Silicon Valley Moms Blog

Maria Shriver’s Journey: Up Close & Personal with Silicon Valley Moms Blog

“Change doesn’t have to be huge, but it may have to be deep.  A deep change for me was realizing I’d have to take the time to know what I feel, in order to know who I am and who I want to be.”

As I read these words from Maria Shriver’s new book, Just Who Will You Be?, I felt as if I was peeking into a page from her personal journal.  Last night, I got the chance to meet Maria up close and personal at a private book signing, hosted by Silicon Valley Moms Blog at Books Inc, Palo Alto.

Maria kicked off the evening by calling our time together a “neighborhood girls night out” and treated us to a sampling of Lovin’ Scoopful, a yummy new ice cream that’s close to her heart.  Maria, along with her brother and “two other guys”, came out with this ice cream, donating 25% of proceeds to go to Special Olympics.  (I was surprised to find out later that this creamy ice cream is only ½ the fat and 1/3 of the calories.  I should’ve eaten the whole scoop, rather than holding back the last few bites!)

With ice cream in our tummies, all the mom bloggers were all ears.  For the next 30 minutes, we listened and laughed with Maria, as she opened up about her journey to self-discovery and answered questions from the group.  Maria was as candid, down-to-earth, and humorous in person, as she is in her writing.  Passionate and kind, she was even more beautiful in person than she already is in her photos!

The Car Buying Homemaker

We had been procrastinating car buying for quite a number of weeks now.  The lease for my compact car from my pre-mom life was going to end soon.  It was time to move on to a bigger vehicle.  As a mom of a toddler, I had my eyes set on cargo room large enough to pack a tricycle, a grocery run, and if need be, kid-friendly Ikea loot.

Weekends are scarce and precious. So each time Saturday came around, it was easy to come up with an excuse to postpone the inevitable car shopping experience:  the dreaded negotiation with Mr. Car Salesman. 

We’ve both been through the whole “Look, I’m just here to help” routine before in a salesman’s sweatbox of an office.  But, going into the car dealership is a lot like a trip to the dentist.  Most times, it’s pretty pain-free.  But if you’ve ever found yourself white-knuckled, reclined on that cold hard vinyl chair, while someone over you is drilling like there’s no tomorrow, water flooding into your mouth, you develop a knowing fear that doesn’t fade with time.

What ended up being the “I hate buying a car” defining moment though, wasn’t the arm wrestling over the price.   Nope.

My Top 5 Mommy Guilt Offenders

Last week, I spent a good amount of the week in bed, sick as a dog. Because there was quite a bit of Mommy Guilt that accompanied my days curled up under the covers, I wrote up a posting on my personal blog about it: When Mommy is Sick.

This week, I'm back on my feet. Yeah, the things that made me feel guilty when I was sick have ebbed away. But, like the tide that always returns, a new list of guilt-inducing items washes up to greet me on any given day as mom.

I try not to let these things drag me down. I kinda picture my days as mom like my walks on a beach. Sometimes, the beach is totally beautiful and clean, especially after a storm or a spelt of rain has hit. The beach is clear because not many people have returned yet. No paper bags, styrofoam cups, or broken beer bottles. Just smooth, virgin sand, waiting for my footprints, as I trek across, eager to make my mark.

Days like these with TJ seem magical. These are the times when I've just finished something major. Maybe I just completed ordering fabric and materials for the line of shopping cart covers I've designed. Or it could be something monumental, like clicking through that last screen on the TurboTax Wizard and all my papers are filed in newly labeled folders. Or it could be something as simple as getting my weekly grocery runs done. With my fridge newly stocked and meals fresh in my mind for the next couple of days, my time with TJ is filled with lots of fun, play, and creative ideas for first time moments.

Playground Politics

Before I was a mom, I didn't have that much exposure to playground politics. I mean, I can't even remember when I had actually stepped onto a playground as an adult. Sure, I've been at parks for barbecues and picnics. And I've seen kids playing on the jungle gyms, swings and slides. At a distance.

But, boy oh boy. The playground sure looks a lot different up close and personal, now that I'm actually in one, with a toddler of my own. What do you do when another child hurts your little one and his mom nearby does nothing? As if that weren't enough, the mom later comes over to blame your child for not sharing his toy, inciting her son to chase your child for the toy and knock him over?

I was just a few feet away when it happened. TJ was playing with a toy truck in the sand, and I saw another little boy was trying to take his truck from him. His mom was nearby, so I wasn't about to jump up right away to intervene. Kids fighting over toys is an everyday scene, so nothing especially peculiar was happening to concern me. But, then I saw that this boy was getting very aggressive with TJ and his mom wasn't able to wrestle her son from trying to tackle TJ for the toy.

TJ starts to cry and gets very upset now.  Uh-oh.  I better come to the rescue.

Did You Know That Onions Grow in the Dark?

I didn't know that onions grew in the dark until I pulled one out of my closet pantry. I was wondering why my closet was smelling so bad every time I went in to grab TJ a snack. Way down low, in the back corner where it's dark, something was growing wild and free.

When I first caught a pungent whiff of stinky onions, I realized, "Shoot! We didn't finish off the 10 lbs of red onions from Costco in time. Now, they're rotting! Disguuussting!" I quickly held my breath, yanked the sack of remaining offending suckers and made a mental note to self. Next time, put half of the onions in the fridge.  Start with the ones in the closet and you'll be fine.

My husband has constantly berated me for buying garlic and onions in bulk when there are only the three of us. But hey, I'm Chinese. I practically throw bulbs of garlic and onions into my stir fry. And I swear, there's gotta be some Italian in my ancestry, because I can't get enough of my pasta. Diced onions taste so good in sauces, whether red or white. And don't forget salads, too.

So, the first thing I did when I realized my onions were decomposing was quickly destroy the evidence and spray with Oust! "There!" I thought. "Hubby won't even know it ever happened." I breathed a sigh of relief, figuring I caught the stink in time.
 

Reinventing Date Nights

A friend and I were having breakfast one morning at the Woodside Bakery, catching up over coffee, a split fritatta, and fresh pastries. It was great to take a break from our grueling toddler-run treadmills and escape for a morning.

It's fun to hangout with this particular friend because we share a similar timetable for getting hitched and married with children. We became friends when we were both single and in our 30's. We met our spouses around the same time, dated and walked down the aisle within the same year and popped our first baby out after celebrating our paper anniversary.

During our precious time away from being time-crazed women back at home, we didn't talk about parenting or tantrums. Naw, that kinda stuff is left for everyday fodder, playground conversations. No, we got the scoop on top priority topics. One of which was the lack of time with hubbies and missing table-for-two evenings and weekends.

How realistic is it to inject romance as a regular part of life as couple with kids? And did we actually know any long-married couples who were "still in love"?

Gung Hay Fat Choy with Mickey

Gung Hay Fat Choy!  If you are Chinese, you probably have heard this the nth time this week.  And if you're not, you've probably been greeted with this a couple dozen times by now.  During those early dating days, when random queries are asked to fill airspace, I asked hubby whether he knew any Chinese.  "Gung Hay Fat Choy!"  was only second to "Nay Ho Ma?" (How are you?)  When asked, "Do you know what that means?", hubby replied, 'Happy New Year!' in Chinese."

Actually, it literally means, "I wish you wealth and lots of it!".  As a good little Chinese girl growing up in the heart of San Francisco Chinatown (I was born in a hospital named "Chinese Hospital"), I was taught that it was good luck to pronounce this blessing to family and friends.  I was told it should be the first thing out of my mouth, as I greet any and all during Chinese New Year. 

But, in my childhood language, "Gung Hay Fat Choy" just meant one thing:  Cha-Ching!... M-O-N-E-Y! 

Diamonds May Be a Girl's Best Friend, But a Great Hair Stylist Is Priceless

I couldn't stand it any longer. I tried to hold off as long as I could.  I tried to accesorize, putting my hair up in a pony tail, wearing cute hair clips, and given the cold weather, wearing a different hat every other day.  But, last weekend, I had to go to a fancy, schmancy wedding.  And I didn't want to look "cute".  That was my everyday mommy incognito:  jeans, pumas, cardigans and sweatshirts.  No, this wedding called for me to do my superwoman-spin-till-I'm-dizzy transformation into a 30-something Silicon Valley woman.

Every outfit I was trying on just didn't seem to work. I hated all my usual favorites and there was only 15 minutes before the babysitter was going to arrive.  Aaaaggggh!  I should've gotten my hair cut sooner, rather than always putting it off and putting it off .. Without a good hair cut, everything just didn't look right at all.

Out of exasperation, I took a pair of scissors and started snipping. I started out lightly, barely taking off any length. But,then, I got daring. What the heck, my hair looks terrible anyways.  Might as well go for heavy fringes.  Bangs are back.  Just commit, I told myself.

Redefining Progress: The Genuine Progress Indicator

At my son's preschool, teachers stuff the latest glue and glitter creations along with school newsletters in cubby holes for each student. Last week, when I picked TJ up from his morning class, I noticed that his was packed full. Shoot!  Because TJ's afternoon nap time is my break time, I tend to be in a rush, getting TJ in the car and whisked back home in time for lunch and down to catch a few zzz's.

I hate missing the occasional notes-to-parents or school newsletter. There have been too many times I sported the deer-in-the-headlights look when Mrs. Preschool Teacher asked for the whatever-you-call-it form.

So, as I'm stopped at a red light, I quickly scan the newsletter for any action items, when a line from the preschool director's letter catches my eye. 

An Incurable Romantic

A new year has crept up on me.  And I couldn't be happier.  Other than Christmas, there isn't a better time of the year for me.  Not because of any great New Year Party I often hear about or see glammed up in the movies.  Hey, I'm in bed by 10pm if I had it my way.  Sleep trumps all else for this mom of a toddler.  And it's not because I'm away on vacation somewhere far and away, like Paris or Hawaii. 

No, the reason why my world suddenly becomes shiny and new during the month of January is because I'm a  die-hard romantic.  Now, I'm not talking about the Valentine's Day, hearts-and-boxes-of-chocolate type of romance. I call it Life Romanticism, where I fall in love with life and look for meaning behind every little moment and significance in any old thing. I don't believe in circumstance or randomness. 

So, I thought I'd start the new year off with a confessional:  I am an incurable romantic. Yep, I'm one of those people who (tries to) save every card I get, scrapbook pieces of wrapping paper from my baby/bridal showers, have a box full of letters from my childhood friends, and is often obsessed with finding reasons to celebrate (Hey, it's the