Category Archives: Home

Fall is soup season

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Every September, as the temperatures start dipping and the leaves begin falling, most of my food social media starts going crazy because everyone loves autumn cooking. “It’s SOUP SEASON!” many recipe developers, food influencers, and food publications will write. And with soup season comes the need for an endless supply of delicious bone broth or stock that you can use as a base for all the amazing soups we want to make at home. As far as I am concerned, I can have soup every day, regardless of what the temperature is. But I do start actively thinking about soup a lot more in the colder months.

Since we just went to Costco about a week ago, our freezer is quite stuffed with supplies. So my bone bag (that I always refill whenever I roast/cook bone-in meat) was getting a bit squished. Chris was lightly scolding me about this yesterday since he always gets mad about certain items being placed in ominous situations in the freezer. I decided to finally throw the contents into my Instant Pot this morning with water to pressure cook while I went to the gym and got some morning calls done. Once lunch came, the bone broth was ready. When I shut it off and opened the lid, I inhaled the stock: it smelled so good, and a bit different than my usual chicken stock! And then I suddenly remembered: this bag had not just a lot of chicken bones, but also my entire duck carcass from my whole roasted duck last month! I was even more excited to strain it and let it cool!

My duck carcass is like the gift that keeps giving: I’m looking forward to using it for soups this and next week and seeing what different flavor profile it brings!

Cooking with my Costco and local Vermont goodies

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Every time we come back from a road trip, we always make a stop by Costco on our way back to take advantage of having a car. So of course, we come back with the car fully loaded, and I always tell Chris when we get back, “We’re rich!” It feels that way because when your fridge, freezer, and pantry are stocked to the point of nearly overflowing, it really does make you feel rich: you have plenty in a house of plenty in a land of plenty, and that feels very full. It also makes me grateful that we can actually afford to stock up on our staples, as I am very well aware that not everyone has the ability to do this.

In addition to the Costco stocking up we did, we also got way more consumable items in Vermont than I originally imagined: this includes a bottle of local whisky, a bottle of local bourbon, orange wine, chocolate raspberry wine from New Hampshire, and honey mead. The whisky and bourbon we tasted and purchased at the Burlington Farmers Market, the orange wine is from the Shelburne Farmers Market, and the last two bottles are from the fine food and drink marquee at the Stowe Foliage Arts Festival. In addition, we also got local organic chestnut and lion’s mane mushrooms and a Barn First Creamery brie-style goat cheese at the Burlington Farmers Market, a quart of Green’s Sugarhouse Very Dark maple syrup and maple balsamic vinaigrette, fancy marshmallows, and a couple chocolate bars from Adagio Chocolate shop in Middlebury. It was quite a local Vermont food haul! If it wasn’t already clear, I love Vermont!

Today, I spent a good amount of time cooking some of our new foods and ingredients. I seared and sautéed my lion’s mane and chestnut mushrooms; they browned beautifully and have a delicious, earthy, almost nutty flavor. They are almost even a little sweet! We sampled a little of these (Kaia loved the chestnut mushrooms the most!), but I’m planning to use most of them for toast with our Vermont goat cheese. I sautéed half a pound of spinach from Costco, roasted a pound of brussel sprouts (Costco!), made a maple balsamic roasted salmon with my new vinaigrette from Greens Sugarhouse. I also cooked my last bag of Rancho Gordo Blue Goose Field Peas and some brown rice. And on top of all that, I made my third batch of fresh, homemade soy milk! I always feel good when I’m cooking with new and fresh ingredients. This meal felt like fall to me! Now, all I needed to add was some butternut squash to the mix!

The beginning of… HOMEWORK

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Looking back at my school days, I had a love/hate relationship with homework, as most kids do. We know it’s necessary to reinforce learning, but it can be a real drag to do. Sometimes when it’s on a subject we like, it can be fun. Other times, it can feel like pure torture. I do not remember having homework until I got to first grade, but at Kaia’s school, homework begins in kindergarten. I appreciate the rigor because what earlier homework also does is that it forces self discipline a lot earlier. And I think in today’s society, kids really do need to learn self discipline and have it reinforced more often.

Kaia gets two sets of homework each week: one is for ELA (English language arts), and one is for Mandarin Chinese. The ELA one is about the things you might expect: daily reading with a caregiver, practicing writing one’s name (first AND last), as well as letters. For Chinese, some of it is just drawing pictures that resemble Chinese strokes, while others are actually stroke practice to begin. For Chinese, Kaia is required to complete eight pages of Chinese homework each week for this term; we shall see how it progresses and accelerates.

Chris coached Kaia through her English homework; I watched over and encouraged her Chinese homework. The most ridiculous thing that I never got warned about becoming a parent is what a true pain in the the ass the transition from “no homework” to “homework every day” is. To be honest, it wasn’t even the homework itself that was painful; she was actually pretty decent about completing the basic Chinese strokes (we are entering week 3, after all). The worst part of the homework… WAS GETTING HER TO WRITE THE DATE ON THE TOP OF EACH PAGE. She still gets the number “9” backwards. Sometimes, she forgets to add the straight horizontal line at the bottom of the number “2.” On her homework pages, she’s expected to write her name and the full date at the top corner of each page. She hated this so, so much. She whined, whinged, screamed, cried, jumped up and down, ran from the table, and got boogery over this whole process. I eventually had to sit down with her and coax her through… each date.

We finally finished after what felt like an eternity. This was a true, true test of my freaking patience. I gave her some apple sauce (from Trader Joe’s, since she said my homemade apple sauce is not good…) as a “treat” for finishing. And then we still have… tomorrow, and every next day of her academic life for more homework. What joy awaits!

The roasted duck is bubbling and scenting up the house

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We are currently about 15 minutes away from a fully finished, whole roast duck. The entire house smells like a combination of five-spice blend and duck fat. I have already drained off over a cup of duck fat from the pan. From my office area, I can hear the duck’s fat bubbling off into the bottom of the roasting pan. I am eager to see how crispy my duck skin has gotten and how much of the fat has been rendered from the skin!

Assuming this is successful, I wonder if we will get lucky at our next Costco run (next month!) and score yet another reasonably priced whole duck to roast! Then I can really put my duck skills into repeat practice!

**Several hours later**

Okay, so I got the leg and thigh right: the skin was flavorful and crispy while the meat was juicy and tender. The breast is really where the challenge is. Even with two heat settings, 325 F for 75 minutes and a 425 F blast for 15 minutes, the breasts still had not rendered out enough fat to get crispy; they actually seemed annoyingly flabby. So I let the whole duck rest for about 30 minutes. Then I carved it… Okay, fine. I didn’t really carve it. I kind of butchered it and messed it up. A lot of the skin tore off. Rib bones got stuck to the breast. I am a pretty sloppy whole chicken carver, but this duck was even more challenging and frustrating! ChatGPT gave this explanation for why this was more frustrating: “Duck is trickier to carve than chicken because the breast sits tightly against a broad rib cage and the skin is thinner and more delicate. The easiest way to stop tearing it is to stop thinking of it as ‘slicing meat off the carcass’ and instead remove each breast as one whole piece first.” I guess I will have to heed that advice next time… If I decide to brave out a whole duck roasting experience again.

I still managed to have two separate and mostly in tact breast pieces with their skin on top. I took both pieces and laid them down in a hot, un-oiled carbon steel pan to render out more fat and crisp up the skin. The result was pretty good. But I have a feeling I would have done a better job if I had just carved up the duck into separate raw pieces to begin with, “confited” the legs, and seared the breasts the way we did in my duck cooking class Chris got me over three years ago. I’ll consider that for next time.

The cleanup was a little miserable to put it lightly. Duck grease got pretty much everywhere and made its way all over the stove, all the counters, on dishes that didn’t even have duck, all over the sink and faucets. Of course, it splattered in the oven, but luckily not as much as I had feared. I was able to clean most of it off easily with a mix of baking soda, soap, water, and elbow grease. I may try this one or two more times just for the experience and challenge, but I can see clearly now why duck is one of those dishes that people leave to the pros. Even if you do get it mostly right, like I did this time, the cleanup is so freaking annoying and time consuming. I am currently soaking my oven mitts now because the duck grease is caked on so badly!

The entire apartment also smells like duck fat; it doesn’t matter what room I am in. This may be okay for now, but tomorrow, I may change my mind.

13 years fundraising and writing blurbs to encourage donations

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It’s hard to believe that it’s been 13 years since Ed passed, and now 13 years of fundraising for the American Foundation for Suicide Prevention (AFSP). When I first sought out some nonprofit fundraising effort to preserve Ed’s memory and keep his spirit alive, I wasn’t sure how long I would do this for or even if I’d stick with AFSP. For a couple years, I thought I might switch organizations to change things up for myself, plus to expose myself to different nonprofit environments. But in the end, I stuck with AFSP because it was comfortable, familiar, and I got used to the setup, events, and the people. I’ve been involved in various AFSP events, including going on local TV to represent them and discuss why I walk. I’ve also been an AFSP NYC walk committee member for the last year and am continuing this effort this year.

Every year when I write my fundraising message, I try to change the message up so that it’s a little different and current to my life at the moment and what’s top of mind for me. The first couple years were about the shock of losing him. Then it evolved into missing him at milestone moments of my life, whether that was my wedding, my pregnancy and the birth of Kaia, and this year, my 40th birthday. And now, it’s really become about… every year I’ve lived past age 33… all the years he never got to live. So what am I really doing with my life to make it more meaningful and to make it “worth” living, both for his memory and for myself?

Sometimes I wonder if anyone really reads my updated blurbs, specifically the people who are in my repeat donor group. I am grateful for their repeat donations, but I always wonder if they really read anything I write. Then last year, one person actually texted to let me know that he loved “the evolution of my message” each year, and how my reflections about my brother and his passing have changed over time. That was something I really appreciated.

So, here we go again. This year, I couldn’t put my thoughts together as early as I usually do, as I typically target July, the month of his passing. I didn’t figure out what I wanted to write until around his birthday in late August. So here I am, scrambling to organize my message and fundraiser just a month and a half out from the walk on October 25! Wish me luck in meeting my goal.

The four Disney princesses from Ed

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Every time I go back to my parents’, I try to take something back to New York that is a reminder of my childhood. Sometimes, it’s really little things like random cards or photos I find in a pile that I’d forgotten about that remind me of a happy memory. Other times, it’s slightly larger things like my hardcover copy of The Complete Stories of Curious George, which I brought back this time around. Kaia is at a point where she can follow longer stories, and the original Curious George stories are actually not as short as one might expect them to be! She always plays with my Curious George stuffed animal, which Ed got for me during a Christmas back from my high school days when Curious George was the holiday theme for Macy’s. So she knows who he is and that her mama likes this monkey. We already started reading some of the stories together while we were in San Francisco.

On the last morning before we left to go to Chicago, I was rummaging through a bedroom drawer I rarely go into and stumbled upon the extremely heavy mah jong set purchased during my first China trip in 2006. This was a legitimate mah jong set, and an extremely heavy one at that! The truth is that I only ever played mah jong one time ever and have completely forgotten the rules. The only reason I even bought this crazy heavy set was that I thought it would be a nice souvenir to have from my first time in my fatherland… and then predictably, I never even opened or played it even once after buying it. So that was very practical of me at the time. Fast forward twenty years, and now mah jong is all the rage. I sat next to a White woman on the plane who said she took a four-day full-time intensive course to master mah jong! And as ridiculous as it sounds, there is the “Chinese rules” mah jong and the “American rules” mah jong (whatever the hell the latter means). For a split second, I considered lugging it back to New York with me… but then my true practical side took hold, and I immediately placed it back into the drawer.

In that same drawer, I found something Ed had bought me years ago: Four Disney princess figurines, still in their original packaging, never opened. We have Cinderella, Aurora (Sleeping Beauty), Snow White, and Belle (from Beauty and the Beast). They are all wearing glittering gowns. I knew immediately that Kaia would love them. Though the figurines are meant for display, I figured at this point, that didn’t matter anymore. The best thing we could get out of these four princesses was Kaia’s enjoyment, which meant being able to play with them. So I took them all out of the original box, tucked them into a ziplock bag, and put them into my checked luggage.

Of course, Kaia being the little investigator that she is, she found the princesses in my luggage when I had it open in Chicago, and she asked me what it was in her usual tone of, “Is that for me?!” I told her if she was good, she could open it when we got back to New York, but only if she was good.

Today, Kaia was happily playing with all four of them and marveling over their sparkly gowns. I told her that her Jiujiu got them for her mama over twenty years ago. He knew that when Mama was young, she loved all the princesses, so he wanted to get these for me. Now, these are a gift for Kaia. So essentially, Ed got these for Kaia… he just never realized it back then. I told Kaia that these princesses are very special, and now Kaia can have a token of Jiujiu’s love. I am not sure if it’s just me, but she seemed to understand.

“I love them,” Kaia said quietly, as she hugged all of them at once. “Thanks, Jiujiu.”

Ed may not be here today to see Kaia playing with these four princesses he gifted me, but I know he is in both our hearts and minds. If he is somewhere out there watching, I hope he is smiling.

Last day with family in San Francisco for this year

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My family tends to go through the same behavioral patterns in the last day or two when I am home. My mom goes through an anxious, angry period where she is either aggressive or passive aggressive with me, getting mad at me for innocuous things or accusing me of having feelings or intentions that she makes up. If I am not home during a given period, she will call repeatedly and ask when I am coming home; this is her way of actually saying, you need to come home now. On Monday, we planned to have dinner at my aunt’s upstairs, and my uncle would also be joining us. She asked us to come at 5 since my uncle needs to leave early since he cannot drive in the dark. So at around 3 while in Mission Bay with Chris and Kaia, I called home to let my dad know that we’d be back before 4. I could hear my mom in the background saying I was late and that I needed to come home right away. I could hear her angst, but I shrugged it off.

We went to pick up ice cream (black sesame and mango!) from Joe’s Ice Cream, a neighborhood ice cream shop that’s been around since I was a kid. Then we walked home from there. When we arrived back and I came into the kitchen, that was when I could feel my mom glaring at me with her eyes burning. “It’s almost 4 o’clock now. You are late,” she hissed at me. “You should have been home a long time ago! They are already upstairs waiting for us and eating.” Um. It wasn’t even 4pm. Who the hell was going to be eating dinner at this time? I said nothing and did as I promised, which was to help make a steamed eggplant dish to bring to the dinner along with my purchased dessert. She proceeded to get mad that we went out at all today and didn’t tell her, as she was hoping we could “talk more” together. I did not have that same hope.

As 4:50 rolled around, my mom started yelling that we’re all late and that we all needed to get upstairs, pronto. I was still cleaning up and washing dishes in the kitchen. Kaia was running around happily. My dad was doing something somewhere in the basement. Chris was lying on my bed, asking what the rush was. The reason she wanted us to go upstairs as soon as possible was that she wanted us to be done with this family dinner as soon as possible. She can only keep up her “family dinner” face for so long, and she had nothing to say to my uncle. While at dinner when we were asking my aunt questions about her potentially changing living situation, my mom got mad at me for asking questions and insisted we “let her eat her dinner.” I told her that it’s normal to have a conversation at the dinner table, and that shut her up; not everyone wants to eat in silence and call that a “family dinner” for god’s sake. It’s almost like she is in pain being at a dinner table with any wider family members and she needs to find a way to make it stop as soon as possible. When they invite her, she feels a need to “return the favor” and invite them back right away, which is “suffering.” Thinking about this is so exhausting.

There were some nice moments, though. This morning before we left, Kaia kept insisting to my dad that he show her his worms in his compost pile before leaving. Obviously this made my dad beyond thrilled, so he was happy to comply with her ask. Then as he rummaged through random junk in the garage, she insisted she wanted to stay with him to watch what he was doing. This attachment she’s developed to my dad has been really endearing. Every time she yells, “GONGGONG! GONGGONG!” and runs after him, it makes me smile and chuckle. Chris commented that my dad has probably never felt more desired or more affection from another human in his entire life before now. He is probably right.

And as we packed up the car to go to the airport, while she was being a little bratty and refused to give my mom a hug and kiss until the very last minute, she had zero problem giving my dad endless hugs and kisses and grabbing onto his leg until she had to let go and get into the car. My dad’s big goofy grin in this moment was pretty epic… and this is coming from someone who never uses that word.

When we got to the airport lounge and sat down, I asked Kaia if she missed Popo and Gonggong. She nodded her head and quietly said a drawn out, “Yeah.” Then, she didn’t say anything for while, but out of nowhere looked at me and said, “We never got to see Jiujiu… because he died.”

Yes, that is true. At least she waited to say that until after my parents were gone because I am not sure how they would have reacted to hearing Kaia say this.

Presidio Tunnel Tops: nature-inspired and a great outdoor gift

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A couple years ago, my friend with kids told me that at the San Francisco Presidio, a large outdoor children’s play area had opened with sweeping views of the Golden Gate Bridge, Alcatraz, and the entire city skyline. Built on top of 14 acres right on top of highway tunnels in San Francisco, Presidio Tunnel Tops connects the historic Presidio military base to the Crissy Field waterfront. It’s It’s open to the public, has clean, well maintained restrooms, and has a whole line-up of rotating food trucks just steps away from it seven days a week.

I originally wanted to organize a meetup/play date there last year, but we ran out of time. So assuming the crappy San Francisco weather cooperated with us this time, I insisted we go today to meet my friends and their kids. Luckily, the weather worked out in our favor, and we ended up having a beautiful, high-60s F, blue-sky day! Presidio Tunnel Tops has been open for just over four years now, and I was really impressed: the playground is nature-inspired, with areas for kids to play featuring boulders, logs, and lots of different water features. And unlike many children’s play areas, this is specifically designed to be interesting for kids ranging in age from two to 12. That way, if you have kids of varying ages, you can rest easy knowing that one won’t get bored faster than the other.

I also really enjoyed the variety and quality of food options available at the nearby mobile food trucks area. The Mess Hall just steps away from the Tunnel Tops recently opened, but only one major food vendor was operating, so that limited our options. The food trucks were the obvious place to go. The food ranged from Chinese, Filipino, Mexican, Hawaiian shaved ice (!!), to Swahili (they called it “East African cuisine”), burgers, and fried chicken. I chose food from the Mexican truck Mestizo and the Swahili Spot trucks; both were delicious and things I’d order even not from a truck!

Given we met up at 10:30 and stayed in the Crissy Field area until about 3pm, we essentially were outdoors for over half the day. When I thought about this and how nice it was to maximize time outside during good weather, I realize that this is one of the very best qualities of Bay Area, or even specifically, San Francisco living: you don’t need to travel too far or even outside of city limits to get truly fresh, crisp air, beautiful green landscapes, and ocean/beach views. Hiking and easy walking trail opportunities are countless. As long as the weather cooperates with you or you can tolerate the cold, outdoor access is just easier and better here than in New York City. When you walk the trails of the Presidio Tunnel Tops or watch kids playing on these massive wooden structures there, you kind of forget you’re even in a “city” because of how natural the whole setup feels.

It makes me happy that I can not only expose all of these great things about San Francisco to Kaia, but also that she can have opportunities to play with my friends’ kids while here. Now that she’s 4.5, I have a feeling she will start remembering more and more of these experiences and recount them. I hope when she remembers and talks about these moments that she shares them with great joy.

Entering the fog – literally and figuratively

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We woke up at the eye-burning hour of 3am today to take the 6am flight to San Francisco this morning. Miraculously, I got upgraded last minute from Business to First Class, which has only ever happened once in my entire life — four years ago, in August 2022. This was when Kaia was a wee eight months old and on a plane for the very first time. We can forever and a day say that her very first flight was a transcontinental, first-class flight from JFO to SFO. I pumped milk on that flight, and she had to go between First where I was and Business where Chris was.

After we got our one checked roller bag and got into a Lyft, off we went on the freeway north to San Francisco. And as we got onto 280, all I could see was a massive layer of grey fog descend upon the skies. We were about to enter the damn fog and pathetic 60s F weather — right in August, a SUMMER MONTH. It doesn’t matter how many times I come to San Francisco, but the sight of this has never failed to annoy me to no end.

We arrived at my parents’ place. We had a usual early lunch together of takeout dim sum and some jook/congee my mom made. My mom barely said anything at the table other than to try to get Kaia to eat more food. My dad barely said much unless I asked him questions, and he promptly left the table, with his plate still there, after he finished eating. When my mom asked him why he was leaving the table, he simply responded, “I’m done eating.” That was fun.

From what I can see so far in the house, not a whole lot has changed in the last year. There’s still endless clutter and things they should not own. It’s dust galore in most places, and likely even more cob webs on the walls and ceilings. But I did notice that two shelves in the living room were completely cleared. It annoyed me a little to realize quite quickly that the contents of those shelves were previously my and Ed’s VHS and CD/DVD collections. I suppose it’s easy to declutter stuff when it’s not yours versus yours, isn’t it?

I spent about two hours after lunch vacuuming the floors and cob webs from the walls and ceilings. I also dusted the dining room surfaces and the shelves in my old bedroom where we are sleeping. I filled the bathroom sink with water and used a damp sponge to remove the heavily caked on layer of dust that was on the bedroom surfaces. When I had finally finished reaching all the surfaces I could, the water had turned completely black.

I want my parents to live independently for as long as possible, but when I look at this house deteriorate year after year, with many areas completely not maintained at all, I wonder how much longer they will feasibly continue living here. It’s not like they live in complete filth: the bathrooms and kitchen are clean. The stove is safe. I don’t think anyone has cleaner, brighter, more mildew-free bathroom tiles than my parents do. The walkways are relatively clear and you can get through doorways easily. The beds and sofas are clean and clear, able to be slept in and sat on just fine. I have offered to get them a cleaner, but of course they were adamantly against it. And to be frank, you must remove the clutter before a hired house cleaner could really do much to be worth the added expense.

A once-a-year clean that I do for them isn’t going to make a huge difference because another year will pass until the same level of cleaning happens. But I feel better doing this for them because I can clearly see they are both much more tired than before. My dad is walking with a little hunch. He gets tired more quickly and has even admitted it after being on a ladder for over 1.5 hours today to fix the kitchen overhead light that went out this morning (to be honest, I was pretty impressed he was agile enough to get up and down that six-foot ladder!). My mom is slower to move around and even process things that I say to her.

It’s sad to watch your parents get more frail and elderly right in front of your eyes.

The joy of rainbow popsicles

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A couple of weeks ago, we were at our neighbor friend’s place several floors down, and my friend offered Kaia a cream Jonny Pop. She asked if it was okay for Kaia to have it, and I said okay reluctantly… given that she was giving both her son and Kaia the pops at the same time (with their ages, it’s pretty obvious that if one kid got a popsicle and the other did not, a meltdown would ensue). She told me that it’s her son’s favorite type of popsicle that she lets him have once a day after dinner. She loves them because she can pick them up easily at Target nearby. They have no artificial colors, flavors, or ingredients. When I heard this and saw the design of the popsicle, I thought…. Hmmm. Well, Kaia is turning 5 at the end of this year. And while to date, the only popsicles she’s had are the ones I make at home from blended fruit and sometimes yogurt/milk, I figure that she deserves the occasional real treat as long as it’s not too sugar-laden. Plus, Kaia is slowly but surely outgrowing these little popsicle molds I have (from Buy Nothing!), as she is a growing Pookie with a bigger appetite now; these tiny molds were really intended to be for toddlers.

So when I saw Jonny Pops listed as a sale item this last week at Whole Foods, I strongly suggested to Chris to get a box for her as a treat. As we all know, little kids (and adults!!) work off of incentives, so this could easily be used to get her to do things she needs to get done when they need to get done. I scrolled through the potential options, and as soon as I saw the RAINBOW POPSICLES, I knew she’d go crazy for these and asked him to specifically get those. After listening to the insanity-inducing Cocomelon “Rainbow Popsicle” song endless times, Kaia had been asking me for months if I could make her rainbow popsicles. While I am always about homemade, from-scratch food and treats, I knew I had to draw the line here. There was absolutely zero chance I would ever have the patience to not only dye (from natural sources, of course) fruit-based purees six or seven different colors, but then also have the time to freezer each layer and then layer a new flavor layer on top, then repeat 3-4 times!

Chris was a good husband/father and dutifully picked up a box of Jonny’s rainbow pops. To see if she’d spot them, earlier in the week I told Kaia to go into the freezer to grab her favorite ice pack (she likes to sleep with an ice pack…). Well, this kid never misses a beat. When she went into the ice bin, she squeaked and pulled out the rainbow popsicle box.

“Mama! What’s this? What’s this?” Kaia asked me eagerly. Her eyes were glimmering and she had the biggest grin. The excitement was about to burst out of her face.

“Go ask Daddy,” I responded. “He got them for you!”

Kaia asked where Chris got them, and I told her from Whole Foods. She loves her occasional Whole Foods excursion with Chris, so I knew this would psych her out even more.

Chris confirmed to her that yes, he did get them from Whole Foods, but she has to be really, really good to get one, otherwise they’re all going to her neighbor friend downstairs.

Since we have to wake up super early on Saturday for our flight, that would mean we’d ideally want her to finish dinner earlier on Friday night. So I had planned to let her have the rainbow popsicle on Thursday night as a “end of summer” celebration. Friday is also her last day at summer camp, her last day at her school of the last two years. So it’s truly an end of an era.

I told her tonight that if she eats her dinner quickly, she can have one rainbow popsicle. My child operates heavily on incentives, so she ate her dinner probably 15-20 minutes faster than she normally does… and then grazed for ages on the glory and deliciousness of this rainbow popsicle that it started dripping all over her placemat. She kept marveling over all the different colors, which colors corresponded with which fruit flavor, and then every few sucks and bites, giggled and shrieked, “yummy!” or “so tasty!”

So while I got what I asked for, which was for her to finish dinner early, we ended up staying at the dinner table much longer than I had planned because of how much she wanted to savor literally every single bite of this freaking popsicle. I didn’t get her tucked into bed until 45 minutes AFTER we usually aim to get her in bed, lights out. But honestly? It was so worth it for me to see how much she relished this sweet, colorful treat, and to see how happy she was enjoying the “small things” in life. I am currently living with two polar opposites: there is Chris on one end of the spectrum who downplays everything and has annoyingly muted reactions to everything. For him, all good things are “not bad” or “pretty decent.” It reminds me of when French people say “Pas mal” and expect you to think they fucking loved something. Then, there’s Pookie, who when she gets excited, it’s written all over her face and body. She just loves, loves loves.

I am more on Pookie’s side here. You only live once. Show your damn feelings and be proud of it!