Category Archives: family

“Sumi and Topey” leave New York, and Kaia gets sad and wants to go with them

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After a few weeks of on and off grandparents time, it’s time for “Suma” and “Topa,” also known as “Sumi and Topey,” also known as Chris’s parents, to leave. They are leaving for the Europe leg of their round-the-world trip. I told Kaia this morning that they would be leaving, and she immediately grew pensive. She then declared, as she pointed to our bed, “That means you’ll be sleeping in that bed because they aren’t here!”

As we got closer to the time they had to leave, Kaia became visibly sad. She kept insisting she didn’t want them to go, and that she wanted to go with them. She said she wanted to go to Italy (where they are going next) and Melbourne with them. She even tried to put on her jacket and shoes to go with them. As the cab got packed up and they left, Kaia cried for a long time. Chris tried to comfort her and hold her, but she just kept crying. Finally, he consoled her with some Peppa Pig screen time, which of course, got her to immediately stop crying. She was fixated on the Peppa and George fight, apparently. Later on, she still kept saying she wanted to go to Melbourne with them.

My heart always aches in these situations. I really love seeing Chris’s parents get along so well with Kaia, and I love that she has a deep attachment to both of them. I myself also feel pretty sad when Chris’s parents leave. Even though I always get questions about how crowded and packed our apartment must feel, I genuinely don’t mind it at all. I do not say that to seem like a good sport or to create some facade of a perfect in-laws relationship; I truly mean it. I always look forward to their visits every year, and I look forward to seeing them when we go back to Melbourne in December. I don’t really care about giving up my bed for them since our sofa bed is actually quite comfortable. We have two bathrooms now, which makes the whole morning/evening routine a lot smoother. Unlike what Chris says about his parents, I think they are very “go-with-the-flow.” Even when we lived in our shoebox apartment on the Upper East Side and shared the space with them, I found it fun and enjoyable. They never once complained and always made the best of the experiences; they made it seem like an adventure since they’re so used to having a lot of space. At the end of the day, neither of them really came all this way to be a tourist in New York City; they came to spend time with their son and his wife, and now their granddaughter. I’ve always loved preparing food for them, and they are always happy to eat it (with the occasional complaint about being “stuffed to the gills” from his mom…) and make it very clear that they appreciate my efforts and skills. If there is one thing you cannot fault, it’s someone’s ability to always show appreciation for others. Chris’s parents never fail in this regard, even in the simplest things done for them (e.g…. when you place in the bathroom… a NEW SOAP BAR). It’s also nice to change up our usual routine and have other family and loved ones in our home. It’s more lively and more fun.

I also am briefly reminded in recent years of how my parents never visit, but it’s not like I romanticize what their visits could be like. They are not adaptable. They are absolutely not “go with the flow.” They complain about almost everything, see fault in everything, and rarely show outward appreciation for anything done for them. They zero in on the things they do for me and how I apparently have not shown appreciation towards them. It’s a game of, “How can we gaslight our child the most?” That’s not the kind of game I enjoy.

In the back of my mind, though, I still wish I had a better relationship with my parents. I wish I could be more open and honest with them. I wish I had their emotional support. I wish they could be close to Kaia the way that Chris’s parents are to her. But it’s a wish that will never be granted. They don’t want to make the effort, and well, I cannot sacrifice my sense of self and sanity and give them that much more time with her. “It is what it is,” as Chris always says. And lots of truths are sad and hurt.

Injured hamstring, the importance of exercise, and increasing stubbornness and “fixed mindset” as we age

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Since college, I’ve regularly exercised. I was not very targeted about what I did, but I always did some kind of physical activity regularly. Once I started working full time after college, I got a gym membership and went to the gym for a rigorous workout anywhere from 3-5 times per week. I dabbled in different exercise and yoga studios. But it wasn’t until I was 27 when I started being more regimented about when I went to the gym (early morning on weekdays before work), and more regular about what types of exercise I did. And then, it wasn’t until two years ago when I weaned off breastfeeding that I started listening to my body in terms of what I liked and did not like (I generally dislike HIIT workouts), and found what really worked for me (low impact, pilates, barre, light weights) versus what other people (e.g. trainers, exercise guides) said would work for me (heavy weights, HIIT). This is a long winded way of saying: it took me a long time (so, my entire adult life for the last 21 years?!) to get comfortable with what kind of exercise I’d like that would work for me: fitness has most definitely been a journey and not a destination.

I exercise because I know it’s good for me, and it also makes me feel really good. I am always more alert and focused after exercise. I sleep better when I have worked out that day. I feel more agile, flexible, and nimble when I’ve worked out. I can feel a huge difference in my body when a few days have passed and I haven’t done any rigorous workout; it’s actually one thing I really look forward to when we get back from a long trip away. In the long term, I know exercise has helped my overall health; regular physical activity helps combat the inevitable loss of bone density and muscle mass as we all age. And given I am turning 40 next January, I am very cognizant of the fact that once I get there, I’ll begin to lose bone minerals faster than I can create new bone minerals, and thus, my bones will eventually become more porous and brittle.

What concerns me, though, is how inactive my in-laws and my dad are. My dad is turning 77 this year; Chris’s dad turns 72 tomorrow. Chris’s mom is just a few years behind his dad. My dad is basically glued to his computer most days, watching endless YouTube videos and leading this extremely sedentary, sloth like lifestyle. I used to suggest exercise, then I stopped when I realized he was never going to change or listen to anything I said. My in-laws seem repelled by exercise; it’s almost like they are allergic to it or something. The mere mention of the gym, and Chris’s dad’s face goes a little off, as though he has smelled something foul. Chris’s mom finally got semi-coerced into a gym membership by Chris’s brother over a year ago; after an initial consultation there, she says she goes about three times a week. Chris’s dad has bristled at the fact that the gym isn’t cheap, but why should it be, especially given where they live? Plus, spending on the gym is spending on health. They are both happy to spend money on prescription drugs or over-the-counter drugs and vitamins/supplements, but they do not see that spending money on a gym membership is an investment in one’s health. Regarding the gym workouts, I have observed Chris’s mom while at our building gym during their visits: she barely does anything that would really challenge her, which would lead to change in her body or weight. Chris’s mom has insisted for years that exercise “just doesn’t work for her,” as in, it doesn’t help her lose weight, even though she’s never given herself a good, hard look in the mirror and realized that she’s simply not challenging herself enough when exercising. As they always say, “no pain, no gain.” I’m sure it can sound hurtful when Chris or I have said or hinted at this; this is where having an unbiased third party, like a trainer, would be ideal, because they’re only going to say it like it is. They have zero reason to say things to hurt you; they were hired to get you to a better place. I used to give suggestions when Chris’s mom would complain about weight and eating so much (especially with us, because I’m not really about to starve them while they are with us), but then I finally stopped last year when I realized she was doing little to nothing to be honest with herself and actually take action to improve what she keeps complaining about. Now, I just listen or ignore it and say little to nothing in response.

Last week, I injured my hamstring during exercise. I am not sure what I did wrong, but I do know that my left hamstring and IT band were burning when I walked up to 76th Street and back last week. I figured it was time to rest and recover. Later that evening, when I was doing a hamstring stretch, lying on the floor with a towel to lightly pull my foot down, Chris’s dad came over to ask what I was doing. I told him I hurt my hamstring while exercising, and he looks at me, puzzled. “Oh, you injured it during exercise? Then, why exercise at all?”

I explained in the shortest and calmest way possible that injuries happen all the time, but that was not a reason to stop exercising. That’s like saying, oh, you should never try anything if you fail, because in that case, what’s the point? There is a risk in almost everything and anything you do. But just because something may hurt or be unpleasant doesn’t mean you shouldn’t do it. Plus, hello, concerns around bone density and muscle mass loss, especially for them because they have both led very inactive lives?!

After a while, I just don’t think these conversations are even worth having. While we are all getting older, they are in their late sixties and early seventies, showing no signs of adapting a growth mindset anytime soon. They are unlikely to change their ways with exercise or anything in that realm. So I just smile and nod when they say these ridiculous things about how “exercise doesn’t work” or that they don’t have time to exercise or question whether a gym membership is worth the money because it’s clear nothing I will say will either agree with them or change them. So while I don’t think Chris’s parents and mine have a lot in common, what they all most certainly have in common is that they are all very, very much fixed in their ways. I wonder if I will be that way when I am my late sixties/early seventies, where Kaia is lecturing me about something she thinks I should do for my health but have neglected… I hope I can get to be that age where it could even be a possibility.

Chris’s dad’s interesting… palate

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Chris’s dad loves to eat. He is one of those people who is impressed by very little in terms of culinary skills and ability. Give him a piece of multigrain toast with butter, and he will likely eat it all up, with a fork and knife (yes, really), and then thank you profusely for it. “This is superb!” he will declare in his Queen’s English accent.

The other day, I toasted some of our favorite olive bread from Il Fornaretto Bakery in Bensonhurst, Brooklyn. I topped them with some of my Le Bordier smoked salt butter that I had vacuum-sealed and brought back from France last November (it was being stored long term in our freezer). I explained when I put the bread on the dining table what kind of bread this was and where it was from. Chris’s mom heard me and nodded while eating. Chris’s dad supposedly heard me. Then a couple bites in, he said, “Yvonne, this bread is delightful. Are these raisins or dates in here?”

So, the first thing to note is that, no, he wasn’t listening or paying attention. His dad, while well meaning, is usually more interested in talking than listening (I guess the apples don’t fall that far from the tree with his sons…). He asked a question that I had already answered before the plate of toasts even hit the table. The second thing to note is that… how can someone confuse the flavor of something very savory and salty (OLIVES) for something that is as sweet as dates or raisins….? I could easily get over the fact that he wasn’t listening to me because I’m kind of used to him asking questions to things that were already discussed or answered, but the confusion about savory flavors vs. sweets is particularly crazy to me.

So, Chris’s dad does, in fact, love to eat. He just… has no idea what he’s eating the majority of the time. That reminded me of the time a few years back when Chris’s mom had marinated some chicken and left it on the counter while doing another household chore, planning to return to the chicken to cook it. A while later, Chris’s dad came into the kitchen feeling hungry and looked at the bowl of chicken as though it was left out to eat. So, he dug in. And he served himself a nice helping of raw, marinating chicken. Yum.

Newport visit, rabbits, and dandelions at the Cliff Walk

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The last time we came to Newport, it was just weeks after Ed had died. I was walking around like a zombie, seeing him and signs of him almost everywhere I went. I remember when we struggled to find parking somewhere, we eventually found it on a street called Edward Street. I also felt like I was hallucinating and thought I was hearing his voice or seeing his face in places where he obviously was not.

It’s a very different visit this time with Chris’s parents and Kaia. After having coffee at a cute France-summer-house-style coffee shop and eating lunch at a popular brunch spot, we dropped Chris’s parents off at The Breakers (the Vanderbilt summer mansion) and we explored the town. We walked through and around the exterior of the International Tennis Hall of Fame. I learned about court tennis and how only bougie people seem to know and play it now, and rarely given the rarity of the court tennis court’s existence (this is most definitely the definition of “if you know, you KNOW”). And Kaia saw wild rabbits running around the grounds and stooped and sat to watch them, waiting for them to come back out (spoiler alert: they did not come back out). Kaia was carrying her pink bunny, Irene, as a comfort stuffed animal on this trip. She was running around with Irene, and when I suggested to Kaia that she show the other bunnies her own bunny Irene, she actually smiled and did just that: she sat down on the ground by the grass where the rabbits were and stuck Irene out to show the bunnies. And then she waved to the rabbits to come out. I couldn’t help but laugh and admire how adorable this whole sight was.

After Chris’s parents were done with their mansion visit, we walked along the famous Cliff Walk. Kaia enjoyed running around and picking dandelions, occasionally plucking off their petals and letting them fly away. This was her very first time picking flowers, even if they were weeds, and she really seemed to enjoy it. I picked them with her and we shared our dandelion bouquets. She tried to add grass to them, and well, I had to veto those additions.

Parenting littles goes so quickly. We always grumble at all the annoying parts of parenting, like dealing with the tantrums, the messy eating, the potty training, the bedtime routine and how long it takes. But what I hope to remember most about this period of raising Kaia and watching her grow are these little moments: Kaia proudly showing her pink Irene to the two wild rabbits and grinning ear to ear; Kaia discovering dandelions and that you can pick flowers, and then happily looking all over the grassy paths to search for and pluck them; Kaia greedily grabbing all the clams and so daintily pulling them out from the shells and shoving them in her mouth. These are the moments I would bottle up and want to save forever and never forget.

Long weekend with the in-laws to Rhode Island, with an important stop in New Haven on the way

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One of the things I loved about the East Coast when I first moved here was how easy it was to state hop. Depending on where you are, it could take an hour or even less to get to another state. It could take 20 minutes to take the PATH train from Manhattan into Hoboken or Jersey City. It could take a couple hours by car, train, or bus to get from Massachusetts to New Hampshire or Rhode Island. Maine can be done as a day trip from many places in Massachusetts. California is a large and long state; it wasn’t as easy to do that living there. So all these small states in the northeastern part of the U.S. always fascinated me. I tried to take advantage and see as much as I could of the northeast, while also lamenting that so many people who live here have zero curiosity about neighboring states and people.

At this point, Chris’s parents have most likely seen more of New York City than most New Yorkers. They have definitely seen more of the U.S. than most Americans. They take side trips on their own through the U.S. when they come visit us, but they also get taken on side trips, sometime via road, other times via plane, by us. In recent years with Kaia, we’ve always done a road trip and rented a car. This year, Chris decided on Rhode Island. So it will be our first time back in the smallest state of the country since August 2013.

On our way there, we stopped in New Haven, Connecticut, for some apizza. Little do many people outside of Connecticut know, but New Haven is oftentimes thought of as the pizza or “apizza” capital of the United States (New Yorkers and Jersey people most definitely debate this). New Haven style pizza consists of thin-crust, coal-fired Neopolitan pizza. And one of my most favorite pizzas in all the world is most definitely the white clam pizza: it’s pizza with oregano, grated cheese, chopped garlic, fresh littleneck clams. It does not have tomato sauce, which is why it’s called a “white pie,” and it’s just freaking perfect. Littleneck clams with garlic and cheese is like a menage a trois that dreams are made of. Our first time to New Haven was in November 2020 during the pandemic. We did a day trip to New Haven and went to the three most well known New Haven style pizza joints: Frank Pepe, Sally’s Apizza, and Modern Apizza. We went to Modern last in that visit, which meant that we had already had so much pizza that we didn’t quite appreciate it as much, so we went to Modern as our only pizza stop on this visit. We got the white clam pizza with a small margherita, and amongst the five of us, we left satisfied, yet not stuffed. The pizza was even more delicious than I remember it, with a crust so crunchy yet chewy that I could easily have just eaten the pizza topping-less, and I still would have been happy.

We spent the evening in Fox Point in Providence, where we ate at Dune Brothers Seafood, their first location that has indoor seating (though tiny). I had whole scup fish (porgy!) for the first time and enjoyed it – the fattiness and texture almost reminded me of bluefish (though no one on the internet seems to agree with my assessment). Kaia devoured the littleneck clams appetizer all by herself; she’s most definitely a clam loving baby and enjoys the thrill of opening the clams and pulling them out of the shells. But what was the even bigger highlight of dinner was the indulgent lobster roll Chris and I shared. I always prefer Connecticut style lobster roll (always warm, dunked in butter, on a toasted bun) over Maine style (chilled lobster meat, dressed in mayo with crunchy greens). This lobster roll was stuffed to the brim with huge chunks of both claw AND tail meat, warmed in butter along with various tasty spices; it was likely one of my all-time favorite lobster rolls next to Neptune Oyster in Boston. Though Neptune makes what is likely the best lobster roll in all of the US, I will never go back there because to this day, I remember it as of the very worst dining experiences of my life. I still remember being so angry about how rude the service was that I actually tipped them 11 percent (WHICH I NEVER DO).

And if that was not enough eating, down the street from Dune Brothers was this cute Aleppo Sweets Cafe I had on my list. They won a best new restaurants award in Providence in 2019 and look to be family owned. Though they have a full menu for lunch and dinner, we just went for after dinner caffeinated drinks and desserts. This place is clearly popular with locals because almost everyone around us walking down the street behind us also went into this place! We had a good start to our visit when Kaia ran into the florist shop next door (which I think are owned by the same people). The florist there was so kind that he gave her a fresh, long-stemmed iris, which captivated Kaia; she was so obsessed with her new fresh flower! We sat down at a table and enjoyed Arabic coffee, very strong ginger-cardamom-mint tea in a beautiful and large copper tea pot (brought back from Syria, and funnily enough, NOT for sale, as Chris’s dad liked it so much he asked if he could buy one!), and four different types of baklava and Syrian semolina cake. We loved the ambiance, furniture, decor, and the tea and coffee ware a lot, but the sweets were very surprising. They were stuffed to the brim with pistachios, but the shocking thing about them was that they were not too sweet. And I don’t think in my entire life I have ever described any baklava as “not too sweet,” or really, they were “just sweet enough.” They weren’t swimming or soaked to the brim in sugar. They didn’t make my teeth hurt like some of the Greek or Turkish spots we’ve had them from in Astoria or Bay Ridge. I subsequently read that this characteristic of being “not too sweet” is a defining trait of Syrian baklava and desserts. I am tempted to figure out how to recreate this Syrian harisa semolina cake at home and ensure it’s “just sweet enough.” It was so delicious and lightly spiced with cinnamon and vanilla. We shared four different types, so each of us had a bite each of the desserts, and amazingly, I think I could have had more bites and not felt overly sweetened or stuffed. I still cannot believe how long we talked about the copper tea pot…

There’s so much good food and culture all over the U.S. that it would be quite a shame (and loss) to just stay in one part or place forever and not experience all this richness and fun.

The melted microwave cover

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Whenever there are other people over, and when Kaia is around, it’s pretty much inevitable that at some point, accidents are going to happen. When Chris’s parents came back from their side trip to Asheville, North Carolina, yesterday, I had prepared some steamed scallops with glass noodles. I had the steamer setup on the main front right burner and the sauce to pour over the scallops on the left burner. Both burners were on; the sauce was on simmer, while the steamer setup was on medium-high. When I shut the steamer setup off, I took the saucepan with the scallop sauce off the left burner, but I forgot to shut the flame off. I had originally left it on because I wanted to makes sure the sauce was still hot when I poured it over the scallops and noodles. Chris has this habit (which I hate) of resting the silicone and plastic microwave cover on one of the burners whenever he finishes microwaving things. I always either tell him to move it, or more often, I just remove it from the top of the burner. He almost never cooks, and he has little awareness of which burner(s) I may have used, so it’s always a potentially dangerous situation even if the burners are off due to residual heat.

Well, that dangerous situation actually happened on Tuesday evening. The microwave cover was left on the still-on-simmer left side burner, and suddenly, I saw smoke rising into the air and smelled something plasticky burning. Alarmed, I rose and immediately went to the stove to find out that alas, the microwave cover was melting atop the still-on left burner. I shut it off and blasted the fan on. Chris spent some time scraping off the melted plastic/silicone and opened as many windows as he could to get that burning smell out.

Things like this rarely happen with us because we take pretty good care of our things. Before Kaia, we also pretty much never lost any of our items. But at least the microwave cover is cheap and easily and quickly replaced. The moral of the story is: two wrongs never make a right, especially when it comes to fire.

Trader Joe’s strawberry candy belts – a reminder of childhood in a bite

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I was at Trader Joe’s yesterday passing the sample station when I noticed that there was a very familiar candy item on offer: they are calling them sour strawberry candy belts. They are essentially long, wide belt-like strips of gummy candies that are both sweet and sour, coated in white sugar. For old time’s sake, I grabbed a little sample cup and popped a piece into my mouth. Instantly, I was transported to when I was about five years old, eating way too much candy with Ed. I was reminded of the sweet innocence that is youth and just savoring deliciousness and sweetness in a bite or five. Growing up, we lived a short walking distance from two convenience/candy stores, both of which offered large bins of candy like sour power (these sweet-sour candy belts!!) for purchase by the piece. If I can remember correctly, each piece was about 20-25 cents. We just had to tell the guy behind the counter how many pieces we wanted, and he’d fish them out for us using a pair of tongs, slip them into a little plastic bag, and hand it to us once we paid. Ed and I both loved the combo of the sweet and sour. And I have always been a gummy kid, so the texture was always addictive to me. Ed was seven years older than me, so he was always supposed to be the older one who “took care” of me. Occasionally, our mom would let just the two of us go together to one of these candy stores; the trip itself was like a treat. It made me feel really grown up to go to the store, alone with just my brother. And how exciting because it always meant that we’d come home with SOUR POWER!

I savored the sweet, sour, fruity flavor in my mouth for a while, sucking on the candy until it was almost completely dissolved. For a split second, I thought maybe I’d indulge and buy just one pack… and then I decided that it would be like oral suicide. This is likely going to kill my teeth now and cause me to go into early onset dentures. Thirty-nine-year-old me eats almost zero candy today. Back when I was five or six years old, I had zero fears or worries about dental health. Now, I have to think about it all the time; it’s why I am so maniacal about brushing twice a day for at least two minutes, regularly rinsing my mouth out after eating anything, and flossing at least once a day. I’ve even started using a mouth wash a couple times a week. I have sensitive teeth from a misaligned jaw, deal with teeth grinding, plus I wear a retainer AND a mouth guard when I sleep now. And then to add to the cherry on top, I have a LOOSE baby tooth on my bottom right side, thanks to pregnancy hormones weakening a neighboring tooth, resulting in my needing a root canal that ended up destabilizing my baby tooth! It’s only getting weaker and looser by the day. I am predicting that it will fall out before the end of the year. Every time I brush, I can see the gum line around the baby tooth eroding and looking sadder and sadder.

I only have one set of teeth, unlike Kaia. I have to take care of these, otherwise they are going to come at me with a vengeance. And that would be very, very painful (and expensive AF).

Grandparenting in the current era

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The Atlantic recently wrote a piece about how “grandparenting,” or specifically, “grandmothering” is on the rise. When they say this, what they mean is that active parenting by a grandparent, mostly a grandmother, has increased notably in recent times due to the shortage of reliable and affordable childcare, soaring costs of living, and the mandatory need given the soaring cost of living for dual-income households in the U.S. This has made parents of the current generation apply more pressure on their parents to help raise their own children. This is most definitely something I see across a majority of parents of a similar age to me: most of my friends with kids have a parent look after their child(ren) for at least 1-2 days a week, without them there. We have a friend whose in-laws not only pick up their two kids from preschool at 2:50 every weekday, but also take them overnight two nights a week; those same grandparents take the two kids to Michigan during the summer where their other son and his children are — for two months; that is two months that my friend doesn’t see (or have to parent) his own children, time he gets to himself and to himself plus his wife. These grandparents play an active role in their grandchildren’s upbringing, not just having fun with them and getting to know them inside out, but also being a second set of parents to them.

I was thinking about this today as I watched Chris’s parents struggle to wrangle Kaia around, whether it was on the sidewalk, on the street, or in stores. A couple times I told Chris’s dad to walk with Kaia, and as per usual, he would barely hear me, and Kaia would run off on her own without him even noticing. In the end, I’d have to run off after her. In other cases, Chris’s mom struggled to run after her to keep up, and Kaia succeeded at keeping her grandma on her toes. Back when Kaia was in her diapers era, Chris’s dad wouldn’t even want to be in the room when a diaper change was happening; Chris’s mom would only do it if Chris or I wasn’t there. During their very first visit to New York after Kaia was born, when Kaia was about five months old, when I was working from home and Chris was at the office, and they were meant to babysit while our then-nanny was on vacation, Chris’s mom would come into the room when I was working and announce that Kaia needed a diaper change. The implication here was that I needed to stop what I was doing to change her diaper since I was there (who cares that I was actually working… since I was, you know, at home?). Now that Kaia is potty trained (but still isn’t equipped to wipe herself or wash her hands without assistance), neither of them has offered to help with the potty visits, either during our visit to Australia in December, or now. Granted, they aren’t used to being around her all the time, definitely are not used to helping someone during potty time, or seeing exactly how much she loves to run around and be cheeky, but they could in no way keep up with her. I am positive that if they had to look after her for even one day a week on their own, they’d likely leave her in their own house so they wouldn’t have to worry about the threat of getting lost in a store or, in the absolute worst case, the chance of getting hit by a car or bicyclist.

Chris’s mom always used to tell friends, family, and us that if we lived in Melbourne, she would have loved to be a full-time care taker to Kaia once we went back to work after family leave. But the thing is — you can certainly assume you want things in theory, but in practice, it’s never as simple or easy as it seems in your head. In theory, lots of things sound nice. In real life, it’s a completely different story. As we all get older, our physical and mental abilities get more limited. We tire more easily. We have less energy. And frankly, there just may be less stamina to run after a boisterous, rebellious little toddler than you had originally assumed.

“Daddy, clap my butt!” and other fun toddler moments with Kaia Pookie

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We were on the train coming back home from Bensonhurst on Saturday, and Kaia was sitting at the window seat on the train. Then, she decided to stand to see the view (she loves the “view,” even when we’re underground in the tunnel and can see nothing. But she does get very excited when she sees trains passing us and tries to identify which train number/letter it is). Kaia started acting cheeky, as per usual, and wiggled her butt and danced on the seat. And while we’re having mindless chit chat, she suddenly started sticking her butt out very conspicuously and said, “Daddy, clap my butt! Mummy, clap my butt!” And she started clapping her butt with her own hands and giggling hysterically.

There are a lot of things you can get away with as a child of her age in both behavior and speech. If I said the same thing at my current age, it would likely elicit confusion and annoyance. This is one of those moments that not only elicited lots of smiles from surrounding passengers, but it even got a rider sitting in front of Kaia to text her friend to tell her about the “adorable toddler” sitting behind her who was singing and dancing (I just happened to see this when Kaia was leaning over towards this person’s side, and I saw her text message very clearly near Kaia’s face as I gazed over).

Another fun thing that Kaia has been doing with me is we’ve been “eating” each other. Ever since she was a newborn, I’ve been obsessed with her little fingers and little “toesies,” and before she lost a lot of her baby fat, I could not get enough of staring and lightly squeezing the rolls that were her little “wrists” and “ankles.” When I’ve given her a bath or shower, I always say, “Mumma loves Kaia’s toesies! I’m going to eat your toesies.” And then, I say, “Mumma loves this toesie, and this toesie, and this toesie, and this toesie, and this toesie!” after reaching her last toe on a foot. Then, I go onto the next foot and their set of toes. I occasionally say, “Mmmmmm, Kaia’s toesies are yummy! I’m gonna eat your toesies!” To which she always shrieks and giggles with delight. Lately, she’s been answering back: “Mummy! You can’t eat me! I’m not food!” And then I say in response, “Haha, yes, you are! I’m gonna eat you right now!” Then, I nibble her hand or fingers or toes or foot. She goes into her hysterical laughter. But then she tries to eat me. She insists that her mummy is food! So, she’ll take my fingers or even my face and lips and start nibbling away. I love this pretend mummy-and-daughter-eating-each-other session. Yes, it sounds slightly cannibalistic. Yes, I can also see how it can come across as sexual. But either way, it’s done with lots of fun and deep affection.

Today while riding back home from school, Kaia was in a really happy and chipper mood. In her after school program, they are learning lots of nursery rhymes in Chinese, and one of them is the Chinese version of “Twinkle Twinkle Little Star.” She decided to loudly start singing Chinese “Twinkle Twinkle,” and then I joined in and we sang it together. It became apparent very quickly that there were at least four other female riders, all separate, who started taking an interest in looking at and listening to Kaia. All were smiling and some were even humming along. And when Kaia finished the song, they all started clapping and telling Kaia, “Good job!” Kaia did her usual thing: out of nowhere, when she realizes that she has attention, she starts getting “fake shy” and starts burying her head into my stomach or chest. She did this a couple times when people started waving to her and saying hi, and then she started giggling hysterically and waving back to them.

When we first decided to enroll Kaia at her Chinese immersion school downtown in Manhattan Chinatown, a part of me dreaded the daily subway commute. It obviously wasn’t going to be as convenient as anything walking distance from us. But now I realize that this decision was beneficial in so many more ways than just having more exposure to Chinese language and culture: she just loves everything about the subway and people watching. She has more practice walking, running, and going up and down stairs. It’s great for her to be around so many different people and seeing people like this every day. And for me personally, I love observing her on the train and watching her interact with others on the subway. I love these moments of watching her grow and mature and getting comfortable with subway travel. She’s a true New York City baby.

When hosting becomes an excuse to make dessert

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I grew up in a large household, in a duplex where my parents, brother and I lived on the second floor unit. My three cousins and their mom and dad lived on the third floor. Until age 9, my grandma lived in the basement/ground level. We had 9-10 total people to share food with, so whenever I baked anything, whether it was cookies, brownies, or bread, there was always lots of people to share the food with and eat it. There was never a worry about “who is going to eat all this?” or “are we going to have too much sugar/fat?” because when you’ve got at least eight or nine people around, that food is most definitely getting eaten one way or another, and pretty darn quickly.

That all changed once I moved to New York and just had a roommate. We shared food only occasionally, but not always. It’s pretty hard to make food just for one person or meal. I still baked, but when I did, I’d usually share it with her and even my colleagues. The food had to go somewhere, and I would never want to waste the food. And even now with Chris, I can’t bake too much because we probably shouldn’t be eating that much sugar and butter, anyway. We’re also trying to limit Kaia’s refined sugar intake. So whenever I know I am hosting friends or relatives over, whether it’s just for one meal or for an extended duration of time, like with Chris’s parents staying with us on and off for about three weeks, I look at these as opportunities to make dessert: what kind of sweets can I make? What have I been dying to make for the last several months that I haven’t had an excuse to make?

So the short list for now looks like this:

Mango and coconut sago, maybe with coconut milk and juice agar agar jelly

Gulab jamun nut bread/cake

Brown butter chocolate chunk cookies (The Food Lab)

Lemon ricotta cake

Orange blossom almond cake

I was chatting with my friend about this, and she could completely relate. She lives alone, and she sees her brother a lot since he lives nearby. Once, she made cookies and he inhaled the entire batch in a single sitting. When she has friends or family over, it’s also her excuse to experiment with baking, especially since she’s more comfortable cooking and has shied away from baking. Yesterday for Easter brunch, she made egg yolkless tiramisu, which turned out really well, so this has given her more confidence to bake other things. It’s been fun to have a friend who is really into cooking and food and to have them around to share food fun stories (and the nightmares of the last several days) and know that they can empathize and understand your situation from experience.