- overheard between hubbie and daughter: “if you keep fighting with your brother, i’m going to give him away.” “go ahead because no one wants him.” 1 for 5yo girl, 0 for daddy.
- telling my kids to “go to bed” is equivalent to shooting them up with speed and caffeine.
- the level of urgency to get out of the house = the immediate need for your kids to spill a large drink on the floor or go constipationpoo.
i often wonder if i’ll be noholdsbarred honest about myself with my kids when they get a bit older; i certainly wasn’t and still am not with mine. it’s all such new territory because i don’t have an example to follow.
my parents came to america in their late 20’s so their core oldschool korean values were already hard wired – getting straight-a’s, never going out, staying home until you married, being 100% obedient, basically anything opposite of fun and free. especially as their first born, i was the guinea pig child. they were working graveyard shifts on alternating days, didn’t speak english, scraping by, had no real family in the states, were first-time parents. as i grew up, they didn’t know who this nonstraight a, defiant, sullen girl was and how to deal. so screaming and yelling, fighting and crying, sneaking out and running away, and lots of hiding and lying. there was no way they could or would understand 99% of what i was going through. needless to say, muy mucho no bueno.
i enjoy the materialistic luxuries that money has to offer, as do most people. that’s a big part of why i work 11+ hours a day – i don’t want to have to think twice about providing for my kids, whether it’s dance lessons, art classes, family vacations, after-school activities, hopefully a nice big house sometime soon. i’m sure people will agree though that there are things in life that you can’t buy, things you can’t put a price tag on because some of the best experiences in life are free.
here are a few of mine. Continue reading
i’ve mentioned in many prior posts that we’re korean and i am extremely proud to be, although it wasn’t always that way. until high school, i went to vastly white schools and there were times when i wished i wasn’t asian. i hope my kids won’t ever feel the same way but i’m 99% sure they will or they will be made to.
growing up there were blatantly racist incidents – the usual chink, gook and nip slurs, yelling ching chong while making slanty eyes and buck teeth. when i was younger, i didn’t know how to react except to feel shame and embarrassment. i remember in 5th grade my best friend was the only 1 of 3 other asian girls, including myself, in the school. we would talk about how we wished we had blonde hair and blue eyes. i still get oriental sometimes but that’s mostly out of ignorance and not racism; i always correct. when someone says “sayonara” or “ni hao” to me, i cross my arms, stare at them and don’t say a word until the other person is extremely uncomfortable.
- baby just dumped out the biggest wateriest messiest runniest poop … there’s only one diaper wipe left.
- groggily open up coffee can only to realize there’s not even enough to make one cup.
- thinking of what to pack for your kids lunches.
- conference call, kids wailing at dinner out of boredom, expecting important call but cell phone has 10% battery life and is 5 minutes away from causing your head to literally explode. Continue reading
by the time i had my kids, i was considered a “mature mother” – yes, it’s an actual term. you know what’s funny, not hahafunny but sadfunny, is that by the time i felt ready to become a mommy, i may have looked young and felt young but my body was considered old.
with my first pregnancy, everything was so novel and wonderful and basked in a glow of love that i overlooked such things as extreme shortness of breath, GERD, maddeningly itchy skin, round ligament pain, hormones that make you want to stab your partner with an ice pick just because he has a certain expression while watching tv, peeing 12 x a night, a protruding belly button that looks like a third thumb. but by the time i was pregnant with number 2, i was ready for that sucker to be out by week 12. completely over it.
until the unexpected phone call. Continue reading
when i was younger, i was extremely impulsive. i’m pretty sure many of you will say that you were too but i’m also pretty sure that i was a bit more extreme than you. nothing i’m going to divulge into too deeply here but let’s just say that after being heavily restricted and constrained for 18 years, i took the next 18 to do everything and anything possible that was bad, dangerous, illegal, excessive. you get the picture. Continue reading