Sidekicks

2011 has been a quite a ride.  It started off with Kyra and Ethan snowboarding, followed by snowmaching and dogmushing in Trapper Creek, then hiking with crampons (yes, even two-year-old Ethan) on Root Glacier in Wrangell-St. Elias National Park, photographing 1100 pound bears in Katmai National Park, dipnetting, rock climbing, and moving from Alaska to Virginia.  For photos and stories from these adventures, please check out Love + eMotion.

When I reflect upon this year, I feel like I finally settled into motherhood.  My mother used to always tell me that the best thing that ever happened to her was having kids.  Honestly, while I adore my kids, I have never felt this way until now.  Moving away from Alaska was incredibly difficult for me and my kids were sensitive enough to support me through it.

Kyra has matured into a tough six-year-old version of my mom.  While I balked at the school bus system, she embraced it.  Insisting on the first day of school, just a few days after we moved to Virginia, "Mommy, you are not allowed to take me to school.  I'm a big girl now and I want to take the bus."

Every morning, she dances at the bus stop excited about going to school.  And when the bus drops her off at the end of the day, she leaps off the steps into my arms and says, "I love you!"

To every question I ask her regarding how she's adjusting to the move and whether she misses Alaska, the girl always says she's doing great and showers me with kisses. 

She's incredibly independent.  This year, while the three of us napped trying to recover from a cold, Kyra decorated the tree all by herself! 

"I'm your best sidekick," she proudly announces daily as she helps me with everything from putting away groceries to unpacking.  When Thomas traveled in Cambodia and Poland, she worked up the courage to kill stink bugs for me.  If you've never seen a stink bug, they are ugly, ranging in size from a penny to a nickel, and they release a foul smell when disturbed.  I had trapped about five under cups when Kyra finally said, "Can I just get rid of them for you?"

"Aren't you scared?" I asked Kyra 

"Nope, I'm brave."

Ethan is my sensitive sidekick.  He never leaves my side and constantly pays attention to my feelings.  "Mommy, are you sad?" he might say. "Do you need kisses?"

Nearly every day, he finds a tender moment to stroke my cheek, look into my eyes and say, "Mommy, you are so beautiful!  I love you so much."

Seriously, are all boys like that?  In addition to all that, you'll find him on my lap most of the time with his arm wrapped around my face, stroking my ear.  He is as devoted to me as my brother was.

And if you haven't heard, he'll do anything for you if you call him Batman.  He explained that he can't be Superman because he can't fly.  But as Batman, he can fly with his cape.  He also tries to find spiders in the house that can bite him, so he can turn into Spider-Man.

In the past few months of weathering a difficult move, I really got to know my kids.  I know that sounds strange considering that I am their mother.  I guess I had no idea how resilient they could be.  They laugh their way through all the hard parts of life and they are always, always living in the present.  

They also believe that they can do anything they dream of.  I talk to the kids a lot throughout the day because I'm fascinated by their ability to live in the present with such confidence.  At breakfast, I ask the kids to tell me about their dreams.

My favorite quote from Ethan's clip: 

"Robin was Daddy and I was Batman and Mommy was Wonder Woman and Kyra was nothing." Ethan said.

"I don't want to be nothing," Kyra frowned.

"Kyra was Kyra."

"I don't want to be nothing," Kyra raised her voice.

"You are Kyra."

"Oh," Kyra smiled.  How did Ethan know that was the perfect answer Kyra wanted.

My favorite quote from Kyra's clip:

"Once upon a time, we lived in a Castle.  Mommy was making a dragon for herself to ride on."

I am grateful that this year nurtured deeper roots with my children.  Now, when I leave the house, they both cry, "Your sidekick is going to miss you." And when I'm away from them, I do miss them because I slip right back into my worries and fears.

Here's my gift to you all this Christmas.  The wisdom Auntie Rita, one of the 13 Indigenous Grandmothers and first certified traditional healer in Alaska, shared with me before I left Alaska: 

This is how you got to become.  Learning to be here and now. We instinctively knew how to do this when we were children and we were busy watching a beautiful butterfly or examining any interesting new aspects of the world.  We were completely absorbed by what we are doing.  We have the capacity to be aware of only that butterfly, that patch of ground or that toy. 

The animal that many have used to symbolize this capacity is the mouse.  Our little mouse sister that’s what she does with her all her tiny being.  Many people can’t do this.  They are always looking to the future or the past.  Or inside or outside or faraway. But seldom to the activity of the present moment. 

The point of power is in the present moment.  Right here and now our minds, it doesn’t matter how long we have negative patterns or an illness or a rotten relationship or lack of finances and self-hater.  We can begin to make a change today.  

Stop for a moment and catch your thoughts.  What are you thinking right now?  If thoughts shape your and experiences would you want this thought to become true for you?  If it is a thought of worry, anger, or hurt or revenge, how do we think this thought will come back to you.  If we want joyous life, then we must think joyous thoughts.  Whatever we send out mentally or verbally will come back to us in like forms.

It is time to listen to the words you say.  If you hear yourself saying something three times, then write it down.  It has become a pattern for you.  At the end of the week, look at the list you have made and you will see how your words fit your experiences.  Be willing to change your words and thoughts and watch your life change.  The way to control your life is to control your choice of words and have no one think in your mind but you.  That’s the first lesson for healing. 

Bears in Katmai

It's been the best summer ever in Alaska. I'm finally checking off some major bucket list items. like seeing bears in Katmai National Park.

See my story "Don't Tell the Kids" on Kidsthesedays.org.

Here are some photos taken by Chi-Heng Lu, this Software Engineer we met onthe flight. He had this professional lens he rented and after seeing his photos...I'm too embarassed to show mine.

Kyra's Rock Climbing Party

It's been a very busy summer for us. For July 4th weekend, we took the kids up to Healy, Alaska, for camping and ATV trip. Check out what happened on that trip at:

"When You Know Your Kids Are Alaskans"

Here are some photos and videos from Kyra's sixth birthday party, which were not included in the KidsTheseDays! posts.

For details about the party, visit:

"Rock Climbing to the Rescue, Part I"

"Rock Climbing to the Rescue, Part II"

McCarthy-Kennecott

For the next 3 weeks, I'll be featuring our Memorial Day weekend trip to McCarthy-Kennecott on my Love+eMotion blog:

Love + eMotion: Peaks, Glaciers & Kids - Part I

Love + eMotion: Peaks, Glaciers & Kids - Part II

Check out my new header above...yes, that's Kyra and Ethan hiking with crampons on a glacier! Add this to my list of reasons why I love Alaska.

Here are some videoclips from the trip:

Roadtrip song: Kyra wooed me with her own rendition

of Bruno Mars' "Marry you."

Crampons are a piece of cake...look at me dance on a glacier!

First time, hiking with crampons for Kyra and Ethan!

Drinking glacier melt with twizzlers. Yummy!

Snowboarding

At last, Kyra (5) and Ethan (2) snowboard. Check out my post on KidsTheseDays! called Stoked.

"Move your foot, Mom. I'm ready!" Ethan complains.

Hike, not Mush

The day after we slid off a slick road in Trapper Creek, Alaska, smashed our truck into our friend’s, and ripped his snowmachine off our rented trailer bed, I decided to return a few weeks later, this time bringing Kyra and Ethan.

Thomas asked me why I wanted to risk another seven thousand dollar mistake, I told him that it was a lifetime opportunity. A retired Air force pilot and his wife, who lived off-the-grid at the end of the road where we crashed, invited us to run their dogs the same day the Iditarod Sled Dog race started.

An Alaskan resident for seven years now, pregnant a few months after we moved here, I can tell you this kind of offer is rare. First, there’s the problem of mychildren being too young for adventure tours. Usually, companies will not allow children six years of age or younger to participate. Second, adventure tours like riding a snowmachine, an ATV, a jeep or rafting or mushing are very expensive. Most Alaskans rent or buy their own“toys,” but if you wanted to go on a tour, try $249 per adult for a 3.5 hour dog mushing experience. Third, this couple offered to pick us up with their snow machines (since their home is inaccessible by car) and let us stay in their guest cabin (if I’m okay with no running water).

Saturday, March 26: I dared to drive the kids up to Trapper Creek by myself.Thomas was still sore about his truck, plus he had to ref Taekwondo. Picked up my girlfriend, Erica, in Talkeetna and made arrangements to meet theMorgans at the parking lot beside Amber Cove Cabin. Three snowmachines met us there. Ethan immediately climbed on to the fanciest one and furrowed his eyebrows because the adults were too slow.

I rode with Ethan behind Hal's friend Tom on the "Cadillac." Erica rode with Kyra behind Hal Morgan. Both kids were very serious. Ethan stuck his head to one side and studied the snow kicked up by the snowmachine.

Two to three miles in, we turned into the woods beneath a wooden sign carved with "Morgans."

We bounced up and down a hilly trail which opened up upon a campus of logstructures. Huskies chained to handmade dog shelters lined each side of the trail which looped into a culdesac. The sun glittered a traffic jam of snowmachines and dog sleds and ATVs cluttered about the front of the main cabin.

“It’s Balto!” Kyra squealed in excitement. Balto is her favorite subject in school lately. As soon as we killed the snowmachines, the kids ran down the trails carved into the snow. I could only the see the tips of Ethan's dragon hat.

In the distance, I watched the kids help Hal harness four dogs and set up thesled. They crawled in and out of the dog shelters while the dogs looked at them nervously.

I imagined living here. Pumping water from the well a few feet away from the cabin. Chopping wood at the north end of the campus where the Morgans hadstocked a 10 foot by 5 foot high wall of wood. Carving wood or cleaning carcusses inthe barn at the east end of campus. Feeding the dogs. Building their shelters. Relaxing on the porch to the sound of Kroto Creek rushing by.

Hal's wife decided that it was too dangerous to let the kids mush so she entertained them while Erica and I hopped on snowmachines and followed Hal and his dogs out to the swamps.

We broke out of the woods to this clearing and Hal handed the sled to me.

“Uh, I have no idea what to do," I said.

“Hike to go. Haw to turn left. Gee to turn right. Whoa to stop.”

Hal held on to the handlebar while I stepped gingerly onto the runners.

“Okay, I’m going to hop on that snowmachine. Just follow me okay? When you’re ready to go, grab this snow hook,” Hal stepped on the hook that was deep in the snow beside the runners, “and place it here on the drive bow.” He pointed to a place beneath the handlebar.

Hal cranked up his Cadillac and swung it in front of the dog team. I could feel the tension in the line as the dogs strained against their harness.

Grabbing tightly to the handlebar, I reached down with my right hand and lifted the snow hook. The hook was barely loose when the sled took off. I nearly fell off. Somehow, I managed to get the snow hook onto the drive bar.

Wind chaffed my cheeks as the dogs picked up speed. At first, I stuck my butt out thinking that if my center of gravity was lower it would help the dogs. But after a mile of not falling off the sled, I relaxed and stood up straight. This is exactly where I had always wanted to be. I could feel every bump, rut, beneath the runners. I started to lean left or right digging in the runner if I felt the sled wobbling beneath. My heart filled with helium and rose into the skies.

I studied the gait of the dogs. The way the two lead dogs leaned against each other.

Soon, they broke out of the woods and onto a frozen lake. I was on centerstage, like I had finally arrived at the performance of my lifetime. The dogs panted hard. The ice scraped below. The engine of the snowmachine roared. But inside, all was strangely quiet. I couldn’t hear my heart, my mind churning cautions, nothing. Just peace.

When we got back to the Morgans, Kyra said to me, "Mommee, next time take me."

She then climbed onto the runners and demanded that somebody be her "dog."

Ethan was more than happy to oblige. Fortunately, Kris stepped up and taught the kids all the mushing commands and pulled them around for an hour it seemed. Kyra learned that "mush" is a Hollywood term, and that the correct term is "Hike."

On the way back to our car, Kyra insisted on riding behind Kris on his snowmachine. Both kids passed out immediately.

Closing my eyes, I enjoyed probably my last snowmachine ride. Every rut tenderized my stressed body against the frozen earth.

Northern Lights

My greatest regret living in Alaska these past seven years: never seeing the Northern Lights quite like this.

I've seen what might've been the Northern Lights on only two occasions: October 2001, the evening Thomas proposed to me in Denali, and August 2005, at our home. Both times, the sky teased us with a distant glow, the kind that a Walmart or obscured moon might emit. Both times, I risked frost bite to photograph the lights and wasted all my time behind the lens, ending up with only failure. Failure to accomplish a dream of photographing this elusive natural phenomenon. Failure to even enjoy seeing it.

So when Thomas told me several of his friends saw the Northern Lights last night from Anchorage and that they were expecting the skies to be lit again tonight, I shrugged.

At 1:30am, Thomas woke up and popped his head into my writing room. "Did you check on the Northern Lights?"

"Oh shoot, totally forgot!" I answered.

Ethan started to cry. While Thomas went to check on him, I peeked out the window and saw stars but nothing else interesting.

"Anything?" Thomas asked, returning with Ethan in his arms.

"Nope!" I said, reaching for my son.

Thomas disappeared downstairs to get his jacket and a few minutes later, ran up with our jackets and told us to get our butts outside. "They are out! You're finally going to see your Northern Lights!"

"Uh, what do we do with Ethan?" I asked.

"Bring him with us!"

Huddled on our driveway, Thomas and I peered into the skies and started to see wisps of pale cream and green light flickering above. It was subtle, for sure...not the kind pictured in the paper above. Nonetheless, it evoked that awe of nature, that "OMG, I love Alaska!" feeling.

Poor Ethan didn't seem to care or maybe he just thought we were nuts!

We stood out there for a long time. Words frozen on our lips. Eyes wide like kids seeing candy for the first time.

In the silence of our admiration, Ethan with eyes still closed whispers, "I like outside. I like lights!"

We started to laugh.

"I wish Kyra could see this," I said.

Thomas asked, "Aren't you going to get your camera?"

"Naw," I said. "Have no idea how to shoot this."

As I rambled on about how I was just going to enjoy the moment with my naked eye, something I rarely do, Thomas gently reminded me that I had the camera manual, and a thick book he bought me on how to do cool stuff with my Canon Rebel which I never read, plus, there was the Internet.

Sigh. Fine. Half an hour later, I was out on the driveway again, bundled up in my snowboarding gear, shivering before a tripod, fidgeting with all these settings I had never played with before on my camera. Meanwhile, the Northern Lights had shifted so that it now spotlighted my house.

Thomas said, "It would be pretty cool if you could capture that."

Another half an hour later (just after Thomas and Ethan briefly checked on me then went upstairs to watch T.V. or maybe keep an eye on me), I was losing steam. The Northern Lights were nearly gone anyway. Every shot was dark. I had no clue what I was doing. I had tried everything recommended by Patrick Endres except the self timer release (cause I don't have one). My fingers and toes were numb.

My last shot of the night, I told myself. Snap. And suddenly, a ghostly image of my house appeared in the image. I jumped up and down in joy for a few minutes. Only the stars glittered in acknowledgement. I felt really insignificant and significant all at once. That's what I love about Alaska. It challenges me. Makes me feel alive.

Thank God Thomas egged me on. He knew just what to say to get me to believe in myself and give me the confidence to pursue my dreams. I kept shooting and changing ISO and f/stop number until I got this!

Snowmachining, not pregnant!

It took six years for me to plan this weekend. Snowmachining up in Trapper Creek, about three hours away from our home. The last time I snowmachined, I was pregnant with Kyra (yes, 2005) and had to play it safe. The next time, we planned a trip, I got pregnant with Ethan so we cancelled. The last few years, every snowmachine trip we planned fell through. So I guess, I'm not surprised that this trip was wrought with mishaps too.

The highlight: Much to Thomas' delight, I finally got snowmachining out of my system. Without seatbelts or anything really that makes you feel safe, the snowmachine is my kind of toy. At any moment, I felt I could've been ripped off and smashed onto the frozen lake rushing by beneath. I loved going through the trees. It's bumpy, unpredictable because sometimes there's a felled tree or something that you have to take the risk of speeding over, and tricky. Amber Cove Cabin, where we stayed, was pretty sweet too.

Mishap: On our way home, we were following our friend's truck and making our way down a curve in the road when suddenly my friend slipped off the road and into the ditch. There were apparently two more cars in the ditch already and my friend didn't want to slam into those cars or there passengers who were milling around. Unfortunately, we didn't have a chance. Thomas expertly got us around my friend's truck but the heavy trailer bed we were pulling yanked us back into our friend. I heard the sickening crunch of metal upon metal. My friend's snowmachine was ripped off our trailer bed and landed upside down. The trailer bed was totaled. And the right back end of Thomas' truck got damaged. We made it home fine, but let's just say, we were pretty depressed. It's not easy or inexpensive to have some fun in Alaska.

Our fearless show bug!

We are excited to share our proudest parenting moment so far. It happened around noon today at the Pacific Northern Academy. But first, let's bring you up to speed.

Last Friday, Thomas and I received an email from Kyra’s music teacher announcing the scheduled performers for a Brown Bag Concert series every day the following week from 12pm-12:30pm. I noticed that four of her classmates were performing: taekwondo, piano, and violin. As we brushed our teeth that night, I remember telling Thomas that I was a terrible parent. First, I was clueless about whether there was a sign-up sheet or how students were selected to be part of the show. Second, I had started to teach Kyra piano in November fairly informally on the weekends. Mostly, we would get into fights because she insisted on figuring out the notes on her own. Third, having hated performing as a child, I couldn’t believe that I felt Kyra was missing out on something.

Thomas said, “Well, I didn’t know about the concert series either. Besides, I would never perform if I didn’t have to.”

“Me too! So why am I even upset that Kyra isn’t performing?”

He laughed. “Is she even ready?”

"I don't think so,” I said. “We’ve been kinda goofing off with the whole piano thing. I wanted to make it a fun thing. So we haven’t really had consistent lessons.”

“Well, there you go. Why make things stressful?”

“Yeah, you’re right,” I said, twisting floss tighter around my finger. “But, I can’t help feeling like I could’ve done better. You know with her piano lessons or preparing for the concert. I’m worried that she’ll miss out on an experience.”

Unwinding the floss, I continued, “But then, I always hated my mother for making me perform. All the stomach aches, stage fright, obsessing about the mistakes I made in front of the whole world! No, it’s better this way. I’m happy that she doesn’t have to suffer through all that and I’m relieved that I don’t have to stress about her performing next week.”

Thomas just shook his head, “You are so confusing!”

"Conflicted! Welcome to my world."

When I picked Kyra up from school yesterday, she grabbed my hand and pulled me down onto the carpet in her classroom. Pouting, she asked, “Mommee, how come Emily got to play the piano and I don’t?”

“I don’t know. Do you want to ask your teacher?”

“Okay!” She leaped up and pranced off to her teacher’s side. I helped her get the words out and nearly shriveled when I heard the teacher say, “Oh, there was this big sign-up sheet in the front of the school. You didn’t see it?”

Before I could apologize, the teacher said, “You know what? Robert decided not to doTaekwondo tomorrow, so if you want, you can have his slot. Or even better, you can always play the piano during show and tell.”

Kyra drifted off while the teacher and I explored various options. So when I put Kyra’s jacket on and asked her what she wanted to do, I was surprised to hear her say, “Play tomorrow.”

“Really? What are you going to play?”

“Old MacDonald Had a Farm!”

“Uh…okay. You don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

"I want to,” she said without any hesitation and then chased after her brother.

That night, she asked me to role play as her music teacher and announce her number. Thomas and Ethan to sit down and be her audience. On her first run through the song, I heard a few mistakes and tried to play along, but she snapped at me, “No, Mommee. Don’t touch the piano.”

She ordered, “Mommee. You sing. First Cow, then Pig, and Horse. Okay. Daddee. You sing.”

We tried. But after a few attempts, she said, “I play by myself. Like Emily.” And that was that. She ate her strawberries and said she was going to bed, “I’m ready. I’m good.”

Thomas and I looked at each other with apprehension. She had a tendency to start the song, stop, turn to her audience and say, “I made a mistake.”

In the morning, she practiced the song one more time repeating it three times. I told her she only had to play it once at the concert, but she insisted, “No, I like three.”

She posed for some goofy photos.

Then, my baby girl was off to school and I didn’t see her until the show. She lounged in her teacher’s lap, cool as a cat. No fear. Not even in need of any hugs from Mom or Dad.

When the music teacher announced her surprise performance, she ran up to the piano and climbed onto the bench. She looked so tiny against the old upright piano.

Calmly, she adjusted the bench. Then with legs swinging back and forth, she played the song better than she ever practiced it. I think I soaked up all her nervous energy, because the girl was a natural. A superstar!

She played it through once and paused to check out her audience. Then repeated the song two more times. The music teacher winked at me because we had talked right before the show and after hearing Kyra’s attitude the night before, she told me I was in trouble. She said she was exactly like Kyra when she was little.

Kyra finished off her performance with a flamboyant bow to the cheers and applause from her entire school. I watched Thomas’ face and saw him beaming so proudly at his daughter. I bet I was even more transparent.

We still can’t believe the nerve of this girl. Who did she inherit this character from? It’s not us. Maybe her great grandmother Mabel Pei-Fen Chow? Maybe Grandpa Sung Duk Oh? Anybody want to claim credit? Ethan says he will.

Art in Kindergarten

When Kyra first started Kindergarten, she kept drawing these figures. At the time, she was obsessed with the iPhone app Angry Birds. Do you think these look like the hog creatures?