Guilt

I have reached the last two weeks of maternity leave. It certainly hasn't been a walk in the park, but getting used to having two kids hasn't been as tough as I'd imagined either. Yes, there are times where everyone is crying, whining, barking and driving me crazy, but there are also sweet times of smiles, laughs, and peaceful sleep.

I'm thankful for a number of things from this time: getting my physical strength back, overcoming breastfeeding ailments and woes, learning to communicate better with my toddler, and establishing a regular daily rhythm in our household. 

As I think about going back to work (and I'm only working 3 days a week), I unfortunately feel an impending amount of guilt on my shoulders. I've been agonizing over some of the childcare options in my head and debating what is best for both kids. No matter what kind of combination of daycare or babysitting I come up with, sometimes I don't feel better about it. I feel guilty for not watching my own children, yet I am itching to get back to teaching and practicing and performing, and I know that staying home with them would actually drive me nuts and be what Paul says is "bad stewardship" of my gifts.

Do all women feel this struggle? Do men feel this at all? It seems to be not uncommon among working women, which I find sort of unfair. From all the extra stuff we had to do in the first place, like carrying our babies in our bodies, changing our diets, oh yes, and that little thing called labor - not to mention recovering, nursing, etc. you'd think we could at least get a mental/emotional break. But with the privilege of having our babies, there is a deep attachment that develops on both sides. I feel fiercely protective and attached to my children, and they often associate my presence with comfort and security. Yet I also crave time alone, time to work, and time to just relax without being needed and wanted every second. Striking the right balance of mothering and working is essential for me and will probably always evolve and change with where they are in their childhood. 

To battle my guilt, I am reminding myself that fruit in my creative/professional life is fruit that I can pass along to my own kids, and that the things that make me feel fulfilled in my career are what can also make me a better mother. It also makes my off days feel more like quality time, and not just caretaking. It's funny, because I went through this exact same struggle after E was born, and am feeling it even more so now that there are two kids to think about. 

Perhaps this is the ongoing struggle of every mother. But all the mixed feelings in the end don't matter as much as the overwhelming gratitude I feel for having two healthy, lovely girls.

This thing called Love.

I am 32 today. Sometimes birthdays make me a little melancholy, as I think back to birthdays in the past that were simpler and more carefree. I suppose the grass is always greener on the other side, because for a little bit all I could think was that for my birthday, all I wanted was some time alone. No whining. No nursing. No cleaning, laundry, work, or practicing. Maybe a mimosa, pedicure, and facial in that order?

Those things are nice, but I don't think any of that is in the cards today - nor does it really need to be. And I am ok with that. I am ok with today just being a normal day, because I'm trying to see this moment from a bigger perspective right now and I realize that this season of my little ones needing me so much is actually so very short in the grand scheme of life. Let's be honest - the first 3 months of babyhood are rough, and between postpartum pain, mastitis, and two hour sleep increments, I often find myself wishing for the newborn phase to be over. But wishing you could fast forward your own life is a pretty terrible way to live.

Last night, as I put Elisa to bed, we did our usual routine - brushing teeth, sitting on the potty, bath, and then some cuddle time on the glider. We talked about what we did that day, and I said to her, "Mommy loves you soooo much. Do you love Mommy?" She replied, "I love you, Mommy. Soooo much." This is the first time she has ever said this to me! I just about melted as she wrapped her little arms around me and settled into a big hug, resting her head on my shoulder. And I realized that although the rewards are limited now with Cara only able to eat, sleep, poop, and cry, before I know it she too will be able to tell me that she feels this connection between us, that she understands what love is, and that she reciprocates this thing crazy little thing we call Love.

I received a lovely gift from my sweet hubby - a gold necklace with beautiful little E and C pendants. A reminder of how blessed I am to have him and my two sweet girls. And rumor has it that we are going out to dinner tonight! Woo-hoo! I just hope that I can stay awake...

Cara Belle

And here she is. Our little Cara Belle Chun, born on August 7, 2013 at 9:39am. She was 7 pounds, 8 ounces, and 19.25 inches long. And the doctor told me that she was going to be too small - she ended up being bigger than her sister was at birth! Good thing I ate all those burritos.

The past few weeks have been a total blur, to say the least. My parents arrived at our house the day before my due date, and boy was I ready to have a baby by that point. In fact, several times I was completely certain that I was in labor. My Braxton-Hicks contractions were happening nearly every day the week before my due date, and it was hard to tell if they were the real thing or not. I would wake up in the middle of the night and time them, only to realize that they were not getting more regular or stronger and ended up feeling sort of disappointed. There was a point where I thought I would be the first woman on earth to be pregnant forever. (That actually didn't happen.)

It was Tuesday, August 6. At my doctor visit that morning, I was already 3 cm dilated and the doctor said she would be surprised if I made it through the week without going into labor. That evening around 8:30, I felt the contractions start up again, and they began to get more uncomfortable as the evening went on. I thought to myself, "Ok, this is really it," as I put a few last items into my hospital bag, paced around the house, and bounced on my birthing ball. I pulled up my contraction timer app on my phone and started logging them. The evening slogged on, and around midnight, the contractions were about five minutes apart, lasting about a minute each time. They were not exactly painful yet, but did make me have to stop and breathe deeply when each one came. I wanted to labor at home for as long as I could, and had been snacking, relaxing, and trying to stay comfortable. My doctor's voice rang in my head: "Second babies come fast, so don't wait too long to get to the hospital!"

By the time we got to the hospital, a whole 9 minute drive from our house, it was nearly 1am. I was disappointed when they checked my cervix to find out that I was still only 3 1/2 cm dilated. The four hours of laboring at home had barely gotten me anywhere! The nurse asked if we wanted to go home and come back later, which seemed silly at this hour. So we got checked into a delivery room, and I tried all the coping methods I could remember to deal with the contractions. I walked, I sat. I laid down. I bounced on my ball. I leaned on the birthing bar. I leaned on my husband. I tried to sleep, but was eventually woken out of a half-slumber state by the increasing pain in my abdomen. There had been a moment where I thought that maybe I could do all this the natural way, as a total 180 from my first labor - there were currently no monitors hooked up to me in invasive parts of my body, and I was not relegated to being in the hospital bed since I wasn't receiving any medication yet. The nurses were coming in to monitor the baby every hour, but that was just an external monitor on my belly. But the pain increased with each contraction. It was an incredibly scary pain. It felt like a huge earthquake was jolting all my insides with each one that came. I writhed and cried and knew it was time to call for the anesthesiologist.

It took about 20 minutes to administer the epidural, and slowly I felt my body become numb from the waist down. Unfortunately, with the epidural came a bunch of other stuff that had to be poked into my body. The IV for fluids (which sucked because they couldn't find my vein and two nurses had to try it four times!), a catheter since I couldn't feel when I had to pee, and of course the button that was connected to the epidural which allowed me to increase the dosage as I wished. So I was now chained to my hospital bed, but I didn't care because it was incredible to not feel that pain anymore. I fell into a much needed sleep for a few hours.

I was woken up by a nurse who was telling me something about Pitocin. The dreaded P word! I wanted nothing to do with this drug after being in labor with it for like 30 hours the first time. The nurse explained that my doctor was recommending a small dosage of it since my contractions were still not getting closer together. I thought about protesting, but had little energy left to do so. Yes, I was here to have this baby and with the epidural on, I knew I wouldn't feel the effects much anyway.

Well, modern medicine did its thing, because the next thing I knew, it was 9am and and I was woken up by another nurse who came into the room and said, "I think you're ready!" In my groggy state, I asked, "Ready for what?" thinking more drugs or something were on the way. She replied cheerfully, "To have a baby! You're over 9 cm now!" Wow, that was quick. I took a minute to process that somehow, this had all happened while I was sleeping. Then, looking over at the couch where Paul was sleeping with his mouth wide open, I half whispered to him, "Honey, wake up. I'm going to push!" I don't really know why I was whispering. It just seemed like the type of information not to get too public with.

Through all of this, I still had this nasty phlegmy cough that Elisa had so lovingly given me a few weeks prior, and the cough had gotten worse just that day. The nurse observed me coughing as she got me into position to deliver, and noted that the baby was actually descending with each coughing fit I had! And so I pushed, and coughed, and mostly coughed, but also pushed, until the baby was apparently crowning and I realized my doctor was nowhere to be seen. At that very moment, she dashed in the door, put on scrubs, a shower cap, and a face shield thing, and I continued to push with her direction. "Do you want to feel the baby's head?" she asked at one point. I don't know why this totally grossed me out, but I declined.

A few more pushes, and the hardest part was over. Paul was cheering me on in an apprehensive sort of way. In between mumbling, "Oh my God" under his breath he would say, "You're doing amazing! Almost there!" My doctor said, "One more big push!" and push I did - and before I knew it, a wet wriggling baby was placed on my chest.

I immediately started bawling. This didn't happen with Elisa - maybe I was too drugged out - but for some reason a huge flood of emotions hit me like a ton of bricks. She was so perfect, and looking down at her in this very lucid state, with a labor that was not too difficult, I couldn't believe she was really here. I was so happy to have my glasses on so I could see her clearly (didn't the first time) and I was not a disgusting sweaty mess like the first time either. She was here. She was beautiful. And she looked like Elisa, but then again she didn't. That moment will always be one of the most precious in my entire life - holding her tiny little body for the first time, looking down at this incredible being that had just spent 9 months inside my body, that was now outside of my body and ready to be a part of our family.

And now as a family of 4, we are slowly adjusting and getting to know Cara better each day. She is a sweet, mild baby very different from our first, who needed lots of soothing, swinging, and shushing all the time. While Elisa was strong-willed and determined from the first day, Cara is less decisive, a little more easy-going, and very observant of the new world around her. She has been a pretty good sleeper, is growing and eating well, and her big sister loves her to pieces, often exclaiming in delight, "Baby Cara! MUAH!"

Pushing the double stroller around the neighborhood. This thing weighs a ton!

We couldn't ask for anything more.

Turning 2!

Being nearly 38 weeks pregnant, everything I do is a little slower these days, and I almost forgot to post about Elisa turning 2! We've had so many changes with her this past month that she almost feels like a completely different person than she was 6 months ago. Some are amazing and some are difficult. She has had crazy separation anxiety every time we drop her off somewhere or leave the room for bedtime, which has been a really tough one lately. And we finally decided it was time to give up the pacifier, which she was still using for sleeping, and today I think we turned a corner. After losing it in her bed last night, we declared that "blue birdie is missing." We looked for it everywhere (while I quickly found it under the bed and hid it) and I think she has finally accepted that it is not coming back. But not without a lot of tears.

On the flip side, she is now dancing, singing, running, jumping, playing dress-up, and talking in 4-5 word sentences. Today's new sentence was, "Mommy, close your eyes," which she said as we lay on the floor of her room pretending to take naps side by side, like little girls at a slumber party. Most of her sentences are usually orders, telling me to sit here or go there, or Daddy to sing her current favorite songs - "ball" (Take Me Out to the Ball Game) and "'merica" (Star-Spangled Banner), a tough one for Daddy when it's early in the morning. What a patriot. Soon enough she will have another little person to give orders too, so maybe we'll be off the hook.

Otherwise, we had a really lovely little birthday party for her with some of her favorite playmates and good friends of ours with kids, complete with food from one of our go-to Mexican restaurants, Rodeo, and cupcakes from my favorite neighborhood bakery, Lark. There were also bubbles, beanbag tossing, and a flamenco show!

Here's the birthday girl getting ready to party.

Oliver dominates the bubbles here while the other kids look on amazed.

Everyone enjoying their quesadillas.

Stuffing her face with a vanilla cupcake.

Our friends Scott and Wendy gifted us with a flamenco show. It was really incredible watching all the kids completely mesmerized by Wendy's dancing.

Paul and Elisa got pulled up to dance!

Sitting under the grapevines on our patio in the shade of a hot summer day, with our friends around us and Elisa cuddling in my lap, I felt so incredibly grateful in that moment to have raised a little girl this far in life, even if it has only been two years. These two years have been amazing, and I love every moment of mothering her, even on the tough days.

Other than that, we've been trying to make the most of this last few weeks as a family of 3, which has included trips to the beach.

Trying on shoes and dressing up, a new favorite pastime

Rides on the Griffith Park train

And getting a new car! I am so in love with our new sportwagon. Maybe because it's gray like our dog, drives like a dream, has tons of trunk space, leather seats, bluetooth streaming, gets practically 40 mpg, and they even threw in tinting on the back windows to keep the babies shaded because we are three-time repeat customers at this particular VW dealership. Actually, this is the 4th VW we have owned. I know, we're nuts. But this one feels like a car we can grow comfortably into as a family and drive to the ground. I felt like it symbolized that we're ready for baby to arrive. It's our very own "swagger wagon."

We may be feeling extra sentimental lately because of Elisa's birthday and the baby coming, but raising a family together so far really has felt like a dream. We are savoring each day.

36 weeks

At the beach on July 4th weekend,
36 weeks pregnant!

I am 36 weeks pregnant. Let's see, how am I feeling these days?

It is really hard to breathe. The only time I don't have trouble breathing is when I am standing up or sitting up really straight. And that is if I haven't moved in awhile, or else I am usually out of breath. Things like laundry or picking up all of Elisa's toys are just too much for me now. Doing dishes leaves me with water all over my belly and a backache.

When I'm awake, I have to pee pretty much every hour or so. It is now rare to get through a night without having to get up to go to the bathroom. If I can make it to 5am, I'm pretty proud. But sometimes its harder to get back to sleep in the early morning so I don't mind getting up when its 3 or 4am if I have to. Except that it takes a lot of energy to get out of bed, er roll out of bed rather.

I am so sweaty. I think my belly provides an extra layer of insulation that I simply don't need in an LA summer. Not to mention that all maternity pants or shorts have that stupid band thing over the belly that is just ANOTHER layer of insulation that makes me so uncomfortable. Dresses are the most comfortable, but nothing is fitting right these days. Everything is too short or not comfortable in the bust. I hate getting dressed in the morning. If I had it my way, I would wear a maternity tank top and my gray sweat shorts every day (that's what I wear to sleep, and I change into my PJs at about 8pm every day).

If I don't nap, I may not make it through the day. Elisa has been getting up before 7am lately, so I'm always up early. I know my normal full night of sleep is going to be a thing of the past soon, so I'd like to sleep as much as possible whenever I can.

I feel baby kicking and moving very often. Sometimes it even hurts. I'll feel this sudden pressure against my belly like her feet are trying to find her a way out of her cramped womb. I often react with an "Ooh!" or "Ahh!" and Paul immediately goes, "What's wrong? What is it?" I think it's funny when this happens because he sounds totally freaked out, and he never really freaks out very much.

This will be my first full week of maternity leave. I am already bored. I'm really not good at not working. I need a new book or movie or TV show or something. My brother said that World War Z is a pretty good read. Maybe I'll download that to my Kindle.

They told me that the baby was on the small side, almost out of the normal range but still growing. Every time I put Elisa to bed, I put her hand on my belly and we pray for baby to grow big and strong. She likes praying for the baby. I think it makes her feel important. I think she is going to be an amazing big sister. She is certainly bossy enough for it.

Now we enter the waiting game. Waiting, and waiting. I'm not good at waiting. I am at the point where I feel like I'll be pregnant forever. This may be the last time I am pregnant, and I don't really think I'll miss it. I haven't enjoyed it all that much this time around.  I've told my husband that that it better be the last time. But maybe not? Who knows. Maybe it's better not to try to plan everything in life. But I really would like to know when she's coming out. Do I want her to come sooner so I can be a little more comfortable in my body again, if I even will be, or do I want her to come later so I can get a few more days of sleep? Life as I know it is about to change forever, again...yet it feels oh so slow right now.

Foundations

About a year ago, Paul and I went through a particularly trying time. It was a mixture of misplaced and misconstrued priorities, the stress of being new parents, figuring out the career/family balance, and bitterness on both sides that had built up over time. There were moments where I felt like my stomach was always in knots, and that everything might just snap right in front of the beautiful baby girl that we were trying so hard to shield from the ugliness of our own humanity. The stakes felt higher because of her to make everything right; yet at times we were baffled on how to do so and even forgot what had gotten us to a place of such misunderstanding.

Yesterday, I found out that a dear friend of mine is getting divorced, and my heart broke for her as she tries to deal with all of the messy details along with her three children. I was shocked that I had had no idea that this lovely couple had been having any marital problems, and even more sobered to realize that even the marriages that look great on the outside can be fraught with conflict on the inside. And with children in the picture, the reality of this can feel heavy and daunting, at times just too much to bear.

It is unbelievable to me how much I love my daughter sometimes. I thought I loved her as much as I possibly could when she was a newborn, and as she develops as a little person I realize that this love keeps on growing as our relationship deepens and as she understands more of the world around her. My heart melts as she jabbers on about what we did that day or sings the ABC's to herself for the millionth time. I love her very concentrated facial expressions, her furrowed brow, the way she throws herself into my lap at random moments of the day, saying, "Mommy, hug." I love her so incredibly much that it hurts. Yet I am committed to loving my husband even more than this and I know that my love for him must be beyond my love for my own children. Without our partnership, everything breaks. Without our willingness to communicate even our deepest and darkest emotions, to struggle to do so when it feels impossible, to put each other before ourselves, to serve and actively decide to love one another each and every day - without this promise, our family would break. Last night, I thought about the order in which I want to live the various roles that I've been called to: daughter of God, wife, mother, guitarist. In that order.

With the help of some committed friends and a counselor at our church, we pushed through last year's trial and will continually fight for our marriage to get even better as we age. I've been thinking back to how things were a year ago and realize that we are in a very different place as we anticipate the birth of our second daughter - a peaceful, sweeter, more beautiful place that has not been easy to get to. But it surely has been worth it and will continue to be the foundation for the rest of our journey through parenthood and beyond. I'm so grateful for my dear husband today, for being a man so loving, committed, and passionate for me and our family. I'm even more grateful that God has healed us from a lot of hurt and brokenness, lifted us up, and blessed us beyond belief. I realized recently that I've tried to numb myself this year from feeling much of anything, scared of any other struggles that might come my way. But I'm ready now - ready to receive all that may come in this next season of life. Whether it be easy or not, I believe that it will be good, because He is good.

On Having Two Girls.

I guess intuition is not very accurate. Because I thought this baby was surely a boy, and after finding out that another baby girl is coming, Paul's conclusion is that my intuition guessing baby gender is 50/50 because I was right the first time around. Go figure. I guess this will be more convenient (if there's anything convenient about raising kids two years apart) since they'll have to share a room with lavender walls and we have an arsenal of baby girl clothes in the closet. But the biggest reason I'm excited though is that having a sister (and siblings for that matter) is probably one of the best things in life.

I'm very close with my sister. I recently went up to Seattle to surprise her at her baby shower, and we spent a couple of days eating and lounging on the couch in fuzzy blankets. Probably the best thing two pregnant women could ask for. We took a bunch of pictures of us being silly with our pregnant bellies, bellies that will probably never look the same way at the same time again. 

        

I stopped to think about how once upon a time, we were both babies in our mom's belly, and my parents may have had the same thoughts that I'm having lately. Two girls! I hope they'll be good friends. I hope they'll help each other learn and grow, that they'll play together for hours on end. That the older one will guide the younger one through life, teach her valuable lessons, and that the younger one will go along with all her scheming and bossy ideas and take it all in stride. I hope they'll make each other laugh and have inside jokes that nobody else knows about. I hope they'll do each other's hair, go shopping together, have lunch dates, and share clothes. I hope they'll always make up if they fight. I hope they'll be honest with each other and make fun of their parents in a loving way that only they'll understand. And I hope they'll be stronger because they grew up together.

Can't wait to meet you, baby girl #2!

Being Second

During my first pregnancy, baby's arrival and everything related to babyhood was about all I could think of. No matter what I was doing, my heart and mind always came back to thinking about baby, researching baby gear, and nesting our tiny apartment to make everything ready for her.

This time around, my attention is so much more divided that sometimes I almost forget that I'm pregnant. Between juggling two part-time jobs and chasing Elisa around, I barely ever have time for myself and when I do, I'm exhausted and can barely keep my eyes open. They say that with second children, this is often the case. Second babies don't get the prenatal yoga classes, the Mozart being played, the birthing classes. Instead, second kids get the hand-me-downs, less attention, and all the used toys. I am a second child. I am also a middle child. So maybe I got both ends of the neglect? I don't really feel that way, but still - I sympathize with our second baby here and don't want him/her to get the short end of the stick.

So today, I put Elisa in daycare and got a prenatal massage. And I did not feel guilty about it. It helps immensely that E is in love with our daycare provider and gets so excited to go there now. This wasn't always the case, but ever since I stopped sending baby food along with her and she started eating what they provide (home-cooked Filipino food), she has absolutely loved being there. It also helps that she can name the lady that takes care of her there, and naming people is just so much fun.

During the massage, I was able to sort of check in with my body a little bit and just clear my mind. The therapist said that my hips were really tight and stretched me a few times. I even felt a few flutters (early baby movements) in my belly. There were fresh strawberries at the spa, it being Valentine's Day and all, and I sat and drank some mint tea for awhile and just sat there. A rare thing for me indeed. Ahhh.

Prayers for my babies

At church on Sunday, I saw the most beautiful thing. The couple in front of me brought their 2 year old in with them for the musical part of the worship service. As the mom sang along with the music, she brought her hand up as a reflection of her worship to God. Her husband was holding their son, and as he saw his mom's hand come up, he did the same. Standing behind them, this sight was so poignant to me that I started crying right away. As I've struggled with feelings of being scared, overwhelmed, and uncomfortable during this pregnancy, I've been looking for places in which God would confirm for me the call to mothering yet another little one. This image of mother and son worshiping together in front of me seemed to say everything about what it really means to be a parent.

Kids are such amazing emulators. They learn everything by watching us and observing all our habits even when we are unaware of their gaze. And just as Elisa has learned to brush her teeth, eat with a spoon, and do anything else by imitating us, so she will learn from us what we worship, how we worship, and why we worship. A few weeks ago at church, I was praying and saw the most beautiful image of her worshiping God and it nearly broke my heart with desire. I realized that there is almost nothing I want more in life than for my kids to know Jesus and be saved. I felt an urgency to pray for the baby in my belly, not just that he would be healthy and safe, but that above all, that God would reach him, touch him, love him, and save him.

In those two moments, I understood motherhood in a different way - that my role is not only caretaker, nurturer, comforter, provider, but also teacher, mentor, sister, discipler. And though it will be awhile before either of our kids will go through tough questions about faith or even basic Bible stories with total comprehension, it is never too early to start practicing the latter types of roles in my everyday life, which is so hard because the most basic tasks of motherhood are so completely all-consuming. There will always be dirty dishes, laundry to fold, toys to clean up, and diapers to change, but I'm praying that God would give me energy to go beyond all that and be able to shepherd both of these little blessings in His ways.

The Taco

They say that having a child is like seeing your heart run around outside of your body. I couldn't agree more. Except that I didn't know that my heart was capable of such cuteness, so many stinky poops, such surprise, and such love.

So I guess we're doing this again. I'm 12 weeks pregnant today with Baby #2 (who we lovingly refer to as "The Taco" because of early cravings for Taco Bell, which no, I am not proud of, but yes, tasted so darn good and a bit nostalgic of my childhood) and as this first trimester quickly comes to a close and I am beginning to see something other than exhaustion and nausea around me, I will take this moment to process, be grateful, and be excited.

In many ways it feels much too soon - like, my body went through all this trauma and all the way back and my professional life did the same; so why are we messing it all up again now? And in many ways it feels completely natural and right. It feels like there is this little space in time carved out for this new person to come that will change us and change our family and change Elisa forever. This little person will really make our family a family, just like my brother made us a complete family when he came along 7 years after me and I can't imagine us being us without him. Like, you think you're complete, you think that this is just fine and just it and then you realize that your heart still has the capacity to love, to give, to do it all over again because your heart was made to be this huge, malleable thing that could adore these two little people running around outside your body.

Then I look over at my dear husband, who is cleaning the kitchen and washing the diapers and walking the dog while I pass out on the couch at 8pm (ok fine, it was 7:30pm). I see the way he adores our daughter and adores me even more, and I know that his heart is more than capable of loving another little person as intensely as our first little person. There was a time when I doubted that this was possible for us. But now as we prepare for the coming reality of Baby Taco entering the world, we know that all of us - even my toddler, and even the dog - will search within ourselves to love even more.

And that is what feels most right of all.

basking in today's 80 degree weather. goodbye, winter!

18 months

Today was one of the coldest days in LA that I can remember. When we got in the car this morning to go to breakfast, the snowflake warning light came on in the chilly 39 degree weather. This is pretty absurd to most Angelenos - this means I have to actually wear a coat or something, right? And I'm still cold! I don't think I even own a beanie or gloves or anymore, but I could have sure used them today.

This little bundle was ready to combat the cold. Elisa is happily sporting her new mary janes that she picked out herself and refuses to take off. What can I say? The girl's got taste.

She also fashioned this hair accessory for herself from one of my old scarves as she foraged fruit from the trees in the backyard. We've got some amazing amounts of oranges and lemons right now. She loves putting the fruit in her wagon and pushing them all around the patio.

Her playtime is getting more and more imaginative. It's amazing to see her mimicing us and using her new words all the time. Here she is at her play kitchen (she was refusing pants that morning).

 

Here she was in the middle of some funny dress up, but when she saw me pull my phone out to take a picture she got upset. This picture cracks me up - it's like a fiesta gone wrong.

And lastly, here is a daddy/daughter moment at lunch celebrating her 18 month birthday. This lemon ricotta cake from Forage made her put both hands up in the air with a big grin.

What a thrill! A year and a half feels like a big landmark for us. This is such a fun age - she is not having nearly as many tantrums as she did a few months ago, probably because her ability to communicate is improving all the time. The words and semblances of words are pretty amazing to hear, and she is sweet and funny as ever. She is still a mommyholic, but I'll savor it for now. Feeling grateful as ever today.

Entering 2013!

Call me Scrooge, but I'm kind of glad the holidays are over. We didn't have the greatest Christmas this year. Somehow, Elisa managed to catch a miserable cold and then a three-day fever, which was followed by a bumpy red rash all over her torso. A trip to urgent care and the great wisdom of the internet said it was roseola, a viral infection that only affects babies between 6 months and 2 years of age. Our poor little girl was miserable for almost a week while we were at the grandparents' house in the Bay Area and she was not her usual happy little self. She cried and cried from her discomfort, was tired most of the time, and couldn't sleep well since her nose was all stuffed up and she would wake up coughing. Needless to say, we got very little uninterrupted sleep with her waking up every 3 hours or so. We were sharing a room with her too, so that didn't help. I managed to catch her cold on Christmas Eve and was still completely out of it on Christmas, sleeping most of the day while the rest of the family watched her. Paul was holding us all together until he caught the cold a few days later, just as we left to drive back to LA. But the trooper that he was, he still insisted on driving the entire 5 hours and we got home in record time!

Since we've been home, everybody has gotten healthy and settled into our normal routine again. I think we are all glad to be back, even though it was great to see friends and family up north. There's something about the comfort of your own home that is just really nice to have when you're not feeling well. And, it's about 10 degrees warmer here, though still cold for LA at this time of year. Elisa has gotten back to her normal, funny self, and we haven't had a crying session or tantrum for a few days now. She's full of smiles, laughs, and peekaboos at every occasion, and it is a real joy to see.

On New Year's Day, we arrived at Din Tai Fung in Arcadia at 10:45am to get in the line before opening at 11am, and were part of the first group seated in the restaurant. We rarely even bother trying to eat here anymore as it is crowded at all times of the day and we don't usually have the patience to wait for a table anymore. But it felt like a day for a new beginning. As we devoured our soup dumplings even before the clock struck noon, I declared that 2013 was going to be a good year. We made our resolutions that evening and set some personal goals for the year, and felt like our family was once again in a good rhythm. Putting away the tree yesterday, I wasn't sad or nostalgic like I usually am - instead, I was eager to move forward with life and take this year by storm. Bring it on, 2013!