What changes in ten, twenty-plus years

I feel like every time I come home to San Francisco, I notice yet another thing that has changed. I hadn’t passed 6th and Geary Blvd in ages, and I was shocked while walking along Geary yesterday to see that the entire area that used to be the Ashley & McMullen family owned funeral home was not only demolished, but completely replaced by a multi-story condominium building. There’s no way this happened in just the last year, and I guess I hadn’t passed this part of Geary to notice it. I don’t know why that felt so strange to me, though; condos replace older buildings all the time everywhere, especially places like San Francisco that have a housing shortage. Both my grandma and my uncle had their funerals at this funeral home, in 1995 and then in 2000.

The Alexandria theater at 18th and Geary is still abandoned and looking worn down, a pigeon-poop filled home that is blocked off to humans by aggressive gating. Gaspare’s, the neighborhood Italian American restaurant in the Richmond, still seems to be going strong; we ended up getting takeout pizza and clams with linguine from there on Friday night for family dinner at home. B. Patisserie, a popular (and at that time, very innovative) bakery run by a Chinese American female pastry chef that opened in 2012, is not only humming along in the same location on California at Divisadero, but they have even opened a second location in the heart of downtown now. We went there yesterday and enjoyed some pastries and coffee before walking to Japantown. While I was there, I thought about the week and a half I spent at home in November 2014 because of my dad’s scheduled bypass surgery. His hospital was walking distance from the bakery cafe, so I remember meeting my friend there for lunch one day, and also going there on my own a separate time to decompress a little.

On Friday, I took Kaia to the South Park playground to play while I caught up with an old friend there who drove out to meet us. She was meeting Kaia and also seeing me as a mother for the very first time. It was funny to be in that area after so long, as the last time I remember being in South Park, it was summer 2003, when I had a full-time summer writing internship at WireTap Magazine, a now defunct youth magazine that was owned by the Independent Media Institute (which also used to own Mother Jones). Over twenty years ago, I was an aspiring writer in high school, and today, I am living across the country and am a mother. The play structure had completely changed in the children’s play area, yet the park and surrounding buildings all felt the same. Even some of the fancy cafes that were there twenty years ago still remain today, like Caffe Centro.

People always say things like, “If these walls could talk….” The truth is that there are memories that are conjured every time you walk through old hallways, streets, and neighborhoods that you had frequented, especially when you call the city or town your childhood home. The memories are always a mix of happy, sad, infuriating, and even indifferent, but they are ultimately what colored our lives at a given point in time. Because Kaia is with me, I can see the city through her eyes now. On this trip alone, I’ve lost count of the number of neighborhoods we’ve taken her to and playgrounds/play areas where we’ve played: the Richmond, the Bay Area Discovery Museum in Sausalito, Chinatown, North Beach, South Beach, downtown/the Ferry Building area, the Tenderloin, Noe Valley, the Fillmore. I love watching her run around and play on these local playgrounds. Of course, they are not the same as the playgrounds and structures I played on as a kid, as all of them have been redone regardless of the neighborhood. But when I asked her if she likes San Francisco and being here, she vigorously nodded, “yes.” And that made me feel warm and fuzzy inside.

San Francisco Columbarium – changing hands, charging higher prices, and reducing quality of service

Back in July 2013 when Ed passed, the San Francisco Columbarium was owned by the Neptune Society. About a year later, it changed hands and got acquired by Dignity Memorial, the primary brand of Service Corporation International (SCI), which is North America’s largest provider of funeral, cremation, and cemetery services. They own over 2,000 locations across the U.S. and Canada. I never realized it changed ownership. My parents took care of all of Ed’s arrangements plus their future arrangements ahead of time. I wasn’t even aware of the change of ownership until today when we visited Ed.

Over the years, the service has been really strange and inconsistent. They used to provide a decent coffee/tea machine in the main lobby. That has been taken away. They also had a really practical and logical digital directory where you could look up a loved one to see exactly where and in which hall their niche was located. All of these things have been removed. There was a period when they actually closed as early as 3pm (WHAT!) on random days of the week, and we were rudely greeted by a locked and chained up gate when we tried to drive in. Today when we visited, the main door to the Hall of Olympians, where Ed is, was locked. The sign on the front said to sign in at the front desk before getting admitted. It made no sense to me. We did enter through a side door that was closed but unlocked, and an employee was walking around from the main office and asked us to keep it closed for security purposes. But, there’s no ventilation or air conditioning inside, so I started sweating almost immediately upon entering; it wasn’t even that hot outside, as it was likely 69 or 70 F when we arrived, but inside that hall felt like a sauna. Chris insisted to the employee that the door at least be kept open during our short visit, so the worker relented and said it was okay just while we were there.

This annoyed me for a few reasons. Clearly, vandalism was a concern here, but the security guard who used to walk in and around the Columbarium in previous years was gone. So this led us to the conclusion that they probably stopped paying for security services (because they want to cut costs) and instead wanted to keep all the doors locked. That’s extremely unwelcoming and creates an uncomfortable visitation experience for families and loved ones of people who are interred here. My parents paid over $20K for this niche, and the service has declined over all these years to the point where it feels like we’re getting ripped off. Yet there’s nothing we can do about it.

One of the workers who helped me cut flowers to put into Ed’s little vase made it pretty obvious she hated working here and wasn’t treated well. “But no one else would hire me,” she lamented in a bitter tone. Before she expressed this, she said that it was tolerable to work here, “If you do every little thing correctly and follow all the rules and make no mistakes.” Ouch.

In general, I have always hated the death industry. It’s a necessary one (sort of), but one that preys on the grieving, on the vulnerable mental states of those who have lost… and many who have lost too soon, like us with Ed. This whole experience was pretty infuriating. The only thing that made me feel better was when Kaia kept peering into Ed’s niche and waving to him. When I told her it was eventually time to go, she said “bye bye” one last time… walked away, but then ran back twice to look closely at her JiuJiu before finally taking my hand and walking out with me.

I don’t know when I will first have a real conversation about Kaia’s JiuJiu with her. I am sure that at some point in the next couple of years, she will ask, and I’ll have to figure out the right, age-appropriate way to explain this. But regardless of how the topic gets brought up or which way the conversation goes, I have a feeling that she will respond with empathy and love. She is not even four years old yet, but I can see my Kaia Pookie seems to care deeply and have concern for others, even those she has not even met.

My mom’s first ride in a Waymo

On Saturday when we went to the Ferry Building Farmers Market, my mom said she wanted to come with us while my dad waited for workers to come remove the staging in front of the house from having the facade painted. I figured it would be a good idea since now that she hasn’t worked in over two decades, she rarely has any reason or desire to go downtown. Plus, she would never be interested in visiting any San Francisco farmers’ market without me. Before we even arrived in San Francisco, Chris had declared that he wanted to take Waymo, the self-driving cars, as much as possible while we were within city limits (Waymo only works within the city and on local roads now). We took it a couple times while back here in August 2024, and Chris was eager to have the self-driving experience again.

So without telling my mom, Chris ordered a Waymo to appear at the house to take us to the Ferry Building. When it was coming up the block, my mom panicked when she saw it and asked if that Waymo was for us. “Oh, no, no, no!” she cried. “I’m not getting into that! This is so dangerous!” I urged her to get in and not make a fuss. We buckled in Kaia with her ride-safe belt as she giggled in glee and excitement. “WAYYYYY MOOOOOOO!” she kept yelling happily. Kaia is absolutely obsessed with Waymo and can spot any of them from far away on the street or through the window. Every time she spots one, she yells out, “WAYYY MOOOO!”

When the doors closed and we started the ride, my mom began to calm down. She liked the welcome message, that it says hello and urges you to fasten your seat belt and enjoy the ride. She loved how clean the car was and the (at-the-speed-limit) speed it was driving at. And she especially loved the message that came at the end when you are approaching your destination — it reminds you to take all your belongings, and not to leave your phone or wallet in the car. “Oh, that’s so nice!” she laughed at the auto reminder message.

Later, my mom admitted to me that she was really scared and didn’t think that self-driving cars should be legal. But then once she got into the car, she realized how comfortable, clean, and nice it was. “It’s so clean and well maintained!” my mom exclaimed. “And it drives so safely (read: slower)!”

The very first time I got into a Waymo in August 2024, I was a bit leery initially. But after the first 30 seconds, I got used to it right away and love it. As Chris loves to create verbal bullet points for all the pros of self-driving cars, his points are all true: these cars are safer. You don’t have to worry about a driver judging you for any reason (what you look like, how you talk, what you talk about, how long it takes you to load the trunk/get in the car/get your child properly fastened in). There’s no need to feel rushed when getting in and out of the car because the driver will negatively rate you. If you need to take a phone call or call someone, you can do it without annoying the driver. You also don’t have to worry about whether you are slamming the door or trunk too hard, whether you are bothering your driver with any seat preferences you may have (some Uber/Lyft drivers really don’t like it when you sit in the front seat alongside them). And you have full control over things like heating/air conditioning and music and can calibrate them yourself.

And as someone who has always hated driving and hasn’t driven a car since 2008, I think that self-driving cars really should be the future!

The moment I wanted to bash my mother’s face in

Before I became a mother and would tell older colleagues and friends that I’d never trust my parents with my future children alone, many of them scoffed at me and said I was just saying that. They insisted that once the reality of how expensive daycare, nannies, and babysitters are had hit me that I’d relent and give in — to allow my parents the pleasure of having “quality” time with their grandchild, and also to relieve my bank account from paying exorbitant sums for mediocre childcare.

Kaia is over 3.5 years old now, and I still have not relented. And the few moments I do, I regret it because she gets exposed to all kinds of dangerous things just in my parents’ house. Their pills, both vitamin supplements AND prescription medications (who the hell can keep track of which is what?) are scattered all over random surfaces and tables and benches. My mom leaves sharp knives and scissors in her reach. My dad has razor blades and high blood pressure medication just inches from her little hands as though it’s no big deal. And the place is just filthy with mouse droppings everywhere. She got her hand and foot snapped in mouse traps. And to make things even worse, my mom refuses to listen to me when I tell her not to give her any candy. My parents’ house has so much candy in endless forms in every nook and cranny of the house that I cannot even keep track of it all!

I got so mad at the cob webs all over the walls and ceilings of the bathroom — these have been there likely since the pandemic and no one has made any attempt to clean them up. So, this morning just before 8am, I took out my dad’s old vacuum, climbed up on top of the sink, and started vacuuming. Both my mom and Kaia were confused as to why I was vacuuming. I looked at my mom and said, “Do you think these cob webs are clean? A spider will come bite and kill you!”

Shortly after my vacuuming stint, my mom said she was leaving for her JW Sunday morning. So I figured we’d have some quiet time in the house before we left to meet my friends and their kids for a morning at the Bay Area Discovery Museum. But then Chris came over and asked, “Why is Hoj outside with your mom?” Confused and annoyed, I went outside to see that my mom was standing in the driveway, and Kaia had already run up half the block on her own, completely unattended. I could actually feel the blood rushing to my face to see her just standing there, looking down at me. I ran up to her, grabbed her hand, and walked her down with me. The driveways are small and narrow on this block, and the visibility is low when cars are backing out. A driver could easily miss someone of Kaia’s size when backing out. Not to mention that at the top of the block is Fulton, one of the busiest, high traffic, and high speed streets in the Richmond District. What if she had run all the way up there on her own and gotten hit by a car? So many awful, deadly incidents could have played out if the timing were all wrong.

My mom stood there, looking at me helplessly when I brought Kaia back down to the house. “My leg hurts!” She cried in defense of herself. “I have a dislocated disc! If I ran after her, that would be it for me and I’d be dead!”

I could barely contain myself. It was like fire was coming out of my mouth. “Anger” didn’t even describe exactly how infuriated I was. “WHY DID YOU TAKE HER OUT OF THE HOUSE?” I screamed at her, knowing full well that this was in public in the early morning and could easily wake up the neighbors, but I truly did not care. She needed to hear how stupid and irresponsible she was. “SHE COULD HAVE GOTTEN HIT BY A CAR COMING OUT OF A DRIVEWAY AND DIED! SHE COULD HAVE DIED BECAUSE OF YOU! HOW CAN YOU NOT SEE WHAT YOU DID WAS WRONG?! YOU WERE JUST GOING TO STAND HERE AND LET HER GET HURT? WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?”

My mom proceeded to protest, but nothing mattered at that point. If I got any closer to her, I would have wanted to bash her face in and inflict serious bodily harm on her. The idea of my little daughter, my only baby, dying on the watch of my mom was far too much for me to bear or think about. All I could think was, first, you let Ed die, and then, you want to let your only grandchild die, too?! I slammed the gate and then the front door so she would realize how badly she fucked up.

Well, that was naive of me. After 39-plus years of dealing with her twisted logic, her lack of rationale, her constant victimhood, her holier-than-thou attitude, apparently I refuse to accept that she will never admit wrongdoing in any situation where she was, point blank, in the wrong. Of course, my mom wouldn’t acknowledge she did anything wrong. When has she ever admitted fault in her life with Ed or me even once? Instead, she spent the rest of the day thinking… how dare her daughter raise her voice and yell at her, her mother. How dare she be so cruel to me. When Chris brought Kaia back to the house before I came home from my spa afternoon, my mom confronted him about the situation to try to “explain” what happened — all defensive, zero remorse. Regardless, he wasn’t going to deal with her; that was my job since she’s my mother. He simply told her to keep Kaia in the house and walked away.

Then when I did laundry this evening, once again, she tried to defend herself, saying she would have died if she tried to run after Kaia (the cripple sob story because she just let her 3.5 year old grandchild out of the house, completely unattended where cars could potentially hit and kill her — no big deal, right? If she ran, she’d push her disc further out of alignment, and thus her back would be ruined and she’d die, etc.). My mom said she was upset because the real problem was that I actually had the guts to yell at her. “What kind of child speaks to their mother this way? What kind?!” Refusing to admit wrongdoing is a theme in my family – and something I want to break the cycle of.

“You can talk to your husband or your mother-in-law like that, but never to me! I will not accept it!” she hissed.

I insisted she was wrong, that she put my child in danger, that I could never trust her to care for Kaia, that neither of them could ever be trusted with her unattended; and how insane that she would ever suggest I leave Kaia with her at home while I went out with my friends. “She would be dead by the time I got back!” I yelled at her.

I ended the conversation by walking away. I refuse to normalize stupidity and irresponsibility. I refuse to accept child negligence and constant verbal abuse and gaslighting — even of adult children. I will not.

Kaia expects visitors at dinner now

Last week, Kaia got to be in the company of Chris’s cousin, her husband, and their baby for three days at dinner time. This week, she had Chris’s friend unexpectedly visit and have dinner with us on Tuesday. Then yesterday, our friend came over to see and play with her before she and I went out to dinner together. So, she’s been quite used to having company over. And Kaia being Kaia, she loves being around people and being social in her very toddler-esque ways. So when we came home today, she asked if “friends” would come over. I told her that tonight, we’d have no one coming over, that it would just be the three of us before we got ready for bed and got on a plane to go to San Francisco tomorrow. She gave me a very glum face and said, “I want friends to come,” and then demanded that my friend’s husband come visit (the friend who came yesterday).

I love watching Kaia interact with our friends and family. I love seeing her build bonds and attachments to them. And I also love seeing how she connects partners to partners and siblings to each other. This is my sweet Kaia Pookie making sense of the socially connected world we live in.

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.

Kaia Pookie’s caring side

When I picked Kaia up at school today, she immediately asked if “my cousin Harriet” would be at home waiting for her when we got back. I said yes, we’d all be eating dinner together. And then she said she wanted to run into the bakery next door to her school so that we could pick up something for Harriet to eat. Granted, Harriet is only four months old, so she would not be eating any solids yet, but I decided to humor Kaia and pick up a few baozi (including one pork floss bao for her) for Harriet’s parents’ breakfast the next (and their last) morning with us. And I guess indirectly, Harriet would be eating the bao since if her mom eats it, she would get it through the breast milk she is being fed. But we didn’t have to explain that to Kaia just yet!

I love seeing how caring and affectionate Kaia is with others. She’s always thinking about others, and she wants them to eat and be happy. Even though Chris used to joke and say that hypothetically, Kaia would be a very jealous older sibling, I always think quite the opposite: she has shown love, care, affection, and empathy from a very young age. I can imagine her doting on and being a very helpful older sibling if she ever had a younger sibling in her life. I love seeing this side of her come out when she’s in the presence of children younger than her; that’s my sweet baby growing up.

The homemade apple sauce that was not received well

Kaia has really loved eating whole apples since she was about 18 months old. Sometimes she will eat the slices when we make her eat the apples sliced, but most of the time, she prefers eating whole apples. And when I say “whole,” I mean she will eat about a quarter or a third of the apple, get bored, and then decide she is done and hand it over to us (oh, the toddler stage!). As you can imagine, Chris and I are not fans of this as it’s extremely wasteful, nor do I want to eat her partially eaten apple (but well, I usually do since I’m anti-waste. Chris could care less, so he just tosses it). So whenever possible, we will slice the apple up and make her eat the slices. In the last few weeks, she’s grown tired of apples and has refused them. At school field trips, the teachers will pack lunches for the kids that include a small whole apple, and she has not eaten them. So she brings them home to us. They’ve gone into the fruit bin in our fridge, along with a couple Pink Lady apples Chris bought. I decided we couldn’t waste the apples (I am not the biggest fan of apples, especially in the summertime when there’s so much good warm weather fruit!), so I decided to use the leftover apples for apple sauce for Kaia. Kaia loves apple sauce. She used to have it occasionally during snack time at her last school. I’ve been buying Trader Joe’s organic apple sauce (the only ingredient, supposedly, is apples) in a large jar to use in healthy baked goods for her. Sometimes when we bake together, she will ask for some apple sauce to eat on its own, and I’ll indulge her and give her a small bowl; it’s her “treat.”

I used two types of apples, some water, and a splash of apple cider we had in the fridge. Even after simmering for an hour, the apple pieces had broken down, but there were still some small soft chunks. It was a bit more watery than the Trader Joe’s apple sauce, but I figured it would thicken as it cooled. I tasted it, and I actually thought it tasted better than the jarred apple sauce — as it should, right, because it’s homemade?

I told Kaia she could have some homemade apple sauce yesterday, and she got really excited. When I presented it to her and she took a spoonful and put it in her mouth, Chris said her face immediately turned, and she didn’t seem to like it. She asked for a “different” apple sauce.

I insisted to her that this was “real” apple sauce, and I said the other apple sauce was “fake” (okay, that’s not really true, but that’s what came out of my mouth). As if she knows what any of this means! She then declared, “I want fake apple sauce!”

I’m not buying the TJs apple sauce for a while, so I said no “different” apple sauce.” Chris force fed her the rest of the homemade apple sauce bowl he doled out for her. I ended up eating the rest of the homemade apple sauce, which I actually found pretty tasty. And it acted as a good after bite while eating Xi’an Famous Foods spicy noodles for me!

Cute Kaia Pookie goings-on lately

Whenever we arrive at our subway station, Kaia likes to go up the stairs and wait for the elevator to get to ground level. When we wait for the elevator, she always checks out all the OMNY card machines, getting her fingers all over the touch screens. She also enjoys peering into the change slots to see if anything is in there. Well, she got lucky earlier this week when through the clear slot, she saw that someone had left their change in there. She shrieked with joy and yelled out, “Mumma, I found money!” I walked over to the OMNY card machine and realized she was right: someone left three quarters in the slot. So I told her she could take the money out, and she carefully held all three coins tightly in the palm of her hand on our walk back home. She was so proud of herself for finding money that she immediately declared it to Chris as soon as she walked through our front door.

What this ended up leading to, though, is that on subsequent waits for the elevator up, she now expects to find money in the slots and gets upset when she doesn’t find any… which is, well, every time other than that one time. On Friday, she said she’d wait at the machine until the money “came.” No way. I immediately whisked her into the elevator to prevent a wait-for-absolutely-nothing situation.

Tonight at bedtime while I told her all the things I say to her before bed, I said to her my usual in English and Chinese, and she finished the sentences: “Mumma loves Kaia more than anything. You are the best thing that’s ever happened to Mumma. Mumma is grateful for Kaia every day. So, every day, mama takes care of you, protects you, and loves you. Did you know? Mumma is so lucky to have Kaia Pookie!” And then she said in response, for the very first time, “And Kaia is so lucky to have Mumma!” I gushed and squeezed her in my arms and covered her face with kisses, to which she giggled endlessly and then gave me kisses all over my face.

And then after peeing in the potty, she proceeded to terrorize me by not going to sleep and playing with literally every toy or stuffed animal in sight until past 9pm before finally passing out from exhaustion.

I love being a mother. I really do. It’s given me so much perspective on life and love and just being. But what it’s also reinforced to me that with everything you love… comes all the things that piss you off to no end. And you really cannot have one without having the other. That goes for pretty much everything in life: your spouse, your kids, your career, your home – it applies to every single thing. The things you love about your spouse are also the things that will make you want to punch him in the face. The personality traits of Kaia that I love are also the ones where I just think to myself, “Can you please just shut the fuck up and go to sleep now and stop being so damn cute all the time?”