“Who’s my sweet baby?”

Posted on by
Reply

There’s a lot of repetitive parts of parenting a young toddler. Not all the repetition is boring or annoying, though, as many people would assume. Some of the things we do on repeat are sweet, affectionate, quick moments that will remain in my mind as some of my most treasured moments. And this is one of them for me.

Sometimes, when Kaia is in a happy, affectionate mood, usually while we’re in bed reading before bed, I will hold her and say, “Who’s my sweet baby?”

She will immediately light up and break out into a huge grin. “Kaiaaaaa!” she will say in response.

“And who’s Pookie?” I will ask her.

Kaia: “Kaiaaaaaa!” she will excitedly yell back.

“Who’s Pookster?” I then ask her.

Kaia: “Ummmm, uhhhh. KAIAAAAAAA!!!!” she will giggle and squeal.

“And who’s Hoji?” I ask her.

Kaia: “Uhhh, uhhhh, KAIA!!!!!!” she keeps giggling and squealing. Then, she’ll bury her head into my neck or lap.

Kaia has so many nicknames, so many signs of love and affection. I hope she doesn’t ever forget how deeply she is loved not just by her dad and me, but by so many others.

Dragging your unwilling “three-nager” along the streets

Posted on by
Reply

The “three-nager” year was always supposed to be challenging. Most of my friends who have older children warned me that while everyone seems to talk about the “Terrible 2s,” people seem to talk less about the “thrilling 3s” or “three-nager” year, which is actually far more frustrating and triggering. Logically, it makes sense: while the 2s period is hard because toddlers realize they are individuals separate from others and their caregivers, they do not have the vocabulary to vocalize what they want. That’s what makes the 3s period even more infuriating: they have not only the knowledge that they are separate, but also now, they have the words to vocalize that they simply don’t want to do/say what you want them to do/say.

Because Kaia was jet lagged last week, the second half of the week, I took the stroller with me to take her home because I didn’t want to carry her all the way home myself, as I did the first few days of the week. I was going to take the stroller again on Thursday, but Chris told me to stop using it as a crutch for her: she has to realize that she is expected to walk, and that she has no choice but to comply. Well, this didn’t work out very well. As soon as she saw I had no stroller in the school corridor, she refused to walk even a single step. I dragged her arms into the elevator, then dragged her out of the school building. I proceeded to drag her across the street on Grand, right in front of Hey Tea where she decided to just sit on the ground, when a Chinese grandma walked up to us.

“Hey, pretty girl! Why aren’t you doing what your mama says?” the grandma first said in Toisan, then in Cantonese, then in Mandarin. “You have to be guai guai and listen to your mama. Can you go with her?” Then she turned to me. “What’s wrong?”

I told her that she refuses to walk. She shook her head. She proceeds to start lightly scolding Kaia in Toisan and Mandarin, telling her she has to do what her mama says and be guai guai, so she needed to get up now and walk. Finally, Kaia relented, got up, took my hand, and walked to the subway station with me.

We got on the train. She got her favorite window seat and then started yelling at me for two stops, saying she didn’t want me to sit next to her. I told her I had the right to sit next to her, and if she didn’t want me to sit next to her, someone else could. She didn’t like that, so she continued to yell. There was a power outage at our stop, so we ended up having to switch trains and get off at 57th and 7th Street, meaning we had to walk even further. I felt like I was in hell.

I had to carry her out of the subway, and then she laid on the ground, refusing to walk once again. I dragged her a block. Then she finally walked several blocks between dragging. I tried to reason with her. I felt many sympathetic eyes on me as I switched off dragging, carrying, and letting her sit and lie on the dirty ground. Sometimes, I got worried in the moment that I could potentially dislocate her arm while dragging. She cried the entire way from 57th and 7th Ave to home and did not stop once we got through the door.

It doesn’t matter how many toddler books you read (I’ve already read four), how many articles you read on early childhood development, how many “experts” you consult with, or how many parent friends you have who advise you. This period is just beyond difficult and infuriating. You want so much for your child to cooperate, but she refuses. And it’s even worse when you’re outside and it’s SO COLD. I don’t even really care about all the people passing by who are looking; I care more about the cold and wanting to go somewhere inside where it’s warm!

And I get it: she’s in this weird transition stage of no longer being a baby and recognizing that in herself, but also not necessarily wanting to be a “big girl.” She’s said it multiple times, and I try to tell her that being a big girl is fun, that we all do it, and she is not alone. She has us, she has her teachers, and she has her friends. And we all love her. I don’t think I’ve ever had my patience tested more than in this period. So I suppose this is also a learning stage for myself as her parent, as in, how not to lose my shit, to try not to yell, and to try my best to be as empathetic as possible to her… because transitions are really hard. They are hard for adults. And they are especially hard for littles like Kaia.

I’m 39 today.

Posted on by
Reply

A former boyfriend of one of my best friends used to say that Asians always look good, that they age well… until they don’t. He had this fictional graph where the X-axis showed one’s age, and the Y-axis was “good looks.” Asians were high on the chart as they aged… until they hit somewhere between 55-60. At that point, their “good looks” would come crashing down and they’d basically become a pile of leathery skin, endless wrinkles, liver spots, and grey hair.

I think I know what he was trying to say. The truth is that when the average person thinks of aging, they immediately think of things like white hair and wrinkles. But “aging” shows up differently for non-White people like Asians. For people who look like me, the things that stare back at you in the mirror, reminding you that you are no longer in your teens or 20s, are things like this: sun spots, freckles, teeny tiny fine lines, less fat on your face (yes, really), which means that your bones stick out more, and you start noticing “angles” on your face, like around your eyes and cheeks, that you never saw before. Of course, Asians will wrinkle. And of course, we will get grey/white hairs, as I already have some. But those are the things I see when I scrutinize my face now at age 39 that I never really took notice of until this time last year.

My metabolism is slowing down. Since I weaned off breastfeeding two years ago, I’ve never been able to totally work off the extra belly fat right in my lower abdomen; the flat stomach I once enjoyed seems to be just slightly out of my reach no matter how much cardio, exercise, and strength training I do. I’ll need to rethink my strategy on dealing with this in 2025. Sometimes now, when I eat very spicy hot food, which I love, I get more mucus in my throat — the same annoying side effect my mom has been telling me she’s been experiencing as she’s aging. That deters her from wanting to eat hot food, which she always loved and grew up loving.

But it’s all okay. I’d like to think I am smarter now, wiser, that I see life with more shades of colors and all its nuances. Unlike in my early life, there’s really no such thing as something or anything that is all good or all bad, all “hero” or all “villain.” Every person in our life is part villain, part hero, whether we want to admit it out loud or not. I have more perspective now. I’ve never had a single moment when I wished I were in my teens or 20s again. I like having more money and more financial stability. I’m a lot more confident in literally everything I do, from the way I walk on the street to how I conduct myself at work. I tolerate far less bullshit, abuse, and questionable treatment from literally everyone and anyone. It takes time to be comfortable in one’s skin. And so here I am, in my 40th year, happy to grab life by the balls and make sure that every moment is a moment worth living and speaking my truth.

I’m so fortunate and privileged to have the life I’ve had, full of meaningful, fun, vibrant experiences, travels, people, and tastes. Sometimes, I cannot believe how much fun I have had in my life, what good fortunes I’ve been able to enjoy, the kindnesses I’ve experienced all around from those closest to me as well as total strangers in everyday life and struggles (like the ones who stop and try to coax my child when she refuses to walk and wants to lie on the dirty sidewalk…). I hope that things will only get better from here on out, even with all my sun spots, fine lines, and grey hairs coming in. And I can only hope that my daughter will appreciate me for all of it.

Eating in the Lower East Side in your late 30s

Posted on by
Reply

For most of my adult life, food has been one of the things in the center of my world. I think about what I am going to eat today, tomorrow, next week. I think about things I am going to make, ingredients I am going to buy for things I will make, and what and where I will eat which things. One of the fun parts about living in densely populated places like New York City is seeing how creative restaurants can get with a compact amount of space. It’s a bit dizzying at times to see how small the spaces are that restaurants cram their patrons into, and even more amusing to see how servers manage to get food out to diners without crashing into people and things.

In my early 20s, I always found this fun. I didn’t mind waiting in lines for highly sought after and trendy restaurants. Entering my 30s, I got more into making reservations and not waiting. And once I had a child, I definitely found my patience waning at the idea of queuing up to eat anywhere. Plus, I like having more space. I don’t veto crammed spaces, but I definitely do not seek them out at all.

Last night, I met my friend in the Lower East Side to eat at the super popular Okiboru House of Tsukemen. Tsukemen, as a ramen style, has never really picked up here in New York despite brothy ramen having its moment. I’ve always loved it, though, because with tsukemen, or dipping ramen, you get to appreciate the texture and taste of the noodles themselves more. The broth for dipping is also a lot more concentrated in flavor, so everything just has more of a punch. Okiboru has been a darling with food influencers across social media. When they first opened, people waited hours to eat here, as well as at their sister restaurant, Okiboru House of Udon, which specializes in Himokawa style udon — ultra wide, flat, and bouncy noodles. These are very unlike the long, fat, round udon that most of us have familiarity with. My only hesitancy with eating here was that I really did not want to wait, and I was banking on the fact that it was 26 F tonight, so maybe that would deter the crowds.

I was right. We met at 5:30 for our early dinner and got seated right away. As we slurped our noodles, though, more and more people came in. And with that, the acrobatics of the servers came to light. We saw so many close calls with bowls of broth, buns, and fries nearly getting knocked over because of the tiny counters and the extremely narrow walking space between the counters and the wall seating that it almost became a bit of a spectator sport, watching the servers get through. All it takes is one sudden, unexpected move by a seated patron to cause steaming bowls of broth to spill all over another. This is not a place I would ever take Pookster to, or really, any more than a single person. It just would be too hectic, not enjoyable, far too crowded and tight. Sometimes, you want to go out to eat to… relax. This is a place for a quick conversation to enjoy your food quickly, and then leave.

Of course I loved our tsukemen. This spot is a place I’d willingly go back to just for the quality of the food. There’s just a time and place for everything, and this is not a place that I’d ever think of to luxuriate or relax at all.

When a 13-minute subway ride turns into a 30-minute one

Posted on by
Reply

Because I am going out with my friend tonight, I switched off with Chris and did drop off at school for Kaia. Drop off was really smooth. Unlike in the evenings, she was eager to walk all the way to the subway station and on the stairs. She happily held my hand most of the way and as always, peered out the window in wonderment as the train went fast and as we went through different stations. The train came and went quickly without any hiccups. Kaia even walked all the way up the stairs getting out of the station once we reached Chinatown. Because we got there a bit early, and I hate waiting in that little corridor in front of her school, I took her to my favorite fresh rice noodle shop, Yi Ji Shi Mo, so that I could pick up a fresh jug of soy milk. I brought her to the front of the school as soon as the doors opened. She ran in, and out I went to pick up a few produce items. When I got back into the subway station, I saw there was. 10-minute wait until the next train. And then when the train finally came, it kept stalling at stations and between stations. Later on, the conductor said that there was a signal malfunction at 59th Street (that’s my stop!), so we’d continue to have long waits until we finally reached my end point.

So, while I was lucky to get to school quickly and efficiently today, I was not that lucky on the way back. End to end, I probably spent 30 minutes on the train today for what is typically a 13-minute ride. It was annoying and not fun at all, though I was lucky since I didn’t have any calls until 11am. There are certainly pros and cons of relying on the subway, especially when it’s only 26 degrees outside and all you want to do is hibernate under some thick blankets.

First time making Burmese tea leaf salad

Posted on by
Reply

As part of my Christmas gift, Chris got me a bunch of ingredients, some ready to eat, some raw, to make Burmese food. Though we love Burmese food and are particularly obsessed with Burmese tea leaf salad, also known as lahpet thoke, I’ve never made any Burmese food ever. Although we are surrounded by endless high quality Asian supermarkets in New York City, most Burmese ingredients, other than standard things like rice/egg noodles, chickpea flour, fish sauce, etc., still seem obscure. I guess that makes sense when you realize that the number of Burmese restaurants in the city can be counted on a single hand.

The tea leaf salad is actually really simple to make with everyday ingredients like peanuts, lettuce, tomatoes, cucumber, onion… but the catch is that the dressing has one key ingredient that tends to elude most of us, and that’s fermented tea leaves. Technically, any high quality tea leaf can be fermented after being spent, but the fermentation process for optimal funk and complexity of taste is two to three years long. As much as I love the idea of not wasting my spent tea leaves and repurposing them into a tea leaf dressing, I have zero desire to have a jar of fermenting tea leaves in my apartment for the next 2-3 years. So, with the package that Chris got me, it included fermented tea leaves in multiple forms: straight up fermented tea leaves, tea leaf salad dressing (all ready to eat, maybe with just some added lime juice and garlic, and individual portions of tea leaf salad dressing for one serving of salad.

So today, I finally opened the ready-made packet and created my salad mise en place: I added minced red onion, chopped cucumber, diced tomatoes, shredded baby gem lettuce, fried garlic chips (from the Burmese package), roasted chana dal I made this morning, roasted peanuts, roasted sesame seeds, and the tea leaf salad. I added some minced garlic and drizzled freshly squeezed lime juice on top. And it was delicious – just like in the restaurants!

I guess this means that more Burmese tea leaf salads are to come at home!

3-year doctor’s appointment takeaways

Posted on by
Reply

Kaia had her 3-year wellness checkup at the doctor’s office on Friday. While she has never enjoyed going to the doctor, this visit was by far one of the worst visits ever. At her 3-year appointment, we’re supposed to do a vision screening where the medical assistant asks her to identify shapes on a chart. She refused to comply and just kept saying no. She was also supposed to have her blood pressure taken for the first time. The nurse practitioner kept emphasizing how fun it would be since she could press the black balloon herself. Kaia was not having it; she screamed and cried and moved endlessly; we weren’t able to do either of those things. It was even a struggle to get her to stand on the scale to take her weight. It took me about 5-6 tries to finally coax her to stand on it long enough for them to get her weight.

The nurse says her height has sky rocketed over the last year, but her weight… has not. Her BMI (a shitty and outdated metric for evaluating “health”, but anyway) is just at 3 percent, so the nurse said, “She’s technically underweight for her age.” Then, she proceeded to tell me that sometimes, height takes off first, then weight, or vice versa, and that given Kaia looks healthy and her height is good, she’s not worried. She has an active lifestyle and is a toddler. But, (there’s always a “but,” isn’t there?) just make sure she’s getting a healthy, well-rounded diet that includes plenty of fruits and vegetables, lots of “healthy, lean protein,” whole grains, and all the usual things you’d expect to be suggested.

So I kind of kept mocking the whole line around “healthy, lean protein” while at home until Chris got annoyed with it and told me to knock it off. It just seems so ridiculous to me: Kaia has ZERO problem eating. She eats adult-sized portions of so many things. At school, the admin says she has a huge appetite and eats pretty much everything; she’s never shy about asking for seconds. I still remember one of the teachers — how her eyes bulged out and how big her smile was when I asked how Pookster ate at school: “Oh, she eats!” she responded gleefully, giggling a bit. And given that she gets breakfast, lunch, snack, and supper at school, and she also has breakfast and dinner at home on weekdays, Kaia is essentially getting six meals per day five days a week!

When does the obsession over weight ever end?

Kaia shares and warms up with her frenemy

Posted on by
Reply

For the most part, Kaia loves kids. She gets excited whenever she sees children around her age and slightly above. She loves seeing babies, and she especially loves to call out when she hears a baby crying. She has gotten along well with kids at her last and current schools, and she’s even had “besties” identified by her teachers. She’s a very social child and loves being the center of attention. She’s loud and boisterous, and while she loves her peers, she has also been known to attempt to be a teacher’s hog/pet.

But one thing that has always been a little strange is that with one of my friend’s daughters, who is about seven months younger than her, she tends to exhibit “frenemy” type tendencies. When asked to say hi to her or acknowledge her, Kaia rarely does in her presence. She tries to take this friend’s toys when she’s around. She won’t share toys or food with her, even though this friend will happily and eagerly share with her. Frankly, her brattiness level just skyrockets when she’s around this friend.

But we had a catch up / play date with them today, and for once, she actually seemed happy to see her. She smiled when she saw her and seemed protective over her when she was napping in her stroller. When she woke up, Kaia perked up and got excited. We spent some time in our building’s play room this afternoon, and while they definitely played *around* each other, they also played with each other and chased the other around and around. When it was time for them to go, Kaia was visibly sad. She gave her a hug and said bye. After they left, she asked why this friend had to leave and go home.

“Why can’t she stay here with us?” Kaia asked me with genuine sadness in her eyes.

Well, it’s good to know that she’s finally warming up to this friend… finally. These things always take time.

HK vs. NY: independence always threatened, plus the case for more public restrooms

Posted on by
Reply

While wandering around the streets of Hong Kong and using its fast, efficient, and super clean metro, I thought about how similar New York City is to Hong Kong. Both cities are densely populated. Both have subway systems that the majority of its citizens rely on. Both have a fast paced nature. People in both cities live in relatively small and expensive spaces. It’s not uncommon in either city to hear that people rarely, if ever, cook, and most eat almost every single meal out. Both also are notorious for having very intense, grueling work hours yet exciting and late night party scenes. People also love to say that the people of New York and Hong Kong are rude (as a New York resident, I do not believe this is true. As a former New York tourist, I never thought it was true. And as someone who has visited Hong Kong twice, I do not find people ruder there than anywhere else at all. In fact, I think people are generally kind in Hong Kong, and they are far more kind to those who have young children/are pushing a stroller and who are elderly).

There are obvious differences, though, other than culture and language: wages and salaries are far lower overall in Hong Kong despite sky-high costs of living, for one. Hong Kong is a Special Administrative Region of China, which means that its independence, or perception of, is constantly in threat. Hong Kongers want to stay separate from China, but China sees them as part of “One China.” Some hawker on the street who tried to sell Chris and me some lame shoe cleaner made some small talk with me while in Guangzhou. He asked where we were from and where we had been during our travels. I told him we had come from Hong Kong, and his response was, “Oh, so you were in China. You know Hong Kong is China, right?” Of course, a Guangzhou resident would say that, but I think you’d be hard pressed to find anyone who lives in Hong Kong who would say the same thing. Being in Hong Kong, it’s like you’re in one country, yet also in another. And the rules can change just like that, and you as an individual would have zero control over it.

The other difference that more immediately sticks out to me as a visitor is this: Hong Kong has endless clean and glorious public restrooms. It felt like every few blocks we’d run into one. I never had to worry about cleanliness or availability of toilet paper or whether there was enough soap. In New York, public restrooms are so sorely lacking that it’s an embarrassment. And when you are able to find one, it’s unlikely to be a desirable or even mildly pleasant experience. And how funny that in the last few weeks, The New York Times published an op-ed to make the case for more public restrooms in New York City; how timely!

Missing freshly pressed soy milk while back home

Posted on by
Reply

This last week back in New York has been a bit of a blur. It’s been a mix of adjusting with Kaia’s jet lag and being back in school, getting back into the swing of daily morning workouts and getting Kaia ready for school, into the usual humdrum that is full-time remote work, and all the usual day-to-day things when you are back to “real life.” Instead of sumptuous and complimentary Chinese breakfast buffets, I’ve been forgoing breakfast as I usually do and having only tea until lunch time. I’ve been having little fleeting daydreams of enjoying freshly pressed, hot soy milk each morning to start my day. Sometimes, it’s just the little things you miss while traveling that stay with you, and this, for me, is one of them.

I had to pick Kaia up from school a bit early today because we had scheduled her for back to back dentist and doctor’s appointments this afternoon. But I asked Chris if there was anything he wanted from Chinatown that I could pick up. He responded and said that given all the great food we’d had in the last week in Hong Kong and China, plus the amazing Asian food we had while in Australia the previous three weeks, he really did not feel like… anything.

And the funny thing was… neither did I. Guangdong and Hong Kong are as close to my paternal roots as I can get, which means that they are really the the main types of food I grew up eating. Yet even I came up with blankness when I thought about what I wanted to get from Chinatown, as well. So, in the end, I actually didn’t get anything.

For our weekly Friday takeout, we ended up having Mexican/Peruvian tonight from a food truck nearby we liked. And yes, it really hit the spot.