Silicon Valley Moms Blog

How Did My House Get Like This?

Do you ever have those moments where you get home after just being away a few hours and you look around and it's like you're entering someone else's home, a tornado hit, or twelve people were staying as guests on your floor?  Yeah, OK, I know I'm not the only person this happens with but somehow even though my daughter's two, every time I come home and see my house looking like a disaster area, I'm shocked.

Where is this shock coming from?  It's not like I didn't create half the mess.  Really, at least half is from me putting things in a pile that needs to be sorted or leaving something on the table that needs to be put away or not yet getting to the stuff on the floor that was there yesterday but I was just too tired to pick up.  Granted, the rules of the house change significantly when a toddler becomes part of that world, but still I don't understand why I should be so shocked.

Every Woman Deserves a "Wife"

That's what my friend calls it...a wife.  She has someone who comes every afternoon and picks up the house from the wear and tear of the day, does the grocery shopping, covers if the nanny has to go before mom and dad are home, prepares menus, cooks, does a deep clean on weekends, does the dishes, helps get the kids settled for the night, and in short is a wife.  Or at least the traditional definition of a "wife." 

Who wouldn't want that?  It sounded fabulous to me even before I had such long work days.  My husband has been traveling out of the country, and after five days on my own juggling Giggles and BooBoo with work, I was exhausted and begrudgingly ready for a little help. 

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.

An office away from home for a WAHM?

I have worked out of my house for the past 4 years, since having my twins. It wasn't truly a plan, it just sort of ended up that way. I had quit my job at ARM as Corporate Counsel to spend a year or so with my twins, who I thought would be my only children (turns out I was incorrect and that we did not in fact need those fertility drugs, as we now have child #3 - surprise!). I thought I might start my own law firm at some point, but clients started coming to me more quickly than I imagined. So I said, sure, why not? I can work at home while my babies nap, after they go to bed....while I'm at my favorite fenced park (hello Treo/Crackberry/iPhone), making dinner, giving the kids baths, etc. etc. etc.

The division between work to home is not always clear. Ok, it is not clear at all. I have my laptop in the kitchen/great room where our family basically "lives" 24 x 7 (we have a tiny house). I also have an office in my bedroom - one of those fold-up desks and a large file cabinet. My home office went away when we filled up our 3 bedroom house with 3 kids. I REALLY enjoy the flexibility of my work. Yes, I want to have it ALL! I can take off for a week on vacation and it is usually just fine. I am able to enjoy a commute-free existence. I can wear my park mom clothes to work in, unless I am meeting with a client. Not to mention being free from paying a fixed cost for office space each month. However... lately, I have been doing more start-up company business formation work and I am really feeling the need to have a place where I can regularly meet with clients, have conference calls (uninterrupted by wails of disaster in the background), and just be really productive. I can meet clients at my house, but then I have to get my kids out of the house for a while (not easy with 3 kids 4 years and under) and - gasp! - clean the house! Too much trouble.

I heard about a new model of combining childcare and office space recently

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.
 

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! 

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

It's raining, it's pouring...the California storms continue

Truthfully all this talk about the 3 big storms has gotten me a bit nervous.  As I write, I can hear the wind howling with an occasional thump outside.  Most likely these noises are benign but my mind goes to the extreme.  Did a chair from our backyard just hit the wall?  Was that a tree falling on our roof?  Is our house going to blow off its foundation?  Oh my gosh we're all going to DIE!

Needless to say, I'm a bit jumpy.

Although there are many things I love about the rainy season, there is one item that I am less than excited about.  I put it off for as long as I can and try to pawn the responsibility onto someone, anyone else.  But, alas, multiple times a day my sweet, obedient, and well mannered Labrador Retriever gets off her bed, walks up and lets me know it is time.

She must go outside to use the facilities.

Dear Shutterfly: will we still be friends in the New Year?

Dear Shutterfly,

Thanks for the $400 credit to my Shutterfly account. Your customer service rep was very nice to me. However, I'm still more than a bit miffed that after I submitted my finished holiday card to you, the message text on the inside front cover reverted to my first draft.  Thank goodness I didn't write anything snarky or incriminating, or I would have a bigger issue with you.

I thought the worst part of the card would be our family photo.  While my 5 year old daughter, Kitty Cat, gave a half-smile and looked decent, her twin brother Guy-Guy refused to smile.  Actually, he refused to make a normal face. He looks like he's having an eye-rolling seizure in the photo. That was pretty bad, but his outfit was even worse - a camouflage shirt and pant get-up, otherwise known as "army-army" in our house.  This is one battle with my husband I should have picked, but didn't when he insisted that army-army on Guy-Guy was just fine for Thanksgiving dinner with his parents.  Maybe so, but it wasn't fine with me for our annual chance at a four-person family photo.  Why is it so hard to get four people in a photo? 

So, Shutterfly, how could our card have been worse?  Well, you know why.

Our Family's 2007 Naughty or Nice? List

Here is our Family's 2007 Naughty or Nice? List that was supposed to be published by Shutterfly in our holiday card, but they screwed up.  Here is life with twin five-year olds summed up in fewer than 1500 characters. I'd love to hear what you had on your hands this year, too!

Our Family's 2007 Naughty or Nice? List:

Dog Envy: If you like someone's dog, ask the owner when she is going to die.  If there are other family members, inquire about their estimated dates of death.  Offer to take care of the dog.

Delaying Tactics: If you don't like karate, tie on your yellow belt, then tie the long ends around a banister with, like, 5 knots.  Guaranteed to tick off your mom and make you 10 minutes late for class.

Boyfriend Criterion per Kitty Cat (5): "Bigger teeth than me."