1) I am addicted to American Idol. I started watching in in the first season, hit the ceiling when Tamyra Gray was voted off, and haven't stopped watching. I'm shamelessly addicted to that feeling of shock/horror/satisfaction I get when America's votes agree or disagree with my own opinion. There is just something about the singers, Paula's weird antics, and Simon's snarky British humor that keep me hooked. However, I have never picked up the phone to vote for anyone -- oh, no, that would mark me as a true AI addict and I'm not that bad (am I?).
2) As a child, I was allergic to chocolate. It was truly unfair. My sister could eat all she wanted, but every time I ate chocolate, my eyes would swell up, becoming all watery and red and itchy. When this happened, my mother would make me go to school anyway, so I was forced to hide out in the bathroom, bathing my eyes in water, hoping against hope that I could get to class without looking like Rocky Balboa after a fight. Fortunately, I've outgrown the allergy, probably because I built an immunity to it by sneaking bits of chocolate here and there and to heck with the consequences.
3) I have always wanted to ski. Whenever we go to Tahoe and play in the snow, I cannot look at the skiers and snowboarders, gracefully swishing down the hill, without ski envy. I see the little kids with their goggles and helmets and wish my kids could do that too. I have three factors working against me. I come from the Philippines. I'm afraid of heights. And I hate going downhill fast. Skiing is like rock climbing for me: it's my idea of cool, but I don't think I'm cool enough to do it. Believe me, I've tried. I've taken lessons and worked my way up to a blue (for non-skiers like me, that stands for intermediate) slope, but never spent enough time in the snow to get comfortable. Then a whole year passes and I'm back to square one. This is definitely on my list of things to do before I die: get back on the slopes again and ski/snowboard down without falling.
4) I do not know how to close a Ziploc bag. This is one of my husband's biggest pet peeves. I swear, I really do close the bags, I pinch them tight and slide my finger along the ziploc line. But I cannot deny the fact that whenever my husband takes out the bag of cheese or ham or ravioli or whatever from the fridge, that darn zipper is just not closed. Same goes for screw-on tops for milk, soda or juice. The fizz always goes out of our sodas because the covers aren't screwed on properly. Once Graham took out a bottle of juice out, holding it by the top, and the whole thing fell out from under him and splashed to the floor.
5) I wear a size 10 shoe. (There, I've said it. That is like admitting I'm a compulsive eater!). I've always hated my big, boat-like feet. When I was 7, I could fit into my mothers shoes. When I was in 6th or 7th grade, I had to have shoes specially made for me because there were no ladies sizes big enough in the Philippines. The shoes they made for me were huge and clunky and awful. To me, big feet symbolizes all that is unsexy and mannish about me. Fortunately now I live in the US, where size 10 is large but not unheard of. I can buy any kind of shoe that I want. And my husband (yes, I did land a husband even with my man-feet!) still has larger feet than mine (but not by much). So I'm over it. Almost.
Now that I'm done, I'm tagging five other bloggers to continue the party:
You guys, I hope you play along. I'd love to find out five more things about you, so when you're done, leave the link to your post in the comments section!
me: What letter is this?
James: That's a J!
me: Yes, that's J.
James: "J" says what, mama?
me: "J" says Juh--Juh--Juh--Juh.
James (pointing to Jack-in-the-Box) : Juh--Juh--Juh--Jack in the Box!
me (pleased): Good!
James (jumping up and down): J is for Juh--Juh--Juh--Jump!
me (surprised he got two in a row): Wow, very good!
James (pointing to a jar of jellybeans): Juh--Juh--Juh--Jellybeans!
me (convinced my genius son will start reading tomorrow): Good boy, Jamie, good boy!
James (pointing to Jack-O-Lantern): Juh--Juh--Juh--Pumpkin!
For more Photo Hunters, click here.
Why is the gumball machine in the museum lobby more interesting than the Van Gogh on loan from the Met?
Why don't we grade A, B, C, D, and E?
Why do kids know precisely how many days, hours, and minutes are left till their birthdays but still ask, "When's lunch?"
Why do all the animals decide it's time to make babies when we visit the zoo?
I have my own list of questions cannot answer. Here is a sample:
Why does my daughter have blond hair (when I'm a brown-haird, brown-eyed Filipina)?
Why do my boys have longer eyelashes than me, my husband or their sister?
Why, in my twins' preschool, do they have to share one photo of themselves together on the class bulletin board, when all the other kids get photos of their own?
Why, when I leave the kids with my husband on a Saturday morning, will he say, when I get back, "The kids were good as gold, I don't know why you always say they exhaust you"?
Why do DVD's have a region code programmed into them so that we can only watch DVD's purchased in the US and need to buy another DVD player to watch DVD's we've purchased in England?
Why does my son ask to go potty three times during a half-hour swimming class but goes only once in three hours at home?
Why can't I ever get rid of the jiggly flab around my belly button?
Why can't my husband get himself ready in the mornings in the same time it takes me to get myself and my three kids ready?
Why can my kids go out in subzero temperatures with just a tshirt or frolic in the ice-cold waters of Northern California beaches when their parents and all other grownups are standing by shivering in overcoats?
Why, even though they are identical twins, does Philip have eczema and a birthmark on his left shoulder while James doesn't?
Why are we still occupying Iraq?
Danged if I know. Someone, help me out here. Maybe no-one can answer these questions for me. As Yul Brynner, playing King Chulalongkorn, says in The King and I..... Is....A....Puzzlement!
for more puzzles, click here.
I stopped trying to figure out the stock market when I lost all that money in 2000. So I'm not going to waste my brain cells figuring out why they paid so much (and why I couldn't have been a YouTube employee when this happened!). But if you can't beat'em, join'em. And so I did. I have signed up with YouTube and now have my very own YouTube channel:
I have several of our family videos up on this channel, so follow the link to watch our videos! I'll be posting many more, so stay tuned. Also please leave comments on the site so I'll know who's watching.
I have to admit, it is really easy to upload the videos and even feature them on this site. And though I haven't watched too many of the videos on the site, I have to admit the ones I watched are hilarious. In our celebrity-reality-self-obsessed society, no wonder this site is so popular. Hey, those Google folks are smarter than I thought.
Love is working hard to build the biggest snowman ever....
Love is going out on the ice with your son even though you haven't skated in twenty years. Love is willing your legs to stay upright when your sons slips on the ice so you don't fall and he doesn't fall. Love is wanting to skate and being a little bit scared at first but trusting that your daddy won't let you fall.
As I said, love was ALL around!
For more expressions of love, click here.
It's even more difficult this year because Philip and James are living, breathing, thinking people who might actually notice that Natalie gets to take all kinds of cool lessons while they don't. So now I'm trying to look for interesting, inexpensive camps suited to their ages that happen to be going on at the same time. Oh, and Natalie wants to go to all the camps her friends are going to, so I have to factor that in, too. The biggest stumbling block, of course, is the "inexpensive" part. All the camps look so interesting but they cost anywhere from $100 to $350 per week. We're going to have to limit their camps to one or two plus swimming lessons. But which camps? Silly, but I'm all stressed out about it.
Still haven't had enough of my ranting and raving? Read my other post about summer camps on Silicon Valley Moms Blog.
I'm currently reading this book about life as a third-grade teacher. It is hilarious! The author, Phil Done, happens to be a third-grade teacher at my daughter's school. I know a mom with a child in his class, and he seems to be much beloved by his students. I know I would love for my kids to attend his class one day, in particular for Philip and James. There are so few male elementary school teachers, I just think he would be a great role model for the boys.
We just got back from our President's Day Weekend vacation at Circus Circus Reno. The kids got to see several circus acts, including a dog show, juggling, and some amazing acrobatics. When I asked them which one they liked best, Natalie was unsure; she liked all of them. But Philip and James were quite clear: they liked the acrobats. Why? Because they were "sparkly girls".
Philip and James have always had a crush on sparkly girls. I'm not sure who coined the term, Philip or Graham, but every time they see a showgirl in a glittery costume, they shout "Sparkly Girls!!", and sit with goofy grins on their faces. They will sit through any show on tv featuring beautiful girls: So You Think You Can Dance, Miss Universe. The girls actually don't even need to be wearing sparkles; after the Victoria's Secret fashion show aired, they watched it on TiVo several times. At last fall's Arthritis Expo, a troupe of retired ladies performed a tap dance routine. Age didn't matter, only costumes: the boys acted as though they were Victoria's Secret models themselves.
Boys have been making sheep's eyes at sparkly girls since the beginning of time, so I guess I shouldn't be surprised. But at such a young age? Is this 3-year-old puppy love genuine? Is there somthing innate in little boys that they find these girls so interesting, or could they just as easily been attracted to unicorns? Whatever the cause, it is easy to guess how long this crush will last; their dad enjoys looking at sparkly girls as much as they do!
For more crushes, click here.
Today Natalie brought home a heart-shaped drawing book filled with pictures of the things she loves. I was struck by this one; how carefully she had drawn her brothers in this picture, down to their favorite shirts and skin tones. So for Love Thursday, I decided to search around for a photo that shows a big sister's love.
It didn't take me long to find this one. She's 2 years and 9 months old (younger than the boys are now), and the boys are about a week old. I love how happy and proud she looks. Three years later, they fight a lot more than they hug, but the drawing she made today is a cute little reminder of how much she still loves them.
14 Reasons I love Natalie:
Happy Valentines Day!
Yesterday afternoon we went to a skating party at the Palo Alto Winter Lodge. It was the first time for all the kids. I was hoping the boys would be content playing with some toys and watching everyone else skate so that Graham could take Natalie on the ice. Not a chance; they wanted to skate like everyone else. Fortunately, another adult offered to help Natalie out so Graham and I only had one boy each.
So there I was, out on the ice, only my second time ever, fighting desperately to keep my balance while one little boy was gripping my hand tightly, counting on me to be steady as he struggled to stay upright. Natalie was valiantly trying to keep up with her friends, refusing our help, wanting to do it by herself. The poor kid was slipping and sliding all over the place while her friends just glided by. I honestly expected my kids to give up within five minutes and watch from the sidelines the rest of the time. Honestly, I was hoping they would stop so I could stop as well.
But amazingly, they didn't want to stop. Natalie and the boys kept going. They loved it! James kept shouting, "I'm skating, I'm skating!". By the end of the session Natalie was skating on her own, with her friends, not falling once. By the end of the session, James was still holding my hand, but he was pulling me along. By the end of the session, even I was less shaky, more confident and more cheerful. And I was actually enjoying myself. Since then, all I've heard from them is, "I want to go skating, when are we going skating?".
I underestimated my children, and I am humbled. Seeing them yesterday made me realize that the difficulty and hardship were all in my mind, not theirs. All this time, we've lived within a mile of the Winter Lodge and have never taken them there; we've flirted with the idea of skating lessons but let it pass. I guess I just didn't think they were old enough, thought they would fall too often and get discouraged too soon. How silly of me to assume they wouldn't be interested. Why should my experiences and attitudes dictate theirs? Looks like I'll be signing them up for lessons soon.
I don't know how to ice skate, but that doesn't mean my kids can't learn. And that doesn't mean that I can't learn too.
We fully support our schools and understand that, for our kids' sakes, volunteerism and donations are necessary to supplement the paltry stipends given to them by the government. So we do try to help out in various ways, volunteering time and goods and money. We've attended and supported the various fundraisers, but so far I haven't asked anyone else to buy something in support of Natalie's school. Forgive me, but that's about to change.
Natalie's kindergarten class is holding a Kindergarten Tell-A-Thon to raise money for the Family Center at Palo Alto's Opportunity Center, an organization helping homeless and impoverished families. For the Tell-A-Thon, she and her classmates will be learning the answers to the following:
2) Mother's name
3) Father's name
4) Birthday (dd/mm/yy)
5) Street address
7) Zip code
10) Home phone number
11) Bonus question: What are the three colors in the USA flag?
She'll be reciting the above facts to her teachers on Thursday, March 8th. Family and friends can sponsor her for every fact she remembers. For everything on the list that Natalie answers correctly, you can donate 15 cents, for a total of just $1.50 per sponsor. What is $1.50 worth? Not even a tall Starbucks latte ($3). Here's what you can get for $1.50 these days:
A bottle of Diet Coke.
530 calories (from a Taco Bell Beef-and-Potato burrito).
2 packs of Reese's Peanut Butter Cups (with 2 pieces each).
I don't feel so bad asking family and friends to give up that Taco Bell burrito. For our English relatives, with the US-GBP exchange rate solidly in their favor, it's even better, only 77p. That 77p buys you:
1 song download from 7Digital.
200g bottle of Johnsons' Baby Powder from ASDA.
2 cups of Weight Watchers Chocolate Mousse.
It's just a small fundraiser but it's the one I wanted to speak out for. Why? Well, it's for a good cause, of course. But I also like the fact that Natalie has to make a little bit of an effort to raise the money. And I like the fact that the fundraiser benefits her as well -- it's a great way to encourage her to learn these important pieces of information, which instills confidence in herself and helps keep her safe. Last but not least, I think it's a great way to get her started on a lifetime habit of helping others in her community.
So friends and family, if you are willing to give up your Starbucks fix for just half a day (or whatever your $.150 buys you) in support of Natalie's fundraiser, please let me know! Send me an email or leave a comment on this post.
Yummy Bingham, an American R&B singer.
"Yummy", a song by Gwen Stefani.
"Yummy", a song by Puerto Rican singer Chelo.
Yummy Yummy, a Singaporean film.
But to me, "yummy" is all about food. Sure, I know yummy is also about the chubby toes of a sweet little baby and the perfect pair of Christian Loubotin heels and that dreamy, hot Latin singer's muscular bod. But nothing says "yummy" to me like
- A juicy, tender burger will sauteed onions and mushrooms, gooey swiss cheese, crisp lettuce and sweet, succulent tomatoes, with salty fries and ketchup and mayonnaise;
- A chewy, moist, dense, rich, dark, chocolatey brownie topped with rich, creamy, sweet vanilla ice cream with rich, thick, creamy caramel syrup rolling off the sides and crunchy, salty slivers of almonds and a rich, sweet, red cherry on the top;
- A truffle from Annette's Chocolates, with dark, silky-smooth heavenly chocolate enrobing a bubbly, tart, pungent, champagne center;
Can you tell that I've had issues with overeating, weight, and healthy eating? I grew up having ice cream every day. The only vegetable I ever ate was potatoes and the only fish I ever had was breaded and fried. I'll always think foods like that are yummy. If that's yummy, yummy can also mean deadly. Over the years I've had to rethink what yummy is. Yummy doesn't have to mean fatty, salty, processed, heavy. Yummy is also fresh, light, healthy, natural. Yummy is also
- A juicy, tender veggie burger will sauteed onions and mushrooms on whole-wheat bread, no cheese, crisp lettuce and sweet, succulent tomatoes and ketchup and mustard;
- Crisp, crunchy, sweet, colorful red and yellow peppers and carrots with a hearty, creamy, tangy ranch or hummus dip;
- Sweet, crusty, bread dipped into thick, creamy, smoky, sweet, split green pea and ham soup;
- A hot, steaming, bubbling baked dish of succulent, dark, colorful raspberries and blueberries and cherries, a touch of orange juice, a sprinkle of Splenda, with light whipped cream.
I'm happy to say that my kids, who love pizza, chicken nuggets and hotdogs, also think these foods are yummy, and will happily gobble them up any day. They are growing up with a much better idea of what yummy is -- yummy for the tastebuds and the body at the same time.
This first one is Jamie's valentine. Very minimalist and somber, other than the golden blob. James basically squeezed the entire contents of the golden glitter-glue-pen onto that spot, and it took over a day to completely dry. He only put those two stickers on because I asked him to; all that interested him was the glue.
Philip's valentine is the complete opposite of Jamie's. An explosion of hearts and flowers! He just kept piling sticker after sticker onto his valentine, even covering half of his glitter glue. He only stopped when I gave him another big heart for him to put more stickers on.
Natalie's valentine is neat and well-thought-out, from sticker placement (she placed one foam heart sticker over another for a 3-D effect) to the message. While squeezing the glue stick to make the words, she was practically biting her tongue off in her determination to keep them even and neat.
Three valentines, all saying a little something about each child. I love all three works of art just as I love the three works of art that created them!
1) How Can You Tell if Two People Love Each Other?
2) What is Love?
3) How Do You Decide Whom to Marry?
4) Can You Sing Me a Love Song?
Philip and James just responded, "I don't know" to all the questions except to #1: "Daddy kisses Mama!" (by James). Click here to view Natalie's responses, and please vote by leaving a comment on my post! Also view other kids' responses; they are hilarious!
When bedtime came and we had to scrub the face paint off, all three protested vigorously. James wailed, "Now I'm not a superhero anymore!". I promised them I would paint their faces myself, but they don't have as much faith in my face-painting abilities.
I'm happy that I know what's wrong with me, but I'm also sad, because now I have to say goodbye to "healthy me". I've had outstanding health until now, and I guess I've just assumed that if I take moderately good care of myself, nothing would ever go wrong with me. So goodbye to that. Goodbye to saying "none" when asked by doctors of any known conditions or current medications. Goodbye to being able to put anything into my body without knowing how it reacts with my medications. Goodbye to being placed in the healthiest, lowest-premium brackets for health and life insurance; thank goodness I have both, because getting either policy now would be ridiculously expensive or impossible.
I know I'm sounding melodramatic. As diseases go, I suppose I'm lucky. While not curable, it is at least manageable (though the choices aren't too pretty: lifetime medication that suppresses my immune system, surgery or swallow a radioactive pill that renders me toxic to humans for two weeks). There's even a tiny chance I could go into remission. Many, many others have it far, far worse.
Rather than wallow in self-pity, I'm going to take positive steps to live with my condition (a better word than disease!). First, I am saying goodbye to complacency. I can no longer take my well-being for granted and assume that my body can withstand the combined effects of genetics, environment, time and the choices I make. I need to be more vigilant about what I put into my body and how I treat it. Second, I am saying goodbye to stress. It turns out that stress can trigger the initial onset, flare-up or recurrence of this condition. I need to reduce my exposure to stressful situations and learn techniques to deal with it, or stress could, literally, kill me.
According to the bean counters at the insurance companies, I'll always be sick. And whether I go into remission or not, it will always be inside me. But I can still live like "healthy me". Who knows, after saying goodbye to some of my bad habits, I might even end up being healthier than when I was diagnosed!
This week's Sunday Scribblings theme is Goodbye. For more goodbyes, click here.
But as I was about to post the photo, I thought, hang on, this is a photo of two cute little boys, naked except for their underwear. Prime material for pedophiles. This photo could possibly find its way into websites that contain all sorts of sick perversions of love. So I decided to cut their faces out. But I had to leave their smile, because their smile says it all.
I love my boys, and I'm very proud of them, but I also want to protect them. Did I do the right thing, should I not have posted this at all, or am I overreacting?