Category Archives: family

2-year doctor’s visit

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I took Kaia to her 2-year doctor’s visit this afternoon. She always seems to know what’s happening. As soon as we entered the little office, she grew suspicious. As I was filling out some forms on her development and had the stroller facing away from me, she started silently crying. Another mom in the waiting room turned to me and said, “Is this your baby? She’s crying!”

I turned to look at her silently cry and then start moaning. She knew she was here to see the doctor, and she was NOT happy.

When we were cleared for an exam room, she got extremely fussy through the weight, length, and head circumference measurements, and then proceeded to repeat over and over, “wanna go home! Wanna go home!” She told me she wanted to get off the table, so I let her walk around the room barefoot, just in her diaper, as she gathered her clothes and futilely attempted to put them on. Then she said, “Help me! Help me!” I relented and let her put on her socks but nothing else so that the doctor could fully take a look at her. When the doctor finally came in, she tried to hide behind me and a chair so that the doctor couldn’t see her. But surprisingly, she cried the least during this visit in all her appointments in the last year. The only times she really melted down was when the doctor tried to open her mouth to see her teeth and throat, and of course, during the vaccine. And after her routine vaccination, she actually started waving bye to the medical assistants and the doctor. It was actually kind of cute.

The doctor had shared that at this stage, she’d actually be a little worried if Kaia were too welcoming and happy about being at the office. Kids her age are supposed to be suspicious of strangers, especially ones who poke and prod at them. And the fact that she gets the bad vibe as soon as we entered the office shows that she definitely remembers that the doctor’s office does NOT equal a fun place for her.

The good news is that Kaia’s head is still huge: she’s still in the 91st percentile for head circumference for her age; we do love her big head. She’s definitely getting taller, too, and is above average for height. But her weight gain dropped off, though they said it was normal for weight to slow down around 1.5-2 years, and it should pick back up again at her 2.5 year appointment. I should hope so; this child is ALWAYS eating! Where is the food even going…?!

“Ooh, this is good!”

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Kaia’s toddler selectivity continues. Some days, she will accept new food as though it’s the most delicious thing she’s ever seen or touched. Other days, she will simply turn her face away and say “no!” and refuse to give a new food a second look. Yesterday, we picked up some donuts and danish from a new spot we checked out in Morningside Heights. One of the items was a very well made, flaky cheese danish. We rarely give Kaia sweets, but we do give her the occasional bite or two of a croissant or pastry when we’re out. So we decided to let her try this danish.

She was wandering around the apartment and I asked her if she wanted some pastry. Her face perked up, and she followed me into the kitchen so that she could take a look. When I presented the plate to her, she took one look, then gave it some side-eye, and said, “no!” and walked away. Yet as she walked away, I made exaggerated motions and took a big bite, making “mmmmm” and “yummy” sounds. She stopped walking away, then inched closer to me, and finally she took off a pea sized piece of the danish and gingerly put it in her mouth.

“Ooooh, this is good!” she exclaimed, with a huge grin creeping over her face. “Tasty!” She then proceeded to rip off big hunks of the danish until she’d had about 80 percent of the entire damn pastry. I barely got three bites in and had to save two bites for myself at the end, insisting “Kaia ate it all” and there was “no more! all done!” And since I insisted she sit down on the kitchen floor and eat it, when she got up to leave and I wiped her face and hands clean, there was a humongous pile of flaky danish crumbs all over where she sat. Yep – that’s my life now – constantly cleaning, dust-busting, and wiping up after my toddler.

My love has not subsided around watching her try and eat new things. Whether it was when she was a wee baby at six months old just starting solids for the first time, until now, when she’s probably had at least 500+ types of food to date, I still love watching her facial expressions and hearing her verbal assessments, whether it’s through her “mmmms” or her “this is yummy!’ statements. She doesn’t always like everything, but when she does, it’s really priceless. Sometimes, I wish I could just bottle up each of her new food experiences and stick them on the wall to revisit and watch… over and over again.

Two-year-old toddler tantrums and whims: a continuing dialogue

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Almost like clock work, once Kaia turned two, it was as though she got the memo that the “terrible 2s” period had begun, and she started having all these tantrums over things she never really got upset about before. Before she turned 2, while she did have tantrums here and there, they weren’t that regular and were usually easily contained. Since then, not so much. If she doesn’t get what she wants when she wants it, she lays her entire body down, sprawled all over the floor, and just cries and screams. There’s no way to reason with her, so we just kind of let her lie there. I occasionally pat or rub her back and remind her that her mama is there, but there’s nothing else that can really be done until she calms down.

One thing that has been really frustrating is that her meals have been really unpredictable. Some days, she will eat pretty much everything she is offered. Other days, she might just eat a portion of pork, some blueberries, and then call it a day; that will be her dinner, and then she will go to bed. Vegetables at breakfast time have continued to be a no-go. Her lunch is also unpredictable. This past week, she had oddly even gone off noodles/pasta. I had made an aged gouda carbonara, and at best, she would pick at it and didn’t really care for it. My baby – not into noodles…?! She screamed and cried one night when I asked her just to have one bite of the carbonara… I just didn’t get it. So I stopped insisting and let her eat what she was willing to touch.

I try my best not to show any emotion when she has these signs of “toddler selectivity” and let it go. But it’s very challenging. Being a parent and trying to feign indifference at things like this is a huge test of one’s patience. You don’t really get it until you’re in this position. And yet even then, for many people who have gone past the toddler rearing years, they forget so easily! At least I will always have these memories documented so I can refer back to these when my memory fails me.

Contemplations on estate planning, wills, and death

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I’ve thought a lot about death since I was quite young. For the longest time, I had attended more funerals than I had weddings. In our family, we never had babysitters, so as kids, we had to go literally everywhere with our parents. So when someone died and my parents attended a funeral, Ed and I were taken along, too. I still remember asking my mom when I was young if we were going to die, too. She replied and said that yes, everyone has to die, but hopefully we will all live long lives, and it would not happen for a long, long time.

The thought made me so sad. I remember many nights, when I was around 4 years old, crying myself to sleep, thinking that there could possibly be a world I’d live in where I no longer had my mom, dad, or Ed. It filled me with so much fear and anxiety at such a young age. I thought to myself, how was I supposed to live without you all, my family? I was especially attached to my mother then, and it hurt me to the core to think that she could possibly die one day and leave me behind.

Since then, I still think about death often — when there are plane crashes, school shootings (always in the U.S.), when someone in my life dies. The hardest death was, of course, my brother’s. I remember having to change a lot of my beneficiary information on accounts after he died… you can’t really leave money to someone dead, right? So now when I am forced to think about my own death and planning for it with estate planning and wills, it becomes depressing in a very different way.

You have to ask yourself uncomfortable questions, like if you and your spouse die, who is supposed to become the legal guardian of your child? If that legal guardian is also gone, who is the secondary, backup guardian of your child? If you, your spouse, and your child die, who should receive your assets in the event of that family catastrophe?

So while once upon a time, I didn’t think about my own death much, you’re forced to do this, *just in case*; in the event of the worst thing happening, as in you and your spouse both dying, you know that your minor child will be taken care of and will not be forced into the broken and disgusting system that is the U.S. foster care system.

It is my hope that I will outlive my parents, that Chris and I won’t die until we’re far past 80 years old, that Kaia will outlive both Chris and me. I hope no one ever has to make use of all the estate planning and wills until we’re nearly 100. But we live in an uncertain world. And as the Terrible, Thanks for Asking podcast recently noted, in life, there are very few fair deaths. “You are lucky if you can say, “someone I love died at the exact right time in the exact right way and everyone involved was ready for it.” This might apply to people like Chris’s two grandmas, both of whom had lived long, relatively happy lives. They got to see all their children get married, have their kids, and even see their own great grandchildren. But in cases like Ed or our friend Raj, death was not fair at all, and it was untimely in the most painful way. We can only hope that we will live lives that will end with fair deaths that are a long way away from today.

Laundry: who does it in your house?

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When I first started coming to Australia with Chris, I found it both loving and odd that his mom did all the laundry for everyone in the house. In the home where I grew up, we all did our separate laundry: dad had his hamper, Ed had his own, our mom and I shared one, and when my grandma was around, she had her own laundry. Chris and his brother insisted my family was weird that we separated it. But when I started asking other families what they did, it seemed pretty split 50/50 from an anecdotal standpoint: many families did what my family did and split up laundry, while other families shared and one person owned it. For the latter, it seems like a burden on the person who does the laundry for everyone; in almost all those cases, it’s the mother/wife of the house who does it, and it seemed a bit unfair and sexist to me.

So whenever we are in Australia, we always have the perk of having Chris’s mom do all our laundry. While it’s nice to have someone else do my laundry (Chris’s mom) while I’m at his parents’ place, sometimes, it still feels a bit weird knowing someone else is handling things like my underwear and bras. But she seems to enjoy doing the laundry and finds it relaxing. I always thank her profusely for her laundry services. I get the feeling that she’s not used to being thanked by her husband, who clearly has all his laundry done by her. Things like laundry and household chores are always thankless jobs, so I hope she knows I appreciate her doing this for me while I am there.

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.