October | 2014 | ajummama

It drizzled on my sunglassed face today. Ellis and I were basking in this last gift of a bright and sunny fall day with temps in the 60s, playing with our friends in the park before lunch, nap, and picking up Hyung.

When it rains while still bright and sunny out, there is a Korean saying: “The tiger groom and fox bride must be getting married today.”

I wanted to know more about that so I asked my mom via our Skype session during Ellis’ lunch. She guessed that it must mean that it is both a hilarious and unlikely event so you laugh AND cry at once, like the rain and sun at once? I guessed that it means a bright, sunny, rainy day is as likely as a tiger marrying a fox. Just a super-colorful and eccentric metaphor, confirming that if I could come back as any ethnicity, I would choose Korean all over again.

While trying to feed Ellis his oxtail soup and rice, he started getting upset, pushing his bowl away and pointing to something else. It turned out that he saw my bowl full of the same soup and rice but with kimchi floating around. He wanted to eat that one. I don’t even know how he saw my bowl hidden behind the open laptop and why he was so interested in having his first taste of kimchi today of all days.

I obliged as my mama said, “Make sure you tear the kimchi into small pieces for him. Wash it real good.”

Then again. “He’s eating like a grown man. But make sure you tear the kimchi into small pieces. And wash off the spices.”

And again. She said it a total of five times. I spoke up and said, “Can you PLEASE not say it again? Unlike OTHER FAMILIES, we take care of these guys MOSTLY ON OUR OWN, so I know how to feed him and if I cut it too small, he gets upset. I know what I’m doing.”

This fell on deaf ears because she immediately said again, while beaming at Ellis, “The kimchi should be torn into small pieces.”

“UMMA! I know we’ve had this conflict before. You keep saying the same thing over and over again and then when I ask…no actually, when I BEG of you to just stop, you say, ‘Hey, you really need to know I’m only saying this aloud for my own sake. Can’t you just let it go and lemme say what I say? Let it roll off your back? I’m just talking to myself.’ But that’s not fair, Umma! I obviously can’t let it roll off my back after you repeat it six times in a row so it’s not just Bad Jihee, Good Mommy. You can also try to help out by not saying things that I ask you to PLEASE PLEASE stop repeating.”

I should have added that it also hurts because it seems like she doesn’t trust my parenting skills when she repeats herself like this. Our Skype sessions sometimes end with my hanging up abruptly because I only hear repeat instructions in lieu of something that is pretty foreign in my family. AFFIRMATION. That is why when I see my friends get affirmed for just about anything from their parents, my mouth falls open like I am watching science fiction unfold before me.

Also, this reminded me of how sometimes, conflict with my parents is usually explained away with, “This is just a cultural and generational difference. If you were raised in Korea, you would know that we don’t mean any harm by _________.”

When my mama graciously helped us out by taking an unpaid leave from her job to stay with us for about a month or more after Ellis was born, Kevin and I had to take Ellis for one of his first doctor visits. Micah started bawling when he saw us trying to leave without him. My mom brought Micah to the elevator as we waited for it, trying to make the most peaceful getaway. As he bawled, she started to fake cry with him!

I snapped at her, “Please take him AWAY and back into the apartment. Distract him. Don’t let him stand here and bawl as he WATCHES us leave. You’re making it worse.”

I couldn’t believe that I had to not only watch him bawl, which was making me sweat like crazy and my boobs squirt more milk into my nursing pads, but watch my mom, his caretaker for the moment, also fake-cry as she held him.

She said this was a cultural difference, that Korean adults of her generation always try to cry along with the baby in order to distract the baby who may stop to watch the adult “crying.” I guess I can understand that but he was near hysterics and it clearly wasn’t working.

Also, when I had my first baby, nursing round the clock, each time he cried and I was frantically unclasping my nursing tank top to feed him, my mom would say, “mma-mma jooh seh yo, mma-mma jooh seh yo!” meaning, “please give me food, please give me food.” It added so much stress as I practically ripped off my shirt to feed him, as an overly ambitious first-time mama. Again, she said it is a cultural difference and her just talking by herself.

I guess this is my Korean entry. I don’t know if it is just a cultural difference or a difference in personality but it keeps recurring because we both won’t give in. She wants me to just LET her keep saying things OVER and OVER and OVER again while I want her to just refrain from saying stuff.

Though it may be a cultural / generational difference, that blanket statement doesn’t help actually resolve anything. How about we both try? I will try not to let it get to me as much but she should also try to stop saying it so many times!

I love her dearly and believe me, I appreciate having a living mama who cares so much for her grandkids but it struck me again that communication in any love relationship can be such a challenge.

However, I must admit that her original song “mma-mma jooh seh yo, mma-mma jooh seh yo!” has become a staple in our household. God bless Gramma Lee. I must go wake up Ellis to go pick up Big Bro now.

It is pouring outside.

Dearest Ellis,
Today, our little Kung Fu Panda Mong Sheel-Ee dared to turn TWO on us! The baby of the family thinks he’s allowed to grow up like this!?

Of course I reminisced about your birth. How your dad and I were watching the season premiere of “Homeland” (Season Two) when I went to the bathroom and saw a little blood on my underwear. Your brother had arrived within 24 hours after the bloody show so we knew that most likely, you were on your way, ten days before your due date, JUST LIKE YOUR MICAH HYUNG!

You were gracious enough to let me (mostly) sleep through the night though some painful contractions did wake me up and I decided to jot down a quick letter to Belly Baby Gender Unknown.

The morning of October 1st. Your Lee Halmoni/my mama was scheduled to touch down at JFK but because my contractions were coming regularly, we sent her a Korean cab instead of picking her up ourselves. We were getting ready to go to the hospital when the contractions slowed down.

I told your dad to go to work to save his days off.

You so kindly allowed Halmoni to arrive and learn the ropes of how to take care of your big bro before you called Game Time on us. I was able to school her all day on all things Micah before your dad finally came home from the office. He came armed with a Buffalo Chicken Panini for me to take me to the hospital that evening. I am always fearful of getting hungry so I even ate through tearful contractions because a girl dunno when the next meal comin’ through with all that laborin’ in between.

It was still gorgeous and sunny that early evening. As we drove over the RFK/Triboro Bridge to get to our hospital, we realized this was it. We had to finalize your name. We joked that it had to be RFK.

We were already set on the first name. We had chosen “Ellis” a few weeks after finding out we were expecting, whether you were a boy or a girl, though now I see that I strongly prefer “Ellis” for a boy. We wanted everyone in our family to have five-letter names but broke the rule for your middle name as we thought the “Z” initial was too cool to pass up. Your dad wouldn’t let me go through with “Zion” and we both really felt peace about the “Zachary” you ended up with. “Zachary” means “remembered by God” in Hebrew.

Within a few hours of checking in at the hospital, you arrived. Those few hours were beyond painful but I can hardly recall the pain now because I only see YOU. It only took about 15 minutes of pushing and the doctor yelling, “STOP” instead of “PUSH!” for the final push because you were shooting out so fast.

Sorry, this letter hardly sounds like me. I’m rushing to write it because Mama is so wiped from this week of nervous weather-stalking for your (early) birthday celebration yesterday. I ended up postponing it at the last minute due to the threat of rain after a whole day of showers yesterday for the outdoor gathering. Not too Accu, Accu-Weather! Was praying for a flood of Noah’s Ark proportions after I ended up canceling but of course, not a drop.

So today, on your actual birthday, I wanted to hook you up with SOME kind of outing to commemorate your special day. But it turned out to be the same deal as yesterday, only worse. Rained all morning AND threat of continued rain in the afternoon. Even darker skies.

Mama said, “Not again, Accu-Weather. You don’t fool me! Mama taking her birthday boy to the ZOO!”

So naturally, I got lost driving to the zoo we go to only every week! The GPS led me to some shady road behind Citifield, the U.S. Open Tennis Courts, and some United Nations Drive. It went from, “You are three minutes away” to “You are 26 minutes away.”

I still don’t know what happened.

When we finally arrived at the zoo, your bro had fallen asleep. I took you guys out and placed you in the Strollerus Prime.

We were the only ones there. It was drizz…it was raining.

But I will always remember how happy you were to look at your bears and feed your goats with Mama on your one and only second birthday. With your brother sleeping the whole time and waking up only as we pulled out of the zoo parking lot, thinking he must have dreamt that he had been asleep near a sheep’s face.

Thank you for joining our little family two years ago today.

You too EZ to love!

Your biggest fan and paparazzo,
Mama