Precious Moments

As I grow older, I am realizing time is as much of a commodity as money.  In some cases, more.

Right now, I have to use the bathroom but I want to write so badly before Olive wakes up from her mini-nap.  I would choose writing over eating, depending on my mood that day.

Once Olive is up, we have to be on our way to fetch the boys who will stick their sweaty heads into her Snap N Go to give her kisses all over her chubby face as I repeat myself, “Give her space!  She is a person!  Here’s some Purell!”

Hours later, I will get to hand the three off to Daddy as soon as he gets off the subway to release me to Parent Engagement Night, aka Back to School night.

As packed as our days (and nights) are, I can tell these are the very days Empty Nesters will remind us to enjoy every moment of.

I’m not sure what I want my blog to be.  I often wish I could be the blogger who writes about tips on taking trips with kids, or recipes, or other how to’s but I’m not wired that way.  I am prone to confessing, sharing too much, and talking about my inner life, aka being a Non-Monetizing Blog.

My kids take my breath away.  I won’t be able to share much as they get older but for now, I can still share these mundane but meaningful moments:


Photo #1: Alone but Together

My big one wanted to assert his independence by riding alone on the kiddie ride this past weekend at Six Flags.  This was a precious moment as Ellis and I beamed when our ride would line up with Micah’s and Micah would beam back with his one missing tooth.  I will carry that moment in my heart and hopefully conjure it up when they are pre-teens.

He wanted to be on his own but did not find it uncool yet to be thrilled to see us next to him.


Photo #2:  I Spy with My Blue-Lashed Eye

“Micah, can you make sure Olive…”

“Yeah, I’m already holding her hand and foot so she knows she isn’t alone.  I checked to make sure the sun is not in her eyes.  She has some tears on her cheeks so I wiped them.  She has some on her lashes, too.  And I’m gonna sing to her now.”

Though Big Boy and I butt heads from being wired too similarly during our low moments, he blessed me so much when he told me yesterday, unprompted:

“I appreciate you taking us to the library program even though it was crowded and loud.  I’m proud of you, Mommy.”  HIGHLIGHT OF MY DAY.


Photo #3:  These are the Days of Our Lives

When there is a new baby on the scene, folks immediately and naturally relate it to their own stage in life.  “Oh, we are SO done!  I can’t even imagine going through that again!”  “Now we get to travel!  No diaper bags!  We sleep so well.”

It’s been extra busy with Back-to-School events and forms that have got me cross eyed, those darn blue cards with fonts shrinking every year, this time in Spanish first, then nearly invisible English.

Kevin and I have not been able to soul-talk after a big fight because we have to talk about the more mundane but necessary items like how to keep us all clothed, fed, bathed, hydrated, schooled, homeworked, and bedtimed, and other -ed’s.  And yet, I can just feel that these are the very best, most tender days of our lives, while the kids are still so pure and while we are still not decrepit.


Photo #4:  My Olive Royl at 3.5 months old, post Baek-Il

Cracking us up by being so calm, down for every family adventure, suddenly drooly like Biggest Bro was, sucking on her whole fist and wrist like she workin’ on a jokbal (Korean roasted, seasoned Pig Foot).  She has moved on from smiling to trying out this sound called Laughter and splashing lots in the bath.  I must capture on video.


Photo #5:  Don’t Forget Me, Mommy!

My Middle has expressed that he would like to be born again so that Mommy can love him again as a baby.  Awwww.  Imagine being snuggled so much until a smaller, cuter thang arrives out of your mom’s swoll belly, monopolizing her time, energy, and teat.

With three kids, there isn’t as much of Mommy and Daddy to go around.  I pray that we can still make each FEEL loved.

Olive is up and we must get going.  Thank You Lord for each moment.  Please give us more energy for the second half of our day.

Slayed by a Lion While Ringing in Year of the Rooster

Even with ten minutes left before showtime, by the time Kevin was able to join me after finding parking blocks away, the theater was packed with senior citizens on this Saturday night.  They seemed to have come together on a fieldtrip.  It was quite adorable but we had to grab whatever seats were left.

Kevin whispered to me, “Guh sahram dul ‘Four Seasons’ gahteh.”

“Hey, why don’t you just say it all in English as you clearly say the operative words in English?”  (He was comparing the seniors to the younger seniors in a movie called “Four Seasons” with Alan Alda, about folks vacationing together regularly in their twilight years).

We were out for a rare date night.  We had rushed to pick our movie.  Process of elimination:  NOT “La La Land” because 70 percent chance that I would walk out (I can’t do musicals as I start picking at my nails as they break out into song after song.  Plus, I heard this musical was set in my hometown of LA, minus people of color.)

NOT “Rogue One” because Kevin had already watched it by himself during the holidays after he hit up Toys R Us one late night.  Plus I don’t watch sci-fi.

We considered “Patriots Day” (I will watch almost any Mark Wahlberg flick), “Split,” and “Lion.”  “Split” looked too scary and Koreans warn against watching anything scary while pregnant so like a good Korean, I chose to abstain.  I skimmed what “Lion” was about and knew this was It.  An Indian boy adopted by Australian parents who goes searching for his biological family.  Probably about issues of identity as hyphenated citizen and adoptee.

As soon as the movie started, I knew I was in trouble.  The full Korean warning also tells us pregnants to avoid attending funerals or other lugubrious affairs as the baby will absorb all your sadness and mourning.

Plot unfolds in small town of India, far from Calcutta.  A ten year old and his little brother, around age five, steal coal from atop trains in order to buy milk for their impoverished family.  They do this cheerily because they have each other.  I love them so much.

Oh, and the mom has three children.  GULP.

The brotherly dynamics and the little brother’s eyes and mannerisms already defy the Korean advisory.  I squeeze Kevin’s arm and whisper, “Yo, I can’t do this.”  He is already wiping away his own tears about ten minutes in.

Heartbreaking scene after scene with little brother completely lost with no way to find home or the big brother he idolizes.

I take deep breaths.  I recall the two other instances I was too affected from watching something:

  1.  “Ga eul dong hwa,” a Korean mini series from year 2000.  I wasn’t well for approximately ten days after finishing the series.
  2. “Philomena” – Completely wrecked after viewing this film in Sherman Oaks, CA, year 2013.

“Pssst…Where Dev Patel at?  I thought this was going to be grown-ass Dev Patel searching for his roots while growing up in Australia thinking he just as White as his parents.  Kevin, I need this to hurry up and jump to Australia already.  I can’t take this.”

I go from fanning myself to hiding under my coat-blanket.  I’m grateful when my bladder asks me to take it for a walk.  In the restroom, I consider staying there to protect myself from getting more gutted in the theater.  I walk back slowly, tempted to say to the employees behind the popcorn stand, “Please help me.  I’m from Lion, in Theatre 2.  I can’t stomach the sadness.  The boy looks like my second son but less plush.”

I’m hoping I missed more scenes and that the boy has grown up into Grown Dev Patel of Australia but damn it, the gorgeous little boy has yet to meet his adoptive parents.  I pray for protection of my heart.

I am a crier in real life but for movies, I do this weird thing where I am too macho to release any tears.  I don’t think I cried during “Manchester by the Sea” but I had also braced myself for that one.  This one, I hadn’t braced myself and had no idea what level of wrenching my heart was going to endure.

I couldn’t put up my walls and I had tears streaming down my face as I used my cowl neck to wipe my face.  I had tears running down my neck and collarbone.  Kevin and the senior citizens were weeping, a symphony of sniffles.


We leave the theater for a quick bite to eat before sitter curfew.  We look like we were coming from a funeral.  Kevin laughs at me – “Whoa, you really cried this time!”

“Don’t.  Just don’t.”

“No, you look pretty!  But your face looks all gaunt hahahhaa.  You look older, Jihee-yah.”

We come home and I immediately curl into Ellis’ bed where I find a castaway (Micah from the top bunk).  Ellis is moving so much in his sleep that he looks like he is going to fall off, so I hoist him into my arms and into our bed.

Kevin returns from taking our sitter home and asks, “What the?” when he finds E snoozing away in our bed.

“Please.  You know you want it, too,” as we caress his cheeks and think about Little Dev Patel.

The next morning, I tell Micah a bit about the movie as I beg him for extra hugs.  He looks at me and advises, “Just forget about the movie, ok?  Think about something else.”

As if.

I don’t know how our children were born into a comfy American life where we forget to eat what’s in our fridges and sleep in warm beds while other children aren’t afforded the same luxuries.  I will never just care about our own.

I just hope they add conspicuous Emotional Advisories on movie synopses because getting skurred during “Split” would have been nothing compared to this.  I wonder if there is a viewer support group that the senior citizens host.img_2054