What no one tells you before you become a parent

Confession of the day: I am notorious at almost finishing articles. If you’re a parent, you know what I mean. You browse the ‘net and you see an interesting article that you want to read. But as many parents face this all-too-common dilemma, time doesn’t allow you to finish. Rather, your kids don’t allow you to finish.

So what do you do? In my case, I leave the article(s) open on my phone’s Safari browser. That browser gets inundated with more open web sites than it knows what to do with. The other night, as I’m making an effort to clear out my baggage, I came upon this article about parental fear. The points made in this article is relatable–that parents, especially new ones, have this innate fear of their child getting hurt and it reminded me about the time that it happened to me…and my husband. It made me wonder–why the hell didn’t anyone tell me about this?!?!

It was perhaps fall of 2013, when Lily was about five or six months. She had reached the semi-mobile stage where she could roll over and lift her head up sturdily. One day while I was at work, I got a call from my husband. He sounded frantic on the phone as he explained what had just happened to our daughter, making it sound like she was almost near death.

“Oh my god! Lily just fell off the bed.” Ahh, those magic words. I was immediately alarmed.

“What happened?” I asked.

“I just left the room for maybe a minute, or two tops, and then I hear this screaming. I left her on the bed so I can go grab something…and next thing I know, she’s off the bed!”

“Oh. My. God. That’s terrible!” I exclaimed. “Is she okay?”

“She’s freaked out, crying. And then your mom came rushing into the room and starting rubbing tiger balm on her. What the fuck.”

[disclosure: this is probably not the exact words spoken by us, but it was pretty darn close].

At this particular point in time, I faced a personal dilemma. One side of me said, “Tell him that it’s not the first time she’s fallen off the bed. Tell him that it happened to you too.”

But the other side (the devil side) said, “Hell no! You’re crazy if you tell him that! You gotta make yourself look like the good parent by NOT disclosing your bad decisions.”

The good side of me responded with, “Don’t listen to her. She’s crazy. You tell him that it already happened, at least you’ll feel a bond, a connection because you understand what he’s going through right now.”

The devil side retorted with, “That’s just baloney, and you know it.”

Do I tell him? Do I tell him? I was being pulled in two different directions by two separate forces.

Guess which side won? The devil side.

I decided to keep my mouth shut and uttered my condolences to my husband, who reacted like any new parent would–with feelings of horror and guilt, that they’re the worst parent ever, that their kid might possibly be heading towards a brain injury.

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It’s exactly the same kind of feeling that I felt when it happened to me. Just a short period of time (perhaps a month or so) before it happened to my husband, I was at home by myself with Lily. With the naivete of a new parent who didn’t think their kid was capable of rolling any further than two inches, I put her in the middle of the bed. Mind you, it was at least two inches inward from the edge. Our bed was about three feet off the ground and rested on top of hardwood floors. Yikes. If we had carpet, the fall wouldn’t have been so bad, but we had hardwood floors and there was no rug underneath or anywhere near the bed. Just a clear landing for my little girl.

I needed to grab a diaper for her, so I went into the other room, where we kept our diapering supplies to get one. I thought she was safe where she was, but within a minute I hear this awful scream. My heart had palpitations as I walked into the room and discovered that she had fallen off the bed.

How the heck did that happen?? I asked myself. After all, I wasn’t gone that long. How did she manage to get that far?

Luckily, her landing was perfect, just like the landing on the moon. She was inches away from hitting the foot of the crib, spared from brain injury. She landed on the floor with a quick thud, and a shocked expression, but that’s about it. She cried and cried and cried, and I picked her up and consoled her for what felt like forever. The whole time I’m holding her, I thought to myself, “Man, I am the WORST parent ever. How did I let this happen? And how on earth could she have rolled that far? What the hell!”

Guilt and indignation followed me the rest of the day. So, when my husband called me to confess right after it happened, I was faced with the dilemma and even more shame, because I didn’t tell him right away. I kept it zipped up, because you know, she was fine. We were both fine several hours later. No harm, right? Besides, I didn’t want to make myself look like the bad parent.

I told myself that if I ever have another kid, I would make sure that it doesn’t happen again. I was wrong. It happened to James after he started rolling over too.

It’s an inevitable truth that one day, your child will hurt themselves and you won’t be there to prevent it. And it happens sooner than you think. It happens when they’re little. Life does that to you, just to test your morals. It’s like the devil saying, “How do you like them apples?”


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Now that I’ve been a parent for five years, with two kids who’ve managed to roll off the bed under my watch, I can say that it’s one of those things that affects parents way more than it affects the kids. What no one tells you before you become a parent is that kids are more resilient than you think. We’re all made to believe that babies are fragile–and yes, some of them really are–but in general healthy, normal babies will do things that are normal in their development, but terrifying to the parents who raise them. They roll off the bed, fall into things, touch things that are dangerous, so on and so forth. As a parent, we feel the need to protect our kids from all harm’s way, and while that’s good in theory, it’s impossible to do. After all, one day your baby will no longer be a baby–he/she will grow up and go out into the world, and they’re going to get hurt, no matter what they do, and there’s nothing you can do about it.

Just like how there’s no way to preventing falls, or bruises, cuts, etc. there’s no way to prevent hurt. And it’s not the fact that it happens, it’s what you do afterwards that matters. I may have felt terrible for “allowing” my daughter to fall off the bed, or my son to do the same, but then again, I was there to console them afterwards. I checked to make sure they didn’t have any signs of physical trauma, and then held them for awhile after it happened. I think that is really the best thing that you can do as a parent.

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Last year, I was talking to an old coworker of mine and she mentioned how terrified she was of her daughter beginning to roll over. I chuckled…quietly, of course. As the devil would have it, I didn’t tell her that her daughter will probably roll off the bed at some point, or do something to get hurt, because I didn’t want to scare her. She was a new parent. It’s not something I’m proud of doing, but I can remedy that by telling all new parents–if you are one of them–that it’s going to be okay. Things will happen, but kids are not china dishes. They’re strong, resilient, and they will survive, but their survival depends on you. You are the force that can help them get back up.

This holiday season I’m not feelin’ it

Growing up, the holiday season was all about Christmas and religion. Out of all my fondest memories, none involved opening Christmas presents or playing with the latest gadgets and toys — after all, this was the 1980s in a third world country. I didn’t have the luxury, and I didn’t know better. Thus, my experiences with holiday traditions involved going to church, and praying a lot (for what reason, I didn’t know — I just knew that it was part of the process of being in church), and family gatherings with foods aplenty. There were laughter as well as tears and grim faces as we all paused to reflect upon Christ’s birth during midnight church service.

It wasn’t until I found myself in a new country, and many years later, as an adult that I started becoming aware of how materialistic our society has become in regards to Christmas. The holiday season became less about being together with loved ones than about the pressure to buy gifts, host parties, and traveling. Everywhere you go, there are “SALE SALE SALE” signs enticing you to buy, buy, buy. Shop until you drop, that’s what they say. It became an unspoken but rather obvious rule to “feel jolly” around the holidays by purchasing things for people, often times without knowing what they really wanted, if anything at all.


As soon as Halloween hits, that’s when the volcanic eruption of holiday shopping madness begins. Stores begin displaying holiday decor, and everything is bright and merry. It’s funny how all it takes is a few simple string lights to entice me to look at things in a store, and the longer I look at it, the more tempted I am to buy it. And it’s no wonder that I’ve gone through my twenties feeling this way. The pressure to shop for people is daunting. The temptation to shop for oneself is also daunting. It wasn’t until the past few years that I become aware of my feelings towards the holiday season. Right after New Year’s hits, many stores bombards you with all things exercise-related, hence begins the process of pretending that one is going to pursue their New Year’s resolutions. After all, we need to recuperate from the sugar high coma that we’ve been living in for the past two months.


We all know that New Year’s resolutions are fruitless and that not very many people are actually successful. But still — it’s there. There have been some years when I’ve received offers from credit card companies for a balance transfer or loan consolidation around the beginning of the New Year. I’m not quite sure if this was based on a schedule, or because these companies know that once people look at their bill from the previous month, they might cringe and wonder to themselves, “Yikes. How on earth did I spend that much last month?!?!”

The holidays can be and are quite expensive. It’s even worse when you become parents. That’s what happened to me several years ago. This article from the Washington Post talked about the feeling that I’ve experienced before, as I’m sure many of you have s well — the desire to “get it right.”

“We want our kids to be happy, and sometimes we feel like we must be ultra-organized, forward thinking and creative to make that happen.”

It’s a real struggle and often leads to feelings of stress and exhaustion. This holiday season, I struggled with the desire to provide a certain level of happiness for my kids through Christmas gifts with the lack of desire (and more so the inability) to buy presents. Before we had kids, and even now, it feels like there’s a pressure to act a certain way — to buy presents for the people in your family/social circles whom you only vaguely know, to feel grateful that you are getting something, to feeling like you should be jolly just because the mall is decorated and Santa is visiting, and because you see lights all around.

Last year, we were very fortunate to have a lot of presents donated to us from generous individuals (through an anonymous Winter Wonder program at my husband’s school), and thus, our Christmas involved a massive collection of wrapping paper and goods on the morning of Christmas day.

This year, it’s a little different. Not only have we been disappointed by certain people throughout the year, but also because our financial situation has changed quite a bit. No longer am I looking forward to social gatherings that much because I wasn’t that kind of person to begin with. (I’d be very awkward at a cocktail party). Granted, our income situation hasn’t changed dramatically, but it has changed quite a bit. No longer am I able to buy presents that costs more than $20 each. Every time the temptation to shop enters my head, I’d try to shake it out, knowing that we might as well be in much bigger debt if we succumb to buying unnecessary gifts that people may not like.

What once was an occasion to celebrate Jesus Christ’s birth as a tender moment in time became a progression of fruitless spending, a wasteful money venture building up to familial drama. I’m sick of it. Call me a Grinch, but I’m tired of being tempted by lighted displays, baked goods, and sales. I’m tired of pretending to like something when I don’t, and I don’t want people to do the same thing to me either. I feel that the best thing you can do is to spend time with people who actually matter to you — or if none, then pets who are your friends. Because in the end, those who matter won’t judge you based on the presents that you give (or don’t give) and will still like you no matter what.

This year, I am grateful for my little family — what little family I do have, with my husband and children — are something that I truly treasure. But for me, Christmas is not about buying presents for people you don’t know, or going to social events like white elephant gift exchanges, or company parties, or hosting a party of your own. All of these activities create a certain level of anxiety that none of us needs.

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Our Christmas tree
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Ho ho ho it’s a holiday wreath!

WARNING: price delusions ahead!!!!!

Thanksgiving is almost here. The holiday season is in full swing. A week left until Black Friday. As this infamous day draws near, I thought I should tell you about a recent shopping experience at Macys that might make you think twice about shopping during the holidays.

While browsing the store with my husband, I saw a package of Minne Mouse underwear for toddlers. I have a Minnie Mouse obsessed little girl, and I thought she would love it. The sign said it was 50% off, and on the package, printed clearly was $14.98. So naturally I deducted that it was 50% off from $14.98, making it approximately $7.50. To my surprise, when I went to pay for the item, it rang up as $26, and $13 as the final price.
Immediately I pointed out the error to the cashier. He was not familiar with kids clothing so he went to talk to a sales associate in that department. He came back five minutes later and told me that it is exactly that – 50% off from $26. I was flabbergasted. I pointed out the price tag on the ACTUAL package, and said, “Clearly that is $14.98. You can’t deny that. How is it possible that the price can be inflated that much?!?!” He said, “Sorry, you can go talk to someone else in that department.”
This made me absolutely furious. The problem was not the fact that the item was extremely inflated at the expense of the consumer, but the blase attitude of the salesperson. It makes me wonder a few things:
  • How many of the items sold at Macys (or big box stores) have extremely inflated prices? Hundreds? Thousands??
  • Do customers realize this or are they just looking at the store’s signs and being led to believe that it is a good deal when in fact, it is not?
  • Price anchoring (the process of inflating retail prices to the point where the store marks down the item to 50% or more to allude the customer into thinking that it’s a good deal, when the “after-discount” price is actually just the retail price after all) – how prevalent is it? Apparently, it’s not new. Check out this article.
  • This is clearly and blatantly a way for major retail chains to gain profits during the holidays, by playing on customers’ inability to pay attention to small details, overshadowed by their desire to shop for everyone for Christmas, that they don’t realize how much they are truly spending?
While this particular practice makes me angry, what is even more troublesome is the sales associate’s responses. In my particular situation, the associate’s “Sorry not my problem” attitude is really infuriating. It makes me ashamed to say that I once worked for Macys, way back in the day. It’s troubling that for such a large chain that prides itself on quality and aesthetics that they are not training their employees to respond to conflicts in an enthusiastic and helpful manner.
Perhaps because I’ve worked in customer service for a long time, and I’ve worked at places that have high expectations for service that is the reason why this bothers me so much. Whatever happened to the old philosophy, “The customer is always right”? In my case, I was not making things up just to get my way. My husband and I both saw the price tag as $14.98, so to blow it up to $26 and then discount it $13 is beyond the acceptable ethical grounds of retail pricing.
So this holiday season, I’ve had enough of Christmas shopping. I’ve had enough of deceitful practices of major retail chains. I’ve had enough bad customer service. Besides getting a few items for my kids (not from Macys, of course, and mainly because I want them to have a good Christmas), I’m opting to do something else. To go outside. To be with family. To SAVE MONEY. Because the holidays can definitely make you go broke. It can lead you down the road of paying back a year’s worth of purchases plus interest…and for what? For big retail businesses AND credit card companies to make money off you? No thanks.

A Heck of a Year

This past year I’ve had the pleasure of being this little guy’s mom. I’m not going to deny that there were some hard moments. There always is, when you’re a parent. If I can sum up the first year of this guy’s life, I’d say it was eventful, crazy and wonderful, all rolled up in a giant ball of fuzzy yarn.

I was tempted to say something really cliche here, then I caught myself. Many parents, after the first year, laments on how fast that first year went by with a baby. Sure, it goes by fast, and sure – you didn’t get enough sleep at certain points, and sure – you don’t care because you’re in some kind of hellish parenting high that only babies can provide. *Babies are better than drugs!* But all cliches aside, I am going to say that I am NOT one of those moms who goes into a denial about how she wants her baby to stay small forever and quit growing up so fast…because, honestly, I CAN’T WAIT for my boy grow up!! I really can’t!! I tell him all the time – grow up already!** You’re too heavy!* Mama needs a break from carrying your chunky butt…

…but my, what a beautiful butt it is. It’s so round and smooth, just like the rest of his body, basically what you’d expect in a baby’s butt.

He’s going to hate me for talking about his ass (or skin, for that matter) in the future, so I’m going to stop right here.

For viewing pleasure, please sit down and get a hold of yourself, because this boy is about to blow the CUTE ROCKET out the window and far, far into the air!!


*James is currently registering at 30 lbs. Let’s hope he doesn’t grow into 40 lbs before his second birthday.
**I also can’t wait for him to start walking and talking, because I’m curious as to what he has to say and so forth.
***I SERIOUSLY struggled with selecting 10 photos or less of this day. It was hard, but I did it. Aren’t you proud of me? 🙂

I’m glad we went

GREETINGS from the land of hibernation (it’s been awhile), where I report to you my biggest status update yet: We went to Disneyland! with two kids!

[pant. pant. breathe. deep breaths.]

What words can I say to describe our trip?

Scary. Tearful. Anxious. Excited. Memorable. And I’ve got the Mickey Mouse ears to prove it.

Yes, it was nerve-wracking, but this vacation was much needed, for we hadn’t taken one since before the kids arrived. That was 2012. The past five years have been a blur, starting with the discovery that I was pregnant several months after we came back from Hawaii. Then Lily came along in 2013, and we settled into the baby-slash-school-slash-work lifestyle that vacation planning went to the bottom of the list of priorities. Mentally, we were new parents and just learning how to handle a baby, then a toddler, then another baby. Financially, we were a bit strained at times, but a vacation was always dreamed about. Physically, we were exhausted. My husband has been going to school full time since before our daughter was born and continues to go even after our son was born. Thankfully, this spring he will be done with his Bachelor’s degree – another major accomplishment to add to our list of “taking kids to Disneyland” adventures.

Our kids did well, given the change of environment. Lily was very excited about being on an airplane for the first time and didn’t seem to exhibit any signs of airsickness, thankfully. James did as well as he could on the trip while perched on our laps, save for a small freak out on the flight home – because he was hungry. I realized that there is such a stigma associated with taking small kids on an airplane. Both my husband and I experienced a sort of grimace/uneasy look from others when we told them that we were taking two kids on an airplane to Disneyland, for a vacation! It didn’t make any sense to me because I knew people took kids on planes all the time. We even had a nice lady came over and asked us if we needed anything. I realized that people are very understanding of parents with children. The man who sat next to my husband on the plane ride back said he didn’t mind kids at all, because he had kids of his own.

Just chillin’ in our hotel room

So, I’m glad we went. It was a weekend of many firsts – the first time the kids went on an airplane, the first vacation we took in five years, the first time we got stuck in LA rush hour traffic (no joke – the worst I’ve ever been in!), the first time we kind of got lost and drove through some rough neighborhoods in LA, the first time we spent more than $40 on meals for 3 people (even if one of those meals involved people dressed up in Disney characters and walked around while you ate), the first time we had “authentic” SoCal Mexican food, the first (and probably the last) time we did some cliche things such as getting matching Mickey/Minnie Mouse hats for all four of us, the first time we rode the teacup ride, Dumbo, Ariel, Small land just to name a few famous rides at Disneyland. Our time there was short, but we made the most of it and boy was it fun.

Lily’s favorite thing : the bubble wand