Heck, even today, I’m still pretty fuzzy on the details of their lives before they immigrated to the United States in 1971.  They have never openly discussed how they grew up, how they met and married, or their lives in Korea.  The details of their childhoods remain mostly unspoken to my sister and me.

Then, in 2003 The Husband and I traveled through South Korea with my parents.  Together we toured the country–from the southern city of Pusan, up to the capital city of Seoul.

During this trip, we drove through the Korean countryside at a leisurely pace with many stops at  Korean museums and historical markers.  I began hear their stories during in this journey.  Not just because of the things that were said, but also because of the places we visited, and the things we saw together.  My eyes were opened to lives that my folks had led as they shared their experiences as young people growing up during the Korean War.

It was in off-handed comments that I learned the most about them.  My father mentioned how he would watch dogfights over the city, and that his family had fled as the North Korean and Chinese armies descended upon Seoul.  Or when my mom recalled how her father’s farm was confiscated by the North Koreans…but as a very young girl, she was just excited because she thought her family was moving.  I never knew these things.

I began to grow in understanding why they rarely chose to speak of these memories, and to not share them with my sister and me.  They were painful to remember, and they were working hard to build new lives in the U.S.  They were not looking back on their past.

I’m glad I got to see pieces of it, though.  Even if it’s just a little bit.

This post was inspired by The Art of Hearing Heartbeats by Jan-Phillipp Sendker.  Join us at From Left to Write for our discussion of this book.  As a member of From Left to Write, I received a copy of the book, but all opinions are my own.

It's OPI Ink. But really, it's a dark dark purple.

Purple nails is the least I can do to show my support and love for you, dear Susan.

Join us in the @whymommy lovefest.

Not believing that a guy in a red suit comes down the chimney and delivers gifts.  Rather, a magical, wondrous belief in kindness and generosity that people display around the holidays.

Like the story of anonymous people paying off Kmart layaway accounts on behalf of others?  That’s Santa Claus to me.

Or how one woman decided to give away the gently used toys her boys didn’t play with anymore?  That idea snowballed and became Play It Forward Pittsburgh.  She ended up blessing 383 families, 1436 children, by ultimately giving away over 5000 toys to those who might otherwise not have Christmas presents.  That’s Santa Claus to me.

With my children, I am still perpetuating the myth of the man in the red suit bringing presents.  As much as I love playing Santa and making things amazing for them, I’m already looking forward to sharing the adult version of Santa Claus with them some day.  Of looking for and seeing goodness in the world.  Of doing random acts of kindness for others.  Of helping people who need an extra hand.

I hope my children will have eyes to see that kind of Santa Claus as they mature.

No matter what holiday you celebrate, I wish you warmth and happiness, and hopes for a peaceful time together with your family.

So to combat the spiraling vortex of motherhood doldrums, I am posting three small successes that make me feel like I am doing something–anything!–right.

My children recognize Elvis Presley songs–I guess I play them enough on my iPod!  I’m proud that they recognize and sing along to Elvis.  Furthermore, they are reverent of Elvis the King and always call him as such.  Never just Elvis, or even Elvis Presley.  Nope.  He is always referred to as Elvis the King.

I am not ever bothered in the middle of the night if my kids awaken.  They know to go to Daddy.  Even as a baby, Cupcake would shout, “Daaaaaaddy!” from her crib.  These days, the kids simply head to The Husband’s side of the bed if they need something.

I am teaching my kids which sports team to love, and which we don’t.  Bito intrinsically knows that the Yankees are a hated team and automatically roots against them.  And anytime the Redskins are mentioned or a Redskins logo is spotted, Cupcake and BabyMuffin automatically shout, “Go Redskins!”

Small successes indeed, but at this point, I’ll take them.

So I thought.

On that day in June of 1993, Terry took me to The Mall in Washington.  Lying on the green grass, the blue sky above and the Washington Monument towering over us, Terry gently told me.  He’d changed his mind, he didn’t want to have a girlfriend, he wasn’t ready to be in a committed relationship.  As he spoke, he stared out over the monuments, avoiding eye contact with me.

My heart shattered.  Simply fell apart into a billion pieces.  I never thought this would happen…we were so blissfully happy.

So I thought.

Over the next few weeks, I discovered my face could produce an obscene amount of liquid. I had no idea I could cry until there was nothing left, yet tears still ran out of my eyes.

I could not imagine my life without Terry.  Who would I meet for dinner?  Would I need to find a new study partner?  My life had changed for the worst.

So I thought.

Time and distance heals.  Thank goodness for time and distance.  I can now honestly say that it was better that Terry ended things with me when he did.

When Terry came out of the closet in 1996, I wasn’t too shocked.  Surprised, but a lot of things made sense after he told me.  I actually felt a lot of relief…that it truly hadn’t be me.

These days, Terry is on my speed dial.  We talk a few times per month, and he is still beautiful, and he still makes me laugh.  I do not have to imagine my life without Terry because he is a part of it.  But…I am glad I am not married to him after all.

~~~~~~~~~~

This post inspired by the book Lost Edens by Jamie Patterson.  This book was given to me for my online book club.  More posts inspired by the book can be found at From Left to Write.

With that thought in mind, I have a question for you all:  What do you do with your holiday cards each year?

Each year as we begin to decorate the house for the holidays, I make it a point to purchase a few yards of Christmas-y ribbon.  Cards then get pinned on it as they are received.

My smart phone battery has been giving me all sorts of trouble lately, and needs to be charged every 3-4 hours recently.  Of course I didn’t have the car charger with me, so it died during my morning of work, errands, and kid-carpools.  I didn’t get to check my email until mid-afternoon, after BabyMuffin and I had run to a few stores after I picked him up from preschool.  That’s when I saw the email.  The message that let me know that Jim had passed yesterday morning after a long battle with cancer.  He’s the father of Erin, the gal who was my mother’s helper for a few summers.

I immediately broke into tears upon reading that news.  I am glad Jim is at peace now, but my heart aches for his wife, Ann, and their three children.  It totally sucks for them.  Ann has lost the love of her life, and Erin and her brothers have lost their father, their Dad.

It put my morning blues into perspective.  I was sad and stressed because I wanted time…but thank God I have time.  Time to work, time to pick up kids, time to shop and run errands.  Time to live and be with those I love.

Yesterday afternoon and evening, I made an effort to hug my kids and The Husband a little tighter, plant more kisses than usual.  Last night, instead of getting irritated by The Husband wanting to cuddle up to me when I was already hot (and he would’ve made me sweaty!), I just thought of how Ann is no longer able to snuggle up to her Jim.  It changed my attitude.  I am grateful for my family, even as my heart breaks for Ann and her children.

Recently, my friend Emily was talking about her two sons.  They are similarly aged to my two boys:  her older is in 2nd grade, and the younger just turned four.

Her words about loving them so resonated with me that I asked if I could quote her here.

Noah’s my good natured, happy go lucky little guy, and my love for him is pretty constant. If I were to get all geeky, it’d be a straight horizontal line on a graph. But Daniel…. He’s my sine curve. Half the time he makes me so damn frustrated and so damn angry, and I swear, I’m going to sell him to the circus, and I don’t want to be anywhere near him. And then, he turns into this sweet little bundle of love, and I just adore him. Awfully hard to remember those times when he’s being a little shit though.

Oh, how I get it.  It is also true of my two sons to a tee, and I could have not said it any better.

~~~~~~~~~

Check out Emily Steele Photography if you’re in the DC Metro area!  Emily takes awesome pictures.  One of these days, I’m going to have to get her to shoot my kids.  With a camera, I mean.

In anticipation of this week, I’ve made it a point to line up playdates and activities to limit the amount of Mommy versus Three time.  Our playdate today wasn’t scheduled to start until after lunch, so I decided to take The Three on an excursion to a local park with their bicycles.

Let me just say that the bikes were indeed ridden.  But also?  Voices were raised in anger.  Tears were cried as well.  Tantrums were thrown in spectacular fashion.  It wasn’t the fun time I’d anticipated.  It’s sad when the good time I planned instead produces frustration and tears for all.

Fortunately, I was smart enough to realize the bike riding was not going to be a smashing success, so I we quickly moved to Plan B.

Unfortunately, Plan B entailed going to Costco, and I was not smart enough to realize this might be a big mistake, given BabyMuffin’s super-bad mood.  And my super-bad reaction to his super-bad mood.

Actually, the shopping portion of the trip went smoothly.  Lunch in the Costco café went pretty well, too.  It wasn’t until we were cleaning up to leave that things fell apart.

While I was getting a piece of foil to wrap up our leftovers, BabyMuffin threw out the remainder of his pizza.  He was just trying to be helpful, I guess.  When I told him I had been planning to take the pizza home, he burst into tears and began hollering.  He wanted to fish the pizza out of the trashcan.  I would not let him.  He wanted me to get the pizza out of the trashcan.  I would not.  He wanted me to purchase another slice of pizza for him.  I refused to do so.  And so I was That Mother who was walking out of the Costco with a bright red screaming child trailing behind her.  BabyMuffin continued to wail that he wanted his pizza.  Every single eye in the place was upon us (so I felt).  My blood pressure was rising, and I was on the verge of snapping at my son.

I managed to wait until we were at the car before I did so.

I called our playdate and explained that it had been a very tantrummy morning, and BabyMuffin just needed to go home and have a nap.

And I probably need one, too.

She is ready.  Really ready.  Like, chomping at the bit, raring to go.

I am ready too.  I’ve already sent one child to Kindergarten, and I know the ropes.  I have complete confidence in the school and the kindergarten team there.  I know Cupcake will blossom in Kindergarten.

I am ready.

I kind of am not, too.

My little girl is my constant shadow and my mini-me.  The past two school years, we have had an especially sweet time every day when her big brother Bito was at school, and her little brother BabyMuffin was napping.  It was just Mommy and Cupcake time.

I’ve been threatening to homeschool Cupcake so that I can keep her close to me for another year.  Cupcake is adamantly opposed to the idea—she cannot wait to get to Kindergarten in a classroom setting, make new friends, and learn like her big brother does at school!  And to be honest, I have no intention of homeschooling any of my kids.  No, thanks.

Still, I will miss the dedicated time I have had with my girl.  I will miss my constant companion, and I will always cherish the years I’ve had her at home with me.  But I won’t keep her from going to on to new and better things.  It’s for the best for her…and for me.