Oh the possibilities...

So there is the possibility of a big change in my life in the next few weeks. It just became possible all of a sudden and though normally I'd panic about this, about the changes it could bring, I have reacted instead by feeling inspired and surprisingly, by getting over my writer's block! Yesterday, I woke up feeling lighter, more positive, full of ideas--I even put some of the ideas into motion. And this in itself is a big accomplishment for me in the last few months. There are things I planned on doing for years, changes I wanted to make that just got pushed back and pushed back, and now, suddenly, they might be the only option and I'm so looking forward to them, I cannot wait for the next few weeks to unfold.

In the meantime, I have a wonderful baby boy who is growing bigger every day. I wonder if babies show their personalities this early because I think mine is. Though he is generally a very happy baby, smiling and laughing with everyone, he also seems to already be stubborn and set in some of his ways (like his mom). He also complains loudly if things are not done the way he likes them. :D And also like me, he loves to "talk" all the time! :D (Not so good at 3am but what can you do!)

I was in such a good mood yesterday, that I even baked! I made a pineapple and carrot cake from scratch. I love making things from scratch and not from boxes, though time doesn't always lend itself to that. I actually first put all the ingredients out like in the cooking shows. I felt all professional too! jajaja!

And this is how the cake came out:

I am actually quite proud of it. It's been a while since I baked a cake. :D

So, today, still feeling positive, still working on my projects, still looking forward and anxiously awaiting the outcome of the next few weeks!

Mornings

I hear the birds chirping outside and sometimes, with the winter breezes, the leaves on the trees dancing all around. That is, if my neighbor doesn't decide to serenade us with extra-loud bachata from his car speakers at 7am, or if the countless vendors who drive, ride their carts, bikes, or walk by don't startle us with their sales pitch.

I love it when it's quiet, the baby is sleeping with his daddy, and I feel, just for a moment, all alone with my thoughts. I can sit, drink some tea, and dream about and plan all the things I'm going to get done today (which I never get to in the end.) The rest of the day flies by in a blur, and rarely do all of my plans get fulfilled, but at the beginning of the morning, very early, I can still believe. Today, I am making list of things that range from taking the baby to the doctor (must get done), to organizing some things around the house (might get done) to exercising (should get done, for both my personal and mental health) to actually working on at least one personal project (probably will have to be pushed back a day or two-but you never know. Though, maybe it doesn't since I think writing on this blog counts as part of my personal projects).

Mornings are when my ideas are flowing, for stories, for projects, for life. It used to be late, late night. That was my best working time, but somehow, it has all changed. I'm not sure when that happened, but it did. I've decided to keep an idea/thoughts/feelings/reflection journal. All together, because I've tried keeping them separate and gave up on all of them. I always imagine my journal to be full of not only writing, but sketches, fotos, colors, but somehow, I always give up on them. I think my last full journal was in college and that seems so many lives away. I think sometimes the idea of this journal appeals to me because maybe I can get back, fully, what I felt when I was still in college, like life was moving slowly and deliciously and I had all possibilities open to me. Sometimes I still think that, but maybe not deep enough, and I guess I want to feel it all again, especially now that I get to live life along with my baby boy.

Strange Days...

Last night, we ran out of cooking gas. My husband put the tank in our trunk and went to buy some, only to find that there was no cooking gas for sale anywhere! Supposedly, some cooking gas would come into the country at 3am so there would be none for sale until later this afternoon (ah, the joys of living in a third-world country!). So, this morning, when I woke up to no cooking gas, I had to figure out a way to creatively cook--and so the electric rice cooker became the answer. Now, the electric rice cooker is a lot more useful than I thought. You can cook rice, of course, but you can boil water for tea, boil eggs, cook pasta, veggies, etc. You can actually make a whole meal in this one pot! I already knew this before I tried it because one of my friends here had to spend a few days cooking all her meals in a rice cooker and she had gotten creative with it. But I have to say that it has saved the day!

In the meantime, the baby was tired, fighting sleep and crying on and off (that soft "ay, ay, ay" crying that little 2-month old babies often do). After trying to entertain him with music, his mobile, a walk around the backyard to take some sun, and just plain cooing to him, into the swing he went and voila! he was asleep in a few minutes. No more whimpering, no more "ay, ay, ay" complaint-crying that makes mommy feel bad and inexperienced and guilty for not solving baby's problem instantly.

So, I stole a few minutes on the laptop to begin typing this, as my iron warmed up so I could iron all of the baby clothes I washed yesterday. Since I don't have a dryer, all of baby's things have to be ironed after they dry. I used to hate ironing. Wouldn't do it for anything, ever. But strangely enough, I have come to enjoy ironing the baby's things. Not because ironing is a fun activity, but because I seem to lose myself in my thoughts during the time I'm ironing. It is completely like meditating for me. I have to do it when the baby is either sleeping or happily lying in his bassinet, watching me, watching the world.

I am getting really good at looking for creative solutions for little problems and using up moments of time, instead of large blocks of time. Now, if I could only convince the baby to stay still long enough in the sling or the wrap to sit down and work on creative writing...I guess that's the next challenge.

What My Son Has Taught Me

My son was born less than a month ago and yet he has already taught me so many things. He has taught me that I need to cherish every moment with him because time indeed does seem to fly and already he is growing and growing. He has taught me that I need to be organized all the time, so that I can get done everything I need to, for him, for my family, for myself. He has taught me that I need to do instead of just plan, which is something that I often did--plan, plan, plan and never got around to doing. He has taught me the importance of patience, that a mother learns to watch and admire how fast a child learns and how difficult it is to learn at the same time. He has taught me to truly believe in miracles, as he is one. He has taught me that I need to take care of myself, physically, spiritually and emotionally, so I can be there for him always and so I can be an example. And most of all, he has taught me that a child is a blessing that keeps bringing more and more blessings as the days go on.

Motherhood Changes Everything

My baby boy Dorian Monet arrived on Wednesday, December 10th, at 11:32am via c-section. It was not my choice, but "the best-laid plans of mice and men/often go awry" and though I hoped and hoped and did everything possible to encourage him to turn, my baby stayed breech right to the last minute and the decision was out of my hands. Still, I am thankful for a very uneventful delivery and an even easier recovery. Dorian Monet is completely perfect, an angel. He is sweet and happy and smiles all the time. He is a curious baby whose eyes open wider each day as he marvels at all around him. I love just spending time watching him. I love catching his smiles. I love playing with him.

But I've also begun to worry, sometimes secretly and sometimes aloud, about his future, our future, how our choices will affect him, how we need to be the best parents we can be, and how we have so much to learn. I feel like my life begun again at the moment my son was born and with it such responsibilities to take life a lot more seriously, or at least to find my path and follow it, instead of just floating through. It's an amazing feeling, this, which fills me so completely, it sometimes overwhelms me.

Almost Ready

This is a strange moment in my life. After waiting for this for so long and now being so close to that moment, I find that I have all these little fears that I had been ignoring for all these months. The months have definitely flown by. There was a moment, at the beginning, that I really believed it would seem like forever, but now, I feel it's too soon, there's too much to still do. And yet, I cannot wait to meet this little person that has been living inside me for so long (my little dinosaur or my little vampire). The reason for my life has changed and now I know I owe it to him and to myself to make all the right decisions from now on. I understand, and he's not even here, the fears that have driven my mother's decisions, comments, observations all these years (no matter how annoying I found many of them). Now, I know that all my decisions, comments, observations, the way I look at life itself, will be completely different. Maybe they already are. I once thought parenthood couldn't really change you, but now I feel so different.

Sunday Scribblings--Family

Family. This is the thing that has built me into the woman I am today. This is the thing that has held me together when everything else has fallen apart. This is the thing I measure almost everything against. I have an incredibly stable, loving, supportive family that has always been as solid as a rock. I'm lucky, I think, because my family extends beyond just my parents and siblings. It includes an aunt and uncle who are amazing and their children and grandchild. It includes a few incredibly close friends and their own families. These friends, my women women, my other support group, are all spread wide and far, yet, when I need them they are thisclose to me (thank god for technology). Now I am building my own family with my husband, and I am comforted by the knowledge that when our baby arrives, she (or he, according to my dad), will receive the same kind of love, support, stability and strength I have always received from my own extended family. It is amazing to be married to someone who shares, besides culture, a similar upbringing, a similar set of values and beliefs, someone who will be my partner in raising our child, not my enemy. I say this because for me, part of forming a family needs to include this shared set of values and beliefs that we can pass on to our baby. With a a failed marriage and a successful one, I can compare and be thankful that I found the right person to bring a child into the world with. Family. Wow. I can't believe that I am adding to my own!

Copyright Karina Sang 2008

Miracles

Sometimes, I forget that miracles exist. I actually give up on them. Life seems to get too hard, too harsh, too fast, and I just crumble, believing, momentarily, that it won't get any better. Then a little thing happens, taking me by complete surprise, changing my life, momentarily or forever: a miracle. And I again believe that life is good, no, more than good, great, that everything will be fine, that any problems can be worked out. Thank God for miracles!

Copyright Karina Sang 2008

The Squeegee Boy

The squeegee boy comes closer, dirty wet rag in hand, aimless distant light-brown eyes and a smile that proclaims innocence, heartbreak and desperation. He looks at me but I know his gaze is turned inward, focused solely on the paradise inhaled with the cement fumes. His coffee-and-milk skin is lusterless and scaly, hard to believe its former richness; his black hair, cropped closed to his head, is dirty, full of little white specks, perhaps his scalp peeling off bit by bit; his clothes are worn and streaked with dirty water. Though young, he is a veteran of these streets. He has worked this corner for many months, with a group of his street friends. They are proud of their organization, their cleanliness (they take turns sweeping the sidewalk on their corner! they are careful not to spill water from the buckets they use for their work!). They pool their profits each day to reach paradise together.

The squeegee boy is not aggressive. He doesn't throw his rag on the windshield, he doesn't hang onto the car, he doesn't scream loudly and menace with his eyes, to intimidate the driver. His inhaled paradise keeps him meek and mild. When I shake my head softly, rejecting his service, his gaze turns outward and focuses on me, for a second, then his eyes empty out again and he is far, far away, an angelic smile all that's left, a testament to his fantasy life. He moves away from the car and I drive on.

Copyright Karina Sang 2008

Dancing

Modern dance is as much theater as dance when it tells a story. And today, sitting at my friend's rehearsal, I lost myself in the story, understanding how amazing it is that you can tell a tale in so many different ways: a photograph, a painting, a dance and of course, the written word.

There was also a moment while I sat there silently watching, trying to take in as much details as I could, since I knew she would ask me what I thought and expected a fair critique, where I decided that in a future life I want to return as a dancer. It was incredible to watch a dancer's body up close, the fluid, graceful movements, the taut muscles working together to create the feeling that the dancer was gliding weightlessly through the room.

Copyright Karina Sang 2008