4.8 earthquake in New York today

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Earthquakes are something I grew up with. Given that I was born and raised in San Francisco, while we were in school, we had earthquake drills as often as we had fire drills, so anyone growing up in San Francisco, or California for that matter, was well versed on what to do in the event of an earthquake. We always knew to get under heavy tables/desks or stand under load-bearing door frames. We also knew that if we had to evacuate a building, to never, ever use the elevator during an earthquake, but instead to take the stairs. I suppose that’s the same advice to heed during a fire, as well.

In 2011, New York City experienced an earthquake. I still remember I was at a work lunch when all the tables and chandeliers above us started shaking. Everyone was freaking out. My colleagues complained about it for days and talked about how scared they were. I was a bit nonchalant about it and barely said anything; that shake was nothing to me.

Well, we had an earthquake that lasted a couple seconds this morning. It was just past 10:30am when I was at my desk working. Suddenly, I noticed my entire desk shaking, plus the mug of hot, steaming chai I just made about to spill. It ended pretty quickly, though. But within ten minutes as I checked my Instagram, almost every other post was about the earthquake that hit us. The New York Times and BBC reported it was a 4.8 magnitude earthquake that originated about 50 miles outside of New York City, in New Jersey. Everyone in my Facebook groups were wishing each other safety or sharing how scared they were .

My reaction is still, “meh.” I had a meeting today where I had to present, and a few of my colleagues asked if I was okay and how things were in New York. I just smiled and told them it was a little shake, no biggie.

“Okay, I think Yvonne is the only calm person in all of New York City right now!” my colleague declared, laughing.

Honestly, when you’ve dealt with far more frightening or traumatizing things in life, you cannot sweat the small stuff. And the small stuff, for me. is a 4.7 earthquake. I raised my eyebrow for a second, then I let it go after the shake stopped.

“Mummy not here!”

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People always say with children that the days are long, but the weeks / years are short. All the cute, sweet moments are often forgotten and lost in the depths of your mind. That’s partly why I write about them — so that if/when I do forget, I will always have a log to go back to and remember what cute, sweet things Kaia did that gave me warm and fuzzy feelings.

The last few weeks, I’ve been trying my best to get to the gym by 6:30am for an hour-long workout. It always makes me feel much more productive to start the day earlier, and it also means I don’t feel like I’m in a rush every morning to get my workout, shower, dressing done before turning on my computer, after Kaia leaves for school. This also means that sometimes, I can walk Kaia to school. It also means I can have a more leisurely morning preparing my tea and reading the news.

Kaia tends to wake up sometime between 6:50-7:15, and when she does, she will usually go to her book shelf, grab a book, then mozy her way over (still in her sleep sack!) to our bedroom. Sometimes, she goes to Chris’s side of the bed first, and other times, she goes to my side. As of late, she’s been going to my side, but alas, I haven’t been there since I’ve been at the gym. So she thinks I’m “hiding” underneath the covers, which I find absolutely hilarious, and she’ll pull the covers down to “find” me. When she realizes I’m actually not there after pulling the covers down to see no one, she will say “YThi not here,” or “mummy not here.” And then Chris will respond, “YThi at the gym.” Then, Kaia will repeat, “YThi at the gym.”

And when I return from the gym about half an hour after she wakes up, as soon as I open the door and put my keys in the basket, she will happily yell out, “Hi, mummy-dear!” before she even sees me. Then, I go up to her to kiss her and give her exaggerated “sniffs” on her hair, which makes her giggle. And I ask her if she slept well.

Witnessing these moments of innocence of young childhood never ceases to warm my heart and makes me think that becoming a parent is more than worth all the effort and exhaustion.

When your toddler comes home with a bite mark on her back

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Yesterday when reviewing the daily report from school, Chris noticed that there was an “incident” report recorded with a photo of Kaia’s back, noting that Kaia had been injured by a classmate. There was a typo in the report, so I wasn’t sure exactly what happened until I spoke with the teacher at drop off this morning. The teacher let me know that Kaia and a classmate were fighting over the same toy, and Kaia had an iron grip on it. The other child retaliated by biting her in the middle of her back, which resulted in Kaia crying and having a lingering red mark on her back.

“Kaia cried, and I felt so terrible because she never cries!” the teacher said to me, with a frown on her face.

I didn’t realize it was a bite from the original report because of the typo. But I did notice the mark when I gave her a bath. The bite was the size of a large strawberry, and it seemed weird that it would have been so dark and red. At first, I wondered what toy would have left such a mark. Now that I found out it was a bite from another child, the mark made much more sense.

At this age, kids don’t always understand what you are trying to say to them, and you definitely do not always understand them. They’re still learning what is considered “appropriate” vs “inappropriate” behavior with family, friends, and classmates, and so it’s hard to fault them when things like this happen. I shrugged it off and told the teacher I wasn’t that concerned. Toddlers will be toddlers. She said she felt relieved after I said this.

“Not all parents let these things go,” she said with a sigh. “They ask us how we couldn’t have prevented it from happening!”

With babies and toddlers, things like this happen in just seconds, and you can’t be everywhere all at once. Taking care of littles can be very all-encompassing and exhausting. We just have to let these things go and move on.

Sweet Malaysian freebies at closing time

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Once upon a time, there were a number of bakeries across New York City that would offer deeply discounted baked goods within 30 minutes to an hour of closing. Manna House Bakery on Mott Street in Chinatown used to offer all pastries and bao at 50% off if you arrived about 30 minutes before their closing time; I only found this out by chance when I popped in one evening many years ago, and the lady behind the counter quoted me half of the amount that I was expecting to owe. The much loved and venerated Balthazar Bakery would offer their elaborate pastries for a discounted amount, and sometimes they even had random grab bags that would have a set (low) price. Eventually, though, all good (and cheap) things come to an end, and both bakeries put a halt to their slashed pre-closing prices.

I was reminded of this last night when I was in the East Village for dinner with a friend. On our way to the subway station, we passed by Lady Wong, one of the best (and rare) fancy bakeries in the city for Malaysian-inspired desserts, including the famous kuih. As we stepped in, we weren’t sure if they were still open, so we asked. The man behind the counter looked up, greeted us and said he would still be open for five more minutes. Then, he smiled and said, “Take it all!” We thought he was just joking given the closing time. So we each chose two items each and paid. As we were about to leave, he looked at us quizzically.

“You don’t want any kuih? I’m serious: if you don’t want it, I will throw it all out! You can take whatever you want, just tell me which ones…. just not the serimukkah because those are my favorite.” He smiled as he said this. He explained that it was highly unusual to have this much leftover at the end of the day; usually, they are almost sold out. But today was a weird day with the grey, cool weather, and they didn’t get as much foot traffic as they normally do. He couldn’t eat all of the remaining kuih, nor would he be selling them the next day. So my friend and I got really excited and told him which ones we’d like. He got them all ready in two separate boxes for each of us.

We thanked him profusely, and being very Asian, he brushed us off. “It’s okay… if you didn’t take them, they’d just be going into the trash bin!” he insisted. As he was boxing these up for us, a group of friends walked in, obviously having read about the place since two of them were explaining to their friends that this spot was “known for Malaysian dessert.” The guy behind the counter, who I *think* is one of the co-owners, told us in a near-whisper, “Don’t say anything, okay?” So in other words, he was going to give us all these freebies, but he definitely had plans to charge these folks!

We walked out with our paid and free sweets. I wasn’t sure what cracked me up more, the fact that he said we could take any of the kuih, *except* the serimukkah since they were his favorites, or that he was happy to give us these freebies, but was planning to charge the other group of people who came in after us!

“Don’t get lost, Mummy dear”

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Babies and toddlers are true human sponges. They are always soaking up and in every single thing around them all the time, whether we are cognizant of it or not. Because I have a very loving (facetious) husband, most of the time when we part and I am leaving the apartment, he will hug or kiss me and say, “don’t get lost!” Kaia has clearly noticed this. So this morning, when I was getting ready to go to the gym as Chris was getting her out the door to go to school, she ran to me to give me a goodbye hug and kiss, and after she looked at me square in the eyes, smiled, and said, “don’t get lost, mummy dear!”

While getting her ready, she will notice that one of us is not wearing a coat or shoes, so she will remind us: “Shoes on, Daddy-ma!” or “Put your jacket on, Mummy dear!” Sometimes, she will even giggle and say, “Mommy dear, guai guai ah!” (in other words, loosely translated as “you be good/you be well-behaved!”

For better or for worse, she is learning most of these things from her own parents. Every time something new like this happens, I can’t help but crack up and just want to squeeze her close. It’s too adorable and sweet, even if it can be a little annoying at times.

Scooter time

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This afternoon, we took Kaia to the playground where her school class usually goes to when the weather is nice outside. Chris messaged a classmate’s dad to see if they wanted to join us, and when they came, Kaia’s school friend Jacob was on his scooter. Although I had thought about getting Kaia a scooter close to her second birthday, I wasn’t 100% sure she would like it, as she didn’t really seem that interested in anything like that (she mainly seems obsessed with her books — since she was a baby, I always thought she seemed more brainy than athletic, but hey, I could be proven wrong). It’s clear, though, that the peer pressure of her classmates has worked in a positive way with a lot of things she has been hesitant or scared to do, such as getting on a play structure at the playground, or even the slide. The slide took a lot of coaxing; she would only go on them with us if we went with her or pushed her down. It was clear from her facial expression she enjoyed it, but a small inner fear prevented her from going down on her own. Now that she is exposed to her classmates doing it, she’s much more into the slides than before. And it seems this is the same case with the scooter.

Prior to this impromptu play date, I wasn’t sure if a scooter would be a good toy/device for her. But as she fought with Jacob over the scooter and even went on it a few times (and did the proper foot and pushing movements, Chris and I were pretty quickly convinced that she should probably have one, too (along with a helmet, because of course, safety first). So Chris said he would do some research on the right one for her and get her one, along with a helmet. He especially felt firmly about this after he saw Kaia have a meltdown when Jacob went off and sped away on the scooter, leaving her scooter-less. We had never witnessed her crying over a toy in her entire life before, so this was a new experience for us. Chris had to go comfort her and hold her for a bit, when they came to the conclusion/decision that Pookster wanted a red scooter for herself. Okay, well, if she wants a red scooter… I guess she’s getting a red scooter!

When Kaia summons Alexa: a developmental toddler milestone in the 21st century

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Since our last trip to Australia, Kaia has definitely indicated an interest in wanting to interact with Amazon Alexa (at our home) and with Google Home (Chris’s parents’ device at their house). In Melbourne, she successfully got Google to recognize when she would yell out “Google,” but her command after that was always so muddled that it wouldn’t recognize what she was saying. But she’s gotten better at enunciating her words more clearly, and she’s also gotten more detailed with her asks, whether it’s to a device or to us. Instead of saying “I want plate,” now she says, “I want my blue plate.” Instead of previously saying, “Play ‘Wheels on the Bus,'” now, she says, “Play ‘Wheels on the Bus’ by Mr. Ray (or Coco Melon).” This weekend, she successfully summoned Alexa two times: the first time was when she heard me ask about the weather, and she repeated me and said, “Alexa! What’s the weather today?” Alexa actually responded back with today’s weather report! And then a few minutes later, she yelled out, “Alexa! Play ‘Wheels on the Bus’ by Mr. Ray!” And Alexa obeyed and did it! Kaia’s reached a new toddler milestone in a day and age of voice-activated, AI powered devices! No one would have thought this was a big deal previously, but this does actually mean something: it means Kaia’s speech has become clearer and is understandable to the average person instead of just those who know her. My sweet baby is growing into a tiny human who can have a pseudo relationship with a device now!

Good Friday eats near New Brunswick, New Jersey

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New Jersey is quite far from my favorite state. I think part of the reason I felt strange about New Jersey was how so many of my colleagues have been from New Jersey over the years, and how they only looked at New York City as a place for “work” and pretty much nothing else. They didn’t see the glitz and glam that I saw when I looked at New York with all of its incredible diversity in people, culture, food, theater, and entertainment. They didn’t see it as a land of opportunity, excitement, and fun. Instead, they just saw it as a polluted urban jungle with too many people, too much garbage, and too much pollution. A number of them had said to me that they’d “never” want to live in New York and were completely repulsed by the mere thought of living in the city; one said he’d rather die. Part of me wanted to respond, if you feel that strongly against New York, maybe you shouldn’t work here at all and just get a job in your own state! While not everyone I know who lives in New Jersey thinks this way, enough of my New Jersey-based colleagues over the last 16 years have expressed this sentiment that I just found them to be banal.

So for me, New Jersey has been exciting really only for two main reasons: the delicious Indian and Korean food. Most of the incredible Indian food has been around Edison, New Brunswick, and Princeton, where a lot of people of Indian descent live. For Korean food, the majority has been around Fort Lee and Palisades Park, which also have a large Korean population. Every time we go to these areas, I always marvel not only at the high quality of the food, but also how much cheaper the meals are in general. I can’t believe X dish costs 25-30% less than what this costs in New York City, even in Queens!

Today, we took a day trip and rented a car to go to the New Brunswick area. Chris picked out a “pure veg” Indian restaurant called Indian House of Dosas, and I loved the food so much that I almost licked my fingers and plates clean at the end of the meal. We had two tiffin combo plates of idli, vada, pongal, poori, and masala dosa, which came with peanut chutney, coconut chutney, a rare but interesting ginger-tamarind-jaggery chutney, sambar, and a semolina halwa. And they cost $12-13 for each combo! Along with two Madras style filter coffees and a mango lassi, tax, and a 20% tip, we paid $48. And I was stuffed to the brim at the end of the meal. The food was so fresh, well spiced, and flavorful. I really though the medu vada we had were some of the best I could have had in my life; they were all clearly made to order and extremely fresh. The vada were so hot that they felt like they came straight out of the fryer. If this place were close by to us, I’d likely want food from here at least once a week. I’m still thinking about it long after we have left.

Pre-baby, I would have been happy to occasionally go all out and make dosas and their fermented batter, along with the different chutneys. I did it a number of times, including one interesting variation with a quinoa dosa, which Chris begrudgingly admitted was good. But now, it’s such an event with all the different steps and endless little side dishes. I’d rather just leave it up to the professionals now. Maybe one day I will revisit it, but probably not anytime soon unless something inspires me.

Workplace appreciation: holiday gifts

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Two nights ago, I was getting ready for my nightly candle and reading time before bed when I was going through my small candle collection. I came across a candle that was gifted to me by my former boss at my current company (she’s still at the company, and we still chat all the time). It was a soy candle with a pleasant floral fragrance. I remember it came as part of a larger gift set that she sent as a holiday gift just over two years ago, created by a company that is women-owned and run (of course, she would have the forethought to research this before choosing team holiday gifts). It arrived beautifully packaged with a heartfelt card she sent to thank me for all my hard work over the last year. I also remember I was on maternity leave when I received the gift.

A lot of people in general take for granted corporate gifts and holiday gifts; they’re just things that are given and done as a generic token of appreciation. But since I started at my current company, it suddenly dawned on me that for my entire career to date, which spans five different companies, that my current company is the only company I’ve ever worked for that did company-sponsored holiday gifts for employees. It’s the only company that thought that giving a token of appreciation at the end of year to employees was valued and necessary, and so the expense was deemed worth it. Two companies ago, when I was a manager, I became a manager in my third year at the company. In that year, management decided that managers would be responsible for choosing team gifts for everyone on their teams during the holiday season. The catch? The managers of the teams were responsible for paying for the gifts out of their own pockets, so I had to pool money with the two other managers on my team to buy gifts for my direct reports. I don’t remember how much I was forced to pay out of pocket, but it was at least $110-150. That’s on top of any holiday/Christmas gifts I spent on my own family and friends that year. And it was not fun. Why should individual managers be responsible for paying for holiday gifts on behalf of the company when the employer is too cheap to foot the bill for these things? The individual contributors aren’t working for the managers; they’re working for the company.

So I lit the candle that was gifted to me by my former boss that night and gave thanks for working at a company that values its employees and shows it through these gifts. I’ve gotten a lot of gifts while working here, not just during the holiday season, and I’ve never taken any of them for granted. I have a lot to be thankful for where I currently work. There are so many terrible companies that don’t value their employees out there and do nothing to give thanks for their hard work. I’ve worked for many of them. And these companies all need to go evolve or die.

Good in-laws, bad in-laws

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Today is my mother-in-law’s 67th birthday. Since she’s in Melbourne, time-wise, she is ahead of us, so we called her on Whatsapp video last night to wish her a happy birthday. Pookster was acting a bit faux-shy, and despite our practicing saying “Happy birthday, Suma!” the night before, Kaia didn’t really carry this through on the call.

Earlier in the day, I was rummaging through a drawer I rarely go into, and I found a bunch of random knick-knacks that Chris’s mom had gifted me over the years. Some were from travels, while others were gifts just-because. Amongst these items were a maple leaf painted case to store tiny items, a carved moose envelope opener, and an outdoor-themed notepad. She had also given me a number of kitchen items, ranging from a collapsible cloth bread “basket” she got in Portugal, cute character designed bag clamps from Korea, and a set of French cheese knives she picked up while in France. Everywhere she went, she seemed to think of me and get me something, even if it seemed completely random or impractical; it’s the thought that counts at the end of the day. She never had to get me anything, ever. I always thought it was cute… even if I never used most of the items in a practical way.

I told Chris about how I found the moose envelope opener. “It’s such a random thing to give!” I exclaimed, smirking and then laughing. “Who uses letter openers anymore?”

“Well, the drawer full of stuff I’ve gotten from your parents…. well, it’s empty except for one San Francisco hat,” Chris retorted.

Part of me chuckled when he said this, but part of me just felt annoyed. Chris and I have been together over 12 years now. My parents are really so divorced from reality that they have no idea how little regard they have had for their one son-in-law. My parents have never wished Chris a happy birthday or a merry Christmas. They have never given him any gifts whatsoever, other than the San Francisco Giants hat they gave him the very first time they all met. While they have paid for some meals for him, there was always a hidden cost: getting angry at me later for him NOT paying the bill, accusing him of “taking them for granted,” or insisting whatever Chris had paid for them was insignificant or “nothing” compared to whatever they’d made up in their head that they’d done for him. They never call, text, or email him to say anything at all, or even just to check in to see how he’s doing. Yet my mom remains delusional, saying that Chris’s parents “do shit” for me and that they treat Chris far better than his parents will ever treat me. Nothing could be farther from the truth: as far as I am concerned, Chris pretty much doesn’t have parents-in-law considering they have pretty much no interaction ever.

While Chris gets annoyed by this, occasionally, his mom will text or email me directly to check in with me to see how things are going, how Kaia is, and how work is going for both of us. And she doesn’t just ask high level and generic “how are you?” questions, but instead, she asks specific questions, like about Kaia’s school applications, my work promotion and what that means for my job, or Chris’s job search. When people ask you specific, detailed questions about your life, it’s because there’s real concern and love; otherwise, why would they take the time to ask, or, why would they even care to hear about it at all? Chris gets annoyed because he thinks it’s a bit intrusive or nosy, but what he doesn’t seem to recognize is that his mom doesn’t have to check in with me… at all. She doesn’t need to reach out to me directly without him involved. She has no obligation to have a separate relationship with me. She does all this because she genuinely wants to and cares (plus, she wants in on information that Chris doesn’t willingly share, but that’s another story). These are all the things Chris’s parents do for me that my parents would never do for him. I think it’s something to be happy about and grateful for.

There are the good in-laws, and there are the bad in-laws. Chris’s parents are the ones to model behavior from. My parents are an example of how not to be an in-law.