drive by posting

We are sitting downstairs watching "So You Think You Can Dance" and we hear, 'I want to come and watch this, it looks funny, you know,' come from around the corner. Julian decided to come by and say hello despite needing to be in bed at this very late hour for a toddler. Thad just brought him back up but I wanted to share a little story from my evening tonight.

Julian and I were sharing a quick cuddle in the kitchen just after dinner. I sang a little song to him that I've sang to him since he was a baby, a special Julian song that we share together. He looked up at me, smile, and sang the song back to me but switched out his name for 'mommy.' He's never done this before, not so sincerely or as genuinely as he did tonight. It made me cry. One of those perfect mommy moments that I hope to keep tucked away in my memory forever (which is one of the reasons I have this blog).

Thank you, Julian, for teaching me about unconditional love. And thank you for sharing your laughter with me. .... Now go back to bed and, if you could, please sleep past 5am? Thank you. :)

The little house that love built

Today was the day. It was inevitable as we’ve been battling the real estate market for what feels like forever. Our decision to purchase another home prior to selling our townhouse was the best decision we ever could have made but gee, it was a gamble. For all we knew we could have ended up sitting with double mortgages for months before our townhouse sold but in the end our lovely home was picked up after only 5 days on the market (this time around). Third time’s a charm, right? We had put our house on the market back in 2006 for a hot second (literally only about 4-6 weeks) just “to see” if it would be scooped up. Obviously it wasn’t and we decided not to deal with the “keeping-the-whole-house-clean” thing unless we absolutely had to. Then there was last year. I wouldn’t wish what we did upon my worst enemy and I can’t believe Dash spent his first few months on planet Earth dealing with the stress of having the house on the market. What were we thinking?! In the end, our dream house became available and our house was picked up by a lovely woman that, if given the opportunity, I’d love to be her friend.

So there Thad and I were this weekend doing our final sweep through the old house and I found myself in tears standing in the foyer, thinking about the last almost 7 years of my life. In spring of 2004 my lease was ending at what has famously been referred to as “Cedar House” and I needed to make some decisions about what I was going to do. Was I going to stay with IBM? Travel? Go back to school? It is the dreaded question for any 20-something: “what are you going to do with your life?” My mom and I figured that if I was ever to go back for a Master’s degree my job would hopefully pay for it. Real estate at the time was the best place to invest some money, so that was where we went. We found this house with my agent not long after it had been on the market and we scooped it up very quickly. It wasn’t going to be available until August so we did a rent back after closing in June and I lived with my mom for the overlapping months.

Thad and I met the night before I moved into this house so as far as I’m concerned, he’s always been a part of it. My friend, Shannon, helped me move in and my friend, Melisa, helped me put my IKEA tables together. I mean, really, did someone really say it was okay for this 22-year old to own a house? Apparently so and I loved it. A 4-bedroom house was a big bit for me on my own so the first year in the house was spent with some lovely roommates. There was Scott and Levi, both of whom I found on roommates.com. My mom wasn’t big on me living with perfect strangers who are men that I found on a website but after background checks and some leases drawn up, my mom figured I had to figure things out on my own. Scott was awesome. He lived with me for a year and he was the best roommate. He was quiet, he kept to himself, and he has the best sense of humor. He moved out in September 2005 right before Thad moved in. Levi was not awesome. He was evicted after approximately 5 months of living together. He was stressful, inconsiderate, and he bit one of my friends. Yup, you read that correctly: he bit her. After Levi moved out in spring of 2005 my good friend from college, Lauren, moved in and was with us in the house until Thad and I got engaged in the fall of 2006. Even though she’s moved into her own apartment in Arlington now, we still say that she can live with us anytime she wants.

Most of all, the house was the stage for the evolution of my relationship with Thad and truly the first home we ever had. On our third date Thad and I laid on the carpet in my very empty house and listened to music for hours. After Thad moved in October 2005, a month later we got 2 kittens and a puppy. Oh boy did we get ourselves into a big mess. Neither of us had any idea how to care for a puppy and the kittens were 2 furry mysteries to me as I had never had cats before either. Poor Lauren had to deal with crying kittens at her door the first week they were here and a barking dog that didn’t know where to poop…oh, the mess.

In the fall of 2006 we got engaged and three weeks later got married with a justice of the peace in the City of Fairfax. Our post-marriage celebration was spent standing around our kitchen island with my brother, Thad’s sister, and her then-boyfriend-now-husband over beers and crackers. In the fall of 2007 we got pregnant with our first little bundle and over the next couple years settled in even more to our home together. In the spring of 2008 his mom moved in with us for what we thought was a temporary arrangement but has evolved into a long-term plan. We are so grateful to have a multi-generational home in a place where it isn’t common anymore. We were especially grateful to have help within walking distance from both of our moms after our second little bundle arrived in the spring of 2010 in our master bedroom.

As I walked around the empty townhouse on Sunday afternoon I could see the faint pictures of events past: House parties with friends and that time that a friend spilled a cranberry-vodka on my white carpet. Drunk stair sliding on slippery pants. The time when I hosted a big Filipino food party and I had friends all over the house chowing down on pancit, watching a Filipino movie, and drinking beers in the backyard. Making Halloween costumes with my girlfriends for a weekend of back-to-back costume parties. Unwrapping wedding gifts with Thad and being surrounded by white boxes, greeting cards, and oodles of love from our family and friends. Painting what would be Julian’s room a Winnie-the-Pooh yellow and wondering how our lives would change with his arrival. Taking a pregnancy test and walking through the house to show Thad the proof that our little family was indeed growing. Laboring in my living room surrounded by my amazing birth team and cursing at whoever put so many stairs in my house. Welcoming our son at the foot of our bed with our other son asleep down the hall. Watching my boys cuddle on the couch on Christmas morning….

In the book that I am reading right now the main character talks a lot about houses and homes. He comes from a nomadic people and he says a couple of times that a house is like a shoe. If it’s too big, it will slide and chafe. If it’s too small, it’ll squeeze and blister. While I hate to think that we left the townhouse because we had outgrown it, it’s the truth of the matter. It is, though, forever be a perfect home to me. And so it is. The little house that love built will live in my heart forever and I am glad that another family can enjoy the space as much as we did. They may not know where all the dings on the walls came from, or about the flood we had in the basement, or how Julian learned to walk on those floors, but that’s okay. I am grateful to the house for being our home.

A year old...when did that happen?

Not sure when it happened but a year has passed since our little dude joined our family. I feel like I was just waddling around IKEA yesterday waiting for his arrival. We got home from IKEA about 2 hours before I went into labor. Consequently, we went to IKEA today, too. I had this great plan to chronicle what life has been like as a family of four- well, in greater detail than I have- but, alas, I guess this is what happens when you add another child into the mix. Kudos to anyone who can maintain a blog better than I have.

Not gonna lie, those first 3 months were rocky and crazy. It probably didn't help things when we decided to put the house on the market for three months. Come to think of it, since Dash's birth it has been a non-stop crazy train ride for us. Perhaps it's a testament to the presence that he has created in our lives....the kid is a bulldozer and I say that with lots of love. He's a loud, playful, crawling, toothless wonder with lots of energy and a very devilish smile...I wonder where
he got it from?

He and Julian are BEST buds and we are so excited to see just how much fun they have together. Julian is so kind with Dash. He watches over him to make sure he doesn't play with toys that are not safe for him and makes sure to take them away and replace them with toys that are safe. It's so helpful to have a watchful big brother around!! He even makes sure Dash doesn't crawl towards the stairs. If Dash does, Julian goes, "No Dash, don't go to the stairs!" and runs and gives Dash a big bear hug and lays on top of him to make sure he doesn't go anywhere. ( I'm really glad we only have one staircase in the new house. :)) A big part of our motivation to have another child was to give Julian a sibling and after seeing them together over this past year, I am so grateful that they have each other. Where Julian is a sensitive, relatively calm, and pensive child, Daschel is proving himself to be a tasmanian devil and we are excited to see what kind of personality comes out of him as he gets older.

So happy birthday to my little rogue, my little devil. It's been an awesome year getting to know you and I am excited to see what this next year has to offer. Here he is enjoying his first ever sweet treat today. See anything funny about this picture? ;) Happy birthday, chuck!

Catching up

Family picture taken at the Abby's Lane (cloth diaper store) grand opening in Manassas

Holy cow, has it really been over a month since I wrote last?! Time has flown by....time to catch up:

-Thad's new job. He started the first week of December at his new company, American Wind Energy Association, as their Director of Strategic Technology Services. He had been with his previous employer for just over 5 years and the change has invigorated him. He's very busy but I think he's happy there. Not only was the work change needed, but I think working for a cause like wind power is very cool. We came up with a really cool wind ad for next year's Super Bowl...how cool if it made it that far!

-"Okay, germs, you can go away now...." Sickness. Two days before Christmas we all got sick with the flu. First my mom, then me, then Dash and Thad on Christmas day, then Julian the day after Christmas. Between respiratory flu, then suspected food poisoning/stomach flu, and colds, the whole house felt better for a hot second at the end of January but now we're back into a cold with me and Dash. Gosh I can't wait until warm weather and we can run around outside again and open the windows!!!

Attempting to make dinner....right before Julian threw up all over the kitchen.

-My birthday. For my 29th birthday, my husband brought me to this amazing Belgian restaurant in Old Town Alexandria. If you are ever in the area and in search of a delicious dinner with amazing service, check out Brabo. 10 points if you can tell me where the name comes from....hint, the chef's parents are from Antwerp. It was a wonderful night out and very needed, it was our first date since right before Dash was born almost a year ago.

-New house. You heard that right. In the middle of the holidays and a job change, we bought a new house! We closed on the 28th so just in time for my birthday (between my minivan last year for our anniversary and our house this year for my birthday, Thad has a lot to live up to next year *wink*) and we are moving in officially on the 19th of February, just in time for Dash's first birthday. We didn't want to book movers for Jan in case we had snow, which we did, so this gives us a couple week buffer to pack up the townhouse and then move in. Hopefully our townhouse will be on the market the first week of March. Anyone want a townhouse in Fairfax? If you do, let me know!!! We've got a nice one for you!!

Lessons from my father

This time of the year is always hard for me. The holidays have been dappled with losses throughout my life and nine years ago tomorrow was the biggest loss of all. I realized today that a lot of the people who have become my closest friends over the past few years never met my hero, my father, so I decided to put together this small list of lessons that I was lucky to learn from him. I hope you enjoy the read.

Music is more than just notes.

My earliest memories of music are of sifting through my father’s records, curled up next to the record player, clutching Frank Sinatra’s Greatest Hits (http://www.sevensidedcube.net/wp-content/uploads/Frank-Sinatra-Frank-Sinatras-Gr-426390.jpg) and listening to “Strangers in the Night” on repeat. Whenever I hear ol’ blue eyes sing “My Way” I still get teary eyed as that was my dad’s favorite karaoke tune (and boy did he love karaoke). At Christmas time I pulled out his cassette tapes of Perry Como and Johnny Mathis singing Christmas carols. My dad was always big on knowing more about the music than just the singer and that’s something I still look into today. When the radio still had an oldies station he would quiz me and my brother on the songs that played. “Who is this? Is this the original or a cover? What year was it? What album was it on?” And so forth. He was really excited when Forrest Gump came out because the music throughout that movie could have been my dad’s life soundtrack, too. He loved telling me stories about songs and it seemed like just about every song we heard had a story. “This was played at my 6^th grade dance…” A big reason why I keep my XM subscription is because of Channel 6, and whenever we go to the Silver Diner every song I hear has a memory attached to my father. Now that Julian is obsessed with the Beatles, I am so grateful to share my dad’s passion for music with him.

If you see something you want (or in his case, someone), go after it with reckless abandon.

If you ever saw my parents together you knew they had a special relationship; a love story that any young girl could only dream of finding someday. I heard the story a million times. Here is the short version: He was a junior in college. She was a freshman running for class office. She walked into his science class one day to hand out campaign materials. She was wearing a peach fuzzy sweater, jean shorts, and platform shoes. He took one look at her and knew, “She is going to be my wife.” From that moment on he pursued her- followed her to her dorm, followed her to class, sent his frat recruits to carry her books for her. She would not relent. They were both in their own relationships which makes this story even more scandalous because he wanted her. She knew his reputation and she was *such* a goody-goody (still is). The government proclaimed martial law and everyone went home from school to their provinces, and while they were away boy and girl thought about each other a lot. “I wonder what they are doing right now?” Marital law ended, their other relationships ended, and they returned to the university town. Fresh off the bus, they were walking down the main road and they literally bumped into each other. They both claim they wanted to hug and kiss the other person but it would not be appropriate. He asked her out. She accepted. They went to a movie where he bought her some peanuts, and so began their life-long relationship. December 7^th would have been 33 years married. They acted like two teenagers in love and their love story is my proof that true love- the kind you see in movies- does exist.

Ladies love the revolutionaries.

So my parents were in college in the Philippines during the Vietnam War. My dad said he would march in the protests not because he had beef with the U.S. government but because the ladies loved the revolutionaries. “Down with American Imperialism!” and the ladies would swoon. It’s ironic that he went on to join the U.S. Navy. J

Work hard. Play hard.

He was a workaholic but I wouldn’t say it was bad, although thank God Blackberries weren’t around when he was still working. I think it was because he could never turn off his brain. But still, he worked hard so he could play hard and every weekend (and quite a few week nights) you’d see him on the tennis courts for hours. He worked hard to take his family on vacation, take us to really cool places. I get my work ethic from both of my parents but he was definitely a model for me on how to balance work and life.

If you get a second chance (or third or fourth), make the best of it.

I didn’t know this until I was older but apparently my dad entered the University of the Philippines, the most prestigious university in the Philippines, as salutatorian of his high school class, to study engineering. He ended up being a Physics major. He partied a bit too hard and the engineering school kicked him out. The only school that would allow him back was the College of Arts and Sciences and that is how he became a Physics major. He was a brilliant man and it’s no surprise that he went on to get 2 postgraduate degrees during his career in the Navy. He took his second chance and did the best he could and I know it meant a lot to him that he was given that opportunity.

Look at the big picture.

I cried through my dad’s entire retirement ceremony from the Navy. These were not tears of joy but tears of disappointment that my dad did not stay in and go “for the glory,” as I told him, and get as far as he could. First Filipino supply corps admiral? I felt like he was walking away from his career and wouldn’t get the prestige that I felt he deserved. We had a big talk about it. At the time, his next posting would have been a move from Fairfax, VA to Corpus Christi, TX for my senior year of high school. He said he looked at the big picture of the move, its impacts beyond his career advancement, and decided it was time to move on from his career in the Navy and do what was best for his family here. After having been on a solid track in Fairfax County there was no way I’d be able to take the courses I needed to get into a good college in Texas. (Not that anything is wrong with Texas but I was looking at taking about 4 AP classes senior year that weren’t offered anywhere near Corpus Christi). What about VA schools? He could have gone alone for the year and left me and my mom in VA (Brian was at Old Dominion University at the time so he was away) but he couldn’t bear the thought of being separated from my mom for so long. And so it was, Mr. Practical, left his career as a Commander and went on to do some amazing things in the private sector. This is a lesson I’ve taken with me throughout my adult life, that I have to look at all the impacts of my decisions and do what’s best for all parties.

Always have plenty of toilet paper, water, and soap.

Did I mention he was a Supply officer? Commissary runs with my dad was like we were buying supplies to support a small village. Did we ever run out of essentials? Hell no. Our house was well stocked. For hungry teenagers, this was fabulous. As I’m finding with 2 itty bitties, you can never have too many wipes or crackers on hand. It’ll be interesting to see how that “essentials” list evolves as the kids get older.

Don’t wait to wear those clothes for special occasions.

My dad had dreams of being a singer upon his retirement. “Sitting at the dock of the bay” by Otis Redding was one of his theme songs. He dreamt of being a cafe singer in Hawaii, wearing a Hawaiian shirt, playing a ukulele, and hearing the ocean behind him. He had a stack of Hawaiian shirts that he kept for this specific occasion. He never got to wear the shirts. Lesson? Don’t wait to wear the clothes you want to wear or do the things you want to do. I have a couple of his shirts in my closet.

R.T.F.Q. and K.I.S.S.

God bless him, my dad had endless patience with me and math. I was pretty good at math until I got to Trig and Calculus where I might as well have been studying quantum physics. It was damn hard. There were times we’d be up late in our kitchen with endless papers around us with scribbles and marks and pencil points where he would point (with force) at formulas and say “RTFQ!” I was like, “what the hell does that mean?!” “Read The Fucking Question, Pamela!” Or he would look at my sad attempts at proofs and say, “Keep It Simple Stupid.” Throughout life I’ve written out these little abbreviations to myself if I am feeling a bit overwhelmed to remind myself to take a step back. My brother and I still laugh about these late night math lessons.

Remember your roots.

As a first-generation American, I always wondered what it was like for my parents to grow up in a developing country (is that P.C.?) and how it compared to how my brother and I were being raised. I loved hearing my dad’s stories of playing marbles with his brothers in the courtyard of their home or using sugar cane as a tooth brush (I think he told me the latter anecdote more to fuck with me than anything else. They weren’t that rural). When I was 10 we went to Hawaii on a family vacation and my dad climbed a coconut tree to get some fruit. Seriously? I had no idea he could do that. What I loved most about the Filipino connection was that no matter where we were or who they were, if my dad found a fellow Filipino whether it be in a grocery store or in a random city somewhere, he’d buddy up to them and before we knew it we’d be invited to this guy’s house for Christmas dinner with his family. We’re all related, right? I loved that my dad never forgot his roots and never held back in trying to share it with me and my brother. Does that mean I eat balut? Hell no. But I do remember him and my grandfather teasing me and my cousins with them.

Parenthood is not easy. Heck, life is not easy.

One of the last serious conversations I had with my dad was about him as a parent. I remember him thanking me for taking it easy on him and his parenting decisions because before he was a father he was just a man. He asked me to remember that he tried his best, to be the best father he could. That behavior extended throughout his life. He wasn’t perfect, he had his transgressions and his vices, but he knew them and he did his best by the people around him. I know that everything he did- making the Navy a career because it was the best way he could support his family (he didn’t intend on making it a career, but it just happened that way), moving us every couple of years- he did it all from a place of love and support. He did it all for us and I thank him. I thanked him all the time and I thank him daily now for the life he gave me and my family. In my eyes, he was a model father. He wasn’t perfect but he did his best and I try to live by that every day with my boys. (Mom, don’t think I’m not saying the same about you. You are absolutely the model mother and I can only hope to live up to the bar you have set for me).

Take care of the people most important to you.

I remember going to the Outer Banks the summer after 6^th grade with a few other families. This was our crew when we lived in Philly, a group of Navy families that have watched me grow up from a wee one. My dad would stand in the water up to his thighs and watch us all play in the sound (our house was on Hatteras Island on the sound side so we could play without the waves). My dad didn’t swim (funny for being a Navy man). In fact, he didn’t like going too far into the ocean, but there he was, wading in the sound watching my mom windsurf and my brother and I go crabbing. The look of happiness on his face was overwhelming. Going off of my previous point, he did everything he could to bring happiness to the people he cared most about. He pampered my mom with trips to Europe, weekend getaways, dinners out- all because he knew he made her happy. How can someone get so much joy out of seeing happiness on other’s faces, knowing he’s responsible for it? I understand it now with my own family. I like nothing more than seeing my boys (Thad included) and my friends happy. I am so grateful my parents taught me this lesson.

As I read this list, I can only hope that someday my children can look back at the lessons I am trying to instill in them and think fondly of me. I know this list of lessons can go on forever but I think this is enough for now. I am a better person because of my dad and I miss him so much that my soul aches. I know that he is watching over me raise my family and I can only hope he is proud of the person I have become. I miss you, daddy.

Farewell, Fitzchivalry

You can keep a dog; but it is the cat who keeps people, because cats find humans useful domestic animals.

It was the day before Thanksgiving, 2005 when we brought them home. Thad and I had been dating for over a year and he just moved in that Columbus Day weekend. I was working from home at the time and, in my desperate need to feel social, told Thad that I wanted a dog to keep me company. He is not a dog person, or at least, wasn't. He is a cat person through and through. He gets cats. I joke that Thad is the Cat Whisperer because where most cats are aloof and run away from strangers, cats purr and run around Thad's feet. In compromise, we decided we'd get one cat and one dog. Good logic, right?

We found a cat rescue organization here in Fairfax that had two little grey kittens up for adoption. We didn't intend to get two, but really, how much more work is two than one? So off to Oakton we went to meet these two little furrballs. A Six-month old brother and sister pair who were dropped off at shelter in rural VA, we couldn't bear the thought of separating them so we decided to take them both after our vacation that week.

The first night here we watched them closely and they wouldn't come out from underneath Thad's easy chair. They were scared of the big screen TV and weren't too interested in letting us pet them either. Our roommate at the time said the first night here they howled all night. Little by little they let us get to know them and after a week or so we knew our home would never be the same.

First there was the little girl, Trillian, named after the main female character in "A Hitchhiker's guide to the galaxy" by Douglas Adams. Then there was Fitzchivalry, named after the hero in the Assassin series books by Robin Hobb. They were identical but for size; if Trillian was Size 1, grey kitty, Fitz was Size 2.

If you asked me 8 years ago if I ever would have owned cats I would have laughed at you. I never really understood cats. I felt like they would sit there, judging me without getting a chance to know me. Cats made me feel incredibly inferior. Apparently this is normal behavior for a cat? I wish someone gave me this manual when I got the cats: http://theoatmeal.com/comics/kitty_pet.

It's been a trying year with him. He's had to go to the vet several times for a recurring UTI coupled with total blockage; he has been through a lot. When we saw the tell tale signs again last night that something was amiss, we had a feeling that we'd be facing the same decision again soon- whether or not to keep treating the symptoms and then still wonder when it's going to happen again. Unfortunately all the tests kept on coming back that he was okay, so with no definitive answer on what was causing all these problems, we'd be back to square one. What do you do? I am so grateful to have other pet-loving friends in my life to help me be objective but caring about pet care.

And so it was today, sweet Fitzchivalry, at five and a half years old, continued on to kitty heaven. I've been thinking a lot about him and the adorable Fitz things he did. He loved to play. Julian has been using the kitty wand with the shiny strings at the end to play with him and despite his size, he was very quick kitty. He was deathly quick when he chased a laser pointer. He couldn't resist a cardboard box or a warm lap to curl up on. He loved to eat, everything from catnip mice to mango. He got out of the house a couple of times and he would be so excited about all the smells, he didn't know what to do with himself. Every night Thad's lap would never be empty as Fitz would jump up as soon as Thad sat down for the night to relax. Fitz also had an ally in Scout. Those two were buddies for sure.

Fitz also taught me about cats. First and foremost he taught me that regardless of whether or not I was done petting him, he would tell me when it's time to be done. He also taught me to fear his claws. He taught me that even if cats seem to not care about you, they actually do. He kept me company while I was in labor with Dash, to the point of needing to remove he and his sister from the living room as they were sticking so close to me that they were getting in the way. He taught me that cats' purring could be LOUD. So blissfully loud. Really, he taught me about the unconditional love of a pet that no matter where or what we did, he'd always be waiting to sit on our laps and purr.

We'll miss you, sweet, cuddly, ever-purring Fitz.

Memories

Last week we were talking at dinner about our last family vacation, a trip to Aruba last December. Julian was only about 18 months old at the time and I figured he wouldn't remember anything about it. Wrong. Thad asked him what his favorite part of the trip was and Julian paused, tapped his chin (just like Wallace from "Wallace and Gromit") whilst looking up, took a deep breath and said, "Playing in the pool." I was astonished. He remembered?! Really?!!! Wow. He also remembered spinning him around in the water, going to the beach and playing in the sand. I know that toddlers don't forget anything- like a few days ago when Thad told Julian that we would get him a nutcracker next time we went to Target (he's very excited about Christmas decorations) and today when we went to pick up shampoo for grandma, he reminded me of daddy's promise. (The miniature nutcracker is currently sitting on our dining table...we named it Heir Friedrich)- but I didn't think he'd remember a trip almost a year ago.

This little exchange got me thinking about my earliest memories. When Thad and I first started dating I used to tease him about how much he did not remember about his childhood. With all those regular saturday night dates I wanted lots of stories, right? Thad claims to have very, very little memory about life before age 15. I, on the other hand, have memories back to when I was about 3. My brother may claim that some of this did not happen, but memories are memories and these are some of mine.

-Age 3. Getting off a bus/tram at the wrong spot with my father. We were in Italy or France, not sure. My mom and brother were still on the bus and I was convinced we'd never, ever see them again. Obviously, we did as we walked and were reunited with them at the next stop.
-Age 5. Laying on a towel on the sidewalk in my swimsuit. We lived in Monterey, CA and I was convinced the song "California Girls" by the Beach Boys was written for me. I'd prop my little pink umbrella up next to me and pretend to be at the beach. (I was very sad to move away from CA and could no longer consider myself a 'california girl.' 'Philadelphia girl' didn't have the same ring to it).
-Age 3. Wearing my blue leotard while watching "The Wizard of Oz" for the umpteenth time while my mom is making dinner. The house smells of garlic and onion, two of my most favorite smells of all time.
-Age 3. Collecting HUGE hail during a storm in Charleston, SC and bringing it inside to keep it for my father to show him when he came home from sea duty. I cried when the hail melted and wouldn't be able to show it to him.
-Age 5. My brother brought home the class pet from La Mesa Elementary School and the rabbit pooped by the wall and my brother said it was me that pooped. He claims to this day that it was me. I protest. It was the rabbit and I stand by that. (I did, however, pee on the stairs in that house one night when I was sleep walking).
-Age 6. My dad played in his class softball team at the Naval Postgraduate School and my brother and I would go to his games. This specific day my brother was swinging one of the bats and I happened to be standing behind him and he thwacked me in the nose so hard it bled.
-Age 9. Me, my mom, my brother, my dad, my aunt, my uncle, my three cousins, my two grand-aunts, my other cousin, and I think another aunt was in there too all drove up to Niagara Falls in a Suburban, starting our journey from Norfolk, VA. We get up there and one of my cousins, a Filipino citizen, forgot his passport so we couldn't go to the Canadian side of the Falls. We drove all the way there and waved at Canada. My cousins and I made a song up about our trip to the tune of Milli Vanilli's "Blame it on the Rain" and called it "Blame it on Manny." Manny is my cousin. I still haven't been to the Canadian side of Niagara Falls.

I think this blog post could go on and on now that my cerebrum and temporal lobes have been ignited. Suffice it to say that I am glad to remember all these things of my childhood, no matter how erroneous. I only hope that Julian and Dash can remember a lot, too. Or maybe I should start giving them ginko biloba.

Before I end this post, I'd like to say this: I remember when I was growing up and my mother would lay on the couch while I played and said, "I'm not napping, I just need to rest my eyes." I'd then proceed to climb on her and pester her mercilessly. Mom, if you're reading this, I am very sorry for all those times I bothered you while you "rested your eyes." I understand now why you needed those little dozers. :)