The Nomad Chick

Sunday evening, Hubbs and I had another one of those “we will start eating really healthy TOMORROW” epiphanies. So of course that meant that Sunday night was pretty much junk-fest. My weakness is ice cream, so that’s exactly what I went and got. While I was at the grocery, Josh asked me to pick up the “multi-colored packaged donuts” on the dessert aisle for him. So, I got my ice cream and waddled over to the junk-food aisle. I had to make myself walk right past the pancakes filled with maple syrup that you take out and eat like a sandwich, and found myself searching for these multi-colored donuts amongst tons of cookies, cupcakes, and other fantastic-looking breaded objects. I don’t eat gluten (I try my hardest, anyway), so I knew I couldn’t be on this aisle for long before I would finally break down and buy myself an oh-so-delicious stomach ache. Four minutes later, and I am STILL staring at all the selections, trying to find the dang multi-colored donuts! At this point I’m picturing like tie-dye donuts, rainbow donuts, a package of donuts where all the donuts are different colors, donuts with awesome colorful icing, psychedelic donuts, donuts that are stoned, and the most logical: donuts with multi-colored sprinkles… Finally I just settle on the chocolate and glazed donut package, knowing that he would be disappointed for not getting the exact ones, but a donut is a donut is a donut. “You might as well be eating a stick of butter!” is what our softball team’s nutritionist told us about donuts one time.

“You got the exact ones!” He exclaimed giddily when I got home.

“Ummm, so wait. You are telling me that you sent me to the store for “multi-colored” donuts and what you really meant was, a regular donut and a chocolate donut?”

“Yes! Thanks babe!”

“Are you seri… Nevermind.”

I just had let that one go. He was just so excited.

Multi-colored donuts.

I hope everyone has a great day, and sees everything colorfully like my sweet husband. SMILE TODAY!

There’s a really great little cafe near out home here in Azabu Juban in Tokyo. It’s called Eat More Greens and it’s totally a little hippie joint. They serve the most fantastic salads I have ever had, and they only have about 4-5 choices on the menu at a time. Between my love of eating there and the convenient little vegetable stand located behind our apartment, there should be no reason for me not to come back to the states skinny and glowing. Unfortunately for that idea, we are blessed with a Hard Rock, Outback, and TGI Fridays right near us as well. Oh well…

Exhibit A- Eat More Greens Cafe

Exhibit B- Our seats at Eat More Greens

Anyways, today I was eating at Eat More Greens with Hubbs and The Tornado when the toddler at the table right next to us started babbling and communicating with The Tornado. It was really cute. If you will kindly take a look at Exhibit B (photo) above, you will see two tables in the back left corner. We were sitting at the one where the dude with the Gucci man-purse is sitting in the photo.

This toddler Kaden was playing with was at the table next to us was with his French mother and his Filipina nanny, and they both were telling her to say “bonjour” to Kaden. They really may as well have been sitting at our table, because that’s how close these two tables are. I sized the little girl up to be around two years old, and kept saying things along the lines of, “what a cutie!” and “you better quit flirting, Kaden!” A few minutes later, they started their little toddler communicating again, and the French mom asked me what my son’s name was. I told her, and asked her about her child. To this very second, I’m still unclear about what the response was, but at the time it was either Lulu, Louis, or Luis. This is when it happened.

“She is soooo pretty!” I exclaimed, trying to go out of my way to make another parent feel proud.

The nanny and the mom both at the same time were like, “no, this is a HE” and “no, it’s a BOY.”

…….

…….

I. wanted. to. DIE. Josh about choked on his soup trying not to laugh at me.

“I, uhhh… Ummm.. He’s just got such a pretty face that… ummm…”

The mom assured me it was ok, but things got real weird, real fast. I know I was bright red, and I think I almost passed out at one point. I couldn’t eat my meal, I was so embarrassed. I am sure this doesn’t seem like that big of a deal to some of you, but if someone told me Kaden looks like a chick when he is pushing two years old, I would be upset. It’s not like the kid was an infant laying in a car seat wearing yellow clothes! It really takes a lot to embarrass me, but this did it. I tried to  make some loud statements that would lead her to believe we are Canadian instead of American, as to not feed into the “dumb American” views the Europeans have of us, but it’s still unclear as to whether she bought it. Plus, thinking back, I probably overdid it with talking about Maple leaves (leafs?) and saying the word, “eh”? Dang.

When they went to the bathroom, I asked Josh if I should apologize again and he told me it was best to just keep my head down and try not to make eye contact. This is hard to do when they are PRACTICALLY SITTING AT THE SAME TABLE. Awkward! Josh tried to reassure me by telling me that in college he just didn’t even call some girls by their names because he forgot their names a lot, so I should probably just not do that anymore……. He actually said that. How that applies in any way whatsoever is beyond me, and why I should not do WHAT anymore? Call babies by the wrong names? I’m still ashamed of some of the curse words that escaped my mouth after this idiotic statement suggestion of his. Boys are so stupid.

The rest of the lunch, I kept stealing glances at their table wishing, hoping, praying they would eat faster so they could just LEAVE already, but after their meal they got dessert, then tea, then they wanted to chat. All the while I am mortified, and feel awful for giving this French lady some complex about how much of a female their little man looks like.

When they were FINALLY  leaving, I was surprised when the mom asked me how old Kaden was. I told her that he is almost two, and found out her little boy was 18-months old. I smiled my most charming smile and told them how cute he is and what a pretty face he has (hoping that would totally erase and replace the whole “SHE is pretty” statement). She then reassured me that he has been mistaken for a girl quite a but because of his *pretty* face and his long curly hair. Whew!

“Have a great day!” I said in my cheesiest, most cheerful voice.

So then I started wondering, if this has happened before, then WHY THE HECK would you dress your freakin’ kid in a purple tank-top and a hang a pink freakin’ bib on his stroller? Yeah, this is totally the mom’s fault! The kid is a year-and-a-half old and looks over two, and you still have people guessing his gender?! MOM’S FAULT! I shot down the idea of buying myself a lunchtime cocktail for all the pressure I’d just put myself through, and inhaled my lunch like I should have when it was first placed in front of me.

Purple tank top… Psh!

Idiot mom.

Anyways, the moral of the story is: when you have a kid, and he looks like a chick, dress him in some garb with like dragons and dinosaurs and trains and monsters and crap. Probably best to stay away from the PINKS and PURPLES. French people really need to get with the program on gender stereotyping with colors. Whatever.

Smile today Would love to hear some of your embarrassing stories!

Apparently we just had another earthquake here, but I didn’t feel anything. Earthquakes are extremely common here, and I usually “miss” most of them. Maybe I’m just walking around or something and don’t feel the “small” earthquakes, but I get bummed when I hear someone (anyone!) speaking English talking about the earthquake. It’s that same feeling I get when people are recapping The Bachelor Pad episodes on my Facebook, but I can’t chime in, because I’M IN JAPAN AND THEY DON’T HAVE BACHELOR PAD. I imagine if they did have a copy-cat Bachelor or Bachelorette series, it would consist of all the hopeful contestants doing weird game-show crap like jumping through shapes cut out of foam or hamster-wheeling over soy sauce to get a rose.

I gotta tell ya, I LOVE Tokyo. I do. The people here are the nicest people in the world. Everyone is extremely courteous and manners are still important here. Best of all, there is no tipping here! Not at restaurants, cabs, delivery people, etc. etc. But I am really starting to miss America. My mom and dad just left yesterday from a week-and-a-half stay, and when they did I felt pretty lonely. The Tornado is sick right now, he was diagnosed with “Hundred Foot Mouse Disease”, so we are having to stay inside for the next couple days, which is only adding to the loneliness. And by the way, he has Hand, Foot, and Mouth Disease, but the doctor had to repeat it four times, then finally show us what she was talking about in a book before we finally got it. Hubbs and I were both secretly panicking, wondering if our American Health Insurance even deals with Hundred Foot Mouse disease. We laughed the whole cab ride home about it, while The Tornado sat silently in a fevered misery.

I’m starting to miss American baseball. I find myself on MLB.com more than I should be, and it’s starting to get pathetic how much I am vicariously living through my baseball wife friends’ final days of baseball season. We would be nearing the end of season here in Japan too if that blasted March 11th earthquake hadn’t pushed it back a couple of weeks. Japanese Baseball has an extremely good league. I have no idea how it would fare against MLB if going head-to-head, but being married to a man whose dream it is to continue to play in the MLB, I tend to think of it as Quadruple-A baseball (AAAA). This is JUST my opinion, and I am sure that I will get many emails saying that Japanese baseball is better than MLB and some saying minor league baseball is better than Japanese ball. The games are WAYYYYY better/funner/more interesting to go to than MLB games, though:

Did you spot the beer GIRL with a mini-keg on her back?! They are so cute! (The beer girls are ok too).

People always ask if Hubbs gets upset after having a bad game. Nope. He doesn’t “bring games home”, and we probably wouldn’t be married if he did. I know a couple of girls who said if her husband/boyfriend/fiance has a bad game, then it isn’t uncommon for them to not even talk until the following day. Ummm, what? I always want to ask how in the world his game-ending strikeout is her fault, but instead I just give her a nod, and what I am sure a face that looks like this:

 I do, however tend to be too honest at times which can really set him off. Probably should work on that. For example:

Hubbs: Ugh, I can’t believe that ump called that ball a strike in my first at-bat!
Me: WHAT?! If ”right down the middle” had a bullseye, that it where that pitch was.  I mean, umm…. I love you.

(or)

Hubbs:  Dang, I just missed that pitch. Would’ve been a home run for sure.
Me:  Yeah, if “just missed” means “pop-up to the pitcher”, then yes, yes you did “just miss” it. I mean, umm…. I love you.

These conversations NEVER end well. Just sayin’. On a happy, and very unrelated note, I found the *cheap* milk today at 7-Eleven. I can’t believe I’ve been paying nearly $3/liter this whole time, when the $1.50 carton was RIGHT next to it. In the milk section, there are like twenty different little cartons and they all look the exact same, so I guess I was paying for the “Evian” of milk for Kaden this whole time. So that was pretty much the highlight of my day while Hubbs is on the road.

My 90-day Visa entry expires in 3 weeks, so Kaden and I have to leave the country for a day in order to stay in Japan for longer. You better believe we aren’t doing a double-digit-hour trip back to America, so I’m thinking we are going to the closest international city, Seoul, South Korea for a day. I hear it’s pretty safe and that the shopping is good, so we may go give it a shot. If any of my readers on here have any info on Seoul, that would be awesome. Plus any info from these subject is greatly appreciated also: Vulnerable Females Traveling Alone With a Toddler in a Foreign Country, How Not to Get Sold Into the Sex-Trade, and Where to Buy Korean-ish Wigs to Fit In. Thanks!

I hope everyone finds the light in every situation today. May you be blessed with many laughs! Life isn’t so bad . Smile today!

I would like to apologize in advance for this post not being humorous at all in what is supposed to be a humorous blog.

I am a firm believer that the key to a good marriage post-baby is…. wait for it… A GOOD BABYSITTER. And a good reliable bottle of wine, but these two usually go hand-in-hand for me. The first thing on my list when I got to Tokyo was to find a fabulous babysitter so that Hubbs and I could continue to date each other. We joined a club here called the Tokyo American Club, and lots of moms here had great suggestions for babysitters. Also, the “international” supermarkets all have posts for sitters/helpers/cleaners/nannies/dog-walkers/what-have-you… I happened to meet Jona one day in our area when she was dog-walking, and then saw her post at the supermarket. I called all her references and interviewed her twice (yes, a little ridiculous, but this country is foreign to me). So within two weeks of getting here I found my fabulous sitter, Jona.

The Tornado LOVES Jona. When she walks through the door, he runs up to her and hugs her. It’s pretty cute, but also kinda awkward since he doesn’t even run up to me and hug me. Jona informed me that she is Filipina and that she has a 7-year-old boy back in the Philippines. She is here strictly to work, and worked full-time for an international family, but they just moved to Hong Kong. When I asked her what she does, I felt like a real A-hole when she told me she is here to nanny. Duh. She was upset though that she didn’t have a full-time job anymore, and she was hoping she would find a family that would hire her to work full-time. I promised her that we would use her at least once a week, but we wouldn’t have much more for her other than that. I hope you read the part where I said HER SON IS BACK IN THE PHILIPPINES while she is a nanny for other kids here in Tokyo. My heart hurt for her, I can’t even imagine being away from Kaden like that.

So last week when Jona was here, I offered to put an ad up for her at the Tokyo American Club in hopes that someone would give her more work, or that she could find a family.

I called Jona yesterday to see if she could babysit soon, and she told me that she had found a family to work for full-time, so she wouldn’t be able to babysit any longer. I wanted to cry and laugh at the same time. I was so excited that a family had hired her, I had been praying for her since I met her, but I never really thought about the fact that we would be sitter-less once again. So the process starts again I guess!

SAD DAY. Not really though.

It’s easy to forget what some people have to do to provide for their families. Living in another country from my boys sounds like a nightmare. So of course I am extremely happy for her!

I hope everyone hugs their families when they can. SMILE TODAY!

Post #1 about Things I miss about/from/in America:

1. People driving on the right side of the road. I look “special” when I am standing on a corner trying my hardest to jay-walk, when I can’t remember which way the cars will be coming from.

2. Channing Tatum. God bless that dear sweet boy.

3. GALLONS of milk. Liters just don’t cut it while I am training a future linebacker in my house.

4. Not having a sore neck at the end of every day from bowing to people all day every day.

5. Ranch dressing. My supply from America is running low and I’m almost freaking out about it.

6. Chipotle. “Frijoles”, the knockoff, just doesn’t cut it. (http://www.fromedome.com/food/frijoles-tokyo-photos/)

7. Sarcasm. English-speaking Japanese people just don’t get it. They just don’t…

8. Pandora- You wouldn’t believe how hard it is to find some good Brazilian music to drink your wine to around here. (Go ahead. Laugh at me, I’m lame.) PS. Before you knock it though, download Samba de Bencao by Bebel Gilberto and just RELAXXXXXX.

9. Men in pickups that aren’t tonka trucks. What is this, really-

10. Unheated toilet seats. Most of the toilet seats heat automatically when you sit down. At first I thought they were awesome. But it’s stifling hot here! Sometimes a cold seat is just what the doctor ordered.

These come along with the toilets too. Life-changing!

Welp, my email account has been hacked. I would like to apologize to everyone in my address book for all the inappropriate emails “I” have sent you. Fortunately, my address book is pretty limited due to laziness to insert email addresses in, but unfortunately it still includes a couple pastors from LifeChurch. I’m hoping they disregard the email from me encouraging them to enlarge their penis. Awkward! My personal favorite is the one that sent to my father-in-law starting off, “Hi baby! This is what you want” with what is sure to be a nasty link included. All I got in response to that from him was a “?”…

We went to Outback (yes, Outback) last night, so this whole morning was filled with cardio trying to burn off the baked potato with butter and that oh-so-delish bread. To all the fellow C-section moms out there, how inconvenient is that 3-inch scar on your lower abdomen when it comes to gaining weight?! Even just a pound! What the crap?! Every time I gain just a pound or two I know it, because there’s a smidge more of me to love just sitting right on top of that scar. AND YOU MOMS DON’T ACT LIKE YOU DON’T KNOW WHAT I’M TALKING ABOUT. And if you really don’t, just Google image-search “fat over c-section scar”. The results are shocking. SHOCKING! What is terrifying is that it has the potential to create an illusion of a FUPA if you let it get out of hand. And yes, I realize this is my second post in a row to mention FUPAs. (Moms: there is a solution to this, and it rhymes with LARDIO).

Speaking of having a baby, there is a dude at my gym who sounds like he is having a baby every time he bench presses. I just don’t see the need. Why do dudes feel like they have to yell to lift heavy weights in a weight room shared by tens of other people? Yeah, grunt and moan all you can, but when it sounds like an exorcism is taking place, crap’s gone too far. I also hate it when there are limited treadmills, and people get on there and then start stretching. Ummmm. Move. Or what about the idiot who wants to squat 500 lbs, and then leave all his weight on there for ME to unload. It’s also fun using a bench that the previous user sweat all over and didn’t wipe off. Just a little of him/herself to share with others. How sweet! I would LOVE to hear some of your weight-room annoyances, because I have tons. I’ll post my favorites.

A grunter. No gym is safe.

To end things, I would like to take this time to acknowledge a couple douche bags I have come across here in Japan. Believe it or not, most of these seem to be American (gasp!). I guess the Japanese have a slight advantage since I can’t understand them, but living in an international area, we are surrounded by a lot of English-speaking foreigners from all over the world. Today’s Honorary DB was overheard from the table next to us on our date night the other night. We spent most of our precious alone-time eavesdropping into this dude’s convo, and snickering every time he said something to make himself more awesome. It didn’t help his case that he was wanting everyone to hear everything he had to say. He had to be 25-30 and he was on a first date with a lovely young Japanese woman. “I started a business, I ran the business, I sold the business. Most people don’t accomplish that in their lifetime.” I about choked on my wine laughing. I wanted to ask him for his autograph, but hubbs wouldn’t let me. Unless he’s Steve Jobs, he should probably use a less boisterous tone. The girl didn’t seem impressed.

Smile today!