tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28949057491179393952024-03-14T13:02:03.052+09:00For The Love of MotherhoodThe day and the life of Motherhood from one mom's perspective.Unknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger54125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2894905749117939395.post-26082846956912360212022-03-09T11:19:00.005+09:002022-03-10T01:46:04.011+09:00My Homeless Friend, Drew<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiP-i2t2OjLR6C5VHG28XT42_da_kOpL3Cz6imNso_7Psj5mrU7fGsJGkjn6jb-3S6riLsRlA5jVU7mI8nIRh5v8BDGp9DWDwQi-q9paNp6O8h9xG9oCUm6-lMLsGhmnyDJmp4qCLoE3e2UVOB-dejA-2KfaxkGpe4HspfzQcf4AgKRiPg0S5Ab0dR8dA" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiP-i2t2OjLR6C5VHG28XT42_da_kOpL3Cz6imNso_7Psj5mrU7fGsJGkjn6jb-3S6riLsRlA5jVU7mI8nIRh5v8BDGp9DWDwQi-q9paNp6O8h9xG9oCUm6-lMLsGhmnyDJmp4qCLoE3e2UVOB-dejA-2KfaxkGpe4HspfzQcf4AgKRiPg0S5Ab0dR8dA" width="240" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i><br /></i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i>*This blog is usually dedicated to all things motherhood, relationships, and love, but today I wanted to share a special interaction I had with my new friend, Drew.</i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i><br /></i></div><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">Having lived in major metropolitan cities such as New York, Boston, and Los Angeles, I’m no stranger to homelessness. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">Over the years, I have gotten to know a few individuals on a more personal level. Some I knew by name and others where familiar only because of the regularity we crossed paths with one another throughout the city. For example, Mikey greeted me with a smile that brightened my mornings as I commuted to work on some brutally cold winter days or the gentleman who looked like Santa Claus and religiously sat outside of the Pour House on Commonwealth Avenue begging for change. The one time I offered him my leftovers, rather than spare change, he promptly threw them into the trash as soon as he thought my back was turned. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">These men would cross my mind from time to time; wondering whether they were still homeless or where they might be. I always hoped they found the support they needed to be safe and healthy. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">On a few occasions Braden and I have volunteered with organizations that collect clothes and toys and we distributed them to the homeless on Skidrow. Many were women and children, which was always harder to bare. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">There have been a few Christmas’ where we packed brown bag lunches and delivered them to the homeless around the neighborhoods of Los Angeles. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">I remember them, but never expect to be remembered in return. I know my gestures are small in comparison to the help they need to survive or get themselves off the streets. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">This week I met Drew. He was seated at a table in the back corner of Starbucks. His bags were neatly lined up on the windowsill, his clothes were clean and tidy, he wore a hoodie over his head, his arms were crossed on the table, and his eyes gazed downward. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">It was early, Starbucks barely buzzing. I wanted to approach and offer him a warm cup of coffee or bite to eat, but I wasn’t sure if he was looking for a handout. I watched for a minute and then walked over to introduce myself, “Excuse me,” I started, respectfully inching a little closer until we made eye contact. I smiled, “Good morning. I hope I’m not offending you, but may I buy you breakfast?” He pulled back his hoodie and timidly smiled at me. “Yes, please. I would like that.” “Terrific, I replied. “What can I order for you?” “Sausage, eggs and cheese biscuit, please”, he said. “And a cup of coffee?”, I offered. “No, thank you, but a cup of ice water would be nice.” “You got it. I’ll be right back.” </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">When I returned carrying both of our orders, Drew stood and had a look of relief on his face. For a moment, I think he may not have been sure I would come back. He couldn’t see the register from where he sat and the order took a while. “I’m sorry that took so long”, I was quick to say to reassure him. “Oh, that’s ok”, he replied, his smile growing bigger. “Thank you. Would you like to sit with me for a few minutes?” “Sure!”, I said without hesitation. Something about Drew felt warm and friendly. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">He eagerly pulled out a chair for me and for the next 45 minutes I learned about Drew’s family, all the places he lived and traveled to, friends from his past, his work, books he’s read and artists he admired. Drew was well educated, articulate, and engaging. He was soft spoken, polite, and charming. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">Drew quoted some of his favorite authors and shared some fascinating stories from his past. He had so much he wanted to share with me that it felt as if he couldn’t talk fast enough. Or maybe he wasn’t sure how long our interaction would last so he wanted to make the most of every minute. For almost an hour, Drew was not a homeless man, he was just a guy having breakfast with a new friend. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">I found myself drawn to Drew, curious to know the circumstances that brought him here, yet not wanting to ask because I hoped he could forget, even for a moment. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">When it was time for me to go, Drew said, “Most people would say, ‘I’ll never forget your kindness’, but I want to tell you that I will always remember . . . I will always remember you and the impact you made on me today.”</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">“I will always remember . . .” How deeply that resonated with me. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">“Maybe I’ll run into you again before I leave”, I told him. “I would love that”, he said with a smile. I stood to leave and slid a gift card across the table so I was sure Drew could get at least one more meal today. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">The following morning, I peaked into the Starbucks and I could see Drew was seated in the same corner table. I wondered if this was his regular morning routine or did he come back in hopes of running into me again?</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">On this morning he wasn’t wearing his hoodie, but I came in from another entrance so he didn’t see me approaching. “Excuse me, Drew! Good morning!” He turned and smiled, “Hi!”</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">“May I get you something to eat?”, I asked, but I could see he was already eating a bag of Cheetos and drinking a Coke.” “No, thank you. I ate.”, he meekishly stated pointing to his bag of chips, “But do you have time to sit for a minute?” “Sure!”, I said. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">Today I found the courage to ask how he got here. “Depression,” he said. “I don’t identify as being homeless, but I am. It’s temporary.” We talked more about what it’s like to live on the streets, especially as an older gentleman like himself; the discrimination, violence, and crime. He shared the resources that were available to him and the skills he learned to help him stay safe. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">I began to think about how quickly any of our lives can change in a blink of an eye. While I’m sure there is more to Drew’s story that I didn’t have time to learn, here is a seemingly well educated man with a fascinating career, family, friends and loved ones who finds himself homeless. What separates me from Drew and how does Drew bounce back from here? Is he destined to spend the rest of his life on the streets? He didn’t seem to think so, but what options does he have to get back on his feet?</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">Thank you for allowing me to join you for breakfast, Drew. You touched me in a way I will always remember and never forget.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><i>*If you find yourself in the Charleston area, please stop by and say, "Hi" to Drew for me. He sits at the Starbucks in the Francis Marion Hotel at 378 King St., Charleston, SC.</i></div></div><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p></p><div class="blogger-post-footer">http://www.topmommyblogs.com/blogs/banners/150-tmb.gif</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0378 King St, Charleston, SC 29401, USA32.7857974 -79.93595274.4755635638211544 -115.0922027 61.096031236178845 -44.7797027tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2894905749117939395.post-58847763564604025632021-07-15T07:25:00.005+09:002022-03-09T13:01:49.924+09:00She's a Whore!<br /><div style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-XhtSCANFsNM/YO9kD6RgGmI/AAAAAAAAB88/WGegfBt7mFIO4eV-H7gGpPcNTOmt84l4gCLcBGAsYHQ/w400-h265/DontLabelMeshutterstock_101071252.jpg" /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><span style="font-size: x-small;">"I went on a date with this woman, and we ended up sleeping together. She probably sleeps with every guy. She's such a slut!"<br /><br />"I finally met Sarah. We had such a great connection over the phone. Her profile says she's athletic, but when I met her in person, she's a fat cow! I don't plan to see her again."<br /><br />"Bro! Emily and I have been on 3 dates and she's so frigid! We've made out, but she won't go any further! She's a cock tease! I'm over it!"<br /><br />"Every woman I meet online is either high maintenance, super clingy, needy, a gold digger or a complete train wreck! I give up on online dating. There are no normal women out there!"<br /><br />"My ex was such a nag! As soon as a woman acts like a crazy bitch, I RUN!"<br /><br />"OMG! I told Susan I was busy with my son this week and wasn't available until the weekend. She became hysterical! I think she's emotionally imbalanced, maybe a little bipolar. What a psychopath. I'm breaking up with her! I dodged a bullet!"<br /><br />"Dude! I had a first date last night and this woman wouldn't stop talking about herself. My ex was a narcissist, I'm not going to see her again!"<br /><br />How did these scenarios come across to you? A bit nasty, right? Unfortunately, when we label men, put them in a box, make assumptions, etc. we are no better than they are!<br /><br />Labels are intended for care packages, cereal boxes, food pantries and our children's camp clothes.<br /><br />Assumptions and labels dehumanize a person, are destructive and detrimental to any relationship. They masquerade as ‘facts’ and have us making choices based on little more than good guesses.<br /><br />While you can get curious, make observations, and know the facts about a situation; a person’s feelings and thoughts are only available to you if you ask them.<br /><br />If we are quick to judge a person, put them in a box and slap a label on them, we don't give them a chance. Men and women are not a one size fits all!<br /><br />So, ladies - put down the label maker and get curious! Ask questions, seek clarity, and go into each date/relationship with fresh eyes. Don't make assumptions and most of all . . . be KIND!</span><div><span style="font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: x-small;">---<br /> </span></div><div class="blogger-post-footer">http://www.topmommyblogs.com/blogs/banners/150-tmb.gif</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2894905749117939395.post-50730212406981072232016-10-27T06:50:00.018+09:002021-07-16T07:27:32.796+09:00The Impact of Technology on Our Children<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-DyFhRuu_IjY/YPCvLSzzKPI/AAAAAAAAB9k/DQhwU_T3KdAM2PxU_m_BWmtXb2JBkR0JwCLcBGAsYHQ/s849/unnamed.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="565" data-original-width="849" height="266" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-DyFhRuu_IjY/YPCvLSzzKPI/AAAAAAAAB9k/DQhwU_T3KdAM2PxU_m_BWmtXb2JBkR0JwCLcBGAsYHQ/w400-h266/unnamed.jpg" width="400" /></a><span face="Karla, Helvetica, Arial, Lucida, sans-serif" style="color: #5a585c; font-size: 13px; text-align: left;"> </span></div><p></p><p><span face="Karla, Helvetica, Arial, Lucida, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #5a585c; font-size: 13px;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: right;"><span style="background-color: transparent; text-align: left;"><span>* </span>photo credit : Family Matters blog </span></div><p></p><p class="p1" style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 13px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: left;">One might find it hard to believe that Steve Jobs, who once ran Apple, had limits when it came to his own children using technology. In fact, you might expect his house to look more like <i>The Jetsons</i> in the 21st century; touch screens used to turn the lights on and off, unlock doors, and prepare dinner. But the truth is, Steve Jobs is not alone. Many technology CEO’s and executives strictly limit their children’s screen time, often banning them on school nights. We ask ourselves, what is the impact of technology on our children?</p><p><span face="Karla, Helvetica, Arial, Lucida, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #5a585c; font-size: 13px;"></span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"><p class="p2" style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 13px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 15px; text-align: start;"><br /></p><p class="p1" style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 13px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: left;">Today, children as young as two years old, spend more than two and a half hours a day watching television, and using smartphones, computers, and other electronic devices. But, at what cost? How will all of this screen time affect their health, ability to focus for long periods of time, and socialize and talk to their peers?</p><p class="p3" style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 13px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 15px; text-align: left;"><br /></p><p class="p1" style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 13px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: left;">What are appropriate boundaries? How much is too much, and when are too many limits going to have adverse effects on our children? We wish someone would give us the answer.</p><p class="p3" style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 13px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 15px; text-align: left;"><br /></p><p class="p1" style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 13px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: left;">While there is no clear cut solution, there are plenty of studies that have shown that excessive media can lead to attention problems, difficulties in school, sleep concerns, and obesity. <a href="https://www.aap.org/en-us/advocacy-and-policy/aap-health-initiatives/Pages/Media-and-Children.aspx?nfstatus=401&nftoken=00000000-0000-0000-0000-000000000000&nfstatusdescription=ERROR:+No+local+token"><span class="s1" style="color: #dca10d;">The American Academy of Pediatrics</span></a> recommends that screen time should be avoided entirely for infants and children under age 2.</p><p class="p3" style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 13px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 15px; text-align: left;"><br /></p><p class="p1" style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 13px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: left;">It wasn't until my son, Braden started school, that I noticed the overwhelming exposure other children had to electronics. Suddenly, children were coming over for playdates asking to play on the iPad rather than building forts, playing sports, or being outside. Conversations were no longer about Legos and Matchbox cars, rather about Minecraft and Xbox games.</p><p class="p3" style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 13px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 15px; text-align: left;"><br /></p><p class="p1" style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 13px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: left;">I admit that at some point I convinced herself that allowing Braden to play “educational games” was appropriate. iPads were being introduced in the classroom and he was expected to login and practice math and computer skills at home. Schools and administrators were convincing parents and students that they needed to get children to use iPads and computers at an earlier age to keep up with their peers. That somehow, parents who limited electronics were putting their children at a disadvantage.</p><p class="p3" style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 13px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 15px; text-align: left;"><br /></p><p class="p4" style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 13px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: start;">I can’t speak for all parents, but intuitively I know that I want to limit my son’s exposure to electronics and video games. It’s not a black and white decision, but in our house, there is a time and a place for it. For example; we never choose electronics over reading, hanging out with friends, or being active. No electronics at dinner time, during playdates, or before bed. Electronics are not used outside of the home, to keep him quiet, or to fight boredom. Electronics are reserved for the weekends, with the exception of school work. Our weekdays are filled with homework, martial arts, piano lessons, playdates, reading, and having face to face conversations about our daily activities.</p><p class="p2" style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 13px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 15px; text-align: start;"><br /></p><p class="p1" style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 13px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: left;">I notice that when I get lazy, or make exceptions to our limited technology rule, my son’s behavior changes. He becomes more defiant, demonstrates meltdowns and temper tantrums, and ultimately craves more screen time. Therefore, it’s really important for me to be aware of how much screen time Braden is getting in any given week. I have to remember to be present and consciously aware, and make sure that I provide him with real experiences, as well as be a role model of what healthy use of technology looks like. What this means is that each day I take the time to unplug and just be a mom. And guess what? The world still goes on without me.</p><p class="p3" style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 13px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 15px; text-align: left;"><br /></p><p class="p1" style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 13px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: left;">How often your children spend on technology each week? Do you restrict electronics on school nights? How much is too much or does it matter to you? What do you think is the impact of technology on our children?</p><p class="p3" style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 13px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 15px; text-align: left;"><br /></p><p class="p4" style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 13px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: start;">---</p></div><div class="blogger-post-footer">http://www.topmommyblogs.com/blogs/banners/150-tmb.gif</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2894905749117939395.post-38651200721515578252013-09-22T10:51:00.000+09:002013-09-22T10:51:52.109+09:00What's Your Less Than Perfect Parenting Confession?<br />
<div style="background-color: white; border: 0px; color: #2e2e2e; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 19px; margin-bottom: 1.2em; outline: 0px; padding: 0px 10px 0px 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-size: 13px; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-HWmUAEbJ6Lg/Uj5LPthR8fI/AAAAAAAAAZo/n4ocDow_t6c/s1600/family+sponge+photo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-HWmUAEbJ6Lg/Uj5LPthR8fI/AAAAAAAAAZo/n4ocDow_t6c/s320/family+sponge+photo.jpg" width="249" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-size: 13px; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<b><i>"The best moms are the ones that don't have any children yet" </i></b><b><i>- Kate Devine Brady</i></b><span style="font-size: x-small;"> </span><br />
<div style="font-size: 13px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="border: 0px; font-size: 13px; margin-bottom: 1.2em; outline: 0px; padding: 0px 10px 0px 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
I don’t know about any one else, but I remember before having my son, I thought I knew everything there was to know about parenting. I was, after all, a teacher. I had a degree in early childhood education, had been a Nanny, and had worked with children since the time I was fifteen years old. I even dated a few guys that acted a bit like children. I was good with kids. People always marveled at how well I understood them, how patient I was, and how children were drawn to me.</div>
<div style="border: 0px; font-size: 13px; margin-bottom: 1.2em; outline: 0px; padding: 0px 10px 0px 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
During the early months of pregnancy, my husband and I did our due diligence and talked about how we were going to raise our son. What we would and wouldn’t do, what kind of parents we would and wouldn’t be. We had it all figured out, and were sure we were going to be the best parents ever.</div>
<div style="border: 0px; font-size: 13px; margin-bottom: 1.2em; outline: 0px; padding: 0px 10px 0px 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
Have you ever judged other parents before you had kids of your own? Not necessarily to their faces; but did you ever give a look, or think to yourself that you would <i style="background-color: transparent; border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="background-color: transparent; border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; text-decoration: underline; vertical-align: baseline;">never</span><span style="background-color: transparent; border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">? </span></i> I would never let my baby sleep in bed with me; drink formula or eat anything that wasn’t organic. I would never let my child throw a temper tantrum in the middle of a toy store; never bribe him with candy; and never put him in front of the television so I could have just 10 minutes of peace. I would never allow my teenager to talk back to me, get a tattoo or nose ring, and so on, and so forth.</div>
<div style="border: 0px; font-size: 13px; margin-bottom: 1.2em; outline: 0px; padding: 0px 10px 0px 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
Until…</div>
<div style="border: 0px; font-size: 13px; margin-bottom: 1.2em; outline: 0px; padding: 0px 10px 0px 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
You had children of your own and you realized just how hard parenting is; the lack of sleep, intimacy with your spouse, and balancing act of it all. You forgo the homemade pasta with pesto made from the garden, for the boxed Annie’s Macaroni and Cheese. You give into co-sleeping because you are just too tired to get up for the fifth time in less than two hours. You hand over the iPad because you want just 10 minutes to finish a conversation with a friend you haven’t been able to talk to in over 6 months.</div>
<div style="border: 0px; font-size: 13px; margin-bottom: 1.2em; outline: 0px; padding: 0px 10px 0px 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
You just do the best that you can and most of all, you stop judging and begin to understand: the mother who hasn’t slept in three days because her daughter has strep throat and gets ice cream for breakfast because that’s all she’ll eat; or, the mother who’s juggling three babies under the age of four, trying to pay for groceries while her boys are running around the store like wild things; and, the mother who’s child drops his only cookie in the sandbox, so she swiftly picks it, shakes off the sand, and hands it right back to him thinking, “ a little sand never hurt anyone.”</div>
<div style="border: 0px; font-size: 13px; margin-bottom: 1.2em; outline: 0px; padding: 0px 10px 0px 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
Because as a parent, I know that nobody is perfect. I’m not.</div>
<div style="border: 0px; font-size: 13px; margin-bottom: 1.2em; outline: 0px; padding: 0px 10px 0px 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
What are <i style="background-color: transparent; border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">your</i> less than perfect parenting confessions?</div>
<div style="border: 0px; font-size: 13px; margin-bottom: 1.2em; outline: 0px; padding: 0px 10px 0px 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
---</div>
<br />
<div class="blogger-post-footer">http://www.topmommyblogs.com/blogs/banners/150-tmb.gif</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com11Honolulu, HI, USA21.3069444 -157.8583333000000321.0702859 -158.18105680000002 21.5436029 -157.53560980000003tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2894905749117939395.post-17862288044545110732013-06-11T14:00:00.000+09:002013-06-16T16:33:28.630+09:00Farewell to Seoul<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-m9cUWurhi6o/Ub1pAjSZSOI/AAAAAAAAAXQ/FmkkVyCyDbs/s1600/1009219_10201279411165933_792773317_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-m9cUWurhi6o/Ub1pAjSZSOI/AAAAAAAAAXQ/FmkkVyCyDbs/s400/1009219_10201279411165933_792773317_o.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><em>- Photo was taken by the very talented, Concha Hernandez</em></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span class="userContent" data-ft="{"tn":"K"}"><br /></span>
<style>
<!--
/* Font Definitions */
@font-face
{font-family:Cambria;
panose-1:0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0;
mso-font-alt:"Times New Roman";
mso-font-charset:77;
mso-generic-font-family:roman;
mso-font-format:other;
mso-font-pitch:auto;
mso-font-signature:3 0 0 0 1 0;}
/* Style Definitions */
p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal
{mso-style-parent:"";
margin:0in;
margin-bottom:.0001pt;
mso-pagination:widow-orphan;
font-size:12.0pt;
font-family:"Times New Roman";
mso-ascii-font-family:Cambria;
mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-fareast-font-family:Cambria;
mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-hansi-font-family:Cambria;
mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman";
mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-bidi;}
@page Section1
{size:8.5in 11.0in;
margin:1.0in 1.25in 1.0in 1.25in;
mso-header-margin:.5in;
mso-footer-margin:.5in;
mso-paper-source:0;}
div.Section1
{page:Section1;}
-->
</style>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Grateful Friends Daily : Seoul and Friends<br />
<br />
I don't know where to start and couldn't list everyone, but this post is
dedicated to each and every individual who touched our lives in the last three
years.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Bidding farewell is never easy, and this one in particular
is bittersweet.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br />
I'm not going to lie, living in Seoul has had it's challenges. There were days,
in the beginning, I dreamt of my escape, longed for the day it would all be
over. It was during these times, my little rescuers, scattered all over the
city, helped me off the ledge and gave me the strength to keep at it; and I'm
glad I did because today, when I bid farewell to this chapter in my life, I
have tears in my eyes.<br />
<br />
Thank you to those who have left, and the ones who remain.<br />
<br />
To my ECLC family, expat family, Heart & Seoul MeetUp, SMAK and more. To my
neighbors and all of my Korean friends. To the adjumas and adjushis, our
babysitters, students and parents. To the owners of our favorite restaurants
and cafes, to our pharmacist and our dentist.<br />
<br />
To all those who were patient, kind and forgiving. To those who understood and
came to my rescue. To those who made me laugh and smile; and even those who
made me cry.<br style="mso-special-character: line-break;" />
<br style="mso-special-character: line-break;" />
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Seoul, you are a
remarkable city, with a great deal of beauty and culture. You have tradition,
history, and strength.<br />
<br />
You are strong and stubborn; busy and active. You have many hidden unique
qualities. <br />
<br />
You are determined to preserve your history and foundation, while longing to
globalize and modernize.<br />
<br />
Your food is incredible, your parks are glorious, and your palaces spectacular.
<br />
<br />
I have learned from you, and grown because of you.<br />
<br />
Thank you for all that you have given me. You will be missed.</i><br />
<br />
Off we go...</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<em>--- </em></div>
<div class="blogger-post-footer">http://www.topmommyblogs.com/blogs/banners/150-tmb.gif</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2894905749117939395.post-71530262990942358012013-05-12T16:00:00.000+09:002013-06-16T16:42:21.512+09:00 The Motherhood Sorority<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Cvjpgq5a9bE/Ub1mqh5CAwI/AAAAAAAAAW4/AXju9Pr8ytM/s1600/motherhood.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Cvjpgq5a9bE/Ub1mqh5CAwI/AAAAAAAAAW4/AXju9Pr8ytM/s400/motherhood.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>- Photo was taken by Katie Witt of <a href="http://www.katiephotog.com/" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">www.KatiePhotog.com</a></i></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div align="center">
<br />
<b>“Because there is no one way to be a perfect parent, but there are a million ways to be a great one.” Kelle Hampton</b></div>
<br />
Whether you are a stay-at-home or working mom, being a mother can be
one of the most difficult things that you have ever done. There will be
days that make you wonder if you measure up, if you’re doing you’re
best, if you were even meant to be a mother. You will doubt yourself,
judge yourself and feel inadequate. You’ll compare yourself, blame
yourself and maybe even wish you weren’t a mom.<br />
<br />
It’s during these times, I reach out to other fellow moms because I
know that there is someone else out there who is feeling exactly the way
that I do, perhaps even at the exact time.<br />
<br />
Moth•er•hood is defined as the state of being a mother. To me,
motherhood is a test of endurance. Most days, I know I’m a good mom.
Some days, I don’t even care whether or not I am, because I can just
look at my son and <i><span style="text-decoration: underline;">know</span></i> that I’m doing it right.<br />
<br />
Motherhood is like a sorority, a group of women who fully, and
wholehearted understand exactly what you are going through. There are
no words needed, explanations to be given, or excuses to be made. We’ve
been there, done that. We know exactly how you feel. It sounds so
cliché, doesn’t it?<br />
<br />
For me, my biggest challenge is not about being a mother. I love
being a mom. Sure, not every single moment, but on the most part, I
enjoy, even long for moments I can spend with my son. I find parenting
fulfilling and valuable. I derive pleasure from playing with hot
wheels, finger painting, and molding play-dough.<br />
<br />
My struggle is more about finding the time to connect with myself
outside of my role as “mom.” As moms, we give so much of ourselves to
our children, and expect so little in return. Lately, however, I’m
realizing that it’s time for me to be more than a mom, to remember that
the more of myself I keep, the happier I will be for my family. If we
don’t look after ourselves physically, mentally, and emotionally, then
there is very little left to give.<br />
<br />
So, what do I enjoy doing outside of my work and taking care of my son?<br />
<br />
As if that’s not enough to figure out, what also gets pushed by the
wayside is time with my husband, or the time and space to be a wife. In
today’s fast-paced world, husband and wives gets squeezed between
morning rituals, sports, activities, meals, laundry, bath time, bedtime,
and everything in between. Our high-tech immediate world all so often
means that texting and emails supplant conversations, either via the
phone or face-to-face. It’s a challenge finding the energy at the end
of the day to just connect, even if only for a few minutes.<br />
<br />
For today, though, I will not dwell on not being good enough, nor
worry that I’m not measuring up. Instead, I will celebrate Motherhood
and take care of me. Happy Mother’s Day! How did you celebrate
Mother’s Day this year?<br />
<br />
<br />
<i>--- </i><div class="blogger-post-footer">http://www.topmommyblogs.com/blogs/banners/150-tmb.gif</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2894905749117939395.post-37036515927562812922013-04-16T06:00:00.000+09:002013-04-16T06:00:00.831+09:00My Father Died - Now What?<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-kllnjA-l_fk/UV6vO0055bI/AAAAAAAAAWI/ax7PjBsRCuo/s1600/Papi.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-kllnjA-l_fk/UV6vO0055bI/AAAAAAAAAWI/ax7PjBsRCuo/s320/Papi.JPG" width="249" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">illustrated by; Diana Fogarty Daino</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div align="center">
<span style="font-size: small;"><b><i>“To live and love wholly again, you must mourn. You will not heal unless you allow yourself to openly express your grief…</i></b></span></div>
<div align="center">
<span style="font-size: small;"><b><i>Remember,
grief is a process, not an event. Be patient and tolerant with
yourself. And never forget that the death of a parent changes your life
forever.”</i></b></span></div>
<div align="center">
<span style="font-size: small;"><b><i>~ Alan D. Wolfelt, Ph.D.</i></b></span></div>
<div align="center">
<br /></div>
<div align="center">
<b><i>
<style>
<!--
/* Font Definitions */
@font-face
{font-family:Times;
<span style="background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% yellow;" class="goog-spellcheck-word">panose</span>-1:2 0 5 0 0 0 0 0 0 0;
<span style="background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% yellow;" class="goog-spellcheck-word">mso</span>-font-<span style="background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% yellow;" class="goog-spellcheck-word">charset</span>:0;
<span style="background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% yellow;" class="goog-spellcheck-word">mso</span>-generic-font-family:auto;
<span style="background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% yellow;" class="goog-spellcheck-word">mso</span>-font-pitch:variable;
<span style="background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% yellow;" class="goog-spellcheck-word">mso</span>-font-signature:3 0 0 0 1 0;}
@font-face
{font-family:<span style="background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% yellow;" class="goog-spellcheck-word">Cambria</span>;
<span style="background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% yellow;" class="goog-spellcheck-word">panose</span>-1:0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0;
<span style="background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% yellow;" class="goog-spellcheck-word">mso</span>-font-alt:"Times New Roman";
<span style="background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% yellow;" class="goog-spellcheck-word">mso</span>-font-<span style="background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% yellow;" class="goog-spellcheck-word">charset</span>:77;
<span style="background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% yellow;" class="goog-spellcheck-word">mso</span>-generic-font-family:roman;
<span style="background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% yellow;" class="goog-spellcheck-word">mso</span>-font-format:other;
<span style="background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% yellow;" class="goog-spellcheck-word">mso</span>-font-pitch:auto;
<span style="background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% yellow;" class="goog-spellcheck-word">mso</span>-font-signature:3 0 0 0 1 0;}
/* Style Definitions */
p.<span style="background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% yellow;" class="goog-spellcheck-word">MsoNormal</span>, <span style="background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% yellow;" class="goog-spellcheck-word">li</span>.<span style="background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% yellow;" class="goog-spellcheck-word">MsoNormal</span>, div.<span style="background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% yellow;" class="goog-spellcheck-word">MsoNormal</span>
{<span style="background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% yellow;" class="goog-spellcheck-word">mso</span>-style-parent:"";
margin:0in;
margin-bottom:.0001pt;
<span style="background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% yellow;" class="goog-spellcheck-word">mso</span>-pagination:widow-orphan;
font-size:12.0pt;
font-family:"Times New Roman";
<span style="background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% yellow;" class="goog-spellcheck-word">mso</span>-<span style="background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% yellow;" class="goog-spellcheck-word">ascii</span>-font-family:<span style="background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% yellow;" class="goog-spellcheck-word">Cambria</span>;
<span style="background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% yellow;" class="goog-spellcheck-word">mso</span>-<span style="background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% yellow;" class="goog-spellcheck-word">ascii</span>-theme-font:minor-<span style="background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% yellow;" class="goog-spellcheck-word">latin</span>;
<span style="background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% yellow;" class="goog-spellcheck-word">mso</span>-<span style="background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% yellow;" class="goog-spellcheck-word">fareast</span>-font-family:<span style="background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% yellow;" class="goog-spellcheck-word">Cambria</span>;
<span style="background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% yellow;" class="goog-spellcheck-word">mso</span>-<span style="background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% yellow;" class="goog-spellcheck-word">fareast</span>-theme-font:minor-<span style="background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% yellow;" class="goog-spellcheck-word">latin</span>;
<span style="background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% yellow;" class="goog-spellcheck-word">mso</span>-<span style="background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% yellow;" class="goog-spellcheck-word">hansi</span>-font-family:<span style="background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% yellow;" class="goog-spellcheck-word">Cambria</span>;
<span style="background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% yellow;" class="goog-spellcheck-word">mso</span>-<span style="background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% yellow;" class="goog-spellcheck-word">hansi</span>-theme-font:minor-<span style="background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% yellow;" class="goog-spellcheck-word">latin</span>;
<span style="background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% yellow;" class="goog-spellcheck-word">mso</span>-<span style="background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% yellow;" class="goog-spellcheck-word">bidi</span>-font-family:"Times New Roman";
<span style="background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% yellow;" class="goog-spellcheck-word">mso</span>-<span style="background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% yellow;" class="goog-spellcheck-word">bidi</span>-theme-font:minor-<span style="background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% yellow;" class="goog-spellcheck-word">bidi</span>;}
p
{margin:0in;
margin-bottom:.0001pt;
<span style="background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% yellow;" class="goog-spellcheck-word">mso</span>-pagination:widow-orphan;
font-size:10.0pt;
font-family:"Times New Roman";
<span style="background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% yellow;" class="goog-spellcheck-word">mso</span>-<span style="background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% yellow;" class="goog-spellcheck-word">ascii</span>-font-family:Times;
<span style="background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% yellow;" class="goog-spellcheck-word">mso</span>-<span style="background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% yellow;" class="goog-spellcheck-word">fareast</span>-font-family:<span style="background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% yellow;" class="goog-spellcheck-word">Cambria</span>;
<span style="background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% yellow;" class="goog-spellcheck-word">mso</span>-<span style="background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% yellow;" class="goog-spellcheck-word">fareast</span>-theme-font:minor-<span style="background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% yellow;" class="goog-spellcheck-word">latin</span>;
<span style="background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% yellow;" class="goog-spellcheck-word">mso</span>-<span style="background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% yellow;" class="goog-spellcheck-word">hansi</span>-font-family:Times;
<span style="background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% yellow;" class="goog-spellcheck-word">mso</span>-<span style="background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% yellow;" class="goog-spellcheck-word">bidi</span>-font-family:"Times New Roman";}
@page Section1
{size:8.5in 11.0in;
margin:1.0in 1.25in 1.0in 1.25in;
<span style="background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% yellow;" class="goog-spellcheck-word">mso</span>-header-margin:.5in;
<span style="background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% yellow;" class="goog-spellcheck-word">mso</span>-footer-margin:.5in;
<span style="background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% yellow;" class="goog-spellcheck-word">mso</span>-paper-source:0;}
div.Section1
{page:Section1;}
-->
</style>
</i></b></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .1pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: .1pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">The morning of April 16,
2003, the phone ran, I glanced at the caller ID: “parents.” In the last
few weeks, I had grown skittish at the sound of my phone ringing, holding my
breath, and releasing a sigh when it was anyone but my “parents.” It wasn’t
that I didn’t love my mother and father, wasn’t close or wanted to hear from
them— it was fear.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .1pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: .1pt;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .1pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: .1pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Fear that every time my
phone rang, it would be the moment that would change my life forever.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .1pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: .1pt;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .1pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: .1pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">I took a deep breath and
answered, momentarily thinking I should let it go to voicemail, I knew the
moment I had been fearing was becoming a reality.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .1pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: .1pt;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .1pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: .1pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Hi Arianna, your father is
in the hospital and the doctors say he doesn’t have much time left. They
will do what they can to keep him alive until you can all get here, but they
recommend you come as quickly as you can to say good-bye…” The
conversation went on for a few more minutes, I’m not really sure what I said or
how I left it, but the next several hours felt like a slow-moving nightmare.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .1pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: .1pt;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .1pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: .1pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">A few hours later, I found
myself landing at JFK, being picked up by my brother, Fabio, and immediately
rushed to NYU Medical Center. Family and friends filled the waiting room,
but there was no sound. Silence filled the room. Through tears in my
eyes, I looked at my mother, and had no words.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .1pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: .1pt;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .1pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: .1pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">I went in to see my
father. (Sigh) I made it! I had gotten there in time.
Although he was unconscious and probably unaware of my presence, I was able to
see him for the last time, to hold his hand, hug his warm body and say good-bye.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .1pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: .1pt;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .1pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: .1pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">But how do you say good-bye
to your own father? How do you let go of the one man that has been
your greatest supporter, most influential role model, and your deepest
love? You just stand there and hold him until… I didn’t want the story to
end this way.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .1pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: .1pt;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .1pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: .1pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Whether it’s a sudden loss,
you’ve had months to prepare, or it’s a natural progression of life, it doesn’t
even matter whether your relationship was close or distant, nothing prepares
you for the death of a parent.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .1pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: .1pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">After a death, you go
through a range of emotions from one moment to the next, eventually one day
turns to another, and before you know it, it’s been ten years.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .1pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: .1pt;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .1pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: .1pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">So much has happened in the
last ten years, moments that I couldn’t share with my dad. Moments that I
wished, more than ever, with the greatest pain in my heart, that he could have
been there for: to meet my husband, my wedding day, the purchase of a new
home, the birth of my son, and every non-monumental moment in between.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .1pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: .1pt;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .1pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: .1pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">The first year was the
toughest, I called it the year of the firsts; first Father’s Day, his birthday,
Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Year and finally, the anniversary of his
death. The years that followed seemed to get easier, but there are still
those occasions, when I least expect it and am unprepared, that leave me breathless
and longing for him.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .1pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: .1pt;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .1pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: .1pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">So often I have reached for
the phone to call and ask my dad a question, to toss an idea around, to get his
advice, or to share some happy news. There have been times where I have
felt his presence, smelled his cologne, or heard the sound of his voice.
When this happens, I stop, take a deep breath, close my eyes and relish the
feeling that he is still with me.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .1pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: .1pt;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .1pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: .1pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">And if I could, this is what
I’d say to him today.</span></div>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<div style="margin: 0.1pt 0in;">
<i><span style="font-size: small;"><span>"Dear Papi<span style="font-size: small;">,</span></span></span></i><span style="font-size: small;"><i> Y</i></span><i><span style="font-size: small;"><span>ou taught me
that I could do anything I set my mind to, to never give up, to be independent
and perhaps against your intentions, a little too strong willed. You
wanted me to be loving, compassionate, patient, and giving. You supported my
decisions and allowed me to make mistakes. You were my go-to, my advisor, counselor,
problem solver, and biggest cheerleader. You were, before I met my husband, the
smartest man I knew. You were a role model, hardworking, determined, dedicated,
selfless, devoted, respected, and, perhaps against your intentions, a little
too strong willed. I will forever be a part of you, and you, an even
bigger part of me. I love and miss you deeply.<span style="font-size: small;"> </span>Love, Arianna."</span></span></i></div>
</blockquote>
<br />
---<br />
<br />
<br />
<div align="center">
<br /></div>
<div class="blogger-post-footer">http://www.topmommyblogs.com/blogs/banners/150-tmb.gif</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2894905749117939395.post-3293057844173852932013-03-11T20:00:00.000+09:002013-04-05T20:00:55.462+09:00Sticks and Stones : Dealing with Verbal Abuse From Your Child<blockquote>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-hzvUtFaj24U/UV6th16bEMI/AAAAAAAAAV8/wrUaVmEOrAY/s1600/IMG_4368_2-copy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-hzvUtFaj24U/UV6th16bEMI/AAAAAAAAAV8/wrUaVmEOrAY/s400/IMG_4368_2-copy.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<b><i></i></b> </blockquote>
<blockquote>
<div align="center">
<b><i>“Sticks and stones may break my bones</i></b><b><i><br />
But names will never hurt me.” – Unknown</i></b></div>
<div align="center">
</div>
</blockquote>
<style>
<!--
/* Font Definitions */
@font-face
{font-family:Times;
panose-1:2 0 5 0 0 0 0 0 0 0;
mso-font-charset:0;
mso-generic-font-family:auto;
mso-font-pitch:variable;
mso-font-signature:3 0 0 0 1 0;}
@font-face
{font-family:Cambria;
panose-1:0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0;
mso-font-alt:"Times New Roman";
mso-font-charset:77;
mso-generic-font-family:roman;
mso-font-format:other;
mso-font-pitch:auto;
mso-font-signature:3 0 0 0 1 0;}
/* Style Definitions */
p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal
{mso-style-parent:"";
margin:0in;
margin-bottom:.0001pt;
mso-pagination:widow-orphan;
font-size:12.0pt;
font-family:"Times New Roman";
mso-ascii-font-family:Cambria;
mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-fareast-font-family:Cambria;
mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-hansi-font-family:Cambria;
mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman";
mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-bidi;}
p
{margin:0in;
margin-bottom:.0001pt;
mso-pagination:widow-orphan;
font-size:10.0pt;
font-family:"Times New Roman";
mso-ascii-font-family:Times;
mso-fareast-font-family:Cambria;
mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-hansi-font-family:Times;
mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman";}
@page Section1
{size:8.5in 11.0in;
margin:1.0in 1.25in 1.0in 1.25in;
mso-header-margin:.5in;
mso-footer-margin:.5in;
mso-paper-source:0;}
div.Section1
{page:Section1;}
-->
</style>
<div style="margin-bottom: .1pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: .1pt;">
I’d
argue that whoever wrote the popular nursery rhyme didn’t have a four year old
who called them names. Not just names, mind you, but straight to the
heart hateful words, like “I hate you,” “I will kill you,” or “You’re an
idiot.”
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .1pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: .1pt;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .1pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: .1pt;">
Really?
From a four year old? What have I done to deserve this?</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .1pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: .1pt;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .1pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: .1pt;">
My
husband and I certainly don’t say those things to our son. He doesn’t
watch television, or play video games, nor does he have toy weapons at
home. So, where does it come from?</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .1pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: .1pt;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .1pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: .1pt;">
I
guess I could better rationalize this behavior if he were a teenager; although,
for me, this is not acceptable at any age and it certainly doesn’t make me look
forward to what’s in store for us in the coming years. So what do you do
when your child is being verbally abusive?</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .1pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: .1pt;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .1pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: .1pt;">
As
parents, we are often faced with temper tantrums, heavy sighs, feet stomping
and doors slamming. It’s my responsibility to help my son learn to manage
and express his feelings: to teach him to self regulate, to know his limits,
and to find appropriate ways of letting his feelings out.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .1pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: .1pt;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .1pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: .1pt;">
I
validate, acknowledge, and empathize with him. I want him to feel heard and
understood. To identify what he’s feeling and to create a safe space
where he knows he can be himself. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">“Mommy can see that you are feeling frustrated. I bet you’re
upset because you weren’t finished playing and now we have to get ready for
bed. I wish we could play a little longer, but if we don’t get to bed,
you’ll be cranky in the morning.” </i></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .1pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: .1pt;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .1pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: .1pt;">
Sometimes,
this dialogue works. Other times, it will trigger a verbal attack about
how much he hates me and wishes me dead. How is it, that my four year old
knows which buttons to push? I wish I could say it doesn’t bother me,
that I am so zen these words just roll off my back; some days I <em><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Times;">am</span></b></em>
spiritually fit and the words <em><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Times;">do</span></b></em><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"> </b>roll off my back, but for the most part, they hurt. They
really, really hurt!</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .1pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: .1pt;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .1pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: .1pt;">
Of
course, it’s during these times that I begin to reflect on the way that we are
raising him. As with everything else, parents are role models to our children.
If I am being completely honest, then, I’m not always the best example. I
lose my patience, am sarcastic, and antagonize him at times. I fight with
my husband, have road rage, and have been know to drop the F-bomb under my breath.
I instantly regret my behavior, hope it went unnoticed, and try to hold it
together a little better the next time.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .1pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: .1pt;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .1pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: .1pt;">
Nobody
ever stops to ask me, “How did that make you feel? I can see that my
ignoring you makes you frustrated and I’m sorry.” But I’m the parent and
it’s <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">my</i> responsibility to actively
and positively communicate my feelings with my own family. Having a child
gives me the opportunity to slow down, to speak from the heart, and, most
importantly, to practice safe, emotional communication with not only with my
son, but my husband as well.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .1pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: .1pt;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .1pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: .1pt;">
A
few weeks ago, I was reminded, by my four year old, of how much he does hear,
take in, and model from us. We were having one of those mornings.
My husband, in his frustration, asked Braden to just “shut up.” He
immediately apologized and we went on with our morning. A little while
later, Braden told him to “shut up” and I interjected, telling him it’s not
okay to talk to people like that. His response, very matter-of-factly,
“But you are my parents and I copy you. If you say it, then I think it’s
okay to say and I am going say it.” Wow! Exactly.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .1pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: .1pt;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .1pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: .1pt;">
So
we take a deep breath, realize that nobody is perfect, validate, acknowledge,
and empathize with him. We apologize, ask for forgiveness, and try
again. Together, in time, with practice, we’ll all have a better handle
at this.</div>
<br />
<br />
---<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="blogger-post-footer">http://www.topmommyblogs.com/blogs/banners/150-tmb.gif</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2894905749117939395.post-26698572632560085542013-02-14T09:00:00.000+09:002013-02-14T18:08:31.940+09:00Teaching Children to Love<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-tx8vLFDIt1s/URyox4L_TzI/AAAAAAAAAVk/hE6r7iT-Z-I/s1600/photo.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-tx8vLFDIt1s/URyox4L_TzI/AAAAAAAAAVk/hE6r7iT-Z-I/s320/photo.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="p1" style="text-align: left;">
It's Valentine’s Day today and I'm thinking a lot about love.<br />
</div>
<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
<o:OfficeDocumentSettings>
<o:AllowPNG/>
</o:OfficeDocumentSettings>
</xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
<w:WordDocument>
<w:Zoom>0</w:Zoom>
<w:TrackMoves>false</w:TrackMoves>
<w:TrackFormatting/>
<w:PunctuationKerning/>
<w:DrawingGridHorizontalSpacing>18 pt</w:DrawingGridHorizontalSpacing>
<w:DrawingGridVerticalSpacing>18 pt</w:DrawingGridVerticalSpacing>
<w:DisplayHorizontalDrawingGridEvery>0</w:DisplayHorizontalDrawingGridEvery>
<w:DisplayVerticalDrawingGridEvery>0</w:DisplayVerticalDrawingGridEvery>
<w:ValidateAgainstSchemas/>
<w:SaveIfXMLInvalid>false</w:SaveIfXMLInvalid>
<w:IgnoreMixedContent>false</w:IgnoreMixedContent>
<w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText>false</w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText>
<w:Compatibility>
<w:BreakWrappedTables/>
<w:DontGrowAutofit/>
<w:DontAutofitConstrainedTables/>
<w:DontVertAlignInTxbx/>
</w:Compatibility>
</w:WordDocument>
</xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
<w:LatentStyles DefLockedState="false" LatentStyleCount="276">
</w:LatentStyles>
</xml><![endif]-->
<!--[if gte mso 10]>
<style>
/* Style Definitions */
table.MsoNormalTable
{mso-style-name:"Table Normal";
mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0;
mso-tstyle-colband-size:0;
mso-style-noshow:yes;
mso-style-parent:"";
mso-padding-alt:0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt;
mso-para-margin:0in;
mso-para-margin-bottom:.0001pt;
mso-pagination:widow-orphan;
font-size:12.0pt;
font-family:"Times New Roman";
mso-ascii-font-family:Cambria;
mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";
mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-fareast;
mso-hansi-font-family:Cambria;
mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;}
</style>
<![endif]-->
<!--StartFragment-->
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
My favorite moments are those when Braden, seemingly out of
nowhere, will whisper, “I love you, Mommy.” Most of the time it’s in a
sleepy state, after he has just woken up, or is about to fall asleep.
Other times, it’s directly related to something I’ve just done for him,
something he wants to say thank you for, or to let me know that he appreciates
me. Whatever the reason, those three little words melt my heart. <br />
<br />
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
As a child, I didn’t often hear my father tell me that he
loved me. In fact, I could probably tell you the exact moments that he
did. Did I know, then, that he loved me? Sure. But I can remember
longing just to hear him say those words out loud. I can also remember
asking my mother, “Why doesn’t Papi tell me that he loves me?” She
replied, “You know Papi loves you, he just shows you in different ways.” <br />
<br />
As I got older, and would inevitably ask again, my mom’s responses provided
more details: “Papi didn’t really hear ‘I love you’ growing up, so it’s hard
for him to say it. He doesn’t tell
me that he loves me, but I know that he does. He shows he loves you by
working hard and providing for you.” Sure, that was all true, but I just
wanted to hear him tell me. <br />
<br />
As a young adult, I remember sitting my dad
down and telling him how I felt. “Papi, I know you love me, but I <i>need</i> to hear you tell me. I want
you to tell me you love me like other Dads tell their daughters.” Now, I
had no idea if other dads <i>did</i>,
in fact, tell their daughters that they loved them, but I had assumed they did
and I wanted, no, I needed him to tell me. You know what? He
did! He started telling me that he loved me more often.</div>
<!--EndFragment--><br />
<div class="p1" style="text-align: left;">
As a mother, I must tell Braden I love him at least a hundred times a day! Does my telling him so often take away from the meaning? Does he also know that I love him by my actions? Will he ever wish I had told him more often, or worse yet, less?</div>
<div class="p1" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="text-align: center;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="text-align: center;">I recently asked Braden, “Do you know what it means to love someone?” To which he replied, “It means you want to be next to that person all day long, and that makes you happy. But when you can’t be next to them, you are sad. Like when I go to school, I know you are on the floor below my classroom, but I want you to be </span><b style="text-align: center;"><i>in</i></b><span style="text-align: center;"> my classroom, so that makes me sad. I will follow whoever I love wherever they go.” </span>For Braden, to love someone means to be in their physical presence, but being in their absence causes sadness.</div>
<div class="p1" style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="p1" style="text-align: left;">
I can relate to that. I often miss Braden throughout the day, even if I'm running errands, gone for just a few hours, or if we're both at school and I don't see him during the day. For those who don’t know me, I should preface this by sharing that I am both a mother and a teacher. I am fortunate enough to be able to teach at the same school my son attends. I don’t take that for granted and feel blessed each day that I have my son as close to me as I do, but even with that, I miss him.</div>
<div class="p1" style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="p1" style="text-align: left;">
What is your child’s understanding of love? Is it about hearts and chocolates? Or, more about feelings and actions? Do you love someone because they help you with something, make you dinner, do your laundry, and read you stories; or do you love someone because they hold your hand, and give you hugs? More importantly, how do you teach a child to love?</div>
<div class="p1" style="text-align: left;">
<b style="text-align: center;"><br /></b></div>
<div class="p1" style="text-align: left;">
<b style="text-align: center;">Love, is both innate and learned. It is both tangible and intangible.</b></div>
<div class="p1" style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="p1" style="text-align: left;">
I think most parents feel they show their child love by physical contact—with hugs and kisses and by the everyday tasks we do as parents. We love our children unconditionally. We provide for them, we nurture them, we give them what we can.</div>
<div class="p1" style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="p1" style="text-align: left;">
Yet this is just a small part of teaching children to love.</div>
<div class="p1" style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="p1" style="text-align: left;">
Love is also shown through example. We can show our children how to love by the interactions we have with other people, and how <i>genuinely</i> and unselfishly we love others.</div>
<div class="p1" style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="p1" style="text-align: left;">
Having moved around for the better part of my adult life, I have friends scattered all over the world. Some have been friends since childhood, others are more recent. Some will span a lifetime, while others may be short-lived. Whatever the impact, however the depth, each relationship is meaningful to me, providing me with not only what I need at that moment, but also allowing me to give of myself in return. As Braden experiences these friendships through me, he can learn how to develop his own, and discover how he can make a difference in other people’s lives.</div>
<div class="p1" style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="p1" style="text-align: left;">
I believe this has a greater impact on they way children learn to love. As they watch their parents interact in their world, they learn how to love and treat others.</div>
<div class="p1" style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="p1" style="text-align: left;">
It’s important to me for Braden to be respectful and loving to the people he comes in contact with every day. This means eye contact, smiling, being polite, and saying hello. Not only to the people we know, but to strangers as well. On a daily basis Braden can observe me holding the door open for the person behind me, letting someone cut in front of me in line, stopping to say good morning to the adjumas and adjushis at school, saying please and thank you when ordering a coffee, and greeting people with a smile. It is my hope, that as he observes, he, too, learns to love in the same way.</div>
<div class="p1" style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="p1" style="text-align: left;">
It’s not enough to talk about love. Nor is it enough to crowd love into pink boxes of chocolates, bouquets of red roses, and heart-shaped Valentine’s Day cards. We have to teach children to become loving and caring human beings, and that should not be reserved for just one day of the year.</div>
<div class="p1" style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
---</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="blogger-post-footer">http://www.topmommyblogs.com/blogs/banners/150-tmb.gif</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2894905749117939395.post-70760274441624151752013-01-14T21:30:00.000+09:002013-01-14T21:30:01.179+09:00The Aftermath : Looking for the Answers Within : Recap<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Omky94A0hlU/UOY0dY9HXsI/AAAAAAAAAR4/VlYEsqUNHbk/s1600/school+bus.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Omky94A0hlU/UOY0dY9HXsI/AAAAAAAAAR4/VlYEsqUNHbk/s320/school+bus.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;">
Today marks the one-month anniversary of the horrible shooting that happened at Sandy Hook Elementary School in Newtown, Connecticut. My heart continues to break, not only for the families of the victims, but also for all the parents, children, teachers and staff at the school and in the community. I can still see their tiny little faces as I imagine the fear they had in their last moments on this earth. I hope they didn't suffer, felt the deep love their parents had for them, and left this earth peacefully.</div>
<div style="color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;">
I imagine my own son, crying for me, and my not being able to save him. I can see the look on his face seconds before he witnesses such a tragedy. I can’t help but wonder what could have been done differently to stop this from happening.</div>
<div style="color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;">
Is gun control, arming teachers, or having guards stand at the front door of our schools the real answer?</div>
<div style="color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;">
I sound like my mother when I start to say things like, “I remember a time…” but I <strong><em>am</em></strong> a mother now and I <strong><em>do</em></strong> remember those times, and I would do anything if my child could grow up in simpler days.</div>
<div style="color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" style="color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;">
<strong>"However we treat the child, the child will treat the world." </strong></div>
<div align="center" style="color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;">
<strong></strong>- Pam Leo</div>
<div style="color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;">
I don’t blame Adam Lanza’s mother, although there seem to be things she could have done differently. I guess, then, I am blaming her, but as a mother, I don’t know what I would, or could, have done in her shoes.</div>
<div style="color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;">
Are our children who they are, or what they learn? Can we, as parents be held responsible for the choices our children make? We make decisions each and every day of their lives, which we believe will steer them in the right direction. We act as role models, sometimes flawed, but, for the most part, our intention is to do the best that we can.</div>
<div style="color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;">
Yet even when those purposeful, well-thought-out decisions are made, we still don’t know the outcome. Our children’s personalities, the way they behave, and the choices they make, are ultimately their own.</div>
<div style="color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;">
Adam Lanza wasn’t a child who killed people; he was a young man killing children and adults. Adam Lanza is responsible for what he did, but he took his own life, making our quest for justice impossible. But the question of responsibility, something far more problematic than justice, remains.</div>
<div style="color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;">
What we do about this now, in the aftermath, today, and in the future, demonstrates how responsible we are. Will we take on violence, gun control, video games, mental illness, bullying, and hate? Are we any closer to taking responsibility for the world we have come to know? I don’t know. But I do know this; if we don’t, our children won’t.</div>
<div style="color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;">
I take responsibility for my own actions and words, and will try and make a difference. I will continue to be a role model to my son, Braden. I will teach him respect, love, compassion and empathy, not only for himself, but also for others, and for life.</div>
<div style="color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;">
My thoughts and prayers go out to the families, friends and community of Sandy Hook Elementary School. I don't know how life goes on after something like this, but somehow, it just does.</div>
<div style="color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;">
--</div>
<div style="color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;">
<br /></div>
<div class="blogger-post-footer">http://www.topmommyblogs.com/blogs/banners/150-tmb.gif</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2894905749117939395.post-38429199554395522422012-12-15T20:26:00.000+09:002012-12-15T22:21:20.408+09:00Sandy Hook Elementary School Shooting: Newtown, Connecticut <br />
<div style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0976563); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(191, 107, 82, 0.496094); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875); -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: '.Helvetica NeueUI'; font-size: 18px; line-height: 24px;">
I woke up this morning, a half a world away, to learn about news of a tragedy that happened back home. To anyone with a heart, this news is unimaginable. To me, as a mother, it was unspeakable.</div>
<div style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0976563); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(191, 107, 82, 0.496094); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875); -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: '.Helvetica NeueUI'; font-size: 18px; line-height: 24px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0976563); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(191, 107, 82, 0.496094); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875); -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: '.Helvetica NeueUI'; font-size: 18px; line-height: 24px;">
I cried, and continue to cry, for those babies. Imagining the fear they had in their last moments on this earth. </div>
<div style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0976563); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(191, 107, 82, 0.496094); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875); -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: '.Helvetica NeueUI'; font-size: 18px; line-height: 24px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0976563); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(191, 107, 82, 0.496094); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875); -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: '.Helvetica NeueUI'; font-size: 18px; line-height: 24px;">
I imagined my own son, Braden, crying for me, and my not being able to save him.</div>
<div style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0976563); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(191, 107, 82, 0.496094); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875); -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: '.Helvetica NeueUI'; font-size: 18px; line-height: 24px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0976563); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(191, 107, 82, 0.496094); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875); -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: '.Helvetica NeueUI'; font-size: 18px; line-height: 24px;">
I don't know these children, but I can see each of their faces in front of me. I hope they didn't suffer, felt the love their parents had for them, and left this earth peacefully.</div>
<div style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0976563); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(191, 107, 82, 0.496094); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875); -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: '.Helvetica NeueUI'; font-size: 18px; line-height: 24px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0976563); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(191, 107, 82, 0.496094); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875); -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: '.Helvetica NeueUI'; font-size: 18px; line-height: 24px;">
My thoughts and prayers go out to their families. I don't know how life goes on after such a tragedy.</div>
<div style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0976563); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(191, 107, 82, 0.496094); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875); -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: '.Helvetica NeueUI'; font-size: 18px; line-height: 24px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0976563); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(191, 107, 82, 0.496094); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875); -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: '.Helvetica NeueUI'; font-size: 18px; line-height: 24px;">
---</div>
<div style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0976563); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(191, 107, 82, 0.496094); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875); -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: '.Helvetica NeueUI'; font-size: 18px; line-height: 24px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0976563); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(191, 107, 82, 0.496094); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875); -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: '.Helvetica NeueUI'; font-size: 18px; line-height: 24px;">
<br /></div>
<div class="blogger-post-footer">http://www.topmommyblogs.com/blogs/banners/150-tmb.gif</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2894905749117939395.post-34753838827100344272012-07-06T09:26:00.000+09:002012-08-11T22:22:29.088+09:00A Car-free Life<style>
<!--
/* Font Definitions */
@font-face
{font-family:Calibri;
panose-1:0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0;
mso-font-alt:Arial;
mso-font-charset:77;
mso-generic-font-family:roman;
mso-font-format:other;
mso-font-pitch:auto;
mso-font-signature:3 0 0 0 1 0;}
/* Style Definitions */
p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal
{mso-style-parent:"";
margin-top:0in;
margin-right:0in;
margin-bottom:10.0pt;
margin-left:0in;
line-height:115%;
mso-pagination:widow-orphan;
font-size:11.0pt;
font-family:"Times New Roman";
mso-ascii-font-family:Calibri;
mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-fareast-font-family:Calibri;
mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-hansi-font-family:Calibri;
mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman";
mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-bidi;}
@page Section1
{size:8.5in 11.0in;
margin:1.0in 1.25in 1.0in 1.25in;
mso-header-margin:.5in;
mso-footer-margin:.5in;
mso-paper-source:0;}
div.Section1
{page:Section1;}
-->
</style>
<br />
<style>
<!--
/* Font Definitions */
@font-face
{font-family:Calibri;
panose-1:0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0;
mso-font-alt:Arial;
mso-font-charset:77;
mso-generic-font-family:roman;
mso-font-format:other;
mso-font-pitch:auto;
mso-font-signature:3 0 0 0 1 0;}
/* Style Definitions */
p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal
{mso-style-parent:"";
margin-top:0in;
margin-right:0in;
margin-bottom:10.0pt;
margin-left:0in;
line-height:115%;
mso-pagination:widow-orphan;
font-size:11.0pt;
font-family:"Times New Roman";
mso-ascii-font-family:Calibri;
mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-fareast-font-family:Calibri;
mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-hansi-font-family:Calibri;
mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman";
mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-bidi;}
@page Section1
{size:8.5in 11.0in;
margin:1.0in 1.25in 1.0in 1.25in;
mso-header-margin:.5in;
mso-footer-margin:.5in;
mso-paper-source:0;}
div.Section1
{page:Section1;}
-->
</style>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-gvTiRFBKKXA/UCWneEiHHPI/AAAAAAAAAQA/jJtbXfyOK70/s1600/BostonSubway.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-gvTiRFBKKXA/UCWneEiHHPI/AAAAAAAAAQA/jJtbXfyOK70/s200/BostonSubway.jpg" width="149" /></a><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-B0ZXAVspSvw/UCWngNDQsPI/AAAAAAAAAQI/IqvdEKvuBuk/s1600/BostonSubway.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"></a>Having lived in Boston for the better part of my adult life,
I got used to not driving.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>With
the hassles of limited parking, worrying about which day was street cleaning,
the enormous task of shoveling your car out after a blizzard, and countless parking
tickets, being car-free was easy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It
helped that Boston has great mass transit and is pedestrian-friendly.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-tws1dX8uxI0/UCWnihAY7DI/AAAAAAAAAQY/oqT4fEhjatE/s1600/SeoulSubway.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-tws1dX8uxI0/UCWnihAY7DI/AAAAAAAAAQY/oqT4fEhjatE/s200/SeoulSubway.jpg" width="150" /></a>When I moved to Los Angeles, I knew my car-free days were
over.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Although most of my days
were spent in a car, I walked as often as I could, often times confronted by
the bewilderment of friends who would ask, “You walked here?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Why?”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>For me, it wasn’t about the environmental, physical or
health benefits.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I simply enjoyed
walking!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Actually, come to think
of it, I think I just dislike driving more.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Especially in a large city, walking allows you to get know
your neighborhood.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Walking forces
you to stay close to home and use the resources around you.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You shop locally, support local store
owners and meet people in your community.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You become more intimately aware of your neighborhood;
and, if you’re lucky, you may even discover a hidden treasure you would never
find driving past in your car.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Eventually,
the large city, doesn’t feel so overwhelming anymore.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-wSUkNKGhQeA/UCWnjYiE63I/AAAAAAAAAQg/rmxORNlgx0Y/s1600/SeoulSubway2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="133" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-wSUkNKGhQeA/UCWnjYiE63I/AAAAAAAAAQg/rmxORNlgx0Y/s200/SeoulSubway2.jpg" width="200" /></a>My husband and I have fond memories of when our son, Braden
started walking.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Our early evening
walks could take hours just to get to the end of the street (I did mention I
didn’t walk for the physical benefits, right?)<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Eventually we’d make it to the corner and finally around the
block before it was time to head home.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Our son, now 4 is a walker.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>He enjoys walking around the neighborhood, to the park and especially to
Starbucks.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He resists the
car and will ask if we can walk instead.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-buZe71HdHLs/UCWnlIX5W-I/AAAAAAAAAQo/uHF_ygjLzKs/s1600/Biking.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-buZe71HdHLs/UCWnlIX5W-I/AAAAAAAAAQo/uHF_ygjLzKs/s200/Biking.jpg" width="173" /></a>When my husband and I considered moving from Los Angeles to Seoul,
Korea, one of my first thoughts was, “I won’t have to drive anymore!”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The thought of giving up my car made me feel giddy. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ThoiKBsXpv8/UCWnh8MXKeI/AAAAAAAAAQQ/72ZYCPMxyZM/s1600/BradenandDaddyWalking.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ThoiKBsXpv8/UCWnh8MXKeI/AAAAAAAAAQQ/72ZYCPMxyZM/s200/BradenandDaddyWalking.jpg" width="149" /></a>Seoul, like Boston, is accessible.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The subway system is easy to navigate and quite
sophisticated.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You can live in
Seoul your entire life without needing a car.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Braden and I have had the opportunity to explore Seoul in
ways that many Seoulites haven’t.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Perhaps it’s the adventurous side of us, our desire to explore and see new
things, but there have been countless times we simply look at a subway map and
point to where we want to go; and that’s where we end up for the day.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We’ve also gotten to know many of the local shop owners in
our neighborhood.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Being one of the
few foreigners, helps, but it’s nice when you’re walking down the street and a
shop owner stops to wave hello as you pass by.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I won’t say we’ll never have a car again, but for now, we’re
enjoying a car-free life.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div><div class="blogger-post-footer">http://www.topmommyblogs.com/blogs/banners/150-tmb.gif</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com25tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2894905749117939395.post-23496607161393832202012-02-06T19:30:00.003+09:002012-02-06T19:39:15.049+09:00Superbowl Sunday... actually it was Monday morning for us.<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-AUlDA_OAKLU/Ty-pQg8UAcI/AAAAAAAAAP4/tCLL_FirVsk/s1600/carlson.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-AUlDA_OAKLU/Ty-pQg8UAcI/AAAAAAAAAP4/tCLL_FirVsk/s1600/carlson.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My Jersey as Mrs. Carlson in '07</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 115%;">I'm not totally disappointed that the Patriots lost the
Superbowl today. Okay, that might not be
totally true, but the sting hurts a little less when I think about the
wonderful morning I spent with my son.
Today was Superbowl Monday Morning here for us in Korea. My husband, son, and I awoke before dawn to
get on base to catch the game. Die hard
fans, if you ask me; either that, or crazy.
Braden didn’t seem to mind, even though we made our way to the subway
station in the dark, and emerged forty minutes later in that milky paleness of
the early morning. Even he noticed the
quite of the streets as we made our way through town.</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 115%;">Braden did watch the Superbowl last year. Although the Patriots weren't playing, he
spent most of the game rooting for the Jets.
No, they weren't playing either, but they did play the Patriots during
the playoffs, and Braden got a kick out of the "Let's go Jets!"
chant, their green jerseys (green is his favorite color), and the fact that his
chanting seemed to push my buttons. So,
for all those reasons, at every football (basketball, baseball, and hockey)
game from that point forward, he took it upon himself to root for the Jets, even
when they weren't playing. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 115%;">This year, as the Patriots were getting closer to the
Superbowl, we talked a lot about "OUR favorite" team and rooting for
them during the Superbowl. Nevertheless,
I caught myself holding my breath several times imagining he'd suddenly
remember the old chant and begin taunting me with it. Fortunately, he didn't, and we proudly rooted
for the Patriots!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 115%;">Since he's older now and more into sports, the game was a
lot more fun to watch through his eyes.
Yes, as a typical three year-old, he spent most of the game asking
questions; lots of them: "When is
football starting?" (as the announcers talked during the pre-game), "What are they doing?" (as they
huddled together for the coin toss), "Why are they running?" (as they began to play the game), "Why
did they knock them down?" (as the teams tackled one another), "Why
didn't he catch the ball?" (as the receivers fumbled and dropped the ball
on one too many occasions), "Why do they have numbers?" (as he noticed Tom Brady's #12 on the jersey
I had just won – YAY!) and so on.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 115%;">As the game progressed, he seemed to understand more and
more of what was happening, and gradually, the questions lessened. He was hooked! He was a football fan! He was watching football! <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 115%;">Watching from the sidelines, I was amazed at how his mind
captured each play, mimicked what he saw, and how he was transforming into a
real fan; not because his Mom or Dad told him who to root for, but because he
understood the game and wanted to see how it played out. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 115%;">As we arrived home, my son announced that he wanted to be
a football player when he "gets bigger" and that his number will be
80 - 20. When I told him he could only
have a two-digit number, he settled on 97.
So look out for Carlson #97 playing for the Patriots during Superbowl
LXVIII.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 115%;">Mom and Dad will definitely be on the sidelines cheering
as we remember Superbowl XLVI and how you fell in love with the game.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 115%;">Go Pats!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 115%;">---</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div><div class="blogger-post-footer">http://www.topmommyblogs.com/blogs/banners/150-tmb.gif</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2894905749117939395.post-59257667182962875462012-01-26T23:19:00.002+09:002012-02-06T19:40:00.313+09:00When in Rome... or Korea, in this case...<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">In Korea, the 100th day after a child's birth (baek il) marks a milestone and is cause for celebration.
The number 100 means maturity and perfection, fullness and completion;
therefore, a baby who reaches this benchmark has fully matured into a
human being. Making it past the first 100 days was a sign that the
baby had survived. Historically, many newborns didn't make it to their
first 100 days because of poverty, lack of medical aid, or a weak
immune system. So, when a baby survives the first 100 days, you
celebrate!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Today, marks Braden and my 100th day in Korea. We too have matured and survived. We have done more than survive. We have jumped into the deep end with no life preservers to save us.
It's either sink or swim, and I have chosen to swim; if not for me, for
the sake of Braden and the experiences he will gain from our living
abroad. It hasn't been easy, there were definitely days I wanted to
pack up and move home. Heck, even as I write this I fantasize of home;
but when I think about what I have done in such a short time, I am
reminded of the many milestones newborns make so early in life.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span><br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-dM9by0ve0eA/TyFf8bMGv-I/AAAAAAAAAPw/EFm2PZxgmQ4/s1600/insanity.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-dM9by0ve0eA/TyFf8bMGv-I/AAAAAAAAAPw/EFm2PZxgmQ4/s200/insanity.jpg" width="150" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I'm going a little insane.</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">My
greatest satisfactions are: being together as a family, the amazing
friends we have made and who have made life in Korea more bearable, and
the experiences I have given to Braden. When it gets tough; really,
really tough and I want to throw in the towel, I think about what Braden
said to me not so long ago when I asked him, "Are you glad we moved to
Korea?" Without hesitation and with complete honesty, he said, "Well,
yes! Because when I lived in New York I missed Daddy and cried
sometimes." </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">So with that, I take the good and the bad and
do what I can to continue to survive; continue to make this an
experience of a lifetime; continue to stay sane, in this ever so insane
world we find ourselves in. I will not only survive my first 100 days,
but the next 100 years, if I have have to. God willing, we won't have
to<smile>. {smile} Happy Baek Il Day!<br />
</smile></span><br />
<smile><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span></smile><br />
<smile><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">---</span></smile><br />
<smile><br /></smile><br />
<smile><br /></smile><br />
<br /><div class="blogger-post-footer">http://www.topmommyblogs.com/blogs/banners/150-tmb.gif</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2894905749117939395.post-49307800625618808842011-12-13T02:30:00.000+09:002012-02-06T19:40:12.352+09:00No Sleep For the Weary<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-HGSzAldaZts/Tuydc8QOfBI/AAAAAAAAAPk/O9AgF0woq_c/s1600/IMG_4937.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-HGSzAldaZts/Tuydc8QOfBI/AAAAAAAAAPk/O9AgF0woq_c/s200/IMG_4937.JPG" width="150" /></span></a><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I've been on a bit of a hiatus, haven't I? It certainly wasn't intentional; I guess just after I posted my Thanksgiving blog, I went into a bit of a funk. Insomina took over and although I had plenty of empty hours to write, I just didn't have the motivation.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Insomnia.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span><br />
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-IUHu2YQhLuA/TuydUOk8-uI/AAAAAAAAAOw/3IIB4Y6Y-1Q/s1600/IMG_0199.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-IUHu2YQhLuA/TuydUOk8-uI/AAAAAAAAAOw/3IIB4Y6Y-1Q/s200/IMG_0199.jpg" width="149" /></span></a><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I've never been quite the sleeper. I'm a morning person and night owl, all rolled into one. But when I became a mom, the insomnia really took over, and I can't even blame it on motherhood. As a newborn, my son was a great sleeper. He put himself on a schedule and slept through the night at six weeks. I was lucky, but I guess that lack of sleep was a consequence of the responsibilities of parenthood more than the actual physicality of it all.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span><br />
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-_ZPi1R4gn74/TuydbVY5asI/AAAAAAAAAPg/Cx68Z5mjLO8/s1600/IMG_4724.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-_ZPi1R4gn74/TuydbVY5asI/AAAAAAAAAPg/Cx68Z5mjLO8/s200/IMG_4724.JPG" width="150" /></span></a><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I enjoy my quiet evenings after both my husband and son have fallen asleep. We all know as mothers, whether you're a stay-at-home or working mom, we have little time for ourselves. The spare moments we do find in a day, are quickly filled with things that need to get done. Nap times are spent cleaning, doing laundry or making dinner (okay, I'm not much of a cleaner, so that's <i>not</i> my excuse).</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span><br />
<br />
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-xX7TTV4lPw8/TuydYdfrgJI/AAAAAAAAAPI/WNCSAiYzjSk/s1600/IMG_1259.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-xX7TTV4lPw8/TuydYdfrgJI/AAAAAAAAAPI/WNCSAiYzjSk/s200/IMG_1259.jpg" width="149" /></a>We trade in getting our nails done to finger-painting, lunches with girlfriends to playdates at the park, and nights out at movies to story telling at bedtime. So it's the moments, after the house is quiet, that I can sit down and find the time for me. <br />
<br />
Unfortunately, this is also precisely the time my mind goes into overtime and I become preoccupied with thoughts; Where are we? How will I do this? Where will we live? How long will we be here? When can I go home? Why can't Brooke get a job in the states? How do I help Braden adjust? How can I be a better parent? What am I doing? What should I be doing instead? <br />
<div>
<br />
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-z22-yFa8qEI/TuydW05EqpI/AAAAAAAAAPA/iJxfkQY2-og/s1600/IMG_0931.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="149" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-z22-yFa8qEI/TuydW05EqpI/AAAAAAAAAPA/iJxfkQY2-og/s200/IMG_0931.JPG" width="200" /></a>We've probably all been there; you've watched the clock for the third time in ten minutes. It's just past two in the morning and you start calculating how many hours of sleep you can still get before you have to get up in the morning. You've tried meditating, reading, giving up coffee... yet sleep still won't come easily to you. So what do you do? <br />
<br />
... because I can't figure it out as I sit blogging at ten past two in the morning...</div>
<br />
<br />
---<br />
<br />
<br /><div class="blogger-post-footer">http://www.topmommyblogs.com/blogs/banners/150-tmb.gif</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com18Seoul, South Korea37.160316546736745 126.562510.349529546736743 86.1328125 63.971103546736742 166.9921875tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2894905749117939395.post-10500349950673171982011-11-24T23:28:00.001+09:002012-02-06T19:40:37.821+09:00Happy Thanksgiving<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span style="background-color: red;"></span>Today, as I celebrate my first "non-celebrated" Thanksgiving, I am thankful for my husband, son, family, and friends. My health, body and mind. My work, my life, and all of its adventures. My role as a wife, mother, daughter, sister, aunt, and friend.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I am grateful for my optimism, open mindedness, patience, love, and determination.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I am grateful for my independence, freedom, and choices.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Today, and everyday, I am grateful for what is my life!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Happy Thanksgiving!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span><br />
---<br />
<br />
<br /><div class="blogger-post-footer">http://www.topmommyblogs.com/blogs/banners/150-tmb.gif</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2894905749117939395.post-33005314094883635602011-11-21T16:10:00.001+09:002012-02-06T19:40:48.807+09:00Being Knocked Off My Foundation<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I consider myself a strong woman, a solid mother, a super-star most times, okay, maybe not most, but I <i>do</i> try my best (chuckle). I love my job of motherhood and cherish the time I get to spend with Braden.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">What
rocks me, knocks me off my foundation, and pretty much sends me in a
tailspin is when Braden is sick. A simple cold, runny nose or mild
cough doesn't bother me, but the middle of the night fever which spikes
to 105 with no warning or preparedness is what paralyzes me.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Last
night, not too long after I had fallen asleep, I awoke to Braden
calling out random statements. "Don't take away my tracing board, I
want to do my Korean letters." Or, "I want my balloon. Give me my
balloon." Initially I thought he was simply having a dream and talking
in his sleep, so I called out after him, trying to jostle him out of his
dream. When that didn't work, I walked over to his bed and put my hand
on his back to try and gently shake him awake. As soon as I placed my hand on
his back I could feel the burn through his pajamas. I quickly scanned
his whole body and he was burning up all over. Still talking in his
sleep, he wasn't having a dream, he was hallucinating from the high
fever.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I panicked. I quickly grabbed him, which made
him cry out that I was hurting him. Even more petrified I asked, "What
do you mean I'm hurting you? What hurts? Please tell Mommy what is
hurting you?" Thoughts of meningitis, swine flu, Asian flu were all
swirling around in my head. When he couldn't tell me what was hurting, I
just held him as tightly as I could and through tears, I kept whispering,
"Everything is going to be okay. Everything is going to be okay."
Braden, completely attune to my feelings, stopped and asked why <i>I</i> was crying? This of course, made my cry even harder because this was <u>not</u>
the time for <i>him</i> to worry about <i>me</i>. He was supposed to depend on me
for support, me to remain calm, me to assure him that everything was
going to be okay.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">It was at that moment that I pulled
myself together and did what all mommies and daddies do. I rocked and
held him for as long as I could, gave him Tylenol and a lukewarm sponge
bath until his fever broke, and then I lay down next to him, watching
him sleep for the rest of the night.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span><br />
It was during that time of my watching him, his fever and my fears subsiding, that I began to reflect on what caused my panic.<br />
<br />
It
was then that I realized, I was afraid: I was afraid of failing him;
I was afraid of being unprepared; I was afraid of being in a foreign
country unable to help him. There are no 24 hour CVS pharmacies I could
drive to, or a pediatrician I could call. I didn't have a medicine
cabinet I spent years filling; all I had was a bottle of Tylenol I
brought from home, and a wash cloth and bowl of lukewarm water. That's all I had
to help my baby and that... <i>scared me. </i> <br />
<br />
In the midst
of my fear, I was grateful for the time difference because what was my
middle of the night was the middle of the day at home. So I called a
friend for support and she let me share my fears, my worries, and my
insecurities. She assured me that Braden would be okay, and she offered
to just sit with me as the time passed.<br />
<br />
I know, in reflecting, that babies get sick all over the
world. That if it's not a CVS, it's a local pharmacy. If not a
pediatrician I know, it's someone I will meet at the hospital or clinic we walk into. I know that there are mothers all over the world who wake
up in the middle of the night with a child who has spiked a fever. I
know that there are mothers and father everywhere, who fall apart, just
like I did, when their babies are sick. <br />
<br />
As I now sit here and blog about my experience, Braden is sleeping comfortably in his bed. We've been to see the
pediatrician and he does not have meningitis, the swine or Asian
flu. He simply has a throat infection. We've been prescribed medication,
and I trust, just as I would back in the States, that he will be better
in no time.<br />
<br />
So to those of you who have sick children
right now, love them, care
for them, get some rest if you can, and don’t worry about holding it
together, because nothing knocks us off our foundations like when our
babies are sick.<br />
<br />
<br />
---<br />
<br /><div class="blogger-post-footer">http://www.topmommyblogs.com/blogs/banners/150-tmb.gif</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2894905749117939395.post-53370418526484872662011-11-15T16:56:00.000+09:002012-02-06T19:41:01.233+09:00As We Count The Weeks<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-xoRfVUQp4Ds/TsIVIN98LEI/AAAAAAAAANg/FDdk6GT_SJU/s1600/IMG_6149.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-xoRfVUQp4Ds/TsIVIN98LEI/AAAAAAAAANg/FDdk6GT_SJU/s320/IMG_6149.JPG" width="320" /></span></a><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">While we are pregnant we count the weeks until our due date. The
biggest milestone is crossing the threshold of your first trimester. It
gives you a sense of relief, a knowing that the baby will be okay. Twenty
weeks marks the halfway point and typically the time you can get a
glimpse of whether it's a boy or girl. By then, the countdown begins.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span><br />
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ar3AgDWCcZA/TsIVKnhjsFI/AAAAAAAAANw/i9BInQtizrk/s1600/IMG_6197.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><img border="0" height="150" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ar3AgDWCcZA/TsIVKnhjsFI/AAAAAAAAANw/i9BInQtizrk/s200/IMG_6197.JPG" width="200" /></span></a><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">After
our little ones have arrived, we begin counting all over again. Our two week old, four week old, six week old, and so
on. Slowly the weeks turn into months as we anticipate the milestones
of rolling over, the first tooth, sitting up, first foods, crawling, walking
and talking.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-vaoSLAQ1QI4/TsIVI8avh8I/AAAAAAAAANo/bGGxuuq8I94/s1600/IMG_6177.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><img border="0" height="150" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-vaoSLAQ1QI4/TsIVI8avh8I/AAAAAAAAANo/bGGxuuq8I94/s200/IMG_6177.JPG" width="200" /></span></a><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Braden and I arrived to Korea four weeks ago today. In those short
weeks we have done, seen and accomplished so much. We have, like infants
do, grown and changed quite a bit. We started to learn a new
language and culture. We have adapted a new cuisine. We eat with
chopsticks and take off our shoes at the door. We have taken the subway fifty-two times and the bus four times. We have explored fifteen subway stops,
traveled from one end of Seoul to the other, visited seven new parks and playgrounds, the aquarium, the zoo, and attended a traditional Korean
concert and Lantern Festival. We shop at open markets and carry our shopping dolly with us. We have made nine new friends and have had seven playdates. We started a MeetUp and have eight new members. We even signed up
for a Korean art class.</span><br />
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-KOKwQIs8V_8/TsIVX29uzNI/AAAAAAAAAOY/JvrXCopEN64/s1600/IMG_6815.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><img border="0" height="132" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-KOKwQIs8V_8/TsIVX29uzNI/AAAAAAAAAOY/JvrXCopEN64/s200/IMG_6815.JPG" width="200" /></span></a><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-A5vxXgAyPms/TsIaHcMni5I/AAAAAAAAAOo/8Z8s0PUc8u4/s1600/photo.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><img border="0" height="115" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-A5vxXgAyPms/TsIaHcMni5I/AAAAAAAAAOo/8Z8s0PUc8u4/s200/photo.JPG" width="200" /></span></a><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">And this is just the beginning, because just like infants, we have a lot more growing and learning to do.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Stay tuned...</span><br />
<br />
<br />
---<br />
<br />
<br /><div class="blogger-post-footer">http://www.topmommyblogs.com/blogs/banners/150-tmb.gif</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2894905749117939395.post-85447384143600404902011-10-31T23:36:00.000+09:002012-02-06T19:41:14.218+09:00The Animals Weren't The Only Things On Display<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-FV0kQ6wi3yo/Tq6gVYOp90I/AAAAAAAAALw/oHSyxlQ5uUA/s1600/photo+5.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-FV0kQ6wi3yo/Tq6gVYOp90I/AAAAAAAAALw/oHSyxlQ5uUA/s200/photo+5.JPG" width="150" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Seoul offers a lot of great escapes nestled within the city
limits for both adults and children. It
amazes me that these finds are often free.
Today, with friends, we discovered the Children's Grand Park at
Gwangjin-gu Neung-dong, a wonderland of delight from a Music Fountain, to Camel
rides, to a Zoo and Botanical Garden.
Weather permitting, which it was this weekend, they also have an
Adventure Land playground, Outdoor Concert Hall, and Kids’ Auto Park. It's a Disneyland of sorts, in the midst of
natural surroundings. Or, as natural as
an Asian Black Bear can be in the middle of the city.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">While visiting the Zoo, with elephants, bears, leopards and
more, Braden and I had an experience, with which I am still struggling. More importantly, I don't know how to make
sense of it in a way I can explain to Braden.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-B9N-CrkGSmY/Tq6gThztPYI/AAAAAAAAALY/OXwzh2mMF0Y/s1600/photo+2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-B9N-CrkGSmY/Tq6gThztPYI/AAAAAAAAALY/OXwzh2mMF0Y/s200/photo+2.JPG" width="150" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Braden is the kind of kid who knows when he needs his own
space and has had enough. It was a
learned acknowledgment, one that came from struggles and battles with both
adults and children, one that grew as his language did, and with the guidance
we provided. 'It looks like you might
need some space right now, do you think you might want to play in your room for
a while?' Or, 'I think this is too
overwhelming for you, why don't we find something else to play with?' If it got really difficult, he often heard,
'I think it's best you find a quiet place until you can calm your body
down.' Eventually, he was able to know
his own feelings, understand his own behavior, and create the space he needed
for himself.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Today, at the zoo, there was a moment, where he felt tired
and overwhelmed. It had been a long
afternoon and the Children's Grand Park was getting crowded. On his own, he found a quiet nook, slightly
off the beaten path, away from the animals and crowd and sat himself down in
the sun. It was a beautiful sight, so I
promptly grabbed my camera to capture this precious moment.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Suddenly, without warning, as quickly as a wave can take you
under, Braden was surrounded by a group of teenagers excited to see a young
American boy. Innocently, they simply
wanted to say hello, ask his name, and where he came from. But it happened too quickly and caught us
both off guard. Braden, suddenly became
the biggest attraction in the zoo. He
had more people surrounding him than the animals in the exhibits. Parents wanted to take photos with Braden and
their young children, even as both kids (perhaps more attune to each other than
the adults to them) protested.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-PiVh4ROaoJc/Tq6gSe1JTbI/AAAAAAAAALM/QHw625NbSgY/s1600/phot2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-PiVh4ROaoJc/Tq6gSe1JTbI/AAAAAAAAALM/QHw625NbSgY/s200/phot2.JPG" width="150" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The Mama bear in me, wanted to protect my baby cub and fight
off the unsolicited intruders, but I was paralyzed. Wanting to be respectful, both of these
strangers and my son, I was torn. How do
you teach children kindness, respect and friendliness, when your own space is
being invaded? How can you be a role
model to you child, when you yourself feel like lashing out. Language is a real barrier. 'No, thank you!' sounds pretty universal, but
it gets ignored. Although a child in
obvious distress should give you a clue to back away, this only seems to
encourage more attention and further invasion of personal boundaries.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
When Braden had had enough, like a wild animal, he began
kicking his feet and shouting, 'No, Mommy, No!
Tell them to go away!' Finally,
defeated, he put his head down, hoping they'd just go away. Clearly, when I saw they were not going to
stop, I became the crazy parent who scoops away her child and makes a run for
it! Sadly, we couldn't run far before
more attention followed.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
How then, with a cultural and language barrier, and feeling
stuck between respecting others and yourself, do you navigate these
situations? I don't have the answer, nor
do I think I am doing a very good job right now. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-HVFDrs7TpFw/Tq6gRO5dCTI/AAAAAAAAALE/QVw8woRu4g4/s1600/phot+3.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-HVFDrs7TpFw/Tq6gRO5dCTI/AAAAAAAAALE/QVw8woRu4g4/s200/phot+3.JPG" width="150" /></a>How I explained it to Braden was like this; 'Remember when we went to Sesame Place this
summer and you saw Elmo, Oscar and Big Bird?
Remember how excited you were to see them?' Several enthusiastic nods odds of
acknowledgement. 'Well, that same
excited feeling you had when you saw Elmo is how some Koreans feel when they
see you. You are different and special
to them. Do you see how you are
different?' 'No', was his response,
which gave me a knot in my stomach. Do I
really need to point out the differences when my child sees everyone as the
same and holds no judgment or prejudice?
Well, he knows his Zia Sabrina, who has special needs, is different; he
has an eclectic group of friends of all races, cultures and nationalities and
he knows gays, lesbians, and trans-genders.
Why then shouldn't I share what makes him different than Koreans? So, I pointed out the difference in language,
eyes, hair and skin color. I further
shared that just like Elmo, sometimes, when we really don't feel like all the
attention, we just have to smile and say hello; but, that if it ever felt too
hard, Mommy and Daddy would always be there to protect him. He seemed satisfied with this explanation,
but I'm not sure it works for me.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
As I navigate through this experience of my own, I'm open to
suggestions on how to do it better, because for me, Braden is all that matters!<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
---</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
</div>
<div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
</div><div class="blogger-post-footer">http://www.topmommyblogs.com/blogs/banners/150-tmb.gif</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2894905749117939395.post-41762660729052874552011-10-27T20:45:00.001+09:002012-02-06T19:41:27.965+09:00Every Country Needs an Ameri-town<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<style>
@font-face {
font-family: "Times";
}@font-face {
font-family: "Cambria";
}p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal { margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; font-size: 12pt; font-family: "Times New Roman"; }p { margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; font-size: 10pt; font-family: "Times New Roman"; }div.Section1 { page: Section1;
</style>
<style>
@font-face {
font-family: "Times";
}@font-face {
font-family: "Cambria";
}p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal { margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; font-size: 12pt; font-family: "Times New Roman"; }p { margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; font-size: 10pt; font-family: "Times New Roman"; }div.Section1 { page: Section1; }
</style>
</div>
<div style="margin: 0.1pt 0in;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-gcmV3_iokOg/Tqk7KeZrMtI/AAAAAAAAAK0/lpfPWh5pwZY/s1600/photo+1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-gcmV3_iokOg/Tqk7KeZrMtI/AAAAAAAAAK0/lpfPWh5pwZY/s320/photo+1.JPG" width="239" /></span></a><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;">I've been to Korea-town in
both Los Angeles and New York, but I never thought Korea would have it's own
Ameri-town. Every country needs an Ameri-town and Itaewon is Korea's
version.<br />
<br />
From the moment I stepped out of the subway, I was surrounded by all things
American: fast food chains and
retail stores line the strip from The Coffee Bean & Tea Leaf, to Dunkin'
Donuts, Coldstone Creamery, Subway, Quiznos, Outback Steakhouse, Nike, Reebok,
of course a McDonald’s and my ultimate favorite; Aldo. Starbucks was, as
Starbucks typically is, strategically placed at both ends of the strip.
Most signs and logos were in English, but within this mass of American
advertising, there were also little unique, Korean shops,
boutiques and restaurants.<br />
<br />
Non-Koreans were mixed within the crowds and English was overheard among the
busy buzz of the neighborhood. I felt oddly at home and out of place at
the same time. Interestingly enough, Braden asked, 'When are we going
home, Mom?’ As if he too felt like
a foreigner in this non-foreign world.<br />
<br />
How quickly we adapt to our environment and notice even the slightest
differences. In Nowon-gu, our neighborhood, I expect to be the minority
and I almost don't notice it anymore. I know, that sounds so ridiculous
after only living here for a little over a week, but today, when I noticed
Americans, it caught me off guard. As if I had, for a split second,
forgotten where I was.<br />
<br />
Braden and I will definitely come back to Itaewon; both for the familiarity and
the ease of navigation. It's busier, cleaner and more metropolitan than
our neighborhood, nestled within the locals. There's a greater mix of
cultures, language and diversity and this, I want for Braden. It’s nice to know, way out here in the
mix of things in Seoul, that we can still find a little slice of America, a
little bit of home.<br />
<br />
The Seoul Metro Subway has 328 stations. That means 328 places to visit,
328 places to explore, 328 places to get to before we move on...</span></div>
<div style="margin: 0.1pt 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0.1pt 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;">We better keep riding. </span></div>
<div style="margin: 0.1pt 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0.1pt 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;">---</span></div>
<div style="margin: 0.1pt 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"> </span></div>
<div style="margin: 0.1pt 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"> </span></div>
<div style="margin: 0.1pt 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"> </span></div><div class="blogger-post-footer">http://www.topmommyblogs.com/blogs/banners/150-tmb.gif</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2894905749117939395.post-38707864877211974952011-10-25T20:18:00.002+09:002012-02-06T19:42:05.372+09:00Life is Like a Picture Book<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-lioJJ9NOdWM/TqabbzyBOUI/AAAAAAAAAKs/wzHPw4GVP0w/s1600/korean+starbucks.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-lioJJ9NOdWM/TqabbzyBOUI/AAAAAAAAAKs/wzHPw4GVP0w/s320/korean+starbucks.jpg" width="239" /></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 13px;">As newborns, we explore and learn about the world through what we hear, see, touch, taste and smell. From the moment we are born, we recognize our mother's voice and finally put a face to it. Instinctively we know when we're hungry and tired, and rely on the very beings that nurture us to help us navigate the world. Newborns don't quite know that a ball is a ball, and that it bounces and is round. They can discover this through sight and touch, but it's only after we repeatedly hear that this object is a ball, that we know it's a ball.<br /><br />As toddlers begin to grow, they learn that everything has a name and that names are made up of letters. They begin to recognize their letters and see them in the world around them; words in a book, signs on the road, names of people. Before they recognize words, they recognize symbols and logos. <br /><br />I remember Braden, at a very young age, recognizing a Starbuck's iced coffee cup on the counter of a store and saying, 'That's Mommy's Coffee.' Too young to read, he recognized the logo and the countless times I repeated, 'Please don't touch, this is Mommy's coffee.' And he knew what it said.<br /><br />Now, at three, Braden is piecing together his letters and recognizing words. Those same picture books that were read to him as a baby, he's able, to some degree, to begin reading to himself. He recognizes that M-O-M is Mom, and D-A-D is Dad. He knows the sounds of each letter and is beginning to phonetically piece them together to sound out words.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-small;"><br /></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 13px;">And this is how it begins. Our lives go from picture books to chapter books, as we navigate the world around us.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 13px;"><br /></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 13px;">Recently, I find myself feeling much like a newborn again. As I look around my world, nothing looks familiar anymore. I see <i>words</i>, but don't know what they say. I see<i> things</i>, but don't know what they are. I am once again trusting the people around me to help me navigate my new world.<br /><br />Today, I went to the grocery store for the first time and I felt lost and helpless. I felt like a newborn must feel in the early months of life, how a toddler feels before he begins to read, how my parents must have felt immigrating to New York many years ago.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 13px;"><br /></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 13px;">How do we make sense of a world that is so foreign to us? Like babies, we take it all in. We look, we smell, we touch and we taste until we know that a ball is a ball, and that it bounces and is round. It may take a few tries, but eventually we learn.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 13px;">So, for now, my life is like a picture book, and I'm taking it all in.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 13px;"><br /></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 13px;">---</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span></div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><br /></span><div class="blogger-post-footer">http://www.topmommyblogs.com/blogs/banners/150-tmb.gif</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2894905749117939395.post-25341042605066749852011-10-24T18:23:00.001+09:002012-02-06T19:42:24.614+09:00What's the Next Adventure?<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Y10rwrP49Qo/TqUs2fayAMI/AAAAAAAAAKk/wFI2Zt19wnM/s1600/IMG_6125.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Y10rwrP49Qo/TqUs2fayAMI/AAAAAAAAAKk/wFI2Zt19wnM/s200/IMG_6125.JPG" width="150" /></a><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Braden has always been a boy that likes adventure. Since we moved to Korea, each morning he wakes up and one of the first things he says is, "What are we doing today, Mom?"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span><br />
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-2nk7-X7LXhY/TqUstTxvrsI/AAAAAAAAAKM/tFAtB0p7yq4/s1600/IMG_6109.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-2nk7-X7LXhY/TqUstTxvrsI/AAAAAAAAAKM/tFAtB0p7yq4/s200/IMG_6109.JPG" width="150" /></span></a><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Even after a long day of being out and about, as we head home he cries out, "I don't want to go home. I want to go everywhere." </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">"Oh we'll go everywhere, for sure Braden, but for now, it's time to go home."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Today, even with gray skies and a little chill in the air, it was no different.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">So, today's adventure consisted of shopping at the opening market. First on our agenda was buy a shopping bags with wheels. With a lot of walking in our future, that is definitely a necessity. This is the one Braden settled on.</span><br />
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-QRO-0cNmTm4/TqUsvavuQ1I/AAAAAAAAAKU/cbmcrg6bZV4/s1600/IMG_6113.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-QRO-0cNmTm4/TqUsvavuQ1I/AAAAAAAAAKU/cbmcrg6bZV4/s200/IMG_6113.JPG" width="150" /></span></a><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Next stop, shopping for dinner. Still unsure of what everything is, we were going to play a lot of guessing games.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">With a bag of full of a lot of guesses, we headed home and made dinner.</span><br />
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-fls9yaBTrSg/TqUswzGmGeI/AAAAAAAAAKc/nibLcvjoLnM/s1600/IMG_6119.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><img border="0" height="150" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-fls9yaBTrSg/TqUswzGmGeI/AAAAAAAAAKc/nibLcvjoLnM/s200/IMG_6119.JPG" width="200" /></span></a><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Turned out... let's just call it "experimental". It got a thumbs up from Braden, which doesn't say much since he eats practically anything.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">The best part certainly wasn't the dinner, but the afternoon filled with exploring, discovering and simply trying something new.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">----</span><br />
<br />
<br /><div class="blogger-post-footer">http://www.topmommyblogs.com/blogs/banners/150-tmb.gif</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2894905749117939395.post-80822130604648106072011-10-20T12:09:00.000+09:002012-02-06T19:42:38.719+09:00First Impressions<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Xvlvhl1fugM/Tp-OPbqRg4I/AAAAAAAAAJs/7z5jxU_J1FY/s1600/photo+1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Xvlvhl1fugM/Tp-OPbqRg4I/AAAAAAAAAJs/7z5jxU_J1FY/s200/photo+1.JPG" width="149" /></span></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">As I start this journey of emerging myself in a new culture,
not just visiting, but living within the culture for an indefinite period of
time, I begin to think about first impressions.
What kind of impact do they have on our overall judgment of a person,
place or thing?</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Coming to the end of my first day living in Seoul, I begin
to think about my first impressions and how they will affect my overall
feelings about being here. When you have
first impressions, do you tend to focus on the positive or negative? I guess for me, it probably has a lot to do
with my preconceived ideas or stereotypes.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-aKj7asE5Aag/Tp-OQ35kQUI/AAAAAAAAAJ0/MJnLV0m4fmA/s1600/photo+2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-aKj7asE5Aag/Tp-OQ35kQUI/AAAAAAAAAJ0/MJnLV0m4fmA/s200/photo+2.JPG" width="149" /></span></a><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">What I have come to know, in just a short day, is that Koreans
are extremely friendly. I'm talking, over the top, out of your way friendly. They do not take “No, Thank you” for an answer. I think having a three year old with blonde hair by my
side, certainly draws a lot of attention, but I’m surprised by all of the attention. Most surprising is that the majority comes from Korean men.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">From the moment I landed in Korea, I had Korean men offering to help me. Perhaps it was
the fact that a single mom with a three year old and seven suitcases in tow looked
obviously needy, but I was touched by their kindness. With little vocabulary, they simply nodded, smiled, picked up
my suitcases and walked with me. If I
was in a store and asked a question, if the man/woman behind the counter didn’t
understand me, they went out of their way to call for someone who could help. Young teens stopped us on the street just to
say, “Hello”, literally, just-to-say-hello.
Several men throughout the day also stopped to touch or pat Braden on
the head. Braden, not necessarily
thrilled by this outpouring of attention said to me, “Mom, it’s rude for that
man to just touch me without asking for permission.” Ah- yes, how do you explain this to a three
year old? I want Braden to be friendly, open minded, spirited, and compassionate.
I want him to be loving, gracious, respectful and accepting of others, at the same time, I also want him to know and have his own boundaries.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">So how do we teach our children to be open minded, friendly, compassionate,
and accepting. We walk the walk and
talk the talk. We expose them to environments that nurture awareness of others.
We teach them sand-box etiquette – which is; we don’t throw sand, we help to build the
castle, we don’t knock it down or kick it, we share our shovel, we help each other and work together. Most of all, we smile and are friendly.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-3MC9g4KRgMc/Tp-OU8Tb_fI/AAAAAAAAAKE/xC4Img0JSvg/s1600/photo+4.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-3MC9g4KRgMc/Tp-OU8Tb_fI/AAAAAAAAAKE/xC4Img0JSvg/s320/photo+4.JPG" width="239" /></span></a><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-qEYYIMiVnyg/Tp-OS-OtJiI/AAAAAAAAAJ8/-pACXBelIm8/s1600/photo+3.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-qEYYIMiVnyg/Tp-OS-OtJiI/AAAAAAAAAJ8/-pACXBelIm8/s200/photo+3.JPG" width="149" /></span></a><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Seoul reminds me a lot of Europe and there is a sense of
comfort in that. The smells are different, unique to Korea, but I recognized
the noises of the street, the buses and cars, the sound of children playing in the school yard, the local produce stands and cafes, and the hustle and bustle of old city living. Of course there is the obvious difference of people and language, but the sounds are very familiar and reassuring.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">It feels good to be here. Braden seems happy. The happiest I've seen him in a long time. Perhaps it's because Mommy feels complete and settled. Perhaps it's because I'm the happiest I've been in a long time too. I'm looking forward to all that Seoul has to offer our family. Nothing like jumping in the deep end and taking it all in. We are definitely taking it all in...</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Until the next adventure...</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">---</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span><br />
<br /></div><div class="blogger-post-footer">http://www.topmommyblogs.com/blogs/banners/150-tmb.gif</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2894905749117939395.post-16762761944348763842011-10-07T08:15:00.000+09:002012-02-06T19:42:53.064+09:00Finding the Stability in Moving<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Z1_n7lakvG8/To40fQNVyRI/AAAAAAAAAJE/c7UzdkATcMM/s1600/jetplane" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Z1_n7lakvG8/To40fQNVyRI/AAAAAAAAAJE/c7UzdkATcMM/s320/jetplane" width="240" /></span></a><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Moving to me is like having a fresh start. It’s finding a new home,
making new friends, embarking on an adventure. Whether you move around
the block, several miles away, clear across the country or world, each
move offers new opportunities.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I grew up in the same house until I left for college. My mom still
lives in my childhood home. For a long time after I left, I had the
same room, with the same bed, the same posters and furnishings. I had a
sense of regularity, consistency and stability. Not much changed and I
always knew where everything was. The longer I stayed away, the
appearance slowly began to change, but I always came back to the same
home. I didn’t necessarily want the same stability in my own life, but
it was nice to come home to it every now and again.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I enjoy moving! Not the physical part of it, of course, but the energy
that comes with moving. The excitement of a starting over; whether
that meant a new space, new job, or friends.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Having moved eighteen times since leaving for college, I have it down
to a science. You accumulate less, use the bare necessities, and learn
to travel light. I find that I’m more flexible, social, resourceful and
adventurous. I’m more spontaneous and less attached to material
things. I make friends easily and always manage to find my way around.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Moving when you’re single, or at least without children, doesn’t hold
the same <i>responsibilities</i>. It’s easy, effortless and a whole lot of
fun. I hadn’t intended to be a transplant. I’m definitely not a gypsy
or a nomad, but opportunities came and I followed my heart.</span><br />
<br />
When I finally got married and had a baby, I really thought I would <i>settle down</i>. This meant buying a house and living happily-ever-after.
Well, it’s definitely been happily, but not ever-after.<br />
<br />
In our son’s three years, he will have moved three times, with at least another time anticipated in the not so distant future.<br />
<br />
As a mother, you worry about the effects a move, or multiple moves will
have on your children. Will Braden feel insecure, unstable, and
anxious? Will he become fearful, distant, or detached? Will he miss out
on making solid childhood friendships? Friendships that will last him a
lifetime.<br />
<br />
Experts may argue that moving is traumatic for a child and that children
need stability and consistency in their lives; to which I agree, to
some extent. But what about the adventure that moving brings? The
life lessons, experiences, and growth that you gain from living in
multiple places, cultures and worlds? What about the flexibility that
you learn, the sense of freedom you develop, or the acceptance of
differences?<br />
<br />
Don’t get me wrong, I want Braden to be grounded, but does that mean he
needs to be grounded to one place or that he needs to be
attached to a house or things?<br />
<br />
Children do need security and familiarity, but that shouldn’t come from
their relationship with things. It’s the relationships they form with
people in their lives that should help them feel secure and loved.<br />
<br />
I want Braden to have friendships that will last him a lifetime, but that doesn't mean his friendships need to be local. What an amazing gift
it will be for him to have friends, like his parents, that he has made
through the course of his life, who are scattered all over the world.
Friends that he can call, Skype, email or travel to see.<br />
<br />
I have no doubt that these next couple of years will provide Braden with
experiences that will shape his development in a positive way. He will
learn multiple languages, experience unique cultures, foods and people. He will learn differences and acceptance.<br />
<br />
I am, New York-born, Bostonian-bred, and Californian at heart. Now,
this city-sunshine girl is finding herself moving for the ninetieth
time. This time, half way around the world not only to a new place, but
also a new language and culture. This time, however, I get to do it
with my husband and son.<br />
<br />
And together, we'll find the stability in moving within ourselves.<br />
<br />
<br />
---<br />
<br />
<br /><div class="blogger-post-footer">http://www.topmommyblogs.com/blogs/banners/150-tmb.gif</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2894905749117939395.post-84766014445650200192011-10-03T07:33:00.004+09:002012-02-06T19:43:11.132+09:00When Hope Is Taken Away<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">From the time we are young we have hopes. We hope we'll make friends at school. We hope the cute boy will ask us out. We hope to get into college. We hope we'll get a good job. We hope we'll fall in love, get married and have children. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">As soon as we have children, our hopes become stronger. From the moment we learn we're pregnant, we start hoping. Hoping for a healthy baby, first and for most. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Then your hopes turn into wonder and dreams. I wonder if it's a boy or girl? I wonder who he/she will look like? What color eyes will they have? Will they be smart, funny, shy or popular? </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">You start to imagine the day they are born, their first steps, words or loose tooth. Their first day of school, first sleepover, prom and graduation. Their wedding day and the birth of their own children. How quickly this little being, you haven't met or even know, fills your mind and heart.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Then, just a quickly as you found out, you realize that this time it wasn't met to be.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">The thoughts and feelings that overwhelming took over, don't seem to leave you as quickly as they came. Now, you're left feeling empty and angry. Angry because there is no real explanation. Angry because there was nothing you did or didn't do that could have prevented it. Angry because you waited too long. Angry because life took you in a direction you hadn't intended. Angry because you're <u>just</u> a statistic!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Your doctors, midwife, family and friends all try to console you. 'Things happen for a reason", "A miscarriage is your body's way of knowing that this baby, no matter what, was not viable", "You're lucky, you already have a healthy baby", "At least you know you <i>can</i> get pregnant, you can always try again."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">We are often reminded how precious life is and to be grateful for what we <u>do</u> have. Growing up with a sister with special needs, 9/11, when my father passed away, and the birth of my son, were all reminders for me. But every day life, our egos, busy schedules, and our desire to have more, sometimes get in the way and we just forget. We forget to focus on the good and to be grateful for the abundance we do have in our lives.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">When I finally let go of the anger and focused on abundance, I got a strong sense of what I needed to do, where I needed to be, and for what was <i>truly</i> important in my life. It was then, that I realized, Braden and I <u>needed</u> to be in Korea! Nothing else mattered more than our family and being together.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">As much as I hate to say it, things really <b>do</b> happen for a reason. Our loss, propelled me to make a decision I was too scared to make on my own. A decision I wouldn't have made if it hadn't been for the gentle reminder that life is just too precious. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">So now, I hope for ... togetherness. I am grateful for my husband, my son and all that we have! </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">---</span><div class="blogger-post-footer">http://www.topmommyblogs.com/blogs/banners/150-tmb.gif</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com7