Month: January 2024

Going on dates with boys…

by Ashley filed under Motherhood, Relationships

A few days ago I posted a pic of Van from a one-on-one date I took him on. Underneath the photo, I wrote: “…And he talked and talked and talked about football. I’ve never been so content to just listen. This age is the best”.

A lot of people, mostly moms, sent me heart emojis.

I went on a date the other week with a guy who had a pretty unique and diverse background — raised in another country in a culture that was different from the country he was raised in. Sidebar — as much as my friends hear me bitch about the urine in the dating pool, I really do enjoy meeting different people. I’m not even sold on the idea of “finding a partner” at this point — I’m really just enjoying meeting people and hearing different people’s stories.

Anyway, I learned a lot about this guy’s life because I was curious and that curiosity led to me asking questions.

At one point he mentioned having a daughter that was 7 years old. I told him my youngest was 7 as well. He asked no follow up question; no “oh, you have more than one kid?” … nothing.

He continued talking about himself.

I asked him about his relationship with his kid’s mom, because I know there’s loads of ways it can go —> co-parenting, parallel-parenting, counter-parenting, and I’m always intrigued. He didn’t reciprocate the question.

And he continued talking about himself.

I called a girlfriend on the way home and shared my narrative that men really don’t seem interested in getting to know women. So many men seem complacent in allowing women to cater to them, to center them. And it doesn’t come across as malicious, it comes across as ingrained.

This morning I thought back to my date with Van and what I wrote about it. It occurred to me that a man’s first experience with a woman is with his mother. A mother who was happy to just listen and listen and listen, who welcomed her son onto center stage while she took a seat in the back of the audience.

I read somewhere that you can’t be a feminist and a mother because the two are at odds; that being a mother is literally solidifying yourself in a role in a patriarchal society that’s really damaging to women (to men, too, but that’s a separate post). As mothers, we are constantly praised for self-sacrifice; we give and give and give and the more out-balanced what we give is in relation to what we take, the more applause we garner. The unpaid, underappreciated labor of motherhood is truly what (indirectly) fuels our economy (a separate post).

I often feel like I’m fumbling with the responsibility of raising three boys; like I can’t counter the weight of patriarchal conditioning especially in light of the fact I’m still coming into awareness of so many ways it impacts me and my role as a mother.

The following night I took Sonny out for a one-on-one date. I told him he can pick anywhere he wants for dinner. He picked Cane’s Fried Chicken, a fast food chain I honestly hate. I paused, gave it some thought and consideration, and said, “I’d like to go to a restaurant where we sit down and they serve us. I don’t feel good after I eat fast food.” He immediately had a strong reaction. I followed it up with, “Remember this is a date for the both of us. When you go on a date with someone, you want to make sure the other person feels good with the decisions being made. A date is about the couple, not about just yourself. Can we find a restaurant we both enjoy?”

And we did.

Maybe men aren’t considering women because they were raised by mothers who prided themselves on taking everyone else’s needs, wants, and desires into consideration above their own.

I’d like to change that.

Mexico City + Tulum 2021

by Ashley filed under Travel

7/24/21

Yesterday was our first time on a plane since losing my dad. That may see like an insignificant milestone to those who haven’t experienced the loss of a loved one but suddenly it all feels significant. So many firsts, big and small. Since my boys were little, we’d do this special handshake just as the roar of the plane’s engine ignited prior to take off. It’s a handshake I learned from my dad and we’d do it in the same superstitious way — only when the engine kicks into high gear. It didn’t come from a place of anxiety, it came from his childlike silliness, a celebration of dumb luck. It’d make him so happy. He was always so easy to please.

Yesterday we got to do that silly handshake again, just like we always do, but with newfound meaning and a growing longing that was quenched, even if for just a minute.

Writing about him makes me cry,. It’s a needed cry, an outlet. My sniffles have become a battle cry Sonny has tuned into. I cannot get by with sniffing, for any reason, without Sonny questioning if I’m crying. I see the distress on his face; the uncertainty of not knowing if he can be okay if his mom’s not okay. I tell him it’s okay not to be okay. And that he can be okay even if I’m not. I see him learning empathy right before my eyes. I remind him that it’s okay to be sad and that tears are good. I tell him that letting the pain run its course is how we move forward.

He’ll know it because he’ll have witnessed it. That alone pushes me onward.

 

7/31/21

It’s been radio silence over here because the first few days of our trip were gnarly and I’m still fighting that unsettled feeling. We were robbed and aside from losing all the cash I had brought and saved for the trip, our passports were stolen too. The latter resulting in a wild goose chase of collecting documents, filling out applications, getting new photos on a Sunday when just about everywhere appeared closed, printing said documents and applications, waiting and worrying over the weekend to get to the embassy on Monday, first thing in the morning, with three kids in tow during a pandemic, to wait and jump through more hoops all while having to juggle checkout and luggage and an embassy that doesn’t allow for luggage and those three kiddos looking to me to handle it all. Like I do. And like I did. But man, that was fucking gnarly. And that’s not even the whole story.

Shoutout to my boys for being absolute troopers and cheerleaders and to those who took my calls and my texts and helped me work through the tears and terror.

 

8/2/21

Thank you for all the love and support on my last post. Definitely an unsettling experience that has followed me (us) for days, with more nuance than I’m sharing here. A few added notes I think are important to make:

-Victims of crimes are not victims because of anything they did wrong. A friend shared this with me and it was just what I needed to hear: We always turn on ourselves when we are victims of a crime — be angry at the criminals, not yourself. Sharing that tidbit for anyone else who may need it.

-There’s so much to be said for the goodness of others. The first Airbnb we rented accommodated us by putting us in another rental so we had a place to leave our luggage while we spent hours at the embassy. Without knowing how long the fiasco would take, he even offered us 3 free nights if we needed them. One of the policemen that helped us after the robbery drove us personally to the embassy, hugged me, and gave me his personal number to use should I need anything. Of course I was skeptical of which side of the fence he lives on, but it’s a gesture worth noting. And the hug was needed. The host of our second airbnb was seriously an angel sent from above and she did an hour session of transformational breathing that I can wholeheartedly say turned things around for me. What’s more is that she connected with me and therefore knew I needed it. To be able to read the needs of others and meet them is such a gift and I’m so grateful for her. Yesterday, our cab driver knew we were trying to find peanut butter and jelly (tales of a traveling mom) and came back an hour after dropping us off with peanut butter and jelly. And for the few who slid into my DMs on IG, you know who you are, thank you.

It’s easy to get caught up and feel like the world is swallowing you whole until you zoom out and acknowledge all the people throwing you a lifeline. So grateful for my people, my village, and all who root me / us on from afar. What was feeling like the last mile of a marathon is now feeling like a victory lap. It’s amazing what we can do for one another when we’re able to give, receive, and welcome an alternative perspective.

More on this magnificent place we stayed to come…

 

8/3/21

When we were waiting – for hours – at the embassy, we were in a small room of approximately 20 other people. A man at the counter next to us was a Mexican American there to apply for citizenship for a baby he had with his Mexican girlfriend so they were interviewing him to test the legitimacy of his story; where he was born, where he’s lived, how he met his girlfriend. I overheard him say he was from Los Angeles and then they asked him where he went to high school and for whatever reason he suddenly had my full attention; would I know the school? He replied with, “Granada Hills High School”. The same high school my dad went to. Of all the states, of all the cities, of all the schools… I was so stressed and so overwhelmed and it stopped me in my tracks. I found my dad, right there, in the middle of Mexico City full of fear and uncertainty. He was there, right when I needed him. Like he’s always been.

The monarchs are migrating and when my dad was dying there were several butterflies lingering in the tree outside of his room. When we see a butterfly, the boys and I say he is here with us. The butterflies are everywhere here. A reminder that it’s not that it’s not that those of us who have lost a loved one see their loved one in everything, it’s that they can find their loved one in anything.

 

8/4/21

Traveling solo with kids is gnarly. It’s my hope that they remember me joining in on the fun with them, playing with them, adventuring with them. Because the good lord knows 95% of it is cooking for them, cleaning up after them, carrying shit for them, and trying to keep my own head above water through it all. When the dust settles, I hope memories of be being with (not doing for) them are the ones that rise.

 

8/5/21

I don’t make a lot of plans when we travel because I honestly don’t usually have the time and so I rely on the notion that not having a plan can be a plan, too. That said, one thing we did get tickets for ahead of time was the Frida Kahlo museum. We had read a book about Frida a few months back so the boys had some context and, muich to my surprise, they were excited to see the infamous blue house, the mirror above her bed that she used to paint herself, as well as some of her paintings. Sonny wasn’t into it at all but fortunately it didn’t take long to walk through the home and make it to the courtyard where he could roam freely.

The photographs were my favorite (I’m biased); she has such a presence about her that transcends time and holds strong to this day. I think all of us photographers would love to get someone with her spirit in front of our lens.

 

8/6/21

Definitely a highlight of our trip was staying at Quetzalcoatl’s Nest. It was the perfect reprieve from the city, which following the robbery was needed in a way I can only fully grasp looking back from hindsight. It was an invitation to unwind that I desperately needed; a deep exhale, a regrouping, a slowing down, a place to get back to my center and focus on my breath. Our host was an added bonus; She embodied the spirit of the structure and filled our time there with love and compassion. I have so much gratitude for her. Traveling, for me, is always about connecting to new places, new people, and using those experiences to shape my understanding and compassion for the world around me. It’s the epitome of giving and receiving. By taking from my experiences, I’m able to give more to those around me.

 

8/7/21

When I was the same age as the older boys I remember traveling to Texas with my dad with his 40 year old and over softball team. I was heavily into gymnastics at the time, training 5 days a week / 4 hours a day. He took me to a gym in the area so I could train with their team while we were there and I remember thinking that was the coolest thing in the world; to be able to travel and still do what I loved.

And now, as a parent myself, I love doing the same for my boys. I love their love of skateboarding and I think it’s so rad that we can build it into so many of our trips. These kids have skated in a handful of different states, several cities, and now an entirely different country. Visiting Woodward in the Maya Riviera was the second thing we built into this trip (the first being the trip to the Frida Kahlo museum). And the boys loved it. Van said it was the best day of his life. The next morning he woke up barfing. At the time it felt like loom and doom — as if the robbery wasn’t enough, now I was envisioning each kid getting sick — one right after the other. Or worse yet, it being Covid. Fortunately he got whatever was in his system out and was back to full throttle by the end of the day. And we all tested negative for Covid.

 

8/8/21

My main drive in traveling anywhere with my boys is to show them that there’s so many ways to live life. Intertwined with that, I suppose, is staying at off-beat places like earthships, communities like Arcosanti, or even that crazy serpent snake in Mexico City. These places capture the same spirit, drive home the same point I’m trying to make — that life doesn’t have to be a box. These places are chosen with intention to really bring to life all the possibilities and to celebrate and embrace all the twists and turns life invariably takes. The place I posted yesterday, for example, was built into nature; meaning no land was leveled, no trees were removed. It’s why it took the form of a snake — to weave into its own natural environment while paying tribute to the peaks and valleys that were already there. And isn’t that just how life should be? Not us coming in and feeling entitled to creating our own path but traveling the path given to us with gratitude. Learning to shift, shape, and mold into — not plow through. I know these concepts are too big for them to fully understand but my purpose in parenting is to always be planting seeds. So when things don’t go their way, when forcing their own will doesn’t pan out, I can point to that one time we stayed in the belly of a snake and remind them that the path isn’t ours to create, we must bend and fold, rise and fall with the tides of life.

I look at Tulum architecture and I’m astounded by all the materials used and how they work together; the sticks lining up to create rows and patterns that feed into the concrete. A chair with no straight lines. So much built by hand, with patience and intention.

Life doesn’t have to be any one way. The answers are always in creative thinking. We’re all working around obstacles. Though maybe they’re not obstacles at all, maybe their gifts in disguise.

 

8/15/21

I’ve mentioned before that I don’t always plan or read up as much as some when traveling to the places we do. Because of this I had a lot of misconceptions about Tulum. I had wrongfully assumed it to be a beach town. And I guess some would consider it a beach town. But the reality is that the town of Tulum is about a 20 minute drive from the beach that’s associated with Tulum. Unbeknownst to me, this time of year is known for the influx of seaweed that renders the beaches more or less useless (unless you love the smell and can stomp your way through to the water, which is more infested with seaweed than the shore). The solution, and it’s not too shabby of a solution, are the cenotes (or sinkholes) which are sprinkled in and around Tulum. Some require more of a trek or better swimming capabilities and so not all are 5-year-old friendly but we found one that suited us perfectly and it was here that we spent time looking at the roots of trees underwater and escaping the heat and humidity. The older boys discovered a baby crocodile that made this cenote his / her home. They also enjoyed looking at the fish which were either too lazy to swim out of your way or just completely fearless because they didn’t swim away from us, ever. Definitely a highlight of our time in Tulum and a reminder that when you hit a wall, or find yourself stuck in a bunch of seaweed, just keep moving.