Evite Reminder: MLK’s (Theme-to-Be-Determined) Ko-Mitzvah 11.25.2023

Posted on October 21, 2013 by ajummama

I can write at least 58 different posts on this one topic alone, the topic being “Things I Used to Judge Only to Do Them Now.”

When I was pregnant with my firstborn, MLK, I had somehow developed a stance against kiddie pay-to-play classes like Gymboree.

I’d be all, “Augh! Why would I pay more than my own adult gym’s monthly payments so that my kid can LEARN to PLAY? That is too yuppie for my taste. I’m old school. I’m au naturel! Why would my kid attend some sorta hakwon as a baby!?” [“hakwon” = Korean prep academy / afterschool enrichment]

Then I happened to take him to a trial class. Not only did I promptly sign him up, we became loyal Gymboree members, referring more than a dozen other kiddos and continuing our membership for longer than any of our peers. It wasn’t about learning to play as I had initially thought, but rather, having a colorful, inviting space to play in regularly, other than our same ol’ same ol’ living room or other buddies’ living rooms.

Micah started looking like Billy Madison among babies, when we finally quit two whole years later, at 31 months old. I almost couldn’t go through with terminating our membership because Gymboree was so beloved by both Micah and Mama, such a big part of our lives as newbie mama and first baby, but it was time. (Ellis as second-born never got to join Gymboree as you’re not allowed to bring your older sibling to the younger class. Too Godzilla-like).

When I was pregnant, people warned me mostly about sleep deprivation, or made vague and ominous declarations like “Your life will never be the same again,” but not about how my weekends would usually include a kiddie birthday party, sometimes back-to-back, before and after naps. Thankfully I still enjoy them, especially watching these little guys light up, but I used to judge elaborate kiddie birthday parties. Hward.

My natural gut reaction was to scoff at how fancy these parties were becoming compared to my childhood where my McDonald’s birthday party was my most pimped out.

We recently went to a sprawling gymnastics birthday party for a cute little three-year old friend of Micah’s (who we met at Gymboree as infants). The gymnastics academy was one of the best venues I’d seen for these active toddlers to tumble around in, complete with a foam diving pit and largest parachute ever. The hosts were so inclusive of their many little buddies that this was the biggest party we had been to…since her 2nd birthday party.

I was wearing Ellis, having a hard time side-shimmying through the crowd during lunch as everyone had to squeeze in behind their seated little ones on a long table and accompanying bench. I watched all the parents obediently file into line, shoulder-to-shoulder, behind their children, amidst commotion, to receive their standard party rations: pizza and cake. Because this party was so big, the tables and benches kept you from mingling about. Strictly single file line. You bess stay at your station.

I saw my good friend multi-tasking, feeding her son and looking out for Kevin by asking him quickly, “Did you get your pizza? You were able to eat?” Kevin, while keeping Micah and Micah’s juice from falling off the bench and table respectively, quickly responded, “Yup, yup, I ate, I ate. Plenty, thanks. You got one, too, right?”

It was heartwarming. They were Tim Robbins and Morgan Freeman lookin’ out for each other in the prison mess hall.

Before I had these kids, it was all too easy to snub my nose at these modern day birthday parties because they just seemed too fancy compared to my own childhood. I’m talking gymnastics, carousel, museum, zoo, petting zoo, circus, water station, sprawling “treehouse,” Gymboree, My Gym, Bounce U, farm, and more.

Just yesterday, Micah came home excitedly after attending his buddy’s birthday party with his Daddy while Ellis and I had to miss due to Ellis’ fever.

“Did you have fun at E’s party? Was it fun on the schoolbus!?”

“Mommy! It’s not schoolbus! It’s Fun Bus.”

He had had a blast at the Fun Bus party. A Fun Bus is a schoolbus painted all cute with its insides gutted out so that kids can tumble and swing around.

Micah taking a break from Fun Bus er, fun, to peek out at his Daddy / photo credit: his Daddy

photo credit: Claudia Douyon

I remember a childhood friend telling me, “Jihee, my son went to a party where they had a Bubble-ologist. The weirdest part is that he called HIMSELF that. With a straight face.”

I used to think that I would be able to resist this party culture for my kids but just like with Gymboree, I saw how much he enjoyed himself and how his little buddies, especially now that they aren’t babies any more, really understood that it was their special birthday celebration. Plus, many of us live in small NYC apartments so it’s a matter of practicality. There is just no way to host a party in our own homes unless you invite only two little friends and their mamas.

I’ve slowly come to realize that I can’t keep comparing to my McDonald’s party of yesteryear because this is a whole new world. I was learning this new invention called “computer” on an Apple IIC or IIE in our elementary school’s computer lab, stressing about learning how to play a new game called “Carmen Sandiego” while some toddlers these days have their own iPads. Naturally, the landscape of birthday parties, especially in cities like NYC or LA, would get suped up.

I know I’m a dinosaur but what is up with themes? These days, great parties and weddings all seem to have a theme. Was just thinking that today’s hipsters may throw an ironic McDonald’s-themed party, complete with retro uniforms and modernized purple fondant Grimace cake.

“Does Ellis have a theme for his doljanchi?” asked one of my best friends recently, as she planned her son’s in LA.

“Watchoo mean ‘theme’? The ‘THEME’ is that he turnin’ One and we feeding our friends and family a gluttonous amount of food and dduk. And hiring his music class teacher to do some dope kiddie songs for 45 minutes!”

“No, girl, a THEME!”

Online stores like Etsy make it easy to choose a theme like “Carnival” or “Rock Star” and buy accompanying decorations but it’s just one more thing to have to make a series of micro-decisions about. That is what I am allergic to in event planning: how tending to just “x,y, and z” soon sprouts into tending to “a thru w, and don’t forget the x, y, and z,” even though it’s all for such a happy occasion. So, no, we didn’t have no theme for both boys’ doljanchis other than, “Get Yo Grub On, and Watch Our Son Crawl Towards The Object Which Scientifically Foretells His Destiny aka Doljabi.”

I got married more than six years ago and thank God people didn’t ask me “What is your theme for the wedding?”

My “THEME” is marriage. That by God’s grace, my crazy ass is getting hitched.

So, back to these modern birthday parties. Special venues do allow parents to relax as they usually have most of the details covered. Most of the time, even a built-in THEME!

I recently heard my girl, Wendy Williams, talk about her 13 year-old son’s Bro-Mitzvah complete with a celeb date for him to walk around with and recording artists for entertainment, fancier than my wedding. Also on “Basketball Wives,” Shaq’s son, Shareef, got a Bro-Mitzvah with a stylist picking out his multiple couture outfits and of course, per his request, fire.

While I did end up booking the gymnastics academy for Micah’s 3rd birthday party (with a very short guestlist to keep it intimate), I do draw the line at throwing him a Ko-Mitzvah.

For now.

Morning at Jericho: “I’m good, Ma!”

Posted on September 12, 2013 by ajummama

Two Chinese nannies, three Japanese mamas, one Chinese daddy, and Ellis and me reppin’ Korea waiting on a dingy couch and a couple chairs.

No, not the premise of a joke that racists relished telling when I was growing up, but the scene right outside Micah’s classroom this morning.

Today was the first OFFICIAL day of school after Orientation Week. Micah would be off on his own for nearly three hours.

I wasn’t sure if he was going to need me to stay. I had prepped him all summer with pick-up lines for snagging friends. Short and sweet: “Hi, I’m Micah. You wanna play?” He repeated it to me, trying to be a comedian. “Hi, Mommy, I’m Micah! You want to play weeth me?” while giggling uncontrollably.

It was Game Time. He plopped himself down on the carpet where some cute little kiddies were already engrossed in play. He beamed at a green bunny and took it to them. “I have at home. I have deess one at home!” Here I had been feeding him lines when he went with what he knew. Atta boy!

He was ready. My little birdie was ready to fly.

“Micah, Mommy wants to give you space to make friends and play on your own today at school. You’re gonna have so much fun. I promise I will be right outside if you need me, okay? Ellis and Mommy come pick you up later, OK? I promise I will be right outside.”

He barely acknowledged me as he moved on to play in different areas.

I wore Ellis and parked our doublestroller on the patch of dry grass out front, and walked around his school a countless number of times, like it was Jericho (though I wasn’t wishing that the walls came tumbling down, down, down, dooby dooby down).

Every now and then a child would run out looking for their adult. When a child came running out, either wailing or crying softly while trying to be brave, another child or two would follow like little ducklings, looking for their caretaker in the waiting area. In one case, one little girl was in such hysterics that the teacher went for a walk with her.

One older Chinese nanny was too cute. Her child came running out when she least expected it and she didn’t want to be seen so she tried to hide behind her friend, the other older Chinese nanny. They were both completely in plain view but in her desperation, she tried to act like a statue, then hide.

Ellis was extra jolly, thriving in my undivided attention and affection. Gurgling away and poking my eyes, booty-shaking and motorboating me. I didn’t mean to wear his growing body on me for the entire time on this sunny day but I wasn’t thinking straight as I thought I might have to run into the classroom at any moment. Ellis gladly took his morning nap on me, in deep, angelic slumber.

I lusted after a cold beverage, but I didn’t have my wallet on me and I wasn’t about to borrow money from new classmates’ mamas. It didn’t matter as I had no plans to leave the school’s general vicinity. Not on the first real day. After all, I had given Micah my word that I would be right outside. I was preoccupied, thinking the teacher would call my cell at any moment while I was walking ’round and ’round the block.

I kept thinking that when they were off to their next activity, Micah would cry. I wasn’t being entirely paranoid as this dude would NOT separate from me for months as a younger toddler when I tried to attend a weekly women’s Bible Study. Even after he turned two, it took months and months for him to attend Sunday School on his own. Now he practically runs to Sunday School, eager to see his favorite teachers.

Playground time was the finale today. I made sure I couldn’t be seen when the kids all walked together from the classroom.

Ellis and I hid behind a toolshed next to the school, near a dirt pile, to catch a glimpse of Son/Brother. (Please note: if you see a suspicious adult creeping around any given playground, before you call the popo, take pause and consider first that she may just be an anxious parent on her son’s first day).

I didn’t see him at first among a batch of kiddies, so I inched over a bit while still hidden, and there he was, chasing after a ball and looking like he was having so much fun. We later saw him riding on a red trike, looking like Christmas Day. He looked so happy! Like he ain’t never cried hysterically for mama before.

Ten more minutes ’til dismissal. I nursed Ellis while sitting on some cement steps in the blazing sun. My body will be aching come tomorrow morning. The Chinese nanny had returned and we just kept smiling at each other as her English was as good as my Cantonese.

When I entered the classroom to pick up my dude, he squealed with glee, “Mommy! Mommy! Wook!” as he showed me his art project. A mama who ended up having to accompany her little girl today, reported back to me that Micah had fully participated in each activity and had a blast.

I know he will have needy days and independent days but today was as perfect as they come.

Thanks for the precious memories, dear week of 09.09. Reminded me that while these are some of the most hair-pulling times, these are also some of the sweetest times of my life.

Plus, First son/Big Bro being off at school in the mornings couldn’t have come at a better time. Mr. EZ is knocking on the door of toddlerhood, protesting the stroller and highchair, spitting out foods that he doesn’t like, always needing to be on Mama, and nursing like he’s going to be cut off soon. Stage Five Clinger had to be carried on my back after Micah’s school today, all the way home while I strolled big bro in the half-empty double.

But don’t worry, my dude, I find separation anxiety the ultimate form of flattery and I will be right outside the nearest toolshed when it’s YOUR first week.

First Day of School is For the Birds

Posted on September 10, 2013 by ajummama

Dear Micah,

As September hit and the weather cooled, back-to-school season was upon us. For our family, it was not BACK-to-school but the START of your first school ever.

You will get to know this about me soon: I am needlessly rebellious. Too much of anything and I run the other way. I try to act macho during movies, for instance, while the entire theater is bawling, or worse yet, I ask my girlfriends or your daddy if they cryin’.

So, as 09.09 approached, and I heard more buzz about school, school, school and so many First Day of School pictures all over Facebook, I may have started to rebel, without fully realizing it. Of course I filled out your many school forms ahead of time and prepared a shoebox full of items that your school requested but other than that, I wanted to go against the grain and make a smaller deal about you going off to your very first school ever, after hanging with Mommy nearly everyday since you arrived on Thanksgiving Day 2010.

We went on another trip this weekend to Miss J’s wedding. You were excited because you now have a taste for hotels, hotel pools, eating at restaurants for every meal, and sleeping with your entire family within touching distance. Our family partied hard at that very special wedding, your first taste of dancing on a dark dance floor with crazy adults who like to get down. Daddy and I changed you and Ellis into your pajamas for the long drive home, the night before your first day.

Upon returning late at night, I felt cool for not making this First Day thang too big. We weren’t at home marinating in it all weekend.

I didn’t even decide what you were going to wear until minutes before we left the house. I put you in a Montel Williams-looking Nehru-collared sky blue shirt with grey jeans and used one of your markers to make a “First Day of School” sign for pictures.

And we were off. Mama started strolling you (just you today, no Ellis). With the shoebox full of a change of clothes, tissues, underwear and a snapshot of you. (I apologize if anyone thinks your name is Anne Klein. It’s not like your friends can read anyhow.)

To get to your school, we started on the same 17-minute stroll we had done a countless number of times to get to the library, your friend K’s apartment, and your playground.

I had been talking to you about school for months now. How your friend, A, is already there and how you’re going to have so much fun and how Mommy and Ellis will pick you up just in time for lunch. Maybe this wasn’t the big deal others were making it out to be?

But during this very ordinary walk, Mama started feeling an extraordinary welling up inside. Like a volcano’s rumble. Or a bloodstain growing larger and larger on white cloth.

I tried to get real macho, real fast.

As I strolled you, I looked down at you with your skinny neck and spiky hair, sitting there with your clear, wide eyes, observing the world as you always do, acting like you ain’t never been a no-necked, rolly baby. You asked about the ongoing construction and the men doing the work. “Mommy, they working today? They fixing street again?” Our usual topics of conversation.

And then a bunch of sparrows flew around us and sat down in a row on the porch of a building we always pass by.

Oh, Micah, those birds. They just about did Mommy in. Mommy wanted to sit down in the middle of the street and do the Korean drama wail, wrapping a white cloth around my head like a proper wailing Korean mama.

Do you know why those birds are so special to us?

Mommy’s Mommy, your grandma, used to walk Mommy to school, telling me how the chahm-sehs (sparrows) were flying and chirping just for me, Nature’s perfect escorts to kindergarden.

Fast forward to now, and this gang of sparrows was also chirping just for you as you went off to school with YOUR Mommy.

They had watched us walk this very walk when you were just a few months old and we had already endured about eight major snowstorms. Mommy was nervous about taking you out on the slippery sidewalks that weren’t paved completely but when she did, she was so happy to stroll you around, getting both of us fresh air into our lungs. Feeling so accomplished. Feeling like maybe she can do this motherhood thang even with the mood-crushing weather and no family around.

Mommy had asked her friends what I should do for you, other than nap you and feed you and change your many diapers. They told her to just show you around and talk to you. So Mommy would tell you what she saw on the walk, including the snowed in sidewalks and the birds who wanted to see Micah in his stroller.

Mommy had been rebellious up until this very morning because you going to school WAS a huge deal and I didn’t trust the floodgates to come crashing down. I find myself doing that these days, Micah, not being able to cry because there might be too much in there.

Whether I made a big deal of it or not, here we were. So many moments flashing before my eyes. All the sweet “i wuv you, Mommy” moments, not the moments where Mommy has a pool of urine and chicken broth in her Crocs from an eventful afternoon.

I love you so much that if I pause to think about just how much, I feel like my heart will stop. I still cup your smooth face in my little hands, just like I did when you arrived brand new. I just can’t believe you were the little blueberry in my womb.

And I have to admit, it’s been REALLY HARD as you are not a baby any more and you want to do things your way.

You drive me crazy some days, when you don’t listen, and I have gotten so frustrated after how many spills and how many times you ask me for something after I tell you “No!” But you will always be my scrawny newborn who ballooned into a big-cheeked Gloworm, then became a sweet big brother at 22 months old. My firstborn. My baby.

Always remember that birds chirped just for you today as I took you to your first school, though sometimes, they sure did sound like they were chirping, “You ain’t hward, you ain’t hward!” in Mommy’s direction. Mommy got too verklempt to point it out during the walk, so here it is in print.

I still haven’t been able to cry but maybe your Mommy is growing up, too. Or the volcano will erupt next week when Orientation week is over.

P.S. I forgive you for asking if there was a baby in Mommy’s belly last week. I hope you can forgive me for greater offenses, like yelling at you and saying I want to be back at the office because you won’t listen. God bless you while you are at school. You’re all mine again after a few hours each morning. I love you to the moon and back.

my li’l Montel: don’t blow up my spot, ma!

Most Reviled

Posted on May 10, 2013 by ajummama

Fondly remembering last year’s Mother’s Day. Ellis was living in my womb and we didn’t know he’d be a boy (though I was not able to imagine a girl poppin’ out). Continue reading for more…

ajummama

A few months ago, my husband asked me to save the dates, the weekend before Mother’s Day.

“Schedule nothing – no playdates, no kiddie birthday parties.”

He knows how much I savor (good) surprises, the build-up of anticipation even MORE than the actual event sometimes. So when I learned that he was going to take 1.5 precious vacation days off for this surprise, I knew what was gonna go down.

Obviously, only one possibility. To visit his groomsman and his family in his new home in Portland, Maine. Totally made sense – quick plane ride, close enough to spend only three days there, a place to stay, and we had been talking about visiting ever since they moved there last year. I didn’t bother to guess any more until the actual day of our trip, as I was completely sure of myself.

No brainstorming necessary.

One thing that threw me…

View original post 1,178 more words

Election Day 2012

Posted on November 6, 2012 by ajummama

Typing with my warm new baby sprawled out, snoozing on my lap. He loves my body heat or “skinship” as Korean FOBS like to say. If I put him back in his bassinet, he will fuss so I will let him be, while also getting in some “me” typing time.

October has already come and gone. Ellis Zachary Kim, our beloved boy #2, E.Z. Kim with his huge, intense eyes and full head of lush McDreamy hair, arrived on the first of the month, just as CA Gramma arrived to take care of his older brother so that mama can get to the hospital to push (and pull) him out. Couldn’t have timed it more perfectly. He graciously even allowed time for me to “train” Gramma on Micah 101 through my contractions. Since we didn’t know if he’d be a “he,” we decided on his full name while driving to the hospital, on that bright and sunny October evening while I bit into a chicken parmesan sandwich between contractions. Though not adhering to the family five-letter naming rule, the too fresh “Z” initial of Zachary nor the meaning (Hebrew for “remembered by God”), could be passed up.

“Ellis” is an homage to immigrants, as in Ellis Island, though discovered when Daddy was reading Sports Illustrated almost immediately after we found out we were expecting baby #2. He was attracted to the name Ellis Valentine, some baseball player of yesteryear. And naturally, Mama was sold instantly because of the immigrant connection. After checking the meaning (“My God is the Lord”), we knew our baby girl OR boy would be ELLIS. Now we got an MLK and Ellis. Already nudging them to be passionate about civil rights and the immigrant plight.

Too many memories from October to type out right now (nervously typing out my choked thoughts because the boys will wake up in 3…2…1…). Also some unexpected life lessons like: Don’t choose the sushi bar to sit at if you are going to squeeze in a hearty, postpartum fight with your spouse. It’s not just about you getting much-missed raw grub into your tummy. The sushi bar is an experience for you AND the sushi chef/owner. He wants to have some fun with you to fill in his boredom from a slower night and will NOT hook you up with extra fish if you are too busy arguing, not allowing him to lecture you on the history of Okinawa. Then, the gushing Japanese waitress will gingerly place her hand on your back and ask if you are pregnant in the same tone as if she were asking you, “Are you a celebrity?”

As always, I digress. Today is Election Day. Day Two of being on my own with my two babies now that CA Gramma has flown back home, after showering my boys with so much love and care. Having never made it outside yesterday and with an impending nor’easter on its way tomorrow (I still can’t get used to that word – it seems like only old white men who say, “Is it cold enough for ya?!” should be saying “nor’easter”), we three made it out this morning for a brisk walk. Ellis hasn’t been out more than a handful of times and dude needed some Vitamin D.

Daddy had told us that we will vote together as a family tonight but when we saw blue and white signs all over our co-op to VOTE HERE (VOTE AQUI), I decided to head to the polling site “just to see.” Our double stroller is not quite here yet (long story) so I was strolling E.Z. in a twice-handed-me-down snap n go while Micah was running around.

We ended up in the basement polling site. I got nervous as I realized that Ellis was in an unventilated, enclosed space with many people, probably many of whom are sniffly like me in this colder weather. I left him in the hallway with one eye on him. I contemplated actually voting since I was already there and it wouldn’t take too long with the late morning crowd being sparse. I spotted a Korean neighbor in the voting booth. I wanted to yell across the room and ask her, “Eeeeyyy, can you watch Ellis parked in the hallway for a few minutes while I vote?” We always speak Korean to each other and I paranoidly thought that the poll workers may think I’m trying to influence her vote in our own language so when Micah ran outside, I followed. Without voting.

Micah started exclaiming, “Abu? Abu?” while peering into my eyes. What the? Just as I was about to kneel down, nose to nose, to whisper, “WHO DO YOU WORK FOR?” (too much passionate viewing of “Homeland”) and shield him from the poll site bouncer who may radio in this Asian toddler Nicholas Brody, Micah finished his phrase: “Abu Joosssss, Abu Joosss.”

So we walked around the block one more time, doing what we were supposed to be doing anyhow, naming the colors of all the parked cars, and went home to some Abu Joossss (apple juice). We will be back tonight for family voting time.

King Kim

Posted on September 18, 2012 by ajummama

A storm is on its way here in NYC. Outside my window as of now, only gusty winds and gloominess, the perfect backdrop for someone to write a page-turning murder mystery. I should be nursing my mild headache by lying down during Micah’s nap, but I was itching to jot down some thoughts, with a little Mozart on for dear Belly Baby who isn’t getting his/her share of music while in the womb.

Sorry, #2. It ain’t that kinda pregnancy this time ’round. My o.b. told me that second and subsequent children suffer from benign neglect while in utero. She herself had kept thinking, “OK, Belly Baby, I will pause and think about you now,” as she approached the delivery of her second and third children but bam!, it came time for their delivery. She assured me that it is normal and natural. Completely benign.

Last night, after 1 am, we heard Micah wailing through our baby monitor. Very unusual as he sleeps soundly through the night and even if he does wake up once, it’s usually to regroup for a moment and kiss and cuddle with his animal friends. But last night, he wailed so sorrowfully and persistently, like he had had a nightmare he just couldn’t shake.

Kevin and I lie there wondering what we should do. On the one hand, we really should leave him be as he ain’t gon’ be able to creep once newborn becomes our roommate indefinitely. Two’s company, three’s a crowd – is that the saying? Then four will be a zoo. But on the other hand, let’s give the man some love since his world as he knows it is about to be turned upside down.

When daddy went to spring him, he refused to be held and ran into our room squealing, shouting, “Daddy, Ahppah/Ummah!” like it was a Saturday afternoon, not past 1 am on a worknight. He still likes to call me “Ahppah” (“daddy”) as a term of endearment though now he is switching off with both “Ahppah” and “Ummah.” I tried to lie very still and whispered to K, “Do not engage. Just close your eyes or else he’s gonna think it’s party time,” to which K responded, “Shutta the mind, and shutta the mouth,” (his simple advice for my recent bouts of insomnia).

M was babbling with bright, alert eyes and trying to get me to respond. He had brought his animal friends along for the sleepover. It was quiet for a few moments so I peeked with one eye and gasped. He had brought his little face nearly nose-to-nose, forehead-to-forehead with mine in the dark, grinning so cheesily, proud that he had surprised me with the face-off. He looked like a mischievous kindergardener, not my baby. I woke up in the morning, completely forgetting we had a visitor in our bed, when I maneuvered my massive body to the other side, and saw this little dude with a grown-out buzzcut, cuddling with my Snoogle, completely konked out. He slept in a bit longer than usual, nestled in between his two favorite warm bodies. And a hidden third in mama’s belly.

As I got my bearings, I heard the boys in the kitchen. Daddy was washing some dishes and M was crying. “What’s going on you guys? Where’s Micah and why he crying?” Micah walked out from the kitchen in his footed pajamas and wiped his tears when he saw me approaching. Daddy explained, “He’s crying because I wasn’t paying him attention while I washed the dishes.”

It hit me all over again. Li’l Kim, his Majesty, had never been ignored until now. As typical first-time parents of today, we have been so very doting, responding to every sound he’s ever made. If he says, “hi, hi, hiiiii” 23 times from his carseat, I match each “hi” with my own. With enthusiasm. If he babbles nonsensically to me about his animal friends, I always let him know that I understood each sound coming out from his little mouth, though I had no idea what he said and why he continues to call a penguin “babo.” So today, when Daddy was so exhausted that he didn’t engage his boy while doing a few dishes, M got so hurt.

He is in for a rude awakening.

I am so curious as to how he will react to his little sibling. I know whatever jealousy he will experience is so natural and even good for him, to realize early on that he cannot be the center of everyone’s universe. But it is so fascinating to think about the changes he will face, the emotions he will go through while not being able to articulate them.

His world right now consists of stopping in the middle of Costco to ask us to bring it in, bring it in, to surround him in his shopping cart seat, and shower him with multiple double hugs and kisses on each cheek. He loves to hold both of our hands while walking in the middle, pausing to peer up at both Daddy and Ahppah. Those hands will soon be full with another bundle and we can’t respond to every laugh or whimper. I know. Parents with three or more children are laughing at me right now for my scrub status in parenting.

reminisce bliss

Posted on November 23, 2011 by ajummama

Micah, I owe you your official birth story. It is branded in my head and heart but I still need to get it down on paper to preserve it forever. I am sure I emailed myself some snippets, even from the hospital, but I’m talking about a complete, flowing story. As we approach your first birthday, I’ve made the story such a significant assignment that it will have to wait. I also want your dad to chime in so that we don’t forget a single detail. But for now, here is a preview:

I remember how about one year ago, my doctor had told me that you were gonna be a quick and possibly early delivery because you had already descended into my pelvis. He was right. He was also amazed I hadn’t felt any pain and discomfort as I walked around with a bowling ball lying low in my pelvis. I kept emailing my girls back home about the final doctor visits as your arrival drew near. I tried to get folks to place bets on the actual date. Your auntie NK’s guess was the closest, I think.

Your dad the sports nut remembers most things in relation to sports. So this is what he says as we reminisce, reminisce over you (that sounds like Pete Rock and Cl Smooth’s rap): “Dear Micah, On Thanksgiving Eve, UConn was playing Kentucky in the finals of the Maui Invitational. I was excited to see this game and was relieved when your mom went to take a shower so I could watch the game in peace. I thought the contractions were subsiding since she was able to hit the shower. Kemba Walker was on fire and led UConn to a blowout victory. Good thing the second half wasn’t that close because I had to miss it going to the hospital. Uncle Twiggy texted me the final score while I was at the hospital. If I had known that UConn would go on to win the National Championship in April, your name might’ve been Kemba.”

Though we knew you could come early, we never imagined you’d arrive on Thanksgiving morning. It is so fitting now that we’ve gotten to know you. You always make me so grateful to be your mama. Your smooth, cool cheek smushing against mine. How you literally LEAP into my arms because I am your one and only mama, even when I have yet to wash my greasy face or change into a clean shirt. You are our delight, my toothy David Letterman. You make us Jubilant (another name contender to Micah and Kemba though vehemently vetoed by your dad).

Growing up, Thanksgiving was a tough holiday. I felt so lonely because it was usually our immediate family – just the four of us – with a small turkey and a couple sides. Yes, I was counting my blessings to have our family intact and healthy, but I also felt like I was looking over my shoulder to see other families gather with much more oomph in their holiday, with more relatives and more holiday merriment. I wanted it to be a big celebration. Maybe this child of immigrants watched too many Nancy Meyers movies where the holidays were glorious, decor and all, with white folks hugging each other and sipping on holiday beverages in their palatial homes. Cue perfect soundtrack. Ours felt a bit melancholy, as if we were following tradition just because it was what the rest of the country was doing.

Thanks to you, you have made Thanksgiving exponentially more celebratory. We will always reminisce about your arrival and wherever we are or whoever we’re with, we will be gushing with joy because we received you for Thanksgiving. Thank you so much. And yeah, I still owe you your full birth story. (And I hope you will always spend Thanksgiving with us even when you get a girlfriend your junior year in college. No pressure though because I am so understanding and not high maintenance.)

8.15.11 FOB anniversary

Posted on August 15, 2011 by ajummama

Fee, fie, fiddle-e-i-o.
Fee, fie, fiddle-e-i-o-o-o-o.
Fee, fie, fiddle-e-i-o.
Strummin’ on the old banjo!

Nearly 1 am. Can’t sleep though I’m sick and I need to. Children’s songs stuck in my head as usual. Fee Fie, fiddle-e-i-o. Rainy Sunday. Slept a lot during the day thankfully. Micah first got sick a few days ago after hanging with some babies who were just getting over a cold, then I nibbled on him as usual so I started coming down with the type of mohmsahl that makes your skin hurt at the slightest touch, like when the blanket dares to brush against you. When I get sick, I turn into a big baby. I wanted to tie my head with a white band like in Korean dramas, just for full effect. “MAMA SICK!”

Thirty years ago today, my family and I were on a plane from Seoul to Los Angeles. My bro was so small we didn’t have to buy him a seat, I think. I was super-excited because I loved anything new. I didn’t even cry when my grandparents were holding me and sobbing because we were going so far away. Thought we were staying for about three years but ending up settling here for good. Didn’t return for TEN years due to different circumstances. My grandparents must’ve had a feeling that would happen. Ten years later, my brother and I return speaking so much English with each other, without a hint of the little girl and baby we were on that day at the airport.

Maybe I can’t sleep because everything’s happening so fast, at least in my mind on this very rainy day? I’m much older than my mama was with her two kids, immigrating to the States, with no friends and family, just her domineering husband and us. My chubster, no-necked baby with cheeks about to explode is now thinning out with a neck and urrrthang, looking like a big boy, especially in polo t-shirts and jeans. I can envision him being a big bro sooner than later since he seems like a toddler at 8.5 months. One of my best friends getting married in a few months after many phone calls and emails about who the Lord would provide for her and when exactly PLEASE? Micah’s dol coming up so soon already. Sweet friend moving away to Philly after being such a great gift to me in NYC.

My mama on the redeye from LAX to JFK in about an hour, not having seen her only grandchild for about five months now, more than half his young life. Sure, it’s not ten years but it’s still been hard not being near my family. Remembering how I gave birth and had my skinny newborn boy in his bassinet as his CA grandparents flew in to see him, days after his arrival. Was weird that he was already born and as they walked in the door, I just lost it. Crying as they sort of laughed at me, then immediately passing me by to go to their tiny grandbaby, to pray over him. He was skin and bones back then.

I better try to get some sleep now – head hurts, skin still hurts a bit. Thank you Lord for watching over us for the past 30 years. May my son live MUCH closer to me when he grows up – pretty please?

Here is Micah about five months ago when CA Gramma was here:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HbQ1EQABOYsMicah

Micah about five months later as CA Gramma returns:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=m1vYofNK5Sc