Journal Archives (January-March 2008):

 


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03.31.2008 "Nothing Makes You Feel Like a Woman Like a Saleslady Manhandling Your Goods"
Today's entry may not be totally relevant to all non-female readers. Actually, let me rephrase that. Today's entry may not be totally relevant to all non-bra-wearing individuals. Yes, I acknowledge that not just women wear lingerie. It's all about non-judging, remember?

On the weekend I did something that I've meant to do for the past 10 years. I got professionally fitted for wearing a bra. My mother had told me about a new chain of lingerie stores that provided this service. And now that I'm done breastfeeding I figured what perfect timing to go and get fitted. So I went. What a bloody marvelous thing. 

I was helped by Jazzy, a young Indo woman who matter-of-factly told me that she wore a size G. While she told me this, it took all my willpower not to break eye contact and stare at her humongous rack (I would save a sneak until later, at a less obvious point in the conversation). She explained all the symptoms of an bad-fitting bra like falling straps, pinching underwire, etc. Surprise! I had all those symptoms that she described. Then she gave me a tour of the store and all the wonderful bras that they sold. I quietly noted the price tags, from $38 to $100+. Yowza. I pointed out some designs that I wanted to try, then she took me to the back for a fitting. Reveal time. 

I was still fully clothed when the measured my torso circumference with a tape measurer. She pointed out that I was a 34. I told her I always wore 38. She smiled. We both knew who was right. Then she gently placed 2 hands on 1 of my breasts, gauging the width. She told me I was a DD. I laughed. I told her I always wore a B-cup. Again, we knew who was right. Then she went away and brought back about 8 bras for me to try. For each one, she waited until I had it on then she came into the fitting room and helped adjust it for me, just the straps. She got me to 'scope' myself while she waited outside the curtain - this involved me lifting and separating myself from the underwire, if you know what I mean.

I was there for about 45 minutes while the saleslady popped in and out of my change-room, spun me around, admired my reflection in the mirror, and lifted and adjusted the straps. I left with 4 bras and $200 less from my pocket. But it was money well spent. I can't believe I haven't done this sooner. Now I have a happy, properly-supported chest. Good times.
 

03.30.2008 "That's What I Get For Forgetting About Earth Hour"
On Saturday, in support of Earth Hour, Vancouver residents were supposed to turn off all electricity for 1 hour between 8-9pm on Saturday. I had read the memo at work and seen the promotions and thought it was a great idea. But then Saturday evening rolled around and I totally forgot all about it. 

Instead of reading a book by candlelight (or whatever else we could have done without power), we had all the living room lights on, the large-screen TV on, and the Wii going with 4 remotes (for myself, Robin, Bii and D-Rock). We played "Mario and Sonic at the Olympics" for about 3 hours. And this is a game with lots of large arm motions. Needless to say I woke up Sunday with Wii-itis (i.e. sore arms and shoulders) and I bet I'll still feel the effects 2 days later. Serves you right, I can hear the hippies lecturing me now....
 

03.29.2008 "Guys Who Love Their Hair"
Today's entry is dedicated to Jim and 'Crazy Brian' (I can hear both of their distinctive laughs right now).

I was on the Skytrain today and couldn't help but notice a young man (well, he was close to my age) who was nicely dressed and coiffed. His fine, blonde hair was carefully gelled up into a mini faux-hawk. It was a bit 2006 but still noticeably nice. But then I noticed the young, Asian man standing beside him. He was all flashed out in a black, fitted suit and slimming overcoat and his jet-black hair was amazingly styled into a full-on, Mohawk-wannabe (a 6-inch Mohawk ridge of hair down the center of his skull but he had hair on the sides too). Wow. How long did that take? I'm not being sarcastic or cheeky. I was honestly in awe of his hair-styling techniques. 

Then I remembered something my friend Brian told me back in high school (whose past hairstyles are varied and have included the blonde George Clooney, the brunette Bruno Gerussi, etc). He told me that every guy should experience long hair. He used a concert as the context for an example. When you're rocking out (remember, this was high school), guys should be able to experience the feeling of their shoulder-length locks moving as they sway their bodies to the beats. Since I've had long hair for the majority of my adult life I had never appreciated the full experience of long hair. Point taken. 

Then I think of Jim who has impressively long locks (longer than mine has ever been, and better taken care of I might add). I can't tell you how many conversations we've had about how we love our hair length and can't bear to cut it off. Are we being elf-indulgent and self-absorbed to have such conversations? Meh, whatever. So what if we love our hair. Get over it. But my point here: if I can accurately paraphrase my friend's feelings, he is happy to experience having long hair. 

And what am I trying to say overall? Not much. Just that I can dig it when a guy really gets into his hair. I say bring on the butch gels and mousses and brushes. There's some manly grooming to be done.

 

03.28.2008 "We Need a Hero"
I was talking with a co-worker in her office today. My back was to the window but I knew it was snowing like crazy downtown (yes, downtown Vancouver was a blizzard this morning in spring - go figure). We were very focused on our conversation until I saw her eyes look beyond my head and her jaw dropped. Suddenly she started laughing.

I turned around and knew exactly what she was looking at. Across the way at another tower, about 18 storeys up, there was a window washer doing his job. He was wearing red and blue and visually stood out against the neutral glass surface. But in the snowy haze his outfit's colours reminded us of Spider-Man. I wish.

03.24.2008 "Incorrect Stereotypes and Mis-Judgments - We're All Guilty"
We all have stereotypes. All of us, whether we like it or not. I remember learning from my university Psychology classes (way back when) that we humans form stereotypes to help us cope with the enormous amounts of information out there and it helps us organize that knowledge. I try not to form stereotypes best I can but it's unavoidable at times. Something else that society does is judge others. It happens, and we're all guilty of it at times. Call it human nature, or a human flaw. I hate being judged, but I also catch myself judging others. And how does this relate to today's entry? I'll tell you below. And note for all you non-parents out there: all my examples below are related to child-rearing (because it occupies 95% of my thoughts these days). I apologize, but I think you'll nevertheless find it interesting (hopefully) and will be able to relate to it somewhat. But if you don't, please don't judge me....

1.) My Child the Destructor:
Before Robin and I had our daughter, we would secretly wish that we would have a girl. The reason? Many of the little boys we saw were very destructive. For example, our friend's little boy would run around our backyard and pull out all the flowers and plants. We would smile and say it was ok, but inside we were thinking, "Oh, those little boys are such beasts!" And, we would also be thinking to a lesser degree about the parents, "Control your child!"

So we were delighted to have a happy, healthy girl. When Sloane was a baby (about 6 months old) I would marvel at her ability to entertain herself and play intently with her toys. I clearly remember once she sat in the living room by herself and examined 1 toy for 45 minutes straight! It was awesome. But that was then. Now she's a toddler and she's into everything.

We were at a children's party on the weekend and she knocked over 2 houseplants. Soil and leaves everywhere. And I swear, I had only turned my back for 5 seconds. The rest of the time I was following her around like a hawk, preventing her trail of potential destruction (i.e. I was 'controlling' my child). Our hostess was gracious (being a mother herself) and told me not to worry. But I couldn't help and wonder if some of the other mothers were thinking, "Oh that Sloane, what a little monkey-monster!" I'm sure I don't have to worry (they're a fabulous group of non-judging women) but my thought still left a bad taste in my mouth.

So there you have it. My little girl has turned into the destructive beast-boy that I hoped she never would become. Oh well. You do your best, and in the end your kids are who they are. And speaking of beast-boys: one of the nicest, sweetest kids I know is a boy. Robin and I are in awe of Sloane's friend Tyler. We find ourselves bragging to other parents about the amazing things that Tyler does (but we never brag about our own child, because we don't want to become one of 'those' parents who are always bragging about their own child). Seriously. All stereotypes I had about boys are lost on this little sweetheart. He's gentle, charming, focused, deliberate, and super friendly. My child looks like a drunken Ewok in comparison as she tears around the place and looks for things to throw and pick apart. Who knew?

2.) That Child Lives on French Fries
Robin and I eat very well and are pretty fit (well, some are more fit than others e.g. I didn't build the chin-up bar in the backyard let alone use it). Anyway, once in awhile we treat ourselves to McDonald's (just us parents). And even then we might split a Filet-O-Fish and small fries. We're talking once every 4 months or something like that. So we did this recently and we were walking along, chomping on our burger (swapping it back and forth), pushing Sloane in her stroller and suddenly I blurted out loud: "I feel like I'm being judged."

Yes. Even though I know I'm health-conscious, I felt like everyone passing us was thinking, "What a horrible mother. I bet she feeds her young child French fries every day." Ridiculous and paranoid? I suppose to. But very real. I've seen mothers (parents) on the skytrain feeding their kids Big Macs, potato chips and Cheezies. I try not to judge them but it's hard not to think this junk food diet is a regular thing for them, and I think, "Yuck, that's bad parenting." But when the tables are turned, I fear they think the same about me (when in fact I have a strict rule about not introducing junk food and fast food to my child). Now I know how it feels. I have embraced my inner Judge Judy, now I need to face her.

3.) The 5-Minute Rule
You know that 5-second rule, that food is safe to eat if it's been on the floor for under 5 seconds? Yeah, well I've expanded that to a 5-minute rule (or more). And not just my floor. Public floors too. Gross. I know. But go ahead and judge. I don't care anymore. 

Recently I was out with Sloane and another mother with her new baby (who slept peacefully the entire time, I might add - so docile at that age). We were in a coffee shop and I was feeding Sloane some banana bread (home-baked, low sugar I might add). She dropped some rather large chunks on the floor. Don't worry - I cleaned them up later. 

Anyway the point to this: when we were getting ready to go I put Sloane on the floor while I put on my coat and packed up the diaper bag. Suddenly my child decided to bend down and eat the crumbs (that she herself had dropped earlier) off the floor. Both my arms were busy (in sleeves of jackets, holding containers and purse straps), so I looked at her, sighed, and just continued what I was doing. I could have been that frantic, paranoid mother and started yelling at my child and yanking her away, or I could have just gone with the flow. I chose the latter, to be a Zen mother. I looked at my friend who was watching all this (very non-judging I might add) but I still felt the need to explain. I told her that those crumbs were safe (they were my daughter's after all) and I laughed and told her that it builds up her immune system.

But I also explicitly told her I would be more discriminating when it came to other kids i.e. I wouldn't let HER child eat off a public floor if I was babysitting (I didn't want her to think I was a total monster). And note I didn't throw in the comment, "You'll understand when your child is older" because I don't want to be one of THOSE parents either (i.e. the parents who try to lecture other parents who have younger kids, because obviously I've seen and done it all already with my older child). Again - my fear of being judged was overwhelming and I felt the need to justify my actions. Yeesh, I'm starting to sound like a broken record....

4.) So Much for Childproofing
At home we've childproofed as best we could. But some things slip through the cracks. For instance, we removed all the floor lamps from the living room and replaced them with some lights that clamp onto a wall overhang, then we hid the electrical cords behind a curtain. Genius. 

Well the other day Ivan was over for brunch and Sloane was running around the house. Suddenly things got awfully quiet (I realize now that that's a sign that I should check on her because she's obviously up to no good). So I go into the living room and what do I see: my daughter has managed to push the curtain aside, pull all the electrical cords out of the socket, wrap the cords around her neck and start walking away from the wall. That's when I saw her. OMG. My initial feeling of horror was replaced by a "Well, I'm glad I caught her in time" reaction. Ivan just laughed (more of sympathy - no judgment there because he's the best). And I'm not embarrassed or think I'm a bad mom. I realize things happen and even worse things will happen in the future (shudder).

5.) A Dish of What?
We were over at my aunt's house for Easter dinner on the weekend. It was a very kid-friendly function (there was a 5-year-old, my toddler, and a just-crawling 8 month old). But I found myself constantly moving breakables out of reach and watching my daughter at all times to make sure she wasn't destroying things. My aunt was helping as well, and made the comment, "I never had to do this for [my first grandchild]" meaning "My first grand-child never destroyed anything." I didn't take it the wrong way. She wasn't being cheeky or judgmental - she was just being matter-of-fact. Some people might have been offended by her comment but I know my aunt.

Anyway. Sloane suddenly grabbed something off a side table and I heard some rattling. Alert! So I ran over and removed the object out of her hand. It was a dish of nails. Yes, a ceramic bowl of hardware nails. Who would leave this around a household of 3 children? I could feel my judgment forming against my aunt (a grandmother!) but then laughed out loud and told everyone what my daughter was playing with. We all had a good chuckle. But that's the great thing about family (well, mine anyway) - we all know how it is and we don't pass judgment on each other. What a novel concept.

 

03.21.2008 "Lost In Translation"
We're doing our best to expose our daughter to different languages. Most of her linguistic exposure so far is English (no surprise there). But we also have my mother speaking Chinese to her (at least 1 day a week) and our tenant-daycare provider is speaking Spanish to her at least 2 days a week. Boo-yeah. Oh, and did I mention that I've been doing baby sign language to her since she was 5 months old?

Note that said daughter has yet to utter a single comprehensible word (or sign a proper ASL-like gesture). But the joke around the house is that one day boom - she'll start speaking Chinese and Spanish only to her parents. Robin and I would look at each other, eyes darting around, "Uhm, what did she say? What's she saying?" Wouldn't that be hilarious.

Something else that gets me chuckling are some of the broken-language commands/phrases that we use in the household. For example, when we want to ask Sloane if she wants to be carried and when we want her to hug and kiss us we use Chinese. And when I want to ask her if she wants a bottle I use Spanish. And of course when we ask her if she wants more (of anything) we use sign language. No wonder the poor thing hasn't uttered (or signed) anything yet. She's probably so confused. I can only imagine the language mix and match combinations that she'll be using when she does finally speak.

03.18.2008 "Lost In a Sea of Grey and Black"
This morning when I was getting ready to go to work, I reached for my grey, wool coat that is hanging in my closet. But then I hesitated. I started to think: if daylight savings time was early this year, why not experience spring early as well? So I put on my lightweight, pink coat instead.

As I rode the escalator up from Burrard Station, I noticed I was surrounded by a sea of grey and black coats, heavy winter garments that seemed to weigh the owners down and pull their energies away from their cores. I looked down at my colourful, vibrant shell and felt invigorated in comparison. Yes, spring is here.

03.17.2008 "Dirrrrty"
 The family went for a stroll in Park & Tilford gardens in North Vancouver over the weekend. It was awesome. It wasn't raining so we let Sloane wander around the paved walkways. Most of the flower and plant beds were out of reach - most of them. At one point I thought Robin was keeping an eye on our daughter, and apparently he thought the same about me. I turned around and what do I see: our child holding a clump of dirt and a look of surprise on her small face and a mouthful of soil. Yes, she was eating dirt (and not liking it apparently).

No one panicked, no one cried. I think I might have laughed? But we calmly dug the brown stuff out of her mouth and got her to rinse out her mouth with water. Hilarious. It was bound to happen one day. Let's just hope that the gardens hadn't been recently fertilized with manure. Ewwww, gross. But, again - what are you going to do? Shit happens. Haha.

03.15.2008 "Hey, Four-Eyes"
 Today's entry is probably only relevant to people who wear prescription eyeglasses....

I got new glasses for back-to-work. They’re pretty fly. My prescription had changed (so that justified new lenses) but my old frames were perfectly fine. However – do you ever have days when you’re acutely aware of the fact that there is something on your face (resting on your cheeks, ears, bridge of your nose, whatever) all the time? I would have days like that with my old frames. It would drive me crazy because I would constantly feel irritated by the fact that there was this foreign object touching my face all the time and I’d have to constantly re-adjust my glasses to be comfortable again. Aesthetically the glasses were nice, thick, plastic frames but they have no nose pads. Now I’ve come to the conclusion that Asian people (or people in general who don’t really have prominent nose-bridges) can’t really wear this style of frame very well because the glasses keep slipping down. Really. That’s my opinion and I’m sticking with it.

So, I took the opportunity to buy some new frames. I spent a small fortune but whatever. They feel great. Now I don’t mind it when Robin calls me “Four-Eyes” because I know I look pretty pimping cool.

03.14.2008 "Owie"
 I burned my arm recently. How you say? I was putting something in the oven and I wasn’t bending down low enough, so the top of my arm made contact with the inside of the hot oven. At first the sensation was icy cold. But I knew something was wrong when I heard a sizzling sound. Really, I did. Gross. When I looked at the burned spot on my arm the skin was all puckered and red. I was more intrigued than in pain at this point but the spot was really contained, quite small. I ran my arm under cold water and then the pain kind of kicked in. Ow. It felt all stretchy and hot and irritating. I can’t imagine people who suffer significant burns over the majority of their bodies. I wouldn’t wish that upon anyone.

03.11.2008 "From Disaster to Delicious"
Tuesday morning, my second day back to work after being on maternity leave for a year. Daycare got off to a good start, commute was mildly pleasant, and no rain. As I walked through the Bentall corridors I looked suspiciously at the unlit hallways up ahead. As I turned to go up the stairs to the elevator I was greeted by a Bentall employee wearing a bright Haz-Mat vest. Hmmmm, not a good sign.

It turns out there was a major power outage affecting Towers 1 and 2. No elevators, minimal lighting in the stairwells, and even if I chose to hike up the 18 flights there was no guarantee that the electronic card-swipe access door would work. Oh, and all the computer servers and phone systems would be down. What to do? Find some co-workers who were milling around the lobby and get a cup of coffee. What an interesting start to the day.

We huddled, chatted, and sipped our chai teas and lattes. We got regular updates from the tower employees ("Oh, electricity should be up and running in 30 minutes" - but that was 45 minutes ago). Finally around 10am we were told: the towers are being shut down for the day. Then we ran into our VP Operations who instructed us: go home. End of story.

Now, I could go on and on about how dependent we are on electricity, how our lives depend on it so much, blah-blah-blah. But instead I thought I'd comment on my feelings about having a snow-day to myself. I was going to be paid full salary to piss off for the day. Sounds glorious, right? If it had been a couple of years ago, let me tell you - no problem! I would have shopped, gone to a matinee, called some friends downtown for lunch, just lounged in a coffee house somewhere with a magazine. You get the picture. I'm never one to be bored by myself. BUT, now that I have a small child who was home with grandma for daycare, I felt oddly guilty. What? I know! So bizarre.

I felt that since I had the day off, I should go spend it with my daughter. But then I quickly caught myself - no, I have to let her get used to spending time with others while I'm at work. No time to start that but the present. So I meandered around the downtown core for a bit, wandering a bit aimlessly like a lost soul. I perused the stores at Pacific Center but felt rather strange, displaced, and out-of-it.

But then I grabbed the bull by the horns. This is ridiculous, I thought. So I called Ivan whom I knew was in between movie gigs. He was free and heading downtown for coffee. So we met up and had a great visit at Melriches on Davie. I thought I would head home after that then thought, no - I'm down here and when am I going to see Ivan again (since our schedules are normally so conflicting)? So at my suggestion we stayed downtown for a delicious Thai lunch. From disaster to delicious. It was awesome.

I ended up going home not too late and spent a couple of extra hours with little Baloney who was happy to see me. I immediately felt silly for my conflicting emotions earlier that day. In fact, I secretly hoped that the power outage would still be in effect and I would have another snow-day the next day. Then I could really enjoy a relaxing, indulgent, me-day without feeling guilty. But no luck. Back to work. Oh well. Maybe I'll have to wait until the next disaster.....

 

03.10.2008 "Back To the Grind"
I was hoping that today would provide great inspiration for a journal entry. I thought I would be commenting on my roller-coaster emotions and reflecting back on a year that was indeed one of the best years of my life so far and observing about how quickly the time flew by. But oddly enough, I don't have much to say? And today was the day I went back to work after being absent from the workforce for 12 months....

The whole time I was getting ready this morning, everything felt surreal. It was pretty much business as usual as far as morning routines go - feeding Sloane, playing with her, getting showered and dressed. But I was actually on a schedule today. No lollygagging in bed playing tickle-monster with a giggly toddler. My mother arrived for her daycare shift and Sloane was ga-ga for grandma. Yay, I'm leaving my daughter in safe and loving hands! I hugged my daughter twice before heading out the door. As I peered through the closing door I saw her run off to show her grandmother a toy. So far, so good.

The commute into the office felt a bit mechanical and still surreal. When I looked at the masses of commuters waiting to get on to the escalators at Burrard station I think I had some minor heart palpitations - I was indeed part of the 9-5 crew again (actually, I've changed my shift to 8:30-4:30). But when I walked through the Bentall corridors, who did I see: my friend and ex-coworker who now works in the tower beside me. She was a shining vision of big smiles and bouncy, blonde hair. She gave me a warm, reassuring hug and said she was thinking about me, knowing it was my first day. As I headed up the elevator to my office, I knew the day was definitely starting off on the right foot.

The day progressed pretty much as I thought it would. I didn't do any actual work, just setting up my laptop and having people drop by and say hello. But the wind was knocked out of my sails with one announcement: one of my favourite colleagues told me that he would be leaving in 2 weeks, off to greener employment pastures. I had just hugged him 'hello', and soon I would be hugging him 'good-bye.' So is the cycle in the high-tech world (or any job field for that matter). But it still sucks.

I was surprised to find that my email account hadn't been suspended and when I opened my email I found 2,000 unread messages. So that's what I did for the rest of the afternoon - I went through my Inbox. And even though I had gotten verbal updates from various co-workers about the goings-on over the past year (what products were released, who had left the company, etc), I couldn't help but read the email trail of what had happened, watch it unfold like a story in which I already know the ending.

I got about halfway through my unread messages list today and I was floored by one email that I totally hadn't anticipated. One of my co-workers had written a message with the Subject Line "Rena", dated May 2007, and sent to the whole office. Huh? He wrote about how he had seen me at the Bjork concert, how I looked great, and how I was planning on visiting the office soon. Indeed I remember seeing him at the show shortly after having Sloane. But it was nice to read about myself, to know that I was not forgotten during my year-long office absence. It was part of the email story that I didn't know about. It was the icing on my cake today.

03.03.2008 "Green Onion Teddy Bear"
I love organic-type toys. For example, Sandy and I took the kids to a restaurant in Kitsilano that had a play area. There were a bunch of cool toys there, like a wooden stove and sink set, a material pizza made of felt, and a fruit and veggie set also made of wool felt. Sloane spent many minutes pulling the fabric watermelon out of the oven, then putting it back again. She was cooking fruit! Yay!

We were picking up the individual pieces and ooh-ing and aah-ing over the simple yet brilliant craftsmanship ("Look, it's a carrot! Oh, I like the eggplant!"). But the best toy I saw there: a fabric green onion. Genius. I imagined my daughter settling into her crib, clutching her soft green onion 'doll.' I would love that.

02.29.2008 "The Old and the New"
Here is another entry which is inspired by Ashley who was inspired by UNphotographable....

This is a picture I did not take of my mother's elderly friend as she reaches out affectionately to touch my daughter's cheek. Her gaunt face is marked with many wrinkles that tell stories of travel and working hard and raising children and grandchildren, and it is a stark contrast to my daughter's face which is as smooth and curved as a tulip petal. Thin, drawn lips are stretched into a big smile and the mirror reflection in my daughter's face in comparison is a small, plump rosebud of a mouth. One hand is tender yet sharp and thin like an eagle's talon and the other hand reaching out to grab it is a chubby, little catcher's mitt. The two of them look into each other's eyes, the old and the new, and you can tell by the looks in their faces that they understand each other....

02.24.2008 "Bye-Bye Cloth"
For the past year we've had a cloth diaper service. Every Tuesday morning we would put out our dirty cloth diapers out on our stoop and later that morning they'd be replaced with a new bag full clean cloths for the next week. Magic. But it hasn't always been so easy.

In the beginning, during the first month of our daughter's life, cloth diapers were hell. She was so tiny and the cloth diapers were so huge on her. Many times her liquid messes would leak out and cause a nasty mustard-yellow stain on her clothes. Yikes. And as her digestive system was getting used to external food sources we would often change her diapers every hour, and sometimes more frequently than that. Egad. And when we put her in disposables (for night time or when we went out), it was just so much more convenient. We were almost ready to call it quits on the cloth service after the first two weeks. But I'm glad we persevered.

The first time I emptied out the diaper genie (full of disposables) I couldn't believe how heavy it was. I felt almost guilty as I put the plastic sausage links into our garbage can. I pictured that in a landfill somewhere. And that super-absorbent, leak-proof core? Well, I can't imagine that decomposing in my lifetime. It got to be that every Tuesday when I put that heavy bag of soiled cloth diapers outside for pick-up I almost felt proud, a sense of accomplishment. Sure, the diaper service would be putting chemicals into the water while washing these things but that tangible weight of the disposable diapers in the trash seemed to be a bigger problem for the environment in comparison.

Many of our friends were impressed that we chose to do cloth diapers. And Piers made a good point: imagine if everyone in the world who had a baby swapped1 cloth diaper for a 1 disposable just once a day. Think of that mountain of disposable diapers that would not go into a landfill each day. It would literally be a mountain, it would be that big....

But the era of cloth has ended for our household. I go back to work soon and I don't expect our daycare to contend with the extra effort that is involved with cloth diapers. As I bagged up that last heavy bag to put outside for pick-up tomorrow I felt really good about the past year and imagined our own small mountain that we did not contribute to a landfill....

02.23.2008 "The Fastest Year Ever"
On the weekend it became official - we now have a one-year-old. And to celebrate this milestone we had a children's party. The invite list included 7 other mothers (from my Mommy Group) and their toddlers who are all about the same age as Sloane (and my mother came as well). Due to privacy issues I won't be posting any pictures of the children. To see photos with our guests in them, you'll have to check out the Facebook album that I have yet to create (and be my FB friend).

It was a pretty standard party, I'd say. There were balloons. I made a bunch of food (but the biggest hit was the orange Jell-O blocks that my mother brought). I made some gift bags and customized them with the various kids' initials (the girls got plastic cars and rubber balls with butterflies on them, and the boys got an elephant transformer block and rubber balls with jet planes on them).

People started arriving at 1pm. Soon enough there were 8 toddlers walking and crawling around the living room. But since they move pretty slowly it was slow-motion chaos. They all wandered around checking out the new digs, sifting through Sloane's toy collection, banging on the fish tank, and taking turns laughing and fussing. Sloane got a little overwhelmed at some point by all the people in her house and decided to hang out by herself in her little nook by the fireplace, only peeking out now and then to be fed a piece of Jell-O or Mum-Mum cracker. We opened presents and got some fantastic things (toys, clothes). Then we did the birthday cake - a low fat/sugar carrot and pineapple cake with cottage cheese icing which I had baked the night before. It was devoured. Then Sloane quietly went down for a nap. People started to head out (nap time for all the kiddies apparently) and I sent them on their way with full bellies and loot bags. Then Robin, my mother and myself hung out and finished off the rest of the food while Sloane still slept. Good times.

It was a great party, and it reflected the fantastic year that I've had off with my daughter. And as I knew would happen, I still can not believe how quickly this year has flown by. It's been the fastest year ever, to-date. And the highlight of the party, if I had to choose one, was a gift that I opened. My friend Sandy gave me a set of 3 paintings that she had done. She had read my website looking for ideas and inspiration and saw my entry from December 26, 2007, "Barnyard Household." She painted a Robin, a Wren, and a baby Chick (to represent the family). I was speechless at such a beautiful, thoughtful gift. And in many ways this gift represented the amazing friendships that I've established this past year with the mothers and their children. The pictures will be hung up in Sloane's room where they will stay for many years as she grows. And I'll always see them and be reminded of valued friendships that will also grow over time....

02.20.2008 "Local Travel Bug"
I have an uncle who moved from the Lower Mainland (East Vancouver to be precise) to Ocean Falls about 10 years ago. Where is that, you might ask? It's way the hell up there on the BC coast, near Bella Bella. To get there you need to take at least 2 ferries and the trip can take up to 24 hours due to stopovers. My uncle comes back to town about 2 times a year to visit and get supplies (they are pretty isolated up there and he'll drop thousands of dollars each trip to stock up on basics such as flour, canned goods, potatoes, dishwashing soap, etc). Every time I see him I ask him how he is, even though I already know the answer. "Great," he'll say with a big, genuine smile. "It's the best place on earth to live." Robin really wants the family to visit him up there sometime in the summer (when the town's population increases from 18 to 60 or something like that - people own summer homes up there). I'd like to go, but I'd also like to wait until Sloane's a bit older (that's a long ferry ride for a little toddler).

Last night we were talking about vacations and Robin asked me where I'd like to go for our next vacation. For the first time, I didn't have an immediate answer. Believe it or not, there's nowhere in the world that I'm dying to see right now. It's bizarre. I've done some traveling in the past, e.g. backpacking in South America (literally living like a turtle with only the bare necessities on my back), basking in the sun at all-inclusive indulgent spa vacations, partying in New York semi-budget style, and 5-star living in England (thanks to my employer sending me on business trips). And I loved it all. But right now I don't really have a burning desire to go to a certain locale.

Then I remembered something my uncle said to me years ago, before the move to Ocean Falls. He told me he wanted to get to know BC a little better, and basically why would he want to travel anywhere else? It's so beautiful here and there's so much to see in our province that he could spend the rest of his traveling days exploring his local lands. At the time I thought he was being a bit close-minded or weird. But now that I'm older and I've done my share of exploring bits and pieces of the globe I'm starting to look at my own backyard and I can see what my uncle was talking about. We spend so much of our energy trying to 'get away' and go somewhere else for vacations. But what about all the local destinations that are just at your fingertips but so easy to overlook because they're not in somewhere hot and exotic?

So I think for my next travel excursions I'd like to explore the Gulf Islands, or have high-tea in Victoria, or go winter-surfing in Tofino, or make that crazy-assed trip up to Ocean Falls, And I want to smell that fresh air and discover all that beauty that is around me, and know that my feet are still on my homeland. How cool is that?

02.19.2008 "The World Just Keeps On Turning"
I have this weird thought that creeps up on me every once in awhile. I could be just walking along the sidewalk or driving in my car and suddenly I'm hit by this dizzying, monumental realization: I am somewhere on this big orb that is spinning and rotating at a breakneck speed out there in space. In my mind I have a birds-eye view of myself and then the camera pulls back and up (like a satellite shot zooming out) and suddenly I just see the earth. I start to imagine myself, my body, moving at that speed. And I am struck by this irrational fear that maybe I'll just be flung off the earth's surface one of these days. Yes, of course I know gravity is keeping things in check, but I can't help myself. As I said, it's an irrational thought.

02.16.2008 "Smile, Say Cheese, and Get Published"
I read something in the local newspaper that caught my eye. The police had confiscated some electronic goods that they suspected were stolen. One item was a digital camera. So in efforts to contact the mystery owner they downloaded the pictures then published one of them in the newspaper with the caption (something like this): "Do you know these people? If so, you could help give them back their camera."

Of course I understand what their intentions were and it made sense. I looked at the picture and it seemed very pleasant - a family gathered around a Christmas tree. However I couldn't help but think: what if the picture the police decided to print in the newspaper was very unflattering for some of the people? You know, eyes half-closed, mouths all wonky, triple-chins because someone's looking in the wrong direction, etc. I guess it's no big deal, but I know that myself and my friends have untagged ourselves in unflattering photos posted by others in Facebook. Imagine having a horrible picture of you printed in the newspaper and there's nothing you can do about it?

02.11.2008 "Breaking Bread With Neighbours"
Our family got invited over to the neighbours' house over the weekend for a late lunch (or early tea - whatever you want to call it). They had mentioned a few weeks ago that they wanted to have us over before I go back to work. So they arranged it and booked it (I love it when people are proactive and organized like that). Now this is the same family who cooked us pasta when we came home from the hospital with Sloane and gave us home-baked Ethiopian bread at Christmas. We love them very much.

We walked into their house and they were so welcoming and hospitable. They truly made us feel that their house was our house. We felt very comfortable. We left Sloane in the family room with their 3 kids (they did a good job of entertaining our daughter, almost treating her like a small puppy) and the adults went to the dining area. On the table was an enormous spread of Ethiopian food, a cuisine which I've only had once before on Commercial Drive. But it was so nice to have people dining with you who can tell you all about the exotic flavours and history of the food. They explained what each dish was and showed us how to eat and scoop using your hands. And they emphasized the importance of sharing the bread together. Then they brewed some Ethiopian tea and we talked and laughed and got to know each other a little better. It was so lovely and delicious.

I couldn't help but think: how many of us know our neighbours these days, let alone sit down with them and break bread with them? When I was a child and grew up on a cul-de-sac, all the households were very close. We would have block BBQs and holiday open houses. We would even let ourselves into each other's basements and borrow each other's toys. Then when I moved out on my own into an apartment complex I got friendly with some of the other tenants, but just enough to make small talk in the hallways. And in our current house we got to know the people on both sides of our house, that's it. The people on the left we nod and smile at whenever we see them, but the family on the right we've really grown to like and know. And I've had this conversation with many of my friends - the majority of them only know the neighbours in the closest proximity to them (and only enough to acknowledge them) and hardly any of them have ever socialized with their neighbours.

So, I consider myself quite fortunate. I think that neighbourhood closeness typically only exists in smaller or more rural communities these days. I plan to share bread more often with our neighbours. I think it's important.

02.10.2008 "You've Got the Music In You"
I was digging up some old, 1980s music the other day and came across this great gem from the local band Strange Advance. The song is called "Worlds Away" - I found something on YouTube but unfortunately couldn't locate the full-play mix (oh well - this edited version will have to do).

Anyway. It has this great musical beginning that just builds and swells and it's a fantastic intro. I was sitting at the computer with the headphones on and the song just consumed me. It's all that I was focused on. And then I realized - I haven't really been listening to music lately. I mean, there's been music around (at home, in the car) but I've been so preoccupied with other things that I haven't really stopped to enjoy the music, actually listen to it. Usually when I commute to work, that's when I'm able to really focus on music when I turn on my MP3 player to tune out the maddening transit crowd. But I haven't been working for close to a year now, so hence the lack of music....

Then I remembered a story from way back when. I was in high school when a friend mentioned that she went over to her boyfriend's house and they turned off all the lights and listened to that above-referenced Strange Advance song. In the pitch black. They just sat there and listened to it. She said it was incredible. And I bet it was. In fact, I think I might do that right now - turn off the lights and lose myself in song. It's been awhile.

02.06.2008 "You May Think You're Chinese...."
It's a brand new year according to the Chinese lunar calendar. Good-bye Pig and hello Rat. Since Robin and I now have a child, no more red envelopes for us from my mother. Sigh. It was good while it lasted.

But it reminds me of something I noticed the other day. Robin got a new magazine. I watched him flip it over and start browsing through the pages from back to front. Interesting. I've never noticed that he did this. I pointed this out to him, and he told me that he almost always reads magazines this way. I told him that's how people read Chinese printed publications. His response: Well, I guess I'm Chinese. Not quite. Just weird.

02.04.2008 "The Letter 'E' Makes All the Difference"
Robin and I don't exactly see eye-to-eye on our daughter's name. My other half has said a number of times, "I wish we didn't put an 'E' on the end of Sloane. It would be much simpler without it." And my response, "The 'E' makes it the feminine version." End of conversation. But I know why Robin has made that comment. On at least 2 occasions, we've encountered mispronunciations on her name. Slow-Anne. I know. Can you believe it?

But today - ah-ha. It's all different now. I've been in some public washrooms lately and I've noticed the shiny new faucets. They have the name "Sloan" on them. Interesting. But today when I went into a stall, what did I see engraved on the toilet tank: Sloan. Yes. Without the 'E.' So, that one letter sets our daughter apart from a brand of bathroom fixtures. Yes, I knew I was right in requesting that 'E.'

02.03.2008 "Big Hands"
I took Sloane for a stroller walk in the snow on the weekend. She was fussing a bit and I realized her exposed hands were an angry pink colour. Bad mom. I had forgotten her gloves. So I loaned her mine. She was definitely less fussy after that. But I wonder if she was okay that she ended up looking like something from a Michel Gondry video/movie? I guess we'll never know.

02.01.2008 "Identity Tags"
There are certain items in our lives that may be small or seem minor. But if you look closer and inquire about them you realize that there is great meaning to their existence and in some ways they reflect the owner's identity. For example: the coffee mug that you use at your work place. Some people have spent a few bucks getting a good travel mug that can keep their morning coffee warm during the commute into the office. Very practical I would say. And within this group of people I'm sure a fair number of them have bought these mugs at Starbuck's or Blenz or whatever their favourite coffee shop is and make sure the logo is pointing outwards for the other commuters to see when they sip their drinks on the bus. A bit pretentious I'd say, but I know these people exist.

So I was shopping on Main Street today and ran across a cute and simplistic mug. It had a very basic stick figure drawing on one side of a woman wearing a yellow dress (more like a yellow triangle) and she's holding a flower in one hand and a purse in the other. I turned the mug around in my hands and on the other side in very scrawled, child-like writing was the word "Mom." I had to have this so I bought it. When I brought it home I realized that I don't often drink tea at home (I don't drink coffee). But I do drink tea when I'm at work, about once a day. So I decided that it will be my new 'coffee' mug at the office when I return to work in the spring. Now, what does this mug say about me? You decide.

Another item that can reflect our personality and have meaning to our lives is the keychain. Some people opt for practical (e.g. LED flashlight), or cutesy (e.g. fluffy stuffed animal), or blingy (e.g. Trevor's Tarina Tarantino jeweled heart keychain). You get the idea. Anyway. So I recently lost my keychain which is actually made up of 3 small items. Even though it's unobtrusive I noticed its absence immediately. I wasn't heartbroken but I was mildly upset. There was some meaning to what was lost. I had a small plastic, angel-teddy bear and heart with wings from Shane. He had given it to me years ago for a birthday present (it was part of a larger Hello Kitty keychain but the main part was lost ages ago). I also had a small Egyptian scarab beetle that Sherif had given to me years ago just because he's a nice and thoughtful person. He explained that it helped ward off evil and envy.

I searched high and low but figured the little ring must have just broken and fallen on some sidewalk somewhere. Sigh. It's one of those things that you don't really pay attention to every day but you really miss when it's gone. When I went back into the garage the next day I saw my keychain laying there. Awesome! So my bear and heart and beetle are back with my keys. If you were to see them you probably wouldn't give them a second glance, assuming you could even see them amidst my keys. But to me they're pretty special.

01.25.2008 "Yes, You Have the Cutest, Smartest Child Ever"
Today's entry is a bit of a rant. My target today is people (well, specifically parents) who say to you: isn't my child so cute? What if you don't share that opinion? Aren't they putting you in a bit of a position, where if you don't agree then you're a complete asshole? And it's not just parents that do this. A friend might get a new boy/girlfriend and exclaim to you in front of their new mate: isn't he/she handsome or pretty? Again, potentially awkward position. And just downright obnoxious, really.

Another thing that's been bugging me lately is when parents brag about how advanced their child is. Bulletin! Toddlers and children are growing and learning at crazy rates. So yeah, they appear smart because they'll start doing things tomorrow that they weren't doing today, and so the cycle continues. But all children have their own areas of rapid development, so to speak. My child was walking at 9 months (pretty early statistically) but she hasn't really mastered the art of feeding herself. So if she was in the wild she could evade predators but she'd probably die of starvation pretty quickly. Not too smart then, huh? And please don't brag about how your child is learning to speak really quickly (although I'll be the first to point out that 'Ba-ba' isn't exactly the same word as "Bottle") when he/she is also smearing feces all over the carpet. Again, not too bright on that last point.

Whew. That felt good to express that. And not to flog a dead horse, but I have to vent a little more and describe a couple of incidences that came up recently:

1. Yaletown Ignorance: I was having lunch yesterday with my mom and Sloane at Urban Fare. My mom was taking her granddaughter for a walk around the eating area and I saw Sloane interacting with a little boy (her age) who was seated in a high chair with his mother (about my age) and some of her friends. A few minutes later my mom came back, rolling her eyes. Apparently the mother kept saying to my mom: "Isn't my baby the cutest? Isn't he adorable? He's so cute! He's the cutest baby ever - don't you think?" Uhm, hello? Why on earth would you try to get a grandmother to admit in front of her own grandchild that another child is the absolute cutest baby ever? Just because you think your own child belongs on the cover of Vanity Fair, don't try to get others to agree with you. It's just really obnoxious! My mom's response to me: Nah, that boy wasn't that cute and the mother wasn't attractive at all. Oh please mother, now you're just being mean. BUT, when we left and we walked past the table I had a closer look. Damn, she was right on both points!

2. Ferry Ignorance: We took Sloane to the Gulf Islands on the weekend and she had a great time walking around the interior of the ferry deck and saying hello to all the seated passengers. Robin had her and she was flirting with an older man. He said to Robin, "I have a new grandson, and he's so advanced. He's 6 months old and he's sitting up!" Sigh. Guess what, Grandpa - 6 months is when the majority of babies (smart, average, dullards) sit up on their own. Your grandson isn't really that advanced when you look at the medical development charts.

3. Second-Hand Ignorance: This last story was something I heard from another mother that I know. She was talking to a woman who was bragging about her daughter and how advanced she is. She was describing how "She's standing on her own and almost ready to let go and stand by herself. She's so advanced!" When my friend asked how old this child was, the other woman excitedly proclaimed, "Thirteen months!" OMG. Again, people, please be aware of the statistics. In our baby group alone, about half of our little munchkins were walking (not just standing by themselves) by 10 months. Gawd! Get your heads out of your asses.

01.24.2008 "Quote of the Day Part 16: Kind Words From a Crazy Person"
Today's QOTD was uttered by a stranger who watched me intently as I bought a ticket from a downtown parking lot dispenser. I normally might be a bit nervous (me alone in an empty lot with my wallet out) but I felt quite safe because 2 Impark employees were also eyeing me (they were waiting to collect the cash from the machine). Anyway, the guy who spoke had a straggly beard and wore all grey and had a shopping cart with him that was full of plastic bags. Needless to say, I assumed he was a street-person. He was standing by the machine when I approached it and started talking immediately to me, in rapid-fire words with no noticeable punctuation.

>Ah and here we have a nice girl very articulate very well-spoken and obviously she's a good breeder

I just nodded and smiled. What else to do? But then it dawned on me that I hadn't uttered a word (how would he know that I was articulate?) and Sloane wasn't with me (evidence of my breeding abilities). Oh well. I'll take the nice words anytime, wherever they're from. Why not?

01.22.2008 "Winter Scavenger"
Here is another entry which is inspired by Ashley who was inspired by UNphotographable....

This is a picture I did not take of a crow perched on top of a snowman in our neighbour's yard. The black-feathered pest alternates between pecking and chipping away at the snow-white face and then looking up at the passerby traffic on the sidewalk. As I approach the busy bird and then walk past I realize that the crow is not just treating the snowman as a snow-cone and eating the ice flakes. I see that the scavenger is after the carrot nose that protrudes from the melting, white face.

01.21.2008 "I Got Punk'd!"
I got Punk'd last week. Well, not quite. There was no anxiety and no stress, and no Ashton Kutcher (that last point may or may not be a good thing depending on who you are - for me, I definitely would not have pointed him in the direction of the door if he had showed up). Anyway. I picked up Farshad for dinner at the Eatery (yay!). As we drove to Kitsilano we talked about Ashley and Brendon's return date. They were driving in from California that night - finally moving back to Lotus Land after spending 4 years in Silicon Valley. Farshad also mentioned that Glyn would be meeting us at the restaurant.

We got there, got our table and ordered some food. After about 10 minutes I saw Farshad wave in the direction of the front door. I looked up expecting to see Glyn and who did I see instead - Ashley and Brendon. Tired from the long drive but sweet and familiar as ever. They had talked to Farshad earlier that evening and decided to surprise me at the Eatery. Then Glyn arrived a few minutes after that. We ordered more food and drinks and it was just like the crew had been meeting for our weekly sushi date for the last 4 years. Time had stood still for us. It was fantastic.

01.16.2008 "Get A Grip"
I was at a store today, and while talking to one of the sales associates he introduced himself and offered up his hand. I grasped it and shook it, and it felt like I was holding a fistful of wet pasta. Ugh. Call it a pet peeve, or call it a personal preference, but to me a weak handshake leaves me feeling turned-off, or leaves no impression at the very most. Come on people, especially those of you in customer service positions - a nice, firm yet friendly handshake is important! A feeble grip leads people to believe that you're lacking in the personality department.

Needless to say the customer service I received today was adequate. It was sufficient. But the face representing the company - very forgettable. No impression whatsoever. I walked away only remembering the lame handshake. And I'm not being dramatic. It's true.

01.14.2008 "Sad Cars"
I seldom cry during movies. In fact it's an inside joke with my close friends, who mock me for my lack of emotional response to tearjerker movies. Whatever. Anyway, I saw a movie over the holidays that didn't make me cry but it almost got me a little bit choked up. It was the Pixar movie "Cars." Yes. An animated, pretty-formulaic movie aimed at a youngish audience actually moved me. All those cute, sad cars with their radiator grills down-turned into frowns - it just killed me. Who would have thought?

01.11.2008 "Uncle Mark Rides a Motorcycle! And He's a Zoo Veterinarian"
Back in December the family hung out one afternoon with another family (couple with a small boy - met them from my Mommy Group) and Mark and Drew. It turns out we're all friends, with Uncle Mark as the common link. The little boy would start crying whenever Mark looked at him. And then Sloane would get upset too. Of course the guys couldn't help themselves and make bad jokes ("Don't worry - Uncle Mark's not going to take your wallet! He doesn't have a gun!" etc). But of course the reality is that the babies were not accustomed to seeing people with such dark features. People do look different, and young minds get familiar with certain physical feature sets and are unfamiliar with someone who looks radically different from their family. It can't be taken personally, but as parents (the mother and I had a talk about this later) we'd like to make an effort to expose our children to as many cultures as possible.

So Sloane and I are attending the little boy's first birthday this weekend. I went shopping yesterday and bought him a cool gift. It's a Playmobil set with a little black boy on a motorcycle (note that the boy's father owns a motorbike). And since I'd like to expand my own daughter's ever-expanding mind, I bought her a Playmobil set with a little black girl who is a zoo veterinarian. What's next? I'd like to find some Asian Playmobil characters. Or better yet, some Eurasian figurines. That's my next mission. Wish me luck.

01.07.2008 "Only the Beckhams Should Wear White"
Sloane got a lovely winter coat as a present. It's thick and comfy and warm, and it also happens to be white. Hmmm, white clothing for a toddler. Maybe not the most practical colour choice for someone who constantly has food caked on her face and hands and likes to scrounge around on the ground picking up dirt. But that didn't stop us from zipping her up in it and taking her out!

The first time she wore it she was in the baby carrier and Robin spilled soy sauce on her while we ate at a Japanese restaurant. So I washed it. The next time she wore it I found traces of her lunch ground into it near the top of the zipper. I figured she must have wiped her food-encrusted mouth on the edge of it. So I washed it again. And today when I was transferring her from the car to her stroller I noticed a bunch of dark, red stains all over the front, back and arms. What the deuce? Then I noticed I had cut my thumb and my blood was staining her white jacket all over. So the jacket is in the laundry pile to be washed tomorrow. Sigh.

I don't wear a great deal of white clothing myself for the above reasons - I'm always paranoid about stains. So what was I expecting with a toddler in white, that it would be any different? Only someone like the Beckhams should wear white. They wear it well and they're loaded so I'm sure their clothes are pretty much disposable. No need to worry about stains on their white garments in that household.

01.05.2008 "Let Me Hum You a Few Bars"
The following is a reproduction of a conversation that I had with Ivan recently. Writing dialogue can be tricky but I need to practice it, and I find the story amusing. So here goes:

Ivan: I was in Wal-Mart the other day. The guy in line in front of me was asking a couple of the employees for the CD with the song from the iPod commercial.

Rena: [grabs her face with her hands in a display of exaggerated anxiety a la "Home Alone"] Oh no. I sense an awkward story....

Ivan : [laughs] Yeah. He started describing the commercial, what was going on, the outfits.... And the Wal-Mart women were just like, "What?"

Rena: PLEASE tell me you interjected and told them who it was! Oh, so painful!

Ivan: No. I wanted them to figure it out for themselves. Then the guy started singing the song, but he had the lyrics all wrong.

Rena: And then you interjected and told them?

Ivan: I was just about to, when one of the girls said, "Oh, I know who it is. It's Nelly Furtado!"

Rena: [visibly cringing] Ooooh! No way!

Ivan: THEN I interjected. I described what she was wearing in the video clip, I recited some of the lyrics. And the guy was like "Yeah! That's it!" I told them, "That's Feist." And the employee was like, "Uhm, I don't think so. I'm pretty sure it's Nelly Furtado."

Rena: THAT'S hilarious!

Ivan: I told them, "Trust me. It's Feist." But it turns out they didn't carry the CD anyway.

Rena: I love that story. It's going in my journal.

01.03.2008 "Break Out the Water Skis and Lifejacket"
Ivan and I had yet another fine vegetarian Indian meal at Yogi's on Commercial Drive. And this time Sloane slept quietly in her stroller throughout the entire meal. Yay, my sweet baby!

One of our conversation topics was discussing which actors and actresses we consider to have jumped the shark in our opinions. A few were easy to identify: Hilary Swank, Philip Seymour Hoffman, Tom Cruise, Helena Bonham Carter (or HBC for short because those are just too many syllables for one person's name). As we finished our rant, I suddenly shared my concern. What if we had jumped the shark years ago? What if I had peaked when I was in my 20s? Egad!

"No, never!" was Ivan's reply. Whew. Although some people might have different opinions on that. Meh. Whatever.

01.02.2008 "A New Year Indeed"
For the first time in years (since I was a kid, I think) I stayed in for New Year's Eve. It was Sloane's first NYE so Robin and I decided to stay at home with her even though her bedtime is well before the big apple drop in Times Square (even with the Eastern feed TV channel). I had stopped the late night New Year's partying years ago, but for the last few years we've been spending the special evening with friends at someone's pad (in fact, that's how Robin and I met 5 years ago).

But this year was definitely different. We ordered Chinese food and watched a DVD when Sloane went to bed at 8pm. At 10:45pm Robin announced that he was going to bed. Huh? But what about the midnight countdown? He reminded me that he'd been up for awhile (Sloane still hasn't mastered sleeping in). Fair enough. So I climbed into bed with him at 11pm and read a magazine. By 11:30pm I heard snoring beside me. The equivalent to a noisemaker, I suppose.

I must have drifted off because the next thing I knew I was woken up by the sounds of fireworks across the street at the park. Neither Robin nor Sloane were bothered by the booming and popping because I didn't hear a peep from either of them. Through the blinds I could see the glowing reds and flashing blues. So I enjoyed the New Year's midnight moment on my own, by myself. But I didn't feel alone. It doesn't matter where you are or who's there with you (conscious, that is) at that stroke of midnight. If you are happy and loved, you're not alone.

 

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