Precious moments amidst the tumult and chaos

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The Atlantic recently published an article entitled, “Why We Long for the Most Difficult Days of Parenthood.” It’s about how parents of older children always tell parents of younger children to cherish every second because time will pass all too quickly. Your child is born. You blink. And suddenly, they are off to college or starting their very first job. Everything in between very quickly becomes a memory in the back of your mind. While all this is true, every parent can attest to the fact that the first few years of their child’s life tends to be the hardest; you are caring for a tiny human who is 100 percent helpless and thus 100 percent dependent on you, so you don’t get much time to yourself. And so these parents of older children reminisce on those tough times, those sweet times, and say they wished they had cherished those moments more.

I can relate to this a lot. Parenting a young one is no joke, especially when you’re exclusively pumping in the first year or so. Even towards the end of my pumping journey, right before bed, instead of reading or listening to podcasts, I would sometimes just watch videos spanning the previous year, when Kaia was just a newborn, a babbling baby, a crawling baby, and eventually a pulling-up-and-cruising-along-furniture baby-becoming-a-toddler. I would marvel at Kaia’s chunky little face, made fat from all the breast milk I pumped, and her chunky arms and legs that I always said I wanted to eat. I would tear up when I’d hear her first babbles and giggles or when I’d relive her first smiles and stuck-out tongues. I partly took so many videos because my friend said exactly this, that she wished she had taken more videos to just record the SOUNDS her kids made as babies because she missed the sweetness and cuteness of it so much. Even now, as Pookster is learning new skills and saying new words every single day, while I love it, part of me is a little sad that my baby is growing so fast, almost too fast. I just want to bottle her up, cup her face in my hands, and pause this moment to enjoy her in her sweet (yet rebellious) toddler phase of life.

The other morning, I coughed and ran into the other room to grab a tissue while she was eating breakfast in her high chair. As I blew my nose in the other room, I heard Kaia yell, “Are you okay, mummy-dear?” I came back into her view and smiled at her.

“Yes, mummy is okay,” I assured her. “Mummy just had to blow her nose, but I’m back now!”

I just dissolve into a puddle when she expresses love and concern. I just want to squeeze her nonstop in these moments. My baby is slowly but surely learning empathy. She’s also been especially affectionate this week, constantly asking Chris and me for hugs and kisses. She’s also repeatedly asking for kisses and hugs at bedtime, which I’m obsessed with.

I am not able to capture every single moment in photo or video, as it would be nearly impossible considering how quickly they all happen. But to fill in the gaps, I am writing about these moments in this blog so that I can document her development in a written manner to revisit them one day, and to one day have her revisit them from my perspective, as well.

Hidden, forgotten emails in your inbox reminding you of the past you want to forget

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Before I switched over to Gmail in my mid-twenties as my primary email, I still used my Yahoo email address often. Now, it’s been relegated as my “shopping/email list” email address, aka sometimes junk, sometimes fun email. Back then, my Yahoo email was my primary email that I’d use to communicate with family and friends. Randomly today, I accidentally clicked on a folder called “Unread,” which didn’t make any sense because I had read all those messages. It was mostly a lot of messages that were (somehow) marked as “Unread” and still bolded as though they were never opened. And also oddly enough, a lot of these messages were between Ed and me. Most of them dated back to around 2006-2008, but the themes across the messages seemed to be the same: I would urge him to look for a new job or move out of our parents’ house. He would tell me in very short messages that our dad was constantly criticizing and putting him down, making meals out “very unpleasant” when it was just the three of them (our parents and him) to the point where he couldn’t enjoy the food. He repeatedly said he had no moment to himself in their house because once he was home and they were there, too, he was expected to be at our mother’s “beck and call.” If she called his name out and needed help with something, it was expected he would drop everything he was doing in that instant and come immediately to help her. It didn’t matter how trivial the task was. If he didn’t come in that instant, she would, of course, yell and talk about how “useless” he was. Our father, on the other hand, would just criticize him constantly during any interaction with him. When he wasn’t criticizing Ed, he’d be ignoring his very existence under their roof. When Ed would work late and sleep in the next morning, our father would barge into the bedroom, where the main house’s computer was, go online, and blast whatever random music, video, or news he wanted as though my brother wasn’t even there attempting to sleep. Sometimes, it would be as early as 7 or 8am — he just had no regard for my brother’s existence at all. Yet, our dad never did any of this when I’d come home and be sleeping in that same room. The difference? He actually respected me, but he had zero respect for his older son.

It’s sad to read these short exchanges that we had. It rarely was safe for us to talk on the phone with each other because one of our parents would inevitably be lurking in the next room, waiting to hear my brother say something negative about one of them and pounce on him. So, he’d usually wait until they were out of the house to call me. And if that didn’t work, he would occasionally call me from Macy’s, where he used to work, or just email me. In one of those emails, dated in April 2007, he wrote to me while I was in college with one line: “When are you coming back home?”

I stared at that email for a couple minutes today and just felt so sad. There was some deep sadness in that message that I detected, as though he was just wallowing and needed someone else there who he trusted who didn’t look at him like he was a piece of shit. No one should ever feel that way about themselves, especially by their own parents.

Then, my blood pressure went up again. And the wrath came back. You can forgive a lot of things. But these things can never, ever be forgotten.

Cost of eating out in New York City – at least $30 for a basic meal

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A friend and I went out to lunch today at a Korean soup spot that I’ve been wanting to try for a few months near Koreatown in Manhattan. It had been getting quite a bit of buzz, as it originally started as a pop-up from Korea, and also because it literally has just two things on the menu: dweji gumtang, which is a pork bone broth rice soup, and kimchi mandoo stuffed with kimchi, pork, and tofu. The gumtang is the main dish; the mandoo is simply an appetizer. There are a few non-alcoholic drinks you can order, as well, and that’s it. The entire restaurant is counter seating around the open kitchen where all the two servers are doing is serving you those two dishes. For two bowls of gumtang and one order of mandoo, with tax and tip, it cost just over $60 for two of us for lunch.

Yesterday, Chris, Pookster, and I had lunch at a nearby dumpling/noodle spot with my cousin and his wife, who were in town for a work conference. We didn’t order anything fancy at all: two orders of dumplings, two orders of noodles, one order of stir-fried rice cakes, one order of dry-fried string beans, and one beef/scallion roll wrap. The total bill, including tax and a 20% added gratuity because we were a party of five or more (yes, toddlers count as a full head), was $170. For four adults and one toddler (I’d like to call her half a person :), that’s $37.77/head. That’s a LOT of money to spend on a casual lunch!

My colleague, who lives in New Jersey, told me that when he and his wife met with friends in the city for dinner the other night, though they each only had one cocktail/glass of wine, their bill was over $200/person. I told him that it didn’t surprise me at all given the cost of eating out now. $30-40/person for lunch seems normal. So why would $200/person for dinner be unheard of? I’m sure their cocktails cost at least $18-24, while their wine was similarly priced, which would then mean their food would probably cost even more. This is the “new normal” cost range when it comes to eating out now, even for seemingly basic food like pork broth soup.

New school, new neighborhood

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This late afternoon, I went to Fort Greene in Brooklyn to attend a friend’s birthday event. It was held at a German restaurant-beer hall and had a fun, casual, family-friendly vibe. I was pretty disappointed that they wouldn’t let me order schnitzel a la carte (they force you to order it in a set with several sides, which I wasn’t hungry enough for). I was even more disappointed when they told me that they didn’t have the apple strudel on their menu; they actually hadn’t had it in months, and the servers kept trying to tell the owners to take it off, but they wouldn’t remove it. Surprisingly, the pretzels here were actually good. I had half of a pretzel, which I never eat because I usually find them bland and boring, and this one actually left me feeling pretty satisfied.

I asked my friend why he decided to have his birthday event here given he and his family live in Forest Hills, which he said is about an hour’s commute from this spot. Their 1.5-year-old daughter just got accepted at the only Japanese immersion school in all of New York City, which was walking distance from this part of Brooklyn. And so they wanted to come here to check out the neighborhood since they would soon move here to be closer to the school.

Moving is an expensive, tiresome nuisance. But for the right school, families will move, not just here in New York, but all over this country. Who wants a double commute on the train twice a day to pick up your child from a 2s program or preschool? They really enjoy living in Forest Hills, but they are set on a Japanese immersion school, and given there’s only one in all of New York, the choice was made for them. I guess they are happy they were lucky enough to get a spot, and the neighborhood is a nice one. But now that they will be moving from Queens, I will have one less reason to visit Queens. And for food, I’ve always been partial to Queens over Brooklyn. But this is the life of parenting: you make choices (and sacrifices) for your children.

Evolution of names: from “mama-ji” to “mummy dear”

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About a month before we left for Australia late last year, Kaia randomly came home from school one day constantly calling me “mama-ji.” She continued to say this while we were in Australia, which cracked up Chris’s mom because “ji” is usually added to the end of a name as a sign of respect in India. It’s why you oftentimes hear people say “baba-ji” in India. And since coming back from our trip, she stopped saying “mama-ji,” but now it has evolved into “mummy dear” or what occasionally sounds like “mummy-daah!” For Chris, she greets him by saying “Daddy-ma! Daddy-ma!” “Daddy” now always ends with a “ma.” We’re not sure if one of the books they are reading in class is doing this or if she heard another one of her classmates call their parents by these terms or similar ones, but we’d assume so since we definitely do not hear these things in what we expose her to.

It’s been really cute to see how the way she addresses us has evolved. What I hope will never happen, though, is that she won’t start calling me or addressing me as “Mother.” That would annoy me to no end. It already sounds annoying to me when Chris refers to his own mom as “mother.” It feels very cold, formal, almost borderline hostile, as though you don’t feel any warmth or endearment towards your parent if you have to refer to them so formally as though you just took the dictionary term for them and slapped it on.

Stranger friends who tease, but never commit

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I have a friend who lives in New York City who I haven’t seen in almost two years, come next month. She got fired from her job early in 2022 unexpectedly, and since it happened, I have only seen her twice. In April 2022, I took her out for lunch to celebrated her belated birthday. That was the last time I’ve seen her. In June 2022, we were scheduled to catch up over tea at a local cafe, and she declined just three hours before, saying she couldn’t make it — no reason, even after I asked a few times after if she was okay. I checked in with her over text and phone several times that year, but she would always give cryptic responses and never commit to seeing me. Last year, I just let it go; if she wanted to see me, she could reach out whenever she wanted. I eventually found out she got a new phone number, deleted her Facebook account, and was “starting over.” She messaged me on her new number to save her new number and said “let’s catch up soon,” but never committed to a date. She said she started a new job, and in November of last year, she asked to see the opera together. When I suggested a date/time, she said she couldn’t go anymore because she lost her job. Then, she kept saying we would catch up soon, but no dates suggested.

I was so confused. What was going on?

I made multiple efforts over the last month to see her, yet again, she still wouldn’t commit. So I messaged her to let her know that I care about her and have worried about her, but if she kept refusing to commit to see me, it would drive me away, and I would actually stay away and not contact her again. I’m 38 years old. I’ve experienced a decent amount of trauma in my life and unjust experiences. I do not need excess baggage in my life, and I definitely do not need anyone in my life who doesn’t want to be in it. She said she appreciated my directness, but it wasn’t about me.

That’s fine. If it has nothing to do with me, then let it be. Or I’ll just stop responding. There’s only so much bullshit that one can take to continue to be a sane, productive, relatively happy person.

Sourdough rye bread, amongst other edibles, from the Buy-Nothing group

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I’ve gone through surges of giving stuff away on my local Buy-Nothing group. As of late, I’ve given away a decent-sized bundle of work clothes (pants and tops), skirts and dresses that I know I will never wear again, in addition to a bunch of clothes Kaia has outgrown and random household items we no longer need (shoe rack and random knick knacks).The biggest thing that I have given away, though, is a brand-new, still vacuum-sealed, life-sized (55-inch tall!) teddy bear that was gifted to Kaia right before she was born. I thought we’d keep it and wait until she got older to appreciate it… but now that we’re at that stage, I just don’t think it works here with all the other stuff we have in every room. We just don’t have the space for a furry friend that is that large. I felt kind of bad giving it away and not letting Kaia see it outside of its wrap, but I would have no idea where to put it in our place.

It feels really good to declutter and gain space back. But amongst the recent things I have gained from the Buy-Nothing group include toddler-training knives for chopping (so excited for these, as I had them on my Amazon wish list for Kaia, and now I don’t have to buy them!), new, never opened seaweed, a brand new packet of mushroom matcha (I mean, why not, since I’m getting back into making matcha at home now…?), plus an almost full-loaf of Balthazar sourdough rye bread. Someone in the group took a slice of it, decided she didn’t like it, and wanted to give it away and not waste it. I went to pick it up this morning and told Chris I got this.

“What if there is poison in it?” Chris asked, facetiously yet skeptically.

I suggested that I could give the name of the person from the BN group to our handyman before we each had a slice in case we all died from this. I definitely have my limits in regards to what I will take in the BN group, but a nearly full-loaf of high quality bread is not on the X List.

Belly laughs from sweet Kaia Pookie

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The evolution of Kaia’s laughter, and of course, her growth, are things that I’ve truly cherished since she exploded out of my uterus and came into my life just over two years ago. The very first time she smiled and laughed, it felt like everything else in the world didn’t matter other than seeing her with those feelings, in those moments. But what has been really cute to observe and witness is how her laugh has evolved, and what things she seems to find the most amusing.

Certain things I have said repeatedly have elicited much laughter from her. One of the things I used to say (and occasionally still do) when she was initially starting solids was, “Bite, chew, CHEW!” to encourage her to take small bites and chew her food well before swallowing. I would model this to her, then say this to her, and from the very first time, she would smile and giggle. As her laugh became more defined, she’d laugh more heartily until her laughter became almost explosive. She seems to like it when words get repeated because when we were teaching her to kick a ball and watch football (soccer), Chris’s mom would say, “Run, run, KICK!” with an emphasis on the “kick!” part, and Kaia was just roar with laughter. It didn’t seem to matter how many times you said it, but the more you would say it, the more she would laugh and demand you say it more.

She loves it when I stretch or when Chris is on the floor, stomach down, stretching. She immediately starts laughing and runs to jump and climb all over us. And tonight, I created a new little game for us that involves her Habbi Habbi books: I take her wand, have my back facing her, and slowly say, “Habbi….. HABBI!” while jumping and turning around. Then, I shake the wand at her, and she goes crazy with laughter, slamming her hands down on the bed and knocking her whole head back from excitement.

A lot of people say to me that it must be hard having such a young child and not having as much time to myself anymore. The Trader Joe’s cashier who rang me up today said this after he learned I had a toddler (he is child-free by choice). To be honest, even before I had Kaia, I always wished I had more free time; I don’t know anyone who doesn’t have this sentiment, with or without kids. I think everyone always says they want “more free time,” and it’s impossible for anyone to really feel like they have enough of it. I think what matters more is that we make the most of the time we have with things that truly fulfill us and give us joy. And with Kaia, even in her difficult toddler/tantrum moments, I find an immense amount of joy even just in these short spurts of play and laughter with her that I know I’d never feel if she didn’t exist in my life. And that enriches me.

When (dog) poop overtakes New York City

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People in every city love to complain. In New York when locals complain, it’s usually about rats, garbage, the current incompetent mayor, or the insanely high cost of living here (especially in Manhattan). But you know what is even more frustrating than all of those things for me on a day to day basis where it feels like I cannot even go half a block without thinking about it? DOG POOP.

The other day when I was going to pick up Kaia from daycare, the entire sidewalk from building to street was lined with poop that had been smeared by someone — just steps away from the school entrance. It likely could have been that a dog pooped in the middle of the sidewalk, and then random passersby who didn’t notice unknowingly stepped and dragged it everywhere. Getting around it with the stroller on the way home was a challenge: I almost had to push the stroller into the street to avoid the dog poop.

Today during a late afternoon walk, some dog owner left their poop bag, filled with poop, in the middle of the street. The poop gushed out of the bag and everywhere. Many people stepped on it, and the same thing happened as in the above situation: the poop was all over the sidewalk, still soft and smeared everywhere!

It’s impossible to take a leisurely walk on any sidewalk in this city without constantly looking ahead and down on the ground to ensure that I (or the stroller) can avoid stepping in poop at all costs. It’s also frustrating when I am walking with Kaia, and she doesn’t understand what dog poop is and has this (sort of disgusting) curiosity for it: the other day at Riverside Park, she almost shoved her hands into a pile of dog poop! Dog owners can’t control their dogs. They just think they can be careless with their dog’s feces and let everyone else suffer. When and where will the constant presence of dog poop in this city ever end? Or, will it simply takeover New York and drive people like me and Chris (who believes all dogs should be exterminated or eaten) away?

Trendy eats in Koreatown and how I cannot relate – it must be my age!

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So, I’m 38 years old now. Some people say age is nothing more than a number. Most people who meet or see me for the first time would be unlikely to guess my age and usually say a number that is far younger than what I am. But what getting older has made me realize is that my tastes are definitely changing, and the things that may have sparked my interest at age 18 or 28 are oftentimes not going to get me excited at my current age now.

Here’s a case in point: this new Korean “food court” recently opened on the corner of W 32nd Street and Broadway, right across the street from the main Manhattan Koreantown drag. Publications like Eater call it a “food court,” one that is getting a lot of hype right now. It’s been reported that it is attracting lines going down the block. Yet when I walked in, it was NOT what I’d call a food court at all. There was one main stand in the front that had a number of ready-made Korean foods (all the ones you’d guess: bulgogi, japchae, kimchi fried rice, etc.), a second that did coffee drinks, a third that made a trendy Korean “coin” cake that is either filled with nutella or corn cheese. When you go to the second floor, there’s only one stand: you order and pay for your choice of a packaged Korean ramen type, then you go to a number of water machines and add boiling water to a bowl, where you’ll “cook” the ramen.

This is not a food court in any sense of that meaning. This is a hangout spot for cheap, low quality food for tweens and teens. I am never getting food from here, ever.