Mistaken Identity

I work out (at too early in the morning) with a group of women and sometimes a few guys. Did I tell you that the guys haven't lasted. It's that hard of a work out. Being unfit despite having six children to run after and care for doesn't quite translate to muscles. I've found that motherhood has a tendency towards flabbiness. The irony, just--SUCKS.

Our exercise group got together because we all shared the same personal trainer. His name is Akil (fitting isn't it?). I think the definition for Akil is simply: to kill unfit flabby women at no cost. Which he does with ease. Every morning at 5 a.m.

The funny thing about our work out group, is the fact that we just took whatever name Akil called us as an introduction to each other. Trusting him because well, he's our trainer, right?

So the first day of working out and no introductions to the other barely breathing and sweating girls; I would hear Akil call his clients by name. He had called one girl, "X" which I assumed was a nickname because she did look like an "X factor." Actually she looked like a Greek Goddess. She was the live model in which the Greek Goddesses were sculpted into marble; she makes the rest of us look like peasants. Right, back to the point of the blog. He called others, Titi, (which if you're in my family is a name); next he called someone "Earl". And the rest of the girls had justifiable real names.

So long story short, I just kept thinking, the poor girl named, Earl. Why did her parents call her Earl? And all the other girls started calling her Earl too.


One day, two weeks later after our informal/non-existent introductions, I was paired up with Earl. As we crossed each other on our killer lunges, and my thighs were burning, I finally took courage. I asked, "Earl, that's your name, right?"

Which she answered, laughing, almost dropping her dumb bells off of her shoulders, "Hell, no! Akil thinks, I could have played in the NFL. He calls me Earl." Which I knew stood for Earl Campbell. My NFL knowledge still kicks in.

Being embarrassed, I apologized for thinking her real name was Earl.

She then turned to me and asked, "And your name isn't (here she hesitates) Monkey?"

"Monkey?" I answered just to make sure I heard it right.

"I thought I heard Akil, call you Monkey."

So there you have it. Y'know about the beam in your own eye? Earl had nothing to worry about, because being called Monkey, hands down, is the worst mistaken identity for a name like Vagi.

We later exchanged real names. Earl is really Shavonne. And well, Monkey almost sounds like Vagi, right?

And what's the lesson here? Earl is definitely a better name then Monkey, any day, 5 a.m. in the early morning. OR any unforgivable time in the morning day or night.

I'm hoping she thought it was a term of endearment.

I finally told Akil this story, he couldn't stop laughing for a whole minute. Well, once again, WE are ALL laughing together, right? Akil swears, he's never called me Monkey. And now he thinks, he just might.

I love reading, it's my sanity away from the insanity of it all. I love mysteries mostly because it's my own version of putting a puzzle together, minus the parts that have the ability to get lost because some child thought it was a chewing toy. My ultimate favorite mystery tale(s) solely belong to Miss Marple, one of Agatha's Christie's brilliant sleuths. Then again, Agatha Christie is reigning Queen of mysteries in the genre and in my heart. But here are three of one of the best (in three's) that I've found enjoyable and have consumed my most valuable time. Albeit, given gladly, my time that is.

Tana French's Novels: "In the Woods" "The Likeness" and "The Faithful Place"

One word: Ireland.



























John Hart. I started reading this author only because I loved the title of the book. It lived up to it's title and more. So I read two more of his novels. Sometimes, I had to flip to the front of the book to remind myself that it was a mystery, because it had really great elements of great literature. Read the opening of the "Last Child" and tell me if that isn't just brilliant writing.

















Alan Bradley. I devoured each book in half a day, while taking motherly sidelong glances over the book to make sure the children were alive. Actually, my children were waiting for me to finish so they could read it. Hence my newest invention of torture was birthed.

Happy puzzle reading!

Quote me on Monday!

I just picked up C.S. Lewis's, "Mere Christianity" and started reading it for the third time. He's not an easy read but well worth all the deep and provoking thoughts, I rarely come up with on my own. Com'n, I'm a sleep deprived mother, when am I supposed to get some "deep and provoking" thoughts? Of certainty I'm not receiving any provoking thoughts when I'm trying to shut the noise out of incessant chattering children or trying to hear these "deep, provoking thoughts" above my recognizable yelling, screaming voice. So as a shortcut to deep thoughts or not; here is C.S. Lewis in quotes.


"There was a boy called Eustace Clarence Scrubb, and he almost deserved it."
— C.S. Lewis (The Voyage of the "Dawn Treader") ~



"I am a product [...of] endless books. My father bought all the books he read and never got rid of any of them. There were books in the study, books in the drawing room, books in the cloakroom, books (two deep) in the great bookcase on the landing, books in a bedroom, books piled as high as my shoulder in the cistern attic, books of all kinds reflecting every transient stage of my parents' interest, books readable and unreadable, books suitable for a child and books most emphatically not. Nothing was forbidden me. In the seemingly endless rainy afternoons I took volume after volume from the shelves. I had always the same certainty of finding a book that was new to me as a man who walks into a field has of finding a new blade of grass."
— C.S. Lewis


"Numbers don't win a battle."
— C.S. Lewis (The Chronicles of Narnia)


Everyone thinks forgiveness is a lovely idea until he has something to forgive."
— C.S. Lewis


"Affliction is often that thing which prepares an ordinary person for some sort of an extraordinary destiny."


"Clearly one must read every good book at least once every ten years."
— C.S. Lewis


There are a dozen views about everything until you know the answer. Then there is never more than one."
— C.S. Lewis (That Hideous Strength)


It doesn't really matter whether you grip the arms of the dentist's chair or let your hands lie in your lap. The drill drills on."
— C.S. Lewis (A Grief Observed)

"Girls aren't very good at keeping maps in their brains", said Edmund, "That's because we've got something in them", replied Lucy."
— C.S. Lewis (The Chronicles of Narnia)


"Badness is only spoiled goodness."
— C.S. Lewis


"The way for a person to develop a style is (a) to know exactly what he wants to say, and (b) to be sure he is saying exactly that."
— C.S. Lewis


"Perhaps my bad temper or my jealousy are gradually getting worse - so gradually that the increase in seventy years will not be very noticeable. But it might be absolute hell in a million years!"
— C.S. Lewis (Mere Christianity)


"The cross comes before the crown and tomorrow is a Monday morning! "
— C.S. Lewis


"One day you will be old enough to start reading fairy tales again."
— C.S. Lewis


"When pain is to be born, a little courage helps more than much knowledge, a little human sympathy more than much courage, and the least tincture of the love of God more than all."
— C.S. Lewis (The Problem of Pain)


"Humour is...the all-consoling and...the all-excusing, grace of life."
— C.S. Lewis (The Screwtape Letters)

What's in your fridge?

On Sunday I went hunting for my tweezer. Only it wasn't to pluck the eyebrows. No, it was for the hair on my chinny chin chin. My UGLY and revolting little hair on my chinny chin chin, which desperately needed to be removed immediately. It was not in it's usual place. I hunted. I yelled. I yelled some more and still it didn't show up; and not one child (who I--know-- is guilty) of why my tweezer went missing, courageously stepped up to the chopping block.

Memo to me: raise more courageous children. Oh, and children who will not touch valuable tweezers.

The next day, a mundane Monday morning, after a grueling workout with Akil; I naturally wanted food. Something on the line of feeding my incredible muscles. I do have them y'know... muscles. They're hidden out of sight under the fat. But they did need feeding. So ask me what I found sitting on the upper shelf next to my smart water?

My muscle milk?

MY TWEEZER! In the FRIDGE! What is it doing in the fridge?! I started yelling, “Who put my tweezer in the fridge?” Not one courageous or guilty conscience child fessed up. No, but there were five looking back at me, like--I--had pulled the stunt. They all left the kitchen as quickly as they could back peddle as they saw that my nostrils were flaring.

The thing is, this isn't the first I've found something that DOES NOT belong in the fridge. This was the one thing that finally broke the camel's back.

Do you want to know what I have found?

Here's the short list:

Yzhak's shoe (poor Yzhak was probably set up)
Rosina's hair brush (no wonder she doesn't brush her hair)
A wrench (Taua my busy body creator)
A toothbrush (definitely belonging to Samanu)
A rock (I can't decide which child did that)
Barbecue coal (I remember there were two—Aaron?)
Listerine (who knows)

With that history, I should have gone looking for my tweezer in the fridge, right?

I don't even want to go into how those things got there. But they were there. One day I'll find out how or why? For now, I'm still shaking my head.

So what's in your fridge? Got an interesting tale to tell?

Ode to the great "O" the month of October....

I needed, no, wanted to pay a tribute to the great month of October. Since I did wait to the very last minute while trick-o-treaters are knocking on my door. I love the colors and smell that is distinctly and uniquely owned by this great month. So what if it means a true end of summer and the dropping temperatures, although, it was actually a very warm October. I opted to use the words of a few great poets. Mostly because next to their words, I couldn't do October any justice. The first is from Robert Frost and the second from Carl Sandburg (pertaining to one of the great symbols of this month). Even the great poets recognized the great “O”. Enjoy......

October

O hushed October morning mild,
Thy leaves have ripened to the fall;
To-morrow's wind, if it be wild,
Should waste them all.
The crows above the forest call;
To-morrow they may form and go.
O hushed October morning mild,
Begin the hours of this day slow,
Make the day seem to us less brief.
Hearts not averse to being beguiled,
Beguile us in the way you know;
Release one leaf at break of day;
At noon release another leaf;
One from our trees, one far away;
Retard the sun with gentle mist;
Enchant the land with amethyst.
Slow, slow!
For the grapes' sake, if they were all,
Whose leaves already are burnt with frost,
Whose clustered fruit must else be lost—
For the grapes' sake along the wall.

Robert Frost


Theme in Yellow

I spot the hills 
With yellow balls in autumn. 
I light the prairie cornfields 
Orange and tawny gold clusters 
And I am called pumpkins. 
On the last of October 
When dusk is fallen 
Children join hands 
And circle round me 
Singing ghost songs 
And love to the harvest moon; 
I am a jack-o'-lantern 
With terrible teeth 
And the children know 
I am fooling.

Carl Sandburg

Daddy turns 94!

Tomorrow is a milestone in my life. My dad turns 94.

Happy Birthday, Daddy!

Dad still loves going to the plantation. He loves to tell my brother Tony to plant more taro, (I know, Tony has been telling me between laughter, explaining the lack of space to plant more taro), but my brother Tony is a great son, he plants the taro anyways.

Daddy has seen a lot of things in his lifetime. He's been to many countries. He was in the Navy and quite the handsome sailor (and I'm not just saying that because he's my dad). He's fought in three wars: World War II in the Pacific; The Korean Conflict and a tour in Vietnam. Most importantly he's raised many children and still sees us as his greatest blessing next to marrying Mom. You will never find him alone because he keeps company with scriptures and books.

I cannot in words count the blessing of having Daddy as my father. There are too many things to be grateful for, I could fill pages and pages of the things I've learned from him. And even those words would fail to convey the feelings of my heart.

What does come to mind is the humility that has carved my father's kind and faithful face. His hands carry the living marks of someone who loves hard work. His voice has always been tender and comforting. And the words he has spoken over the years has always carried lasting and sound wisdom.

When I was child I wanted to grow up to be like my father. I'm not quite there—yet—but one day, one day, I hope to be.

I love you, Daddy.

Happy 94th Birthday! That's an amazing thing to write and to say. Not very many children can say, “My dad is 94.” But I can. *blows kisses*

To laugh or to laugh harder!

To laugh or to laugh harder, that is the question. Whether tis nobler? Who knows? But I choose to laugh and move on. And by the end of this short blog, you'll laugh and move on too. I'll make a believer out of you.

A few months ago, I was asked by the Stake to give a workshop for a Bi-Stake Youth Conference. NO, this isn't your cue to start the pre-giggles, no, I promise, you'll know when. *clearing throat* I was asked to give a workshop on: DATING. Yes, you can all wipe the laughter spit off of your computer screen. Yes, you, the one laughing like the hyena from the pack called: FAMILY and FRIENDS.

Can you believe it? Apparently the Church still doesn't do background checks on guest speakers. Because seriously no one back home would have even thought of me to teach this workshop, and to a host of 14-15 year olds. Because, one, I have never dated in High School, except for Sophomore Banquet and Prom. Do those things count? Second, I never had any desire to date. Honestly, I didn't. And did I mention I had ten brothers. Who would ask me? And do Polynesians date?

So onward I studied the subject of dating and luckily, the April New Era was a great resource. I finally put together something that was interactive, fun and informative. Yes, I was ready to teach something, that for the life of me, I felt unqualified to teach.

The day came and there I was: holding two hula hoops and a set of poi balls. Don't worry they all tied in together (I promise) on my dating presentation. I was then introduced to the other guest speaker. Before the verbal introduction, I glanced over and read his hanging name tag, which stated his title: PhD. Yep, he has a PhD in Psychology and is a certified Marriage Counselor among the many other QUALIFIED attributes that I was deeply lacking. And then there's me, holding poi balls and hula hoops, and barely scraping the acronym of SAHM after my name.

Please know, that I am not writing this because I want you to complement me on my strengths. Just read on and you'll understand.

So the other (more qualified speaker) has quite the long list of accomplishments. And there's me, holding on to the poi balls, and hula hoops and barely scraping the acronyms of SAHM after my name. Right, I said that already. I almost had to remind myself that I had a Bachelors (does that even count these days?).

Anyways, can you see the hilarity in the situation? Remember earlier I said something about background checks? Apparently it exists. I must have slipped through the cracks—large cracks.

The presentation went well. I survived; the poi balls and hula hoops survived; the 14-15 year olds survived; and I was able to answer my husband on my return home, when he asked me, “How did it go?” My answer was simply, “It was a bomb. Not to be confused with 'the bomb.'”

I told you, you would be laughing. And you would agree, that we would just have to laugh really loud to make it all feel better. Especially given the situation. *laughing*

You are laughing WITH me, right?

Reluctant Sports Fan

The Lakers vs. Celtics game last night IS one of the many reasons why I don't follow sports as closely as I have in the past. The stress levels hit the moon, with a round trip around Mars. If stress (and it is stress), was indeed crack, then it would have been a drug addicts ultimate high. As for me it just made me sick--literally.

Here is my list of post-NBA Championship ailments due to WATCHING the Lakers play the way they did, up until the last five minutes of the game:

Throat hernia. Seems impossible? Well, I'm living proof that it can happen.
Stomach ulcer. That's an obvious symptom.
Larger nostrils. It seems flaring can do that to an already wide nose. Memo to me: keep nose flares to occasional episodes. Really unflattering to my already aging face.
Deaf Spouse. Well, Aaron's already deaf, last night wasn't the cause for his deafness. However, he shushed me for yelling at the t.v. Imagine being shushed by a deaf person? So the question is: Is he really deaf? Or just when he wants to be? But that's for another blog.

Following a team has it's ups, and definite let downs. I just don't know if I'm ready to head back into that stressful arena. Maybe I should live a little and risk bodily injury to be fan. I most likely will, because I naturally love sports. But I'll keep it to an occasional viewing. Could you imagine my poor nose?

Self-Proclaimed Queen of Failing at Motherhood!

Today is the day that we're supposed to be celebrating Naia's first birthday. The problem is... that Naia's birthday was actually yesterday.

As in yesterday, while driving home from ANOTHER baseball game; I noticed a sign that said: Today is Monday, June 7th. Noooo, I thought, they definitely got the date screwed up. Because tomorrow is June 7th- BECAUSE tomorrow is Naia's birthday. It took a calendar (which I ripped out of my purse) to convince my mommy-screwed-up-brain to realize that TODAY (as in yesterday), WAS indeed Naia's birthday.

GUILTY MOM syndrome or is it SCREWED UP MOM syndrome? Whatever the case, its all the same to me: I SUCK at Mommyhood.

Seriously, how does a Mom forget?! I am desperately trying to find a reason for my memory lapse. If you have one—a certified and valid reason—please let me know. It's probably a condition I need to research. Also, let me know if there's a cure. Hopefully it's a pink pill that needs to be swallowed with chocolate milk. Something to quickly fix and erase the memory of my screw up. Maybe a nice slap to the head would work.

Have you ever screwed up before? Did it make you feel awful? Did you find your cure? Did a nice quick slap to the head, work? Did it make you the Queen of screw ups?

Flashlight Worthy?!

I love books. I love blue books, red books, green books... any book. And that's my tribute to my love of my favorite Dr. Seuss book. I love getting them for gifts (hint hint) and getting recommendations from friends and family.

I'm writing this segment as my unsolicited recommendation to whoever reads this.

Here's a few flashlight worthy books--because seriously who's reading under candlelight these days? But if you are, forgive me my trespass and keep reading.

First flashlight worthy book:



I absolutely loved this book. It was a recommendation out of a magazine article I read and I'm so glad that I opened it's pages. I laughed; I cried; I paused and thought about certain passages; I researched the History of Ethiopia; and I'm still looking for an Ethiopian restaurant to experience here, and yes, I do get pretty hungry reading a great book, don't you? The author is a wonderful storyteller. My flashlight died out, but then again, I didn't really use a flashlight to read this story. I was inconsiderate and left the light on ALL night. Good thing, my husband is very considerate by not complaining.

Numbah 2:



I was absolutely bug eyed by this memoir. My friend Kristy had recommended this amazing memoir to me. The beginning of the book opens up where the author is heading to a very ritzy party in a cab in the city of New York. Traffic--as only New York can have--slows the cab down and she see's a homeless person scouring out of a garbage bin. It's not just ANY homeless person, she recognizes that it's her very own mother. What happens next is surprising (atleast to me), she scoots as low as she can in the cab and hopes her mother hasn't seen her. And this is the 'beginning' of her memoir. Read it, it's worth every battery in your flashlight. Or wattage power of your lamp.

Numbah Three:




This is another recommendation from the same magazine article which recommended "Cutting for Stone." When I read the back of the book, I hesitated at first and then realized that I was ready to read this book. You see it was a tribute to her mother and the process she went through in losing her. The subject was still very sensitive for me as it resonated my grief of losing my own mother. I have to simply say, that her warm and witty personal storytelling was healing to my grieving process. I smiled, giggled and hugged the book when I was done. And then I cried. It was that good.

Maybe I shouldn't measure a book by a flashlight, maybe a good 'ole crying or laughter will suffice. Whatever the case, breakout your flashlights, or night lamp and a really great mosquito punk. Don't forget the tissue and and some good food.

Happy reading! What do you recommend?

Dancing With the Stars

Alright, it's true I watch Dancing With the Stars. The winner only gets a mirror ball trophy but hey, it's entertainment. It's not as if they donate any of their money to charity (which I think they should). But that's for another blog.

Here is something that I have observed from the show through the seasons. The celebrities asked to participate on the show are usually put in the categories of actor/entertainers or athletes.

Here's what this island girl has observed. The actor/entertainers have some serious issues. They're usually crying in the corner complaining about how hard it is for them because they're not dancers. Ummmm, isn't that the whole point?! And really, you're not going to win a career out of it, like say, "American Idol" you're only going to win a disco ball propped on a trophy. So just come out and attempt to dance and give us the entertainment we want to see.

Now on to the athletes. The athletes on the other hand act like athletes. They carry on and work through pain and dancing steps that feel foreign to them. I have yet to see an athlete crying about how much work it takes to 'dance.' Yes, I've heard their frustrations in doing something new and different, but I still haven't seen anyone of them literally crying over the mirror ball trophy. Or abusing their professional trainer.

Also if you watch when the judges give out their criticism, I hate to say it again, but I will, just to be redundant: athletes take criticism in stride. They use it to get better. Maybe, they're just used to their coaches yelling, I mean, helping them with their weak points.

Here's a line I love from one of the participants: I want you to get on my case about my footwork. Everytime, I don't get it right, get on my case, if you have to break another toe, than do it. Three is my lucky number anyway. Yep, an athlete said that, actually the cream of the athletes: an Olympian.

I would love to quote, Kate Gosselin but I can't unless you want me to type out: sobbing.

Athletes are not perfect. But with Dancing With the Stars, they're so much more enjoyable to watch.

Blog Makeover!

It's no secret. This island girl--loves a makeover. LOVE! THEM!

You like it?! I LOVE, HEART and ADORE it! *jumping shamelessly up and down* LOVE! IT!

Imagine if you please my acceptance speech for best blog makeover. *clears throat*

For winning this coveted award for best blog makeover; I want to thank Mel. You'll find her over at mommydoodles.com. She's a mom and Super Heroine both night and day. On her spare time while she's sleeping, she helps out the incompetent and designer challenged people like me. Thank you Mel for making this blog look gorgeous! I really hope that I can do it justice. It's so much fun coming to post on my blog--although most times, I just stare at how beautiful a place it has become.

*blows kisses*

That island girl to the right of the banner looks something like me. Uncanny, really?

Happy Halloween!

Halloween isn't my favorite event; but I will say that I love the whole feel of the party. I love the costumes; the candy; the treats; the lore and the haunts.

Here are a few of the costumes I thought would be great and fun but sadly would never wear. Just as a warning: don't invite me to your Halloween party. Why? Because I will be that ONE friend who will show up, NOT wearing a costume. I know, I'm boring that way.

But here's one I would love to wear, well, as soon as I find the guts to do so.



Why a flapper? *shrugging shoulders* Well, doesn't it look fun?




Another tradition for Halloween are the 'haunting' sites that you pay so much money to attend, for the pure motive of: it's so much fun. Again, I don't like 'haunted' anything. When I was in sixth grade, our Elementary school had a haunted house which I couldn't go through. But I went anyways (peer pressure) and well, that was actually the last time I went to one. I know it's fake but it's really not a thrill for me. I have nephews who have and will laugh through a haunted house. Which also goes for scary Halloween movies. Can't do it.

Here are a few haunts here in Chicago. They actually give tours all year through but the prices for October go up. I'm not surprised.

From their website:

Welcome to Chicago Hauntings Ghost Tours!
Chicago is one of the most haunted cities in the world, boasting a colorful but disturbingly dark and violent past. Many of the sites on our tours are notorious for their ghost sighitngs and paranormal activity. Others are not as well known. The stories behind many of these hauntings range from the truly chilling to the light- of heart. We've found that some spirits of our beloved but haunted Chicago seem to beg loudly for recognition and remembrance, while others remind us of their reality in a more subtle fashion. We think a few wish to teach lessons, while others remain playful. All, we believe, wish not to be forgotten.

We can't guarantee a paranormal experience will occur or be experienced on each and every tour. Nor can we say one won't. We can promise that you'll be haunted by Chicago's very real, often shocking past.

Come find out for yourself!

Our Chicago Hauntings Tours operate year-round from 600 N. Clark St. (at Ontario) in downtown Chicago, across from the Rain Forest & Hard Rock Cafes.
In the mood for a tour contact: chicagohauntings.com

I also found out from this site that the Museum of Science and Industry is a famous sighting for paranormal events. OK, how am I going to tell my children that we're never going to do a 'sleep over' at THAT Museum. Yes, I'm chicken.

Last but my most favorite part of Halloween are the treats. They can come in the scariest looking forms but as long as it tastes good, I'm all over it.

Here's a great Halloween treat, I came across, while shopping at Target. I'm not a soda drinker but I do love Jones Soda and here is their Halloween line for a limited time only.




Interesting flavors. Tonight we tried the 'corn candy' flavor. It will actually leave the same after taste, candy corn leaves in your mouth when you're done eating it. I love the size of the can and the flavors and decorative cover are perfect for Halloween.

For great and healthy Halloween treats, I'm usually over at the Family Fun website. I love the fact that each recipe has a rating.

So pretty much, I've made a confession of my contradictory behavior for loving Halloween. The only thing that I will do is 'eat' the treats. You won't find me wearing a costume; attending a haunted anything but I will be at the desert table trying not to oink out loud.

Happy Halloweeen!

unBEElievable

About a month and half ago, we had a really nasty experience with these yellow jackets. Actually it was rather horrifying. Imagine: Alfred Hitchcocks, "Birds" movie without the birds; replace them with yellow jackets.

We were taking a nice walk up a trail when my children and my friend Kristi's children were attacked by yellow jackets. These yellow jackets followed them for a quarter of a mile and still they persisted.

Altogether there were a total of nine (make that ten, Aaron went back to the nest, don't ask me why) attacked by yellow jackets. Those creatures were aggressive.

The paramedics showed up, each child had their own paramedic and to cut to the chase of the story, each child had about over thirty stings. I stopped counting after 30.

Even after I got home and had them strip down to their underwear so I could make sure they were bee free. I sent them to take cool showers. To my surprise, Yzhak is screaming and calling for me to come down because there were more bees. I had to tried to convince him that they were all gone. However, he was right. I got down stairs and there were still yellow jackets crawling out of their clothes.

I have to tell you, there is no love lost between me and those nasty suckers. I'll squash them first and ask questions later.

My children for a while have been very afraid of any flying objects on first contact: flies, bugs and flying dust. Don't even let me go on about the drive home.

We're safe but we're still--well--PARANOID. Can you blame us?!

Baby Talk

I have about a hundred of these little videos of Naia talking away. Aaron says that it's the sign of the beginning of our little chatter box. Our 'radio' broadcast of baby thoughts started at about two and half months and hasn't stopped since. But it's the sweetest listening music until she becomes displeased.



See, she's still going. Like the little duracell (it is duracell, right?) bunny.

When the DUE DATE comes and GOES!

So June 2nd was yesterday. AS in YESTERDAY was my due date-GUNFUNNIT!

IT's been a really challenging experience for me to have carried past 38 weeks. All four of the children that I've birthed all came before 39 weeks. I seriously, didn't know how good I had it. Even my Yzhak followed suit and came about two to three weeks early.

I've decided that I'm pregnant with a little girl who seriously has her own mind and TIME FRAME. I've decided for future reference to pocket away this experience when having to deal with ANY POWER struggle that she and I will have. Because you all KNOW she and I are going to have some words from the very beginning.

I've walked, and walked until my ankles have grown extra ankles. And my darling nieces have actually--VOLUNTEERED--to massage them. They're (the angelic nieces) are going straight to Heaven. I've tried hot foods and I think I heard her laughter. I've PRAYED--the HEAVENS knows I've prayed and still she's still inside of me, cozy as a pea and seriously holding on to the walls of my hip bones as to refuse entrance.

I've cried too. Yes, I've cried. You would too, if you've stopped believing that she's ever going to come out.

And I'm not the only one in wonder over her TIME FRAME. I have family calling every day STUNNED that she hasn't made an entrance.

I guess, writing about it helps just a tad little bit. Like smiling through eating a liver sandwich. Telling myself, "Liver is good for you." Yeah, right, because I'd rather have someone poke me in the eye.

Remember that saying? "Don't put off today what you can do tomorrow?" I'm trying to get the interpretation of that saying in Samoan from my Dad. Because I'm seriously going to call her my procrastinator.

Ok, so this blog is a little on the vent side, BUT CAN YOU BLAME ME!

Wish me luck she actually comes soon. Like today, in two hours after I've taken a well rested nap.

Craving Home!

I'm thinking of food. Specifically, island food. Ok, I'm really CRAVING local foods to the point of obssesion. I know that it only adds fuel to the craving being that I'm pregnant.

So because I'm not at home, I dream of the local "grindz" because that's all I can really do. Dreaming makes it just a tad easy. Although, I would rather have the real thing. Who would have thought that food would be one of those things you have to dream about, because at the moment, it really is out of reach. Seriously, when you think of something out of reach, certain things come to mind like: love, decent guys, beauty, wealth, etc, etc, just not food.

I miss the days of taking a walk to Sam's store by Hukilau Beach to grab pake cake. Now, I savor the memories of a late night movie, knowing that Zippy's is the pit stop treat for after-movie-activities. Living on the mainland, I realize that I can't walk into any grocery store and have a take out of prepared "raw fish."

But to get to the real point, I'm going to dream through google and post a few of my out of reach (literally)--local foods!

First on the list:





Leonard's Malasadas. These bad boys are a gift from our Potogee (Portuguese) family in Hawai'i. I can't find them anywhere in Chicagoland. With all the varieties of cultures they have here--not one--malasada.

My number two on the list: Waikane Store, tuna sushi rolls.



Nope, this photo was not taken years ago, it's just reminiscent of the type of Hawai'i that I remember growing up in: simple, untouched and great food. The building looks like it's gonna fall apart if you lean on the door frame but it makes the best sushi rolls ever. They are made FRESH. I've had them still warm when I've handed them to my children. As the Hawaiians say back home: Broke da mouth, good!

Third: Zippy's Saimin, Bento plate and Chili



I want some real saimin. The package "ramen" deal isn't cutting it anymore. It doesn't matter how much spam and eggs I put in it. It's still not the same.



This Zip Pac is my favorite. It has ALL the meats needed for a meal: chicken, beef, spam and fish. Only in Hawai'i. I love it!

And finally: Da Chili



This stuff, I've actually had for breakfast and it is GOOOOOOOOD! We'd leave it in the famous bucket and kept in the fridge til the next day. Y'know what they say about food the next day? It's true for Zippy's Chili.

Are you hungry now? You want to take a trip back home? What's your favorite dive from your hometown? And why hasn't anyone come up with the "Beam-me-over" transport machine?

The Famous Question or Questions!

I'm going to have to warn you, it's one of those post. The one I hope is worth reading.

About a year ago, I had read one of Fran's many wonderful blog post and decided to "steal" this idea from her. So, Fran, if you're reading this: Please sue me later. Best after the baby is born and/or is walking or in college or hopefully you forget.

IF you're on facebook or even have e-mail you've probably seen the trend of answering questionnaires or questions and passing them around. It's a pretty good way to learn about someone or remind yourself that maybe you really don't know someone. Or just create more questions you didn't want any answers for or cared for in the first place.

,

So without anymore explanation, here we go.

1. Love is...too damn complicated.

2. Marriage is...just like love but even more damn complicated.

3. Somewhere someone is thinking...she sure likes the word damn.

4. I'm always...moody or hungry.

5. I have a secret cheesy crush on...my husband--STILL.

6. My cell phone...is busted and should be given a proper burial in the garbage can.

7. I've come to realize that my last kiss was...everytime I see my husband. I don't count the kiddie kisses.

8. I am listening...to disobedient children demanding to be heard. I'm not a great "listening Mom" when I'm trying to blog.

9. I talk...with the sexiest voice ever! Which is why, I still can't understand, why, when I answer the phone people are always asking to speak to "your Mom."

10. I love...answered prayers.

11. My best friends are...only an e-mail and a phone call away.

12. My car is...isn't going to die soon. *knock knock on wood* Or destroyed by a tornado; go up in flames. *knock knock on wood*

13. My love life...Gah! Like I said before it's complicated and hawt at the same time. It's called marriage. Reality's true soap opera.

14. I hate it when people ask..."You're pregnant?" Yes, you friggin idiot. It's not a tumor and don't you even say anything about being fat. And don't say a word about how many children I ALREADY have!

15. When I wake up in the morning...I want to throw my husband's cell phone out the window. It's his alarm clock which he NEVER gets up to.

16. When I go to bed at night...it's usually at early morning.

17. Right now I'm thinking about...how disciplined I'am in not making a trip to Baskin Robbins for a chocolate shake.

18. Babies are...difficult because they didn't come with a manual, atleast one that has ALL the answers. They are definately hard work that are loved by tired moms' all over the world.

19. Tonight I will...wind down; read a good book; make a list; not look at a full length mirror and remind myself how sexy I really am. Tonight just might be the night, I'll actually believe it.

20. I really want to...go to Baskin Robbins and buy me that chocolate shake. But I will be relentless in resisting.

Why Chocolate makes me feel sooo happy!

For an eternity there, I really believed that I lost that "loving feeling" with chocolate. For the first 18 weeks of my pregnancy, I seriously doubted my ability to desire chocolate and for this lovely aphrodisiac to make all my troubles go away. Ha! I laugh at my inability to believe in the romantic affair I have with this melt-in-my-mouth confection. BUT it's back: my serious love affair with chocolate. It is definately not helping with the thighs or muli but hey, it's about the emotions that I feel when I eat it. Right now, I'm going to ignore full length mirrors and pop a Hershey kisses in my mouth.

After popping chocolate in my mouth, I literally feel nothing but the chocolate and happiness rushes out from my mouth to my fingertips. What an easy high. NO, don't go there, I'm not an addict--ok, I am. BUT I'm a chocolate addict which I can proudly say isn't evil enough to be locked away for life.

What about you? Do you have a love affair with chocolate or would you rather gag and run in the other direction? In which I will have to say, "More for me--sucker!"

I'm FAT! Ok, it's called pregnancy...but still...

Isn't she beautiful? I hope it's a she. I just found a lovely photo of a beluga and of course posted it. So yes, I feel like a beluga.

I also feel fat. There's nothing like possessing the knowledge of knowing that your baby is a size of a grape but your stomach looks like it's holding a watermelon. At this moment I feel gloriously hapai (as the Hawaiians would say).

Oh, but unlike the glowing beluga I feel horribly sick and unwell. And please I really don't want to hear how, "I've never had morning sickness. " NOT. RIGHT. NOW. I think I might throw up just hearing someone tell me that. So good for you. As I silently whisper a curse over my shoulder to some unforseen force or even the Universe to strike you with so much morning sickness that you'll never utter those words again. I know--I'm a "hater" as my nieces and nephews would say. Ok, so you can tell me, that you've never had morning sickness--JUST TELL ME SIX MONTHS-- after I give birth. I just might not remember what morning sickness, I mean, ALL DAY sickness felt like. You might be lucky. I just might NOT curse you.

Anyways, in a few weeks (crosses fingers, spits over shoulder), I'm SUPPOSED to feel better. And I NEED to feel better. I need to look like a happy beluga with no care in the world.

Maybe I'll post a picture of my watermelon stomach and my "grape" size baby. But then again, I most likely won't. It'll be depressing really.

Yes, I know my "tone" for this whole pregnancy sounds unpleasant. But what did you expect. I'm pregnant. I'm MOODIER. I'm fat (not to mention I finally went down to 125. And seriously who's in the mood when you're puking at all hours?

Hopefully in a few weeks I'll feel more pleasant but right now I'm obviously not.