Category Archives: Preschooler moments

The soft side of my dad

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In the evenings before bed, my parents like to make hot chocolate. They don’t do anything fancy; they use 2% cow milk, a little heavy cream for extra richness occasionally, and different forms of hot chocolate mix. The latest versions I see that look quite depleted in the cupboard are Whole Foods brand or some random organic cacao blend. He already pre-measured out the evening mugs for milk and was planning to warm them in the microwave and mix in the hot chocolate blend, but I told him that I’d make it for all of us tonight properly over the stove. I finally asked him why he didn’t use the Dandelion Chocolate hot chocolate mix I got him; two of the three glass jars were still sitting in the cupboard fully sealed. He hesitated initially and said that he found it a bit too sweet for bedtime, which I can understand. So we compromised, and I mixed some of his unsweetened cacao into the Dandelion hot chocolate blend.

As I heated the pot over the stove, he stuck around while I mixed occasionally. We actually had a pretty decent chat. We somehow managed to cover glucose and cholesterol levels, general health maintenance, diet modifications based on age, dental care and insurance, my work, the Nepal flooding (!), and general house maintenance in a very short space of time while in the kitchen together. I’ve realized over all the years of returning home that my dad really does not enjoy table side conversation; he actually detests it most times and rarely says anything at the table unless it’s something specifically interesting to him. Because of this, I usually don’t probe him much at the table. My dad’s favorite way of talking to anyone is while each person is sort of side by side. One person may be occupied with a task like heating milk over the stove (me) while the other person (in this case, him) lingers, but isn’t quite hovering over. One person asks the other person an innocuous question out of the blue. The other person responds. Then the conversation either builds on that topic or another unrelated topic comes up. But the door has already been opened to allow the conversation to flow pretty easily.

Long ago, I gave up on the idea that I could change my relationship with my dad. We’ve had many ups and downs over the years. I spent a lot of my childhood living in fear that he’d lash out at me the way he did with Ed. But I have forgiven him for his shortcomings because I know he had a miserable, difficult, and impoverished childhood, with very little love or direction given by either of his parents. I have moments when I get pissed because I am human, but I try to remember that we will never have the ideal daddy-daughter relationship or closeness I wish we could have had. I have made peace with it, mourned it, and let it go. Instead, I do exactly what ChatGPT suggested I do, which is to find power in the moments instead of forced, idealized, longer periods of time together. So if that means offering to make him hot chocolate and chatting over the stove one on one, or dusting the living room surfaces side by side while having random chatter, then I will embrace it. Those are the times he feels the most relaxed and open to me. Those are also the times he seems the softest to me.

What I’ve also loved watching during this trip particularly is how much Kaia has embraced my dad. She actively engages with her Gonggong, shows him that she wants his attention, and will not accept any less (this level of stubbornness is truly amazing and so hilarious to watch). On Sunday, he had to go out to pick up dinner takeout; she blocked the door and prevented him from leaving. When he tried to climb over her, she grabbed his leg and said he would not be allowed to leave. Eventually I had to intervene and pick Kaia up to let my dad out of the house, but it was such a cute and sweet (and likely infuriating for my parents!) moment to see.

Each night we’ve been at my parents’, I tell Kaia she has to go to each of them to hug and kiss them good night. What she has also done, which I did not tell her to do, is she proactively tells each of them she loves them. The first time she did this with my dad, he patted her on the back (his version of a hug…). Then when she actually uttered the words “I love you,” I could see the shock spread over his face… then eventually melt into this huge grin. Then she kept doing it with him night after night. I just loved seeing how big my dad’s smiles were each time. It was almost like for the first time in his entire life, at the age of 78, he was experiencing verbalized love and physical affection repeatedly, all from this tiny little human who has been a temporary resident at his home.

I loved seeing my dad feel loved. I had a moment when I almost started tearing up. For his entire childhood, my dad was deprived of love and affection, which turned him into this hard, stoic, emotionless man that he became. He focused on survival and financial independence only because that’s all he knew. And now, his little 4.5-year-old granddaughter gives him the love that he always needed but didn’t realize he needed.

Anxiety-ridden calls and the tit-for-tat nature of my family

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We stayed overnight on Friday up in Sacramento with our friend and planned to hang out with them in the area until early afternoon Saturday. Afterward, we would drive back to San Francisco. This morning after breakfast, we drove out to Placerville, California, which is known for lots of kid-friendly farms, U-Pick farms, petting zoos, and other large, sprawling suburban/rural areas to eat and support local. With our three friends, we enjoyed freshly made apple cider donuts and apple cider, while the kids got to feed and pet goats, pigs, and ponies, as well as run amok through kid mazes, wooden play structures, and man-made lakes. The greatest thing about this wide, open area was that vehicles were mostly blocked off, so the kids could run around and get all their energy out without us worrying that they’d get hit by a car. When coming home to visit, it always feels fun, enjoyable, and relaxing when I am out with my friends. It’s an extremely stark contrast from being with my parents, and most especially with my parents and extended relatives, where every situation seems rife with anxiety, anger, jealousy, and control.

Amid catching up with our friends, my mom probably called about four times. I called back twice, and in her anxious, nervous voice, she kept urging me that we had to drive back down to San Francisco “earlier.” I told her that we had to be back before 5pm because that’s when the car rental closed. She just kept repeating that I had to “respect” and I had to come back “earlier.” It made zero sense, but I know why she kept saying this. Originally when we told her we were going up to Sacramento Friday through Saturday, she said we’d keep it simple for dinner that evening, which I was fine with. Whenever we got back that evening, we’d eat takeout with just my parents. But since coming back from Brazil on Wednesday, my aunt asked if I could come up to her place for dinner on Sunday along with my parents. My mom, always wanting to “pay back” any meal ASAP, did not feel right about this. As is her usual, she wanted to “match” it, and so she invited my aunt down for dinner on Saturday. With all her nervous energy, she wanted me to be home as early as possible so we could eat dinner and be done with it all as early as possible. My mom is not a good or natural host. She hates having people over at her house. She hates serving them and the entire hoopla of company. She finds it all to be too much work and “suffering” as she always says. But how much earlier are you seriously going to eat dinner than 5pm?!

We got back to the house just past five. We ate dinner altogether at around six. As usual, not much was said around the dinner table. My mom tried to stand up and fuss over dishes that didn’t need to be cleaned right away in the kitchen or obsess over how little or quickly Kaia was eating, and I had to swat her away. The dinner was probably over in less than thirty minutes. Yet the entire time I could tell my mom was on edge, as she always is at any family group meal. My aunt loves to take photos before dinner, and my mom can’t stand photos. She always nervously laughs and asks, “Why do we have to take photos?” or “Another photo? Why? No need!” Then, she tries her best to weasel her way out of it by pretending to go to the bathroom or wash something needlessly in the kitchen. After dinner, my aunt Face Timed her son and his wife, the cousins I just saw last weekend, and Kaia chatted with them. My mom was seething that they didn’t drive up to join us for dinner and was adamant that my aunt told them not to come.

“Your aunt is so powerful!” my mom ranted to me after. “She told them not to come! See, her children always listen to her, but you do not always listen to me! He is so loyal to her. You are never like this with me!”

Here we go: the fun comparison of children. It always happens at least once during any visit, and it’s always putting me in an unfavorable position. I’ve gotten to a point with her where I shrug these comments off and say nothing. Not responding makes the interaction end quicker. Responding only fuels her, and whenever I am home, I am to blame for pretty much everything that sets her anger off.

I subsequently found out directly from my cousin that he and his wife didn’t come because they didn’t want to drive all the way up to San Francisco again (it’s not a short drive, ahem, for anyone who is aware of distances or traffic) given they had just come up last week. Plus, they got confused and thought I’d still be in Sacramento that evening, so why would they come for a whatever meal just with his mom and my parents? This did not seem particularly exciting or “worth it” for their driving efforts. I can’t share this with my mom, though, because she’d never believe it. She creates narratives in her head and runs with them. If anyone tries to provide reason or logic that counters that, fire starts blowing out of her nose and ears.

Back in Sacramento after two years, and contemplations on the “sandwich generation”

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This morning, we drove up to Sacramento to visit and stay with a friend of ours who has a child close in age to Kaia. We have visited this friend up in Sacramento twice before, once while I was pregnant in 2021, and the last time in August 2024. We didn’t come last year because she was the primary caregiver of not just her son, for whom she is a single parent, but also her mom at the time, who was going through lung cancer treatment. So she just had too much going on at the time. She messaged me in December of last year with the good news that her mom’s cancer was in remission. Unfortunately, it seems that did not last long: the cancer had returned, and her treatments started again in the last couple weeks.

The kids got together after she picked up her son from school this afternoon, and we spent some time together at the NorCal Aquarium nearby, followed by dinner at a local South Indian restaurant we enjoyed five years ago. My other local friend joined us for dinner. Afterwards, we went back to the first friend’s house, where we chatted for the next several hours while the kids built a fort and made the most ridiculous mess in the dining room. The theme of our conversation was definitely around our health, our parents’ health and their aging and slowing down, and the overall maintenance of a home (and how overwhelming, exhausting, and expensive it can be). As I was participating in this conversation, it suddenly dawned on me how “middle aged” and “sandwich generation” this conversation felt.

That made me think about the time when the only grandparent I’ve ever known died. My paternal grandma died in 1995 when I was nine years old. At the time, my dad was 47 and my mom was 41. In the seven months leading up to her passing, my grandma was quite ill and eventually had to be moved into a convalescent home. I still have distinct memories of going to the hospital or the convalescent home almost every night after I got off school and my parents got off work. My parents somehow managed our household, worked full time, got food on the table and supplies for us, and cared for my grandma — all at the same time. I always look back at that fraught, frantic period and feel a sense of admiration for my parents and how they somehow kept it all together — at least sort of. I never felt neglected during that period, and I was always in the know with what was happening with my grandma’s state of health and treatment despite being so young.

To be frank, I am not sure if I could have ever done all the things my parents did. I can already see my parents slowing down a bit; I suppose I’ve been thinking about it a lot more on this trip. My dad, for the most part, seems to be in decent health. I know he monitors all his health results carefully and has modified his diet quite a bit over the last decade or so. My mom seems to be quite fragile, both mentally and physically. My main hope is that they live independently for as long as possible. I want them to have long, healthy, independent lives. I want to continue seeing them mobile, and I want Kaia to have a relationship with them and know them. But now when I think about how my grandma died when my dad was 47, and I am 40 today… that just gave me some chills. Death is an inevitable part of life. But I want to hope they will keep living for at least another decade or two. Here’s to hoping.

Happy 47th birthday, my sweet Ed

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Dearest Ed,

Happy 47th birthday. It’s strange to think that if you lived to now, you’d be three years away from 50 — half a century old. This year as you would know, I celebrated my 40th birthday. I realized that although it’s technically middle aged, I didn’t really “feel” middle aged, if you know what I mean. When we were little, I used to think “40” or “50” were “old.” Now, I sit in my 40.5-year-old body and do not feel old at all. In fact, I feel like I have just started to really live life in the last decade and that I’m only getting started in many ways! So when I think of it from that perspective, it makes me even sadder to know that you aren’t here… because that means that you never really got to begin living a full life. You left us just before you turned 34. I have now lived over seven years longer than you did. That feels quite unfair because it’s not like I did anything to deserve more than you.

I am in San Francisco now. Chris, Kaia, and I stayed at our parents’ place last weekend. We went to visit you at the Columbarium on Sunday. I got annoyed when visiting you because I noticed some internal fingerprints on your niche’s glass, plus some large dust particles that settled inside. So I went into the office to inquire about having it opened for cleaning. The employee who worked there told me that they would charge us $495 (YES, THAT MUCH) to open the niche. I told him that I simply wanted to have it cleaned properly, that I wanted nothing else changed. He said that in 2014, the year after you died, Dignity Memorial took ownership of the Columbarium. Once upon a time, if a family wanted to open a niche to clean or rearrange items inside, they could easily do so and schedule the visit to open and and make changes; no charges or questions asked other than to prove you were family. Now, when you want to do this because of this greedy private equity-like company, they want to charge us almost $500 to do this! This is just utter bullshit. As Chris says, “fuck those fuckers.” The moron who told me this actually had the balls to say to me that since Dignity Memorial took over the Columbarium that service has become “more refined.” No, Dipshit. Service has actually just become greedier, with all this ridiculous nickel-and-diming of grieving families and loved ones who want to have basic, simple things done in memory of their loved ones. To me, there are few things more sick or disgusting than taking advantage of people at their most vulnerable moments in life, and that’s what Dignity Memorial does.

The reason I share this with you is that I honestly wish I didn’t even know what the fucking Columbarium was. I wish you never had to die so that our parents never had to find a resting place for you. I wish I could never have entered that damn place ever. Some people say that the more knowledge you have, the better. This is an area I would be so, so happy to be ignorant to, because all I see when I think of funeral homes and crematoriums is how their owners’ eyes light up with dollar signs at the thought of people constantly dying. Death is inevitable for all of us, right? But when people like you die far too soon, it’s hardly like they care. They’re just happy to collect our dollar bills and make money off our loss of you.

Here are some things I wanted to share with you that I’ve noticed in the last year since being back home. I was actually shocked to go down to the basement and notice that it felt like there was less “stuff” cluttering the rooms than before. Our dad apparently also got rid of my entire Disney VHS collection, all your old VHSs, and CDs. All my old DVDs are gone. So those two shelves flanking the living room mantle are pretty clear (just full of dust, which our mom wants me to clean during this visit). Oddly enough, I don’t even know where the hell my wedding DVD went…?

Chris noticed that funnily enough, there seems to be more alcoholic drinks in the house. I found a bottle of Canadian whisky, a new coffee liqueur, a pumpkin-spiced coffee liqueur, and two types of ready-to-drink margarita mix — standard and even mango! Chris uses that as a little drink for himself to keep him sane while he’s here.

I spent at least four hours vacuuming, dusting, and cleaning multiple areas of the house; after filling the bathroom sink with water and cleaning just our old bedroom, the water turned black. I also had to get a tall step-stool to vacuum up a bunch of cobwebs that lined the living room, dining room, hallways, and our old bedroom. It was not fun, but it seriously needed to be done. And every time I think I am done, I find a new area of one-inch thick dust or yet another cob web to vacuum up. I have lost count of the number of spiders I’ve vacuumed up this visit.

Also, can we talk about your bed for a second? Why the hell did you ever decide to buy a new TWIN SIZED BED for yourself as a GROWN-ASS adult?! Chris slept in it two nights in a row while Kaia and I slept in my old bed, and he had horrible, lingering neck pain for days after. The bed is so tiny; as a grown adult, you can barely move in it! It’s barely even big enough for Kaia to move around, and she’s 4.5! I didn’t understand why you did it then, and I still do not understand it. You always gave yourself too little — too little credit for anything good you did, fewer things than you ever deserved.

A few days before we left for this trip, Chris asked me if I was excited to go home. I looked at him blankly and said, “Meh.” He grimaced and said we go on this trip for me, so if I feel that way, I should question why I still keep going. The truth is that I feel very “meh” about it because San Francisco is a reminder that you are gone from this world, and that hurts my heart every time I think about it. While I feel your loss in New York or anywhere else in the world I am, I feel it the most acutely when I am back home… because that was and is your home. And obviously, I feel “meh” because I know I will inevitably have to deal with our parents’ emotional immaturity, their constant nitpicking and criticism, their endless drama, lack of reasonable rationale, and the eventual and inevitable fights based on a bunch of nothing. I am not “free” here. I always feel restricted here, even as middle-aged adult with a 4.5-year-old child. You were never “free” here. But now you are free.

Kaia is starting kindergarten at a new school in a couple weeks. She’s been asking a lot about you in the last couple months because she is just starting to understand death. She keeps saying on this trip that her JiuJiu used to live here, that he’s my brother, but that he died. And so she doesn’t get to see him. She’s said this a few times now, and a few times I started tearing up. It is a loss that you never got to meet her. It is a loss that she will never get to meet you. And it a loss that I can never see the two of you interact and have any kind of relationship.

Even though our parents obviously drive me crazy, I will say that during this trip, I do enjoy the quick moments of watching them interact with Kaia a lot more. Our mom is now 72, and our dad is now 78. They are getting older, more frail, and more tired. I can see it a lot now. But I can also see they are trying with her. And so you know what — that effort is enough for me now. I’ve made peace that they will never be the parents we needed, nor the maternal grandparents I wish Kaia had. This is okay for me now. It’s no longer a mental struggle.

Maybe I just feel this way because I’ve finally reached an age or the stage of “wisdom” where I’ve just accepted life for what it is. I just let things be the way they are. Even though it’s been over 13 years since you’ve passed, I can still feel your presence in this house every time I enter and exit it. You are still here to me.

Okay, I think it’s time to wind this down and go to sleep. I miss you, Ed. I wish I could see you playing with Kaia here. I know you’d have so much fun playing catch with her and teaching her other games the way you did with me.

I love you. I hope I can see you in my dreams again soon — it’s been quite a while.

With all my love,

Yvonne

Breathing room, space, and more intergenerational family dynamic contemplation

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We spent the first two nights of this San Francisco trip at my parents, then moved over to the Marriott Marquis, Chris’s favorite San Francisco hotel (previously for work) in downtown for these last two nights. Given his status, we got upgraded into a suite, so we have a large amount of space and separate sleeping areas for us and Kaia. Every time we first enter our hotel room after being at my parents’ place, for me personally, it feels like a weight off my chest almost instantly. I feel less cluttered mentally because I have less physical dirt and clutter around me in the hotel room. I feel more peace because I don’t have either of my parents hovering over me to tell me something that Chris or I did that is wrong or not the way they do it in their house. I don’t have to feel like anyone is watching everything I am doing or lurking around the corner to give me unsolicited feedback. And because I have more open space, I feel like I have the permission to just stretch myself out and loosen up.

The physical space from my parents and their house is much needed. But I suppose it also gives me time to just think about our convoluted, complex dynamic and the fact that it has never been simple and never will be. One thing a friend of mine told me she liked about living in San Francisco and having her mom take care of her daughters from time to time was that she knew her daughters would have a closer relationship with her mom versus her in-laws, and she actually wanted that. She told me that if she were in my shoes, she’d be pretty jealous if my kid were closer to Chris’s parents than mine. I kind of wrinkled my brow at this and told her that honestly, I’ve actually never felt a remote bang of jealousy over this. All I knew was that I wanted my child to have a relationship with grandparents, period. I grew up only ever knowing my paternal grandma, and I only had her around for nine years of my life (and in those nine years, it also wasn’t that simple, either, unfortunately). I’m just grateful if Kaia has any relationship with any of her four grandparents, all of whom are luckily living.

Even though I don’t have the ideal relationship with my parents, I will say that I have moments when I am happy that Kaia does think of them lovingly, is excited to see and spend time with them, with their limited attention spans and ability to be what she needs. It does warm my heart when she has these fleeting, sweet moments with them. On Sunday when my dad showed her his remote-controlled car that lights up, spins, and even jumps up into the air, I was really amused watching how excited Kaia got and how happy my dad was in that moment teaching her how it works and how to operate the remote control. My dad is the furthest from a natural teacher, but I know he enjoys telling people how something like this works. When my mom said she had to go lie down because her back was hurting, Kaia started fussing with her, saying she couldn’t leave her and that she wanted her to stay with her. Kaia physically blocked my mom from getting off the couch, and then from leaving the living room. It was hilarious and cute, though I am sure pretty frustrating for my mom. Though my mom did feel loved from this; it was pretty obvious from her face. I couldn’t help but smile. Yes, my 4.5-year-old can be a demanding little shit, but what made me happy about this is that Kaia would not bother fussing over anyone in the same way unless she truly felt connected to the person.

My mom, unlike most traditional Asian parents, always tells me that she loves me. She does the same with Kaia. Every chance my mom gets, she kisses Kaia and says she loves her. And Kaia never hesitates to say it back eagerly and kiss her back, “Popo, I love you, too!”

No family is perfect. But I will say that there are many little moments here with my parents and Kaia that do make me happy and feel like these visits are worth it.

(I say this now. Though… I will likely change my mind in a few days when a different explosion happens).

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.

Today ends our 2-year streak of going to Manhattan Chinatown almost every weekday

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I knew today would be a bittersweet day for all of us given that it’s Kaia’s last day of summer camp at her school for the last two years in Chinatown. Tomorrow, we fly out to San Francisco, so while I wanted to get some takeout for our last evening, I knew I needed it to keep well in the freezer since we’d likely have leftovers. So after my haircut this afternoon, I walked down from the East Village to Chinatown to several locations to mark the end of an era for us:

  1. Super Taste: The divey, hole-in-the-wall Lanzhou restaurant on Eldridge Street that churns out some of my favorite dumplings and noodles in all of New York City. It was shocking to me that this tiny place, where my friend and I used to go in the early 2010s for casual and cheap dinner catch-ups, had completely blown up because of foodie influencers. It used to be very quiet, discreet, with mostly Chinese people speaking Chinese in it. Now every time I pass it, there’s a line of people of all backgrounds waiting! They’ve also expanded their menu quite a bit. Somehow, they still manage to keep their prices relatively low. Tonight, I picked up two orders of dumplings (“open mouth” fried pork and chive dumplings and zhong shui jiao, Sichuanese style fat dumplings) — 20 dumplings total for just $13! Crazy cheap for 2026, and still so, so good!
  2. Kuih Cafe: Honestly, I’ve neglected this place for the last couple of years. I was one of her original customers when she first opened in February 2020, right before the pandemic almost ended the world. This used to be a regualr stop on my Chinatown list when I’d bring back lots of little things from lots of businesses to try. I was scared, given the timing of her tiny storefront opening, that her business wouldn’t make it. Now 6.5 years in, she has a very, very loyal following with people of all backgrounds and tourists from all over the world lining up to get some of her goodies. And she’s only open three day a week — Friday through Sunday! Veronica focuses on desserts mostly (kuih and Southeast Asian style cakes), but she used to do savory dishes that I enjoyed. It had been a long time since I’d come, so she did not recognize me. This visit, I ordered the pandan mochi waffle with a taro kaya filling. I asked for the kaya on the side since I’d be transporting it home and didn’t want to get it soggy. She looked down her nose at me and asked why I wanted it on the side. When I explained this, she looked relieved (probably didn’t want to hear a story about some picky eaters who didn’t want the kaya!), then instructed me to either oven toast or air-fry the waffle promptly when I got home to maximize the texture. This mochi waffle with the taro kaya was so delicious. The textural contrast between the crunchy waffle outside, the chewy mochi inside, and the soft, sticky taro kaya was super addictive. The pandan was really fragrant. Chris only had a bite because he said he was too full from dinner, but he missed out a lot! Kaia wanted the waffle by itself after she had one taste of the taro kaya and said, “That is for adults!” Then she kept nibbling on the waffle, mumbling between bites, “Tasty! So good! So yummy!” I feel like I need to go back here more. I was behind a woman in line who pre-ordered her Mid-Autumn Moon Festival mooncakes. Maybe this is the year I actually splurge and buy them? Chris isn’t a mooncake fan, but I’m sure I could get Kaia to eat them. The only one she’d previously enjoyed was a red bean one that came straight from Malaysia courtesy of the Sambal Lady!
  3. Hay Hay Roasted: Chris asked for roasted meats, so he got roasted meat. I stopped by this little restaurant on Mott to pick up their honey-roasted cha siu. It’s a little more expensive than Green Garden Village depending on the day (Green Garden’s pricing is always fluctuating), but their lean cuts are very, very lean. And the honey flavor is subtle but done really well. I also appreciate that service is very fast, efficient, and friendly.

And then after a stop at Hong Kong Supermarket to stock up on oyster sauce (the current bottle in my fridge is only a quarter full — gasp!), I picked up Pookster, stopped by a street kiosk to let her buy a surprise end-of-summer gift she’d been asking me about since June — a K-Pop Demon Hunters themed pushy game (no idea what these things are called…), and then off we went home!

I still have too many bookmarks for the Chinatown/Lower East Side area that I haven’t gotten to. Now when I go down there, inevitably every time I come home, my shoulders will be heavy carrying a lot of goodies back, just like the way it was pre Kaia being in preschool.

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!

Pier 26 Science Playground, aka the Sturgeon Playground

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In addition to my Google Maps bookmarks of all the food and drink places I have either tried and liked or want to try by city, I also have pins and a separate list for interesting playgrounds across the city. This summer, I’ve already taken Kaia to three of them, including the Chelsea Waterside Playground last weekend and today, the Pier 26 Science Playground, also known as the Sturgeon playground, in TriBeCa. Kaia has been to this playground before with Chris in 2024, but this time, she came on a play date with our neighbor friend and her son. From their website, this is a description of the playground:

“The Playground includes custom-fabricated play structures in the shape of two endangered sturgeon species that are native to the Hudson River — the Atlantic sturgeon and shortnose sturgeon. Designed by OLIN, the same award-winning landscape design firm that designed adjacent Pier 26, this imaginative playground serves as an important educational and recreational space that further advances the Park’s extensive science and environmental programming.

Inside each of the two sturgeon structures children can explore fish “anatomy” and interact with other marine-oriented play features to learn about local wildlife that resides in the Hudson River Park’s 400-acre Estuarine Sanctuary. The play equipment manufacturer is Monstrum, a Danish firm that specializes in creating whimsical, nature-based designs that spark imagination. Hudson River Park’s River Project team advised on the scientific aspects of the design, helping to integrate science-based, age-appropriate educational features that help bring the sturgeon to life.

….

Each of Hudson River Park’s five playgrounds have been custom-designed by celebrated landscape architects to provide uniquely inspiring play opportunities for children. During warm weather seasons, each also provides welcoming water features to delight kids. Bring your beach buckets!”

A few years ago, I used to get annoyed when colleagues would make comments about how “challenging” or “interesting” (code for “WTF are you thinking?”) it must be to raise a child in New York City. Now the rare times I get comments like this, I am quick to respond and tell them that I think New York City is an amazing place to raise children — as long as you are proactive and look for all the things that kids can get full value out of, such as these incredible play spaces. And something that is available to everyone, like the New York City subway, has been such a great learning experience for Kaia. She’s able to name the trains, which stations have what transfer points, and even whether you have to go upstairs or downstairs to transfer to which line. To me, that’s true street-smartness that even adults today cannot grasp. You learn a lot when you walk a lot in a city and have to get around by public transit. You can’t learn this type of thing being in a car all the time or relying on chauffeurs to get you places. Here, she gets exposed to endless culture, lots of different types of people and cuisines — all without really needing to try; it’s incidental to living in New York City.

I loved this city before I ever came — when I just learned of it and saw a couple postcards my aunt sent me when visiting. I loved this city all the times I visited throughout my college years. I loved this city when I first moved here. And 18+ years later, I still love New York City and am obsessed with it. I’m still not bored, and it’s hard to imagine ever getting bored living here.

Mufi and her five other siblings

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Given Kaia’s growing vocabulary and more complex sentence structure, she’s been having more and deeper conversations. She retains information really well and remembers things from long ago that you’d assume would be long forgotten… or that you have forgotten. And she just loves sharing information with everyone who will listen. At school, they do lots of drawing and painting. In the last few days, she has been coming home with illustrations of our “home.” Lately, she is very obsessed with Mufi, aka Mufasa, the robot-vacuum-mop that Chris calls her “little brother.” Chris told her that along with Mufi (she nicknamed Mufasa this), she has Irene, Simon, Henry, Lychee, and Maddie (some of her favorite stuffed animals) as siblings, as well. So Kaia drew a very colorful picture of our home, showing Mufi mopping our floors (the blue streaks indicate when he’s in “mop” mode). She even drew the little black bristles to show the mop! She reported to her teachers that she had Mufi as a little brother, and five other siblings, for a total of seven babies that I have had.

“Mama has SEVEN babies?” I said to her, completely baffled. “Me?”

“Yeah,” Kaia responded matter of factly. “You have seven babies, and I have six siblings!”

Hmmm. this is very interesting.