Category Archives: Health

Buy-Nothing strikes again with non-GMO dried soybeans!

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I haven’t been very active on Buy-Nothing this year. Earlier in the year, I gave away a bunch of things on it. A handful of things I posted shockingly had zero interest, so I ended gathering a bunch of things to donate to some charity who was willing to pick up. But in terms of finding things to take, I haven’t seen much that would be relevant for us. Well, that was until two days ago, when a neighbor posted that she mistakenly got sent a 5-lb. bag of dried soybeans, though the label said “soybean seeds.” She said that if there was no interest by the end of the weekend, she would toss them.

I balked at this: she was planning to throw these out?! I could make quite a number of batches of fresh soy milk or tofu out of this! I raised my hand immediately! Only one other person was interested (also Asian), but she wasn’t able to pick up this weekend. So, I was the winner! Within hours, the original poster messaged me to say I could come pick it up on Sunday. So I walked out Sunday morning during this “Nor’easter” aka light drizzle and picked up my free dried soy bean haul. I was so, so excited. I have thought about making my own soy milk because I love it so much, but I wasn’t really sure if it would really be that cost effective if I bought organic / non-GMO dried soybeans. These beans are not organic, but they’re non-GMO, and that’s good enough for me for now. While I have settled on some western store-bought brands like the Trader Joe’s carton version (the ingredients are pure, just soybeans, water, and a little sea salt), I use them only for morning protein smoothies, not for their flavor or pure drinking. If I am drinking a soy milk straight, I want it to be Chinese style: luscious, smooth, creamy, a little thick, and beany. I strongly dislike that the western palate thinks “beany” is bad for soy milk. Soy is a bean, guys!! Plus, it’s a delicious one! Get with the program!

So, on my list of things to do this week is to make real, fresh, soybean milk from scratch in my Instant Pot. The first step is to soak the beans overnight. This will be my first time, and I’m really looking forward to it!

Teaching my child about food, how it’s grown, how to prepare it, and how to cook it

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Years ago, a friend of mine who has never been into cooking, does not like to cook, and rarely cooks, said that he found cooking to be a very dissatisfying task.

“You spend all this time and energy on cooking, and then within minutes if not seconds, it’s all gone!” he said to me. “You have nothing to show for!”

I smiled. I told him this was one of many, many reasons I found cooking so inherently satisfying. I did not want it to stay with me as a “thing” forever. I wanted to make it, enjoy the process and flavor (and hopefully the health benefits), and then be done with it and move on to the next food. Back then, I was already extremely anti-clutter, so the idea of having lots of “things” piling up in my house was absolutely not something that would bring me joy. Here’s one hobby I’ve always superficially thought about but know I’d unlikely ever get into because it would inevitably make me accumulate lots of things: pottery and ceramics. This seems fun, challenging, and therapeutic, but I don’t need endless ceramics in my house!

As with growing and harvesting your own food, cooking food makes you more connected with what you’re eating. It forces you to think more critically about what you are putting into your body and why. There’s also some creativity involved with food preparation and cooking that can be fun. As most health guidances will tell you, what you put into your body (EAT!) is a huge contributing factor to your health, more so than exercise, so if you have control over it, why would you not try to optimize for both flavor and health?

Kaia has had an interest in cooking and baking on and off since she was a baby. Many times as a baby, she’d watch me cook from her high chair. Then as she was able to stand on her step stool and be in the kitchen with me as she got bigger, she’d help me with simple tasks like stirring, folding, pouring, and simple cutting (with kid-safe knives). She’s not always interested in helping out, though, as at the end of the day, she is a child. But as of late, she’s been asking more “why” questions about food prep, and I’ve really enjoyed it. At just over 4.5 years old, she’s still very much into her vegetables, particularly her Asian greens.

“Mama, what vegetable is that?” Kaia asked this morning as I washed some red mustard greens I picked up at the Greenmarket on Friday.

“These are called red mustard greens,” I replied. “These are very good and in season!”

Kaia frowned. “I don’t want to eat red mustard greens! I want bok choy! Can you make some bok choy for me?”

“Pookster, Mama doesn’t have bok choy today,” I said to her in my stern voice. “We have red mustard greens that are very fresh, and I’m going to cook them. I can show you how to make them so you can see they are yummy. You want to see?”

“No, no no!” Kaia insisted, running away. “I want bok choy! I don’t want to try red mustard greens! I don’t like them!”

I’ve told her more times than I can count that she cannot not like something she has never had. But as per usual, she ignored me. So instead, I feigned ignorance and continued to heat up my wok.

Kaia eventually walked back over to the kitchen and got on her tippy toes to see what was in my wok. Tentatively with curious big eyes, she asked, “Can I see what you’re cooking?”

“Yes, can you go get your step stool so you can watch?” I suggested to her, as I added some oil to the hot wok.

She obediently grabbed her step stool from the bathroom, dragged it over to the front of the stove, asked me to stabilize the legs, and climbed up to watch every step of the cooking process. In minutes, the cooking was all done: we had stir fried red mustard greens flavored with garlic, a touch of soy sauce, and rice vinegar. Then came her favorite part.

“Can I taste?” Kaia asked me, smiling. “I want the stem first!”

My Kaia Pookie has always loved the stems, ever since she was a baby. So I picked out a stem with my tongs and placed it into her wide open mouth. “Oooooh, this is so delicious!” she said happily. “Can I have a leaf now, please?”

She ate a few bites of red mustard green leaves, and then I told her she had to wait until lunch time to eat more. Kaia was so happy about her red mustard greens after watching me make it.

I want Kaia to have a healthy relationship with food, and to respect how it’s grown, prepared, and cooked. One thing I say a lot to her, which she does and does not like is, “Good food takes time.” So far, I think she’s on a pretty good track.

13 years fundraising and writing blurbs to encourage donations

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It’s hard to believe that it’s been 13 years since Ed passed, and now 13 years of fundraising for the American Foundation for Suicide Prevention (AFSP). When I first sought out some nonprofit fundraising effort to preserve Ed’s memory and keep his spirit alive, I wasn’t sure how long I would do this for or even if I’d stick with AFSP. For a couple years, I thought I might switch organizations to change things up for myself, plus to expose myself to different nonprofit environments. But in the end, I stuck with AFSP because it was comfortable, familiar, and I got used to the setup, events, and the people. I’ve been involved in various AFSP events, including going on local TV to represent them and discuss why I walk. I’ve also been an AFSP NYC walk committee member for the last year and am continuing this effort this year.

Every year when I write my fundraising message, I try to change the message up so that it’s a little different and current to my life at the moment and what’s top of mind for me. The first couple years were about the shock of losing him. Then it evolved into missing him at milestone moments of my life, whether that was my wedding, my pregnancy and the birth of Kaia, and this year, my 40th birthday. And now, it’s really become about… every year I’ve lived past age 33… all the years he never got to live. So what am I really doing with my life to make it more meaningful and to make it “worth” living, both for his memory and for myself?

Sometimes I wonder if anyone really reads my updated blurbs, specifically the people who are in my repeat donor group. I am grateful for their repeat donations, but I always wonder if they really read anything I write. Then last year, one person actually texted to let me know that he loved “the evolution of my message” each year, and how my reflections about my brother and his passing have changed over time. That was something I really appreciated.

So, here we go again. This year, I couldn’t put my thoughts together as early as I usually do, as I typically target July, the month of his passing. I didn’t figure out what I wanted to write until around his birthday in late August. So here I am, scrambling to organize my message and fundraiser just a month and a half out from the walk on October 25! Wish me luck in meeting my goal.

Last day with family in San Francisco for this year

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My family tends to go through the same behavioral patterns in the last day or two when I am home. My mom goes through an anxious, angry period where she is either aggressive or passive aggressive with me, getting mad at me for innocuous things or accusing me of having feelings or intentions that she makes up. If I am not home during a given period, she will call repeatedly and ask when I am coming home; this is her way of actually saying, you need to come home now. On Monday, we planned to have dinner at my aunt’s upstairs, and my uncle would also be joining us. She asked us to come at 5 since my uncle needs to leave early since he cannot drive in the dark. So at around 3 while in Mission Bay with Chris and Kaia, I called home to let my dad know that we’d be back before 4. I could hear my mom in the background saying I was late and that I needed to come home right away. I could hear her angst, but I shrugged it off.

We went to pick up ice cream (black sesame and mango!) from Joe’s Ice Cream, a neighborhood ice cream shop that’s been around since I was a kid. Then we walked home from there. When we arrived back and I came into the kitchen, that was when I could feel my mom glaring at me with her eyes burning. “It’s almost 4 o’clock now. You are late,” she hissed at me. “You should have been home a long time ago! They are already upstairs waiting for us and eating.” Um. It wasn’t even 4pm. Who the hell was going to be eating dinner at this time? I said nothing and did as I promised, which was to help make a steamed eggplant dish to bring to the dinner along with my purchased dessert. She proceeded to get mad that we went out at all today and didn’t tell her, as she was hoping we could “talk more” together. I did not have that same hope.

As 4:50 rolled around, my mom started yelling that we’re all late and that we all needed to get upstairs, pronto. I was still cleaning up and washing dishes in the kitchen. Kaia was running around happily. My dad was doing something somewhere in the basement. Chris was lying on my bed, asking what the rush was. The reason she wanted us to go upstairs as soon as possible was that she wanted us to be done with this family dinner as soon as possible. She can only keep up her “family dinner” face for so long, and she had nothing to say to my uncle. While at dinner when we were asking my aunt questions about her potentially changing living situation, my mom got mad at me for asking questions and insisted we “let her eat her dinner.” I told her that it’s normal to have a conversation at the dinner table, and that shut her up; not everyone wants to eat in silence and call that a “family dinner” for god’s sake. It’s almost like she is in pain being at a dinner table with any wider family members and she needs to find a way to make it stop as soon as possible. When they invite her, she feels a need to “return the favor” and invite them back right away, which is “suffering.” Thinking about this is so exhausting.

There were some nice moments, though. This morning before we left, Kaia kept insisting to my dad that he show her his worms in his compost pile before leaving. Obviously this made my dad beyond thrilled, so he was happy to comply with her ask. Then as he rummaged through random junk in the garage, she insisted she wanted to stay with him to watch what he was doing. This attachment she’s developed to my dad has been really endearing. Every time she yells, “GONGGONG! GONGGONG!” and runs after him, it makes me smile and chuckle. Chris commented that my dad has probably never felt more desired or more affection from another human in his entire life before now. He is probably right.

And as we packed up the car to go to the airport, while she was being a little bratty and refused to give my mom a hug and kiss until the very last minute, she had zero problem giving my dad endless hugs and kisses and grabbing onto his leg until she had to let go and get into the car. My dad’s big goofy grin in this moment was pretty epic… and this is coming from someone who never uses that word.

When we got to the airport lounge and sat down, I asked Kaia if she missed Popo and Gonggong. She nodded her head and quietly said a drawn out, “Yeah.” Then, she didn’t say anything for while, but out of nowhere looked at me and said, “We never got to see Jiujiu… because he died.”

Yes, that is true. At least she waited to say that until after my parents were gone because I am not sure how they would have reacted to hearing Kaia say this.

The soft side of my dad

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In the evenings before bed, my parents like to make hot chocolate. They don’t do anything fancy; they use 2% cow milk, a little heavy cream for extra richness occasionally, and different forms of hot chocolate mix. The latest versions I see that look quite depleted in the cupboard are Whole Foods brand or some random organic cacao blend. My dad already pre-measured out the evening mugs for milk and was planning to warm them in the microwave and mix in the hot chocolate blend. But I told him that I’d make it properly over the stove for all of us tonight. I finally asked him why he didn’t use the Dandelion Chocolate hot chocolate mix I got him; two of the three glass jars were still sitting in the cupboard fully sealed. He hesitated initially and said that he found it a bit too sweet for bedtime, which I could understand. So we compromised, and I mixed some of his unsweetened cacao into the Dandelion hot chocolate blend.

As I heated the pot over the stove, my dad stuck around while I mixed occasionally. We actually had a pretty decent chat. We somehow managed to cover glucose and cholesterol levels, general health maintenance, diet modifications based on age, dental care and insurance, my work, the Nepal flooding (!), and general house maintenance in a very short space of time while in the kitchen together. I’ve realized over all the years of returning home that my dad really does not enjoy table side conversation; he actually detests it most times and rarely says anything at the table unless it’s something specifically interesting to him. Because of this, I usually don’t probe him much at the table. My dad’s favorite way of talking to anyone is while each person is sort of side by side. One person may be occupied with a task like heating milk over the stove (me) while the other person (in this case, him) lingers nearby. One person asks the other person an innocuous question out of the blue. The other person responds. Then the conversation either builds on that topic or another unrelated topic comes up. But the door has already been opened to allow the conversation to flow pretty easily.

Long ago, I gave up on the idea that I could change my relationship with my dad. We’ve had many ups and downs over the years. I spent a lot of my childhood living in fear that he’d lash out at me the way he did with Ed. And yes, of course every now and then, he definitely did lash out at me with his fangs. But I have forgiven him for his shortcomings because I know he had a miserable, difficult, and impoverished childhood, with very little love or direction given by either of his parents. I have moments when I get pissed because I am human, but I try to remember his childhood hardships. I have come to terms that we will never have the ideal daddy-daughter relationship or closeness I wish we could have had. I have made peace with it, mourned it, and let it go. Instead, I do exactly what ChatGPT suggested I do, which is to find power in the moments instead of forced, idealized, longer periods of time together. So if that means offering to make him hot chocolate and chatting over the stove one on one, or dusting the living room surfaces side by side while having random chatter, then I will embrace it. Those are the times he feels the most relaxed and open to me. Those are also the times he seems the softest to me.

What I’ve also loved watching during this trip particularly is how much Kaia has embraced my dad. She actively engages with her Gonggong, shows him that she wants his attention, and will not accept any less (this level of stubbornness is truly amazing and so hilarious to watch). On Sunday, he had to go out to pick up dinner takeout; she blocked the door and prevented him from leaving. When he tried to climb over her, she grabbed his leg and said he would not be allowed to leave. Eventually I had to intervene and pick Kaia up to let my dad out of the house, but it was such a cute and sweet (and likely infuriating for my parents!) moment to see.

Each night we’ve been at my parents’, I tell Kaia she has to go to each of them to hug and kiss them good night. What she has also done, which I did not tell her to do, is she proactively tells each of them she loves them. The first time she did this with my dad, he patted her on the back (his version of a hug…). Then when she actually uttered the words “I love you,” I could see the shock spread over his face… then eventually melt into this huge grin. Then she kept doing it with him night after night. I just loved seeing how big my dad’s smiles were each time. It was almost like for the first time in his entire life, at the age of 78, he was experiencing verbalized love and physical affection repeatedly, all from this tiny little human who has been a temporary resident at his home.

I loved seeing my dad feel loved. I had a moment when I almost started tearing up. For his entire childhood, my dad was deprived of love and affection, which turned him into this hard, stoic, emotionless man that he became. He focused on survival and financial independence only because that’s all he knew. And now, his little 4.5-year-old granddaughter gives him the love that he always needed but didn’t realize he needed.

Back in Sacramento after two years, and contemplations on the “sandwich generation”

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This morning, we drove up to Sacramento to visit and stay with a friend of ours who has a child close in age to Kaia. We have visited this friend up in Sacramento twice before, once while I was pregnant in 2021, and the last time in August 2024. We didn’t come last year because she was the primary caregiver of not just her son, for whom she is a single parent, but also her mom at the time, who was going through lung cancer treatment. So she just had too much going on at the time. She messaged me in December of last year with the good news that her mom’s cancer was in remission. Unfortunately, it seems that did not last long: the cancer had returned, and her treatments started again in the last couple weeks.

The kids got together after she picked up her son from school this afternoon, and we spent some time together at the NorCal Aquarium nearby, followed by dinner at a local South Indian restaurant we enjoyed five years ago. My other local friend joined us for dinner. Afterwards, we went back to the first friend’s house, where we chatted for the next several hours while the kids built a fort and made the most ridiculous mess in the dining room. The theme of our conversation was definitely around our health, our parents’ health and their aging and slowing down, and the overall maintenance of a home (and how overwhelming, exhausting, and expensive it can be). As I was participating in this conversation, it suddenly dawned on me how “middle aged” and “sandwich generation” this conversation felt.

That made me think about the time when the only grandparent I’ve ever known died. My paternal grandma died in 1995 when I was nine years old. At the time, my dad was 47 and my mom was 41. In the seven months leading up to her passing, my grandma was quite ill and eventually had to be moved into a convalescent home. I still have distinct memories of going to the hospital or the convalescent home almost every night after I got off school and my parents got off work. My parents somehow managed our household, worked full time, got food on the table and supplies for us, and cared for my grandma — all at the same time. I always look back at that fraught, frantic period and feel a sense of admiration for my parents and how they somehow kept it all together — at least sort of. I never felt neglected during that period, and I was always in the know with what was happening with my grandma’s state of health and treatment despite being so young.

To be frank, I am not sure if I could have ever done all the things my parents did. I can already see my parents slowing down a bit; I suppose I’ve been thinking about it a lot more on this trip. My dad, for the most part, seems to be in decent health. I know he monitors all his health results carefully and has modified his diet quite a bit over the last decade or so. My mom seems to be quite fragile, both mentally and physically. My main hope is that they live independently for as long as possible. I want them to have long, healthy, independent lives. I want to continue seeing them mobile, and I want Kaia to have a relationship with them and know them. But now when I think about how my grandma died when my dad was 47, and I am 40 today… that just gave me some chills. Death is an inevitable part of life. But I want to hope they will keep living for at least another decade or two. Here’s to hoping.

Eating less as we age

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The more I read about health and fitness into my 40s and 50s, the more pretty much all the sources say that we need to eat more protein… and likely less carbs. As we age into our late 30s and early 40s, the loss of muscle mass naturally accelerates, and for optimal health and fitness, we’re supposed to counteract that by increasing protein consumption and strength training. The frustrating part about this, though, is that these recommendations come at a time when our appetites just naturally start to decrease. For years, I just never ate much breakfast at all on the weekdays because I didn’t have the appetite upon waking. Now with my increased focus on body recomposition, I have to force myself to eat some form of (high protein) breakfast, otherwise I will just never hit my protein target for the day. And the only way I can eat breakfast is by drinking it through a smoothie, otherwise I just start feeling too bloated or stuffed.

When traveling, and especially while in San Francisco with my parents (really, my mom!), we eat a lot of carbs. It’s not necessarily a “bad” thing because these are all the things that are either homemade or are bought with love by my parents because they know I like these things. But I tend to eat a lot more carbs than I normally do, which means I just feel fuller… all the time, and especially in the last few years in my late 30s. While here, I also remember things I like that are really good in San Francisco that I just don’t have in New York (like my beloved scallion bao!). So since I’m not back that often, I want to enjoy them while I am here. But at the end of the day, I can only eat so much before I just feel too stuffed.

Let’s take today: we ate breakfast at the Westin St. Francis hotel lounge, where I tried to eat a higher protein breakfast by focusing on scrambled eggs, egg white bites with mushrooms and spinach, and French-style yogurt. Later in the morning, we went to Dandelion Chocolate Factory, where Chris had a chocolate milk, I had a chocolate “nibby” horchata, and we shared (with Kaia) a chocolate canele. Then we walked a few blocks and had half of a pistachio baklava each (generous samples!) at Baklava Story. Forty minutes later, we shared a super burrito at El Farolito along with a passion fruit agua fresca.

At that point, I realized that there was very little chance I’d eat anything substantial for dinner that evening. We picked up some pupusas in the Mission for Kaia to eat on the ride back to the hotel. Come dinner time, we had a few nibbles at the hotel lounge again, finished the leftover pieces of bean/cheese/pork pupusa that Kaia did not want, and shared a single slice of emerald beaut plum raspberry crumble pie from Three Babes Bakeshop (that was a truly excellent slice of pie in every possible way!). And that wrapped up our eating for the day. Yes, these foods, even the beverages, are far richer than we’d normally eat on a day to day basis back home in New York. But when you think of the sheer quantity of food we ate in this day, it really wasn’t that much. Once upon a time, I could easily eat an entire super burrito from El Farolito in a single sitting all by myself. But alas, those days are now in my past.

Presidio Tunnel Tops: nature-inspired and a great outdoor gift

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A couple years ago, my friend with kids told me that at the San Francisco Presidio, a large outdoor children’s play area had opened with sweeping views of the Golden Gate Bridge, Alcatraz, and the entire city skyline. Built on top of 14 acres right on top of highway tunnels in San Francisco, Presidio Tunnel Tops connects the historic Presidio military base to the Crissy Field waterfront. It’s It’s open to the public, has clean, well maintained restrooms, and has a whole line-up of rotating food trucks just steps away from it seven days a week.

I originally wanted to organize a meetup/play date there last year, but we ran out of time. So assuming the crappy San Francisco weather cooperated with us this time, I insisted we go today to meet my friends and their kids. Luckily, the weather worked out in our favor, and we ended up having a beautiful, high-60s F, blue-sky day! Presidio Tunnel Tops has been open for just over four years now, and I was really impressed: the playground is nature-inspired, with areas for kids to play featuring boulders, logs, and lots of different water features. And unlike many children’s play areas, this is specifically designed to be interesting for kids ranging in age from two to 12. That way, if you have kids of varying ages, you can rest easy knowing that one won’t get bored faster than the other.

I also really enjoyed the variety and quality of food options available at the nearby mobile food trucks area. The Mess Hall just steps away from the Tunnel Tops recently opened, but only one major food vendor was operating, so that limited our options. The food trucks were the obvious place to go. The food ranged from Chinese, Filipino, Mexican, Hawaiian shaved ice (!!), to Swahili (they called it “East African cuisine”), burgers, and fried chicken. I chose food from the Mexican truck Mestizo and the Swahili Spot trucks; both were delicious and things I’d order even not from a truck!

Given we met up at 10:30 and stayed in the Crissy Field area until about 3pm, we essentially were outdoors for over half the day. When I thought about this and how nice it was to maximize time outside during good weather, I realize that this is one of the very best qualities of Bay Area, or even specifically, San Francisco living: you don’t need to travel too far or even outside of city limits to get truly fresh, crisp air, beautiful green landscapes, and ocean/beach views. Hiking and easy walking trail opportunities are countless. As long as the weather cooperates with you or you can tolerate the cold, outdoor access is just easier and better here than in New York City. When you walk the trails of the Presidio Tunnel Tops or watch kids playing on these massive wooden structures there, you kind of forget you’re even in a “city” because of how natural the whole setup feels.

It makes me happy that I can not only expose all of these great things about San Francisco to Kaia, but also that she can have opportunities to play with my friends’ kids while here. Now that she’s 4.5, I have a feeling she will start remembering more and more of these experiences and recount them. I hope when she remembers and talks about these moments that she shares them with great joy.

Entering the fog – literally and figuratively

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We woke up at the eye-burning hour of 3am today to take the 6am flight to San Francisco this morning. Miraculously, I got upgraded last minute from Business to First Class, which has only ever happened once in my entire life — four years ago, in August 2022. This was when Kaia was a wee eight months old and on a plane for the very first time. We can forever and a day say that her very first flight was a transcontinental, first-class flight from JFO to SFO. I pumped milk on that flight, and she had to go between First where I was and Business where Chris was.

After we got our one checked roller bag and got into a Lyft, off we went on the freeway north to San Francisco. And as we got onto 280, all I could see was a massive layer of grey fog descend upon the skies. We were about to enter the damn fog and pathetic 60s F weather — right in August, a SUMMER MONTH. It doesn’t matter how many times I come to San Francisco, but the sight of this has never failed to annoy me to no end.

We arrived at my parents’ place. We had a usual early lunch together of takeout dim sum and some jook/congee my mom made. My mom barely said anything at the table other than to try to get Kaia to eat more food. My dad barely said much unless I asked him questions, and he promptly left the table, with his plate still there, after he finished eating. When my mom asked him why he was leaving the table, he simply responded, “I’m done eating.” That was fun.

From what I can see so far in the house, not a whole lot has changed in the last year. There’s still endless clutter and things they should not own. It’s dust galore in most places, and likely even more cob webs on the walls and ceilings. But I did notice that two shelves in the living room were completely cleared. It annoyed me a little to realize quite quickly that the contents of those shelves were previously my and Ed’s VHS and CD/DVD collections. I suppose it’s easy to declutter stuff when it’s not yours versus yours, isn’t it?

I spent about two hours after lunch vacuuming the floors and cob webs from the walls and ceilings. I also dusted the dining room surfaces and the shelves in my old bedroom where we are sleeping. I filled the bathroom sink with water and used a damp sponge to remove the heavily caked on layer of dust that was on the bedroom surfaces. When I had finally finished reaching all the surfaces I could, the water had turned completely black.

I want my parents to live independently for as long as possible, but when I look at this house deteriorate year after year, with many areas completely not maintained at all, I wonder how much longer they will feasibly continue living here. It’s not like they live in complete filth: the bathrooms and kitchen are clean. The stove is safe. I don’t think anyone has cleaner, brighter, more mildew-free bathroom tiles than my parents do. The walkways are relatively clear and you can get through doorways easily. The beds and sofas are clean and clear, able to be slept in and sat on just fine. I have offered to get them a cleaner, but of course they were adamantly against it. And to be frank, you must remove the clutter before a hired house cleaner could really do much to be worth the added expense.

A once-a-year clean that I do for them isn’t going to make a huge difference because another year will pass until the same level of cleaning happens. But I feel better doing this for them because I can clearly see they are both much more tired than before. My dad is walking with a little hunch. He gets tired more quickly and has even admitted it after being on a ladder for over 1.5 hours today to fix the kitchen overhead light that went out this morning (to be honest, I was pretty impressed he was agile enough to get up and down that six-foot ladder!). My mom is slower to move around and even process things that I say to her.

It’s sad to watch your parents get more frail and elderly right in front of your eyes.

The protector of my baby tooth: Kaia

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This morning, Kaia woke up and promptly checked under her pillow for my tooth. Seeing that it was still there, she quickly grabbed it and brought it to my bedroom and proudly presented it back to me.

“I have your tooth, Mama!” Kaia exclaimed with pride and delight. “Here you go, Mama!”

In the evening, it was my turn to read bedtime stories and put her to bed. She asked me if she could keep my tooth for another night under her pillow. To see if she was really attached to my tooth, I told her she couldn’t have a usual toy to bring to bed and could either have the miscellaneous toy or my tooth. She hesitated for a brief second and said she wanted my tooth! She placed it in the exact same spot under her pillow and said she’d guard it for me.

Motherhood is all consuming in both mind and body. It can be completely exhausting and wipe out all your mind space. These little, random moments, the ones you could never foresee, are always the ones that surprise and get me, though, because they come from a place of pure curiosity, youth, and love. No one else would ever care that Kaia insisted on guarding and protecting my lost baby tooth for two nights in a row. But for me, my heart just gushed and I couldn’t help but squeeze her a little tighter when I gave her a good-night hug tonight because I just loved this so, so much. I love that she has this strong curiosity. I love that she cares so much. And I really love that she has a desire to take care of and protect. This is my sweet baby, slowly but surely growing up right before my eyes.