We bought a bed. We bought an ADULT bed for the first time in our adulthood. So now we're left with a Queen size box spring and standard metal frame that we no longer need. Maybe you need these items? Maybe you live in the Bay Area and would like to pick them both up? We've had them for less than three years, so they're in great condition. This would be a steal for anyone who happens to be in the market for a new mattress set because you'd only need to buy the mattress. I'm planning on listing both for $40 on craigslist, but I'd be more than happy to give it all to a local reader for FREE. If you're interested or know anyone that might be, please shoot me an email at lifeaccordingtocelia.com.
Hey Grandma. In the past 24 hours I have been puked on on an airplane, Cheech has developed a welt on her cheek after face planting into my mom's coffee table that I'm sure will prompt at least one of our neighbors to contact CPS, and I was up all night with a toddler who was in tears fighting a terribly high fever. So please, for the love of all that is good in the world, PLEASE stop telling me how much easier it is to raise girls than boys.
Oh, and I know that a kid with such a bad cough should probably be wearing socks, but it's been upwards of 99ºF in LA, so I DIDN'T PACK ANY STUPID SOCKS.
|No recipe here. Just quinoa tossed with roasted chickpeas, asparagus, arugula, sugar snap peas, lemon zest and olive oil.|
Cheech was born two years, one month, and three days ago, and it's taken me approximately that long to reconnect with myself. As much as I swore that I wouldn't be one of those moms who always puts her child first, who constantly neglects her own needs, I did become that mom because, simply put, that's just how it works. It's instinctual to make every little aspect of your life revolve around this little person that you're molding, protecting, and loving all at once, all the time. I can almost hear the thunderous roars of "I told you so"s as I type this. Some ladies can somewhat break free from this all-consuming cycle much sooner than others. And for others, I'm sure, it takes even longer than the two years it has taken me. But it does happen, and it is, for lack of a better word (or two), fucking amazing.
After a near meltdown (on my part) last week, Joe thought it would be best if he took Cheech on our planned market run one morning without me. Sometimes I find myself not wanting to admit that I need a break because it's almost as if I'm admitting defeat. It's strange and twisted, I know. But they left, and I stayed behind. I was home ALONE for perhaps the second or third time in two years. Alone without a single clue what to do with myself. I could catch up on work, I could start lunch, I could shower?
Instead, I collapsed on our couch and sat taking in the silence. I listened to my slow and deep inhales and exhales, I listened to the stillness of the walls around me, I listened to nothing. I had completely forgotten how important and healing silence can be. How much I needed it, how much I missed it. Even when Cheech goes to bed each night [at the ungodly hour that she does], I listen to a silent baby monitor... but I listen waiting to hear sound. It's not the same.
They came home about an hour and a half later, and I made lunch while I heard about their outing and listened to the kid tell me that she was ready to eat again, and again, and again. The silence had been broken, but in a way it was nice to be surrounded by the noisiness that makes up my family. As a good friend of mine repeatedly says, "In life, there is always balance." Without a touch of commotion in our everyday, I can see how easily one could forget just how valuable silence is.
P.S. You guys left some incredibly heartwarming comments on my last post. I can't even begin to explain how grateful I am for all of you. Thank you.
I've been stressed. Sometimes parenthood makes me feel like my emotions have been thrown into a dryer with a couple of tennis balls. It sucks, but I know it's just me being, well, me. I tend to take things very seriously. I'm always convinced we're going to end up homeless. And that Cheech will be stuck in some horrid California public school. And as a result, she will end up a drug addict and a stripper. And I will be so sad. And all I'll do for the rest of my days is wonder what I could have done differently. I'm one of those jerks who so proudly proclaims herself a realist, but let's be real here, guys. Everyone knows those jerks are just sitting at the edge of their seats waiting for doomsday. I can feel this getting worse as I get older, but I'm trying to stop it. Really, truly, I am.
We spent Sunday afternoon at our friends' house eating pizza in their backyard while we watched our kids play, and felt ants crawl over our bare feet. It's not Summer yet, but it sure has felt like it this past week. It was the most relaxed I had felt in quite some time, and I found myself wanting to stay trapped in that moment forever. I've grown immensely fond of this time of year since having Cheech. Something about the warmer months and longer days reminds me to take things slower, to not get so caught up in my head. It's almost as if I've come to need Summer. Strangely, it keeps my sanity in tact.
Joe's taken some extra time off of work this week, and it has been such a blessing. It was too hot to cook indoors yesterday, so we threw some shrimp, asparagus, and bread on the grill and had a mighty fine dinner. It's good to be reminded that food doesn't need ten thousand bells and whistles to be special. Lately, I've felt like this blog is stuck in a rut. A completely confused rut. Quite honestly, I've toyed with the idea of leaving this space altogether in the past few months, but as I was enjoying my shrimp dinner last night, I felt all the answers flooding toward me. If it was simplicity that made my meal so beautiful and so flawless, then wouldn't that apply to just about everything in life? Even this silly little blog? I once knew a guy who said he'd rather have one perfect suit than two subpar suits. So he gathered all his saved pennies and had one perfect Italian suit custom made just for him. And he wore it every day to work and would have it cleaned on the weekends. And that was, and still is, so sexy to me. I've always been a fan of the less is more concept... whether it be suits or blogs.
This is all to say that it is time for less here, too. I'm ready to trim the fat. There will be talk of parenting (specifically my experiences), food (specifically the food I cook), and home renovating (specifically our home). Occasionally there will be talk of plants, because I'm big into plants. But everything else is out of here. Oh, and all pictures will be taken by me. Mostly because I'm over trying to find sources for all of the millions of images out there. Posting will be less frequent, but it will be better. And if stories about my kid and home aren't your thing (and that's totally cool), then I guess you can go find one of those Amazon-sponsored blogs, or something.
My stepdad suffered from a mild stroke over the weekend. It looks like he has some speech therapy ahead of him, but his doctors are expecting a good recovery.
Last year, one of my uncles suffered from a pretty major stroke. My grandmother found him, collapsed and passed out, in his apartment. He was rushed to the closest hospital where they were able to revive him and proceeded to ask him a series of questions, none of which he could answer. The last one they asked was if he knew where he was. His response, "This is where Lucia was born." He was right.
It's one thing when these types of things start happening to your grandparents, but it is a gross and harsh reality when you see your parents and family members who are just one generation away from you start to face the same tragedies. I remember seeing my uncle in the hospital and being heartbroken and shocked by how weak and small he was. It wasn't how I remembered him at all. In my head, he was the guy who took me on adventures to Muir Woods, Santa Cruz, and Disneyland. He was the guy who who hoisted me up on his shoulders, who was larger than life. But the years had caught up with him just as they are bound to catch up with all of us eventually. I guess I just wasn't prepared for this to happen so soon.
Any person who is a parent knows that their absolute greatest fear is to lose a child. Just the thought of anything happening to Cheech is enough to make me feel as if my bones are collapsing on each other, and my heart is being viciously ripped out of my chest. My own father was tragically and unexpectedly killed when he was only 27 years old. As incredibly challenging as this was on my mom and I, I always go back to his parents, my grandparents. How they survived such an occurrence, their son taken away from them at the prime of his life, with his entire future ahead of him, is completely beyond my level of comprehension. It is only natural to expect and to hope to outlive your children, to want all the bad stuff to happen to you.
Yet, in the wake of all of this, I selfishly think of what my own future holds for me. I think of my parents and my aunts and uncles, and what they will one day have to inevitably leave behind. And what I will be leaving behind as well. Although there isn't a fraction of an ounce in my body that would EVER choose losing Cheech, knowing that she will one day lose me, lose her Papa, is practically just as hard. Right now, at two years old, we are so entangled in her life. We know all the stories because we've been there. We know all the laughs and cries because we've heard them. As she gets older and more independent, obviously this will no longer be the case. But the reality that there will come a time when I'm not even a phone call away to hear all those stories, and laughs and cries, and that my mom will miss out on the same with me, is almost too much to bear.
(photo of my mom and stepdad when they were about my age)
As all years seem to do, this year has flown by at an incredible pace and I realized a couple weeks ago that I had completely spaced on planning a birthday party for Cheech. My mom and sister flew in for the occasion, so I quickly put together a small celebration at home for family and a couple of friends. One afternoon filled with balloons, cake, and the ones who love her the most, and I've never seen my girl so joyous.