doesn't fit, but nonetheless, it was a part of my past) in their youth. And I think, really, what an odd, useless thing to be noticed and be complimented about.

And again, I am very mortified about the whole phenomenon. There is a false sense of intimacy that builds from being in a group, seeing the same people over and over, and having the shared experience of doing something together. But really, these women don't know me. Yet that does not stop them from acting upon this false sense of intimacy. I was shocked into immobility fairly recently when a woman, who I like, dubbed me her "dance buddy" and to my horror, hugged me. If you know me, you know I am not a cuddly, huggy sort of person. Ironically, and adding to my sense of penance in this life time, I LOOK like I may be a cuddly, huggy sort of person. But if you know anything about me, you KNOW that I do not hug willy-nilly. As a friend remarked to me, it could have been the basis of a Seinfeld episode: "It was happening to me slo-mo. And I couldn't believe it. It was happening, but I still couldn't believe that she was actually coming in for a hug!" And I can sort of see it. I'm dancing around, all little, with a huge grin plastered to my face. Now, I grin, partially because I am having a good time. But mostly, I grin to disguise the mirror-faced mugging that I automatically pull in front of a mirror. In my mind, the fewer people in the world who make "the face" at each other in front me in silent mockery (ahem, Best Friend and husband), the better.

So I thought maybe the hugging incident was the height of my indignities at My Twilight Zone. But no. Last night, during a "W" class was the worst. One of the "W" instructors had been singling me out lately when a particular song comes on. Let's call her instructor A. And it was A's class. She's very popular and I came in after most people had grabbed a spot. So I was a few rows back. There was another "W" instructor in the class too, let's call her B. And when "my" song came on, instructor A called up instructor B up to lead the class. So I thought I was off the hook. I was terribly, terribly wrong. "Get up here!" She turned to me and bellowed. I shook my head. "I love you with this song! Show them how it's done!" Fight and draw more attention to myself. Or get up there for the song, get it over with, and slink off back to my spot. So I went to the front and did the song. And I have to say, the performer in me doesn't mind the bit of spotlight for the duration of the song. But afterwards. Ugh. There is the obligatory feigned enthusiasm all around, high-fiving instructor B (actually high ten - which somehow makes it seem even worse), getting pats from the front-row "W" girls. I'm not one to high five much either. I thought it was all over when I returned to my spot. Then my "dance buddy" turned around and said, "the girl who was standing next to me left, get up here!" I shake my head no. "Get up here, I'm used to having you next to me!" Fight and draw more attention to myself or just go up. I just went up. Instructor A turns to me and says, "yeah! Stay up here!" Did I say yet that I hate the people who come late and go to the front of the class? I was forced up there, but I think it's essentially the same difference. And some of the "W" devotees were eyeing me with daggers. Ah the gym. The pleasure. The pain (physical soreness). And the mortification. So much mortification.

But I'll be there tomorrow. The one tomorrow is, after all, my favorite dance-based class. But please, please, please, let there be no humiliating, or even awkward, moments.

Birthday Musings

2010-11-30T19:57:00.000-08:00

So I am 36. Whoa. I have long maintained that I looked forward to my 50s. Why? Because by then you are comfortable in your own skin, more financially secure, your kids, if not fully grown, are at least well on their way, and your health is still pretty good. And anecdotally, a lot of women in their 50s seem really happy. Well. I am now closer to 50 than I am to 20. So there is progress, eh?

Taking a moment to indulge in a little self-contemplation, I have found over the years that my sense of freedom is very important to me. So it's a little strange that my choices included marriage and a child. But I've also been a pretty dutiful daughter. And my mom told me in no uncertain terms that I HAD to get married because, while by the time my kids got older it may not matter, that for her, having unmarried marriage-aged children meant that other people looked at you with pity, or felt sorry for you, etc. So I never really considered not getting married. And despite the fact that the Other J and I have lived through the rockiest year of our union, overall, it hasn't been such a bad ride. But I seem to have entered into a stage of late where I have no interest in doing things out of duty or because of any need to please anyone other than me.

Example the First: Going back to school. While in theory, this is all to get me back into the work force, the more important purpose was about stimulating my noggin and getting my life to be more enjoyable.

Example the Second: I stopped going to church. I've been attending non-stop since 3 or 4, despite having a mixed reaction and more than my share of drama throughout the whole experience. I am planning on going back eventually. But it will be when I feel like it, not because I feel guilty or because every time I call my Dad, my Dad's caretaker keeps on prompting him to ask if I've started going to church yet.

Example the Third: I only have been doing the dance-based exercise classes. I feel that it will be better for my fitness if I mix in more weight lifting or circuit training classes. But I'm only going to do what I like. And that's dance baby! I had been telling myself that it seems obnoxious to grab a spot in the front row for dance classes. But I've been doing it. I like being in front of the mirror (even though admitting that to anyone who doesn't know me well enough to be already aware of that tidbit is deeply humiliating). And although I embarrassedly deflect the occasional compliment or two by commenting on how much fun the class is, I am secretly pleased to get the compliment (this too is a humiliating admission).

Example the Fourth: I like this limbo period. I have the intellectual stimulation and challenge to keep my mind busy. But I also have enough time to spend with my son, let my wanderlust direct me as I will on days that I don't have tax law classes, and take all these quasi-dance group exercise classes. Once I finish and get a job, I won't be able to enjoy the luxuries the extra time affords me.

But for the moment, I'm cautiously happy. I think my backyard is beautiful and it gives me peace to contemplate it languidly every day. The dance classes somehow fill my performance craving -- even though I'm really only performing to my own reflection. And the physical activity is good for me. The time devoted to school is challenging, but not overwhelming. And I have enough time away from Sinjin to miss him and yet enjoy a great deal of quality time with him. I have, despite my over-scheduling nature and tendency to over-involve myself into stuff, somehow achieved a measure of balance in my life. It feels as foreign as living in a different country. I feel like I'm Peter Mayle in one of his Provence books. And it feels good. Even though the bad bits in the last year and a half have been truly awful. I got through it and right now, I feel a little zen. Ahh. It must be because I'm closer to 50 than I am to 20. If only I had more close girlfriends nearby. Maybe by my next birthday?

'Tis the Movie Season

2010-11-23T11:16:00.001-08:00

I should be cleaning right now. So it is the perfect time for a new blog entry! And to add insult to injury, I think I'll write about a particularly inane topic. Ever since the arrival of Mr. Sinjin, I have seen very few movies. The past fall, we've watched a couple because we now have regular baby-sitting. When it's a sunk cost due to the class schedule, you stop fretting about how insanely expensive it is to go see a movie with your spouse. I also can work it to go see movies on my own during the day, but nothing really was calling all that strongly to me. But the Oscar bait for November and December seem particularly alluring to me this year. Of course, not everything that I want to see is Oscar bait or have pretensions beyond guilty pleasure. But in no particular order, I want to see:

Harry Potter

Burlesque

The King's Speech

The Kids are All Right (I think this is out on video already)

The Swan

Rabbit Hole

Somewhere

Blue Valentine

Country Strong

Love and Other Drugs

Most of these are being released between now and January. And I've got final exams throughout December. But I've been known to have periods of high movie consumption. The summer before Sinjin was born, the Other J and I pretty much saw every summer blockbuster that came out, including Hell Boy: The Golden Army. We knew that a newborn meant no movies for a while and by the time we were through with Hell Boy, we were ready to take a long break. I'm sure I'll catch some of the list on DVD, but it would be fun if I actually cared about the Oscars this year.

Staycation

2010-11-13T17:05:00.000-08:00

The Other J took a week off from work. But we didn't want to deal with the expense or the energy expenditure of a full-blown vacation to some far off locale. So we mostly stayed local. We did, however, spend a couple of days in Philly (that way I wouldn't have to skip class). We checked out the Franklin Institute, went to our old college haunting grounds -- not that we're trying to pressure Sinjin -- but we'd be delighted if he chose to go there, and stopped by New Hope. For some inexplicable reason, New Hope & I have a long-standing relationship. I wouldn't say it rises to the level of a love-affair. Perhaps a mild affection? We also had a couples massage and visited a friend in NYC to round out our staycation. Here are some pics:

Yes. We're trying to give you ideas.

With Daddy.

With Mommy.

Daddy's favorite shot.

That's right. Get comfortable, real comfortable, in those white chairs.

At the Franklin Institute. Sinjin had a great time, but his Dad had a better time. He insisted on recalling the "highlights" from the museum on our drive back to the hotel and demanding to know what my "highlights" were.

In New Hope, overlooking the Delaware River.

To "Anonymous"

2010-11-05T19:41:00.000-07:00

I thought about naming the post "Dear Anonymous" but it claims an affection that I do not have. Every once in a blue moon, I marvel at the fact that I've been keeping a blog for nearly 5 years now, albeit with varying degrees of posting rates, and start looking back through some of my old posts and comments. Most readers who comment are my friends and have written sweet or encouraging things that really make me feel connected to them, even in some small way. And indeed, that was the reason for me starting the blog in the first place. When I started it, facebook hadn't taken off yet, I was contemplating a move away from D.C., and a bunch of people I knew had their own blogs or were starting one. So I figured that it was some small comfort as I moved far away.

Anyhow, I do get comments, time to time, from non-friends. Usually, it's some random blogger from another country who would like to advertise the presence of their own blog, or spam. Sometimes I get thoughtful messages from true strangers. And the "anonymous" comments I usually get are from friends who don't want to create a blogger account or fear harvesting of personal info from blogger, or such. So imagine my surprise when I was feeling a bit nostalgic, I perused through some older blog posts to see an Anonymous comment that read to the effect of (I don't really recall it all that accurately): "Stop writing about Yoda costumes and how small you are. Nobody cares about stupid stuff."

Hmmm. I don't even think I could find it again if I wanted to. And really, I don't care. But it's my blog and I can write what I want. Even a rebuttal to some snarky "anonymous" commenter from ages ago. Isn't it funny that with absolutely no proof, I immediately think that this commenter is associated with my in-laws somehow? Of course, that's silly. But on the off chance that is in fact the case, I think it just reflects poorly on such person's character. Irrelevance, stupidity, and frivolity are just some of the prerogatives of a personal blogger. So if one is in search of greater meaning, one should not seek them on personal blogs. Move along, nasty anonymous. And to the extent that you went so far to leave me a nasty comment: up yours and may a pox rain upon you -- hee. Cuz it's my blog and I'll write what I want to, I'll write what I want to.

I think I'm relishing my freedom quite a bit these days. I feel I have gained a measure of it back since Sinj has gotten a bit older. And I'm indulging in a juvenile response to a cowardly commenter from a while back -- just because I can. :)

The Witching Hour

2010-10-17T00:08:00.000-07:00

It's 3 AM. Again. Whenever I can't sleep in the middle of the night, it's 3 AM. Might as well get a blog post in. It used to be that I was convinced that there was some deep spiritual significance to this time - that God was waking me up for something urgent and I needed to listen - a la Samuel. But nothing much has happened when I have responded like Samuel over the years, and I accept that it probably has more to do with my circadian rhythm patterns than anything else. Still, there is some sense of expectation when I get up at this time. Since I haven't been praying much during this self-imposed break from church, I've had more exotic responses at this hour.

For instance, during the summer, I had a phase when I would pop in my Lady Gaga CD, crank up the DVD player (in lieu of a stereo) as loud as I dared, and dance around. I mean seriously dance. And I would go through both CDs of my 2 CD volume, prance around with gusto until my calves could bear no more and sweat would pour off of my face. As I gyrated wildly about, I'd fear the presence of a lurking burglar in the back yard - not from fear of safety, but from fear of discovery or having a witness to my bizarro behavior. Why I found dancing to Lady Gaga at 3 AM satisfying, I don't know. But in the same way that Jane, my cat, and I bonded over my late night wanderings, I have become enormously fond of Lady Gaga. Her tunes are catchy and make for good dancing, even at 3 o'clock in the morning. I would expend enough energy to get me back to bed. And as crazy as dancing at 3AM is, it's certainly not as strange as wearing a meat dress to the grammys. Oh Gaga. What a crazy life you lead. I mean, look at what you call yourself. Although I'm more than a little jealous that you have so much passion and focus at such a young age. But I imagine that you're not all that well-adjusted.

However, I've grown out of that Gaga stage and my mind is occupied with why I'm up. I think it has something to do with Sinjin's 2nd birthday. The day before his birthday, I was feeling a little funky. I think it had to do with the mess of the whole extended family situation and me feeling a little sad that I can't make that part of his life idyllic. And in all likelihood, I probably won't ever be providing him with a sibling. So I'm a little eaten up by mom guilt (which I have to say is pretty rare, all things considered). But he's a pretty happy kid and is inclined to be happier than I naturally am, which I'm immensely glad about. And I tell myself that he has a pretty solid life, if placed in a historical or global context. But it must be small comfort at 3 AM because I am still wide awake.

More on School

2010-09-08T09:46:00.000-07:00

There's something really nice about being older and in school. Even in law school, I'd focus intently on my text (like everyone else) whenever the prof would get ready to pick the next victim for the socratic-method-exchange of case studies. While these days I find it hard pressed to find anyone who buys it, I really am, at the core, a rather shy person. So all through school, I would dread being called on.

Now, I just don't care. If I sound stupid, I'm certain there will be someone else who will sound even more stupid on another day. I have a kid. And I'm just so thrilled to be doing something that's not all about diaper changes, or cleaning up, or nose-wiping, or trying to rack my brain for activities that are fun for the little one, but not too much of a logistical nightmare for me. After one's been pooped on and peed on, one just doesn't care about illusory classroom humiliations.

Also, while I was growing up, my Dad was forever bellowing his favorite phrase about education to me: "NOW is the MOST IMPORTANT time in your life!" I heard it in kindergarten, grammar school, junior high, high school, college, and in law school. I didn't realize it quite so much at the time, but unsurprisingly, it had a way of creating too much emotional pressure and angst. With my current endeavor, I'm hoping that I'll leisurely (part-time) finish up in about 2 years and with an improved economy, my specialized tax degree will translate into a job within a reasonable commuting distance from home. But if it doesn't. It doesn't. And this all will have been a rather exotic self-enrichment program. While that would not be the ideal outcome, I certainly don't have the "NOW is the MOST IMPORTANT time" urgency weighing down my psyche.

So I am determined to enjoy it. I absolutely plan on being a nerd about it. But I'm going to savor my nerd-dom. Yes. I sit in the front row. Yes. I participate regularly in class discussion. And yes. I do some unassigned problems from the text because I find it . . . fun.

Tax law probably is not everybody's cup of tea, but there are lots of reasons why it can be interesting. Plus, I can really get on board with it as a practitioner from either side of it. With immigration law (which actually has a lot of similarities with tax law -- so it's no surprise to me that I find both appealing), I felt conflicted on either side of it. I couldn't quite contemplate it from a private practitioner's point of view, because as a rule follower, I don't think I could passionately advocate on behalf of clients, who in all likelihood, broke some sort of immigration law. On the other hand, with the government side, I would sometimes feel like we were devoting too many resources to an ineffective system.

With tax law, I could definitely get on board the government side of things: why should anyone get away with evading tax when everybody else has to pay? But even on the taxpayer side, since Congress made the code so complex, full of holes and ambiguity, it is meant to be a bit of a game. Congress didn't have to opt for that kind of system, but it did. Since it's a game by design, I could get on board to let someone try to play it better. But if I got to choose, I probably would get on the government side with more relish.

First Day

2010-08-23T11:21:00.001-07:00

First day of class. A rite of passage that I thought I had long left behind me. But here I am.

Book bag. Check.

New textbooks. Check. (I bought 4 books for - get this - $417! Unconscionable).

Homework. Check.

Laptop. Check.

Shopping for school supplies. Check. (It was pretty fun).

Now, do I scope out a seat in the front row? My vision hasn't quite stabilized from the eye surgery, so I probably should, but I don't really want to. I'm not THAT nerdy.

Hello Blog

2010-08-09T18:36:00.000-07:00

I must be made for cold climates. I forget what the actual name of the condition is, but some people need to have these artificial lights in climates where you don't get much sun. Otherwise, they get depressed. I think sunny, warm, summer weather has the same effect on me. I suppose it could be just coincidence that upsetting events occur at the beginning of summer, spiraling me into a period of deep funk for the rest of the season.

Anyway, I've spent all of June and July in a funk. I decided to take a break from church for the summer. It's been a long time coming. I probably will take the rest of the calendar year off. Perhaps even the following spring into next summer. I also largely took a break from my mom's group during the past few months. Not only did I not write in my blog, I thought about deleting the whole thing. The Best Friend when I told her I was about to delete, suggested that I just take a little break. I'm such a black and white girl, I immediately thought about deleting and taking a break didn't even occur to me as an option. But of course, now that I am climbing out of my funk, I'm glad that I didn't. So after some hermit like period of not seeing people, not praying, and not even sharing my thoughts on the internet, I did some things to pull myself out of the funk.

First, I joined a gym. The initial appeal was that they had a gorgeous outdoor pool that the family could enjoy during the summer. And we have gone to the pool enough to make it worthwhile. I've never belonged to a gym before. But after trying out the cardio equipment, lifting some weights on my own, and swimming laps in the indoor pool, I've found that I love the group exercise classes. The nerd in me responds very positively to having some sort of "teacher" up in front. I find that despite knowing that it's ridiculous, I push myself harder. After weeks of working out for at least 2 hours a day, I have lost an uninspiring half a pound. But "pregnancy plus twenty", here I come. I figure something has got to give eventually.

Second, I am going back to school. I decided to get a tax LLM. It's likely that I could practice law more easily as a tax specialist than as an immigration specialist in these parts. I was surprised that I could apply during the summer and things moved quickly enough to start taking classes for the fall semester, which will start in less than 2 weeks. Since I'll be going part time, the program should take me 1.5 to 2 years to complete, instead of the the usual year. Hopefully, the economy will be a little better by the time I finish.

I must be feeling better. Less funky. Except for in all the dance-based exercise classes -- hee. And maybe that will translate to regular blog posts again.

A Confession

2010-06-04T07:19:00.000-07:00

I went to see a psychic yesterday. I paid a $100 for the privilege. I think I've talked about my inclination for shamanism, fortune-telling, and the like. But yesterday, I had a bit of a personal crisis. The Other J, probably more sensibly and more productively, talked to our pastor and then followed up with a chat with an old med school buddy. I guess I wanted a feeling of connecting to the spiritual somehow too. But I didn't want to talk to my pastor. Or anybody else from my church for that matter -- simply didn't have the stomach for it. And it saddens me that I am so little invested in my little faith community here that I couldn't come up with one person that I really wanted to talk to. And I know that anything that came out from the mouth of the psychic was hooey. But I blubbered through the session anyway. And oddly, it was enough.

Longing

2010-05-19T06:43:00.000-07:00

I have the music bug again, so says the Other J. I go through phases now and again. Of course, I played flute all through middle and high schools, but it was a joyless process. Out of sheer will and practice, I endeavored in becoming a somewhat accomplished flautist. However, I always seemed to want an alternative musical outlet. In one of my earlier ones, I convinced my parents to buy me a guitar and made painstakingly slow progress on the instrument. Then I went to college and took some guitar lessons and made some more slow progress. But at least I got to the point of being able to accompany myself singing some praise music. In that time period, I also joined an a cappella group and took part in a musical. So I got to express an inherent and undeniable performance bug aspect too.

Law school was a dry period. So were the first few years of living in DC. But eventually the bug hit again and I was presented with another outlet opportunity. Before we get into all that, however, I should say, I am no musical prodigy. Quite brutally, I don't have much musical talent at all. I have a decent voice. If being kind, one could say that it is a better than average one. But I do have musical training from all those years of flute playing. My ear is not that great either. Nonetheless, I get a level of unknown satisfaction when I'm in my "musical bug" phases. In another life, or perhaps my inner self, really beats with a bohemian heart and music is my one small outlet for it. I actually was a pretty good artist as a kid, but it had been wrung out of me for more academic pursuits. Objectively, I had much more natural talent in that area than in music, but while at least through flute I was able to somewhat cultivate whatever little talent I had in that arena, I didn't go back to art. I was never drawn to it. But perhaps it wouldn't have been as frustrating as my arc with music. I've been broken and raw because of it.

Thus the return to my sad little tale where I got to express simultaneously my music and performance bug at a church in DC. I was a part of their worship team. I started out playing guitar for them and also desperately wanted to sing too (backup vocals / harmonies). But the team decided that it needed administrative help in the form of someone who made up the schedules, kept the music and lead sheets organized, sent out new music to people, emailed, change keys and transpose, etc., etc. The worship leader at the time, was not doing these things well and at the nudging of the Other J, I accepted the task (the Other J could not take the level of chaos at the time and would have walked from the team; he was on it too). I organized and straightened things out and put the leadsheets in electronic format. It took hours of downloading from the internet or worse, hours of scanning in of hard copies from songbooks or loose pieces of paper. Transposing of keys to a more comfortable singing pitch. I did it. It was an act of will and of love? But it was certainly not life giving. I had conversations with the worship leader and told her that if I could not do things that were life giving too, I didn't think I could continue doing what I was doing. I was hearing things about how I was a problem -- not treating sensitive music people with the right touch (probably true); was an outsider coming into a group that had been together for years; etc. So the worship leader let me sing a little more and invited me to help her select the song sets for Sunday worship. But then there always would be a "personal bible study" where God would speak to her about songs and she wasn't trying to keep me from the process, blah, blah, blah, and I would smile and say that it was OK. But the truth was, I was disappointed and hurt.

And the crescendo built to a week where the worship leader and the backup worship leader couldn't lead Sunday worship. So I led worship that Sunday and it went fine. But things blew up afterwards. I don't even remember exactly why we met, but the pastor and I met on several occasions about the team and he would convey to me the ways in which I had made mistakes, my friction with the worship leader was coming to a head, and our conversations didn't really result in clear communications, but instead led to a falling out. It's been too long ago to figure things out well. But I'm sure I made mistakes. Pushing too aggressively at making things more efficient, bruising other musicians in the way, and because of the administrative role, somehow there was the air of authority and some of the team members would approach me instead of the leader to air concerns or grievances. And I don't think she liked that. There was a bit of turf war she was having in her own mind, hence her unwillingness to let me help her pick songs, and she would get pretty autocratic about wanting a certain version of a song because she was the worship leader (never mind that there were other arrangements available and it would take me lots of time to transpose and come up with new lead sheets for the version she wanted). Also, the pastor's wife was a team member and I don't think she liked my style, which she leaked to the pastor's ear. He absolutely denied it when I asked about it, but one can tell when one is not particularly liked, and I have had enough drama with the worship leader -- I had asked if I could just drop the organizing and just sing instead and she replied that she had to think about it. It was not an unreasonable response, but at the time, it sounded like a criticism about my voice (it wasn't good enough) and that if she couldn't bleed me for my administrative skills, I was no good to her.

So the Other J and I decided to go to a different church before we moved to CT. A well-meaning third party organized a meeting between all the involved parties in this sordid little mini musical/dramedy. It started with the worship leader and I not saying much. And it could have been over with that. But the organizing third party chastised us and we both started talking a lot, with little grace. I think there was more anger there than anything else and we both said things that we meant to be sheerly hurtful. I said that she and her buddies were more interested in performing rather than worshipping God and that she and I were not friends. We had spent lots of time together, but I felt like she had treated me like her personal slave and friendship doesn't usually spring from that kind of dynamic -- I didn't say that part to her, but maybe I should have.

Anyway, it doesn't matter anymore. As a side bar, I learned how to play the drums for that worship team, but never got to play with them. I am now thinking about playing the drums for the team at my new church. But I hinted and emailed both the pastor and the worship leader about the possibility on more than one occasion. And that I'd also maybe like to sing backup vocals, if needed, and would be willing to audition for one or both parts. I sent an email as recent as yesterday. But I have a feeling that I may never hear back. And I know for a fact that one of the drummers that they rely on will be moving in July.

I dunno. Maybe it's an avoidant personality thing, but I often get the feeling that pastors are a little afraid of me. That I'm a bit of a loose cannon. It stings a little. I volunteer time, energy, and other resources to every church I have ever been a part. I'm responsible, am willing to do the dirty work, but never am part of the inner circle of a pastor. That would be just fine, but the nagging and persistent feeling that they are afraid of me is a little heartbreaking. I am not even allowed to pray for people at the current church. Somebody asked me to be part of a little group who prayed for people at the end of church service. Then it was very clear that they changed how they did things and changed who may or may not pray at that time. They had several incarnations of it. And in the end, the pastor was very nice about explaining how he had changed things and that there was some miscommunication and bad timing. But ultimately, I can't help but notice that things have worked out to make sure I wouldn't be one of those people while the list has become ever more inclusive. Could be just coincidence, but it does hurt my feelings. My current pastor goes out of his way to be friendly to me and the Other J and the cynical part of me wonders if it's because they don't want to lose our tithe. This is why in churches, in my humble opinion, the staff should have absolutely no clue as to who is giving what. Otherwise, even if it's not the case, there is always the possibility that someone may think that they are being treated differently based on their giving. Why are pastors so afraid of me or awkward with me? Why? Why? Why? It's good I'm having a music bug moment. I think I'll get my guitar out and sing. The music will work it out. It's therapy; a balm to my soul.

Freedom

2010-05-05T07:56:00.000-07:00

This last trip to Korea has been deeply moving for me somehow. There seems to have been a fundamental shift in my heart and my psyche. I don't understand it.

On the surface of it, I've done exactly the same thing that I do on almost all my visits: take the one a.m. flight out to Seoul from JFK on Saturday morning; arrive at three a.m. in Incheon International on Sunday; wait until six a.m. for the limousine bus ticket office to open; take the 3 1/2 hour bus ride to Iksan; take a cab to my cousin's hospital and go hang out at my Dad's apartment with my Dad and caretaker until my cousin picks me up; sleep at my cousin's then go hang out with my Dad and caretaker (various family members will come out to meals with us or meet us while I'm visiting Dad); repeat until Friday or Saturday, depending upon when my flight is; take the super fast KTX train to Seoul and go to First Auntie's house; hang out with Aunties in Seoul and have dinner with them; sleep at First Auntie's house then take cab to Incheon 4 hours before return flight.

Really quite a boring itinerary. One that I've repeated many times. I met all the same people. Went to all the same parks. Did all the same activities. But upon my return, I couldn't shake the feeling of overwhelming gratitude that I experienced. Grateful for the time I have with my Dad, for the fact that I can take these trips twice a year, for my own little family unit, for a life that when all is said and done, is a privileged one.

The gratitude even shook me out of my self-indulgent pity about the whole in-law dynamic. While I was going through it, I never understood why I felt so compelled to make various attempts at reconciliation when they always ended up in such total disaster, leaving everyone at various corners to lick their oozing wounds. I was utterly resentful at the clarity of God's call to these various encounters, and thought all they did was cause me further humiliation and my in-laws additional pain. I was obedient in my efforts, and my efforts at reconciling with them, however flawed, were genuine. I really did try my best. But my best was really, really poor by anyone's standards in terms of execution. So poor, in fact, that I had a really hard time wrapping my mind around why any of it had happened.

But suddenly, after my trip, and the wave of gratitude, without internal wrestling, or a forgiveness regimen, or counseling, or books, or anything at all . . . I feel free. The situation is not any different. It, I believe, will always be a broken relationship. But I'm not eaten up by it anymore. I don't waste a large chunk of my spare time contemplating just how much I hate my in-laws (shameful to admit, but true). I am absolved by the knowledge that despite how poor my "best" was, I did give it a go in reconciling and it didn't happen. And it's ok. And for the first time in a long time, I feel free -- not eaten up by guilt or hatred.

Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.

That Time of the Year Again

2010-04-15T05:43:00.000-07:00

I can't believe how quickly it comes around. For the past several years, I've been flying out to Korea about twice a year to visit my Dad. Although I love seeing my Dad, I hate, hate, hate the flight. 14 hours. I find it grueling and dull. Often, I think that my life would feel totally different if only that flight was 9 or even 10 hours. I feel I measure time by 6 month increments in which I have to recover from my previous trip. Nonetheless, this is my 14th? 15th? trip out. I've accrued enough mileage on Korean Air that I can board early and use their lounge, etc. Although they are small luxuries, I'm more than happy to take advantage of them. Of course, no one told me that I achieved that status, so for a year and a half, I didn't really get to use the perks. That's ok. What's important is that I've accumulated enough miles to get a new ticket, which will come in handy during the fall trip. Yup. We're going to attempt to take the whole family again then.

I have no idea how Mr. Sinjin will do on the 14 hour flight as a toddler. Thus far, he really hasn't totally melted down during any of our travels. I would even go so far as to say that he's been a really good traveler thus far. So we'll have to see. In the meantime, I'll tell myself just how much easier the trip is this time around all by my lonesome. The freedom will be good, but I will miss my boys. And I feel bad that the Other J will have to play at being a single parent for a week.

My One and Only?

2010-04-02T12:54:00.000-07:00

Probably. Actually, very likely. Although I leave room for the quasi-miraculous and for the possibility that God may have a strong preference for the Js to have a second child, the initial batch of blood tests for a potential IVF cycle revealed that my chances of conceiving on my own were less likely than what we had anticipated. And since I'm a realist and managed to go through 7 years of marriage without getting pregnant, expectations weren't exactly high. But as I thought about gearing up for another IVF cycle, I just kept on dragging my feet. Internal deadlines came and went, and I realized that I had to examine my feelings. Because the hideous blood test results suggested that I really don't have any time to waste.

But then it all poured out of me in one sitting. First, I love my son dearly. And I think if I had never tried to have children, I would have deeply regretted it. He enriches my life, and the experience of knowing him is so much greater than I could ever have imagined. However, motherhood as an activity, if you will, I don't find all that satisfying. And I know that it could be. I've seen other women and friends who find a deep contentment after they've had a baby. For some, it really is truly transformative. Whereas for me, while my relationship to my son has been transformative, I feel like I'm more restless than ever. It seems almost like heresy in my mind, but I don't really like doing the things that go along with motherhood. Also, I know that Sinjin always has been and remains a remarkably easy kid. I'm sure that he will eventually pay me back for that at some later time, but I fear that I won't cope with a not-so-easy baby all that well since I'm so used to Mr. Sinjin's laid back ways. And he's getting to an age where he's not so all-consuming anymore. He sleeps like a rock through the night. He's a good and well-mannered eater when we go out for meals. Even traveling and vacationing with him is getting to be pretty easy.

I had wanted Mr. Sinjin to have a sibling because I thought that would be a nice experience for him. But I really haven't had a burning desire to have another child. And I certainly don't want to do another IVF cycle. It's so, so . . . brutally intentional and I think I've just hit my limit on the process. And the Other J, for quite some time now, has stated that he would be really happy to have Sinjin be an only child. For some reason, I had felt like there's an undercurrent of pressure to have 2 children here. 1 is unusual. And so is 3. But 2. Well, America is just made for families with 2 kids (or at least the unidentified force seems to suggest). But there are entire countries and continents where people only have 1 child per family. But of course, I feel guilt about it. And informed the Other J that he picked a very poor spouse -- from a Darwinian perspective.

I think if I conceived on my own, I would be delighted and grateful about it. But that really looks highly unlikely. So I am left contemplating life with Mr. Sinjin being my one and only. And that would be just fine for me. And the Other J.

The Bat Cave

2010-03-15T19:13:00.000-07:00

We have had bats in our life. They were living in the attic in our old house in Connecticut. And I didn't know it until today, but we've been living in a cave for the last 7 months. The office. The family room. The Master bedroom. The living room a.k.a. Sinjin's playroom. These were all rooms in the house that didn't have any overhead lighting. Without really realizing it, we had come up with all sorts of behavioral adaptations or lighting solutions to cope with the lack of lighting. We simply didn't venture into the office all that often. Instead, the Other J and I fought over the laptop in our down time. As for the family room and playroom, we opted for these hideous plug-in wall sconces that were a pain to install and although we were in denial about it most of the time, were undeniably hideous. Besides, we'd both catch Sinjin tugging on the cord with curiosity from time to time.

Today, I spent a long day of confinement to mostly two rooms with the energetic Mr. Sinjin while the serious and silent electrician worked on the overhead lighting issue. He arrived at 8AM and left a little after 10PM. I'd inwardly cringe as I'd look over into all the dust and debris that were gathering in the two downstairs rooms where he was installing some recessed lights. And I sighed a little when the Other J came home and told the electrician to go ahead and re-work the wiring and the switch for the new fan/light combo. But. It was totally worth it to go from room to room and flip the switch and see everything bathed in light. The Other J and I couldn't contain our rapture:

"Oh! It looks so good!"

"It's so bright!"

"It's the best home improvement money that we've ever spent!"

"Why didn't we do this sooner?"

"We've been living in a cave!"

Ah. No longer. Daylight Savings Time has begun. Chez Js -- the NJ edition -- is no longer a cave. Maybe we have left the long, dark days of winter behind us.

FYI

2010-02-25T09:50:00.000-08:00

I guess this really is more along the lines of a personal note to the Other J so I don't need to post it. But maybe it'll motivate him to have witnesses. Over 3 years ago, I came up with a list of places that I'd like to visit. Only 1 has gotten marked off. And that was because I went there with the Best Friend! So get a move on Mr. List Crosser-Offer.

Portofino
Vancouver
Budapest
Paris
Provence
Wyoming
San Francisco - visited (with T)
Venice
Rome
Japan
Tahiti
Fiji
Hawaii
Seattle
Thailand
Burma
Costa Rica
Brazil
Russia
Tibet

The Allergy March

2010-02-23T19:33:00.000-08:00

It started with a little patch of eczema on his cheek. Then we noticed one on his arm. And even though the Other J stated that this was the "classic" eczema pattern, I just was convinced that it would go away on its own. So Mr. Sinjin's little cheek patch got redder and redder, then drier and drier in the arid winter air during his first few months of life until it got raw, red, and he started scratching at it until it bled. A little tube of over the counter 1% hydrocortisone cream and aquafore remedied the effects of my denial.

When we started Mr. Sinjin on solids, I dutifully introduced food one at a time and kept a record on -- yes -- a spreadsheet. But I really thought that it was a waste of time. I was convinced that my kid would have nary a food allergy. Mr. Sinjin's outbreak of hives from the milk-based formula suggested otherwise. Nevertheless, I persisted in my denial. And fed him dairy on at least 2 more occasions because I wasn't really convinced that my baby was allergic to dairy. I got an earful from the Other J for that & he lectured me on the nitty gritty of allergic reactions and how they can get more and more intense. La la la. I made adjustments to his diet accordingly. Then my allergist cousin brought her allergy panel with her for Mr. Sinjin's first birthday shindig (I was never really quite sure why she brought it, but it was useful). In addition to dairy, the skin tests showed possible reactions to codfish and peanut. Our pediatrician ordered some blood tests to double check, which showed no reaction to the fish, thankfully, but it was a yes to dairy (as expected), moderate reaction to peanut, and to . . . cat.

Eventually, I made my way to the local Allergist to get an opinion on whether Mr. Sinjin was REALLY allergic to Jane, and if so, what we should do about it. He thought the peanut was a false positive. But the cat allergy is a definite. And while he advised that I didn't need to actually get rid of the cat, he rattled off a long list of things I needed to do: spraying of things on the carpet, getting air filters, of course pristinely vacuuming and dusting, etc., etc. The reality is, I won't be able to be as meticulous as I need to be to protect the baby. And he loves the cat. He launches himself at her and gleefully buries his face in her fur. If they are in the same house, I'm just not going to be able to keep them apart. And the allergist's explanation of the "allergy march" haunts me. Eczema. Food allergies. Air born allergies. Asthma. He reassured that this is not 100%. I would, however, feel horrible if Sinjin developed asthma and I didn't do everything I could to stop the "march" in its tracks.

We don't really have a viable new home for Jane (friends, family). So I drove down to my local SPCA to check it out. I didn't think I could cope with handing her over to a depressing, unkempt facility. Thankfully, the facility is brand new, has tons of space, and the plentiful volunteers who were there seemed really kind and genuinely cared about the animals. I am prejudiced, but I do think my cat is unusually pretty and although she takes some time to warm up to people, she really is very sweet. And her initial reticence, I think, is pretty normal for a cat. She does have a good chance at being adopted. So I have to try. The volunteers at the shelter looked at me suspiciously when they learned that I was contemplating giving up my cat. I felt judgment. Then they asked me questions. How long had I had my cat? 8 years. Why are you giving her up? Allergies. You suddenly developed allergies? No. New baby. Oh. Less judgment. Sympathy. Especially since my eyes started welling up with tears. They gave me an appointment date to "surrender" my cat. And a squeeze of my hand.

I cried all the way home. If it wouldn't make things tougher for her to transition, I'd feed her nothing but homemade kitty meals. She is curled up next to me now. Purring.

Sniff. I love you too. Really. I do.

New Pics (ok, not all of them are "new")

2010-02-04T16:38:00.001-08:00

It's been a while since I've added pictures of Mr. Sinjin, so I am remedying the oversight.

Bubble Time. Thanks Aunt T for sending the pic.

Playing with drum sticks & my new bud.

Daddy's going to make a drummer out of me.

Teetering towards mommy.

I like putting things on my head as much as I like hiding things.

Indulgence

2010-01-22T13:23:00.000-08:00

It's almost been a week since we've been back from vacation. Our trip to Park City was fun, but I wouldn't exactly call it restful. Yes, there were a couple of spa days with 90 minute massages thrown in, but a 4 hour flight each way with a 15 month old and tons of luggage doesn't exactly translate to R&R. Also, I'm neither an accomplished skier nor an accomplished snowboarder, which translates to a lot of fighting with the mountain and quite a bit of falling. And the body isn't quite as spry as it used to be. Of course, upon our return, Mr. Sinjin promptly got sick and has been quite needy and whiny. So while all the indoor time with Mr. Sinjin's been stirring up cabin fever, I haven't been able to get much done.

I still haven't quite completely unpacked the family, there's a small mountain of laundry to do, the house is in QUITE the state of untidiness, the Christmas tree with its ornaments are still up, as are the rest of the Christmas decorations, including a totally dried up and withered poinsettia. After much internal debating about whether the boy was healthy enough to be dropped off at daycare for the afternoon, I decided to take him. And instead of tackling the mountain of errands waiting for me at home, or at the very least benefit my health by working out, I opted to drive to the only Vietnamese restaurant within a 30 mile radius for a large bowl of pho, had a long chat with a long-distance girlfriend while I slurped my noodle-y soup, then hailed myself over to the recently opened B&N for some magazine perusing and a mocha frappuccino (thanks Lisa!).

I even bought myself 3 books. The Zagat Guide for NYC, since I don't actually live there to personally invest time in sleuthing my way to satisfying noodle soups, and other good eats. And yes, total brain candy fluff for me in the form of a romance novel. I cringe every time I admit to my weakness for romance novels, but I just can't kick the habit. The final purchase, I'm almost as embarrassed by it as much as the romance novel: Eat, Pray, Love. The fact that it's been such a sensation and touted by the big O makes me want to not read it. But if I'm honest, I make my way through most literary trends, including Dan Brown (I truly think he's a horrid writer and writes the most awful dialogue, but he does spin good yarn), and I'm sure it's gotta be better writing than Dan Brown material. Who knows, since the author lives in NJ, maybe I'll make a little pilgrimage to her store and a bit of the adventure that she had will rub off on me. Ah. Adventure. So I continue to indulge and ignore my errands. I think I'll grab myself another bottle of Diet Snapple.

The Next Page

2010-01-08T09:56:00.000-08:00

I mean this literally. Starting from January 2008, I've been keeping a prayer log. There are sometimes big gaps, as my prayer life goes through desert phases. There are also times when my prayer life is not shameful, but I just don't have that many requests. The prayer log certainly is not nearly as poetic a thing as a prayer journal. The log has a column for the nature of the request, a column for the date of the request, a column for God's answer or response, and the date of God's answer or my realization of the answer. The last column more often than not, has a season or month and the year, rather than a specific date.

One of the self-delusional narratives that I indulge in about my own persona is that I am, in fact, not that nerdy. Much of life is relative and since I live with a spouse who revels in his unabashed science-y nerdiness, it's easy for me to buy into my own narrative most of the time. But once and again, I run into irrefutable evidence that jolts me from my delusion. Maybe I could have talked myself into believing that the columns are not that nerdy. Here's the really nerdy bit: I keep my prayer log on an excel spreadsheet. It is filed in the "miscellaneous" sub folder named with the very uninspired title "Julie's Prayer Log" in the sub folder "Julie's stuff," which is in the sub folder "Documents." There are enough items in the first tab/sheet of the excel spreadsheet for the '08 to '09 requests to be a little unwieldy. So I am about to start a new clean tab for '10 prayer items.

Despite the uninspired manner in which I have kept my record of requests, the little log humbles me with its contents. I am reminded of my lack of faith when I make the same request repeatedly or in the guise of another description. What? I think God didn't hear me the first time? Or he needs a reminder? And there are some lines that are left ominously blank because the request hasn't been answered yet or will never be answered, or I am unwilling to accept a 'no'. "Sense of purpose for my life" torments me with its corresponding blank data squares. I may just be too clueless with that one. I have a picture of someone smacking his hand to the forehead and shaking their head in disbelief or frustration as I blindly grope about. But many prayers have been answered. I was going to write some of them down here, but it's just too annoying to copy and paste. Oh well. I'm grateful nonetheless.

What's In a Name?

2010-01-05T20:22:00.001-08:00

I must not be as ambivalent about the second child question as I’ve been meaning to be. When anyone has asked me directly in the last few months, I have said that I’d be happy to lavish all my attention on Mr. Sinjin. That still is true, but the idea of having a second child still is very much alive in my heart. I know this because I’ve come up with a name for the second child. It’s a girl’s name. The original iteration that I liked is not really workable. So I’ve been playing around with it in my mind. Of course, there’s no guarantee that even if we had a second child, that the child would be a girl. But I can’t control the nebulous wanderings of my mind. My last IVF cycle was really tough on me and I know that I really don’t have the will to attempt too many more. So we'll see how it all turns out.

But IF we were to have another baby, and IF the baby was of the female variety, I’ve got a possible middle name or a first name. The last name, however, may be up for debate. If we have another baby and especially if we had a girl, I am seriously thinking about giving her my last name. I guess I am more prone to do it with a girl baby because she may decide upon marriage (if she chose to get married) to change her last name anyway. Of course, if she turns out to be like me at all, she hopefully won’t want to. But having Sinjin has reinforced the awareness that our children are profoundly themselves, even during their infancy.

I am steeling myself against imaginary criticism or strange looks or judgment already. But really, who cares what other people think? The world is full of truly bizarre people who do all kinds of weird things. It may not turn out to be the case, but I assume or envision that Christians would be the most vocal about our decision to have a household of different last names. It’s not entirely without merit. People at churches have given me befuddled looks, or even worse, noting comparisons with other couples where the woman has kept her maiden name in a “oh yes, that happens a lot these days” air. I had a little spat with one of my college friends about it long before either one of us were married. I got the whole horrified “but we are supposed to cleave to our spouses” bit. That concept created the legal fiction that women were a single entity with their husbands and denied women the right to vote, the right to hold property, etc. I can’t get behind it. The changing of one's name is not necessarily a commentary on a woman's commitment to a shared life with her husband. And my college friend? She has had to change her last name twice. I know. Meow.

But the whole thing really just kind of rubs at me the wrong way. And who knows? I may do as I am saying and no one, absolutely no one may look at me askew or feel justified in blurting out their disapproval. This idea has been percolating in my head for a long time. The Other J and I have discussed the possibility many times and many years before baby #1. But I have to admit that the compunction grew in me anew recently when someone put me on some email list with Julie ‘my last name’ ‘Other J's last name’ as my moniker. I have never referred to myself that way and neither would the Other J. But there it was. Staring at me. And I was deeply upset by it. SOMEBODY had to go through the trouble and type that in, because my name via email would never pop up that away. SOMEBODY couldn’t accept my name as it was and even though I very deliberately chose not to take my husband’s name for lots of very good reasons, just had to confer it upon me. So out of irritation was born a renewed fervency about giving one of our children my last name. And yes, it probably would feel like some sort of insult to the in-laws. And yes, although it would be wrong of me, I would feel rather gleeful about it. But it really isn't the reason why I am contemplating the whole name bit. In the meantime, the Other J may feel a little poorly toward the perpetrator of the email oops.

Yup, He's Definitely Mine

2009-12-16T19:04:00.000-08:00

Not that it was really ever in question. Sinjin always has looked more like me than the Other J. Although there are people who swear up and down that they can't see the resemblance with me, but that he looks EXACTLY like the other J. Really. I mistakenly believed for some time that he must have gotten his mellow baby personality from me since the Other J was told that he was colicky, fussy, and a difficult baby overall. And my mother did tell me frequently that I was an easy, mellow baby. However, on my last visit to Korea, when I relayed to my aunties that I thought Sinjin was an easy baby because he took after me, they laughed. They informed me that my mother's affection must have clouded her memory because they gave each other knowing looks and said that I was very particular. My theory is that perhaps I came off seeming easy in comparison to my older brother. I don't have any proof, but I could certainly imagine that he was more particular than me at every stage of his life, including babyhood. So I had bemusedly wondered, that while Sinjin shares some physical resemblance to me (which is not universally acknowledged, by the way), he really shared very little, in terms of personality, with his parents.

Now onto a brief bit about a particular aspect of his personality. He's sweet and generally pleasant to pretty much everyone, but Sinjin isn't what I would call particularly affectionate. And he definitely is old enough and aware enough that he would be demonstratively affectionate, if he was feeling inclined. One way I measure his demonstration of affection for a specific person is through his kisses. He knows the words for them and he does kiss, but definitely not willy-nilly. There was a particular non-kissing period when I got so desperate that I'd offer Sinjin cheerios from between my lips to get a kiss fix from my son. He moved on from that stage, but I spend the whole day playing with him and caring for him, for maybe that one kiss from him during the day. Maybe 3 or 4 if I'm really lucky. And a day with no kisses wouldn't be all that unusual. They are generally wet and messy. Sinjin has yet to learn the art of the lip smack. His technique is open-mouthed, resulting in moderately to heavily drooly smooches.

Anyway, our downstairs bathroom of all places, has floor to ceiling mirrors in the form of collapsible doors on the far end of the room. It's been a while since Sinjin has understood what his own reflection is, but we really haven't been hanging out in the bathroom together much. But today, I took him in there, thinking that the mirror might amuse him. He immediately trotted over to his own reflection, started excitedly chattering to it, with hand gestures and all, then leaned in and enthusiastically started kissing his own reflection. Repeatedly. His enthusiasm allowed for a pool of saliva to collect on the surface of the mirror and start running down towards the floor. Who knows how long he would have been content to stand there kissing his own reflection if I didn't carry him out of there. Yup. My child.

Birthday Blog

2009-11-30T19:01:00.000-08:00

Oh my. It's been a long while since I've blogged. My guess is that it has something to do with the 2 hour commute for the job in New York City. But I recently quit that job since it just wasn't jiving with the current family circumstances. That is, I am a mommy. I don't have family nearby to help out in a pinch. The Other J's job is not that flexible. A recipe for unworkability, if not disaster. It was a bit of a pipe dream from the beginning. I figured that if it was meant to be, somehow everything would manage to work out. Foolishness or optimism? I can't quite decide. But I went for it. Hopefully I can find something closer to home. But I just decided that at this juncture in my life, it's not really worth it for me to put my baby in full time daycare unless I LOVE the job.

And this is my 35th juncture. I steadfastly believe that I look younger than my age and will tell myself so forever. But I really don't have much of a problem with the age. I do miss the metabolism of my younger self and the energy level. I am not a fan of the extra belly skin that's deciding to stick around after the c-section. Diet and exercise, I'm sure, would do wonders for it. We'll see if my discipline will rise to the challenge. My "pregnancy plus twenty" mantra has NOT helped me shed the extra twenty pounds.

It was purely coincidental, but my birthday started with a Dr.'s appointment. Nothing new, but it did remind me again that I am not as healthy as I could be. My age and the fact that I'm married with a baby makes appearance less and less of a motivator. And I could whine that most people can get far heavier than me with far less health consequences, but that still won't change the fact that my body chemistry performs best within a tight weight range. So I'm going to get back on that health horse again. Since I've had a singularly uneventful birthday and the Dr.'s appointment really is the only interesting that has happened in the day, I will attemp to use that as a marker to try to be within the happy body chemistry range for next year. There are less and less things that I try to force as I get older: ambition, a certain kind of career, goals, harmonious family relationships, friendships (or maybe I just care less and less). But I do think my health is important. Otherwise, I'm going to continue in my path towards acceptance/zen (if I want to put a positive spin on it) or ambivalence (if I don't).

Halloween Pics

2009-11-01T13:00:00.001-08:00

Believe it or not, I was the one who picked out the Yoda costume. The Other J, however, was more than satisfied with the choice.

Happy Birthday Sinjin!

2009-10-20T17:57:00.000-07:00

Oh my. My evenings do feel rather short these days, but I wanted to throw in a few words about Sinjin's birthday. His official birthday was on Friday, but we had the party for him on Saturday. It was basically all family, but there were enough kiddies to make it feel pretty festive. We set out the dol jabi -- a table is set out with four or five items signifying different inclinations that the baby may have. Sinjin went right for the pencil, suggesting he may be scholarly (the Other J was so proud). Then he grabbed the money and shook both items about. He also seemed to rather like his birthday cake. It was not homemade. While I don't mind cooking, I've never been much of a baker. Anyway, here are some pics.

Working Girl, Part III

2009-10-12T19:06:00.000-07:00

I've only had 3 jobs since law school. Hence, the part III. This one is just a short-term position, otherwise I probably wouldn't have really contemplated it. The job is in New York City and the commuting time is significant. I suppose the job could turn into a more permanent position, but I can't quite contemplate doing the haul to NY for a long time. I feel more than a little guilty about Sinjin in daycare. He went from two afternoons a week for "socialization" to full-time care where he is one of the earliest kids in and one of the last to get picked up at the end of the day. It feels like a terrible indulgence -- to commute nearly 4 hours a day to make myself feel more useful, fulfilled, etc.

For the moment, I do like walking across Broadway & Times Square on my way to the office. The work is a really great fit to my experience, and the opportunity did seem like it dropped out of the sky into my lap. So we'll see how it goes. And I'll try to take it one day at a time. It does give me a good distraction from being in my head too much. But it also means less time for blogging.

And Sinjin is going to turn one on Friday! I can't believe it. I had hoped to start work after his birthday, but it didn't quite turn out that way. But I am taking Friday off to prepare for the Saturday festivities. It'll pretty much be a family celebration, but we'll have probably 12-15 people at the house (if we include the kiddies) and 5 or so people will be staying a couple of nights. I'm looking forward to it, but it makes me tired just thinking about the weekend.

My Books, My Friends

2009-09-29T12:54:00.000-07:00

It's been quite a while since we've moved but we just got around to start unpacking our books a couple of weekends ago. Since we didn't lug them to the furnished apartment back in CT, I have been without them for almost half a year (time does seem to zip past these days). We had gotten rid of an old bookcase and our old house had some built-ins that the new one lacks. So the book unpacking had to wait until we could get some new bookshelves.

Now, much of what I read is either borrowed from the library or read at Barnes & Noble, so my collection, I think, is fairly modest. But I did spend a lot of time at my aunt's house, which is a total fire hazard and has a better collection than most used bookstores, so my perspective is a little skewed. The books I do have are well-loved. Minus the holdovers from college lit classes, they have all been read multiple times. Some may have been read dozens of times. But still, there is a comfort in the variety.

I have spent half a year with a handful of books on my nightstand. And most of those were baby related and were not exactly books that would spark the imagination. The one read that was a novel, The Other Boleyn Girl, and a perfectly good one, was one that turned out not to be so good for me. It was not good for me in the midst of an IVF cycle and a miscarriage to ruminate on the fact that women were valued throughout history for their fertility, specifically for their ability to produce male heirs. Night after night, I'd re-read the desperate tale of women whose rise and fall depended on their fertility and started hating men for their historical abuse of power. I'd disgustedly wonder, why was patriarchy so deep that there was no converse term to "misogynist"? I know of a young woman who divorced, then gained a 100 lbs. and became a lesbian. And I would think: I SO can sympathize. My rage regarding this topic has been significantly mitigated since my other books have been unpacked and The Other Boleyn Girl has been relegated to the bookshelf. At least for a while, I think I'll be sure to keep lighter, happier books on the nightstand.

Snippets from the Weekend

2009-09-21T18:21:00.000-07:00

Seafood Festival. Sounded promising. There were a couple of streets blocked out for a seafood themed festival. Of course, what I was interested in was the food. There were grilled lobsters, crab cakes, oysters, etc. But we ended up with a chicken gyro first, mostly because all the seafood stalls were packed. We barely could move through the crowd with a stroller and smoke from one of the stalls were blowing in all our faces. And to top it off, we had possibly the worst lemonade that we've ever had. It was definitely a bust.

Renaissance Festival. It was not nearly as crowded as the seafood festival. The sad part was that we had spent most of our cash at the seafood fest and then the parking fee pretty much wiped us out for the Renaissance Festival. We had enough money to get a water ice to split 3 ways. Since Sinjin is allergic to dairy, it probably was the closest thing to ice cream he'll have. Lots of people were dressed up. Much of the renaissance garb were rather loose interpretations -- pirate or belly dancer didn't seem particularly fitting, but who am I to judge?

Irish Festival. We saw a sign, but 2 festivals in one day were more than enough. I guess festivals are a big deal here.

The cat. Big problem. We currently have her litterbox in the basement. We discovered over the weekend that while she still likes to pee in her box, she has decided that she will do number two on the floor, beside the litterbox. Can anyone help?

New Pics

2009-09-14T18:30:00.001-07:00

I Still love to jump!

Getting an early start on the love-affair with electronics.

Mmmm . . . puffs.

Feeling Korean & Adult

2009-09-03T17:35:00.000-07:00

Why Korean?

I am currently sitting on my wood floor with the laptop on my lap typing. And the floor is the only place to sit. I'll get to why in a minute. I suppose I have fully Americanized in the ways of bum parking. When I go to Korea these days, I inwardly groan when the relatives take me to a restaurant that requires sitting on the floor. While I preferred sitting on the floor when I was a kid, the lack of back support means back pain.

Why Adult?

Well, we cleared away the couch and the coffee table from the living room and the dinette set from the kitchen to wait for the arrival of new furniture tomorrow. Much of what we lugged downstairs into the basement was IKEA furniture. For years, I've been saying that I wanted to get rid of my old IKEA dinette set that I bought in law school. It was never the sturdiest thing in the house, but lately things wobble enough that I don't let guests sit in certain chairs when they come over for dinner. But each time I contemplated upgrading from IKEA to more "adult" furniture, I would be shellshocked at the jump in price. But it's finally time. Owning a home didn't quite make me feel really adult. Surprisingly, I didn't quite feel I was there, even with the arrival of the boy. But now. Now, I have real adult furniture (albeit from the discounted chains -- no fancy stuff). Surely menopause must be around the corner.

Two 1/2 Days

2009-08-27T17:31:00.000-07:00

In light of my general malaise, it's what we have decided to do. Sinjin is going to go to daycare for 1/2 a day twice a week. I feel like he could do with a little interaction with other kids and would benefit from the additional crafts and age appropriate "curriculum" the daycare has going. But really, the far bigger purpose of it is to give me a break. I do have a great deal of guilt over the idea and think that since I'm not working, I should not be off-loading childcare duties onto anybody else. Interestingly enough, some of the most enthusiastic people about the idea happen to be stay-at-home-moms who told me they still had family nearby to help them, so I should, of course, go ahead with my daycare plans. Still, Sinjin's been such an easy baby, I feel like I shouldn't want or need a break.

But I am an introvert and have been used to having vast chunks of time to myself for most of my adult life. And I can't help think about how I'm going to use those precious 1/2 days. Barnes? Of course. Forays to the Korean grocery store (pathetic, but the idea of it thrills me). I could work out. Possibly take up drum lessons again. What about golf lessons? Perhaps I could even go see a movie at the theater. As the Best Friend predicted, my guilt may very well be overshadowed by my sense of euphoria at having this small measure of freedom. When we were crunching numbers about the new arrangement, the Other J raised an eyebrow and said, "You better be happy." Humph. I don't particularly like being ordered to be happy. And given the contrary nature of his wife, it was, perhaps, not the wisest move on his part. He's been shaken by recent events and my unhappiness. Unfortunately, this shift in his equilibrium seems to drive him to make bad decisions (or maybe I should say worse than usual) in how he relates to me.

I am going to share a recent example. The Other J lost his college diploma, so he had ordered a replacement. Incidentally, the Other J and I went to the same college. When the replacement diploma arrived, he . . . took out my diploma from its frame and put his own in its place. Ouch. Not the best thing to do to a wife who's been complaining about feeling invisible.

Baby Palette

2009-08-19T12:45:00.000-07:00

On a lighter note.

I'm not what one would call a picky eater and the Other J has a far more adventurous palette than me. One never knows about babies, but I fully expected Sinjin to not be a picky eater given his parents' habits. About a month ago he pretty much declared himself bored of baby food by pushing it away and looking yearningly at our dinner plates. Although we still supplement with baby food (trying to vary 4 meals a day is rather difficult) for sheer variety, we've been surprised at some of the food that he's attacked with gusto. He eats your average baby cereal, cheerios, veggies and fruits. But here's a sampling of random foods that he's attacked with gusto:

seaweed salad

rice with seaweed

duck confit

dumplings

curry (medium spicy)

chicken satay

pho

spring rolls

rice noodles

spaghetti

meatballs

bbq short ribs

lo mein

tofu

goat cheese

french fries

sheep's milk yogurt (plain, blueberry, maple & ginger)

And of course, when all else fails and his mama can't think of something to give him: pita & hummus. I am a little sad that he appears to be allergic to dairy for now and therefore will be limited in his exposure to cheese varieties. The Other J, before being informed that it was a high allergenic food, gave Sinj a fried clam. He, of course, liked it. Maybe we'll totally escape a picky stage.

The Summer of My Discontent

2009-08-11T05:51:00.000-07:00

I've been carrying around this blog post in my mind for some time now. For reasons that will become a little clearer further on, I wasn't about to actually write it until the timing was right. But whenever I looked at my own blog, it wasn't the same, as if suppressing something that I had on my mind had the effect of choking the life out of the blog.

Anyway, it's ironic. I feel like I've been waiting for this moment for a long, long time. The moment when the Other J was finally finished with training and we moved to a location that we knew wasn't destined to be temporary and could finally potentially settle-in for the long haul. And now that it's here, I dunno . . . . Partly, I think it's that I'm older and each time we locate to a brand new area, the settling-in process gets a little harder. We are in an area where we didn't know a single person, so we do have to start from scratch. All that, I think, would have been expected and normal.

Now for the not so normal bits. Earlier on in the year, I attempted to reconcile with my in-laws. While the effort was widely applauded, it really was a bit of a disaster. Not only did the efforts only make clear that reconciliation was not in the cards, it resulted in an incident that has made me deeply disillusioned about my marriage. I no longer believe in its resilience and the inherent value of it in the way that I used to. Moreover, I believe that I had alluded to a sense of invisibility or feeling like I was an appendage to the Other J's life as we started our new life here. Inevitably, many of our relational interactions here come as a result of the Other J's work life. And it's only natural that I then get be known to those people as the wife of the Other J. But I've found that there's this sense of boxing me in as a "Mrs. Dr." type, which I can't help but bristle at. And I see the convenience of the boxing. I am, at the moment, at home and a new mother. But these situations were a result of sacrificing of my job, convenience of staying in one locale, etc., for a joint vision that the Other J & I shared about our lives, family, and future. But feeling disillusioned about my marriage has led me to think that the sacrifices had been too costly, or even stupid. And I am left brooding about the fact that yes, I was a joint partner in making the decisions, but I can't help but notice that I was the one who has made most of the sacrifices. Ah. Biology. It is destiny.

Being at home with the boy for these past 9 months has been great. He really is a great baby and has been a source of great joy. And I had hoped that I would be one of those women who would feel so fulfilled by mommyhood that I could stay at home with my baby, because I do believe that one's child does get so much from being with a parent most of the time. The reality is, it's not me. As much as I love my son and enjoy my time with him, I find that I'm intellectually bored. And the intellectual boredom is a much, much bigger deal than I believed it would be. Of course, my overall sense of disillusionment, marginalization, and now loss, does not help my cause.

Our embryo transfer did result in a pregnancy. However, I have known for the last couple of weeks that my pregnancy was not going well. Yesterday, we finally confirmed that there was no longer a heartbeat. If I was going to be cast in the "Mrs. - you take care of the family" role, at the very least I should be breeding well (I AM being sarcastic, in case you missed it). So this does add to my emotional burdens. I'm sure all the extra hormones I've been on has not helped my mood and overall outlook. And last, but not least, our search for a church has been truly depressing. So. I think the "Summer of My Discontent" is an apt description for this season of my life. I hope to look back in about six months and see that some things have improved.

Audition

2009-08-04T19:25:00.000-07:00

I'm getting all set to be a stage mom. Heh. Not really. I do, however, confess to sending a couple of photos to a random talent agency in NJ, right before our move from Connecticut. I had forgotten all about it, but last Thursday someone called me and asked whether I could take the boy to an audition / casting call for a toy company the next morning. So steeling myself for snarky comments directed toward my child from competitive stage moms from NY (I don't know, I just had figured that these types would be from NY. How's that for prejudice?), I hauled the boy up to just out of Manhattan for his first (and possibly last) audition. I promised myself that if he had a hard time with the process, this would be my only hair-brained trip to an audition. But we got there early, the boy napped all the way during the drive, we waited in the nice air-conditioned waiting area, and Sinj was the second baby they test shot. So all in all, it was a pretty smooth process and pretty easy on the boy. I was feeling a little relieved about the fact that I came early, because by the time I left, the two air-conditioned waiting areas were hot and stuffy and the line of hopeful babies and mamas went out the door and wrapped around the block. I was bemused to note that there were many cute babies and that there was nary a snarky stage mom that I ran into. I had almost secretly wanted to run into some, because it would have made for a better story. And I wanted to float out my nonchalant response to snarky commentary. I guess we'll just wait and see. It didn't even occur for me to question when we'd get a response (if we were to get one). The couple of people that I had let in on my little Friday adventure wanted to know how much the gig would pay. Funny, it didn't even occur to me to wonder about it. I guess maybe Sinj's star is doomed to never rise :)

Sinjin Updates

2009-07-29T12:47:00.000-07:00

I've realized that I haven't devoted much blog space to the boy lately. I would love to post some pictures here, but it looks like we've misplaced the digital camera during the move and it's been a while since we've taken a picture of him. I don't really know how much longer I should wait and look or just bite the bullet and get another camera. But with every new day and with every new event that goes by without photos, I feel a little more guilty. I'm not very sentimental to begin with, so I didn't even dream of putting together a baby book for Sinjin, but I figured that I could at least take some pictures of him . . . .

Anyway, Sinjin went to the beach for the first time this past Saturday. Jason sat with him on the beach and let some waves wash over their legs. He badly misjudged a couple of the waves and the boys got totally soaked, but Sinjin didn't seem to mind it. I'm not much of a beach person, but the little one really does seem to like the water, so we went ahead and bought a beach tent online. It's been raining so much here, who knows how many more times we can actually make it to the shore?

Sinjin's 9 1/2 months now and is looking pretty big. And he is just starting to master crawling. He hasn't turned out to be especially coordinated. It still doesn't keep me from taunting the Other J about how he's going to grow up to be a ballerina or a male figure skater (he's fond of pointing his toes). The Other J's plans for the boy involve science. A geeky science type who is into figure skating -- somehow I just don't think that will be the formula for mass popularity.

So far Sinjin's been totally toothless. Although he's had tooth-shaped gums for months, they haven't actually broken through yet. Every day, I think: "Is today tooth day?" Clearly, I've got too much time on my hands if I'm obsessing about Sinjin's first tooth. I've signed up for Mom's meetups and am going to the the Children's Story Hour at the local library, all in an attempt to meet some area moms in the area. But my introverted soul finds the process all a little demoralizing and exhausting. Every time I move, I find the settling-in process a little more difficult.

Back Home

2009-07-21T18:48:00.000-07:00

It's a little disorienting to call the new place "home." It's pretty much all unpacked, but there's still a fair amount of chaos and everything isn't quite as clean as I'd like. Also, there's just a lot of empty space, which I like, but since we haven't even bothered to paint a single wall, it doesn't really have much of a lived-in feeling. Also, when we bought the house, the thing that drove the purchase was vision and potential, much of which won't come to fruition for many, many years.

Anyway, it seemed like 3 weeks would be plenty of time for us to leisurely get into the new house, check out the local haunts, including the beach, before the Other J started his new job. But first the Other J's and Sinjin's trip to Georgia, then my trip to PA & OH for my cousin's wedding, really slowed down our settling-in efforts. Yes. I bailed on the trip to Georgia. And it was not a prolonged attempt, but I did make a genuine attempt to re-engage with the in-laws and must conclude that re-engagement ended in failure. What I found out, although it was not a shocker, was that I'm even worse at forgiving than I had imagined. I do tend to torture myself a little with the knowledge that other people would do much better in my shoes, but I am going to accept myself as I am and hope that positive changes come as I give myself room away from anger and rage. It's not clear how it's all going to work out, but basically, the in-laws can see Sinjin & the Other J, but I will always be absent on all such occasions. Sad, but not as sad as the various other scenarios that I was contemplating.

Anyway, Sinjin was away from me for 5 days, then we were reunited for 4 days, and I was away at the wedding for a total of 4 additional days from him. I think it was good for the Other J to have all that time alone with the boy and he seemed much more confident and competent in his caretaking after my time away. But it was a little sad to see just how much more Sinjin relied on his Daddy too. I wouldn't exactly say that I was jealous, but it was a bit of a surprise to see how quickly things change with babies. Because the boy looks largely Asian, the Other J had a couple of amusing tidbits during his time with him. When he took Sinjin to see one of his grandmothers who lives in an assisted living facility in GA, one of her acquaintances looked at the pair of them and said, "Did you go pick that baby up from China?" This impudent inquiry set the Other J seething. And over the past weekend, the Other J took the boy up on a day trip to see our friends J & L, who are married and are both Asian. When they all went out to lunch, the Other J said that the people in the restaurant clearly were trying to figure out the relational dynamics. What can I say? Asian genes dominate!

Late Night Installation

2009-07-06T20:27:00.000-07:00

I'm a little torn. The installers for the new carpet are still here (it's 11:28 PM). I feel bad that they have such a long work day, but I'm annoyed with the level of disruption. Sinj is sleeping in the office downstairs because it's been so noisy upstairs. I need to get to bed because I've got to get up early. The bad news for everyone? The installers didn't have quite enough carpet to cover the area, so they have to come back tomorrow. Ugh. So we will have the locksmith, the cable install guy (his second trip to tweak one of the lines), and the carpet installers. I wonder when my house will stop looking like a war zone and more like a home.

Status Update

2009-06-29T03:59:00.000-07:00

So many things going on right now . . .

1. We are leaving CT today. We're not sure what time. We STILL haven't gotten the final, final all clear for closing (although they keep on saying it shouldn't be a problem).

2. Closing should, theoretically, happen tomorrow.

3. We transferred our frozen embryo (aka "Brocicle" and "Fro Bro") into me yesterday for safe transport to New Jersey - tee hee.

4. Movers are coming on Wednesday with all our stuff, one day after we theoretically close on our house.

5. The Other J took the written portion of his specialty Boards on Friday. I had never seen him so nervous about an exam ever. I'm glad it's done, but he has only re-directed his neurosis and nervous energy toward the moving process. He's been jolting awake at 4 or 5 AM in the mornings, muttering about how he's going to send a sharply worded letter to some entity or another.

6. We still have to pack up the stuff in our furnished apt. It really shouldn't take long. But laundry, clearing out the pantry & fridge, and dumping out the contents of various jars and containers for recycling took a surprising amount of time.

7. The in-laws' visit over graduation weekend was hideous, hideous. I was hideously mean. Temporarily remorseful, I rashly agreed to a visit to GA with the spouse & the boy a week after we will have been in the new house. Duration of visit? 5 whole days! I must have been temporarily insane! I'm obviously not thinking very clearly these days. Must be all the trumped up hormones readying for item #3.

Wardrobe Malaise

2009-06-22T04:22:00.000-07:00

Last night, I was struck by an observation that left me feeling a little sorry for myself. Really, it's nobody's fault but my own, but I couldn't help dwelling on it. I will be seeing an old friend that I haven't seen in a really long time next month and we had been out of touch during many of my life milestones -- including my marriage and the arrival of Sinjin. So she demanded that I bring "all my pictures of the husband and Sinjin" when I see her. Since all of our pictures are on our computer now, I figured I'd just bring the laptop & to hell with the pre-digital camera era of my life. So I started flipping through my pictures to see whether another person would actually be able to sit through the volume of images and I noticed some things . . . .

My brown sandals. It appears that I have had them for the entire digital camera era of my life (at least), which began right after my wedding. Also, I had been thinking that my "new" khaki shorts had been feeling a little snug ever since I've had my baby. But a perusal of my pics showed that my "new" shorts were at least 5 years old. Then I was reminded of a thought that I had recently. My cousin's wedding is coming up in July, and I know what I'm going to wear there and I was hoping that my other cousin doesn't remember that I wore the same shoes I'm going to wear to the wedding at my law school graduation (we had a conversation specifically about my shoes at the time -- although I'm sure it's unlikely). And those shoes weren't new when they walked across the stage to receive the diploma. I was never much of a clothes horse, but during our time in the furnished apartment, I brought over very little clothes. So I literally wear the same clothes all the time. I'm sure people have better things to do than think, "wow. She is wearing that top AGAIN?" But I wear all my clothes here so frequently, I'm getting a little self-conscious about it. While I was having these type of thoughts, I walked over to the closet and picked up a zippered jacket that I had brought over to the apartment and couldn't help but feel a little depressed about the fact that I've had that particular item since college.

The thing is, I actually like clothes and if I allowed myself more purchasing freedom, what I would want to buy would be . . . more clothes and shoes! During my tale of woe, the Other J interjected with -- "all my clothes are from college too!" This, of course, is not technically true, and moreover, the Other J's preferred purchasing category is electronics. And I assure you, the Other J's electronic items are not all from college. And I want to emphasize that I have no one to blame but myself. I value frugality. But this is ridiculous. One shouldn't be so frugal that it makes one sad and blue. The Other J said, "once we get to New Jersey, you can go shopping at all the outlets near us. And I'm not saying that you should go to outlets because I don't want you to go to non-outlet stores. It's because I know you and you won't allow yourself to go anywhere else." Hmmm. We'll see about that.

Yellow House

2009-06-11T12:10:00.000-07:00

The house issues appear to have been resolved and it looks like things are going to move forward. So I'm actually going to post some pictures.

When it Rains it Pours

2009-06-05T06:34:00.000-07:00

Just a quick note here to say, UGH!!! I need to keep myself together. The in-laws are here for the weekend for the Other J's "graduation" ceremony. I extended the invitation. Suffice it to say that I've been punished for doing so and will think twice in the future about extending invitations to spend time with us. Next, the Other J has been a victim of identity theft, although it looks like the jerk has been caught. And there are potential complications in wrapping up the house deal. We've taken some good pictures of the house, but I haven't posted them because I'm more than a little superstitious about jumping the gun and assuming too much. And it's raining. Oh. One more thing. This one's a little old, but when I briefly stopped by to see my brother while we were in DC, the first thing he said to me was: "You got fatter." Charming, no? So charming that it's not quite out of my head, even when there's lots of other stuff to occupy my mind.

Sweetest Place on Earth

2009-05-23T10:41:00.000-07:00

I don't really know about that. But we visited the Hershey Gardens, then went to Chocolate World, skipped the amusement park figuring that Sinjin's too young for it, had lunch at Red Robin and decided that it was fine time to return to the hotel for the rest of the day. The Other J needs to study for his REI Boards, so he has dutifully packed the requisite books and binders for the trip. What a vacation, eh?

During lunch, I was thinking about the fact that while we were never truly young & hip, we have achieved new levels of lameness. Hershey, PA, is not the height of vacation excitement. But even here, we were pretty much done with the area's sights by lunch time. The thing was, I was really happy to return to the hotel. One, Sinjin needs a bath. And two, it was starting to get really hot and sticky. Given that I've lived in places that did not have central air conditioning for the last 3 years, I was looking forward to cranking up the A/C as high as I wanted, luxuriating in the feel of cold air blowing from the vents. The over-use of A/C is just one of many reasons why I would not make a proper environmentalist.

On a side note, I think the type of accommodations that we have patronized while we have traveled is one marker of the Other's J's & my life. When we were young and in school, we frequented hostels, or hotels/motels that were just a step above hostels -- you know, the kind of establishments where cigarette butts have burned holes through the bedding and you wonder if you should go ahead and lay t.p. down on the toilet before you sit down on it. Then after we married, were the "Hampton Inn" years. The Other J & I have had an unusual fondness for it. Maybe it has something to do with the fact that we stayed in one on our way back from the honeymoon. We knew that the class of hotels that the honeymoon accommodations belonged in were too much for us to realistically book again. But the Hampton Inn, we could do. We especially liked the entertainment units that they had in the rooms. Good selection of movies, video games & console, etc. And now? The Residence Inn seems to be our choice. There's a little kitchenette, which makes it easier to get the baby's needs all met. And we've frequented them often enough now that we've started getting coupons from them. There's wireless internet and they always provide cribs (although neither was satisfactorily provided last night & the Other J unleashed his fury to the hotel staff). And I can't help but notice that it's basically other families that choose to stay here.

One constant through the various stages? We always get up early enough to take advantage of the free breakfast. Some things never change.

Roadtrip

2009-05-15T09:30:00.000-07:00

The Js & Mr. Sinjin are taking a roadtrip. We're not going anywhere exotic. The catalyst for the trip initially was to go visit family in Ohio, but it looks like they're busy, but we're forging ahead with the roadtrip. And instead of Ohio, we'll be making a pit stop in Hershey, PA. I will determine for myself if it is indeed the "sweetest place on earth." Top of the list of reasons why we decided on this locale: it is conveniently located between here and Washington, PA. It also seems like a nice family oriented place with lots of activities for kids. Of course, Sinjin is a little young for it. But we'll scope it out for possible future trips. And who are we kidding? Despite the growing list of responsibilities that remind us that we ARE adults, the Other J and I are big kids. The Other J has just been waiting to give us a reason to make a near annual trip to Disney World. Yes. I was all for going there for vacation when it was just the 2 of us, but that was before I knew that he'd been there 7? times already. Anyway, from Washington, PA, we'll make our way to DC. I'm still not over the fact that we were unable to return. But at least this way, I'll only have fond memories of it. Who knows, maybe I would have found life with kids in the DC area to be a little overwhelming.

Anyhow, I hope we see lots of folks on the roadtrip and that people will have a chance to see Mr. Sinjin.

Opaque . . . or Solidify?

2009-05-05T09:50:00.000-07:00

I do feel increasingly bad for Sinjin for all the carting around that we do. In his first year, he will have been to Korea, moved at least twice, and will have taken many interstate road trips. The weekend we went to NJ for house hunting, we drove down on a Friday, battled beach traffic (it was unseasonably warm that weekend) on the NJ turnpike, and arrived early evening at our hotel. We then saw 19 houses over two days, battling 90 degree heat on the second day, and drove back to CT, somehow managing to be simultaneously exhausted and wired.

The funny thing about buying houses, I've decided, is that no matter what your budget is, it seems like the house that you want is always $50,000 more than your budget (or some corresponding percentage, as you get into higher figures). The first day was a little demoralizing, as I realized that the 20+ year house was perhaps not to be found within the budget that I had come up for us. We also happened to look on that first day in the swanky part of town where, apparently, Bruce Springsteen and Queen Latifah happen to live. Believe me, we'd be in the same town, but we'd be living in the very modest part -- away from the homes of the local glitterati.

In the end, we did settle on a house that we could see as the 20+ year house. We'd have to add on to it at some point. And although in recent memory, I said to the Other J that I'd like to not go through major renovations in a house again, I apparently didn't really mean it. There was some melodrama with negotiations and at some point we were making an offer on a different house, but in the end, the house that "spoke to us" came back to us. We've done this often enough that we know that a house isn't really yours until the closing and things could always fall apart in the interim. But if it all goes well, I can't wait to post pictures of it. It really is quite pretty and sits on a gorgeous piece of property. We won't have the Boss and the Queen as quasi-neighbors, but I think we'll live.

Anyway, over the house hunting weekend, I felt so . . . marginalized. It was an odd feeling. The real estate agent is the wife of a referring doc to what will be the Other J's new practice. And it was clear that she was excited to show us around and welcome us to her community, but it was also clear that she saw us somehow as younger versions of herself and her spouse. I could be wrong, but it felt like she really lived the, "I'm a supportive spouse and I'm the important good woman behind my good man" philosophy. And she clearly was very focused on the Other J: what he wanted, his commute, the hospitals that he'd need to go to, etc., etc. And I just got the vague feeling that she was brushing off what was important to me. It definitely left me feeling ignored and . . . invisible.

As I raised the concern whether this feeling of invisibility was going to be a constant in my life from now on, the Other J commented that based on our conversations, a person who wasn't trying to impose her own dynamics onto us would have seen that I was "the Decider" when it came to real estate, but it didn't really make me feel any better. Of course, our recent history - of me giving up my cush job for the Other J to continue training in a part of the country which I found I loathed - doesn't help things. And members of my own family, when we decided that we'd move for the fellowship, saying things like, "[the Other J] and his career is more important" doesn't really help. The Other J WAS trying. He asked me what we could we do to make me feel the opposite of invisible, and what would be the opposite word for invisible.

ME: Uh . . . VISIBLE?!?!

Other J: Oh! I was thinking along the lines of opaque or solidify.

1 - 99

2009-04-28T07:53:00.000-07:00

Copy and paste this into your own blog, if you want to participate. Then, bold the items that you’ve actually done. Courtesy of Ms. Dottie.

1. Started your own blog

2. Slept under the stars

3. Played in a band

4. Visited Hawaii

5. Watched a meteor shower

6. Given more than you can afford to charity

7. Been to Disneyland

8. Climbed a mountain

9. Held a praying mantis

10. Sang a solo

11. Bungee jumped

12. Visited Paris - visited is too strong a word. We changed metro stops on our way to the airport. The Other J and I specifically decided to "save" it until we had more money. I kind of regret it now. Who knows when we'll go back?

13. Watched a lightning storm at sea

14. Taught yourself an art from scratch

15. Adopted a child

16. Had food poisoning

17. Walked to the top of the Statue of Liberty

18. Grown your own vegetables

19. Seen the Mona Lisa in France

20. Slept on an overnight train

21. Had a pillow fight

22. Hitch hiked

23. Taken a sick day when you’re not ill

24. Built a snow fort

25. Held a lamb - no, but according to my extended family, I apparently live with "an angel's lamb" -- and they don't mean Sinjin.

26. Gone skinny dipping

27. Run a Marathon - Never. Ever. Ever, will I put myself through that kind of torture. I'd be perfectly happy to become fit, but NEVER.

28. Ridden in a gondola in Venice

29. Seen a total eclipse

30. Watched a sunrise or sunset

31. Hit a home run - so pitifully unathletic.

32. Been on a cruise

33. Seen Niagara Falls in person

34. Visited the birthplace of your ancestors

35. Seen an Amish community - I've even been given the finger by an Amish buggy driver. It could have been the basis of a Seinfeld episode.

36. Taught yourself a new language

37. Had enough money to be truly satisfied

38. Seen the Leaning Tower of Pisa in person

39. Gone rock climbing

40. Seen Michelangelo’s David

41. Sung karaoke

42. Seen Old Faithful geyser erupt

43. Bought a stranger a meal at a restaurant

44. Visited Africa

45. Walked on a beach by moonlight

46. Been transported in an ambulance - rode along with my Dad.

47. Had your portrait painted - kind of, a nude, no less!

48. Gone deep sea fishing

49. Seen the Sistine Chapel in person

50. Been to the top of the Eiffel Tower in Paris

51. Gone scuba diving or snorkeling

52. Kissed in the rain - never occurred for me to do it in the rain.

53. Played in the mud

54. Gone to a drive-in theater

55. Been in a movie

56. Visited the Great Wall of China

57. Started a business - in a legal sense, not a practical one.

58. Taken a martial arts class

59. Visited Russia

60. Served at a soup kitchen

61. Sold Girl Scout Cookies

62. Gone whale watching

63. Got flowers for no reason

64. Donated blood, platelets or plasma

65. Gone sky diving

66. Visited a Nazi Concentration Camp

67. Bounced a check - oh the shame. The shame. It is SO unlike me. I was young! (and less neurotic then)

68. Flown in a helicopter

69. Saved a favorite childhood toy

70. Visited the Lincoln Memorial

71. Eaten Caviar

72. Pieced a quilt

73. Stood in Times Square

74. Toured the Everglades

75. Been fired from a job

76. Seen the Changing of the Guards in London

77. Broken a bone

78. Been on a speeding motorcycle - with no helmet. Again, when I was young and the supervising adult should have known better (my uncle).

79. Seen the Grand Canyon in person

80. Published a book

81. Visited the Vatican

82. Bought a brand new car

83. Walked in Jerusalem

84. Had your picture in the newspaper

85. Read the entire Bible

86. Visited the White House

87. Killed and prepared an animal for eating -eww.

88. Had chickenpox

89. Saved someone’s life

90. Sat on a jury - just a mock jury, for a mock trial, in law school.

91. Met someone famous - not someone I want to admit to.

92. Joined a book club

93. Lost a loved one

94. Had a baby

95. Seen the Alamo in person

96. Swam in the Great Salt Lake

97. Been involved in a law suit

98. Owned a cell phone

99. Been stung by a bee

Looking Forward

2009-04-20T12:41:00.000-07:00

The fact that I am officially without any real estate is making me feel light as a bird. But of course, this weekend (this weekend!) we have an appointment to go house hunting in New Jersey. It's so strange. The Other J and I have spent so little time there, and if all goes well, it will be the place where we put down roots and stay put for a long time. So it is exciting to go and take a second look and acquaint ourselves with our new home town. April is almost over, then there will be the months of May and June, and poof, we will found ourselves in a new town, new house, new job (for the Other J, at least for now), and new life.

I think there will be things about CT that I will miss, once I have moved on. However, overall, it hasn't been a place where I connected. I can no longer say that it's a place where I've been unhappy. It feels like I've been yearning for happiness for a while, but it had remained elusive. I've been contented enough and believe that resilience is one of my strengths, but the last time I had been "happy" predated my mother's death. But I've been pretty happy since the boy's come along. It is one of those life's great mysteries. I'm a person who prizes my independence & freedom and all day long, my life's held captive by this needy, helpless, little being. Yet, I'm undeniably happier than I've been in years. Do I envision myself as a stay-at-home mom for the long haul? Probably not, but I'm not sure what's going to happen for the immediate future. Try for no. 2 soon? What happens if I can't get pregnant with no. 2 easily? Try to find a job in this lousy economy? Get an LLM? Who knows. I am trying to go with the flow a little bit. We'll move, get the lay of the land, then maybe I'll start contemplating my options.

For the moment, I am just enjoying this time period. Wish us luck in our house search. I'm looking for a place to live for the next 20 years -- at the very least!

Korea Pics

2009-04-11T04:33:00.000-07:00

Sinjin hanging out at the airport with one of his favorite toys. Thanks Auntie Tara.

Can you see the family resemblance between the generations?

With Grandpa.

A small subset of the extended family in Iksan. Who's the sleepy looking white guy?

Waiting for the train.

Is it a Daughter?

2009-04-07T21:42:00.000-07:00

The boy and I are spending some time together as the Other J sleeps. It's important that the Other J forces himself back into a more natural schedule before he returns to work on Monday. So I've volunteered to stay awake with the baby until he slowly recovers from jet lag. It feels like torture and I'm not really sure if I'm doing the right things by him. Before the trip to Korea, I've kept a pretty firm schedule, never picked him up before he fell asleep, etc. But all of that went out the window during the Korea trip and I don't really have a good sense of when he naturally needs to sleep to let him cry it out or have steely reserves about not going to him when he's refusing to fall asleep. Anyway, poor boy, so much has happened to him. The only thing I'm trying to do is keep things dark at night, so his body gets all the right cues to set him back to an organized sleeping schedule. Who knows how long that will take.

The trip to Korea was great, and went as smoothly as could be expected. There was a moment before the trip, with all the hoopla about the not so friendly neighbors to the north and their missile launch, I had reservations about going. But then I figured, if there was some sort of military tussle and armageddon, at least we'd all be together. On the flight there, Sinjin didn't have any meltdowns, but he didn't sleep very well and I was reduced to holding him and rocking him until my arms felt like they were going to fall off. But he did cat nap throughout the flight, but arrived in Seoul in a clearly sleep-deprived state.

While we were in Korea, because we had the baby, most of our decisions were comfort-driven. We took a cab all the way from the airport to my 1st auntie's house, rather than take a bus, then transfer. And we took that first day and night to rest up before we made it down to the country to see my Dad. This gave us an opportunity to visit with all the aunties in Seoul who came to check out the baby. He was a great hit with them and they were gratifyingly adoring and lavishly praised his cuteness. They also, in a scenario that was to be repeated with every female relative, took the opportunity during diaper changing to check out Sinj's package. Weird, but I came to expect it during the trip.

In the States, I do notice people checking out the baby often, but people don't come up all that often. And even though I had the deterrent of traveling with the Other J (I've noticed on a prior trip that it makes the folks a little nervous about approaching - especially when we're out of Seoul), plenty of people got over their reservations to get a good look at the baby. When we took the high speed train (first class, again for the comfort) to the country, on one leg of the trip, the attendant that walks through, came by to coo and praise the baby. And asked if he was a girl. We got that question all the time and when replied that he was our son, we got the answer that was a constant refrain during the trip: "A boy?! He's so pretty, he could be a girl!" When I got up from the train seat to go change Sinjin's diaper, upon return, I saw that the attendant had left bottled water, towelettes, and biscuits on our trays. I leaned over to the Other J and said, "Our cute boy got us service!" The Other J thought it was just part of the first class package, but I pointed out all the other first class passengers -- sans goodies. He then said that when she brought the stuff over, she had exclaimed, "You have a really cute baby!"

Of course my Dad, along with the rest of the family, enjoyed the baby immensely. But even tangential people, like my cousin's housekeeper, couldn't get enough of the baby. She held him constantly and called him Mr. Senji (people had a hard time with the name). Same for my Dad's caretaker. And when we were out in public, people would stare, stare, stare, and point. On one of the rare outings that the Other J, Sinjin, and I had by ourselves at a Department store, we heard some make-up counter women comment as we walked by. One of them ran across the section breathlessly, patted the baby on the head and face, then returned to her counter with a wave. On our second night in Iksan, my cousin gathered a lot of the family in the area for a big dinner. Sinjin was down for the night, but the relatives came to look and made enough of a ruckus to wake him up (they were utterly remorseless about it), made the pretty girl comment, poked & prodded him, and of course, watched as we changed his diaper. Poor Sinjin. But he took it all in good stride and in return, he was held pretty much constantly during the entire trip. And now that we're back, I can't help but notice that he's much more needy and wants to be held a lot more. Oh well. I really feel like I can't begrudge him, since he was so good during the trip.

But the most over-the-top baby admiring happened during the flight back. An older Korean woman, diagonally several rows up and on the other side of the plane, walked by the aisle next to me to peer down into the bassinet and admire Sinjin. I distinctly got the impression that she came over to where I was to just look at the baby. My suspicions were confirmed about an hour later, when the Other J had him for a while. One moment I looked over and saw that my son was not in his father's arms. When I started frantically looking around, the Other J pointed out the woman who had come by earlier and said that she asked to hold him. Fine. I figured she would keep him for a few moments. Oh no. She held him and played with him. Then she walked him around on the plane and showed him off. I saw him in the arms of several of the stewardesses. After about 1/2 an hour of this, I made the Other J get him back. He said, "It's not like she can go anywhere." Hello! I've seen Flight Plan.

Anyway, even though the trip was exhausting and all three of us started the trip with a cold (I still have mine), I'm so glad we went. And all the admiration of Sinjin WAS satisfying, even though it got weird at times. The best of course, was that my Dad really got to enjoy him.

And now I am paying for it. My baby's asleep at the moment in his bouncy seat, but I am wide awake. The movers are coming tomorrow to pack, I still need to make a few trips to the apartment, meet up with the real estate attorney to pick up the documents for execution for the closing on Friday, and the Other J is in freaky move-mode. I'm SO TIRED. Today, when the Other J woke me up earlier than I had planned -- to eat dinner (he was trying to be thoughtful), I cried. I'll put some pictures up, once the dust has settled.

One More Day

2009-03-26T07:13:00.000-07:00

Until we leave for Korea. Leaving for Korea, in my mind, has become the beginning of the end of our time here. Yes, we'll be in CT for a couple more months, but the fact that we are in a furnished apartment will be a palpable reminder that our stay here is temporary.

To add to my overall level of frenzy, I have been charged with packing for not only for the baby and me, but also for the Other J. He says I will be much more efficient in packing for him, but I can see it now. "Why didn't you bring my ________ ?" Already, this is not the best time for marital harmony. We're not exactly fighting, and overall, we're such good compliments as we partner through life. However, during stressful periods, I get emotionally drained and my ability to deal with things that are tedious totally disappears, and the Other J's response to stress is to become more tedious. That is to say, he wants to discuss over and over and over again decisions that I believe are already made and shelved. Last night, he launched into a long discussion about something that we've already agreed to. Exasperated, I replied with a slight elevation of my tone, which set off the boy into a fit of tears. Oh, come on! I wasn't even yelling.

Also, in a new twist, we decided that we will buy a place in NJ instead of renting for a little while, like we originally planned. In the long run, that decision will simplify our life, but in the short run, it just adds another complication and gives us more to do before we move to NJ. But I am excited at the prospect of buying. Ever since we bought our first place, the prospect of having to rent again just hasn't been appealing. But one thing at a time. My mantra and prayer for the next 10 days or so will be "Please let Sinjin be a good traveler. Please let Sinjin be a good traveler." I guess this is my way to say that I won't be blogging for a little while. But who knows, I sometimes will have more internet access there than I'd been anticipating.

Friends

2009-03-19T20:24:00.001-07:00

I hope the babies turn out to be at least as good friends to one another as their mommies are to each other.

Temperament Modifier

2009-03-17T14:06:00.000-07:00

I have a temper. A pretty bad one, but the people who have actually seen it in motion comprise a small circle: members of my own family, the Best Friend, and now the Other J's parents, and although they've never said so, I imagine my various neighbors over the years have a pretty good idea of how volatile my temper can be. Tempers run hot on both sides of my family and I'm certainly far from having the worst one. My maternal grandmother, for one, had a legendary temper. I'm certainly not proud of this quality in me and believe that it has a link with my blood pressure. Moreover, the Bible refers to curses that run in families. Now, I don't know if I really fully buy into the curse bit, but I do believe that families can perpetuate negative traits and patterns unless something pretty powerful comes in and breaks the pattern.

A bad temper is not one of the Other J's shortcomings. In fact, his ire was so slow to rise and unsatisfying in a conflict, early on in the relationship, I'd resort to kicking his car to get him going. The Other J is an adult, and married me temper and all, and I have to say, he has been really great at coping with it and managing it. And despite my multiple pledges to work on it (it is a perennial new year's resolution), I haven't made as much progress as I'd like on taming the temper. However, I'd hate to harm my child with the effects of it, or worse still, have him copy the behavior that I model.

But so far, all signs indicate that he's a gentle, sensitive little soul. He's an unusually calm baby and even his cranky cries sound mellow. It is truly rare when he goes full-out crying, turns bright red, gets loud, and as the Other J puts it, "makes tears." On those occasions, he is either truly hungry, really overtired, or his mama trips and falls while wearing him when he's in the Baby Bjorn. But the thing that gets to me most, is that he starts crying full-on when he notices that I'm seriously upset. I was on the phone today with the Other J talking with him about a very touchy subject. My temper flared and I raised my voice, and instantly Sinjin started to cry most piteously. Immediately contrite, I comforted him and apologized, then lowered my voice. I have never been able to de-escalate once my top was blown previously. So hopefully, my sensitive little son will be able to help me finally get a better grip on my temper.

My Boys

2009-03-12T09:40:00.001-07:00

It's Happening

2009-03-10T07:01:00.000-07:00

I'm stressed. I don't think I've felt this way since prior to my exit from the wealth management firm, but we do have a lot on our plates. As each calendar day passes, I think, OMG, we're getting closer to our Korea departure date. But really, we've been slowly, but surely, been getting ready for the first phase of our move.

First off, I'm elated that the house must have appraised to the sale price and that the buyer's financing is all in order. With the banking sector being what it is, I wasn't going to feel psychologically cleared to start moving out until that happened. But we've gotten started. We have listed various items (armoire, futon, grill, etc.) on craigslist and have sold or are in the process of selling them. A dump truck is coming tomorrow for us to further cull items. Cousin, if you are reading, don't tell your mother we're throwing things away! Ha! We're going to pick up the key to the furnished apartment this weekend, which means that I'll slowly be moving items over to the apartment.

In the meantime, in the absence of the armoire, we have literally been using diaper boxes as clothing drawers. So sad and ghetto. And when my house isn't tidy, it's a constant psychological irritant that lowers my sense of well-being and elevates my baseline stress level. Of course between now and our trip to Korea, the Other J will be leaving for a whole week for conferences. During said week, the Best Friend and AC will be coming for a visit. I'm so excited!!! The excitement, I think, just adds to my overall hyper state of being these days. It's just funny, but the Best Friend and I seem to have a knack for visiting each other during transitional stages in our life. The last time she was here, I was just moving into our house and I visited her when she was finishing up her dissertation and packing up her condo, then went to see her again when she was unpacking her stuff into her FIRST house in Washington, PA.

Then, of course, there will be the visit with the baby and hubby to Korea. I'm certainly not looking forward to the 14 hour flight and praying that MY baby won't be the baby that screams the whole time on the flight. 10 days in Korea. And then after our trip: 1 day to recover, 1 day for movers to come and pack, 1 day for loading and moving stuff into storage, and then the day of closing. And in a sign of the times, the thing that's worrying me most? I am most stressed about Sinjin's jet-lag influenced sleeping schedule in Korea and upon his return home.

From the Other Side

2009-03-02T10:17:00.000-08:00

The in-laws have come and gone and everybody is still alive. Although I had not planned on it, I actually interacted (very mild term for what actually happened) with them. They wanted an opportunity to apologize, so I let them. It was not pretty. I wish I could say that I was kind and gentle and the process was an easy one for the in-laws. But I'd be lying.

What I can say is that their attempt was far more genuine than I had been anticipating and as the Other J puts it, I was not nearly as rough on them as he had imagined. He still thinks that it is likely the most bruising emotional encounter that they have ever had. I'm certainly not proud of that fact, but what can I say? I'm someone who needs to brutally put everything on the table and get out everything I need to say before I can even think about moving on. Although I dragged my feet on the visit and genuinely believed that my son may gain nothing from having them in his life, I was glad that the in-laws saw him. Whatever rage and hurt feelings I may have harbored, it was clear that the years of the break have been harder on them: they looked much older and their faces had been marked with suffering (I told them they looked really bad -- yes, I was no angel during the encounter).

There are some things that have happened that suggest progress has been made in me. Up until now, the Other J and I have maintained a Kremlin-like silence over the details of our life. They didn't know where we were going, whether the Other J had secured a job, etc. After the unpleasant 3-4 hour (I think) session, we sat down to dinner together (who knows how long it's been since I've shared a meal with them) and I started talking about the job, our plans for possibly baby no. 2, etc. The Other J and I were both surprised at how much I told them, but I guess my natural "letting it all hang out" tendencies emerged. And due to the snow storm, their return flight was hideously delayed, even though they drove all the way to JFK and bought new tickets to try to make it back to GA yesterday.

And I actually felt bad for them.

Random Bits

2009-02-22T15:54:00.000-08:00

* The above are some of the latest shots of our boy. They are typical in the sense that he is not smiling. I have taken hundreds of pictures of him thus far and there have only been 2 smiling photos. The Other J says that he doesn't like the red-eye reduction on the camera and that's why he doesn't smile. But he's pretty serious otherwise. He doesn't break out into a smile or a giggle unless I specifically work for it by either lifting him up in the air or singing to him. I have sung myself hoarse when getting him out of a bad mood. Interestingly, Sinjin doesn't smile or giggle when the Other J sings to him.

* I seem to have a bulimic baby. He is teething, or at least that's what I'm told by more experienced parents. The boy's been drooling up a storm and has been gnawing on his fingers. Sometimes four fingers get stuffed in there, triggering the gag reflex. It all usually ends with me drenched in Sinjin's most recent meal. Ick.

* The in-laws are coming into town this weekend. Yup. It'll be the first time they will see the baby. I actually prompted the Other J for the invite; I am still reeling from the shock of my own actions. I will probably make myself scarce during the visit, but I'm still mired in dread as the days count down.

A Flowery Tale

2009-02-14T08:15:00.000-08:00

The story I am about to launch into has been told many times, but it is a Js classic. At a certain point in the story, the Other J receives looks of sympathy and at another, I receive looks of sympathy. Anyway, what is prompting me is a vase of roses that sits on the kitchen table. They arrived yesterday, in light of Valentine's Day. I like the roses, told the Other J how much I liked them, and thanked him. However, it took an excruciating process to arrive at this level of floral harmony.

Roses are not the only flowers that I appreciate. In fact, I like almost all types of flowers, with the exception of the carnation (I don't like the way they smell). The only caveat is that I like my floral bouquets to highlight a single type of flower. I have come to deeply loathe those hodge-podge mixed bouquets that I have come to think of as the "grocery store special." Ever since we started dating 13 years ago, I have told the Other J of this particularity. Over and over, like a chant, I have exclaimed "I only like one type of flower" in any sort of floral arrangement or bouquet.

Fast forward. It was year 2 or 3 of the marriage and thus year 7 or 8 of the relationship -- sometime when we were living in our teeny townhouse in Arlington. An incident occurred. An incident that has come to be known as "The Greatest Misdeed" that the Other J has committed in our marital or dating history. Just a few months ago, he committed an act that gave the The Greatest Misdeed a run for its money, but I digress. The Greatest Misdeed was of such a magnitude that the Other J realized he needed to do some heavy lifting to dampen my fury. In a stroke of timing that made the whole thing even more bizarre, the Other J was on night float during this period and I had been getting into my job really early, so it was one of those weeks where we constantly missed each other and didn't see each other for the entire week.

One evening, when I arrived home, I found the Other J's peace offering on the kitchen table: a card, a vase of flowers, and some chocolates. On the card, the Other J had written, "I'm sorry. I love you." Yes, it was nice and the words would have placated me in other, lesser, circumstances. But I felt that the Other J had failed to demonstrate a serious contemplation of his sins, taken a shortcut, and failed to exhibit an understanding of the atrociousness of The Greatest Misdeed. As for the chocolates, they were, unfortunately, dark chocolate. I do not like dark chocolate. A fact that he should have learned by this time. And the flowers. Oh, the flowers. Yup. The grocery store special. The tangible proof of his inattentiveness not only failed to placate, but raised my ire.

When the Other J, full of hope that his offering had been well-received, returned home from his night shift, a sight of utter carnage had greeted him: the card had been torn to bits and left in a pile, the chocolates had been smashed, and there stood a vase of headless greens -- with the decapitated flower heads sitting all over the table. Yes. I wanted him to return to a strong visual and wanted things to linger in his mind. But this is the point of the story when the Other J gets deep looks of sympathy. Poor the Other J, how horrible it must be to live with a crazy banshee of a wife. Right.

Anyway, I later explained to him that I was frustrated that he had failed to learn my preferences, after years of me telling him. So I wanted to give him a jarring visual to help him remember. At any rate, we rode out that incident.

A few weeks later, the Other J and I went to hang out with our friends, L & JP, at their place. While the girls chatted, the boys went out to go grab lunch from the grocery store in the next block. When they returned, they not only had lunch, but each husband came back with a bouquet of flowers for their wives. L took the bouquet of roses from JP with a kiss, expressed her thanks, promptly put them in a vase, and displayed them as the centerpiece on her table. I mumbled a weak thanks, and limply tossed them onto the counter top. I noticed that not only did the Other J look confused, but that JP too had a look of befuddlement. Oh yes. Another poor the Other J moment.

When we got in the car to drive home, I explained my lack of enthusiasm to the Other J.

ME: I know what you're thinking. First of all, I know that JP had the idea to get flowers for his wife and then you thought, 'Oh, I'll get something for Julie too.' So you didn't get the reaction that you would have gotten if you came up with it on your own. AND I can't believe that you got me another mixed bouquet of flowers. I only like one type of flower!

The Other J's response: You NEVER TOLD ME that you only like one type of flower!

This is the point in the story when I get looks of sympathy. But the Other J always wants me to point out that from that point on, he remembered that I only like one type of flower.

Ugh

2009-02-10T11:46:00.000-08:00

Here's the good news: it appears that we have sold our house. And I don't want to diminish the thrill of knowing that the house isn't going to sit on the market forever, but I can't convey how horrid things will be for a few weeks. Because of the alacrity of the sale, we have to have an interim in-town move and live somewhere else for 3 months. Again, the good news is that we found a furnished place that's big enough to be comfortable for all of us, is affordable, and is safe. In the last week or so, we had contemplated options that had none of those fine qualities and the thought of living in them, no matter how brief the time period, filled me with dread and loathing. One place had wanted a $1000 pet deposit, of which only 1/2 was refundable, for the 3 month lease. So I'm deeply grateful that we found such a good solution for the interim period.

However, nothing can change the fact that the logistics makes me want to pull my hair out. The Other J, the baby, and I will be flying to Korea for a visit. Four days after our transatlantic flight home, we will have the closing for the house, which means that we will need to move out of our house during the 4 days when we are jet-lagged and weary. Thankfully, we are getting full-service movers who will go ahead and pack for us. Since we previously never had moving expenses covered, we had never contemplated having someone else pack for us, but the cost for the service was a lot more reasonable than I had thought. I think we've hit a stage when I may never want to do my own packing again for moves. Please, please, please, let there be very few moves in my future. After this next 2-step move to NJ, I would maybe like to move just 2 more times until the day I die. Seriously. The longest that I have ever lived in one place is 5 years. I cannot express in words how much I want to put down roots and bring an end to my itinerant lifestyle.

I feel like various phases of our marriage can be sketched out via our moving process.

The early years: we asked friends to help us move. We'd pay for the help in the form of pizza to the actual movers, but we'd also make karmic payments by enthusiastically signing up to help other friends when it was their turn to move.

The home-ownership years: we'd do our own packing, but we felt that our stuff had grown too voluminous and that we were too old to continue to ask our friends to move us. So we would hire movers to load and unload the truck.

The child(ren?) years: we can't contemplate packing for ourselves, especially with the current time frame, with the wee one.

Please send good feelings, thoughts, and prayers our way as we start our moving process, which will be rather drawn-out. These transitional time periods are always tough, but I feel like I have much less energy now than I had previously.

Cheapskate

2009-01-30T12:02:00.000-08:00

The Other J has been hinting that I have gone too long without posting. Really, I feel that a personal blog should not be subject to any sort of scrutiny, as far as output goes, but the Other J is a curious (hence the constant awareness of my posting rate) and productive person (hence the touch of judgment I hear in his voice - even though he tries hard to sound non-judgmental - when he comments about the blogging rate). I guess it does keep me from going too long without a post.

Anyway, I'm thinking about getting a couple of items (jumper, bumbo seat) for the boy, as he seems ready for alternative activities. Hitherto, his life has been largely comprised of sleeping in his crib or hanging out in his bouncy seat. It seems to be a simple, and boring existence. But as I get ready to purchase new items, I am plunged into minor turmoil once again.

As I prepared for Sinjin's arrival, I had read up on tomes about how modern parenting had gone off the deep-end and people go crazy with baby gear. I probably was inclined to read such volumes to begin with, because I don't like having tons of things and don't like a lot of clutter in the house. I also am the more frugal spouse. So as we got our nursery and baby supplies together, I tried not to go overboard and got items that were well-reviewed, but pretty budget friendly. And there were battles with the Other J. Although I had decided I hadn't wanted to get a glider for the nursery, the Other J would cajole and hang out near the glider section, to point out how fabulous they were, each time we went to Babies R Us. And almost all of Sinjin's clothes have been hand-me-downs.

What I hadn't prepared for was the guilt. I, for the most part, have gone with my cheapo gut, as far as baby stuff went. For instance, I bought a perfectly serviceable crib, but it was kind of cheapo. But even before the baby's arrival, I would ponder the fact that other parents bought ones that went for more, but looked as sturdy as a tank. And even though I was the one who decided to get the crib we picked out, I'd look at it and think "poor baby, he's got a cheapskate mommy." The second time I took the boy to church, the other couple who had a baby in October brought their baby to church for the first time. I couldn't help but notice that the two babies were outfitted similarly - with car seat, car seat frame, bunting, and their mamas each with a diaper bag slung over their shoulders. But the other baby's items were if not "top of the line", at least "higher in line" than Sinjin's gear. This made me a little sad. The Best Friend remedied the discrepancy in diaper bags at Christmas when I recounted my little tale of woe.

Of course, I could just buy higher quality stuff to begin with, but my cheapskate habits, I think, will not be easily quashed. My buying habits are largely informed by friends who've had babies recently - since I think that they are more thorough in their research than me, and why repeat the work if someone else has done the leg work? So I looked up the jumper that a friend's baby has been happily using and was dismayed at the price. And then I looked for a cheapo alternative. But I'm feeling guilty already. So I think I'll be having a tortuous shopping experience ahead of me at Babies R Us, as I mull over my option - cheapo or not cheapo?

The Hair Just Keeps Growing

2009-01-22T14:28:00.001-08:00

Changes Abreast

2009-01-20T07:30:00.000-08:00

At the moment, I'm absent-mindedly watching Inauguration Coverage. Assuming that the swearing in doesn't take place until late afternoon, the coverage certainly got started early. But then again, there are people on the mall who've camped out overnight. As enthusiastically as we supported the president-elect, even without a baby and even if we still lived in the D.C. area, I'm not sure if I would have braved the weather conditions to participate. I am a little finicky about my comforts.

However, as historic as today is, I am more absorbed about the changes that are taking place in the microcosm that is our little family. It feels like the job search took forever, but once the decision was made, a rolling-stone effect is taking place. Although our move is months away, we went ahead and met with our real estate agent who recommended putting our house on the market by February 1st. And she is potentially bringing by a couple who are "perfect" for our house in the next couple of days. This, of course, means that we are about to launch into the hideous process of getting our house ready to be put on the market. A handyman is out on the garage, fixing the broken garage window pane brought on by winter storms, as I type. Ugh. The knowledge that it is a hideous real estate market for sellers also intensifies my inner groan. Oh well. The Other J sagely points out that if we had our money in the stock market instead, we would also be groaning. At least we got to enjoy the house in a very tangible sense.

Since we are putting the house on the market so soon, it is possible that we may, like the last time we moved, need to vacate the house before we are ready to leave the area. Then, like last time, we might have to go with the corporate housing option during the interim. And as unattractive as that option is, I'd rather have that happen than have the house not move off the market. Still, all this activity gearing up for change is exciting. And I'm allowing myself to envision our life in our next destination more freely, now that everything is all formalized.

There had been a part of me that was disappointed that we weren't making a dramatic change from our current locale, but I am now glad that the next move won't be so hard on my darling cat, Jane. I feel more than a little guilty these days because I don't give her nearly the attention I used to lavish on her regularly. Even on the blog, pre-baby, she used to be featured very prominently. But she is a good cat and shows no aggression toward the baby. And for now, she is blissfully unaware of the moment when we will get out the cat carrier and resort to pushing on her face to get her in it. At least she will only need to be in it for 2.5 hours. It could have been much, much worse.

Signed, Sealed, Delivered --

2009-01-13T13:04:00.000-08:00

Oh yeah! I have been dying to write this post. It's official. The Js now know the next destination. Admittedly, it's not nearly as exotic a destination as I had hoped for and it's not an area where close friends or family are currently living, but it's where we're going: the unglamorous land known as New Jersey! Specifically, the northern part of the Jersey shore. This result is not without irony since the first year we lived in CT, the two of us took a vacation and drove through New Jersey and made a not so fateful declaration. With the strip malls, the annoying traffic jug handles/circles, and the McMansions we could see during our drive, the Other J and I turned to each other and promised each other that we would never live in New Jersey.

It turns out that God was laughing at us. But events unraveled and the timing of things so tortured and precise in a way that led to this ultimate decision that we really are convinced of God's hand. Things could have turnd out so differently even if one or two things were off. But I do think it's no accident that things moved along so swiftly with this particular practice in NJ, that it happened to be the only practice that I also visited with the Other J, and that the Other J's future boss seemed to be such a good fit, stylistically and temperamentally, with him. We both got a really great feel about the future boss and he appeared to be a little OCD in a manner that "the Other J could really get on board with." On our visit there, while the Other J spent time at the practice, I had a real estate tour of the area and couldn't shake the feeling, "wow - we could live here." And the closer, when it seemed like God was saying to me, "this really is what I have in store for you guys," was when it came up in conversation that the future boss is a Christian. From everything that we were getting about him, that tidbit was not a surprise, but as a general rule of thumb, for various reasons, the Other J's area of specialty is not one that's flooded with a lot of Christian practicioners. So it hadn't even occurred to us to make that a factor.

FYI, the option that was also very high on the list was Hawaii. Yup. We chose New Jersey over Hawaii. More than one person has bemoaned that we didn't pick Hawaii, but in NJ we will be within driving distance of lots of people that we love and we will still have a beach nearby - for those who are interested in visiting! This outcome is certainly not what we were expecting at the beginning of this process, but we are excited. And we are unabashedly delighted about leaving CT behind. Anyway, it turns out that the Js are not coming to a town where there are current friends, but we're not too far (think Hawaii) and hopefully we'll make some new friends. It actually is a very pretty area, with NY and Philly quite close, so do come visit.

12 Weeks!

2009-01-08T10:56:00.001-08:00

I've been behind on my blogging since the holidays. This is somewhat of a mystery since we didn't go anywhere for the holidays, took it pretty easy, and I had the additional boon of having the Other J at home for about 10 days to help with the baby and other household chores. Anyway, as I return to the blog, I am wondering if I will ever write about anything else besides the baby. I think I used to have more diverse thoughts and musings, but as of now, much of my thoughts revolve around the boy. Who knows, maybe when he is a little older and gets more independent, I'll have more mental space for other musings.

But as of now, I can't believe that the little man is 12 weeks old today. In that short time, he has grown considerably bigger and his features have taken on a more permanent cast - not quite as changeable as they had looked in the really early weeks. And I promised myself that I would let other people be the ones to compliment my son, but I'll let you in on a secret: I'm pleased at the way his features are settling. I think he's cute. O.K. That's enough of that.

And I don't want to jinx myself with the next few statements, but Sinjin had been a pretty easy baby all along, but as we come to the 12 week mark, I have to observe that he's been getting even easier. He's got an easygoing temperament and is a really happy baby. Given his parents, I had been worried about having a high-strung baby and he may turn out to be high-strung later on, but for now, I'm pretty grateful. Oh, he's had his moments. For instance, with the breastfeeding, my supply problem (if you could call it that) has been that I've had an overabundance. Recently, there was a particularly bad period and Sinjin would get tired of being sprayed in the eye and would get all upset because he couldn't manage the more abundant of the two sides. It got to the point where he would start wailing as soon as he got a glimpse of that side. Imagine, my stern lectures about how the global food crisis meant that there were starving babies everywhere - didn't have much of an effect. But we have gotten through the worst of that stage and are clipping along nicely. Here's to a fairly non-eventful first 12 weeks!

Some Recent Pics

2008-12-27T10:45:00.000-08:00

Sinjin and his Christmas loot.

With Daddy on Christmas.

Family shot.

Our big boy.

Average Again

2008-12-19T13:06:00.001-08:00

We took Sinjin to his 2 month check up with the pediatrician today. He looked to me like he had porked up quite a bit and he weighed in at a hefty 11lb. 2 oz. It turns out, however, that reading puts him exactly at 50% for weight. His height also was precisely at the 50th percentile. Upon hearing this news, the Other J looked at Sinjin and said, "Enjoy it while it lasts buddy! How long do you think it was before your parents dropped off the growth charts?" Taking full measure of the couple in the room, the pediatrician appeared to be vastly amused.

We always did say that it would be a miracle if the Other J's & my child turned out to be of at least average size. Of course, he's got a lot of time to fall off the growth curve like his parents. But for now, woo-hoo for average!

Lazy

2008-12-16T19:24:00.001-08:00

In an act of supreme laziness, I'm going to use something that I did in fb as a blog post. Yes, it is an unholy mixing of the technologies.

Here are 16 random things, facts, habits, or goals about me.

1. In the manner of all high-achieving Asians, I was an uncool child. Many things I have done in my college and post college years have been, in some small way, an attempt to be cooler: tattoo, near shaving of the head, learning to play the guitar, learning to play the drums, snowboarding, giving my child an unusual name, etc. I fear, however, that it’s not working.

2. I spend way too much time in my head.

3. I only seriously dated two men in my life. I was deeply disappointed to learn that the first one’s favorite food was macaroni and cheese. The second’s favorite food is a donut. I married the donut guy. Donut was an improvement over macaroni and cheese.

4. My least favorite body part is my belly. Recent events have made me dislike it even more.

5. I’m 4’11”. When I catch a glimpse of myself in a reflective surface with a taller person, I am surprised. I loom so much larger in my own mind.

6. Facebook has had a tendency to remind me of my bad habit of abandoning relationships. I have had multiple people who have wanted to friend me with an intro along the lines of: “I don’t know what happened with our friendship but . . . “ I know I have more than my fair share of such encounters.

7. My brief daydreams of west coast or island life, it appears, will not come to fruition.

8. I love to matchmake. I have set up lots of people on blind dates. Not a single one of my set ups has even led to a second date. Yet I persist.

9. I’m an all-or-nothing kind of girl. This sometimes makes my life harder.

10. I am a planner. I love to plan the course of my own future. Experience has taught me that if I plan, it’s almost certain that it will not happen. Old habits still die hard.

11. Every church I have attended, I end up having a love/hate relationship with it. It’s surprising that I still go to church.

12. I can’t believe I’m a mom.

13. I have many flaws. But despite that, I like myself. A lot. It’s a little obnoxious. I try really hard toward humility, but I fear that my efforts only thinly veil (if that) the obnoxious self-love.

14. I love frappucinos.

15. I also love Snapple. But I’ve found that Snapple is a poor aphrodisiac.

16. My friendships mean a great deal. And I hope one day to rent a giant European villa and invite my buddies for a grand ole time.

Bad Hair Day

2008-12-06T18:58:00.001-08:00

Ruminations on the Past Year

2008-12-05T10:50:00.000-08:00

I recently had a birthday - my 34th. Last year on my birthday, I wrote a post about how I wanted something significant to happen while I was 33. I would have taken the significance in any form, as long as it was new, exciting, or otherwise positively life-altering. But I'm sure that it didn't take too much to discern that the significance that I was hoping for was a long-awaited, long-tried-for addition to the family (when we first contemplated having kids years ago, the Other J had enthusiastically wanted to chart and graph my ovulation cycle, but his plans quickly were abandoned because I turned out to be so erratic). I spent most of the last year experiencing the indignities of assisted reproduction, followed by the rolling good time of a high-risk pregnancy (the pregnancy actually was not bad). But a little over a month before I turned 34, I got my significant event in the form of my son. Almost all of last year was spent prepping for it - I even had quit my job to de-stress and go after procreating full throttle. Obviously, most people don't need to go about doing it that way. But given my one track mind personality, perhaps it was fitting.

Now I've got my significant event, but day-to-day my life doesn't seem significant at all. Every day I only have about 4 items on my agenda:

1. Take care of baby and baby-related stuff
2. Shower
3. Work out
4. Make dinner

To hit all 4 is surprisingly difficult. I only manage 3 out of 4 on most days. Still, it's a lot more satisfying than the way it sounds. This upcoming year, we've got a new move ahead of us. And while I take my full prerogative to change my mind, I'll probably want to think about returning to work after we move. Meanwhile, the situation with the in-laws has reached new heights of dysfunction with the arrival of the baby. I have now been dealing with it for over a decade, but at every new turn, I am surprised at how more messed up the situation becomes. I grow weary, but I accept it as the "thorn in my side" in my life. Who knows, without it, I may have turned out to be less compassionate and patient (compassion and patience are not natural fortes for me - and still are not). Or maybe that's a bunch of hooey I tell myself to deal :)

Miscl.

2008-11-28T15:30:00.001-08:00

1. What is this list comprised of?
Pears
Lambkins
Lambkins II
Lime Sorbet
Teddy Toes
Pooh
Gagou Tagou
Yellow Thunder

Yes, it's official. The Other J and I have no life. The above is a list of names that the Other J and I have assigned to some of our son's outfits. We really should stop. The named outfits seem to be especially cursed. They seem to get more than their statistical share of spit up, pee & poo accidents.

2. Last weekend and through Monday, the whole family went on a trip to the Jersey Shore. I was more than a little nervous about how Sinjin would do on the trip, but he was a little trooper. He slept O.K. in the hotel, remained quiet through a restaurant meal, and most importantly, waited to have his most explosive, gigantic, uncontainable poop until we got home.

3. I cooked my first meal since delivering! Since I've been dragging my feet on cooking for weeks, it feels like an accomplishment. The 3 weeks when the doula used to cook every night was really nice. And then a group of moms that I have gotten to know kindly brought us a bunch of dinners. Too bad that a personal chef is probably never going to be in my future.

Getting to Know Stage

2008-11-19T21:28:00.000-08:00

Oy vey. My inner insomniac has surfaced, much to my great frustration. Sinjin is hitting a fussier period and it's harder to get him to sleep these days. It would be nice if my own body cooperated and I slept along with him too. But no. I am wide awake - and it's well past midnight. I'm sure I'm going to pay for it tomorrow when Sinjin will have absolutely no interest in sleeping. I might as well blog and maybe it will get me into a relaxed frame of mind, which will lead to sleep. Sinjin's a little over a month old now and I still can't quite believe that I have a baby. He seemed to me like a little, warm otherworldly being when he was first born. He still seems all delicate and otherworldly, but I feel like I definitely am picking up hints of personality and other random qualities that make him seem more real. Among some of the things I'm beginning to observe:

1. He's a prolific pooper. Ever since day one, he has consistently produced more poop than is "average" in terms of frequency. He is starting to slow down a bit, but is still ahead of the curve in number of poopy diapers. But now, each bowel movement is larger-than-life in terms of size. And every time the Other J and I change a poopy diaper, we can't help but express awe and relief. We are struck with awe that such a small being would produce such enormous amounts. The relief comes from the fact that the diaper has not been overwhelmed. Because each and every time, successful containment seems like a near miracle. I probably should move him up to the next size diaper in light of the recent trend. But the frugal part of me can't bear to waste all those unused newborn size diapers and technically, he is well within the weight range. I'm sure that I'll go on using them until my son teaches me a lesson with some disastrous moment.

2. He's starting to exhibit signs of intelligent life. Since he either is sleeping, eating, crying, or fussing most of the time, it's exciting (yes, we have no life now) when Sinjin's doing something outside those categories. The Other J and I noticed one afternoon that he kept unintentionally dropping his pacifier from his mouth. After the third time we stuck his dropped pacifier back into his mouth for him, he raised his hand up to his mouth to keep his paci in position. Later, we also noticed him eyeing his pacifier which was about an inch from his face. Then he opened his mouth and turned his head toward it and made a very credible attempt to roll his body so that he could land in a way to get the paci in his mouth. The Other J and I looked at each other and exclaimed, "He's exhibiting problem-solving behavior!"

3. He's funny. When he nurses, he acts in a way that entertains. I don't think I could really do a good job of describing it. But it's funny to watch. He also has a surprisingly expressive face for a baby his age and makes plenty of quirky faces. Please see exhibit A:

5 Days in the Desert

2008-11-11T12:30:00.000-08:00

Not really, but metaphorically speaking, the past 4 days, plus tomorrow, could very well have turned out to be a desperate situation for me :) The Other J is probably close to the actual desert, since he's been out in California. 5 days home alone with a newborn seemed like a bit of a daunting task, but Sinjin has, for the most part, cooperated and we're both still alive! What kind of cruel husband has left his newborn child alone with his wife for this chunk of time? One who is pounding the pavement at his specialty's national conference, meeting up folks for job interviews for positions all around the country. Because of the downturn in the economy, the current job market in his field is not the greatest. We're pretty optimistic that one of the feelers he's got out there will lead into a firm offer, but we'd appreciate your prayers nonetheless.

Back to the Grind

2008-11-03T15:40:00.000-08:00

Well . . . at least for one of us. The Other J went back to work today. It's a sad little marker. I can't believe how quickly his 2 weeks of paternity leave flew by. The days all seemed to run together and are marked by one overwhelming consideration: how do we maximize sleep? Mostly, the two weeks were a sweet time of establishing ourselves as a new little family unit.

There were some low moments. The first few days after delivery, the Other J started micromanaging the breastfeeding process. With watchful eyes, he would comment on whether the latch looked good and firmly ask if I wanted him to go get help for the breastfeeding. So I would warily agree that yes, he could go ask for help, and he would gleefully fetch the on-duty nurse who would help herself to squeezing the mammary glands. I didn't realize until much later that I found exhausting the process of being watched all the time. After a discussion, the Other J backed off from the micromanaging. But even after I got home, I noticed that I still had an audience to the breastfeeding. The Other J, since he stopped the running commentary, was fine, but the doula has a habit of watching too. And this past weekend, a college friend came by and stayed with us & got acquainted with Sinjin. She happens to be a breast surgeon, but it still came as a surprise when she inquired, "Can I watch you breastfeed?" By this point, I figured that I had gotten so used to being observed that I told her it was fine (and it was fine, I was just surprised). I also imagined that she would want to observe the process just once for the novelty, but no, she watched every time I breastfed. Que sera, sera.

Other than the breastfeeding micromanaging, the low moment came, in what I assume was a hormone & hunger driven moment of hysteria on my part. I've never been one to cope well with hunger, but with the feedings, the moments of desperate hunger are more acute. One night, when I called the Other J to dinner, he was working on something on his computer and replied, "Let me just finish my train of thought." Perfectly reasonable, but I flew into a fit of tears, told the Other J that he was incredibly inconsiderate, made him eat in another room from me, and noisily sobbed through my meal. I was inconsolable, but I continued eating my dinner.

So perhaps the Other J may be more than a little willing to return to work and leave his hormone imbalanced wife at home with the baby, but Sinjin and I will miss having him around.

From the Inside Out

2008-10-26T17:35:00.001-07:00

I normally don't like to pose for pictures very much, but I've tolerated a lot more camera time upon the Other J's insistence ever since the baby was born. And I have to say, I really like the picture with Sinjin in the sling because I feel like I'm literally glowing in it. The Other J pointed out that I had just had a shower and was likely just wet, but I still maintain that I have an inner glow. Several weeks before my delivery, I had posted about my fears of possibly not bonding well with the baby. Let's just say that bonding has not been a problem. So far, we've been really lucky. Sinjin took to breastfeeding easily, he appears to be a pretty calm baby (knock on wood), and he sleeps well. I realize that lots of things can change with a baby pretty quickly, but I'm grateful nonetheless. It's like everything is falling into place so that I could have as easy a transition in these early couple of weeks while I recover from the surgery. The recovery itself is going very well too - the Other J thinks that I, at 10 days post surgery, look as good and am moving around as well as people who are several weeks out from their c-sections. By the way, my bond with the little guy seems like nothing compared to the bond that the Other J seems to have developed. He's been so enthusiastic about doing things for the baby that I've only done a handful of diaper changes so far. It also should be noted that every time I change a diaper, it seems to spring a leak. Anyway, I've been so touched that people have been concerned for me, so I wanted to give a very positive report / update. Instead of going into great detail about how we're feeling, I'll let the posted pictures do all the telling.

Delivery

2008-10-22T09:35:00.000-07:00

We have been home for two nights and we're all tired, but otherwise are all doing well. I don't know how interesting the course of events will be for people to read, but I'll go ahead and describe it. On last Wednesday night, after posting on fb that I was heading into the hospital, we heard from the Labor & Delivery floor of the hospital that they were full and couldn't have me come in at 6 PM as we had planned. I was a little despondent since I was SOOO looking forward to having the baby. But about 40 minutes later, the hospital called back to say that they reshuffled people and had a room ready for me. Wednesday evening at the hospital was pretty uneventful. The cervix got prepped and I was hooked up to the monitors all night, but the Other J and I watched the presidential debates and he promptly fell asleep on the air mattress the hospital provided for him.

On Thursday morning, I had apparently made good progress and I started laboring. By early afternoon, I was making very slow progress, but I thought that my contractions were surprisingly intense. It turned out that the baby was positioned wrong and I was in back labor. Anyway, since I had always planned on getting an epidural, I asked for it by 4PM and was fairly comfortable all the way until I was pretty much fully dilated. I reached that point around 9PM, but my OB, the Other J, and the nurses were conferencing all day about the fact that the baby's heart rate would dip periodically - not so much that they were really worried about it - but the pattern and the frequency suggesting that he probably had a cord around the neck. The cord, by itself, wouldn't have prevented me from delivering vaginally. However, as my labor progressed, the combination of the cord, the baby's position, and the fact that the baby was not tolerating labor very well prompted my OB around 9:30 PM to say that maybe we should pursue a c-section.

When the OB stepped out of the room, I looked at the Other J and asked him, "Do you agree with him?" He replied with a reluctant, "yeeeeeeeees. . . " He later told me that he was contemplating maybe negotiating with our OB to try a couple of things before we went that route, but just then the baby's heart monitor showed a scary dip in his heart rate, which was sustained for over 2 minutes. Then they rolled me out of my room ASAP. I was a little confused at the time, because the conversation and rationale that we had with the OB didn't justify the frantic atmosphere that filled the room. The L&D nurse that was assigned to me started panicking a little (and I could tell) and she kept on making mistakes - the Other J told me that our OB had to shove her aside at some point and start doing things himself.

I was counting the lights as they wheeled me into the OR and one of the techs announced the time as being 9:36 PM. Then there were the surreal introductions with the anesthesiologist, the on-call house physician (who knows the Other J) who was assisting with the procedure, and various members of the OR team. I was trying not to freak out about what was happening on the other side of the drape, the Other J could tell and he tried to distract me, but I could hear them talking about the first incision and I knew that I was feeling more than I was supposed to. And when I yelled out, "Was I supposed to feel the sharpness?" They replied "no" but didn't stop or reassess at all. Luckily, the increased dosage must have kicked in then. Sinjin was born at 9:46 PM and the first thing he did was pee all over the OB who noted, "That's only fitting. He's done everything else to me tonight."

So all in all, not exactly how I imagined things would go, but overall it was a good experience. In the end we had decided against delivering at Yale New Haven Hospital in favor of the smaller hospital where the Other J moonlights down the street. Since everybody knew him, all the L&D nurses and postpartum nurses were especially attentive and interested. Many of the L&D nurses who took care of me on Wed. & Thurs. pre-op came to see Sinjin and visit us when we were in the postpartum wing. Our postpartum room sometimes felt like Grand Central. There were times when there were up to 5 medical staff in the room - almost elbowing each other to take care of me. And of course, it was really nice to hear from all our friends and loved ones via fb and email while we were in the hospital - especially since we were there for so long.

It's nice to be home.

6 PM

2008-10-15T10:47:00.000-07:00

I'm waiting for 6 PM. That's when the Other J and I will head into the hospital to kick off the whole process of bringing Lil' Bromer into the world. Tonight, I'll be given drugs to "ripen" my cervix. Hopefully, I'll be able to get a good night of sleep despite the fact that I'll be in a hospital bed, and if I don't go into labor on my own during the night, they'll kick-start me in the morning.

So how am I spending my last day prior to mommyhood? The Other J and I started off the day by going to the pediatrician's office for our prenatal visit. I had not so secretly hoped that I would go into labor before the induction date, but it was helpful and reassuring to have the prenatal visit. Then I came home and took a nice, long nap. I should rest up, no? There's potentially hours of pushing ahead of me. I've got to return a movie to Blockbuster, I've vacuumed, ran the dishwasher, and packed the final items into my hospital suitcase. I also have cut and painted my toenails. It was the Other J who informed me that in his experience, women in labor always seem to have nicely groomed toenails. Mine were clearly not up to snuff. Yesterday, he took one look at my feet and said, "We should do something about your toenails."

I have been worrying about the most random things. My greatest concern, however unlikely, is the most legitimate. I'm worried about the scenario in which the baby's head gets out, but his shoulders get stuck and the OB exhausts all his options and must resort to the most hideous one - push the baby's head back in and perform a C section. The Other J has reassured me that he has only heard of one instance of this scenario actually occurring. But of course, I only focus on the fact that there was at least one such instance that the Other J knows of. There's not much I can do about whether the shoulders get so badly stuck, but I can paint my toenails. So I painted my toenails. Also, it's quite natural (disgusting, but natural) for women to have bowel movements while they're in the process of pushing. As the Other J is fond of saying - it's all the same muscles. So I've been worried of having legendary bowel movements while I labor. I know it's not important, but I've been worrying about it nonetheless.

I'm going to contemplate what I want to have for dinner, or what I've somewhat ominously dubbed "my last meal" in my mind and putter around until 6 PM comes along. Wish me luck!

Science Man

2008-10-13T07:53:00.000-07:00

"It's a nerd."
"It's a geek."
Actually, he's both those things: "It's Science Man!"

Since I've lived with this aspect of the Other J's persona for so long, I sometimes forget the impact of it for much of the time. Occasionally, circumstances contrive to highlight and magnify the persona. The Other J and I, of late, have had some conversations about what it will mean to be parents, how we will raise our child, what we'll do with him, etc. All very normal, given what's dominating our thoughts these days. What is perhaps not as common, and is SO the Other J, is that at dinner the other night, he launched into an enthusiastic description of his plans for Science Day.

We were having a conversation about what we wanted to do as parents. Then the Other J got all animated, leaned in on the table and said, "One Saturday a month, I'm going to have Science Day! And on Science Day, I'm going to run science experiments with the kid(s)." Then he began to recite the repertoire of experiments. He then stated that Science Day would also be combined with going out for ice cream because he wanted the kid(s) to have "positive associations with science." Now, I am all for Science Day. I, myself, was a bit of a science dunce. So I'm glad that the Other J is both willing and able to provide such experiences to our offspring. But I couldn't help but be amused about the fact that "Science Day" was the first thing that came to his mind when he contemplated what he wanted to do with his kid(s). Other Dads think about playing catch or teaching their sons how to kick a ball, and I'm sure the Other J will want to do those things too, but his FIRST thoughts were about Science Day. He also happily prattled on about how we were going to be members of the local children's science museum, wherever we ended up settling. I don't think every city has a children's science museum, but I didn't want to burst his bubble. He had that freakish gleam in his eyes that he gets when all worked up about science.

I first became acquainted with the freakish gleam on one of our first dates. I asked what I thought was a fairly benign question: "What's your thesis about?" The Other J, or should I say Science Man, immediately stepped in uncomfortably close (no further than 12 inches from my face), and launched into a 40 minute lecture about the development of lung tissue in chicken embryos. He is usually not someone who talks with his hands, but there were gestures aplenty and there was nothing I could do to escape the intensity of the aforementioned freakish gleam at such close range. Smooth moves, Science Man.

And by the time that the Other J and I were dating, the Best Friend had already graduated from college, so she didn't meet him for a while. I don't remember what we all talked about during the introductory outing when she met the Other J for the first time. But afterwards, when the Best Friend and I were dishing about what she thought about the Other J, she expressed some surprise. "I didn't expect you to be with someone so . . . science-y." She also took pains to explain that the science-y comment was not at all meant to be derogatory. She needn't have worried. When a good deal later, the Other J learned of the Best Friend's description of him, he was overjoyed. To this day, he maintains that the comment is "one of the best compliments of [his] life!"

So I wonder to myself . . . will there be a Science Man Jr. in my household? Who knows. But I'm sure that Science Man Sr. will do everything in his power to stack the odds in his favor.

Home Stretch

2008-10-06T11:31:00.000-07:00

As of now, I have exactly 10 days until my scheduled induction date. For me, it is a blessing to have a specific date to contemplate. I am so bad with surprises and uncertainty. Since I am already feeling so put upon by the world these days, I'm sure I would have taken it very personally if I went past my due date and had no clear indications to end my period of growing clumsiness and discomfort. My cheerful attitude that had carried me through most of my pregnancy grows thinner each day.

Nevertheless, I do acknowledge that I have much to be thankful about. The gloomy predictions about the likelihood of me needing bedrest from week 24 onward never came true. Similarly, the MFM predicted that I would fail when I fought him tooth and nail about being put on insulin, and it was satisfying for me to see him acknowledge that he was wrong and that I would make it to the end of the pregnancy without it. And at week 37, still no signs of preeclampsia. If anything happens at this point, I'll just get delivered and I'll get to take the baby home. With that in mind, my anticipation's been growing, along with our friends' anticipation. In the last week or so, when I've called someone, one of the first things out of their mouths is a breathless, "are you in labor?" And both the Other J and I have been getting a slew of emails from folks checking to make sure that we haven't had the baby yet.

I think I can make the remaining 10 days with reasonable patience. Each day, however, seems excruciatingly slow now. I am well past the nesting stage and have gotten incredibly lazy. Lately, I've been spending an inordinate amount of time reflecting upon the fact that I don't want to make dinner. Yesterday (with the Other J's help), I finally stripped my bed after staring at it for days on end, thinking that the bedding really needed to be changed. Also, I spend a long time at the door trying to figure out which pair of shoes requires me to expend the least amount of effort to put on. I am still managing to get in a genteel aerobic workout 3-4x a week. But first I get into my workout gear and sit for a good half hour or so mustering up the will for the task. 10 more days. 10 more days. 10 more days. Tomorrow, I'll be down to single digits in my countdown. Yes.

Anniversary

2008-09-29T11:27:00.000-07:00

Today is our 7 year wedding anniversary. And if you count our dating years, we've been together for 12 years. Normally, I would not consider myself to be a sentimental person. Plus, 2 years ago, on our 5 year anniversary, when I wanted to go away for the weekend and it turned out that the Other J couldn't get time off, I told him petulantly that I'd have to wait another 5 years before another "special" anniversary. There have also been years when we both have forgotten our anniversary. Shockingly, it was only our 2nd anniversary that almost went totally unacknowledged - the Other J was on call and I happened to be on the phone with him a few minutes before midnight when I asked him, "Is today our anniversary?" So it comes as a little bit of a surprise that I've been feeling more nostalgic than I normally do about this marker. Last night, I was looking at the Other J and wryly noting to myself that he did look a great deal older than when we first started dating (as do I, I'm sure) and that we have, indeed, been through a great deal together.

And as the Best Friend observed, it is a "triumph" of something - will? determination? - that we are together at all given our inauspicious beginnings. Because there were never two people more inartful in the subtleties of amour, or even casual dating. Our first official date was punctuated by the most awkward, horribly embarrassing 'good night' exchange in the history of dating. The moment then was quickly surpassed by an even more awkward 'good night' exchange on our second date. Miraculously, we had more dates and here we are, with 7 years of marriage under our belts. And people are often surprised that I'm such a fan of marriage; not only for myself, but also in general. It's because I think that the Other J and I are pretty extreme personalities. We're both extremely opinionated and both of us are challenging people to live with long-term. Me, with my ferocious temper and obstinate stubbornness. Him, with . . . well, you either already know why he's difficult to live with, or you may be one of those folks who just can't imagine why he'd be a hard roommate or lifemate. So I'll just leave that one alone. And on top of everything else, we've had some challenging third-party influences and circumstances inflicted upon our marriage - especially during the early stages. And yet, we've undeniably had a very happy marriage. So I tend to think that if we can have a happy marriage, anybody can (potentially)!

Of course, I am feeling more nostalgic than usual because our family is about to grow. And despite all the excitement, after establishing a nice stride between the two of us, it is a little scary to think about the profound changes to our relationship a baby will bring. But I do appreciate the 7 years that we've had on our own and I'm feeling sentimental enough that I bought a card to give to the Other J today. I know, stand back! What a whopper of a romantic gesture :)

35 Weeks

2008-09-22T16:19:00.001-07:00

I decided to go ahead and put up the second photo for laughs - it's my mirror face.

Too Much Time

2008-09-19T08:10:00.000-07:00

They've got me scheduled for an induction a little less than 4 weeks away. There is always the possibility that the baby will arrive early or that they'll induce me earlier for other reasons, but as the Other J has observed (with a touch of awe), overall, I've had a remarkably normal pregnancy. So, I think I'll make it until the planned induction date. This, however, poses its own problems.

4 weeks seems like a long time, especially in light of the fact that I've got nothing baby-related to do anymore. The baby room, as you can see from pics, is done. The postpartum doula's been interviewed, contracted, and is now merely awaiting our phone call. I've washed all baby clothing, blankets, bibs, burp cloths, and bedding. Anything that needs to be sterilized has been sterilized. All immediate baby necessities I could think of - diapers, butt cream, wipes, formula (I am going to try to breastfeed but I'm a little dubious about my prospects), etc. - have been stocked. And my hospital suitcase is packed and stands at the ready, next to the front door, with a final list of last-minute items that need to be added tucked into its handle. Of course, our collection of electronic gear is all packed and charged. And for the newest addition to our collection - a video camera that I thought was a totally unnecessary purchase (but there are some battles I know I just can't win) - we even have completed a "dry run" of its functions. When the video camera got delivered last week, the Other J noted with satisfaction that it would begin a wide collection of recordings that started with me declaring, "Jason - get that thing out of my face!" He's been more than a little amused as he watched me pack up the hospital suitcase. I've maintained for years, that relative to the Other J, I am so laid back. He thinks my recent behavior is proof that I'm more like him than I care to admit.

But all this flurry of activity has left me with 4 weeks of time on my hands to think. To reflect upon my fears, play out unhelpful scenarios in my head, and allow myself to indulge in the morose. Oddly, I don't have any fears about the actual labor. I know that I'll be in good hands, and the thought that I'll likely be in the worst physical pain of my life, I foolishly don't find to be all that unnerving. Alternatively, if I have surgery, I know that my body's pretty good about bouncing back from procedures.

So what am I afraid of? I'm afraid of my own head during the postpartum period. One, I'm afraid that I won't bond well with the baby initially. If this turns out to be the case, I know that it will make a challenging time that much tougher. Also, for various reasons, the Other J won't be around as much as I would have liked. He is taking 2 weeks of paternity leave, but he will be taking 3 of those days to head out of town for a job interview. It's for an opportunity that we are both very excited about, so of course, I want him to go, but it doesn't change the fact that I'm feeling a little sorry for myself. Plus, right after the paternity leave, the Other J has a 5 day conference out in California. Bum timing.

But the biggest deal, the one that has become part of my personal narrative ever since we contemplated the thought of having kids, is the fact that my mom won't be with me during this time. And I'm glad that the doula will be around to help, and it will be nice having someone that I can tell my preferences with impunity, without worrying about hurt feelings, etc. And because my psyche, being what it is right now, I REALLY wouldn't want other well-intended family members, or anyone else (o.k. I can think of one exception), to step-in and offer to stay with us during this time. I'll want my mother, like never before, and I won't have her. As I've said, I'm feeling sorry for myself and it's a narrative that I've built up in my head and although I know it's unhelpful, keep reflecting upon. And as if this wasn't enough, as expected, the in-laws have started to make their opening offensive moves. Never mind that we've asked them to wait to engage until after the baby is born. But the fact that I am having to waste energy dealing with their maneuvers means that my precious psychological and emotional reserves that I'll need to tap into later, are being prematurely depleted. Ugh. As I've said, way too much time for me to live things out in my head. The good thing is that in moments of hardship, I've turned out to be more resilient than even I had hoped. So let's think positive and that it will turn out to be the case again. But the 4 weeks still will feel awfully long.

Atonement

2008-09-15T07:55:00.000-07:00

I am in the dog house with the Other J. And there is a part of me that feels genuinely contrite, but it's hard to persuade him on that front when I keep bursting into laughter. Last night, our church community threw us a lovely, joint baby shower for me and the pastor's wife, who is also expecting. So we brought our camera to take a few shots of the festivities. One of the girls noticed that we had pictures of the baby room stored on the camera and started flipping through all the shots and then abruptly came across a profile shot of the Other J - shirtless and in a pair of exercise shorts. Now, there was nothing truly risque about the photo, but our friend was, understandably, shocked into a fit of giggles.

A few weeks ago, I dragged an unwilling Other J in front of the armoire in the bedroom to take the unflattering photo. I thought he needed to lose some weight and wanted to document a "before" shot prior to him starting an exercise regimen. He had protested vehemently at the time and made various warnings & threats about how I was not to go public with the photo. I did tell him to make sure he erased the photo from the camera after he loaded it up into the computer, but I will accept full blame here. In the meantime, he is trying to come up with a fitting punishment for me. I pointed out to him that I am planning to put up my own "before" shots (a few weeks after delivery) and "after" shots, as I attempt my "pregnancy weight plus twenty" plan. I also pointed out that he is not one to get all shy about going swimming, so I didn't quite get why he's so mad at me about the profile pic. The combination of bad lighting, unflattering posture and as he says, "his pastiness", perhaps did not exactly add up to a glamour shot. But our pastor, when he wandered over to see what we were fussing about, exclaimed "now, that is sexy, J- ." Indeed.

"Concerned"

2008-09-08T11:27:00.000-07:00

Apparently, that's how my OB is feeling. Here I was, all jolly about the fact that the baby, so far, is of average size. But the OB's concern is that an average size baby may be still too difficult for below-average-sized Julie. Since there are parts of me that are certainly greater than average size, and I'm no delicate flower of a girl, I will keep hope alive. But really, I don't care how it happens. As long as the baby gets out, and we're both OK, I will be fine. I've done all I can. I've exercised regularly, eaten - not perfectly - but as healthy as I was capable of doing on a consistent basis, and kept my weight gain reasonable (17.5 lbs at 33 weeks). If the baby is still stinkin' too big for me to push out, there's not much I can do. Slice me up, doc.

Baby Room

2008-08-27T17:09:00.001-07:00

Is pretty much done.

What I Miss

2008-08-22T06:03:00.000-07:00

1. Sushi. Now, there are lots of foods that I can't consume at the moment (a cookie hasn't crossed my lips for months now), but this takes it. In the early part of my pregnancy, I tamed my cravings with california rolls and other "cooked" rolls, but then I had to give up white rice. As D day approaches, I'm spending time fantasizing about all-you-can-eat sushi.

2. Riesling. Given that I have the tolerance level of a rat, I'm not much of a drinker to begin with and didn't think that alcohol as a category would be something that I'd miss. But I hadn't bargained on the psychological draw of the "forbidden." A couple of social occasions had brought me and the Other J to the local wine store. And while I left the task of choosing something appropriate for the host to the spouse, I would wander over to the collection of Rieslings and notice my mouth watering. The Other J, for whatever reason, found this to be greatly amusing. I have not fully taken him up on it, but he DID offer to join me in all of my deprivations early on and at this very moment, there's a six pack of beer sitting in our fridge. He should remember that I do not take kindly to mockery.

3. High-impact exercise. It's random, I know. But I've been getting pretty huge and clumsy lately. And when I work out, I like to actually feel like I'm working out. While my uncoordinated movements at this point are sufficient to get me sweating, it still just doesn't feel right.

4. My feet. I miss seeing them. And last night, for the first time, there seemed to be some swelling. Ugh. The Other J's been wanting me to put up another pic for the blog (so I guess I must look pretty different these days), but I'm holding out until week 35.

Food Heritage

2008-08-14T13:05:00.000-07:00

Reading Barbara Kingsolver's Animal, Vegetable, Miracle has me thinking about my own personal food heritage or ethos. I read the book for my book club and I don't think I'd otherwise picked it up on my own. There are bits that sound a bit preachy and self-righteous enough to be irritating to me, but overall I enjoyed the read thoroughly. It's not a surprise, given that some of my other favorites include the Provence series by Peter Mayle and Frances Mayes's Under the Tuscan Sun and my favorite bits in those books were about the food.

My mother was a fantastic cook and when we lived in Korea, I remember that she would ferment and dry out blocks of soybeans to make home-made soy sauce. I also remember watching her first making, then canning, strawberry jam in a hot, dark, outdoor kitchen in the middle of summer. Who knows how old I was, but what I can remember even then, is thinking that it was way too much work for items that one could easily buy. After we moved to the U.S. and my parents adopted a 6 day work schedule, my mom made things much easier for herself and used convenience items and ingredients (like packaged oyster sauce) that she hadn't used previously. When some of our aunties from Korea came for a visit, they mused that the dishes my mom made for them weren't really Korean meals. They were delicious, but not really Korean. But even while she adopted some conveniences and had lived in Seoul before we immigrated, once they had a little plot of land in suburbia, my parents couldn't shake the farmer gene out from themselves. So every summer, we pretty much only ate vegetables that came from our garden. My parents would fret, worry, and get all upset over their crops from year to year, but they wouldn't give it up and shared their bounty with some of their close friends. I knew that my father really must have liked the Other J, when after his initial visit to our house and he consumed the garden-grown peppers with the miso paste with gusto at dinner time, he returned to his D.C. apartment to find that my Dad had shipped him a massive box of the peppers.

Now that I have a little plot of land of my own, I can confirm that the farm gene has entirely passed me by. I have utterly no interest in the yard work. But food, good food is terribly important to me. There are people, when busy, who "forget" to eat. This phenomenon has never occurred in my life. Even at my busiest, I create space in my day to happily contemplate what I am going to eat for my next meal. And while I may not ever boil, ferment, and dry out blocks of soybeans in my lifetime, I do find myself periodically in marathon cooking sessions in preparation of soirees and random occasions to fill my need to prepare, eat, and feed to people lots of good food. Like my mom, my food ethos is not strictly Korean. Really, up until this time, I was entirely focused on taste & variety and I hadn't given much thought to nutrition. But I am certain that my Americanized diet has, in effect, poisoned my body. If I lived in Korea, I'm sure I'd be probably a good 20lbs lighter. I hadn't quite figured out exactly what our changes will be, but I do think I'll try to consume more locally grown foods (I'm already on the organic bandwagon) and shift into eating more free-range meats. It is more expensive, I'm sure, to eat this way, but given the importance of food I've assigned in my life, I think it'll be worth it.

Celebrating "Average"

2008-08-05T18:54:00.000-07:00

I had an ultrasound today to ensure that Lil' Bromer is not too big. I am happy to report that at the current number of weeks, he is at the 56th percentile for size, almost exactly at average. Although I'd be happy to deliver a less than average size baby, I will take average as a very good sign.

Feeling Pregnant

2008-08-01T15:31:00.000-07:00

I'll think of this week as the beginning. The beginning of feeling like I'm truly pregnant. For the most part, the things that I've noticed are mere specters of things yet to come but I am certain that these ghostly suggestions of discomfort will become more substantial in due course. Yes, it's annoying to have to prick my finger, keep a close eye on my diet, and ensure I'm getting enough exercise, but I had been rather cheerfully coping with these bothersome details. And more than one person has expressed their surprise at how well I had been coping. I think their surprise is perfectly legitimate -- they know I'm someone who really likes being comfortable. And my cheerful coping had a lot to do with the fact that I actually had been feeling quite good: no aches and pains, I hadn't felt all that big, and overall my pregnancy hadn't been preventing me from doing anything that I had been doing previously.

Up until this point, I had been smugly thinking that I seemed to be carrying small/compactly and firmly believed that I would eventually deliver a smallish baby. This week, I noticed that I had been measuring a 1/2 inch bigger around the waist, but there was greater pressure in the abdominal area and a tremendous sense of being stretched than a mere 1/2 inch expansion would suggest. So, already my smug thoughts had been disappearing, but yesterday, as if on cue, my Dancing Through Pregnancy instructor asked me if I was carrying twins.

In addition, I've had to scale back to doing more walking instead of running on the treadmill and I moved the seat back on my car, because I noticed my belly rubbing up against the steering wheel from time to time. Up until now, I'd been doing my regular workout routine on the days I had my pregnancy exercise class, because the moderate exercise I was getting from my class didn't really feel like a workout to me. This week, I could envision a time in the not too distant future when my class would feel like an actual workout - I might even have broken a tiny sheen of sweat on my forehead. I don't have leg cramps in the middle of the night, but I am noticing that my calves are noticeably tighter at night and I am sure the cramping will follow. Yay.

As the body is starting to throw off additional signals, I think I've turned a psychological leaf too. I now believe and accept that there will be a bona fide baby at the end of all this. While I had accepted that I've been pregnant for a while, the whole baby thing is new and the remaining 10-12 weeks seem like an awfully short time to digest this fact. The saving grace of being physically uncomfortable will be that whether I'm ready or not, I'll be begging, or screeching at my doctors to deliver me.

New Haven Paradox

2008-07-25T10:02:00.000-07:00

It's a funny thing. A quick browse through my blog posts reveals the obvious: I've been quite critical of New Haven and complained bitterly about its various shortcomings. But the Other J and I can't deny that despite our complaints, we have been very happy here. So after reflecting upon that thought for a while, and realizing that once we become parents, it's likely that our focus will shift more inward toward our own family unit, we have been contemplating things that we would have thought unthinkable a year ago.

I think I've already mentioned here that the Other J has slowly started his job search. And lo and behold, we have been in agreement about applying to distinctly un-hip, un-cosmopolitan areas with limited ethnic food options and are oddly excited about it. Of course, D.C. is still very high up on our list and we would be delighted if we were able to make our way back there, but in the stillness of the night, a truth creeps up into my mind unbidden: in our heart of hearts, we are country (or more accurately, suburbanite) bumpkins.

More Random Bits

2008-07-18T06:31:00.001-07:00

Congratulations to Kate, Matt & Lizzy for the newest arrival to their lovely family. I can't wait to see pictures.

I've started taking a class called Dancing Through Pregnancy. Although the exercise is good for me, it wasn't the main reason for me signing up. In recognition of the fact that I don't really want to feel isolated when the baby comes along, it's part of a grand scheme to meet up with more mothers and mothers to be in the area. I somehow feel vaguely humiliated in these attempts - it's like being on the dating scene, I imagine. I'm friendly enough, but all this effort at trying to meet people and befriend them doesn't quite fit me well.

I still read the Washington Post online every morning. Old habits die hard and the New Haven Courier doesn't quite do it for me. I never like to read the online forums, but couldn't help reading this. I'll give you one guess on where I fall on the spectrum/debate.

It's early, and you wouldn't expect us to be any other way, but the Other J has started his job search. The process, certainly, will take many months, but the fact that it has commenced sends a little thrill up my spine. Who knows where we'll end up? It feels rather adventurous. If you can, we'd appreciate any prayer you'd throw our way regarding this process.

I've been watching my cat, Jane, nervously. We get quite a few bugs through our window air conditioning units. Given the Other J's fear of them, we spray a rather slow acting bug killer about quite often. Before I get a chance to clean up the dead bug or bugs, Jane sometimes will eat them. I don't get it. She refuses all kinds of tasty scraps from the table, but bugs with a coating of bug killer - YUM O! I hope she doesn't get sick.

Anticipation

2008-07-11T06:02:00.000-07:00

The atmosphere around here has been highly charged in the last couple of days. No, it has nothing at all to do with the arrival of the new addition to the family. The Other J has had the same crazed look of high alert that the cat gets when she's tracking a large bug for days, nay, weeks now. And even though he knows I'd rather not hear it, he can't keep his enthusiasm from spilling over: "I'm going to switch us to a new email system and calendar that'll coordinate with the phone. But I'll keep the old addresses for a year and forward so our friends can get used to our new email over time."

Today, the 2nd generation of the iPhone is being released. A week ago, he piteously complained that due to the surgery schedule at work today, he wouldn't be able to duck out and wait in line at a store that's 30-40 minutes away. And because he's got an out-of-town bachelor party this weekend, he would have had to *gasp* wait until Monday to get his new phone. Clearly, it was an untenable situation and he must have worked something out because he's been in a great mood and let me know that he will be coming home early today - no doubt so that he could play with his new toy.

He has been preparing for this day for months. Months ago, I came home to find the Other J looking unusually forlorn. Alarmed, I asked him what was wrong. He replied, "I'm going to have to wait until July 11th to get the new iPhone." He had decided that it would be his birthday present ages ago. Most of the time, he orders his "present" by April (his birthday is June 30). This year, because of Apple's release date, he's actually had to wait until after his birthday. In an attempt to moderate his avarice for electronics, we discussed a purchasing policy for the household years ago: for every dollar he allocates to electronics, we must allocate an equal sum for jewelery purchases for me. Of course, my love for jewelery tends to be a theoretical one. I like to think of the items I'd like to acquire "some day" but balk at the idea of actually buying jewelery. But I really should keep a tally. The last couple of years would have been good for me: new computer, new computer monitor, TWO GPSs, some weird thing I don't understand for movies and TV shows, and now an iPhone. Also, he takes every opportunity to villify me any time he has a sympathetic (i.e. male) ear because I am making him wait to get a flat screen TV until our next move.

It is fun, in a way, to see the Other J get so worked up. There are lots of ways to mess with his head when he's in this electronic buying mode. He had deduced months ago that our cell phone plans were up and we were free to make the switch to AT&T. I casually said to him, "Why don't we think about renewing with our old cell phone company? That way we can both get new, free phones." He scathingly retorted, "I DON'T USE FREE PHONES!!!!" What can I say? I accept that he is a snob about certain things.

Photo: 24 Weeks

2008-07-08T04:22:00.001-07:00

Self Assessed Performance Review

2008-07-04T10:16:00.000-07:00

Tomorrow, it will be 24 weeks into my pregnancy. Since 40 weeks is considered the normal period of gestation, it's unclear when exactly the second trimester ends. I'm hoping that I'll deliver a couple of weeks early, so I'll arbitrarily decide that 24 weeks indeed marks the end of my second trimester. It's a good time for me to give myself a performance evaluation (I always liked having these when I was working, so I must be missing them now) regarding various pregnancy related matters.

Wills. I had given myself a deadline of my 24th week to draft and execute wills for me and the Other J. I have not yet started. Boo. Unsatisfactory.

Nursery furniture. Everybody's been telling me that cribs and some of the other nursery items take a while to ship. I have not yet ordered the items. Boo. Unsatisfactory.

Baby registry. Due to repeated pestering, I mean, inquiry of a certain early-bird friend, I got this set up ages ago. Satisfactory.

Exercise regimen. I've been consistently working out at least 3x a week for the duration of the pregnancy and in the last couple of weeks, have been able to up the frequency. Satisfactory.

Weight gain. I've been holding steady at a 9-10 lbs. of total weight gain for a couple of weeks now, but the Other J assures me that since I have recently been carefully monitoring my diet and started exercising more, this should not be a cause for concern. Satisfactory.

Gestational diabetes. Years ago, I promised myself that prior to becoming pregnant, I would endeavor to be in the best shape of my life. I can't help but feel that if I had actually done this, I wouldn't have the gestational diabetes diagnosis now. Boo. Unsatisfactory.

Three 'satisfactory' categories and three 'unsatisfactory' categories. Overall assessment: marginal.

Pregnancy Weight, Plus Twenty

2008-06-27T18:45:00.000-07:00

The heading is my new mantra. "Pregnancy weight, plus twenty" I keep muttering to myself. It seems a little daunting, but that's what I need to do. After I deliver, I'll need to lose all the pregnancy weight I gained and an additional twenty pounds. That'll get me to my so-called "ideal weight" and should help me keep healthy. Of course, I haven't been at that weight since early high school and it will be no easy task for me to get there.

I do have very good motivation. At the beginning of the week, I got a phone call from my OB telling me that I had developed gestational diabetes. Granted, since I am insulin resistant, it wasn't a huge surprise and the test results showed that I'm really just on the cusp. After miserably proclaiming that it was unfair (since I've been eating pretty well since I quit my job, exercised regularly, and was losing weight at a decent rate until I got pregnant and felt lethargic), I immediately put myself on a more stringent eating regimen and kicked up my workouts from 3x a week to 5x-6x a week. I had already cut out almost all junk food, and after getting pregnant, really hadn't wanted any sweets. So "improvements" in my mind meant filling the fridge with low glycemic fruits & vegetables and eating carbs that looked like they just came out of the ground or would otherwise sprout if I buried them in the dirt.

I have always maintained that I'm not picky and that I eat everything. After my week of uber-virtuous eating, I realized that it's just not true. I am picky. I only like food that's really tasty. Much of the week I was hungry, simply because I didn't sufficiently enjoy the food I had on hand to actually consume it. I was in a bad mood all the time and took it out on the Other J. (It should be noted that I had been until now, a generally pleasant and unmoody pregnant woman - much to the Other J's surprise). Today, I actually went in to meet the Maternal Fetal Medicine Dr., who had of course been hand-selected by the Other J and was notified months ago that it was likely that he would have to see me at some point in my pregnancy. I also spent time with the nurse/nutritionist who reviewed the recommended diet and showed me how to prick my finger and measure my blood sugar.

It turns out that the recommended diet turns out to be far, far less stringent than the eating plan I devised myself. And my blood sugar levels are not that wacky and it's likely that I should be able to control everything by diet and exercise alone for the remainder of the pregnancy. Although it's not pleasant having to be on an eating plan while one is pregnant, I know that I'll be fine for the remaining 17 weeks and will be a model patient. However, the whole finger-pricking/monitoring process is annoying enough that I want to delay, hopefully permanently, the onset of diabetes once I have the baby. So it's got to be "pregnancy weight, plus twenty" for me. I would have been perfectly content to slide into middle age with the little extra pudge that I'd been holding onto for some time. Unfortunately, my body's not really giving me that option. Oh well. At least I'll be able to wear cuter clothes.

Bad Wife

2008-06-25T06:47:00.000-07:00

Over the years, I've been giving the Other J a hard time for his inclination to forget anniversaries, special occasions, etc. Last night when he got home, I informed him that I bought my train ticket for an overnight trip to Boston for next Monday and Tuesday. He gave me a horrified stare and said, "You're going away on my birthday?" He immediately followed that with, "It's clear who doesn't love whom around here!" Oops.

Random Tidbits

2008-06-18T09:52:00.000-07:00

I am getting reacquainted with a sight I haven't seen for a very long time. As the belly keeps on increasing, it has had the effect of pushing my navel further and further out. I have been able to see the base of my belly button for the first time since I was a little kid. My bellybutton is what one might call an "extreme innie"; its cavernous depths so fascinated a guy friend in college that he insisted that he poke his finger in there. It was weird for both of us.

I picked up the Other J from the airport earlier this week as he got back from his San Francisco trip. Each time I greet him at the airport, I promise myself that it'll be the time I actually kiss him (lips full on). Alas, like each previous time, as his head leaned in, I turned mine sideways. Maybe next time. I wonder now how I managed to kiss him in public at my wedding . . .

The Other J often suggests that I brush the cat. Then when I sit down to actually do it, he drops whatever he was doing to come and watch. Finding this voyeuristic streak strange, I finally asked him: "Why do you like to watch?" The reply: "I just think it's quality family time for all of us." Cute.

After much misery, I have decided to NOT meet with the in-laws. I leave room to change my mind for after the baby is born. But for now, after much soul-searching, I have decided that I cannot. I'm sure it's not going to go over very well. * Sigh *

My Days Are Numbered

2008-06-11T08:13:00.000-07:00

I think it's been 4+ years since I've last spoken to, seen, or otherwise interacted with my in-laws. I haven't kept exact track of the break. In that time, I've sought counseling from pastors, professional counselors, listened to a bunch of online sermons on forgiveness, read numerous books on the topic, and embarked on a forgiveness regimen. My progress, however, has been slow. Very, very, very slow. So I am not at all ready to meet with them still. By my own assessment, at the rate of progress I seem to be going, I won't be ready for - oh, another 50 years or so. Or better yet, I'd like to write them off completely, never give them another thought again for the rest of my life, then happily go and meet my maker.

One of the pluses of not having kids was that I knew that my in-laws would not attempt to disturb the status quo of our dynamics until they were faced with the prospect of becoming grandparents. We let them know a while back that we were expecting and of course, now they are wanting to meet. I jokingly have said to the Other J, "Why don't we wait until the baby's born and then say - surprise, we've had a baby?!?" The Other J probably knew that I wasn't really jesting but wisely let me ride this phase out on my own. I am inclined to meet with them, but there's still a possibility that I may change my mind. I've already decided that I would be OK if they were not in my child's life at all - and, although it clearly would not be the Other J's preference, he is accepting of that possibility too.

I really don't know whether it's the right thing to meet with them. There is no way that this meeting would not be terrible for the in-laws. I am going to be awful. There's just too much that has been circulating in my head for too long and all the creative insults that I've devised over the years are going to come tumbling out at some point during the meeting, I'm sure. I deeply resent the timing of all this and what it all signifies. I also know there's no true remorse here - they've waited until there was something they wanted really,really, really badly from me. I'm being treated like a pregnant prized heifer and I don't particularly like it. They are coming to apologize - nay, grovel. I would like to be gracious, but there is no chance of it. There's no chance that I'll be even, as I said, not terrible. I don't know what the best case scenario of the meeting would be. The worst case scenario? I would go into my worst b*tch from hell mode, then still decide I don't want the in-laws to be a part of my child's life. As low a regard I have for my in-laws, I would feel bad about that outcome. The Other J would still like for me to meet with them because he believes that there's a better possibility of things becoming better for me that way. And if the worst case scenario happened? He just shrugs his shoulders. Thanks for the low pressure, hubby. I'll still be dragging my feet and feeling like my days are numbered . . .

2 Down, 1 More to Go

2008-06-04T11:16:00.000-07:00

I'm cheating a little bit. It'll be a few more weeks before we hit our 2 year anniversary in Connecticut. But I'm so eager to get going, and made so delirious by the idea of leaving this place that I can't help counting ahead a little bit. The summers here always seem to go by fast and then just a couple of more months, and the baby will be here. Once that happens, I think the rest of our time here will just fly by. I get giddy just thinking about it. What have we been doing? While we were here I:

Went to Maine, New York City, and Newport, RI (once each).
Never went to Boston.
Went to D.C. 4 times (?).
Went to Washington, PA, Cleveland, California, Vermont, and Korea (twice each).

In between the various trips, it just feels like we've been filling up time. The adjective that most defines the time here seems to be "bored" but there have been some positive things. The Other J and I spent a lot of time with each other (partially due to lack of other company) here and hit a nice groove in our relationship. We've made friends with a wider variety of people than when we lived in Washington. In light of being in the midst of so many undergrads and graduate students, we accepted that in fact, we were growing older and it was about time we've brought an end to the young adult version of extended adolescence. And it will be the place where we finally increased the size of our family from two to three. So I'm sure we'll look back fondly about some things in CT.

But in a year, the Js may be headed to a town near you!

In Matters of Gender

2008-05-28T10:31:00.000-07:00

So I went in for my second trimester Level II Ultrasound today. Everything looked as it should at this stage, so that was the most important bit. Of course, we also found out the gender of the baby . . . and it's a boy.

I have been convinced for some time that I would be having a boy, so no real surprises there. Nevertheless, I had a strong preference for a girl and would have been delighted if the tech had told me my premonitions were wrong. I had my preference for a whole host of selfish reasons. First of all, little girls' clothes and accessories are so much cuter than corresponding boys' stuff. Secondly, I've heard that female infants and toddlers are easier to raise and better behaved than male infants and toddlers (although I've heard that girls make for tougher teenagers - I just can't think that far ahead yet). Thirdly, based on personal experience and anecdotal evidence, it seems that girls tend to be more loyal to their parents and families into adulthood. I had promised myself that I would try to be the kind of parent that allows their child to be who they are and support and channel, rather than control and attempt to mold the child in accordance with parental ambitions and expectations. So my lessons in letting go will have to begin even before the baby's arrival. And who knows? If I keep my expectations of filial piety and family loyalty low, maybe Lil' (Boy) Bromer will surprise me.

In the mean time, I've still got lots of time to get excited about the arrival of a baby boy - even though that wasn't my initial preference. I think it's already started. Since I have long accepted the fact that the baby was likely a boy, at the moment the tech said so, I didn't feel disappointment. Instead, I found myself feeling joyous and happy.