Toddler Talk: I CUT MY SPAWN’S HAIR

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).

Anywho!

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 🙂 )

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!

Friday Night Shenanigans!

This past week has been one of the most fun I’ve had since moving to Oahu because of the two friends I have made. I have written about our shopping adventures and since we’ve bonded for two days straight, I felt more comfortable asking them over my apartment.

Yesterday one of them came over (I’ll call her A) in the morning with her son so that the little ones could have a play date and we could relax and talk story. It was great, time flew by so fast. We watched episodes of One Tree Hill (a show I am seriously considering binge-watching despite knowing that my heart is going to break into a million pieces). My other friend (D), I had already texted previously about her coming over that evening since my husband was going to be at a game night somewhere else and I didn’t want to be alone for another Friday night.

What ended up happening was that A and her son ended up staying long into the afternoon so it only made sense to invite them to stay into the evening as well since D was already going to be coming over. We went to the little shoppette near us, got some drinks (small bottles of red wine and beer) and some snacks to eat with the pizza I was going to order as well. A’s husband decided he wanted to have their son for the evening and picked him up so it became a full-on girl’s night.

After my husband left for his game night, the pizza was already on it’s way and we were talking about what movie to watch. A and D both like scary movies, I don’t but I was definitely willing to watch one after having a few drinks in me since I would be more relaxed. Once pizza came, we ended up drinking some wine and I had put Moana on for my little one while we ate. We also talked. A lot. It’s been awhile since I was able to really talk to people in a long time, especially while tipsy because it made everything funnier.

The conversation went through family, family dramas, husbands, being a military spouse, sex, and being pregnant since D is currently trying with her husband to get pregnant. Then it shifted to my house. Mainly, the unfinished living room part of my apartment. The movers came in May and nothing had been put together yet since we had trouble finding the bolts which I finally found a few days ago (I also found tools and put together my little one’s crib a few days ago). We were all a few drinks in so we were relatively tipsy when A and D decided they wanted to help put my living room together.

I didn’t think we would actually do it. But once I had given my little one a bath and she went down for the night, I come back out to find them in the living room moving things around and clearing space so we could walk around when putting stuff together. I tried scolding them since they were my guests but when I’m tipsy, I’m not much of an arguer and generally go with the flow. They were very adamant about doing this with me as well.

We put together the futon couch first. We found tools and the screws only to find out that some of the screws were screwed (hehe) up from the movers putting the bolt part on backwards. Through ingenuity (and a few more sips of beer), D figured out a way to get the bolts off without breaking the screw itself and we were able to put the futon couch together! We celebrated with a cheers and a sip.

After the futon was put together and situated, organizing everything else came easier and quicker. We cleared out the rest of the boxes, throwing stuff I knew we didn’t need away and putting boxes full of what looked like tools and sewing supplies into the laundry room, and putting the emptied boxes off to the side to take outside later. They made room inside my laundry room to put the extra washer and dryer in there along with the giant ice chest we had (which we will one day actually use hopefully). We moved the book case (that thankfully had wheels) across the living room as well.

We had a good time taking the boxes out into the garage because it was midnight and we were trying to be quiet but we kept laughing at trying to be quiet. I was surprised no one called the MP’s on us. However, considering this is Hawaii, I’m sure they’ve seen way worse than three delirious women moving empty boxes outside.

They helped me sweep, organized and clean a good portion of my apartment. I thought I was dreaming seeing everything finished. I realize that I didn’t think it would ever be done. Doing it by myself wouldn’t have been impossible but it would have definitely taken me all day and into the evening. I’m glad I had them. I’m glad they were pushy. I’m glad they like to clean in the middle of the night (I’m more of a morning person). Otherwise, my house wouldn’t look the way it does this fine Saturday and it looks good.

My husband came home while I was mildly scolding them for cleaning my kitchen. They’re guests and my friends and they had already done so much! It was about two in the morning as well so I was super delirious. My husband couldn’t quite believe his eyes when he saw how everything looked. I knew exactly how he felt.

Since it was so late, he took the futon while me and the girls took the bed in the room. We all fit perfectly! It was an amazing Friday night (and highly unexpected)! We didn’t go to sleep until 3 in the morning and ended waking up at 7.30 because my little one got up and started playing youtube videos on the my phone that I left on the floor.

Last friday night was probably the best experience I’ve had since moving to Oahu.

Thanks for reading! Peace!

Friend’s Day! …with babies!

Today, my new friends and I are going to the mall. With the little ones. This should be an adventure. I’m actually pretty excited for this because I haven’t been to the mall that they’re talking about (I’ve heard only legends…and the few news reports when someone fell off a railing), it’s a girl’s day (when you grow up with only male friends, having friends who are girls that actually want to spend time with you and that aren’t mean is amazing), and I get to go shopping.

One of them was talking about leaving her little one with a sitter because he doesn’t do well in malls or shopping centers (we think it might be because of too many people and when they’re in a stroller they can’t see us) but ultimately decided to bring him since we’ll have my little one and hopefully they can distract each other. I had even thought of the same since it would make shopping easier (my little one is currently in her grab-everything-she-sees phase). But if there is one particular thing that I am not comfortable doing (among the many things I’m not comfortable with) it’s leaving my little one with a sitter. And I actually know why that is too.

After I announced I was pregnant on my Facebook, all of a sudden it was like my Facebook feed was filled with news reports and articles of babies passing away while in the care of someone other than their parent (posts babies passing away because of their parents were on there just as much) and thus this fear of leaving my little one with anyone besides family was embedded into me.

So because of that, I took my little one everywhere I go and if she can’t go, then I don’t go. The few exceptions were when my cousin took me out drinking and I left her with my grandparents (after she fell asleep), when I went to my best friend/brother/godfather (one day his title will be as long as Dany’s) of my daughter’s 21st birthday and I left her with my sister for the night, and when I went to the movies that one time with my sister and my little one was with our parents. There were a few others were I had to run errands but she was always with family.

Now, I live on a different island than my family so my safety net of people who I trust and who are willing to watch my little one is gone. I’ve made friends with other mums who have watched each other’s kids and I would like to ask one of them if they could watch her for an hour to get her used to other people watching her. My husband has even found a couple willing to watch her if he and I ever want to go on a date night (imagine my shock that my homebody hubby actually wants to go out). But that little tingle in the pit of my stomach, that worry, that guilt, keeps me from wanting to.

As my mum says, I’ll have to cut the apron strings at some point. I just want to make the right choice you know?

Thanks for reading! Peace!

The Bittersweet Parts of Life

I think I’ll do this in list form in order of when it hits my mind. It’s hard to rank bittersweet things in the first place.

1. Watching my baby grow- She is my tiny human but every day she’s getting bigger and one day she won’t really need me and while I will welcome a good uninterrupted night’s sleep eventually, it’s just so bittersweet watching her getting older (she’s only a toddler so I will have a loooooong time to feel this).

2. Reaching the end of a really good book (series)- Harry Potter was the first book series I read and the first movie series I really got into. Actually it was the only series I ever got super into that I still like. When I finished reading the last book, it hit me that that was the end. I cried bittersweet tears.

3. Giving birth- It was super painful but it was an end and a start. I was happy that I would be able to finally meet my child after 10 months of growing her. I was sad because there would be no more moving sensations inside me and I wouldn’t be able to protect her the same way. It was super bittersweet.

4. Vacations- It’s always nice to take a vacation from work and regular mundane life for a bit. Then it ends and you have to go back to regular mundane life (which, depending on the vacation, isn’t always so bad). But it’s still bittersweet.

And that’s the end of this super short list. There are tons of other bittersweet moments and parts of life. I would like to hear of other people’s bittersweet moments and experiences if you would like to share!

Thanks for reading! Peace!

Coffee Addict Much?

Pretty much anybody that knows me personally knows that I really love my coffee in the morning. If my little one isn’t awake before me (a rare and lovely event), brewing coffee is the first thing I do. Do I love it for the taste? Yes. I’m a no creamer type of girl unless I get it from the gas station. Do I love it because it makes me feel less dead? Definitely! Am I an addict when it comes to coffee? Probably.

I mostly joke about being addicted to coffee but I can’t deny that when I don’t have it for a few days straight, I start going through withdrawals. When I worked at Starbucks, we all would go through a coffee cleanse when we were having to put more shots of espresso into our already pretty caffeinated drinks. Like any addict will tell you, withdrawals suck (but I suspect that coffee withdrawals are not as intense).

Usually what happens first with me when I start my coffee cleanse is that my entire body feels tired, heavy. I can actually feel the bags under my eyes weighing down my face.There is something satisfyingly raw about that sensation that I never mind pushing through it (sounds odd I know). At least during the cleanse, I didn’t have trouble falling asleep at night (or as soon as I had gotten home).

The worst part of it (for me) are the tension headaches. They always started at the point where my skull meets my neck and radiated out. Sometimes they start by my temple making me wince or pull a face if it starts all of a sudden. I never took (and still don’t) any type of pain reliever because I used to be very stubborn about getting through the pain on my own (now it’s just because I wait until it gets really bad). The headaches last for only a few days during the cleanse and decrease in intensity over that time period. I usually didn’t notice when they stopped because no matter how bad a headache was, I still had to work.

Now the worst part of a cleanse for other people is the irritability that hit around the middle of it. Working in customer service was already a pain in the butt, a slowly decaffeinating me made it feel worse so I always had to try and keep it in check while at work. At home however, well, me and my sister would argue far more. My mum would call me a grumpy cat while I sat there with, you guessed it, a grumpy look on my face. Looking back on it, it was nice (annoying back then) to have a family that didn’t take me seriously during that time.

I would go on the coffee cleanse for about a month or so during slow season so that when busy season (summer, ending of fall, and winter) hit, my tolerance for caffeine was super low. I was able to drink coffee and get that amazing burst of energy that allowed me to do several things at once as well as deal with unruly customers with a large smile on my face.

Nowadays, the thought of going on a coffee cleanse is not welcomed. I most likely need to go on one since I’ve been drinking coffee (at least four mugs full) every morning since I stopped breastfeeding but I dread it. I ran out of coffee and couldn’t buy more for three days and all the withdrawal symptoms hit at once and oh lord almighty it sucked.

That’s actually more of a reason to go on a coffee cleanse for a while isn’t it?

Maybe I should start switching to tea for an energy boost. I will let you know if I do decide to make a switch and what it feels like.

Thanks for reading! Peace!

A Little Rain Never Hurt

That is the phrase that goes through my head every time it starts to drizzle whenever I am outside with my little one. It’s like a reassurance that being caught in the beginning stages of a rainy day isn’t going to harm me or her. We’re not going to catch a cold from being caught in a drizzle of rain for about ten minutes. It’s something I think pretty much every day because contrary to popular opinion, parts of Hawaii rain quite a bit.

I say popular opinion, but really its more of a common complaint customers would give me when I used to work at Starbucks.

I can’t believe it’s raining! Said with just a bit of outrage that the clouds dare leak during their vacation.

We came here to escape the rain! Despite the fact that they’re just, you know, complaining, my smart ass brain couldn’t help but think that the only place one could possibly escape rain is the desert (or my home of Kawaihae where it only rains four times a year, or a whole week if we were lucky).

My personal favorite is: It’s not supposed to rain in Hawaii! 

Now that one has been said very often and I really feel like that it’s one of those sentences that weren’t completely formed in the mind before being blurted out of the mouth. And it makes me giggle inside because, mother nature is going to do whatever she pleases, whenever she pleases.

I get it that rain can put a damper on plans because a lot of the fun things to do in the islands, like hiking or zip-lining, would have to be put on the back burner since it’s relatively unsafe to do such things in the rain. Plus, not everyone enjoys being wet.

I remember enjoying the rain when I was little. Standing outside in it or playing tag with my sister or the other kids on the street when the summer rain started and just letting it soak our clothes to our skin. The only time we would be forced to go in is when it started dumping buckets or if the wind picked up while it rained. I remember doing this all the way into high school. Even after I had gotten over my pneumonia (which was actually caused by a misdiagnosis, but not from standing in the rain for too long) I liked to stand in the open when it rained at school (I was a weirdo in high school though).

I don’t know when it started but, for a while, I hid away when it rained. Stayed in the house. Stayed dry. Stayed warm. I don’t know why that started. Do we, as we become adults, become more wary of rain and other elements that didn’t bother us as much as kids? Does heat bother us more or is it really getting that hot? Is it really that cold or is our skin more susceptible to it? Is everything just that sucky or is it the negativity of our own minds that makes everything that was once simple and good into something sucky?

I think these questions will linger for a while. I’m not sure if I want them to be answered. I just know that the rain doesn’t bother my little one. She just looks up at the sky for a second and then looks straight again while I push her stroller along, looping up and around back home instead of to the park. She reminds me of a time when I was young and not bothered by the rain.

Thanks for reading! Peace!

Dealing with the Unexpected

This morning as I’m finishing up breakfast, my husband walks in after his morning workout looking a little more worn than usual. I ask him if he died in the workout this morning. He was quiet for a few moments before telling me that when he walked out of the gym, he saw his wallet on the ground by the car…empty of $200.

The first thing out of my mouth? “Time to eat.”

He’s showering first though.

I have found that I often react differently than people expect me to. Remembering how his head was hanging when he walked in, I realized that he expected me to react poorly to the news. Yes, it really sucks that we are now short $200 that was supposed to help with the gas and other miscellaneous stuff so that we didn’t have to touch what we have left in our account. But me freaking out isn’t going to make it magically reappear. 

Plus my husband is already going to be punishing himself for it. He’s going to be thinking about all the what ifs throughout the day. What if I had double checked to make sure my wallet was in the car/my pocket? How did it fall out of the car? What if I had double checked when I got into the gym? And so on.

Me? My thought process is more along the lines of, Who would just take the cash and not the whole wallet? Which would have doubly sucked if they had because my husband’s life is in that wallet. Now I could be stressing about how we’re going to make ends meet for the next week or so, and if it was me a year ago, I probably would be.

I have learned how to keep myself from spiraling whenever something unexpected happens that throws a wrench into my family life. Usually I start talking aloud to keep myself distracted long enough so that I can actually deal with the problem head-on rather than just stress about it for days. Then I start thinking, sometimes writing out, a solution. Kind of like a math equation where you solve for x.

Sometimes there’s no solution for a problem. Like recovering the money. That’s a ‘No Can’ situation. What I can do though is rebudget the double digit number we have left in our account and stretch it. Anything to make it work and survive.

Thanks for Reading! Peace!

Choosing my battles

When I was younger my mum would constantly tell me to “pick my battles” and I had no idea what she was talking about until I hit adulthood. I realized she was talking about me and my sister fighting and that she wanted me to give in because my sister is more hellish to deal with whenever we fought (not much different now but I still don’t back down from her). Now that I’m a mum of a toddler I am hearing those words playing in my head on repeat.

There are things I don’t let my little one get away that others have told me I should give a rest every now and again. Like, telling her to get off the table. However, I’m going to keep on her about climbing onto the table and various other high objects because so far she has demonstrated that my clumsy gene is stronger than her daddy’s graceful gene.

The battles I have chosen not to fight consistently are usually not dangerous for her to be doing, just really messy. Like when she decides she wants to take all of her clothes out of the drawers and throw them on the ground. Or when she goes into the desk and throws all the papers on the floor-which she’ll do whenever I’m cooking.

If those of you are wondering what having a toddler, not a baby, is like, a lot of it is making sure the toddler doesn’t bang themselves up too bad and cleaning up after them. I am actually pretty confident in that because of my own toddler. Then again, that could just be my toddler. My toddler is the Tasmanian Devil honestly.

What’s funny is that in choosing my battles with my toddler, which are usually the least exhausting ones, I’ve actually been better about picking my battles with other people and with life in general. Like is it worth it to argue my point across with some people who are being ignorant? My pride has definitely been put in check more than once because of this life lesson. At least I think so.

Thanks for reading! Peace!

My Weekend

Even though I say this is a daily blog, I have a hard time thinking of something to write, especially on a weekend. This past weekend was no different but it was also a little bit more busier. We didn’t leave the house except for when I went to the little convenience store to restock on bread and house hold fresheners since I spent the whole weekend cleaning.

Being a house wife many people would assume that the house should be perfectly clean during the week. However, I am also a stay at home mother of a toddler. I spend much of week days taking my toddler to the park or on play dates after breakfast so she can tire herself out so that after lunch, she can take an hour to two hour nap. During that nap time I’ll wash dishes, sweep and mop. If it’s a Wednesday, then laundry gets added onto the list of stuff I do that day. That alone is not enough to keep the house perfectly clean though. Trying to clean while my little one is awake is not a great option because she tries to “help.”

Weekends are when I can vacuum and do a deep clean. Reason being? My husband is usually off on weekends and will more or less watch our little one while I clean. This past weekend was an even deeper clean than usual (which I’m still not finished doing) since I leave to visit with my parents tomorrow with the little one (husband can’t get off work). We’ll be gone an entire week (including father’s day weekend because of plane ticket prices) and the last thing I want to have on my mind is the state of my home.

I know I’m not the only one who feels like this. It’s an uneasy feeling leaving the house without it completely clean. Bugs can accumulate. Being gone a week means a week the house will go without being swept and mopped every day.

Now some may ask, why doesn’t the husband clean while I’m gone? Well, because he won’t. I’m going to leave it at that because then this post will become an entirely different one.

It’s amazing the stuff I discovered this past weekend while cleaning. I found a majority tool heads for the drill my husband has that we couldn’t find for the longest while. I also discovered my husband has far more clothes than I do (go figure) so about three loads of laundry was dedicated to just his stuff. We found random chargers that we thought were lost, as well as a whole bunch of coins that we can exchange for cash.

That was my insignificant weekend but my mind will soon be at ease about leaving.

Thanks for reading! Peace!

Dream June 8, 2017

Dreams are a huge part of my life. I believe that dreams are a good connection to the other side where we go once we pass on. It’s one of the few things in this life I am certain of. I have had multiple dream visits from my papa who passed when I was twelve. When I was pregnant with my little one, I had a dream visit from multiple relatives that I haven’t been able to meet but saw pictures of. The siblings I would have had, the ones my mum was unable to carry to term were there as well and I watched them grow from babies to the age they would have been if they had been born in this world.

Separating regular dreams from the ones with a message from the other side isn’t too hard. The ones with a message are usually much more vivid and are the last ones before I wake up. Regular dreams that I am able to remember in detail usually answer questions that I’m continuously asking myself or makes me confront fears I’m not realizing I’m avoiding.

With that introduction out of the way, I’m going to start writing my dreams down more and what I interpret them to mean because why not? It’s my blog. It won’t be every day though because not all my dreams are worth sharing or they’re too personal. The dream I had last night though, is definitely worth sharing.

It starts off with this mother of two, a young boy around nine or ten and a baby girl still breastfeeding who still needs to be carried, and her daily routine. She walks across the opening of a rock wall, goes to a well next to a pavilion and gathers water and other sustenance for her children. There is no night in my dream as it suddenly turns to the next day.

She is walking across the opening again, her face calm, her body calm, but anxiety and worry and sense of hurry is radiating off her. That and an absolute determination in her choice. Then as she crosses, the boy is grabbed from behind by a man who is angry and looks it. The mother, still calm despite the fact that I can see she is also angry as well as scared for her son who is confused at what is happening. She ignores the man, and in that exchange I see their entire relationship.

He was her husband and he was abusive. He was also ignorant. The boy has mental illness (I can’t be sure what it is) and the man believed that the boy will grow up fine as long as he kept beating him daily whenever the boy did something wrong. The son is conflicted because his father is a man and he has grown up being taught that men were superior to women and that should always be listened to no matter what a mother may say.

Seeing the conflict in her son’s eyes the mother calmly tells him, “When you are ready, you can cross the wall.”

Then she turns and walks away, the baby girl still cradled in her arms, close to her chest. The man is infuriated that his wife dare leaves him. This time when she had crossed the wall, she had decided that she was not going back to him or to the other side. I’m not sure why, but the man cannot follow her.

While the man is distracted by his anger and yelling after the mother, the boy thinks about what his life will be like and as he watches the figure of his mother slowly getting farther away, fear begins building in him. The man had let go of his arm and the boy ran across the wall after his mother who turned as soon as he crossed. The man is beyond angry but he cannot cross so he just curses them.

Other women who had crossed the wall and stayed beyond it, away from their husbands, welcome the mother and her children.

And that was the end of that dream. One of the few dreams I’ve had that end in a happy ending or at least end on it’s own instead of by me waking up.

Thanks for reading! Peace!