For the amount that I write about my kid, this blog is turning into a Mommy Blog that has no mission. For that, I’m sorry. If you’re here for my deep thoughts, well, you should realize by now that those are relatively spread out and interspersed with fluff. Sorry.
On the other hand, if you’re here to hear about my sassy kid, you’ve come to the right place. Those of you who are Facebook friends of mine will have already heard this story, so you can feel free to tune out now.
In my last post, K and I wished you all a hearty Gung Hay Fat Choy, in honor of the Chinese New Year. Well, today, J, K and I all went down to Chinatown to watch the Lion Dance festivities.
It’s Chinese New Year, a time of celebration and togetherness. This and K’s birthday are probably the two times of year that I most regret not living close to my family.
Every so often I like to post little interludes with my daughter. That’s one of the best ways I can keep the whimsy in my life. So without further ado, here’s today’s interlude.
Why does this exist?
Most of you know my rather strong feelings about gender stereotypes and expectations. I don’t have a problem with girls being exposed to “girly” things, but I do have a problem because it seems  that everything a girl is exposed to is “girly.” Why are there entire aisles awash in pink? Why must everything be Barbie-this or Princess-that? And why do I always have to go to the boys’ section to find red, grey or black gloves or shoes that are neither pink nor have hearts or princesses all over them?
It’s funny how important traditions and a sense of wonder can be. Every year, I spend some time around Christmas going back to L.A. to be with my family. It’s one of my favorite things to do, despite the parental drama it can come with, because spending time with my family (and now my sister-in-law, nieces and nephew) is absolutely soul-lifting. Even spending time with my crazy parents can be fun. Continue reading
Right this way, ladies and gentlemen! It’s the one, the only, the amazing, singing, dancing and reading K!
Sometimes I feel like a carnival barker when I post pictures and videos about my kid. I mean, how irritating must it be to everyone else besides my family? And let’s face it – nearly every parent thinks their kid rocks. It’s genetically engrained in us so we don’t, you know, eat our young or sacrifice them to the minotaur or whatever. It’s kind of like how no parent of a six-month old can accurately explain what it’s like to be the parent of a newborn. It’s only been half a year, but nature has a way of fuzzing it all out so that you won’t convince yourself or others around you NEVER TO PROCREATE AGAIN. And I say that as the mother of a kid who was really pretty easy at that age (I think. But really, given what I just said, can you trust me?) Continue reading
Today was supposed to be the beginning of the NBA season. But since not a single one of you is watching a professional basketball game, I’m guessing that you already know that there isn’t a whole lot of basketball going on right now.
So in the absence of anything resembling court-side action, I leave you with this classic from 1987. You think the Super Bowl Shuffle was great? You ain’t seen nothin’ yet.
“Awesome” is one of my favorite words to use with K. It’s my little way of telling her that what she is doing or has just done is something to be admired. I use it frequently – to encourage her to do things “by myself, Mama!”, to try things she’s scared of (“Getting to pet Jay’s cat Bailey is awesome, isn’t it, K?”), to keep her from crying on the playground because she slid down a little too fast on the slide and scared herself (“Oh my goodness, that was awesome, K! Let’s try it again!”). I use it so much that Kwill often use it too, telling me in her ever so serious voice: “Tha’s awesome, Mumma, tha’s awesome.” Continue reading
When I was growing up in LA, I loved basketball so much that my dream in life was to be Chick Hearn.
I used to use a tape recorder similar to this one.
(Even then, you can tell that my athletic ability was non-existent, since I was dreaming of being an announcer, not a player.) Somewhere in the bowels of my mom’s house are hidden a few audio tapes of a 12-year-old girl vainly attempting to provide the play-by-play for a Lakers game. I used to watch the game, turn down the sound and use an old tape recorder to practice.
Practical Whimsy 