“Daddy is SO mad at you!”

My mom called the other day to tell me that while she and my dad enjoy the videos I send of Kaia, my dad was apparently very mad at me regarding one specific video.

“Your Daddy is SO mad at you!” my mom exclaimed on the phone the other day. “What in the world are you doing giving Kaia a knife to use? She could seriously hurt herself!”

My mom was referring to the video I took of Kaia on Sunday while we were cooking together. I had laid out king oyster mushrooms on my cutting board and was getting ready to cut them. She saw that I was about to start cutting and got really excited, so she dragged out her stepping stool so that she could “help” me. I relented, and I took out her plastic toddler training knives (key word is PLASTIC) and let her cut some of them. She loves being mummy’s little kitchen helper. Yes, she does slow me down a lot, and yes, she doesn’t cut the way I’d like her to cut, but I love watching her focus, and I love seeing her face when she does a decent cut. She has to learn at some point, so I think this is a good time when she actually does want to help and shows interest. She enjoyed it, constantly looking back at me for my approval and response, and continued cutting.

I told my mom that they were both being ridiculous, that the knife was meant to be a toddler training knife and was made of plastic, so no matter what she did, there was zero chance Kaia would get hurt.

“It doesn’t matter!” my mom insisted. “She could still hurt herself!”

Of course it doesn’t matter… because she doesn’t realize that she’s being called out for being wrong in her assumption, and she’s never wrong in her head, even in senseless moments like this. I told Chris this anecdote, to which he replied, “I’m not going to take advice from someone who has a dead kid and who only has a 50% success rate at raising kids.”

Chocolate smeared everywhere

On Sunday, I indulged Kaia and made some chocolate banana mini muffins. Chocolate is likely her favorite thing in the entire world now (and can you blame her?), so as soon as she sees or hears about chocolate anything, she wants in on it. I had some very dark chocolate chopped up in a jar that I’ve used here and there for baking, so I decided to throw that into the chocolate banana muffin batter, along with some (sugarless) cocoa powder. The batter was already low sugar (sweetened with just a splash of maple syrup, plus very overripe bananas), but I made it even healthier by replacing the called-for all purpose flour with half whole wheat, half ground oats. I figured some chocolate in there would only do some good.

I had one to sample, and I was quite impressed. For something so healthy, it tasted quite indulgent. And Kaia certainly felt the same way. She wolfed down three in one go before I had to cut her off. I packed some for our ride back home from school today. I came prepared with wet wipes in tow. She proceeded to eat all three I packed in a Stasher bag quite gingerly, knowing she had just three and would have none left after she was done. She also proceeded to smear chocolate literally everywhere she could — on her backpack straps, her jacket, the subway seat, and even the subway window. My wipes went to cleaning far more than just her face and hands…

That’s the youthful bliss of being a baby or toddler, though. You are blessed to have zero self awareness of or aversion to mess or dirt, and instead, you fully embrace the moment and “get in there” with whatever delicious food you are presented with. Sometimes, I wish I could eat with that much relish and abandon even now.

The ice cream date that did not go as planned

Since we have now reached Daylight Savings Time for the year, and as the weather is slowly but surely getting warmer (or so we hope), I thought about how cute it would be if I took Kaia on brief little snack or dessert outings in Chinatown before we head back up to the Upper West Side. It would be a surprise, and given it would include food, she would surely be happy. So when I picked her up from school yesterday, I told her that I was going to give her a surprise. Of course, she lit up right away and got really excited. She eagerly held my hand and walked happily as we crossed Chrystie Street, went across the little park, and popped into an ice cream shop.

I chose Smoove Ice Cream, an Asian-owned ice cream shop with Asian flavors, since it was just over a block away, so it wouldn’t be too far from the train station. I let Kaia look at all the ice cream flavors and let her choose one. Of the ones she pointed at, she decided on lychee rose. We did a split scoop, so the second flavor I chose was black sesame. We got the split scoop in a cup and shared it in the small seating area that Smoove had. She was super happy, sing-songy, speaking all the Chinese I wanted her to speak. Then, when the ice cream was all finished, she got sad and ran up to the counter again with her empty cup. I told her that we were all done and that it was time to go home. She brought her empty cup up to the counter… so she could get MORE ice cream in it. She didn’t understand that this wasn’t like being at school or home — she couldn’t just ask for “more” and get it (without paying for it!).

I told her that we were done eating ice cream, and that it was time to go home. She yelled and said she wanted more and would not stop. So the worker behind the counter felt sympathetic and offered a sample spoon of whatever she wanted. Kaia asked for strawberry, so he gave her a massive sample sized scoop. As we walked out of the shop with it, she nibbled on it bit by bit, but of course, it was melting… and then, like a slow-motion crash, the big blob of pink ice cream slid down, and straight onto the ground. And the biggest melt down ensued. She immediately burst into tears and stomped her feet over and over. She tried to run back to the ice cream shop to ask for more, but I blocked her from walking back. Kaia refused to walk and just kept crying and screaming. I had to carry her into the subway and onto the train. She cried the whole way home until we exited the station.

Well, that was not how I envisioned our impromptu ice cream date going. But alas, things don’t always go as you’d imagine with a toddler, do they?

Kaia, her books, and mine

At three years and three-plus months of age, Kaia still very much loves her books. Time really flies; I’ve already given away a lot of her “baby” baby books via our local buy-nothing group. I’m also starting to put aside another set of books she’s outgrown for my friend, who is due for her first baby in August. I just scored a huge set of older toddler books for her via our buy-nothing group, so she’s been pretty excited to have lots of “new” books to read, including on characters she’s familiar with, like Frozen/Elsa and Peppa Pig. As she’s getting older, she’s been showing more interest in my books, whether it’s my cookbooks, my Kindle, which I’ve explained to her I use for reading, and also the occasional hardcover book I have. Right now, I am currently reading and totally obsessed with Abraham Verghese’s The Covenant of Water, which is quite a behemoth at over 700 pages long. I’ve been using a magnetic bookmark to hold my page. Kaia has been intrigued with both this book as well as the magnetic bookmark and constantly wants to flip the pages and (ugh) remove my bookmark.

Last night, she was struggling to sleep in her own in bed. I had left the book on the couch, where I had planned to do my bedtime reading. When I reappeared after she snuck out of her bed, I noticed that not only was my bookmark missing, but the page where the bookmark was had been torn. Lo and behold, she flashed my bookmark at me with a devilish grin and said, “Look, mummy! Look!” It was as though she was trying to say, “Look what I got! Catch me if you can!”

I struggled to get her back to bed. Chris eventually came over, instilled the fear of God in her, and she finally stayed in her bed. I wasn’t able to read as much as I wanted to last night. But I will admit: it is cute to see that Kaia is not only into her own books, but also her mummy’s.

When your toddler tugs at your leg (and heart)

Since my first work trip this year in January when I went to Las Vegas, I decided to start recording short videos of myself to have Chris share with Kaia while I was away. I did the same while in Denver this week, and Chris always says she loves them. Chris also shares videos of Kaia talking about all kinds of things, as well as demanding a “video of mummy.” She was at backup care at her old school today since her current school is closed for parent-teacher conferences today. I got back in time to fully unpack, get dinner ready, and pick her up. She wasn’t expecting me at pickup time, but when she saw me enter the classroom, she wordlessly ran up to me and wrapped her arms around me. Then, she motioned her legs to indicate she wanted me to pick her up. I held her tightly while asking her temporary teacher how her day was, gathered her belongings, and we left.

Pookster didn’t say too much on the way home, but when I asked her if she missed me, she vigorously nodded her head to say yes. And when we got back home to eat dinner together, I had to break the news to her that Chris and I would be going out for a comedy show to see Kumail Nanjiani that evening, so her former teacher/babysitter would be coming to watch her. Unlike last week when she took the news in stride and confidently said she’d show her babysitter her toys and books, this time, she stuck her lower lip out and looked like she was going to cry.

“I don’t WANT mummy to go out and see friends!” Kaia yelled. She always thinks that when Chris and I go out without her, it’s “to see friends.”

Then when the babysitter arrived, Kaia got really upset and started balling. She was sobbing like crazy, demanding endless hugs and kisses from both of us. She kept pulling my leg and saying she wanted to come, too. Chris explained to the babysitter that Kaia hadn’t seen me since Monday morning, and I’d literally just come back about two hours ago. So Pookster only got to see me for less than an hour before I’d leave again. I felt terrible, but there was nothing else to be done. We went out, and Kaia had the evening with the babysitter.

When we got back from our comedy show, the babysitter told us that Kaia eventually calmed down, but she didn’t want to play or read or do anything with her. She lied on our bed for a bit, cuddling “mummy’s sweater.” Then, she demanded the babysitter change her into her pajamas. She got help with peeing in the potty, then went straight to bed alone. I suppose this is Kaia’s way of coping as a three-year-old, when she’s upset she doesn’t get mummy and daddy, but she doesn’t have a say in the matter.

Kaia stayed in her bed until just past 4am, when she walked into our room with her goodie bag and overalls (current obsession, thanks to Ms. Rachel), and tapped my face to wake me up. I pulled her into the bed and under the covers, where she held onto me tighter than she ever has before. It almost felt like she thought that the tighter she held onto me, then I’d never leave her side again. For a while, I just looked at her little face as she peered into my eyes with this huge grin. My baby was so happy to see me and be with me again, and I felt so touched. These are those moments of motherhood where I just feel like I’m going to melt into a pool of joy. These are the moments I look at her and think, wow. I’m just in awe of how someone so small and sweet can fill my heart with such immense love. Kaia Pookie is truly my greatest blessing and joy. I hope she always knows that. I remind her every day before bed.

Later this morning, once Kaia was all ready for school, Chris asked me what time Kaia came over. I told him. “You have to send her back!” he insisted. The last two nights, she apparently didn’t come to the bed at all while I was away. But given it was already past 4am, and given I hadn’t seen her since Monday, I indulged her and enjoyed the moment of snuggling with my sweet baby. Of course, I want to set boundaries with her, but other times, I just want to enjoy the moment and let my Kaia Pookie enjoy her safe place, which is in her parents’ bed, right in between the two people she loves the most.

Uniquely female burdens

Last year when I was in Denver for work, I got an unexpected message from a friend’s friend saying that she and her family had actually moved here from New York, and that she’d like to catch up if possible. Unfortunately at that time, all my evenings were packed with pre-booked work events, so I wasn’t able to get away. It was a bit unexpected, to be frank, that she reached out. While I’d never really considered her a friend while in New York, I did see her from time to time at mutual friends’ events, and we did get along. We’d tried hanging out once before with our partners, but we never did much more than that. So when she reached out, I figured she was having a difficult time transitioning from urban to suburban life, coupled with transitioning into motherhood (her daughter is about six months younger than Kaia). She probably wanted to see a familiar face.

So this time ahead of this trip, I reached out to see if she could meet. We did have a decent amount in common on paper: we both love food, desserts, travel, and now we’re both mothers, so we’d have that to bond over. She immediately accepted and we made plans for dinner, which ended up happening last night. I was really touched; she actually drove almost an hour to see me (Denver traffic can be crazy during rush hour), and we spent three hours discussing marriage, motherhood, work, travel, moving, and life in general. I honestly couldn’t remember the last time I’d seen her, but it felt really good to have a deep chat… and to get away from colleagues for a night.

Sometimes, I think about all the trials and tribulations that women have to go through just to procreate, and I cannot believe that women still want to bear children. This friend had three miscarriages: two happened before her daughter was conceived; the third happened last year, before her current pregnancy. Miscarriages are more common than they are not, but her first one was particularly traumatic. At around 11 weeks of pregnancy, she started bleeding profusely. She drove herself to the hospital, where they confirmed she had miscarried. She was given the option of having a dilation and curettage (D&C) to remove the dead fetal tissue from her uterus, or letting it expel itself naturally. Her father, who is a doctor, advised her against the D&C, and suggested she just go home and let it happen naturally. Well, it just got worse from there: the next two days, everything she sat or lied on was soaked with pools of blood, and she basically laid on her bathroom floor most of that time, experiencing painful contractions for almost 48 hours. These are one of those scary miscarriage stories that no one warns you about, that for some women when they have miscarriages, regardless of whether it’s first trimester or not, they can actually go into labor.

The thought is just beyond sad and excruciating — to go through labor without seeing a living, breathing baby at the end. I think of all the women who have had stillbirths, where they know their fetus is dead, but they still have to go through the labor and “give birth” to a dead baby. The mere thought brings me to tears. And somehow, even after this horrible and painful experience, this friend kept trekking along to try to conceive. She went on to experience a second miscarriage, a viable pregnancy and birth and baby, and then a THIRD miscarriage, and finally a second viable pregnancy, and she’s still here and excited to be pregnant. It just shows how much burden women have to bear, literally on their own, and how resilient we all are. It takes a lot emotionally, mentally, physically, to go through all this stress and loss. It likely raises cortisol levels and puts you on the defensive for everything. In the end, we vacillate between surviving and thriving.

But it sounds like since she’s moved down to the southern suburbs of Denver, she’s been mostly in survival mode. She has no friends here. She works fully remotely. She has a sister and their family who live in a nearby suburb, but that’s it. She misses walking (people drive everywhere here, like in most of the U.S.) and going from store to store to restaurant by foot. She feels isolated and like she does 90 percent-plus of all the child rearing. When she saw me for dinner last night, it was the only time since they’d moved here that she’d actually gone out to dinner, alone without her daughter, to catch up with a friend. While she’s excited for her second baby, she’s terrified what it will mean for the division of labor at home, her marriage, and the effect it will have on her daughter, who is extremely attached to her and who has had an assortment of frustrating health issues since birth.

I hear these stories, and I realize even more how lucky I am. Although IVF was certainly no walk on the beach, I went through just one stimulation cycle. I’ve never had a physically painful miscarriage experience (though I do still mourn my “vanishing twin”). I had a straightforward pregnancy and child birth. I was lucky and privileged to have a healthy, easy-going baby in Kaia Pookie. Kaia Pookie, knock on wood, is still thriving and impressing (while simultaneously infuriating) Chris and me every single day with all she learns and knows. I’m also lucky to have a partner who has done his share and tries to make sure I’m not carrying all the burden of child rearing. At the same time, it makes me sad and angry that women who are as smart, accomplished, well educated, and confident like this friend still allow themselves to be put into situations where they have to bear the brunt of all stereotypical gender roles, such as child rearing and the mental load of maintaining a functional household – much against their own wishes. Are men really that ill equipped for the current century, or are women just so desperate to have heterosexual partners to procreate with that we “settle” in that regard?

My little baby is becoming a little human

It’s crazy to think that today, Kaia is three years, three months old. In just the last few weeks, she’s matured so much. Her sentence structure is getting more and more complex. She uses a lot of “{Insert sentence}, but…” She’s been asking endless “why?” questions. She asks what certain words from Chinese are in English, and then what certain English words are in Chinese (then, if I don’t know the answer she will ask Alexa!). She notices the most subtle, discreet things, such as the tiny little green light that goes with the new fire alarms just installed across the rooms of our apartment. If you try to hide something for her, she immediately calls it out and asks inquisitively, “What’s that?” She also has even more refined preferences: when she chooses her books for bedtime story time, she is specific and says she wants this book first, then that book.

Watching Kaia grow is likely the greatest privilege of my life. She is so freaking smart, so loving and affectionate. She picks up things so quickly, and she’s just so happy (most of the time). Every day I look at her, even when she’s being completely irrational and infuriating, and I just don’t know how I got so lucky with her. I recently spoke with a new friend about her IVF journey — four stimulation cycles, several transfers, and three miscarriages, and my heart swelled hearing her story that IVF did not lead to success for her and her husband. Since they started trying years ago, they’ve also been on the adoption route given they wanted to ideally have their own and adopt. Hopefully, that works out for them. But when I shared my own IVF story with her and talk about Kaia, I told her I’m painfully cognizant that not everyone is as lucky as Chris and I have been with our fertility journey.

I only hope that I can have a healthy, functional, and happy relationship with Kaia as she gets older, and that she truly knows I want everything amazing in life for her.

Kaia expresses empathy publicly on the subway

On the ride home from school today, there was a woman on the subway who was asking for hygiene items like pads, tampons, lotion, soap, etc. She shared that she had just left her home and an abusive partner, who was so brutal to her that he knocked out several of her front teeth. It was undeniable that she’d been abused and battered just looking at her. Even if you couldn’t see she was missing front teeth, you could clearly tell from her voice that she was likely missing something in her mouth. She said she’d appreciate anything we had to give. I immediately took out all the backup pads, underwear liners, and lotion from my purse and motioned to her to hand these to her. She came over and thanked me profusely, while also looking over at Kaia and saying how sweet and adorable she was.

“You have a blessed child!” the woman said to me.

Kaia started peering over at her as soon as she started talking publicly on the train to tell everyone her situation. She gave her a sad look, then suddenly started raising her voice and shouting, “Why can’t everyone have a chance? Everyone should have a chance! EVERYONE SHOULD HAVE A CHANCE!”

I want to assume that Kaia somewhat understood what was happening here, that she could tell this woman was not in a good place and that she truly did need help. But when Pookster started shouting these words at the top of her lungs, I was shocked to see that her words actually did match the situation. It was as though, even though my sweet baby is only three years old, she could feel empathy and somewhat understand this situation, that she really felt sorry for this woman and wanted to console. I hope she always exudes empathy for those in need, my sweet Pookster.

Kids events in NYC – plenty are free, as long as you keep track and jump on them!

One of the greatest things about living in New York City and raising kids is the fact that there are endless playgrounds and kid-related activities — as long as you do the research, know where to look, and also jump on events quickly! Most of the free or low-cost events are, predictably, very high in demand and popular, so for you to get tickets to these events will require you to be on all the email or text lists and to act on them almost immediately. In the last couple of years, I’d been more on top of keeping up with Lincoln Center free or low cost events for Kaia in mind, but this year, I haven’t been as good about checking their website and opening all their emails in a timely manner. My friend, who has a child who is a similar age to Kaia, told me today that there was a new Beethoven kids event at the Chamber Music Society at Lincoln Center for May that he and his wife would be interested in taking their toddler to, and asked if I’d be interested. I saw that there was a steep processing fee to book the tickets online, so I called the venue to ask if I could go to the box office to get around the processing fees. She told me that I could actually forgo the processing fees if I just booked with her on the phone right there. But I wasn’t sure if my friend had a specific time in mind, or if he had purchased their tickets yet. So I asked her how many tickets were remaining. Well, the seating that my friend originally wanted had only TWO tickets left (there are five of us!), and the seating before had five left, which would have been an exact fit. The first performance of the day at 11am had already sold out. And this event had just been socialized the day before!

I ended up booking all five of our tickets for the 1pm showing on that May date. But it just goes to show how quick anything that is both kid-related and low-cost/free will go here in New York City. There’s always seemingly someone else who is more click-happy than you are!

Cool moms and their kids who think they’re cool enough to go out with

The other day, I was on the train bringing Kaia home from school when we sat diagonally across from an older mom and her teenage daughter. Kaia was being cheeky as per usual, so when she found out that I hadn’t packed any mandarins for her (her usual train snack, which she clearly now just expects), she got annoyed and kept turning away from me. At one point, she even tried to leave her seat next to me to go to another seat. The mom and her daughter were watching us, and the mom gave me a sympathetic look.

“I know it doesn’t seem like it, but that wasn’t too long ago for me!” she exclaimed with a smile. “And that little rebellion doesn’t end at that age, either!”

When Kaia realized she was getting attention from this mom and her daughter, she coyly walked back and started smiling and giggling at them. She got back on the seat next to me and kept turning towards them.

They both explained that they were headed to the teenage daughter’s very first concert. The mom was nervous, so she didn’t want her daughter going without her with just friends. I asked if friends would be joining them at the venue new Rockefeller Center, and the daughter said, “No, it’s just my mom and me!”

I marveled at this and said this to them. “Wow, your first concert is going to be with your mom! I hope that when my daughter is your age that she thinks I’m cool enough to go with her to a concert, and without any friends coming along!”

They both laughed. “I do try!” the mom said, wrapping her arm around her daughter’s shoulders.

I really did mean that, though. I do hope that when Kaia is a teen that we don’t have that stereotypical teenage angst-filled love-hate relationship with each other. I hope she knows she can lean on me and tell me anything, and that she thinks I’m “cool” enough to be seen with her in public, even to attend concerts and shows with. I hope that really does happen.