Ladan Roxy

“Is it true you don’t have a life once you have kids?”

admin — Sun, 13 Feb 2011 18:57:40 +0000

I had a friend ask me an interesting question yesterday while we were out running errands for Lily’s birthday party. One I’ve thought about often in my own head, but never really addressed out loud. “Is it true you don’t have a life once you have kids?” My friend asked. I smiled at the question because it’s one I struggled with in the first few months within having Lily and, every once in a while, still think about. “Yea, you do lose your life” I shrugged, “but, honestly, I’m the happiest I’ve ever been.” “It’s not like we were really into partying that we’d miss not doing it anymore,” she said. “I know! Remember you’d have to drag me to go out with you at nights? But it’s even the little things you really can’t do anymore. Like, I can’t go to a bookstore to leisurely browse their books over a cup of coffee. Everything just changes, but it’s not a bad thing. Why, who told you your life ends?” “EVERYBODY! You’re the only person I know who is happily married with a kid. Everyone else is miserable.” I wasn’t really sure what to say to that, except, “I’ve always wanted to be a mom. When people daydreamed about their wedding, I dreamed about my kids and what I’d name them. I can’t imagine working right now and missing these most important years of her life! I think a lot of people have babies without realizing the responsibility and self sacrifice that goes into it.” “Yeah,” she replied, “like my ex-best-friend, when she met her husband they both just disowned all their friends and do everything together. She said she doesn’t want kids because it will get in the way of how much fun they have together.” “That’s good that she knows she doesn’t want them before it’s too late!” I intercepted, “That’s why a lot of people are miserable, they realize after!”

What do you all think of this conversation? Are a lot of people you know miserable in their relationship and regretting that they have kids? How do you balance your “me” time in between kids and everything else?

“This isn’t a toy, this is for Mommy…”

admin — Tue, 08 Feb 2011 16:06:01 +0000

A few days ago my sister, my little one, and I were passing through the dollar section of Target when I heard something that made me laugh. But then the more I thought about it, the more I wondered if it was actually funny or rather on the offensive side. I told the story to my mom, her friend and my aunt but neither of them found it offensive, but more as a fact. I’m wondering if it’s because they’re of an older generation. I’d like to see what your thoughts are on this matter, so let me recount what happened:

A child, maybe about 2 or 3 years old, is sitting in the shopping cart pointing at something he wants from one of the dollar bins at Target. The father is trying to figure out what his son is pointing at by holding items up within the proximity of his aim. As I passed him, I saw him holding up a plastic truck. That clearly wasn’t it, because I heard him say, “This one? You want this one?” a few more times before he said, “You want this? No, this isn’t a toy, this is for mommy when she wants to clean the pots and pans and dishes.”

Upon hearing that, I chuckled and shook my head. My sister said that the only reason it’s funny to me is because I don’t ever do the dishes and am probably the only person who has a husband that does it. I don’t think I’m the only exception. I’d like to think times have changed! In my mother’s generation it was expected of the wife to cook, clean and do all the in between while the husband worked. With so many wives and mothers also working, isn’t a comment like that offensive? Stereotypical? Is the father sending the wrong message to his child who represents the future generation? I’d love to know what you think! Am I wrong? Or, in this day and age, are we somewhere in between the past and the present?

You Have Feelings?

admin — Sat, 05 Feb 2011 15:22:27 +0000

I used to be coldhearted. Growing up in a very dysfunctional family one learns to develop walls and boundaries. My mechanism was pretending to be strong by letting things bounce off me, slide off my shoulder, just letting it go. By doing that in front of you, in my mind I portrayed myself as strong, in your eyes I was a coldhearted bitch. As I got older, even after my parents divorced and our family split in half, it seemed as though the bricklayers within me were still hard at work, adding layers to a wall that seemed indestructible. In college once people got to know me they would confess that they were initially intimidated by me because I came off as such a mean girl. How do you bring down a wall that’s taken years and years to build? And, how would I protect myself if it did come down? In college I went through what I call a ‘cocky’ phase where I even pushed good friends away by just ignoring them. Even my best friend who was my roommate got the cold shoulder as I tried to deal with my demons alone. It was my lowest point. I had no self confidence, I hated myself and in order to keep my sanity and avoid my feelings I kept myself busy with extra school activities, internships, waitressing jobs, an extra degree! What you saw was an over achiever, but I was just running away from, God forbid, feeling anything. All I knew was to desensitize myself in order to survive, I didn’t know that you can run and run and run, but eventually everything will catch up with you in time. Working in my first ‘real’ job after college I received a phone call that really swept the rug from under me and left me speechless. All I felt was hurt and all I could do was cry. So, I closed my office door and let the tears pour as I’ve done many nights in my bedroom, alone. Of course, it didn’t take long before a co-worker knocked on my door and without waiting for a reply, just barged in to find me standing there weeping. His reaction? A shocked expression as he exclaims, “YOU HAVE FEELINGS?!” “GET OUT!!” I reply. The walls are up as a defense mechanism to try and protect me from you. It doesn’t me I’m not affected by sticks, stones and words. It only means that I will never let you know that I’ve been affected. Needless to say I had never been in a serious relationship. That’s not to say I didn’t want to be nor tried many times to be. But, apparently, my lack of emotion either drove men away or eventually led me to go astray. As much as I didn’t believe in love, I wanted and needed it. But how do you know what love is, when you’ve never known it? Not the mother and daughter kind, but real love between a man and woman. I searched in vain for years. Then in a matter of one night, an exchange of silly words that make us laugh now, I met the man that was ‘The One’. Unintentionally he continues to bring down these walls, layer after layer they crash and crumble and I feel the weight being lifted. He’s not a perfect person, he has his flaws just as I have mine. We argue and fight, just as everyone does. But that LOVE we feel for one another is so intense and real that from the very beginning, I never dared to push it away. With patience he brought out the best in me, just as he says I did the same for him. And now, I cry with ease. I cry watching commercials, listening to love songs, romantic movies mean something now and sometimes I can just sit and think about him and feel the tears on my cheeks. My old family may still be dysfunctional, split in half or not, but my new family is functioning quite well. I wonder how people perceive me now?

UGLY Pregnancy

admin — Fri, 04 Feb 2011 16:06:06 +0000

I had a great pregnancy with Lily. From the beginning to, well, almost the end (by month 8 I had pretty much checked out of life and spent my days and nights trying to focus on not focusing on my lower back pain!) Other than that last month, I felt good and being pregnant was fun! I was rocking a big belly and as far as I’m concerned I had gained the perfect amount of weight. Everyone was telling me that ‘pregnancy looked good on me’ and that I was ‘glowing’. In all fairness, I also took the time to take care of myself. I went for my monthly mani and pedi, kept up with my skin care routine (which is pretty much just washing and moisturizing my face before bed), I dressed well, fixed up my hair. I took the time to look good. In all my pregnancy pictures in Lily’s scrapbook I look happy and well put together.

Well, I suppose not all pregnancies are the same. When I was being showered with compliments while pregnant with Lily, I heard numerous stories about pregnant women who developed really bad acne while pregnant, or instead of their hair getting full and shiny like mine was, it got stringy and thinned out, or they just got really UGLY. Nothing specific changed about them, it’s just that their features just transformed into pure UGLY. I didn’t know what they were talking about, pregnancy was a beautiful thing! How can anyone look ugly pregnant?

Fast forward a year or so later and I know exactly what they were talking about. I haven’t developed really bad acne and my hair isn’t thin and stringy but I definitely am experiencing a serious case of ugly. With or without makeup, I still feel BLAH, so who has time to even bother with it? It’s not like my no longer existent monthly mani and pedi is going to make much of a difference, so who has time to bother with that? I can’t exactly ‘fix up’ hair that’s a good 2 inches above my shoulders (I chopped off over 12 inches to donate to Pantene Beautiful Length a few months ago). Who has time to straighten and curl with a baby anyway? My routine now is shower and go! Oh yeah, my skin care routine that was really just washing and moisturizing-that doesn’t happen anymore either! Even if I happen to have makeup on, I just sleep with it and go the next day with day old makeup on-without even touching it up! As far as clothes go, I have a handful of outfits depending on the occasion. If I’m home all day with the exception of going out to eat with hubby and baby, I don’t reach further than my sweats drawer. If I’m going to visit family or friends, I have 2 nice pants and like 3 different tops that I switch up. I haven’t even looked inside my closet, other than to literally throw something in there, since I came back from my London trip in November! You don’t even want to look inside my closet, the pile on the floor is so high I can barely even see what’s on the hangers!

I know what you’re all thinking. Maybe there’s a reason I’m looking so toe up! Now that I’m writing this out, I’m starting to realize it as well. Maybe my resolution should have been to take better care of myself. I did think about it, but starting a blog seemed easier and more doable. But once our move to Virginia is official and we are settling in to our new life, I promise to myself that I will try!

Busy Mommy

admin — Mon, 31 Jan 2011 20:34:42 +0000

Watching Sesame Street Together..Hubby says:
‘Fekr mikone khooneye khodeshe injoori tekye dade?’

It’s almost 11 am. Hubby is asleep, sick in bed. Baby is asleep in her crib, taking a nap. And I get to sit, relax and unwind. Sigh.

I have been looking at my calendar a lot lately. My brain hurts constantly thinking about the days and dates and how many days until this and how many days until that. We have to sort through what we need and get rid of all the stuff we don’t. Buy boxes. Sell furniture. We have one month to pack what took us almost 5 years to acquire.

Aside from that headache, we also have a birthday party to prepare for. Lily is turning the BIG O-N-E, and as proud parents, it’s a perfect reason to celebrate! We have to buy the decorations, order the cake, find her perfect outfit, bag the party favors and wrap the prizes. I’m putting together a video montage of her entire one year. A dvd that we’ll play at the party, but I’m mostly making it for her as a keepsake-something she can look back on in the years to come.

Sigh.

As a wife and mother, there is already SO much to do in a day! This morning I woke up at 6:16am. From then until now I have: Fed a growing baby on numerous occasions (oatmeal with fruit, mashed up honeydew melon, a handful of cheerios, formula). I fed a sick hubby. Chopped up fruit for when he wakes up. And, quickly fed myself as Lily was occupied with Sesame Street. I consoled a crying baby who hit her head against the cabinet as she yanked on my pants trying to get my attention as I attempted to wash the dishes. I again, consoled a crying baby who was nearing her nap time and was being grumpy and clingy and wanting to be held. I finally put baby to sleep.

It’s past 11am now and I have a pile of mail that needs to be sorted, calls made, bills paid. I have a very important errand that has to be taken care of today, a bathroom that needs to be cleaned and clothes waiting to be ironed. And yet, I still consider myself lazy?! Sigh.

Does my morning routine sound anything like yours? How do you find time to breathe in between your crazy schedules? Make me feel better-tell me how much busier you are!

New Year, New Resolution

admin — Wed, 26 Jan 2011 15:16:04 +0000

As much as I love to write, it’s difficult for me to write anything from the heart if I am aware that it will be read by the outside world. I have been struggling with this problem for nearly a decade, ever since I decided that I was going to write a novel. A page would consume me for an entire day as I read, re-read, wrote and re-wrote, dwelling on each word while fretting over other people’s perception of each word. Needless to say, this novel never got written. Although I will admit that what little I have is pretty amazing stuff! My problem is I’m held back by fear. I’m afraid that what I write might offend, hurt or rub someone the wrong way. I have read many articles where authors have stated that what they write is in some way a reflection of their life. How could it not be? People write about what they know. In my novel, a husband leaves his wife while she is pregnant. And the baby is brought into this world feeling half empty as she spends her youth pushing everyone away while wondering about her mother’s past, her father’s existence and trying to put the pieces of her own life together. Towards the very beginning of my novel venture, many years ago, I read a page of what I had to my father and his immediate reaction was of hurt and disappointment as he asked, “Is that father supposed to represent me?” Can we say, ‘Hello, writer’s block!’ While my character’s story is nothing like my own life, you can say it’s being written by my alter ego-so personal experiences and memories are twisted and turned to create this other dimension. It’s fun to play and create, build and destroy with words! But how can I when I am so worried about other people, like my father, reading into it too much? What if they start wondering how much of my character’s lifestyle and actions are a reflection of my own? With this sort of mentality, it’s no wonder a page takes me an entire day to write! That’s where my New Year’s resolution comes into play. I decided that if I maintain a blog, keep consistent with it and continue to put myself out there for you to read, then I’m opening myself up to the world and allowing all of you, whose opinion I’m obviously afraid of, to get to know me, freely judge me and hopefully also empathize with me. If I’m practically an open book on a daily basis, then how can I continue to fear writing my novel? While watching a series of “Oprah’s Master Class” on OWN, (I love you Maya Angelou!) http://www.oprah.com/own-master-class/About-Oprah-Presents-Master-Class it was apparent that all of these highly successful big names each had the same life lesson for us viewers: To be TRUE to OURSELVES, let OUR VOICE BE HEARD, To follow OUR instincts. To look within and do what makes US happy. A lot of these big names would not be where they are today had they worried about what others thought or called it quits when someone told them ‘no.’ It sounds pretty easy to do, being true to ourselves. Maybe it is for some of you, but it’s never been an easy task for me. I have lived so much of my life trying to do right by others. And you know what? Every time I did something my way, for example, moving in with my husband only a month after meeting him (read previous blog) is when I’ve reaped rewards and felt my happiest! So my resolution to start and stick with a blog goes much deeper than what it is. I’m going to write. I’m not going to be afraid. I will not hold back. I no longer care if I step on toes because it’s about freeing the truth within me. And maybe, just maybe, I’ll be on my way to writing this novel I’ve dreamed about for years!

Home is Where the Heart Is

admin — Mon, 24 Jan 2011 16:41:42 +0000

I feel as though it is official, like it is really actually happening. We’ve been playing the waiting game for so long now that I am still in disbelief. My husband, my baby and my growing belly are making a big life changing move to Virginia. Well it’s not so much life changing for my husband who is born and raised in London and has only lived in California for about 6 years, nor is it life changing for baby or unborn baby since they won’t know the difference. I guess it’s really only life changing for me! I’ve lived my life in Southern California for the past 25 years. La Canada, West Covina, Rancho Cucamonga, Irvine, Tustin, Upland, Burbank, Woodland Hills, Tarzana-all these cities at one point I called ‘home.’ But now home means something entirely different. Home is finally, at long last, where my heart is. Home is here on this worn out leather couch my husband and I bought together almost 5 years ago. We had moved into our first apartment as practically strangers. We had met only one month prior, yet were instantly inseparable and any minute apart was a minute spent thinking about one another! To this day we tell people that we would have moved in sooner except that it took a while to find the right apartment. So here I sit, on a couch that has certainly seen better days, writing about my future, reflecting on my past and acknowledging for the first time to myself that I truly know the meaning of ‘home.’ Home is my predictable husband, making a racket in the kitchen for the sole purpose of attracting my attention as he whips up dinner at the speed of light. Home is my precious little girl, already walking and babbling sweet nothings as she darts around the house with such intense curiosity. Home is the life that’s growing within, nearly 5 months along and I’m already feeling the jabbing and prodding of a baby I have not yet met, but already love with all my heart. I had been longing for a home like this all my life. Due to the circumstances of my past, I don’t need anyone to tell me how lucky I am. Everytime my husband tells me I’m wonderful, beautiful and that he loves me, I know I am truly blessed. I only wish everyone who has lived their life never knowing love from a good man could experience the warmth and security it brings, even just for a day. I wish my mom knew how good it feels to not have to carry all the burdens of life on such petite shoulders. How good it feels to allow someone else to carry you through difficult times, trusting and believing that they will never let you down. Didn’t my mother deserve the best? Just as I do, just as everyone does? So how did I get so lucky and why did luck pass her, skip her, go around her? There is no answer, only faith that everything happens for a reason. So here I am, nervous, excited, scared, that I’m leaving everyone and everything I know to trek cross country to a new land without family and friends. But I’m not worried. I know everything will be alright because I have my home inside me, in my arms and holding my hand. My home is solid as a rock. We are only moving in order to build a better life for ourselves.

I Love America: The Process Involved in Becoming a Citizen

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Funny In Farsi

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Lauren C. Mayhew Interview

admin — Sun, 25 Jul 2010 22:29:23 +0000