back to the core

© amy pang

I took some wrong turns over the past twenty years. bad decisions. while, yes, everything that has happened has been for a purpose - I get that - I wish I could've been a little wiser. small ways. such as:

being content with the present. I spent too much time mired in the what could've been and the what could happen. and because I was wrapped up in regret and speculation, I was unable to take in what surrounds me daily, currently, all the time.

not settling at my expense. I'm a peacemaker. I don't like conflict. I cared too much about what people thought of me; I could not bear the thought of anyone thinking ill of me for being myself. so I hid myself for years. it was further reinforced when I offered an opinion and was dismissed. and I went along with the tide even though I wanted to be anchored elsewhere.

accepting myself. this goes hand in hand with the former two. I was unable to be at peace with myself. I didn't like living with myself. I tried to find purpose in helping others, but that was because I found myself unworthy of help.

I'm working on all three. I can be happy with where I am and not apologize for not needing or wanting more. I can be a compassionate, thoughtful person without hurting myself. I'm letting myself be okay with being vulnerable.

and I have to say, I am happy.

being human

School has started for the minis. I typically feel a sense of gravitas with the new school year. It's not just a fresh start for the kids, with their new backpacks (my kingdom for a backpack that can withstand multiple forms of abuse for more than a year), backpack bling, squeaky clean lunch bags, and various items of freshly laundered clothing that may be a tad large right now but that they'll outgrown by May; it's a reset for me as well. I marvel that they are racing through their childhood, a generally happy, multi-faceted one at that. I then turn the reflective lens upon myself and think about what I've been able to accomplish, where I've had setbacks, what I want - really want - for myself.

I want a life filled with joy and love and incandescent moments that propel me to reach beyond my comfort zone. I want to be the best mother, the most appropriate and responsive mother, to my two spirited children. I want to be a partner to someone who can and wants to be my best friend. I want to immerse myself in fulfilling, satisfying work. I want to make a positive difference in small ways; I'm not one to insist on being in the limelight.

This has been a year of significant, ground shaking change. I have plenty to worry about. I can choose to let that worry consume me, or I can choose to look it straight in the eye and refuse to go down. Guess which way I'm going?

fall, glorious fall

September 23rd is 2010's first day of fall. It's my favorite season hands down. Why? Well, I'm glad you asked. Because now I can present the list of good better best things about fall.

1. Food: thick pureed hot soups, slow cooker goodness, stews, hot apple cider, leftover Thanksgiving turkey, roasted root vegetables, pears cooked in butter and brown sugar, and pumpkin rocks
2. Clothes: sweaters and boots. jeans tucked into boots. long sleeves. layers. scarfs.
3. Flannel sheets
4. More opportunities to swathe oneself in blankets
5. And while swathed in blankets, reading 
6. Kids getting all excited about Halloween
7. Eating the kids' Halloween candy. (don't judge. you do it too)
8. How good cold air smells and feels
9. Hot chocolate, which technically goes under food but really deserves a special spot on the list
10. Leaves changing colors

 Fall is romantic and welcomes change. Bring it on.

what I miss about Chicago

1. Summer concerts at Ravinia. laying on the picnic blanket at dusk, full of wine and whatever we threw together for dinner, listening to classical music, watching the fireflies swirl in the sky above.

2. Fox & Obel. my almost perfect grocery store. Almost perfect because it was nowhere near where we lived post-grad school, when we actually had money to splurge on food now and again.

3. the El. best place and time to read a book and listen to the iPod is on the commute to and from work. on creaking wooden tracks, no less.

4. Lincoln Square. we should've just rented here for the duration of our sojourn in Chicago. Lincoln Square had it all - food, movie theater, grog, shops, awesome toy store, Brown Line stations, farmers' market, all kinds of street fairs and music fun. I can't write any more. It's too sad.

5. Lake Shore Drive. it is a pretty drive, even during the evil rush hour.

6. Julius Meinl. for meeting friends and feeling rather Euro.

7. Paper Source. ok, there are outposts in SF, but there is the glorious sort of semi-annual warehouse sale where I've scored way too many cool things.

8. all those parks.

9. our house. never shall we find a comparable abode here.

10. the people I left behind. all the cool moms, kids, friends, and co-workers. At least we'll always have Facebook.

1st day of kindergarten

Z started kindergarten today. She’s been outfitted with a new matching backpack and lunchbox set. With a horse theme. I said she should pick her clothes out, and this is what she chose.

Unfortunately, that outfit wasn’t much protection against the morning chill while we were waiting in the schoolyard. Z was complaining that her legs were cold. She eventually decided to lay down on the asphalt on her backpack, like a turtle that got flipped onto its shell. Fortunately it was soon time for the morning assembly. The entire school formed a large circle, said the Pledge of Allegiance, and listened to some announcements from the new principal.

Everyone walked en masse to the kindergarten pod. Z was on the subdued side of her personality but was responsive. We saw her settle into the circle of kids for circle time and waved goodbye when the parents were asked to leave.

Her verdict when we picked her up? “It was okay.” Which means success!

no cliches

but it's an awe-inspiring thought that my children will remember Barack Obama as the first of many presidents in their lives. It makes me misty with joy and trepidation. And I'm proud that I did my tiny share by way of tiny, tiny donations and voting. I even dragged the kids with me to the polls, during the primaries and election night. If they need to remember my crazy moments and that being one of them, hell, I'll take it.

birthday festivities

It's that time of year again. We weren't planning on having a party for Z but did anyway. It was on the 28th (coincidentally her due date), and thankfully we had a great turnout even though having a party during the winter break is a risky endeavor. The last thing you'd want to do is scar a child for life by throwing a party where no one came.

The cake was an ice cream cake from Baskin-Robbins. Classic was the way to go - chocolate cake and vanilla ice cream. I try to stay away from themed or branded birthdays, but I couldn't resist getting some Curious George paper goods and masks in lieu of hats.

Really, she did like it. Our current favorite nighttime reading material includes "Curious George Learns the Alphabet".

And what's a birthday post without some cake eating?

photos courtesy of Derrick Wong

shifts

Here's the story on the move.

On a whim, I applied for a job in my field for a great company that's located in San Francisco. In my mind, I thought I didn't have a shot since I live in Chicago, and this is not the kind of job for which you would recruit outside of the city. Lo and behold, I got a phone call for an interview that snowballed into a job offer. I accepted it, and have spent the last few months in cold sweats and sudden panic attacks.

Moving is one of my least favorite activities in the world. To date, I have not packed a single thing, though I have gotten rid of bagfuls of random assorted items. I have to confess that I'm overwhelmed. This would be one of the opportunities where a magical fairy being would be really, really helpful.

Z is excited about moving to San Francisco. She's looking to the future. O has no concept yet; it'll hit him after we move. Regardless, it'll be a rough year. I'm fully not expecting us to feel comfortable for a while.

I will say that, as I was randomly driving around Monday evening and cruising down streets that were slowly becoming familiar to me again, I thought, "this is home. I've run away, and now I'm coming back. but not in shame or defeat. I'm not the callow person I was when I left, and maybe I've seen far too much of a lot of things, but I'm coming back as a wiser adult. would that make things different?" I was an angry young woman when I fled for L.A., and I'm not sure how much of that anger has truly dissipated. I know better than to blame people for old wounds. Perhaps I've come back at this point in time to make peace.

karmic balance

bad:
frickin' tree in our backyard dropped a huge branch in the yard. 'twas large enough that it covered most of the backyard and took out a dead cable line.

good:
no one and nothing was seriously damaged by said huge branch.

bad:
tree has lived past its prime, according to our tree guy. so it needs to come down. no shade come summer for poor D.

good:
we'll plant another tree.

bad:
kiddos and I won't be around to enjoy the new tree.

good:
but the robins and squirrels will.

to Z on her fourth birthday

success!,
originally uploaded by urban mama.

My memories of you. Falling asleep on my chest after nursing in the waning hours of the night. Your tentative delight of being in a warm bath. Your exertions and accompanying vocal effects when you were trying to lift your head for the first time. The grin when you took your first steps toward me. The refusals to nap. Eating lunch at Café Selmarie and then spending endless minutes in the toy shop up the street. Your curiosity and calm when your brother made his first appearance into the world.

The limitless love I have for you is tinged with exasperation at your burgeoning defiance, fear that you are prone to giving up too easily, concern that I’ve passed along my obsessive-compulsive, perfectionist, fear of failure tendencies to you. You exhaust me with your sheer joy and the ebb and flow of your energy. Yet, somehow, you’re able to step up to the challenge at precisely the right moments and wow me with your empathy, your innate understanding of the world, your capacity for deep wells of emotion.

You have already called me your best friend and that you always want to be with me. Although I make light of it, I am touched by the pureness of your love for me. I've done nothing but bring you into this world, and I'm not sure if I've fully equipped you just yet. I will try not to screw it up, though I’m afraid eventually I will disappoint you. It is inevitable. But, I will always be your mother and your safe haven.

[almost] first snowfall of the season

Shuttling groceries and other sundry items between the garage and the house, I stopped for a minute and listened to the falling snow. You can hear the quiet it brings. It sounds like a whisper.

Something about snow dampens and softens the sounds of the city. Street noise is muted; it's almost as though the main drag near the house moved further away.

happy birthday, little man.

happy birthday, little man.,
originally uploaded by urban mama.

I’m gonna tell my son to grow up pretty as the grass is green
And whip-smart as the English Channel’s wide...
Liz Phair, “Whip-Smart”

Mr. Guy,

I cried when the nurses put you on my chest for the first time. Maybe it was because I wasn’t expecting you for another two weeks. Maybe it was because your sister - all 21 months of her - was present for your birth since the sitter came down with strep and was sitting in an emergency room waiting for treatment. And maybe it was because it was the start of an incredibly complex relationship between me and you, mother and son. You were born when a show called “The Sopranos” was big and that deals with the ramifications of a twisted mother/son relationship, among other things. You’re not allowed to watch it until you’re at least 18, by the way. I don't need you going all AJ on me.

I promise you that I will never hold you back from what you want to do, unless I sense that what you’re about to do has nothing to do with what you feel in your heart but more about what other people are telling you to do. I had a friend once whose mother was slowly dying of cancer. He wanted to move across the country to live out a dream but didn’t want to leave her. She made him go, saying that it would be selfish of her to keep him tethered when he had an entire life to life. That’s how I feel about you and your sister. You have grand opportunities waiting to be seized. Don’t hold back.

For now, as you turn the Important Age of Two, I will delight in your open mouthed kisses, your tackle hugs, your fake whiny cry which sounds a little like a broken ambulance siren, your anger at being thwarted from causing yourself real bodily harm, your willingness to try anything on my plate - even the garnish, your persistence and patient determination in opening doors you’re not supposed to open, and your mischevious, grabbing life by the balls, joyful disposition. In the words of Marge Simpson, you’re my special little guy. And yes, you can watch “The Simpsons” before you’re 18. It’ll probably still be running.

when the f*** did I get so old?

I dropped off a package at a client's office a few days ago and decided to walk most of the way there and back. This was probably about three miles in all. A leisurely stroll down Michigan Avenue and Upper Wacker Drive in high humidity. I wore some Diesel kicks. Not a strenuous walk, right?

Right, except that by the time I got to Washington and Wacker from Erie and Michigan, my left knee was feeling a little sketchy. Not that it was making noises but it felt sore. Tired. Unhappy with my walking. It was none too pleased that I was trying to live a sustainable lifestyle by not taking any form of transportation requiring fossil fuels.

The following day, I crashed into a doorframe while chasing the kids around. Now the right knee has a bruise.

I've also been extraordinarily tired for someone who doesn't do damn much during the day in terms of physical labor. I've taken to passing out on Z's floor when I'm putting her to bed; she likes me to stay for a while after kissing her goodnight. So I lay on her rug with a giant floor pillow under my head and one of her tiny blankets covering me, and I fall asleep before she does.

I'm used to being Indestructible, Resilient Amy. This slow falling apart is not cool. I was the one who could drink copiously without fear of hangovers. I could out-eat most men. I went to the gym regularly. Now red wine gives me a major headache, I get heartburn, and my body after two kids has gone to mush. Even thinking about joining a gym exhausts me.

And the checkout girl at Whole Foods didn't even card me when I bought the giant bottle of Belgian Trappist Monk ale yesterday.

Getting old sucks.

set adrift on memory bliss

I've been the proud owner of a Mac Mini for more than a year, and I love that li'l white box. Its predecessor was a bondi blue G3 tower with a now laughable 6 gig hard drive. We had wonderful times, the G3 and I. That's a post for another day.

Last night I finally pulled my personal work off the G3 - portolio, tax returns, cover letters and resumes, and the piece de resistance: fiction and columns spanning nearly 20 years. Twenty! I reread the novel, a work in progress since I was 18. I looked at articles written for webzines and friends' websites. I found a chat transcript from 2002 where W. and I were attempting to resurrect our '90s webzine; five years later, we're still talking about it.

I came away with a single happy thought: I found my voice around 2000. The voice hasn't changed, but the writing, I'd like to think, has become more fully realized and complete. And the voice is one of wryness, honesty, rapidfire wit, passion, a "screw it, I'm going to say this, and people can take it in whatever way they want" mentality, a little precious, maybe too much in love with being clever.

I miss writing. Specifically, I miss the luxury of time + energy + inspiration that jumpstarted the flow. Looking over my past work last night has relit the fuse. I've a book in me yet. Or, I'll collect my various bits and bobs and label it a collection of my best of.

awakening, part II

I'm now getting the itch to be outdoors, rather than indoors in a climate-controlled environment. Spending warm weekend afternoons lounging around the porch and backyard is contributing to my increasing flakiness. My eastward view looking over the Chicago River with representative buildings from every era - from the Lyric Opera building to the Sears Tower to shiny stainless and glass modern fare - doesn't help either.

I've never been much for the outside life. I am not a happy camper, literally; I prefer my nature bug-free and amenity-rich. Now I can sit in a swarm of gnats and not become too grossed out. Fat earthworms creeping slowly toward me is another matter entirely.

I'm even thinking about getting a bike (and those of you know me really well are thinking, "holy f***stacks! pang wants to get a bike!"), and I want one from these guys. Tell me that is not the best looking bunch o' bicycles you've ever seen. Give me the Townie in turquoise floral fade. And dang it, I want a basket in front.