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06.27.2007 "The Sequence of Questions"
I've noticed (from personal experience) that there seems to be a certain sequence of questions as your life changes and develops....

When you're single and living alone people ask, "When are you going to get a boy/girlfriend?"

When you have a boy/girlfriend people ask, "When are you going to move in together?"

When you're living with your partner people ask, "When are you getting married?"

As soon as you're married people ask, "When are you having kids?"

Shortly after having your first child people ask, "When are you having your second child?"

Robin and I did things a little differently than the norm.  We had our first child and we're not legally married.  That still messes with people's minds, believe it or not.  They just don't understand WHY we're not married.  Oh well.  I've written about that exact topic in a previous entry but am too tired to find and reference it.  Anyway.  But now, even though our daughter is only 4 months old (and I'm still physically healing, FYI), many, many, far too many people are inquiring about the second child's arrival.  Don't hold your breaths, people.  Sometimes couples only want one child.  What a concept, huh?

It's gotten to the point where we're pretty tired of it.  And then we were talking about it and wondering: at what point do people stop asking about your procreation plans?  After you've had your third child, or your sixth child?  After you've had half a dozen kids do people start asking you, "When are you having your seventh child?"  OMG.  When does it end?

06.25.2007 "The Little Boy Syndrome"
I think it's quite funny: I can have my little baby girl decked out from head to toe in pink, and the majority of strangers who comment on her assume that she's a boy.  They'll ask things like, "How old is he?" or say, "Oh, look at this little fella here!"  I had one encounter where an elderly Asian lady actually challenged me on the sex of my child ("No!  But she looks like a boy!").  Whatever, Grandma.  Too funny.  Some people ask me if I'm going to give Sloane earrings to show that she's a girl.  No way.  I'll let Sloane decide for herself if she wants any body piercings.  As I said, I'm not too concerned about her developing any kind of complex.  I just think it's amusing at this point.

And that brings me to today.  I was out with Sloane and my mother today.  We were walking through Kids' Alley in Lonsdale Quay and we saw two adorable, little Chinese boys sharing some snacks by the ball room.  I commented to my mother how cute they were.  She nodded then whispered back, "Check out the toes."  I looked down.  The boy with the bare feet had bright, red nail polish on all 10 toes.  Hilarious.  Loved it.  Boy, girl, earrings, nail polish.  It's all good.

06.24.2007 "Supporting the Cambie Corridor"
For our Family Day today, the three of us took a stroll down the Cambie corridor.  It was a walk down memory lane (I had lived there for 8 years and Robin had even stayed with me for one summer in my apartment) and we also wanted to support some of the local businesses that were being hit hard by the construction interruptions.

I think Robin got a bit tired of my running commentary to Sloane (e.g. "This is where Mommy used to get her second-hand books!  And this is where Mommy used to have soup and read the Georgia Straight!  And this is where Mommy used to watch Flamenco dancing!  And this is where Mommy used to rent movies!" etc).  It was definitely weird to be on a formerly busy traffic artery and barely see or hear many cars on the road.  There was almost a hush in the air as we walked between the metal fences.  And it was a bit depressing to see all the "For Lease" signs in the dusty windows.  Many of the spaces were now shells of what used to be drycleaners, coffee houses and middle-eastern restaurants.  Sigh.

The late afternoon downpour cut our walk a bit short.  When we got back to the car we realized the only businesses we had supported on our walk were Starbucks and Capers.  Not exactly the small guys.  Oh well.  Next time (assuming there are some small businesses still there....)

06.23.2007 "My Own Phillip K. Dick Character"
Often when I am breastfeeding Sloane, Robin will walk in and comment about our little Quato.  Not exactly a very flattering nickname when you see the images.  But I know what he means.  When she was younger and fed way more frequently, I definitely felt like I had another being attached to me.  Oh, my Sweetpea.  Good thing you don't look like the real Quato.

06.21.2007 "Haagen-Dazs Hair"
Thursday evening, we go on a family walk down to the corner store.  Our mission: to mail a letter and buy some ice cream treats for the walk back.  It starts to spit rain and we run into our old next-door neighbours.  Suddenly the rain stops.  They meet Sloane and we exchange numbers, and we part with promises to call and visit in the near future.  As we had back to the house the rain starts up again.  Mmmmm, that ice cream was delicious.

We turn around the corner of our house.  Robin laughs as he mocks me (for some reason that I can't recall now) and I slap his ass for being cheeky (no pun intended).  He stops and spins around and plants a kiss on my forehead.  "Pumpkin," he looks at me puzzled, "how did you get ice cream in your hair?"  I look up and around through my raindrop-streaked glasses but can't see a thing.  Robin points and indicates that it's above my temple.  It must have been in my hair the whole time I was talking to our neighbours.  Suddenly I feel quite the mess.

"Mmmm, your hair smells like ice cream," Robin smiles.  That's not so bad.  Not a bad thing at all.

06.17.2007 "A New Kind of Father's Day"
Side note: to view Robin's Father's Day gift from Sloane, please follow this link. She has such a way with words and a knack for rhyming couplets. Very sweet.

So, Father's Day this year was a bit different for a couple of reasons. First of all, I now have a spouse who is a father. How exciting. But he wasn't around to celebrate since he went on his annual company fishing trip. So the main reason that this year was a bit different from previous ones was a family tradition that has been pretty much the same for 35 years was significantly altered this time. Or enhanced is more like it.

Every year since I can remember, my family (mother, brother, myself) goes to the same place for Father's Day. We go to Forest Lawn Cemetery in Burnaby to pay our respects. First for my father, then a couple of years later my grandfather was added to the resting place, then my grandmother. We go every Father's Day in June, and used to go at Christmas time as well. It's a ritual that has evolved somewhat over time but it's always been just the three of us.

When I was really young it was quite a somber affair. No one really spoke during the trip. I remember staring out the car window at all the pretty flowers and rolling green landscapes but I sensed a heaviness in the air. And my brother later confessed that he used to be scared that the big entrance gates would close early and lock us in.  Oh, the minds of children.  We always buy flowers from the same florist. Their prices are very reasonable (who wants to rip-off people in mourning?) and I'm sure the place has changed hands many times over since we first started going.

After we park the car, my brother is always the one who can locate the headstones. We all know the general vicinity but it's a bit harder than you might think, locating your loved ones' names amongst a sea of identical metal plates that are in the ground. We'll all look, but he's the one who finds them in the end. When we were younger my mother would always have to tell us to bow 3 times (a Chinese sign of respect) for each relative. I always hated doing this as a child. I felt silly. And then as we got older, we just stopped doing it and Mom stopped nagging us. After placing the flowers in their appropriate places, my brother and I would head back to the car while my mom ran the paper and plastic wrappings down to the garbage can. The image of her walking back to the car, her eyes maybe squinting in the sun or hand held up to shield her from the rain while she took one last look in the direction of her buried family - it's an image I'll always have. The clothes and hair may have changed over time, but the figure of my mother and backdrop and location remain fixed in my memory.

As teenagers, we started incorporating lunch into the ritual. We'd go to Forest Lawn then go out to eat. And being older, there were more things to talk about. So the car ride wasn't so quiet anymore. We'd chat on the way up and then continue our conversation over clubhouse or beef dip sandwiches at Knight & Day afterwards. It became a more social event, less dismal. I also remember my mother calling me after I had moved out of the house and asking if it was ok if we only went once a year in June and skipped the Christmas visits going forward. I was totally fine with it. It was time to move on, she said. Absolutely. It had been about 25 years at that point, but this small adjustment was still a big step for her healing. I had to smile. And I think when I moved to Burnaby a few years ago, that was the first time we went in separate cars. Since the cemetery is so close to my house, I just met my mother and brother there.

And that brings us to this year. For the first time ever we had two people join us on our annual family trek. My brother's fiancée came as did my daughter. After brushing off the headstones (removing some weeds and grass) and planting the flowers, we were mostly occupied with Sloane. Is she smiling? Is she cold? Oh, she's laughing. How cute! Then we all headed back to my house where we got take-out for lunch and played with the baby. We ate, talked, told stories, got details on the upcoming wedding, took pictures, took turns feeding Sloane with a bottle, watched Baby Einstein. Many laughs and lively conversation. Not quiet and depressing at all.

And I can't help but wonder: I plan to bring Sloane with me every year to Forest Lawn as long as I'm alive and able, but will she continue to go on her own when I'm not there, to pay respects to people whom she's never met? Will she make it her own tradition or will the ritual end when my mother, brother and myself are no longer around? I think it would be magical if she continued to do the annual journey, going to the same florist, visiting the same location, paying respects to people who only exist as names on the ground but with whom she shares an important genetic line, and maybe sharing stories with her own family that I've passed down to her over the years. In my mind I see a young woman standing where I've stood many times in the past, her footprints overlapping with mine which have since faded into the grass, while the wind ruffles the flowers that she holds in her hands. I wonder and I hope.

06.15.2007 "Give Yourself a Hand"
Auntie Trevor accompanied me and Sloane out to Baby's World to pick up our new stroller.  Since he loves babies and shopping, I knew he'd love to come along.  While we waited for the stroller to be assembled, we walked around admiring the merchandise (what hip furniture and stylish clothing) and testing out the infant beds (I could have taken a nap in the showroom).  We took a pit-stop at the rocking chair display and enjoyed some complimentary bottled water.

We noticed these stuffed hands (for lack of better description).  They were like stuffed animals but quite heavy and they were replicas of hands (one left, one right).  The tag said they could be used to comfort your baby during sleeptime.  You would drape these hands or wrap them around your baby so he/she had the sensation of being held.  A cool idea, yet kind of bizarre.  I told Miss Trevor that he should buy them so he could give himself a hand-job.  His hearty, bellowing laugh could be heard all through the aisles.  And Sloane just looked at us like we were crazy.  Oh, good times.

06.14.2007 "Every Day Should Be Mother's Day"
Tonight I cashed in my belated mother's day gift - a trip to the spa.   Robin took Sloane to his parents' house and I indulged in a hot-stone back massage (how can 45 minutes feel like 5 minutes?!!) and a pedicure (my toenails and cuticles are presentable again, all decked out in "Afghan Nightie Pink" or whatever the colour was called). O-M-G.  I feel so amazing.

Why can't every day be like this....?

06.12.2007 "Baby Einstein Saved Our Marriage"
That's what Steve jokingly told me when he lent us the Baby Beethoven DVD recently.  He enthusiastically endorsed the magic of these 20-minute babysitters (or however long your child's attention span is that day).  He likened them to "crack for babies."  So I loaded it up in the DVD player and set Sloane down.  She was hooked.  She now had a habit, and I was her supplier.

He also joked that he wouldn't be surprised if reports came out warning us of the dangers of these Baby Einstein images, like maybe they cause seizures.  We observed that every generation seems to find something wrong or inappropriate about the previous generation's child-rearing practices.  For example, our mothers all smoked and drank when we were in utero.  Now I can't wash my hands in a restaurant without reading a sign telling me not to mix alcohol with a pregnant belly.  We were brought home from the hospital in our mothers' arms while our fathers drove the car.  Now Ms. Spears makes headline news and faces criminal charges for not using a carseat.  I remember not having to wear a seatbelt until I was about 7 years old when it became mandatory by law.  Now all children under the age of 9 years old or 4-foot 9-inches must be in a booster seat.  The list goes on.

And then what did I stumble upon the other day: a news-type show featuring some kind of 'expert' warning me about the dangers of Baby Einstein visuals and how they are not beneficial at all.  Apparently the images are too artificial in their movement and the whole editing process promotes ADD and the flashing lights are not good for small children's eyes.  I watched about 5 minutes of the report then decided to change the channel.  Whatever.  Sloane loves to watch the lighting contrasts and moving screens.  And really, all it really is is footage of a bunch of toys and other children moving around.  She has the same reaction watching me or gazing out the living room window (birds flying by, trees swaying in the breeze) or staring out the skytrain window (moving landscape).  She's transfixed.

I think I'll choose to ignore this news report.  I turned out fine and I was exposed to nicotine and alcohol when I was waiting to be born, and I didn't have an infant carseat or even a seatbelt for my toddler years.  So, what damage can a little bit of TV do at Sloane's age?  It's not like I'm going to feed her a Tequila Sunrise and force her to smoke a Marlboro and hold her on my lap while I drive around the city.  No, God forbid, I'm just going to let her watch some moving images of stuffed animals and puppets with classical music playing in the background.  Oooh, so dangerous.

06.09.2007 "I Know What I Want To Be When I Grow Up"
The family was watching Nanalan recently.  It's only the coolest kids' show EVER.  Sloane is still too young for it but I've been watching it for years and I introduced Robin to it when we started living together, and I was delighted to discover that Miss Trevor watched it too.  But I digress.

The point to all this: I was watching the credits and I saw the job title "Puppet Wrangler."  I don't even have to Google it to find out what it means because it already sounds so incredibly, wickedly awesome.  I know now what I want to be when I grow up.

06.07.2007 "The Sweetest Thing"
When Sloane first started to smile a few weeks ago, it was a much-welcomed milestone.  Suddenly my baby daughter wasn't just this little grub who alternated between laying there with unfocused eyes and snapping at my chest like one of those "Hungry-Hungry-Hippos."  No, now she was full of warm, delicious smiles from the early hours of the morning until bedtime.  If I wasn't in love before, I definitely was now.  Hooked like crack.

And this week when we were visiting my mom, Sloane did something new.  She giggled, genuine laughter.  Not just once, but about 6 times in a row.  As my mom held her, Sloane seemed to enjoy her own sounds and escalated the giggle-fest.  My mother and I first stared at each other in disbelief but then we howled with excitement and delight.  The sounds were so sweet I swear my heart stopped.  I was dead in my tracks.  What amazing, wonderful sounds.  I grabbed the camera to take a movie but by then it was too late.  The giggles turned back to gurgles.

I know I won't be one of those parents who feels compelled to write and brag about every milestone.  But this milestone was special.  For a few brief seconds while I watched and heard my daughter express her happiness, I felt weightless.  I had fallen in love all over again.

06.06.2007 "You Sound Hot - What Do You Look Like?"
The telephone has always intrigued me.  Really.  You might think I'm a technically-challenged weirdo but honestly I've always thought it was really cool to be able to hear people's voices through a little household device.  I guess I really started to appreciate the magical quality of the phone as a teenager when I would have late-night conversation marathons with my friends.  When it's 3am and you feel like the rest of the world is asleep, and there you are connected to your BFF by some cables and wires but you've never felt closer.  I find it comforting and soothing to hear those familiar voices in my ear, in my head.

I found it intriguing when I worked at Motorola and would talk on the phone to co-workers in England, Ireland, and the US of course.  I would have full-on work relationships with them, only communicating via e-mail and the telephone, but I would have no idea what they looked like.  I would try to imagine their physical appearances, and if I ended up meeting them eventually I was always surprised that they weren't what I imagined them to be.

And lately I've been seeing lots of ads on TV for those Phone Chat "Party" Lines.  You know the commercials with beautiful, buxom ladies coaxing  you to pick up the phone and connect with them (for only $3.50/minute for the first 10 minutes) because they're home bored and want to meet other interesting people like you.  I laugh and roll my eyes.  Yes, as if all the female callers look like that.  They're not home bored - they're out hanging around with the other hot people because that's what interesting, attractive people do on a Friday evening.

And how can I forget JJ's story about the sales call she recently took.  The customer was trying to get a good deal on the software by flirting with her and telling her that she sounded hot.  Her deadpan response: I'm about 300 lbs, but I'm trying to lose weight.  His response:  silence.  Awkward.  I love that story.

I understand that many people use webcams to communicate.  It's awesome that we have that technology, especially for people who live far away from loved ones (or for phone sex reasons).  But for every day conversations with my friends, I'm content with just an ordinary phone.  I enjoy the familiar voice in my ear as I picture Ivan running around the movie set, or Peter walking down a hot sidewalk in Taiwan, or Farshad driving in his car in between his million activities that he's got going on.  No matter what we're doing or where we are, we're all connected.  Just a phone call away.

06.05.2007 "Only Mommy Is Allowed To Talk Like That"
At our old office space in Yaletown, JJ shared an office with her manager and another co-worker.  Now you have to realize that actual offices with walls were a privilege in that open-spaced area.  We nicknamed that office the F-bomb office because they were able to shut the doors and throw down the F-bomb like it was confetti.  Awesome.  They'd curse about customers, co-workers, spouses, everyone.  I miss that.

And it got me thinking.  I swear quite a bit.  I mean, I'm not a trucker-mouth, but I say my fair share of R-rated language.  It just seems natural in my everyday conversation (depending on my audience, of course).  I'll often punctuate a point with the F-bomb (but without sounding angry).  And when I talk with Miss Trevor on the phone, whoo - watch out.  Then it's full on sex smut talk.  Again, it just feels natural (and it makes us laugh of course).  And at home we watch a lot of shows on Showcase and Movie Central like "Entourage", and you guessed it - more swearing and cussing.  None of that bleeped shit.

However, we now have a small child in the household.  Granted, she can't understand anything yet.  But eventually she will.  And she'll try to mimic us too, I'm sure.  What on earth are we going to do?  It's going to be fucking hell trying to monitor and police ourselves.  Oops, I mean, it'll be a right kafuffle trying to speak cleanly in front of our young child....

06.03.2007 "The Patrick Swayze Conversation"
Remember that scene in the movie "Ghost" where Patrick Swayze's dead character is trying to convince his widowed wife (using Whoopi as the medium) that he really can communicate and he is who he says he is?  He uses the term "Ditto", because he would never say "I love you."  And only his wife would know such an intimate detail.

Anyway.  I was watching a similar scene from another (less-famous) movie when I turned to Robin and posed the question: if you were in someone else's body or something and you were trying to convince me it was you, what would you say?  To be honest, I can't remember his answer.  How lame am I.  But it made me laugh and I would know for sure that it was my Robin.  And what would I say to convince him it was me?  Hmmmm, something private and intimate I suppose.  I guess I would talk about our second official date, when we watched "Shallow Hal" on the VCR and he complained that the video heads were squeaking.  But when the movie was over I pointed out that the noises continued, and after some investigation we discovered it was some crickets behind the TV (live fish food that had escaped).  Oh dear.  I just realized I've said too much now, and I can't use this example if I'm ever in that Patrick Swayze situation.  Oh well.  I'll have to think of something else now.

But think about it.  What would you say to your loved one if you found yourself in such a situation?

05.31.2007 "Good Eye, Daddy!"
Robin, Sloane and I were shopping at Metrotown tonight.  As we were headed to RW & Co, Robin suddenly pushed the stroller to the left, almost cutting me off.  I looked up ahead, trying to figure out what would make him maneuver like that, and then I saw it: a folded up 20-dollar bill on the floor.  Good eye.  We bought some booster juices and we didn't feel guilty because we didn't see anyone in the area patting down their pockets or rummaging through their purse (you know, like they were looking for some lost money).  I can't remember the last time I found $20.

05.29.2007 "Swing Time"
Here is another entry which is inspired by Ashley who was inspired by UNphotographable....

This is a picture I did not take of myself and my mother on the swing-set as we swing in unison, stretching and folding our legs. We are supported by the canvas chairs and we grip the chains with our hands and our feet dangle above the fine gravel.  We are in the park near my mother's home, shielded from the afternoon sun by a cluster of trees, and Sloane is asleep nearby in her stroller.  We talk and laugh and I notice that we are both dressed in similar youthful outfits (sandals, t-shirts and capri pants) and for a moment I am lost in time, we are ageless, and I feel like I am a child again enjoying a sunny day at the park with my mommy....

05.28.2007 "Bjork And Her Teletubby Bjork-chestra"
Last week I went to see Bjork perform at the Deer Lake Center just down the street from me.  I left Sloane with Robin and Trevor picked me up to whisk me away to the open-air concert.  I'm so glad I got to see Bjork.  She's been in the music scene for years and I figured she won't be coming back to Burnaby for awhile.

When she burst on to stage she had the presence of a charging elephant, all 4-feet and 11-inches of her.  With her shiny dress, textured leggings and macrame headdress, she belted out her hits with enough energy to light up a city block.  We noticed her band (how could you not?) - they were dressed in these Teletubby-esque outfits with flags strapped to their backs.  And wherever she ran on the stage, they followed.  Trevor nicknamed them the "Bjork-chestra."  It was all quite the sight.

As the sun began to set and the music continued to rise up into the sky, I danced and sang and I could feel myself floating weightless into the night.  Maybe it was the fresh air, or the energetic crowd, or the scented combination of Mary Jane and patchouli.  Whatever it was, I didn't have a care in the world and felt like I could fly.  An amazing concert experience.  Most definitely.

05.27.2007 "1 Luftballon"
Robin and I had a great night out last night.  We attended Paige and Norman's wedding reception at Seasons In the Park.  We were able to enjoy some wonderful food and I was able to laugh and catch-up with some old Motorola colleagues.  We were so relaxed because little Sloane was being well taken care of (i.e. spoiled) by her grandmother.  And I can't tell you how nice it was to dress-up (Fancy skirt!  Nice jewelry!).  What a change from my weekday lounge outfits.

Our table faced north and our view was spectacular, overlooking downtown Vancouver and facing into the mountains.  Beautiful and impressive.  As twilight set in the twinkling lights of the city looked amazing.  I was enjoying the ahi tuna and the laugh-filled table-talk when I stole a glance outside the window to my right and something caught my eye.  It was a red balloon, so tiny in the distance, but unmistakable as it slowly rose above the rooftops.  I had to pause and watch its ascent to wherever it had to go.  It was a private moment in a room full of activity.  For those few seconds I felt special for seeing this sight, like it was only meant for me to see.  And it made me smile.

05.22.2007 "Another Manny In Town"
Auntie Trevor has proved to be quite the manny, maybe enough to give Uncle Piers a run for this money.  No, no - I'm just kidding on that last comment.  It's not a competition.  But yesterday at brunch at Wazubee, Sloane fell asleep in Trevor's arms.  AND, she was in the standing up position.  Very relaxed, comfortable, and adorable of course.  Again, I wish I had a picture of that....

05.21.2007 "Haircut 100"
I was able to get my hair cut on the weekend.  What a glorious event!  There's nothing like a trip to the salon to make a person (especially a new mother) feel like a hundred bucks again (you fellow 80's children will get that title reference).  I got all dressed up in my sari-sweater and made my way to downtown.  I've been seeing Billy for my hair maintenance for about 12 years now.  I've followed him from suburban North Vancouver to granola Commercial Drive and now to trendy Yaletown.

When I saw him through the window, decked out in a fitted, white shirt, black tie, grey cigarette pants and Prada-esque shoes and surrounded by tall, skinny women with heavy black eyeliner, well - suddenly I felt a bit out-of-place, a bit unrefined.  I seemed better dressed for the Drive.  But don't get me wrong. I felt welcomed.  I took a seat while Billy finished up with a client.  I couldn't help but notice how stylish and beautiful she was.  With her sharp, Asian features and freshly-cut coif she reminded me of Gong Li.  Oh, if only I could look like that after my hair appointment....

Then it was my turn and I thoroughly enjoyed the shampoo, rinse and scalp massage.  And while Billy cut my hair we talked about everyone and everything, like we usually do.  I commented on his previous client, and how stunning she was.  He told me that she was around our age and about to be married.  They had talked about having kids and she was a bit concerned because she was 'getting on in age.'  And Billy's comment was to 'look at Rena over there - she just had a baby and she looks great,' and his client nodded in agreement.  I left the salon with a bouncy, new look and a smile on my face.  As I said, there's nothing like a trip to the salon to make a person feel great....

05.20.2007 "Super-Manny 911"
Robin and I had our own male nanny (manny) briefly on Saturday.  Piers hung out with us and Sloane.  We had pizza at Me & Ed's then went downtown.  I got my hair cut while the boys (and my girl) went shopping.  And the entire time Sloane was awake, she was completely enamored with her Uncle Piers.  She would stare and smile and flirt and coo.  Robin's take on it was that she loved looking at a bigger version of herself (mainly the bald head, not so much the facial hair).

So we gave our daughter the opportunity to enjoy her new friend, and Piers the opportunity to push the stroller and play manny for the afternoon (oh, I wish I had a picture of that).  It was great.  Robin and I got to hold hands while we walked and didn't have to worry about any fussiness.  But Piers never did change a diaper for us?  Maybe we can convince him on the next outing.

05.15.2007 "Guess Who Went To Dinner?"
I recently saw the classic, race-relations movie "Guess Who's Coming to Dinner?" - you know the one, about the white, liberal-minded couple in the 1960s who have their attitudes challenged when their young daughter brings home her boyfriend who happens to be black.  I enjoyed it.   Even though it was a bit dated, it got me thinking about my own situation....

Robin often announces to me out of the blue, "You're Chinese."  That may seem bizarre in print, but picture him saying it with a smile on his face right after he's given me a peck on the cheek.  He's being silly, playful.  But why does he feel the need to point it out?  He likes the fact that we're an inter-racial couple.  He finds it hip and cool, and often reminds me that he's fond of the dark-haired, Asian ladies.  And whenever he reminds me of this, I'll tease him and tell him he has "Yellow Fever" (or "Yellow Plague" as my cousin-in-law jokingly refers to it).

I just assumed I'd end up with a Caucasian male as a partner.  And my mother assumed it as well about me.  Growing up in my household there was never any pressure to date 'our own kind', a situation quite different from my mother's household where she grew up.  You can imagine the eyebrows raised when her only brother was the only sibling in the family NOT to marry Chinese.  I think it's way cool.  Can you imagine some of the looks my Chinese uncle and blonde aunt got back in the 1960s?  My uncle would have been somewhat like an Asian Sidney Poitier....

And so Robin and I often tease each other, pointing out our racial differences.  But in all seriousness it's transparent to us.  And it blows my mind to think that in some places on this planet, in some people's eyes, our union is frowned upon because we are not of the same heritage.  Why would they think this?  Backwards, closed-minded thinking I suppose.  I think about the before-mentioned movie, and 1970s sitcoms like "The Jeffersons" or "All In the Family" where racial differences were pointed out, ridiculed, and often served as plot lines for 30 minutes.  But the oddly-comforting thing about those situations is the characters' feelings were made obvious, you knew who you were dealing with.  Nowadays, in our politically-correct world, people would hide their non-PC opinions.  In other words, I have no idea who I'm dealing with sometimes because they'll never voice their true opinions.

My mother and her friend had lunch in Yaletown recently, then spent the rest of the afternoon sitting on a park bench by the water and people-watching.  Their observation was that the seawall was full of young, interracial couples (mainly Asian women with white males).  This seems quite common in our port city.  And I think it's only going to become more common.  In fact, I think in a few generations in Vancouver, an overwhelming percentage of our population will be of a mixed race.

And then there's little Sloane.  We affectionately refer to her as 'our beautiful, half-breed daughter.'  But I'm mindful of my use of that term because some audiences don't appreciate it.  And I'm not being biased here when I say that I truly believe that Eurasian people are often very attractive, often getting the best of both parents' features.  While Trevor held young, 2.5 month old Sloane last weekend and predicted that she'd be a super-model when she grows up, I can honestly say that I wouldn't be surprised (and I'm not just being an overly-proud mother here - my Eurasian cousins are exceptionally attractive....)

And to bring this journal entry back full circle, to the movie: my mother-in-law recently hosted a Mother's Day luncheon.  I went with Robin and Sloane and we brought my mother.  During a group photo of just the women (females), I couldn't help but notice the overwhelming number of blonde heads aimed towards the camera and how the dark, black hair of myself and my mother stood out.  It briefly dawned on me that my mother and I were the only non-white people attending the gathering.  But this is not the 1960s, it was not a big deal, no one felt the need to point it out.  And when I reviewed the pictures in the digital camera screen, I just saw one big, smiling, happy family.

05.14.2007 "My First Mother's Day!"
I experienced my own first Mother's Day on the weekend.  Even though I've always seen it as a silly, contrived, Hallmark holiday (but I've always acknowledged it for my own mother - I'm not a monster) I found myself hoping that it would be acknowledged for myself on this milestone occasion.  And I wasn't disappointed.

Robin got me an adorable card and the promise that he would watch Sloane while I went out and got a massage or pedicure or haircut whenever I wanted.  Ah, time away to pamper myself!  What a wonderful gift!  Then my mother got me a thoughtful card and a cool, wind-up flashlight and some chocolates.  Practical and sweet.  My mother-in-law had a lunch where mothers weren't allowed to do any work and I was sent home with a lovely floating flower motive.  And a shout-out to Trevor and Teresa for calling me and wishing me a Happy First Mother's Day.  How considerate.

But at the end of the day I realized my best gift that I had received.  The night before, Sloane had slept from 11pm to 7am.  I had slept for 8 beautiful hours, uninterrupted.  Oh, what an angel.  She gave me exactly what I wanted.....

05.12.2007 "My Child Is 235 Weeks Old"
I was recently reminded of a conversation I had with Trevor years ago.  We found out that we both had the same pet peeve.  We hated it when parents told us how old their children were using weeks as a measurement especially when the child was past the 1-year mark.  It would always throw us for a loop as we had to calculate in our heads what the number translated to in months or years.  We swore that it was some kind of conspiracy, to make us feel silly, or to confuse us.

Well, let me tell you how things have changed.  Now that I have a young child of my own, I realize that tracking her age in weeks is quite important for making doctor's appointments, remembering immunization dates, tracking her progress in the "What To Expect In the First Year" bible, etc.  But I try my best to quote her age in months whenever people ask me how old she is.  I realize it's not a conspiracy.  It's just the way I've been trained to think now.  But you can mark my words that I'll definitely be quoting Sloane's age in years once she has her first birthday.  To still say her age in weeks at that point is just obnoxious....

05.11.2007 "Mommy Group"
I finally made it out to my first Mommy-Baby group.  I found one that starts at a decent hour (1pm in New Westminster vs. the ridiculous 10:30am start time in Burnaby - really, what new mother is up and ready to go before 11am?).  It was pretty much what I expected - a bunch of mommies and babies sitting in a circle on mats in the community center gymnasium.  At first I didn't know why the guest speaker (this week's topic: nursery rhyme library books for babies) was using a microphone to talk.  But as a dozen babies started to fuss - well, I realized that that generates quite a bit of noise....

It seemed the women were close to my age (late 20s or early 30s) and that babies ranged from 1 month to 7 months.  There was lots of diaper-changing, rocking back and forth, singing, breast (and bottle) feeding.  Both mommies and babies were in different stages of undress at any given time, and many mommies had that sleep-deprivation stunned look (that I was familiar with a few weeks ago).  As we were all encouraged to sing-along with the group leader (something about a Red Wagon?) I looked around me and I entertained this irrational thought for a split-second: THIS is what my life has become?  I almost burst out laughing.  I'm not trying to be mean-spirited but come on: for someone who used to have a career-life, the scenario just seemed crazy (in a good way).

And to follow-up on my previous entry: the woman beside me changed her little baby boy's diaper at some point.  Ah-ha, this was my chance!  So I snuck a peek (Trevor says I'm a pervert, but I don't think so - just curious).  And I'm pleased to announce that it was kind of how I imagined it to look like.

05.09.2007 "Early Morning Smiles"
Sloane gets up around 4am, or 5am, or 7am (or all three sometimes).  But I'm not complaining since these days she's letting me sleep for at least 5 hours at a stretch.  And it doesn't matter how tired I am when I stumble into her room to check her diaper and then feed her because lately I am greeted by the most wonderful smiles that I've ever seen.  This is what I see every morning - grins and coos, no crying.  It just kills me.  I'm so in love.

And we recently got her crib from Brent.  She has officially outgrown her bassinette.  And now she has lots of attachments for her crib.  Here she is enjoying her mobile and crib flower.  She's enjoying the new stimuli so much she often enjoys to be left alone to amuse herself.  It gives me more spare time but I really hope this 'ignoring mommy' phase is only temporary....

05.08.2007 "Just Google It!"
OMG, that Trevor just cracks me up.  I don't know how it came up (well, actually I do but I'm not going to get into it) but I was telling him that I've never seen a baby boy's penis.  I've just never had the opportunity, so I honestly don't know what one would look like.  So I told Trevor that I should just Google it.  Really, I should be able to find tons of pictures on the internet.  We laughed when he jokingly said the police would probably be knocking on my door within minutes.  Could you imagine.

My face would be plastered all over the 6 o'clock news while the police took me away in handcuffs and media flashbulbs would be going off in my face.  I'd be trying to defend myself saying, "But I just wanted to see what a little boy's dinky looked like!"

JC.  Could you imagine.

05.07.2007 "Free Stuff"
Since Sloane was born, we really haven't bought much for her.  There's been no need.  The reason is we've received so many gifts from friends and family.  We've received gifts from as far away as Toronto, the UK, and Australia.  She's received hand-knitted outfits from Ocean Falls, an authentic Romanian baby bonnet, a dead-bunny mobile, two aquatic-themed crib toys, and many other wonderful things.  She recently outgrew her 0-3 month clothes and now we've got a whole new 3-6 month wardrobe on loan from various people who have little girls.  I realized today that I don't even really know the price of baby's clothing because I haven't had to purchase any.

It's so awesome.  People are amazing and so generous.

05.04.2007 "Quote of the Day Part 12: An Appropriate Sun Visor"
This made me laugh:  We were trying to shield Sloane from the bright sunlight the other day, and Robin's mom jokingly suggested that we get one of those full-face sun visors that you see everywhere in Richmond, mainly worn by Asian ladies.  And Robin's response:

>But we'll get her a half-visor because she's only half-Chinese.

Oh, funny daddy indeed.

05.03.2007 "It All Started With Facebook"
Every once in awhile life taps you on the back and reminds you of who you were, where you came from, and who you are today. If you want to, you can take these observations and 'signs' as input into the person that you will become tomorrow. Recently for me, it all started when I joined Facebook....

A couple of weeks ago I created a profile on Facebook, the latest online social network community. Suddenly the invitations came pouring in, "friend requests." This wasn't too surprising (it's what the site is for, really). But what made me raise my eyebrows was many of these requests came from former high school classmates, people whom I haven't seen in years.  They had found me online and now we were going to reconnect, virtually.  As I saw their familiar names in my Inbox, I couldn't help but think of the people that they were back then: the bubbly cheerleader, the quiet jock, the smiley goody-goody, the slightly obnoxious class-clown (maybe he behaved this way to compensate for a lack of friends?).  But as these memories came flooding back I had to stop myself.  This was almost 20 years ago, who we used to be, when we were just children really.

As I watched my friend list grow, I started to peruse the profiles.  I learned that many of my former classmates had children, and even more of them were married.  Some had their own businesses, some lived abroad, some were obsessed with hockey.  In the pictures many of the 'boys' seemed a bit thicker in the chest and stomach, and many of the 'girls' had different last names and a few lines around their eyes (I like to call them "Smile Lines").  But after all these years we had something in common: we had all grown up to be men and women now, we all had loved ones, we all had jobs/careers, we all had hobbies and interests, and we all had stories to tell.  This is who we are today.

While I was catching up on-line, I got another email.  This message brought some very sad news.  I learned that one of our classmates had passed away earlier this week from cancer.  I had heard that he was ill but it was still a shock.  Bruce was actually a friend of mine in Grades 11 and 12 but then we drifted apart after graduation (as is often the case).   However I had the opportunity to re-connect with him recently through Brian (we all went out for drinks a couple of years ago) and I would also run into Bruce periodically in Yaletown when I worked there up until 2006.  From years ago I remember a tall, long-limbed aspiring basketball player who quickly found his niche after moving to the big city from a small town.  In recent years I got to know him as a successful Account Manager who lived the stylish, urban lifestyle.  But one thing had definitely remained the same: his wide-toothed grin and gregarious laugh.  It hit me when I thought about the world tomorrow - I would never see Bruce again.  And that was forever.  I would remember him as the friend he was back in high school and the person he was when I last saw him recently (about 6 months ago).  But sadly I would never get to know the person he would become in the future.

And then I had a random yet connected thought.  What if he had a profile on Facebook?  With his passing I'm sure his account would still stay active for some time until the administrator noted the inactivity and pulled the plug on it.  For some people who didn't know the situation, they would see his name and picture online and try to reconnect, but there would be no response.  However he would still exist for a short while at least, a smiling face and a list of favourite movies and books.  They would at least get to know a little bit about the person that Bruce had become since high school.

After hearing this recent sad news I felt very temporary, so fragile.  I look at pictures of my loved ones in my profile and I really cherish and appreciate them.  I look at my list of interests and activities and I'm really thankful that I have the time and opportunity to explore and enjoy them.  Really realizing that our time here is finite, well, it makes me want to be a better person (at the risk of sounding corny).  And that's how it all happened, how recent events helped to shape the person that I will be tomorrow....

04.30.2007 "My Mommy Jacket"
I resigned myself to the fact that I had to go shopping for a 'Mommy jacket.'  This would be a jacket that's more functional than stylish.  Because it rains so much in this lovely city and I no longer have time for umbrellas while carting a small child around, I needed to find a waterproof jacket with a hood and adequate pockets.   You know, something very practical for our weather on the west coast.

I ended up at Coast Mountain Sports.  After feeling overwhelmed by a sea of drab Gortex, I decided to go with a kicky, baby-blue windbreaker with floral lining and gray trim details.  I love it.  I still feel fashionable, and not like one of those women who sacrifices all sense of style as soon as she gives birth.  Granted, I spent about $100 more than I was hoping to spend.  But it's totally worth it to have a Mommy jacket that I like.

04.28.2007 "Worst. Parents. Ever."
We have a little inside joke with our friends.  Sometimes when we mention going out, we tell them that we leave Sloane in the detached garage or garden shed.  We'll say, "Oh, she's fine in there.  We just have to remember to fill up her water dish and top up her kitty litter.  And if she's good we leave her a salt-lick.  Then she's ok for a couple hours at least!"  We think it's hilarious, although I'm sure some people would be horrified (but AS IF we'd ever do that!).  The best was when I told my mother-in-law recently about our fictional 'stay-at-home' situation for our daughter.  I was able to tell her with a deadpan delivery but when she choked on her glass of white wine in disbelief I just had to laugh.

Robin sometimes tells people that he has a sure-fire way of how to make Sloane stop crying.  When they ask what it is (i.e. fall for the bait) he tells them that he shakes her.  Really hard.  And then she's good for a few hours at least!  OMG.  So horrible, but we find it funny.  I have to cringe a bit at this one though, especially considering our health nurse gave us a special pamphlet devoted to the horrific dangers of shaking your baby.

And then the other night Robin and I were laying down with Sloane, playing with her, watching her playfully kick and coo and laugh.  I wondered out loud: "I wonder how much we could get for her on the black market?  You know, a healthy, attractive, little half-breed baby?"  Without missing a beat, Robin guessed "around $20,000?"

Again.  AS IF.  But we had a good laugh.  Oh, we're going to hell.  I just know it.

04.27.2007 "Wallet-Sized Words"
It's been rather challenging these days staying in touch with friends since the arrival of Little Miss Sloane, but I've made many efforts to keep myself plugged in.  Back in February when I had a basketball-sized belly and was ready to pop, I wasn't able to attend birthday festivities for Brent.  So for his special b-day I wrote him a poem and sent him (via snail mail) a card and some Superman cufflinks to wear with his suits for his current life as a bank manager.  Accompanying the gift box I included a little note that read (something like this): Even though you may have a Clark Kent exterior, remember that you'll always be Superman....

Then earlier this week when I met the boys for dinner (first Wide-Load Wednesday outing in months!) we were paying the bill and Brent flipped open his wallet and flashed it to me.  What did I see - my 'Superman' note.  He grinned and told me that he reads my inspirational note every now and then while at work.  Wow.  I totally felt special and appreciated.  It was really nice to know that my words continue to have an effect and a piece of me will continue to be with my friends....

04.26.2007 "Spicy Pasta, A Sleeping Baby And No Rat Race"
It's 1:33pm.  I got out of bed at 10am today.  Yawn, stretch.  The falling rain outside makes me feel cozy inside the house.  Sloane is passed out on her blanket in the living room.  I've just had a relaxing, hot shower and now I'm enjoying a delicious bowl of spicy pasta for lunch (linguine with homemade zingy sausage-tomato sauce).  Our Baby Mozart DVD plays in the background.  I'm reading some magazines and doing my e-mails.  I think ahead to the hearty dinner that I'm going to make later tonight - meatloaf and scalloped potatoes (another perfect meal for a rainy day).

When I read Ashley's e-mail about her recent promotion at work, I felt a small twinge of envy.  I'll be out of the workforce for the rest of the year, only collecting less than half my salary while on maternity leave and chances are slim-to-none that I'll return to work to a promotion and pay raise.  But then Mark's words from last night come to mind: "I'd trade places with you in a heartbeat, sweetie."  Oh right.   No getting up at a certain time.  No morning commute.  No boring meetings.

I'd normally be about half-way through my workday at this time.  But now, I think I'm going to lay down for a nap with my precious little girl.  The rain still falls outside the window.  Perfect.  It'll lull me to sleep.  Smile.

04.25.2007 "Bullseye"
This morning in the shower as I was squeezing shampoo out of the bottle and into my hand, a little bit squirted directly into my eye as I closed the lid.  We're talking directly into my open eyeball, no time to react, no time to blink.  Then the stinging, burning pain started immediately.  Thank goodness I was conveniently near a water source to rinse it out.  But really - what are the chances that it would hit my eye instead of somewhere less harmful like my chin or cheek?  Ouch.

04.23.2007 "Dandelions and Robins Make For Great Photos"
Today Sloane and I went for a walk in the sunshine at Foreshore Park in Burnaby (right on the Fraser River).  I was a bit tired (as usual these days) and as I pushed her along in her stroller I think I was only half-aware of my surroundings.  I came across a group of Asian tourists who were a few feet ahead of me on the path.  One of the group's members would stop to take some photographs then run to catch up with the rest of his mates.  And I would follow a few steps behind and I would take notice of what the gentleman had just photographed.  He had taken pictures of such things as a robin in a tree, or a dandelion patch.

Now, these things seem rather mundane to me.  I mean, really - I can see a brown and red bird in my yard at any time, or see a yellow weed in my neighbour's yard whenever I look out my window.  But this tourist obviously found some novelty and beauty in these rather pedestrian things (in my eyes).  Suddenly I 'opened' my eyes to what was around me: weeping willows, tugboats, the sounds of waves brushing up against the shore, the cool breeze.  Sloane and I stopped our walk and sat on a park bench and drank it all in.  And it was suddenly wonderful, really wonderful....

04.18.2007 "Quote of the Day Part 11: Cat Food?  Did I Hear That Correctly?"
Let's set the record straight upfront - I'm not bragging here.  I'm not one of those 'my child is the best/cutest/smartest' mothers (hmm, actually that's a good topic for a future entry).  But I have to write about what someone said to me today....

While I was in a store today with Sloane in her stroller, two sales ladies approached us.  They oohed and ahhed ("She's so tiny!  So new!") and they asked how old she was.  When I told them (almost 2 months old), one of them said to me:

>That is one cute baby.  Seriously, at that age, they usually look like cat food.  But she's gorgeous.

I had to laugh.  Cat food?  I've never heard a baby's appearance compared to Fancy Feast until today.

04.16.2007 "I Want a One-sie and a Sleep Sack!"
Little Sloane just graduated to her Sleep Sack.  Instead of using a blanket at night, we put her in a one-sie outfit and then zip her up in this nifty, light-weight yet warm body sack that leaves her head and arms sticking out.  And it leaves her free to kick all she wants and she won't wake up cold after flinging her blanket off.  For a visual, please see here. 

It looks so damn adorable but also seems very practical and comfortable.  And it seems to promote better sleep for babies (that's what we're hoping, anyway).  Last night Robin said that he'd like a full-size adult one-sie and Sleep Sack for himself.  I had to laugh, but I agreed.  How awesome would that be.  No need to make any more beds or tuck in sheets....

04.11.2007 "First Name Basis"
I just realized something about how I address certain individuals.  For people who are approximately my mother's age and whom I've known since I was a child (e.g. old neighbours, friends of my mom's, etc), I address them as "Mr." or "Mrs." or "Miss."  The thought of calling them by their first names just doesn't seem right?  It almost seems disrespectful to me (even though I know that's not true).  And my mother's friends whom I've met later in life as an adult, I would never dream of calling them by a formal title.  That would seem absurd.  The same goes for co-workers who are significantly older than me - first names only, of course.

I shared this observation with Teresa today.  Then she asked me how I'd like Sloane's friends to address me in the future.  Well, "By my first name" was my answer.  She smiled and said that seems to be the way things are these days - no more clunky "Mr." and "Mrs." titles.  How things have changed since I was a young child.  But that's cool.  I can't imagine being called "Ms. Yung" all the time.  I think it would make me feel old....

04.05.2007 "I Aspire To Be Tina Fey"
On my daily walk with Sloane I picked up a copy of the Metro.  Yes, I voluntarily picked up one of those freebie daily rags that are known to be forced upon us as we walk down the streets, especially near Skytrain stations.  I haven't read one since February (when I went on maternity leave) and I thought I'd relive the news that I used to read on my daily commute.

And what was the front cover story?  Why, it was an article titled "Girls Mean?  Experts Say Yes."  It cites such movies as "Mean Girls" and talks about the rampant problem of girl bullies in schools.   And who just wrote about this last week?  Ok, so it's nothing new, but I thought it was pretty good timing on my part.

Also, speaking of this entry - I like Brian's elaboration of my entry about bullies.  And I full-on laughed my ass off when I read his intro (see March 30th, 2007 - The Blue Ribbon Bully and other life lessons) to that entry (the imagined dialogue that he and I might have).  Hilarious.

04.04.2007 "Quote of the Day Part 10: An Excellent Choice, Ma'am"
Oh,  that Aaron.  He just cracks me up.  I was talking to him last night around 8pm.  I admit I was a bit envious when he told me that he was out having some dinner with friends.  He asked me what my plans for the evening were.  I told him that I was on my way to 'feed my daughter.'  He asked what was on the menu, and my response (with a laugh) was: Oh, I think the left breast.  To this he commented:

>Ah!  Excellent choice!  I heard it's a great year, good vintage.

More laughs from Rena.

04.01.2007 "Alice Through the Radio"
Last night while I lay in bed trying to get back to sleep, I suddenly remembered a random childhood memory....

It was a weekend morning, probably around 9am.  I was about 10 years old?  Everyone in my house was still asleep.  Outside it was cold and rainy.  Even though I was awake I didn't want to leave my bed.  My uncle had given me a battery-powered radio in the shape of Little Sprout (the Jolly Green Giant's sidekick).  I thought it was one of the coolest gifts ever.  I turned it on and put it under my pillow.  I could still hear the music as I surfed the channels.  Through the buffer of the pillow, the radio sounded muted yet comforting.

I stumbled across a "books-on-tape" type broadcast of "Alice In Wonderland" read by some British gentleman.  I closed my eyes and listened enthusiastically to the gentle voice and enjoyed Alice's adventures for the next hour or so.  I remember being  ecstatic to have found this broadcast, and I felt so warm and comfortable in my bed while I was being read to.  It's almost like he was reading directly to me, and only for me.  I felt so special.

It's a memory that was buried deep in my mind, but I'm glad to have it back.