Dear Mumsie

Dear Mumsie,

The other night after a long, grueling hike up a mountain that didn't forgive me for trying to climb it, Kenny and I went to a sauna. You know, the ones I've told you about where all the girls are naked and bathing together in one huge room with lots of showers, hot tubs, and steam rooms. I thought it might be good for my body if I had a nice relaxing soak in the really hot tub followed by a painfully cold dip in the really icy tub. And so I did this a few times, going back and forth from being hot to teeth chattering. I felt my muscles relaxing and I hoped that it would make me less sore the next day. (Lies, all lies. I'm so very sore. Typing hurts, Mom.)

While I was soaking, freezing, soaking, freezing, and soaking again, my eyes were open. So, I saw a few things. I saw women who walked right out of magazines, airbrushed and all. I saw women who wore the tell-tale signs of motherhood, their breasts humbled by the weight of their baby's hunger, their stomachs remembering the once-upon-a-nine-months time they were a home. I saw women who were shaped like time and age, with scars on their knees and bends in their backs. I saw women who were not women yet, turning circles in the mirror to see what they were becoming.

While I was soaking, freezing, soaking, freezing, and soaking again, my eyes were open. So, I saw a few things. I saw mothers and daughters. I saw a young mother washing her hair while her baby girl splashed in a bowl of water she just learned how to stand up and reach. I saw a teenage girl and her mother sitting face to face in the hot tub, knees to chin, telling each other everything about their days, hands in and out of water. I saw a mother scrubbing every inch of her 4 year old daughter's pearl of a body. I saw these women and these girls.

While I was soaking, freezing, soaking, freezing, and soaking again, my eyes were open. And then they were closed. Because I didn't want to cry there. I missed you so much, Mommy. I wished so badly that you were there with me, laughing and telling me the details of your day in the hot tub. I wished that I could scrub your back where it's hard to reach, like these women were doing for each other. I wished that you could wash my hair with my head turned upside down, like you used to in the kitchen sink when I was too lazy to take a full shower.

But I missed someone else, too. Someone who isn't even here yet. Someone I'm not yet brave enough to dream about. Is it possible to miss your own daughter before you even have one? And I know why I miss her already. I know why I want to rock her and read her bedtime stories and scrub her little pearl of a body. It's because I want what we have. I want to be a mother just like you. One that listens to me when I'm crazy-talking out the side of my head. One that knows how to calm me down no matter how worked up I am. One that brings me saltine crackers and sweet tea when my stomach hurts or just when I yell your name enough times from the other end of the house to earn it.  I want to be a mother like you, who gives me the confidence and courage that comes with being loved unconditionally.

Because I love being your daughter, I know I will love being a mother.

And I don't know when that is going to be. But sometimes, I'm so excited about it. I've got names picked out (don't worry, an English one you can pronounce and a Korean one Kenny's parents can pronounce!), and ideals and hopes in place. And even though I don't know anything about being a mother yet, I know I'll be a good one, because I had and have a good one.

I miss you, Mom. Why don't you come to Korea so we can hang out naked in a hot tub? And maybe you can get a Korean ajumma to scrub the top layer of your skin off. It hurts a little bit, but afterward it feels sooooo nice! If I can handle it, you can handle it. You know I'm a negative on the pain tolerance scale anyway.

I love you. I miss you. (And some days, I really want a baby.)
Your heartbeat,
Danielle

Correspondence

Dear Self,

Stop making decisions that don't support what you want! The top five priorities in your life are:
1. Enrich your marriage by being present in every moment.
2. Write when you want to write. Stop allowing small obstacles to stand in the way of spending your time the way you want. If you want to write, sit down and write! Don't make a list of things you need to do first.
3. Study Korean. There are people who have been here far less time than you and are way ahead of you. Spend time not only reading and writing, but SPEAKING. Stop canceling or postponing classes with GeumOk. Those decisions do not support your desire to be fluent!
4. Be social, be kind, be involved. Don't just watch your life from the outside and wish it were different. MAKE IT SO. Everyday you have the opportunity to be helpful, kind, and compassionate to a room full of amazing coworkers. Do it.
5. Be active. Be intense and focused about physical activity in the morning before school. Be serious about making healthy eating choices. So far this week, veggies have prevailed. And you feel so much better! And your skin is even getting better! Keep it up so you can be proud of yourself and actually fit into your clothes. It will be one less thing to worry about when you make this a habit and it doesn't have to be so intentional. But for now, stay focused. Be intentional. Make decisions that help you, not hurt you. (P.S. Cookies hurt you. Just in case you were having your doubts.)

There you go, self. Clear. Simple. Now, when it comes time for the tiniest, most quotidian detail of your life, make the decision that moves you in the direction of these goals. Because this is where you want to go. Stop whining, bitching, complaining, being loud, stupid, and lazy. Live your life fully, with joy and INTENT.

All the best,
Danielle

Dear Weather,

Although it was a great April Fool's trick to give us two Februaries and no spring this year, I'm kind of over it. If it snows one more day, I'm going to have to take some kind of emotional health holiday and go somewhere warm. Where I don't need to wear socks and coats and more than two layers. Seriously. Stop with the rain and the cold and the SNOW FOR GOODNESS SAKE. Help a sister out and pour some sunshine on me. It makes me feel thinner, you know? Do it for me.
Also, tell Winter we're through. I broke up with him in January. Hoped he'd have moved all his crap out my place by March, but it's April and he's still calling me. Stop it.

Please bring Spring,
Weather Affective Disordered Wife

Dear Saralyn,

I cannot thank you enough for all the support you've given me over the past few months. Super duper congratulations on getting into stupid graduate school. Because now there's a sobering countdown going on. You'll only sit in the desk beside me for a few more months. And then what if some weirdo comes in and takes your place! And I have to sit next to the weirdo. And the weirdo doesn't bake chocolate banana bread (I just realized all my favorite Canadians have baked banana bread and it's always delicious. Why is that? Is Banana Bread Baking a requisite for graduation in Canada?)  and doesn't understand my need to not have to share that banana bread with the rest of the teachers and also doesn't forward me all the templates he or she makes for tests. And what if the hypothetical weirdo doesn't let me copy every classroom strategy, teaching technique, and filing method shamelessly? And what if the weirdo doesn't like riding in the trunk of my car and makes waves every time all of us try to pile in there? And what if they don't keep stashed of Ice Breakers Sours in their middle desk drawer? And what if they get mad at me for losing my glue and my stapler and my calculator all in the same day and don't let me use theirs?  Oh my God. Somebody call Philip, because I just out-worried him! But seriously. If I have to sit next to some deranged mentally unstable person, I'm blaming you.

No really, congratulations! Probably.

Love,
The Weirdo in the Desk Next To Yours

Dear Readers,

Forgive me for the blogging break. Do you still love me? Maybe I should start being all "prepared" and "organized" and "thoughtful" and let you know when I'm going to fall off the face of the Internet. Oh well. I'm back. Maybe. Sort of. Oh my back fat. I love you guys.

Sincerely,
Wonju Wife

Dear HubbO

Dear Blog

Dear Blog,

It's true. I've been cheating on you. I guess you figured it out from my silence and lack of enthusiasm for Internet lately. No, no, it's not you. It's your cousin. See, I love you. No doubt about it. You help me make meaning out of a lot of silly little things that happen in my life. You give me a voice to express myself and you even have a handy-dandy comment form so I can hear what other people think about! Basically, you're awesome. But to get right down to the point, I can't hold you. I can't flip your pages. I can't hand you to my friends and say, "Look what I did!" Sure, I can hand out your web address, but I can't make people meet you. It's just not socially acceptable while going through the latest YouTube hits to say, "Oh, and after you finish laughing your face off at this video, let's read my blog! Yay!" It just doesn't really work that way. I guess what I'm trying to say is that I cannot force you on people, and that's just something I'm not always comfortable with. I like to be able to hand my captive audience something and demand their full attention. 

So, your cousin, scrapbook and I, we've been seeing a lot of each other. I've been holed up

downstairs in the scrap room (yes, we got a room so stop being so snide; I would never disgrace you in public) creating a book of my wedding. What? I know I blogged the wedding. Okay, yes,perhaps I overblogged the wedding (someone call Websters! Overblogged  [a verb]: the act of writing a ridiculous amount of blog posts about something you cannot get over, but everyone else has had enough of), but it wasn't enough for me. It wasn't something I could shove down people's throats. It was too... how do I put this... voluntary. But a scrapbook. Now there's some social tyranny. I mean, you hand someone a scrapbook to look at, they're going to look at it, you know? 

I've been inattentive to you. But it doesn't mean you're still not a huge meaningful and meaning-making part of my life. Do you understand? You do? Great. Because now I'm going to use you to come clean. To make my affair public. I love you, blog. Don't forget that. 

Sincerely yours,

ChubbO

The creative process, somewhat tinged with guilt. 

The Wedding Scrapbook!

The fixing of the hair and getting ready! (There is a single page in front of this that hasn't been done yet. We had wedding portraits done the other day. One of those will probably go on the front.

The left side is wedding day breakfast at our coffee shop. The right side says Oh My God and the small speech bubble says, "I'm getting married in an hour!" The Y of My and the O of God are hard to pick up on in the picture, but I think they look okay in real life. 

This opening consists of us getting ready at the church right before the wedding and all the people who were there with us, helping us or just supporting us!

This is my favorite opening so far. I spent a lot of time trying to get it right. My sister sang us down the aisle and in the circle underneath her picture are the words to the song she sang. This is all I've done so far! I've got lots more work to do. Just thought I'd share with you guys what I've been up to. 

P.S. I have a lot more pictures to post from what I've now dubbed our USA Stay. So look for that tag in the future to see recaps of our small adventures here at home. Well, my home. Whatev. You know what I mean.