Laser treatment: the first major cosmetic indulgence I’ve ever done

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In the last year, I’ve noticed the increase in freckles and sun spots on my face. Three have been on my face for probably the last three years, but they have not only gotten bigger, but darker. Some people look at these like they are beauty marks; I just see them on my face as flaws that I hate. Every time I’d see my mom when I’d go home, she’d take my face in her hands and scrutinize my face to see what new spots had appeared or what had gotten bigger, and I’d get really annoyed; there really was no escaping her criticism whether it was around things I was doing or what was growing on my FACE. I still remember back in March 2016 when my makeup artist was airbrushing my face for my wedding, and the sun spot on my right cheek was quite faint, but definitely there. She airbrushed over it so that it was completely invisible. And I looked at myself and thought, wow! This looks good!!

So when I made a casual comment about being obsessive about wearing a hat in the sun now because I hate my sun spots, a friend took notice and suggested I get them removed. She had already had a lot removed all over her body at a specific medical spa in Manhattan that she highly recommended. She also said she had a referral discount to offer, and that the spa did package discounts when you did four or more treatments. Since she’d had personal experience, I figured it wouldn’t hurt to do a free consult. I did this back in June right before we left for South America. The esthetician gave me some suggestions on treatments, and since I wanted to think it over given it would be a small fortune, one that I’d never, ever thought I’d spend on something cosmetic for myself, as it just seemed too indulgent, I had a custom facial instead, which I thoroughly enjoyed.

After noodling it over, I finally decided to try one laser (Excel V+) treatment. I had it done yesterday, and it was an interesting experience. On target spots, it felt like very tiny pricks on the specific areas. And on the entire face and neck area, it felt like a very hot beam of light being blown lightly all over the general area. My esthetician gave me calming and cooling treatments, finished off my face with SPF 45, gave me information on what to expect the next few days, and sent me home with a post-procedure skincare kit to rejuvenate my skin and protect my moisture barrier.

As expected and as the esthetician had discussed, my face and neck were quite red after, and the target spots were starting to darken within just a few hours. They’re all supposed to darken even more for the next 2-3 days until they crust over and fall off. Then, the spots are supposed to get lighter, and some may even fully disappear in the next week or so. It typically takes more than one treatment to completely eliminate these spots, especially since they took ages to grow and accumulate (that’s Asian melanin for you). Of course, I was hoping I’d only have to do one treatment to see significant or total change. But we’ll see in about a week or so how lucky I am… or not.

This is, by far, the most indulgent thing I’ve ever spent money on myself for. I hesitated on it for a long time before committing to a single appointment. But I figured – I’m in my 39th year of life. I’m only getting older and will get more wrinkles, white hair, and health issues. I might as well give myself this small indulgence now while I’m still semi-young and enjoy how I look while it lasts! Plus, my peers are spending tons of money on their regular gel and acrylic manicures, constant hair treatments, and $200-400 monthly facials, so…. why not do this for me?

When mom finally calls after not speaking for five months

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While Kaia was having a poop dance yesterday morning, my mom decided to call after five months of not speaking. She wanted to confirm what my plan is while I’m in San Francisco later this month. I had texted both my parents separately to let them know I’d be back in town the third week of August. My dad simply asked, “Shouldn’t you notify mom?” and apparently did not tell my mom I sent any message. I texted my mom, and she never responded.

Of course, she makes it out like she’s some innocent, perfect mother who is mistreated by her daughter. She said she didn’t understand why I never called to tell her we were coming. I reminded her, in my most monotone, level voice, that the last time we spoke on the phone, she accused me of not calling when I had, in fact, called, four days in a row, because I was angry she didn’t send Kaia money regularly. Of course, she got mad at this because she can never find fault in herself. “Why can’t you just learn to forgive? I’m your mother! I do EVERYTHING for you! I raised you!” she shrieked. It’s funny to me every time she makes hypocritical comments like this because she never forgives anyone for anything they’ve done to her. She still holds grudges against my aunts and uncle for things they said/did when she first came to the U.S. in the ’70s. But, I assume all of that is completely fine by her. She then said that before this, she had “never” done anything to hurt me before. The delusions never stop. She really could not be more removed from the truth.

She said that while I am at work Monday to Thursday of the week I am in town, I should leave Kaia with her and my dad so that they can get some quality time with her because they never get to see her. She said she is always hurt by me, that she knows I favor Chris’s family bc we spend a month in Australia (she doesn’t seem to remember that Chris’s parents come here and proactively visit us, and that, amazingly, the time spent together is pleasurable, unlike the last two visits my paernts made to New York, when it was total pandemonium and hell for everyone involved).She said I should stop being unfair to her and my dad and at least give them 3-4 days with her while I’m in town to build a relationship with her.

This is the stupidest idea possible. And it’s like she is so divorced from reality that she cannot see what is wrong with this and why Chris and I would never allow this to happen. I pointed out at the last time we came two years ago, it was not enjoyable for anyone because they picked fights with me almost every day I was at the house. When they had the opportunity to have quality time with Kaia, all they did was watch TV and go on random walks and clean random things in the house and then go to additional JW meetings that they didn’t have to go to. They basically ignored the fact that their granddaughter was around. Had she already forgotten they did this? Plus, they wouldn’t even physically be able to care for her. She’s not a baby and will be running around everywhere. They’d never be able to catch up. My mom had this ridiculous idea that she could just “watch” her play all day and do nothing else. Does she think she will sit still that long…? My mom got really angry when I pointed this out and said that she didn’t want to fight; she was tired because she knows she can never win with me bc she knows my bad attitude. It’s always lovely that she’s consistently eager to point out the things I supposedly do to hurt her, but I can never say anything about all the things she and my dad do to hurt me.

I told her, maybe if she actually acted like she wanted us around, maybe if she stopped criticizing me constantly, maybe if she actually was warm and hospitable, maybe I would want us to stay more and longer. But that’s not reality. She didn’t take this message very well. I was able to keep my voice pretty level the entire time, especially since Kaia was there doing poop dance, though of course, she thought I was yelling when I wasn’t. It’s the same crap every time, her “I’m being persecuted and am completely innocent” attitude.

I’m like a broken record. It’s delusional. She’s constantly jealous of someone, in this case, Chris’s parents. And she makes it seem like I’m the one who prevents her and my dad from seeing Kaia. She does pretty much everything to prevent herself from having a relationship with her grandchild. She’s just blind to it all because she is perfect in her eyes, and the rest of us are evil.

I said I’d stay at the house for the two weekends, but I had a schedule. She insisted that I “not go anywhere or see anyone” as per usual and only stay at the house. It’s always about her… no one else matters or is important. No, I won’t stay in her prison. I will stick with the schedule I’ve made and she will just have to suck it up. I’ve changed plans due to her tantrums more than once before, and I will not do it ever again. I’m almost 40 years old. I’m not putting up with her drama anymore.

Potty training progress, Day 3

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Today is Kaia’s third and final day stuck at home, naked, before going back to school tomorrow, when we’ll send her with clothes on (obviously), “commando” with no underwear, no diaper… and lots of extra sets of clothes in the event of an accident. This is what Day 3 looked like:

Day 3: 8/5:

Pee:

Potty: 10 (5 consecutively right before bed…. Chris said she was “playing” me to delay bedtime as long as possible)

Floor: 0

Poop:

Potty: 1

Floor: 3 (2 small, one big)

She’d been holding her poop in since Saturday. On Saturday, when she was sitting on the potty for a while, and we had assumed she was trying to pee, she actually let out a tiny poop. We found it, but she clearly had more to let go but was scared. It’s clear based on our progress while naked that she is happy to self initiate pees and loves peeing in the potty, but she is terrified of pooping in the potty. She let out two little poops on the floor throughout the first half of the morning. When she couldn’t hold it any longer, she let out a massive (ADULT SIZED) poop right on our floor by the dining table. It happened so fast right behind me that I literally was facing one way, turned for about five seconds, then turned back, and PLOP! There it was: the long-awaited, held-in-for-days, big, stinky long poop right behind me. And there was Kaia…. grossed out by her own poop, who had accidentally already STEPPED in the big poop and tracked it all over our floor and up her back. She kept moaning after she pooped it out: “Ewww! Poop! Poop! Yucky! Don’t touch! IT IS GREEN!” (It was mostly brown, but yes… it did have a tint of green, likely from all the gai lan and yu choy she’s been eating). I immediately grabbed her, put her in the bathtub for a half shower, chest down. I proceeded to pick up the poop with tissue (it was so big that it required TWO pickups!!), dump it in the toilet, and then flush. And finally, I sprayed almost half the dining/lounge area floor with my sanitizing spray and scrubbed it like there was no tomorrow. Kaia watched the entire process, fully fascinated. And we kept repeating over and over, “Poop goes in the potty. Poop goes only in the potty. Poop does NOT go on the floor/steps/mummy/daddy/etc.”

So now the next question is: how do I get my sweet Pookster to NOT be afraid of pooping in the potty?

The Oh Crap! potty training method, in progress with the Pookster

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Late last year, I was the lucky recipient of the Oh Crap! Potty Training book by Jamie Glowacki via my local Buy-Nothing group (it was a random number generator win of at least 10 hopeful parents!). Multiple parents, mostly colleagues and friends, had told me that this book was the only book/resource I needed to potty train Kaia. Many online summaries and knock-off methods existed, but this book was an absolute must, the parents all insisted.

I didn’t finally open it to read until a few weeks ago, and I was pleasantly surprised that I actually enjoyed reading the book itself. It wasn’t a boring “manual” that felt like a chore to read. It breaks down potty training into theory, methods, and steps, along with data-backed advice for what to do any time certain challenges or regressions came up. There’s a lot of empathy expressed for the child in terms of their attachment to the diaper/nappy (I mean, from their perspective, a diaper is all they’ve ever known since minutes after birth, right? So cut them some slack!). The part that I really did not expect (I read no reviews prior to opening the book) was the author’s humor. The author swears a lot (a lot of people negatively review the book because of this – it’s a style of humor, so they can get over themselves). She makes a lot of jokes about parents over-parenting, over scheduling, micro managing their kids (if you are upset by this, you are probably guilty of one of these offenses and should, again, get over your snowflake self). She is happy to call out bad parenting practices (over indulgence, coddling, letting children not get potty trained until past kindergarten, etc.) and how they can be harmful for children’s overall development. She can be very blunt. And I love ALL of it. There were a number of times I’d read this book before bed and chuckle out loud to myself. So when a close friend told me that this book gets slammed by a lot of parents and has endless negative reviews, I wasn’t the least bit surprised: people take things way too personally, especially regarding children and child-rearing, that of course a book like this was going to offend a large handful of parents out there. What ever happened to… reading a how-to book (written by someone who has thousands of data points to reference, as in clients she has personally potty trained herself, plus parents she’s consulted with through 1:1 and through her potty training classes), taking a grain of salt when applying it to your own life and child, and moving on? One review said that her husband was “in tears” after reading the book because it kept referencing “mothers” and only had “cliff notes” at the end for fathers, and he felt very left out. Oh, cry me a fucking river. The entire world has been targeted to men for all these centuries and left out women, and not until very recently were women included in the conversation (or research!). So get over yourselves.

We finally started her classic Block 1, three-day method on Saturday. Kaia ran around the apartment naked and will be through Tuesday morning, when we send her to school (ideally with no diaper or pull-up, just in shorts/pants, which is what Jamie calls “commando”). Each time she shows signs of wanting to pee/poop, we prompt her (or push her) onto the potty, so she gets the message/socialization that pee/poop is supposed to go in the potty. Amazingly, she actually has been self-initiating a LOT. This is what the first two days of data looked like:

Day 1: 8/3

Pee:

Potty: 8.5

Poop:

Floor: 2.5

Potty: 1

Floor: 0

Day 2: 8/4:

Pee:

Potty: 2.5

Floor: 1.5

Poop:

Potty: 0

Floor: 0

We’re also trying to night train as well, which means we have to estimate when she will pee, lightly wake her up and suggest she get on the potty to pee. Unfortunately, it’s been two nights of wetting the bed and missing her actual pee windows. But the good news is she doesn’t fight getting on the potty and goes willingly in the middle of the night. And to protect the bed (and keep from excess laundry), Chris has placed her play mat on top of her bed as a barrier, PLUS the hospital waterproof cover we had when Kaia was born. Chris’s creativity is paying off with less laundry loads. And Kaia is on her way to becoming diaper-free. I didn’t expect to feel sad and emotional at the thought of her getting to the next stage of development and becoming diaper free, but here I am. I am getting a little teary eyed that my little baby is growing so quickly into a big girl who no longer needs diaper changes. She loves to scream “JIA YOU!” and “I DID IT!” after a successful pee in the potty, and after she dumps her pee from her little potty into the toilet.

Drama with the in-laws on the other side of the world

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I’ve probably joked multiple times (maybe half joked) that there’s no way that I could divorce Chris because I love his family too much. His parents have welcomed me into their family with open arms and always treated me with love, care, and affection. His mom has probably gone out of her way to be sensitive to my feelings, even being a bit too careful and making me wonder why she felt a need to walk on egg shells when framing certain questions she’s asked me. This year marks 12 years of having a relationship with them, and at some point, I really think she should just let her guard down and not be so careful about hurting my feelings with relatively reasonable questions. His dad has always been warm and amiable, always generous at even the most unexpected moment. And with Chris’s brother, I probably see him as close to a real brother as I possibly could. We even squabble and debate like siblings sometimes. We definitely complain to each other like people who have known each other forever.

I have never taken for granted the fact that every year I’ve gone to Melbourne for Christmas, they have always opened their home to me and asked me to treat it like home away from home. That’s a LOT of Christmases between 2012 and now; the only years we did not go back in December were 2017, 2020, and 2021. In total, we probably stay about 2.5-3 weeks total given we do a side trip somewhere else in Australia, and usually end somewhere in Asia. But when you think about it, that’s a lot of time to spend in someone else’s home. I always thank them multiple times throughout the stay for their warm hospitality and eagerness to make me feel comfortable and welcome in their home. It’s especially important to feel welcome in someone’s home when you are traveling halfway across the world.

So when I heard that my friend, who lives in San Francisco, was told directly a number of times that she and her family probably shouldn’t stay longer than two days at a time at her in-laws’ home in Singapore, especially given her young kids were loud and screamed, which caused the mother-in-law a lot of mental distress, I felt hurt myself. San Francisco to Singapore is not a short trip, and on top of that, they’re always there for about a month, which is a LONG time. So to think they are unwanted when so far away just seems like daggers for the sake of daggers. While I felt hurt for my friend, I felt even more grateful for my own situation and how I’ve never, even for a moment, felt that way while in Australia. I am really lucky, really beyond lucky.

Unexpected therapy

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A friend of mine has been dealing with a lot of usual life challenges: a stressful job, the job layoff her husband has recently experienced, a judgmental, critical, and cold relationship with her mother-in-law, a passive aggressive relationship with her sister-in-law (who she has been actively trying to get closer to, but said sister-in-law keeps rejecting), the stress of raising two strong-willed young children (one of whom has become, in her words, “a little monster,” and the second who is an entitled brat who seemingly wants every new toy that comes out ASAP). So it was kind of like the cherry-on-top of all her stressors when she discovered, earlier this year, that the house she owns and once lived in, which has been rented out, a place she hoped to move back to some day… the tenant occupying it hanged himself in it. He was discovered by his ex-girlfriend. And my friend and her husband had to deal with the aftermath and clean-up of it. This was really the incident that tipped her over the edge.

My friend and her family are superstitious, so they hired a Buddhist to do a cleansing ceremony of the house. But it wasn’t enough. My friend said the house would always be ruined for her. She had so many happy memories in the home, especially since her first child was born while she lived there, and she just could never imagine that something so awful would happen in the same space.

For the first time in her life, she sought therapy. But the person who saw her was the epitome of why a lot of people avoid therapy: they think most therapists are idiots who will just give them trite advice. That’s what this therapist did until she finally phased her out. She told her things like, “carve out some time for yourself during the day… even ten minutes,” “go on walks alone,” “meditate,” “hire a babysitter to make time for yourself.” No one wants to hear this crap, especially given the high rates that therapists charge (and even when your health insurance is fully covering it).

Later on, she saw someone who was recommended by a relative for a massage, but the appointment time for the massage ended up becoming a talk therapy session, as when the massage therapist asked her how she was doing as she entered the space, my friend just broke down crying. The massage therapist lightly suggested she didn’t need a massage and it seemed clear to her that she needed to talk it out. So they did just that for an hour. And my friend said that one 60-minute session, which was never intended to be talk therapy, was better than all of the many sessions (over a few months) combined she did with that idiot Kaiser therapist she saw and then dropped.

As it is always stated and known by most of us who have had challenging upbringings, she said that it all “goes back to childhood.” She takes on all the burdens because she once tried her best not to be a burden to her mom when her dad died unexpectedly when she and her younger brother were young. She always wants to have the front that she’s put together, can handle everything and more… even if she cannot. But this was really becoming all too much.

I suggested she try seeing another therapist, as it was clear that talk therapy could help her as long as she found the right person who asked the right questions. I think talk therapy could benefit the majority of people as long as a) the person is open-minded enough to pursue it, even if just for a little while, and b) they have a competent therapist who can ask the right (and oftentimes challenging) questions.

Birthday call

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I called my dad today to wish him a happy 76th birthday. Unfortunately, he did not pick up, so I’m hoping he saw my missed call. Afterwards, I texted him to say happy birthday, and that a gift would be arriving in the next few days from the three of us. I’m not sure if he will call back since he never calls me.

When I first graduated from college, I used to call my dad on his birthday every year, assuming that I wasn’t in town at the time. But I started realizing that he never called me. He might send me a birthday card or a birthday email, but he never reached out on my birthday. I didn’t really love it, though I know he’s just socially awkward in general. And I recognize that any acknowledgment is better than zero acknowledgment. But it never made sense to me that my dad never wanted to wish his only daughter (and now, his only living child) a happy birthday by voice. So in recent years, I’ve actually stopped calling. I send a birthday card or gift, and I usually text to send happy wishes. But that’s really it.

I hope he calls back. But I don’t want to hope too much since oftentimes when we raise our expectations, they’re just never met. As of today, he’s now officially lived 12 years longer than both his own father and his older brother. I hope he feels like he’s had a life better lived than the two of them did.

Kent mango vs. Ataulfo mango: which is better?

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From March through July of each year, our household is loyal to Ataulfo mangoes, also known as champagne mangoes. They are relatively small, yellow, and have a sweet, honey-like flavor. The flavor is a bit one-noted, but it’s always deeply satisfying. The flesh is also a deep yellow/orange color and never fibrous at all. Very occasionally, I will buy Kent mangoes, which I always refer to as the Mexican mangoes available in the U.S. that are much larger than Ataulfo, but far less flavorful. They are also a bit hit or miss: you can easily get one that may smell fragrant, but once you cut into it, it’s stringy and fibrous. And as we all know, texture can be just as important as flavor in a piece of fruit. Who wants a stringy mango?

It’s been clear since we returned from our South America trip that the Ataulfo mango season is coming to its end. So while we haven’t bought any of these, while in Elmhurst this past Saturday, I came across a fruit cart that sold these huge, fat Kent mangoes, three for $5. I also remember a few people saying in my social media feed that this year’s harvest of Kents were at their very best. So I figured that $5 is a good price to try these out.

After I peeled and cut my Kent mango, I noticed a few things: this large Kent mango yielded about 2-3 times as much flesh as a single Ataulfo mango. The flesh was not fibrous at all, but on the paler yellow side when you compare it to the Ataulfo mango’s deep yellow/orange hue. This is not relevant to taste at all, but the Kent mango skin was much thicker than an Ataulfo’s, making it a bit more resistant to peeling (and a tiny bit more challenging as a result). And when I had a few chunks after cutting it up, I noticed that the flavor was more citrusy than an Ataulfo’s. An Ataulfo is more honey-like, almost creamy and rich. The Kent flesh is more juicy than it is creamy… if that makes any sense. I enjoyed both of them, but I think the flavor is much stronger in an Ataulfo than in a Kent.

And so, our love and preference for Ataulfo mangoes continues while we are in the U.S. Though, I will still buy Kent mangoes once Ataulfos are harder and more expensive now that we’re entering the month of August, assuming I find them at a decent price. I can’t say no to a mango (unless it’s flavorless and/or stringy!).

Thai jasmine rice: Hom Mali and government certification

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I’ve been listening to Pailin (of Hot Thai Kitchen)’s new podcast, Sabai, like it’s my new best friend. I’ve been following her for years now. For the longest time, I thought that Thai food was too difficult or required too many ingredients to make at home. After watching just a few of her videos, I’ve realized that it’s actually quite approachable, easy to execute (well, most dishes…), and has quite the overlap with Chinese and Vietnamese ingredients I normally buy. Thai food is exactly what she says: if something is different than what you are used to, then you think it’s strange or too difficult. Pai does an amazing job demystifying Thai food and making it seem like easy home-cooking for anyone.

Pai recently had an episode where she and her cohost, Hong Thaimee, discussed rice. I had no idea what a commodity real Thai jasmine rice was. Unless we buy white or brown basmati or Japanese medium grain rice, we normally buy white/brown jasmine rice that is always imported from Thailand. But Pai and Hong specified in their rice episode that because Thai jasmine rice has become so popular, many “fakes” have come out in the market from Cambodia, Vietnam, and Laos, and the quality and fragrance just are not the same. So they insisted for true authenticity, we had to look for the green circle logo for Thai government certification, which has some grains of rice in the image. And if we got this, we would know for sure that we were getting premium Thai jasmine rice of the highest quality. Of course, I’d take any recommendation Pai gave me, so I took a screen shot of the government certification image and saved it on my phone for future reference.

Yesterday, I went down to Manhattan Chinatown and visited my favorite Vietnamese market to pick up some more white jasmine rice. And I realized that the rice I had previously been buying actually *was* Thai government certified, and it wasn’t too expensive (five pounds for $7). Well, this was an exciting discovery: I had already been buying the “in the know” rice before I actually knew! I also picked up a bag of purple rice since I still had some space in my backpack. I ended up walking eight pounds of rice, a bottle of light soy sauce, and a small bag of Chinese bakery goodies, all the way from Chinatown and eventually up to Koreatown. I think that’s my rucking for the day.

Getting older: Different vibes in the same places

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My friend is visiting from San Francisco this week for work, so we went out to dinner tonight at an izakaya in the East Village. While the food was fine, it wasn’t anything to get excited about, and there was no “wow” factor in any single dish of the small plates/bowls we ordered. It was a bit of a downer (and when I shared this with Chris, he poked at me for glorifying the East Village dining scene… which is probably fair in this case). But at least it gave us some quiet time to catch up without many others around. Similar to how we would “open” restaurants in Uruguay and Argentina, we ended up being the first guests to arrive at 6pm here, and no one really started coming in until around 7:30 when we getting towards the end of our meal.

Afterwards, we chatted while walking all the way up to Koreatown, where we ended up at HHD (Heuk Hwa Dang), an international Korean franchise of bubble tea, croffles, specialty drinks, shaved ice, and coffee. Unusual for Koreatown, the space is very large, with plenty of tables, as well as large “step” seating, and the menu for desserts is huge. So we shared a massive mango strawberry “snowflake” (it’s essentially a shaved ice, except with shaved sweetened milk “ice”), generously topped with freshly cut fruit, jellies, and some soft-serve vanilla ice cream. As we spoke, we realized that our own voices had to keep getting louder and louder because we were surrounded by other people who were at least 10-15 years younger than us, talking and laughing loudly while enjoying their own shared snowflakes.

My friend chuckled and said, “It’s as though I can’t hear because it’s so loud in here… I keep straining to hear you! Are we getting older and just can’t tolerate this much noise, or are the acoustics here just that bad?”

It’s probably a little of A and B. We prefer quieter places to catch up when we see each other since we don’t see each other too often living on opposite ends of the country. Yes, the acoustics were pretty poor. But it was comical to think that while we would have been happy spending hours hanging out at a place this loud and young in our early 20s, now in our late 30s, there’s definitely a limit to how much time we want to be at these places. We don’t necessarily blend in because of our age and how we dress into crowds like these anymore. And as much as I love the East Village, I am definitely on the older side when it comes to people wandering around its streets now, even if I can still pass for much younger.