Working away from your usual desk setup: not ideal as you get older

The last time I came to Australia in December 2019, that was before I started getting tingling in my fingers and hands from mild carpal/cubital tunnel syndrome. Back then, I had no idea what “cubital tunnel” even meant and that it was supposed to be carpal tunnel’s lesser known cousin. Then when I came, I just brought my laptop for work, and that was it. I had no special need for an ergonomic keyboard or a vertical mouse. But now I do. The only issue is… while the vertical mouse may be easy to transport, it’s not that simple (or a space saver AT ALL) to carry around an ergonomic keyboard. So I packed my laptop and vertical mouse while leaving the keyboard behind.

It makes a world of a difference to have the right keyboard and also to use the correct mouse. Out of laziness this month, I’ve just used my track pad. But my fingers, hands, and elbows really feel the difference. Even with wearing wrist splits to bed each night, I can feel significantly more stiffness and numbness/tingling in my hands than before this month, and it’s all because of having an inappropriate work setup. And since I’m at a computer less, I’m also at my phone more. And we all know that phone use is really want drove my cubital tunnel syndrome over the edge.

Even though I am not particularly looking forward to going back to winter or New York for the daily grind, I am looking forward to being in less tingly/numbness/pain in my hands/arms. It also doesn’t help my arms that I have more childcare responsibilities while here, but hey, I signed up for this, so I get what I asked for.

I told Chris’s mom that the tradeoff to having kids a little older is that although we don’t worry about money as much, more things hurt. When you have kids younger, you have less money but are less likely to get injured as much. She insisted it didn’t matter: she had kids in her 20s, and everything ached before they were even born. What joy.

Lost items while traveling with baby

I have rarely lost anything while traveling. Okay, let me rephrase that: before I had a baby, I never lost anything while traveling. I prided myself on being organized and having everything together. And I knew once we had a child, we’d probably take a while to get into a groove of how we travel and get from point A to point B. And in the end, that’s resulted in a few lost things along the way.

Just on our way from Melbourne Airport to the car park to meet Chris’s dad on arrival in early December, Chris was pushing our trolley of luggage, in which my sweater/ open jacket was in the front pocket. Somehow, some way, that piece of clothing fell out, and was never to be seen again. We didn’t realize we lost it until the day after when I was looking for it. Chris tried to contact the airport lost and found, but to no avail. The most vexing thing about that was that I rarely care much about any of my clothes, but that specific piece I really loved because it was versatile, could be casual or dressy, and could transition easily from warm to cool weather. Plus, it was lightweight, not bulky at all, and had pockets. Ugh. I hope I can find a replacement for it at some point soon. I already checked the J. Crew website and they are out of stock. At least I got just over two years of use out of it.

While at Main Beach in Byron Bay, I got caught in a wave while holding Kaia, and we both went under water for about three seconds, during which my prescription sunglasses, which were on top of my head, got washed away. Well, I thought to myself, I may have lost my glasses, but most importantly, I didn’t let the ocean take my baby away!!!! It took Kaia a few minutes to calm down, and then as though nothing had happened, she babbled and played in the sand.

In a grocery store while pushing the baby in the stroller, Kaia threw her pacifier in some aisle when I wasn’t looking, and I never found it again. That was really annoying, mostly because Chris is the paci police and made me go down every single aisle and check the floor everywhere to try to retrieve it. That was a futile exercise that yielded nada.

We were eating at a restaurant with Chris’s parents and brother when the wait staff cleared the table… along with Kaia’s reusable silicone straw. I didn’t realize this happened, as I had to get Kaia to the bathroom to change a huge poop nappy, so I didn’t see this happen, and Chris and his family were just trying to get out of the table booth. At least we have about 6 or 7 of them back at home.

You can try to control everything… but at the end of the day, you just have to let some things go. Oherwise you will just go crazy.

Ozzie Mozzies’ aggression: you will not escape

A few nights ago, we were at Chris’s friend’s house and spent time in his backyard because they were setting up a surprise basketball ring for his son’s Christmas gift. His friend warned me about how aggressive the mosquitoes or “mozzies” get out there, so he insisted that I put on mosquito repellent. I did this, but regardless, the mosquitoes always get you in the few spots you miss. So I left with four very itchy and uncomfortable bites, including on my left little toe and right by my left elbow. The bite on my left elbow swelled up so big overnight that it was nearly the size of a golf ball when I woke up the next morning.

The next day, we went to Chris’s aunt/uncle’s home, where I barely spent 10 minutes in their garden in the early evening. His aunt was giving me a garden tour of all the trees, shrubs, and flowers they had spent the last three years growing. I was wearing pants, yet somehow… a mosquito was so aggressive that it bit me right in the center of my left butt cheek! How the heck did it get through my PANTS and bite my butt??

The weird thing is that pretty much everywhere we travel, I have always been a mosquito magnet, but in Australia, I’ve never once before gotten bitten by a mozzie before this trip. The Ozzie mozzies, according to Chris’s parents and relatives, have gotten quite aggressive this season, and everyone seems to try to stay away from them in areas where they wait and feast. This year, they lurk outside the doors of homes, and as soon as you open them, they immediately fly in! They don’t even buzz the way they do back in the U.S., so you cannot hear them. And when they’re in, they’re IN. As of today, I’ve probably already killed about 17 mozzies just in our bathroom!

Nana’s tradition, in Nana’s honor

Today was Christmas day, our second Christmas as a family of three, our first Christmas back in Australia after three years; Chris’s 41st birthday; Chris’s second birthday as a daddy. And of the wider family, it was the second Christmas without Chris’s Nana, his paternal grandma. Three years ago when we were last here, Nana was still here. And that trip in December 2019, Chris had an eerie feeling that that would be the last time he’d see Nana. Sadly, he was right. Nana had a tradition every Christmas Eve of gathering all the grandchildren at the cemetery where Appa (grandpa) is buried to honor him, then hosting everyone for a meal at her house. Now that she’s gone, the cousins are trying to continue the tradition of visiting Appa and now also Nana at the cemetery on Christmas Eve. We missed it because we had to feed Kaia dinner at the time they gathered. So instead, Chris, Ben, Kaia, and I went to the cemetery to visit Nana for the first time this morning before heading to a relative’s house for Christmas day festivities.

In past visits, the cemetery visits were happy gatherings of the cousins altogether with Nana, honoring Appa’s life. This visit, though, was sad: it was the first time the three of us (plus Kaia) were seeing Nana’s grave. The inscription looked fresh, shiny, and new. I laid down my Santa headband, which she loved, along with Kaia’s Christmas hair clip on her grave, and took a photo of her and Appa’s epitaph. We took a few photos. We stood there for a while looking at the grave site and just didn’t say anything.

Staring at her grave, I thought of all the years we came to visit and how much I admired Nana for how strong and independent she was. To think that she lived independently, out of her own will, after her husband died for 20 years, until age 90, before moving into an aged care facility was just mind boggling to me. I thought about how she appreciated all the little things in life and always expressed gratitude for the tiniest things; if all we did was just visit her, she always said how happy it made her and how grateful she was. I also thought about how I wished my own parents could have a fraction of her happiness and the tiniest smidgen of her gratitude, as well. In an ideal world, yes, I would spend more time with my parents. We’d actually do activities together and eat meals together where I wouldn’t constantly hear them criticizing me and my life choices, where they weren’t constantly criticizing my in-laws, my cousins, my aunt and uncle, my friends. They wouldn’t pick fights with me during the limited times we have together, they wouldn’t call me a bitch. They wouldn’t do all the toxic things that drive me away and then afterwards, wonder why I don’t want to rush to book my next trip to see them; or even worse, wonder why I wouldn’t want to spend a month with them and work remotely. Even though my parents are a generation behind Nana, I always thought: why can’t my own parents be a little more like her? I suppose Nana didn’t have much intergenerational trauma to pass on.

She’s passed on now, which is so sad because I always thought given Nana’s strong mind (she literally remembered the most minute details of her life and recalled them with stunning accuracy) and relatively good health that she’d live until she was 100. She lived a long, happy, full, good life. No one would debate that. But per passing is a further reminder of how the time we spend on this earth is finite. And given it is finite, we should spend time with people we love who love AND treat us well. Who wants to spend time with people who make them feel bad about themselves or make their lives miserable? The moments we spend with the ones we love — at the end of the day, that’s all that really matters, as Nana always said. All the things we love and accumulate in our homes will eventually become rubbish that will be tossed or donated, as the things we cherish won’t be cherished by those who outlive us in the same way. Nana did love things a lot; she loved a LOT of things, resulting in a lot of donating and rubbish collecting after she passed. It felt so sad to hear about that as the siblings were sorting through all her things to distribute to family members and/or donate.

At the end of our lives, we won’t be wishing we worked more hours or earned more money. We won’t regret that work trip we didn’t take or working over a holiday period to meet some stupid deadline dictated by a corporation that looks at us just as another number. We’ll have wished we had spent more time with our family and closest friends.

Permissive parenting: what I am reminded of Chris’s parents every time I come down to visit them

Every time I come down to Melbourne and have a daily observation of how Chris’s parents interact with him and his younger brother, the more I am reminded of exactly how permissive they are in terms of their parenting style. “Permissive parenting” is also called “indulgent parenting,” where parents are not only warm, nurturing, and encouraging of their children, but also reluctant to impose strict limits. Granted, at this point, Chris is almost 41 years old, and his brother is 37, so it’s not like they are young anymore, but their parents still basically are fine with whatever they want to do, whenever they want to do it, whether it’s in their house, with any of their random belongings, or with one of their cars.

Here’s what happened this past Monday: Chris wanted the three of us to go to the Yarra Valley, which is about an hour’s drive away from Melbourne. Since his parents didn’t have plans that day, I thought it would be nice for all five of us to go together, especially since they obviously want to spend as much time as possible with Kaia and us while we’re still here. So I suggested all of us go. The issue, though, is that we would need to take two cars; Kaia’s car seat takes considerable space, and so the middle seat of the back of the car would not be comfortable for a fifth person to sit in for more than a 15-20 minute ride. They didn’t want to take the second car because Chris’s brother Ben would need it to go to the gym, they said.

Ummm, what? His gym is about a 10 minute ride away, he’d be there for just an hour long workout, and his parents were willing to give up an ENTIRE DAY of fun and drinking in the Yarra Valley with us… JUST so that their youngest son could get access to their car and stay away from public transit or Uber?? I thought the idea was completely absurd.. they were being so lenient with him. And need I remind you: it’s THEIR car, not his!

I lightly suggested paying for an Uber to go to the gym, or even to take a bus. His dad didn’t want to ask and said just to let it go, and perhaps just their mom could come with us. It still did not sit right with me. Plus, I knew his dad would be sad about not going, and his mom would enjoy herself more if her husband came. I still thought it was dumb. I didn’t know this until afterwards, but Chris ended up going upstairs, saying a few choice words to his brother, and then his brother changed his mind and said he didn’t need the car anymore. I have no idea what words were spoken, but the goal was to guilt him into not insisting on using the car that day.

In the end, we all went to the Yarra Valley in two cars together and had an enjoyable day. But the impression still stayed with me regarding how absurd and permissive they were being. Their parents are WAY too good to Chris and his brother. I already know how this would have gone in my own family, and I can guarantee you: neither Ed nor I would have gotten the car, ever, regardless of the situation!

Observations of food naming in Aus vs. US

Some interesting things I’ve picked up over the years shopping for produce and food in Australia vs. the U.S. in terms of what different food items are called:

Australia: capsicum; U.S.: bell peppers

Australia: rocket; U.S. arugula

Australia: coriander (well, most of the world); U.S.: cilantro

Australia: wombok; U.S.: Napa cabbage ** (I just learned this one during this trip!!)

Australia: (meat) mince; U.S.: ground (meat)

Australia: biscuits; U.S.: cookies

Australia: soft drink; U.S.: soda (apparently, the term “soda” is never used in Australia)

Australia: tomato sauce; U.S.: ketchup (what is ketchup in Australia…? :D)

Australia: silverbeet; U.S.: Swiss chard (new finding!)

Home alone in a big house that isn’t my own

When I was little, like most of us probably imagined, I thought I would eventually “grow up” and own my own home. I fantasized about how each room would have a different theme: one would be Chinese themed with Chinese calligraphy and landscape paintings; another would be Vietnamese with Vietnamese imagery; another would be beachy; one room would have a Moroccan theme (I just liked the Moroccan decor in restaurants). My dream house had large windows overlooking a beach, was two stories high with a staircase, and had at least one balcony on the second floor. And even back then, I imagined I’d have a massive kitchen. In my dreams then, it was a very white kitchen with large granite counters. I’d have a huge king size bed with a canopy over it. It would be dreamy and relaxing.

Well, I’m almost 37 now, and I don’t own a house. I don’t live in a house and live in an apartment. The idea of owning a house seems very daunting to me, not just from a cost standpoint but from a daily maintenance standpoint — cleaning, dusting, making sure everything’s working and not broken, updates and renovations, repairs — it sounds completely exhausting. But the other thing I think about is: how much space does a family of three (us) REALLY need? In the U.S. over the last several decades, homes (in suburbia) have gotten larger and larger, but the actual footprint of where family members go in their homes is actually quite small. What that results in is a lot of wasted space (and way too much clutter that gets accumulated since the more space you have, the more you think you need to fill it).

I thought about this as I walked around Chris’s parents’ large house this evening, all by myself. Ben was out with friends. I don’t think I’d ever been at their house alone at night before. Chris’s parents went out for dinner with their friends. Chris and Kaia went to a relatives’ house for a catch up, and I decided to stay behind because I just felt exhausted and wanted some quiet, alone time. In some rooms, I heard an echo as I walked through. It felt a little spooky to be in this huge house with so many rooms and things all by myself. Is this house old enough to have ghosts? What bugs are lurking around trying to get me? Oh, I did kill a huge fly that was buzzing around and driving me nuts that evening, plus 2 mozzies. It would be really overwhelming to have to manage and maintain a house of this size for myself and my own family. The space and the comfort of the space certainly come at a cost.

Mexican food in Melbourne

In all previous trips to Australia, we had actively avoided eating any Mexican food. The logic was: why would we eat Mexican food here when we can have great Mexican food (for obvious reasons, like proximity to Mexico) back in the U.S.? But in recent years, there’s been a huge surge in Mexican restaurants in Australia. Each time we’d come back, I’d notice more and more. I never seriously looked at the menus, but it was clear that the interest and trend were growing here.

Chris’s cousins organized a cousins dinner nearby for us, as they were being considerate and thoughtful that we had a baby, so they wanted to pick a restaurant that would be a quick drive back in case Kaia got too fussy with Chris’s parents on their own with her. I knew it was Mexican and didn’t really think much of it until we got to the restaurant. It was certainly outfitted the way you’d stereotypically imagine, with sombreros, brightly colored paintings, and cactus everywhere. When I opened the menu, I thought… oh great. There’s lots of things I’d expect on the menu, so I stuck with what seemed safe — two tacos, shrimp and fish, plus a nonalcoholic coconut/lime/pineapple drink.

Chris got jackfruit tacos, so we sort of shared our food. The tacos were absolutely horrendous – at least, the jackfruit ones were. They were mushy, the sauce was disgusting, and they were clearly canned jackfruit pieces. The shrimp and fish ones were decent, but considering how much they cost, I feel l like I could have made better Mexican food as a child than this. And the service was even worse than the food: they took our orders but warned us that the kitchen AND the bar were closing in the next 15 minutes (at 8pm?! We had just arrived at around 7:15!), so we had to make up our mind on regular food, drink, AND desserts then and there. The food took ages to arrive, and they arrived with our drinks and jugs of water. We had nothing to drink, not even basic water, until all the food arrived. I couldn’t even remember experiencing service so awful at a restaurant until that evening.

I normally never say anything about restaurants when it comes to Chris’s family’s gatherings because the main focus is not really the food — it’s about all of us getting together and catching up. Plus, I’m not technically a cousin, so why should my opinion overrule anyone? But after that experience… the next time someone tries to suggest Mexican here, I’m definitely going to have to chime in and veto it.

Neighborhood exploration in Melbourne

Most afternoons during our stays in Melbourne, we’ve still been exploring different neighborhoods this time around, just with the baby with us. While it is always enjoyable to see family and friends here, it’s also fun to be able to revisit old favorites, like Lamb on Chapel and Shandong Mama, and also try new restaurants and bakeries that have opened. It’s basically like an extension of what we do in New York — seeing new and different neighborhoods and trying new cuisines and restaurants. Most people don’t really know their own backyards, and so we actively try to do the opposite and know where we are traveling to as well as our own home base.

We’ve been telling Chris’s parents about all these new places we have visited, and they have laughed a bit, saying this is their own home but they haven’t been to these areas much. The ironic thing there is that they are quite adventurous and have literally spent their lives traveling the world, seeing new places, eating new foods, diving into totally different cultures. But when it comes to their own home base, they don’t really see much of it and say they don’t have much time to do it. In that sense, they’re not that different to the average person who doesn’t go outside of their own neighborhood or surrounding neighborhoods. But when we do bring the foods back home for them to try, maybe that will entice them to go back?

“Vacation”

I was asked a few times if I felt relaxed during this trip to Australia, and my immediate answer every single time has been “no.” It’s not that I don’t like being here. I love being here in the Southern hemisphere summer. I love exploring new areas, going to new places, eating different things. I like spending time with Chris’s parents and the rest of his family (at least, most of the rest of his family). But given I have still been working East Coast US hours and am also in full-time childcare mode, it hasn’t been that relaxing. Back in New York, I used to rely on the nanny five days a week to do Kaia’s solid feeds 3 times per day, most of her diaper changes, and her baths two out of three times a week. Now, I do all her baths, a lot of her diaper changes, and the majority of her solid feeds. And while the nanny had the controlled environment of a high chair in our own home, I’ve had to deal with her solid food eating in the company of many family members, plus at endless restaurants, which means… distraction, distraction, distraction.

Chris’s brother commented on the amount of food she was eating and said, “That’s going to take at least 45 minutes to an hour for her to get through!” He was in shock.

And I said, “Um, yes. She usually eats for 45 to an hour at home. And that doesn’t include the time to prepare the food and warm it up, set her up in the high chair, clean her up after, and then clean all the dishes, the tray, and everything she got all over the splat mat and floor after.”

“No wonder you say you don’t have any time to yourself on the weekends at home!” his brother lamented. “Once you finish feeding her and cleaning her up, she’s ready to eat AGAIN!”

She can’t self feed as much outside because Chris doesn’t approve of the mess that she makes (well, she’s a baby? She doesn’t know how to eat cleanly or with cutlery yet!). And while eating out is occasionally fun with her, after a while, it gets a bit wearing, and it makes me empathize with parents who just kind of give up and eat at home most of the time and don’t go anywhere. Do I agree with their choice to be boring and not go anywhere or let their young children experience new places and things? No. But I get why they would be totally exhausted and just avoid it as much as possible because I’m exhausted.

“There is no such thing as a real vacation if your baby is with you,” said one of my mom friends.

She isn’t totally wrong.