The magic of Jamaican blue soap

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“Have you ever used Jamaican blue soap?” my nanny asked me a few weeks ago while folding Kaia’s laundry.

She wasn’t surprised that my answer was no. “When I first saw Kaia’s burp cloths, I knew you didn’t have the blue soap,” she said, smirking. “The Jamaican blue soap is the secret to how I keep all my whites VERY WHITE!”

She’s not kidding. As soon as summer officially began with Memorial Day here, she’s worn an endless stream of white outfits to our home, and I can say without hesitation that her whites.. are blindingly WHITE. They legitimately all look brand new, as though she just purchased them the previous day. I don’t think anything I own is as white as any of her clothes. And well, I never really took the time to properly clean them outside of throwing them into the washing machine. She takes great pride in keeping her whites extremely white; she sets aside time every laundry day to separate out all her whites and hand scrub them with Jamaican blue soap before adding them to the washing machine.

We got some pretty annoying mango and apricot stains on the high chair straps (thanks, baby led weaning…), and our nanny worked her magic on them with the Jamaican blue soap and an old clean toothbrush. After seeing this, I decided to try this technique out using the blue soap on the mesh bassinet sides that Kaia used to lick constantly. These were heavily stained brownish grey. Well, this freaking soap worked: the brownish grey marks were completely gone.

This Jamaican blue soap really is magic. I suddenly got really excited, wondering what else I could use this magic soap on…

What goes in… must come out

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It’s been about 16 days of introducing Kaia to solid foods now. It’s been both exciting and scary to introduce her to regular food. I obviously want her to have a very varied and diverse palate, but at the same time, I am cognizant in the back of my mind of how prevalent food allergies are today, not to mention the potential choking risks, and so I’ve tried my best to be calm and not overly aggressive in the baby-led weaning process. So far, it seems like her favorites include peanut butter, oats, and broccoli. She’s really enjoyed the pineapple this week, as well.

Well, what goes in… must come out. As I’ve read, it’s never quite clear how much she’s really eaten. It’s easier to track with purees than with the baby led weaning process of whole foods. But… If there were any doubts as to what she was actually consuming versus just playing with and sucking, they all dissipated when I changed her poop diaper last night. As soon as I opened the diaper, not only did I notice that her bowel movement is a lot more solid and less loose, but also… the smell. Oh my goodness, the smell! It smelled like an actual adult poop! She’s genuinely getting her solids in! On top of that, she had many, many farts in the lead up to her diaper change, and I can say, without a doubt… there was NO surprise she ate asparagus earlier in the day. There were a lot of stinky farts that had a tinge of asparagus odor to them!

“Once they start solids, the diaper changes will be changed forever!” my friend warned me. “You thought breast milk or formula poop smelled? That was nothing compared to solids poop! It’s basically like OUR poop now!”

The journey to eating solids, continued

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“Experts” say that when you begin introducing solid food to babies, you should do a little at a time and introduce new foods for three days to ensure there are no food allergies or reactions. Breast milk or formula should be served first, then about 30 minutes after the main feed, solids should be introduced. This happens at about six months of age. One “solids” meal of a tablespoon or so gradually becomes two solid meals, then three. Then, at around nine months, you gradually transition from having breast milk or formula first to then having the solid food be the first meal, then breast milk/formula as a follow up. The journey continues until the point that the soon to be toddler is having mostly solids with breast milk or cow milk as a supplement or beverage.

The last two days, Kaia has not appreciated having her smock put on her, nor having her set up in her high chair. She has fussed and cried a lot, but eventually calms down a little when the foods are presented. In the last couple of days, she’s had aspargus and broccoli, whole and pureed, oatmeal, pineapple, and peanut butter. The constant seems to be that she really enjoys the peanut butter. Today, she sucked on a pineapple chunk and seemed to like it. I also filled her teetherpop with water and froze it so she could chew on it today, and she was successfully able to suck the water out of it. I may blend in pineapple to have her eat it that way tomorrow.

The eating journey for a baby is an adventure, but it’s clear that the real solids, like the broccoli florets or cauliflower chunks, scare my nanny. She’s used to only serving purees and has a hawk’s eye on Kaia when she’s gnawing on the florets, hoping she doesn’t choke. I told her not to be nervous; she can’t eat purees forever. Kaia needs to get used to different textures and what they feel like in her hands and mouth. My ultimate hope is that she’s not a picky eater and eats whatever I serve her.

The next things on my list to introduce her to are: tahini (sesame seeds), flaxseed and chia seeds in her oatmeal; spinach, lentils, black and white beans.

“When will I see you again?”

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Chris’s parents left for the airport at midday today, so I asked the nanny to stay with the baby until they left so that they could say goodbyes and get some cuddles in before their flight. I know they’re both sad to be leaving, knowing that Kaia will be growing and developing by leaps and bounds between now and the next time they see her, which will hopefully be at the end of this year. And honestly, it made me sad, too, as the days wound down and we approached today, to know that they were leaving. I really enjoyed having them here and seeing them enjoy cuddles and quality time with their granddaughter.

After the Uber left, the nanny took Kaia to Riverside Park, and I went back upstairs to get my pump set up, and my eyes just welled up. I thought about how happy Kaia was to be with her grandma and grandpa, and how quickly time flies and how all that time will be spent apart. I thought about how outside of Chris and me, Kaia really has no family nearby to love and care for her unconditionally, and that suddenly made me feel so lonely for her. I don’t want my daughter to be alone or feel alone. I want her to be surrounded by people who adore her. And those people who love and adore her and have spent so much happy and loving time with her in the last few weeks are now leaving. How much will she really know them or care for them with the distance between them? How much will she understand them, or they understand her? How much of a relationship will they really share? I’m not sure. I can already imagine her a little older, able to speak, asking them, “When will I see you again?” And I can already imagine myself tearing up at the question.

I’ve never really cried or gotten upset when Chris’s parents have left before. Of course, in past visits, I’ve been a little sad once they’ve left since they bring so much happy, positive energy to our home every time they are here. I mean, seriously… these are people who get excited over a simple, all-natural bar of soap that suds well to the point that they rave about it and then go back to Whole Foods two hours before departing for the airport just to get more! They genuinely appreciate the simple things in life that the rest of us take for granted. But this time, it’s different with Kaia here. I just had that sad, sinking feeling in my stomach when I stood at the kitchen counter, alone with my pump, after they were all gone. It’s different because Kaia’s presence is also a reminder to them and to me that they’re getting older; we’re all getting older. At some point, they may not be able bodied enough to visit us on this long-haul flight. They don’t even have access to health coverage while here, and in an emergency if they needed it, it would cost a fortune (which is supposedly covered by their credit card, but who the hell knows how much would really be covered?!).

On the other hand, I guess I also mourn my own relationship with my own parents, and Kaia’s soon-to-be relationship or lack thereof with them. As my therapist frequently told me before I ended sessions with her before Kaia’s arrival, it’s okay to be sad for what you wish you had but don’t have. As we all know, we cannot control our parents or our relationships with them. They are what they are to a large extent, especially when we’re talking about people who are just flat out unstable. It’s okay to wish you had a relationship with your parents that never existed. It’s okay to feel envious of Chris’s parents, but also be aware that you still get to enjoy them as in-laws.

It is what it is. We cannot control everything. But it also makes me wonder sometimes… what am I really living for? Sometimes, I’m not even sure what my end goal is.

Last night with the grandparents

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Today is Chris’s parents’ last full day in New York with us before they leave to go back home. It’s sad to think that their month-plus long trip to the US has already come and gone so quickly. Every day as I get older, time seems to fly faster and faster, and I always feel like I want to hit a pause button just to relish the seconds and minutes a little longer. I’m even more cognizant of this now with little Kaia, seeming to grow more rapidly as each day passes.

I was sitting on the couch this evening, listening to Chris and his parents banter back and forth about healthcare in Australia and its pros and cons, and comparing this to the healthcare situation here in the U.S. and how dismal it is. And as I was listening to this half discussion, half debate, my mind went back to thinking about my own parents and our lack of ability to have even half of a discussion like this in a productive way. Chris’s parents will happily sit there and talk about why lamb is embraced in Western China but not in Eastern China. They will talk about the evolution of language and why different languages are spoken across China and India and how that came to be. My parents? We can’t really have many intelligent or productive conversations about almost anything. All our conversations are mundane, gossipy (usually because my mom brings up something inane), or about the everyday like eating or work or the baby, or flat out arguments or lectures. And even those everyday conversations are frustrating because my mom always comes at it from the angle that she knows everything because she has more wisdom than I do, and therefore I need to listen to her, otherwise “You will face consequences… because kids who are disobedient to their parents will be punished by Jehovah.” That was a constant threat and admonishment that Ed and I heard over and over from the time my mom started studying to be a Jehovah’s Witness since my freshman year in high school.

It’s not nice to compare, but it’s only natural to compare because for the longest time, I just thought the way my parents were would be how EVERYONE’S parents would be. Because you only know what you know, right? And as I gradually started making more friends and meeting other people and their families, plus interacting with those family members, I realized that I was in an unhealthy situation with mentally unstable, paranoid, and immature parents, and not everyone else had the same situation.

I want my baby to have a happy, healthy relationship with Chris and me and all her family members. I want her to know and love them, and know that we all love her unconditionally. But honestly, I have no idea what kind of relationship, if any, she will have with my parents.

Another U.S. Independence Day in the US of A

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Although we had gotten accustomed to leaving the US and mostly being in Asia most 4th of Julys in the past, once the pandemic hit, we didn’t really have much of a choice and had to be here. In 2020, we were in the Lower East Side and East Village. In 2021, I was grateful to be pregnant and traveling in Houston. This year, Chris’s parents are with us here in New York to spend time with the baby and us, and we went up to the Bronx to see Villa Charlotte Bronte and enjoy tapas.

We tried to put Kaia to sleep before heading up to the roof to watch the fireworks, but we could see from our video monitor via the phone app that she was getting fussy in her crib, likely getting “FOMO” and the sixth sense that we all had abandoned her. So Chris went downstairs to get her and bring her up to the roof with us, which made her happy and want to jump up and down in his arms as she wiggled about.

It was Kaia’s first 4th of July outside of the uterus. This 4th of July wasn’t that exciting or much of a day to celebrate considering all the disgusting Supreme Court rulings of the previous weeks, though. I have no idea how long we can continue to stay in this country with its regressive laws and backwards thinking. But one thing to celebrate is that Kaia is here, safe and healthy and happy, and we got to spend the day with her grandparents altogether as a family.

When your dad-in-law wants to learn about pumping milk

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Whenever I’ve shared with colleagues or distant friends that my in-laws are going to visit or are in town, their initial reaction is always one of “ugh” or “poor you.” But I always end up correcting them and telling them that I love my in-laws, that they are fun and enjoyable to be with, that they are kind, genuinely good people who seem to at least try to see the best in everything and everyone. I always look forward to their visits, I look forward to our visits to Australia to see them, and I always inevitably feel sad when their visit is coming to an end.

I wasn’t sure how they would react to my pumping schedule or the fact that I spend four hours a day connected to an electric nipple sucker, but they never reacted negatively to any of the pumping or the fact that my nipples were out all the time, regardless of whether I was sitting there talking to them or cutting fruit or playing with the baby. They just took it all in stride. Chris’s mom asked questions about my schedule, how often and for how long I pumped, when I planned to wean off of pumping, and that was really it. After the first couple of days, it just seemed to be a normal thing they saw and it was just as everyday as seeing someone put on their jacket. In fact, Chris’s dad was so curious to understand how it all worked that he actually asked me about my different pump settings, what they did and meant, how I changed the settings and when, and whether the pump actually hurt me. These were all unexpected questions, but I found it sweet and endearing that he had the curiosity and courage to ask.

It’s why I love having my in-laws around. They are genuinely kind, loving, supportive, amazing people. I’ve never felt judged or insulted or upset by pretty much anything they’ve ever done. They are so well meaning, perhaps even to a fault. Chris’s mom preemptively even apologizes for things she overthinks that could have been offensive but were never actually offensive!

When your mom tells you to stop sharing photos of your daughter to someone she hates

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I have one Jehovah’s Witness friend in my mom’s congregation who I communicate with occasionally throughout the year, mostly through email and occasionally over text. She’s always been a kind, thoughtful, intelligent person who I’ve had a lot of interesting conversations with. My mom doesn’t like her or her family, and I’m sure the primary reason is because she is Black. A while back, I believe she had a conflict with this person’s dad, who was an elder in the congregation, and since then, she wants nothing to do with this family other than cordial greetings. Once, she didn’t want me to meet up with this person when I was in town because she was 100% certain this person was going to poison and kill me. Yes, I realize that was probably a sign my mom was mentally ill, but I didn’t really need that extreme example to realize that.

So I called her today after about a month of not really talking at all. I know she was staying away because she knew Chris’s parents were here on and off, but I didn’t tell her what days specifically to keep her on her toes. She has her friend there and put me on speaker phone (how lovely). She makes annoying comments about how when I come home, she wants all of us to have dinner together (no thanks). And then she says, “I just want you to know that I tried to show a photo of Kaia to (this person’s husband), and he said, ‘I don’t need to see it. I already see so many photos of Kaia that Yvonne sends to (this friend).”

My mom exaggerates the negative when she talks about people she doesn’t like. What I am sure happened, which I confirmed with my friend, is that her husband likely said that he had already seen photos of the baby through my friend that I sent. My mom, in her mentally unstable state, interpreted the meaning to be “I don’t need to see photos.” And even if he did say that, I don’t care. Why is this such a big deal??

My mom went on to say that I should only share photos and videos with people “who really care.” Let’s also keep in mind… the last time I sent photos of the baby to this friend was over 3 months ago, and I hardly inundate anyone who isn’t the grandparents or my best friend with images of the baby. I recognize that not everyone is going to gush over my baby the way I do (yes, believe it or not… I have some level of self awareness).

The littlest and most benign things upset and make my mother angry. And the worst part? I still get so exacerbated by her constant barrage of bullshit that I always react and say something. I’m sure it is because part of me wishes that one day, just one day, she will have a normal reaction to a normal thing. And that part of me always ends up extremely disappointed to hear her make a big deal out of yet another nothing situation. These problems should not even BE problems. They should be non-issues that no one even talks about!

The return to the boob

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For a couple weeks now, Kaia has been rejecting the breast. I figure she’s finally come to the conclusion and understanding that she just doesn’t get much food directly from my breast, so I told myself to just let it go. Maybe she doesn’t need comforting with my boob anymore, and that’s okay because she’s growing up and moving on. But tonight before bed, she was getting fussy, likely from the teeth under her gums trying to break through, so Chris suggested that I just offer her my breast to see if she’d take it. In the early days of her pre-teething, the boob was all that made her stop screaming and calm down. And given her days in a row rejection of my breast, I just stopped offering it to her because I didn’t want to upset her. But today, she actually did take my left breast right away, for a whopping four minutes. She was much more distracted this time around, constantly looking up at my face, then at my breast, then waving her hands all over the place to grab my arm, shoulder, neck, and collar bone. Then, she unlatched, pushed my nipple away, and started rubbing her eyes. It was sleepy time for her.

I can’t believe my baby is almost seven months old now. That also means it’s been seven months postpartum for me, seven months of pumping milk out of my breasts to feed and nourish my sweet little Kaia. Breastfeeding was certainly a journey to say the least, but every day, I feel grateful looking at her and knowing she is being nourished with mama’s milk and growing so beautifully. My friends and colleagues all gush over how chubby she is, how pinch-able her fat little cheeks are, and they say, “good job, mama! That’s all thanks to you and your milk!” Looking back, I think breastfeeding/pumping/increasing my milk supply is one of the hardest things I’ve ever worked to do. And though I wish I was more informed from the very beginning, I am grateful every day for my journey.

Adult Children of Emotionally Immature Parents – the book

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Since Kaia was born, I haven’t had much time or energy to read any books. I figured it would be temporary and that eventually, I would start reading again since I’ve always been a reader. Only recently have I started listening to podcasts again, and though I’ve attempted to sit down to open a book, it hasn’t really worked out. Part of me doesn’t want to spend time reading when I could be spending it playing with and watching my baby grow. Every day she’s growing so quickly and doing new things, and the idea of missing out on something new she does always makes me a bit sad.

Well, I had a book I was waitlisted for via the NYPL / Libby app since last summer that I finally got off the wait list for, and it was a book that I read about called Adult Children of Emotionally Immature Parents: How to Heal from Distant, Rejecting, or Self-Involved Parents. I think it got mentioned in one of the parenting groups I’m in because a parent was really scared about repeating the same mistakes of her parents. I think one part of how to tackle this is first beginning with self awareness, recognizing that not everything your parents did was “right” or what you want for your own kids, and having checks in place to ensure you do not repeat the same behavior. With parents of the previous generation, a lot of growing up was just about survival, especially if you were the child of immigrants who were just trying to keep the roof over their heads and food on the table. They didn’t have the time or energy for self reflection on how they could do better than their own parents; they focused simply on the physical aspects of shelter and food.

I started reading this book. A lot of the examples provided are very much centered on the white family experience, but I can see how it could be adjusted slightly to account for cultural differences. At the end of the day, I believe that the majority of parents try their hardest to raise their children to the best of their ability. But many do not think about what they could improve, and instead raise their kids how they themselves were raised. I think that’s what my dad did: his parents worked all the time, so they never had the time to teach him anything, so he took it upon himself to learn everything he knew. That’s why he had no patience to teach Ed or me even the simplest things, like how to tie our shoes or ride a bike, or the more complex, like changing oil on a car or driving. He just expected us to learn on our own. He communicated mostly by yelling; that’s what his parents did with him. His parents criticized him constantly; that’s what he did to Ed and me. He knew no different, so he did the same with us and perceived that as “normal.” My mom got disregarded completely as the 10th and last child of her mom. She experienced zero affection or love from her mom. She tried to learn from that and showered me with love and affection, but alas, it ended up becoming more suffocating than anything. So while I get frustrated with both my parents, I recognize that they were just limited by the experiences they had, and they thus lacked the emotional maturity to improve how they parented. But because they are emotionally immature, they will never recognize or admit their faults. The book also describes how children of emotionally immature parents tend to have a higher level of compassion and empathy. I guess that’s one way Ed and I benefited from having unrealistic and immature parents.

The book gets redundant with its examples, though, and it doesn’t give much in the way of coping mechanisms. I thought the whole point of the book was to help identify toxic behavior and then address how to deal with it all and live a healthy and happy adult life?