Mommas of Malibu

Fives miles over the "hills" of Woodland Hills lies a gem called Malibu, a marvelous beach city that perfectly epitomizes the pride and glory of Los Angeles:  boobs, blondes and benjamins.  If you choose to forgo the traffic congested 101 freeway and cut through Calabasas, the short drive to this beach city is a treat on its own as you are greeted by the scenic, picturesque view of the Malibu Canyon and make your way down towards the Pacific Coast Highway.

Malibu is the perfect getaway when the temperature reaches 110 degrees outside and all you really wanna do is air out your sweaty pits and relax by the beach where it's a perfect 80 degrees (weird how 5 miles can make THAT much of a difference in weather), so when Shi's client invited us over to his restaurant at the Malibu County Mart called Tra Di Noi for a lunch meeting last Saturday, I said yes faster than Ludacris could say fuck y'all, y'all!

I'm all about free food and chance encounters with celebrities.

I sometimes shy away from coming with him to these meetings as it would require me to zip my trucker mouth shut for a good couple of hours to avoid tragically embarrassing Shi and risk blowing his deal.  I find that this is particularly difficult when: 1) You're trying extra hard not to show that you're fatally gagging on your salad; 2) You anxiously clutch your camera underneath the table ready for a celebrity sighting, only to sorely disappoint yourself later on because word on the street is, celebrities avoid these places on weekends, and 3) Your baby's idea of fun is playing throw-and-fetch Sophie the Giraffe with mommy.

Malibu County Mart is quaint and homey with a nice little community park in the center.  Perhaps the only difference between this park and the parks we're all used to is that this one is surrounded by retailers like 7 for all Mankind, the House of Ralph Lauren and  James Perse, while right around the corner is the overpriced, overrated and over-pretentious restaurant that is Nobu.  Excuse my naivete but I'm also not aware of any other parks that give you a fantastic view of the Pacific Ocean as well as the half-naked surfers suiting up by the highway (if you know another park that has all of the above PLUS a good view of a nudist beach, please do share).  I think it was somewhere between the first few bites of my carpaccio salad and wiping Yuna's drool that I realized I would like to come back to this place next weekend and the rest of the remaining weekends of my life.

As soon as we were done with lunch, I excused myself and left Shi alone with his clients to continue mind fucking each other into getting the better end of the bargain.  I happily took Yuna and we went for a stroll around the area, curiously popping in a store, then popping out after 30 quick seconds, frightened of the $200 price tag I saw on a plain white t-shirt.  We would then again enter another unassuming boutique, have a cardiac arrest, then exit within a minute. Repeat.

 The only place I genuinely got excited about because of its awesome baby line AND didn't subject me to an aneurysm was Kitson's.  Paying $68 for 3 pcs of onesies suddenly seemed like an aisle 14 green light special versus $200 for a plain old tee.

 After my leisurely stroll, I decided to head straight to the park and wait for Shi to finish up with his meeting.  I'm not gonna lie, it was Yuna's very first time in a park, and I was worried that she'd be overwhelmed by the sight of  *gasp!* real live kids playing and all that greenery.  You see, my daughter and I are all about going to malls where the climate is always pleasant, restrooms have fancy hand sensors and there's no added pressure of making awkward small talk with other moms, so this park thing is new to both of us.

So there we were taking in the lovely sea breeze and  starting to really get into our roles as new creatures of the playground when I spotted an ultra skinny, blonde and botoxed Asian mom clutching her Blackberry in one hand and pushing her limited edition Bugaboo Chameleon with the other.  She wore a hot pink and dangerously short Juicy Couture terry tube dress and espadrille wedge heels and I gawked watched as she sat herself down the park bench to set her squirming 2 year old toddler free to mingle with the rest of his sandbox buddies who were all probably famished coming from their weekly baby fencing match.

Then the rest of our pleasant Malibu experience came crashing down.

I could have sworn I was starring in my very own Twilight Zone episode, or perhaps a remake of The Stepford Wives.  Only this time, the wives had plumper lips, silicone breasts and stone-cold frozen faces.  I looked around me and saw  pashmina wearing moms carrying their Hermes bags, being followed by their blonde brood and their full-time Filipino nannies.  I almost called on one of the nannies and almost shouted: "Hey girlfriend, fellow Filipino here!  Reprezzent!" but I was too busy staring at these moms in awe with my mouth hanging open that Yuna shot me a stern look as if to say, "If anyone asks, you're not my mother."

I also saw a couple of flawless preggo ladies enjoying an afternoon stroll clad in the sheerest and tightest of tank tops and long flowy skirts walking hand in hand with glowing replicas of David Beckham and Ashton Kutcher.  They stopped to chat with the Hermes moms for a bit as they walked past before heading to the courtyard to watch a community ballet recital. God kill me now.

I may have been as significant as a used condom to these people, but I've never felt so unwelcome yet bemused my entire life.  It was obviously clear that I stuck out like a sore thumb. Was it just me or is there a big sign on my forehead saying Valley Girl?  Or maybe they could tell I haven't showered?  Beats me. All I  know is that the upside to this is that nobody really stopped to talk to me, so that crosses off my fears of having to small talk.

Shi arrived a few minutes short of me attempting to take a good shot of blonde Asian lady to send to my friend who has a fetish for spinners and I felt a wave of relief knowing that it's almost time to go home.  We took a few pictures to document Yuna's first park experience then left the place with me still dazed in confusion.

It's true that we live so close to Malibu, just a quick trip over the hill.  Living in the suburbia that is San Fernando Valley (aka the porn capital of the world) sucks you in a bubble sometimes, and you forget that there are great neighboring cities out there, bursting with energy that cannot be found in the Valley, because you are too busy complaining about the 110 degree heat, the hellish 101 and 405 interchange, and the fact that there's nothing else to do but go to the Topanga Mall. But then, after spending a couple of hours in a place that's unapologetic about its exclusivity, I couldn't wait to haul my ass back to Woodland Hills, where comfortable normalcy is defined by the smell of curry and incense drifting out of our loud Indian neighbor's home.

I'm a Serial Underpacker

I see a lot of blog posts from fellow moms about their tendency to over pack their diaper bags.  Although I agree that it's better safe than sorry, should I be alarmed that I usually under pack?  Is there something I'm not getting?

A trip 3 hour away from home is something else, THAT you gotta prepare for. But what about a short stroll around the mall?  I quick visit to your shrink?  Is it worth lugging all that weight around?

Am I in the wrong for bringing a bag this small:

 

with nothing in it but my keys, phone, cards and this:

when all we're doing is dropping by my sister's house in Pasadena, a good 40 minutes away  from Woodland Hills?

Fine, I should've considered bringing at least 1 diaper.  But then, I just changed and fed her, and since it was a quick visit,  I'd much rather change her in the comforts of our own home instead of busting her butt elsewhere.  Perhaps it was also the fact that once we get to my sister's house, I just know she'll have her own stash of diapers and wipes in different sizes and textures, even though there's no one in there who wears diapers.  Unless her husband's regressing.. but that's another story.   As to why she does this, I have no idea.  However, I do know, that she has a slight tendency to be a hoarder.  So there's that.

But really, it drives Shi crazy when I do this.  The inner mother in him insists on bringing at least 2 of everything (blankets, clothes, burp cloths, etc.), 5 diapers, 3 toys (big and small) and a shit load of formula.

So now, I'm stripping it down to what I think I really need for a short trip (maximum of 4 hours) out of the house on a nice summer day:

1.  A very light blanket that could double as a burp cloth.

2.  2 bottle, preferably the ones with the disposable liners.  One premixed prior to leaving the house and another one filled with water and a little container where you place the pre-measured formula.

3.  2 diapers (I'm being very generous here), a little case for your wipes, and 1 disposable changing pad.

4. A little toy like Jacques the Peacock or Sophie the Giraffe.

5.  A fresh onesie and a teeny weeny bottle of hand sanitizer

 So far, this list has worked for me since Yuna's birth because I figured, if there's something I really needed right then and there,  there's always Target.  I can just swing by and get it if it's really an emergency.  I never really had to do this,  except for the time I needed to literally gallop out of the mall when Yuna decided she wanted a gallon of formula instead of her usual 7oz serving.  So there I was, pissing in my pants trying to start the car, with my daughter in the back blatantly saying that she would like a word with me when we get home. Good thing we made it home in less than 5 minutes because the mall is just two blocks away.   I did get a bit of a scolding from her as soon as I placed her in her crib, but the bottom line: She was fed, she was happy.  We're all good. Then again, reading those blog posts made me feel  inadequate all of a sudden.  Does this make me less of a good mom?  Should I be bothered that I stress out more thinking about where to park than knowing I didn't pack enough for my kid?

Maybe.

But don't crucify me just yet. Like any new mom, I'm still feeling my way through what works and what doesn't.  If it turns out that I need to pack my entire house after all, I will make sure to document the tragic experience on how I finally learned my lesson for all of you to feast on ;-)

Happy 5 Months, All Hail the Queen

Yuna turned 5 months today.

Before I got her ready for her 5th month photo right next to her gigantic birthday cake made of Chocolate Ganache, Chantilly Cream and Fresh Strawberries, her father woke me up at 10 am (today being Labor Day, I gotta remember to reward him for letting me sleep in) to tell me that she has reached another milestone:  She learned how to stand up on her own unassisted!  Bring out the confetti!!

I was just kidding about the birthday cake.  As much as we'd like to get her a small cupcake to remind us that she's growing up faster than my ingrown nail, we end up forgetting, then later on justifying the ignorance by saying that she wouldn't know how to blow the darn candle anyway so why bother?  

I do know someone who gets a kick out of throwing her baby a huge party every month.  I'm not just talking about the customary birthday-cake-wear-nice-clothes kinda deal.  I'm talking about THE PARTY OF THE YEAR which happens EVERY. SINGLE. MONTH.  You know.. kinda like this:

The Celebrant

The Gifts

The Balloon

The Food

Some of the Guests

I'm still waiting for her to post her daughter's 7th month party.  Word on the street is that they got Justin Bieber to do a small opening number, that should be good.

Katherine,  I think your baby's really adorable, and I love that you like to do them big... but really,  you make moms like me look so bad.  It makes me so anxious to find out what you've planned for her 1st real birthday, I'm almost on Xanax just thinking about it.

Anyway, we just got back from a weekend trip in Vegas last night.  It was our 2nd road trip to Vegas with Yuna and I must say that the kid's a dream to travel with.  She laughed all the time (score!), slept all the time (double score!!) and didn't seem to mind the 110 degree weather.  Of course, it didn't hurt to bring your  sister who happens to be a pediatric nurse and seems to think that your baby is all hers.  We came back to California relaxed and happy- it was the perfect start to the week.

Or so we thought.

It's as if this whole learning how to stand up thing bestowed a sense of entitlement upon my daughter which in turn made her think she is owed the right to be carried around all day.

Yuna has been quite the manipulator with her phony cries lately, and it frustrates me that she already knows she can totally pull this off with her dad.  I told you guys about how she learned that raising her arms means that she will get picked up, right? That grew old with me really quickly and she found out that I wouldn't have any of it, which in a way made me feel slightly like the adult between the two of us.  

Today was the worst, by far.  She held her father hostage for HOURS as he carried her around while he was trying to get things done.  As soon as I took over parenting duties to give him time to do his own thing, the little princess refused to be placed anywhere except my hip.  Ummm... Excuse me? When did this start happening? 

Not in my books missy.  I placed her in her Bebe Pod after carrying her around and she started whining again about sitting down against her will as I calmly explained to her that this needs to stop unless she wants to rob us off the time we need to prepare her bottles.  She wouldn't really like that, would she?

Our heart-to-heart conversation seemed to have worked up until her Daddy Dearest walked in the kitchen again.  She started crying like a sorry little baby and he picked her up like clockwork.  I told him instantly that she's obviously faking it but he replied that he doesn't believe in "disciplining" a baby until she can determine right from wrong.  With those words, he walked off to the room with Yuna in tow as the Queen looked back at me, smiling.

Is there a reset button I can press somewhere to change her back to her default setting?  The long weekend with Dada clearly screwed up my parenting preferences.