funny girl, unofficial life coach, wife, mom, babe supporting babes
Raising Kids to Be Entrepreneurs
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My boss suggested watching this clip today. I wish my parents forced me to put one pay cheque into saving while I was working part-time in high school. They trusted me to use my money responsibility. Big mistake.
I am not sure how old I was when my mom told me about my parent’s arranged marriage, but I’ve loved the story ever since I was a child. Arranged marriages are customary in Cambodia. Parents consulted match makers and even astrologers to find the most suitable match for their sons and daughters. Often the match was economically or politically beneficial to the families involved. Sons typically had a say in whether or not they agreed to the match. Daughters usually agreed to please their parents and future in law's. A girl that refused an arranged marriage would be labeled as difficult and even ungrateful. Therefore, more often than not, the daughter would say yes to the match. The hope for an arranged marriage is that the couple respectfully co-exist as partners. If they learned to like each other that was a blessing, and if like turned into love that was a miracle and the match maker would boast about that for their entire career. The tradition and culture around arranged marriages...
The journey from my house to my parent’s house is 124 km, includes a ferry ride and takes just over 4 hours. I often treat the ferry voyage as an exclusive cruise through the beautiful clustered display of the Gulf Islands. I like to observe all the homes on the cliff of each island and wonder about their stories. Do people live in those homes all year round? Are they merely vacation homes? If it’s a permanent residence, what do the people do for work? What kind of work is available on the island? Could my parents retire there? It would be a faster trip to see them than going all the way from Coquitlam to Victoria. I love that trip though, especially when it ends with a greeting from my parents who pretend they were not waiting for my arrival the entire time. There is a sigh of relief that finally I arrived, as I embrace them with a big warm hug. My mom wears the scent of freshly cooked jasmine rice. There is always a meal waiting for me, even when I tell her not to worry and ...
I went out for a catch up lunch with two of my mommy buds. One of the mom's and I are still breastfeeding, either because we're wimps, or martyrs, I haven't decided which yet. The bi-product of breastfeeding beyond a year, is that I'm skinny now, and I don't really work out. Of course I'm totally weak, and useless too. I can't open a jar of pickles to save my life. I talked about how even though I can fit into my size 25 jeans, I'm not feeling shit hot. My other non-breastfeeding mommy bud told me to shut the fuck up.
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