Happy Two…while it drizzled at the zoo

Posted on October 2, 2014 by ajummama

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I still don’t know what happened.

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

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

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

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

You too EZ to love!

Your biggest fan and paparazzo,
Mama

Father Knows Best?

Posted on September 17, 2014 by ajummama

I acted like a teenager yesterday, abruptly hanging up on my parents via Skype. I just said, “BYE!” after getting salty towards my dad. Usually I let Ellis and his grandparents do at least seven rounds of goodbyes and air kisses to the computer screen before finally hanging up.

I never have the chance to talk to him these days as he spends most of the year in Japan without regular Internet access.

So when he is in LA, I try to Skype as frequently as possible to show him his swiftly growing grandbabies.

I ended up pouring my heart out about things that hurt and anger me in my current life stage. I was getting riled up just talking about it. Nothing to do with him. As always, the angrier I got, my Korean game stepped up.

I really wanted my folks, especially my dad, the person I seek the most validation from in the whole wide world, to just say, “Yes, I understand. I can imagine.” After all, I had been vulnerable enough to share my heart again instead of just hiding behind my baby, making chitchat only about him.

“WE FEEL YOU, BELOVED DAUGHTER,” would have hit the spot, too.

Instead, my dad said something like, “Aigoo, don’t say a peep more! THESE ARE THE HAPPIEST DAYS OF YOUR LIFE. Trust me.” Of course, he said it in Korean, so some of this is lost in translation.

I said something snarky like, “Oh really, Daddy? This coming from someone who said he can never babysit again because it was too damn hard when he was only SECOND-CHAIRING IT? Too hard even when only helping my mama out here and there during our annual trip to LA? That’s all you can say? These are the happiest days of my life?”

Today, I was beaming as I enjoyed Ellis at our Mommy and Me Zoo Class, a class I had been wanting to attend for so long with one of my boys, but wasn’t allowed to bring a tag-along sibling to. The zoo understandably said we must adhere to a one child-one parent ratio, or else it’d be too distracting. So after Micah went off to full-day pre-K, Ellis and I were able to get our zoo class on.

I just drank him in as he sat on my lap, petting Nona the Turtle and Emma the Snake.

A mental picture flashed before my eyes: how ecstatic our family of four was when Micah overcame a potty-related fear in our tiny bathroom while Daddy was giving Ellis a haircut in the bathtub. We hooted and hollered as if Micah had just received the call for his Nobel Peace Prize nomination.

I thought about how happy we are to reunite with any member of our small family after any departure, however short. “Mom, you back from the gym!? We missed you. Did you miss us?” “Daddy! Did you miss me SO much when you was at office? Did you keep thinking about me and go, ‘awww, Micah!’?”

Damn it. These ARE the happiest days of my life. While my dad and other first generation immigrant parents can work on being a bit more affirming, he was right.

I’ve said this over and over again but despite being stretched so thin, these are the highlight reels of my life.

One of my beloved bridesmaids so eloquently wrote to me this week, “Isn’t it so interesting how we can straddle so many different emotions at once?”

Tough in so many ways – marriage, finances, inner life, nurturing my faith, limited career options on the Mommy track – but yes, these ARE the days that I will look back on and crave the smoove, perfect cheek of my still-innocent boys.

Honk!

Posted on September 8, 2014 by ajummama

This is Part Two from the previous post, so it may not make sense as an independent post:

I was relieved to hear Kevin challenge me instead of agreeing with whatever I said in my agitated state. “But I think it’d be good for you to go to church. You always feel better. Then afterwards, you can have the rest of the day to exhale.”

So I drove me and Micah to church the next morning since runny-nosed E needed to stay contained at home. I saw a parking space on the street so I pulled over to the left to grab the spot. Immediately, the car behind me honks.

I have Honk Rage. HONK HONK HONK. As SOON as the light turns green here in NYC, HONK HONK HONK, HONKY TONK TONK! Honk You! Most Honking City I’ve ever lived in (Seoul doesn’t count because I was too young).

Perhaps I should have pulled over farther to the side? Had I not signaled? Not sure. I just know that honks invite the Michael Douglas from “Falling Down” from within me to come out and play. They transform this Calculus Camper into a wannabe thug who wants to respond to your honk with, “Oh, aight, you wanna go in? Let’s go! Just don’t hit me in the face, son.”

As the car passed by me, I thought, “And I’ll just bet it’s someone from my church, too. Augh! Why do we even bother, coming to church week after week, trying to come correct, then go forth and honk away in this nasty concrete jungle. I AM SO OVER EVERYTHING! I should have stayed my ass home.”

The car passes me and the driver looks right at me, to see who had the audacity to pull over to park and cause an inconvenience. Sho ’nuff, it IS someone from church. For some reason, it makes my agitation grow though no previous ill will towards this person. Even though rationally, I know that maybe they were honking only to tell me to move over a few more inches.

But I don’t want to be rational. Just one of those “F*CK EVERYTHING AND EVERYONE!” moments as I was already agitated.

After a tough Saturday, I CRAVED some rest in the form of sitting in the sanctuary and hearing a life-giving, refreshing sermon. I needed it. Spiritual spa.

Because Micah was having a hard time staying in his Elephant Room without his friends there on his first day, with mostly kindergardeners, I took him with me to the sanctuary to show him how close I would be to his new classroom. In a moment of wishful thinking, or denial, I LEFT MY JOURNAL on my seat, perhaps subconsciously thinking that by leaving it there, I would get to come right back by myself. To shed my negative thoughts and replace them with Word.

However, when we got back to Elephant Room, I saw just how out of place Micah felt on this first day and I promised I would stay the whole time, and would never sneak off.

During his Elephant activities, I told Micah that Mommy needs to run back for less than 30 seconds and get her notebook from the sanctuary since she was staying with him for the rest of his class. He started shaking his head vehemently and crinkling his face. Since I had left him earlier and Micah had started bawling, I didn’t want him to cry again if we could avoid it.

“Fine, Mommy will go back right after service and get the notebook.”

We went back and it was gone.

I asked the ushers and everyone was really good about looking for it. I checked the Lost and Found, and spoke to the person in charge.

I started feeling really weird, like my face was going to crumple up just like Micah’s. I felt really prickly, worn and fragile. PLUS, THIS WAS MY JOURNAL.

“I’m sure it will turn up,” assured a friendly face. But this didn’t comfort me at all. In fact, it made me feel similar to when Kevin says, “Calm down!”

I couldn’t believe it but I just sat down in front of the sanctuary and started to cry. I wished I had stayed my ass home. I didn’t need any more irritations.

Obviously, it wasn’t just for the journal though I did feel mighty naked and out of control to have it floating out there for anyone to pick up and read through, even without malicious intent. MY JOURNAL. As open as I already am, blogging for my tens of readers to see, the words in my journal are on a whole ‘nutha level of raw and uncensored thoughts and emotions. For anyone to pick it up and peer into made my eyes water and my heart beat fast.

Just then, a familiar face saw me crying and let me fall onto her and cry. “It’s my journal – I can’t leave and just hope it turns up.”

She promptly ran downstairs and found it for me in the one place I had neglected to check because I was moving too frantically from spot to spot, literally running through the church, holding Micah’s hand. Someone had turned it into the front desk. I hadn’t checked there after someone told me there is no staff at front desk on Sundays, only on weekdays. I felt beyond foolish.

The tears were for a lot of things. Stress. Frustration. Exhaustion. Burnout. Worry about the future. Not anything new. How I can’t get extinguish my envy when I see grandparents helping out regularly so that friends and acquaintances alike can reclaim their couplehood without the kids in tow. In fact, lotta grandparents were helping out even more as the kids grew older.

It was such an appropriate analogy, my having to choose between fetching my journal (WRITING/ME TIME) or staying with my kid (MAMAHOOD).

Before I had kids, I needed long stretches of quiet for myself to devour books, write, think, swim, decompress. Just because I became a mama doesn’t mean that my natural constitution immediately reconfigured itself and I can do without those life-giving things. I am still at my best if I can have longer, more frequent blocks of quiet for my overthinking brain to cool off.

But reality is that my kids come first to my wants. Most of the time, I’m okay with that as that is what a Mommy does. I even embrace it because it feels like I was born for this. But I’ve come to also realize that if I neglect to take care of myself in these ways I have labeled as pure luxury, I won’t perform at my optimum level..

I felt so annoyed that Micah wouldn’t “let” me go fetch my notebook, though I know he was really thrown by his new surroundings. Then, I started beating myself up over a lot of miscellaneous, irrelevant crap, including my crying about the damn journal.

It’s just hard sometimes, and even harder to say that especially using these trifling examples of “sacrifice.” Big deal – I had to stay with my boy at his Sunday School. But it wasn’t just that. It was an accumulation of thangs. And I know I should be thankful. Always. That guilt makes me feel worse.

As a Mama, I expect myself to be selfless but oh, how selfishness rears its ugly head. I want uninterrupted time to myself. I want to watch MY TV shows. I want to listen to MY music in the car. I want to attend MY service at church. I want to be able to talk to Kevin without interruption. I don’t want to share my mochi ice cream.

Why I gotta be the adult all the time? Just because I AM one?

YES. The answer is Yes.

Growing up is hard to do, even for a Mama. Growing pains are not just for the youfe.

Running on Empty, a status update, not just a River Phoenix film

Posted on September 8, 2014 by ajummama

I misplaced my journal in public today.

Well, to be accurate, I knew exactly where I had placed it but it was no longer there when I returned.

Today was Step Up Day at church for our little guys, as Ellis is about to turn two on October 1st and Micah starting pre-Kindergarden tomorrow. Daddy stayed home with Ellis, who was supposed to be officially jumped in as a Giraffe. He had a runny nose so we wanted to be courteous to his classmates and not spread the love.

Micah was joining the Elephant Room, made up of fellow Preschoolers as well as Kindergardeners.

We had been talking about it all this week, as well as about his upcoming new school. He was excited. He was ready.

When we walked in, he changed his mind. He said, “Where are my friends?” The room did look very different from the Giraffe Room and he didn’t know one classmate or teacher. He was the youngest dude there, with his end of the year birthday and the only new kid from what I could surmise.

I tried extra hard: “Ooh, there’s Pastor Rich’s daughter! Oooh, there’s V, remember she came over to watch Jeremy Lin basketball with us a while back with her family? Remember you went to VBS with O?”

On my better days, I would have been HAPPY to stay and get him adjusted to his new surroundings, even feeling like it was a treat to be able to observe him in a classroom setting.

But Lord, I was in a mood. Lemme back it up.

Yesterday, our family went to play at a Back-to-School Festival at a local park after I ran to the optometrist for a wonky eye in the morning. We got there and it was super hot and humid like we knew it would be. But we thought it’d be a cute, celebratory event for our preschooler. And it was. And I got to hold my friend’s new son.

We got back home just in time for Kevin to finally enjoy himself a Daddy’s Late Afternoon and Night Out. I even wrote him a (rare) tribute on Facebook because I truly appreciated all that he does for us, even though sometimes I get jealous that he “gets” to go to the office and use his computer without two warm, brown little monkeys climbing his body to take over the keyboard. And twisting his titties.

I was really excited for his time out and even sent him out early. After all, I do this all week. I got this. What’s an extra day of unpaid overtime?

As soon as Daddy left, Oh My Lawd. I lost all control.

We started off by doing some cute arts and crafts from the Back-to-School Festival while it stormed outside. But the never-ending day started going downhill quickly afterwards. Downright brutal. It was still humid out despite the intermittent storms, yet I refused to turn on our extreme A/C with Ellis’ nose running. The heat added to everything. I also refused to give them any screen time because screen time is a reward, not a right, though in hindsight, I see that it could have been a reward for Mommy.

It was need after need, fight after fight, repeating myself to no avail, yelling, cursing under my breath, trying the opposite of yelling by whispering to get them to obey me. I felt like I had ADD as I would begin to do something then completely forget what urgent thing I had run into the room to do as one of them would demand something else. Then another spill.

They would egg each other on. If one of them demanded something from me, the other would feel left out and demand something too. There was no reasoning.

After feeding them dinner by bribing them with Transformer tattoos so that they wouldn’t skip another meal, I hid in our tiny kitchen to do the dishes for some down time. I felt like stabbing myself in the forearm to match the frustration I felt on the inside.

I also started feeling sorry for myself, thinking about local mama friends who get weekends off thanks to their parents or in-laws. I knew I was starting to travel down a dirty path of envy and bitterness.

I also knew that bedtimes weren’t gonna happen. That’s a whole other topic I don’t want to get into, lest I receive comments on all that we’re doing wrong.

By the time, Kevin walked in the door (kids still not sleeping, yelling “Hi, Daddy!” from their room), I looked like I had been at the sauna with my damp face and disheveled non-ponytail. I announced that I was not going to church the next day because I felt like I was running on empty and that I need to be alone in a quiet space.

I felt like a car that was long overdue for maintenance. About to break down.

I haven’t even begun to get to the meat of this post…
-To Be Continued-

In Pursuit of Magic

Posted on August 21, 2014 by ajummama

People are always looking for signs. For meaning. For something more.

At least, I know I am. I know I can be completely ridiculous and try too hard at times. Recently, a friend who prays a lot asked me during a casual conversation, whether we’d like to have more kids. I raised one eyebrow and peered intensely into her face as I thought aloud, “WHY? Do you know something? Has He mentioned something? Who sent you? ARE YOU A PROPHET?”

Even on my “Bachelor in Paradise” guilty pleasure show, there is a scene where Claire is having an emotionally intimate moment with her dude on the beach, sharing about the death of her dad. Suddenly, she squeals as she notices a turtle going out into the ocean after laying a bunch of eggs. She says it is a sign from her dad. New life=new beginnings.

I especially love stories where parents have DREAMED of their child’s name, gender, or arrival.

My heart hurts when I hear of the signs that parents receive after they’ve lost their children. When they are dealing with their unimaginable grief, their child’s favorite animal just happens to show up in their backyard, or a red cardinal ends up visiting them EVERY SINGLE DAY while on vacation.

Or in the case of Kevin and Marina Krim whose two beloved children, Lulu and Leo, were murdered by their nanny in NYC in October of 2012.

Marina posted on Facebook:

“I accepted that Lulu and Leo’s physical presences were no longer with me and I needed to learn to connect with their spiritual presence. I needed to use my 5 senses ‘outside the box’ to connect with Lulu and Leo. Once I started to do that, little everyday things began to take on new meaning. This was the beginning of my lifelong scavenger hunt — clues that my Lulu and Leo were leaving me to find.”

[The title from this blog post is from Marina Krim’s post “My Pursuit of Magic” which I could not find a link for.]

One can argue that such signs are frivolous and reaching for connections when there aren’t any. Sure, there is no proof of any connection and it can all be chalked up to coincidence but you also have a choice.

To look for magic or not.

Today, I ended up being out with our boys from 8:30 am to 5 pm, for three back-to-back-to back activities. I just wanted to eke out the remaining sliver of summer.

During our second activity of the day, around the sixth hour of being out, AFTER the lucky little guy emerged from his beauty sleep in the car+stroller, I was WIPED and started to beat myself up.

“You have no one to blame but yourself. Being out like this all day, about to fall flat on your face when you should have gone home after lunch and before naps.”

I had hoped that I could rest a bit if both of them had fallen asleep during the ride over but alas, Micah and I ended up cruising all over the park and zoo while Baby Bro snoozed.

I really didn’t know how I was going to make it, strolling about 100 pounds after an already active morning, wrangling both of my wriggly guys who had just MacGyver’d out of the public bathroom stall at the zoo to expose me in my huge Korean underwear.

Thankfully(?), I only exposed myself to a friendly nanny from our co-op who happened to be visiting the zoo to pick up her charge. I was able to exchange warm greetings while the door remained open.

The boys and I ended up in the aviary. That was when things started getting magical.

Recently, we had only speed-walked through the aviary because we were always with our little buddies. I would chat with the mamas as we chased our kids up and down the ramps. We never really stopped to admire the macaws and blue-billed ducks and other winged creatures.

I noticed for the first time today, just how mesmerized my baby was. Micah, too, but especially Ellis.

And just as I had started beating myself up for being out all day and burning myself out with two more days left in the week, a skinny white bird perched in front of us, within touching distance from us.

He showed no signs of flying away.

We were beaming, thrilled to be in his presence. To have him stay awhile.

As cheesy as this sounds, I felt all this love and gratitude gushing out in that moment. So grateful to be alive and for the very reason I was so wiped out: TO BE PLAYING WITH MY KIDS TOO MUCH!

Just minutes before, I was sighing as I zipped up my shorts, about to konk out in the bathroom while peeing but as I clenched my boys in my arms with this amazing white bird with blonde tufts of “hair” joining us, I was gifted with a precious memory I can tuck away for good.

I received the “sign” to be, “It is all worth it, Mama. Your toiling away for them is NOT for NAUGHT.” I got pumped with a jolt of energy to last me a few more hours.

The thing about the pursuit of magic? The more you look, the more you’ll find.

8.8.gr8.

Posted on August 8, 2014 by ajummama

8.8.14: You delivered.

You don’t just LOOK fwine with your double 8s lookin’ like curvy infinity loops but you are a BEAUTIFUL Friday after an abundant week of museums, library, zoo, “safari”, pool, playgrounds, and of course, our courtyard.

Baby Bro is ready for WWF. Wrestling Name: ThirdWheel

I kept thinking Kevin was a safari employee thanks to his shirt.

On this 8.8 we ended the week by enjoying a picnic in the park with our good friends, some who we’ve known since Micah was not even four months old and Ellis was only a glimmer in his parents’ eyes, and some other good folks we’ve picked up along the way.

In honor of 8.8, here are eight simple thangs I am so gr8ful for (gross, but I couldn’t resist!) in addition to this weather I have long been awaiting:

1) a handful of buddies we can be ourselves around, to lay down our picnic blankets together to cobble together a nice quilt on our patch of grass and dirt

2) being able to witness these buddies grow up. When they were infants, we’d place them down on any blanket and just take pics of them in their Mets gear or their “Who Wore it Best?” Carter’s ensembles. This was the extent of their “playdates” as they couldn’t walk or talk so they had no choice but to humor their camera-crazy moms. Now they are playing, learning about conflict and how to apologize, how to love their friends while giving them space, and so much more.

3) summer watermelon on our picnic blanket “quilt.” even sweeter and more mouth-watering when shared.

4) fellow mama friends you can leave your kid with for a few minutes when you washing sand out of your other kid’s eye.

5) the handsome older gentleman who works at or owns the local Japanese market. I couldn’t fit our doublestroller (Strollerus Prime) into the small store so I parked the kids right in front of the door while I was in line to pay for a few rice balls (I was famished after feeding the kids).

They looked right at me, smiling, then smirking, as Micah got out to release his baby brother(!) Baby Bro smirked right back, looking right into my eyes, as he started to climb out. The gentleman told me to finish paying while he watched the kids for the next few minutes.

What was touching was that he not only watched them but ADORED them. He was squeezing Ellis’ cheeks and patting Micah on the head. He has three grown kids and was so kind to my boys. Made me feel like I was living in a small town for a moment.

6) We love our museums but hands down, nothing beats good ol’ dirt and grass and trees and boulders and rocks for our kids to explore. Here’s to you, Mother Nature!

7) the perks of living on the East Coast where a roadtrip means you can knock out a few states at once. Excited for the rest of our summer.

8) TTLIF! Thank the Lawd it’s FRIDAY! Daddy will be around to help out all weekend as we explore more fun places together.

8.8 Eve aka 8.7

Ruben Studdard had “Sorry (for) 2004,” Here’s Mine for 2011

Posted on August 7, 2014 by ajummama

Babywatch 2014.

As a life-long baby enthusiast and Elmira (“I want to hold you, love you, kiss you and squeeze you tight!”), I still get at least three rounds of goosebumps and shivers when I see a birth announcement on Facebook. A new life is among us. I think about the family’s first moments and naturally reminisce about our own in 2010 and 2012.

My favorite part is the first picture and the Name Reveal. It is so Lion King.

I no longer have babies. At 22 months old and 3.5+ years old (44 months old if you wanna be gross), they are full-fledged toddler and soon-to-be preschooler.

As I reminisce about the first few months of my firstborn’s life, I would like to take this time to officially apologize for 2011.

When Micah was a newborn, our Thanksgiving 2010 baby, there were times when I naively thought this motherhood thang was cake. After a whole year of getting showered with platitudes in various forms of “Oh, get ready for your world to be rocked!” or “Life will never be the same as you know it,” it wasn’t as bad as all the hype. I was nursing, cuddling, and falling in love ’round the clock. Most blissful I’d ever been. I didn’t give one crap about losing my freedom or no longer accessorizing.

I then began to hear some tales from the trenches, some confessions from mamas with older kids. About something called tantrums. And how their kids have the uncanny ability to stoke the fieriest fireball of anger within them. I honestly could not imagine my sweet angel baby, bursting with cheeks for days, EVER displeasing me, much less angering me. I even worried, “At this rate, I am going to be so attached to this sweet little human that I don’t think I can rejoin the work force. Ever.” My mama laughed at me and told me to give it a couple years.

This naive former self flashed into my mind today at Boston Market. My boys and I were going to stay out all day so I wanted to grab a decent lunch for them between events, while packing my own lunch to save money.

They were getting too riled up, egging each other on while standing in line with me so I seated them at a small table right in front of the line where I can keep my eyes on them, Ellis in a highchair and Micah in a regular chair. They were cracking up and squealing with delight.

What’s wrong with laughter and delight? Who am I, the Happiness Police?

Nope. I’m Mama and I know that the laughter was getting too amped up. I saw Ellis trying to climb out of his highchair, one leg already swung over, and reaching for the pepper. Micah was already out of his seat, reaching for the paper menu pyramid of today’s specials. I’m no fool – even a good thang like brotherly excitement can lead to nekked sumo wrestling on asphalt in about 90 seconds flat. I rushed back and yanked the pepper and menu out of their little hands and brought the boys back in line with me.

Ellis started to gag like he had swallowed wrong. The moment passed.

Until he actually hurled seconds later. The line quickly dispersed and no one could look me in the eye as I caught his vomit in my hands. Whatever I could not catch, I wore. It was a very NYC moment as no one dared to offer up a kind word or a few napkins.

“Keep it moving…moving away from Throw Up Mom and her two Littles.”

I waved down a cashier and said, “Hi, I’m so sorry but my baby just threw up while we were in line,” so that they could properly mop up that nastiness immediately.

Fortunately, Ellis was not sick at all. He had either had too much (green) breakfast smoothie and scrambled eggs a couple hours prior or I had been holding him too tightly around his tummy when holding him in line after he and Big Bro had gotten all riled up. So, Dude was still a ball of energy.

In the bathroom, the Li’l Kims still wanted to play with everything. The door lock, the door handle, the trashcan, the toilet handle, my dress. Micah wanted to engage me in deep conversation.

This is the exact moment I got overwhelmed, not the vomiting in line.

“Mom!? MOM!? *I* didn’t throw up right? Only Ellis, right, Mom? Mom!? Mom? Do you know what? Do you know what? I had a nightmare. I did. Last night. I had a nightmare about four giraffes dying. Did you hear me, MOM? Do you love me?”

He then went on to try to hug Ellis when they both had Vomit Feet and I was trying my best to clean up. My patience was wearing thin. I stank. I had to repeat myself over and over again before I could wash off both of them in our makeshift public sink shower. They continued to get attracted to the trash can with the fliptop lid.

We continued with our day and all was salvaged.

Not the worst parenting stress moment BY ANY MEANS (chile, please!) but I just remembered how I truly could not imagine even getting ANNOYED by my beloved offspring in his infancy.

I am sorry for my smugness and naivete of 2011, and tail end of 2010.

As I type this, I can hear Kevin getting frustrated with them as he tries to corral them to bed. Never have I heard a more comforting sound.

Pick Me Up

Posted on July 31, 2014 by ajummama

When I was a little girl, I used to do this weird thing when my little brother and I would get into a particularly bad fight. He would start bawling so I would feel bad and want to rewind the clock to a more peaceful time. So, I would leave the scene abruptly, walk back into the room with a new, kind face and say, “OhmyGod! Why are you crying, Sang!? WHO…WHO DID THIS TO YOU!?” Sang would be bewildered because the answer was, “YOU did this to me! I’m crying because of you!” (Sorry, bro. Your Nunah has always been a tad crazy).

I was reminded of this as I realized this week that My Most Effective Comforters on my hard parenting days are the very ones who got me in a tizzy in the first place. When Ellis Mr. Still Chubby Cheeked Circle Eyes pats me softly and says, “Mama!? MAMA!? Soh-wee!” and when Micah the Earnest says, “Mommy, you smoove like baby – I want to squeeze you! You look like a baby when Daddy hugs you,” I feel like I was completely crazy for ever getting exasperated with them.

The precious moments carry you through the tough moments. I read somewhere that it is Mother Nature’s design for babies to be so damn cute to fuel parents to want to take care of them. Or something like that.

A couple weeks ago, we were at a park when some older boys, ranging from five years old to ten years old, made a beeline for our picnic blanket and asked Micah and his homey, E, if they’d like to join in on their pick-up soccer game. Our boys looked at each other, sheepish, surprised, and excited. E first declined their invite immediately and Micah agreed.

Just as immediately, they changed their minds and got up for their first pick-up game.

I looked over at my friend and said, “Well, this is just gonna be too cute!” as I felt some Feelings again about how my firstborn is growing up so fast.

The Captain, the ten year old, started reciting the rules in rapid succession. Going over fouls and goals and other jargon that Mama’s mind shuts out automatically, just like when Daddy tries to tutor her on football. Micah and E also had similar quizzical expressions on their faces like, “Whaddid we just get ourselves into?”

“You, you’re on my team. You, you’re on his team.” Being the youngest, our boys were assigned to opposing teams.

As a few of the boys began constructing the goals with rocks, Micah and E ran around hugging each other. Being on opposing teams wasn’t sinking in, apparently.

When they were told, “Alright, let’s start the game!” E quickly responded, looking worried, “I don’t want to play any more!” Micah chimed in, “Yeah!”

This mental picture is one of the gazillions I need to recall when Micah just won’t listen and I forget that he is still only three.

I will remember just how innocent and little they looked among the bigger boys, not understanding or caring about the rules, instead just wanting to hug their friend all over the field on that beautiful summer day.

Thanks for comforting me in those hard moments by just being yourselves, my sons.

Happy Birthday Umma!

Posted on July 17, 2014 by ajummama

Umma,

Today is your birthday. Happy birthday!

I miss you so much even though I get so irked when you overreact on Skype while getting a peek at your only grandchildren. I can’t change your alarmist ways.

“Jihee-yah! Don’t leave the room, not even for a second. In that split second, they can get a serious brain injury if they wrestle down low like that. JIHEE-YAH! Look, look, ummunah! The little one is climbing something. The image is fuzzy. They are grabbing each other now – quick! AHHHHHH!”

“Umma please! Stop. They wrestle like this all day long. I know when to peel them off each other.”

I remember how I was waiting to exhale, imagining that once you arrived in NYC for a visit when Micah was still very little, I’d be able to breathe a sigh of relief.

I went to take a long, leisurely (celebratory) trip to the bathroom when you arrived. The baby started crying and I thought, “Girl, you good. Halmoni here.”

Next thing I know, you sprint into the bathroom with the baby in your arms and place him in my arms WHILE I AM STILL SEATED ON MY THRONE.

“A baby needs his mama. He was crying for YOU.” Thus began a series of squabbles and your usual vow to never return.

But Umma, I know it is all out of love. I am sorry for my harsh words over the years. You and Kevin see me at my worst because y’alls’ love is the love I am most secure in.

Today, on your birthday, I think of you mothering us, first in Korea until I was nearly five years old, and then in a foreign land where you couldn’t communicate all that you were going through.

And unlike Kevin, Daddy didn’t help out much at all so it was all on you. It was a different era.

Throw in the language barrier and idiots screaming loud English at you, thinking that if they screamed it, suddenly you’d become fluent. I remember fighting for you guys even back then. “She is not hard of hearing so stop screaming!” How many maniacs hurling, “Go back to your country!” at the end of an argument at the store when THEY were the ones caught shoplifting.

I guess it is no surprise then that one of our kids is named Ellis. (Ellis Island – much love to all immigrants).

Oh, the shock of this latchkey culture you had no choice but to throw us into as you and Daddy ran various small businesses throughout our childhood. You told me how you never got used to it, this country where young kids had to separate from their mamas in order for the parents to make a living.

I don’t remember if I consciously thought this when I was a kid, but it would have been nice to see you more. I was a sensitive and inquisitive child and would have loved to talk things out with you. My sea of emotions and thoughts – to bounce it off someone safe and loving.

Once I saw your car in our apartment parking space and I couldn’t believe it. YOU WERE HOME FROM WORK! BEFORE DARK! I ran home the rest of the block, excited beyond belief.

My MOMMY WAS HOME!

Then I quickly realized that something was very very wrong. You were lying on the couch, eyes glazed over in shock. You were only home because you had been held at knifepoint at the store that day. Daddy sitting by on the other couch, making compassionate sounds, looking downright dejected.

Perhaps this is why I chose to stay home despite so many doubts on the hard, crazy days. I wanted time with my kids, above all else. I wanted to raise my own little morsels these early years, despite the high highs and low lows of motherhood.

Umma, this is getting too long. And I’m scared the boys will wake up. I love and celebrate you today.

History is repeating itself with me immigrating from California to New York, doing this motherhood thing without an extended family, but you actually left your home COUNTRY to immigrate to this wacky land where kids talk back to their parents and are given timeouts or “consequences.” Unlike you, at least I can communicate and be heard. And unlike you, I didn’t lose my mama while still in high school.

Today, on your birthday, I am taking this lunch hour to appreciate what you went through.

I wish I could travel back in time to tell you you were doing a damn good job.

Hope to celebrate your next birthday in person.

Love,

Your One and Only Daughter,

Jihee

7.11 MLK, LeBron, LeJeremy, LeKeith

Posted on July 12, 2014 by ajummama

Oh, Life. You can be devastating but also bewilderingly beautiful. Sometimes I wanna hold a grudge but you have that way of charming me back.

Last night, when Kevin walked in the door, I started blubbering. I haven’t cried in a good long while but oooof! From 9 am to 6:30 pm, I…I have no words. To give you a brief glimpse into the very long and agonizing, heart palpitatious day, lemme leave you with just one of my screaming thought balloons from The Day That Wouldn’t End:

Can Mommy just insert her tampon in a public bathroom without you two MacGyvering out of the stall onto the street!?

With Mommy running seconds behind you, growing two years older in two seconds, heart beating frantically, eyes darting everywhere?

Wondering if God forbid you guys had wandered into the *^&%ing street without me!?

Only to find you in the closest spot outside by the bathroom door, nowhere near the street but sprawled out on the branches of your favorite low hanging NYC sidewalk tree?

As if this tree weren’t a sapling next to a NYC sidewalk but a magical banyan tree in Hawai’i?

As if you two aren’t 3.5 and 21 months old but Tom Sawyer and Huckleberry Finn, chewing on a blade of grass, beaming about the getaway you just pulled off.

hanging out at their favorite tree last month

Then 11 other things followed.

Though I’m happy that you two are fast becoming best friends, just like we prayed for, I hope you realize that how fast your mama is aging is directly proportionate to you two egging each other on.

homies

I took a breather last night. Literally concentrating on taking some deep breaths as I hid out in our bedroom, shaking my head, wondering if I had a Korean drama white washcloth to tie around my head.

Then, this morning, we woke up to a brand new day. Birds chirping, the scent of summer. Blank canvas.

Micah and I took an early morning walk to the mailbox across the street to mail a birthday card. He blew it a kiss as he slipped it into the metal flap. I like to squeeze in a bit of special time with him after our gnarly days. Just to check in with my guy.

On the way back:

“Mommy, when I grow up, my kids will hold my hand like this, right?”

My heart melts into a puddle onto our courtyard. With his perfect little hand in mine, any residue from the previous day is washed away.

“Oh, Micah, yes, you will hold your child’s hand just like this and give it a squeeze just like this!”

“And I will be the Daddy, right?”

“Yes, and I will be the Halmoni and I will hug him and kiss him allllll over, just like this! How many little kiddies do you think you want to have?”

Serious. Thoughtful.

“31.”

Today also turned out to be a memorable 7.11 Friday in the world of sports. Basketball news strangely reminded me of how my toddler’s (mis)adventures can be forgiven easily by their adorable shenanigans the next moment.

LeBron will be returning home to Cleveland four years after “The Decision,” after literally being burned in effigy and having an open hate letter addressed to him by the Cavs’ owner. My guy friends could not stop spewing venom at LeBron for the last four years.

I didn’t understand all the hatred. Why couldn’t it be all business? I’m not knowledgeable about sports but I do enjoy me a good feature story and today, the sports world delivered a doozy. LeBron’s unexpected return showed me that it ain’t all business, even in this billion dollar industry. He going back home! All is forgiven. No such thing as pride.

And Linsane LeJeremy will be in my hometown of Los Angeles! While he was not reviled like LeBron, he was buried in Houston’s rotation and not given a chance to run his style of offense. (Special thanks to Kevin for supplying that way technical sports sentence above for what I wanted to convey about redemption.)

We were saddened to see him leave NYC for the Houston Rockets but now, he will be in LA where the Asian-Americans will go buck wild. It will feel like World Cup 2002 when we Koreans of Los Angeles were jumping out of our Japanese cars to give each other tearful hugs, from youth to halmonis and halabujees. (I am fully aware that Jeremy ain’t Korean-American but c’mon, throw me a bone, I’ve had a tough week.)

In a totally unrelated baseball event, we also made a quick stop to our neighborhood Citibank thanks to a heads up by Uncle Anthony that Kevin’s beloved Keith Hernandez would be signing autographs. Micah spouted off with, “I don’t like him!” when he saw the macrocephalic, dopey Mr. Met coming our way for photo opps, so we became nervous that upon meeting one of Daddy’s idols, Micah would lash out with, “I don’t like you, Mr. Keith Hernandez,” which would have made it Daddy’s turn to blubber.

When I think of 7.11 next year, I hope to remember my early morning walk with Micah, LeBron, LeJeremy, LeKeith: all the kooky ingredients for a magical, redemptive summer day in NYC.