Category Archives: Child rearing

Kaia shares and warms up with her frenemy

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For the most part, Kaia loves kids. She gets excited whenever she sees children around her age and slightly above. She loves seeing babies, and she especially loves to call out when she hears a baby crying. She has gotten along well with kids at her last and current schools, and she’s even had “besties” identified by her teachers. She’s a very social child and loves being the center of attention. She’s loud and boisterous, and while she loves her peers, she has also been known to attempt to be a teacher’s hog/pet.

But one thing that has always been a little strange is that with one of my friend’s daughters, who is about seven months younger than her, she tends to exhibit “frenemy” type tendencies. When asked to say hi to her or acknowledge her, Kaia rarely does in her presence. She tries to take this friend’s toys when she’s around. She won’t share toys or food with her, even though this friend will happily and eagerly share with her. Frankly, her brattiness level just skyrockets when she’s around this friend.

But we had a catch up / play date with them today, and for once, she actually seemed happy to see her. She smiled when she saw her and seemed protective over her when she was napping in her stroller. When she woke up, Kaia perked up and got excited. We spent some time in our building’s play room this afternoon, and while they definitely played *around* each other, they also played with each other and chased the other around and around. When it was time for them to go, Kaia was visibly sad. She gave her a hug and said bye. After they left, she asked why this friend had to leave and go home.

“Why can’t she stay here with us?” Kaia asked me with genuine sadness in her eyes.

Well, it’s good to know that she’s finally warming up to this friend… finally. These things always take time.

Jet lag continues for the husband and the toddler, and the attempt to limit screen time for our toddler

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Chris has been pretty sluggish this week. He’s even been napping in the afternoons. Kaia has been napping occasionally at school… and then also almost falling asleep at around 4pm after a period of extreme quietness that the admin alerted me to. The admin was considerate of our need to get her adjusted and sleeping overnight, so she’d nudge her before she’d fall asleep and have her eat the usual scheduled supper before pickup at 5pm. We all knew Kaia was jet lagged, but it’s hard to force her to adjust since it’s just her body clock, and she’s only three years old. The concept of “time” at this age is a difficult one. The first few days of pickup, she’s been so exhausted that she refuses to even walk, so because I rarely take the stroller anymore for school, I’ve had to carry her myself several blocks. It was tiring, especially given she was feisty and almost like dead weight because she’s been falling asleep on the trains. She’s almost 30 pounds, so definitely not a little baby anymore! My arms have gotten an extra workout this week…

When she has been awake in the evenings, it’s been a little brutal. These “thrilling threes” have been full of even more intense tantrums, bigger displays of anger and frustration, and very few things, other then presenting chocolate or screen time, have seemed to consistently help. We did more screen time during our trip because of the long-haul plane rides as well as all the times we’ve had to sit in restaurants and finish our conversations and meals with friends and family, but we’re cutting it all off now that we’re back home. We don’t want to be those parents who just immediately give their kid screens to shut them up every single time they get upset. I was pretty unhappy when we were on our flight back to New York, and Kaia barely ate anything on the entire 14.5-hour-long flight. She mainly just had milk and cartoned apple juice (to my annoyance, this was her very first time experiencing juice boxes, which I’ve tried to hold off on for as long as possible since I want her eating whole fruit only). She was either sleeping or glued to the screen, watching Pepa. This was her very first flight wearing headphones and having sound with her screen time, which she was completely enamored by. The few times I tried to get her attention and block the screen, she got angry with me and yelled, “I can’t see! I can’t see!” (It’s also hilarious because she pronounces “can’t” the Austrailan/British way, not the American way). I do not want her to become a personality-less screen zombie in her youth. That’s one of my many nightmares.

Jet lagged toddler, jet lagged husband

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The last couple nights’ worth of sleep has predictably been broken. Kaia has lasted at most, four consecutive hours in her own bed before screaming and crying, taking at least three to four of her stuffed animals, and dragging them to our bed. Then, she’s been waking up anywhere between 3-4, wide awake and alert, demanding to be fed immediately.

“I want cheerios. I want milk. No milk?!”

“I don’t WANT mummy to sleep. I want mummy to GET UP NOW!”

“I’m hungry! I wanna eat NOW!”

A lot of demands, a lot of whining, and lot of “the world revolves around me” comments. ‘Tis the world of a thrilling three-year-old child.

The first night back on Sunday night, Chris woke up to Kaia’s demands for food. Because the apartment is absolutely freezing, unless we have the heat turned on in each room, the unheated rooms will be frigid. So, instead of setting up the high chair in the lounge area, Chris set it up in our main bedroom’s ensuite bathroom with the light on. That way, Kaia could get residual heat coming into the bathroom from our bedroom and actually see her cheerios, and I could get darkness while sleeping in my bed. As for Chris? Well, at 3am on Monday morning when Kaia was digging into her dry cheerios in her high chair in our bathroom, Chris was in bed, on his phone, digging into a bag of Australian All Naturals fruit gummies.

This was my world the last few nights with a jet lagged toddler and a jet lagged husband.

Cantonese desserts, fresh steamed fish, and Huacheng Square

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Today is our last full day in Guangzhou. It’s crazy that our time here went by so quickly. We’re doing an early breakfast at the hotel tomorrow morning before heading to the railway station for our 10:30 train back to Hong Kong. It’s a bit bittersweet: I would love to have another few days to further explore Guangzhou, but I’m looking forward to going back to explore and eat Hong Kong for 1.5 days before heading back to New York. And frankly, neither Kaia nor I are going to miss these squat toilets in mainland China. I’m looking forward to being back in the land of super clean and pristine public toilets of the Fragrant Harbour City!

On our last full day here, we visited the historic Yong Qing Fang district, which is in the old town of Guangzhou. Once upon a time, Yong Qing Fang was a gathering place for the literati, martial arts actors, and Cantonese opera actors, including Bruce Lee’s father, Hoi-Chuen Lee, who was a famous Cantonese opera star. Hoi-Chuen Lee has a home that has been re-branded as “the ancestral home of Bruce Lee” and is a (free) tourist attraction in the area. We visited it today, and it’s a beautiful place that is like something out of historical Cantonese dramas I used to watch with my grandma as a child: lots of old wood and brick, along with delicately carved doors and walls, and carved glass screens. Though as Chris said, it was a bit of a stretch to call it the ancestral home of Bruce Lee; Bruce Lee seemed to have spent most of his life either in Hong Kong or San Francisco. The feel of the district is both old and new, traditional and modern. The original location of Tao Tao Ju is here; from the photos of the original Tao Tao Ju, they did a pretty good job keeping it looking like it did back in the day in 1880 when they first opened. Most of the old building here have been renovated, but they intentionally retained their original architectural style and historic value.

While here (and in Hong Kong), I wanted to maximize the Cantonese-style dessert eating as much as possible. Cantonese desserts are known for their “tang shui,” or their “sugar water,” or sweet soups, so we definitely maximized on these types of desserts while here. In a single day today, we visited two different Cantonese dessert shops in the area: Bai Hua and Nan Xin. We tried five different desserts: egg custard soup with white sesame tang yuan (filled glutinous rice balls), which was unique because I usually have only seen black sesame filling, not white; mango sago with coconut milk; ginger “double skin” milk custard, coffee milk custard, and mango, coconut, grapefruit sago with a mango puree. Chris found enjoyment in all the desserts other than the ginger double skin milk custard, which was far too spicy and gingery for him. For me, it was like a little bit of heaven: it was clear they freshly juiced this ginger — it was no joke! And to think that if you add 1 RMB to your order, you could even get EXTRA ginger! While he did like them, his immediate comment was, “This is good, but it’s no gulab (jamun)!”

For lunch, we ate at a seafood restaurant called Shenggangwan, which is located on a higher floor of a building in the Huangsha Aquatic Products Market. The market is exactly what it sounds like: a fresh wholesale seafood market with every possible sea creature you could imagine. We saw crabs bundled and knotted in ways I’d never witnessed; massive prawns, slimy looking sea cucumbers, and some very aggressive and antsy fish in all shapes and sizes. I wanted some fresh seafood, so I ordered the whole fish special of the day, which was a leopard coral grouper. It’s red and white on the outside with a white flesh. It was steamed and prepared the traditional Cantonese way, with ginger, scallion, and sweet soy. While it was tasty and perfectly moist and well cooked, to Chris’s point, the fish itself didn’t have much depth of flavor. And when we found out how much it was when we got our bill, we had a bit of a shock. “Market price” really should be checked before buying… We also ordered extremely garlicky gai lan and a plate of beef chow fun to appease Pookster, both of which were super cheap by any standard, especially compared to our fish! As a bit of comic relief, the servers were all completely besotted by Pookster. They loved watching her eat, and especially loved it when I was feeding her fish I deboned. They kept coming over to praise her and say how cute she was and what a good eater we had. I felt like they were likely watching us the whole time, giggling to themselves and commenting on not only Kaia, but our racially mixed family and how I get my brown husband to eat Cantonese food. Kaia also loved the little artificial ponds set up around the restaurant and kept watching the fish. When I told her it was time to leave, she insisted that she go and say bye to all of them. She kept saying “byebye!” and waving to all of them multiple times. It was really cute, and some of the servers on break watched and laughed.

Towards the end of the day, we walked around and explored Huacheng Square, where we admired all the very tall and colorfully lit and flashing buildings surrounding us. My favorite building is one you can see when in the square and looking towards Canton Tower: it looks as though there are strung crystals dangling from the top of the building, sparkling in hues of blue, purple, and silver. It was also clear that the powers that be wanted to instill some sort of mood into visitors of the square: classical music was playing at just the right volume during our entire walk through discreet speakers. I loved how grand and sprawling this square was. It’s really the kind of place you could just sit and relax in.

We ended the day with Hong Kong style hot pot near our hotel. Kaia had a field day with the order of clams Chris ordered that we let her toss into the pot. It also felt like that night, she knew we were leaving and didn’t want our time in mainland China to end: she kept stalling sleep that night in her bed in a separate room. Whenever she heard Chris cough, she said she had to go check on him to make sure he was okay. She did this at least three times before Chris insisted she had to go back and sleep in her own bed.

“Daddy coughing. I need to go check on Daddy,” she insisted, as she’d get out of bed and run over to our bed.

That’s my concerned and loving Pookie.

Everyone’s aging this Christmas… and every day of the year

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It’s Christmas day today, and Chris’s 43rd birthday. Chris has been telling everyone that he’s been loving his 40s and that his younger brother, who is turning 40 next September, should be embracing this new era of his life. Chris’s aunt and uncle hosted Christmas at their house. We did as we usually did and had lunch/dinner potluck style, so everyone brought a bunch of dishes to share. Given that we had a good chunk of the family away in Canada this year, there were fewer people to eat the food, so there was probably far more food than we really needed. In addition, some of the kids are slightly picky eaters, so Chris’s aunt made some plainer dishes like penne with tomato sauce and sausages in buns to ensure they ate.

Chris’s aunt just turned 70. She told me that she is feeling her age: simple tasks that were easy to do make her tired now. She has had her three grandsons over more often for babysitting because her older son’s place is undergoing some unanticipated renovations due to water damage; sometimes, she’s even had them overnight. She’s gotten stressed feeding them because they are so picky; one of them claims he’s allergic to vegetables or anything green. But she said that with age, she’s also realized she has to just let things go. “Let them!” she’s said to me about her new attitude when people say or do things she doesn’t like or she can’t stand. She said that there’s a podcast she wants to listen to that is literally called, “Let them.” His aunt said that hosting Christmas and events is tiring, but someone has to do it, and she still wants people to enjoy. So it’s worth it in the end. Though this year, she said, she wanted to make things a bit simpler and use disposable cups and plates. “It’s just one less thing to fuss over!” she said. If it’s easier for everyone, why not? Sure, it’s less environmentally friendly, but it’s just a couple days a year.

It makes me wonder, though, when it’s really our generations’ turn to do the bulk of the work for “hosting.” I think it really should be… NOW. Granted, Chris and I don’t live here, so it’s not like we could do it (plus, we already cook a big chunk of the dishes for the gatherings). But I think that given our parents’ generation is getting older and many are already in their 70s, it really should be more on us to do the work for hosting, whether it’s using our spaces (really, Chris’s cousins’ or Chris’s brother’s), setting up, organizing, laying out the food spreads, cleaning up. It’s why whenever Chris’s parents host, I try to do what I can to help set up, cook, and clean up. It especially makes up for the fact that their youngest son doesn’t do any of the above and just rolls in like he’s a guest. Sometimes, I can’t understand why it seems like everyone in the family of our generation is helpful when their parents host, literally every year and every time… except for Chris’s younger brother. Where did things go wrong here?

The sacrifices you make for your child that you never thought about before (during the holiday season)

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Pretty much from the beginning of November, once Halloween is over and the jack-o-lanterns have all rotted away, I start playing Christmas music every year. I listen to it on my phone. I play it on my computer. It’s on in our apartment. I can hear it in my head when I’m doing things. But as of this holiday season, I haven’t been able to play much Christmas music out loud at all, either at our apartment or at my in-laws’. Why is that? Well… It’s because Pookster the Punkster demands that “Wheels on the Bus” be played, whether it’s by Ms. Rachel, Coco Melon, or whatever kids’ band sings it on Amazon’s Alexa. She wants it playing all day, every day. She fusses over which artist sings it. Sometimes, she attacks versions she previously liked but maybe just outplayed. I tried weaning her out of it since it’s Christmas. I tried to get my in-laws’ Google device to play “Jingle Bells” or “Rudolph the Red-Nose Reindeer,” so songs that I know she has enjoyed listening to, or even sings herself sometimes. None of it worked. She still would whine and whinge, insisting that “I DON”T WANT THAT SONG! I don’t WANT Christmas music! I want WHEELS ON THE BUS BY COCOMELON!”

So, to avoid yet another tantrum or fat-tears spell, I appease her by just playing the freaking “Wheels on the Bus” song for the millionth time. I tell myself in my head that this is a season, and the season will end, and one day, she will will outgrow this phase and move onto something else. When people think of sacrifices they make for their children, they probably don’t really think about their choice in music. But alas, this is one of those sacrifices I’ve had to make that I never gave much thought to. It’s kind of funny when I think about it, and likely one of those little things I will likely forget. But I’m sure one day, I will look back on this post and remember writing this and think, “Wow, those really were some cute, sweet times.”

Running into an American while at an Australian Costco in Moorabin

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It probably wasn’t the wisest decision to go to Costco just two days before Christmas to do a bunch of grocery shopping, but well, we did that today. Since Costco has come to Australia, the people Down Under have really embraced it: when we were exiting the car park just past 11am this morning, the queue of cars to get into Costco stretched farther than my eye could see. And of course, as each Costco has local goods for its local markets, you also see things here that you would never see in the U.S., such as Arnott’s Tim Tams, Dilmah tea bags, an endless and enticing selection of Australian shirazes from as far as Western Australia to South Australia, and lots of local seafood, such as barramundi, Tasmanian salmon, scallops on the half shell, and lobster from the Indian Ocean.

While in the produce section of Costco today, I asked for assistance from an employee since Chris’s mom had requested jalapenos and pomegranates, but I wasn’t able to find them. One of them told me that they had run out, and immediately, I heard her American accent. As I thanked her and wished her merry Christmas, she stopped me and asked if I was American, and I told her I was. We talked a bit: she shared that she had been living here for seven years already and was loving it. She came with her husband and two young kids for her husband’s work; since then, they’ve had two more kids and have zero intention of ever going back to the U.S.

“It’s so addictive being here!” She exclaimed enthusiastically. “You really get used to the lifestyle here and how much more relaxed it is. And also, I just don’t feel safe raising my kids in the U.S. How can you when it seems like every day, there’s a school shooting?!”

I always think of that in the back of my mind as the reason that most Americans (with kids) who leave the U.S. for other countries don’t want to move back. I told her I completely understood her view point, and that I had a toddler who had sadly already experienced lockdown procedures at her former daycare/school.

“That’s disgusting that kids that young would have to go through that!” the American Costco employee retorted.

During conversations like these, there’s really nothing you can say or do to defend the U.S. You just kind of have to sit in the contemplation of how deeply disturbing and awful American society has become, to think that school shootings are just another part of living there.

Kaia attempts chopsticks at Lulu’s Char Koay Teow – a proud parent moment

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A colleague of mine was telling me that despite having a PhD, well-paying job and successful career, a husband, and two twin boys, her dad has never really expressed pride for all she has accomplished. She is ethnically Indian, born and raised in the U.S., and said that when she started getting into making dosas (which she wasn’t raised with since her family is Punjabi), she *really* got into it and did many iterations of dosa batter to perfect her technique. When she mastered her batter, she then moved onto mastering getting it into the perfect flat, crispy circle on her tawa pan. And when she got it to where she was comfortable serving it to her relatives, she asked her dad to come over and be the ultimate judge. Her dad watched her carefully ladle the dosa batter onto the pan and spread the batter into a large, flat circle. And he grinned widely.

“Anita, you have mastered dosa!” he exclaimed. “This is my proudest moment as your father!”

She said to me, “Really? THAT was his proudest moment? The stupid dosa makes him prouder than everything I did throughout school, even my PhD, or the grandkids I gave him?!”

But it made me think about how proud I feel when Kaia masters things like… navigating around a lychee or cherry pit; when she was a baby and learned to “chew, chew, chew” before swallowing; when she cleaned her chicken drumstick of all the meat so that it was dryer than dry. And I was reminded once again of this feeling of pride when we saw Kaia at Lulu’s Char Koay Teow yesterday, clearly expending a lot of energy and focus in trying to master the art of using chopsticks to serve oneself food. Though she has been gifted two pairs of training chopsticks, we actually haven’t given them to her to try yet. In the meantime, she’s been demanding to use the regular chopsticks at our tables when dining out. At this meal, she attempted many times, failed a number of times, but simply just kept on going. She was successful more times than I could count getting the noodles into her mouth, and each time, she had a look of self-satisfaction on her face as she glanced at both of us for approval.

Everything has its season, as I was reminded by my night nurse three years ago, and as I am always reminded by parents of much older and adult children, and, well, as I remind myself all the time now. Kaia may not have cured cancer or earned a PhD at age 3. But the things she has mastered and is currently working hard on now, that are also seemingly age appropriate, are also worthy of recognition and praise. And so that’s why I love to sit in my moments of pride admiring her and appreciate it all for what it is.

Regarding my colleague’s story, this is how I replied, “I don’t know… I’m going to have to side with your dad on this one.”

The first time Pookster made me cry

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I’ve really become so soft since becoming a mother. I’m probably a bit more sensitive. I tear up and cry more easily at things. I’m definitely a lot more sentimental. But it wasn’t until today when Kaia finally made me cry because of something she said.

I was sitting at my in-laws’ dining table, indulging Kaia with fresh lychees I’d just peeled for her to enjoy. She was sitting there happily, meticulously biting and chewing all the lychee flesh around the little pits and spitting them out into her bowl. I rubbed her back and asked her if she loved me in Chinese.

She shook her head and said no.

I asked her why she didn’t love me. She hesitated between lychee bites. And she said, “I’m not happy, mummy. I’m sad.”

“Pookster, why are you sad?” I asked back, concerned.

“Because… because… because I’m a big girl,” Kaia slowly responded, looking down at her lychees, then at me. “I’m not mumma’s baby anymore.”

My eyes immediately welled up with tears, and they started falling down my face. I gave her a big hug and held her tightly. “Oh, Pookster! Nooooooooo. You will always, always be mumma’s baby no matter how old you are. You’re a big girl now, yes, but you will always be my baby. I will always love you no matter what. Always remember that, okay?”

Kaia looked down again, then peered up at me and smiled. “I love you, Mumma!” And then she reached out to hold my hand.

My baby is just so thoughtful, so sweet and affectionate. Since she was a baby, to me she has seemed like a deep thinker who usually thinks before she speaks, and thinks long and hard about things we say and tell her. I was of course sad at the sentiments she expressed. But I was also so sad, shocked, and even impressed at the depth of her thought. To think that at age 3, she is already thinking about her own evolution and how she is seen through my eyes is crazy. Every single damn day, this child impresses me and gives me new emotions. I’m so freaking proud to be her mummy.

Happy 3rd birthday to my precious little miracle baby

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To my sweet baby Kaia Pookie, aka Pookster, aka Hoji, aka xiao bao,

Happy 3rd birthday, my precious little. It’s crazy to think that exactly three years ago, I thought my uterus and vagina were going to explode when I was in labor with you. But somehow I didn’t die and made it through with flying colors, and out came sweet, affectionate, thoughtful, curious, cheeky, flavor-loving YOU.

Every day you surprise me with what you learn and absorb in this world: your massively increasing vocabulary and syntax in both English and Chinese, your thoughtfulness, your adventure seeking ways, and your love of travel in all forms, whether it’s on the bus, subway, high-speed train, or airplanes; your crazy good memory that remembers faces and names of those you’d seen ages ago, as well as who is whose mummy and who is whose partner.

My sweet Kaia Pookie — I have loved and appreciated far more about life and love since you literally plopped out of my body and into my world. It sounds ridiculous to say this, especially given how many women get pregnant and how many babies are born every single day, but sometimes, I truly feel astounded that I was lucky enough to get pregnant, carry, and birth you. There are so many people in the world who would love to be mummies and daddies and do not get the privilege or pleasure; infertility/sub-fertility are on the rise globally, and not a day goes by when I do not remember that or hear a related story that is affecting a friend or colleague, or someone else tangentially related to someone in my circle. Daddy and I were lucky on our IVF journey. Not everyone else is so lucky who embarks on that tumultuous road. That’s why every day, I know exactly how lucky I am to call you my baby, and for you to call me your mumma.

Motherhood is all at once the most infuriating (oh, your tantrums and strong AF opinions!) and most incredible thing I’ve ever done. But I thank you for giving me the privilege and opportunity to be your mumma – mumma to the cuddliest little globe-trotting tiny human I’ve ever known. I love you to the ends of this earth, my sweet baby. You will always be my baby no matter what — even when you are 5, 15, 50, and 100. As I tell you in Chinese every night before bed; Every day, mama will take care of you, protect you, and love you — always.