When I say my son has an obsession with all things spherical (namely balls), I am not exaggerating.  Anyone who knows me or my son well, will know he is totally OBSESSED with balls.  I think the obsession started around the age of one.  It was on his first birthday that we realized he loved balloons.  And from then on, it moved to balls.  And when I tell you that we have EVERY ball you can think of in our house, I am not kidding.  Basketballs, baseballs, soccer balls, tennis balls, ping pong balls….you name it, we got it.  Oh, and we don’t have just one of each.  We have them in all sizes.  When people asked me what they should get for Lil T’s 3′rd birthday, I told them anything EXCEPT balls.  But of course, if you asked Lil T that’s all he would say to get him.  BALLS!!!

His love is basketball.  Soccer might be a close second.  He actually loves the sport.  He knows all the technical terms too.  Foul shot.  Slam Dunk.  Air ball.  Dribble.  And, of course, Michael Jordan. 

“Mama, I gonna be like Mike-Go Jor-dun.  Jump sooooo high.”

“Okay, Beanie.  Finish your milk.  So you can be tall like Michael Jordan.”  What can I say?  The kid’s got ambition.

He can spot a ball a mile away.  I think he seriously has a radar.  We’ve gone into stores that has nothing to do with balls and he’ll spot a balloon (that a child probably lost) floating way up in the ceiling rafters.  And he can keep himself entertained anywhere we go, as long as there are balls.  Every time we go to Walmart or Target, that’s his first request.  “Can we go look at balls?”.  Seriously, EVERY SINGLE TIME we go.  And it’s not like he just looks.  No.  He has to make a show of it.  He gets a basketball and starts dribbling.  Yes.  Dribbling.  Right there, in the middle of the aisle.  And mind you, he’s good at it too.  So passerbys will stop and watch.  And comment, “oh look, how cute.”.  And there I am, just standing there….embarrassed.  All I need is an empty coffee cup and I can probably start a nice college fund for him. 

He even keeps himself occupied at CVS.  Because in there toy aisles they have a metal cage of plastic balls.  So Lil T will play “basketball” there.  Takes a ball out and tries to “shoot” it into the top of the cage.  Over and over and over again.  **SIGH**  And of course, the workers there find it soooo cute.  Yea right.   They’re probably thinking…”here they come again.  Doesn’t she ever take the kid to a park?”. 

But I guess it’s all good.  Better to have passion in something than not, right?  I’m just curious to see how long this passion will last.  Hey, you never know.  Maybe he’ll be the next Yao Ming when he gets older…only maybe 2 feet shorter.

So in the mean time, if you happen to go to a Walmart or Target or CVS and see a little, short Asian kid dribbling or shooting a ball between the aisles.  Stop a while, enjoy the show.  And don’t forget to drop a five in the empty coffee cup.

You know summer is near when you start seeing creepy crawlies everywhere.  And I’ve seen my share already.

I am deathly afraid of insects.  Don’t like ‘em.  Definitely don’t want ‘em.  Although I must admit, ever since moving to Suburbia my tolerance of them has grown a slight smidgen.  I know…it’s all part of the circle of life.  Bugs are necessary.  Live and let live.  Blah, blah, blah.  But when they start invading my territory, that’s a different story. 

So I’ve already told you about my ladybug infestation last fall.  Thank goodness we’re done with that for now.  Now my issue is…carpenter ants.  Yup.  Not just the little, normal-sized ones but the GIANT, BIG BLACK ONES.  Ugh…I’m getting goose bumps just talking about it.  They were outside, some were inside the house, they were everywhere.  I tried the stuff you get at the local hardware store…sprays, granules, baits.  Didn’t work.  So it was time to call in the professionals…the big guns or maybe they’re called the guys with the big canisters (of bug spray). 

Greg, my knight with the big canister, came and sprayed everywhere.  Inside, outside…all with environmentally safe pesticide.  Ehhh, is there such a thing?  Well, we’re still alive so I guess there is.  Anyhoo, it seemed to work.  At least for about 2 weeks.  Then came the rain.  Then came the heat.  Then came the ants.  Oh and this time, there were some lovely, bigger ones…with wings.  Thank goodness they were stuck between my window screen and the window so they couldn’t come into the house.

Greg???  My knight, where are you????  Without fail, Greg came again.  This time with a bigger canister.  With more lethal (still environmentally safe) elixir.  And this time, he made sure he got them. 

Oh, and those flying, big ones I thought were ants.  He said they’re not.  He said it looks like it was some kind of bee that must’ve crawled into my window casing and hatched eggs.  Hence, the swarm.  Oh, lucky me.  At least they weren’t ants.  Phew.

P.S. - I’ll spare you the pictures of those creepy crawlies.  And yes, don’t ask me why but I did take pictures.

Lil T is now officially a “big boy”. 

Or so he says.

Big-boy bed?  Check.

Potty trained?   Check.

A mouth that is always on auto-pilot and doesn’t stop yapping?   Double check.

But these aren’t the only thing that makes him a big boy.  Nope.  According to my son, you’re not a big boy until you can sleep with the bedroom door closed.  Yup.  Then it’s official.

Lil T never liked sleeping with the door closed.  We always had to keep it open for him.  Until yesterday.  When I went to get him from his nap, I found his bedroom door closed.  I asked him why the door was closed.  He said, “Because I a big boy now.  Big boy always sleep with da door close.”  Uhhh okay, that’s news to me.  I didn’t think anything of it.  But then it happened again at night.  After tucking him in, I left the door open out of habit.  When I went to get him in the morning, the door was closed again.  Mr. Sneaky was getting out of bed after I left and closing the door. 

So tonight, I purposely left the door slightly ajar after I tucked him in.  I head downstairs and not a minute later, I hear little feet running back and forth upstairs.  Boom, boom, boom, boom, booom.  Then quiet.  Boom, boom, boom, boom, booom.  I sneak upstairs and what do I find.  Lil T’s bedroom door completely shut closed. 

It’s funny how Lil T considers this his rite of passage into 3-year-old-hood.  Me?  I wish I was as excited about it as he is.  All I can think about is…closed door + 3 year old = trouble.   And closed door + 3 year old + crazy giggling inside = get in there quick. 

But hey, at least his door doesn’t have a lock.  Once he questions that, then I know I’m in trouble.

Dear Beanie,

Three years ago today, my life changed forever.  I was given the greatest gift ever imaginable.  You. 

I still remember the fear I felt, the excitement I felt, and the love I felt when I first held your little body against mine.   That same fear, excitement, and love has grown stronger every day.  From that very first step you took all by yourself to the fast running you now do.  From that very first word you said (even though it was Baba and not Mama) to the ever-so-annoying-but-logical things you now say.  All this scares me at times.  It scares me to know that you can’t stay little forever.  It scares me to think that one day, you’ll step out into this world and you’ll no longer need me to hold your hand.  But yet, I’m excited.  Because when that day comes, I’ll know that I’ve done my job.  I hope that day doesn’t come too soon.  Because there’s so much more that I have to show you and I know there’s so much more that you have to teach me.  

Thank you for making me a better person.  Thank you for changing my life for the better.  Thank you…for just being “you”. 

Happy Birthday, Beanie!!!  You are, and always will be, the joy and love of my life!!!

I love you with all my heart,

Mama 

There’s never a dull moment when you have a preschooler.  Something as simple as lunch can turn catastrophic.  And today, we had a near catastrophy.

It started out to be a normal lunch.  Ham and cheese sandwiches,a side of Veggie Straws and a cup of juice.  All was going well.  Lil T was playing with his lunch, as always, while taking bites here and there.  I went upstairs to put away some things I had bought earlier in the morning.  All of a sudden, I hear crying.  Crying and screaming, out of the blue.  I drop my stuff and run downstairs (nearly tripping on the stairs). 

“I got shnot shnots!!!”, Lil T cries.  Mind you, his finger is half way up his nostril.

“Snots?  You got snots?  Why are you screaming and crying?!?!” 

“I got a big shnot shnot.  This side.”  He points to his right nostril.  He continues to cry and says that it hurts.

I go get a tissue and an aspirator to help him.  He still doesn’t understand the concept of blowing his nose.  As I’m trying to aspirate his “snot”, he keeps saying it hurts.  I told him to tilt his head back so I could get a better look.  All I can see was a big blob of something.  Oh nooooo!!!

“Did you stick something in your nose?”

He stops crying and musters up a sneaky smile.  He nods his head. 

“I put a snack in.” he saids proudly.

“A WHAT?!?!?”

He points to his Veggie Straws.  Oh great!  Emergency room, here we come!  I tell him to lie down on the couch while I proceed to dig for the lost treasure.  All the while, trying to keep him calm.  Talking to him, singing to him, dig, dig, dig.  Finally, after what seemed like an eternity (okay, so it was only for about 10 minutes) I was able to retrieve the pea-size-mushed-up-piece-of-Veggie-Straw with a tweezer.  Don’t know what he did, but he sure got it stuck deep. 

“Are you going to do that again?  Because next time, you’ll have to go to the doctor and he’ll have to cut your nose off to get it out.”    When all else fails, threaten them.

“No.”  He’s all smiles now.  “Can I finish my lunch now?”

**Sigh** 

All in a day’s work for me.  And all in a day’s play for him.

Dear Motherhood,

You are cruel.  You have kicked my butt since Day 1.  You’ve definitely made me “earn my keep”.  You’ve brought out my vulnerability at times, but yet you’ve shown me strengths I never knew existed in me.  You have fine tuned my creative side and sharpened my humor in more ways than I’d ever expected.  And as much as I curse you at times, I have to thank you for letting me into your world.  I am forever a lifetime member. 

To all mothers out there, I dedicate this post to you.  Because until you become a mother, you will never know the joy, the pain, the laughter, and the creativeness it takes to be one.

It’s strange how the weather can sometimes correlate to your mood.  Or is it the other way around?

Sunny days bring happiness and boundless opportunities.  Cloudy, dreary days seem to be filled with hopelessness and emptiness.

Well, today is a cloudy day.  A very cloudy day.  Hopelessness and emptiness…that’s how I’m feeling today.  As I sit here and stare out my window at the overcast skies clouding the vast span of greenery outside, I can’t help but feel the same heavy darkness inside my soul.  Just like the clouds blanket over the trees, the same heaviness crushes my every breath. 

Don’t worry, nothing bad has happened.  Just disappointment. 

Disappointment is a very exhausting feeling.  Not only does it tire out your body, but it robs all of your mental energy as well.  And the higher the hopes you had, the more tiring you are when things don’t work out.  No matter how much you tell yourself  ”not to get your hopes up”, you seem to fall THAT much harder when things don’t go right.  And along with that comes all the “extras”.  Extra tired.  Extra sadness.  Extra emptiness.

I know getting over the disappointment takes time.  I’ve been down that road many times before.  Sometimes it feels like it’s neverending.  But then one day, you wake up and  realize the sun is shining again.  And any sadness you had, well….they get tucked away in that little corner of your  heart.  In hopes that they’ll never have to resurface again. 

Right now, I’m waiting for my sunny day to come.  I know it will.  As it has many times before.  I just hope it comes faster this time around.  Because this time, not only has it filled that “little corner”, it’s fully cluttered my heart.

Okay.  So I admit it.  I’m an easy target when it comes to shopping.  You know what I’m talking about.  I’m one of those naive shoppers that marketing people love.  Gimme a good pitch line and I’ll bite.  Jeans that claim to magically make your muffin top disappear.  Bras that amazingly can transform your 34A’s to 32C’s without making you look like you stuffed a whole package of Hanes socks in your bra.  Catch my drift?

Well, my latest pitfall?  Sneakers that will help perk up your butt and slim up your legs.  The sneakers supposedly help tone certain muscles with every step you take.  I mean, c’mon…who wants a shapelier rear-end and sleek, muscular legs?  Me, me…ME!!!  Where do I sign up?!?!? 

Now, now hear me out.  This is coming from a girl who was blessed with “Asian-butt” syndrome.  And sadly enough, I’ve passed that on to my son.  Poor kid, even when he wore diapers, he always looks like he left his butt at home.  *SIGH*  But he’ll be fine.  He’s got a whole lifetime to tone and shape.  Me?  Not so much.  Even with pregnancy, my gluteus maximus never maximized.  Sure I might’ve gained some boob fat, definitely gained some hip width.  But the rear?  Still flat as a pancake.  So imagine my excitement when I heard these sneakers could maybe, somehow channel some “junk” into my “trunk”.  Woohooo!!!

With so many options to choose from, I decided to try the Reebok EasyTone.  It was the closest to looking like a normal sneaker and it got good reviews.  The shoe uses “balance pods that are built-in under the heel and forefoot of the shoe”.  These pods are “designed to create natural micro-instability with every step, forcing certain leg and glute muscles to adapt, and therefore encourage toning”. It was a bit pricey.  But the allure of a perky backside and sexy legs was calling.  That and an attractive 20% off discount helped seal the deal. 

So now that I have the “magical” sneakers, I’m ready for some toning.  I was super-excited when I got the package in the mail.  Tore open the box, pulled out the sneakers, and immediately tried them on.  They fit well.  They look good.  Strolled around the house a couple of times.  They do take a little getting used to.  But hey, I was ready for my butt-toning workout.  The next time I go for a walk, I’m wearing these, I thought.

Uh-huh.

Well.  It’s been about 4 days since I got them.  They’re still sitting in the box in my closet.  Waiting.  Waiting for better weather.  It’s been raining the past 2 days.  Waiting for a good walk.  I just have to find time in my busy schedule.  Waiting for…

**SIGH** 

See?  I told you I was an easy target.

P.S. -  Just so you know…since the time I wrote this post, I actually have worn the sneakers.  So there!

I’m having a bad day.  A really tiring, bad day. 

My day started at 1:30 AM when Lil T decided he was going to go on another one of his crying rampages.  Screaming at the top of his lungs, “Mamaaa, mamaa…”.  And since I didn’t go to sleep until 11:00 PM, I was not in the mood for it.

“My nose is wunny”, he cried. 

Mind you, the box of tissue is right next to his bed.  So I wiped him down and put two tissues in his bed, just in case.  The minute I got back into bed and started to drift off to sleep…”Mamaaa!!!”  You’ve got to be kiddin’ me.  I storm into his room, steam coming out of my ears now. 

“Why you gimme two tissues?”

Seriously.  Sure, you can laugh now but this was not a funny moment at 2 AM.  So this went on for about the next 2 hours.  Screaming and crying every hour for no reason at all.  At about 4 AM I had had enough.  I told him to just go downstairs and watch TV or read or play.  Anything so he would stop crying and screaming for me and I can try to get some sleep.  And it worked for about 2 hours.  He must’ve fell asleep downstairs.  Until I heard pitter patter coming up the stairs.  And into our room.  Up on our bed.  All the while, talking to himself and giggling.  Shoot me now, just do it.  Put me out of my misery.

He nestles himself between me and Papa in Suburbia.  Tossing and turning and giggling.  More tossing and turning.  More giggling. 

“STOP MOVING.  If you’re not going to sleep, go downstairs and watch TV”, I pleaded.

“Okay Mommie”.  Bounces off the bed and pitter patters down to the living room. 

And so, that was how my night and morning went.  I, on 4 hours of sleep.  Lil T, on who knows how many hours of sleep.  It was a draining night.  And a draining morning.  But for Lil T who must’ve been on some sugar high or adrenaline kick or…crack.  Well, he kept going.  Through the morning.  Into the afternoon.  I can only hope he’ll eventually tire himself out and take a looooong nap. 

I am not looking forward to tonight.

Oh and mind you, Papa in Suburbia was able to sleep through most of this.  Of course.

I’ve been lazy.  Lazy with the blogging, that is.  This particular post has been sitting in my “Draft” folder for almost 2 weeks.  Seriously.  Maybe it’s blogger’s block or maybe it’s spring fever. 

Eh, who am I kidding…it’s laziness.

Anyways.  So even though I haven’t been blogging, I have been keeping myself occupied.  Now that it’s Spring.  And now that I have a house with a big lawn and yard, I feel the need to cultivate.  Cultivate?  Excavate?  You know…play Farmer Jane.   But I have no idea what, where, or how to start. 

I guess the best way to start is to figure out what tools and resources I need.  So off to the home improvement store Papa in Suburbia and I went.  Credit card in hand.  We filled our carts with rakes, hoes, edgers, pruners, fertilizer, weed control, bug control, and lots and lots of Aleve.  We even bought a wheel barrow.  Woohoooo, so now what? 

I mean seriously, this city girl has a black thumb.  Okay, maybe more of a brown thumb.  But still.  I don’t know what to do with a lawn, a yard, or a garden.  But I’m determined. 

Luckily for us, we have some landscaping in the front.  The original owners of the house must’ve been really into gardening.  Unluckily for us, the prior owners that we bought the house from didn’t do much to tend to it.  So what was once a nice garden is now an overgrown jungle of plants, weeds, poison ivy, and who knows what else.  There’s so much stuff growing, I have no clue what is good and what is not.  Meaning, I can’t differentiate if the thing that is growing is a plant or a weed or poison ivy.  Yes, we have poison ivy growing amongst the plants too.  I’m so close to Round-Up’ing  everything and start from scratch.  But then I look at the pretty flowers growing, and my Farmer Jane conscience takes over. 

So I’m determined.  I really am.  I’m going to get this garden back to tip top shape if it kills me.  It’s not going to be an easy task.  You’re talking about a city girl who just recently learned what poison ivy looks like.  But I’m learning.  I now know we have azaleas, daffodils, barberry shrubs (got pricked about 50 times), magnolia trees, and many, many more (I have yet to identify).  But hey, it’s a start.

Oh, and this is just our front garden.  We also have a small jungle in the back.  And don’t get me started on our crabgrass lawn.  *SIGH*  But I’m determined. 

So please excuse me if my blogging is lagging behind.  Better yet, maybe send some help…I might’ve gotten lost in my jungle and the vines are holding me prisoner.