Tokyo Day 1, Yes You Can

When Dx and I were first married, we traveled all the time. In the first two years of our marriage, I think we hit maybe 30-40 different major cities throughout the world (mostly in Europe). Having children altered our lifestyle significantly, but we recently decided that we would have to bite the bullet some day and try our hand at taking our kids abroad.

It was a smashing success.

Tokyo should be your next family vacation destination. It is an incredible city, more first world than America, and perfectly accessible for families. It is clean, organized, efficient while crowded, and easy to get around. There are a ton of things to do and see, most of them free.

In the next few posts, I intend to demonstrate how to take your two tiny kids (and more) to a foreign land and have the best vacation of your life.



Step one: Find someone who already knows all about your destination, preferably someone who lives there and is an expat. Ask them exactly what is worth doing. Do everything they say. This is best accomplished through Facebook and emails. Thank you, Tony C. If not for you, we'd never have found the Tsujiki Fish Market, open at 5 am.

These three pictures are in the huge working fish market. We were the only people with kids there, but nobody ran us down in their little carts. The bottom picture is Ahi Tuna, right before it was auctioned off. Big, huh? High Mercury content.

Step two: Plan every day in advance, plan two activities per day with an extreme midday nap, even if your kids are on completely different schedules. This results in basically two full days made out of one. Exhausting, but not if you're going to bed at 6:30 because your family never adjusts to the time change.


Our first morning was the Tsujiki fish market, and then we tried to go to the Imperial Palace, but it was closed. That afternoon, we went to Ginza which is the main shopping district.








This is a little Shinto Shrine we found wandering around near our hotel. Note the change in outfits, this is the same day but post naps.





This is Ginza, the shopping district. Notice how there's no garbage or debris, despite how bustling the city can be.

Step three: Make sure you have the appropriate carriers for children. We brought our single stroller and used the bottom storage section as a day pack. Dx carried the baby backpack. I felt like a big hippie the whole time, especially because everyone in Tokyo is dressed for work and we were in travel mode, but both kids were able to fall asleep on Dx's back. As for the stroller, there were elevators MOST of the time. Some times we had to two-person carry the stroller up and down stairs.

This is typical Tokyo, at least where we were staying. Completely clean, blue skies, towering sky scrapers, and something more efficient than I'd ever seen in America: ramp stairs.

Jude was happy as a clam in the carrier. You should have seen the back of Dx's neck at the end of the day. It was covered in food. Oh, and Jude Jude learned to spit on him during the trip.

Step four: The trip is about the kids. This was our first big trip as a family, so our priorities necessarily had to shift. We went places that they could enjoy and skipped places that we'd might have wanted to see. If they weren't welcome, we didn't want to go. This means, no shows, no intimate dinners, no museums. Our goal was sightseeing, eating delicious food and finding at least one kid activity a day. Everybody was happy, despite being together 24 hours a day. We found that if we just kept moving, there was so much to see that there weren't very many breakdowns. Mimi, 2, is a great traveling age because she's impressed by trains and transportation and she's easy to distract with small games and food.

Pipe cleaners. Easy to carry, fun to make into whatever you need to keep the two-year-old entertained. She often boarded trains wearing her special glasses, and the Japanese people just loved her. Especially when she would say "Arigato!"

We happened upon this rooftop play area above a shopping mall in Ginza. The kids had a ball.

Stay tuned for more tips on traveling abroad with little people. I'm no expert, but I was once intimidated by big trips and now, having had such success, I want others to go do the same.

I'll Never

My husband and I recently went on a road trip to Tahoe. On the way we had a little conversation about where we are in our lives and how we're on either side of 30. We decided to come up with a list of a few things we would probably never do in our lifetimes. The rule was you had to have considered the possibility at some point during your life, only to realize now that it is too late to do that thing.

Mine was extensive.

I'll Never:

1) Be a professional prima Ballerina.

2) Make a music video, starring me.

3) Be on Saturday Night Live

4) Marry royalty.

5) Be famous.

6) Visit Australia. I just don't want to.

7) Be in the Medical Profession.

8) Win a trophy at any sport.

9) Live alone in a trendy Parisian flat.

10) Win an Oscar/Emmy/Tony/Pulitzer

I could go on and on. It's a sobering list.

It's amazing how many doors close every year of your life.

Not so for Dx.

We chatted about this for two hours.

He could only come up with TWO THINGS

he would PROBABLY never do in his lifetime.

They were:

1) Use hardcore street drugs (heroin/coke/crack)

2) Own a Geo Metro.

That's it.

Everything else is within the realm of possibility for him. It's going to be a long eternity.

Dear Britney,

Actually, Dear Britney's Muffin Top,

I love you. I love that you wrap your loving arms around Britney Spears' midsection. Sure, I tuned in to watch Britney's Doc. For the Record, but you were the real star. My favorite moment of the night was the first few moments of the pre-show countdown, when they chronicled all of your most memorable career moments. Britney waltzed out on stage wearing her trademark lowcut jeans and minuscule halter top. Muffin top, I saw you then and I had such hope. The jeans were cutting a little tightly and I thought, surely she's not going to sit down in that outfit. And then sit down she did. And out you popped in your glorious fold-over-the-jeans type of way.

Muffin top, I had my suspicions. I genuinely thought they wouldn't let Britney bring you to her CD debut, but you snuck in under their radar despite all her exercising. Sure, you were not so prominent when Britney was standing, but sit the wench down and you spilled out, squeezed mercilessly between her disgusting black halter and skanky jeans. I couldn't take my eyes off you. It was like you were there just for me.

You see, Britney and I go way back. We're nearly the same age (happy 27th birthday, Brit!) and I've followed your career as though it were my secret alternate slutty life. You are the Hannah Montana to my Miley Cyrus, minus the softcore pornography (on my part). Brit-Brit and I were married around the same time, but I think she may have gotten the shorter end of the stick on that one. We both have two kids very close in age. We both have stupid tattoos. Once upon a time we had similar bodies, though I gyrated slightly less and covered myself only slightly more.

Us, circa 2000. Before digital cameras were invented, thus no pictures of me. Too Bad, So Sad.


And then things went sour for Britney. We went in two extremes -- I became righteous and got normal looking hair, and she went crazy and got gross extensions then shaved her head and then got more gross extensions, and now has circus freak hair.



Us now-ish, post birthing two babies each. XOXO, backfat.

Watching Britney's body get fat then slightly thinner, then druggy chubby, then pregnant again, then lumpy, then kinda in shape was the main reason I tuned in. I could identify and it was gratifying watching Britney expand and contract. Before the Documentary, I thought Brit was headed back to teeny-bopper LA thin, but then my fears were assuaged when she showed up with your little friend. Paired with a wider girth all around, I think the Muffin Top is a nice accessory.





Sure, she looks trim. But she's doubled in width! And I dare her to sit down in that getup!

Yes, Britney Spears, you and I are the proud owners of a little Muffin Top. Even you, with your trainers and nutritionists and nannies can't stop the "wrong side of 25" spread. Girl, you wide. Gone are the prominent hip bones. Hasta la vista, stomach definition.

And Muffin Top, I do believe you're here to stay. And unlike Britney, I wear my MT with pride, because I have a wonderful husband and cute babies, but you? You're still gyrating like you're 18. Good luck with that, trainwreck.

With love and the grateful passage of jealousy,

Nortorious

Yes We Can.

Cousin Griffin and Mimi, the Under 5 Constituency, both for Obama.

Dear Mimi and Jude Jude,
The world changed today. Today was the most important political moment of my lifetime thus far. You were there to share it with me. Your family voted for the first black family to occupy the White House, and because of that your life will be different than ours in marked ways. Racism hasn't ended, but the dream has come alive in the most visible, highest office in the world. Before this day, when children were told they could be anything they wanted to be when they grow up it was just a hope. After today there is living proof that no boundary is unbreakable.


At the Polling Place

The people you see on TV will be different than the people I've seen. The expectations of the disenfranchised will be higher, for better or worse. The bar has been raised, babies. If a long shot single-parent raised black man can be the most powerful man in the world, you, who have more privileges based on your birthright alone, can achieve whatever your little hearts desire.

I loved when Obama brought Marian Robinson (Michelle's mother) and Biden brought his mother out to the front of the stage. I hope some day I'll be able to watch you in your finest moments, to bask in your accomplishments in whatsoever field they may be.

Dx and I did not vote for either candidate in 2004, and one of many reasons motivating our leaving the country was the political climate. While in Europe, I often felt embarrassed by our President and the mismanaged war. The last time I believed in a candidate was in the 2000 primaries, when I voted for McCain who lost. In the eight years since, I've become disinterested in politics, feeling that my vote didn't count. Obama is the first candidate that gave us hope for a better world reputation, a government with less dependency on oil, solutions to the healthcare problems and other issues that particularly concern us. Obama has renewed a positive political feeling for us as voters, and his election really does give me hope that America will be better during your lifetime.
This world can be very bleak. Your religion teaches that things are going to get worse before they get better and that can be very depressing. Today, however, I am renewed with hope that God really is watching over this nation and that the national community will be a more positive place for you, my little brown kids, to grow up.
I have you in mind on this historic day.
Love,
Your Mama





Three Generations. Pam doesn't like Obama's ears and thus did not vote for him.







P.S., Ahem, I TOLD YOU SO!! I called this sucker 10/18/2007.
I was right.

Nursing Avec Toddler

Dear This Person:

I understand and appreciate that you are trying your best to adjust to This Person:

But I need you to know that jumping into him on the couch and generally wreaking havoc while I am feeding him is starting to make me very angry.

When I tell you to stop being a destructo, please do not ignore me and give me This Face:

Or I will be very tempted to drop you off at This Person's:

(Pam wearing Ti Chi outfit, gift from the Olympians)

And furthermore, would it be too much trouble to speed up This Activity?:

Thank you for your cooperation.

I think we all saw this day coming. I'm sure it's only a phase of crazy.

Much love,

Your Mother who may or may not have been reduced to allowing you to run around half-clothed, messy hair, eating cookies off the ground with a wet diaper today.

Then and Now

In the words of Cole Porter, Times have changed.

I used to travel like this:

On the beach in Barcelona, circa 2006. Note the small bag.

And now I travel like this:

Mimi, Jude and Cousin Alice packed like sardines in the SUV. Celia and I happily discovered that you CAN put three to a row in my car and still have the two midget seats in the back! Plenty of room to grow!

My homies and I used to roll in this:


My beloved '66 Mustang.

Now my homies and I roll in this:

This is my "I give up Stroller." Paige and I assembled it yesterday. It's a limo. It's ginormous and I love it, almost as much as my mustang. I love the occupants more.

I used to see bums like this:

Statue of the Promise of Death in Prague.

Now I see a bum belonging to him:


Remember when you thought that your life would be the same after you had kids? Things are different, but definitely better. I like having two better than I like having one kid because I feel more committed and expect just the standard clean house, happy kids, food on the table expectations of myself. We're working on scheduling right now, trying to get little people to sleep at the same time as I want to sleep. Mimi is doing pretty well, only a little regression with hitting and waking up after being put down to sleep for the night. Jude is nursing on both sides pretty well and still taking a supplemental bottle so I can leave him with a babysitter (mom). He's a pooping machine. He sleeps for long stretches at night. He has a clogged tear duct, but we're seeing the doctor tomorrow. Jude's a sweet little boy and I'm in love.

A Baby Story: Jude Edition

The last few weeks of pregnancy with Jude were hard, mostly because I felt like I was in labor all of the time. I had regular contractions and got sent home from the hospital once for preterm labor, once for not being in sufficient amount of pain with my contractions.

Texting and playing with Iphones. It was a technologically enhanced birth.

Finally, after a night of annoying contractions, we went to the hospital at about 9:30. I knew I was having that baby that day because we had the same evil nurse as when I had Mimi. She has horrible bedside manner and doesn't tell me what's going on.

Right before I swooned and needed more drugs.

Still no pain. The nurse checked me and I was at a 2, which was more than I was when I checked in with Mimi. Dx and I did the walk around the maternity ward, mostly because I've always wanted to do the maternity ward walk. By around 11, they hooked me up to the IV and the contractions were actually hurting because I was at a 5. Next, I requested my much beloved stadol and an epidural, although I wanted the stadol to kick in for a while before the epidural. But, anesthesiologists get busy, so if he was available I'd better get that drip in place before they started the pitocin. I was really drugged and shaken during the epidural, I couldn't breathe and I was sweating and shaking violently. It was really scary. My leg didn't do the normal kicky thing when the guy put in the needle, so I was kinda worried that he'd messed up, but the pain went away so I thoughtI was in the clear.

At 12, my sisters Celia and Paige descended in a flurry of hilarious.

Paige "checking" my dialation

No bras in the delivery room!

They went through every closet and played with all the gadgets. They texted and took pictures, it was a total party. When Paige was doing my hair, however, I started to pass out. I don't know what happened exactly, but the nurse apparently turned off my epidural. The pitocin was in and working. When the doctor came in to break my water, I could FEEL EVERYTHING! I freaked out. All of the sudden, the contractions went crazy and I truely thought I was going to die. The anesthesiologist came back in and tried to explain to me that the epidural was fine and that it was too late to change it. I was in complete panic. I had to soothe this guy's ego while going through transition without any medication (stadol had worn off). While he was explaining, Dx held up the phone so Ellie could hear and she told him to demand Versed and another epidural. Everybody thought it was too late to get a new epidural and Celia and Paige had to coach me through 30 minutes of the worst pain I have ever felt. I was weeping. I think I transitioned without drugs. Finally, they dosed me with Versed and I felt much better. Then they gave me another epidural and we had to listen to the dumb guy explain why he hadn't screwed up the first one. But the second one worked!

The nurse checked me and said I was "complete" whatever that means. Hair and makeup resumed. (What, don't you have hair and makeup people at your births? You should!) Paige and Dx held my legs on one side, Celia on the other. Nobody looked at my business. I pushed the baby down for about 20 minutes, then the doctor showed up and rather than catching the baby (who was crowning) he grabbed my camera and started taking pictures from HIS vantage point! We all thought he was taking pictures of the baby coming out and were horrified. But they are actually kind of cool and show nothing disgusting.

One of the pics taken by the Doctor.

In about 10 minutes at 4:05pm, the baby was born. It was a love fest.

Baby Love

Then my crew helped the baby get cleaned up and passed him around to be cuddled and loved.

Baby Jude 8lbs 9.8oz

Shortly thereafter, everybody in my entire family and Dx's showed up or called. Jude must have been cuddled by 25 people in the first five hours of his life. And they wonder why my kids have no separation anxiety and will go to anybody!

I'm glad my sisters and husband were there. All in all, it was a positive experience, despite the unexpected pain and suffering. The recovery has been easier than the first and I am taking it as easy as one can with a toddler and a newborn. Mimi and Jude seem to like eachother and Dx and the fam are helping a lot. I like having two babies even more than I like having one.

Hooray for babies! Apparently I have "Irish twins" which means two babies within 18 months of eachother.

Educating Young Minds

Mimi, 14 months, doing a little light reading.

Mimi and I knock out out weekly schedule generally without issue. We have nap times down to a science and reliable babysitters. But today things went slightly awry.

On Mondays she stays with Dx in the morning, Tuesday Grandma has her for 4 1/2 hours in the afternoon. Wednesday and Friday she comes with me to school where a high school student meets her and takes her to play and eat on campus. All of my high school students know and love Mimi, she's the mascot.

On Thursdays I teach at one school in the morning until 9:40 while Mimi and Dx sleep in, go to Kindermusick at 10:30 for 45 mins, Mimi naps and then it's off to Grandma's while I go teach at the college for 3 hours. It's our big day and things need to go exactly as planned.

Educating about Oppression and the Man


Today my mom had a very important obligation and needed to pick Mimi up at the college rather than me drop her off at 1. So I got to take my rambunctious toddler to college for 15 minutes before class. My mom picked her up near the beginning of class. The students were surprised, especially being that they've watched me get more pregnant by the day and adding a toddler to the mix was fun for them to see. She proceeded to grab the white board marker and teach the early comers a thing or two, but not before she snuck under the fence to bang on the windows and disrupt another class.


But it was after Mom picked her up that the fun started.


Having toted her to the car up two flights of stairs, Mom buckled Mimi in her carseat and slammed the car door. With her purse, phone and KEYS inside! Every mom's worst nightmare!


Mom had to call the campus police who attempted to jimmie the door, but to no avail. They ended up breaking the back window to get into the car after half an hour. Mom picked glass shards out of Mimi's hair all afternoon. Having glass all over the car isn't good on the freeway, so Mom had to take the car (with Mimi) to a self carwash and vacuum it out. Mimi is terrified of vacuums and screamed the whole time as mom pumped quarters into the machine.


Everything turned out just fine, save for the busted window and Mom's feet. In true fabulous form, she did it all in three inch heels.
Mimi and Gramma Pamma, buddies from Day One.


Way to take care of the problem, Mom! You are still the best babysitter ever and I appreciate your car window sacrifice to free the baby from the locked car! I can't wait to hear about your adventures on Tuesday.

Bow Down, April Fools

While I admire Paige's attempts to nail me on April Fool's Day, I must admit that I am the best practical joke player in the whole wide world.

Here are some guidelines for successful pranking:

1) Pick your target. I ALWAYS pick Jim, my dad. Every year he knows I'm going to get him, but every year he falls hard for whatever my husband and I dream up. Pick someone smart. They think they can't be fooled.

The sitting Duck. Middle, green shirt.

2) Plan ahead. I plan months in advance.

3) Have accomplices. Relatives are good, but officials in offices are better.

4) Center your prank on something about which the person cares a LOT. They have to be a mildly obsessive person.

5) Create diversions. Make sure something really exciting happens on March 31.

6) Distance yourself. Yes, you may not be there to see that look on their face. But if you're not in the room smirking, it takes them longer to trace it back to you.


Here's a history.

Year 1: Case of the Missing Missionary

Joke played on Jim. Jim was obsessing over Phil who had recently entered the MTC. Phil, being the first and only of us to serve a mission, was the golden boy and he was all dad ever talked about. It bugged everybody, so we decided to make his worst fears realities. Or so he thought.

First, I used my detective skills to figure out where he'd be at this time. He was in Georgia visiting Ellie. Thus unable to answer a home phone call.

Initially, we wanted to use a Male voice with knowledge of MTC lingo to call Jim's home phone. That person flaked. We had a back-up plan.

Called Val, told her to call dad's cellphone and leave a message saying that she checked (and oops! erased) a message on the home phone and it was some guy from the MTC saying that Phil had left the MTC and was enroute escaping to Los Angeles.

When Dad got the message, it was late at night in Georgia. He proceeded to call the MTC asking about the "missing Missionary." The people at the MTC checked his bed, and confirmed that Phil had not escaped.
The victim. Clearly paying attention to my baby. He's very important, you know.


Year 2: If it Sounds Too Good to Be True . . .

Joke played on Jim. Less success with this one because I was in Europe.
Jim was obsessed with selling his house in Hawaii.
I created a false email address under his Real Estate Broker's name and emailed him a pretend offer on his Hawaii house for double his asking price.
He says he didn't fall for it, but I kinda copped out and gave up the joke because I was afraid he'd call the guy and embarrass himself.


Year 3: Twins
Joke played again on Jim.

Jim has an identical twin named Jay. They are opposites and bitter rivals. His twin is a bachelor, Jim is a family guy, but that is only the beginning.

This year, we had Jay call dad asking him to process the offer on a house down the street, he had faxed it to Kinkos and would Jim please go pick it up and take it to the realtor? They were going to be neighbors and in the same ward.
Jim freaked out.


Jay, behind Camille. He's not getting up because it's his turn. He's getting up because he refuses to play charades.

THIS YEAR: The Court Case

Joke again played on Jim, of course.

Jim is an attorney. Attorneys are registered with the State Bar. The State Bar facilitates complaints from clients about attorneys, but you have to do something really bad and negligent to get in trouble with them.

Poor Jim. Yesterday he got a letter in the mail saying that the CA State Bar had received a complaint and that the matter was currently under review by the board. My poor dad was nearly disbarred yesterday. By Me.


Yes, family, I am the reigning champion. I will give an honorable mention to Jeff who instigated the blog pranking you saw yesterday.

The John Stamos Clause

Happily married though I am, Dx and I have an agreement. The agreement is call the Uncle Jesse / Gisele condition, and we were married with this pre-nuptual clause firmly in place. Should either Gisele Bunchen or John Stamos "proposition" Dx or me, respectively, the propositioned party is free to do as he or she pleases with no marital consequences.
Why Uncle Jesse, you ask? Well, just look at him. He's beautiful. He is my first and only celebrity crush, save the King (who is more of an interest than a real crush, mostly because he is dead.) I guess you could say they bear a strong resemblance. Apparently, I have a type.
The love affair started long ago, when I was about 10 and we had a weekly date on Friday nights. He was not far away, only in San Francisco where he lived in a "Full House." I don't know if those people on the show were actually related, but they called him "Uncle Jesse" so I've run with that for the last 16 years. When Becky showed up, married him and bore him ugly little twins, my heart was broken. "Have Mercy" indeed.

Uncle Jesse and I split hairs over one small issue. His Beach Boys affinity. I loathe the Beach Boys, but managed to sit through one of their concerts for the sole purpose of catching a glimpse of the Adonis. He was playing the bongos. In my mind, we made eye contact and had a moment. I don't follow John Stamos' career, mostly because ER died a long long time ago and let's face it, Stamos' career since Full House has been average. But that doesn't make me love him any less. What DOES make me occasionally question our future together is the belly button issue. You may have noticed that UJ doesn't do chest scenes. This is because he thinks his belly button looks like a "dwarf's nose." It does. It's too obscene to post on my blog, but if you must know, click here.

If you're out there John Stamos, drop me a line. I think you'll be glad you did.