Can You Love Your Children Equally?

growing up the eldest of three kids, our parents raised us very differently.

i was the the guinea pig, so i got all sorts of f**cked up.
my younger sister witnessed the insane trouble i got in, turned out the exact opposite and was the perfect child.
by the time my brother was born 10 years after me, my parents basically didn’t care – his diaper didn’t get changed until it was so heavy, the crotch part was touching the ground.

i vowed that as a parent, i’d be completely fair, never compare my kids, love them equally, treat them the same. as soon as i became a parent for the second time, i realized what an idealistic naive idiot i was.

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I’m Baaaaaaaaaack … For Now.

it’s been quite a while since i’ve last posted.

i really thought i could do it all: work 12+ hours a day, be an engaged present mom & wife, clean the house, do the laundry, be the family social secretary, and blog.  do i blame it on lack of hours, exhaustion, work?  no … it’s about priorities and having some safeguards in place to ensure i don’t go freaking crazy, or rather, crazier. Continue reading

Are You There God? It’s Me …

you take a deeper dive, reexamine your morals, find out what you’re truly made of, question your beliefs as soon as you become a parent.

in the past few months, my daughter has brought up death quite a few times, whether it’s about the fear of dying or what happens after we die or the thought of losing her mom and dad forever. to a five year old, it’s terrifying. heck to me, it’s even scary. actually, it’s not what happens after death that’s scary, it’s the process. i don’t want my death to be a painful long drawn out one, i don’t want to be a burden to anyone else, i don’t want to be miserable. i want it to be quick and preferably while i’m sleeping.

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Having Faith In My Daughter

every parent thinks their children are the most.  most special, most talented, most intelligent.  my daughter is many mosts but from a very young age, we noticed she was and is very empathetic and understands emotions.  there are a couple korean words that describe her perfectly but there isn’t a true english translation. Continue reading

You Know You’re A Parent When …

from clubs in junior high to greek organizations in college, playing sports to getting married, we instantly bond when we join a group because we have common knowledge, same goals, shared experiences.  but there ain’t nothing like being jumped into the crazy company of like-minded tired bewildered adoring heart-bursting people called parents.

you know you’re a parent when:

  • poop don’t faze you no more – even if you accidentally eat some.
  • the thought of getting locked up in solitary, pitch black sound proof room, with nothing to do but sleep in absolute silence sounds like a little bit of heaven. Continue reading

The Most Important Men In My Life: My Daddy and my Babies Daddy

there are two main fathers in my life: my own and my husband to our kids.

i’m sure many asian kids experienced this growing up but my dad was not affectionate or communicative. he was very stern and a man of few words but i can’t blame him since he was raised the same way; that’s all he knew. he is the middle child of 5 – an older brother and sister, and 2 younger brothers. it’s funny … until i was older, i thought my dad was the very scary short-tempered crazy one but when my uncles and aunt came to america, they told me he was actually the softie of the bunch and was my grandfather’s favorite for mainly this very reason.

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Sex, Drugs, Rock&Roll … At The Tender Age Of 9?

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.

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