"Me" Time???

I needed some "me" time so I called in sick to work today.  Okay, I almost said that with a straight face.  The "me" time part, not the calling in sick.  It's summer break, the kids are home, so "me" time is a dream, something that happens in movies when you're rich and have a nanny, or live in a secluded area where the kids learn to grow up fast and fend for themselves.  My "me" time for today?  Staying home making doctors appointments, calling our apartment manager to fix some things in the townhome, having the kids clean out their drawers and put things away in their memory boxes.  At least the cleaning and sorting are activities they can do on their own.  Because they are old enough to get it done.  With little supervision.  So mom can have her "me" time, listening to their conversation, in front of the fan and computer, drinking a soda and eating her peanut M&M's.  Because she needs more calories. 

What would my "me" time look like?  If I were queen of the world?  It would consist of a few hours of writing when a thought sneaks into my mind like a ninja on an assassin mission or screeches into my head like Dom's muscle car in a Fast & Furious movie.  Whichever one comes first.  Of course, without interruption.  Unless someone is bringing me some snacks, on quiet feet, and quickly running out because I'm writing.  Think of me as the lion in the cage at the zoo.  Quickly, quietly, drop off my stuff and run for your life.

My "me" time would be a little extra cash and the family going to a restaurant, other than McD's or any other fast food joint.  Something like Wingers, or Olive Garden, or Red Robin.  I can sit in silence while the kids interact with their dad, telling him stories, and cracking jokes.  No one talking to me, just letting me listen and absorb the good things in life.  My life.  Catching quick smiles from the hubby, making kissy lips while the kids roll their eyes and get grossed out.  That's why we become parents, right?  To gross out our kids and embarrass the heck out of them.

Sitting at the park on a sunny, but not too hot, summer day with a picnic (Subway sandwiches and 7-Eleven treats) having the kids play on the playground or the basketball court or in the sand at the volleyball area.  Watching them quietly.  Wondering where the time has gone.  They are growing too quickly.  Becoming independent, strong, beautiful women.  Once in a while they turn to wave and smile.  Or run to give me a quick kiss and then it's back to playing.  When did my babies grow up?  "Me" time at the park.  Definitely near the top of the list.

A day trip to go hiking at one of the many beautiful, scenic spots in the Salt Lake Valley.  That kind of "me" time where you're one with nature and your kids.  Talking is at a minimum and you can hear the sounds of birds, insects, and your heavy breathing.  Especially if it's uphill.  But it's "me" time so you endure.  When you get to the lookout point, you see the faces of your children light up.  The view is incredible.  You feel like you're on top of the world.  Zeus in his castle in the clouds.  God looking down from heaven.  Tagaloa traveling in the sky across the Pacific Ocean to see his voyaging children.  That's some real, cars look like ants, I can see the whole valley, I can touch outer space, "me" time.

Growing up in a collective, Samoan/Polynesian culture, "me" time consists of family members always around or calling to go somewhere.  It's understanding that having those people around to teach your children Fa'asamoa (Samoan Way) is key to their "me" time.  Because there's really never been "me" time in our culture.  "I" and "me" do not exist.  It's "us" and "we".  When we accomplish great things, it's our family we represent.  When we do something bad, it's our family that suffers.  When is my "me" time?  It's those few minutes at night, when all the kids are sleeping, that I can reflect and be happy knowing my family is taken care of, my children are safe, and another day has gone by with a lot of laughter and love.  "Me" time is giving good night kisses and saying I Love You.  Every night.  "Me" time is teaching my kids respect, values, and culture.  When I'm old and retired, "me" time will be expanded to grandchildren and the continued teaching of ancestry.  "Me" time is knowing you will never be lonely because there are too many people who love you and will do anything to help you.  "Me" time is family.  For always and forever.

Memories of Christmas Past

I have fond memories of Christmas. Sadly, I can't really remember one specific Christmas that stands out to me. What I DO remember is the feeling of the Christmas season.

*Every Christmas we would have a baking fest at least a few days before Christmas Eve. The house would be filled with the aroma of pies, cakes, and cookies. Christmas music would be playing on the radio and we would be busy decorating. On Christmas Eve (and sometimes Christmas Day) we would deliver all of the goodies to family and friends spreading holiday cheer. We kids would sit in the back of the truck, singing carols, counting all of the Christmas trees, and saying HI to the police officers at the different sobriety check points. Even the policemen would get cookies!

*Decorating the Christmas tree was always a fun ritual. We grew up with a fake tree but my mom grew mini pine trees and those would be decorated with mini Christmas ornaments and set outside. The main tree would usually be set up on my sister's birthday in early December and taken down on my brother's birthday in early January. Perfect timing for the holiday season.

*Christmas in the Pacific falls during the summer season so I grew up with green, warm Christmases. The day would be celebrated with either a barbeque, an 'umu, or going to the beach. When someone received a bike or some outdoor sports equipment, they could actually use it on Christmas day instead of waiting for warmer weather.

*Some years we would have special visitors from off island like family members coming home for the holidays. Those were especially fun because there would be a lot of visiting, excitement, and more swimming!

*The anticipation of Christmas funneled into Christmas morning. My mom's tradition of setting up chairs for each child with their gifts on them is something I have continued with my own children. Those chairs were not set up until Christmas Eve night after everyone was asleep because Santa had to deliver the gifts. When we woke up in the morning, we weren't allowed out of our rooms until Dad and Mom were in the living room. Only then could we come in and start opening presents. The excitement of Christmas morning is still with me today with my own kids. The look on their faces is priceless as they see what Santa brought.

Christmas memories are truly special! With my own children, I'm hoping to carry on the tradition of making those memories.

*Baking cookies for family and Santa. Santa gets his cookies with a Pepsi because these days, Santa is lactose intolerant.

*Setting up chairs for each girl on Christmas Eve night. A couple of Christmases ago we were staying at my mother-in-law's house and we were having a hard time not having our own home. I thought of how I could make Christmas special for my girls and decided to create a treasure hunt. When they woke up Christmas morning and went into the living room, they didn't see the chairs but saw a note from Santa. He sent them on this treasure hunt and by the time they returned to the living room, their gifts had appeared.

The similarities with all of the Christmases, both past and present, are that they are filled with family! No matter how difficult times are, there is always family to help make the day special. Add good food, laughter, and games, and that's what Christmas memories are all about!

Ode to Sports Moms (and Sports Aunties)

My niece and nephew have participated in various sports for several years now. My niece started playing softball, then moved to volleyball which she continued until this year. My nephew started in baseball, basketball, and football which he continues, except the basketball. As a supportive aunty, I've taken the kids, sister, and other nephew to games to cheer the sports participants on and show them some family love. The games have been exciting and it gives ALL of the kids a chance to hang out, play, be goofy, and just be a family!

Now I'M the sports MOM. No longer in the comfort of the stands and one of the loud aunties but the actual mom. My 12-year-old is playing basketball through the recreation center and I'm... nervous! The first practice was last night and lasted for an hour and a half meaning we got home late and got to bed late. Good thing today is Friday and the kids only have a half day of school. Her first game is Saturday (yes, after only one practice) and I'm excited for her to participate but the butterflies in MY stomach are on a rampage! I want her to enjoy. I want her to succeed. I want her to kick some butt, oh sorry, it's basketball. I want her to have confidence in her skills. She's my natural athlete. She would rather play football but there is NO WAY that's happening. I'm old school. And my nephew already gives me heart attacks when he gets hurt on the field.

We went all out for my nephew's football season and I feel like I should support my own daughter just as strongly. Unfortunately, the teams colors are pretty much the same because the program is sponsored by the local professional basketball team. So... how do we get just as crazy? We take her favorite, loudest aunty who makes her yells echo in a football stadium. Can you imagine how loud it will be in a closed basketball gym? Oh yeah!!! We sport the closest colors we can find. We get pompoms from the dollar store. We show up. I think I can get used to being the "Sports Mom". Unless she gets hurt. (I was trying to find an amazing quote from Charles Barkley but alas, none of them pertain to my topic. So I will end with a synthesized version of something Charles is famous for saying and that is "I am not a role model". My disclaimer that I am not a great sports mom, nor do I understand the importance of having water, gatorade, and snacks. The poor child doesn't even have basketball shorts so it's off to WalMart today...)

My Brother...

On April 3, 1973, a baby boy was born. He was the youngest of several children to Samoan parents who lived in San Diego, California. When he was only three months old and in true Samoan fashion, his great-aunt and uncle took him to American Samoa to live with his extended family. He lived by another name for many years. He was part of the family. He was the younger brother who loved to play outside, climb trees, throw rocks at the neighbor's kids, and laugh with the best of them. Even when people questioned whether he was a real sibling, the answer was always the same. Of course he's our brother! Even when he found out he was adopted and met his real siblings, he was still part of our family. He was still our brother. We were all with him when he passed away; ALL of his brothers and sisters. Whether physically or over the phone, we were all able to say our goodbyes, tell him how much we loved him and how much we would miss him, and hold onto him until the end. He will always be remembered as the hero who wanted to keep everyone safe, the teddy bear uncle who loved and spoiled all of the nieces and nephews, the brother who always made sure everyone was okay, the son who called in the middle of the night just to say HI. We will always miss him. His smile, his laugh, his stories. His memory lives on. RIP, Lino!