1.31.12 weddings and culture shock

Posted on February 1, 2012 by ajummama

When I attend weddings as a married woman, I notice EVERYTHING. Some things are about the wedding itself: “Wow, this food is phenomenal! Our Korean food was good, too.” “I love all the attention to detail.” But those things aren’t what stay with me and spur me to write when I really should be sleeping. The bride and grooms’ family dynamics and cultural nuances fascinate me, specifically in contrast to my experience on my own wedding day. It’s like National Geographic for me – just studying the way different families and cultures do things on this monumental occasion.

It’s interesting to see myself verging on “tattling” on my culture in a blog, as anyone who knows me knows my Korean pride. One of my college roommates brought home a houseguest who stayed with us for a couple weeks. After getting to know me for that short stay, including how I just could not FATHOM why a blonde and blue-eyed classmate was trying to court me, she jokingly answered his phone call with, “Jihee’s not home right now. Her Korean supremacist meeting is tonight.”

My family immigrated to these here States when I was four-going-onto-five, on August 15th, the summer before kindergarden. I was raised in Los Angeles, CA until college. Though I try to act like my Korean is solid, I have to confess that my English is far better. First generation Koreans in Flushing, NY, ask me to please, just speak English to them.

My point is that although I wasn’t born here, I was raised here. So why do I feel like I am from another planet, or a recent immigrant, when I am at non-Korean, or non-Asian, weddings? Many times I have to keep my jaw from falling to the floor when I witness a scene so sharply contrasted from my bridal experience. Though I am American, Korean roots have firmly been planted and nowhere have they surfaced more prominently than in my marriage to a fellow Korean-American.

These are my realizations as to why I feel such culture shock at American weddings. (Disclaimer: I will be speaking in generalizations so please know that I am fully aware that not ALL Americans and Koreans have these experiences.)

1. Mother-in-Laws. My biggest shock. At American weddings, mother-in-laws will gush poetically about their daughter-in-laws, the brides.

“I could not have dreamed and prayed for a better woman for my son!”

“My daughter-in-law planned this whole wedding all the way from the other side of the country and she could not have done a more marvelous job. She is truly amazing.”

“I love you like a daughter and you could not look more beautiful today. Thank you for joining our family.”

(My jaw has to be picked up from off the floor or else I can’t finish my prime rib.)

I have even witnessed mother-in-laws kissing up to their daughter-in-laws to win their favor and friendship, desperately trying to be close to them. My own experience was not quite the same. If you look through my wedding photos, you will notice a lovely woman in her 50s who looks like she had clearly walked into the wrong church. She looked like she was sitting through a funeral, not a wedding. Her face grew more morose as the wedding progressed. During the mother-son dance, she looked like she was going to fall into a big heap in her hanbok so that she can do a proper Korean funeral wail that had been building up in her soul. Now, I can tease her about it while she tries to play it off, but I still have the image of her lugubrious face especially when I’m attending American weddings where the mother of the groom is happily rump-shaking on the dance floor.

2. Emotions. American brides can truly bask in the glory of their superstar day without feeling embarrassed or self-conscious about thoroughly enjoying the spotlight. As they should. Koreans have a mentality that I seem to have subconsciously signed up for. It is very Joy Luck Club, putting yourself down or minimizing your achievements and even your degree of happiness because it all feels too brazen or even too American to self-congratulate.

For instance, I am THE MOST EXCITED (and comfortable) when I hear about OTHERS’ great news, like engagements and babies. I can express my joy more easily whereas for my own milestones, I feel the Koreanness seeping in. “Girl, you are NOT the world’s first bride. You are NOT the first or only woman on Earth to be giving birth! Stop making such a big deal about it, princess!” Needless to say, I may not have been able to soak in everything on my own wedding day, though it was still one of my favorite days. Maybe I wish I could have? Some of my Korean-American friends were able to but some of us can still bond about the behind-the-scenes dynamics. But I could not fully let go.

3. In-law relationships. I am almost always shocked to see in-laws at American weddings joke around irreverently with each other and make plans to hang out again casually (voluntarily!), beyond obligatory formal occasions, and sometimes (gasp!) even spend the holidays together. I know a couple of my Korean-American friends are blessed to find themselves in this category as well but I do not. Koreans GENERALLY tend to keep the in-law relationship a bit distant and formal so that there is no overstepping of “regulations.” I was going to say boundaries but that is not the right word. It is easier in some ways if it is an interracial relationship as regulations and expectations are thrown out the window, but that is a whole other topic. There is so much propriety and duty in what the bride’s side is allowed to do and what the groom’s side is entitled to. Generally, the groom’s side is priority.

Right after my own wedding, my husband’s paternal grandmother from Korea told me and my parents in the parking lot of a Korean restaurant in Los Angeles that it was wrong for them to even join us for lunch, that they are dead to me now that I am married. And my parents just bowed and said, “Neh, neh, gurumyo,” (“Yes, yes, of course”) since they understood the culture and the era she came from. She even told them that they do not know their place by showing up after the wedding to take us to the airport to catch our flight to our Hawaiian honeymoon.

Also, when I was a new wife, my MiL sat me down to make a very traditional Korean speech about how I should shed my Lee ways for the Kim ways that are better, and asked if I can accept the position as first daughter-in-law by consulting her on everything, and that if I do not, I am relinquishing my position. She learned right then that I am VERY American and that I won’t false peacemake by saying Yes, yes. Don’t NO ONE tell me to shed my fami-Lee’s ways as THEIRS are better. (We have come a long way as I have rubbed off on her somewhat – to talk to each other as two individuals with different ideas and backgrounds instead of letting antiquated tradition dictate how she should talk AT me.)

4. General merriment: People are GENERALLY stiffer at Korean/Asian weddings, especially in the presence of the first generation. So I find it fascinating to see folks of all ages really get their boogie on at weddings without any hint of self-consciousness. I think I like that.

Again, much love to my Koreans. We may be set in our traditional ways and not inspire a Nancy Meyers movie, but our actions do also speak louder than our (lack of) words. My mom shared with me a story she read in the Korean newspaper about how a Korean bride wished her parents were more like her expressive, effusive White in-laws but when they were faced with a financial emergency, her parents somehow saved enough money to help her out, even when they poor themselves. Sacrifice. Without a word. I also realize that no matter what kind words people may say at weddings, that does not guarantee that everyone will get along as mother-in-law jokes are as American as apple pie.

But this Korean gal, even as a mama herself now, still finds herself daydreaming at American weddings, wondering what it would feel like to star in a movie more like “Father of the Bride” than “Joy Luck Club.”

mother-son dance on 07.07.07

my parents ain't stiff though

you gotta love my hubby: "yo wifey, less blogging, more backbending pleej!"

1.10.12 behind closed doors

Posted on January 11, 2012 by ajummama

Please don’t misunderstand my previous post as my hating on my hometown. The dogging on my mama could’ve happened anywhere but I was just taken aback because I expected extra warmth and friendliness from my ‘hood. I’ve now been enjoying LA once again. So many more strangers doting on my Micah here, maybe because the weather is so nice so people have the leisure to just stop and coo over him. I’ve also been floored by the gushing customer service here, whether it’s at Target or at the mall. The employees actually come up to ME and ask if there is any way they can help. I really wanted to hug them. At the neighborhood Key Food that we are forced to shop at from time to time back in NYC, the cashiers will not even look up from texting when ringing me up.

Today, we visited my friend from college in Agoura Hills, CA. Afterwards, I stopped by a nearby store to shop for a dress for one of my best friend’s wedding this Saturday. I didn’t have much time as we have a packed schedule here so I rushed to try on a handful of stuff while Kevin and Micah waited for me. Micah was having a good ol’ time in the shopping cart. As I rushed back into the dressing room to try on my next dress, I briefly caught a glimpse of a white lady in her 60s and her daughter in her 40s making some friendly chitchat to Micah (and Kevin).

Then they came into the dressing room right next to me and started gabbing.

“Mom! You had a sensor on your top! That means you stole that top! You totally did -Admit it right now. HAHAHAAA”

“Oh, stop it! Listen, I had such a hard time with the top because of that sensor. The employee had left it on and I had to go all the way back to tell them to take it off. The manager asked me which employee had rang me up and listen, I was SO genteel about it. You should’ve seen me. I was SO genteel. I just said, ‘The black man.'”

“Right. You couldn’t have said, ‘Look, Buckwheat over there.'”

[Bonding KKK laughter between mother and daughter]

I wondered if I should say something. I usually do but when I do, it is just a spewing forth of explosive emotion. And what could I say? Don’t they have freedom of speech? And I should say something wise and penetrating, instead of, “Shut the hell up you nasty KKK!” So I opted not to say anything.

I wish I could say I was appalled but I wasn’t. Depending on the topic, I can swing from being a bright-eyed idealist to a hard-nosed cynic. When it comes to issues of race, I am a cynic. I expect most people to talk like this behind closed doors. Even seemingly sweet women who dote on my Oriental, china doll, model minority, submissive Bruce Lee baby, can then proceed to go into the “privacy” of their own dressing room to laugh too loudly about their disgusting Buckwheat comment.

Kevin and I discussed this while driving to dinner. Playing devil’s advocate, we imagined what the women would say in their defense. What if the dude looked exactly like Buckwheat? Granted, that could be something of a defense but the tone and tenor of their comments and laughter as white women definitely made my stomach react. And sometimes, all we have is that gut feeling.

1.7.12 welcome to sherman oaks! with (no) love, from the douches

Posted on January 7, 2012 by ajummama

LA, my hometown. nothing but love for you, especially for this glorious weather in January. “NOW HAVING SAID THAT” (see “Curb Your Enthusiasm” episode about how this phrase negates and contradicts everything you just said before it), sometimes the parody of a place is spot on. characters: a stringy, stuck-up LA/Hollywoody couple, BOTH with strawberry blonde hair and long limbs, who were oh-so-cold to micah while worshipping only THEIR li’l strawberry blonde offspring. giving him unwarranted stern looks, zero smiles when he played around their toddler, minding his own business. eerily quiet other than talking shit with their eyes. can’t stand it when people give each other KNOWING mean looks in front of others because hello, it ain’t your living room. i can see yo eyes. SO OBVIOUS when they gave each other looks about my mama because she was hyper and playing all goofy with her grandbaby, by rocking back and forth, completely engrossed in him, not caring about the haters. i wanted to push them so badly or shit in their diaper bag because DON’T NO ONE TALK MEAN ABOUT MY MAMA, even with YO EYES, douches! but i had to behave myself for the sake of chandler, riker, fiona, clarke, archie and all the other 2010 named babies. the whole scene was just gross, all of us with our trendily named babies, yuppy vibe in the air with everyone only into their own babies, not saying hullo. my dad found someone’s camera lens for them while they stared icily at micah and not even a “thank you.” very surprising because this is not the LA i know but a stereotype i’ve seen in sitcoms. i just notice way too much. wish i were more oblivious or just didn’t give a crap but i always do. now we will go enjoy the day some more despite the douchey morning.

Why I Don’t Write More

Posted on December 13, 2011 by ajummama

I want to write more. But I don’t. Then I kick myself for not writing more because I claim it is one of my favorite things to do. It makes me feel more fully me when I do.

Here is why I don’t write/blog more:
1) Confusion – I am not quite sure what this blog is supposed to be. I upload my pictures onto Facebook and post status updates pretty regularly. So what exactly is this blog for? I don’t want it to be a repeat of my Facebook page. I also don’t want it to be just a scrapbook of my baby’s milestones. It is obviously not a photoblog. I just know I love to write and that I am an external processor and I love to tell stories. I suppose I could just elaborate on more of what I say on Facebook but…

2) More Confusion – I carry around this strange notion that if I blog, the entries have to be tied up with a neat bow, like a story that appears in Chicken Soup for the ______ Soul. Not just a small anecdote but an accompanying a-ha moment or “What I Learned From This” finale. That is why I resort to over-long status updates instead because I don’t currently have the blog-savvy or blog-balls to go full throttle with my thoughts.

3) Control – While I am glad that I joined Facebook despite its pitfalls (i.e. wasting time, being too superficially connected, not reading enough books because it’s easier to zone out on Facebook after a long day, and not really having over 400 friends or even 40 friends), I am freaked out by the Internet. If I blog, and don’t password protect my sh*t, then ANYONE can read my thoughts. ANYONE. (But if I password-protect, why not just send my few close friends lengthy emails instead? and not take a risk in sharing with a wider range of people?) Which leads to…

4) Being misunderstood – One of my biggest pet peeves EVER. It triggers many of my issues. Whenever I am in a new small group at church, or cohort in grad school as another example, the most common feedback I receive from folks is, “Wow. You are so honest.” That used to confuse me SO much when I was younger because I wondered, “If people are so amazed by my honesty, is everyone else going around lying? Even at a church small group?” My friends explained to me that no, people aren’t necessarily lying but people aren’t exactly like me – they don’t just say their true feelings because they could be ashamed or they could want to appear differently from how they truly feel. I still can’t really wrap my mind around that. I lack that certain gene or savvy or shield? And sometimes I get really hurt because in that way, I am like a kid and I get sad that others can’t be straight with me in the same way.

Oh, so back to being misunderstood. Because I am an emotional and honest person who is usually pretty expressive about how I’m doing at any given moment, I can’t deal well when I’m misunderstood. When someone says, “I heard you and I think you are this way and I think we are SO similar!” And I think, “Oh, no, lady. We couldn’t be more different!”

So basically, I want to blog but read over the shoulder of anyone who happens to read it so that I can explain myself and control their reaction to what I wrote! (See “Control” above). I think this relates to my caring too much about what others think?

5) Caring too much about what others think

6) Fear of Being Insufferable

7) My Personality – I can’t do small talk so if I blog, I’m sure I will share some personal stuff. That is just my stylo. Not any deep dark secrets but stuff. And if it’s anything interesting, I will offend some people. And I have to be okay with that. Will I regret it?

Well, my throat is sore so I should turn in early. My husband is at a work holiday party so he can’t proofread this before I hit “Publish.” I hope he is having a great time but also gaining some weight, feasting on foods that are no longer available to his overthinking, trying-to-blog wife.

Any comments or specific suggestions on how I can write/blog more despite the above reasons would be greatly appreciated. Goodnight!

Proactiv(e): not just for pimples

Posted on October 26, 2011 by ajummama

I’ve been meaning to write more about a topic I barely touched on when Micah was much younger – different types of mamas I’ve met. However, I’ve had to censor myself SO MUCH because I am part of a community and my blog, even with its three loyal readers (one of them being me), is not anonymous. I should’ve gone the anonymous route because boy, have I got stories!

However, I noticed one type I can safely talk about as it is innocuous enough. I was reminded of this type when I ran into a warm and effervescent mama this past weekend, someone I had met once before at a gathering at the park. Though I was in a rush to get to an appointment with my hubs and baby Micah, I couldn’t help saying hello and chatting for just a quick minute as I cannot forget a face.

“Hi! I haven’t seen you since the park months ago! How are you?” I said.

“Hello, yes! You know what!? No one ever called me after that event. So I don’t know anything that’s going on. I gave my phone # to ______ and she never called me.”

“Well, you know how it is these days. Everything is done online, no old fashioned phone calls so you probably have to get in touch via email or Facebook for a quick response.” I also proceeded to tell her step-by-step how to get plugged into our group via Facebook so that she won’t miss out.

This reminded me of a neighbor I ran into months ago. Her baby is at least a couple months older than Micah. We were chatting about baby stuff when I shared with her that a favorite place for us is the local public library. She frowned and said, “Yes, I’ve heard about this library but I can never figure out where exactly it is so I’ve never gone yet. I really should one of these days because I want _____ to meet other babies.” (She said this as she snapped photos of her son with her iPhone. Hmmm…Now if only there was something magical and speedy within that iPhone that would allow her to find out where this library is. FYI, her baby is now a toddler. Ain’t never been to said library. And I don’t coddle folks. She grown. She has an iPhone. She can find her way to a library that is VERY easy to find and mere blocks away.)

I’ve always talked easily to strangers but now with a baby, I talk even more with just about anyone. Babies are perfect conversation-starters, though puppies and alcohol are up there. We were at the beach a couple months ago when a couple stopped me and my husband to talk about, yup, our babies. The mama asked me what activities I do with my baby because she needs some ideas. I told her I go to Gymboree and she said, “Why doesn’t anyone tell me these things?! I’ve heard of this Gymboree but no one ever told me what it is exactly. I’ve even gotten emails!” Again, she used her iPhone as we talked.

I confess that I am on my high horse at times being here in NYC across the country from my best friends and family, trying to raise my baby to the best of my ability. It ain’t easy. I don’t expect people to just drop baby knowledge on me and serve up a community for me on a silver platter. I hustle. I talk to other mamas to find out about stuff my doctors don’t bother to tell me. I initiate playdates. I start conversations. I make sure my boy has places and people to see other than our living room and my mug. I’ve benefitted by making at least a couple good friends, mamas I would hang with even if we weren’t mamas together. We laugh and commiserate and genuinely adore each others’ children. I hope to see more friendships blossom with those I can both trust and have a good time with. So I get peeved when these mamas, all of them with more local family support than I have, with friends they grew up with, claim that no one tells them about stuff. Be PROACTIVE! You can do it!

Back to the lady who said she never showed up to another mama event because she didn’t know about any. After I told her how to easily join our group for regular postings about events, she says, “Oh, thank you so much! Here is my card. Will you please call me about the next event?”

As I rushed off to my appointment, I said, “Honestly, no. I most likely won’t call you. But maybe I will run into you at another gathering.”

10.20.11. boogers: a love story

Posted on October 21, 2011 by ajummama

When I was a recent college graduate in my second full-time job, I went to a casual work picnic at Griffith Park (in Los Feliz, CA). A day to kick back on the grass, enjoy some good picnic fare complete with watermelon, and hold a couple cute babies birthed by colleagues. One of my younger co-workers already had himself a very serious girlfriend, or was it fiance. I was so fascinated that two 22 year-olds were about to commit to Forever while I was just beginning to realize what I may want in a future spouse many years down the road. Or more like what I really can’t stand after a few getting-to-know-yous here and there.

The younger co-worker introduced me to his future bride. I remember thinking she was genuinely nice. We all chatted a bit when he muttered something to her and quickly made a ninja-like maneuver around her nose, then smoothed her hair away from her face. He was indeed her knight in shining armor. He had discreetly and swiftly removed a conspicuous booger from his beloved’s nose before anyone could spot it and develop an urge to pick their own noses.

That was when I knew that I didn’t know much about love but I wanted a boy who would be able to pick my booger or pimple or eye boogie or boil on the back or ingrown toenail with nothing but a heart full of love. I had never been in true love before so I couldn’t fathom such a thing.

Fast forward to today. I not only pick my baby boy’s nose for him many times a day, I suck out his snot with my own mouth, using a Swedish tubing device called the Nosefrida, which I’ve blogged about before. (Don’t hurl. There is absolutely no way anything gross can even come close to my lips). I am downright elated when I am able to suck out lots of treasures from both nostrils so that he can breathe free and not have a whistling nose. The more snot sucked out, the better. And oh yeah, his daddy would clear a booger for me, too, any day.

10.2.11 - booger-free at the Apple Festival, Queens County Farm

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:

Micah about five months later as CA Gramma returns:

excited

Posted on June 30, 2011 by ajummama

I am realizing again my age and life stage when I find myself getting excited about things I NEVER thought I’d get excited about. If you ever chatted with me for even a bit, you’d quickly discover that I am far from domestically, uh, shall we say, inclined. I think cooking is just a necessary evil and I envy people who find it to be a joy or even stress relief. I can’t understand it at all but I envy them (and I’m sure my husband envies them, too). I don’t know the best way to organize or clean our home and I’m always stressed or disappointed in myself for having a somewhat tidy home only when we know someone’s coming over. I despise packing so much that I fantasize about being disgustingly rich one day to hire someone just to pack wisely for me before all trips and changes in season that require crap to be put away. I asked my husband if we really had to include kitchen items on our bridal registry. (The unreasonable guy said we must.) When I compliment someone on their cooking or baking, and they proceed to actually tell me, “Oh, it was really easy. All you have to do is…” I glaze over though I try to stay focused.

I thought about how just last year before Micah arrived, I would excitedly count down the hours left in my workday to head straight to a Theory sample sale for their great slacks and cardigans or a Me&Ro sample sale for some dainty necklaces. Or feasting on some pretentious-sounding dish or other (Nebraska Wagyu Beef, Sweet Shrimp and Osetra Caviar Tartare; Black Pepper – Vodka Crème Fraîche, Pomme Gaufrette). Now I get excited to find out that we do not have to get our comforter professionally cleaned for $55 because we could actually stuff the huge thing in our own washer and dryer and save about $50. Not just, “oh cool,” but beaming while breaking into the Robocop in our sunken living room. When CVS sends me a coupon via email, it gives me a small thrill to know that I can buy some milk, cashews, and ponytail holders at a whopping 25% off (if purchased before July 2nd, certain restrictions may apply).

When Micah got sick with his first-ever cold recently, I couldn’t stop telling everyone about the Nosefrida, the snotsucker that allows you to literally suck out of your baby’s nose. (Don’t worry, no danger of it ever reaching your mouth.) It was so satisfying to be able to SEE the snot come out and know I’m helping my baby with his whistling nose. When the other parents and I were gathered around at the Gymboree circle and asked, “What was the best gift you ever gave your child?” everyone else answered, “Uppa Baby stroller” or “pack n play” or “highchair” while I gushed about this simple contraption for snotsucking. It hadn’t even dawned on me to name anything else, none of the big-ticket items that we, too, had purchased for our dear boy for they did not bless me with the sheer joy and relief I felt when clearing my baby’s mini-nostrils. I couldn’t believe my doctors were so negligent by not telling me about this contraption to save a congested baby.

But then again, some things never change. I still get excited about another lame (perhaps lamest?) season of The Bachelorette.