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

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.

The day you would have turned 46.

Dear Ed,

Happy birthday – today if you were still part of this world, you would have turned 46. How crazy it is that you will eternally be stuck at 33 years of age in my mind. I turned 39 this year. How did I actually become older than you? Is it even possible to get older than your older sibling?

I’m back in our home city with Chris and Kaia. On Sunday, our mother let Kaia out of the house unattended, and Kaia almost ran up the entire block by herself. I ran out to get her just in time and brought her back down to the house, but all I could think of during that time was… first, they let Ed die, and now, they want to let their grandchild die, too? How could they possibly be this irresponsible and stupid? Or, maybe I am really the irresponsible and stupid one. I was the one who allowed Kaia into their dungeon of a house. I was the one who left her unattended with our mother to lure her out of the house without Chris and me in the first place. Maybe I’m the real problem here for allowing this situation to even happen. Maybe I just cannot accept that this house could not be more “normal” and welcoming than it actually is.

I get told by my friends who knew our parents that ultimately, I allow this emotional exhaustion to happen. I need to set better boundaries — everyone seems to tell me this, including both therapists I saw. Ten, fifteen, twenty years ago, we didn’t really have the verbiage to describe things like mental load, emotional load, emotional exhaustion. But now, we do. Now, I know that the feeling of exhaustion and heaviness was real whenever I’d go home and then leave home to go back to New York. I know now that when Chris would say I’d come back to New York really tense and seemingly uptight from San Francisco that it was all just the residual effects of dealing with our parents — emotional load. And it really took a toll on me. It still does.

“Why do you even bother?” a friend asked me yesterday. “You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to. This is all on you.” I feel sad that our parents won’t ever be proper grandparents to Kaia. I want them to have a relationship. But I know it really won’t happen. You can’t really have people be real grandparents when they didn’t even figure out how to be decent parents. It’s just a pipe dream that I am still struggling to come to terms with. There’s what you rationally and academically know, and that always seems to conflict with the feelings and desires of your heart.

I think I’m out of words. You’re the only one who knows how bad it can be in that house with them. And you’re gone. No one else has first hand experience of it. And sometimes when I think about it, it makes me feel even more alone. I’m not saying you should still be here just to shoulder the burden of this knowledge. But it would be nice if we could still be together to empathize with each other… and just be. There is a hollow in my heart that will never be filled because you left this world far too soon.

Did you know that Kaia knows who her JiuJiu is? I told her it was your birthday today. She even recognizes your face sometimes when I show her photos of you. She’s over three and a half now, and she’s constantly surprising me with all the things she’s learning and absorbing, and all that she remembers that we’ve told her. I know you’d be so happy and proud of her if you were here. My sweet little Kaia Pookie will never meet her JiuJiu in real life. And that loss is not just a loss for her and you — it’s a loss for me, too.

I’m trying to do what I can to be a good mama to her and not perpetuate intergenerational trauma. I say that almost every week to myself, if not every year to you when I write you. I’m almost like a broken record about this in my head. I’m just trying my best. I hope you know and can see this.

I really miss you, Ed. It’s strange. Even twelve years after your death, when I am in that house, I still have this weird feeling of anticipation that out of nowhere, the front door will open, and in you will come. It’s 100 percent irrational, but I still have the feeling in the back of my mind and in my body that it will happen. It is depressing to have a feeling of anticipation for something… that you know in reality will never actually happen.

I love you. Take good care of yourself wherever you are out there. I am always thinking of you — I hope you don’t ever forget that.

With all my love, and with the deepest desire to see you again,

your little sister Yvonne

Building our family home with blocks

About two years ago during Prime Day, I saw that the Lovery wooden block set was on mega-sale on Amazon, so I decided that I’d buy it for Kaia. Two years ago, she was a bit young to use blocks, so I knew this was a “gift in advance” I’d get her so that when she was ready, the block set would be available immediately to her. In the last few weeks, the blocks have been a primary form of toy entertainment for her, as she’s been very into building us a house to live in. She’s built houses on her own. She wants me to help her build the same house, or build a house alongside the one she’s building. And when she’s done, she likes to tell us where each of our bedrooms is and where we will sleep. According to Kaia, “mumma, daddy, Kaia, Suma, and Topa will all live in this house!” We’re all going to live together!

I think we all know that this living situation she has outlined will never actually manifest itself in real life. But I find it really endearing to see her thinking of all of us when she builds these houses, as she wants all of us to have a comfortable, safe place to live… together.

Sunday pool and hot tub time with the Kaia Pookie

On Sundays when we’ve been in town and haven’t had Sunday plans, I will usually do yoga and cook in the morning while Chris takes Kaia to the playground. Then in the afternoon if she wants, I will either take her to ride her scooter at Lincoln Center, or more often than not, I’ll take her upstairs to our rooftop pool for some puddle jumper time. While she usually has Sunday swim classes, this summer, a wrench kind of got thrown into that schedule, as the pool where her swim classes are is closed for construction/maintenance. So while occasionally she has had double pool time at her lesson, which as we all know, is more “work” and learning, her afternoon time with me is all fun and play. Here, she gets to wear her puddle jumper, which is essentially a toddler “floatie” that has loops for her arms to go through and clips on the back. With this, she can be in the pool without anyone holding her, and she’s pretty self sufficient. We usually have her jump into the pool over and over. She also loves to be twirled and bounced in the water. And of course like all kids, she loves to splash and get water everywhere.

After about forty minutes in the pool, it looked like we were going to have a crowd. We already had two male friends in the pool just chatting and hanging out in one corner. A woman came complete with flippers for both her feet and hands, so she was clearly planning to swim some serious laps. Two other men came looking like they wanted to do laps, but the pool was getting too crowded. Eventually the two chatty guys left, and it was just the female swimmer plus Pookster and me. So after about another ten more minutes, I told Pookster that we had to get out of the pool and would go somewhere else fun.

Pookster wasn’t sure where I’d take her, and she was definitely suspicious, whining and saying she didn’t want to leave. But when I led her to the hot tub and turned on the bubbles, she got really excited. We stepped into the warmth together, and immediately I could see she was happy. She loved the warmth, the bubbles, and all the strong jets shooting water at her from different angles. Kaia giggled and shrieked with delight. And then out of nowhere, she declared, “Ooooh, this is so fun! I want to stay here forever!” She insisted on alternating between sitting in my lap and sitting on her own and trying to “catch” the water from the jets.

These are those moments when I see her experience something new, fun, and exciting that I just want to bottle up. The joy and excitement on her face was so palpable, so innocent and pure and untainted. I just love watching her experience her childhood — it’s almost like I am reliving mine — or rather, living the experiences I never even got to have.

Cousins in town from New Zealand and Pookster’s love and affection for the baby

This week, Chris’s cousin, her husband, and their four-month-old baby are visiting from New Zealand. They are stopping here for a few days and staying with us before heading off to Paris for a quick stop, then taking a train down to Spain for a long walking journey along the Camino de Santiago.

It’s always fun to have family and friends stay over with us, but in this case, there was the added dynamic of having a baby stay with us, plus Pookster’s dynamic with the baby and the baby’s parents. Kaia has always had FOMO even from an early age, so bedtimes have been a been rougher this week with company staying over. But it’s been really sweet to see her interact with baby Harriet. Every day when I’d pick her up from school, she’d ask if baby Harriet would be at home waiting for her. She’d ask if baby Harriet was okay, if she was eating, and if she would go out and play. She’s even asked to bring food home for baby Harriet to eat. I love seeing this caring, affectionate side of my Kaia Pookie.

Having a baby in the house again has also made me reminisce about the early days of Kaia baby. Luckily, Chris’s cousin is able to nurse her baby…. maybe even a bit too well given the baby refuses a bottle. But it made me think about how much I struggled with breastfeeding, how nursing unfortunately was not the way I was able to fully feed Kaia, even though I very much wanted that to be our life, and how I ended up resorting to exclusive pumping, which was likely the very least convenient and most difficult way to feed.

Nothing ever goes out exactly as you envision it or plan. With Chris’s cousin, she ended up having to get an epidural and then an emergency c-section, neither of which she wanted, but all because in the last moments she developed preeclampsia, and the baby got stuck in her canal. And while she did struggle with breastfeeding in the beginning, she had constant in-person lactation support every single day for weeks (god bless New Zealand’s healthcare system), which eventually got Harriet to feed well despite being on the small side. This locked in her milk supply, and thus their breastfeeding journey. So while she didn’t have the birth she ideally wanted, she did have the feeding journey she so desired. I had the birth I wanted, but I didn’t have the feeding journey for Kaia I hoped for. If only things could go exactly as we all wished!

I love hearing other mother’s birth and feeding stories, though. Today, modern mothers are all about sharing and reducing stigma around the stories of giving birth and feeding our babies, and it helps so much to have that perspective and that story telling continue… because, well, these are ultimately the stories of the beginning of our children’s lives, and the beginning of our lives as mothers.

Traditional Chinese Medicine (TCM) ingredients; appreciation for culture

I’ve never been a pro medicine person. I avoid pain medications for as long as I can possibly stand, which is a bit odd to say because luckily, I rarely have a need for them unless I’m having a god-awful period, or suddenly a headache is coming on. I would much rather do whatever “natural” remedy out there exists. For period pain, if possible, I would use a heat pack on my abdomen. For headaches at night, I would rather just sleep it off or drink more water. But sometimes, the medication is absolutely vital, like when you get pertussis (good ol’ whooping cough!) or a peri-tonsillar abscess (the miserable joy from last November that I would much rather forget ever happened to me). Then, you have to take the damn pills and give in.

I never thought much about Traditional Chinese Medicine (TCM) even though I was given endless tonics, herbal teas, and soups lovingly made by my grandma, mom, and aunt growing up. They always said that at a given time of year (depending on the season), your body needs these herbs or these berries or special ingredients. I generally just smiled and nodded, obediently drinking or consuming whatever they gave me and assuming that it really was all good for my health. It’s not that I ever doubted it; it’s more that I wasn’t sure how much “better off” I was now that I had consumed said soup or tonic. I didn’t start actively thinking about TCM until I got pregnant in 2021 and was carrying my Kaia Pookie. Then suddenly, I was reading about all the benefits of all these Eastern ingredients and assuming that of course, they all must be nourishing and making my baby and me stronger! I wanted whatever natural remedies and herbs were out there to help me recovery more quickly and to potentially help give me a good milk supply!

One of my best friends is about to give birth any hour now. And I told her that I would make some of these TCM herbal teas and soups for her after she came home. So now, I’m once again immersed in all the ingredients. I had to restock a bunch of things I ran out of from my postpartum period, and I went to a herbal shop in Chinatown today with English/Chinese/pinyin notes ready in case I couldn’t find what I wanted and needed help. This was my list:

Red dates (hong zao): High in antioxidants; “heaty,” so good for postpartum recovery and “warming the body”

Dang shen root: Good for restoring “qi” or vital energy; helps combat fatigue and exhaustion; nourishes blood, supports digestion by strengthening spleen and stomach; boosts immunity; like “poor man’s ginseng” because it’s milder but still beneficial

Goji berries (gou qi): Combats fatigue, boosts immune system, high antioxidants

Dried wild yam slices (huai shan): Restores energy and vitality; good for kidney health, can increase milk production, cleanses system after giving birth, helps with hormone balance

Dried longan (gui yuan gan or long yan gan): Improves blood circulation, increases energy and vitality; can increase milk production

Astralagus root (huang qi): Immunity boosting, high in antioxidants, good for kidney function and sleep quality

Dried hawthorn berries (shan zha): Rich in antioxidants, boosts digestion, improves skin health

I suppose it’s true that with age, we start believing more of what our elders taught us when we were young. I guess that may be the reason, along with my general anti-medicine approach, that I’ve started reading more about TCM. In the last two years, I’ve gotten more into making nourishing, homey Chinese soups; it’s made me realize that many times, less actually can be more. And I’ve also read more about what traditional Chinese herbs and ingredients I could incorporate into everyday cooking. It’s not only been fascinating and fun to learn about, but the other way I look at this is that I’m delving into yet another aspect of my (Chinese) culture that I hadn’t previously paid much attention to. No, I won’t be using or suggesting any of these herbs to cure anyone’s cancer or HIV, but I do believe that a lot of these herbs can play a role in everyday health maintenance and wellness, so why not incorporate them? Plus, it’s another way to diversify one’s diet and ensure you’re eating more plants, which is a win for anyone!

Unexpected tears when watching the field trip bus unload the children

On Thursday when the field trip bus was delayed coming back from the Melville farm, I stood at the other location of Kaia’s school several blocks down with the other parents and waited for the kids to arrive. As bus arrived and parked, all the parents got into a commotion in regards to where the bus would park and when they could actually collect their children. But our school had a pretty careful system: they had all the teachers get off first and arrange themselves by class. Then, they slowly asked each child to get off the bus; the child was then received by hand by another teacher to stand by their appropriate class group. When all the students were in their respective class groups and the teachers were all present, they then walked them, class by class, to the front of the school where us parents stood, and then each lead teacher or admin would release kids by class one by one.

As I saw all the kids get off the bus, I suddenly felt like my heart was heavy. My baby is 3.5 years old now, turning four this December, yet she’s already gone on three field trips with her summer camp! This means that she’s had three fun-filled experiences involving school bus transportation without me. And of course, she will have even more of this fun and learning-filled experiences without me in the future. I wasn’t able to be there to witness her excitements and little joys and new discoveries. Her teachers and classmates were, though. And as the groups approached the school building, I could see Kaia spotting me from the crowd and poking her head out as much as possible to give me a cheeky smile to let me know she knew her mummy was there waiting for her to take her home. There was just something about all this orderly off-boarding the bus and obediently walking in lines that made me feel sad, resulting in my eyes welling up with tears. My baby’s growing up so quickly, and there’s nothing I can do to pause or stop it even for a second. It was like just yesterday I pushed her out of my uterus and was struggling with breastfeeding her. Yet now, she’s already going on field trips in Long Island and acting like a real student in a real school.

I guess that’s another thing about motherhood: so many emotions all the time like a roller coaster, and like a really good roller coaster, you cannot always see all the twists, turns ahead of time. Sometimes it’s the littlest things that catch you off guard that make you cry your eyes out or feel like your baby is growing up just a little too fast for your liking.

When he doesn’t visit for a long time.

For years after Ed’s passing, whenever the date of his death anniversary or his birthday would come, I’d get this sneaking feeling that he’d come visit me. It might be in my dreams. He might come to me in some other form, whether it’s through a message sent from someone, a ray of light through the window, or a gust of wind on a street. But when it would happen, I’d know it was him. Or at least, I’d think it was him. But most of all, I always longed to see him in my dreams because that would actually feel the most real. I tend to have extremely vivid dreams, so oftentimes when I am dreaming, it legitimately feels like it’s really happening. But as the years have gone on, I realize that this delusional thought that he will “visit” really is just that — a desired delusion of mine. And as each year passes, it makes me more and more sad. As each year passes, I get older and older, further away from the age I was when my brother died, further away from knowing what it was like to really know him and love him in the flesh.

In some ways, Ed was a really easy person to love. He was eager to please. He showed love and affection easily and eagerly. He is like the youngest, most innocent children of the world with their simple desires: he just wanted love, presence, and attention. If you gave him that, or even a smidgen of a semblance of that, he’d love you forever and always treat you well. But in other ways, he was a difficult person to love, and an especially hard person to get to know. Because of his depression and anxiety, it was hard to have a really deeply felt, thoughtful conversation with him that went beyond the surface. He also didn’t want to share that much with too many people because he was scared of being judged or misunderstood (frankly, that is for good reason because people in general really suck). It was almost impossible to have a continuous, free-flowing conversation with him. But it wasn’t because he didn’t want to; it was likely more that he didn’t know how to given his lack of socialization coupled with his depression and anxiety.

I’m about a half year away from turning 40. If life worked out the way it should have, Ed would be turning 46 in about a month. I was looking at the newly whitened hairs on my head yesterday morning, thinking about how today, I likely have more white hairs on my head than Ed did at 33 going on 34 before he died. Ed had a far more stressful and turbulent life than I did. He deserved more than what he got.

Every day, I think about all the privilege I have. Most of it is due to luck and just being born in a certain place to a certain family at a certain time. A little bit of it is due to my own hard work and diligence. Even though Ed and I were born into the same exact family in the same house, frankly I had more privilege than he did. I was the second born with less pressure. I was also born a girl, and as research has shown, families tend to almost always raise girls with more love, tenderness, and affection. I was also born 6.5 years after he was at a time when our parents’ financial situation was a lot more stable. When I got into my twenties, I started thinking about how unfair all that was: Ed never asked for any of that to be the case, yet he got the shit end of the stick. And I started feeling guilty for being treated better and being more respected by our parents. Why should I have ever been treated well at his expense? It never made any sense to me. To this day, it still fills me with fury, a deep seated anger that will likely never go away. I wish Ed had had just a tiny bit more privilege than he did so that he could’ve been treated a little better than he was — not just by our parents, but by society as a whole.

I wonder if Ed could talk to me now, what he’d say to me. I’m sure he’d be thrilled about Kaia, growing like a little weed both in size and in personality. He would likely marvel at the apartment in which I live and also gasp at how much I’m spending on said apartment. He’d applaud anything seemingly “indulgent” I’ve done for myself, as he always used to critique me for being “too cheap” with myself and never buying myself nice things or experiences. Funnily enough, he’d probably tell me he was happy that I got my laser treatments because sometimes, when you want something, you “don’t think about it so much and just do it.” He’d admire all the travel experiences I’ve had and tell me how brave I am to go to all these places. He would also probably tell me that he was happy and grateful I found the “right person” in Chris.

It still feels strange. Sometimes, I hear about people talking about their siblings even today, and I get this sad feeling because I know I can never talk about my own sibling and our experiences in the present tense. It’s like a different kind of loss now.

12 years since you left us.

Dear Ed,

I can’t believe it’s been 12 years since you left us today. I feel like I say that pretty much every year, but I actually do really mean it. Our cousin Russell actually messaged me this morning to acknowledge this. Russell has his own problems, but I know he loved you very much and still misses and thinks about you all the time. Each year that passes feels like a bigger gap between us. But it also makes me realize how quickly time flies the older I get (I can definitely say I have more white hairs right now than I did a year ago today). Sometimes, the day of your death is crystal clear in my head, while other days, it’s fuzzy and as though it was made up and never actually happened. I still remember how numb I felt when I found out you were missing. Even though I was walking around and doing things, it felt like my eyesight had become cloudy, like I wasn’t really walking but instead was floating just above the ground. My entire body felt weightless and extremely heavy at the same time. Nothing felt real. And then, just like that… you were confirmed gone, dead, passed away — a corpse in a refrigerator at the Marin County Morgue. Sometimes, it still doesn’t even feel real now that you’re gone.

I always wish I could have told you more, shared more about myself and my thoughts with you. I wish I could have been there for you more. I wish I could have really listened to more of what you had to say. But it was hard. I wasn’t physically always there. And even when I was, it was hard to talk to you. You had a large grey cloud looming above you all the time. It made our conversations non-continuous, choppy, never able to get past a certain point. We could never peel the outer layers of the onion away to get to the core of anything. You had a mental block that I couldn’t quite see or understand. I’m sorry I never told you all I wanted to say. And I’m sorry I never let you tell me all you wanted to say.

It’s funny, though. Now that you’re gone, out of nowhere, I think about the most random things to share with you that I think you’d find interest or amusement in. None of these things are particularly meaningful or deep or interesting or things I’d expect anyone to remember beyond the moment, but they’re more “in the moment” things that I think you’d appreciate. One of the latest things that happened that I thought would make you smile was when I wore a top with chocolate, vanilla, and strawberry ice cream cones on it. Kaia always gets excited when she sees food she likes in print or on clothing. So she pointed out that the shirt was new (to her) and that it had ice cream. I asked her to tell me what the flavors were, and she said from left to right, they were chocolate (brown), cherimoya (white), and strawberry (pink). And I just giggled because I thought it was so adorable… as we just came back from South America, where we ate a lot of cherimoya, so now, at least temporarily, Kaia associates “white” with “cherimoya” instead of the expected vanilla flavor.

My friends share about their kids and their siblings spending time with them. One of my friends lives a block away from her dad, who is caring for his granddaughter during the work week (so my friend’s niece). She goes over there frequently to spend time with her niece. And even though it has nothing to do with me or you or Kaia, a part of me feels envious. I wish that you could spend quality time and have sweet moments with Kaia. But that is never going to happen. A lot of amazing things were robbed from you, Ed. And for that, a large part of me will always be resentful on your behalf.

It’s July 2025 now, so a year and a half since the safety net was installed at the Golden Gate Bridge. We’re planning to go back to San Francisco next month. Maybe this visit, I may actually feel ready to go see it. I want to see this barrier that is saving lives… just not yours.

We haven’t forgotten you, Ed. We’ll never forget. Twelve years later, and I still haven’t forgotten you. I also haven’t stopped missing you. I love you. You may never read this, but I love you; I really do. And in her heart, I know Kaia loves you, too, and wishes she could have a real relationship in flesh and blood with you, too.

Rest in love, my sweet big brother.

Bestie’s baby shower today

For the first time in 15 years, I took the Staten Island ferry today. Though I’d been to Staten Island back in May 2021 during my early pregnancy, we had rented a Zipcar to get around since Staten Island is very spread out and suburban feeling. I went for my bestie’s baby shower, which was being hosted by her boyfriend’s mom at an Italian restaurant there. I met up with a few of her friends on the ferry, and then her boyfriend picked us all up and drove us to the restaurant.

It was a really beautiful, green-themed celebration. A photo arch, endless decorative items, teddy bear stands, menus, baby shower games, and labels were all handmade by her boyfriend’s mom. It was a multi-course lunch that also included alcohol, coffee drinks, massive Italian cookies platters, and a locally made chocolate raspberry mousse cake, which was also of course beautifully decorated. Although I knew her boyfriend’s mom was into arts and crafts, it was really clear to me that she loved my friend a lot and spent a lot of time, effort, and money on putting this event together in her honor. This was truly a grand gesture in every meaning of the term. I felt really touched to see all of this for my friend, as she’s the kind of person who for the entire time I’ve known her constantly bends over backwards for everyone else she loves in her life. But few to none of those same loved ones have done much for her in return — or at least, I have not seen, witnessed, or heard of any of these things. She really did deserve this gorgeous event to celebrate her pregnancy and the coming arrival of her baby boy.

It was weird, though, to be honest to hear that she was having a baby shower at all. She took no part in planning it, as she was told to simply show up. My friend is the kind of person who has always vocally hated on baby showers, bridal showers — all the “frou frou” stuff that women are stereotypically really giddy and gaga over. Though she did play an active role in planning my bridal shower ten years ago now, she ended up not attending because back then, she was bending over backwards for her then-boyfriend, who had stupidly gotten into an accident and had both shoulders out of commission. So while I did press her and asked her if this was really what she wanted, and she insisted it was important to her boyfriend’s mom and would just be a gathering, I wondered if this was really something she wanted for herself, or if she was just going along with what others wanted for her. After being there today, though, I realized… she probably did want all of this. And she should have it. My friend was clearly so happy, touched, and grateful for all of this, and well, she deserves to be showered with love when she loves everyone in her life so much and so conspicuously.

I don’t really know what will come for any of us in the future. But I do know that I am really happy to have witnessed this deep love that her boyfriend’s mom has for her and see that she’s being treated so, so well.