Missing In Action.

Well, hello there.

Remember me? I used to be a blogger and post here quite often. I'm sure I've lost all my blogging friends by now, I completely understand. It's a consequence that happens when you sudden drop of the face of the blog-o-sphere.

Things in my household have been quite busy these past few weeks, but the thing keeping me the busiest is this:



By busy I mean too nauseous to want to live, by busy I mean to tired to do anything but nap, by busy I mean occupying my time by shoving lots and lots of low sodium saltine crackers into my body. I don't think I've done anything productive in like, a month. There are some women who are fantastic pregnant. They either don't get sick, or their sickness doesn't affect them much. Me? I'm a complete mess the first trimester.

Super moody, extremely tired and ridiculously picky about the food I put into my mouth. It seems like so many things make me want to hurl. This of course, explains my Crock Pot Challenge disaster of 2008. Unfortunate for me, my morning (okay really, it was all freaking day) sickness kicked in during the middle of that challenge. Now it's all I can do to keep myself from gagging whenever I see a slower cooker.

Also, needless to say I never even started my quiet book challenge. Oh, and don't ask me the last time I'm tried writing something to get published. (Me in the first trimester also makes a bad freelance writer.)

But thankfully I'm feeling much better now after my first three months. Which is good, because I have a pretty filled summer ahead of me. Our family is headed out East for an internship for Axel at the end of the week. He starts Monday in D.C., and I'm not even remotely close to getting the house in order or packing for 10 weeks. I suppose it's fortunately that I'm already with a chubby belly, because this limits the wardrobe I'll take. Also, now I have a great excuse to hit up the H&M Mamma section.

So, I promise I'll be a much better blogger from now on. I don't have any more first trimester excuses, so I should be back quite regularly.

We are so excited for our growing family ... I'm starting to think baby stuff all over again. You can bet I'm already dreaming about double strollers.

Family Vacations.

Up until last weekend, I had my doubts about family vacation spots and vacationing with children in general. I love traveling, and I love exploring off the tourist track. I usually try to avoid places that are overflowing with souvenir shops and filled with everyone and their family reunion. Kid-themed attractions also top this list.

Now that I have my own child, I have different expectations. I don't think I can take Mugga backpacking across Thailand. I for one, am not up for that sort of thing anymore. (Hostel hopping has never been my thing.) I also don't see us dining in gourmet restaurants in NYC (Mug is really into chucking things off the table lately) or shopping for hours at Piccadilly Circus in London (it might interfere with nap time).

There are times when I have thought, "Man. My days of real traveling is so over. Now I'm stuck with a kid, and she's gonna slow me down."

But after taking Mug to the beach for the first time in her young life, my perspective is changing. She was afraid of the water at first and shrieked when the wave licked her toes. After a few minutes, she was loving it. She loved, loved, loved the beach. Absolutely fascinated by the sand, Mug spent about 45 minutes shoveling it into this yellow bucket:

(Notice the lack of swimming suit. Like everything else in her wardrobe, it was left at home.)

Seeing Mug's reaction to her first real elephant at the wild animal park was also completely priceless. She got one look at the giant Asian elephants and screamed to go inside their gated-off home.

"Ed-di-die! Ed-di-die!" she pleaded. ("Ed-di-die" is her word for "elephant.") Mugga almost feel over when she came face-to-face with a stray duck in the park. She's seen ducks before, so a second encounter was a real treat.

There were other kids in the park experiencing this same wide-eyed captivation, and it touched my cold, traveling heart. My reservations melted away, and I too, became fascinated again to see a lion up close. Wow, those things are scary.

It's interesting how everyday, my outlook on life changes now that I'm a mom.

I love to travel and explore the world because I like to expose myself to new and different things. I feel like it opens my horizons and helps me be a better person. I thought that vacationing with a child would limit this experience. I would be stuck visiting contrived kiddie attractions with absolutely no interest to myself.

But traveling with Mug isn't as bad as I thought it would be. If fact, it's actually better. To see my little one experience these new adventures, to touch the ocean for the first time ever, see a real giraffe, listen to the laughs of a spider monkey -- these are the greatest explorations. Her eyes are opening to new things, and at the same time, mine are too.

Animals at the Park.

While we were in Southern California, we took Mugga to the San Diego Zoo Wild Animal Park. It was extremely hot that day, I think it was close to 100 degrees. When we arrived, there were actually paramedics on scene. I heard someone tell their kid that some child must have gotten too close to the lions, but I think the ambulance in the enterance was for heat stroke causes. The boy looked really scared though.

I of course, was paranoid Mug was going to burn in the hot sun or get dehydrated. I lathered sunscreen on her every 45 minutes or so and made sure her sippy cup was filled with cool drinks. It was so hot, despite her love for animals, I think her favorite part of the park was playing kiddie-sized water park:

{Mug with her Auntie Juan}

The elephants, giraffes and monkeys were all exciting for Mugga. But by the end of the day, she was a pretty tired, grumpy and hot. So was I. On the tramp ride back to the parking lot, she was telling everyone on the tram about her discomfort. In other words, she did a lot of screaming.

One lady sitting in front of Axel and Mug turned her head slightly towards the sound of my daughter and snarled, "Cool it!"

I was sitting further away, so I didn't hear exactly what she said till Axel told me later. I did hear the meanness in her voice and I shot back with a sharp, "Hey!" I then complimented Mug till we reached our stop, saying what a good girl she's been and how great she's been the whole trip.

The mean lady made no other remarks but I was furious. Here we are, leaving a family friendly attraction and some woman snapped at my child. Axel was pretty shocked too. He was much too polite to say anything, but I know he wanted too. Since moving away from California, I think we lost some of our edge.

Walking back to our car, here are a few things I had wished I had said:

"You cool it!"

"Don't talk to my child that way you animal!"

Or, I would have talked to my girl directly (in a very loud voice so that the mean lady could hear):

"Mug, that woman may not realize how rude she was right now. She may be tired after a long day walking in the hot sun around smelly animals with her own loud grandchildren. She's probably gotten too much sun and not enough water. She probably doesn't realize you are not even two years old, and you've had a long day too."

A little more passive aggressive, but with tons of sarcasm. I've never had someone snap at my child before, and I was caught off guard.

I don't expect everyone to love my little girl, but I guess I was naive with the amount of kindness people show towards children. Man, I'm still furious.

My Smart Barrier.

There are times when I think motherhood has zapped away the majority of my brain cells. I was terribly forgetful when I was pregnant, but I seems like raising a little girl has further dumbed me up (if "dumbed" is even a correct use of the word). I consider my absentmindedness appalling, the other day I didn't remember the currency of Japan. This is ridiculous, because I have lived in Japan.

I have stupid moments like this that depress me all day. I'm a college graduate for crying out loud. I read. I write. Yet my brain is still mush.

Then there are times like yesterday. I have a break though -- a moment of genius clarity -- and I think, "Okay. So maybe I'm not so dumb after all."

As I've mentioned before, my little family is out of town camped in a hotel room. I say "camped," because being in a luxurious hotel room with a king size bed is not a treat. It's almost a punishment. We have a tiny fridge that barely fits all Mugga's juice and yogurt. In haste to stock up on things for my daughter, I failed to buy myself water bottles. Instead of coughing up $3.50 at the hotel for 12 oz. of water, I chose to drink it from the bathroom tap. Yuck.

Taking naps has been so difficult. Sleeping in the same room? Even worse. Imagine sharing a room with someone who goes to bed at 8 p.m. You, on the other hand, like to live a little more at night. You know, do crazy things like watch TV.  Unfortunately you know that even the smallest noise will awaken your moody roommate. She can even hear the typing clicks of a keyboard.

This trip has been hell.

The main problem of sharing a room with my daughter is that she will not sleep if she can see her parents. I've left the room and stood in the hall while she drifts off to sleep, but eventually sometime during her slumber she'll stir and look over. She sees me, she's awake. 

Last night she went down fine. When she woke up at 2:30 a.m. and realized she was in the same room as mom and dad, she was upset. "I should be in that beautiful king size bed too, and not this lame crib," she says with her cries.

It's been hard, so hard. 

But today -- today -- my brain cells worked. As I was getting Mugga ready for her afternoon nap, a genius thought came into my mind. I need to make a barrier.

In the closet I found an extra blanket, draped it across the TV armoire and a tall lamp (unplugged), and wha-la! Instant parent blocker. She couldn't see me in her crib, I couldn't see her on the bed. I read a book for two complete hours with absolutely no interruption.

So maybe sometimes I forget what 8x9 is. Maybe I run to the grocery store and forget to grab fresh basil for dinner -- even if I brought the recipe with me. But maybe, sometimes maybe, I come up with solutions that even MacGyver would approve off. And today, this makes me a genius.