First off, Spawn is a term of an endearment like Little One. Just so you know. Also, at the suggestion of my husband and various family members, I have blocked out her face (these are bad times we live in so be understanding of our paranoia).


My toddler’s hair finally grew in after two and half years and of course the first way it grows is in her face. I have tried clips and hair bands and she likes it for five seconds before ripping it all out. And honestly, it wouldn’t bother me if she didn’t walk into a wall at least once a day because they are covering her eyes.

So today, I decided that it was time for her to be able to see. And I had to be the one to cut it.

Why did I have to be the one to cut it? Well, impatience for one. I can say for most certainty that I can be impulsive to the point of calling it a character flaw. Also, I remember my mum cutting my hair many times while I was growing up and it feels almost like a milestone in motherhood (at least in my family). Maybe even a bonding experience.

And we only have one car and my husband has work so I couldn’t take her to someone who actually knows how to cut toddler hair. I don’t know how to properly cut hair. So what did I do?

That’s right ladies and gentlemen, I actually used Google before doing (or writing) something. I had barely typed ‘How to cut Toddler…’ before I was suggested to click on a WikiHow article

WikiHow articles had actually helped me in the past so I clicked on it. It was helpful in general and usually I do better with written directions than I do verbal but it wasn’t enough to give me enough courage to cut her hair.

So I went back and redid the search while adding the words ‘…short hair bangs’ to the search in order to get something more specific (something that usually doesn’t work because specifics are usually a hinderance rather than helpful) and legit the first thing was a Hair Cutting Video.

I watched the video for the duration that was timed out and after watching the mum cut her young daughter’s bangs, I had more courage to do it.

Now, the entire time that I had been doing the searches, I already had my scissors, my hair spray bottle (which I originally got because it was a $1), and my brush laid out on my coffee table. My daughter was sitting in her chair that was on top of a towel with another towel draped around her shoulders (that I ended up not using because she didn’t want it). I had ‘Lady and the Tramp’ on to help distract her a bit. She didn’t know what was happening but she seemed down.

After I had dampened her hair and brushed it forward (and followed the general instructions), she kept trying to move her hair out of her face and moving her head. She was having a Thing 1/Thing 2 moment where she does the opposite of what you tell her.

After what I felt like twenty minutes (which means it was like 3) I was finally able to hold her head still while I cut her bangs along just the top of her eyebrows.

I say ‘top’ because her hair had dried enough that it would have been too long if I had cut them just on or just below the eyebrows.

First thoughts after I had first seen it were:

‘Omg did I do it right?’ Which is still up for debate and

‘Omg she looks even more like my sister.’ Which both my mum and my sister agree to (but when she smiles, she looks like me šŸ™‚ )

Thanks for reading! Aloha!

I would love to hear a story about your favorite or worst haircut that you’ve had! Comment or contact me!



The Uncertainty of Coming Out

This past month of June has been Pride Month. A month that I celebrated as an Ally and a closeted Bisexual.

Oh yes, I can hear the record scratch in your head. Despite the fact that I cannot see you and that this isn’t a live writing, my heart is pounding hard in my chest and my eyes are beginning to water writing this. You are not related to me, but you are reading my firstĀ sincereĀ coming out.

Since questions are common when it comes to this, I’ll just start to answer them and maybe dive into my story. If you stick around until the very end, you’re the real MVP.

For as long as I can remember, I have been attracted to both boys and girls. In elementary school I remember not actually thinking too much about it. Middle school came and I had a rash of boyfriends because, ya know, I was totally ready for that despite not even understanding what a boyfriend was beyond someone you get to hold hands with and kiss. Things I couldn’t do with girls without it being considered even more weird than I was already being called.

I remember a specific girl. She was my best friend and my first girl crush, though I didn’t realize it at the time. I remember feeling around her what I felt around boys and because I was young, just attributed it to being close and the fact that she helped me through my depression at the time. We’re no longer best friends because of time and distance but we are still friends and follow each other on social media and she’s still as beautiful as I remember.

High school came and I was questioning everything. I was questioning my faith. My moral code. Who I was. My sexuality. All the parts of growing up. I still had my crushes on girls but not confident enough to actually ask any of them out. I was being bullied and my self esteem was torn to shreds and without realizing that it was happening, I pushed down the urge to come out. To come out was to give them more fuel and I didn’t think I could handle the flames.

I remember asking my parents what they would think if I was bisexual. They said I better not be. They were most likely joking but who knows? I asked my grandparents what they thought about bisexuals. My papa said he thought they were a selfish people for liking and wanting both sexes. He was also probably joking. But I was 15 and long before any of us, including I, realized, I took all of it literally. At least my emotions did. So I kept my mouth shut.

About four years ago, a year after I graduated, I realized that there was nothing wrong with how I felt about both men and women. That the fact that I was attracted to both sexes didn’t make me selfish or more likely to cheat. Those aren’t facts.

And for those people who are saying, ‘Oh well, I dated this bisexual and they cheated on me’ or ‘oh I know a few people who were cheated on a bisexual’ Those people are cheaters. Using their sexuality is a cop-out. A convenient one for cheaters and for people who just generally have a disdain for bisexuals.

Anyways, despite that realization, I still did not come out. I do think I hid under the cover of ‘I shouldn’t have to come out since straight people don’t have to’ but that was MAJOR PRIVILEGE TALKING.

I was already in a Heterosexual relationship with my now husband at the time. He knew I was bisexual despite me not fully having to express that I was. We never discussed it. I never brought it up with his parents. I didn’t have to bring it up to strangers. BUT THAT’S BECAUSE I WASN’T IN AN “UNCONVENTIONAL” RELATIONSHIP.

People weren’t coming up to me and assuming shit because they us holding hands. We weren’t being asked to “perform” certain private things to “prove” we were together.

It’s only NOW, after being bisexual for as long as I can remember but being in a monogamous heterosexual relationship for six years, THIS pride month, that I realized not only the privilege I have been living under but also the lie. The lie that I am not queer. It may not be an explicit lie, but it’s an omission of myself, who I love and who I am attracted to (genitals be damn).

They are teens being kicked out of their homes. People who have been bullied when they have come out or when they have been FORCED to come out to the point where they commit suicide. Or they’re being sent to camps to make them straight.

And I have been sitting here protected by my omission.

With that sentence, with this whole post in fact, this is how I feel about ME. How I feel about what I have been through and what I have been doing. I have been through 10% hardship about sexuality. Nothing more.

I won’t deny it’s been hard to be around family and worry they’ll turn against you if you reveal your sexuality or constantly make fun of your sexuality. I won’t deny that a part of me shrinks every single time I hear that bisexuality is only a phase. I won’t deny that going through my tumblr and constantly seeing the back and forth between not only straight people but also people that are part of the LGBT+ as they try to determine whether or not they accept Bisexual people as a legitimate thing has made me wary and even scared of actually saying anything. But that’s 10% hardship for me.

Again, this is how I feel about me. I want nothing more than for the people out there to be safe. If you’re not ready to come out, don’t. I have been ready to come out for YEARS but I got comfortable and liked not fighting with my family or fighting for my identity.

Right now though, I am thinking of 15 year old me. How she needed an adult to tell her that if you are bisexual of course I still love you, and not as an afterthought once “Oh you better not be” or the like. I’ve been wanting nothing more than to be the adult that I needed when I was younger and I failed on the sexuality part for years. I need to make up for that if I want to become that adult.


This is my first official coming out post. For those of you who think I am a pussy for writing it on here and not on my Facebook, well, you’re not wrong. But this is a slow process I’m allowing myself. There are many things that will come out hopefully before the end of Pride month and even beyond that.

Because Pride month isn’t the only month I should take pride in who I am. Something I have to remember.

For those of you who read all the way until the end…you’re the real MVP.

Happy Pride!

Thanks for reading! Peace!

Working on Self Care…Still

One of the major things that I am super unsure about and basically still learning is how to do self care. I know how to take care of others (my mum has called me Mother Hubbard for as long as I can remember) but self care has always been a little tricky.

I can say that at least one part of self care is indulging every now and again. Indulging in a favorite snack or indulging in face masks (which has become a personal favorite) or indulging in too much wine on a Friday night (which I get to do tonight whoo!). This is all like a reward for me. A reward for not losing my shit as my child decides for the fifth time that day to upend her hamper and mix her dirty clothes with her clean clothes. A reward for surviving traffic and drivers who have forgotten how to signal before merging.

The other part of self care, the part where you are supposed to be paying attention to your body, is a little more difficult for me to grasp. Mainly because growing up, when something new happened inside my body, whether it be painful or uncomfortable, I was always told it’s normal. So I kind of assumed it was all normal.

Recently, I have been exhausted. As my close friends and family know though, I am always tired. I am always wanting to take a nap. If I am comfortable enough around you, I will doze off for 10-15 minutes and feel rejuvenated afterwards. So being tired isn’t something new for me.

However, this exhaustion was different. I was tired down to my bones. Waking up in the morning was hard. Getting up and moving was hard. But once I was up and out it was easy for me to slip right back into that role that nothing was wrong. Because I think I’ve been through this before and I just automatically knew what to do: distract myself, don’t think about it because if you think about it, it’ll get worse.

So I distracted myself for a good week with going out with my friend to appointments and driving around. When I got home, my friend would be there with her son and the little ones would run around so I was still distracted. Distraction was working. For a bit.

It soon got to the point where it was all starting to grate on my nerves. I felt like exploding. Like everything was too much. Even being alone was too much. I caught myself near hyperventilation twice while just sitting in my room. Light headedness is now my friend. I keep thinking it’s just because I’m not eating enough but it still happens even after I eat and drink water.

What sucks even more is that when I have voiced my concerns about it, it has been brushed off. And I think it’s because everybody else doesn’t want there to be something wrong with me just as I don’t want there to be something wrong with me.

But I was exhausted. I didn’t want to deal with anything anymore. And that’s not what I want to feel. So yesterday, I tried something.

I just constantly said no. To doing anything that I didn’t have to do. I let my laundry sit for the day. My friend wanted to come over and I said no. She wanted me to come over and I said no. I didn’t sleep despite wanting to because my husband came home early and fell asleep before I could and one of us has to watch the little one.

But I made dinner (which felt like a long process in itself). My husband did the dishes for me without me really saying anything more than the fact that I have to do it after I was done with dinner. I poured myself some wine. Put the little one to bed. Took a shower. And then went to bed.

I slept in today. I don’t have to wake up early in the first place but I do it because I feel like I get more done. But today, I stayed in bed for an hour past my usual time.

And cats (that’s you guys), I feel better. I’m not a 100% because I still feel the tiredness behind my eyes and my lightheadedness has hit me while writing this but the edge has been taken off. I’ve only had to use my mommy voice three times on my little one in this past hour (she’s in full on toddler mode, which is a post for another time) and I’m about to get ready to go to the store without feeling like I’m chained to a heavy ball.

Self care, as I had already known but didn’t really KNOW, is more than just wine and face masks. Or Burger King on a cheat day. It’s taking literal time to just be alone. Be by yourself. Not do a damn thing beyond what you have to. Friends who are truly friends will be there the next day. Family who don’t get butt hurt easily, will still talk to you when you’re done healing yourself.

I know that last part sounds hippie but it is legit true. And the fact that I am a hippie at heart has nothing to do with it.

I am not sure how often I am going to feel like this or if the method that I did yesterday will work all the time but I’m just gonna have to try right?

Thanks for reading! Peace!

AND I would really like to know what ways you take time for yourself or things you find healing so that I can try new things out for myself beyond googling it! If you follow my blog, you already know how much I don’t like googling stuff, which is also another post for another time.

Tedious Schedule

Tedious is an adjective that is used to describe things that are too long, dull, and even tiresome. Synonyms for tedious are words such as: boring, repetitive, unrelieved, and monotonous. This word perfectly describes the broad nature of being a stay-at-home wife and mother when we get caught in that beautiful trap of a schedule.

This post will probably be me whining for the most of it but bear with me, it’s just that type of day I’m having.

To a Type A person, a schedule is haven. To a mother and wife in general, having some sort of schedule helps tame the building chaos. I can’t say this for all mothers and wives obviously, or parents and spouses in general either but my schedule is three schedules in one I am only now noticing. It’s my husband’s two schedules-his work out AND his work schedules- my little one’s schedule (who needs to start potty training lord help me give me strength!), and my pets’ schedule.

You thought I was gonna say my schedule didn’t you? Yeah I thought so too. But as I was writing, I realized that all of their schedules is my schedule. That three in one? The one is mine. Which means it’s all mine.

I’m like the queen of redundancy at this point.

Now, I don’t mind having such a full schedule. It keeps me busy. It keeps me occupied. It keeps my thoughts from going down that lane that it’s not supposed to but does anyways in my down time. It’s been good for a chaotic person like me.

But now here comes the trap.

I woke up the other day to the sound of my dog barking and wanting to go outside. Normal. She’s basically my alarm because she always wants to go out between 6 and 6.30. But instead of getting up, I just laid there. I did not care if she peed or pooped in the house. I just did not want to get up.

She barked for a good five minutes while I pretended to be asleep and my husband got up and did it for me.

When he came back, I continued to lay there thinking about what I’ll have to do once I get out of bed. And I will have to do it. The animals need to be fed and given water. My child needs to be fed breakfast. I’ll need to do dishes because there always seems to be dishes in the morning. I’ll have to wipe down my kitchen counters if I want them to be clean and disinfected before I start cooking (and I do want them clean and disinfected).

That is a daily routine right there that takes maybe less than twenty minutes to do. But I am doing it every day. Without fail. It is tedious.

After that first day, it became harder and harder to get out of bed and start my day. I could be wide awake and feel my energy charging up without any coffee but there is a weight that becomes heavier and heavier each day that I go to start the routine.

Is it depression? I really don’t know. Is it because it’s tedious to do the same thing every single day? Maybe. There are obviously breaks in the schedule. The pool is open now since it’s summer and I was tempted to go every day but even going outside feels like a chore since my little one is now refusing to walk anywhere and I can’t find her stroller (I’m pretty sure I left it at my friend’s house but I haven’t seen it). I also generally don’t want to be outside. I don’t want to feel the sun on my skin. I don’t want to walk anywhere. I just want to sit and do nothing.

Okay, maybe it is depression. I still haven’t gone to the doctor to figure that out but I have an iffiness with the doctors here in Hawaii (for every 1 good and helpful doctor, there’s 5 who don’t give a crap).

I have decided today to try and switch up my every day schedule. Nothing major. It’s only rearranging the order in which I clean as well as giving myself more breaks to actually do the things I want to instead of putting it off. Like writing this blog post for example. Usually at this time, I’m prepping my husband’s meals. But I’ve got that down to a science at this point.

May my rearrangement of things break the tediousness of my life. If it works, I’ll let you guys know. If it doesn’t, I’ll probably forget to tell you guys about it.

Huh, break the tediousness. Breaking Tedious. Like Breaking Bad but parent/spouse edition (this is a lot funnier in my head).

Thanks for reading! Peace!

Peace in a Power Outage??

We have reached a year of living on O’ahu! And what better way to commemorate this mile stone than for there to be a power outage!

Most jokes (and blatant exaggeration) aside, we had a power outage last night that affected the entire community I live in. It happened around 9 and we were just beginning to wind down. My husband and I were passing the controller back and forth playing Fortnite (which I play twice as much as he does and he got the control commands down within only two plays whereas I still struggle) and it was actually his turn when the power went off.

The still quiet when everything was off was…interesting. Because here’s the thing you guys, we have the A.C. AND the fan running at night in our room because my husband gets hot easily and he can’t sleep without the sound of the fan going. So for it to be that late and be that quiet was astonishing to me.

I had a ringing in my ears as I searched for our flashlights. Is that the price we pay for the daily sound assault we allow? Or is it normal when it’s hella quiet? These are questions easily answered by Google but I honestly don’t feel like researching that right now.

After locating our flashlights and lighting a candle or two (which I blew out almost immediately because the newest addition to our family, Midnight the cat, decided flames looked interesting), I looked on Facebook to see if anyone else had posted on the community page and sure enough, everybody in our small, isolate community had lost power. My husband, at this time, had gone outside and, in a very him way, confirmed it as well.

Now, my actual reasoning for making this blog post beyond just letting you guys know that we had a power outage is because of the way the quiet in the dark made me feel. I was peacefully tired.

Yes, that sounds weird. But that’s what it was! My husband’s work schedule has been changed up recently and instead of the usual 9 to 5, he now goes in a little later which means coming home later which means he doesn’t usually go to sleep until close to or after midnight. Which means:

Neither do I.

Yes, yes I know I can go to sleep without him and that his sleep schedule doesn’t have to be mine. However, I can’t sleep unless all of my family is asleep or at least in rest mode. Because if they need me, I want to be awake. And yes, I know my husband is a grown ass man and doesn’t actually need me but I know where everything is in the house and it makes things easier (and less messier) if he just asks me where it is.

So basically, no matter how tired I am, I will stay up until he is finally in rest mode.

Now last night, with the power being out and it being so dark and so quiet, I crashed quickly. I remember talking to my husband and he said that he couldn’t sleep. My body felt so heavy, and it was so still around us that I could feel that I could fall asleep easily and I told him so. And then I completely crashed out.

When I had woken up, the sun was streaming through the window, my dog and my cat had at some point jumped onto the bed (which they only do when I am completely knocked out), and my child was curled up next to me and I had no memory of her crawling into bed with us. It was also an hour later than when I usually wake up which was a surprise because I thought for sure my dog would have woken me up to go outside.

I was still tired but also slightly rejuvenated in a way which is weird for me to feel lately because I’m usually just so tired that I need my entire pot of coffee before I can get to that point. Maybe pure quiet and darkness is what I need every now and again. Maybe that’s what people mean by unplug? I don’t know. But it’s interesting enough to try.

Thanks for reading! Peace!

Museums: A Personal Opinion

Like many others, I grew up with commercials on tv telling about a museum’s new exhibit every now and again. In middle school (again like many others I suspect), I became slightly obsessed with Egyptian history and about everything to do with Egypt. Research online showed me that there was Egyptian exhibits at museums like the Smithsonian or the British Museum. The unfortunate fact however is that I am at least $5,000 away from any type of decent sized museum that holds such wonders.

As I got older, I became more interested in my culture’s history. When I was 11, I attended a middle school in the same town as where my parent’s work place which just so happen to hold a tiny historical museum about the town which was super interesting since one of Hawaii’s most famous paniolo (Hawaiian cowboy) Ikua Purdy, was from there. Unfortunately, the small museum closed down and my biggest regret is not begging my parents to take me and my sister beforehand.

Continuing down this timeline to when I was 14, (I swear I will eventually get to my point of this post) I remember my mum driving me to school and I remember a few “official” looking SUVs parked off-road by a bunch of kiawe trees. I say official with quotation marks because they had all had a logo on the front doors. I can’t actually remember what the logo was of but I do remember asking my mum if she knew what they were doing over there and she told me they were digging for Hawaiian artifacts.

Of course, I was confused. I didn’t think there was any where we were living. But that’s because I didn’t know the history of the area at the time- which is another injustice I might cover in a different blog post at some other time- and I wouldn’t really learn until a little bit later.

I asked if they were building a museum near us and she said that she didn’t think so. If anything, they would most likely take it back to the mainland.

Man, oh man my indignation at hearing that.

I didn’t think it was right for it to be taken back to the mainland. It wasn’t from there. It was from here. If people wanted to see it, they could come here and look at it. If we need a museum and a lab- or whatever they use when cleaning and maintain artifacts- it shouldn’t be that hard to find people to finance it since Hawaii was already a tourist destination. It would also provide jobs for people here.

Now, after that moment, it was like something clicked in my brain.

It was like, wait…this has been a thing for forever!

Then started the slow burn of irritation and anger.

Then, of course, I forgot about it once I got distracted by life doing it’s thing.

Until yesterday when a friend and I were coming back from Starbucks and the conversation somehow steered towards it. Now, it’s bugging to be released from my brain.

For years, museums have sponsored exhibitions for archaeologists to find “lost” artifacts of different cultures around the world so they can preserve them or whatever and bring it back to their country so that their people can bask in the artifacts of an exotic land that they most likely will never see. It’s a good intention. I guess.

But I have multiple problems with such institutions in the present day. Not a problem with museums themselves or even with most archaeologists (unless they’re the ones who like to sell the artifacts they were hired to retrieve, those people can suck my toes), but with such a dated thought process that people deserve to see such the physical artifacts in museums even if they are originally from an entirely different country.

Also, we live in a time of innovation and advanced technology! I haven’t done research on this but I’m pretty sure there are at least some (I’m actually hoping on this) that are utilizing such technology to make replicas and/or holograms to replace physical artifacts of a different country origin in there displays. Some might say it’s deception, I say it’s innovation.

Some might say that there is nothing like seeing and being near the physical artifact. I say that if you want to that badly, you should fly to that country and visit their museum that carries it. I know it costs money but at least your visit will be more immersive than just going to the local museum.

Some might say that they have a right to have it in their local museum so that they don’t have to pay more money and be inconvenienced. I say that’s an entitlement attitude and that inconvenience is an unfortunate but important part of life. Also, you’re an asshole.

Again, I am going to come around and say that with the technology we already possess, beyond just searching a photo on the internet, it’s possible to have the same experience of visiting an artifact without having to take it from it’s country.

I know I am being redundant. I just don’t know how else to tell you how exactly I feel about this.

Well, there is my opinion on museums. This was probably one of my longer blog posts and I’m pretty sure at least 80% of you have stopped reading at this point but for those of you that have reached the end, I would like to say major kudos for keeping with me and also that I would love to hear your opinion on this if you have one. I’m down to have a conversation about this. I’m down to hear what is your favorite thing about a museum. I’m down to have a conversation about history in general.

Thanks for reading! Peace!

The morning of January 13, 2018

Also known as the morning I thought I was going to die.

Usually, I’m just overdramatic but that morning, when I received the alert that there was a ballistic missile heading towards us, for at least thirty minutes before they finally released the second alert that it was false, I thought me and my family were going to die.

What’s scary was how easily I had accepted it. I woke up my husband. I put cartoons on for my daughter, not letting her see that I was ready to cry and sat down at my dining table, just frozen.

I had jumped when my phone started ringing. It was my mum. Do you know how your parent will try to act like they’re not crying despite you being able to hear it in their voice? We talked for two minutes, making it the shortest conversation we have ever had. Before she hung up to call other family members to make sure they were safe.

Then my best friend called me. He was doing the same my mum was, calling to make sure people were safe. I could hear his mum in the background, who is like a surrogate mum to me.

And then I continued to sit. And the thought that came through my head was, “At least I’ll die with my family.”

Because guys, here’s the thing: There are no working nuclear or bomb shelters here. A few people might have in their backyard or underneath their house but it costs a lot of money to even get a foundation going.

There is a bunch of old bomb shelters from World War II by the Hickam-Pearl Harbor joint base but they’re not up to code, are not kept stocked, and that’s also a good twenty-thirty minute drive from where I live.

People who had been driving when the alert went out and knew they didn’t have time to get home, abandoned their vehicles and were hiding under roadways, or bridges. One of the more heartbreaking ones was a father trying to get his little girl to go into a manhole with him so they would be safe but she was too scared. She didn’t understand.

These people didn’t get the notification within thirty minutes. Most of them didn’t get it for another hour.

I talk about this, two months later, because this is still a fear many of us live with. Despite the effort put forth by Rep. Tulsi Gabbard to get to the bottom of everything and to let us know that we were safe, a lot of us have lost faith in our Defense System and even in our Hawaii government because they are still no plans for making shelters or even putting out information regarding what to do if next time it’s not a false alarm.

I have a plan to get money (legally!) so that I can start making shelters myself because if there’s a pattern I’ve been noticing lately, we can’t really trust that our government has our safety as top priority.

Thanks for reading this morose blog post! Peace!