It’s Chinese New Year, a time of celebration and togetherness. This and K’s birthday are probably the two times of year that I most regret not living close to my family.
Every so often I like to post little interludes with my daughter. That’s one of the best ways I can keep the whimsy in my life. So without further ado, here’s today’s interlude.
It’s funny how important traditions and a sense of wonder can be. Every year, I spend some time around Christmas going back to L.A. to be with my family. It’s one of my favorite things to do, despite the parental drama it can come with, because spending time with my family (and now my sister-in-law, nieces and nephew) is absolutely soul-lifting. Even spending time with my crazy parents can be fun. Continue reading
Here are some of the comments we’ve heard in recent days:
- “Why are you guys getting divorced? It seems so amicable.”
- “What’s the deal? Why such a cheerful divorce?”
- “Oh no! What happened? You guys seem to be so great together!”
- “Wait, am I reading Facebook correctly? Are you guys getting a divorce?!?!”
Sometimes I feel like a carnival barker when I post pictures and videos about my kid. I mean, how irritating must it be to everyone else besides my family? And let’s face it – nearly every parent thinks their kid rocks. It’s genetically engrained in us so we don’t, you know, eat our young or sacrifice them to the minotaur or whatever. It’s kind of like how no parent of a six-month old can accurately explain what it’s like to be the parent of a newborn. It’s only been half a year, but nature has a way of fuzzing it all out so that you won’t convince yourself or others around you NEVER TO PROCREATE AGAIN. And I say that as the mother of a kid who was really pretty easy at that age (I think. But really, given what I just said, can you trust me?) Continue reading
Two interludes with K today:
When I was growing up in LA, I loved basketball so much that my dream in life was to be Chick Hearn.
(Even then, you can tell that my athletic ability was non-existent, since I was dreaming of being an announcer, not a player.) Somewhere in the bowels of my mom’s house are hidden a few audio tapes of a 12-year-old girl vainly attempting to provide the play-by-play for a Lakers game. I used to watch the game, turn down the sound and use an old tape recorder to practice.