Category Archives: Home

Kaia loves big spaces and roaming around her “Sumi and Topey’s house” and garden

Posted on by
Reply

Kaia has decided to rename Suma and Topa (her paternal grandparents) to “Sumi and Topey.” I guess “Suma” and “Topa” were not loving enough names, so she had to give these appointed names a slight revision to make it more sweet for herself. Of course, Chris’s parents have lapped this up and love their revised names by their granddaughter. Kaia has enjoyed spending lots of time in Topa’s study “working.” She takes his main big computer desk chair and relegates him to his tiny “guest” seat, and they sit at the desk together “working.” Kaia usually listens to Ms. Rachel or her favorite K-Pop song “Golden,” while Topa does his usual computer activities at her side. Then, when Kaia decides she gets bored, she runs out, puts on her sandals, and runs all around the garden, oftentimes with her Sumi in tow. She throws her big Bluey ball around and starts dancing all along the backyard lawn. She’s been keeping Sumi company while she hangs laundry up to dry on the line. Today, she started collecting all kinds of random tiny shells that lined the outside laundry area and declared she was discovering all kinds of interesting things that Sumi didn’t know existed in her own backyard!

For the last week or so, she keeps announcing how much she loves Sumi and Topey’s house. She says, “SUMI! I LOVE YOUR HOUSE! TOPEY! I LOVE YOUR HOUSE! I LOVE IT! I LOVE THE GARDEN!” And then she lovingly glances at both of them. Today, she looked up at me during breakfast and said, “Mama, I love this house. I don’t like our house.”

Yes, well, it is hard to compare a suburban four-bedroom, four-bath, two-story house with a two-car garage, plus a front and backyard that fully wraps around it, with a two-bedroom, two-bath apartment in a large high-rise building in the middle of a concrete jungle, especially for a child as young and small as her. For Pookster, our Manhattan apartment is her benchmark for “normal.” I am sure she runs up and down the stairs at Suma and Topa’s house and all around the large rooms thinking she’s sprinting around some palace, relatively speaking. And then, if it wasn’t enough, she gets access to Chris’s aunt/uncles’ homes that are also large in comparison to our humble abode, and she just thinks she’s in some paradise. Today, I gave her a tour of Chris’s dad’s older brother’s garden, showing her the various trees, having her sniff the star jasmines that were in full bloom, and showing her the apples growing on her second cousin’s tree. I had her tear off a couple curry leaves from their burgeoning curry leaf plant, and she sniffed the familiar and unique scent of citrusy, nutty, anisey, oniony, even piney aroma. She then grabbed a bunch of the curry leaves, ran back into the house, and announced loudly to multiple cousins that she had curry leaves in her hands!

Sumi, Topey, and I reassured her that her house is fun, too, and we all love it. She loves it, and she has all her favorite books, stuffed animals, toys, and other “friends” at home waiting for her there. She also has her own bathroom at home, which she doesn’t have here. She smiled, stopped saying she didn’t like our home, yet still kept repeating over and over how much she loves this house. Well, it’s hard to not love this house given the amount of space and privacy you can have. But I look at it like dessert or treats: it’s something you get once in a while at special times of the year, but you cannot have it all the time, otherwise you would just take it for granted and not appreciate it as much. Both Kaia and I are lucky to be able to share this home when we come back with Sumi, Topey, and their eldest son. I’m always happy every year we come back and we can enjoy this beautiful place together. It will always be one of Kaia’s happy places — how lucky that she gets a nice, warm, loving home in both the Northern and Southern Hemisphere.

When socializing drains you

Posted on by
Reply

In the last couple months, a few different publications have been citing studies regarding what is the optimal amount of time to spend socializing at one time, whether that’s with a single friend, a few friends, or at a large event with friends or colleagues (or even strangers for networking/new relationships). On average, it’s been said that the upper limit of time is about three hours. Of course, some might last longer, and some are shorter, but everyone gets drained eventually, depending on the setting (new people/conflicts are harder), and individual energy levels during that given time. When I catch up with a friend or a group of friends, I usually try to allot about 2-3 hours for it. And usually by the time I’m done, assuming it’s not less than two hours, I usually feel like my cup has been “filled,” and I’ve had enough time to interact with them and get “caught up.” When the time is longer, it’s usually when that friend or I are also including lazy catch-up time, which would include time at someone’s house (so there’s no risk of keeping seats/tables away from others at a cafe/restaurant).

During the Christmas period when we’re in Melbourne, we’re usually at one of Chris’s relatives’ homes or his parents’ house for a family gathering for anywhere from three to four consecutive days. Each gathering lasts anywhere from 4.5-10 hours long. It’s his one time of the year to catch up with the majority of his relatives on his dad’s side. Because he doesn’t have family drama and genuinely likes these relatives, he looks forward to this every year and wants to maximize every single night by staying with everyone for as long as possible. I, on the other hand, get maxed out after several hours (hey, like the study says…) and just want to do my own thing or be away from the crowd and have a 1:1 conversation with someone far away from the screeching and high pitched laughter that prevents me from hearing anything, or just play with Pookster. I get along with everyone; I’ve had 1:1 conversations with every single person in his family, and the majority have been at least somewhat interesting and meaningful. But I don’t feel a need to be with all of them for six to ten hours at a time that many days in a row because I find it tiring. I do it because I am a good spouse and because he says he doesn’t want to be anywhere else for Christmas (which is also his birthday) ever. As they (never say): Happy husband, happy life. 😛

So, I do what almost everyone else other than him does during this period to get through it: I take little breaks and try to get away from everyone every few hours, and it pretty much goes unnoticed by everyone. And since Kaia’s been in the picture, I have an even bigger and better excuse to sneak away. But until the last few years, I didn’t actually realize other people were doing this, too, until I started really watching. His brother will leave a room and go off to another unoccupied room and doom scroll on his phone. Tonight, he asked if Kaia would be interested in taking the scooter out with him in the garden for a little ride (I have no idea if this actually happened, but I doubt it because after he asked me this, he disappeared for at least 30 minutes upstairs). Chris’s dad will disappear with Kaia to go anywhere from his study to his bedroom, where they have sat on his recliner seat and even had a snooze together. His aunts will immerse themselves in cleaning and reorganizing pantries and cupboards that don’t truly require immediate action to avoid active, in-depth conversation that is not small talk. A cousin will go off into the garden on her own and start peering at different trees and flowers. Another cousin will wander into rooms where the others are to look at photos on the walls or in frames for ages.

Chris’s aunt, who turned 71 yesterday, told me that sometimes, she just doesn’t want the big family gathering at their house every year because it’s a lot of work — planning, grocery list making, food prepping, cooking, reorganizing furniture and cleaning. And the older she gets, the more tired she feels even by what used to be the simplest tasks. But she says she does it because she knows how happy it makes all the cousins, and seeing them happy makes her happy. That’s also what this time of year is about — sacrificing for the happiness of others.

We all want togetherness, but in doses. So we find ways to do it, enjoy it, but also preserve ourselves. And at this time of year, there’s a lot of social pressure to socialize (how eloquent) and be with friends, colleagues, and family. Tomorrow, I may just take a break and go downward dog in the next room and see if anyone notices.

Le Creuset enameled cast iron – lives up to the hype!

Posted on by
Reply

Last night after I hand washed my brand new 3.5-quart Le Creuset braiser with dual lid/grill pan, I decided to use it right away to cook the Italian fennel and pork sausage and mushrooms I was preparing for our pasta today. After briefly heating it up, I added some oil and the sausage to the pan and sautéed it for a bit. I was admiring the little handles on the sides of the braiser and thought I would tap the handle to see how hot it was, and WOW! Even after just a couple minutes on the stove, the handle was nearly burning hot! My Amazon Basics 5-quart Dutch oven, which I’ve had for 7-plus years now, doesn’t get anywhere as hot that quickly (to be fair, that dutch oven cost Chris’s aunt and uncle at the time about $35, and Le Creuset pots and pans usually go for $300+). I guess Le Creuset really does what it’s famous for, which is conducting heat well, evenly, and quickly. I think this brand really does live up to the hype so far. It also seems extremely easy to clean. This is like my new baby now that I have to love and take care of very well! Similar to Kaia being my only human baby, this braiser is my only Le Creuset item, so I need to take extra, extra special care of it.

To be loved is to be challenged

Posted on by
Reply

My friend, who has been in a relationship with her boyfriend for over five months now, has been telling me that he’s getting frustrated with her for being too intense and asked her to be “gentler.” In general, she’s a pretty serious, goal-oriented person, and she tends to say what she thinks and says exactly what she means. With him, he’s used to being indirect, passive, “not rocking the boat.” But to my friend and me, we find that quite boring… and meaningless. There’s no point in causing chaos for the sake of it, but if there’s an important topic that needs to be addressed, then just put on your adult pants and talk. Plus, I don’t think you ever really know or understand anyone unless you know what their real opinions are on topics that truly matter.

I was reflecting on my own relationship with Chris and my past romantic relationships with partners. And when my friend and I were discussing it, I told her that I find Chris to be one of the most annoying and exacerbating people I know… But in some funny way, I actually love that about him. All my previous partners just got so boring and mundane after a while; predictability can be a true snoozer. I love that he challenges me, even when it’s just for the sake of it to be devil’s advocate, because it’s kind of entertaining, plus it makes things more interesting. But I also think that when people challenge you, it kind of forces you to firm up your own stance and ensure you aren’t just full of crap. Plus, the chances are high that if you are having these types of exchanges, you tend to understand the other person more. And we all need a little more understanding.

Here’s a funny and recent case in point: For the last 13-plus years, Chris has constantly made fun of Le Creuset enameled cast iron company I like. He says they are overrated, that Amazon Basics made a $30 version of a Dutch oven (that I was gifted by his aunt and uncle and have used every single week since while we’re in town) that was better and cheaper (Le Creuset equivalent goes for about $430 in comparison), that it was just another dumb brand. He also loves to purposely mispronounce the name and call it “the CREW-sit.” Regardless of what he says, I like them a lot and have admired them for decades, but I was always too cheap to buy one for myself. Plus, the items are SO heavy and would require good storage space; space is a premium in our apartment. Tonight, he had Kaia and me open some early Christmas gifts, and lo and behold, a bright orange Le Creuset box was waiting for me. Inside the box was a gorgeous Marseille-blue 3.5-quart braiser with a dual grill pan lid, so the lid can also be used on the stove, as well!

I stroked the pan and admired its beautiful Marseille blue shade. Then I went to hand wash it and almost immediately used it to cook pork and fennel sausage and mushrooms for tomorrow’s pasta. He knew I would love this thing, but he will never a) stop giving me grief over it and b) stop making fun of the brand and mispronouncing it purposely. He’s my challenging baby.

Vir Das in “Hey Stranger” at the Claire Tow Theater, Lincoln Center

Posted on by
Reply

Oftentimes, when people think of the Lincoln Center, they think of huge theaters like David Geffen Hall or David Koch Theater. But there are smaller theaters within Lincoln Center that perhaps have less name recognition that are fun, classy, and intimate, with a seating layout that ensures you are pretty close to the performers and would have zero reason to squint to see them. Vir Das, one of our favorite comedians from Mumbai, is here doing his “Hey Stranger” show at the Claire Tow Theater at the Lincoln Center. He’s the first Indian performer to star in a show at Lincoln Center, so this was a pretty big deal. We went with my friend and her husband to see his show last night, and it was ninety minutes of near-crying laughing, but also with lots of serious moments spread throughout.

One personal thing he revealed during the show was that given the topics he covers in his comedy, he’s more and more not welcome home in India by the government, so he feels like he has no choice but to leave. And the U.S. has offered him a green card. Many people would see this as incredible, but for him, he’s quite torn. Moving to and living in America would mean… he’d ultimately become a different person. His comedy would not be the same. His identity would change. And he wasn’t sure he would like it that much. And we all know he’d end up being grouped with other brown comedians like Hasan Minhaj or Russell Peters, who are definitely talented in their own right, but their comedy is not the same as his. His jokes are what they are because he’s not in America living an American life. He can be critical about America from an outsider’s lens. And his comedy is all that much smarter for it because he has a bird’s eye view of how crazy and insane this place really is. Where you call “home” really defines us in ways we may not fully be aware, but he’s thinking about it long and hard now.

I honestly don’t want him to move here because I love what he says and produces just as he is, where is is from. He provides an intelligent, authentic voice that would not be the same if he lived here. But hey, what does my opinion matter? I’m just another fan of his living life in the U.S. He has his livelihood to consider, and he also has to pay bills and try his best to stay out of jail just for simply having opinions and speaking. Being a comic is hard, and he’s showing exactly how hard it is to do that job while living in India and having Indian citizenship.

Phone calls from PoPo and GongGong

Posted on by
Reply

Since we got back from San Francisco, my mom has been calling occasionally to see how Kaia is adjusting to preschool and being back in New York. Given that Kaia is turning four in just a few months, she’s definitely far more aware of her surroundings and what’s being said around her now than she was one year ago. When people call, she always asks who it is. And now, she’s been requesting that we call PoPo and GongGong. She wants to “see” them via the video chat, but she doesn’t quite understand (or accept) that they refuse to do video calls with us, and that with them, it will always be voice-only.

The other day, my mom called, and Kaia asked if it was PoPo (she could probably recognize her voice through my phone) and asked if she could talk to her. She started waving and saying hi to PoPo. When PoPo asked her if she enjoyed San Francisco, Kaia responded, “Yes.” When PoPo said to Kaia, “Kaia, I love you!” Kaia even responded with, “I love you, too.” Even though I obviously have a complicated relationship with my parents, this still made me feel really happy inside to hear them communicating back and forth like this over the phone. I smiled at Kaia talking to her PoPo and then started laughing when Kaia replied “No!” when PoPo asked if she could come to New York and visit her.

Right after we got off with my mom, out of nowhere, my dad called. My dad hasn’t called me in three years since that difficult email exchange we had in August 2022, when he lashed out at me over something completely innocuous and lost his temper in a big way. He asked if Kaia was there, and then he actually asked to talk to her! I put my dad on speaker phone, and he asked Kaia how school was, if she was going home, and then called her a “good girl.” Kaia kept yelling excitedly, “GongGong! GongGong!” Then, he turned back to me and said it was time to go, and to take care. Then, we said bye and hung up.

I don’t think I will ever have an uncomplicated, 100 percent peaceful relationship with my parents where we fully understand or even accept each other. But after all that’s happened in our life together, I know deep in my soul that they tried the best that they could… even if their best was not always great with Ed or me. I know they love me and want what’s best for me. At the end of the day, I have an infinitely better and more privileged life than they could have ever even imagined for themselves. And a lot of it is because of them and what they’ve given me. And well, even if our relationship continues to be complicated, annoying, and absolutely infuriating, I do want them to have a relationship with Kaia, their only grandchild, and I want Kaia to know them and love them. So, these brief little phone exchanges have had a weird way of almost feeling like bits of healing for me.

I hope Ed is able to see all of this and smile down at us. I only wish he could also interact with Kaia directly in the flesh now.

Scallion bun (cong you bao) in San Francisco is better than in New York

Posted on by
Reply

Growing up, there are certain Cantonese bakery staples that would be on rotation at home. The most common ones were cha siu bao (Cantonese BBQ pork buns, both the baked and the steamed ones), nai huang bao (egg custard bao), lian rong bao (lotus seed bao) (my grandma’s favorite), occasionally ji wei bao (cocktail / coconut bun), and cong you bao (scallion bun). One of my dad’s absolute favorites was always the twisted scallion bao. There would be an ample sprinkling inside and out of chopped scallions/green onions, plus the bun would be rubbed generously with a lightly seasoned scallion oil. When made correctly, the bao itself was soft, pillowy, and nearly melt in your mouth tender and good. The best ones were like eating air; you had no idea how much you had inhaled until the whole damn twisted bun was gone.

I didn’t realize how good I had it getting Chinese bakery items through my grandma and parents growing up (plus the times when relatives would generously bring over the almost expected pink cardboard boxes of Chinese bakery items) until I moved out on my own – it was all trial and error by my own buying and tasting. When I was going to school in the Boston area, I had to figure out which bakeries were good on my own. The same was the case when I moved to New York. I had to rely on strangers’ reviews on Yelp and Google, plus the occasional word of mouth. Most were hit or miss. To this day, after 21 years of living on the East Coast, and 17 of them spent here in New York City, I can say with sadness that I still have not found a bakery that makes scallion buns as good as the ones I can find in San Francisco.

I was reminded of this when I visited two excellent bakeries in San Francisco this last week. We visited Cherry Blossom Bakery on Clement Street in the Inner Richmond, then Good Mong Kok Bakery, one of my family’s staple SF Chinatown bakeries. Cherry Blossom Bakery has had rave reviews and been on my list a while, but I finally popped in while going to the nearby Kiss of Matcha for my reliable and favorite matcha latte. I chose the scallion bao, which was $2, and whe we brought it home, I realized it was truly perfect. It was exactly as I described above: pillowy and deceptively light, with a rich scallion flavor throughout. It must have been made with an excellent tangzhong, or milk bread base paste. Then a couple days later, we visited Good Mong Kok, which my family has been going to as long as I can remember. They are known for lines out the door and very typical Cantonese (read: yelling/barking and quick) service. I picked up one cha siu bao for Kaia, and one scallion bao for us. The scallion bun was very long and only $2. And it was also super pillowy, almost flaky at the edges, and unbelievably fluffy.

While digging into Good Mong Kok Bakery’s perfect cong you bao, I lamented why I still haven’t found this perfection in New York City across any of the endless Chinese bakeries I’ve visited. Even my most favorite Manhattan Chinatown bakeries don’t come close to this taste or texture. Or worse, they like to add extraneous toppings like sliced hot dog (ugh), Chinese sausage (unnecessary), or other meats. When you have a truly delicious and perfect scallion bun, it needs nothing else other than its perfect dough, scallion oil, and scallions.

Who knows – maybe next year when I come to San Francisco, I may just be desperate enough to buy a bunch in bulk and freeze them to bring back to New York with me…

The colander and pictures of JiuJiu around the house

Posted on by
Reply

When we got back to my parents’ house last Friday evening, I saw that my mom had washed and begun cutting a bunch of yu choy. I told her to leave them there and that I’d cook them for us for Saturday dinner. I proceeded to cut the stalks and leaves the way I always do, then blanch in a pot of boiling water with a drizzle of oil, a few shakes of salt. After about a minute, I drained them in the largest stainless steel colander I could find in their kitchen. And even though I have three of my own stainless steel colanders in my kitchen back in New York, there was something about the construction of this deep, rounded colander, the size, quantity, and placement of all the little round holes, that made draining the yu choy almost instant. I watched the water speedily drain out, and there I was left with perfectly cooked yu choy, almost fully drained with a few shakes.

This colander is probably around 25 years old. I still remember it: Ed purchased this piece in the housing wares department at Stonestown Macy’s just shortly after he started working there. Once he began his job at Macy’s in the “domestics” (bedding) section, he basically went through the house to see what could be improved upon, and he chose this colander as one of the first things to buy for the kitchen. To this day, the colander is still in excellent condition, and it functions just as well as I remember it when it was brand new. Our parents’ kitchen still has a number of things Ed bought that they continue to use. Every time I see another one of those pieces, I feel a little more sad that he’s no longer with us. There’s even a set of Lenox Butterfly Meadow crystal flutes that are still sitting in their original box, unused, on a dining room shelf. They match the dessert plates and tea cups that Ed got me for my birthday in January 2012.

On Saturday morning, Kaia kept asking about the pictures on display in the dining room, so I took a lot of the framed photos and after dusting them off, I pointed to the faces and named the people for her. Some of them needed no naming: of course, she immediately recognized Chris’s face and mine, as well as both my parents’. With the younger baby photos, she did need some help. But after a few photos of Ed, she started picking up on him. And when I’d show her subsequent photos of Ed, within a second, she’d say it was her JiuJiu.

It’s hard to believe it’s been over 12 years since Ed died. It’s been 12 years of coming back to this house, knowing that he will never be here to greet me or see me ever again. And even though it’s been that long, I still have that feeling in the back of my mind he will just surprise me and show up. I say that every time I come home, but since Kaia has been around, it’s almost like I feel it even more deeply — maybe because it’s on behalf of both Kaia and me. He never knew what it was like to be an uncle, to have a niece as sweet and cheeky as Kaia Pookie. It’s not just about me anymore. I know he would love to meet her.

But it will never be.

Clams, “bivalves,” smaller portions, and the love language of food in Asian families

Posted on by
Reply

During our last two nights in San Francisco, I purposely didn’t make any plans because I figured we should spend those meals with my parents. After the fiasco of the previous Saturday lunch in the Sunset when my dad was scrolling his phone most of the time, my mom joining him and started scrolling her phone, their complaining that the food was taking too long (as they always do when it’s a place I pick), and then my mom refusing to pose for a quick selfie Chris wanted to take (Chris said this was the true cherry on top), neither Chris nor I wanted another meal out with them. They are most comfortable in their own home for them to come and go as they wish, for my dad to leave the table the second he’s done, for my mom to fuss about every five minutes on something unimportant. When we got back to the house on Friday late afternoon and my mom suggested we eat dinner out at a specific (and unnamed because she rarely knows the names of any place) restaurant, multiple times I declined and said we’d just order out. I suggested a neighborhood pizza spot, Gaspare’s, where we could order online and pick up, and so we did that. We got a pizza for us (half mushroom/sausage, half mushroom/pesto), and an order of clams and linguine for Pookster.

I didn’t think much of getting a separate order for Kaia since we know she’s not really into pizza, but I didn’t think that my parents would be so impressed that she likes bivalves. They marveled over her pulling out each individual clam from the shell and shoving it into her mouth. She also picked at the endless little clams that were dotted throughout the pasta between bites of the linguine noodles. And my mom couldn’t believe someone so young was into clams (while she also freaked out in the beginning, insisting that the clam shells could be dangerous with potentially sharp edges). In the process of ordering the clams with linguine, I had also forgotten my dad loves clams, so he also enjoyed this dish while pretend-fighting with Kaia to eat some of her clams.

My parents clearly made a mental note about Kaia and her love of mollusks, so when they ordered takeout tonight from a local Cantonese spot, they ordered one fish dish and one scallop dish. I was surprised when they unveiled the food to see that the scallops were actually presented directly on their shells, and under a bed of vermicelli noodles seasoned with a generous amount of garlic and scallions. Unfortunately, Kaia is not as interested in scallops, but they wouldn’t have known that when they chose this food. In the end, she mostly ate the noodles that were elegantly placed on top of the scallop shells. While the flavor of the dish was very good, I was a bit disappointed with how teeny tiny the scallops were. I didn’t want to say anything to make it seem like I was critical, but overall, the quantity of scallops and the size were a true letdown.

The next day, my dad asked me how much we paid for the clams and linguine. When I told him, he exclaimed what good value it was because that scallop dish he got was four dollars less, but had barely any food to eat. I always smile a little to myself every time my dad inadvertently compliments me (or anyone, really) because compliments do not come naturally to him. He is 100 times more likely to poo poo on anything than to praise.

One thing I noticed they did differently during this visit is that not only was there far less food in the fridge (though somehow, there were over a hundred eggs in the fridge, for reasons I have zero visibility into…), but they also ordered far less food for our meals together, which meant they’d have far less food left over. I was really happy about this. No one enjoys eating leftovers for days on end, and given it’s just the two of them, they really shouldn’t have too much food around, anyway. Maybe it’s my parents finally coming to terms with the fact that they are actually getting older and can’t just keep eating the same or keep storing food forever (though I did have to throw a lot of rotted cantaloupe and plums out because they had way too much fruit they couldn’t get through in time).

My parents and I do not have the best relationship — it’s quite far from it. But I do see and acknowledge the times when they do try. One of the few love languages they both share is food. It’s one of the oldest and most classic ways for Asian parents to show love and affection. I was really touched when I saw the scallops they got for Kaia (even if she didn’t like them). I like that they finally listened to me when I said not to order too much food, or when I insisted that we just eat at home.

I’m grateful that the second weekend at my parents’ place fared much better than the first weekend, and that in general, my dad seemed more engaged with Kaia and talked more, and that my mom seemed a tiny bit less controlling and more willing to relent than the prior weekend. We only see each other once a year, and it always makes me feel better when we end on a positive note.

Under mom’s control

Posted on by
Reply

Sometimes, certain objects, images, conversations, or current moments remind me of things from the past that I thought I’d forgotten, but were just buried deep into the back of my psyche that it’s almost like I chose to forget them. And there’s probably a reason I might have subconsciously chosen to forget: they were not healthy and likely did not serve me well at all.

In the few weekend days I’ve been at my parents’ house, I was reminded of how controlling my mom was even with the most basic things. If she knew that Ed or I was home and even when she and our dad had their keys (which is… always), she’d ring the bell multiple times and demand that we open the door. If we didn’t come within seconds, she’d ring the bell multiple times at once, indicating her impatience. And by the time we got to the door to buzz her in, she’d lash out at us and asked what took so long, as though we were just standing by the door idly, simply waiting at her beck and call to let her in right away. If she needed help with anything, whether it was with something that went wrong with an appliance, clearing dishes from the dish rack, or even locating a missing Tupperware lid, she’d yell one of our names and expect us to come to her immediately and do exactly as she said. It wouldn’t matter if we were on the toilet, in the bathroom, studying, reading, or really anything — she always expected us to drop everything that very second and do exactly as she wanted. And if we didn’t, she’d rush us, yell at us to come right away, and then get angry that we didn’t come fast enough. “I called you several times,” she’d say in her icy tone. “Didn’t you hear me?” It was infuriating as a child into my teen years, and I really started resenting it in my college and then post-college years. And this time, Chris noticed it. “Why is she ringing the bell when they have their keys?” he asked, annoyed, as I was helping out with Kaia as he was washing her up. “We’re in the middle of something. She has a key and can let herself in!”

That’s the thing, though. Nothing we ever did mattered, and she didn’t care if we were in the “middle” of anything. Everything we did had to revolve around her and what she did and wanted. And it seems that she operates like that now with her Jehovah’s Witness “brothers and sisters.” She doesn’t have any kids under her roof to control anymore, so I guess she had to move onto another group, which is her JW crew, all of whom have no spine to stand up to her. A JW friend of mine in her congregation revealed that my mom is even controlling about which seats people sit in when she’s in one of their cars, which is one of the stupidest and most senseless things ever.

It’s okay, though. Oftentimes in the last ten years to be passive aggressive back, I just ignore her when she calls me and expects me to come right away. Depending on what I am doing, I let her call my name anywhere from six to ten times before I actually come. She can wait until I am done with what I am doing. I am not in a rush for her. And when she gets mad now at this, I am just indifferent to her face.

My mom also loves leaving bedroom doors locked, but she gets angry when we lock the doors. She constantly would lock her bedroom door while I was in the house. She insisted it was because Kaia kept coming in to mess up things, to take their candy (why are there bowls of candy in their room, anyway…?!), but I think it’s because she just didn’t want to expose all the crap she stores and hoards in there. But if we locked the door because we were changing clothes, she’d get mad and passively aggressively say in yet another cold tone, “There’s no reason to lock the door.” Actually, there is, since she and my dad have zero sense of what the word “boundaries” mean, and they constantly open bedroom and bathroom doors without ever knocking or asking. I think we’ve lost count of the number of times both of them have walked in on Chris. I don’t believe in bedroom door locks (they seem very excessive to me: once you have broken into someone’s home, what’s stopping them from breaking your bedroom door lock?!), but I use them in my parents’ house because I know if I don’t, they will walk in on us at the most inopportune times.

My mom has always liked to pack me food when I go back to the East Coast even when I’ve told her I don’t need anything or I don’t have luggage space. I know food is a big love language for her, so usually I try to humor her and take what I can. But sometimes, she legitimately just buys too much stuff, and I have to be honest and say I don’t have the space. She called me while we were at the playground on Saturday to tell me she bought six zongzi (THAT IS A LOT) and wanted me to take them back to New York. I told her I didn’t think I’d have the space for all of them, but I could maybe fit two or three. She got really angry at this and responded, “Okay, okay, fine! You do what you want! I am not the troublemaker here, so you just do what you want!” and then hung up. The irony of this statement is that in more cases than not, my mom is most definitely the “troublemaker,” but she not only refuses to see it, but almost no one in her life is willing to call her out on it. It’s only in the extreme cases, like when she tried to endanger my daughter’s life, that I have to yell at her and call her out on her genuine bullshit. And even then, it still doesn’t get into her head.

It’s okay, though. Once I leave their house and go back to my new and adopted home of New York, I get back to my own calm and slowly forget all that stupid and unnecessary trauma from the past… and then get reminded of it once I step foot in that house again the next time. And then again, I feel grateful I was able to escape and live my own life free of their control and toxicity.