Category Archives: Aging

Playing games with Kaia

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Growing up, the only person I ever regularly played games with at home was Ed. Occasionally my much older cousins who lived upstairs would play with me, but that would be quite limited. Ed taught me (okay, attempted to teach me in some cases) how to do things like play basic card games, checkers, board games, throw and catch, dribble a basketball (okay, so I never got the last one between the legs, but it is what it is…). Our parents never played any games with us. My mom was always busy cooking, cleaning, doing some kind of housework, or was just simply too tired and wanted to lie down and rest. My dad… who knows where he was. He was either working at an apartment or just avoiding us kids.

I never realized that parents actually played games with their kids until one day years ago, Chris’s dad mentioned being on a family holiday and playing card games with Chris and his brother. And I sat there in total shock, thinking… Wait, you played with your two sons? Really? I am not even sure why that shocked me so much, but it was the very first time I actually thought about parents and their children engaging in play together. I knew I wanted to be the kind of parent who plays with her child.

Since Kaia was born, we’ve done all kinds of “play” together. We’ve played with cars, trucks, and transformers. We’ve played play cooking and baking. We’ve built blocks. We’ve played catch and kicked a ball together. She has many other toys that we’ve played with together. But in just the last couple weeks, we’ve all started playing a memory game that was gifted from a friend. The memory game is quite age appropriate given Kaia is now 4.5. Kaia’s memory is very good — despite being new to the game and having played only two or three times, she’s done far better than I could have imagined!

I love seeing her engage in play, and I love that Chris and I can play together with her. It’s the kind of thing I always wanted for my little family — to be engaged in a fun activity, real play — together, and to have that be a way we can bond.

A cancer diagnosis

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Chris, Kaia, and I were originally planning to meet two friends, a couple, this Saturday for lunch. But as the date was approaching, one of the friends seemed a bit non-committal when it came to picking a place. She was evading suggestions and not really saying she wanted or didn’t want anything. It was confusing because her tone wasn’t normally like this over text, so I could tell something was wrong that she didn’t want to share. Finally two days ago, she admitted to me that her head wasn’t in a great place because she just had a biopsy on a breast the other day that could mean she had breast cancer. So I suggested that we meet to catch up in person today, as maybe a 1:1 conversation would be easier for her to stomach than a group outing. And she agreed.

Yesterday, she got the biopsy results. They confirmed that she did, in fact, have a very early stage of ductal carcinoma, essentially stage zero breast cancer that had started developing in her milk ducts. Her doctor went over potential treatment options as a move-forward plan. She has another biopsy scheduled next week. She was very lucky that this was caught, as she had been avoiding mammograms for the last five years because her first mammogram was a miserable experience. Her doctor urged her to get the mammogram done, and then had the radiology department call her repeatedly to harass her into finally making an appointment. I told her she was very lucky to have such an involved, caring doctor. In my case, I am not sure I have any doctor who would be that insistent and make sure to follow up with me repeatedly… on anything. When it comes to breast cancer or any cancer for that matter, catching it this early is the best news you could possibly have.

My friend recently lost one of her best friends to an aggressive brain cancer. And previous to that, she lost her aunt to lung cancer (this is someone who had never smoked a day in her life). So cancer has unfortunately been top of mind for her in recent years. Now she has to go through treatments herself. She said this has forced her to think about death more, as unpleasant as it is…. and she sees all of this as a sign that she needs to go “full throttle” on all the things she wants to accomplish in life that will make her feel fulfilled before she dies… hopefully in another several decades.

I told her I think it’s really healthy for us to think more often about death. When you think about death, it forces you to come to terms with the fact that you will not live forever. And therefore, life is precious, and you need to focus on what’s truly important and meaningful to you. Stop obsessing over stupid shit. Stop spending time with people who deplete you and take from you but never give. Stop obsessing what “other people” will think. Stop putting off reading that book you’ve “been meaning “to read, or delaying that vacation you’ve been dreaming of taking. Quit your awful, toxic job and find something else where you’ll be treated better and like a real human. I realize all this is easier said than done, but all of this can be accomplished with little baby steps every single day. The baby steps become bigger steps, and then we start letting go of all the crap that doesn’t matter in life.

So, maybe this is life’s way of telling her that she’s meant to do great things, and she still has time. Plus, just get the freaking mammogram every year.

Impromptu friend catch-up and play date turns family dysfunction contemplation time

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The weather was so nice today that I wanted to make sure that Kaia and I got some outdoors time this afternoon. So I took her to Little Engine Playground at Riverside Park and let her blow bubbles and get wet in the sprinklers. While there, my building friend texted to let me know she was going to join us with her son (Chris told her we’d be there). So I had an unexpected friend catch-up this afternoon at the park and at Pier I after. I really enjoyed getting this spontaneous message because I almost never have any impromptu meetups with anyone — ever. In New York, I’ve just never made friends who are that spontaneous. Everything always feels like it needs to be planned in advance. And while I am a planner and do like having meetups on the calendar to look forward to, I also love just randomly deciding to meet someone with zero plans out of nowhere. It seems to be harder to do as people get older, as sad as that is.

I’ve enjoyed getting to know this friend over the last year. In the last several months, she’s definitely become more open in sharing more personal details and opinions she’s had, and I’ve done the same with her. One area we’ve never really talked much about is regarding our parents. I know a lot about her sister, and she knows about Ed and how he passed. But just today, we started talking about my parents because she knows about our upcoming trip to San Francisco to see them. She asked me if I looked at going home as a “vacation.” I probably paused for too long of a time as she immediately knew what the answer was.

As a 40-year-old adult child to my parents, I am clearly no longer a little kid. I have since grown up, had a career, gotten married, and given birth and am raising my own child, and so I’ve had enough life experience of my own to formulate my own world view — and also see exactly how different it is versus my parents’. I recognize they both had hard lives, and the life I have is extremely luxurious compared to anything they had. Their hard lives inform their world views. They both experienced varying degrees of trauma that shaped how they raised Ed and me. I recognize all of that. But my hope and goal is that I do not continue their intergenerational trauma, that it stops with them. I want Kaia to have a very different relationship with me than the one I have with my own mother. I can acknowledge all those things are true, that I love them, but that I have no intention of ever trying harder than I already have to have a better relationship with them. As I learned over the course of multiple years of therapy, it is not my job to fix my parents, to change their disposition, or even to make them happy. They will not change; they are who they are. If they want to wallow in their own misery and legitimate mess of their house, they can do that. I told my friend I go and stay with them for about two weekends and stay at a hotel the rest of the time because their house just is not livable, not enjoyable, not comfortable; this is all done out of obligation. It’s worse than the clutter; it’s just flat out dirty. And they are perfectly fine with that and think that I am the problem when I come.

I still remember the first time I was in therapy, from 2013-2016, and my then-therapist asked me a really simple question: “Do you like your parents?”

I wrinkled my brow. “What do you mean?”

“Well, it’s very clear that you love your parents,” she explained. “But do you like them? Like if they were not your parents, could you see yourself willingly going out to have dinner with them and chat? Hang out together? Do you share the same interests, hobbies? Do you enjoy their company?”

This, I did not hesitate to answer. “Oh god, no!” I exclaimed. “Not at all! They are not even remotely fun to be around! We have nothing to talk about! We share none of the same views about anything!”

I didn’t want to freak out my friend and start going on about my parents; it’s probably too much information, too much negativity. I also don’t like going into detail about this sort of thing with Kaia around because she seems to be understanding way more than I want her to at this age now.

“I don’t want to sound terrible,” I said to my friend. “But they’re just… very unpleasant to be around. I hate to say it, but it’s the truth. I just go out of obligation, because I want Kaia to know her maternal grandparents at least a little.”

She looked back at me with sad eyes. “You sound like you try really hard,” she said softly.

Little does she know that as time has gone on, I definitely know I am trying less and less. As I get older, I honestly just care less and less. My patience in dealing with them has worn so thin — after Ed’s death, then after Kaia’s birth and the stupid ways they acted after she was born, and especially when we visited in 2022. I tolerate them in tiny bursts, and then I let them go and lead their own separate abysmal lives. It’s the only way we can feasibly coexist. I’ve made peace with the fact that I will never have the relationship I want with either of them, and it’s definitely not due to lack of previous effort on my part. We can’t always control everything or have every part of our life be the way we want it to be. And growing older makes you come to terms with all of that.

Three weeks ago, we were in Bridgetown, Barbados

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One of Chris’s favorite things to do in speech with me is to tell me that a week ago, we were doing this, or two weeks ago, we were doing that. Today, he said to Kaia and me during dinner, “Just a week ago, we were coming back from Tobago.” The Friday before that, we were in St. Lucia exploring Castries Market and buying lots of local exotic fruit (including three different types of mango!) and enjoying Pigeon Island. And the Friday before that, we had just started our summer trip in Barbados and were enjoying the fish fry scene in Bridgetown, with a super delicious and succulent grilled whole red snapper with lick-your-fingers-good Bajan seasoning. Every year I get older, time seems to move that much more quickly. All these new, fun, happy, learning, cultural, exciting moments seem to come and go just like that. And it further makes me realize how precious all our moments are together, whether that’s exploring a new place, having a meal or bite of something together, or just sitting in the same place at the same time enjoying the exact same thing. While Kaia is 4.5 years old and always wondering when the next thing is happening or, “why are we walking for so long?”, it almost feels sometimes like I am grasping at straws to make these happy moments last longer. It’s like those sentimental sayings and quotes I’ve oftentimes been served since pregnancy and first becoming a mother: sometimes, you just want this moment, this stage, to last forever. But, if it lasts forever, then you never get to enjoy the next great thing that will come!

Time is precious, life is precious, and our moments together are precious and finite. I think about all the experiences I’ve had in my life to date, whether it’s the places I’ve been privileged to go to and see, the foods I’ve eaten, the people I’ve built lasting relationships with, the marriage and life I’ve built with Chris, and having Kaia Pookie as my sweet baby, and I just feel so thankful and so lucky for this life. Life is good. And our memories are sweet.

Peanut punch in Trinidad and Tobago

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When traveling, amongst a whole host of things I love learning is finding out what different foods, drinks, and condiments people love in other cities and countries that are different from what I have been exposed to. Everyone’s “normal” around the world is very different, and it’s fascinating to learn about. Pepper sauce is huge throughout the Caribbean, with different types of peppers and seasoning combinations in every place. In Barbados, one of our Uber drivers told us they have a hot sauce so hot that they use just “one drop” of it on their food, and it’s enough for good flavor AND some heat that will set your mouth on fire. The same driver told us that they have another hot sauce that is glaringly hot that many locals don’t even touch it. Colloquially and locally, they call it… the n-word sauce (I mean, he said it; we didn’t!). While in St. Lucia, we tried a few different restaurant variations of pepper sauce that were both very different from each other, but both with very rich, distinct flavor. And at our Port of Spain, Trinidad hotel, the pepper sauce was FIERY. We asked what peppers were in it, and our server at breakfast said it had scotch bonnets (which we figured) and chocolate moruga peppers, which are one step down from one of the hottest peppers on earth — the scorpion pepper.

One thing I noticed at multiple shops, convenience stores, and supermarkets while in Trinidad was peanut punch. It seemed to be pretty mcuh everywhere, and I even saw some people on the street drinking from containers that had “peanut punch” on the label. So one night when we went out for doubles and quick drinks to take back to the hotel, I grabbed a single-serving bottle of peanut punch just to try it. It tastes like you’d imagine: peanutty and milky, but very, very sweet — almost too sweet! The surprising thing was that there was another ingredient I wasn’t expecting: whey protein powder! It was the fourth ngredient listed on the label after peanuts, water, and sugar. Unfortunately, this is more of a “treat” drink than a body builder or workout fanatic’s drink, as the sugar content is far too high on this to be considered a regular protein drink. But I could see a variation of this (with a fraction of the sugar) being a good protein add in one’s diet. The “high protein” lifestyle is one that I’m slowly but surely adapting to in my 40s, so this is always top of mind for me now even when I’m not vocal about it.

Orange-winged amazons outside our window in Port of Spain; warnings around the world from well-meaning older ladies

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Today was our last morning in Trinidad and Tobago, as well as our last day of this trip before flying home. From our hotel window, I watched as many orange-winged amazons flew in pairs around the large trees along Queen’s Park Savannah. From what I can remember, this is likely the most fascinating bird watching area of the world I’ve ever been in. I’ve already lost count of the number of different, colorful, and gorgeous bird species I’ve been lucky to see here. Even Kaia has gotten into it: she also loved watching the orange-winged amazons fly around in Port of Spain. In Grenada, she pointed out new birds she noticed. And just two days ago, she excitedly pointed out a little kiskadee, which is considered the best known bird of Trinidad.

“It’s yellow! It’s yellow!” Kaia kept shrieking delightfully.

Kaia noticed the little kiskadee because of its bright yellow breast. It had a black and white streaked face with a brown back. These birds are known to be very loud chirpers and have fearless behavior; it didn’t seem to mind us being so close. I’m not that excited to go back to New York and mostly see pigeons and seagulls again — the freaking rats and roaches of the bird world. I suppose the sparrows and the occasional American robin are fine.

We had limited time in the morning before we had to head to the airport, so we took a quick trip to Charlotte Street, the main drag of Port of Spain Chinatown, to browse and also finally buy a magnet for this segment of our trip. Saturday morning is a great time to be in Port of Spain Chinatown, as all the fruit and vegetable vendors have their little stalls set up so you can buy their fresh produce. Lots of people were walking the streets to buy food; it felt like we may have been the only tourists there. We saw piles and piles of scotch bonnets, pimento peppers, papayas, multiple mango varieties, and other fresh fruit and vegetables waiting to be purchased. I crossed a street to take a look at a bakery I noticed, and as I was leaving the bakery, an older Trini woman, likely in her late 60s, stopped me and got close to my face.

“I’m a Trini woman, born and raised here,” the older lady started with me. “And I can tell you that these streets are not safe for someone like you. Why are you here? There are other places for you to go and see!”

I have lost count of the number of times I’ve been stopped by well meaning older women who tell me that I shouldn’t be in a certain area, with my phone or camera in my hand. They’ve told me that I should stay and walk close to my husband, that someone will easily hurt or rob me in a given place.

“Why am I here?” I wrinkled my brow at her. “I wanted to come see the fruit! What’s wrong with this area? I am perfectly fine!”

“You want to buy fruit? Then you should go down that street over there!” She responded, pointing out Independence Square. There were very, very few fruit vendors on that next street…

I told her I was walking across the street, and she said that she would walk with me. I had no idea what she wanted from me and why she was being so forceful. When she saw that I was meeting Chris and Pookie, she started telling Chris to not let me walk on my own, to always stay close to me, that it was dangerous to let me walk by myself along that street. Chris insisted to her that I was fine and everything was good. She finally relented and walked off.

I know all these ladies around the world mean well. But what they may not realize they could be doing is inadvertently perpetuating the potential perceived notions of their countries being dangerous places to be or visit. That’s not really a great way to market your town or country.

Supporting friends through the adoption process

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About a year and a half ago, I met a friend, who I like to say I met because of Kaia. We were at a food event in an independent food producer’s backyard. Back then, Kaia was just over 2.5 years old. Of course, she was running amok all over the backyard, trying to pull leaves and flowers off plants while also garnering attention from any person who would look her way. And Kaia kept running to this one particular table where this now-friend and her husband were sitting. This person was so warm, loving, and affectionate with her, and she was also quite friendly and personable when I came over to get Kaia. So, I thought it would be a good idea to exchange numbers with her and see if she might be potential friend material. So we started meeting up for coffee and lunch dates. She and her husband came to my 40th birthday party and Lunar New Year Party this year. And now, I’ve spent the last week gathering clothes, blankets, crib sheets, books, and toys that Kaia has outgrown to pass on to her as they adopt a 2-year-old girl into their family. Given the timing, I also cleaned Kaia’s high chair, which she started refusing to sit in this past February, and wiped down the Babi-Deal stroller Chris got last August to also hand down to them. So, that was a good four bags worth of baby/toddler stuff, plus some random things I almost forgot about but thought would also be helpful, like a cleaned snot sucker (yes, really!), handkerchiefs, and practice toddler chopsticks. They came over tonight to pick up all these items and to hang out for a while on our roof. And of course, Kaia lapped it up and put them to work for her own enjoyment!

The second time I met with this friend one on one, she told me about her long and painful fertility journey, how she went through four egg retrievals, two surgeries, multiple miscarriages, and endless doctor appointments. And finally one day she looked at her husband and said she didn’t want her life to revolve around IVF anymore, that she wanted her body and life back. And so that’s when they started seriously looking into adoption, and now here they are, about to welcome this little girl into their life. Her whole journey brings me to tears, but it makes me happy because while all our journeys to parenthood look very different, this feels like a happy ending — or rather, a happy beginning of yet another journey.

Kaia has been so cute and sweet in all this. We told her that these friends would be bringing a baby home soon, so she started proactively gathering books and clothes that she doesn’t want or need anymore and setting them aside for Baby B. Although Kaia will never have a sibling, I can already see that she is extremely loving, giving, caring, and willing to share, and that warms my heart even more.

Next cooking project: yogurt making

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Now that I am on this macro tracking/high protein diet with my body recomposition/fat loss/lean muscle goals, I have found that much to my disdain, 0-1 percent fat Greek yogurt is likely going to be on regular rotation in my diet from now on. I have generally strongly disliked 0 percent fat anything for the last 15 years, especially when it comes to dairy products. But I realize that if I am going to be eating yogurt in larger quantities (at least half a cup) on an almost daily basis that full-fat just isn’t going to work; this was a really sad realization for me. And what’s potentially funnier (in multiple definitions of the word): many brands like Trader Joe’s do not even sell Greek yogurt in fat levels other than 0 percent; it’s likely due to lack of demand. So if you want to buy 2 percent or full fat Greek yogurt, your only option seems to be smaller containers, so only a pint (two cups) or even less, which is very cost inefficient! Standard sized tubs of Greek yogurt seem to be about one quart, or four cups. And we’re going through at least two quarts/half a gallon/eight cups per week at our rate. Chris is even adding it to his weekday protein smoothies now. And if two quarts of Greek yogurt cost about $11-12 per week, I started wondering if there was a more cost effective way to get this. Trader Joe’s nor Whole Foods offer larger options.

So, that reminded me of yogurt making in my Instant Pot. Years ago, I had attempted to make my own yogurt in the Instant Pot. But both times, I had failed. I tried while using organic milk and organic, grass-fed cow yogurt (some of my sources claimed that my organic milk was to blame — who knows…). But I realized that if I could get the yogurt making process to work, I could instead spend money on half a gallon or a gallon of nonfat milk per week, which would be far cheaper than buying yogurt every week. In addition, that would mean less plastic we’re using and throwing out. And as an added bonus, it would be a fun and new cooking project for me!

So when we get back from our summer trip, that’s going to be high on my list of projects I want to tackle. I am reading all about it now and consulting with different videos, so I will be prepared for this cooking project that will aid in my health goals!

Being in a real clothing store again – the madness and the new technology!

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I have never enjoyed the process of shopping for clothes — looking, trying on clothes, and well, no one likes paying for clothes. 😀 So when I stopped having friends drag me out on mall or shopping trips, the only way I was going to willingly buy clothing was online. And yes, that was a dream, especially in cases where the stores had either free returns or in-store return policies for clothing bought online. I could buy the clothes online, try them on at home to check for fit and whether they looked right on me, and if they didn’t work out, either drop them in the mail back or return them to a store nearby. The vast majority of all clothing I’ve purchased in the last 16+ years has been online, and I do not miss the in-store shopping process at all. The only times I’ve enjoyed it just a little are when I am traveling internationally and see more unique items, like at one or two shops I like in Australia, or when I’m looking at clothing for Kaia (because baby/toddler girl clothing is always fun to look at).

So in the last couple days, I’ve been seeing some potential summer pieces at Zara online, but their entire online shopping experience… kind of sucks. I was thinking that I probably should stop being so lazy with dressing (this all stems from being 100 percent remote with work) and actually buy clothing I want to wear that looks good and fits well… instead of always wearing all my AFSP volunteer shirts and other things I don’t care much about just for comfort. Especially now that I am probably going to get more involved in Kaia’s elementary school, I should dress up a bit more and try a little.

Zara is good in that they have this nifty option to check for in-store availability closest to you (and so far, it looks pretty accurate), so I found out that two pieces I liked were at their Bryant Park location. So I used that as an excuse to get some extra steps in and walk there before picking up Kaia in Chinatown. I walked in and was immediately reminded of why I hate in-store shopping: the store, despite it being about 4:15pm on a Wednesday, was mobbed. People were speed walking and even running across the store to grab pieces. It felt like a competitive sport being in there! People were rushing to grab items before anyone else claimed them. It was a little insane. Employees were restocking and being bombarded with questions (and some even had lines for people with inquiries). And I just felt a little dizzy navigating all of this and trying to figure out where these two specific items were. I eventually asked an employee, who was super friendly and able to get someone to fetch me the item from their stock room since neither of us saw one of the pieces on the floor (this was very efficient!). I tried one piece on (on the floor out in the open, and not in the fitting room because the line was 20+ people long!); luckily it didn’t require me to undress. And when I went to buy the shirt in the payment area, I simply dropped the item into a bin, which immediately scanned the item for what it was, the size, and the price. I paid by Apple Pay by tapping, was texted the receipt, and that was it! It was just like the buying process at Uniqlo — the only other shop at which I’ve bought in store in the last few years. The “cashier” line was nonexistent, as it’s all self pay with an attendant checking in occasionally.

This is the reality of in-store shopping now that I’m just ignorant to since I rarely shop in person — things are more automated and efficient. There’s less in-person support for payment. The “lining up” doesn’t happen as much anymore. But it also feels more “competitive” to be in store with getting the items you want in the size you need and as quickly as you need them. That’s too tiring for me! The ease of online shopping is just so, so much easier.

When Pookie stopped needing a middle-of-the-night pee

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When we decided to stop putting Kaia in an overnight pull-up, we knew she’d need to be woken up for a pee in the middle of the night because she pees a lot. I guess she is like her mother in that way: she’s always drinking lots of liquids, and as we all know: what goes in must come out! We originally started her overnight pee wakeup at around 11-12 because she’d end up wetting her bed at around midnight if we didn’t do this. Gradually, we started pushing it back to 12, 1, 2, and then 2:45, just as the Oh Crap! Potty Training method suggested in the famous potty training book. But something miraculously happened last week: Kaia actually went the entire night without needing to pee or wetting the bed until 5am. It was Chris’s night to wake her up to pee, and he had forgotten to set his alarm. He woke up early in the morning to check on her and found out she was still sleeping and still dry. So he took her to pee at 5am when he woke up. So the next few nights, the same thing happened, and she woke herself up to pee, or she went through the whole night without needing to pee. She woke up between 6-7am, and she was dry. And it’s been this way for the last week!

A while ago, I told Pookster that if she stayed dry all night, and/or woke herself up to pee in the middle of the night, that I’d finally get her wish of nail polish. I really wanted to put off nail polish for as long as possible, but she kept asking, and I figured this would be a good incentive she’s been asking about for almost two years now that I’ve rejected. So we got really excited and told her we were so proud of her, and she’s just this close to getting her much coveted child-friendly nail polish. But Chris wanted to add another step: she can get the nail polish when she not only stays dry all night and pees as soon as she wakes up, but also when she can fully wipe herself and wash her hands — all on her own. Kaia was not thrilled to her about this and of course threw a mini tantrum, but alas, life has its ways of putting more hurdles in front of you!

It seems like ages since we started doing middle-of-the-night wake-ups to have her go pee, and now it is all coming to an end before I even realized it. While you think I’d be thrilled about this, it still feels bittersweet. Every day, my sweet Kaia Pookie is getting more mature, bigger and bigger, and closer to eventually not needing me.