sunburnt wheatgrass

I was in Phoenix last Thursday through Sunday for my Year 2 Residency of my doctoral program. We had three full days from 8-5pm focused on perfecting our problem and purpose statements and putting together a rough outline of our chapter 1 and prospectus. I thoroughly reveled in the uninterrupted time and space to just sit and read, write, organize and plan without having to worry about anything, including food.  I came away with a good 8 page start on my first chapter and an outline of my chapter two literature review. I also jotted down a personal plan between now and October 23, 2010, the date I submit my full proposal which is essentially the first three chapters of my dissertation. I feel more focused and assured of this process although the overwhelming feelings will likely ebb and flow but never be assuaged until the degree is in my hands. But the process is now more exciting and enjoyable and I only hope that my passion for my topic of multicultural educational policies doesn’t wane as I step further into my research.

While I was gone my mom-in-law came down to help, mostly to feed the rest of the family and keep some semblance of order. Here are a few pictures of their four days.

Making Chinese dumplings with Grandma

Showing Grandma the bedtime routine.

And last but not least, a picture of what can happen when Dad is left in charge. After driving for two hours to LA on Saturday, Ennyn got out of the car looking like this:

Yes those are Cheerioes. And yes, they're stuck on her back.

Last Saturday we took our monthly visit to God’s Extended Hand to help feed the homeless a hot breakfast. After the first time last month the girls knew what to expect and were excited. This time Enna was in charge of putting the silverware on each tray and Ennyn a banana. And this time I have a few pictures courtesy of Yucan.

Learning the nature of assembly lines.

While waiting for trays, Ennyn put banana stickers on her friend Ed. Thanks for being a good sport Ed!

After a 20-minute test that checked the form of her punches, upper and lower blocks, straight kicks and then her kata, Enna passed to an orange belt. The sensei testing her was her sensei’s husband and owner of the dojo. He was surprised that she was only 4 since they normally don’t test kids until 5 because of her control and ability to memorize the entire kata. Enna was proud of herself and so were we!

As promised, here are the pictures.

Part of her kata performance.

Receiving her new belt.

Putting on her new belt and breaking it in.

New Belt!

Ennyn patiently waiting and celebrating during the whole test.

This afternoon Enna has her first official promotion test for her orange belt in karate (pictures, and maybe a video to come). As the mom, I’m already clearly more nervous than she is and have the camera bag packed and the video camera charging.

Last week I was given forms to fill out and was pleasantly surprised to see that one was a checklist for her that included making her own bed, putting her toys and dishes away, doing her homework and so on. A second form was for me to evaluate my daughter’s levels of responsibility, self-confidence, relationship with siblings, among other characteristics. The final form was a school teacher’s evaluation and recommendation. I was surprised at this thorough evaluation but appreciated the desire for consistency – karate, home and school – in building my daughter’s character.

Yesterday I told her that after her test, regardless of how it went and as long as she gave her best, that we would go out to dinner to celebrate. She, of course, clamored for her favorite restaurant, that we fortunately also love: Souplantation. Growing up in a family where effort did not matter unless the outcome was first place or a top score or some other measurable achievement, I’ve always wanted to value the effort and encourage my girls to always give their best, regardless of outcome. But as I approach the coming opportunities as my girls get older, I’m finding that this is far harder to actually do. Proactively adjusting my thinking after childhood years of a different way, and figuring out how my own competitiveness does or doesn’t come into play, valuing effort without a “good outcome” is hard for me to accept.

Besides, our society is wrought with placing utmost importance on the final outcome, giving louder praise to those that can get there with the least amount of effort. Teaching my kids the principles of good honest work and giving their best in all situations while others cut in line or have their parents do their work almost sounds like I’m giving in to something. Not that I’m promoting them to cheat or step on others, but how do you teach kids to be savvy and somewhat street smart in a way that protects them? Can you even really teach them or just throw them into the inevitable? Is this the part of innocence lost along the way?

Not to fault my upbringing, but my mom taught me how to be a little street smart, taking advantage of certain situations to get what I needed. To this day I know that I can walk into any hotel knowing that they’ll have a bathroom in the lobby and not be questioned if I look like I’m staying there and not ask. Using my skills in and love for public speaking I was taught to plan minimally and not waste extra effort writing out a full script or note cards. I learned how to tell white lies well enough.

Maybe it’s just figuring out if what we do is for show and for others, rather than for a personal and inner satisfaction. And if that’s enough to live by.

Last night during dinner, Enna said the awesomest thing that made me get up after putting a bite of spaghetti squash in my mouth to write down what she said. Here’s how that little conversation went:

“I want to be a grown-up. I’m tired of being a kid.”
“But then you’ll have to do grown-up things like cook and work and clean all the time instead of coloring and playing.”
“Well, I want to be the kind of grown-up that works and doesn’t cook. … Like Daddy.”
As I transcribed this event I hear Yucan explain (and do I hear a tinge of justification?) that when Mommy worked as teacher before they were born that he did a lot of cooking too.

While we’ve never had conversations on family roles she’s clearly observing how our family works and how others do too. This morning as I came down to the smells of breakfast just before the girls began to wake, Yucan proclaimed, “I do cook. I make breakfast every morning.” And that he does well. Each morning it’s a freshly made hot breakfast from the stove, begining from the time Enna was growing in my belly. Little creations of breakfast sandwhiches and quesadillas are his speciality, and since breakfast foods are my favorite it always hits the spot. On the rare mornings when he’s not here I feel at a loss in the kitchen, staring into the fridge  and at the skillet warming on the stove.

This morning Enna quietly came to this realization when she asked, alluding to a coming trip,”Who will make breakfast when Daddy’s in Africa?”

Now that’s what I want to know.

I am naturally a competitive person, although I do purposely try to tone it down except in the presence of close friends; otherwise, it’s all quietly raging in my head. Growing up I never really had a sibling to be competitive with, since there isn’t much to compete or fight over with a brother eight years older. As my girls enter the long journey of being sisters, and possess my fierce stubbornness (er, persistence) highlighted by a competitive spirit brought about in such a way that only a sister can, I can’t figure out the balance between letting their competition challenge and strengthen or fostering teamwork and partnering with each other’s natural strengths and abilities.

I know both are needed and valued, and that I can’t expect my girls to always get along or work together on everything. As great as my girls are to each other – hugging and kissing, caring and laughing often- they also fight so incredibly well. When pushed to their sisterly limits Ennyn will hit, bite and pull hair, Enna punch and pinch, and both scream. As as most siblings do, they have that instinctive knowledge of how to push each others buttons in just the precise way and with just the right amount of pressure to illicit that explosive annoyed and frustrated response.

Sometimes I feel that I’m reffing most of the day, tempted to put on my black and white striped ref shirt and a whistle in my mouth, throwing yellow or red flags into the middle of the living room. Other days, mostly out of sheer exhaustion, I sit by and let them try to work it out, finally stepping in when the blows have been exchanged, the screaming and crying probably heard by passerbys waiting for the bus.

As the older sister, Enna is the one that wants more space, clearly defining it with blankets, couch cushions or a parameter of toys or books. Ennyn, the little sister who was born into a world of mandatory-volunteer sharing is always in big sister’s space, cuddling up to her to read a book, lying right next to her on Enna’s blanket, always wanting to touch and hug and hold.

If Ennyn had her way at dinner, she’d be sitting on the same chair as her sister with her plate touching her sister’s. As it is she has the hardest time sitting in her own chair with her feet forward – her feet even have to touch the chair Enna’s sitting on. Most of the time, from what I can tell, it’s not to simply annoy Enna but that little sister delighting in big sister. But Enna will not have her cozy touches and cuddly laughter. One night, sensing that Enna was in desperation, Yucan and I told Ennyn to stop touching and bothering her sister. Without skipping a beat, her feet on Enna’s chair and her arms dropping to her lap, she replied with those big eyes, fluttery eyelashes and almost pouty lips, “But I waaaaaant to touch her. I just love her!”

Punctuating the times of who can sing better or faster or louder, jump higher or “this way”, say “watch this” more, or do anything to be on top, there are the times when their teamwork shine. After months of refusing to go to swim lessons, Ennyn decided that she wanted to swim with her sister today. A little unsure when the clock struck 3:30, Enna took her hand and slowly walked over together to their teacher. Usually the timid one, Enna jumped in first then helped Ennyn in and told her, “Mommy will sit over there and watch. You can wave to her when you want to but I will be here and can hug you if you want.” And sure enough Enna was true to her word. When Ennyn was dunked in the water and she came up crying, Enna swam over, put her arms around her and kissed the top of her head.

Likewise, Ennyn is fiercely protective of big sister, seeing it as her divine calling to take and pick up Enna from school. When others have asked to come along or suggested to me in passing that if I were caught up somewhere they would be happy to get her, Ennyn whips her head around and with those long bangs slightly covering one side of her face pronounces, “No you can’t! That’s my sister, not yours.” Enough said.

All this reminds me of a verse in Proverbs that says, “As iron sharpens iron, so one man (or woman) sharpens another.” The sounds of iron sharpening each other hurt my ears and generally aren’t pleasant or enduring, but the long term effects are what count. Parenting is all about enduring the sounds of sharpening iron and waiting, hoping expectantly for that future when their characters are sharp and their principles unyielding. Hopefully I’ll still be around for that, or at least still have a head of brown hair.

I’m willing to place a pretty substantial bet that there is some kind of natural law in the universe that kicks in when children enter their school-aged years.  On nights where Enna has school the next day bedtime is at 7:30, and we’re fortunate that they don’t really fight it, often times (like all last week) both girls took at least a good half hour to fall asleep. A couple of nights they both didn’t fall asleep until 8:30pm, lying in the beds talking or singing to themselves. Since Enna has learned the days of the week in Spanish she recited and sang them so much that Ennyn now knows most of it too. Monday to Friday this past week we’ve let them both sleep until the last possible minute, resorting to my repertoire of random morning happy upbeat songs to wake them up at 7:20.

Now with Enna in school we’re a bit looser on bedtime Friday evenings, letting them stay up a half hour later and sleep in to whenever they get up in the morning. And this is where that universal law kicks in. Last night we had some good friends from back in Yucan’s seminary days, drive down for the weekend to visit and speak at Ethnos on Sunday. Their two kids are within months apart from both of ours and we thought they’d happily play until later in the evening. At 7pm Enna came over to me saying she was grumpy and tired, ready to take a shower and put her pjs on. By 7:30pm as we were saying goodnight to our friends, Ennyn went around to turn off the lights in the living room and dining room, leaving us in complete darkness. Without any parental prompting, the girls turned on the stairway light, closed the door on our friends and headed upstairs to bed. So much for staying up a little later to chat with old friends!

Hoping they’d follow the week’s routine of sleeping until close to 7:30 I had hoped for a quieter Saturday morning. At 5:30 Ennyn woke up proclaiming, “I’m all done sleeping. I want to go find Daddy and play downstairs.” Sometimes when she wakes this earlier I can coax her back to sleep, but as I made her lie in bed a bit longer she started singing, and then making up her own rhymes (Mommy, frog and bog and log rhyme!). By 6:15 I resigned myself to the fact that I was not going to get to sleep in peacefully and sent her off to her heartfelt desire of finding Daddy and playing downstairs. By 7am Enna was awake and I left for the gym for some Saturday morning quiet time.

I remember my mom complaining about this unspoken universal law when I began school too, going to bed and waking up early on the weekends and having to do all she could to get me to sleep and wake me up on school days. I find it amusing that most parents want their younger children to sleep in more, only to fight against them in the teenage years where sleeping to noon becomes the norm. This leads me to another parental universal law: when it comes to our kids, we parents seldom seem to get what we want when we want it. Now where’s my diet coke with extra caffeine?

I’m pretty fortunate that Yucan doesn’t travel all that much and has a high commitment to come home to sleep as much as feasible possible. Even in our first two years of marriage as he took the hour-and-a-half train commute to seminary in LA three or four days a week, he always made it a point to come home every night to sleep, refusing offers from family and friends to stay with them in LA. While many would shake their heads, and when sometimes it didn’t make sense that he’d come home near midnight only to leave the next morning at 6am, his active commitment to our marriage and now to our family spoke and continues to speak volumes. Back in those train days I never heard him complain, even with crazy delays of being stuck on a still train for hours at times. He used his time wisely, studying and writing, working and resting so that time at home meant time together.

I’ve grown so used to him being home for bed that on those rare nights he’s not here I have a hard time going to sleep. While I enjoy the stillness and silence of being alone, knowing that the girls are peacefully asleep in their room, when my bedtime drew near last night I dillied and dallied, not because I don’t want to go to sleep, but because I hate being the last one to turn off the light.

Once every few months Yucan takes an overnight local trip to Palomar or the monastery to spend extended time reflecting, reading, praying and sensing the next sermon series and direction our church should take. Now with his doctorate and growing international partnerships, his upcoming two week December trip to Ghana will be his second this year.

I’ve already cried over him being gone during my favorite time, season and month of each year. And I’m already dreading being the one to turn off the lights each night and be the last one awake in the dark. Even our cat is fast asleep with one of the girls, her little feline snore barely audible over the ocean waves white noise we keep on in the girls’ room.

After having kids, I can’t sleep alone in my room on the nights Yucan’s not home. Instead, I sleep on an air mattress in the girls’ room, in between their twin-sized beds. Enclosed in here with my lap top on, the soft glow of the screen makes me forget that the rest of the house is dark and silent. I shut down and slide into bed much later than normal, attempting to delay the inevitable, finally falling asleep flanked by my two girls, listening to their little murmurs and steady breathing.

Perhaps I need to invest in a night light for myself.

In the last 9 days:
1. We made our first parental trip to the ER after Enna threw up a measurable amount of blood.
2. Enna had a substantial ear infection (and never complained that it hurt?)
3. Enna busted her upper lip on concrete resulting in more blood from her teeth, gums and lip but, in the end, just had a fat lip to show (no tears either?)
4. I got a bit of the flu that has left me with laryngitis – not good for my job as a mom.
5. Our car battery died as the girls and I tried to leave the grocery store.
6. The girls’ first visit to the dentist resulted in scheduling a sedation appointment to fill Enna’s four cavities – one on the tops and bottoms of both sides of her mouth. Despite brushing twice a day and flossing, Yucan and my genetic dispositions of poor enamel has been passed on.
7. Ennyn started screaming “Ouchie, ouchie, ouchie” when she peed. Helping her wipe we saw faint traces of blood on the toilet paper. Another 15-minute trip to the doctor’s showed that she just had a cut in the front of her bottom that could be treated with good ol’ Neosporin.
8. I wrote two 20-page papers for the final of my class and thus finished the first year of my doctoral program.

In other words, the last nine days are just all in the life of a mom.