CityMama™

GREETINGS FROM NO-SLEEPVILLE

The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse visited my home in the middle of the last night in the form of

• a sick preschooler who woke up coughing right as Grey's Anatomy was starting, and we have no TiVo
• a toddler who was up at 4:45AM with a fever and who would not go back to sleep (it's now 6:30AM and we are watching PBS)
• a sore throat and cough pour moi which started as we were putting sick preschooler to bed
• rain, rain, and more rain. I'm over it.

At 8:30 on the nose, I am going to be on the phone trying to schedule a doctor's appointment on what is traditionally the busiest day at the pediatrician's office.  All those parents whose kids got sick over the weekend (hello, comrades) are going to be clamoring for an appointment right along with me.

If I do get an appointment, I get to haul two sick and tired kids (and one sick and tired mom) across town in the rain to the doctor. And, won't it be fun if we get to go to the pharmacy, too?

This day is going to be H-E-double hockey sticks.

UNDER MY SKIN

Perhaps you've already guessed that I am not a fan of nature. I've tried to appreciate sunsets and waterfalls and shit, but, really? I'd rather be at home with my nose in a book sipping a little Lillet with orange.

Which is why, as we were touring the East Bay this morning, I was surprised by the strange jolt that hit me as soon as we turned onto a tree-lined street (one of many) in a North Berkeley neighborhood. The lacy canopy of trees just getting their new leaves, and the verdant, overgrown yards so soaked with rainwater that rivulets trickled out onto the sidewalks, took my breath away they reminded me of Portland so much. Standing on the sidewalk a few blocks from Solano Avenue, I looked around and felt like I was back in Portland.

It was at that very moment that I realized how deeply Portland had sunk into my pores. Call it a shock to the system or a wake up call of sorts. I finally knew why I felt so unsettled in San Francisco, and it's not the house we are renting or the prospect of shitty public schools or anything else that I've been trying so fucking hard to attribute it to.

Anyone that has ever spent time in Portland will understand what I am talking about. It's the green that has gotten under my skin.

We drove circles around Berkeley and parts of Oakland vibing heavily. We bought a raffle ticket for a quilt. We looked at tie-dyed fairy clothes. We got out of the car in North Berkeley and within one block two different people—complete strangers—spoke to me. That doesn't happen in San Francisco, and I realized that I missed that, too. The feeling of being so connected with a community and the people in it that you can just talk to anyone because they likely feel the same.

"Oooh! I tried to get one of those, but they were all gone," exclaimed a woman admiring my tangerine-colored Target tote. No need for backstory, I knew what she talking about immediately. "I know! I got the last one on the rack!" We shared a laugh over my luck of the shopping draw.

"Cute dress," another woman said to Bunny as she bent down to pick her third dandelion of our walk. Bunny scrunched her nose up at the woman, startled that anyone would dare talk to us.  In San Francisco it's eyes down, keep walking, all the time. "Thanks," I said on Bunny's behalf.

What is this place they call Berkeley?

I do know that I saw more wicking fabric and waterproof shoes than I have since we left Stumptown three months ago. I guess I am at home when I am surrounded by trees, fleece, and knit-beret-wearing-ladies with crazy hair.  And this realization, though strange and so seemingly anti-me, is the most comforting feeling I've felt in a long, long time.

FAR EAST

Spent some time in Oakland this morning visiting an old friend and her two kids.  She has a little boy Bunny's age and a five month old baby girl that I hadn't met yet. It was nice to see her, as always, and she gave me the scoop on her Oakland neighborhood. She loves where she lives, but Oakland schools aren't great. They are thinking of private schools.

One of the coolest things about her neighborhood is the "Casual Commute." She lives around the corner from a main drag, and people who live in Oakland but work in San Francisco will park their cars on her street and stand on the corner to wait for a ride to take them into downtown San Francisco. Once the car has three people in it, off they go and they can take advantage of the carpool lane all the way to the Bay Bridge. To get home, they can either catch a reverse Casual Commute or hop the express bus back across the bridge. I find this concept intriguing.

Most of the time, I need an excuse to go to the "East Bay," as it's called here. You cross a horrendously trafficky bridge (the only time it's not jammed is at 3AM) and then emerge on the other side facing a tangle of freeways that go to places that I'm not familiar with. As long as I am within San Francisco or driving down the peninsula (about 30 minutes south of San Francisco where I grew up) I am fine.  I know all the landmarks: keep the ocean on one side, bay on the other.

But the East Bay is confusing and foreign to me. I don't know the cities. Don't know what the numbers of the freeways mean. The two biggest cities in the East Bay closest to San Francisco are Oakland and Berkeley. I've always associated Oakland with: 1) crime, 2) shipyards, and 3) Too $hort. Berkeley is, well, you know. But as Twizz pointed out, Berkeley does have Alice Waters.

Which reminds me, does anyone reading this live in Berkeley that could tell me more about it? Can you email me?  I feel like of the two cities, I know Oakland a bit better.

When I asked my friend Bad Kitty if she thought I could live in Berkeley she said:

You're always a DUI away from anything fun in the city, and...just wait
until you get a heavy dose of "more vegan than thou" added to the mix.
As in: "Oh, do you compost or use worms?"

She's got a point.

When J. and I first moved to San Francisco in 1997 (wow, almost 10 years ago) I thought I could never live anywhere else. But then we moved to Portland and I fully embraced it and made it home. The only thing I care about right now is not moving for a long (long) time, so I want the next place we live to be right.

I want there to be space enough for our family to really (I mean really) put down roots. I want to finally unpack my wedding china, not leave it in a box (from 2 moves ago) because I think we'll be moving again. I want to choose paint colors that I like and not have to think about resale value. If we do chose a place with a yard, I want to plant a garden and live in the house long enough to see if it actually develops the way I had envisioned it would. I want to know my neighbors and the people at the coffee shop and it would be so nice if I could walk the girls to school.

We only have a few months more in this rental before we have to be out. And I think I am finally starting to panic a little.
.
.
.
Sirius update: On my way to Oakland this morning I caught some of Alexis Stewart and Jennifer Hutt's radio show "Whatever." It was "F.U. Friday" and, in a word, it was: brilliant. I think I have a chick crush on Alexis. She doesn't give a flying fuck what anyone thinks of her and I dig that.

She was talking this morning about being at LAX and seeing one of the prosecutors who put Martha (her mom) in jail. (Such a travesty!) She said she stood there saying "I hate that guy" loud enough for "Hot Guy" next to her to hear her and talked with Hot Guy about how she'd like to push the prosecutor down the escalator. I guess on past shows she's talked about how she had no idea what the fuck was going on on The Apprentice and how she slept with some random cameraman from the show. She is my new favorite person in the whole wide world.

And I could "What. ev. er" for daaaaaayyyyys.

DRUNK POSTING

Soju cocktails are nice, especially if it's "belly up to the bar night" and they are half price. So are bars within walking distance. And so are 22-year-old bartenders who talk about karma and give you free drinks because he "got slammed and kept you waiting."

But even nicer is spending a long time catching up with a girlfriend without getting interrupted by three-year-olds who think they are being polite because they say "EXCUUUUUUSE ME, MAMMA" while interrupting you.

I loooove youuuuuuuuu, man.

Now, where's the Advil?...and my tumbler of water...and my Electric Company.

Oh, and you can all cap those Sharpies. I'm not that drunk.

I'M SIRIUS...AND OTHER UPDATES

I cover a lot of territory here. Sorry. I know long posts make most people's eyes bleed. But, look! Pictures!

We decided to get the Sirius subscription. The NPR/PRI/BBC/Sesame Street combo is what ultimately sold me. (And Martha, E!, and Maxim, of course.) With 5 electronica stations and 6 hip-hip stations (my preferred listening) they got (my) music covered, too.

Me? I was sold by the talk radio and old skool hip-hop. J. on the other hand, Googled and read every search hit having to do with both companies. "Did you know that they signed an exclusive deal with VW and Audi because 86% of customers with the complimentary 3 month subscription decided to renew?" ...or some shit. ("Yeah, but did you know they have Martha?")

I installed the car kit in about 30 minutes. The hardest part was figuring out how to route the wires from the antenna (mounted in the rear of the car) through the car to to receiver (up front) without having it look like crap (J., the former network dude, hates messy wires), but I figured it out. I had a little hang-up trying to attach the suction cup thingy (which holds the receiver) to the windshield (I wasn't pressing hard enough, and not enough spit), but other than that, easy-peasy. Can't wait to take a long car trip so we can get to know our satellite service better.

My only question is this.  Can you just plug it into your home stereo? I mean, the receiver has audio outs so no need to spend money on the "home kit," right? Some cables and I'm good to go?
.
.
.
Tata came into town this weekend and it was a pleasantly exhausting whirlwind of activity. On Saturday we took Bunny out for shopping and to have a fancy lady lunch of lobster club sandwiches and Bloody Marys. She was delightful until we sat down for lunch, and then she wouldn't eat and couldn't sit still.

She was bouncing in her chair and kicking under the table and finally she told me (and the parties within earshot) that she "hadda go poo." So off we went to ladies', where I had to stand outside her stall until she was "ready for bum wipes" so she could "have her privacy."

I got my make-up did and finally reached the end of my quest for the perfect eye cream. And, maybe have found the perfect face cream as well My skin is dryyyyy and prone to tightness, and after two days of using the products it feels much better. Just call me "Target Market." I'm 36 and I don't have wrinkles (yet), but I am starting to see tiny lines appear where I will have them eventually. I don't mind getting older, but I just want to put off looking older as long as possible.

After lunch and shopping, we returned home and relaxed. Wallie was napping after having spent the morning with Papa. All weekend long, J. commented that perhaps Wallie doesn't receive enough one-on-one attention being the #2 child and all, and he's probably right.

We do tend to spend more time with Bunny because, frankly, she's easy to hang out with. We don't need a stroller or diaper bag. She can keep up next to us when we're out walking or shopping. I don't worry about her dashing out into the street or running off. She listens.

She also doesn't nap in the afternoons anymore, so while Wallie is sleeping, Bunny and I get to spend lots of time together. This will change when Bunny goes off to school. Then Wallie will the one to be showered with undivided attention. Doesn't have to be equitable all the time as long as it equals out over time.

Wallie is at that difficult "exploring my world" stage right now. Eighteen-months-old until age two? Not my favorite age by a long shot. She's a toddler. And a punky one at that. Now, when we tell her "no" or ask her to do something she doesn't want to, she not only pitches a fit, but has now taken to adding, "Why?????!!!!" A typical exchange:

Wallie, sit down with your sandwich.
No! (stands up)
Wallie, sit down.
NO!
(Me, physically sitting her down) Sit. Down. Wallie.
WHYYYYYYYYYY?!?!?!?!?! (...commence tantrum)

So, we're both making concerted efforts to spend time just with her. And...it's nice. Really nice.
.
.
.
Now, the schools/where to live issue. After dropping Tata off at the airport on Sunday, we decided to cruise some 'burbs and hit up some open houses to see if we could live there. J. had to go to Fry's Electronics in Palo Alto, so for shits and giggles we looked at some houses. Palo Alto is a lot like Portland, except the only difference is that when you look at the real estate section for Palo Alto, there are almost no listings under a million dollars.

Funny thing is, when I was growing up, Palo Alto was Portland. It was this hippie-crunchy-granola college town. University Ave. was filled with weird head shops and health food restaurants and homeless people. Then sometime in early nineties (just before the dot com boom) a Z Gallerie went in and the boom happened and it became a "destination." (Z Gallerie tried to open a location on Haight Street in San Francisco and was run out of town in about 5 minutes...probably by the same people who throw bricks through the windows of the Gap store on Haight Street once a month.)

On our way home, we swung back through San Francisco to look at more properties. (Just look at the views in Potrero Hill!) We're not sold on leaving the city just yet, but next week we'll take a look at Berkeley (and parts of Oakland). I don't think I can live somewhere where coming into San Francisco would require driving over a bridge (and a very trafficky one at that), but we'll see. I'm willing to give it a shot. We can have one more bedroom if we move to Berkeley. And while J. and I can't say that we're definitively done having kids, it might be nice to have more than two bedrooms, just in case. In the end, though? We may not have a choice.

The girls were asleep so we drove and chatted about what was important to us. We agreed that we'd like to be somewhere for awhile. We're tired of moving and the girls need to be settled. The schools issue isn't worrying me as much thanks to your comments. Sometimes you are too close to something and need a little perspective.

We would like the girls to go to public school through elementary school. Beyond that, I'm not sure. Depends on the schools, I guess. For us, the goal is keeping Bunny and Wallie on a path to college, but I suppose we're willing to reassess the public v. private school issue along the way.

So from satellite radio to face cream to shaking our heads at California real estate, that was our weekend.

MY THEORY HOLDS TRUE

Every March, usually on or around Saint Patrick's Day, San Francisco warms up to shorts weather. In January, when the rain is falling, people think I'm nuts when I tell them, just wait until March, it'll be hot in time for you to drink green beer. It's always hot in March, I tell them. But still, they doubt.

Some years I wonder if I am nuts, since no matter what the weather, I know I will slaving over a boiling pot of corned beef and cabbage.

Last night, as the girls and I watched our street turn into a lake in a matter of minutes because of a freak rain storm, I wondered if my theory would hold true. Storm gutters overflowed. Water came half way up car tires.

But, today?

The sunshine feels glorious on my skin. The windows have been thrown open. There is not a cloud in the sky. And corned beef is on the stove.

WHAT WOULD YOU DO?

Now that we've started our house-hunting, we are faced with a dilemma. No, not a dilemma, but, let's say, an "issue." The "schools" issue. (I've just said the dirtiest word in all of San Francisco.)

First the back story for those that aren't familiar. (I'll try to be brief.) Unlike in most cities, there is no such thing as going to your neighborhood school in San Francisco. For many people, buying a home in a good school district is a top consideration. (Even if you don't have kids, for resale value, right?) Here it doesn't matter. You could live in a low-income area and be sending your kid to a school surrounded by multi-jillion-dollar gated mansions.

In San Francisco, families wanting to send their children to a public school are entered into a city-wide lottery system. You indicate your top choices, and then based on an arbitrary set of criteria (including mother's highest level of education completed), you hope you get into one of them. You could be sent anywhere in the city, either to the elementary school down the block or the one clear across town. This is all part of some court-ordered desegregation scheme. I hear that now that the schools are (supposedly) more mixed-up, this plan is supposed to end, but not for a couple more years.

When we moved to Portland, school district was one of the things we considered when we bought our house. The school Bunny would have attended is consistently top-rated. When we closed escrow on our house, we breathed a sigh of relief that we would never have to face the San Francisco public school lottery nightmare.

Hahaha.

So now, here we are. Bunny has one more year of preschool left, and then it's on to kindergarten. On the one hand, having been a teacher, I know it's not about the school, it's about the teachers. There are good and bad teachers in every school. And high test scores? You can often read between the lines on that one. Having been a teacher, I fully support public education. I believe that if more people sent their kids to public schools, then more people would be willing to help fix the problems...which means a better chance of them getting fixed.

Simplistic? Yes. But at the heart of it is the fact that families should feel invested: in education, in their communities, in their children's futures, in our country's future. Shitty schools=shitty future for us all. I mean, what would happen if we entrusted our precious country to some barely-educated ignoramus who just fucked things up and made us look like a bunch of assholes to the rest of the world?

(I'm not making this brief am I?)

Okay, okay, here's what we are thinking: we could stay in San Francisco and take our chances with the schools, and Bunny, because she is our daughter, will most likely be fine.

Or, we could move outside of the city, to a place with good schools, but we'd be giving up everything we love so much about city living. (And J. would have to commute.) We are not 'burb people (though, arguably we just spent 16 months living in 'burby Portland), but should we make that sacrifice for our kids?

What would you do?

(And, I would just like to say a big "fuck you" to the San Francisco school lottery system. I bet more families would stay here if this wasn't an issue.)

YOU KNOW YOU'RE IN SAN FRANCISCO WHEN...

I LOVE DR. BAILEY AND OTHER MONDAY RUMINATIONS

Did y'all watch Grey's Anatomy last night? (Warning: spoiler ahead)

I love Dr. Bailey so. much.  She's such a crotchety bitch, and I mean that as a compliment. I cannot get enough Miranda.  And that episode where she comes back after being on bedrest and chews everyone out and then George hugs her?  I wanted to hug her, too. That show just wouldn't be the same without Chandra Wilson. She's the perfect counterpoint to whiney Meredith. (Ugh.)

But last night.  Did you see?  The leaky boobs? In a nutshell: she hears crying and has that "oh no" thought while trying to compress her breasts...And sure enough, leakage. She takes her hands away from her chest and there they are, the tell-tale circles which mark a nursing mother.

It's going to be so fun watching Dr. Bailey balance motherhood with working.  Yes, the TV show is fictional and giant truckloads of creative license are being taken, but it's still going to be a hoot.  I already love how she's she's wearing that kid all over the place in one of dem fancy, PreMaxx slings. Fun times ahead, I hope.
.
.
.
What else is going on today?

Well, I am making a batch of red beans and rice in honor of Mardi Gras. (Update: picture added.)  I swear, my celebration of holidays has nothing to do with any history or religion, just food.  St. Patrick's Day is the corned beef holiday, Easter is the leg o' lamb holiday, Thanksgiving is the one day I year I choke down some turkey, and Christmas is all about Virginia ham and roast beef. There should be a bacon holiday.

The beans are simmering away on the stove along with some housemade smoked ham hocks and andouille sausage from Bryan's.  I'm going to serve them with some dirty rice made with ground beef instead of giblets (my personal pref) so my kids will eat it. Hopefully. (Update: big hit with the chirrens.)

Right now, a work crew is jack-hammering up the sidewalk next door, and, as I type this, the whole house is shaking. I'm so happy they decided to begin working right at the start of Wallie's naptime.  She's supposed to be asleep but I can hear her babbling.

Bunny is off at preschool wearing a giant parka and rainboots to protect her from the storm that is supposed to come in this afternoon, and will soak the Bay Area for the next week.

(Go to sleep, Wallie)

Later, we will pick up Papa from work so he doesn't have to take the stinky bus home in the rain. We will come home, dry off, and eat beans and rice together.

(Time for naps, Wallie)

And then, after the kids are bathed and tucked into bed, we find out if it's Sarah or Moana.

It's nice to have things to look forward to.

WEDNESDAY IS KOREAN LUNCH DAY

Every week for as long as she can remember, I've taken Bunny out for a weekly lunch date. There was a brief hiatus after Wallie was born when I didn't have my shit together enough to figure out how to take both girls out of the house at the same time, but when Wallie turned six-months-old, our dates resumed.

When we lived in Portland, we went out for pho or to our local bakery. Now that we're back in San Francisco and within walking distance of three very good Korean restaurants, I've been taking the girls out for barbecue. This is our Humpday routine. 

On Wednesdays we get to laze around the house all morning, and then both girls will follow me into the bathroom while I take a shower.  Bunny brushes her teeth while she tells me all the things she's going to eat for lunch, and Wallie hangs over the side of the tub playing with the soapy bubbles from my shower gel. Either that or she's unrolling the toilet paper while Bunny shrieks, "No! No!  You're not supposed to do that, Wallie!"

Finally we make it out of the house and as we walk, we talk about which restaurant we want to go to. Each specializes in something different (tofu soup or barbecued meat or sauteed items), so it depends on what we feel like that day.

Even though I am half Korean, I rarely cook Korean food at home. For me, it's easier to either buy it from a market (which a lot of Koreans do), or wait until we see my mom and have her cook for us. Korean food is pretty involved. Each dish has so many ingredients, and there are so many side dishes (ban chan) that go with each meal. Talk about labor intensive. I don't know how Korean mothers do it.  Let's hope they are hitting up the ban chan section of their local markets (the way we might hit up the deli) to cut themselves some slack.

Anyway, I'm pleased to share my culinary heritage with my daughters, since they are a quarter Korean, after all. When I was pregnant with Bunny I had powerful cravings for Korean food. When I felt nauseous, a bowl of mul naeng myun (cold noodles in icy broth) instantly made me feel better. It's like my DNA was trying to tell me that this kid would be Korean no matter what.

With Wallie, my cravings for Korean weren't as strong, but I still ate a ton of it, especially chili pepper- and garlic-laden kim chee.  Both girls eat Korean food with so much relish that their Korean genes are probably doing a victory dance. They wipe out the entire table. They eat like this one meal is going to sustain them for the week until "Korean lunch date day" rolls around again. And maybe, in a sense, it does. In any case, they never eat as much at home.

We usually have barbecued beef (bul go gi) because it is soft enough for little toddler teeth. The best thing about Korean food is what a good deal it is. The beef comes with everything you see in the photos (side dishes, seaweed soup for both girls, and rice) for less than $7. And, aside from the fiery kimchees, most of the side dishes are not spicy and, therefore, kid-friendly. Both Bunny and Wallie love seaweed (kim) either toasted, which Bunny uses to make little "kim bap" or "sushi" rolls, or in soup, which Wallie slurps up.

To finish our lunch, we are given complimentary bowls of shike, a chilled, sweet, rice drink.  Bunny drinks hers as well as mine, and Wallie tries to lick every drop from her bowl.  At this point, it's time to take Bunny to preschool and we spend the rest of lunch talking about what she will take for show-and-tell, or who she will see on the playground.

I then drop her off at school with a full belly, smelling of charcoal and barley tea and garlic, and I'm sure her teachers must wonder where she goes on Wednesday mornings.

I hope she tells them, "On a date with Mamma."