August 6, 2012


Four years ago today, life changed forever, with PK's entry into the world. It has been filled with many ups and downs, and the ups have fortunately outweighed the downs. My marriage has been tested. I have been tested. It will continue to be this way, and that's okay, because at the end of the day, having PK has enriched my life in ways that I could never imagine.

Happy birthday, my big girl! You have shown me what unconditional love is all about.

July 20, 2012


So I've been bitching for a while about being in a funk at work and whatnot. And it's probably getting old to my regular readers, and quite frankly, it's getting old to me. So I've decided to do something about it. I am slowly, but surely, starting to make plans to take my photography to the next level.

Last year, I set up a photography site. Over the course of the year, I've taken pictures of friends and family, to build up the portfolio. So far, I haven't made any money off of it. But this time, I'm read to make some real dough. And my plan is to start to build my business and position myself to leave the IT gig for good (at least assuming that the photography thing takes off). I started by creating a Facebook page. I don't have a whole ton of likes, but ever so often, I go on page promotion blitzes, and manage to get a few more likes out there. This week I offered free virtual hugs to anyone who liked my page. Surprisingly, it worked! I actually got 3 new likes out of it. And I paid them in personalized virtual hugs on their FB walls. See? I pay up. :)

I've also taken a huge step for myself by getting in touch with a professional photographer whose work I've been following for the past year. I actually stumbled upon her site because a FB friend of mine who's into photography liked this lady's FB page. So then I subsequently checked out her photography site and her blog. Her blog has become part of my regular reading. I always love to see how other photographers' work and styles. It's a great learning tool. After reading her blog for a while, I did something which is rather out of character for me. I contacted her, asking for advice on setting up a small business. And she wrote back. Not only that, I spent 30 minutes on Skype with her (she's based out of New Jersey), where she shared some tips on starting up a photography business. I was inspired.

So inspired, in fact, that I went and registered my business today. If all goes well, I will be officially registered as a business in 5-6 business days. With a freaking GST/HST number. I will soon be opening up a business bank account. And I'll probably look into getting some insurance. HOLY CRAP. I am really doing this!

I am both exhilarated and scared. But I think that this will be great. By pursuing something for which I am passionate, I am finally finding the will to get off my ass. And having to set up a business in itself is a wonderful learning experience. I figure that even if I quit my job, do the photography gig for a bit, and fail at it, it will still be a success. Why? Because...

1. I will have at least tried to do something that I was passionate about, instead of wallowing in misery and self-pity.

2. I will have learned a ton about starting a business.

3. I will have worked outside of my comfort zone.

4. Even failing at a business looks good to potential employers. It shows you as a self-starter and puts you far ahead of the "regular" job applicant pool.

This is such a huge step for me, in so many ways. I think I've mentioned before that I've been going to individual therapy. As an aside, my therapy sessions with PK have come to a close - yay! The individual therapy is called interpersonal therapy, and it's therapy specifically aimed at people who are depressed or have depressive tendencies. I definitely fall into one of those two categories, though I have no idea which one is me. If you'd have asked me 2 weeks ago, when I just about had a nervous breakdown feeling that my life was complete and utter crap, I probably would've fit into the "depressed" category.

Anyway, the therapy has been great, and has made me realize, more than anything, that in my sheltered upbringing, I haven't really allowed my own personality to thrive. I've always been trying to live my life pleasing others, rather than trying to please myself. Even the thought of leaving IT for a pro photography business was off the table a year ago, because the thought of my parents' lack of acceptance/understanding was too much for me to take. Now, that I am trying to "liberate" myself from that, I am feeling empowered and free. I also feel a huge weight lifted off of my shoulders, as I am finally starting to not feel guilty for doing extra-curriculars that I like, versus the ones that my parents think are appropriate for me. I know...I'm almost 33 and I still have to deal with that. Lame. Which is why this photography thing is such a big freaking deal to me.

So, dear friends/blog readers/strangers...wish me luck. I'm psyched. I feel like I'm beginning to find my groove. My real groove.

July 16, 2012

The Slippery Slope

It has taken nearly four years, but it has begun to happen - the subject of religion. In case you're unaware or can't remember, I'm an atheist, and the hubby is a non-denominational Christian. One of the awesome things about the hubby is that we have an agreement - we don't step on each others' toes when it comes to religion. The other awesome thing about the hubby and religion is that he's totally against organized religion and instead takes a more spiritualist approach to religion. I, being an atheist, am also against organized religion, so we end up having some awesome discussions on the matter. But remember: he's a believer, and I'm not. And we have an almost-four-year-old. And let's not forget our respective families. My mom and sis are devout Catholics who go to church religiously (ha - pardon the pun). My dad is agnostic, though I think he's an in-the-closet atheist, but he doesn't butt into these things. Probably better that way. My in-laws are Presbyterian, who, while they don't go to church regularly, still do make a regular enough appearance at church and are fairly involved in their church. PK's eldest cousin has started attending Sunday school semi-regularly. I am out-numbered.

The hubby and I decided a long time ago that if we were to have children, we would expose said children to each of our beliefs, and never bad-mouth the other person's beliefs. I still stand by that belief, and so does the hubby. But it's easier said than done. Especially when you have a parent who claims that god exists, while the other claims that god does not exist.

PK's exposure to religion started during our trip to Aruba. As with every hotel, there was a copy of the Bible in the nightstand drawer. (There also happened to be a copy of the Book of Mormon, but I digress.) The hubby took the opportunity to tell PK the story of Noah's Ark. I don't even remember why he chose Noah's Ark - I'm sure it was related to something that PK had said or seen. Maybe it was because we were going on a sunset sail later that evening. Whatever it was, he told her the story. PK listened intently. The hubby explained to her who god was, and all that jazz. I sat there, and said nothing. It was not my place to say anything. I would've ended up sounding like a bitchy heckler, after all.

The next day, while I had PK in the pool, I told her how mommy and daddy have different beliefs. Daddy believes in god, along with both sets of grandparents, and both sets of aunts and uncles. I also told her that mommy did not believe in god. I also tried to explain to her that it's okay for us to have different opinions on the existence of god, though at her age, I think it's a hard subject to grasp. She went on to say that she didn't believe in god either. I suspect that such a declaration wasn't genuine, as she tends to like to adopt the opinions of those around her at this moment, so it's sometimes tough to tell what's her opinion versus what's her just following the pack.

Today, as we walked to school, the topic came up again. It came up because yesterday, we were supposed to meet up with a friend of hers, Will, for our weekly climb. Unfortunately, Will couldn't make it because his grandfather had died that morning. So this morning she was talking about how when Will and his mommy die, they would meet Will's grandpa in his house. Say what?

So I asked PK where she got that idea from. While PK is incredibly creative, I doubt that she would've dreamed up this scenario on her own. And then she started talking to me about god and how god created everyone. And I went on to explain that some people believe that, but others don't, including mommy. She went on to say that she did. And I, being the eternal skeptic asked, "How do you know? Have you seen god?". To which she responded, "No. I just know."

I guess I should've just dropped it there, but I'm stubborn. I again re-iterated that some people believe in god, and others don't. And that it's okay to believe in one thing or another, but that I just wanted her to make an informed decision before deciding either way. I realize that this is obviously too much for an almost-four-year-old to process, but I felt that I just had to say it. It's only fair, I think. Since she was going on about how god created people, I thought it fitting to introduce PK to the Big Bang theory. And how people are made of stardust. It certainly mesmerized her, but I wonder if it confused the crap out of her.

It's fine that the hubby teaches her about god. He has every right. Just the same as I can share my views with PK. As the years go by, I do stress, however, that this may turn into a point of contention. One parent believes. The other doesn't. I suspect it would be easier if one of us were Christian and the other Jewish. At least, for all intents and purposes, it's the same god. But this...this is so totally different. Our beliefs are like polar opposites. They are so different that we need to be careful so as not to offend one another. I know that there are certain opinions/views that I have to keep to myself, because they are terribly offensive to my theist friends. And I know that I have to be very careful with my wording about god to as to not give PK the impression that my beliefs are better than the hubby's. Just as he must do the same.

I can kind of get why ultimately, so many parents of different religions end up "consolidating" their beliefs for the sake of the children. It IS a terribly confusing subject matter. And very deep and philosophical. It's easier to consolidate than to have to try to explain why daddy follows this ritual and mommy does not. Why mommy believes that when you die, your corpse rots in the ground, while daddy believes that everyone meets up in heaven. It's tough. It's complicated, and nobody wants to deal with it. But I believe that we all have a right to believe in what we want. And we all have the right to respect each others' beliefs. And I think it's a total cop-out to convert for the sake of the kids. What does it say about the beliefs of the parent converting? I think it's a far greater lesson to show your child that there are options out there and that mommy and daddy don't always agree on stuff. Most importantly, it teaches kids that it's okay to question beliefs. Who knows. PK might choose to believe in something totally different. I may not agree with what she chooses, but at least if I know that she chose it because she questioned her own convictions and found the beliefs that best suited her, then I guess the hubby and I have done a good job. As long as she doesn't come back telling me that she has embraced Scientology. Then I think that an intervention is in order.

June 4, 2012

Career Direction

I set up a LinkedIn profile a couple of years ago. I barely go on, and when I do, it's to accept the occasional invite from a friend or old classmate from days gone by. Today I went on to accept a connection invite, and I made the mistake of perusing the "People You May Know" section.

I really should stop doing that, because I feel like crap every time I look at it. I see reams of VPs, Senior Managers, and Managers, who I went to school with or worked with before, and I feel like an absolute failure. I am not a VP, director, or manager. I'm almost 33. Shouldn't I be at that point already? The hubby made manager at 27. He made Sr. Manager a couple of years later. And me? Career stagnation for me, it seems.

There are days when I'm okay with where I am. I tell myself that I am me and the hubby is a different person with different skills. And so are those other people. I tell myself that most people on LinkedIn inflate their profiles to sound fancier than they actually are. Which they do. I know that. And I tell myself that my job pays well enough, is challenging, allows for work-life balance, and lets me pursue my various other interests. Not to mention the fact that my manager is awesome. But today I feel like SHIT. Maybe because I happened to find out that a developer that I worked at my current job with went to Seattle to work for Amazon as a Development Manager. Where the hell am I in my career? Still *just* a developer...

The thing is, I tell myself that I want to make manager, but when push comes to shove, I don't know if I'm really management material. I prefer to be holed up in a room doing my own thing, and coming up for air every so often. I would love to be an SME (subject matter expert) or, as I like to put it, "resident genius". But then seeing all these people on LinkedIn with their fancy-schmancy titles and their big 'ole smiles plastered on their faces next to their profiles makes me SO DAMN JEALOUS. And then saying that or admitting to that makes me feel like a total ass. Because it makes me seem like I'm not satisfied with my life. And maybe that's true. At least not with my career. I want something more, but I don't know what it is. And I guess that's why LinkedIn so pisses me off sometimes.

I need to get over this though, because that type of brooding behavior is not a good thing to display around PK. I am always amazed by how much kids absorb from their surroundings. Be it parental behavior, mannerisms, or language. It's really mind-blowing. And I know from the past that my brooding behavior causes PK to act up. The fact of the matter is that I know that having a fancy title DOES screw with work-life balance. I know so many moms who tell me things like, "Oh, we barely see dad, because he works so much!" Daddy works so much that usually mommy can't work as a result, because otherwise, nobody would be around to pay enough attention to the kids. Or mommy has to find another job that allows her to spend more time with the kids, making up for the time that daddy isn't around. What a life. I don't think I could live that life. I am grateful that I was never forced to make that decision and that I have a hubby who is truly 50/50 when it comes to being a hubby and a dad.

So I guess I may never make manager, director, or VP, but I suppose that it's okay. I suppose that I need to stop getting so riled up by stuff I see on LinkedIn, because a) it's probably over-inflated and b) if it's not, that person probably works like a dog and doesn't have much of a home life. Already feeling better. Thanks, blog!

June 3, 2012

That's What She Said: Toilet Edition

I have to warn you right now that if you don't like blog posts about poop, then you probably should stop reading this right now. It's not gross, but if you're like some people I know, the very mention of poop and kids makes them cringe. Then again, it IS a kiddie blog, so...

Today we were at brunch with the hubby's extended family. We all had a very nice time. PK was very well-behaved, especially since she packed a bag full of coloring books, crayons, and construction paper to keep her busy, and ate very well. At one point during the brunch, she asked me to take her to go to the bathroom to go pooh. I took her, and when she was done doing her business, she got up off the toilet, looked at her poop, and declared, "That looks like South America!"

Well, at least I know she's learning some good stuff at school!

May 13, 2012

That's What She Said: LaSenza Edition

Today, I was at the mall with my mom and PK. We went into LaSenza, since I wanted to pick up a few items and wanted to take advantage of a sale that they were having. While there, PK got into one of the bra drawers, picked up a bra, put it on (straps over shoulders), and started yelling, "I have boobs! I have boobs!"

I should've been REALLY REALLY embarrassed. Except that I wasn't. Because I couldn't stop laughing.

At Last

My first Mother's Day nearly 3 years ago was one of the worst and most disappointing days of my life. At that time, as a new mom, I was in a deep depression, struggling with motherhood, among other things.

I woke up in a crappy mood. First thing that day, the hubby wished me a Happy Mother's Day, and I, already feeling depressed, wanted nothing to do with it. I didn't feel like PK's mom. Why should I be celebrated? I sucked as a mom, and I knew it. Sure, I took care of PK's basic needs, but that extra little "maternal" bit was missing. I was distant. PK sensed my distance, and the more she pulled back, the deeper I fell into my depression. The hubby picked up the slack, which meant that PK always chose him over me. I am ashamed to admit this now, but I hated him so very much for it. I got angrier as I saw all of the new moms in my mommy group post joyful messages on Facebook. Later that morning, the hubby presented me with a pink Mother's Day-themed mug. I hated it. Seriously. I just wanted to smash the damn thing into a million pieces, right in front of him. I hid it at the back of our closet in the basement. I think it's still there to this day. I can't even bear to pull it out of the closet, because of the memories associated with that day. It didn't help that the mug was pretty much the only thing that was done for me on Mother's Day.

In my growing anger and despair, I withdrew from my husband, instead of telling him how I was feeling. I got increasingly grumpier. It was a cry for help, and the hubby wasn't listening. At that point, he didn't want to listen, after putting up with me being like this off and on since I was pregnant with PK. All I wanted that day was to be told that I didn't suck as a mom. Even though I didn't feel special, I still wanted the acknowledgement and effort from the hubby, and instead he withdrew too. It didn't help that on the previous day, we celebrated Mother's Day with my family, during which I spent trying to make sure that my mom had an extra-special day. Nobody even seemed to give a crap about me. I was hurt beyond belief. I was depressed beyond belief.

So it all came to a head, and we had a terrible fight. That's when I told him that I hated the mug. And that's when he told me that he stopped trying to make Mother's Day special after my crappy attitude that morning, when we woke up. It was a bad bad day, and thinking about it still causes me great heartache.

Now, nearly three years later, I finally feel comfortable in my own skin. I finally feel comfortable being called mom. Most importantly, I feel like I am finally living up to my potential as a mom. The road taken to get to this point was a hard one. Nobody is ever ready to be a parent. You can read all of the books, practice on your friends' kids, take your nieces or nephews out for the day, but nothing ever prepares you for the drastic life changes that take place when you suddenly become "mom" or "dad". You may read about post-partum depression in books, but nothing prepares you for it when it actually hits. And this applies to both those living with the depression, and those living with the depressed.

I am grateful that, in spite of it all, I managed to pull myself together enough seek help. I go to therapy twice a week - once for PK and me, and once for myself. I am not ashamed of it. I am grateful for it. It was one of the best things that I could have done for myself and for my family.

I am not a perfect parent, and nor will I ever be. And that's okay. I didn't breast-feed for long. I didn't use cloth diapers. I tried to make my own baby food for a bit, but that didn't last long. I speak to PK in Portuguese, but switch to English when I need to express myself more easily. I didn't put PK in a Suzuki music program. I don't know the names of all of the kids in PK's class. I don't attend PTA meetings. I HATE giving out thank-you cards, and I hate suck-up parents who give thank-you cards for all occasions. I am NOT Supermom. But I AM mom. PK's mom. And that's good enough for me.

Happy Mother's Day to all you mothers out there, old and new.

May 10, 2012

On the Bus

A few weeks back, I was on the bus with PK. We were en route to a birthday party. PK loves riding the bus. To her, riding the bus is way more fun than riding in our car. Must be a kid thing. I remember that when I was a kid, I thought that the subway was awesome. I still do, but not in the same way that I thought it was awesome as a kid.

Anyway, sitting perpendicular to us was a couple. The lady was definitely on the overweight side. Not morbidly obese, but she had a gut. PK, who has had a few friends whose mommies were pregnant in the last little while, is very much aware of the fact that pregnant women have bulgy tummies because there's a baby inside. Naturally, upon seeing this definitely-not-pregnant woman, she figured that the woman's gut must have meant that she too had a baby inside.

And so, PK declared loudly, "Mom, there's a baby in her tummy!" I told her to be quiet in Portuguese (knowing another language sure is handy at times like these). And then she repeated it, "Mom, there's a baby in her tummy!" Why must she be the loudest person on this bus? Why oh why? I told her to stop saying these things, and I think she proceeded to question why I was asking her to be quiet.

Fortunately, this little exchange took place a couple of stops before ours, so we got off quickly, and then I had to explain to her that some women have big tummies, but that doesn't necessarily mean that there's a baby in their tummies. This was tough to explain. How do you explain fat vs. thin to a little girl, without starting down a path of constantly worrying about body image? I've read reports about how girls as young as 3 have body image issues. Three?! How insane is that? So I had to choose my words carefully, so as to not give her a complex at a young age. Or at any age, for that matter.

Hell, I'm always bitching about my body, and I'm in pretty good shape. I was all belly when I was pregnant and I was always bitching about my body. I know that I have body image issues, like most women, and in my particular case, I can tell you that I don't even have a reason to have body image issues. So knowing this, I don't want PK to go through the same crap that I go through. Because quite frankly, it's not healthy.

My Little Princess

PK looooooooves princesses. Really. And no matter what I've done to discourage the whole princess thing, she is still a fan. Rapunzel is a big favorite, along with Cinderalla and Sleeping Beauty. And let's not forget Ariel and Tiana. The whole lot of Disney princesses. And with the princess obsession comes the dress obsession. Pants won't do. And most definitely not jeans. Jeans are like a four-letter word around here.

For a while there, however, the hubby actually managed to convince PK to wear jeans by having her wear "cozy pants" (i.e. leggings) underneath. Even with that setup, there were only three pairs of jeans that PK would actually wear: "cozy jeans" (i.e. skinny jeans with an elastic waistband and no button), "awesome jeans" (they had a ladybug and some other funky embroidery on them), and "butterfly jeans" (they had a butterfly on them, as the name suggests). But now the weather is nice, and it's all about dresses and skirts. I have a feeling that shorts in the summer will be as much of a struggle as pants were in the fall/winter.

In some ways, we have caved a bit to the princess thing. I am still vehemently against "princess culture" and all of its trappings. I am still convinced that girls with a princess complex end up as bitchy bridezillas and drive their future spouses to the brink of insanity. That aside, I have learned in my journey as the parent of a pre-school-aged girl that taking all princessy things away will probably cause PK to harbor some resentment and start doing things behind my back. So I have let up a little, and have let her indulge in this princess obsession to a certain extent.

Of course, there's a silver lining to this whole princess thing. We have pizza and movie night every Friday night, PK-centered, of course. PK usually picks from her list of favorites: "The Princess Diaries", "Cinderella", "The Little Mermaid", "The Care Bears Movie II", etc. You get the drift. After watching these same types of movies over and over, I got a little desperate. So I told her that one day, she might like to watch the "Star Wars" movies, because there's a princess in "Star Wars". She seemed interested, but I didn't really push it that much. Then a few weeks later, she declared to us that for movie night, she wanted to watch "Star Wars". But where oh where to begin? Classic "Star Wars", or the "new" trilogy? We ultimately narrowed it down to Episode 1 and Episode 6, both of which are probably the more kid-friendly in the series. We ended up going with Episode 6, and it was a total hit. I was actually surprised. She was really into the story and the characters. Darth Vader and Yoda made the biggest impression on her. Yoda in particular. It was quite funny to see her reaction to the movie, because it's so different from anything that she's ever seen before.

We decided to see how she'd react to other movies, so we showed her Episode 5, 1, 4, 2, and 3. We were surprised to find that she pretty much liked all of the movies, with Episodes 6 and 5 being her favorites (she seems to be really fascinated by Darth Vader taking off his mask, and by Darth Vader cutting off Luke's hand). For an almost four-year-old, I am impressed by the fact that she really grasps the storyline and how the two trilogies fit in together. No small feat for a little kid.

With all of this "Star Wars" talk, we were surprised to realize that, boys are to "Star Wars", as girls are to princesses. And just as girls seem to know about all of the princesses without ever having watched a single princess movie (e.g. PK knows about Tinkerbell, but never watched "Peter Pan"), boys know all about "Star Wars" without having watched a single movie. And that most boys this age haven't watched any of the movies. It's kind of funny how these things work. You never really know until you're right in the middle of it.

Anyway, "Star Wars" has been great. It sure got us out of Princessland, at least temporarily. It also makes me happy to know that PK can go against the grain and like something that is traditionally associated with little boys, while still being a girlie girl and liking her princesses. Maybe next up is "Star Trek". That might be a harder sell. For now, I leave you with PK's lovely artwork, "Star Wars Smoothie Family", featuring (left to right): Yoda, Leia, Luke, and Darth Vader, each enjoying a nice smoothie (in red). Peace out.


We took PK rock climbing for the first time nearly two weeks ago. Back in the day, the hubby and I were avid climbers. When the hubby and I first met, I was climbing once a week with friends, and I persuaded him to come along with us one day. He must've really liked me, because he came along, in spite of his reservations about this seemingly suicidal hobby of mine. Then it turns out that he really liked rock climbing, so he became my climbing partner.

The hubby first asked me out at the parking lot where we used to park our respective cars before going to the climbing gym. He proposed in that very same lot. The lot is now occupied by a condo, but that plot of land will always have special meaning for us. We continued climbing up until I became pregnant with PK.

I really missed climbing during my pregnancy, and was itching to get back into it. I dreamed of the day when we would be able to take PK climbing with us. I already saw myself planning her 5th birthday party at the climbing gym (the earliest age at which most climbing gyms seem to let you host climbing parties for kiddies). After PK was born, the hubby and I hit the climbing gym a couple of times. It was great being back, but it was tough to justify going climbing when we had a few short hours to ourselves thanks to Grandparent Babysitting Services. So we stopped. We were sad to do it, but time was precious, and we wanted to make the most of it.

Still, rock climbing was at the back of our minds. We were itching to get back into it. A few weeks ago, I decided to check out the site for a climbing gym that opened up close to our place about 3 years ago. I wanted to see if they had any kiddie stuff that we could do. And they DID! It turned out that they have a TON of kids' programs - lessons, camps, parties, and even an all-ages family drop-in time. I was excited when I told the hubby about it. He was excited too. We pitched the idea to PK, who seemed to like the idea of going climbing (we'd been talking about taking her climbing someday for a while now).

It seemed like a good time to go. PK is a daredevil. Seriously. We pass the park on our way home from school, and she's always got something that she wants to show us. Usually that something involves doing daring stunts on the play structure. Stuff that makes my heart palpitate and that would give my mom a heart attack. And she doesn't care about falling. She once took a spill in the playground whereby she ended up with a nasty scrape by her right eye. She didn't even seem to care that she had this scrape, and kept on doing her crazy stunts. It has since healed, but she still has a bit of a scar there. She is also a speed demon. She has no qualms about riding her scooter super-fast. The faster, the better. She was ready to go to the climbing gym.

The gym we went to was pretty cool. Their focus is more on bouldering, though they have top-rope/lead climbing routes too. They have a whole kids' area at the back. There's a little wall which, once you get to the top, you can take a slide down. The slide is short, but man, does it have punch (yes, I've tried it too). PK was excited to be in the gym, but then started fussing over the climbing shoes (I can't believe that they actually rented out kiddie shoes! :D), refusing to wear them. She got over it after I uttered some threat about not climbing.

Then we got to the wall. She was a bit hesitant. But one of my friends was there with her almost-four-year-old too, and he was already zipping up the wall and down the slide like a pro. It was enough to get PK into the spirit of things, and next thing we knew, PK was climbing like there was nothing to it. The kid is a natural. Her climbing is very fluid, and it is absolutely wonderful to watch. I love how excited she was about climbing. She just kept going and going and going. The best part was that the more she did it, the more confident she became. And the more she was amenable to trying new things. The hubby and I also got to do some climbing, taking turns bouldering while the other one watched PK.

I can't even describe how giddy it made me feel to be able to go climbing as a family. It was definitely one of my favorite times of the three of us hanging out. Something that we could all do and enjoy together.

We took PK climbing again last week, and she was just as much into it. In fact, she looked forward to it. And we're going again on Sunday, Mother's Day. For me, it's the best Mother's Day present ever. Being able to share something like rock climbing with my daughter. Rock climbing holds so many fond memories for the hubby and me, and I'm glad that we can extend those memories to include our daughter.