Like Sands Through the Hourglass…

Posted on March 6, 2017 by ajummama

FullSizeRender (5) FullSizeRender (6) FullSizeRender (7) FullSizeRender (8) FullSizeRender (9) FullSizeRender (10) FullSizeRender (11) When deliberating where to go for our last hurrah vacation as a family of four, we were able to narrow it down to L.A. vs. Orlando. Thankfully, we didn’t have too many options to cull through as our passports have not been renewed and other Florida spots were known for Zika outbreaks. As much as we would have loved to go back to my hometown, we opted for Orlando as Escaping the Cold and Relaxation were our #1 priorities.

You know how we all say, “Where has the time gone!?”? I can recall a few moments from this delightful break where I actually could pinpoint my kids growing up before my very eyes.

As much as our Wild Florida Airboat ride, Gator and Wildlife Park, Legoland, Crayola Experience, and other excursions made the trip fun and memorable, I replayed the precious growth moments over and over in my head during our week together. They may sound mundane but I still recall them vividly:

When we arrived at Crayola Experience on the one rainy day of the week, I immediately looked for a bench to hobble towards as I had been having acute back pain. It was so bad that we looked into renting an Electric Convenience Vehicle at Legoland. Anyways, the boys were dancing in front of some moving crayon images while I watched. Suddenly, a massive group of students on fieldtrip entered the space between the boys and me, while Kevin was in the admissions line. I still had my eye on them but they could not see me. I craned my neck to keep my eye on them and watched as Micah’s face morphed from slight panic to great resolve.

“Ellis, come!” Micah looked ever firstborn in that split second as he grabbed his compliant little bro’s hand and starting walking away from the crowd.

“Micah! Mommy still sees you! Where you going? I never lost sight of you.”

Micah, looking relieved: “I was taking us to the workers to report that we had lost our mom.” (Of course I thought about the movie, “Lion,” all over again. Gulp.)

For some reason, this moment has left a mark on my heart. My boy is growing up. I don’t see the drooly toddler who soaked through 15 bibs a day, no exaggerating, as we watched the big kindergardeners go off to school. This is a bonafide big brother who snatched his cheeky little brother when he thought that this was finally the moment his mom had warned him about, “If you ever get lost, go up to someone who works there OR go up to another mom!”

He is ready to become Big Bro of two.

Second moment: When we hit the pool, Ellis usually asks one of us to hold him as he gets adjusted to the water. I didn’t realize how much I savored that babyish habit until this time, in our Orlando pool, he said, “I don’t need you any more, Mom-oo!”

I paused to take the moment in. “My Pillow Cheeks has grown up so much. You don’t even need Mommy any more!” I sheepishly swam away backwards while facing him to watch him grow before my very eyes. He must have felt this moment too as he added, “I don’t need you. But I still want you.”

And the final moment was at the airport. We were strapped for time as I had kept us another 15 minutes at Disney Springs. Instead of trying to manage with my jacked back, one sleeping Ellis, and too many bags for Kevin and Micah to carry on their own, we flagged down a porter. When I told the porter our flight time, he said, “We have to hurry.”

But I could not hurry. I could hardly walk as I felt stabbing pain on my lower back, even with a belly / back brace on. The rest of my family ran with the porter. I tried my best but I could only walk. My eyes started watering from the pain and I looked up to see my Micah’s concerned face. “My mom…she can’t run. She’s coming. Mommy, you can do it, you can do it!”

Now, my eyes were watering from the love my growing boy had for me as I hobbled to keep up. I always imagine him from a few years back, where I did everything for him. I guess it didn’t dawn on me that as he grows up, he will be the one cheering ME on. I had underestimated the six year old boy before me.

His stricken look didn’t go away until I was able to join them in the elevator to make our flight. I realized that our family being together was just as important to the kids as it was to us.

Thank you, Orlando, the host of our precious moments! Happy 40th Birthday to Kevin, who took care of all of us on the trip!

Searching for our Next Home on MLK Jr. Day 2017

Posted on January 23, 2017 by ajummama

“Hey, Micah, tomorrow is your special day!” Ellis and I joked as MLK Jr. Monday approached. Micah sheepishly answered, “No, Mommy, I’m only named after him. So it’s not really MY day.”

MLK Jr. Day is a special day for our family. We named our firstborn “MLK” as we couldn’t think of anyone else we both wanted to pay homage to. (No, Kevin, we will NOT be naming any of our kids after your William Martin Joel.)

Though Ellis was actually named after Ellis Island, after Kevin had stumbled upon the cool-named baseball player “Ellis Valentine” while catching up on his Sports Illustrated, our Ellis was conceived on MLK Jr. Day 2012.

This year, on MLK Jr. Monday, we spent the afternoon starting the search for our next home, exploring houses in a local suburb after a couple friends bought homes in the area. We are not sure about Musts v. Wants, other than urgently needing more space, commutes under an hour, affordable pricing, and good (not best) schools.

We rolled into town and some of the neighbors glanced over at us, just to see who was driving down their block. My immediate response was, “Yo, I can’t do this. Was our radio on too loud? I feel like I need to bump some Tupac or Guantanamera. Where my do-rag at?” Kevin reminded me, “You’re not REALLY Black.”

I knew that these neighborly glances from their garage or while walking their dogs were most likely innocuous but this is the part of the home-search that I am not yet at peace with: Can I do without people of color? Is lack of diversity a deal-breaker? If so, our options are even more limited for our budget. I also still yearn for that California vibe where folks would just say “hello” to strangers but I’ve accepted that that’s just asking for too much.

Say that we find a home that meets most of our criteria BUT it’s located in a town that is 95% white. Okay, now my heart is beating more rapidly as I type. I don’t want my kids to be THE Asians in their class or school. I don’t want to hear compliments about the Kim boys who are “just lovely, such good boys.” I don’t want to become Borat while hanging out with White moms, explaining, “In my count-trrrryy, we have postpartum ritual we like to call…”

I don’t want to feel as Other as MLK Jr. and Coretta, fighting the good fight, while raising up our family in a homogeneous community, whether it be all White or all Chinese. (And I know that with our Model Minority Mugs, we are hardly fighting the same prejudices as MLK Jr. and Coretta with the Good Name). Friends have brought up good points: that we can start the trend, and more Asians and other people of color will migrate soon enough, especially if there are good schools around. “If you build it, they will come.”

I’ve had the good fortune of attending only diverse schools, from the moment we immigrated to Los Angeles when I was couple months shy of turning five. I started kindergarden and stayed silent for a year because I didn’t want to make a fool of myself, sputtering out pitiful, laughable Ingrish. It was the first time I had seen people with light hair and blue eyes and it was a lot to process. My first teacher was an older woman whose light hair was turning blue so there were so many new colors I needed to digest, after only seeing Black hair and nearly Black eyes back in Seoul.

Even during my silent year, I did speak to Korean classmates, working out a system where I’d do their math and they’d help me out with Ingrish. I even developed my first crush on a Filippino boy named Carlos without really speaking to him directly. (And Kevin IS sporting Bruno Mars’ hair lately).

Later, when my little brother and I were bussed from Koreatown to the boojie Laurel Canyon area to attend a gifted magnet school, I did develop an inferiority complex as so many of our classmates were wealthy. Even then, we still had so many classmates who were also children of immigrants, also getting bussed in. This continued through college and graduate schools: so much color all around.

Now, Kevin, on the other hand, totally had a different experience. He was THE people of color in his graduating high school class. When I attended his high school reunion in CT as his then-girlfriend or then-fiancé, I started twitching as we were THE people of color (plus one classmate’s husband who was also Asian and mistaken for Kevin). While the classmates were getting they drinks on, one girl “complimented” Kevin: “Don’t you worry, KK, you were as White as the rest of us.”

I don’t know where we will end up yet but I don’t know how to reconcile my urge to start rioting when I visit an all White community, even for a single afternoon visit to a children’s museum in CT or at a Billy Joel concert. And now we in a Trump era…

Please lead us to a nice next home, Lord!

1.13.17 Friday the 13th Fragments

Posted on January 13, 2017 by ajummama

Here’s some more alliteration for you: Currently fighting phlegm, a recurring symptom for all three of my pregnancies. I don’t want to take Mucinex though I believe the doctor told me it was safe to take back in 2012. I am constantly clearing my throat and no amount of hot red tea is helping. I’m sick of hearing myself clear my throat.

This is not a Pollyanna addendum: Like I’ve mentioned before, no amount of phlegm choking me out, new skin tags on my neck this time ’round, slowly morphing into the shape of modest starter home, nausea even in this golden second trimester, and itchy sphincter can diminish my awe of this miracle of life. I never ever forget that the REASON I feel so gross is because a sweet potato-sized human being is being created within me.

(And I know I said I want to avoid talking about Our Baby #3 Story in light of friends’ recent losses and pain but I realized that I can’t avoid talking about our current stage altogether especially when I have a free moment and a hankering to write. My apologies.)

I’ve had a few funny reactions as I’ve started to share my news with co-workers:

“Yeah, I was noticing you were gaining weight but didn’t want to say anything.” (I wish you had stuck to that brilliant “didn’t want to say anything” initial thought).
“Yeah, I could tell. If you didn’t speak up soon, I would have asked you, ‘Is everything ok, Jihee? You having too many bagels there?'”
As he was telling me about employee discounts: “Oh, Jihee, there’s also a Weight Watchers discount!” (Thankfully, two female co-workers gave him the side-eye immediately and told him to hush).
After I shared that we are very excited but also scared sometimes: “How old are you?” “Uh, yes, I will be an older mom.” “Yes, that’s why I ask. That’s the only part I could see as something to be scared about.”

People! I know your intentions are not malicious but just think these things, don’t actually SAY them with that opening in your face! I may be inviting some of these reactions as I feel too sheepish to only share the happy news. I have this Joy Luck Club compulsion to add, “Oh, but it’s gonna be so hard!” so that it doesn’t seem like I’m bragging or naive.

Once, I remarked when Micah was an infant that he was getting so heavy it was hard for me to lift him with ease. My mom told me (in Korean), “Don’t be saying that out loud. It can be taken as bragging. Back in the old days, people believed that your baby can get sick once you boasted about how good and fat he was getting.” My parents also told me not to share happy things with people because it can make them want to yank you off your Cloud Nine.

I noticed that it’s very easy for me to share my struggles as that makes it easier to connect with people. Once you share happy things, I fear that people might think, “Well, congrats, bitch! La dee dah!”

So sharing happy thangs does not come naturally to me. I want to reclaim this. I am a Christian. I don’t need to fear the evil eye. I don’t want to fear sharing happy things so here it goes:

It’s going to be hard, and just as my co-worker commented, age will be a factor as we are objectively older and more worn out. But as of now, on this Friday the 13th, we feel like we won the lottery for the third time. And I can share this.

1.9.17 Rejoicing and Weeping

Posted on January 9, 2017 by ajummama

You know that important phone call from the doc’s office that you’ve been awaiting? It’ll only come through once you’ve cracked an egg onto the sizzling fry pan or sat on the toilet.

Pregnancy is a lesson in waiting. When I was newly pregnant with Micah, I bled a little. I had read that blood can be a sign of miscarriage so I frantically called my doctor. He was not a touchy feely dude, though apparently very good at what he did. While Kevin and I were holding hands in his office, hanging on to his every word, he explained, “Hey, if the baby isn’t healthy, it’s nature’s way of eliminating a bad embryo.” Our eyes widened so he added, “Or it might just be some spotting. Some old blood.” We prayed and awaited tests to come in the next day.

I remember praying, “Lord, this phone call is not my Savior, not my lifeline. I only have one Savior. But oh please oh please may this embryo turn into a fetus and then into a healthy baby boy. Please gift us with a healthy baby boy though I am not entitled to one.”

A wise friend met me during my lunch break to pass along some pregnancy books and I told him how scared I was and how I don’t think I can handle all the uncertainty for the duration of my first pregnancy. He shared that his wife and others also had some spotting and that it doesn’t always mean miscarriage. He also reminded me that pregnancy is all about ceding control. Giving it up to Him, every step of the way.

Pregnancy is a series of tests, literally. The phone call that came in today as soon as I cracked my egg onto my fry pan was that Belly Baby tested low-risk for spina bifida (great result). There will be more tests to come – for me and for Baby. All part of the journey. Especially for those of us at an Advanced Maternal Age.

The sermon from our pastor yesterday reminded us to ask ourselves what is God trying to teach us in our particular stage of life. For at least the past couple years, we were consumed by whether we are done having kids. Actually, scratch that: *I* was consumed, and Kevin was at peace with being done, if only his wife wouldn’t keep talking about The Yearning.

We are now blessed with this baby, no longer a What If but a real human baby moving around on that sonogram, due to arrive June 2017, yet there are moments where I am scared. Especially those moments when folks comment, “Wow, was this planned!? You guys are BRAVE!”

Gulp!

Factors that were obstacles still remain: no family around to help, we are still in NYC for better or for worse, we are older and more tired while the boys only get louder and more energetic, we need to grow our income, not diminish it indefinitely. As Kevin was falling asleep one night to the tune of my mentioning The Yearning once again, he broke it down clearly:

“If we have another kid, Jihee-yah, it will shave off five years of my life span.”

And yet, here we are. Back to this stage in our lives, where we have no choice but to cede all control over to Him. Regarding the health of Mama and Baby, financial provision as we absolutely must move to bigger space (no more delaying), and more. Do we really trust Him or do we only trust Him for a result?

In 2016 as well as this New Year, we’ve heard the sad news of loss among a handful of friends. As friends and fellow parents with similarly-aged children, we feel the weight of their loss. We truly do grieve with them. Howling, sometimes, when we hear new news of another loss. And we do confess that our faith falters and I can’t trust that His ways are higher.

“Rejoice with those who rejoice, weep with those who weep.” Romans 12:15 ESV

In the previous post announcing our baby #3 news, I ended by saying that I don’t believe in TMI but I think I do for now. How can I share details of our conception and pregnancy journey when friends are hurting? So for now, I take pause on our story. It just doesn’t feel right.

Once I surprised Kevin with our baby news when I officially confirmed the existence of baby on the morning of my 40th birthday, I teased him, “Hey, you sure you happy? You did say you gonna die five years earlier if we have another baby! What say you now!?”

Kevin sheepishly spoke right into my belly: “Daddy didn’t need those five years anyway.”

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This is Us (A Christmas Post)

Posted on December 24, 2016 by ajummama

Today, Christmas Eve Eve, was the kids’ last day of school before six days off for their winter break. It was also Kevin’s first day of vacation from work. I will also be home the whole time. We’ll all be taking next week off together to do or not do whatever we want.

I attended Micah’s class party in the morning. Kevin and I then had about three hours together without the kids. I hadn’t heard of any movies that I was dying to watch but I saw that a “Manchester By the Sea” was getting rave reviews. Kevin warned me that he had heard that it was overly depressing but when I looked up the synopsis, I said, “Excuse me? Do you not know me? This movie is my soulmate. It has everything I’m drawn to.”

No spoilers. It was a story about a family. And that’s my jam. I love getting a glimpse of family dynamics beneath the surface. Speaking of beneath the surface, I’ve been able to bask in the holidays this year. When the boys were younger, I would feel such holiday angst and an overload of emotions I didn’t know how to channel: Memories of how my parents had to work so much they could not prioritize celebration and how I wanted to rewrite that story but not feeling equipped to do so.

I don’t know exactly how but this year, I am able to fully embrace this Christmas season and it feels downright magical, with gratitude oozing out of my 40 year-old pores. Nothing feels like pressure. Everything feels like a privilege. Unlike my immigrant parents whose peak season as storeowners was the holidays, we are blessed with more than a week of luxuriating in free time together, neither of us having to run ragged at any store, with our only “job” being relaxing and enjoying (and maybe some cleaning).

Halleluyer for this breakthrough. Thank you, God, for new traditions and just plain enjoyment.

And…while not the only reason for my holiday inner makeover, I would like to take a moment to share our Christmas joy.

Early morning of my 40th birthday, while the rest of my family slept, I walked over to the CVS across the street, calmly made a single purchase, took that purchase to my gym bathroom, ironically, for some privacy. I was there to confirm what I knew in my gut.

Pregnant for the third time after about two years of Should We or Shouldn’t We Go For It (Of COURSE We Cannot, It Would Be Crazy, Right?). Actually, we are the biggest fans of NBC’s “This Is Us” and I just wanted our children to be able to do the Big Three chant.

While it was a completely natural conception, the story of this baby’s creation is supernatural. I hope to share more in 2017. And I don’t believe in TMI.

Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays. Wishing you the best for 2017. (And if the holidays are tough for you to navigate, you are not alone. You are loved.)

We’ve celebrated the conception of each child at the same restaurant. We didn’t realize until after we had ordered but our entrees were perfect for the occasion: a trio of pasta for our trio of children.

Gathering Together

Posted on December 19, 2016 by ajummama

I have no idea what I’m going to end up writing. I just know that I must write.

This past Saturday, we woke up to a white courtyard. Snow-covered everything. The boys squealed and begged to go outside to throw snowballs at each other. We wanted to acquiesce especially because snowfall would soon turn into rainfall but we had a big day ahead and we could not afford to be late.

We were headed to the memorial service of our friends’ beloved newborn son. The dramatic weather conditions were appropriate for this loss. I felt like the Earth was dealing with this loss by coughing up its own fury and tears, all kinds of snow and rain to mark this final goodbye as we carefully braved the highway to see our friends.

FALL DOWN HARDER, I thought to myself.

I will always wonder what Baby ______ is doing in heaven whenever I see snow.

However, this is not my story to tell. All I can add is that we were blessed by our friends’ hearts and honest expression of love and grief. And their hope in Jesus Christ while STILL IN THE FIRE.

We then drove in the rain to NJ to celebrate another friend’s baby’s 1st birthday in Korean doljanchi feast fashion. From there, we drove on to another friend’s house for our annual Christmas sleepover and got to meet their new bundle of joy, all cheeks and eyelashes.

We were able to show the kids the hustle and bustle of a NJ mall the week before Christmas, a Christmas light spectacular, and adult friendship. You kids don’t have a monopoly on playdates!

While I was experiencing heartbreak for my friend in the morning, and then suddenly flung into celebration mode with our other friends, my friend in CA, whose wedding I was missing that very day, sent me photos of her pre-wedding prep. I was so thrilled for her as she is overcoming some health issues.

Funeral – Korean 1st bday celebration – meeting a new baby – wedding.

Life can be a devastating beast, a real heartbreaker, a bone crusher. Life can also be beautiful and enthralling, rendering me speechless as I hold a precious baby or watch the kids’ faces light up when Santa and his entourage are escorted in on firetrucks.

Our friend shared Psalm 102 and Psalm 103 at the memorial service. Psalm 102 is a prayer of an afflicted man, when he is faint and pours out his lament before the Lord. In stark contrast, Psalm 103 is a praise. Life is both – weeping and gnashing of teeth as well as lifting our hands in praise.

Psalm 102:1-2 (NIV): “Hear my prayer, Lord; let my cry for help come to you. Do not hide your face from me when I am in distress. Turn your ear to me; when I call, answer me quickly.”

Psalm 103:1-5 (NIV): “Praise the Lord, my soul; all my inmost being, praise his holy name. Praise the Lord, my soul, and forget not all his benefits-who forgives all your sins and heals all your diseases, who redeems your life from the pit and crowns you with love and compassion, who satisfies your desires with good things so that your youth is renewed like the eagle’s.”

Like I said, I don’t know what I am trying to express. I just felt somewhat comforted by the fact that whether we were mourning or celebrating, people had gathered together so that our friends did not have to be alone. Of course there are times for solitude and reflection, but I am glad that there was this gift of gathering together, for people who care, people who want to cry with you or delight with you.

You never have to be alone while you still have breath in your lungs.

“Rejoice with those who rejoice; mourn with those who mourn.” – Romans 12:15 (NIV)

“And when two or three of you are together because of me, you can be sure that I’ll be there.” – Matthew 18:20 (The Message)

You Loved Me

Posted on November 21, 2016 by ajummama

As part of what has become somewhat of a Sunday tradition, Kevin made us breakfast on that late October morning.

It was the boys’ first taste of canned corned beef hash. So bad for you but just once a year, it sho’ does hit the spot. I even sniffed around for Dinty Moore Beef Stew at our Key Food but (thankfully) they didn’t have it.

As Kevin cooked behind the closed door with the stove fan whirring, I asked the boys if they could recall their dreams from the night before. I recall every vivid detail each night, while Kevin cannot recall a thing so I wondered who they would take after. The boys told me some of what they could remember. I told them that I dreamt of when I was in my 20s, laughing with my girlfriends.

Micah commented, “But we weren’t around then. Did you miss us in your dream?” Ellis chimed in, “Yeah!”

[Feeling tears form] “It was long before we ever knew there would be a precious Micah and a precious Ellis. That young Jihee didn’t know what she was missing!” [Kissing their faces after wiping corned beef hash grease offa my lips].

I had to head out to Manhattan while the boys went to church. I had (finally) signed up for a photography class through Groupon so that I could learn the basics of my DSLR. I hate to miss church on any given Sunday but this was the only time slot that would fit my schedule before the colder weather set in.

I packed everything into a huge, 90’s-esque, pink backpack I had found in our closet and made sure I took my red thermos. It was going to be cold and some of the class was going to be held outside.

Early as usual but once the big class got underway, I took a still-hot sip from the red thermos. That was the moment I teared up with gratitude. I felt it warm my body from head to toe, and it wasn’t just the warm liquid in my bones.

I had been fed a savory hot meal by my husband, flanked by two sons who could not fathom a 20-something Mommy before they were glimmers in her eye, and now I was privileged enough to be in a class I had been wanting to take for years, sipping hot barley tea from this red thermos.

Everyday, I know I am loved. But in that moment, I felt all of it. I FELT so loved that my eyes leaked.

I don’t even own my own thermos because I didn’t think I’d use one. This red thermos I keep talking about was passed off to me the night before at our dear friends’ house. These are friends who have made me challenge the belief of my parents that “only blood will truly be there for you.” These are friends who make folks feel so at home in their home.

Other folks may have bigger, fancier homes but can also make me feel like I got to walk on eggshells. I would make sure I am not a burden in any way and when my kids were babies and toddlers, I would make sure I didn’t leave a trace of them anywhere. The gift of hosting truly is a gift.

As we left that night, my friend knew I was headed to my little photography class and insisted I borrow her thermos. I kept refusing because I didn’t want to take her stuff. She wouldn’t take no for an answer as she packed us up some homemade pumpkin pie that her baker sister had baked while we were together.

I had already felt so loved and cared for when she practically made me take her thermos. I think I love to be bossed around sometimes by loved ones. I am not the mom or the big sister in those moments. It makes me feel cared for.

When I started drinking from my friend’s thermos among this motley crew of strangers wanting to learn how to use their cameras, I felt an urge to testify: I AM SO VERY LOVED.

I can’t include all the other moments from this year alone where I *FELT* so loved because this post is already too long. But man, those moments are such gifts that I can’t help but raise my hands to the heavens and say, “Thank you!” Just one example: When Micah was hospitalized for 2.5 days in May for a severe asthma attack, one of my O.G. friends from Cali reached out to me: “Of course, we are praying for you but I need to do something more. Can I please send you a meal?”

Because of our close friendship and the way she didn’t say, “If there’s anything I can do, name it…” (which is also kind but hard for me to ever respond to), I was able to say “yes” without feeling like I was putting her out. As soon as we were sprung from the hospital, with another good friend driving us home, some of the best Indian food I’ve ever had was brought to us without us ever having to make a single decision about our next meal.

As we approach Thanksgiving this week, I thank God for these You Loved Me moments that make me a rich woman. Please share your You Loved Me moments!

*And please know that though you may not FEEL it every moment of every day, YOU are so loved.*

You are God’s precious child, a parent’s unique gift (there is no one else like you), a friend’s comfort and delight (quality, not quantity), and a part of this universe’s miraculous story.

Wishing you a Red Thermos Thanksgiving 2016. You are beloved.

Storm Queen aka This is 40

Posted on October 5, 2016 by ajummama

I used to get embarrassed for folks who were all, “It’s my birfday! We gotta go out for my birfday!” I was like, “You turning 38, don’t act thirsty for a bouncy house or a tiara. Have several seats and act grown!”

Living in the age of social media, I see more stories of lives taken too soon and those asking for prayer for health problems. So, as I get older, fully FEELING how everyday is a gift, I want to celebrate everything. (And I repent my previous years of judging the birthday-thirsty).

Though I didn’t get a chance to reflect some more about my big 4-0 (beyond the previous blog post written when I was a tender 39) or set any goals for the new decade, I wanted to share a couple favorite moments.

My 10/4 (4×10) birthday landed on Rosh Hashanah, on day two of two consecutive school holidays after the weekend celebration of Ellis’ 4th birthday. His casual school party, World’s Maker Faire, Ellis’ Bowlmageddon Party, then two days dedicated to me.

Kevin took two days off and drove us to one of my fave spots on the eve of my birthday. Storm King: one of the world’s leading sculpture parks in the lower Hudson Valley, about an hour north of NYC. (We also stopped by the tiny Socrates Sculpture Park in Queens on my actual birthday the next day, but that was a drive-by half-hour visit, after dropping by the gorgeous waterfront Costco in LIC next door, before escaping the city again).

Being outdoors in nature is one of the most life-giving gifts for this California gal. I would love to hike and swim all year long, nekked if I could. The boys took me to Storm King so that I can trade in all that car-honking in Queens for some geese-honking. (Actually, even the geese of Storm King were very quiet.)

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We took a 40-minute shuttle ride around the grounds. While it was lovely, it was not restful or peaceful because I sat next to Ellis the Clown who would exclaim after placing various objects on my body, “Mommy, guess wha-a-at? You have a rock on your shoulder! Why don’t you pretend to throw it? ahahahahahah you still have a rock on your shoulder! Mommy, do you think I’m going to throw this bottle out or do you think I’m going to just pretend? Litterbug or just pretend?”

So I had to monitor this charming but handful of a dude. Later, Kevin wanted to gift me with a solitary ride in the same shuttle. “Hey, you loved riding alone last time. You have to do it again. If you run, you can catch the last one and I’ll take these fools around to wrestle on the grass.”

I was torn for a second because I wanted to spend every moment with my morsels on my last day of being 39 (yes, I am SUPER sentimental). But I caught a front row seat on the shuttle, all by myself.

As the shuttle took off, I heard, “MOMMY MOMMY!” coming from a tower. I looked up and saw my three boys, Small, Medium and Large, sending me off on my 40 minutes of solo time. They were beaming and waving at me from behind the trees, like I was going off to Seoul to teach English for a year rather than just 40 minutes away.

Naturally, I waved back like a maniac and teared up, thinking about how close we are as a family, perhaps due to the very thing that grieves me, the lack of an extended family village. Also, memories came gushing forth, memories of when I was a 100% stay-at-home mom for a full 4.5 years, those years of being each others’ planets.

And now look at them, my emoji comedian who can moonlight as a food inspector as he WILL find even the smallest hair in any takeout order or couch cushion, my observant and profound MLK, who says things that make my mouth drop to the floor (“I still dream of Nepal, Mommy. What’s going on over there now?”) and my husband, my biggest supporter and encourager, who also says things that make me go WHAT!?…(“Hey, so I’m not gonna wear shorts any more because I saw Pitbull. THAT dude looks SO cool in his suits, like he would never ever be caught dead wearing shorts. It’s just beneath him.”)

During my 37-minute shuttle ride, I relished in the quiet, thanked God over and over again for my gifts, and lifted up a few prayers for my new decade. As we drove past the last few sculptures, I saw some masterpieces GALLOP past me!

It was my family, about to climb one of the viewing towers as we shuttlers watched. The boys shyly waved at me.

It was a perfect moment I hope to replay over and over again. This shuttle taking me around to each giant monument on the 500 acres was perfect for my 40th as I remembered the monuments in my own life, and admired the three greatest ones, now literally on display for me to gaze at.

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Micah sitting on nickels

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10.4.16 Socrates Sculpture Park

Socrates

Socrates

Christopher Walken heads at Socrates

Socrates

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Holidays and Emotional Fireworks

Posted on July 5, 2016 by ajummama

When I struggle emotionally, I’m prone to feel like a freak, utterly unrelatable, like no one else suffers from my particular malady, be it anger explosions or self-loathing or battling envy.

And man, what is up with the holidays and emotion overload? I swear I start off excited to enjoy a special holiday with my family but many times, I sabotage my own happiness.

On Friday night before Fourth of July Monday, we set off for K’s mom’s house in CT. During the tornado watch. But we didn’t just set off as easily as that prior sentence sounds. I only worked on Monday so that I can be with the kids the rest of the week after M’s school let out Tuesday at noon . We kept active and social with playground runs, a trip to MoMA, and playdates, but by Friday, I was feeling agitated. Spent.

When K got home that night, I was already in a mood. I was taking the boys’ not listening too personally. Also, unbeknownst to me, I was nervous about our CT weekend, an emotional minefield. We hadn’t seen his brother’s family in too long so I became nervous and also subconsciously flashbacked to how unsafe I had felt with these in-laws in the past (though we are now pleasant with each other the few times we meet up, thank you Lawd).

During a jog around the neighborhood after K got home to relieve me, the damn sabotage cycle commenced.

My thought balloon formed as I jogged: “Why can’t I just stay home? That way, I don’t have to feel nervous and not be all self-conscious about how to do my face while on this other planet called Greenwich. It doesn’t have to be terrible like when K and I had a huge fight on a previous holiday and they actually left without me. Why can’t I calmly just state that I am sorry to cancel but I will be taking three days for myself, without it turning into drama?”

But I knew I was wrong. I had agreed to this CT weekend weeks ago and part of our recurring fight cycle is that for holidays, emotions overwhelm me and I want to bone out, when most of the time, word is bond for me and I do NOT flake.

I have open wounds about living across the country from my own family and friends for almost every holiday, previous holiday sabotaging and fight cycles, childhood wounds and all sorts of lovely shit.

Only in hindsight, as in NOW, as I write this four days later, I realize that I wanted K to connect and engage me after my tough day with the kids. Instead, because he does not get as emotionally overwhelmed when taking care of them (he advises that I learn to tune them out sometimes), he does not fully know how to connect with me when I am pissy about a bad afternoon with them. Pissy because I feel like I failed, pissy because I feel like I’m not the more patient version of myself from just a few years ago.

And he also wants to give me space to breathe. I want that too but I also want him to come alongside me and help me untangle my feelings.

So when I said I may stay back, I think I wanted him to affirm me. I wanted him to say, “You can gift yourself with some Me Time next week, I assure you, but this holiday weekend, I beg of you, to please join us because *we are not the same without you.* We need you. You bring a fun spirit to our family and make everything more magical. I know you are feeling nervous about CT and I understand, but I will not abandon you or leave you to otherwise fend for yourself if you feelin’ unsafe…” (BECAUSE YES, DON’T ALL MEN SPEAK JUST LIKE OPRAH?)

To K’s credit, he did try to cobble together a version of this statement but he also got frustrated when we started squabbling and said what I could not take at the time: “Don’t worry, we will be JUST FINE without you. No problem. You will just regret not coming because you love to be out in nature and you will miss out on your kids.”

I was hurt so I lashed out, “FINE?! NO PROB?! MISS OUT ON NATURE?! Oh, don’t worry about me! I can get with some nature all by my damn self while you guys are just fine without me in CT! AND I AM SO FUN. I BRING THE FUN TO THIS FAMILY.” (See? When I don’t get affirmed, I start affirming myself but also insulting K, who is pretty damn fun.)

So many times, my emotional response is to skip Sadness and land on Anger. Sadness feels like it could crack me wide open. Sadness feels like I have no power. Anger deceives me into thinking I have power in the explosive fireworks I unleash.

After much delay, we got on the road late at night. Not all was well but at least I was able to get in the car this time. I felt like a failure for keeping the boys waiting as we fought, and now that M is bigger, he even started imploring me to join them on the CT trip and laying out reasons why I should go. It hurt my heart to hear him try to persuade me.

Going forward, I need to be able to VULNERABLY take a risk and say, “K, I am feeling all kinds of things re CT especially after a tough afternoon with the boys. Can you please remind me of why I should go and also why I am needed in this family, though you seem to be able to handle it all without me?”

But OMG, who can speak like that?! I think I am a very raw and vulnerable person but to ask exactly for what you need emotionally!? It feels like I am giving him ALL THE ANSWERS on the Scantron test so all the correct “answers” are cheating.

To be continued…I hope? Maybe. (Because I gotta write about Saturday, too).

bonding with Daddy’s friend’s family

I’m so glad I went.

Look what washed up in Madison, CT!

P.S. In this age of social media, I need to remind those who are struggling during the holidays to know that the perfect red-white-and-blue photos are only part of the story. Beautiful memories WERE created but there are demons to slay to get to the Kodak moments. At least with me and my family.

Signs

Posted on June 1, 2016 by ajummama

I love big signs and I cannot lie.

Little signs too. Anything, really.

I think I’ve always been this way. Just like I’ve always loved stories and books and letters.

Signs help me keep the faith.

Kevin and I were in the midst of a huge blowout fight while at a Mets game. I felt like I was the only weirdo in the stadium who just could not have a good time despite the phenomenal weather and being at my husband’s happy place. This ridiculous fight that only kept spiraling.

Do others go through this, too? When we have the rare child-free few hours, a lot of sh*t comes to light, maybe because we don’t have to censor ourselves any more?

Anyways, I called my best friend and said, “Let’s not even talk about this. No need for commentary especially since you’re just gonna make fun of me. Just pray for me, fool. It’s like I’m determined to sabotage this day! Why do I do this!?”

After laughing at me per usual, she prayed, “Please, Lord, may a friendly face in the crowds somehow minister to Jihee while she is upset.”

Minutes later, I run into our younger-than-us pastor, a Mets fanatic just like Kevin. I wish I could report back that Kevin and I were able to salvage our Mets vs Dodgers afternoon but I would be lying. We continued to fight so much that I told Kevin that we should at least fight in Korean in case folks live-Tweet our escalating exchange.

[And the irony is not lost on me that the game was Mets (Kevin) vs. Dodgers (LA/Jihee)].

Despite our horrible afternoon, when I find myself doubting or just feeling alone, I like to recall signs, or small answers to prayer, like running into our pastor immediately after my friend prayed for a friendly face.

Sometimes the signs are beautiful: I was jogging and asking for forgiveness for lashing out in anger yet again and suddenly, I saw a cardinal fly onto someone’s porch.

I loved it. What a gift. Pigeons, robins, and even morning doves are more common in my NYC neighborhood but rarely do I get to behold a bright red cardinal.

Then another sign on the same morning as the cardinal. I was about to step into the passenger seat of our mini-van to go to church after the cardinal-spotting jog, when I looked down at the wet road under my foot. There was a gold heart smashed into the street. Thank You, Lord. Love, love, and more love when I needed it the most: when I’m feeling like a failure for not having more control over my anger.

And yes, the words “Kate Spade” on the golden heart made it slightly less enchanting, but I choose to keep the sign free from commercialism please. (Added bonus: it was the morning of our friend’s baby sister’s wedding!)

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Other times, it’s a Bible verse shared on Facebook or a Bible verse I happen to stumble on when looking up a Proverb matching the day of the month:

It’s better to live alone in the desert than with a quarrelsome, complaining wife. – Proverbs 21:19 (New Living Translation)

And sure, I know that sometimes I am too much on the hunt for signs, hoping that the notecard floating in the wind will land on that patch of grass and reveal a perfect, timely message for me, only to realize that it was a teen’s handwritten study note about amino acids.

Nevertheless, thank You for signs. I will keep looking.