Originally published at American Family. Please leave any comments there.

For lack of anything more interesting to say, this post is inspired by Princess Nebraska’s story prompt.

I wouldn’t say it was my best idea.  One summer evening when I was 12 and having a friend sleep over at my house, I decided that I would show off by sneaking alcohol out of my parent’s liquor cabinet.

My parents have never been big drinkers.  An occasional beer or maybe Fuzzy Navel was about as adventurous as they got.  This meant that the selection I had to choose from was small.  All I could find was a bottle of Peach Schnapps and a bottle of Root Beer Schnapps.  My friend and I mixed them together in a big cup and swilled them down.  Then we fell asleep.
As you might imagine, the combination of various schnapps and a ninety-pound sixth grader didn’t mix particularly well.  It wasn’t long before I woke up vomiting all over the basement couch.  It was a particularly nasty smell as the mix of beef-a-roni and flammable root beer alcohol filled the air. My friend panicked and ran to get my parents.

When my mom came to clean up the mess, she did not seem to notice anything was amiss.  “It must have been bad beef-a-roni.”  I told her as I stumbled up the stairs to my bed.

The next morning, I had a bitty-league softball game.  When I got up, my parents deemed me healthy enough to attend.  I didn’t mention my nausea and my splitting headache.  In retrospect, I wonder if they suspected we had been drinking because they served particularly runny eggs.  Maybe they were trying to punish me by making my hangover worse.

That was the beginning of a series of bad choices that went unnoticed or unacknowledged by my parents until I left for college.  Did they really not notice the occasional binge drinking?  The saying I was at the library when I was really sleeping with hanging out with a skateboarder boy?  The sneaking off to the nearest big city to hang out in college bars?  There were a million instances where I was convinced I had outsmarted them.
If my children happen to read this in their adolescent years, I want to take this time to assure them:   I will notice.  And there *will* be consequences.

While I don’t think there is anything necessarily wrong with experimentation and sneaking around (isn’t that the job of teenagers?), there will be consequences.  Or at the very least an acknowledgment of their dumb choices.
Why?  Because *my* children will not labor under the illusion that their parents are too dumb to figure out what they are doing.

To this day, I don’t know if my parents really were too oblivious to figure out what was going on, or if they just chose to ignore it.

Originally published at American Family. Please leave any comments there.

It was almost one year ago to the day that my mom and I had a big blow-out fight (which I apparently barely blogged) about me not wanting her to read the “Jesus book” to M.  

And it seems like only yesterday that Mr. A and I had a big debate about the kids and church.  Actually, that particular argument started about 7 months ago.   

Lucky me, it seems like it is time for us to revisit this annoying topic yet again.

Apparently, now after 50 years, my mom seems to have found religion.   She has started going to church every week.  This is no big deal to me.  If she gets something out of it, good for her. 

Unfortunately, she seems to also have decided it is important for her to expose my heathenish children to church.  She has asked if M could go to church with her TWICE in the last two weeks. 

The first time, I said Mr. A was working Sunday afternoon so we wanted to have family time in the morning.  I also mentioned that church was something that Mr. A and I would have to discuss together before I could let M go.  This was A) true and B) a very polite way of letting her know that I was not enthusiastic.  Then, she called again this saturday and asked if M could go on Sunday.  Again, I brushed her off by saying that Mr. A and I had not discussed it yet.

Before she started going to church regularly, my mom asked me if there was a church we would be comfortable letting her take M to.   I did some research and told her if she wanted to take our girls to a United Methodist church, we would be ok with that.  I don’t agree with everything they believe but they are pretty low-key.  The church my sister and I sporadically attended with my grandparents (and very occasionally my mother) was Methodist so it wasn’t like I was asking her to go to the Unitarian Devil worshippers or something.  (For the record, we would also be OK with the United Church of Christ, the Unitarian church, or many of the other LIBERAL protestant mainline churches–the kind that might have clergy as member of RCRC.). 

The church my mom has chosen is not a Methodist church.  It is an evangelical megachurch.  Who knows what the hell they believe because the “what we believe” page of their website is less than a page long.

Today, Mr. A and I discussed it. 

Mr. A doesn’t want M attending the church my mom has chosen.  He was really bothered by the Christmas play that included the crucifixion (inappropriate for a 4 year old and also not particularly relevant to the Christmas story) and also had some part that was weird and tokenish (if not outright racist) with a bunch of Asian kids dressed in kimonos clothing singing about Jesus with a Chinese face.  Mr. A also has strong beliefs about which Christian doctrine(s?) he feels are the most valid.  He doesn’t want strangers teaching our kids things he doesn’t believe.  He also doesn’t want to have to attend this church to monitor what the girls are learning.

 I don’t really want M to go to church because I am not a Christian, I am uncomfortable with the specific church my mother has chosen, and I think it is my perogative as a parent to decide what religious instruction our kids receive (or don’t receive for that matter). 

It would be easiest if my mom would take the hint and stop asking to take M to church.

Unfortunately, it looks like she is going to keep asking, which means we are going to have to say no. 

If we say now, there is going to be a big, blow-out fight between me and my mom. 

I am really not looking forward to that at all.

Originally published at American Family. Please leave any comments there.

Memorial day weekend is always the best weather.  It is also the annual Asian festival.  What a lovely day we had on saturday. 

M falls prey to insurance marketing.

L loves the tiny southeast Asian house.

 Mr. A, BIL, and double-decker cousins.

 New-to-me car with hopefully better gas mileage, no leaking oil and 120,000 less miles than my old car.

M is learning to ride a two-wheeler.

The most beautiful smile in the world. 

Originally published at American Family. Please leave any comments there.

The terrible tragedies in Myanmar and China are weighing heavily on my heart.  If they weren’t enough, we have two medical crises that are hitting close to home. 

My uncle has had a heart valve condition most of his life.  He recently had what should have been a pretty low-risk surgery, but it was botched somehow and both his heart and kidneys were severely damaged.  Just this week, he was admitted to a new hospital far from home and 90% of his heart was removed.  He is currently surviving with a completely artifici*al heart.  My uncle has always been one of the most fit and athletic people in our family.  He is only about 45 years old and his youngest son is 6 years old.  It is difficult to imagine him being so ill.   In the best case scenario, he will be living in the hospital for the next 3-6 months.  They are hoping that he can survive with the art*ificial heart long enough to make it onto the heart transplant list. 

We also have friends who are facing a medical crisis with their baby girl.  (I mentioned them a while back.)  The last few months have been a rollercoaster for them.  Right now, they are facing a potentially life-saving surgery, which may also be very risky.  They are currently taking turns sleeping and living at the hospital, while the other takes care of their older son.  I can’t begin to imagine how difficult it must be.

I am not religious and I don’t really pray, but I do believe in the power of energy.  I am writing this to put my hopes for health, safety and miracles out in the universe. 

Originally published at American Family. Please leave any comments there.

This morning, Mr. A called his dad to remind him to come over at noon to help M practice her Chinese like he does every Sunday.  Today was a little different because as soon as he answered the phone at 10 a.m., FIL said “Today is TEST for M at Chinese school.  You start studying NOW! I will come over early!  She has TEST!”

FIL showed up a half an hour early at 11:30.   He immediately started lecturing M about the importance of studying for her test.  At one point, Mr. A wandered in to the lesson and found M messing around.  He also gave her a lecture about the importance of studying and doing well on her test.  M seemed unimpressed.

(Can I just interject here and point out that we are talking about a PRESCHOOL class!  She was supposed to memorize about 20 characters and write them when the teacher called out the words.  While learning 20 characters seems reasonable enough to me, putting the “test” label on it seems like a bit much.)

So M marched off to Chinese school for her test.  After her language class, I met up with her to take her to dance class.  M was carrying a big stuffed polar bear which was some kind of prize for doing well on her test.  She proudly showed me her paper and she received a 110.  (110 was weird because she missed two characters, so maybe some of them were bonuses or something.)

After Mr. A and his dad left, M couldn’t stop talking about her test and the stupid bear prize.  I was only half listening when she said “Mama, when I forgot how to write the words, GongGong (FIL) let me see the my practice paper.”

What?!?  Surely, I had misunderstood. 

But when she was asked a few follow up questions, M confirmed that when she didn’t know the answer, FIL let her look at a paper with all the characters on it.

I mentioned to M that looking at the answers during a test is called cheating.  Her only point of reference for cheating is the Junie B. Jones book “Cheater Pants.”   Once I said “cheating” she clammed up and wouldn’t talk about it any more.  She knew that cheating is bad, but she clearly still didn’t understand why she wasn’t supposed to look at the answer sheet when she needed to know the answer.  I will talk to her about it a little more in the next couple days.  I did a miserable job today because I kept laughing (because the whole situation is completely ludicrous) while I was trying to explain why cheating is bad.

Mr. A thinks if we asked FIL why he helped M cheat, FIL’s answer would be “It was a TEST.  She needed to get a good GRADE!”   I am also reminded of a story about FIL when he was growing up.  I think there was a story that he had tutors or servants who did his homework for him. 

I also think the fact that both Mr. A and is father seemed incapable of keeping a preschool test in perspective and were at all concerned about her “grade” says a lot.  Mr. A thinks it is very funny.  I am more than a little appalled that M has been taught to cheat on her very first test ever.

Originally published at American Family. Please leave any comments there.

I went with my mom and my sister to Dream Dinners last night to redeem the gift certificate I received for Christmas.  I haven’t eaten any of the meals yet, but if they are really impressive, I will let you know.  While I had a perfectly pleasant experience mixing up my ziplock bags of frozen food, I left feeling a bit disappointed. 

I had this flash of insight standing there with my mother and my sister: I realized that I have virtually nothing in common with either of them.  After almost 32 years, you would think I would have come to terms with these facts of life by now, but it still suprises me sometimes.

Both my mom and my sister are extremely kind, loving, good people.  We have good relationships, I think.  I help them when I can.  They help me when they can.  We aren’t especially disfunctional in any way.

But.

If we weren’t related, we would have no reason to talk to one another.

On so many levels, we just have nothing in common.  Our interests, our personalities, our hopes and dreams, none of them are remotely similar.   I think they look at me and feel…puzzled.  I guess I wish I had a mother or a sister who shared my taste in clothing, or movies, or traveling or politics or reading, or ANYTHING.  I just wish we connected somewhere deeper.

I wonder if it was always this way between me and my mother: that we have always felt like strangers under the surface.   I wonder if my girls will grow up to feel that way about me?

Maybe it is crazy, but when M was born,  I had this unmistakeable feeling that she was a soul I knew and we had been together before.   I felt nothing about L when I saw her picture.  But when I held her and she clicked right into place.  I thought “Oh, it’s YOU! I have been missing you and I didn’t even know it.”

I hate to think that one day I will look at them or they will look at me and feel a void. 

Originally published at American Family. Please leave any comments there.

A couple people have asked me to post about how we celebrate Chinese New Year.   This year, CNY coincides with the insanity that is M’s 5th birthday (including not one, but two birthday parties).  I thought it might be easier to do a small series of photo posts instead of just typing out what we have been up to.

Saturday night, we had an impromptu Chinese New Year dinner at Mr. A’s sister’s house.  MIL brought a feast of foods that she bought at a Chinese grocery store and they were delicious.  It didn’t occur to me to take photos of the food, so you will have to imagine it.

Then, after dinner. M did a little performance of a couple Chinese songs.  She tried to enlist L and her cousin S.  This photo is of all of them playing Ba Luo Bo .  Mr. A joined in too.

Then, M did her own lion dance with a play costume we brought home from China.

MIL gave the girls hongbao and asked them to bow to their parents.  They did (L was the best, most compliant bower.)  Then they also bowed to MIL, I think.    It was not thing too formal.  A fun time was had by everyone.

 Sunday

Today we had M’s family birthday party.  It was just cake and ice cream, then she opened some presents.  I can not believe she is almost 5.

L loved the cake and the hats.

Then we headed over to the new and improved, Midwestern city, Chinese New Year EXTRAVAGANZA ™.  This year, our Chinese schools partnered with the Chinese schools from 5(!) cities in our region to put on a huge CNY performance.   It was a very Chinese event, with many formal speeches and gifts being traded among the principals of the different schools. 

M with two of her good friends while they were waiting to enter the auditorium.

We were surprised and pleased that CNY Extravaganza ™ was fairly well organized and not running too far behind schedule.  (Just as an aside, it must be the new administration.  Last year, pretty much everything at Chinese School was late, chaotic and organized very poorly.)  The kind schedulers had M’s dance class very close to the beginning of the second performance session. 

The first act was a lion dance.

 M and friends watching the lion dance.

Not long after that, M’s class danced.  They are the youngest class, ranging from 3 year olds to 5  year olds.   They are enthusiastic, but most of them have very short attention spans.   One little girl got distracted and just played with her tutu for about 1/3 of the dance.

When the dance was over, MIL was heard proudly saying “OH! M was the best dancer of all!”  While it is sweet to know that MIL was proud, for the record, M is NOT one of the best dancers.  She doesn’t really get the graceful details like straight fingers and pointed toes.  Actually, her hands tend to look a little more like claws.  But she loves it and she has friends in the class, so I am thrilled.   (And amused by the claw hands, but that is just the kind of mom I am.)

That was all for this weekend.   It was a LOT.

M performing her dance.

Originally published at American Family. Please leave any comments there.

I have been suitably chastized for not posting more often.  But I figured the whole move or don’t move discussion must be wearing a little thin for other folks.   I know it is getting quite old for me, but I can’t avoid it.  Additionally, the stress in my normally non-stressful life has created a huge kink in my neck for the last few days.  So, let’[s not talk about it right now.

Tonight, we are supposed to get a big snowstorm.   There is this bizarre phenomenon in the midwest when a big storm is predicted:  everyone runs to the grocery store and buys all the milk and bread.   I don’t know if it is post-traumatic stress from the Blizzard of ‘78, or what, but it is insane.  I already went shopping this week, so we have milk and bread, but the urge to go to the store was almost overwelming.  I went to the library and got a few books and videos instead.

This weekend is the first of TWO birthday parties for M.  One for the extended family, one for M’s friends.  Our house is too small for the two to be combined, so two parties it is.  I will refrain from ranting about the ridiculous amounts of money that appear to have been spent on other preschooler birthday parties we have attended, but note for the record that I am appalled by the decadence.  M’s parties will be small cake and ice cream affairs at our house.  (Sadly, this is because the ice cream store was booked that day, so I can’t avoid cleaning the house to my great disappointment.)

Also, we have to get our act together to prepare for Chinese New Year next week.  We need to get our banner thingys, clean the house, and buy some groceries.  I think we also need to get some new hongbao because the one’s Mr. A bought apparently have the name “Liu” on them.  I am assuming these are supposed to be given by the Liu family, which is not the name of anyone in our house.   Damn illiteracy strikes at the Chinese dollar store.

I am off to watch Lost.  I hope it doesn’t suck.

Originally published at American Family. Please leave any comments there.

We celebrated christmas at my parent’s house yesterday.  It was a lovely day, but after the presents were opened, I started to feel like I was being held hostage. 

I have made no secret about the fact that I believe Disney is Evil.  I may have made a fatal flaw when I allowed M to go to Disneyworld with my parents this fall.  I gave in because A) I was tired from taking care of two kids, B) I thought she would enjoy it and C) my parents funded the whole shebang.  

M had no particular interest in Disney or princesses before the trip.  She had a small spike in interest after it, but it seemed to slowly fade back to the previous non-interest level.   Yesterday, though, it seems as though the brain sucking marketing machine that is Disney had its way with us, when we weren’t expecting it.

From my parents and other relatives M received:

• A Mickey Mouse/ Disney branded necklace
• A Princesses charm bracelet
• A Cinderella dress up dress
• Princess crown & Jewelry
• Princess jewelry box
• two Disney Christmas tree ornaments
• A princess toy cell phone

She also received a number of other toys, books and clothes, but the sheer volume of Disney crap bothers me the most.

First of all, this is way too many toys for a four year old to receive.  Second, they are all completely encrusted with Disney imagery.  Third, most if it is cheap CRAP. 

I do not want this junk in my house.  I do not want the fucked up Disney princess messages to get into my daughters’ heads.   I do not want M to alter her normal imaginative play into the yucky dress-up-like-a-princess-and-look-pretty stupidity—and even if she wanted to play that, why does the princess outfit have to have a Disney-branded head on it?

I know that many of you reading this blog probably have no problem with Disney crap.  Bully for you.  I *DO* have a problem with it.  I have a problem with the pervasive marketing that is aimed at younger and younger children.  I have a problem with the stupid a-prince-will-save-you message in the Princess movies.  I have a problem with the seeming necessity of having a princess’ head as a mascot on every freaking thing they sell.

I thought I had made my wishes about limiting the Disney crap clear when they went to Disneyworld.  I told my parents that M could only bring home TWO things as souveniers.  They complied.   After much thought and deliberation, M chose Mickey Mouse crocs and a pegasus stuffed horse.  (Notice that she chose nothing princessy on her own.)   Apparently, my family thought Christmas would give them free reign to shower her with all the junk they wanted to give her, but I wouldn’t allow in the house. 

I think I will see how long it takes for all the Disney stuff to get “lost”.  Maybe when I find these items laying around the house, I will put them away and see how long it takes M to even notice they are gone.  If she doesn’t notice, maybe I will just donate them or give them away. 

Originally published at American Family. Please leave any comments there.

Ok, for a complete 180 degree topic change.  I knew it was bad news when Mr. A started a conversation like this:  “I don’t want you to get upset about what I am going to tell you, but my mom called today…”

Yes, this did not bode well.

MIL is heading to our fair city for the holidays.  Specifically because Mr. A’s older sister is going to pop out a new baby any minute now.  Any visit with MIL that involves an overnight stay is generally headed for disaster, but apparently MIL couldn’t wait to get a start on making this one a particularly annoying trainwreck.

“My mom called to ask if she could teach M some ‘chinese cultural skills’ while she is down here.” said Mr. A.

On the surface, this sounds like something I would approve of, so I knew there must be a catch.

Mr. A went on, “When I asked her what skills she wants to teach M, she said she wants to teach her how to clean and iron…because she is never going to learn that from us.” 

ME, is what she meant, of course.  She is convinced that M will never learn to clean or iron from ME.  Because I am such a ‘bad wife.’

This is a major source of conflict that goes back almost 5 years now.  I barely knew MIL when Mr. A and I got knocked up with M.  MIL came to visit for like 5 days when M was only about 2 weeks old.

It was a BAD visit.  Very bad.  Not only did MIL not help me with the baby, she would wait until I was trapped breastfeeding then spend the next 30 minutes telling me how I was such a bad wife (we weren’t even married yet!) because I didn’t iron Mr. A’s clothes and the house was dirty.  She also took that two-week post partum opportunity to tell me that my appearance was “so bad, it could cause Mr. A to lose his job” and I had better get back in shape and clean myself up for him.

For the record, the house was NOT dirty because my mother (who is seriously anal about cleaning) had just visited and spent the entire time cleaning while the baby slept.  MIL spent the bulk of that visit ironing ever single item of clothing Mr. A owned, including his boxers and gym clothes while never once helping me with the baby, making any meals or doing anything else remotely useful.

Also, this is the woman who had one of the filthiest houses I have ever personally been in.  AND I spent the better part of three days cleaning it out for her.   Seriously, SHE is going to criticize MY housekeeping??  WHATEVER.  And no, I don’t iron.  What the heck do we need to iron?  Mr. A takes all his work clothes to the drycleaner.

Mr. A apparently tried to point out that cleaning and ironing are not ‘chinese’ skills.  MIL argued that they are, because “Chinese people believe that pressed, unwrinkled clothing is very important.  M needs to know this.”

Now, maybe we would buy this if we hadn’t been to China, but hello!  We HAVE BEEN THERE.  The vast majority of people on the street look like they slept in their clothes.  Like they have never seen an iron in their lives.  (Granted, the same thing could be said about me on an average day, but I am not making cultural claims to un-wrinkleyness.)

If I could put aside the blatent insult inherent in this request, there is also the fact that M IS ONLY FOUR.  She already does plenty of age-approriate cleaning.  I don’t really think she is ready to use cleaning chemicals.  And should she really have access to a hot IRON?

The more moderate part of my brain can totally acknowledge that there is likely something chaotic going on in another part of MIL’s life.  Either that or she knows the repercussions of some incredibly bad judgement of hers is about to hit the fan and we will find out about it.  That is usually the root of the problem when MIL tries to stir up trouble like this.  

I am going to spend the next week practicing deep breathing and being disengaged

Mr. A told her that her request was both rude and dumb.  He suggested that MIL teach M to make jiaozi instead.   She is considering it.

Originally published at American Family. Please leave any comments there.

So far, I am very close to reaching my no-xmas-shopping-after-Thanksgiving goal. 

I just have one major gift that has not yet been identified.  I am trying to figure out what to buy my dad.  He is a 51 year old guy who usually buys himself whatever his heart desires.  This year he has offered no suggestions about what he would like.

Any suggestions?  I want to finish shopping tomorrow, so time is of the essence!

Originally published at American Family. Please leave any comments there.

I answered the phone this evening.  MIL was on the other end.

“How was Halloween?” she asked.

“Oh,” I said, “M and L had a great time.”

“Uh, ” said MIL,”Why don’t you call L by her American name?  R is a good name.”  (Also, again she mispronounced R making it sound like a kind of cheese.)

“Well, L is the only name she has ever known.  We like it.  She recognizes it.  So that is what we call her.”  I said.

“But what is her LEGAL name.” said MIL.

“Legally, she is  R____  Q_____   Y______  Lastname.”  I replied.

“Ohhhh.” MIL was clearly distressed, “So many names.  Maybe she should have less names.  It is too complicated.”

“I think she will be able to handle it.  Anyway, Halloween was fun!  Talk to you later!”  I said as I handed the phone to Mr. A.

Originally published at American Family. Please leave any comments there.

I was going to write a post full of post-lots-of-socializing introvert angst, but I am too tired.

This afternoon my dad came over to help me fix three loose bricks on our front steps.  Once we started messing with them a shocking number of other bricks also became loose.

At last count, there were 60 bricks laying in my front yard. 

Each brick has to have all the old morter chiseled off before we can re-stick them to the porch.  In case you were wondering, chiseling brick morter is hard work.

While we were working, my dad told me that my great-grandfather’s job (in addition to being the handyman for a one room school house where he met my great grandmother) was collecting old bricks, cleaning them and selling them. 

That job must have really sucked.  

Originally published at American Family. Please leave any comments there.

My MIL is visiting.  I am hiding in the office.

I haven’t written much about my MIL lately because there hasn’t been much to say.  I have only seen her once since we came home with L, though Mr. A did take the girls to visit her one other time.

After I skipped Mr. A’s last visit (my only day completely alone since I met L), MIL wrote me a lovely letter.  It was so completely out of character, it almost made my head spin.  I managed to lose the letter since then, but it basically said A) how lovely our family is, B) how cute L is C) how much progress L had made since she first came home, D) how beautiful M is, E)blah blah blah all very nice and complementary things.

It was so nice, I was happy to overlook the fact that MIL refused to call L by the Chinese nickname we use for her.  Instead she referred to her as “R” which is the firstname we added and never ever use.  (Actually,  MIL mispelled “R” and it made it sound like she was referring to a hunk of cheese throughout the letter.)

Why MIL sent that letter is a total mystery to me.  Mr. A denies saying anything to her, but he is obviously my #1 suspect.  My SIL may also have said something, but when I asked my BIL about it he didn’t think so.

Anyway, I am hiding in the office tonight to prevent MIL from doing something dumb that will irritate me and ruin this nice peaceful feeling.  We were already at risk this evening when I gave her new photos of the girls.  She said L is “good looking”  and “very cute,” but then went on and on saying we should “give M the opportunity to be a model because she is so beautiful.”*

It didn’t go any farther than that, but we were treading on thin ice.  So here I sit, in the office.  Waiting for bedtime. 

Edited to add:  I also want to note for the record that Mr. A is also hiding, though he is doing it in the living room by buring himself in a pile of work-papers.  He has also tried to convince MIL that she needs to drink a beer.  She has that enzyme deficiency that makes your face red when you drink, so Mr. A is trying to get her to down a cold one so she will fall asleep early. Heh.

*As someone who just returned from yet another professional photo session for the girls, I can assure you there is no way in hell any of my children are going to model.  Photo sessions are a huge pain in the ass.

Originally published at American Family. Please leave any comments there.

My sister  called me tonight.  Apparently, I have mortally offended my mother because I requested that she

a) Not buy any more clothes for our children and

b) stop reading a book about Jesus to M who seems to be excessively interested in said book.

According to my sister, my mother cried and cried because she thinks that I think she isn’t a good person and isn’t a good influence.  Jesus fucking christ, that was about all I could think when I heard this.

In defense of myself, we have a really small house.  REALLY.  It is full. Totally and completely full of stuff.  Every time my parents see them, the send home MORE stuff.  Last week, my mom took us to Talbots’ kids and I said she could buy each of the girls 2 (ridiculously overpriced even when marked 50% off) outfits.  They aren’t exactly my style, but they are not hootchie clothes, so I am fine with my kids wearing them.  

But the fact is, we have WAY to many clothes.  When I get time I will take a picture of the ridiculous amount of clothing I pulled out of M’s drawers the other day.  When we get behind on laundry, no joke, we have about 7-9 loads piled up.  What does this tell you?? WE HAVE TO  MANY CLOTHES.  Especially when you consider the fact that I wear 2 pairs of pants and 3 tshirts over and over and over.  All those other clothes belong to the shorties, and I HATE LAUNDRY. 

I shared this with my mom last week.  Then she showed up on Saturday with 6 more items of clothing from Talbot’s kids.  WHAT THE FUCK!?!  She also sent M home with another pair of shoes on Sunday.  I know she enjoys the shopping, but if she would take all that money and put it into their college funds, it would pay for an entire year of tuition!

As for the Jesus thing, well, I knew that would annoy her. But is it really a cause for CRYING?

Apparently my dad is also concerned that if my mom says anything to me, I will not let them take M to disneyworld this fall.  For the record, I have NEVER limited their contact with my kids.  For that matter, I bend over backwards making sure that Mr. A’s mom gets to see them as much as she wants and she really does manage to offend me every time I talk to her. We moved here so our kids WOULD KNOW THEIR GRANDPARENTS!  So what good would it do me to limit their contact? 

Seriously, I am so annoyed right now.  I know my mother and I are very different people.  I am blunt and straightforward, quick tempered and quick to forgive.  She is a conflict avoider who imagines that if I am upset enough to say something, deep down I must really hate her.  She would never, ever dream of saying something that might be interpreted as criticism.  I also think her way of dealing with life is seriously unhealthy. 

It is all so STUPID.  

/vent

Originally published at American Family. Please leave any comments there.

Alright, I have a billion things to write about, but no time or energy to get them out.  So instead of writing about the continuing drama about Chinese school, how weirded out I was by seeing the dead body of my great grandfather*, or the torture of riding in a van for eight hours with my parents, sister, 4 yo niece and L, I am going to write about the first (and only) time my MIL met lovely L.

It isn’t one of my funniest MIL stories, but since we don’t see her that often, it will have to do.

If you missed it, I previously wrote about MIL’s reaction when we shared L’s referral picture with her before we went to China.  It left a lot to be desired. 

After we got back from China, Mr. A called MIL to tell her we were home.  Instead of expressing any interest in our new daughter, MIL immediately responded “Well, now you owe ME a trip to China.”

Mr. A was confused.   Upon further discussion, MIL claimed she had “just found out” that my mother had accompanied us to China.  (Not true, because I had specifically told her my mom was coming)  Apparently, MIL had talked to her sister who we visited in Shanghai who mentioned my mom.   MIL was really annoyed because she assumed we paid for my mother’s trip and she was getting slighted.

“Uh, mom, we took [Amfam’s mom] to take care of M.  She paid for her own trip.  Actually, she not only paid for her own trip, she paid for one of our plane tickets and all the hotel rooms she shared with M.  We don’t OWE you anything.”  Said Mr. A.  The conversation ended quickly after that, with no real information about L being shared.

A few weeks later, MIL came to visit.  She actually invited herself to visit us because Mr. A’s sister and BIL were going to be in town with their 1.5 year old daughter Small S, not because she wanted to see L.  BIL and SIL attempted to cancel because Small S had a nasty cold, but we begged them to come because MIL was now committed to coming.  Thankfully they did.

To give her credit, MIL did try to be nice about L.  She wanted to hold her, but since L had only been home a few weeks and was still very cool toward Mr. A, we weren’t letting anyone hold her besides us.  Mr. A explained this, but MIL kept trying.  At one point she scooped up L when I wasn’t paying close attention and was quickly rewarded by L’s panicky screams. 

Since we told MIL about our adoption plans, she seems to have decided that Small S is her favorite grandchild.  She still seems to like M, but she REALLY likes Small S.  For the past several months, MIL has insisted that Small S is brilliant (which is true, of course, but so are M and L).  MIL calls her “the Chairman” and talks all the time about how intelligent Small S is.  She just goes on and on about it and this visit was no exception.

When MIL was making such a big deal about Small S, I thought I would attempt to show MIL that M is also brilliant, so I asked M to read.  M can read extremely well for kid who just turned four.  We had her read a long paragraph that had difficult words like “swimming”.  MIL just looked bored and said “that’s nice” when M finished.  No comments about how smart M is were forthcoming.  MIL continued to fawn over Small S, who wanted nothing to do with her because she wasn’t feeling well.  MIL mentioned various impressive careers Small S could have because she is so intelligent and attractive. 

Not long after that, L was playing with an electric piano.  L really LOVES music and she was swaying back and forth in time with the beat.  “Oh, L really likes music,” MIL said, “Maybe she coiuld be a dancer.” 

This comment, while it seems innoculous enough, really rubbed Mr. A the wrong way.  “What Chinese person thinks a dancer would be a good career?”  he muttered under his breath.  “So Small S can be the Chairman of a company and L will be a dancer?  Not a great musician…just a dancer.  Coming from my mom, you know what THAT means. Bah.”

Most of the (thankfully short) visit went pretty well, but the icing on the cake happened when we were at dinner.  MIL had not made many comments about L’s appearance besides mentioning that her skin was very dark (it isn’t really).  If she said L was cute, I don’t remember it now.  What I do remember is when MIL looked over at L during dinner, examined her face and matter of factly announced “One of L’s eyes is smaller than the other one.” 

Conversation ground to a halt until my BIL said “Oh, no one has eyes that are exactly the same size.”  And all the rest of us agreed.  MIL did not look convinced.

It is funny, because MIL was trying really hard that day.  Mr. A and I could both tell she was trying, but she still managed to irritate us and say things that showed that she really doesn’t think that highly of L.  Of course, it was only the first time she met her, so we can’t expect her to love L yet.  We also know that MIL is generally somewhat tactless and oblivous that she is saying hurtful things, but it still stung.

Before L came home, I was trying a lot harder with MIL.  I could see things in a more humorous light.  But now?  Now that L is going to hear all those little comments and probably be hurt by them, my patience and humor are wearing thin. 

We used to try to facilitate a relationship between M and MIL for M’s benefit (and theoretically for L’s benefit before we got her).  Now, it is becoming increasingly clear to me that MIL’s favoritism and general tactlessness are going to hurt my kids (even if M was crowned the favorite, it would still be unhealthy for her).  So I am no longer willing to bend over backwards to accomodate MIL an create opportunities for her to see our kids.  I am also working on emotionally distancing myself from caring whether she likes our family or not. 

*Does anyone else find it difficult to look at a dead body and not think about the fact that they glued the lips together?  That was all I could think about at the funeral.

Originally published at American Family. Please leave any comments there.

The other night, Mr. A and I were discussing MIL’s “Oh, OK” response to the baby’s picture.  It turns out that there was more to it than the part I saw.

After I chewed Mr. A out for not telling his mother that an uninterested “OK” (with no smile or other reaction) was not an appropriate response, he went into the playroom to talk to her.  He reminded her that we will insist on equal treatment for both M and the new baby if she wants to continue to be involved in our lives. 

He also told her that “OK” is not an acceptable response when ANYONE shows you a picture of their baby: you say the baby is cute NO MATTER WHAT. It is just basic politeness.

At this point, M heard them talking about the baby and brought over the picture of our soon-to-be daughter.  “Amah! This is my new baby sister! Isn’t she CUTE??” M asked.

“Oh. OK.” Said MIL.

“MOM!” said Mr.A, “You can’t even bring yourself to say she is CUTE?? She is a tiny little baby!  How can you not think she is cute?”

“Well, you just never know how she will look when she gets older.” MIL said with no expression.

 This led Mr. A to the conclusion that she was refusing to say the baby was cute at all, nor would she be anything other than negative about her future prospects.  Mr. A was more than a little hurt (though not especially surprised).

BLECH.  I couldn’t be gladder that we will probably be gone for Chinese New Year this year.  After hearing that, there would have been nothing but glowering at MIL from me over the steamed fish anyway.  Don’t get me wrong, we knew this was going to be an uphill battle, it just turns out that it still hurts when people manage to fulfill your worst expectations.

Also, just to add a little salt to the wounds, when A was talking to his dad about the new baby, his dad’s only response was: “After this baby.  I think you should have a real baby.”

Originally published at American Family. Please leave any comments there.

Today’s visit with MIL started out particularly rocky. Usually, Mr. A and I present a united front, but today I was in the middle of watching an engrossing episode of the Dog Whisperer when MIL arrived so I neglected to stop it and get up for the greeting formalities.  This annoyed Mr. A, who —smart as he is—negected to remember that being on my bad side during a family visit.

So I was still annoyed that he was annoyed ten minutes later when he decided to show the baby’s photo to MIL. 

“Mom, here is a picture of our NEW DAUGHTER!” he said with much enthusiasm.

“Oh. OK.” she glanced at it, grimaced a little, then handed it back to Mr. A without saying another word.

I went back to watching the Dog Whisperer, because really, what can one say after that?

A few minutes later, Mr. A came to his senses and came out to apologize for being a jerk to me earlier, but I was having none of it. 

“You are mad at me for not pausing the television, but she just looks at your NEW BABY’S PICTURE and says *OK* and you are totally fine with that???!?”  I said as I turned up the TV to see exactly what was happening with today’s insane chihuahua. 

Mr. A looked properly chastized.  A few minutes later I heard him back in the playroom sternly explaining to his mother exactly what was wrong with her reaction and how we expect her to act (polite at a bare minimum!) with regards to the new baby.

The day moved forward at a brisk pace.  Mr. A took M and his mom to visit his father who recently moved about a block away from our house (have I blogged that yet?  I think it happened right before our referral and it has totally slipped my mind).  They are divorced and they do not seem to like each other at all.  Why A was taking them to visit, I do not know.  After about an hour, they came back home.

I should also mention that I think my MIL thinks I am totally taking advantage and mooching off Mr. A since I quit my job to stay home with M and the “OK” baby.*   When they came back home, I was still watching the Dog Whisperer. 

“So is this what you do all day when you are home?” MIL asked me when she saw me sitting on the couch watching TV.

M asked MIL to read her the Buddha comic book she gave Mr. A for Xmas.  They sat on the couch and for about an hour I heard little bits of the conversation between them:

“What is self immolation?…..Jade Rabbit…This guy is peeing on all those other guys??…the Monk…What are slaves?…How can you buy a person??”  I didn’t know what the heck they were talking about, but honestly I didn’t care.  Both M and MIL were occupied. 

Then we went out to dinner.  Dinner was when things really began to look up.  Mr. A and MIL managed to order some really good food that wasn’t on the menu.  At one point, I told M that we were going to get to eat great Chinese food all the time when we go to China. 

“You are going to China?” MIL asked.

“Uh, when we go to get the new baby.” Mr. A said.

“Oh, right.” Obviously MIL had completely forgotten about the new baby.

She looked puzzled for a minute. 

“If the baby is an orphan, how did it get a full name?  An orphan shouldn’t have a family name.”  She said.

“Oh.  They just gave her that name,” I said.  She said nothing.

Somehow the conversation turned to how Mr. A’s family originally decided to come to the States.  Apparently MIL never wanted to come, she married Mr. A’s dad because his father had given her father a big contract to build a building back when they were living paycheck to paycheck.  She felt obligated out of gratitude to marry him when she was asked.  She thought his family was rich so she could stay at home and have five children (!?!).  Instead, he insisted they come here.

Though MIL had wanted to be a Doctor, she didn’t have great grades so she went into biochemistry.  She came to the states to study dairy science.  This was a surprise, because there wasn’t really any demand for dairy products in Taiwan back then. 

As the conversation moved forward, we talked about Mr. A’s dad and some of his financial issues.  Out of the blue, MIL said, “You know, Mr. A, I wish your father well but we will never get back together!  We were very bad together.” Then she excused herself to the bathroom.

“Oh my GOD! You mom totally thinks you are trying to get them back together by forcing them to hang out with each other!”   I said. 

When MIL came back from the bathroom, she said again that she and FIL should never get back together.  Mr. A tried rather unsuccessfully to convince her that was not his intention.

The evening concluded with MIL explaining her theory of how the Jade Rabbit (the rabbit in the moon) offered himself as a sacrifice just like Jesus died on the cross.  She elaborated on how Buddhism and Christianity are completely compatible and overlapping philosophies.  She then wandered on to share her theory (garnered from a video borrowed from the library) of how Jesus may have traveled to India and learned the principles of Buddhism during the period of time that was not covered in the Bible.  Somehow she linked this back to the Jade Rabbit and it all seemed completely coherent to her. 

It was no Kosher Turkey story, but at least by the time she left, Mr. A and I were feeling quite amused.  At least it ended kind of funny, even if the beginning was quite disappointing (though completely predictable).

*And she thinks I can’t cook.  It was only this summer when she said to me, “Oh, I made you a chicken to take home because I know you never cook any nutritious foods for M.”  This time she brought us an entire pre-cooked ham.

Originally published at American Family. Please leave any comments there.

So we were visiting with my BIL & SIL this weekend.  We were with them for about five minutes when my BIL said: “So, AmFam. You have a blog, right?  My friend M found it and says she reads it.”

Heh.

So, I think pretty much everyone I know except my inlaws and my parents now know about the blog. 

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In other family news, yesterday MIL decided that M’s chinese name needed to be changed. 

When M was born, we asked MIL to select a Chinese name for her.  In a totally unprecidented decision, we gave her complete latitude to choose any name she wanted.  MIL decided to choose a Chinese name that sounded similar to M’s American name.  The name she chose means Beautiful Asia:

   In traditional characters 

  In Simplified characters

While we didn’t know which characters she had selected until yesterday (we kept forgetting to ask), we knew how to pronounce M’s Chinese name.  Also, M knew her name and will answer to it in Chinese.

For some reason, MIL got it in her head that M’s name would be better if we changed it to

      Beautiful middle/center/China/chinese

Or

    or in traditional characters     Beautiful Name of a mountain??

I am not going to write the full pronunciations here, but I will just say the first syllable would be the same, the second syllable would be completely different sounds.

Why does she want to change it now?  I don’t really want to know, but it seems to have something to do with the numerology of the number of strokes in the characters.  My thought is that counting the number of strokes (including the last name) could have been done FOUR YEARS AGO.

If M didn’t know her Chinese name, maybe I wouldn’t care. But she does. 

 Since M knows her name, I don’t want to change it…unless we found out that it is a weird name.  I don’t think it is, based on asking a couple different people, but I didn’t know the characters then so I will check again now that I know.  A also didn’t want to change it when we quickly talked about it yesterday. 

If M wants to change her name when she gets older, that is totally her decision.  But I just can’t see changing it now when she has no say.

Originally published at American Family. Please leave any comments there.

Another question from the comments from Janna  who is dating a Chinese guy:

I was wondering if you might talk about how your and A’s families first reacted to your relationship?

From what I remember, my parents were (justifiably) more confused about what was going on the first few years we were dating.  Mr. A and I only dated for a few weeks before he left for China to teach english for a year.   I was feeling pretty cocky after spending a month or so backpacking in Europe, and Mr. A wrote some really great letters, so I figured, why not go visit Mr. A in CHina?  When would I get the chance to go to China with someone who spoke Chinese and who had a free place where I could stay?

Anyway, I decided to go to China in November and spent my three week Christmas break there.  I kind of dropped the news on my parents with no warning.  They had never met A and were a little concerned about me traveling to the other side of the planet with a complete stranger.  When I was there, they realized they didn’t even know A’s last name or the name of the city we were in.  Oops!  They did speak to A on the phone during this debacle (also part 2 and part 3 of the same story) and they thought he was handled my hysterical phone call situation very well.

Since I have never been one to discuss my personal life with my parents, the next time they heard anything about A was when he picked me up at thier house to ride with him on his drive to California for law school.  He gave them a box of moon cakes and they were very impressed with his politeness.  Then, the next time they really heard about Mr. A again was when I decided to go to Cambodia which nearly gave my dad a heart attack (he actually cried, begged me to go anywhere else in the world, offered to pay for any alternative destination etc, after someone at the US State Department told him not to let me go because there had been an armed coup the year before and the whole country was under some sort of travel warning.)   The Cambodia trip did not make my parents big fans of Mr. A.  Once we were safely home, they got over it.

Anyway, I suppose the real question is whether or not my parents cared that Mr. A was Asian.  They didn’t ever mention it, that I can remember.  My mom did occasionally cut articles about Thailand out of the paper because she kept forgetting that A’s family is Taiwanese, not Thai.  But over all, I think they don’t care.  They don’t really get it when I talk about the cultural issues that go on (mostly with the inlaws) but they are happy that I am happy and that is good enough for them.  My extended family seems a little confused about the whole interracial thing, but they are pretty polite and haven’t ever said much about it (I got the feeling they just thought it was onother one of my weird phases…kind of like the pink hair).  Once they found out that Mr. A really likes football, they seemed to be a bit more accepting.

As for Mr. A’s family, I don’t remember much discussion about it either.  When Mr. A was in China, his mom told him he should date a nice Chinese girl and keep me on the side back home without telling me, but he declined.  (He did date a Korean girl while he was in China, but I doubt he told his mom about that for reasons you will see in the next paragraph).   A had only had serious relationships with white girls previously, so I think the white girl freak-out ship had already sailed back when he was in high school.

I also think that the drama about who the kids dated had already peaked with Mr. A’s older sister.  She dated a Korean American guy in college which made MIL go absolutely CRAZY.  Apparently, there is some kind of animosity between the Taiwanese and Koreans dating back to the Japanese occupation of both countries (or maybe just hostility between MIL and Koreans, who knows?) so when SIL moved in with her Korean boyfriend (now husband) MIL *disowned* her.  They didn’t speak for years, MIL cut off all college funding, it was a big mess.  There is still some hostility between MIL and BIL, but it is relatively civil now.

 I guess in A’s family the equation for who is an acceptable mate would go like this: (”>” equals better than)

Taiwanese > Chinese > White or anybody else > Korean

Thank goodness for the Korean brother-in-law, eh?