The baby and toddler years will always be amongst my most memorable memories. It wasn’t easy finding a group of women who felt the same exact way I did about mommying.

We shared insecurities, secrets, tips, and truly gave each other what was left of us that we didn’t give to our children.

Then -- something changed.

Maybe when my youngest went to kindergarten. When I began to work again. When I got diagnosed with an unexpected illness.

Suddenly, I could see clearly what I could not observe, or did not want to notice: true friendship.

And one person, who I thought was the most giving of people, upon closer inspection, really was not. Oh, there was so called generosity. Groceries in particular. She always came laden with them. And liked to present me gifts with that I neither needed, sought nor could use.

What she had trouble giving -- was herself. I noticed when I talked, she rarely listened. I babysat for her child way out of proportion to her watching mine. Then there were the unkind words that sometimes found their way out of her mouth. They were always so shocking that I was speechless in reply.

One day, after a particularly virulent spiel -- I could no longer ignore my internal voice. It yelled: MOVE ON!

The problem: her daughter and my daughter are great friends and I don’t want that ruined. We also run in similar circles.

This is where being a mother and the wisdom I’ve hopefully gained must come into play. This is not about me. This is not about her. This is about our children.

Still, there is sadness for what once and for what will no longer be.

I’ve always tried to create family from friends. My best friend at 11 is still my best friend today. I laugh as hard now with my college friends as I did with them back when we were in our 20s (a-hem, that being just a year or two ago).

I’ve been fortunate to have lived around the country and have friends in each place where I have resided. And I have incredible mommy friends who will be my sister-friends forever.

I am happy that by putting an end to something that once was beautiful but is now toxic, I am taking care of myself and I will be watchful for my daughter.

I will also be something else – mature, graceful and kind. The qualities I want my children to have.

Still, I am sad to lose a friend or the friend who I thought she was only to realize that person was an illusion.

Labels: baby, By Dawn Yun, childhood memories, Dreams, illness, illusion, kindergarten, toddler, true friendship

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The baby and toddler years will always be amongst my most memorable memories. It wasn’t easy finding a group of women who felt the same exact way I did about mommying.

We shared insecurities, secrets, tips, and truly gave each other what was left of us that we didn’t give to our children.

Then -- something changed.

Maybe when my youngest went to kindergarten. When I began to work again. When I got diagnosed with an unexpected illness.

Suddenly, I could see clearly what I could not observe, or did not want to notice:true friendship.

And one person, who I thought was the most giving of people, upon closer inspection, really was not. Oh, there was the giving. Groceries in particular. She always came laden with them. And liked to give me gifts that I neither needed, sought nor could use.

What she had trouble giving -- was herself. I noticed when I talked, she rarely listened. I babysat for her child way out of proportion to her watching mine. Then there were the unkind words that sometimes found their way out of her mouth. They were always so shocking that I pretended they were unsaid.

One day, after a particularly virulent spiel -- I could no longer ignore my internal voice. It yelled: MOVE ON!

The problem: her daughter and my daughter are great friends and I don’t want that ruined. We also run in similar circles.

This is where being a mother and the wisdom I’ve hopefully gained must come into play. This is not about me. This is not about her. This is about our children.

Still, there is sadness for what once and for what will no longer be.

I’ve always tried to create family from friends. My best friend at 11 is still my best friend today. I laugh as hard now with my college friends as I did with them back when we were in our 20s (a-hem, that being just a year or two ago).

I’ve been fortunate to have lived around the country and have friends in each place where I have resided. And I have incredible mommy friends who will be my sister-friends forever.

I am happy that by putting an end to something that once was beautiful but is now toxic, I am taking care of myself and I will be watchful for my daughter.

I will also be something else – mature, graceful and kind. The qualities I want my children to have.

There is legacy and lesson in that.

By Dawn Yun

Labels: baby, By Dawn Yun, kindergarten, toddler

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We are at a beach in China Camp.  It is nine in the morning, pleasantly warm, but overcast.  My seventeen-month old daughter wobble-walks solo in the rocky sand.  My nearly six-year old son is next to me on the beach as we make our way to the lapping waves. 

My oldest child fires off a string of questions.  “Mama, can I go into the water?  Can I swim?  Do I need to wear shoes? Mama, are there sharks here?” 

He holds my hand until he sees things at his feet that interest him.  Suddenly, he stoops to gather special stones and sea glass from the beach, and carefully places these treasures into his bucket. 

My son excitedly shouts, “Look at the fish jumping out of the water!”  He hops up and down and points.  Then he skip-runs to catch up to me. 

He looks where I am looking.

I watch his sister marching ahead of us, getting rocky sand in my shoes as I pick up my pace.  He urgently warns me that she is almost at the water’s edge and hurries with me in a quest to restrain her from going in unattended. 

My daughter has a pail in one dimpled hand, a shovel in the other.  Her diapered bottom makes her walk with her knees out, as if she is saddle sore.  She confidently toddles toward the calm water.  The little one is almost there.  There is no regard for safety, or for my warning, “Wait for Mama!”  She has no concern for her unbuckled, pink shoe or for the floppy hat that just blew off her head. 

The girl marches on. 

She reaches the water’s edge, and continues her march into the Bay, squealing with glee.  Her brother manages to distract her by asking if she wants a cookie, while doing a silly dance.  She stops momentarily, looks back at him, and shouts, “Coo-key!”  

My youngest is three steps in.  The water level reaches her diapered bottom and thrillingly makes her teeter.

She is elated. 

I feel panic.  I run the last few steps, splash into the water, grab her wrist, and steady her.

I am relieved… and wet. 

My son is cautious.  My daughter takes risks.  Part of it is experience (or lack thereof).  He is four and a half years older than she, but part of it is just in one’s nature.  From where does her propensity for risk-taking come?  I would never voluntarily parachute from an airplane, or dive with sharks, or travel abroad without reservations.  Neither would my husband, (or my son for that matter). 

She will.  I am certain.

By Jennifer Taekman

Labels: Jennifer Taekman, man, toddler, water

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