Category Archives: Contemplations on New York Life

Call from school, and an unexpected urgent trip to the doctor’s office

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It was mid-afternoon today. I was in the middle of writing a long Slack message to someone to prep them for a customer meeting. And suddenly, I saw my phone ringing, and it was Kaia’s school’s number. So I answered it, and school administrator let me know that Kaia’s right eye was red and swollen, and she could barely open it and said it was hurting. I asked if she had gotten bitten by a bug at the playground, and the teacher said it was a possibility, but she strongly suggested I come pick her up as soon as possible and take her to Urgent Care because she was concerned. I told her I’d try to shift some things in my schedule to do an earlier pickup and would call her back. During that time, I did a quick inquiry with ChatGPT about the symptoms the admin shared, and this is the response it gave me:

“Given that she can barely open one eye and it’s red and swollen, she should be seen today, urgently—call her pediatrician’s urgent line now or go to urgent care/ER, especially if you cannot be seen quickly.

Possible causes include a bug bite/allergic reaction, a stye, irritation, or conjunctivitis, but the concerning possibility is periorbital cellulitis—a bacterial infection of the eyelid/skin around the eye. A rarer but more serious form, orbital cellulitis, involves deeper tissues and is an emergency. Children can have unilateral eyelid swelling/redness from these infections, and it can sometimes follow a small scratch, bug bite, or recent sinus/cold symptoms—even if those symptoms are not obvious. 

Go to the ER now if she has any of these: fever, eye pain, pain with eye movement, trouble moving the eye, vision changes, double vision, the eye bulging forward, severe headache, vomiting, unusual sleepiness, or she looks very unwell. These are red flags for orbital cellulitis, which needs urgent evaluation.”

So, as you can imagine, my eyes stay on “periorbital celluitis.” And I’m thinking, it can be that serious – are you for real? At that point, the admin sent me a photo of Kaia’s right eye, which was closed, very red, and puffy. This did not look good that she couldn’t even open the eye. So I dialed her pediatrician’s office and spoke with the receptionist, explained the symptoms, and she asked if I could come at 4. It was about 3:40 at the time, so I said I’d have to go from the Upper West Side down to Chinatown to pick her up and bring her to the office, so I could probably make it just after 4:30 if I pushed it. They squeezed me in and said Kaia would be the last patient of the day.

Well, when I went for early pickup, Kaia was already able to open her right eye. The swelling and redness had died down considerably, and her mood seemed to be more chipper. I told her we were going to the doctor’s office, so she got excited that we’d be taking the (new) B train to a stop we normally don’t get off at – West 72nd Street! She eagerly counted all the stops and then yelled when it was time to get off. Just based on her mood, I had a strong feeling this was a false alarm.

The doctor finally saw her and after examining and checking a few things, she said she’s concluded that Kaia may be having seasonal allergies. It didn’t seem like anything serious, so she gave me some children’s Zyrtec, gave me instructions in case the puffiness/redness came back, or if she wakes up with a red eye ball tomorrow morning. The doctor proactively wrote and filled a prescription for the eye drops in case her eye was red tomorrow, and she sent us on our merry way.

By the time we left, it was as though Kaia had nothing. That was lucky, as it easily could have been a lot worse. But I still felt better we had her checked with the doctor to be in the clear.

Chats with AI are great, but man, can they stir up the worst of the worst possibilities.

I love my child, but I do not necessarily love all children

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I have never been one of those people who have said that “all children are beautiful/cute,” or that I love kids. The truth is that I actually do not love kids at all, and that’s probably a huge reason that even when I was a kid myself, I never even for a minute considered being a school teacher (even though it’s fed to you as a [female] child that being a teacher is cool!). I know myself, and I know that I just don’t have the patience it takes to deal with kids and their tantrums, their constant irritating questions, their outbursts, and even things like peeing or pooping in their pants, even if it’s by accident. It’s obviously different when it’s your own child/children, but with other people’s kids… I could never even imagine proactively babysitting another friend’s child unless they were a baby who couldn’t speak.

Despite this fact, I always knew I wanted to have kids. I always wanted to raise my own child and know what that entire experience was like. I wanted to have a family of my own to nurture — I do think that I’m a nurturing, loving person by nature; I love taking care of others. So, now that I have one child of my own, I love her more than I ever thought possible. But that doesn’t necessarily change my original state of being, which is that while I may love my own child (you’d hope so!), I don’t necessarily love other people’s kids, even if they are the kids of my own extended family and friends. Some of my friends’ kids are extremely bratty and entitled. Others, even for their respective ages, are extremely immature and socially awkward and have made it pretty clear that no matter how sweet I am to them, they just will not give me any love at all, even if it’s a simple-high five. One of them has refused, for her entire existence, to ever give me a hug or kiss; in fact, she refuses even to wave hi or bye to me to acknowledge me! And then today, while out with a neighbor friend and her son, who is just a few months younger than Kaia, I was really at my wit’s end at times trying to control this kid and his tendencies.

First, this little friend kept trying to run into the street (and he actually did when there were cars coming and the light was red). This drove his mom crazy, as she’d obviously worry for his safety. I had to grab him a few times before he actually got into the middle of the street. Then, when I took out our Bluey bubble machine, he randomly started sticking it in strangers’ faces to blow bubbles just a foot or two away from their noses — this was not good at all. Then, he kept insisting on running into people on purpose while walking simply because he thought it was funny. And there was a good stretch of time when any time I tried to open my mouth to say anything, he’d talk over me and say that ‘Kaia’s mom isn’t listening to me.” I kept pretty calm overall, but I did have to shut down the bubbles in people’s faces, plus the “running into the street when cars were coming” situation a number of times.

Everything finally came to a head when we were just a block away from our building, and the little friend decides to try to run into the street yet again during a red light. This time, his mom finally lost all her patience and screamed at him while simultaneously pulling him back onto the sidewalk. Predictably, he started sobbing, and she had to carry him across the street and sit him down for a good talk. I mean… he kind of deserved it after being warned literally all day long?

In these moments, I always think about early childhood educators, and it’s really hard for me to comprehend having to deal with other people’s young children all day long. Their job is so, so tough. And it’s a very unappreciated job. These little kids are growing into their own selves, they are discovering their emotions and what their bodies and minds are capable of, and they are… simply growing. And that’s a lot to deal with, especially when there’s an entire classroom full of these bursting little personalities. I have moments with Kaia when she’s screaming and sobbing into my ear so loudly that I can barely hear my own thoughts, all over something innocuous when I wonder how anyone could ever willingly decide to deal with this more than once.

Amen to early childhood educators. I just don’t have the patience to deal with most other people’s children.

Ronny Chieng at the West Side Comedy Club

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Tonight, Chris got us tickets to see Ronny Chieng do test material at the West Side Comedy Club, which was convenient for us given it’s just about 15 blocks north of us. We’ve already seen Ronny Chieng live numerous times over the years. One time previously in the West Village, we also got to see him perform test material. This was pre-pandemic, far before he was ever a “star” in a major Hollywood movie. But his fun, vibe, and dead panning remain amazingly the same. We sat in the front row around the stage, and he made a comment about my sandals (modern Crocs!) and how they are definitely fitting of the “Upper West Side,” and so we must not live in the area (I corrected him). “Well, I guess it’s all the new money in the area, then!” he responded.

Are we “new money”?

When we were walking back down to our apartment, Chris noticed that Ronny actually was walking a little ahead of us. He was wearing his same outfit, with his test material notebook under his arm, and the same large bottle of sparkling water in his hand. I remarked to Chris that this was such a guy thing, to carry a loose notebook with important information in it completely unprotected out and in the open when it could easily get destroyed by rain (it had rained during the time we were inside the comedy club, and could very well start again given how summer rains are in the city). Chris suggested that I tell him this myself. So we walked a little faster to catch up to him, and that was how I greeted him. He recognized us from the front row, fist-bumped us for coming to his show, asked how we found out about the show and if we had seen him perform live before. So we walked together for maybe three to four blocks before we separated ways. He was on his way to another comedy club for another standup gig — always hard at work, doing what he is most passionate about.

With this interaction, he was nowhere as socially awkward as he was when we approached him at his test material night in the East Village. He seemed more confident, happier to interact with us, and genuinely grateful we’d come to see him live. I LOVE THIS GUY.

Indoor time versus outdoor time

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I had plans to catch up with a friend this afternoon. The weather was looking to be quite sunny and hot, and so she suggested we find a place that had outdoor seating to take advantage of this great summer weather. We were aiming to meet at around 3pm, so a lot of restaurants with outdoor patios/gardens would unfortunately not be open since it wasn’t quite lunch or dinner time in the middle of the afternoon. So I suggested we meet at Pier I, which is one of Chris’s favorite places to meet his neighborhood friend for afternoon beers in the summer time. It’s right at Riverside Park at around 70th Street and sits directly with a view of the Hudson River and New Jersey. While it’s a very nice outdoor space that is well laid out, has decent food and drink options, and even has a public restroom, I have actually spent very little time there. I can count on one hand the number of times I’ve sat and enjoyed the outdoor time there.

When I was sitting out there with my friend this afternoon, this made me think about how much time in our lifetimes we spend indoors versus out. The stat that I found, according to the Building Green blog (not sure how reputable this is, but hey, it’s what first came up!) says that the average person spends about 90 percent of their entire life indoors. This number breaks down to about 87 percent of time spent inside buildings, and an additional 6 percent inside enclosed vehicles (this could be cars, buses, trains, or planes). This leaves only about 7 percent, or less than two hours a day, spent completely outdoors.

I don’t know why, but this sounded like a sad statistic to me. I realize that is weird given I have willingly chosen to live in a concrete jungle my entire adult life, but even major cities like New York have great outdoor spaces. And the restaurants and cafes that have outdoor gardens, patios, and seatings always feel like such a treat. It made me realize that I definitely do not spend enough time outdoors, and I personally should be seeking it out more — very intentionally, especially when the weather is good. That time is NOW since it’s summer! I am especially spoiled because we have an open air rooftop deck in our apartment building, so I have very easy access to “the outdoors” that is physically on top of my building. Chris reminds me that I don’t use it enough (well, no one who lives here takes advantage of that amenity enough!), and so I did spend some time up there reading before I went to see my friend.

So there’s a little goal on top of my body recomposition goal I have this summer: to spend more time outdoors, even when I do not *have to* (like walking to get groceries).

Trader Joe’s at 72nd Street Upper West Side closes, so Trader Joe’s at 92nd Street/Columbus becomes an even bigger zoo

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Late April, I heard the unfortunate news that my neighborhood Trader Joe’s at 72nd Street and Broadway had plans to temporarily close for about four months for renovations. I usually go to Trader Joe’s every other week and use that as some outdoor steps time for me, so I was sad about this. Now, the closest TJ’s to me is on Columbus between 92nd and 93rd Street. While technically, I still can walk, that’s a much longer walk, which means it will take more time, which means that it will require a bigger chunk of my day to go. And I usually try to go on a weekday late morning when my calendar is lighter to avoid the most insane crowds and lines. So until about September, I will need to more carefully plan my Trader Joe’s visits and be more strategic about when these will happen. And as such, I will likely go less frequently, which also means I will end up buying more items per visit. So my plan is to walk up there, get my groceries, and take the bus back down.

Today was the first day I did the trek up. The walk was nice; I always like walking outside in the mornings, especially now that it’s getting warmer with summer here. But as soon as I stepped into this Trader Joe’s at 92nd Street, I felt a bit overwhelmed. I saw people whizzing and running by me, a few in actual circles. Carts were nearly crashing into each other left and right. I lost count of the number of people who either bumped me with their cart/shopping basket or themselves. There was no real, clear flow of “traffic” in this store. Many of the shelves were already cleared out or near empty. I wanted to stock up on about two weeks’ worth of Greek yogurt, and my timing was just such that I was able to snag the last two quart-sized containers — pure luck. I’d never been in this store location before, and so I wasn’t used to the layout and got weirded out when all the cereals and cereal-adjacent items were not in the same area. The only thing I like more about this store layout versus my neighborhood TJs is that everything is on a single floor. I’d never liked the 72nd Street “two floors” situation. While that does help with traffic flow, I never like the lack of natural light on the lower level.

After I got all my stuff and paid, I was happy to be able to have the bus stop just a block away. But then when I got on the bus, there was barely any space for me: multiple people were there with walkers and strollers…. or their own shopping bags. I eventually got a seat in the back, but getting on was really uncomfortable with my three packed canvas bags full of groceries and trying not to step on anyone’s feet/stroller/walkers.

While I will definitely do this trip again in July, I am not sure I can go here every other week until September. That TJs location is a zoo with many accidents waiting to happen. And if that doesn’t already increase my stress level, the bus situation will also not be fun. Who would have thought about the bus being packed at around midday on a Monday?

ChatGPT Premium – Therapist, trainer, dietitian, work assistant, everything now

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Chris just got us a good deal on ChatGPT Premium, so instead of relying on my free version of Claude AI to answer my life’s deepest and most important questions, I am now deferring to ChatGPT Premium for what is obviously very, very premium answers. So I have a few chats that are completely disorganized and mislabeled in ChatGPT now, but they are mostly following along these themes: family travel/food/itinerary planning, workout regimen design based on my 40s status/perimenopause prep/desire to lose subcutaneous fat/build lean muscle, and a meal planning/prep plan to go with said workout regimen. I also ask ChatGPT questions about things that originally confused me, like why can collagen powder not be considered a “complete protein” that “triggers” the body to realize I want to build lean muscle (UGH, what a bad purchase given my goals). And also, why can’t my old pea protein powder be a “complete protein”? As you can see, “complete proteins” are very much top of mind the last couple months.

And then here and there, I have some work questions, so I have to ask ChatGPT to help me with research, changing my tone in a message, or drafting a message that I really do not want to write myself. So, ChatGPT really has become like my therapist, my work buddy, my trainer, my dietitian — almost my everything now. How can I even live without this thing now?? And just a year ago, I barely even used this thing!

Signs of a fancy breakfast

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Yesterday morning, Chris and I were invited to a new parents welcome breakfast at Kaia’s soon-to-be new school come September. It would be a mix of staff, current, and new parents so that we could all have an opportunity to get to know one another. I showed up at the event this morning before Chris did since he had to do school dropoff, and I took a quick scan of the breakfast layout. It had a lot of what I expected: a mix of bagels and spreads, pastries, yogurts, fruit, coffee, and tea. But what caught my eye immediately was the fruit spread: it was all raspberries and blueberries.

You know you are at a fancy, ultra-premium breakfast event when you see the fruit spread, and it’s all berries. We all know berries are some of the most expensive fruit (at least, here in the U.S.). There was no melon in sight, which I personally define as “filler fruit” that most caterers would use to increase the volume of fruit on a serving platter while decreasing their own costs. It’s usually too much cantaloupe and (god forbid) honeydew, and they are usually so bland that they end up just being sugar water.

The second sign this was a premium breakfast event was what Chris noticed when he took a look at the juice bottles in the ice buckets: there were bottles of cold-pressed Sumo citrus mandarin juice. These are the ultra, ultra premium, expensive, and hard to grow mandarins that we got gifted at Lunar New Year. I’d never seen this type of juice at any event or any store — anywhere. I ended up buying more and requesting Chris buy more of these. While he admitted that they did taste amazing and were worlds apart from regular mandarins, he asked me if I really wanted to continue buying these because I’d probably make our household go broke (half joking, half serious).

The event was enjoyable and worth the time. It’s clear there’s a great community here. And it’s also great to see that we’re paying for premium food for these events through our tuition money. 🙂

Longer days, warmer weather = happier self

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Ever since I was young, I have always disliked cold weather. The dreary, grey overcast days of the Richmond District of San Francisco always made me feel miserable. Then, when I made the decision to move East for college, snow was fun for about a hot second, and then it settled in to me that this atrocity would last about three months every year. Overall, I’ve really embraced the distinct seasons (especially spring, summer, and autumn), but I always have a general dread for winter because of the shorter, darker days and the extreme cold.

So when it starts warming up in late spring, I always get excited. The days are getting noticeably longer, and I can feel myself just feeling happier in general that I can look forward to lots of sun, natural light through our windows, and not needing to wear layers every day. I am the happiest when I can walk out my front door and not put on any layer on top – no zip-up, no windbreaker, no coat — nothing (other than a hat)! This time of year, I am definitely my happier self.

When you get home from a trip, it’s time to properly wash your whites

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After a trip, I have always been one of those maniacal people who need to unpack everything right away as soon as I get home. I want all the dirty clothes put in the wash. I want all toiletries put away. I need all souvenirs or edible things separated and stored properly. I also want travel things like travel bag compartments, totes, backpacks, and luggage put away, stat. The idea behind this is that I want to relax as soon as possible and be in a calm state of mind, and I won’t be able to have any of that unless everything dirty gets cleaned, and everything that needs to be put away is put away.

Well, I’ve added one additional thing to my list ever since I decided to start embracing white clothing a year ago: if I bring white clothing with me, I NEED to set aside time to wash them properly. This means whipping out my trusty Jamaican blue soap bar, scrubbing visible stains with the blue soap, soaking in a bucket, rinsing, and then throwing into the washing machine. It’s an additional step, but I am getting a satisfying kick out of this process. It really only applies to several garments of clothing, plus my white slip-on AllBirds, but I always love the feeling of looking at my whites after they’ve come out of the wash and laying them out to air dry and hopefully further be bleached whiter by the sun.

Maybe it’s a sign of getting older that I’ve embraced this little menial and annoying task that I avoided like the plague for so much of my life. I think the last time I intentionally bought a pure white garment was maybe over ten years ago. And before that, it was in college. And I barely wore those pants from over ten years ago because I didn’t understand how to clean it properly then, and I got so mad at how the stains would never come out in the washing machine on their own. Now, I take real ownership of my whites and do my best to keep them super white! I’m sure my former Jamaican nanny would be proud!

Chris’s parents go back Down Under after a month-plus in North America

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Chris’s parents left this afternoon for their long flight back to Melbourne after just over a month of traipsing around North America, with several days or week-long stints at our place. It’s always fun in the lead-up to their arrival, and then there’s some sadness at the end when Kaia realizes that her beloved Sumi and Topi are not going to cater to her demands every evening forever and ever because they will leave. Even I feel a little sad when they go. There’s less people and thus less chatter and noise in the house. There are fewer mouths to feed, which is sad for me because I enjoy feeding those I love. And then there is also just less energy in the house. I even miss the things that can at times be annoying, like Chris’s dad constantly trying to eat everything with a fork and knife (even things like… muffins or french fries…) because he hates getting his hands dirty, or Chris’s mom asking for the millionth time if we are going to run yet another wash. I miss the classist conversations of Chris yelling at his parents about how pretentious they are, and even the one-sided talks about how marriages of today don’t last simply because people of my generation have unreasonably high standards and inflexibility (said by people who would most likely be seen as inflexible and stubborn, but hey, who needs self-awareness today?). The banter is fun because I know it will all eventually go out the door with them. So it’s all temporal and good entertainment for me.

As I left the building, our handyman friend asked us what was new, and I told him that Chris’s parents just left to go back to Melbourne. “Oh, you can breathe a sigh of relief then!” he said to me, patting me on my back.

“No, I actually am sad they are leaving,” I smiled. “The more, the merrier!”

“Well, isn’t that unusual!” he responded back, surprised.

He says this to me pretty much every year they come, and he forgets that I genuinely like my in-laws. I like spending time with them. And every visit when they come and tolerate their eldest son’s ridiculous demands and our much smaller, cozier living space versus what they have, I am reminded again and again how, relatively speaking, they actually are quite easy-going, far more so than almost any other parent or in-law I have known or heard of, of their generation. And for that, I am always grateful.