Category Archives: family

The paint spill on Boxing Day 2023

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A couple weeks ago, Chris’s dad had told us that he was doing some minor paint touch ups around the house. I had noticed the cans of paint at the sides of the garage when coming and going from the house, but never thought much of it. Chris’s parents’ house has a two car garage that when you add a lot of paint and gardening supplies, plus just household tools and files, feels crowded and borderline cluttered. Once the two cars are in the garage, it’s a tight squeeze to get in between the vehicles, and often when coming in with the second car, passengers in the backseat (as in, Pookster and I) will need to get out of the car before it’s fully pulled in and parked.

Well, despite Pookster being an active toddler running around everywhere, grabbing and ripping things, and causing mischief galore, we luckily have not had anything in the house break or get misplaced in our 2.5 weeks here. So when we were about to leave the house today to head over to Chris’s uncle’s house for Boxing Day family festivities, an accident finally occurred. With Pookster in my arms and her fat, stuffed diaper bag on my back, I was squeezing between the second car and multiple cans of paint and supplies when suddenly I felt the diaper bag knock something heavy and… BAM! A can of paint fell over, the lid fell off, and white paint oozed out all over the garage floor and into the driveway.

“Shit! Shit! SHIT!” I yelled, as I saw the white paint flow down the slight incline. Chris peered over from where he was by the car and had a frustrated look on his face. I went to tell his parents and asked if they had any paint thinner, and we all had to spring into action, and quickly. We sopped up as much paint as possible with throwaway rags, random paper bags and paper towels lying around, and plastic bags. We took out a bottle of turpentine to remove the paint residue as best as possible. We used the hose to spray and loosen the paint. We had to use the turpentine on our own hands to remove the paint we got on ourselves. All the while as we’re scrambling to ensure nothing gets permanently damaged, Kaia is sitting in her car seat in the car with a door open, singing endless different songs and babbling away as though everything was merry and bright.

Chris, Pookster, and I left to go to Chris’s uncle’s first, while Chris’s parents and his brother took the second car to go, but stopped by a hardware store to see if they had more turpentine. They told a worker there what happened, and they advised to not let the paint dry and to address the matter as soon as possible. So in the end, Chris’s dad stayed behind to clean and hose down the excess paint, and just Chris’s mom and brother came to the family gathering. I felt pretty terrible knowing that I had not only delayed getting to the family gathering for us, but also created extra work and stress for everyone, and potentially the worst thing was making Chris’s dad feel compelled to stay behind and clean the remaining residue. But after it was all done, we just talked about how lucky we were that a) Kaia and I didn’t fall and get covered in paint, and b) the car closest to the paint didn’t get damaged or have any paint on it.

And really, the moral of this paint story is…. declutter, declutter, declutter. Ugh.

Christmas time: an acknowledgment of families in all shapes and forms

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While many people, like Chris, look forward to the Christmas season as a time to escape everyday reality and catch up and enjoy time with family and close friends, not everyone sees the festive season this way. For many, Christmas is a reminder of the pain and anguish that family members have shared in the past. For some, it’s a reminder of who is no longer with us, whether it’s due to severed ties, death, or distance. For others, it’s a reckoning of what one’s family could potentially be, but will never be.

In the beginning of our relationship when we’d come down to Melbourne every year for Christmas, I think I was a bit shocked at how close and how much detailed information and conversation Chris would have with his relatives. None of my conversations or interactions with my own family were like this. Though I did partake in all those conversations, I felt a bit envious that I couldn’t have the same with my own blood relatives. But he reminded me that I was part of his family now, and thus they were my family. I think we all know that it’s never quite the same, even if we do enjoy the time together. But as the years went by, I realized that I had idealized his family, and they actually weren’t as perfect and functional as I’d originally made up in my head. I suppose in my own mind, they actually did seem perfect relative to my own family. But with each passing year, I’d notice little passive aggressions, strange exchanges and comments, factoids shared of previous events, and secrets shared by family members to me in confidence. And I realized that they were just as dysfunctional as any other family, but that at Christmas time, everyone let things go to have a semblance of family, togetherness, and love. And that was totally fine and was good for everyone. Their level of dysfunction was never as toxic or unhealthy as my own family’s, and so it still all worked. Relatively speaking, I’d take his family, immediate and extended, over my own blood family any day, always.

I’ve referenced this line on my blog before, as it’s a quote that comes to my mind every holiday season: “All happy families are alike: each unhappy family is unhappy in its own way.” It’s the first sentence in the famous Leo Tolstoy novel Anna Karenina. But each time I think about this line, its meaning changes a little bit. I used to think about this when my uncle would try to tell me to forgive my dad for what he had done to Ed and me growing up, as “He didn’t know any better because that was how he himself was raised.” I thought about this when Ed had died, and my parents screamed at me and told me I had no right to tell my aunts, uncle, and cousins he had died. I’ve thought about this when hearing about the double standards that people in Chris’s family have for some people versus others, and the blind eyes turned to this. I have also thought about this when learning of the dysfunctions of Chris’s family and extended family, about those who choose not to be in contact, of those who make excuses not to see each other, and about how many in the family like to sweep issues under the rug instead of openly discussing them as problems. Every family has problems and challenges, some larger and more critical than others.

But at the end of the day, we cannot change other people, especially when it’s already so challenging to change ourselves. We just have to set our boundaries, try our best to put a stop to our own unhealthy patterns, and be our authentic selves as much as possible. No family unit is perfect. How we choose to accept that family unit is probably the outstanding question that will last our entire lifetime. I feel that struggle pretty much every day, and every time I have any interaction with my parents. In the back of my mind, I am fully aware that time with them on this earth is limited; they are, after all, at the latter end of their lives, and we have no idea how much time they have. I feel a little guilt when it comes to how I’ve lessened contact with them. I call my mom now at most once every two weeks; it’s a far cry from calling her every day once upon a time about 10 years ago. I realize it probably angers both of them that I chose not to come home (and let them see Kaia) this past year. But that’s what growing up is about: setting boundaries, even if it means when after their lives end that I may always wonder if setting those boundaries really was the best thing for all of us.

My baby is TWO <3

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To my dearest Kaia Pookie,

Happy 2nd birthday, my little love, my little miracle baby who has filled my life with so much joy for over two years now (including while you were in my uterus). Every time I look at you, my sweet Kaia Pookie, I think to myself… how lucky am I that I get to be your mummy. Even when you are throwing tantrums, breaking things, and making total messes in our home, I always remember that there was once a dark time when I wondered if you were truly a real possibility in my life, and I remember how sad and terrifying that was to me. I am beyond grateful to be your mummy, and I give my thanks every night that I get the privilege of being your mother.

Daddy and I are so, so proud of you, sweet Pookster. When I look back at all the photos and videos of you in the last year, your growth has been so tremendous and stunning in our eyes. A year ago, you were babbling and saying just a handful of words. You were still just crawling. You didn’t have the dexterity yet to do things like open cabinet doors or open pill boxes. Now, your vocabulary is so vast in English and Chinese that you’re speaking full sentences, can express what you want, and sing lots of verses of songs. You are walking (and running!) now! You’re doing well with going up and down the stairs with our help. You’re getting your hands into everything you possibly can and have required Daddy to install cabinet locks. And we have to keep all our pill bottles far, far away from you! You’re also a true little leader at school, telling all the kids what to do and when, and following your teachers’ instructions to the point where you’ve even been nicknamed “Ms. Kaia,” aka little teacher, and are all the teachers’ favorites.

And you are so affectionate, my sweet Kaia Pookie. You love to give hugs and kisses. I just want to eat you up, as I always tell you during bath time that I’m going to eat your sweet toesies! You even show affection for your stuffed animal friends and sleep with your favorite books. You have no idea how it makes me feel all gushy inside to see you be so sweet with your animal friends and even insist on sleeping with your books. We have so my great hopes and wishes for you, our sweet little one. I hope I can always do what I can to make you proud of me. I want you to look at me and Daddy and think, wow, they’re doing a great job! We love you more than we could ever possibly express properly in words. We hope you always know how much we love you and will always love you. To many more happy birthdays and moments together, sweet Kaia Pookie.

Love,

your Mummy Yvonne

“My Mom is Great” book for Pookster

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The other day in our building library, I found a children’s book called My Mom is Great, so I thought Pookster might like it. I brought it to her and showed her the title. When I said the title, she responded, “Mummy book? Mummy book?” And I said, yup! And I asked if she wanted to read it, and she agreed. We read through it once. She asked me to read it “again?” So, I read it a second time. Then, after the second reading, she grabbed it from me and started turning the pages, mumbling things to herself, and then insisted she go to bed with it. I tucked her in, and she made sure the book was lying right next to her, with Peter Rabbit on the other side. She was especially needy that night, insisting I lie down with her, and that I had to be there until she fell asleep. Even when I turned a bit on the bed next to her, she’d panic and think I was leaving, and insist, “Mummy! Lie down! Lie down!”

The next morning, she was fussy when Chris tried to take the book away at breakfast, so he positioned the book so that it was facing her as she ate breakfast. It was too adorable to watch. It made my heart mushy to think about her getting excited over “mummy book.” I hope she always knows I am trying do the best job I possibly can and be the best example to her. It’s one of my greatest goals.

Tweaked my back while picking up my toddler = PAINFUL

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Somehow, I’ve managed to last almost two years of having a child in my house, constantly picking her up and putting her down, twirling her around and around, without ever tweaking my back or pinching any nerves… until today. Yep, today was the fateful day when I finally picked her up to change her diaper, and I immediately felt a tweak in the lower middle part of my back. At first, I thought, aw, that’s okay. It’s just a little nothing. And then, as I started moving and walking around, I realized…. nope. It’s not nothing. It IS something. Every time I sat down and got up from the sitting position, my lower back would twinge, and it was like a nerve was being pinched sharply. We went out to the Columbus Circle holiday market and when I attempted to lift the stroller, that was when I knew: there was absolutely NO way I was going to be able to help carry this stroller up and down the subway with Chris’s help. It was not happening today. So while we had plans to have dinner in Alphabet City with our friends, we asked them to improvise. Instead, we got takeout from a local spot and had them over at our apartment. It also made it easier with things like letting Pookster roam around after she finished eating, getting her to bed, and not rushing our catch-up with them.

Chris helped me with some stretches to work out the kinks in my back and applied and rubbed in some tiger balm. Our friends were gracious and went with the flow (and insisted I take a strong pain killer, which I happily did after we finished eating!). In the end, I felt better than I did earlier in the day. But this made me realize a few things: one, I’d really like to get back into the groove of hosting friends over for meals once again. I miss having big meals to prepare and cook for and more mouths to feed and experiment on. I also love the idea of having people over for dinner on a Saturday because we have no pressure to leave at a certain time to get Pookster to bed. We’re in the comfort of our own home, so we don’t have to think about transport back home. Two, I am thankful for a life partner who helps me with my stretches and tweaked back (and unfortunately, intimately knows what it feels like). Three, I’m also thankful for friends who can change plans with little notice and be sympathetic to ridiculous, unforeseen situations like this. Life is pretty good, even with a tweaked back.

Doll houses – for children and for adults

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Today, I was texting with some friends about my friend’s daughter’s birthday. My friend shared that her three-year-old daughter was gifted a dollhouse, which you can custom design down to the WALLPAPER in each room. Given this, my friend would be taking this on as a mini project for her daughter to fully enjoy playing with this dollhouse. I thought it was really sweet — my friend wants her child to play with the dollhouse, and she’s willing to invest time in making sure the dollhouse looks just like what her daughter wants.

It reminded me that I still have a Greenleaf dollhouse that “Santa Claus” (aka my dad) gifted me when I was five years old, still unbuilt and in its original box down in my parents’ basement. I told my friend that if she wanted, she could have the dollhouse if she was willing to invest time in building and painting it. Otherwise, eventually soon, I’d want to sell it to make sure someone out there can actually enjoy it. I reminded her, though, that it’s not a dollhouse for playing; it’s actually meant to be a collector’s dollhouse for adults. My other friend didn’t understand what this meant, so I explained it to her; there’s an entire industry of dollhouses for adult builders and collectors, and this was one of them.

My friends were super confused: why did my dad gift me an adult collector’s dollhouse? Why wasn’t it ever built? And who was expected to build it and when? Was I expected, as a five-year-old child, to build it?

I’m no longer triggered by the memories of that dollhouse, as I’ve moved on. But for me, that unbuilt dollhouse is just representative of all the broken promises my dad made. He always said he’d build it. He never did. He always made excuses and said he was too busy. Finally when I was a teen, I asked one last time if he was ever planning to build it. He got mad, snapping back, “YOU can go ahead and build it yourself!” When an ex-boyfriend went up to him to ask if he could have it to build, my dad responded and said he was still planning to build it (no, never happened). So it just sits in its box, unbuilt, to be enjoyed by no one.

As an adult now with my own child, I get it: my dad WAS super busy. He was working a day job for most of my childhood along with managing and repairing three different apartment buildings and two rental homes. He rarely rested and was just constantly working to ensure we had financial stability. But part of me thinks he also did all that because he didn’t really want to spend time with us. He never played with my brother or me. We never had any real conversations. He was frequently irritable when we attempted to engage with him. My brother eventually gave up, feeling ignored, and decided to ignore him back…. that continued until the day my brother died. Our dad was usually doing his own thing when he was home. I don’t fault him for wanting a break from life while at home, but his negative attitude towards us as children, not to mention always saying he’d do things for us that he never actually did, informs how I want to parent my own child and how I want to set expectations to never let my child think my words are meaningless. I don’t want to become my mom or my dad with my own child. I want to be and do better… a lot better, so that when Kaia is an adult, she actually wants to willingly spend time with me and enjoy time with me, and she doesn’t do it out of obligation or guilt.

I want Kaia to know every moment of her life how much I love her and how much she is wanted. I want her to know I’m always trying to be better to her and provide her with the best, but not at the expense of quality time together. I want her to hear me say I will do something, and for her to expect that yes, I will follow through on it. I don’t want her to harbor resentment against me or think I’m just pushing her away from me. I want to be an example to her of how to be, both in attitude toward the world as well as actions. That’s my takeaway from my sad dollhouse memories.

Kaia loves her Peter Rabbit

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For the longest time, Kaia did not take to any of her stuffed animals. Over her 23 months of existence, she’s been gifted endless stuffed animals, including a life-sized teddy bear, which is still vacuum-sealed and in its original wrapping in the closet. We’ve exposed her to a number of them, but she’s never really seemed to care about them. She kind of looks at them and then plays with something else, whether it’s a book, a jar, a lid, or another toy she has. The couple exceptions are the stuffed animals that are battery operated and sing or play peekaboo, or Babar, which is her stuffed elephant that has a few parts that either make sounds/noise or squeak depending on where you touch or squeeze it. Randomly the other night when I was putting her to bed, she grabbed Peter Rabbit off the book shelf and took it to bed with her. I laid her baby blanket over her, and she snuggled under the blanket with Peter Rabbit and said, “okay, bye bye! Wan an!” I guess that was a cue that she wanted me to leave, so I told her good night, wan an, and I left the room and closed the door. I wasn’t sure if she’d really fall asleep on her own given that she usually needs one of us to stay there with her until she falls asleep. But somehow, it worked. And it’s now worked three nights in a row. The last two nights, she asked for four other stuffed animals to accompany her to bed, as well. And she didn’t need me to stay with her until she fell asleep. It was incredible.

I love seeing her interact with her Peter Rabbit and her stuffed animals. She tells them to do things like “sit up” and “lie down,” and she even wants Peter Rabbit there at breakfast with her. Chris wouldn’t let her have Peter Rabbit on her food tray given it would be a mess, so he told her that Peter Rabbit would “watch” her eat. And she happily agreed. It’s too adorable. I just love these moments and how she is developing. This age is truly precious… but I suppose I’ve said that about every other stage to date. I just love being Pookster’s mummy.

Tiny teacher Kaia

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With each passing day, Pookster’s vocabulary grows, and so does her sentence structure. She’s moved from one word verbs to multiple word sentences now depending on her mood. And apparently, her teachers have told me that she is quite the little boss/teacher in class. When it’s time for circle time, snack or meal time, or nap time, Kaia is the first to start ordering everyone to “sit down, Georgina!” or “lie down, Loic!” or “clap your hands, Kiara!” When a new kid has been introduced to the class, she is also one of the first to welcome them and get them acquainted, whether that’s by showing them the classroom toys or even holding their hand.

“Yep, that’s our Kaia: the tiny teacher Kaia!” one of the assistant teachers told me earlier this week. “She has to make sure everyone does what they’re supposed to be doing when they’re supposed to be doing it, otherwise she will go around and make sure they do it!”

Kaia is so verbal and friendly that it’s obvious all the teachers have taken a strong liking to her. This assistant teacher said she would be really sad once Kaia moves up into the 2s classroom, as she couldn’t make it a secret that Kaia was her favorite.

It’s been really sweet to see my sweet Pookster develop into this gregarious little leader. And she’s not even two years old yet! Who knows what she will be like next year!

Kaia usually hates holding hands… until she doesn’t

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My Kaia is most definitely like her dad. She is stubborn and always wants what she wants. This especially goes for having her hand held. She absolutely HATES it, especially while walking. Randomly, though, she will ask to hold our hand while she’s in her stroller, and it’s really cute. Other times, she will insist on walking and holding just Daddy’s hand. She is Daddy’s girl – no doubt about that.

The last couple of nights, she’s been unusually needy at bedtime. After reading, she will refuse to fall asleep unless she is on top of me or very close to one of us. It’s been very endearing, but also extremely inconvenient given I have things in the kitchen I needed to get done, plus some work emails I had to finish. But then tonight, she did the cutest thing: while I was singing her to sleep, suddenly out of nowhere, she said, “Hold my hand?” And then she grabbed my hand and held it as she drifted off to sleep.

The days can be long, but the weeks are always so short. I really do cherish these moments with my sweet Kaia Pookie. I still cannot believe she is almost 23 months old and turning 2 years old next month. Her mere existence has filled my heart with so much love and joy that I had never even previously fathomed. I do hope that I can continue to be good to her and treat her how I always wished I could have been treated as a growing child.

Toddler cuddles

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Tonight, after reading some books together, I put Kaia to bed. As per usual, she asked for her blanket, then immediately insisted on “mummy blanket!” She refuses to have her blanket on her unless Mummy also has a blanket on her, too. So we’ve gotten into that rhythm together. Then, out of nowhere, as I was singing and rubbing her back, she declared, “Lie down Mummy! Lie down Mummy!” But I was already lying down. And so what I think she was trying to say is that she “wanted to lie down on mummy” because she immediately rolled over and landed on my chest. But she’s so long and big now that her body goes all the way down to my thigh. And of course, her stomach was resting against my bladder, so while I didn’t really need to pee before she got on top of me, at that point, I suddenly did feel the urge to pee. Kaia rested her chest on my chest and placed her head down against my head, And so we laid with her lying on top of me. She then started sticking her fingers in my mouth, wanting me to bite on her fingers. So we played that game over and over until she was giggling uncontrollably, and finally she rolled over onto her stomach, insisted on singing songs and rolling around… until about 8:45.

Yes, it took about an hour and 45 minutes from story time to the point when she finally fell asleep. Was it tiring and a little frustrating? Of course. But in the moments of her lying on top of me, insisting on “lie down (on) Mummy!”, and playing the biting game, I relished our time together and thought, “And this, too, will pass.” Soon, she will be too big to lie on top of me; she’s already pushing it now at 25+ lbs in weight at nearly 23 months of age. Soon, she won’t want to cuddle or even willingly give me hugs and kisses. Soon, she’ll speak in grammatically correct sentence structure and speak real, full on sentences. She won’t butcher her words or pronunciation the way I love hearing now (honestly, I am still mourning the fact that she says “mango” now and not “monga.” I am also a little sad that she says “noonulle” instead of “noodie” for the word “noodle” because it is more correct than it is not). These are the little moments that never get filmed or photographed, but I genuinely love them. Chris makes fun of me, but one little thing I do every night is: I always smell Pookster’s hair as she’s sleeping. I kiss her head, then I take a deep inhale when I smell her hair. I just love her smell. I have always loved Kaia Pookie’s scent. She doesn’t have that same fresh newborn smell anymore. She also doesn’t have the baby smell. But she has an evolving smell now as a toddler where when I inhale, I know she’s still my sweet baby. And no matter how big she gets, my sweet baby she will always be.