love

April 22nd

As promised in my last post, I delve deeper into our wedding story and the significance of our wedding date.

In case you missed the title, Alan and I got married on April 22nd.

We picked the date due to availability, and mostly because the 22nd was a day that we already celebrated since we started dating back in December of 2007. What’s the point of trying to remember another day, when this one was already set in stone?

If it works, just stick with it!

So we set the appointment and didn’t think anything about it after that. This would be the day that only the two of us would celebrate every year.

Come to find out, that wouldn’t be the case.

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Our Wedding Story

This past weekend, my husband and I celebrated our third wedding anniversary.

Some of you may recall a previous post of mine, explaining my thoughts on marriage. I never wanted a husband, and I swore that married life wasn’t for me.

But then Alan and I eloped.

I thought it would be fun to share our wedding story with you all, since we never had a big wedding, and we kept our marriage a secret for some time before telling our family and friends.

The details and moments leading up to the not-so-big day are considered to be quite entertaining, and (I guess) a bit romantic.

You be the judge.

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Dear Datu // February 19, 2018

Monday – February 19, 2018 (12:13 PM)

The mom guilt is real right now.

Today is President’s Day, which means it’s a holiday, which means my son doesn’t have school, which means I’m struggling with getting work done, all while being a decent parent.

Mondays are usually spent finishing homework assignments.

Today, I’m dividing my attention between library technology textbooks and my toddler. I’m definitely spreading myself thin.

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2018

I intended to write a post stating a few of my resolutions for the new year. I drafted a couple lines and quickly decided to take an alternative route.

Instead, I’m going to keep it simple.

Here are a few photos from this past weekend, taken in a small parking lot in Los Gatos. I asked my husband to snap some pictures of Everest and I while we were leaving a birthday party. To be honest, I really liked our outfits. And if there aren’t any pictures, well then, did we really wear the clothes? This mom obviously doesn’t get out much.

Impromptu photo shoot.

That’s the back story of this little series of snaps. To go even further into the details, these photos were taken near the end of what I consider to be an exceptional first week of 2018.

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My baby isn’t a baby anymore

My dearest Everest,

You are officially three years old, and I can’t believe how fast time has flown by.

I’m amazed at how much you’ve grown and developed within this past year. You’ve accomplished so much and I couldn’t be more proud of you, kid!

Beyond the basic fundamentals of ABC’s and 123’s, you’ve impressed me with your knowledge of Bruno Mars songs. You can recite each line of your favorite TMNT movie, and you know the difference between Huraches, Air Maxes, and Jordans.

You are aware of safety in all areas of life. For example, you tell us to hold your hand when crossing the street, and gather all the butter knives on the table at every restaurant we go to, claiming that these utensils are very dangerous and only grown ups can use them.

But you still have trouble grasping the idea that your toy sai weapons are a hazard whenever you pretend to be Raphael, and you swing them here and there, putting everyone around you at risk. It’s okay, you’ll eventually get it one day, because it’s all fun and games until someone gets hurt.

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Dear Datu // August 3, 2017

Thursday – August 3, 2017 (9:37 AM)

Depression is a strange thing. You would think that after dealing with this mental illness for more than half of my life, that I would have some sort of control over it.

There’s days when it’s possible to maneuver around my roller coaster of emotions, and then there’s times when I have to just throw in the towel and let it take over.

This morning I threw in the towel.

But the hardest part of it all is that I succumbed to this depression in front of my son. As he sat there crying, I broke down and cried with him.

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I Never Wanted to Get Married

Recently, a friend of mine asked, “What’s the point of getting married?” He immediately followed up his own question with this statement: “I’m already committed.”

And then it hit me. I went through the same conflicting situation five years ago (give or take).

I was in this steady relationship with my then boyfriend – now husband, and I had no sense of urgency to walk down that aisle. It wasn’t him. It has always been me.

Ever since I was a young girl, I never wanted to get married. I never daydreamed about that perfect wedding dress, or had a song picked out for the first dance. I never imagined what my husband would look like, for the simple fact that I never wanted a husband.

Don’t get me wrong. I wasn’t born with this idea of becoming Miss-I-don’t-need-a-man-cause-I’m-an-independent-woman. Not to say that I don’t have that mentality now; however, that wasn’t exactly the reason behind my logic that I carried at an early age.

To be completely honest, I never wanted to get married, because I didn’t have a marriage to look up to. 

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