tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-59095060805134766012024-03-12T20:25:41.774-07:00the chunglundsa boy, a girl, two kids, and a dog. the sometimes not so exciting adventures of one family trying to have it all.Nina Bhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14517892184717598671noreply@blogger.comBlogger520125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5909506080513476601.post-34117871224224233072020-11-04T16:01:00.001-08:002020-11-04T16:01:24.392-08:00halloween at home<p> My children, who looooove trick or treating, did their civic duty and stayed home this Halloween. I think I only got one "why can't we go trick or treating" from J2 the whole Halloween season. I'm going to toot my own horn and say it's because (1) I am on my way to raising socially aware children who care about others; and (2) I had such a fun evening planned for them they hardly felt like they were missing out. But, think what you will. </p><p>I promised a little family Halloween party with games and prizes. In the weeks leading up to the event, I was continually harassed about whether prizes had been purchased and what said prizes were going to be. Thankfully, I don't think anyone was disappointed.</p><p>We started with pumpkin carving. Every year I fully intend to forego this tradition because it's gross and somehow I end up with blisters. And yet every year, here we are. Carving pumpkins. What I will say about this year is that both kids carved their own pumpkins with zero help from me. We'll call that a win.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-laEgQ8ucv9E/X6M_J6d26LI/AAAAAAAASmo/xaYa9fNpnPQzp4-LLXqmoD7Nsqmjc_SYQCLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/IMG_1974.JPEG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-laEgQ8ucv9E/X6M_J6d26LI/AAAAAAAASmo/xaYa9fNpnPQzp4-LLXqmoD7Nsqmjc_SYQCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/IMG_1974.JPEG" /></a></div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-51rI_9jEokc/X6M_KCwMWjI/AAAAAAAASmw/Rvohf0c2xDQoVQpX3JlauqVt4eZtxt4CwCLcBGAsYHQ/s4032/IMG_2038.JPEG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-51rI_9jEokc/X6M_KCwMWjI/AAAAAAAASmw/Rvohf0c2xDQoVQpX3JlauqVt4eZtxt4CwCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/IMG_2038.JPEG" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">J1<br /></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-o-lb-nY6_aU/X6M_KJ131QI/AAAAAAAASms/sVQMhDUvz5cnogpoOFCsroruORLVlx1qwCLcBGAsYHQ/s4032/IMG_2039.JPEG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-o-lb-nY6_aU/X6M_KJ131QI/AAAAAAAASms/sVQMhDUvz5cnogpoOFCsroruORLVlx1qwCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/IMG_2039.JPEG" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">J2<br /></td></tr></tbody></table><p>We dressed up and had some spooky food for dinner.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-AtSjso3zoTE/X6M_mJQIBrI/AAAAAAAASnM/hZopLYRl_dwKOStBZUDZc7rPX3VtKx0VgCLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/IMG_2025.JPEG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-AtSjso3zoTE/X6M_mJQIBrI/AAAAAAAASnM/hZopLYRl_dwKOStBZUDZc7rPX3VtKx0VgCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/IMG_2025.JPEG" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-OHVOjWYbMRQ/X6M_mKIeBaI/AAAAAAAASnQ/M7fMF_0h86ELQXRC-Tq1DmQDbafdUx5EgCLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/IMG_2031.JPEG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-OHVOjWYbMRQ/X6M_mKIeBaI/AAAAAAAASnQ/M7fMF_0h86ELQXRC-Tq1DmQDbafdUx5EgCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/IMG_2031.JPEG" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-7yVc2lWjNL8/X6M_cBOpgJI/AAAAAAAASnI/xttm0Ln4GdQ1gl462zOVjkvry2nS3VcNwCLcBGAsYHQ/s4032/IMG_1988.JPEG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-7yVc2lWjNL8/X6M_cBOpgJI/AAAAAAAASnI/xttm0Ln4GdQ1gl462zOVjkvry2nS3VcNwCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/IMG_1988.JPEG" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Qg2J6_Io-00/X6M_b13V9zI/AAAAAAAASnE/UCDonoV9DCY874WLQhRv1JvjP560s-54gCLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/IMG_2044.JPEG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Qg2J6_Io-00/X6M_b13V9zI/AAAAAAAASnE/UCDonoV9DCY874WLQhRv1JvjP560s-54gCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/IMG_2044.JPEG" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-oGb2ooPPQCM/X6M_b1_zM4I/AAAAAAAASnA/bZ78jFDrRPgzMLcs4UQ6MRFymKKiR0L-wCLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/IMG_2046.JPEG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-oGb2ooPPQCM/X6M_b1_zM4I/AAAAAAAASnA/bZ78jFDrRPgzMLcs4UQ6MRFymKKiR0L-wCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/IMG_2046.JPEG" /></a></div><p>Then we had some old fashioned fun bobbing for apples, eating doughnuts off string, digging through "brains" for spiders, and annihilating a pinata.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-GkdAf0ghHGw/X6NAFEB2CeI/AAAAAAAASnw/_7UreeExy4wm_sDxkInQxK1PIU12by3OwCLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/IMG_2056.JPEG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-GkdAf0ghHGw/X6NAFEB2CeI/AAAAAAAASnw/_7UreeExy4wm_sDxkInQxK1PIU12by3OwCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/IMG_2056.JPEG" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-gNSTEk7RiHM/X6NAFFXWObI/AAAAAAAASno/2y6dRydZJA8M4i_3Jx72zm-8_7n1tP-hQCLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/IMG_2064.JPEG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-gNSTEk7RiHM/X6NAFFXWObI/AAAAAAAASno/2y6dRydZJA8M4i_3Jx72zm-8_7n1tP-hQCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/IMG_2064.JPEG" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-7i2qDW5IFoU/X6NAPaZfSrI/AAAAAAAASoI/5-EvOzAzv88F7OGn0pyU8qU_0hJn1_ntwCLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/IMG_2062.JPEG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-7i2qDW5IFoU/X6NAPaZfSrI/AAAAAAAASoI/5-EvOzAzv88F7OGn0pyU8qU_0hJn1_ntwCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/IMG_2062.JPEG" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-j-QPPIoa-gQ/X6NAPXJOKvI/AAAAAAAASoE/1YyEx8wMBYEq448Wh2WkjpR6wtwnri0HwCLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/IMG_2066.JPEG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-j-QPPIoa-gQ/X6NAPXJOKvI/AAAAAAAASoE/1YyEx8wMBYEq448Wh2WkjpR6wtwnri0HwCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/IMG_2066.JPEG" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-QDeMA-vRlJE/X6NAPBo8gLI/AAAAAAAASoA/X8W6FOuhwzQGpYtA3KgX-Wc5dGgOj1CcgCLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/IMG_7244-1.JPEG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-QDeMA-vRlJE/X6NAPBo8gLI/AAAAAAAASoA/X8W6FOuhwzQGpYtA3KgX-Wc5dGgOj1CcgCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/IMG_7244-1.JPEG" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-28Un8-64GBU/X6NAUeFqEaI/AAAAAAAASoM/22DOXd7K3AMi9rq5CQ9q_yZj-aImg7VLwCLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/IMG_2068.JPEG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-28Un8-64GBU/X6NAUeFqEaI/AAAAAAAASoM/22DOXd7K3AMi9rq5CQ9q_yZj-aImg7VLwCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/IMG_2068.JPEG" /></a></div><p>We finished our evening with snuggles on the couch. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Pkf2NLfnxq8/X6NAbkqz_3I/AAAAAAAASoY/L96nABmD3VMD2Al3uUVQ36WfpnWzM1riACLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/IMG_2089.JPEG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Pkf2NLfnxq8/X6NAbkqz_3I/AAAAAAAASoY/L96nABmD3VMD2Al3uUVQ36WfpnWzM1riACLcBGAsYHQ/s320/IMG_2089.JPEG" /></a></div><p>And here's the moral of the story. I am happiest at home with my little family. I get enough people-ing scrolling through social media. Or maybe that's just the election anxiety talking. For now though. Staying at home feels good. </p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>Nina Bhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14517892184717598671noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5909506080513476601.post-78549175152771601042020-10-19T08:48:00.007-07:002020-10-19T09:06:19.510-07:00unboxing<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-DCGCX1QkLRk/X42yy-j1urI/AAAAAAAASks/eyc-3ilhCCkNpsYCOWdzw2c9UpfmkZNsQCLcBGAsYHQ/s1338/File0471.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1338" data-original-width="990" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-DCGCX1QkLRk/X42yy-j1urI/AAAAAAAASks/eyc-3ilhCCkNpsYCOWdzw2c9UpfmkZNsQCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/File0471.jpg" /></a></div><br /><div>Friday, October 9th marked 19 years since my mom passed away. It also marked J1's 10th birthday and one decade of me being a mother, myself. On top of which, it was the end of a very long week that included a trial and a couple long work-related nights. While I would generally give myself a moment to reflect, be sad, and feel all the feels, there was just way too much going on for me to fall apart. So I compartmentalized and pushed ahead. </div><div>When my brother called me that afternoon on my way to J1's birthday dinner, I couldn't even have a meaningful conversation about it. He wanted to talk about what a milestone 19 years was; how we've been without her for almost as long as we had her. I just wasn't in the right space. </div><div><div><div><br /></div><div>I slowly unboxed all the feelings over this past week. </div><div><br /></div><div>Last week, perhaps as a reminder, was one of those weeks that I really could have used my mom. As I struggled to figure out the best way to do something under the pressure of a clock that was slowly ticking down, I remembered how in Fall 2000 I was sitting in an overpriced studio apartment in NYC struggling to finish an urban design paper. My dad had agreeably driven me around Sun City West over Thanksgiving break while I took pictures, much to the suspicion of many a senior citizen, of Del Webb's planned community. As I sat at my desk flipping through actual prints of these photographs (I think I used a disposable camera *gasp*), I could not for the life of me figure out how to structure my writing. I remember my mom calling and me being upset and crying. While she didn't know the first thing about urban design, she told me that she knew I could figure it out. She was right. And I did. Last week, even without her, was really no different. I cried. I took a break. I thought some more. And I eventually figured it out. </div><div><br /></div><div>I think of that conversation with her often when I struggle with figuring something out. She probably also told me to pray about it, to which I almost certainly responded that God was not going to write my paper for me, just like he wasn't going to teach me calculus in college. Although I probably should have and it certainly couldn't hurt, I likely did not pray about. She would be happy that we do, however, often ask God for help particularly when it comes to J2's ability (or lack thereof) to make good choices. Not entirely sure it works, but again, I assume it cannot hurt. I digress.</div><div><br /></div></div></div><div>My mom was tremendous. In her love for the Lord, in her love for family and community, in all things. As I help my kids navigate developing resilience in school, athletics, life, I, like my mom did for me, tell them that I know they can figure it out if they just keep trying. I will even tell them the story about my urban design project, and how I did, just like she said I would, figure it out. </div><div><br /></div><div>And while it is nothing like writing a paper, we all also keep figuring out how to just keep going without her even as the years tick by and the time she was with us becomes a smaller and smaller fraction of our time on this earth. Because no matter how long I live, the space in my heart for her never gets smaller. </div><div><br /></div><div>And this, among other things, is how I will remember always her ... unmolding some god awful Jell-O "salad" to accompany the even more god awful lutefisk for Christmas Eve. Oh, and yes, that's a tub of Tom & Jerry's, which I also find rather barfy. What are we doing?!</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-vJ0ljVIReoE/X42y8nqJmHI/AAAAAAAASk0/uYqd9U5ZL8YRvCQpD3_a17Htu1rBZ-YQACLcBGAsYHQ/s1236/File0587.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="942" data-original-width="1236" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-vJ0ljVIReoE/X42y8nqJmHI/AAAAAAAASk0/uYqd9U5ZL8YRvCQpD3_a17Htu1rBZ-YQACLcBGAsYHQ/s320/File0587.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>Nina Bhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14517892184717598671noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5909506080513476601.post-24925089633342008742020-09-22T21:56:00.002-07:002020-09-23T06:05:42.084-07:00Sept. 23, 2019<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-qOnaIRjjXBE/X2rU81opwGI/AAAAAAAASh0/cCupyttnyx8tFwqkaSp0UgpDljX_C4yIACLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/DSC01657.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-qOnaIRjjXBE/X2rU81opwGI/AAAAAAAASh0/cCupyttnyx8tFwqkaSp0UgpDljX_C4yIACLcBGAsYHQ/s320/DSC01657.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><p>In the fall 2000, I got a phone call from my mom instructing me to go to JFK. She had booked me a flight to Rochester, Minnesota where my dad was undergoing emergency surgery to fix an aorta rupture. It was then that I promised myself that I wouldn't ever move out of state until after both my parents were gone. </p><p>I didn't keep that promise. In Winter 2010-2011, Gus and I fled the tundra for the Arizona desert and subsequently Sacramento. After which I took notice of the fact that I only saw my dad once, maybe twice if we were lucky, per year and I realized that it meant that I would probably only see him a handful more times before he was gone. And while we certainly made the best of the times we had together, it just wasn't enough. It was then, however, that I promised that I would ALWAYS answer the phone if Dad or Amy called. </p><p>And this is why, on September 23, 2019, while driving my kids to school, I answered the phone. Unlike my brother, who still has the voicemail Amy had to leave notifying him of the news, which to be honest I'm maybe a little jealous about. Whether I answered the phone or not, Dr. B. was gone. I remember breaking down in the car. I remember sending my kids to school and going to work anyway, which in hindsight was a terrible idea. I remember the kids telling me that they had never heard me cry like that before. I remember texting Gus and telling him to call me immediately. I remember telling Gus what happened and wondering why he would immediately get off the train, turn around and catch the next train home. The gravity of the situation had not totally sunk in at that point. </p><p>It quickly became obvious that I wouldn't be able to focus on work and I went home and laid on the couch until Gus arrived. After which we worked on the logistics of how I would get home, who would come with me, and what we were going to do about J2's birthday, which was four days later. I remember J2 saying that he didn't want to go to Minnesota because everyone would be sad and he didn't want to be sad anymore.</p><p>And ... here we are one year later. Really no less sad than we were before. Dad's death was really the kickoff of many changes that were to come in the following 12 months, e.g., distance learning, mask wearing, staying home. </p><p>Even when I struggled to connect with him emotionally, he was my Dad. The best one. I knew that he loved us fiercely and his dedication to his work was a reflection of his dedication to family. I attribute much of my work ethic, desire for success, love for academia, and professional drive to him. </p><p>David and I reminisced on the phone tonight about our favorite Dad memories. David was a Dad favorite because he liked things like roofing houses, digging trenches, and power tools. I, on the other hand, was the girl who changed her outfit whenever she got dirty and sat around waiting for Dad to ask me to fetch a nail or hold something (which wasn't often enough to keep me interested).</p><p>Despite our dissimilarities, we played endless hours of cribbage and he was always there to support me at every swim meet, band concert, hockey game or football game. He even helped bake the pasties when I was the Job's Daughters Honored Queen. He would truly do anything for me. </p><p>He, of course, had high expectations. He would question any A- on my report card like the pseudo-Asian dad he was. While at the same time telling me my report card was boring if I got straight As. When considering colleges, he told me that I could go wherever I wanted and he would figure it out. He hired a plane to fly us to my Carleton interview. </p><p>The past 12 months have pretty much been a dumpster fire and all of a sudden I find myself back here, the day my Dad died. Pandemic prevented us from going to Minnesota this summer and more importantly inuring Dad's ashes. I find myself in a love-relationship with autumn, which is really one of my favorite seasons. I don't hate fall. I hate being an orphan (and pumpkin spice *gasp*). </p><p>I still haven't quite figured out life without him. Maybe none of us has. In spite of it we keep going. Not missing him any less. </p><p>He was one of the good ones. Talented surgeon, dedicated father and grandfather, a good friend to many. He is missed. More than he probably even knows. </p><p>Dad, while I would really like to toast you, unlike Dave, I don't think I can choke down anymore Kendall Jackson chardonnay. But Gus opened a Far Niente Chardonnay. So I imagine I am still your favorite child. Love and miss you tremendously. Always. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-O1-tgJ6jae4/X2rVHRHQdsI/AAAAAAAASh4/N748cwqLNDU-0_a_uJyO-nFfzybZ4fCCgCLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/Graduation_Hawaii%2B019.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-O1-tgJ6jae4/X2rVHRHQdsI/AAAAAAAASh4/N748cwqLNDU-0_a_uJyO-nFfzybZ4fCCgCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/Graduation_Hawaii%2B019.jpg" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-YGChrR3xmKE/X2rVaSVKPoI/AAAAAAAASiE/H6wGnwqwveI5ougx3N9_C8KaGZgrmVf4gCLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/IMG_3580.JPEG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-YGChrR3xmKE/X2rVaSVKPoI/AAAAAAAASiE/H6wGnwqwveI5ougx3N9_C8KaGZgrmVf4gCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/IMG_3580.JPEG" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p>Nina Bhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14517892184717598671noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5909506080513476601.post-40822934189495265012020-08-25T13:24:00.000-07:002020-08-25T13:24:12.816-07:00day 163?<p> I lose track and depend on @sharynesque's IG to remind me what day of pandemic-life we are on ... since her last update on Day 162 was 19 hours ago, I'm going with today is Day 163. OMG. </p><p>Our days, weeks, and months have been a sea of "this is kind of fun and we're getting lots of family time" to "can we please go somewhere, anywhere?" and then devolving into endless days of watching reality television garbage, which admittedly is kind of fun. I recommend Southern Charm and Married at First Sight, in case you need suggestions. </p><p>Pandemic life has forced us to be creative ...</p><p>Sunday communion = Michael David Cabernet and saltines </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-1iQZ4XDijmc/X0VvPTxkJ_I/AAAAAAAASeM/6mRPxSxf2SUCgbPRc_9y0oR-auoswW12gCLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/IMG_8828.JPEG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="400" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-1iQZ4XDijmc/X0VvPTxkJ_I/AAAAAAAASeM/6mRPxSxf2SUCgbPRc_9y0oR-auoswW12gCLcBGAsYHQ/w295-h400/IMG_8828.JPEG" width="295" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">At-home wine tasting. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-flY37tIH6y0/X0Vvn80BfvI/AAAAAAAASeU/KeuI42LzW2gFap6tEoCTvZ_zrULpU4fQACLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/IMG_9713.JPEG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="400" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-flY37tIH6y0/X0Vvn80BfvI/AAAAAAAASeU/KeuI42LzW2gFap6tEoCTvZ_zrULpU4fQACLcBGAsYHQ/w300-h400/IMG_9713.JPEG" width="300" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Backyard Disneyland complete with "rides."</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-zzZuB5-NLjA/X0VwOX5ytaI/AAAAAAAASek/PalsrQlMzOM0_h84cmp2MlWmJnn-IeYjQCLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/IMG_4138.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="400" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-zzZuB5-NLjA/X0VwOX5ytaI/AAAAAAAASek/PalsrQlMzOM0_h84cmp2MlWmJnn-IeYjQCLcBGAsYHQ/w300-h400/IMG_4138.JPG" width="300" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-88bxDFXqgwQ/X0VwOKS-q_I/AAAAAAAASeg/uWcgtNEvalowG12vLt9u7rjNg8XZcQRFgCLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/IMG_4150.JPEG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="400" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-88bxDFXqgwQ/X0VwOKS-q_I/AAAAAAAASeg/uWcgtNEvalowG12vLt9u7rjNg8XZcQRFgCLcBGAsYHQ/w300-h400/IMG_4150.JPEG" width="300" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">We got desperate enough for a summer "vacation" that we braved the elements and went camping. In a tent. Gasp. Not just once. BUT TWICE. Both kids have said it is their favorite thing we've done this summer, which may not be saying a whole lot given the circumstances. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-b0_A9UdZkww/X0VwnBN9GZI/AAAAAAAASew/NJpngoJKjwYij1AYc0fB2tiEWMKl-DhNgCLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/IMG_5053.JPEG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="300" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-b0_A9UdZkww/X0VwnBN9GZI/AAAAAAAASew/NJpngoJKjwYij1AYc0fB2tiEWMKl-DhNgCLcBGAsYHQ/w400-h300/IMG_5053.JPEG" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-zkgt7lMnQNY/X0VwnNoRP7I/AAAAAAAASe0/9WfEa-WZ95Esx6VcB0zxR4WAiI9YoonCQCLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/IMG_5072.JPEG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="400" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-zkgt7lMnQNY/X0VwnNoRP7I/AAAAAAAASe0/9WfEa-WZ95Esx6VcB0zxR4WAiI9YoonCQCLcBGAsYHQ/w300-h400/IMG_5072.JPEG" width="300" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-TheW4OlDAiM/X0VwnFJELQI/AAAAAAAASe4/L3-XrxqkJqQWVLVKBysNMRVfL8nuaBHqwCLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/IMG_5271.JPEG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="300" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-TheW4OlDAiM/X0VwnFJELQI/AAAAAAAASe4/L3-XrxqkJqQWVLVKBysNMRVfL8nuaBHqwCLcBGAsYHQ/w400-h300/IMG_5271.JPEG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Suffice it to say, we are hanging in there. By a mere thread but still. The kids got a bit of normalcy when swim team and soccer resumed and I at least got my annual Dairy Queen. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-0jyWj0xpUC0/X0VxMeT6P0I/AAAAAAAASfE/uIqSYX_ZgZU53QmS05UGX8fKnxKE-W6WQCLcBGAsYHQ/s2046/IMG_4167.JPEG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2046" data-original-width="1536" height="400" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-0jyWj0xpUC0/X0VxMeT6P0I/AAAAAAAASfE/uIqSYX_ZgZU53QmS05UGX8fKnxKE-W6WQCLcBGAsYHQ/w300-h400/IMG_4167.JPEG" width="300" /></a></div> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Gus ate some vegan nonsense faux Top the Tater and has subsequently decided he is transitioning back to the omnivore life. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><img alt="Plant-Based French Onion Dip | abillionveg" 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" /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Summer is over. Distance learning has re-commenced. I can certainly see why 4th grade was always my mom's favorite grade to teach. And J2? Well, that's an entire blog entry unto itself. Suffice it to say, his favorite thing is to push boundaries and test patience. He's currently on the path to being the first student expelled from our little home schooling project. Sigh. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">And yet, we persevere. For now. </div></div>Nina Bhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14517892184717598671noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5909506080513476601.post-46140762768292396452020-06-30T08:50:00.001-07:002020-06-30T09:02:08.330-07:00it's not summer without you<div style="text-align: center;">
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This is where my kids have spent every. single. 4th of July. of their entire existence. It's all they know. It is humid. There are mosquitoes. It takes planes, trains, automobiles, and boats just to get there. But it is perfection. Everything about Lake Vermilion fills my heart with summer, love, and the sheer joy of knowing that sometimes you can go home. </div>
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This summer is different. It's our first summer without Dad, which in and of itself is hard, but the icing on the cake is a global pandemic. End result? This is the first summer in as long as I an remember that I will miss the 4th of July at Lake Vermilion, and I am definitely struggling. Facebook is kindly reminding me each day that over the past 9 years we've made this annual pilgrimage to a little boat house were family is always waiting.<br />
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I am both sad and maybe a bit relieved that this summer is different. Nothing is normal. I am sad because I miss the lake. I miss lazy days on the deck. Letting the kids swim non-stop. Spending time with Dave. Lighting off fireworks. Kayak racing around the island. Crayfish hunting. Letting the next generation run feral on the island. </div>
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The list of things that I will miss is long. It goes on. And on. </div>
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But mixed in there is some relief. Going home this summer meant facing a 4th of July without Dad greeting us at the boat house, or making us breakfast, or drinking coffee and watching the morning news. I don't know what being back in a place that doesn't just remind me of Dad, but is Dad, looks like without him. </div>
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It's just not summer without him. Or without a Bloody Mary for breakfast, a sawdust scramble, Top the Tater, or a trip to the MOA.<br />
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Summer is never going to be the same, but fingers crossed that we'll be back at Lake Vermilion for 2021. </div>
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Nina Bhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14517892184717598671noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5909506080513476601.post-64460187094767856052020-06-16T08:16:00.000-07:002020-06-16T08:16:02.115-07:00the first of many<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Sunday will be my first Father's Day without my Dad. I can't remember the last time I spent the actual holiday with him, but until this past September it was always a possibility. We said goodbye to him last fall and these were my words. Perhaps a cop-out of a blog post, but this blog is only sort of limping along as it is.<br />
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<i>I have always been so proud to say that I am Dr. Berglund's daughter. If you read his obituary, you can certainly see why. As many of you might know, there was another doctor with an adopted Korean daughter, and you can bet that I made sure to correct anyone who mistook me for Renee Passal. Not because her dad wasn't lovely. He certainly was. But he was not mine. In fact, I kept my maiden name, in part, because I felt like it kept me connected to Dad. Of course, it confuses the hell out of those who meet the Chunglund clan and wonder why the mother of such a nice very Korean family has a Scandinavian last name.</i><br />
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<i>Growing up, my Dad was the smartest person I know. Well educated, well read, and always well informed about current events. As a child, I never questioned anything he said. Like when he told Charlie there were no sharks in the Atlantic Ocean so my little brother wouldn't be scared to go snorkeling. I believed him too. In fact, I even saw a shark on that particular snorkeling trip and convinced myself that it wasn't one because, well, Dad said so. #gullible</i><br />
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<i>Because I looked up to him so much, and you all read about how impressive he was, the thought of disappointing him struck the fear of God in me. Dad was the quintessential "wait until your father comes home" kind of dad. I did not want to see the look of disappointment on his face. One withering stare could crush me. Let's be honest. I'm a 41 year old woman who is still afraid of disappointing her dad.</i><br />
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<i>As you all know, Dad wasn't a huge talker and he certainly didn't wear his heart on his sleeve. I got the distinct feeling that any of my tears or emotional outbursts (of which there were plenty) left him discernibly uncomfortable. He was stoic. He was humble. He never complained. It often made it hard for me as an adult to know how to show up for him in a way that made him know how much I loved and respected him, which I most certainly did.</i><br />
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<i>What I have discovered as I have reflected on his life is that his love was a constant, unwavering, reliable presence in my life. It wasn't the overwhelming, all consuming, in your face kind of love that my late mother radiated. It was quieter and it was always there when you needed it. Dad was at every swim meet, graduation, parents night, end of year banquet, piano recital, and pasty bake. It's hard to know if he actually enjoyed those things, but he was there. I never had to wonder if he was going to show up because he always did on time or even early. We would spend weekends in the cities at three day long swim meets, which by the way, I have a new appreciation for as both my kids are on the swim team and I'm pretty much over all day swim meets already. Dad saw me through failed relationships, moving home from NYC, college, graduate school, law school, and the birth of my children. When I finally eloped with Gus at a drive thru chapel in Las Vegas without telling anyone, he told me twas the best decision I had ever made. He wasn't wrong. </i><br />
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<i>My favorite recent memory is when my daughter, Juliet, conducted a telephone interview with Dad for a school assignment. The easier choice would have been to interview my mother-in-law because she sees the kids every day. But Juliet wanted to talk to Papa Roger. I figured it was the middle of winter and he was probably home alone with nothing to do so why not? While the conversation was a bit halted and awkward, and Dad was definitely caught off guard, I got the feeling he was happy we called. We all had some laughs about his answers to his questions. Of course, my then first grader later asked me "what did Papa Roger mean when he said that he wished he knew 'how to talk to girls' when he was growing up?"</i><br />
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<i>I am grateful for the time my kids spent with Papa Roger. We have made such great memories at the lake over the past several years. It's been nice to watch Dad slow down a little and enjoy the lovely home that he and Amy built. Instead of constantly tackling the next project, these last few summers we've played lots of cribbage, drank lots of wine, and just sat outside on the deck. I particularly loved when Dad would come down to the dock to watch the grandkids jump into the lake. He'd create the category, e.g., best cannonball, biggest splash, farthest jump, and then give each of them a score.</i><br />
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<i>I will miss coffee with Dad in the mornings. Juliet says she will miss watching the news with Papa Roger. I will really miss just knowing he's there because that's where he's always been. I struggle thinking about adjusting to a life without his constant, quiet presence.</i><br />
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<i>Thank you for always being there for me, Daddy. I am the person I am today in large part because of you. I certainly lucked out when you chose me to be your daughter. Just as I have trusted all these years that you will take care of me, I now trust that the Lord will do the same for you. I love and miss you tremendously. </i><br />
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<i><br /></i>Nina Bhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14517892184717598671noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5909506080513476601.post-60017706140461460912020-05-06T20:20:00.000-07:002020-05-06T20:20:08.841-07:00i just miss you ... that's all<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Dear Mom,<br />
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I miss you. So much. In a way that profoundly changes me. Urging me to be a better person, a more patient mother, a rainbow in someone else's storm. But it's hard.<br />
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Things are so crazy right now. Quarantine life. You're missing out. Or not. Although, I'm sure you and Ralph would have made the most of it and perhaps watched many movies that you had forgotten you had already seen. Ha.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">those shoulder pads!</td></tr>
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There have been a handful of things that have happened recently, just in time for Mother's Day, that have kept you on the forefront of my mind.<br />
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First, I've been catching up on my Teen Mom OG. Yes, you are rolling your eyes. But, someone recently asked me if I took parenting classes before I had J1. I did not. I watched a bunch of Teen Mom and figured if they could do it, I could, as a married, thirty-something with two post-grad degrees, definitely be a mom. This show still does its part in making me feel better about my parenting skills (or lack thereof).<br />
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In a recent episode, one of the women loses her mom to cancer. The series documented her last year or so. It felt like reliving 2000-2001 all over again. That moment when you know the time has come and you must prepare for the end. I remember that moment. I was sitting on the couch looking out at the lake. You had just gotten off the phone with Dr. Olson, who had given you his opinion on your scans. The cancer was everywhere and there was nothing left to do. And yet, I wasn't prepared for the end. I didn't know how to be. Even now, in hindsight, I don't know what I could have done differently. Perhaps you just can't be prepared. Maybe you were though.<br />
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Second, this turned up in my Pinterest feed today. You don't even know what Pinterest is. It's a time suck. It will not suck more of your time than TikTok, but it will also make you laugh a lot less.<br />
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<img alt="Quotes about strength grief #quotes #about #strength #grief & zitate über stärke trauer & citations sur le deuil de la force & citas sobre el dolor de fuerza & quotes about strength in hard times, quotes about strength motivational, quotes about strength inspirational, quotes about strength letting go, quotes about strength women, quotes about strength stay strong, quotes about strength to move on, quotes about strength life, quotes" height="320" src="https://i.pinimg.com/564x/4d/fe/b2/4dfeb2fff0726b4b5005ecc5be8f904a.jpg" width="320" /></div>
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But this. Every. single. damn. day. I try. Truly I do. I want to be the mom for J1 and J2 that you were to David and me. The best kind of mom. And to be honest, I barely even come close. You had the patience I lack. The desire to teach that I admire, and a way of holding us all together with Christmas cards, stroganoff, and Swedish meatballs.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">she's unleashing a heinous gelatin salad in this photo</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Liane, your hair is enviable. Truly enviable.</td></tr>
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You were everything to everyone and you managed it with a grace that I cannot even fathom. I honestly don't recall a time when you were so stressed out that you just couldn't deal with us. Maybe those moments existed, but I don't remember them. I kind of secretly hope that this is the case and my kids won't remember the tears and stress etched into every inch of my face. Particularly, over the last month as we've struggled to figure out how to distance learn and work from home. Maybe because we're moms we always have that "I got this" look, even when we have no idea what the fuck we are doing.<br />
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Finally, you've been gone for nearly 19 years. I think that's correct. Just today, a friend was telling me about something her parents did and I felt like I couldn't relate because it wasn't something you would have done ... but maybe it was and I just can't remember. Sometimes I wonder if I misremember things that happened because the grief and loss that this world suffered when you left swallows up any memories and just leaves a rosy glow of romanticism. Maybe that's what is supposed to happen. But it terrifies me to think that I can't or won't remember things accurately. Because those memories are all we have left. There will not be anymore made.<br />
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Oh, and maybe you've already seen him, but Dad left us last fall too, in a most unexpected way. Please give him a hug for me, if you do run across him. I miss him so so much too. You probably knew all the things in his obituary that I did not because you were there for much of it.<br />
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None of this gets easier. This year feels particularly hard because it's so. damn. weird. But I guess the depth of my grief means there was and still is great love. I'd really like to talk to you. I just miss you. That's all.<br />
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All my love,<br />
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Nina Nina Bhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14517892184717598671noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5909506080513476601.post-86696845972887702072020-04-25T12:00:00.001-07:002020-04-27T07:38:44.985-07:00the rest of the story<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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A quick glance at my IG may (or may not) lead a person to believe that we are somehow living our best life and *gasp* maybe even thriving. It's the highlight reel. Don't be fooled.<br />
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And now for the rest of the story ... This is what is really happening. I initially had high hopes for all the knitting, reading, baking, cooking, jigsaw puzzling that I was going to have time to do with no soccer, swim, or other kid activities. It has quickly devolved into Tiger King, Australian licorice (PSA soooo good!), and what delicious food or beverage can I consume to assuage the anxiety.<br />
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I mean, I definitely think we are living the best life we can under the circumstances, but trust me the struggle bus stops right outside our house and I can't always figure out how to get off. I'm over here with four or less lash extensions left on each eye, hella grey roots coming through, and let's not even bother to talk about the forehead wrinkles and my less than groomed nether regions. Trying to do all the work, at least a little of the teaching, and trying to remember who is on what Zoom at what time. I feel you friends. All of you. Trust me.<br />
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<b><u>Distance Learning</u></b><br />
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I went on strike after about week 2. Gus, bless him, took over. At one point, I got demoted from third grade teacher to kindergarten teacher. The fact that coloring hats for the Cat in the Hat was about all I had the bandwidth for could have had something to do with the volume of wine consumed. Since going on strike, I have crossed the picket line a couple times mostly because I feel guilty for not pulling my weight. But I don't home school my kids for a reason.<br />
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We have put tremendous pressure on J1 during this time. #momguilt We mostly made her responsible for her own work, which hasn't been all bad ... except for the Spanish. How is my brilliant child failing Spanish, when it is only a participation grade? Because she hasn't been logging on to Rosetta Stone and I haven't bothered to check to see if she was doing it. #momfail<br />
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J1 is also responsible for helping J2 with his work. Unless of course, J2 gets frustrated, hits J1 and then J1 refuses to help J2. I mean I don't blame her. And when J2 tells you that he's finished his homework, you can almost guarantee that he's only done an 1/8th of it, at best. So evenings, after logging off from work, are often devoted to finishing schoolwork. Mostly it's Gus because well, I went on strike (see above).<br />
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<b><u>Working</u></b><br />
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I have commandeered J1's room. I don't have a green screen. My computer doesn't support the Zoom backgrounds without a green screen, and therefore every single video conference people can see me in my 9-year old glory, pink walls, lofted bed, unicorn twinkle lights, Hello Kitty (because Asian!), etc. I have to pick up her room each morning because I cannot even think in a messy room.<br />
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Everyday I need something new. First it was a monitor. Then another monitor. Then a real keyboard, a desk chair, and most recently a laser printer. Oh, and my kids each got new laptops. We are staying home and doing our best to stimulate the economy. LOL. When I'm logged on remotely, I can type a complete sentence, check IG, and then what I typed might finally appear on the screen. The efficiency is definitely lower, which means for longer hours. Sigh.<br />
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<b><u>Healthy Living</u></b><br />
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This is hard. While Fleet Feet reminds me daily that running is not canceled, eating my feelings has taken a starring role. I mean people are worried about toilet paper and I panic bought cheese and wine. Gouda, havarti, feta, cotija, manchego, cheddar, two kinds of vegan cheese.<br />
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Gus, of course, had the common sense to buy the paper products, so we're still doing OK on that front.<br />
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Yet, even after running nearly 450 miles to date this year, I'm pretty sure the box of crackers I consume every other day and the regular at-home happy hours (because WTF else am I supposed to do?) have contributed to me gaining the COVID-19. At first, I gave myself the grace to eat the cheese and the carbs and drink the prosecco, but it's a slippery slope and if we have to keep this up much longer, I'm gonna weigh a quaran-ton.<br />
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So this week, I decided I work do two a day workouts because again, what else is there? Monday through Friday of this week I worked out twice, culminating with a 20 minute dance cardio workout with my boy, Cody Rigsby.<br />
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Again, this is unlikely to be sustainable, and probably the result of some weird emotional shit I need to work through ... but it got me through the week feeling like I accomplished something. Probs gonna pour myself a glass of prosecco now.<br />
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And now you know ... the rest of the story. It might not be pretty, but it's ours.Nina Bhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14517892184717598671noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5909506080513476601.post-75810163301499262082020-04-07T08:29:00.001-07:002020-04-07T08:29:36.387-07:00when this is overWhen this is over ... because we will get through this. I am going to see, do, and be all the things that I am currently missing like ...<br />
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Be the token Asian hanging out with all my white friends.<br />
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Be the soccer mom.<br />
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And the swim team mom<br />
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Go for dim sum, brunch, shave ice, happy hour, for a life-changing pretzel at the Biergarten, ANYTHING.<br />
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Run all the races<br />
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Make bad decisions with my crazy running crew<br />
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See my co-workers again<br />
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Despite all of the things I am missing, I am filled with gratitude that I even have these things to miss. Doing our part in the midst of this crisis is really a drop in the bucket when you consider the people who have been laid off, are on the front lines, or who were struggling even before this began. I am blessed.Nina Bhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14517892184717598671noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5909506080513476601.post-67938542966912618042020-03-31T23:57:00.001-07:002020-03-31T23:57:24.091-07:00be brave enough to be bad at something newI did just this. If you know me, you know that children (even mine) are not really my thing. I don't like playing with them. I get easily frustrated teaching them things. I do, however, get a kick out of talking to them and listening to the things they have to say because I find it fascinating and really hilarious---at least when it comes to mine. But anyway ..<br />
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This spring, however, I added site coordinator and coach for <a href="https://www.gotrsac.org/">Girls on the Run</a> for the 3rd-5th graders at J1's school You guys. This program. It's everything. It inspires girls to be joyful, healthy, empowered, and confident. Each lesson in the curriculum emphasizes one of the programs core values---leading with an open heart and positive intent, recognizing our power to be intentional in our decisionmaking, embracing our differences and finding strength in our connectedness, expressing joy, optimism and gratitude through words and actions, standing up for ourselves and others, nurturing our physical, emotional and spiritual health. I really can't say enough good things about this organization. I knew I wanted J1 to participate, and since we didn't have a team at our school yet, I knew that somehow it was my calling to put it together.<br />
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Despite not knowing how I was going to fit it onto my already overfilled plate, and knowing how far Gus' eyes were going to roll back into his head, when I told him I had volunteered for another thing, I *think* I figured out how to be brave enough to be bad at something new. Sort of. I mean I managed to find time to sit through a 6 hour training, plus another four hours of First Aid/CPR. I recruited coaches. I recruited girls. I sent one million emails to Courtney Kain, the executive director, asking five million questions and for the emotional support to know that even a full-time working mom, who sometimes feels like she doesn't even have enough time for her own children, could do this. I coordinated workout spaces. I actually had to interact with the people at my children's school. All of these things being huge deals for not only this introvert, but this introvert that struggles with asking for help.<br />
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We got nine girls. We made it through nine lessons. We set expectations for ourselves as a team.<br />
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We learned about our inner star power, empathy, connectedness, balance. Things that every little girl should have in her toolbox, and things I struggle with as a 40 something year old women almost daily. Our workouts included games that incorporated running, walking, skipping, or any combination thereof. It's like trail racing---forward momentum.<br />
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We were building up our confidence and endurance to complete the celebratory 5K at the end of this journey. I already had grand ideas for race swag for each girl, and had started collecting items throughout the season. I had collected healthy snack recipes for each workout. People. I was so excited. Not just for them but for me.<br />
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The best part. Despite my lack of confidence, I seemed to be doing an OK job. My heart was full seeing how excited they were to see me each practice. The hugs I got. The fact that I was someone they wanted to tell stuff to, about homework, sports practice, school. On an afternoon when I was particularly stressed because I had to leave work early to get to practice, and snack that day was "whatever the hell is left in our snack drawer at home," one of the girl's moms told me that I was doing an amazing job.<br />
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And then ... it all came to a grinding halt like most everything in the world. While it is lovely not to have ALL the things on my plate any longer, I am sad that I was unable to see this one through. Because not only was it for them, particularly my dear J1, but as it turns out, a lot of it was for me. I miss my girls. I being silly and embracing my former cheerleader self to teach them new cheers. Yes, Miss Larson they all know "S-U-P-E-R super[stars] [are] what [we] are." And as goofy as it was, they (and I) loved it.<br />
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Here's what I learned. Where I felt like a hot mess, not having time to commit to fully reviewing a lesson plan, or digging yogurt covered raisins, some Go-gurt, and a few granola bars out of the pantry, these girls and their moms saw something completely different. Knowing I had a positive impact is pretty powerful stuff.<br />
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To all my girls and their families reading this, I miss you terribly. Connecting with each of you made everything worthwhile. You overloaded my plate in the very best way possible, and I wouldn't have not done it. Thank you to my co-coaches Marisa and Melissa. Without you both, I'm not sure I would have had the confidence to lead this little project.<br />
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So even while abbreviated, I'm grateful for the impact that stepping out of my comfort zone allowed me and hopeful that it was equally impactful for these girls. Until next season ... maybe.<br />
<br />Nina Bhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14517892184717598671noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5909506080513476601.post-3721232169631674982020-02-13T15:53:00.001-08:002020-02-14T09:07:54.157-08:00my funny valentineTexting with my Beth Ann, lead this little lemming right off the cliff. Here you go, everyone is doing it.<br />
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<b>First date:</b> Drinking Coronas underage in the 1st Goodhue lounge where I am fairly certain I was still pumping him for information about his cute friend, Matt. That totally counts as a date, no?<br />
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<b>How many years together: </b>Eleventy billion.<br />
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<b>Age difference:</b> 11-ish months. He's older.<br />
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<b>Who was interested first:</b> See above. I was interested in Matt.<br />
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<b>Who is taller:</b> Coming in at 5'11 and 3/4 inches ... Gus.<br />
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<b>Who said I love you first:</b> After eleventy billion years, it's really hard to recall ... but when we were in college, Gus would say "I love you" right before he fell asleep and then pretend that he couldn't remember saying it. He has this unique ability to fall asleep mid-sentence.<br />
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<b>Most sensitive:</b> It used to be me, but after eleventy billion years, I think it's him.<br />
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<b>Most patient:</b> Gus, until he isn't. It's definitely not me.<br />
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<b>Loudest:</b> Me. No question.<br />
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<b>Better singer:</b> Me. Perhaps not technically, but the entertainment value is high due to overenthusiasm.<br />
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<b>Most stubborn:</b> Tough call.<br />
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<b>Falls asleep first:</b> I go to bed first. Gus, however, can literally fall asleep while he's talking. See above.<br />
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<b>Better cook:</b> Wholly depends on what is being prepared.<br />
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<b>Most organized:</b> In the traditional sense, me. In the "I don't put anything where it belongs, but I know where it is and I remember that I used to have this particular cord, powerstrip, random other electronic component when I was 7 years old," then Gus.<br />
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<b>Better morning person:</b> Me. Again, no question.<br />
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<b>Better driver:</b> Gus, based solely on his allegation that he has received a standing ovation for his parking.<br />
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<b>Most competitive:</b> Really tough call. I mean, he may or may not have become a vegan so he could run faster than me ...<br />
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Happy Valentine's Day to my one and only!Nina Bhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14517892184717598671noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5909506080513476601.post-4842982619160267162020-01-28T17:01:00.001-08:002020-02-05T05:32:40.319-08:00seasons of loveI celebrated another five hundred twenty-five thousand six hundred minutes of Nina B for several days this January, and really I don't think we could have done it up any better.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Thank you for this one, Meredith!</td></tr>
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It started with Saved By the 90s, where I resurrected the navel piercing I got spring break my senior year in college when my dad gave me a few hundred bucks and told me to get myself something nice. He wasn't really that impressed, but in true Dr. B fashion, didn't say much. LOL. I also channeled my best Gwen Stefani because what can I say, she's a badass! Hollaback Girl! Anyway, this was such. a fun. night. There was chicken and waffles, PBR tall boys, late-ish night pizza, falling asleep on the sofa and finding popcorn stuck to your back upon awaking ... always a sign of a good night. Thank you to my faithful neighbors and Tana and JT for humoring me.<br />
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My birthday was on Friday so I got BFF happy hour. What better way to celebrate your 29th Birthday than with your 110-lb besties. Cards, gifts, plenty of laughs, a cocktail or two, plus Tana and I coincidentally each brought a bag of beauty products we were looking to offload, so everyone got a little something and my bathroom got a little bit neater. WIN WIN.<br />
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Saturday I managed to convince a small group of friends to run the TBF IPA Trail Run. I had a blast. We ran, we popped bottles in the parking lot, some of us won things, we ate delicious treats, there was personalized Nina B race swag, more gifts ... what more could a girl want than to be surrounded by people she loves doing the thing she loves. It was especially meaningful because I know a lot of those folks are training for big races with big training plans and yet they still made it a priority to run with me that day. Thank you, to the best running club in town.<br />
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After running, I got home just in time to meet up with my family after J1's soccer games. There were more presents and then we had lunch and headed to the mall to use up my birthday coupons, which is one of my favorite things every year ... particularly the free Sephora birthday gift. After shopping, Gus picked up my favorite fruit tart and the Js wished me a happy birthday! I couldn't ask for a better day with the family.<br />
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And just when you thought my birthday was over, the lovely Cindy K. showered me with even more birthday gifts, including my new favorite water bottle!<br />
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My heart is full. so. so. full. A year in the life of Nina B is measured in daylights, in sunsets, in midnights, in cups of coffee, in inches, in miles, in laughter, in strife. But most importantly, it is measured in love. Seasons of love. Thank you to each and everyone of you for the place you have in my life. The next five hundred twenty-five thousand six hundred minutes would not be the same without you.Nina Bhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14517892184717598671noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5909506080513476601.post-1577359224028478552020-01-21T15:16:00.001-08:002020-01-21T15:16:54.192-08:00california coldWhen a Californian travels to another part of the world and the temperature is relatively warm (or even hot), but for Californians it's cold as hell, it's California cold. We've only been here for seven years, but it really only takes about year to turn you into a marshmallow. Case in point, the time we went to Minnesota in the SUMMER and I had to buy us all hats because it was so f*cking cold.<br />
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The point being, we headed to San Diego for winter break and it was f*cking cold, and rainy. Regardless, we made the best of it.<br />
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On our way down, we drove right by the entrance to Disneyland and like the mean parents we are informed the Js that we were not going to Disneyland. Behold, the face one makes when you are so close yet so far from Disneyland.<br />
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We did, however, stop for the night at Great Wolf Lodge. This place is on point. I mean, if I can't go home for Christmas, might as well be in a building wholly designed to look like a northwoods cabin complete with fake snow.<br />
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Plus, they really cater to the adults, with beverage carts strategically placed throughout the resort. The water park was indoors so I didn't even need to worry about being California cold.<br />
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The next morning we headed to San Diego to grab Grandma Amy from the airport and check-in to our rental for the week. Grandma Amy came with 3 large suitcases filled with Christmas presents. Then it was time for the fun to begin.<br />
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We braved the downpour and headed to Scripps aquarium. It's an aquarium. If you've been to the Monterey Bay Aquarium, you do not need to go to this one. Unless it's raining and you have nothing else to do.<br />
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We also waited FOREVER and by FOREVER I mean so long that by the end J1 was silently sobbing in a corner because she was "STARVING," but knew that if she said anything, we'd just tell her to be patient ... hence, the silent portion of the sobbing. I mean, I'm not going to say the wait was totally worth it, but there were mimosa flights that did not suck.<br />
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Gus and I took advantage of the built-in childcare and were able to get some adult time for our anniversary. We ate at Nobu, then wandered through a wine store (because that's what we do), and ended our evening with a night cap at this cool bar in the Gaslamp that I can't remember the name of but had some really really expensive scotch.<br />
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Oh, and the expensive scotch place also had a Moet vending machine. Who doesn't like that? NO ONE.<br />
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I realize there are ALOT of photos in this post, but you know you want to see the most festive Uber ever. This guy was super proud of his pimped out ride.<br />
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Christmas Eve we went to Legoland. The best part of Legoland? I never have to go there again. Even though, thanks to Margaret, I am not aware they sell beer, I still don't want to go there again. Everyone will tell you that it's not all that. I mean everyone did tell me that. But you really have to experience it for yourself. Once. Just once.<br />
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Christmas Eve was a Christmas miracle. We didn't have dinner reservations until 8:00 p.m., yet my precious angels wore their fancy outfits, ate their fancy meal, and there was not a single complaint. Dinner at 8:00 p.m. meant they had already sold out of lobster much to J1's dismay, but I think she made up for it with the oysters.<br />
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Christmas Day included present opening frenzy and just hanging around the house.<br />
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The day before we headed back to Sacramento, we hit up Belmont Park, which was right down the street from our little house. J2 was dedicated to that ropes course.<br />
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And because I didn't think the car was really quite full enough, and because secretly I think Gus really wanted to impress me with his feats of strength, he won me a giant hamster to keep me company while I rode b*tch 8 hours home between two children. I love that hamster.</div>
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And 2019 is almost a wrap.</div>
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Nina Bhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14517892184717598671noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5909506080513476601.post-66030260293728503722020-01-15T09:47:00.001-08:002020-01-15T09:47:21.893-08:00gus runs a (half) marathonHe's not Brittany. And he didn't run a marathon. Nor did they make a movie about him. BUT, Gus finished his first ever half marathon this past fall. Good job Gus!<br />
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We were scheduled to run Monterey Bay Half last year, but due to fire and smoke all we got was a weekend in Monterey with a trip to the aquarium. We did, however, run into fellow Carleton swammers Carrie, who was also escaping the smoke, and Karin. So, it wasn't all in vain.<br />
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This year though, it actually happened. We didn't run together, train together, or even start in the same corral, so the whole effort was kind of futile in terms of relationship-building, but whatever. I had fun. I think Gus had fun, although I'm not sure he would do it again.<br />
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The course was beautiful. Running by the ocean is one of my favorite things.<br />
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We hung out with some friends at the start.<br />
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Gus PR-ed. I mean because really, how could he not? So did I.<br />
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And there are even cute pictures of us together for social media. Because if there weren't, then did it really even happen?<br />
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Did he like it? I don't know. Will he do another? You'll have to ask him ...Nina Bhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14517892184717598671noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5909506080513476601.post-63025521038791082932020-01-14T09:50:00.001-08:002020-01-14T09:50:55.485-08:00thanksgiving 2019Here's what happened ...<br />
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Gus became a vegan, much to the annoyance of my neighbor, Peter, and made for an interesting Thanksgiving holiday. He got some recommendation for something sold at Trader Joe's that was meant to approximate a turkey. It didn't look all that appealing and I didn't bother to try it because spatch cock turkey, thank you Julie. Gus also prepared all vegan sides for his dining pleasure, which were all perfectly lovely. But ... BUTTER is delicious.<br />
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I mean really, which one would you rather eat ... ?<br />
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Before we stuffed our faces with non-vegan and vegan delights, respectively, we did what we do every year. We ran Run To Feed the Hungry! And by "ran," I mean we actually all ran. There were no strollers, baby wearing, wagons, or piggyback rides. Both my children ran the whole. damn. way. and I really couldn't be prouder. I ran with J1, who after the first mile wanted to run faster. I tried to be encouraging during the last mile, but she didn't want to talk. She was focused on passing people until she hit the finish. She is truly my daughter. External motivation isn't really her thing.<br />
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J2 also ran and excitedly proclaimed upon finishing that he "hardly even complained." He did, however, run nearly the entire 5k holding Gus's hand, but whatever, everyone propelled themselves to the finish line mostly of their own accord and it counts.<br />
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My bestie, Tana, also completed her first 5k! Looking fabulous as always.<br />
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After the run, we got out the tree and, just like Elsa, I let it go. And by "it" I mean all my Type A tendencies. The Js decorated the tree largely unsupervised ... hence the standing on the couch. I didn't even bother rearranging the ornaments afterward because really, who the f*ck cares.<br />
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The lights were twinkly, I saw all my favorite ornaments because they were ALL on the front of the tree at kid-level. Plus, I had spent an obscene amount (for me) on throw pillows that I am absolutely in love with. What more could one want? I mean except a shirt that matches your throw pillows! Despite the camoflauge, my children managed to find me and continue to ask me one million questions.<br />
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And before we did ANY of the above discussed activities, we, of course, celebrated with the Shahs at their annual Night Before Thanksgiving (NBT, for the cool kids) cocktail party. Where in true Nina B fashion, I overdressed ... because you can never be over educated or overdressed IMHO.<br />
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<br />Nina Bhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14517892184717598671noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5909506080513476601.post-37069222592744806692020-01-05T19:20:00.001-08:002020-01-05T19:20:33.251-08:00rise & shine, sweet girl. this is your moment. <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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My dearest sweetest J1,<br />
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We had an emotional autumn, losing Papa Roger. Like I told J2, I gave myself the grace to delay your birthday letter, but I wanted to make sure I still got it done. So, here you go.<br />
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It's been more than 3,285 days since we first laid eyes on your smushed up alien-looking face. You are nine years old! And you are everything. You are my sun and stars, my moon and ocean. Everything about you reminds me to be a better person.<br />
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I admire your independence. Your ability to do the right thing even when it isn't the popular thing. It is this that I hope stays with you throughout your lifetime because it will serve you well. While you have grit, I need you to have more. I need you to not be upset when we correct you or review what you got wrong on an assignment. We are not doing it to point out the fact you are wrong. Rather, we are trying to teach you how it works so that you will get it correct in the future. Please remember that and approach these moments with a better attitude. I know you don't react the same way to other adults correcting you, so try not to do so with us. We love you. We know you are smart and we are so so proud of you. Us correcting you does not make us any less proud of you. I promise.<br />
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I'm so proud of how well you've done at soccer this year. Last year was tough losing your spot in East Sac, but you turned it around and made the team at Sacramento United. You have excelled and made new friends. I know your goal is to score more, and to do that you need to take more shots. Be brave. Take chances. Shoot hard. If you miss, it's OK. You miss 100 percent of the shots you don't take.<br />
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Your love for eating and talking continues with reckless abandon. The other day you asked for two pieces of toast with hummus, and later I found you crying in the corner because you heard all of the other things your Appah was offering to make and you wanted that too but knew you couldn't eat dinner twice. LOL.<br />
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You are generally the happiest, most easy going kid that I know. Your friends' parents always tell me that you are welcome any time because you are so polite and nice. You could, however, work on hanging up your clothes and keeping your room clean. Just saying.<br />
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You make this world a better place. Your kindness, consideration, and thoughtfulness of others are unprecedented for someone your age. You really are one of the best humans that I know.<br />
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I hope you don't follow in my footsteps. I want you to walk a path beside me and go further than I have ever gone. You have it in you. Believe in yourself. Always.<br />
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You are my greatest joy.<br />
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Love, Your Umma<br />
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<br />Nina Bhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14517892184717598671noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5909506080513476601.post-84629920165019789052020-01-05T18:45:00.001-08:002020-01-05T18:45:26.264-08:00J2 catch-up<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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My sweetest J2,<br />
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Losing Papa Roger days before your birthday sent me into a tailspin. While no stranger to losing a parent, to be fair, I was really just a kid when I lost my mom ... 22 years old, in grad school, responsible for no one but myself. Papa Roger's passing was a whole new ball game for your Umma. I gave myself the grace to not only miss being the first person on the planet to kiss you and wish you a happy birthday, but also to miss your birthday party and delay your birthday letter. Please forgive me.<br />
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It is now time to play catch-up. You, my boy, are my greatest challenge. Your love for testing limits is unprecedented, at least in this household where there is a J1, the ultimate rule follower. You are independent, creative, and inventive. I absolutely love listening to the things you want to invent, particularly when you ask what would happen when you invent said things ... because I really have NO IDEA.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">DAB!</td></tr>
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You are a big boy, but you still have the cutest little kid voice. Listening to you explain what happened or how you are feeling is really the most adorable thing ever. Your mind works way faster than your little mouth and you have the vocabulary of an adult with the pronunciation of a 6-year-old. There is really nothing better, until you get frustrated because you realize that I have no idea what you are saying, but I just keep letting you talk because I like to hear the sound of your voice.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">double fisting ice cream and hot dog</td></tr>
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You recently lost your first tooth. Your little smile with the missing tooth reinforces that much to my dismay you are truly no longer my baby despite still loving to be held. No one loves me like you do, kid, and no one ever will. You are my favorite little buddy.<br />
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You hate when we talk about how naughty you are, even though you are pretty naughty. You also hate being embarrassed, which to be fair, most people do. You, however, are embarrassed by pretty much everything that has to do with you not being perfect, of which there are many many things. I have not, however, met anyone quite as cool as you ... EVER.<br />
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You love and hate your sister in equal measure. You know how to push her buttons and do so regularly, but are quick to want to apologize when you realize that fighting with your sister means I make you both play in your rooms by yourself.<br />
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J2, you are going to do great things in this world. I know this. It probably won't happen in a traditional sense or way, but you are truly brilliant and if you somehow manage to harness that brilliance for good rather than evil, there is no limit to what you can accomplish. And it will hopefully mean that you don't end up in jail or living in my basement, particularly because right now we don't even have a basement.<br />
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You are my favorite little boy and I could not love you more. Snuggles with you make everything right in the world. Listening to your perspective on just about anything almost instantly makes me happier. You are the perfect completion to this family of ours. You are both the reason I lose it and the reason I hold it together.<br />
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Happy 6 years my little buddy. Love you forever and ever.<br />
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Your Umma<br />
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<br />Nina Bhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14517892184717598671noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5909506080513476601.post-37806597929396632052019-10-30T10:05:00.002-07:002019-10-30T10:05:23.844-07:00fall funIt finally feels like fall, i.e., I'm freezing every morning now. So let's recap on all the "autumnal" fun we had when it was like 85 degrees out. This year we managed a pumpkin patch AND Apple Hill with the whole family. The last few years, it's been just me and the kids or we've skipped altogether due to being too busy.<br />
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We started at Boa Vista Orchards by accident because I thought it was the place I took the kids last year. It was not. This is not a you-pick orchard, it is very crowded because it is right off the main road. However, if you like crafty stuff and lots of apple-related product, it is the place for you.<br />
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So then, thankfully, Tana answered my text and told me that it was Delfino Farms, which was nearby and we headed that way. Delfino is quiet and lovely. They have hard cider and these amazing little creations called the walking apple pie. I'm not entirely sure why Gus did not get ice cream with ours, but you should definitely get the ice cream.<br />
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Delfino is also not a you-pick orchard, and therefore we had to make a third stop. Denver Dan's. Where we picked so many apples that we still have them in our fridge, and despite this fact, Gus went to the grocery store and bought apples for whatever reason. Anyway, this place is the best. The people that work there are so nice. My kids loved running around and reading the signs so they knew what kind they were picking. To be fair, we may or may not have picked our apples based purely on name and not on description.<br />
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We also managed a trip to Fog Willow pumpkin farm. J1 had her 5th birthday there, after which they gave her a free membership, that we have never used until now. And really, the only reason we went was because J2 had a birthday party to attend.<br />
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We're still balls deep, literally, in soccer. Fall is not over ... but I feel I have now met my parental obligation.<br />
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<br />Nina Bhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14517892184717598671noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5909506080513476601.post-12423394943924093792019-10-18T11:12:00.001-07:002019-10-19T05:53:47.864-07:00here's what i know ...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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This has taken awhile and been hard to write. I spent a sleepless, anxious week at the end of September holding my breath, waiting to say a final goodbye to a great man. I'm back to sleeping and eating for the most part, but it catches you when you least expect. There are moments in the early morning when I wake up feeling something sitting on my chest (and no, it's not J2) remembering that he won't be there to meet us at the boathouse anymore.<br />
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In the weeks since my dad has passed, here's what I have learned ...<br />
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First, my dad was an extremely impressive man. Some of the things said in his obituary, I had not even been aware of, which definitely adds to the sadness because the opportunity to talk with him about those things is gone. J1 told me that she wished Papa Roger had told her all those things so that she could be happy for him while he was alive. I certainly would have been interested in his research in medical school. Tana said that after reading his obituary she understands me a little more---my work ethic, my drive to succeed, my unwillingess to let those I love down, at times to my own detriment. You see it in J1, as well.<br />
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Second, I feel like I understand him a bit more. Academics were always so important in our household. When I got straight As, dad would joke that my report card was boring. But if there was anything less than all As, he wanted to know why. When I started looking at colleges, he told me I could go wherever I wanted. When I left for college, he told me that for every hour I was in class, I needed to spend two hours studying. My senior year he drove the 4 hours to Carleton to see me present my comps. When I passed the bar exam, he sat through the really really long ceremony to see me get sworn into the Minnesota Bar. He rarely ever said the words, "I'm proud of you," but I guess he wouldn't have done all those things, if he wasn't.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Law School graduation</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Admitted to the MN Bar</td></tr>
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Third, I have the best friends. Beth took care of my ass for most of the week I was in Minnesota, making sure I ate something even if all I wanted was vodka, Canelake's and Dairy Queen. I wouldn't have survived that week without her, her two wonderful boys, and 1/2 price admission to the Hockey Hall of Fame. Thank you to everyone who supported my family during this time. The outpouring of love was overwhelming. And thanks to my brother for paying the bar tab ... TWICE. Not to be outdone by their Minnesota counterparts, my California crew held their own. Rides to the airport, standing in for me at J2's birthday party, regular check-ins throughout the week. You ladies know you are my ride or dies.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">see, we went!</td></tr>
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Fourth, I would not want to work for any other firm. We're busy. We work hard. But we are also understanding, compassionate, and most of all, a family. No one batted an eyelash when I said I needed to be gone all week and assured me that everything would be taken care of.<br />
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Finally, riding roller coasters at MOA kind of hungover is not cool. But you do it. Because you're a mom. And moms are badass AF.<br />
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The fact that I was able to get this all down finally is a sign that I'm healing, but not being able to say goodbye to him is still what haunts me most. We will continue to play cribbage, blow things up, enjoy the lake, smoke cigars, play golf and all the other things that Dr. B. liked to do. Except, I probs will not be drinking chardonnay (barf). Cheers, Dad. You were the greatest man. I love you so much.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">this one is for Dave</td></tr>
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<br />Nina Bhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14517892184717598671noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5909506080513476601.post-164500311598014852019-08-09T10:42:00.001-07:002019-08-09T10:42:23.158-07:00keep it simpleSummer has been flying by in a whirlwind of swim meets, soccer tournaments, and all the practices that come along with it. Two hotter than Hades days of 12+ hours of swim meetings (my new favorite J2-ism), and I was feeling some mom-burnout. I needed a timeout. So, we took one.<br />
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Gus was working in Oakland on a Friday. It was a spur of the moment decision to join him and have a quick overnight. In the past, since our time sans kids is so few and far between, I've tried to make everything perfect, find the best hotel, the best restaurant---thus, losing sight of the fact that the whole point is just to spend some time together. Not this time. Honestly, this time I would have stayed in a Holiday Inn Express (provided it was clean) in Emeryville. My only real objective was to sleep without J2's feet in my face or J2 laying across the foot of the bed like a little puppy, and have an uninterrupted adult conversation with my husband.<br />
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We ended up in Berkeley. I just didn't have the time to find the best place, nor did I want to read about all the best places and then somehow feel disappointed that I didn't go there. I took the train from Sacramento. Gus met me at the train station and we were off for a little less than 24 kid-free hours. We wandered in upon a Mexican restaurant that had the best margaritas I think I ever had. And the Oaxacan chocolate budino ... the perfect, not too sweet ending.<br />
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We drank Peronis and ate Sour Patch kids in bed while watching Food Network. A completely mundane evening that had me thrilled to pieces.<br />
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The next morning we slept in, watched some HGTV, had breakfast at Berkeley Social Club (highly recommend!), wandered around a farmer's market, shopped on 4th Street, and made a quick stop at Off Fifth to score a few deals. <br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">this was the best espresso martin---EVER.</td></tr>
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It was simple. It was perfect. Oh yeah, until we totaled our car. We are all safe, which is the most important thing, but HEAVY SIGH.<br />
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Nina Bhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14517892184717598671noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5909506080513476601.post-52886604918115144502019-07-25T14:40:00.002-07:002019-07-25T14:40:42.960-07:00thanks for the love, minnesotaWe spent the first week in July on our annual pilgrimage to the homeland. I would venture to say it was one of the best trips home that we've ever had. I'm not sure what it was that made it so magical, but I'm happy to give it a shot.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Drove by my childhood home.</td></tr>
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The weather was absolutely perfect. Except for that first night when it was so rainy and windy that the waves sunk my parents' boat, which I managed to sleep through.<br />
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We had a little family reunion with aunts, cousins, and kids of cousins. It feels like a long time since we've all been in the same place at the same time.<br />
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I saw both of my brothers, and forced them to take pictures with me.<br />
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The kids got to spend some time with Uncle Charlie. The kids don't personally know anyone who smokes, so they were pretty fascinated, and had lots of questions, as well as pointing out that he should probably not do it. LOL.<br />
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He also took them fishing. He was so good with them, helping them bait the hook, cast, and take the fish off. Even Gus, who has never caught a fish in Lake Vermilion despite nearly 12 years of trying, managed to snag a bass.<br />
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I didn't swim 2.2 miles across a freezing cold lake. But, J1 got some swimming pointers from one of my favorites, Ms. Oz, and she got to help hand out medals to those who did swim across the freezing cold lake. Maybe next year we do a Gordy Rodby memorial swim. Any takers?<br />
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I saw lots of friends. Gus in all his social media fame, courtesy of yours truly, even got recognized by a former classmate at the liquor store.<br />
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J2 made some new "friends."<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ASysxere-K4/XTodULSfjFI/AAAAAAAARSA/ejelhIVI5IkG9HE8cK7ISU651DUOHZMNgCLcBGAs/s1600/IMG_3401.JPEG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ASysxere-K4/XTodULSfjFI/AAAAAAAARSA/ejelhIVI5IkG9HE8cK7ISU651DUOHZMNgCLcBGAs/s320/IMG_3401.JPEG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sorry, Eli.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">And, sorry Matthew.</td></tr>
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Also after the fishing incident mentioned above J2 declared he was a vegetarian and I spent the rest of the vacation assuring him that his hot dog, bacon, chicken, and hamburger were indeed made out of vegetarian meat. I'm totally OK if he wants to be a vegetarian, but I was just not prepared for it on that vacation and had not stocked up on plant-based provisions. That said, when we arrived back in Sacramento and I was fully committed to purchasing him some plant-based meat, he decided that he'd go back to being an omnivore.<br />
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J1 got to enjoy her favorite holiday, 4th of July. When questioned as to why it was her favorite, I found out it is because she loves the parade and seeing so much family. Those are pretty good reasons, if you ask me.<br />
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The kids had lots of time with Uncle David.<br />
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J2 snuck into good old, EGHS. He said he got out before the security cameras caught him. LOL.<br />
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We even let Gus visit a friend or two.<br />
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It was a wonderful trip. At one point, I realized that I was so relaxed that my neck didn't even hurt. I am back at work, and unfortunately, it's back to hurting. It was nice while it lasted though.<br />
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Thanks, Minnesota. We'll see you next summer!<br />
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<br />Nina Bhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14517892184717598671noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5909506080513476601.post-87298980574437656402019-06-21T16:41:00.004-07:002019-06-27T09:59:57.313-07:00it's summer!And it's HOT! And we're BUSY! Summer means that my saint of a mother-in-law keeps my household running smoothly and minimizes all domestic bickering by doing my laundry and keeping the house picked up. I love her.<br />
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We are on week 2 of very very limited screen time, i.e., you can only watch something if one of your parents is watching with you. I have no idea how this goes over all day long, but so far on the evenings and weekends it's been pretty successful. Although, J2 is now regularly asking Alexa to tell him fart jokes ... so perhaps an Alexa hiatus is next? To be fair, her jokes are kinda funny.<br />
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It's been non-stop swim meets since Memorial Day weekend. J2, who couldn't even make it across the pool last year, can manage a legal 25 free and 25 back. He even won his heat last week. Full disclosure - it was the slowest heat AND the other three or four kids had to have help getting across the pool. But whatever. He got out of the pool and was pretty excited that he WON!<br />
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This one, on the other hand, while she's been killing it in the pool, could definitely use a little attitude adjustment. She gets rather upset when she doesn't PR, but I mean she's my kid ... so, I guess I shouldn't be surprised. As a mom though, I'm trying to teach her to be better than me so I hate to see her stomping around after a good race. She could also be a little more receptive to constructive criticism, but again ... she's my kid. What I will say is that her work ethic is pretty stellar. She practices every day and bounces between soccer and swimming with little to no complaint. She tries hard and is coach-able, both good things.<br />
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I made it to the home state for a hot minute to celebrate my little cousin, Gianna, graduating from high school, where I was repeatedly asked by my little stepbrother about what I do for fun. See above. Swim meets. And figuring out who is going to what practice when and how they are going to get there. That's what I do for fun. But when I have less than 48 hours in Minnesota, I hang out with these two for fun.<br />
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And I got an extended visit with Jenn too! Thanks for the coffee, curling iron, and croissant.<br />
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There have also been plenty of pools, parks, and popsicles this summer. Some of us are living our best life.<br />
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All that "fun" and summer has just started. We're headed back to Minnesota at the end of the week to spend some time with Grandma and Papa at Lake Vermilion!Nina Bhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14517892184717598671noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5909506080513476601.post-75893923947116010412019-05-08T09:27:00.003-07:002019-05-08T09:27:21.998-07:00lost and found <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Losing you felt like losing everything. Like the front steps in my childhood home on Ely Lake, you were home base, the safe place. Where after running around the yard being chased by your older brother and a handful of neighborhood kids, you could finally catch your breath. That was you. Geography irrelevant, wherever you were was always my home.<br />
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Without you life is scattered. Family is spread across the country and the relationships are not quite the same because you aren't here to keep us together, to inform us about everyone else's everything. You were our social media. You were what kept us connected. If any of you were the lucky recipient of my mom's Christmas cards, you know exactly what I mean.<br />
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Losing you left me untethered. But, we all found ways to move on. Get married, have kids, find new jobs, move, etc. I ground myself in work, swim meets, soccer games, Girl Scouts, and piano lessons, without which I may just float away. Because being busy makes it so I don't have to feel the enduring grief, the hard stuff.<br />
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I struggle to stay present, clinging to my little family and the day to day grind that keeps clicking away even when I don't want to get it out of bed. I grieve for J1 and J2, who grow up without knowing what a safe place Grandma Jean was to me, and would have also been to them. <br />
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Losing you felt like being lost. It still kind of does, to be honest. Yet, I know that my calling is to be the safe place for J1 and J2. It feels so hard to build that foundation for them, while missing what kept me grounded. For 20+ years my life was defined, in part, by you. It is unsettling that each year it becomes less so as I carve my own path and shape my life into what it has become. But maybe that is how what was lost becomes found. Finding myself in my own style of motherhood. Keeping the best parts of you, your fierce love of family, your willingness to take the extra time to do things just right. And improving on the other stuff, e.g., a perpetual lack of punctuality, and borderline hoarding tendencies.<br />
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There is a part of me that will likely never be found because it just isn't the same without you. But what is different has given me the blessing of being part of a happy, healthy family, with which to redefine myself as a mother and wife.<br />
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<br />Nina Bhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14517892184717598671noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5909506080513476601.post-78196920653898377892019-04-24T10:20:00.002-07:002019-04-24T10:23:30.254-07:00way too sickAfter Reno nearly killed me, there was little question that I was way too sick to run Way Too Cool 50k. This, however, was not going to stop me. Or maybe it was.<br />
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Late in the week, I begged Annalisa (my most crazy running friend) for a pep talk. I lied to the urgent care doctor to score some Tamiflu, which probably didn't really help because I had already been sick for like a week, hence the lying. I patiently listened to the doctor apologize that I would be missing the run ... patient because i figured it would be useless to tell him that I was just gonna run anyway. Plausible deniability?<br />
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Woke up Saturday. No fever. Ate ice cream from a carton standing in my kitchen for breakfast. Grabbed my training partner and headed for the hills.<br />
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Then I started running. Then I just kept running. Hit the first aid station at mile 8, which was conveniently close to my car and would have made for a reasonable place to drop, but I felt OK so figured I'd just keep going. When I got about 8 miles out from Goat Hill, I figured I should just keep going until I saw Annalisa, who would be at the top. Can I tell you that I have never been so happy for a hill, just so I could take a break and walk?<br />
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At the top of Goat Hill, there's only 4.6 miles to the finish so what the hell, I figured I should just finish. So finish I did. Look how much fun I'm having ... If Annalisa tries to tell you that it is like a "party" she is either wrong, or her definition of party is very different than that of the general population (including me).<br />
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And that, in a nutshell is how I completed my first 50k. It was pretty simple. Just keep going, over (or through) the river, up the hills, and through the woods.<br />
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Afterward, there was no cool jacket or giant medal. There was just me changing my pants in a ditch by the side of the road and driving home barefoot because I forgot flip-flops. This was no party. But, to be honest, it was a pretty cool thing to accomplish in Cool, no less.<br />
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<br />Nina Bhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14517892184717598671noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5909506080513476601.post-67859696908276417922019-04-18T08:01:00.004-07:002019-04-18T08:01:58.864-07:00hibernationWe, and this blog, went into a state of inactivity over the winter. I'm not sure where the last few months have gone.<br />
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There were non-milestone birthdays. We celebrated mine with a quick overnight to San Francisco for dim sum and the Museum of Ice Cream.<br />
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There were some pretty views.<br />
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I felt like I was dying from the flu, but ran my first ultra anyway. That probably deserves its own post.<br />
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There was a quick getaway to Santa Cruz thanks to a work thing.<br />
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We did some skiing, but wish we had done more. I also really wish I did not have a blue helmet.<br />
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While there's still plenty of snow, spring break starts today and we're on to soccer tryouts and swim team.<br />
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We are out of hibernation mode, and now you're all caught up.<br />
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<br />Nina Bhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14517892184717598671noreply@blogger.com0