Rants, Ravings and Ruminations

Lunar New Year, yoga and red bean soup

2012-01-24T15:48:00.000-05:00

For Lunar New Year, my Taiwanese yoga teacher served homemade red bean soup after class. The sweet, thick soup, swimming with rice flour balls, tasted especially delicious after 90 minutes of sweating through crazy pretzel-like poses! It was a nourishing and comforting treat to kick off the Year of the Dragon.

Check out Tiny Urban Kitchen, one of my fave food blogs, for the recipe.

Ambivalent Tiger Mom

2012-01-11T14:49:00.003-05:00

The other day, at 99 Ranch Market, a local Asian grocery store, I spotted a flyer promoting a bilingual preschool program.

Written in Chinese, the only words in English were "AP", "SAT" and "Harvard". Intrigued, I set up a tour and took my four-year-old son to an open house event. Everyone, including the other parents attending, spoke Mandarin almost exclusively. It didn't feel like a bilingual program - it seemed pretty unilingual. Even though I had not decided whether or not to enroll, I was added to the school's mailing list and now receive several email messages a week that say things like this:

报名新意AP中文考前综合训练班-须参加入学考试

According to my trusty Google translator, it means this:

AP Chinese exam registration innovative comprehensive Training - required to take entrance exams

On another trip to 99 Ranch Market, I picked up another flyer, this one written in English. It was from the Asian American Parent Association and promoted their Parent Information Seminar Series. One of the events, "College Experiences," featured a panel discussion of college students and recent graduates from schools including Cornell, Harvard, MIT and Stanford.

Now don't get me wrong. I understand the importance of a great education, but the emphasis on AP exams, SATs, and college admission hurdles seems excessive. For my preschooler, especially, it's a little early to think about that.

Isn't it?

Maybe I'm being naive. My family recently moved across the country, from Ohio to California, and in trying to assimilate into our new community, I'm still finding my footing. For the past six months, I've been struggling to shape my new identity as a stay-at-home parent. For the first time in many years, instead of working outside the home, I've been spending my days mainly taking care of my four-year-old and shuttling my fourth-grader around.

Now that my "job" is taking care of the kids full time, I've focused my energy on their education and found it to be pretty challenging navigating a new school with different expectations. Our new community is a quiet, safe area of Silicon Valley with excellent public schools. Our neighborhood elementary school is predominantly Asian and even though I'm Taiwanese American (born in Canada and raised in the United States), it's been quite a culture shock, as the demographics are much different to what we were used to in Cleveland.

This summer, between packing and unpacking frenzies, I read Amy Chua's controversial book The Battle Hymn of the Tiger Mother. Chua was blasted with criticism for suggesting that "Chinese parenting" is superior to "Western parenting". The week the book came out last year, my email inbox just about exploded from the forwarded book reviews, media reports and commentary from friends and family.

The Tiger Mom concept is one I know well, as the daughter of immigrant parents. My own parents were pretty mild compared to some parents I knew, but I am still very familiar with the style of parenting that celebrates academic and career achievement, where nothing short of perfection is acceptable.

Now that I'm a parent myself, I find myself conflicted about the best approach in parenting my hapa kids. There are certain things my parents emphasized that I agree with: I believe in surrounding my children with books and music, investing in educational activities and lessons, instilling a strong work ethic and expecting high achievement. I don't believe in valuing math and science above all, severely restricting social interaction with other students and denying affection to my children for efforts I find sub par.

Last year, I found myself leaning toward the Tiger Mom approach when my then third-grader participated in a school science fair. Flashbacks of visits to my dad's research lab and memories of my eighth grade science fair project ("The Effects of Color and Light on Mung Bean Growth") flooded my mind. I pushed Nico on the project and we had more than few tearful standoffs before the whole thing was over. There was so much conflict and tension in the house. I eased up for his spelling bee.

This year, I am still trying to find a balanced parenting approach when it comes to academics. Is it enough for me to be home to help with homework? Or should I enlist experienced education professionals to give my children more of a competitive edge?

At our new elementary school, when classes are dismissed, a parade of shuttle vans awaits to take students to a number of after-school programs. One I find particularly intriguing is a combination homework and martial arts program with the slogan "Our Goals are Black Belt Leadership Report Card A+ Manners & Etiquette!"

We live among many Tiger Families. Nico and I started running together this summer and on our evening runs, we often hear piano practice sessions (oh-so-familiar scales, arpeggios and sonatinas I remember from my own childhood) as we pass the houses in our neighborhood.

At the beginning of the school year, Nico asked to take band classes, but participation involved a lottery. My husband worried about the chances of being selected for the lottery. "Don't worry," I reassured my non-Asian husband. "Everyone else is already playing piano and/or violin." Sure enough, Nico got his first choice - alto saxophone. So far this year, Nico's extracurricular activities have been ones that typical Tiger Moms would not authorize: band, Boy Scouts, Little League.

Of course, it would be fantastic if my boys excelled in school, aced the SAT and went on to Harvard - but I wouldn't define success by that one narrow path.

I guess I'm an ambivalent Tiger Mom. Any others out there?

My heart, my son, races

2011-11-20T23:25:00.001-05:00

Finishing my first 5K race this weekend was exhilarating, but more exciting than that was the fact that my nine-year-old son, also finished his first footrace that day, the JUST RUN Just Kids 3K Race, another event during the Big Sur Half Marathon weekend.

The race was something Nico set out to do completely on his own. After seeing the race website when I was researching it on my computer, Nico asked me a few questions about the kids' race event and then seemingly moved on. On the day of the race, though, he said he wanted to participate. My husband and I tried to talk him out of it since Nico hadn't trained and we hadn't planned on him taking part in the event. He would have to run it alone.

He said he wanted to do it. So he did.

I registered Nico for the race about an hour before it started. His event took place on the same course as mine, only his was shorter (3K instead of 5K) and started 30 minutes later. I didn't get to see him start and was worried about how nervous he might be without me or my husband there to calm his nerves. Luckily, my sister was there to keep him company.

During my 5K, I was running toward the finish line as Nico was running toward his turnaround. Seeing him across the path, both of us running, was among the most glorious parenting moments I've had.

I had been on the lookout for him once I made the turnaround. Initially, I thought Nico would be toward the end of the pack, but knowing that he hadn't trained for the race and didn't know how to pace himself, I kept an eye out for him as soon as I saw the first kids approaching.

Sure enough, I soon spotted a boy with floppy, dark brown hair, wearing black and red windpants. I shouted and waved my arms. Nico was running fast and looked amazing. When I finally got his attention, he beamed at me as we ran in opposite directions. My heart nearly burst with joy.

Seeing Nico cross the finish line and get awarded his finisher's medal was a proud mom moment for me on a few levels. I was proud of him for finishing the race, of course, but I was amazed that he even started it. It took courage, determination, stamina - mentally and physically. This, from the boy I butt heads with on a daily basis. This, from the child who consistently finds a way to outsmart me on School Picture Day, declares a "We Hate Mommy" day and puts himself up for sale when he's upset with me.

This weekend's race finishes marked a milestone for us. In training for my 5K, my first-born child accompanied me - on foot, scooter or bike - nearly every step of the way for the past three months. He has been my coach. He has been my partner. He gives me a run for my money and keeps me on my toes - literally.

Mission accomplished: first 5K race

2011-11-19T23:30:00.031-05:00

Today, I ran my first 5K race!

It was quite an accomplishment for me as I am 41 years old and have been out of shape for years. This morning, though, I felt like a legitimate runner upon crossing the finish line of the Pacific Grove Lighthouse 5K, a part of the Big Sur Half Marathon weekend. It was the culmination of completing the Couch to 5K program.

It was a glorious experience. Despite rainy weather last night, this morning was sunny and comfortable - around 45 degrees at the start of the race and warmer by the end. Anticipating cooler weather, I brought gloves but ended up not needing them.

Before the race started, I checked in and received my race bib, which had my race number and first name printed on it. Looking around to see what others did with their bibs, I pinned mine to the front of my jacket. Then, I made my way to the starting line.

I queued up with the other runners and made my way to the end of the pack, away from the fast runners. Experienced runner friends had advised me to do this so I wouldn't a) get discouraged by all the people blazing past me and/or b) mess up my pace. Sizing up the other runners, I positioned myself behind the people who looked like serious athletes but ahead of the parents with strollers.

While I was lined up, I noticed that nearly everyone had orange plastic ribbon loops on their shoes. It was a D-Tag that would allow the race officials to track my pace and finish time. Cool! I located mine on my race bib and attached it to my right shoe.

When the starting gun sounded, I bolted down the street before I remembered to heed the advice everyone had given me: Take it slow and steady. It was probably 100 yards just to get to the official start line so I slowed down, lest I burn myself out before even starting! I crossed the starting line to the sound of loudspeakers blaring the Psychedelic Furs' song "Pretty in Pink." Sweet - I was wearing a pink running jacket.

It took several seconds for the throng of 700 people to find their place in the race. The fastest runners took off and then the rest of us settled into our spots. Since I was running alone, I looked for a gap to sneak into.

It was awe-inspiring to be surrounded by so many other runners of all ages and sizes. There were runners in their 20s, seniors, married couples, mother-baby duos, buddies and groups of people wearing matching t-shirts. Throughout the race, I started to recognize a few people after passing them and/or being passed by them. One of my favorite running teams was the Asian father-daughter pair. The daughter looked to be in her mid-20s; when her father spoke to her in his native language, she answered in English. It made me think about my dad.

The race course was incredible. For my first race, I had intentionally set out to find a memorable route. This course was mostly flat, first winding through downtown Pacific Grove, California and then following the Pacific Ocean coastline.

Running down Lighthouse Avenue was fun, but making the turn to the ocean was amazing. The view was breathtakingly gorgeous, with ocean waves just a few feet away and mountains in the distance. At times, I could hear the roar of waves crashing against rocks and smell the ocean (not always a good thing). It was awesome to see surfers riding the swells.

Along the course, a lot of people offered encouragement, including a few guys dressed up as vegetables. I remember the corn and asparagus guys, particularly, as they cheered me on. "Thanks, veggies!", I said to them as I ran by. There were also course marshals throughout the route, including students from the nearby Naval Postgraduate School riding on bicycles.

I did have some pace issues during the race and had to slow down after both shins and then my right knee and hip started aching. I took a walk break to drink some water after the 1-mile marker and one more at around the 2-mile mark to take a few photos with my iPhone. I had debated doing so, but in the end, I decided it was more important to me to capture the beauty of the route than get a faster race time.

Toward the end of the route, I heard my name. My sister and her girlfriend were waiting for me around the last quarter mile and it was such a boost to see them cheering for me! I smiled the rest of the race.

It was such a fantastic feeling to hear strangers clapping and cheering as I approached the finish line. Crossing the finish line was a little overwhelming. I missed hearing my time as people I didn't know shouted, "Go Lisa!" I thought it was my family and was confused when I didn't see them anywhere. How did these strangers know my name? Oh, right - my race bib has my name on it.

A man at the finish line called out my name and high-fived me as I continued to look for my family. Someone gave me a medal and I walked over to the water table. My sister and her girlfriend found me and we hugged and laughed. A few minutes later, my husband and younger son joined us.

There were a few things I'm a little disappointed about, but I'll know better next time. The biggest is that I didn't affix my D-tag properly and lost it somewhere along the route. I noticed it was gone before I hit the one-mile marker but couldn't find it anywhere nearby. It was a bummer since I really wanted to track my pace and get an official race time.

In a way, it reminded me of my labor and birth experience with my first child. I had hoped for a drug-free birth and ended up with an emergency c-section with multiple medical interventions. In both cases, I set out with an ideal in mind and things didn't happen exactly the way I wanted. On the other hand, in both cases, I ended up with happy outcomes: I gave birth to a gorgeous baby boy and I ran a race that three months ago, I never would have believed I could finish.

Speaking of that gorgeous baby boy, the best part of the day was seeing him, now 9 years old, cross the finish line too. While I ran the 5K event, he ran the 3K kids event. We both competed in our first races! It was a wonderful experience for us to share. After our races, my husband and our younger son joined us and we all celebrated with brunch and a day of adventure in Monterey.

Next steps: finding a new race!

C25K graduate!

2011-11-18T14:08:00.002-05:00

I finished the Couch to 5K (C25K) program last month and will be running my first 5K race tomorrow!

When I first set out to do this, the thought of running even one mile seemed out of bounds. After being inspired by so many friends who are runners (including marathoners and ultra-runners), though, I thought I would give it a try.

I was looking for a way to get in shape that wouldn't require a gym membership or much hassle and expense. The C25K program fits those criteria and it is effective. It gets you off the couch and able to run 5 kilometers (3.1 miles) in nine weeks. I downloaded the app onto my iPhone in August and set out to improve my cardiovascular fitness, little by little, three days a week. The program starts out gently, with more walking than running. By the end of it, though, you will be able to run 30 minutes straight.

I was cautiously optimistic about the program. Worried that I wouldn't be able to complete it, I didn't tell too many people I had started it. Following the program faithfully, I didn't miss any workouts. For the first time in a long time, I was able to run without being sidelined by shin splints and other injuries.

My first workouts were painful, not so much physically but emotionally. The first week was especially embarrassing. I was ashamed of letting myself get so out of shape. I hated hearing the sound of my labored breathing and heavy footfall. I imagined how I looked lumbering down the street.

Throughout the program, my nine-year-old son, Nico, accompanied me during my workouts. In the first week, he joined me on his scooter; after that, he rode along on his bike.

Starting the program, I was deeply self-conscious so I opted to run at night. It was peaceful then, since we live in a quiet, safe neighborhood that basically shuts down at 8 p.m. We outfitted my son with an orange safety vest and equipped his bike with front and back lights. This made me feel even more self-conscious as I set out. Great! Now we looked like a parade.

After just a few workouts, though, I started to gain confidence. I fine-tuned playlists for my iPhone - lots of 80s and hip hop tunes - and made sure I had good running shoes and gear. Finding inspiring music was key. It's amazing how fast time passes when you are listening to songs you love.

There were times when I wanted to quit my workouts, but I always found ways to keep going. Having my son next to me was a big motivator. It would be one thing to let myself down, but I wanted to keep moving for him. I wanted to be an example to him in not quitting or giving up. Sometimes, I would set mini-goals for myself: Just run to the next light post. Just run to the end of the street. Just run to the park sign.

The program brought me closer to my son. Nico doesn't often share his feelings with me but during our C25K workouts, he opened up and shared details about his life, what happened in school that day, how he was feeling about our move from Ohio this summer, what his hopes were for our life in California.

Nico was a great coach throughout the program. His sense of direction is way better than mine so he charted our training routes and always made sure we found our way home. He would provide encouragement ("I think you're running way faster than before, Mom!") and help me log notes for each workout.

Soon, I began looking forward to my runs. Even though they were sometimes tough, I loved being connected to Nico and having special one-on-one time with him. I loved how I felt after each workout: sweaty and happy! I loved taking a bath afterward and thinking about my progress.

I never thought I'd be someone who would enjoy running, but now I am. Growing up, I loved sports but hated running. The only time I enjoyed running was when chasing a ball. Running on its own was boring, tedious, pointless. These days, I appreciate the rhythm of running. I like running to think about things; I like running to not think about things.

At this point, I am still a very slow runner but seeing how far I've come from a few months ago, I know I can change. I know I can set a goal and achieve it.

Right now, I am looking forward to tomorrow's challenge: the Pacific Grove Lighthouse 5K!

Unhappy Valley: raw thoughts from a Big Ten alum and mom

2011-11-11T23:01:00.001-05:00

The child sex abuse scandal rocking Penn State and Happy Valley this week hits home on many levels - as a mother of young boys, as a Big Ten alumnus raised in the Midwest, as a former university communications director.

Even though one man, Jerry Sandusky, stands accused of the sexual assault charges, along the way, too many people looked the other way or stayed silent. The situation is a web of complex relationships. It is about influential men taking advantage of voiceless boys. It is about a large college football program protecting its assets. It is about power, money, hypocrisy and secrecy. It is outrageous, shameful, disgusting, unforgivable.

As a mother of two young children, it breaks my heart to learn that the boys who were assaulted had no advocates fighting for them. Reading the Grand Jury report took my breath away as I learned the ages of the boys involved - too close.

When I sat down to begin writing this post, I did so as my older son, a fourth-grader, attended his weekly Cub Scout den meeting. New to scouting this year, my husband and I were surprised to open the Boy Scouts of America handbook and find that it begins with a 24-page pull-out booklet entitled "How to Protect Your Children From Child Abuse: A Parent's Guide". It was important to discuss this topic with our son, but initiating that first conversation was difficult. The hardest part was answering his questions: "But why would anyone want to hurt me like that? Why would someone I trust do that?"

I look at my two boys, both growing and developing every day, and still see them as babies. The other day, I noticed, with alarm, that my older son smelled like a teenager and was showing the faintest shadow of a mustache (I guess his father's Italian genes are kicking in). Already? How could this be? My younger son, now four years old, somehow seems frozen in my mind as a two-year-old. I carry and cuddle him even though he is perfectly capable of running around on his own. I obsess over the banal details of their lives - meal preparation, homework assignments, play dates. I overshare details of our middle-class, suburban life on this blog.

In contrast, the boys who were abused generally came from disadvantaged backgrounds and unstable households. This adds another layer of injustice to the situation to see that some sick, but privileged man, preyed on these children who had so little. Somehow, it reminded me of Cleveland's Imperial Avenue murders that took place for years without anyone noticing or caring enough to investigate. Whether it is impoverished boys or drug-addicted women, our society allowed monsters to prey on our most vulnerable.

In the Penn State case, the abuse took place in places that are essentially off-limits to mothers: men's locker rooms, showers, wrestling mats. In reading the Grand Jury report, I was particularly struck by the way one woman learned how her child was violated. She asked her son, who had just returned from a outing with Sandusky, why his hair was wet. She found out that her child showered with this predator. That detail - so visual, so concrete - stings as I contrast it with the thousands of times I've nagged my fourth-grader: Get in the shower! Use soap! Wash your hair! Brush your teeth!

Beyond my reaction as a mom, I've also been thinking about the situation as a Big Ten alumnus raised in the Midwest. Much of the news coverage of this sordid story came from sportswriters. My own first response, when I heard the initial reports, concerned legendary Penn State football coach Joe Paterno. "No way," I exclaimed. "Not JoePa!" I believed that Paterno had nothing to do with the abuse, and I was deeply disappointed to learn that he did know something and didn't do enough. For some reason, like many others, I confused success on the field with integrity off the field. If he's a good coach, he must be a good person, right?

We want to believe in heroes. When it comes to professional sports, we want our athletes to shine and when they do, we love them, we worship them. Growing up in Ohio as a long-suffering Cleveland sports fan, I know all too well the agony and the ecstasy of winning and losing (well, mostly losing). Most Clevelanders I know are sports historians who can recite our most ignominious sports moments (The Drive, The Fumble and The Decision, to name a few) like the letters in the alphabet.

Football, I think, has the deepest hold on us, though. When I went to graduate school at Ohio State University, I was already a huge sports fan but I was unprepared for the overwhelming Big Ten football culture that surrounded me. I was stunned when my classmates convinced a sociology professor to rearrange the syllabus: "We can't have a test that Monday - it's Michigan weekend!" On Saturday afternoons in October, I sometimes headed to the main library, knowing it would be all mine, practically empty. And then there were the games against That Team Up North. Win or lose, those were the nights it was best to stay inside, away from the drunks, tear gas, overturned cars.

Recently, OSU President Gordon Gee was asked if he was considering firing then-football coach Jim Tressel. His notorious response: "I'm just hoping the coach doesn't dismiss me." Big Ten football = Big Money

The other part about this Penn State scandal that has been nagging at me is the crisis communications aspect. For eight years, up until this past June, I worked at Case Western Reserve University in marketing and communications. As a former media relations director, I thought about what the Penn State communications team must be dealing with: talking points, prepared statements, a torrent of media inquiries. There would be worry about protecting the Penn State brand, implications on student recruitment, fundraising. I hope that through it all there was concern about the victims.

In the media frenzy surrounding this story, the former journalist in me was curious about the details involved in the case. As I learned more, though, I wished I could unlearn it. Presumably, more information will come to light in the next several weeks. But I don't think I want to know any more.

One peanut butter-filled pretzel nugget = one overnight hospital stay

2011-11-02T23:47:00.002-04:00

Food allergies can be life-threatening

My four-year-old son had a severe allergic reaction (anaphylaxis) yesterday after eating a single peanut butter-filled pretzel nugget. It resulted in several hours at an urgent care center, an ambulance ride to an ER and an overnight stay at a hospital. We were discharged this afternoon, about 24 hours after we arrived at the urgent care facility.

Here's what went down:

Yesterday, Nolan was offered a few snacks, including the pretzel nugget, while I was preoccupied during a yoga class. I glanced over and nodded my approval but I did not inspect the snacks closely. It was only after Nolan said his lips were burning that I realized something was wrong. His lips had been chapped so at first I thought he had merely peeled off some loose skin that left his lip feeling raw. He said he didn't feel good, though, so I gave him some Benadryl and we drove home.

In the car, he threw up multiple times. At home, I gave him a bath and while cleaning up the vomit, I detected the smell of peanuts.

We have known since Nolan was nine months old that he has a serious peanut allergy. When he was a baby, my dad ate a peanut butter sandwich near him and it triggered a major allergic reaction, with his entire body covered in hives. Since then, we have maintained a nut-free household and carry Benadryl and epinephrine pens everywhere we go.

At the end of his bath, Nolan threw up again. I gave him some more Benadryl, loaded him and his brother in the car, and drove to the Palo Alto Medical Foundation Mountain View Urgent Care Center (UCC).

When we arrived at the UCC, Nolan was not exhibiting any signs of an allergic reaction. The Benadryl had taken effect and he looked normal. We waited for the doctor and I called Vic to tell him where we were and what was going on. I said it would be good if he could leave work to come over but that everything was under control.

Nico was amazing throughout the ordeal. He busted out his homework and kept himself busy through all the chaos. He didn't even flinch when his brother vomited inches away from his backpack.

The doctor ordered an oral steroid medicine for Nolan and by the time he drank it, the Benadryl was wearing off. The nurse helping us told us that he had seen children deteriorate suddenly and severely with allergic reactions and that it was important to keep vigilant. Pretty much right after he said that, Nolan projectile vomited the medicine. Things went downhill rapidly.

The next few hours were a blur. Vic arrived in the midst of the drama. At some point, we moved from an exam room to a space directly in front of the nurses' station. It looked like a hospital room. Nolan was administered a steroid injection in his right thigh and an epinephrine injection in his left thigh. He started to develop tiny circular hives, first on his stomach, then on his neck, then everywhere. They were no longer circles but long, wide and thick raised welts covering him from head to toe. His body looked like a topographic map. He was given a second epinephrine injection and he vomited violently again. Nolan's blood pressure dropped and he was drowsy. An IV was administered. As the needle went into his arm, he woke up and screamed, "All of you are mean! Leave me alone!" The medical team seemed relieved (and amused) that he was so feisty.

Around 7 p.m., an ambulance crew was summoned to take Nolan to an area emergency department. Our hospital was over capacity so we went to Stanford Hospital. I rode along with Nolan. Nico wailed, "Luuuucky!"

At the emergency department, we were greeted by a team of medical doctors, nurses, assistants, students. By now, Nolan was stable. His blood pressure was back to normal and his hives had disappeared. We had to wait as they determined which area of Lucile Packard Children's Hospital we would be admitted to. Apparently, when a patient is given two epinephrine injections, it basically guarantees an overnight stay.

I spent the night with Nolan in his hospital room, while Vic and Nico went home. Nolan was hungry and thirsty but he was not permitted to eat or drink anything for several more hours. Eventually, he was allowed to drink apple juice. The saving grace was that he was able to watch movies on the hospital TV in his room. I knew he was back to his normal self when he asked to watch a cooking show. By this time, things were stable. Nolan and I settled to sleep on his bed, me still wearing my yoga clothes from this afternoon - now stiff from dried vomit.

In the morning, Nolan was ecstatic when he was cleared to eat food again. He devoured a huge breakfast of turkey sausage, hash browns, wheat toast, raisin bran cereal, fruit cocktail, rice milk and apple juice.

I was impressed with the medical staff throughout the experience. The doctors, nurses and students were all quite knowledgeable, caring, empathetic and helpful. Also, every person who left our hospital room asked, "Is there anything else I can help with?" before they departed. It was pretty amazing.

The attending physician told me her daughter also has a peanut allergy and that they have trained her to be extremely careful when eating new foods, accepting food from people outside her family, etc. Our pediatrician called to check on Nolan and said she also has a daughter with a peanut allergy. She shared an experience where her daughter ate a dessert that had nuts buried underneath whipped cream, even though they had specified "no nuts" when they ordered the dish. It's amazing how prevalent peanut allergies are these days.

So after a long scary afternoon and evening, Nolan was discharged from the hospital this afternoon. Everything turned out just fine, but it has been an eye-opening experience. I used to be squeamish about using the epi-pen but I am not any more. Our family now has first-hand experience that food allergies can be life-threatening.

October in California

2011-10-31T23:05:00.002-04:00

We had a fun Halloween evening today, our first in our Sunnyvale home. Our good friends Ellen and Edward brought their adorable son and daughter over and we ate pizza, trick-or-treated and handed out Halloween toys to the neighborhood kids.

Don't mess with these ninjas!

It was a beautiful evening, with perfect 75 degree weather. It seemed a little strange to trick-or-treat without the familiar crispness of a midwestern October night and without leaves crackling beneath our feet. It was also weird to set out without knowing most of the people on our street.

I wasn't sure what to expect as far as the number of trick-or-treaters in our neighborhood, so I ended up with a lot of leftover rubber skeletons, Halloween tattoos and bouncy balls. Of the kids who came to our door, all were young, well-mannered and dressed in adorable costumes, accompanied by attentive parents standing behind them. I don't think we had any trick-or-treaters older than age 10 and none who came without their parents. A few neighbors introduced themselves, which was really nice.

This year, for the first time in our family, the selection of Halloween costumes went relatively smoothly. Both boys decided to wear matching ninja costumes.

Last year, Nico and I were not on the same page about his costume choice. He wanted to wear a gory Grim Reaper costume replete with an exposed rib cage and fake blood pump.

This year, there was no battle over excessively gruesome attire. And I also let go of my cheap Asian mom instincts (well, to some extent). Years ago, I bought a plush puppy toddler costume off eBay for $10. I made both boys wear it, each for three years in a row. Friends tried to talk me out of it, lest my kids think that Halloween means dressing like a dog. Whatever! I got six Halloweens out of that costume, at $1.67 a year!

This year, I again went back to eBay for my costume shopping. I found some pretty good deals and opted against the ninja costume extras. Nico complained that he needed a sword, but I convinced him that the best ninjas need only their bare hands as deadly weapons.

Last week, we participated in other Halloween activities. Nico's school had a wonderful Halloween celebration, beginning the day with a parade and an awesome performance of fourth- and fifth-graders dancing to Michael Jackson's "Thriller" (an annual tradition), led by their gym teacher. Vic thought it would have been better still if the kids dressed up as Filipino prisoners while performing the dance. Nico was embarrassed about the routine, but I thought it was fantastic! Also, the boys joined Vic for his company's annual trick-or-treat event for kids. Vic's team dressed up as Occupy Halloween protesters, with signs that said, "Save the pumpkins! No more carving! No more tricks! Give us treats!"

Earlier in the month, we went on a pumpkin-finding mission in Half Moon Bay, where we went to a pumpkin patch with my sister Linn and her girlfriend. All of us went in the haunted house, which was a stupid idea for four-year-old Nolan, who screamed, "NO! NO! NOT AT ALL! NOT! AT! ALL!" within seconds of entering the pitch-black maze. Vic and Nico also found their way in and out of a huge cornfield maze, while Nolan and I rode on the baby train. Afterward, we went on a long family hike.

October in California has been lovely, although I do miss autumn in Ohio - the beautiful leaves, the apple-picking, the football weekends. Halloween is the highlight of the season for me, and once it is over, I know the winter holidays are not far behind. At least in California, the weather will be nicer. It's amazing how much sunshine and fresh air can lift my spirits.

After turning off the lights and cleaning up the trick-or-treating aftermath tonight, I'm feeling a bit wistful. Another Halloween, another childhood milestone for the boys, another year drawing to a close.

Anniversaries

2011-09-11T04:50:00.002-04:00

Gold foil-wrapped Jordan almonds. Red silk jewelry boxes.

For the days preceding September 11, 2001, these were the things that occupied my mind. With less than two weeks away from the most important day of my life, I was busy dealing with head counts, meal preferences and questions from vendors.

Then, early on the morning of September 11, my sister Linda called with the news that two airplanes had crashed into the World Trade Center. Vic and I were living together in California then and both of us had been asleep. He turned on the television, which stayed on the rest of the day. Shocked, sad and angry, suddenly, I couldn't think about our upcoming wedding any more, and in fact, the idea of assembling 180 wedding favors seemed downright frivolous.

Even though 10 years have passed since that awful day, I still remember the dramatic emotional shift I underwent, from pre-wedding giddiness to post-9/11 anguish. Even though I hadn't lost any friends or family in the attacks, like so many Americans, I was distraught.

I dug up a few email messages from that time to recall the exact words I used in corresponding with friends that week:

"I'm not in the mood to talk -- about my wedding, that is. It seems so inconsequential in light of everything else going on right now."

"I am still so sad about all of this. On Saturday, I'm supposed to fly to Cleveland to iron out last-minute details about my wedding. But I can't even think about the wedding right now…"

Back then, Vic had been working for an Internet start-up whose office overlooked the San Francisco airport. He stayed home on September 11, but returned to work the next day. It was eerily quiet, he said, as the usual whoosh and roar of airplanes taking off and landing was missing. "There is zero apparent activity taking place over there," he said.

We were in California and our wedding was in Ohio. We were scheduled to fly from San Francisco to Cleveland in four days, but weren't even sure if our flight would happen. For the next few days, we fielded phone calls and email messages asking if the wedding was still on. Someone suggested we postpone it, but we dismissed that idea immediately. A few people canceled their plans to attend. Too risky to fly, they said.

One of my friends, Wendy, emailed me some wonderful advice then: "First and foremost, you need to thank God that you and your loved ones are safe and celebrate the time you have with them at your wedding. I think you are actually lucky to have an event to celebrate with your closest family and friends this weekend during this tragedy. Celebrate even more and tell everyone how lucky they are to have everyone together for this very important event in your life."

She was right. The wedding took place on a beautiful day in Cleveland and was a wonderful celebration of family and friends. The nation's official period of mourning had just ended, as President Bush ordered the American flag to be raised to full mast that day.

In the time that has passed since September 11, 2001, I came to meet other women who shared their 9/11 stories with me - a friend who was pregnant then, a woman who even went into labor that day. In the 10 years that have passed, Vic and I became parents too. Our older son, a fourth-grader now, was upset this week that they didn't talk about September 11 at school. He was incredulous that they didn't discuss it in class, but said he did talk about it with his friend Lance during recess. I asked what they said. He shrugged. "We were just sad," my nine-year-old said.

When I think back to the fateful day 10 years ago, I remember that after getting over the shock, I felt exceptionally proud to be an American and uncommonly united with all fellow Americans. September 11 marked a turning point for this country, and it seems that since then, we have blurred the difference between nationalism and patriotism. We have found more ways to divide ourselves. I hope today we will reflect on the losses we suffered together as a country 10 years ago and unite again.

News media love anniversaries and no doubt, the day will be filled with profiles, special reports and other commemoration features about the 10-year anniversary of 9/11. I hope we will use this opportunity to remember, reflect and return to the values that bring us together.

American, by choice

2011-09-11T04:17:00.000-04:00

(Note: This essay was published in the San Jose Mercury News on November 25, 2001.)

Pride in becoming American intensifies after Sept. 11 attacks

Last year, I became a true American: I was granted U.S. citizenship.

At the ceremony, 1,500 of us gathered in San Francisco’s Masonic Auditorium on Nob Hill to declare our loyalty to this country. An Iranian woman stood on my right, a Korean woman on my left. People of all ages, races and economic backgrounds were there, many dressed in red, white and blue. Some wore jeans, others business suits and dresses. We were as diverse in appearance and ethnicity as any group could be, but we stood as one in the crowded auditorium.

I had expected the naturalization ceremony to be just another bureaucratic ordeal to endure, much like renewing my driver’s license at the Department of Motor Vehicles. But as 1,500 strangers from different lands pledged allegiance to the same flag, tears filled my eyes, pride surged in my heart.

Memories of that day flooded back to me on Sept. 11 Like millions of Americans watching the awful events of that morning unfold on television, I felt shock, sadness and fear. By the time the World Trade Center towers collapsed, I realized I felt something new, something I'd truly never felt before. We soon learned that this country, my country, would be going to war and I felt as patriotic as any native-born American.

It was my younger sister, Linda, who frantically woke me with the news that two planes had crashed into the World Trade Center towers. And, it was my sister, Linda, who had an appointment with the Immigration and Naturalization Service on Sept. 11. After we ended our call, I stared in shock at the TV for the rest of the day. My sister, I later learned, headed off to her INS appointment to be fingerprinted, one of the critical steps to becoming a naturalized U.S. citizen.

I was upset that my sister kept the appointment on a day people fled most government buildings in droves. “Are you crazy?” I asked. “I’m sure INS would have understood your wanting to reschedule.”

My sister, who is five years younger, knew the truth.

Time is of the essence

“I’ve waited too long for this,” she said. She knew that missing her appointment, even on that terrible and frightening day, could delay her naturalization process several months.

Linda, 26, is the last of us to see American citizenship. A San Francisco social worker, she has nerves of steel. Whether she was overcome with patriotism or she merely wanted her family to stop nagging her – or both – she kept her appointment with the INS.

Her defiance of fear on the day that changed America – and how we think of it – forever was similar to my new feelings of patriotism.

Until my naturalization ceremony, becoming a U.S. citizen had been a mind-numbing process of filling out forms, cramming for the civics exam and waiting for further INS instructions. Until I entered the auditorium, I felt only relief to have reached the final step of naturalization.

But after I turned in my green card to INS officers as part of the ceremony, the weight of the experience overcame me. I was about to begin a new life. When I took my place in the auditorium, I felt exuberant. Although I began the naturalization process alone, I was ending it surrounded by hundreds of strangers, all looking as proud and happy as I.

Looking around the room, I was reminded of the official motto of the United States of America, printed on Page One of my official “Guide to Naturalization” booklet: E Pluribus Unum – From Many, One.

For years, our family never felt an urgency to apply for citizenship. We weren't able to vote, but having a green card seemed enough at the time.

My family’s road to U.S. citizenship began with my parents in the late ‘60s when they emigrated from Taiwan to Canada, where my dad attended graduate school. He eventually received a job offer to teach and do research at an American university, so in the summer of 1976, our family drove across the border to begin our life in the United States. We moved to Cleveland Heights, Ohio.

In the mid-‘90s, my parents worried about growing anti-immigrant sentiment. They decided to formalize their commitment to their adopted country and were sworn in as official Americans in 1997.

Reasons to apply

I decided to apply too, for other reasons. Unlike my Taiwanese-born parents, I was raised in the United States. I was born in Canada but had lived here since age 7. Citizenship status was a mere technicality and I had been content being a U.S. permanent resident or as my green card said, a “resident alien”.

My feelings changed when my parents became citizens. I realized that if my mom, who still speaks with a heavy Taiwanese accent, could make the leap to American citizenship, then surely I could. Both my parents required extra effort to study for the naturalization civics exam, but I already had the benefit of an American education, from grammar school to graduate school. I had been reciting the Pledge of Allegiance since second grade. Surely if anyone in my family were to be called an American, it should be me – and my sister.

I had already missed three presidential elections already and decided that was enough. My parents and I voted as U.S. citizens for the first time last year.

My road to citizenship had taken two years.

The experience is the same for everyone who seeks citizenship. You begin by filling out a detailed application in which you are asked if you have any affiliation with the Nazi Party or various other groups. You must declare if you've ever been a prostitute, a gambler or a “habitual drunkard.”

The questions are meant to determine the moral character of an applicant but seem so pointless, especially now. During the oral exam, an INS inspector quizzes you on a variety of U.S. government and history topics, which sometimes include having you list the 13 original colonies, explaining what the colors of the flag represent and naming local elected representatives.

Does knowing those things make us good citizens?

Pose these questions

In our post-Sept. 11 world, we need to know so much more. Perhaps it's time to change the citizenship application process to reflect modern reality. If I were in charge of developing a new citizenship application, I would ask people to answer: Why do you want to be an American? What does it mean to you?

The answers, I imagine, would be as varied and individual as the applicants themselves. I had wanted to vote. Others wanted a better life for their children. Some sought religious freedom. Or education. Or opportunity. When I first came to the United States, the Pledge of Allegiance was just a jumble of big words. When I recited those words at my oath ceremony, I finally understood and cherished each one.

Just like a marriage oath, the oath of allegiance to this country is something sacred. It means declaring to the world, “I choose you” and being willing to fight to protect the personal and political freedoms we hold dear.

At my oath ceremony, 1,500 people simultaneously renounced allegiance to their countries of birth and swore to “support and defend the Constitution and laws of the United States of America against all enemies, foreign and domestic.” It was an easy promise to make in peacetime, though. The oath bears greater weight and significance today. Will young men still pursue naturalization now, knowing they could be drafted for war?

As part of the Sept. 11 aftermath, there has been talk of monitoring student visas and imposing more stringent background checks. While it is important to protect the country from enemies, we need to be careful not to discourage the people who come here with good intentions. Somehow we must distinguish between those who come to visit and those who come to stay.

Unlike people who are citizens by birth, naturalized Americans choose their allegiance. They choose to put their faith, their hopes and their dreams in their adopted country. And if necessary, they will put their lives on the line.

In a way, those who come forward to seek citizenship now are quiet heroes. They will be the ones who, even in times of danger and backlash, keep their INS appointments.

See you later, CWRU

2011-06-17T01:37:00.001-04:00

Today is my last day of work at Case Western Reserve University. It's been an incredible experience working for my undergraduate alma mater for the past eight years.

My role as director of marketing and communications for the College of Arts and Sciences has to be among the best jobs around. I work with people I admire and respect; they are dedicated, diverse and dynamic. My staff colleagues include a classics scholar, a fashion model, a violist, a talent agent, a yoga instructor and a musical theater director. The faculty I work with include anthropologists, astronomers, chemists, dancers, historians, musicologists, novelists, playwrights, psychologists, sociologists. My boss and mentor, the dean of the college, is a particle physicist who unwinds by training for ultramarathons and teaching himself Mandarin.

My first job at CWRU was in the Office of Undergraduate Admission, where I helped to attract talented, high-achieving students to the university. After that, I joined the Office of Marketing and Communications to lead the university's media relations team. My colleagues were some of the most hardworking, tireless people I have ever known.

Among my most rewarding professional experiences at CWRU was being a founding member of the committee that created the university's Women Staff Leadership Development Initiative. It was exhilarating to see one little idea evolve into a robust, thriving university program. It was deeply rewarding to work with a group of talented, thoughtful women leaders interested in building a supportive community and elevating the campus culture as a whole.

And of course, I cannot forget the students. CWRU students are simply amazing. I was honored when I was nominated for an undergraduate mentoring award a few years ago; knowing these incredible individuals has been a privilege. From the interns I supervised to the student newspaper editors I advised, these rising stars were impressive as undergraduates and have continued to astound me with their accomplishments since graduation; they include a Fulbright scholar, Teach for America corps members, Peace Corps volunteers, and a number of engineers, doctors and lawyers. Some of them have married, some are new parents. Thanks to Facebook, I'm able to stay updated on their exploits.

Working at CWRU has had its challenges over the years. For one, it has been difficult juggling parenthood and a demanding career. I should have realized from the start that my work-life balance would be indelibly blurred at CWRU - my work and wedding anniversary are the same day. During my time at the university, I endured a difficult pregnancy and contemplated quitting my job once my baby was born. I had understanding supervisors, though, who gave me flexibility in my work arrangement. I continued to work full time with a few accommodations (anyone need a breast pump - anyone?). And then I connected with a network of wonderful working parents who sought to face work-life issues together.

In my personal life, these past eight years have brought some major changes. My family expanded; when I first came to work at CWRU, I had a one-year-old boy in diapers. Now, that little guy has big horse teeth and will be entering fourth grade. And he now has a three-year-old brother, one who enjoys playing online UNO on my iPad but has little interest in toilet training.

And their dad, my husband, is working for a fantastic company that requires us to relocate to California. We are excited about this new family adventure, but it is going to be hard to say goodbye to all that we love here in Cleveland, Ohio.

Case Western Reserve University has been a special place for my family. My father has been a research scientist here for nearly 35 years. My sister and I used to visit his lab and be fascinated with the Geiger counter. My husband and I both earned diplomas from the university; I was an English major, Vic was a computer engineering major who later also earned a graduate degree in operations research. Our sons experienced life on campus, from visiting my office countless times to going to Springfest year after year. Nico used to accompany me during production nights at The Observer while Vic attended evening classes. I nursed two-week-old Nolan in the press box radio room during a CWRU Homecoming game.

I am enormously grateful for all that I've experienced in my years at CWRU. I've met great people and I've learned valuable life lessons. I am sad to leave a place that has had an impact on my family for three generations.

But I know I will be back again some day.

Tiger Mom vs. Third-Grader: Part II, Great American SpellCheck

2011-05-27T14:36:00.004-04:00

This morning, Nico participated in Roxboro Elementary School's first Great American SpellCheck competition and was eliminated in the second round. (Did I imagine a gasp when it happened? Maybe it came from me.)

It was a somewhat shocking result, as Nico misspelled the word "badly" ("baddly"). This, from a kid who breezes through weekly spelling words like "perspicacious" and "paradigmatic". I was stunned that he was eliminated so quickly and saw that he was too. He walked off the stage dazed. When the students eliminated in his round rejoined their classmates in the audience, Nico sat off to the side, away from all his friends.

I went over to him and suggested we go out to the hallway. He was fighting back tears. "I spelled it wrong on purpose," he said, bitterly. "I didn't want to be there in the first place." Nico had scored 50 out of 50 on the written exam to qualify for the oral spelling competition, but had mixed feelings about the whole thing. "I don't want to be on stage," he had said when he learned he had qualified.

Spelling bees are a source of pride in this family. Both Vic and I were grade school spelling champs and to this day, I silently judge people who can't spell well (and don't get me started on people who can't use apostrophes properly). Still, I didn't want to put too much pressure on Nico for his first spelling bee. I debated even going to the competition today, but am glad I did. I sat with some friends and we cheered for all of the spellers.

There is so much drama at these things! For first-, second- and third-graders, these competitions must be incredibly nerve-wracking. As I spoke to other parents, we all admitted that we were nervous ourselves as we watched our children take their turns at the mic. The rhythm of a spelling bee is mesmerizing - we hold our breath as the students recite the letters, we listen for the bell, we sigh with relief (or gasp in sympathy), we clap, repeat. It was heartbreaking to watch the young spellers as they were eliminated, one by one. Some of them stumbled, crestfallen, into their parents' open arms; some only needed a quick hug and then raced back to sit with their friends, others needed to be embraced for the rest of the competition.

Nico displayed a disturbing, but familiar mix of emotions after he was ousted from the contest. Like me, it looks like he's emotional and excitable but embarrassed to show it. Like Vic, he is brooding and intensely competitive. When we finally reentered the auditorium after a few minutes hugging in the hallway, I heard Nico whisper, "Yes!" when his friends were also eliminated. "Don't you want to root for your friends?" I asked him. "No. I don't want anyone to win," he replied.

Admittedly, I was annoyed that Nico was booted out of the competition so early. I tried not to show it, although, for a microsecond, I related to my own mother's feelings of disappointment in me. I remembered the piano recital where I flubbed a note and heard her in the audience clucking her tongue. That memory has stayed with me and I don't want Nico to know that feeling. I hugged and kissed him for a long time. "I'm a horrible speller," he said. "No, you're not," I told him. "You have weekly spelling words much harder than the one you missed today. You're a fantastic speller all day every day, just not for a few seconds today. It's OK." I hugged him again.

I wasn't at all a Tiger Mom today and it was fine. F.I.N.E.

Tiger Mom vs. Third-Grader: Part I, Invention Convention

2011-05-27T12:55:00.002-04:00

Last night, Nico won the 3rd-4th-5th grade division for his school's Invention Convention with his "Boat Buddy Bath Thermometer". He built a sailboat out of balsa wood and inserted an 8-second thermometer through it so that the whole contraption would result in a floating device that could measure bath water temperature. He came up with this idea based on his daily problem of jumping into a shower that is too cold. Although his invention doesn't really work for showers, it's pretty good for baths.

I helped Nico a lot with his project, taking him to Target and JoAnn Fabric for supplies, assisting him in building his sailboat and working with him to put his display together. His poster included a bar graph of our family members' preferred bath temperatures (mine was the highest - duh, I'm Asian!). It also included an advertisement: "Upgrade your bath! Ingredients for a perfect bath: soap, bubbles, water, Boat Buddy!"

While there were some amazing inventions on display, the science teacher told us that what put Nico's project over the edge was his research plan. Yesss! I gave my husband a smug look. "See, it's all about the writing, " I explained to Vic.

Then, in re-reading Nico's research report, I saw that my first-born son had crossed out "special thanks/credits to my mom for her help". Originally, when I read over Nico's report, I was flattered that he mentioned me at all. But at Science Night, when I saw he crossed out the words in heavy, angry pencil marks, I was surprised. Nico explained, loud enough for everyone to hear, "I crossed that out after you made me mad! You said you weren't going to help anymore and that it was my project and I had to do it all by..." I cut him off, worried he was going to tell the world all about the ups and downs of our collaboration (i.e., my mood swings throughout the process). I was nervous he would describe how, in a fit of frustration and anger, I angrily scattered all of our craft supplies across the dining room.

It was a terrible Tiger Mom moment and I knew it even as I flung pieces of balsa wood in the air. It reminded me of the time in second grade when my mom got upset at me for sulking through a weekday afternoon piano practice. I had been sitting at the piano, shoulders slumped, sighing and dawdling, listening to my friends Big Wheel down the sidewalk. Suddenly, my mom swooped in, swept up my piano books and threw them in the trash. The kitchen trash. I fished them out of a snarl of apple peels and carrot shavings, cleaned them up, taped the torn pages and sat down to practice. It was a day I will never forget and now I wonder if Nico will have a similar experience seared in his memory.

So far, Nico does not seem too scarred. He was elated when he was announced as one of the two school winners. When we got home, he bounced into the house and called my dad, who was simply delighted. Nico put him on speakerphone and it was heartwarming to hear their conversation. My dad told Nico he had a good feeling about his invention because it was a great idea and that he had worked hard on it. He asked Nico if he was happy and if he wanted to be a scientist some day. Nico said, "I think so!"

Next up: Great American SpellCheck

A letter to me, age 7

2011-04-05T23:19:00.008-04:00

A few days ago, I watched a wonderfully charming film, With Love, From the Age of Reason (L'age de raison) during the Cleveland International Film Festival. The premise was intriguing and completely resonated with me: A woman, on her 40th birthday, began receiving letters from herself that she wrote at age 7. The first began like this:

Dear Me,

Today I am seven years old and I'm writing you this letter to help you remember the promises I made, and also to remind you of what I want to become.

So, today, on my birthday, I decided to write a letter to me, age 7:

Dear Me,

Today I am 41 years old and I'm writing you this letter to revisit the promises I made, and also to tell you of what I became.

Here are the things I had vowed to do that I did do:

-- I went to college (and graduate school).

-- I lived by myself (in an apartment seven blocks from the Pacific Ocean).

-- I became a writer.

-- I got married.

-- I became a mom.

Here are the things I didn't do:

-- I did not make an appearance on Sesame Street.

-- I did not become a kindergarten teacher.

-- I have not opened a combination boutique/bakery/bookstore.

-- I have not lived in a mansion I designed myself.

There is still a lot of time to do the things I've always wanted to do, although I sometimes find myself feeling overwhelmed in wanting to do many things at once. Sometimes I don't know where to start. I can't believe I ever felt one moment of being bored! I remember the "Things to Do on a Rainy Day" book I made when I was seven and contrast it with the ever-growing pile of to-do lists I keep today.

What keeps me busy? For the most part, it's my family, my friends, my work. I am a wife and mom, which I had always hoped to be. I love my family wholly and unquestionably; I feel so blessed by having so much love in my life. Marriage and parenthood are much, much more than I expected - more exasperating and more exhilarating. My husband is solid, brilliant, handsome, kind and fair. My sons - my sons, can you believe it? - are beautiful, hilarious, devious, fun-loving and sweet. My guys are everything to me. They deplete me and fill me up every day.

I'm not a perfect wife or mother. I am not as patient as I hoped I would be, I am more tired than I want to be. In second grade, I started a list of things to keep in mind when I became a mom. I was angry at my mother at the time, and wanted to be sure I didn't do any of the things she did that enraged me. Now that I'm a mom of two, I understand her a lot more now. People have asked me if I'd like to have more kids. I have all that I can handle.

As far as work goes, I didn't become a kindergarten teacher, although I do work in a higher education setting doing meaningful work that makes a positive difference in the world. I love being in a university environment working closely with amazing, accomplished people who are incredibly diverse, smart, curious, creative, thoughtful and funny. I feel blessed in being able to work with people I respect and admire.

I've learned that it's important to surround yourself with great people, no matter what age you are. My family and my friends support me, challenge me, protect and comfort me. They buoy me wherever I go, whatever I do. Being blanketed in this unconditional love gives me the emotional security to take risks, to try new things, to visit new places.

I'm middle-aged now, but I don't feel old. I have a fulfilling life that seems to keep getting better each year.

Happy birthday!

Love,
Me

Lost: my exobrain

2011-01-27T20:28:00.004-05:00

I lost my iPhone two days ago.

I am completely lost without my exobrain and am trying to convince my husband that I need to get a replacement (upgraded model, though, of course) ASAP. Vic and I are not on the same page about this. He reluctantly bought me my first iPhone (now the one he uses) for my birthday in April two years ago.

Here's an excerpted transcript of our phone conversation this morning:

Vic: I'm looking into the iPhone stuff. I emailed you a bunch of links.

me: OK.

Vic: You should probably go to the Apple store. Find out what your options are - correction - find out what your CHEAPEST options are.

me: Cheapest?

Vic: Yeah. Don't just walk in there with the mindset of "I'm coming out with a new iPhone."

me: Uh-huh.

Vic: I mean, if you have to get another phone, your best bet may be a refurbished iPhone 3Gs.

me: Hmm. I was thinking iPhone 4.

Vic: Well, I'm due next for the upgrade.

me: I knew you would say that. I'll see what it costs.

Vic: Don't buy anything or sign any new contracts without calling me first.

me: I have to go.

Tiger Mom = Mother Martyr

2011-01-14T18:35:00.011-05:00

As a college senior, I had written this essay for an English class, The Immigrant Experience. It was published in CWRU, the magazine for Case Western Reserve University, my undergraduate alma mater, in May 1993.

The Mother Martyr

No matter what she is saying to me, my mother's voice sounds sharp, urgent, and usually angry. Her voice is a knife. At college, my suite mate once said to me that she could always tell when I was talking to my mom on the phone because my voice would suddenly get loud. It is true. My mother's voice demands boldness. I am forced to speak as loudly as she does. Tenderness is rare between me and my mother and sometimes the only way to handle my mom is to be the same way she is.

When I was younger, I used to watch my mother cook. When she cooks, she stir-fries vegetables the same way she talks–with speed and aggressiveness–so that they are cooked in seconds. She chops meat just as swiftly. I have seen my mother cut herself only a few times while chopping, which is amazing considering her speed. When she does cut herself, though, my mom's chopping is so fast and powerful that it never leaves anything but a deep wound.

On the rare occasions that she does cut herself, my mom wipes the blood from her fingers and laughs at her clumsiness. When I was young, it seemed that her wounds hurt me more than they hurt her. I cringed when I saw the blood while my mom laughed. Once, I had a nightmare about having my eyes cut with razor blades. The worst form of torture to me is not one of stabbing or burning or drowning, but of slicing.

When you slice with a knife, there is a moment of commitment, when there is no turning back. I am tentative. I do not want to commit too soon and risk getting cut.

I wonder sometimes if my mother's agreement to marry my father was a fast choice, a deep cut. My mother married my father knowing that he was planning to study in Canada. She knew that if she married him, she would have to leave her family and friends and learn a whole new culture. I know my mother loved my father very much when she agreed to marry him, but I wonder how she felt about leaving Taiwan.

My parents had me while my father studied at the University of Alberta. When I was born, my parents taught me to speak Taiwanese before I learned English. After I went to school, though, I forgot a lot of my Taiwanese. There are still some Taiwanese words I have never learned. For example, I don't think I was ever taught the word "regret". Instead, I learned words like "hungry."

I learned practical survival words in Taiwanese. My mother learned the same in English. I have never learned enough Taiwanese, nor my mother enough English, to convey nuances or subtleties–only facts. When I was little, my childhood conversations with my mom were business transactions–negotiations, deals. "Please," I would whine, in the most dignified way a second-grader could. "Please let me play outside now and when I come back, I will practice piano for a whole hour." "NO," she would reply firmly. "NO BAH-GAINS."

I was constantly trying to "bah-gain" with my mother. I wanted her to give me more freedom so I could be like everyone else in school. Trying to assimilate into the American culture was very painful for both of us at times. It was harder for me, a cry-baby and whiner. My mother was more stoic. She never complained.

My mother sat and listened while I tried to tell her how out of place I felt among Americans. While I felt awkward an shy, I explained, my best friend Jennie Price was the popular trendsetter. She was the first to have a Mandy doll (second grade), Calvin Klein jeans (fourth grade), Atari video games (seventh grade), etc. Jennie's mom was so hop too. She sunbathed and ate pound cake all the time.

I wanted to be like Jennie. My mom knew it. My mom would study the way Jennie dressed and buy me the same clothes just so I would feel better. It wasn't good enough for me, though. I wanted my mom to be like Jennie Price's mom and know what was fashionable before everybody else did, not after. I didn't just want to fit in–I wanted to be in, like Jennie Price.

I wanted my mom to be like Jennie's mom, or at least somewhat like the moms I watched on TV. I wanted my mom to be June Cleaver or Carol Brady. In elementary school, my mom even tried to be this ideal I wished for. She joined the PTA. She made cupcakes for everyone in my class on my birthday. I even remember her going to a Tupperware party once.

One day, there was a Brownie Girl Scout meeting for parents at my friend Ann's house. While the adults had their meeting, the girls played out on Ann's front lawn. While I was pretending to be a normal American, a girl named Debbie ran out of the house and shook my arm. She was totally stunned because my mother had taken off her shoes upon entering the house. "Why?" Debbie kept asking. I don't know what I said to Debbie, in my grade school embarrassment, but I remember scolding my mom later for not knowing better.

When I think about that Brownie meeting now, I realize what a difficult, alien situation I had forced upon my mother. At Ann's house, my mom's voice was soft and unsure. She wasn't the thunder mom I as used to. I shouldn't have made my mom go to that meeting. I cut her that day.

I think my mom cut me too by expecting me to be Superkid. I was a timid child. My mother tried to force me to be strong. Like so many other Asian American parents, my mom was determined to make me The Best Kid in the Universe. I had art, ballet, piano, violin, ice-skating, and swimming lessons, Chinese Saturday School, and Brownie Girl Scouts. When I wasn't in school, I was scooted back and forth between my various self-improvement courses.

I remember initially wanting to take all my various lessons but eventually resenting them. In Chinese School especially, I thought I was cursed for being Taiwanese. I got sick of having Chinese culture jammed down my throat every week–and on Saturdays! I wanted to watch cartoons like everyone else.

Now that I think about it, I know my parents were just trying to give me some advantages over other kids. They wanted me to know more than others. The even taught me how to read before I entered kindergarten. I remember being bored learning that the letter "B" makes a "buh" sound when I could already write my own stories. I would read all the time, especially with my mother enrolling me in library summer reading programs. I was the school spelling champion.

I think it is strange now that my parents don't know why I became an English major in college. "WHAT ABOUT BEING A DOCTOR OR ENGINEER?" my mom still asks. I want to scream that I was molded into this direction. I don't understand why my parents think I betrayed them. After all, they were the ones who taught me how to read and write early. Studying literature was only logical considering the background I had, a background of languages and interpretations and colors and meaning.

Since I'll soon be graduating from college and living on my own, my parents are trying to make me cook more. My mother is disgusted with the way I chop slowly. "YOU HAVE TO LEARN TO CHOP RIGHT. YOU HAVE TO COOK FASTER OR ELSE YOU FAMILY WILL STARVE TO DEATH WAITING FOR YOU," my mother warns.

When my mother chops, she does not worry about getting cut. If she does slice herself, she will simply wash her hands, wrap her wounds and keep chopping. When I think of knives, I think of pain and danger and death. When my mother thinks of knives, she thinks of efficiency, of practicality, of life. I understand now why she chops so fast. She wants to feed her family as quickly as possible. She doesn't want the family to wait. She doesn't want life to wait. Opportunities don't wait. Life is not about deliberating or deciding, but of doing and moving. Cut fast, commit, and never look back.

Chinese parenting - right or wrong?

2011-01-11T01:25:00.007-05:00

In a Wall Street Journal essay, "Why Chinese Mothers Are Superior", author and Yale Law School professor Amy Chua shares her perspective on "Chinese parenting".

Where do I begin?

I must emphasize that I'm not speaking for all Asians. I do have some things in common with Amy Chua. I do know what it's like to be the daughter of Asian immigrant parents with high expectations, and I'm also a mom of two facing challenging issues concerning academics and discipline. But Chua and I have different perspectives on parenting.

Chua describes the Chinese attitude toward education, where achievement is not an option. She discusses the shame and humiliation Asian parents subject their children to if expectations are not met. She views this style of parenting as clearly superior to "Western parenting".

After reading the WSJ piece, horrified, one of my friends asked me if I agree with that style of parenting. "I was completely blown away," she said. "It was really hard to read."

To me, it's, well, complicated. In thinking about the Chinese parenting style

Chua advocates, on a large scale, I do have concerns about how it contributes to the model minority myth. I worry about how this parenting style affects the mental health of our children. There is research that links parental pressure to high rates of suicide among Asian Pacific American women.

On a personal level, though, I admit I was a bit entertained and amused by some of the examples Chua laid out in her essay. They were so familiar. It was like the first time I read Joy Luck Club. I ticked off the checklist: pushy mom - yes, cowed daughter - yes, outrageously high expectations - yes, oh yes.

In my own experience, I grew up in a close-knit Taiwanese community in Cleveland. My parents and their Taiwanese friends emigrated to the United States to pursue careers in medicine, engineering and natural sciences. They expected their children to excel academically as well.

And for the most part, we did. We graduated from well-regarded colleges and universities. Some did go to Ivies, some did become doctors. I majored in English as an undergrad and studied journalism in grad school; my sister became a social worker. Some people may regard our career choices as a colossal Asian parenting failure, but my sister and I are doing meaningful work that we enjoy.

Still, it is easier to say this now that we are adults. It was painful growing up under the scrutiny of an entire network of overbearing Asian parents. I used to dread the large family gatherings where, after dinner, all the children would be summoned for an impromptu piano recital. On the way home, my mom would list all the amazing awards the other kids had achieved, as told by their mothers - math contests, science fairs, etc.

The pressure to excel is intense. "If a Chinese child gets a B—which would never happen—there would first be a screaming, hair-tearing explosion," Chua says. "The devastated Chinese mother would then get dozens, maybe hundreds of practice tests and work through them with her child for as long as it takes to get the grade up to an A."

I can relate to that. In seventh grade, I went through a rebellious period where I thought it was terribly uncool to care about grades and studying. It caught up to me when I got behind in my algebra class and midterm progress reports were sent out. I estimated when the mail would arrive and planned to intercept the envelope, the contents of which were sure to cause an epic parental reaction. When I got home - it was a Wednesday afternoon - my stomach lurched when I saw my father's car in the driveway. He happened to be home early that day, after taking the car in for repair. I walked in the door and saw a tall stack of math books piled on the living room coffee table. "Start on page one," my dad commanded. And that was before Mom arrived on the scene. It was a brutal several weeks.

"Chinese mothers get in the trenches," Chua says, "putting in long grueling hours personally tutoring, training, interrogating and spying on their kids." She shared her own experience of how she forced her young daughter to learn a difficult piano piece for a recital.

I remembered a piano recital of my own when I was in junior high. At one point, my fingers stumbled, but I quickly recovered. Too late. From the back of the room, I heard my mother cluck her tongue. After the recital, fuming, I told her I did not want her to attend any more of my piano performances. "Good," my mother shot back. "Then I won't have to hear any more of your mistakes."

In exchanging Moms with High Expectations stories with my friend Claire, a playwright, she laughed when I told her that one. "I'm using that!" she said. (See the story come to life in her upcoming theater production, Mother/Tongue, this month!)

Asian moms demand perfection from their children - and not just when it comes to school and piano. Image is important. “Chinese mothers can say to their daughters, ‘Hey fatty—lose some weight,’ ” Chua says.

Again, this resonates with me. Years ago, on a family trip to Taiwan, I had such severe food poisoning that I had to go to the emergency room. My mom was disgusted and impatient with me when I fretted over the shots the doctor prepared to administer. "Stop whining. Women your age give birth with less fuss," she said to me in Taiwanese. I was weak and dehydrated, having lost 10 pounds in four days. She added, "You look great, though".

So I'm a mother myself now, and I oscillate between Eastern and Western traditions, customs and values. My husband and I want to find a balance, but it's hard to do. Sometimes I find myself repeating my parents' words and actions. I hear myself using words like "sacrifice" and "responsibility" a lot. But I also do some things differently. I hug and kiss my kids a lot. I have high expectations for my children too, but above all, I want them to be healthy and happy.

Nico's school pictures* - take our poll!

2010-11-11T18:36:00.013-05:00

We just received Nico's school photo today. I don't know if we should schedule a retake or just let things be. Nico went to school with his hair washed and neatly combed, but when he got there, he enlisted a friend to help him style his hair into a mohawk (or more accurately, a fauxhawk). Voila! Here is Nico's third grade picture:

Last year's photo was OK. Nico wore the corduroy jacket I picked out for him and he kinda smiled. He told me later that he had actually practiced this particular smirk. Here is Nico's second grade picture:

The previous year, for his first grade school picture, Nico put on the nice blue sweater I picked out for the occasion. Unbeknownst to me, he wore a Transformers Optimus Prime t-shirt underneath that he had planned all along to wear for the photo shoot. So, when he got to school, he took off his sweater and "forgot" to put it back on. For his photo, he has an odd smug/guilty expression on his face. Here is Nico's first grade picture:

Vic and I are not sure if we should settle for this year's current photo or schedule a retake. We don't know if the grandparents will want an 8X10 photo of their grandson being a prankster, but then again, the image really does capture his essence. Help us decide.

* Sorry for the blurry, weirdly orange-tinted images - I don't have access to a scanner, so I just snapped cameraphone pics of these photos.

Nolan's school picture - progress!

2010-11-03T19:13:00.003-04:00

Apologies for being one of *those* parents who overshares every detail about her kids all the time. I just picked up Nolan's school photo today, though, and am so delighted that I have to post it:

I have to admit that I completely forgot about Picture Day this year, which is why Nolan is wearing a hoodie (it's pretty much what he wears every day). This year's picture is a huge improvement over last year, when I was prepared and dressed him in a lovely sweater. I thought I had everything covered, but, well, see for yourself:

We should be getting Nico's school photo any day now. He has already warned me that it's not going to be pretty. Hmm.

Halloween Indecision 2010

2010-10-27T23:08:00.018-04:00

Fine, fine. Nico won the Halloween costume battle. He gets to wear the Grim Reaper costume after all.

Vic and I discussed it at length and since my husband can relate to our first-born son much better than I can, I reluctantly consented to let Nico wear the grisly costume.

BUT he will not be allowed to use the fake blood pump. AND I didn't get him the scepter, lest you think I've completely ignored my instincts as a strict and frugal Taiwanese mom.

Also, here's a slightly edited chat transcript between me and my friend Jon about Nico's Halloween costume this year:

Jon: i want to offer up that we had to either make our costumes when we were kids or buy them with our own money. so if nico wants to make something scary, at least he has to be creative.

me: that's how it was for me too

especially with cheap chinese (taiwanese) immigrant parents

i told nico that even

Jon: right

no dice though, eh?

me: my mom would have been all, "here's some construction paper. good luck"

Jon: right

and if it came down to it

it was ghost or stay home

if you didn't want to put in the work

me: right, here's a pillowcase

and some scissors

Jon: do they even make costumes that gruesome in his size?

me: yes, isn't that ridiculous?

i hate the freaking blood pump

why is that necessary?

Jon: seems over the top to me

me: yeah, he said halloween is about being scary

Jon: well, it could be worse. you could have a daughter that thinks halloween is about being slutty

As for Nolan, he ~~has to~~ will wear the dog costume I made his brother wear for three years in a row.

Halloween costume conundrum

2010-10-21T23:44:00.007-04:00

Nico and I are at odds about his Halloween costume. My 8-going-on-18-year-old son wants to wear a Grim Reaper costume we saw at Target and I completely hate this idea. The costume features an exposed skeletal ribcage you can pump fake blood into.

A few weeks ago, he said he wanted to be Boba Fett, which I was totally OK with. In fact, I encouraged this idea because his little brother could then re-wear the Ewok costume from last year and I could be Chewbacca again and we could get a family Star Wars theme going (again).

Then, kids at school convinced Nico that dressing up as a character is for little kids and that Halloween is really about dressing up as something scary. I told him I think Halloween is about dressing up as anything you don't normally get to be, but he gave me such a look of disdain when I said that.

I pointed out other skeleton costumes he could consider, but Nico is fixated on having a thoracic skeleton and blood pump.

Last year, I had the boys' Halloween costumes settled in September, but this year we are stuck. Am I being unreasonable in thinking it's inappropriate for a third-grader to wear such a gory costume?

Annual holiday photo, take 3981

2009-12-14T12:16:00.002-05:00

The Holiday Cards Project is still kinda stressing me out. Ever since we had kids, I've felt pressured to come up with cards that feature a cute photo of our offspring. It really shouldn't be that hard getting two boys to pose for a photo. Right?

I mean, after all, it seems that every parent I know handles this without incident. My friend Laura manages it with *five* (with another on the way) kids! Five! They wear adorable matching outfits and all smile at the same time, with everyone looking into the camera. There is no eye-rolling, no crying, no sulking.

For me and Vic, it is exhausting trying to get the boys to cooperate. By the time we are done, everyone needs a nap.

Annual holiday photo tradition

2009-12-13T20:22:00.003-05:00

Can someone explain to me the secret to holiday photo cards - the ones where everyone in the family wears matching outfits and everyone smiles? Seriously, I want to know what it takes to make this happen. How do other parents do it?

Both last year and this year, I tried to get the boys to pose for a Christmas-themed photo I could use for our holiday greeting cards. With my sister in town for Thanksgiving, I thought the extra pair of hands would come in, well, handy when trying to wrangle the guys into place. Not so.

Last year, Auntie Linda, Nico and Nolan posed for a photo where the boys made it clear what they thought of the idea of taking a holiday photo. They thought the same of it this year too, apparently.

Rest in peace, Linda Clark

2009-12-06T22:13:00.005-05:00

Linda Clark passed away on Wednesday, December 2. She took her own life, leaving behind family and friends who will miss her deeply. We miss her already.

The church that held her memorial service on Saturday was full. So many people came to honor Linda's life - I wish she could know that.

Linda was a dear friend I'll remember most for her wicked sense of humor. I loved her for it - and for her passion and her boldness. She said things aloud few people would dare express openly. She was imperfect, like all of us, but she acknowledged her flaws; she never pretended to be someone or something she wasn't.

She had a deep maternal instinct that comforted me, a mother myself. As a stressed-out working mom, I often feel overwhelmed trying to juggle all my responsibilities. Linda shared countless parenting anecdotes and tips with me, stories about her daughter and son that put things in perspective, stories that had me in tears from laughing. I don't know how many times she picked me up when I was down, lifting my spirits with her wit.

I wish I could have comforted her in her moments of darkness. I wish I had known the depths of her despair and helped her find a way out of it.

She was a tough lady, strong and brash. She battled depression but I didn't think there was anything Linda couldn't handle.

I first met her three years ago when she worked at Case Western Reserve University. She joined Word Nerds, an informal network of campus communicators I co-founded. Her presence in the group gave us a jolt - that laugh, those stories! When she left the university we formed an offshoot of the original organization: WordNerds Without Borders. We met every month to share and discuss creative writing projects.

Linda was the star of the show at our writing group gatherings - always keeping us talking, laughing, thinking. Some of us are introverts, yet Linda found a way to draw us all out to share our stories. She was a terrifically talented dynamic, creative force - a writer, an actor, an illustrator and more.

I'm heartbroken that I won't hear that big laugh in my living room ever again.

Thanksgiving: the most wonderful time of the year

2009-11-30T22:50:00.014-05:00

The past few months have flown by in a blur of work and family issues and activities. I can't believe the winter holidays are upon us already.

Last week, my sister flew in from San Francisco to spend a week with us. We've had a great time hanging out with her! Both boys adore their Auntie Linda; they have such a deep bond with her even though they don't get to see her too often. Lin was there for the birth of both boys and she has been a treasured presence in their lives ever since.

This past weekend was really fun. Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday. This year, we spent Thanksgiving at my father-in-law's house and the following day at my parents' house. We had a wonderfully delicious yet nutritious meal at my father-in-law's house. At my parents' place, Mom prepared an assortment of traditional American Thanksgiving staples (turkey, dressing, cranberry sauce) along with Taiwanese dishes (sticky rice, stir-fried shrimp, steamed eggplant with garlic). We stuffed ourselves.

Throughout the weekend, we played a lot of board games (I'm the house reigning champ at Scrabble, Nico's the one to beat at Sorry!) and had tons of fun playing Rock Band (I think the best combo for us was having Nico at the mic, Lin or Vic on guitar and me on bass). We also watched a bunch of movie DVDs. The weather was beautiful and Lin and I went for a nice long walk to Shaker Lakes.

We also started what I hope will become annual Thanksgiving weekend family traditions. During Thanksgiving, Nico announced to the family all that he is thankful for (I think the Buddhist school lessons are starting to make him more appreciative and grateful!). When Nolan starts talking more, I hope he'll do the same. On Saturday, we donated 13 bags of clothes and toys to Goodwill.

Now that Thanksgiving is over, I'm going to try to keep a positive attitude through the hectic winter holiday season.

The force is with me

2009-09-29T23:48:00.010-04:00

I am quite impressed with myself at the moment.

I completed the boys' Halloween costume hunt a full month before Halloween! This is highly unusual for me, as I'm usually scrambling at the last minute. After all, I'm the mom who gets holiday cards out super late - as in January/February ("They're Lunar New Year cards!"). Last year, I didn't have to worry about Halloween costumes since Auntie Linda provided Nico's Iron Man costume and Nolan wore Nico's hand-me-down giraffe outfit.

This year's hunt for Halloween costumes started a few weeks ago. I had set up a recurring annual reminder on my Google calendar to "begin researching Halloween costumes" on September 1. So when my reminder triggered, I asked Nico what he wanted to be this year. Our conversation went like this:

Me: Why don't you and Nolan go as Transformers? You could dress as Optimus Prime and Nolan could be Megatron!
Nico: But Optimus Prime and Megatron are enemies.
Me: I know, but they're brothers.
Nico: But they're enemies.
Me: I know. That's what makes it funny.
Nico: Why is that funny? Nolan's not my enemy. I'm going to be Darth Vader.
Me: Then maybe Nolan should be Luke Skywalker?
Nico: What? That makes no sense! Nolan's not my son. I'm not his dad.

We flirted with a number of other dual costume ideas - Batman/Robin, Darth Vader/stormtrooper, black-costumed Spiderman/red-costumed Spiderman - but ultimately settled on Nico going as Darth Vader and Nolan going as an Ewok. If I go trick-or-treating with the boys, I'll be Chewbacca, of course.

I then did a bit of research and found out that a full Darth Vader costume cost around $70. No freaking way. That's not even including the light saber! Of course, there are less expensive versions starting at around $20, but knowing Nico, they would be unacceptable.

So I posted my Facebook status as:
[Lisa is] is trying to find a reasonably priced size 6-8 kids' Darth Vader costume and size 18-24 month Ewok costume. My life is incredibly exciting.

Next thing you know, I had 11 comments, ranging from "Holy cow, you're already thinking Halloween" to "A *real* dedicated Mom would sew the costumes from scratch. I'm just sayin'...."

I had procured a fantastic Halloween costume through eBay years ago, so I decided to try that route. In the next few days, I lost seven auctions. But then I won two. Voila, we now have a gently used children's Darth Vader Halloween costume, replete with full bodysuit and shoe covers, belt, helmet-mask and light saber. We also have a new toddler Ewok costume.

I can only hope to be this organized for the winter holiday season.

September afternoon

2009-09-28T23:27:00.001-04:00

Nolan outside

Over the weekend, Nolan and I went for a walk around the neighborhood. I wasn't sure how he'd do, since we stroll him most of the time. Usually, when we do walk anywhere, we don't get too far before he wants to be held. Now that he's two, though, he is ready for longer strolls. So on Sunday afternoon, he and I set out for a neighborhood walk - just the two of us.

It had rained the night before and the ground was still wet. Nolan was in a super happy mood. He and I don't spend much time alone with each other and I really enjoyed being able to focus on just him. Often, he is just along for the ride while I run errands or shuttle his brother to various activities. On Sunday, we had a great time just enjoying the fresh air.

Every few steps, Nolan stooped to point at something and comment on it. He stomped in puddles and picked up all kinds of things from the ground: pebbles, buckeyes, twigs and colorful leaves. He laughed as acorns fell on us and around us from the trees overhead. He picked up the acorns from the ground and threw them in all directions. He picked up fallen branches that had leaves attached and mopped the sidewalk with them.

The weather was perfect and I had a great time with my little guy.

Farewell, NFL

2009-09-20T12:06:00.002-04:00

A few weeks ago, my friend Chris sent his annual NFL football email to his pals: "Join my Yahoo! Sports Pro Football Pick'em group".

I was tempted. For about a second.

Then I decided against participating this year. The Brown are horrible and I have no idea what is going on with all the other teams. Plus, the Browns are horrible (did I already say that?).

It's been liberating having my Sunday afternoons, Monday nights and Thursday nights back again. I can use all that time to, I don't know, fold some laundry?

First haircut

2009-09-09T00:44:00.002-04:00

Nolan's first haircut

Poor Nolan often has to stand in the shadow of his older brother, Nico. I just realized that at least the last five blog posts have been about Nico. And I still haven't gotten around to displaying any photos of Nolan in my office at work.

Anyway, Nolan also hit a milestone over the weekend: his first haircut. Not that I want to keep talking about his big brother, but Nico was around 10 months old when he had his first professional haircut. (Vic dubbed the trim I gave him months earlier as the "Dumb and Dumber" Disaster.) Nolan is two weeks away from his second birthday. Although he doesn't have as much hair as Nico did at this age, Nolan's hair is cute and curly.

Nolan did pretty well during the haircut and only whimpered a bit when the stylist tried to use electric clippers on him. I saved some of his baby hair, especially the baby curls.

First day of second grade

2009-09-08T23:46:00.002-04:00

2nd grade

I can't believe Nico is a second-grader now!

Nico's first day of second grade went well. Vic and I walked him to school and stayed with him through the school flag-raising ceremony. It was great seeing everyone there - students, teachers, parents and other family members.

Nico was a bit shy when we first arrived on the school playground, but gradually got more comfortable. He wore his Batman backpack from first grade (he tried to talk me into buying a brand new backpack but I stood my ground), which was heavy with school supplies. It turns out that Vic was right - I *was* the only parent who labeled every single one of the 48 pencils with Nico's full name. But that's what the instructions said to do! Label everything, including pencils. I followed the school supply list to a tee. Vic said I was being obsessive-compulsive; I said I was merely being thorough.

Anyhow, Nico was happy about his class and his teacher. We're looking forward to another great year.

Nico loses his first tooth!

2009-08-26T17:04:00.002-04:00

Finally. Nico lost his first loose tooth! After being wiggly for more than two months, the little thing finally fell out today.

Vic and I were starting to worry about the tooth. All of Nico's same-age friends have lost several teeth already and have moved on to their "big" teeth. I fretted that Nico would develop a mustache before losing his baby teeth. (It's not implausible - childhood photos of Vic suggest that he really should have started shaving at age eight.)

Nico's tooth had been loose for so long that its neighboring tooth started trembling too. Nico explained the situation once he noticed it: "It's like the two teeth are hugging each other and saying, 'Hold on!'"

Then, two permanent teeth started jutting up behind the two loose baby teeth. So for a while, Nico had two rows of teeth in his mouth, stadium-seating style.

This afternoon, after many close calls over apples and corn on the cob this summer, the first wiggly tooth finally gave in. This is a major milestone for Nico, my soon-to-be second-grader.

Shark teeth

2009-07-28T17:33:00.001-04:00

Nico is finally on the verge of losing one of his baby teeth.

Even though he is 7 now and all of his peers have moved on to "big teeth", Nico is still holding on to all of his little ones. His jaw has grown a lot in the past year, but his little baby teeth have remained the same size, which makes his smile look a little jack-o-lanterny with all the space between each tooth.

Nico has had one wiggly front bottom tooth for a month now; the permanent tooth has already backed up behind it and poked out like a tiny iceberg. Now he looks like a shark!

No more training wheels for Nico

2009-06-14T16:16:00.000-04:00

Hooray! Nico learned how to ride a bike without training wheels. Vic basically taught him how to do it in one weekend.

I can't believe my baby is growing up so fast.

The Nick Chicken Food Show

2009-06-05T01:15:00.010-04:00

CLEVELAND - In his new web series, the Nick Chicken Food Show, six-year-old host Nick Chicken shares his passion for food and fun. Aimed at kids, the show explores topics ranging from cupcakes and Easter eggs to fun things to do at the dinner table.

As the host and creator of the show, Nick chooses "fooditific" names for everyone with a role in the show, including mom/camerawoman Lisa Pizza and little brother/guest star James Fishy. Nick Chicken hopes, ultimately, to connect with viewers who agree that rolling your eyes while eating a meal is an important and valuable skill.

Teachers who inspire

2009-06-04T23:49:00.002-04:00

I can't believe Nico has finished first grade!

Nico has been blessed with amazing teachers so far, starting from his early childhood program through kindergarten and first grade. This year, he had a wonderful Chinese School teacher on Saturdays too.

We've been so lucky that Nico has had teachers who have really taken the time to get to know him and nurture him. This year, I told Nico's first grade teacher, Mrs. Polanco, that he was having some cultural identity issues. She invited me to come to the class and give a cultural presentation as part of a social studies unit. I gave two presentations, one about Taiwan and another on Lunar New Year. Mrs. Polanco encouraged Nico to help with the presentations and she had an especially great touch when she asked him to teach the class how to count to 10 in Mandarin. When he wrote the characters on the blackboard and led the class in reciting the numbers, she exclaimed, "Thank you, Professor Nico!" Nico floated for the rest of the day and even talked about it again when I tucked him in that night. Even weeks - and months - later, he said he was going to grow up to be a professor (and a bowler and a father).

Throughout the year, with Nico's writing assignments, Mrs. Polanco gave him feedback that showed she was paying close attention. She'd write "Yummy!" when he wrote sentences about food. When he wrote too much about diapers and poo, she'd say, with a smiley face, "Nice sentences! Next week, let's try to write without the Captain Underpants sense of humor."

On one homework assignment, he wrote a paragraph about whales, using as many words of the week as possible:

Whales live in the Pacific Ocean. They don't each whiped (sic) cream. They can not catch a ball. They can not match things. They don't have a chin. They can not chop things. They can't be our pets.

Mrs. Polanco wrote on his paper, "You made me laugh!" When Nico wrote jokes and special instructions for her on his work (e.g. "Turn the page for a big surprise!"), she complied and replied with messages of her own.

When we went on trips out of town, Mrs. Polanco encouraged him to keep a travel journal. Each time he did, she had him share it with the class. She also sent back wonderful handwritten notes with his journals. One read, "Wow, Nico! Perhaps you will follow in your mom's footsteps and become a writer! Wonderful, fabulous, fantastic work! I liked your attention to detail and beautiful drawings. Way to go!"

On one of his stories, Mrs. Polanco wrote, "Nico, you are a very talented writer! I can't wait to buy your best seller book one day. Keep up the FABULOUS work!"

In doing all of this, she helped Nico understand the power of language. When I was growing up, I was fortunate to have teachers who nurtured my love of reading and writing. I'm so happy Nico is experiencing this too. Thank you, Mrs. Polanco!

I hope our streak of fantastic teachers continues this fall!

I'm half the fan I used to be

2009-05-31T23:16:00.009-04:00

Well, I'm not as devastated by last night's Cavs loss as I thought I'd be.

Maybe it's due to some sort of self-preservation mechanism, but I've become a bit numb to these things, you see. Don't get me wrong - I still love my teams. I still want them to win, and I was still swearing up a storm during the final seconds of those heart-stopping playoffs games. But my recovery from the losses was much quicker than I expected. And the intensity of my emotions is much duller.

Admittedly, I'm probably less than half the Cleveland sports fan I used to be. I have vivid memories of the big heartbreaking Cleveland sports moments.

But then something happened to me. I became a mother.

Now, I know plenty of moms who are still rabid sports fans, but for me, the combination of more chaos and deeper sleep deprivation in my life meant something had to give. The first thing to go? My fantasy sports teams. Next up? My coordination of various sports pools*. Following that, I scaled back on mere *participation* in sports pools (with the exception of my March Madness pool with Vic, but that's only because the winner gets a Hassle-Free Fun Day and what mom in her right mind would miss out on the possibility of that?)

It's healthier this way, I think. I don't want my boys to ride the same Cleveland sports fan rollercoaster Vic and I have ridden most of our lives. It may be too late for Nico, I'm afraid. He was in bed when the game started so he didn't get to see any of it. He pounded his fist and stomped his feet when I told him about the outcome of yesterday's game. "SHUCKS!" he cried. "SHUUUUUCKS!" (He hasn't discovered stronger words to use - yet.)

Nolan, I have a feeling, will be much mellower. He's only a year and a half, but he seems naturally mild-mannered. Even though we may have started him down the wrong path by dressing him in Cleveland sports team infant outfits, he seems to take it all in stride.

I still care about Cleveland sports, but I will no longer let team losses sink me into a deep funk. In fact, this morning, I told Vic, "Well, the good news is I can move on to other things and think about having a fun summer."

*Note: This year was an exception.

Mother's Day = no heartbreakers

2009-05-10T23:03:00.002-04:00

For Mothers' Day, Nico gave me three gifts he made in school:

a big, red (my favorite color) construction paper card
The front said, "Happy Mothers day!!" in giant letters with a balloon drawn next to the words. The inside had instructions: "Draw a pitchure, and I'll draw a pitchure!" Then there was the personal message, written in pencil:
Dear Mommy,
Happy Mothers day!
Hope you have a speacteaculer day.
Hope your not sick too!
Love,
Nico
a beaded keychain
Nico threaded beads of my favorite color (red) and his favorite colors (blue and black) for this project.
a letter
Nico wrote a message to me in pencil that read:
To: Mom
From: Nico
Dear Mommy,
Happy Mother's Day!
I love you because yore my S.P.S.S. [Super Pretty Super Star]. You are the best mom in the world because yore beautiful.
Love,
Nico
Next to his signature was a picture of a heart, with a line bissecting it with "Mommy" on on the left half and "Nico" on the right. On one side of the page, he had another interactive area where I was told "(Do it yorself)" and "Draw yourself" next to his "(Do it myself) and "Draw myself". The idea, I guess, was to have a self-portrait of me next to a self-portrait of him. Then there was a picture of a big broken heart with my name and his name on the ripped heart, with a slash through it. I take it to mean "no broken hearts allowed". This makes sense. Whenever Nico is pleased with me, he declares, "You're my superstar!" When he's upset with me, he whispers in my ear, "You're my heartbreaker."

On the back of the letter, Nico drew a heart within a heart within a heart - with at least a dozen layers - labeled "Humungus Heart". He also included a short customer satisfaction survey, which I found interesting, considering what Vic does for a living. It had one simple question: "Do you like it?" with checkboxes for Yes and No.

I checked Yes.

Cheers to Chinese School

2009-05-09T15:59:00.004-04:00

Today was the last day of Nico's first year of Chinese School. It was a wonderful experience! Nico enjoyed it and was thrilled to have won a second-place trophy in the word-phrase contest two weeks ago.

At first, I wasn't sure if Nico was going to enjoy Chinese School. This past fall, he and I enrolled in a Chinese as a Second Language (CSL) class at the Chinese Academy of Cleveland, a Saturday morning program at Shaker Middle School. For this particular class, a parent must attend the class alongside the child. I was hoping Vic would want to accompany Nico, but it ended up being me.

I already know some Mandarin from going to Chinese School myself when I was a kid, and from taking Chinese in college. With language, though, if you don't use it, you lose it. So I've forgotten a lot, especially reading and writing.

Growing up, my parents mainly spoke a Taiwanese dialect at home; they spoke Mandarin to each other when they didn't want me and my sister to understand what they were saying. Of course, that was a great way to motivate us to learn Mandarin!

For me, there wasn't a choice about going to Chinese School. My parents insisted, and both of them took active roles in running the school. My mom taught a Chinese culture class and at one point, my dad was the principal. So for years, while most of my friends watched Saturday morning cartoons in their pajamas, my sister and I sat through Chinese language and culture classes.

Today's Chinese School is a much more sophisticated operation than the one I remembered from my childhood. Like mine, Nico's school is run by a cadre of dedicated, energetic parent volunteers. But Nico's school has a board of directors, a PTA and a pedagogy committee! My Chinese School only had one curriculum track. Nico's has two, the CSL program and one that is more intensive, comparable to the one I went through.

I didn't think Nico and I were up for an intensive language program, so I registered us for the CSL program. I wasn't sure what to expect from it, but right from the start, I was impressed. Nico's class was rather diverse, with a mix of students from different backgrounds. His teacher was very kind and affectionate toward the students. She engaged them with songs, games and crafts. In just the first three classes, Nico and his classmates could sing two Chinese songs and read and write numerals 1 to 10.

Another great feature of Nico's school? Their snack break is fantastic! This is what happens at Snack Time: After the first hour of class, the bell rings and all the students rush from their classrooms into the cafeteria, where a glorious array of snacks is spread across two lunch tables. The snacks are a mix of Asian hot dishes (e.g. curry chicken, bean thread noodles and fried rice) and American packaged snacks (e.g. pretzels, M&Ms and Capri Sun juice pouches). The students earn coupons during class time they can use to purchase their snacks (or they can just pay with money). I loved that week after week, Nico would use his coupons toward an eclectic Asian American mix of foods (e.g. tea eggs and Cheetos). It might seem like a simple food choice to some, but it's a powerful metaphor to me.

Don't hate the player, hate the game

2009-05-07T22:50:00.008-04:00

Wow, I really hit a nerve when I shared the results of my March Madness pool last night.

I know I was majorly late in reporting the results, but I had no idea I would upset anyone in doing so. Last night, I emailed everyone in the pool a gentle reminder: "Hey, you forgot to congratulate the winner of the "March Madness 2009: In It to Win It" pool. Let's not forget our manners! (Yes, I realize I'm superlate with the trash-talking. What can I say? I've been busy.)"

My friend (and former boss), Bob, replied to all: "Seriously. This crosses a line even for you, Lisa. Trash talking a month late is definitely out of bounds. It's like putting your MVP award for little league on your college application." Bob, I should mention, is the director of undergraduate admission at a major university.

So I checked in with Bob, via IM, to see what was up and why he was being so cranky:

me: way to put an admission-related smackdown on my trash-talking
Bob: you deserved at least that much
me: come on
i didn't have a chance to say anything sooner
Bob: W [Editor's note: This is Bob's shorthand for "whatever"]
me: don't hate
congratulate
Bob: if you truly believe in the trash you're talking, you make the chance
me: wow, you should sell that to someone

After my exchange with Bob, a few other friends chimed into the email thread. To all of them, I say, "Don't hate the player, hate the game." As Urban Dictionary explains, "Do not fault the successful participant in a flawed system; try instead to discern and rebuke that aspect of its organization which allows or encourages the behavior that has provoked your displeasure."

It's lonely at the top. Everyone wants to bring you down.

March Madness (in May)

2009-05-06T23:23:00.005-04:00

So I realize I'm quite late in reporting this, but with NBA playoffs taking place now, I'm in a basketball mood again. And I realized that I had not shared the the results of my March Madness pool.

This year, my friends Bob and Jonathan coerced me into running the pool once again, despite the fact that I'm the one who is married with children. (What do you do when you want something to get done now and done right? Ask Mom!)

Anyhow, I ran the pool via Facebook, which turned out to be pretty easy. In the past, I collected paper brackets and there were always stragglers who tried to turn in picks after the first round started. With Facebook? No muss, no fuss.

Check out who won the pool.

Husbands and birthdays

2009-04-07T23:24:00.002-04:00

In contrast to the lovely homemade card my first-born son gave me on my birthday, my husband offered a different approach. I'll give him credit. Vic gave me something I really wanted - however, he bought it on my actual birthday and there was no element of surprise. There was no fanfare, no joy attached to the gift.

Here's an excerpted transcript of the IM conversation we had on my birthday:

Vic: I'm looking into the iPhone stuffme: ok

Vic: would you believe that if the battery goes bad and is out of warranty, that we would have to take the phone to an Apple store or send it to Apple for replacement?

which costs 1/2 as much as the phone?

me: i guess i would believe that

i haven't heard of anyone having problems with the battery so far

Vic: i'm not real thrilled with a lot of Apple's business practices

me: i know

Vic: but i guess i can look the other way

if the monthly cost is not too high

i'm going to print out our current deal with AT&T so that we can compare the before and after

me: good idea

Vic: do you prefer black or white?

me: white

they don't have any pretty colors?

weird

Vic: black or white

like a Model T

hey, once you drink the Apple Kool-Aid, you get what they want you to get. And you have to like it.

me: wow

don't be a hater

Vic: otherwise, you're not cool

:-)

Vic: by the way, you are going to have to chain this thing to your wrist so that you don't lose it

me: sigh

Vic: the phone itself costs $300 for the 16 GB

$200 for 8 GB

$200 for 16 GB, refurbished

me: ok

Vic: $5 per month for voice dial

I think not (it's optional)

$2 per month for detailed billing

ridiculous!

(this is AT&T, not Apple)

me: wow, this is quite crazy

Vic: data plan is required

$30 per month

me: that's much less than i expected

does that include all internet access?Vic: Data Plan for iPhone 3G includes unlimited data in the U.S. Access rich HTML email and desktop-level web browsing, as well as Visual Voicemail to listen to voicemail messages in any order you choose.

me: cool

Vic: it is done

At the end, Vic also informed me exactly how much the net extra cost per year would be, as opposed to my old phone with its service plan. So romantic!

Happy birthday to me!

Happy Birtay

2009-04-07T19:57:00.005-04:00

Nico made me a fantastic birthday card. The front was awesome. Besides writing "HAPPY BIRTAY!" in my favorite color, red, Nico decorated the words with hearts and fireworks. Then he sprinkled Easter egg, flower and football stickers across the page.

The inside of the card showed a scene of me and a large pink and blue rabbit jumping up and down. "You are so cute!" the animal was saying to me, with me answering, "Thank you, Easter bunny!"

Nico wrote a message to me that said:
Dear Mommy, Today is your birthay! I hope you like today. Don't you wish it would not be snowing? It's snowing on April 6, 2009? Plus its a blizerd! Get that out of your mind and think of your birthay! You are 39 today! Love, Nico

I love it.

Skin deep

2009-04-05T22:30:00.005-04:00

I think I'm officially getting old. My birthday is tomorrow, and I'm feeling my age. Even though I'm still in my 30s, 40 is right around the corner! I really need to take better care of myself.

Lately, I noticed a disturbing pattern in the ads and coupons I clipped from magazines. Many of them promoted skin care products:

Garnier Nutritioniste Skin Renew Anti-Puff Eye Roller
("Massage away puffiness and dark circles")
Olay Regenerist Reversal Treatment Foam
("Some women nip and tuck. Others prefer the cutting edge.")
Olay Definity Deep Penetrating Foaming Moisturizer
("You could spend $2,000 for laser treatments to fight wrinkles and discoloration. Or you can bank on Olay Definity.")
Maybelline Instant Age Rewind Cream Foundation with Custom Coverage Applicator
("Rewind the years, instantly!")
Almay Bright Eyes
("A wake-up call for your eyes")
Neutrogena Mineral Sheers Liquid Makeup SPF 20
("Creates such a perfectly natural look, you'll wonder who did your makeup."

Hmm.

My friend Janet had been raving about a new skin care regimen she had been trying, so I decided to give it a shot. I headed to Target and examined the products in the skin care aisle. Overwhelmed by the choices, I called Janet. Our conversation went something like this:

Me: I don't know which one to get! Help!
Janet: It's OK. Just get the Olay Regenerist stuff.
Me: There's so much here. Should I get the Olay Regenerist Daily Regenerating Serum or the Olay Regenerist Deep Hydration Regenerating Cream?
Janet: No, don't get the Deep Hydration Regenerating Cream. Well, I mean, you can get it but I didn't like it. It was too heavy for me. You want the Olay Regenerist lotion that has sunscreen in it. You'll use that during the day.
Me: I don't see that. I see a whole bunch of other stuff. Do I want the Olay Total Effects 7-in-1 Anti-Aging UV Moisturizer?
Janet: No, not Total Effects. You want the Regenerist stuff.
Me: Well, I don't see what you're talking about. Do I want the one that is with Touch of Foundation?
Janet: NO. Don't get the Touch of Foundation. You want the Olay Regenerist lotion. It's kind of in a round container.
Me: I might get the Total Effects stuff too. It has "7 anti-aging therapies in 1 vitamin rich moisturizer" and is "for visibly younger-looking, even toned skin".
Janet: Hmm, OK, but that's not the one I'm talking about.
Me: Wait! I think I've got it! Is it the Olay Regenerist UV Defense Regenerating Lotion?
Janet: Yeah!
Me: Yeah!

I hope this works.

March Madness: mathematically eliminated?

2009-03-30T12:36:00.005-04:00

Yesssss! Even though the NCAA men's basketball tournament is not over yet, I've already won the 10th Annual March Madness 1:1 pool between me and my husband. Vic and I do this every year, with the winner earning a Hassle-Free Fun Day. Basically, that means the winner gets to plan activities for one full day any way s/he wants and the loser must participate with nary a whine nor whimper (i.e., no hassles).

Since Vic only has only one remaining team in the Final Four, and I have three (including Vic's lone surviving team), he has been mathematically eliminated. Too bad, so sad!

I wonder what to do for my Hassle-Free Fun Day. Vote in my poll and help me decide!

Postscript: These are the results of the poll:
Dinner and movie (chick flick): 0 votes
Spa day (including massage): 5 votes (71%)
Hike and picnic (with things *I* like to eat): 2 votes (28%)
Shoe shopping excursion: 0 votes

A typical scene in our house

2009-03-25T01:22:00.002-04:00

Nico and Nolan are developing quite the love-hate sibling relationship:

Video Synopsis:
Nico and Nolan are playing in Nolan's Pack 'N' Play - yes, Nico weighs way too much to be sitting in there. Nico starts doing Kuk Sool Won moves on Noli, and Noli protests. The sleepy younger sibling motions to be lifted out of the playpen, but once he realizes that his mother will not put down the camera, resigns himself to enduring his brother's torture. After Nico finishes with the martial arts practice, he continues to antagonize Nolan by mocking him and repeatedly throwing a ball at his head.

Perfecting the work-life unbalance

2009-03-24T23:45:00.004-04:00

I've been very busy this year working toward my latest goal, one I am confident I can achieve: perfecting the work-life unbalance!

For too long, I've lamented that I don't have enough hours in the day. I've decided to to embrace the fact that my life is overstuffed, that I'm chronically overcommitted and that none of this is every really going to change. The fact is that I like having a crammed calendar, brimming with things to do. And with an equally busy husband and two active young boys, our life is bound to be chaotic and crazy at times.

There are some things I really do need to change in my life:
- focusing on my physical and emotional well-being
- doing more fun things with my family and friends
- prioritizing projects that are important to me

Besides those changes, though, I've decided to accept the fact that I'll often feel frazzled, sleep-deprived and guilty that I should be doing more, better, different. I'm going to stop talking about pursuing the mythical work-life balance, though.

Year of the Ox

2009-01-26T23:48:00.001-05:00

Happy Lunar New Year!

This year is the Year of the Ox. We celebrated the New Year with more fanfare than we typically have in previous years. Right now, my parents are in Taiwan celebrating with our relatives there, so without them, I felt a deeper obligation in making sure the boys felt connected to an important part of their cultural heritage. Without my parents here to guide me, I tried to follow many of the traditions I remembered from growing up in a Taiwanese American household.

Last week, Nico and I went to Asia Plaza to buy some Chinese New Year decorations. We hung the red and gold banners, paper lanterns and ornaments on our front door, our entryway and in our living room. We displayed a bowl of oranges with their stems still attached, along with a red and black Chinese candy box filled with Chinese sweets. Nico was really happy with the results.

Then, Vic and I followed the tradition of cleaning the house from top to bottom. The idea is to sweep all the dust and bad luck from the previous year out the door. We didn't quite get the whole house in order the way we would have liked, but we made good progress. Some parts of the house look great; others - not so much.

On Sunday night, we celebrated with a Lunar New Year's Eve family dinner at Li Wah restaurant in Cleveland's Asia Plaza. I was interested in the special banquet menus the restaurant offered that evening, featuring dishes including:

Assorted Seafood, Bamboo & Shark's Fins Soup
Sauteed Assorted Seafood & House X.O. Sauce
Lobster w/ Ginger & Scallions
Steamed Fish
Chinese Sausage & Diced Vegetable Fried Rice
Fresh Oranges Fruit

Since it was just the four of us, though, with three of us (i.e. not me) being unaccustomed to Chinese banquet dishes and two of us being picky kids, we ordered from the regular menu. The food was OK, but we mainly went to the restaurant so the boys could see the lion dance. Nico was excited about putting a red envelope inside the lion's mouth, and was thrilled when the lion rewarded him with a peppermint. Nolan didn't really understand what was going on, but he was alert and attentive.

This afternoon, Nico and I gave a Lunar New Year presentation at his school. We had done so last year too, for his kindergarten class. Like last year, it was fun! Nico has been really fortunate. Last year and this year, he has had fantastic teachers. We loved Nico's kindergarten teacher, Mrs. Miracle. This year's teacher, Mrs. Polanco, is awesome too - she is really attuned to Nico's interests and needs.

When we gave our presentation, Nico and I sat next to each other in little chairs in front of the class. Nico read the book "Dragon Dance" to his class, as he had last year, and we talked about some of the traditions associated with Chinese New Year. We talked about the significance of the color red and the Chinese Zodiac animals. We answered questions and afterward, Nico handed out Chinese candy and lucky red envelopes containing gold foil-wrapped Chinese coins to his classmates.

During our presentation, Mrs. Polanco asked Nico to teach the class some Chinese words he learned in Chinese School. After writing the characters on the blackboard, Nico led the class in counting to 10 in Mandarin. I was amazed that Mrs. Polanco was able to convince him to do this so easily, as Nico has been rather reluctant to acknowledge his Chinese background. He was so happy, though, when the class was receptive to his lesson and when Mrs. Polanco called him "Professor Nico"!

I'm really proud of Nico for being brave enough to get up in front of his class to share his cultural heritage, something he been very shy about. The timing is perfect because this Saturday, he will have to step onto a larger stage. Nico will be in a lion dance parade when his Chinese School class performs in its annual Chinese New Year Celebration. Nico is proud to be only one of two students in the class with the honor of holding the lion head. Now he just needs to memorize the song!

Of pride and presidents (and poetry and potlucks, too)

2009-01-20T23:50:00.009-05:00

What an incredible, historic day.

At noon, I watched the live, televised inauguration of President (no longer "President-elect" - at last!) Barack Obama with hundreds of people on campus. Faculty, staff, undergrads and graduate students joined with local high school students to fill the Thwing Ballroom where I work at Case Western Reserve University. The energy of the room was amazing. Tears filled my eyes.

The last time I felt such emotion about being an American was, indeed, when I first became an official American. In 2000, at my naturalization oath ceremony, I stood among people from all over the world, all of us united in our desire to seek U.S. citizenship. In watching the millions of people on the National Mall today, I was again reminded of those people who stood with me in San Francisco's Masonic Auditorium years ago, when my voice joined hundreds of others in reciting the oath of allegiance to the United States of America.

I am so proud to be an American today! We did it!

For me, the daughter of Taiwanese immigrants, it is such a thrill to witness a son of an immigrant ascend to the highest office in the country.

For me, the mother of multicultural children, it is such a thrill to witness a person of multiethnic roots become one of the world's most powerful leaders.

For me, an American citizen, it is such a thrill to witness the realization of a dream deferred.

This evening, I took Nico to an inauguration party in our neighborhood. It was quintessential Cleveland Heights. Coventry Village’s Big Bouncing Inaugural Ball was held at the Grog Shop, a hip concert venue in the area. The party, which benefited the Heights Emergency Food Center, invited attendees to a family-friendly "global potluck".

Potluck? You don't have to ask me twice - I'm all about potlucks! I prepared my signature potluck dish, rice pearl balls. Nico was so excited about the inauguration party he could barely keep it together. The other day, when Vic said to him, "Today is George Bush's last day as president," Nico responded, without missing a beat, "Change we need."

Since the potluck party had a late start time, too close to Nolan's bed time, Vic stayed home with Nolan while I took Nico to the event. Nico and I pinned our Obama campaign buttons to our winter coats, loaded up a bag of canned goods, carried our potluck platter and headed to the party.

When we arrived, I placed our platter on a table teeming with other eclectic dishes: hummus and pita, potato cheese pie, African ground nut stew, spicy black beans and rice, Mediterranean couscous, Kenyan vegetable curry, Mexican popovers, pizzas, various soups and "some kind of chicken salad thing" (that's what the label said). A dessert table held more treats: brownies, chocolate chip cookies, Canadian maple cookies, cheesecakes, cupcakes decorated with "O", a cake featuring a peace sign made of strawberries and blueberries and a sheet cake bearing a U.S. flag and icing with the message "Congratulations President Barack Obama".

I met up with my friend Claire, who had cajoled me into attending the Cleveland Obama rally in November. We greeted familiar faces from the community. We listened to performers. We celebrated with poetry and song. We realized the culmination of a dream we couldn't believe could really come true.

I'm exhilarated but exhausted. I want to sleep with the words from Inauguration poet Elizabeth Alexander on my mind:

In today's sharp sparkle, this winter air,
any thing can be made, any sentence begun.
on the brink, on the brim, on the cusp,
praise song for walking forward in that light.

2009 already?

2009-01-18T23:55:00.006-05:00

Yikes. I didn't want to start the year off this way, but it's too late. I'm already behind. It seems like Thanksgiving was just here and then, wham - the New Year arrived!

So, Christmas was good. We spent Christmas Eve with Vic's family and the boys really enjoyed it. It's a Thomas family tradition to open Christmas gifts on Christmas Eve, so after dinner and our gift exchange, by the time we drove home, Nico and Nolan both conked out in their car seats.

The next morning, Nico woke up early and angrily exclaimed, "Santa didn't come! These are the same presents that were here yesterday!" Vic gave me a dirty look since he doesn't like the whole Santa business, so he left it to me to respond. "What are you talking about?" I said. "Your stocking is full, isn't it?" "Oh yeah," Nico said. "And he did eat the piece of chocolate I left for him." Vic rolled his eyes. Apparently, Nico hadn't told us he left a piece of chocolate on a napkin for Santa to consume. Hmm. Good thing there are people* in the house who can't resist chocolate.

Nico and Nolan had fun opening the rest of their presents. They're so spoiled. Nico, in particular, received way too many things. I don't even buy him gifts for his birthday or Christmas any more since I know he will get showered by everyone else, including his dad. Nolan was oblivious, for the most part.

Anyhow, the holidays were a whirlwind and there's just one more to complete the season for us: Lunar New Year in two weeks.

*I love chocolate.

Last-minute holiday cheer

2008-12-24T12:32:00.009-05:00

So I've finally stopped being so Grinch-like about the holidays. Thanks to Nico, who helped me snap out of my Bah! Humbug!-ness with his cute, crafty holiday projects; my friend Bethany, who brought me a tiny Christmas tree to my office; and my pal Claire, who strongly advised me to have a martini (or three) at her holiday party last weekend, I am now officially feeling the Christmas spirit. Plus, I watched "Love Actually" a few times, one of my favorite sentimental holiday movies.

I'm still not finished wrapping gifts and have not yet mailed out our holiday cards, but at least I'm not feeling as overwhelmed and crabby about it all as I was a few weeks ago. I have to say that Nico's excitement about Christmas has been contagious. When we decorated the tree together, he was totally fun and lovable about it. So when he begged me to take cameraphone pics of him and Nolan wearing reindeer antlers and Santa caps, how could I resist?

Happy Holidays!

What you talkin' 'bout, Willis?*

2008-12-19T01:36:00.012-05:00

Nolan seems to have an uncanny way of channeling Arnold from the old TV show "Diff'rent Strokes".

Weird.

* My ever helpful husband informs me that it is not "What you talkin' 'bout, Willis?" but "Whatchoo talkin' 'bout, Willis?" Thanks, Vic! Would you like me to review your software code now? :)

California crybabies

2008-12-18T23:48:00.001-05:00

Nico and I are crybabies. We hate saying goodbye to people and places we love.

We're back in Cleveland after a fun, but short, trip to San Francisco. Vic and I went there to attend his company's holiday party and we brought the boys out to spend some time with my sister, the fantastic Auntie Linda.

Even though we were only in town for a few days, we were able to see some old friends, which was really awesome. I would have loved to stay longer to visit some other pals, but there just wasn't enough time. Nico had a blast spending time with Linda and her girlfriend Joemy. Lin and Joemy babysat the boys and spoiled them with gifts and attention. Nico enjoyed his time with Linda so much he didn't want to come home. He wanted to stay with her and lobbied hard to move in with her. He complained that "Cleveland is stupid! It doesn't even have mountains or the Pacific Ocean." It was heartbreaking to see him crying after saying goodbye to his beloved aunt. He cried for a long time.

During our stay, as I did last year, I visited the hospital where Nico was born and the apartment complex we lived in when Nico was a baby. It's hard to believe that six years have passed since we lived out there. I remember the day Vic and I first brought him home from the hospital. Vic carried Nico, snuggled in an infant car seat, up the steps to our apartment, where my sister had taped a big, homemade "Welcome home, Nico!" sign on our front door.

Also, like last year, as the plane took off for Cleveland, tears welled up in my eyes. I'm not sure why I get so weepy thinking about the time we spent living in the Bay Area, but I think a lot of it has to do with the powerful emotions associated with first-time motherhood.

I think Nico and I both left our hearts in San Francisco on this trip.

It's the most terrible time of the year

2008-12-03T12:51:00.001-05:00

OK, now that my favorite holiday is over, the most stressful time of the year is here. Call me a Scrooge, but the four weeks between Thanksgiving and Christmas really stress me out. I'm not alone either - I think my boys feel the same way. Last week, while my sister was in town, I tried to get a nice photo of her with the boys in front of our just decorated Christmas tree.

Nico looks like he's going to cry and I'm not sure what's going on with Nolan. He looks completely miserable - kinda like my friend Chris this football season.

Cheers to Thanksgiving!

2008-11-30T23:32:00.000-05:00

I'm still basking in post-Thanksgiving euphoria.

Thanksgiving is my absolute favorite holiday, as it brings back happy childhood memories of family, friends and food. For many years, when I was growing up, my parents, sister and I spent Thanksgiving with other Taiwanese American families in the area. Our multi-family Thanksgiving dinners were big festive potluck feasts featuring a mix of Asian and American dishes.

Even through college and grad school, every November, I looked forward to the annual Thanksgiving homecoming where all of us, scattered across the country (and world) returned to Cleveland. We'd talk about school, jobs, relationships, plans for the future - all while chowing down on turkey, stuffing, sushi and fried shrimp. I wrote about those childhood Thanksgiving meals in an essay published in an anthology last year. In the essay, I paid tribute to Judy's Special Salad, Maggie's Potato Mushroom Casserole and Jen and Lil's mom's Sticky Rice.

Over the years, the big feasts began to shrink as all of us moved away. The saddest Thanksgiving I ever had was the year that I, fresh out of grad school, moved to Los Angeles and was too broke to come home. I spent that Thanksgiving eating alone, but surrounded by European tourists, at a cheap restaurant in Santa Monica called Mama's Buffet.

I returned to Cleveland a few years ago, but everyone else is gone. The past few years, I've spent Thanksgiving with my husband's family and we have nice meals together too, but I still miss my Taiwanese American extended family.

So this year, I was lucky enough to have a mini-version of the big Thanksgiving events I grew up with. We didn't have all of the usual suspects at the table, but my sister Linda flew in from San Francisco, Jen from New York and Lil from Los Angeles. My mom roasted a turkey and made accompanying dishes for the potluck dinner, while Linda, Nico and I made pearl balls and flower dumplings.

After having an early Thanksgiving dinner at my father-in-law's house, Vic and I took the boys to Jen and Lil's parents house for a second Thanksgiving meal that included turkey, dressing, and yes, Jen and Lil's mom's Sticky Rice. For dessert, the options included pumpkin pie, apple pie, cupcakes (in honor of Jen's birthday) persimmons, honey melon, grapes and red bean ice cream.

Linda and I discussed, at length, various Taiwanese American Thanksgiving eating strategies. Some people prefer segregating the Asian and American foods, alternating between plates of solely American foods and plates of only Asian items. Lil chose to split her plate 50/50, with half the space dedicated to traditional American Thanksgiving components and the other half reserved for Asian foods.

For me, when I was younger, I only ate the American foods, since the Asian foods did not represent Thanksgiving to me. Over the years, though, I started accepting Asian foods as welcome additions to the Thanksgiving tradition. Now, I'll load my plate with everything, but making sure that cranberry sauce doesn't touch sushi and wasabi doesn't touch turkey. My dad just piles everything together. "It's all the same in your stomach," he says.

It was great sharing this special meal with old friends and introducing my sons to the idea of a multicultural Thanksgiving celebration. I hope they'll grow up to love this tradition as I do.

Cultural identity journeys

2008-11-13T23:19:00.000-05:00

There are many reasons why I'm thrilled Barack Obama was elected the next president of the United States. One of them that's low on the list in terms of the country's priorities ranks rather high when it comes to my own personal life: Obama comes from a multicultural background.

This is especially relevant to me right now, as it seems that Nico, my multicultural six-year-old son, is undergoing a cultural identity crisis. There are some days when he isn't sure what he is, and other days when he wishes he were something else. Recently, he told me, "I hate my skin color. I don't want to be tan. I want to be black." Other days, he says he wants to be white, like his brother. Actually, Nolan is not white - he's more like Baby Pink. More disturbing to me is when Nico says, "Nolan looks like a Chinese boy!" Well, that's because he is Chinese (Taiwanese, to be specific), I tell Nico. And so are you, I remind him. The boys are half Taiwanese, a quarter Italian, and the rest a mix of English and American Indian.

For a while, Nico was irritated by all of this. Whenever Vic and I tried to explain his cultural roots to him, he'd dismiss us: "I just want to be an American flag guy." You can, we told him, but you should still understand all the cultures that shape you. This past summer, between kindergarten and first grade, Nico was teased by someone at day camp. He was ridiculed for being Chinese. So I decided it was time to send Nico to Chinese School.

In a few weeks, I'll be giving a social studies presentation to Nico's first grade class about Taiwan. I was happy when his teacher called to ask me if I'd be willing to consider the idea. Nico said he'd like to help me. I hope this will help him feel more connected to his Asian heritage. I do understand his desire to fit in - it reminds me of my own longing to assimilate when I was his age - but understanding it doesn't make it sting any less.

When I was Nico's age, I used to be terribly embarrassed when my mother would speak Taiwanese to me in public places or when she would take off her shoes at people's homes. My parents were immigrants, so we learned about Canadian and American culture together. Halloween, for instance, was something that took us a little while to figure out. My mom took me, dressed as a princess, trick or treating for the first time when I was in preschool. That year, my dad prepared elaborate little paper bags filled with goodies for trick-or-treaters. Even though we lived in a high-rise apartment building, he wanted to make sure we were ready. To this day, he considers Halloween an important social occasion. I do too.

For Nico and Nolan, I admit I feel a bit unprepared for the cultural identity issues they will encounter growing up. Since they are half Asian, I don't know if they will be confronted with a different set of issues than I faced.

It's going to be a journey for all of us.

We did it!

2008-11-05T16:58:00.005-05:00

I cannot believe it! Barack Obama will be the new president of the United States!

This is an amazing historic moment and it is hard for me not to be emotional about it. Yesterday, there was so much anticipation about the election results - I was antsy all day long. I went to vote at my polling location in the morning and was surprised to walk right in, with no wait. Afterward, I chatted with a few of the parents running a PTA bake sale. All of us were energized and excited - but nervous too - about the election. After that, I walked to work in a happy mood. I love going to the polls, voting alongside my neighbors and sensing a strong sense of community.

Beyond my immediate community, I communicated with friends from faraway places too. During the day, Vic and a friend in Nigeria had an IM conversation about the election. Another friend in England left a comment on my Facebook wall: "I trust your fellow Americans will not let the rest of us down this time!" Last week, during our trip to Toronto, a family friend told us he supported Obama. "American needs a big change," he said. It was amazing to see that it was not just Americans paying attention to this election - the world was watching.

Vic and I watched the election results on TV with a Pakistani American buddy. He turned to me when Barack Obama took the stage and said, "Lisa, we just elected our first black president! Now the door is open for people like us too. Maybe there will be an Asian American president some day." When the rest of the family came to join Obama on stage, Zaid noted the multicultural representation and said, "This is America."

I called my friend Claire several times during the evening. She had been volunteering as a poll observer all day long and was just driving home when I called to tell her that Ohio chose Obama. We couldn't believe it. I stayed up through McCain's wonderful, inspiring concession speech and Obama's eloquent speech and then went to sleep emotionally exhausted.

This morning, Vic woke up Nico to tell him the news. Nico was thrilled. After all, he was the one who advocated getting an Obama Biden sign for our yard. (Despite Vic's initial resistance, he eventually relented, especially after Nico argued, "I want it waaaaaay more than you DON'T want it!") When my mom came over to take care of Nolan for the day, Nico said to her, "Ama! I am super happy! Barack Obama is our first black president! I am so happy!" Nico watched some of the coverage on TV and Vic had to explain to him why some people were crying.

On my walk to work, I called my friend Audrey. She and I had a happy, tearful conversation: "We did it! I can't believe it!" Although she was born and raised in Cleveland - in fact, she was my first American friend when we moved here from Canada more than 30 years ago - she lives in Chicago now. She was my first black friend and is an inspiration to me for her strength, determination and focus. She attended the Grant Park rally last night, as I had expected, and described it as "electrifying".

At work today, there was a wonderful, palpable feeling of optimism. In person, through emails and via Facebook wall posts, my friends and I celebrated the ushering in of a new era. For Zaid, a Pakistani American, Gina, an African American, me, a Taiwanese American, and my children, a mix of several glorious cultures, we are ecstatic that our country has shattered a wall, leaving behind a long, painful past of oppression and injustice. Although this election will not erase racism and discrimination, it is a great start.

We are all proud Americans today!

Obamarama!

2008-11-03T23:49:00.001-05:00

Nolan and I went to the Obama rally in downtown Cleveland on Sunday. (Check out the photo of him sporting a "Kids for Obama" button.)

We were there for five hours, standing in line for two. The line was unbelievably long, starting at the Quicken Loans Arena (the "Q") and snaking its way to Malls A, B and C near Browns Stadium.

It was awesome to see so many people, of all ages and from varying backgrounds, all gathered to support Obama. News reports estimated around 80,000 people in attendance. To see the streets of downtown Cleveland filled with so many people was surreal - it felt more like being in New York.

Originally, I wasn't even planning on going. Our family was supposed to go to a birthday party that afternoon, but my friend, Claire, convinced me otherwise. An Obama Mama from the very beginning, she talked me into going to the rally to support an inspiring presidential candidate during a historic campaign. "This is it, dude," she said. "This is it!" A few of my friends from work were going too, so I gave in. Nico was very disappointed that he couldn't attend too - "What? You're going to see Barack Obama? In REAL LIFE?" - but he had to keep his commitment to his friend's party. So Vic took Nico to the party; I took Nolan to the rally.

Even though the line was so long, there was some entertainment to keep us from getting too bored. Along Ontario, there was some giant Obama Puppet Guy on stilts. Also, throughout the wait, vendors sold t-shirts and buttons, food and beverages.

For the most part, people were energized and happy, although there were times the the long wait made some of us crabby and tired. Ultimately, after waiting for two hours, Claire and I decided to ditch the line and just go to the open mall area where we joined hundreds of other people.

Not all of the people in the area were Obama supporters. Particularly after the Browns game was over, there were some tense moments. The Browns played miserably against our arch rivals, the Baltimore Ravens. So once the game let out, a throng of unhappy Browns fans poured onto the mall. One especially drunk, red-faced guy came up to me and Nolan and, taking note of our Obama buttons, shouted, "Get your welfare checks here! Get your welfare checks here!" I'm not sure if that was supposed to be some sort of derogatory insinuation that Obama is a socialist, but if anyone was likely to need welfare or some sort of government assistance, chances are it would be this crazy guy.

Nolan was great - only acting up a little bit during the five hours we were there. At one point, I had to change his diaper on the lawn - it stunk bad and he was pretty upset about it. I murmured apologies to the people around us as he fussed and cried through the prayer and national anthem, but everyone was understanding and empathetic. "Don't worry about it. I've got two kids at home," one guy said.

Overall, it was an amazing experience. While I was in line, at one point, I stood behind a group of young musicians from the Cleveland Orchestra. One of them told me it was great that I brought Nolan to the rally and that some day, he will be grateful that he was part of this day. Behind me, a young couple must have shared the same idea - they brought their daughter, only three months old.

We don't often get opportunities to take part in historic moments like this.

Now I just need to vote!

Halloween - with muscles

2008-11-02T11:39:00.001-05:00

This year, for Halloween, Nico went as Iron Man. His costume, sent to him by his beloved Auntie Linda, was very nice. It fit perfectly and came with built-in padded muscles. Nico's buddy at school also went as Iron Man, but alas, his costume came sans muscles. Nico was quite pleased to be Well-Muscled Iron Man.

It looks like Halloween costume technology has come a long way since I was a kid. I'm talkin' the old school costumes, if you're old enough to remember them. One year, my sister (now known as Auntie Linda) had one of those horrible store-bought costume kits that included a cheap plastic Fred Flintstone mask and a set of shapeless vinyl t-shirt and pants. Vic wore a similar costume in grade school, but his version was Captain Kirk. There were several super hero versions that were popular back then, and even one of Jaws.

As for Nolan, this year, he inherited his brother's old giraffe costume, but sadly, Nolan was a crawling giraffe - still no walking.

During the day, I went to Nico's school to catch their annual Halloween parade, where the entire school paraded around the neighborhood in costume. It was wonderful! Afterward, I stuck around to help out with the class party, which was fun too.

Trick-or-treating went smoothly. I love handing out treats! There's no other time when you get to see so many children walking around the neighborhood having a fun time. Nico had a great time and Nolan was happy to stroll along for the ride.

On Saturday, my parents and I took the boys to Halloween at the Farm, an annual Case Western Reserve University tradition, where there's a giant bonfire, a live band, marshmallow roasting, pumpkin carving, a costume contest, face painting and free food (hot dogs, pumpkin pie, apple cider, etc.).

We all had a fun Halloween. Next year, Nico wants to be Darth Vader.

Motherhood Movement

2008-10-29T23:23:00.002-04:00

I'm back from Toronto, where I attended and presented at the annual Association for Research on Mothering (ARM) conference at York University. The conference was really energizing and I met some amazing women there.

In the "Mothering, Gender, Peace and Violence" session of the conference, I presented a personal essay recounting my experience as a pregnant journalist covering the memorial service of slain journalist Daniel Pearl. My presentation went well and the discussion that followed was rich and revealing. One woman said my piece resonated with her because she was pregnant during the September 11 attacks. Another woman went into labor that day. Yet another was pregnant during the Tiananmen Square protests. It was a powerful moment realizing that all of us had experienced first-time motherhood during turbulent times.

After my presentation, I had lunch with Amy Hudock, founder and co-editor of Literary Mama. I had been hoping to meet her at the conference, so being able to spend an hour with her talking about motherhood, writing, career paths and other topics was simply awesome. She's definitely an inspiration.

Although the theme of the conference was "Mothering, Violence, Militarism, War and Social Justice", the embedded "Motherhood Movement" conference included dynamic keynote panels I really enjoyed. One of my favorites was one that was featured Andrea O'Reilly, founder and director of ARM.

Another favorite was the "Creativity, Expression, and Agency" keynote panel. All of the panelists were wonderful - smart, funny, engaging, etc. - but it was rather disappointing that there wasn't more diversity represented. It would have been great to include at least one woman of color, for instance. Still, it was a strong panel and I was happy to meet Jennifer Niesslein, co-founder of Brain, Child: The Magazine for Thinking Mothers, afterward.

I also met Joy Rose, president and founder of Mamapalooza. I recognized her from the ARM/Mamapalooza conference "Performing Feminist Motherhood: Outlaw Mothers in Music, Media, Arts and Cultural Expression " in May. (She had attended my talk, "Moms On- and Offline," and contributed to a lively discussion about how much personal information to share on the Internet.)

All in all, it was invigorating being immersed in a community of smart, talented women from all over the world who are passionate about what they do. I'm so glad I was part of it.

O Canada

2008-10-28T01:01:00.000-04:00

O Canada!

This past weekend, I returned to my country of birth to attend a conference. We turned it into a family road trip, with my parents driving separately. All of us stayed with family friends in Toronto.

It was a fun trip. On the way there, we visited Niagara Falls. Nico and Nolan had never been there before and it was exciting, as always, to be just a few feet away from the powerful Horseshoe Falls. It was not so good when the wind suddenly turned, spraying mist all over us. Nolan was particularly unhappy. (I'll try to post a photo if I get a chance. His face covered with rain droplets was both sad and hilarious.)

I hadn't been to Toronto in a long time so I wasn't sure how much things had changed. One thing I couldn't get over was the fact that there were huge construction cranes everywhere. Sadly, Cleveland doesn't have much new construction going on. The only cranes I've seen are by the ever-expanding Cleveland Clinic.

One thing I love about Toronto is the cultural diversity. Even though we were in town for a short time, I was able to sample delicious Greek, Persian, Chinese and Japanese food. No hand-pulled noodles this time, though. Darn!

The trip was short, so I'm hoping we can stay longer next time we visit. Maybe this summer?

Motherhood and journalism

2008-10-21T00:27:00.005-04:00

Tonight, I'm heading to the 12th annual Association for Research on Mothering conference at York University in Toronto. I'm looking forward to returning to Canada, my homeland! York is where my dad did his postdoctoral work and I have happy preschool memories of sitting on our apartment floor scribbling on York University examination booklets.

The theme of the conference is "Mothering, Violence, Militarism, War and Social Justice". I'm very excited about it as the conference program includes researchers, activists and mothers from all over the world.

My presentation, "Mighty Hearts, Mighty Wombs: Relating to Mariane Pearl from the Perspective of a Journalist/Mother-to-Be" describes my experience as a freelance journalist covering the memorial service of Daniel Pearl, the Wall Street Journal reporter captured and brutally killed in Pakistan six years ago. Representing People Magazine, I was four months pregnant then. In the essay, I examine my own emotional response to the situation and relate to Pearl’s then pregnant widow, Mariane.

The essay questions the notion of objectivity in journalism. Is objectivity a realistic goal for journalists linked by universal experiences – life, death, joy, tragedy? Is emotion a liability? Where does the female experience, or the mothering experience, belong in journalism?

Procrastination

2008-10-19T00:02:00.000-04:00

Great. I've done it again.

I'm presenting at a conference next Friday and my article is not yet finished. I wish there were more hours in the day. I wish there were more days in the week. I wish ... I wish I hadn't put off writing this piece for so long!

Rrr. When will I learn?

Notes from a six-year-old

2008-10-06T23:54:00.003-04:00

Nico has come a long way in learning how to deal with his emotions.

When he was an infant and toddler, before he could talk, whenever he was frustrated he would shriek, throw himself on the ground and log roll across the floor. These days, he has found more socially acceptable ways to handle his feelings.

I am particularly pleased to see that Nico has gotten very good at expressing himself through words, even if I am sometimes the target of his anger. Last week, I gave Nico a small notebook and encouraged him to write down his observations and feelings. He then proceeded to write a series of notes to his family members.

The first one, after Vic took him for a drive, said:
Dear Dady
Thanks For The fun ride In down town.
Love Nico

The second one, to his brother, said:
Dear Nolan:
I love win you Do Your stinky face. You are so cute And Funny.
....Love Nico

His note to me, after we went to a Chinese restaurant for lunch, said:
Dear Lisa: [I'm not sure why he addressed me by my first name]
Thanks For Leting me Go to Dim Sum.
Love Nico

Then, in a particularly gracious mood, after a shopping trip, he wrote a note to the entire family:
Dear Lisa Vic and Nolan:
Thank you For Leting Me Have the Alarm Clock.
Love Nico

The next two notes took a political turn. Perhaps because we live between one neighbor who has an Obama sign in his front yard and a family with a McCain sign in their yard, Nico was interested in his dad's take on things, being an Independent and all:
Dear dady:
Who Are You Going to vote??? Obama or Mcain?

Then, it looks like he got impatient because the next note said:
Dear dady:
I Relly Want to Know.
Love Nico

I was quite proud of Nico's sophistication and interest in the presidential election, but alas, his next three notes followed his latest Captain Underpants obsession:
Please Dont fart in a Diper!!!
Please Dont Poop in a Diaper!
Please Oh Please Dont Pee in a Diaper too!!! Okay?!!!? Rerember!

Then, tonight, Nico somehow got his foot jammed in his brother's bedroom door. Nico screamed in pain and doubled over, holding his injured foot. When he finally stood up again, he started hitting the door with both fists. If there were a cartoon bubble above his head, it would have said something like "@#$%!# #@#$@%". Eventually, Nico settled down - without me telling him to - and he went to his bedroom. He emerged a few minutes later to hand me a note.

It read:
Dear Mommy:
I hate the door. Its a teribol dork.
Love, Nico

I told Nico I agreed with him that the door was quite terrible, and Nico repeated, "And it's a DORK." He told me to read the other side of his note.

The other side said:
Stupid
Door.

It was so amusing to me that Nico sat down at his desk to compose his note and that even in his frustrated state, he signed his note with "Love, Nico". It reminded me of a story my mother-in-law told me about Vic when he was Nico's age. She had punished Vic for misbehaving and ordered him to sit still in a chair in the middle of the room. After he was allowed to leave his post, Vic wrote a note to his mom that read: "Dear Mommy, I don't like you very much right now. Love, Victor".

Six-year-old boys are so lovable!

Bye Bye Baby

2008-10-03T17:48:00.000-04:00

I'm having a hard time coming to terms with the fact that my baby, most likely my last baby, is growing up. (Cue the music.)

Last night, our friends Rob and Valerie came over so we could give them some of our baby things - clothes, toys, gear, etc. I had organized and packaged the clothes: 0-3 months, 3-6 months, etc. Vic set up a staging area in the living room for the baby bathub, car seat, diaper changing pad, etc.

I was giddy when Rob and Val arrived and was super happy to pass on our baby items to them. They are expecting twin boys, so we gave them bags and bags of Nico and Nolan's baby clothes. It was great to know that our friends would put them to good use in a happy home. It felt liberating too, to purge things we no longer needed. I didn't think too much of it until today.

My mom was completely floored this morning when she came over to take care of Nolan while I was at work. She got very emotional when she saw that the clothes were gone. Even though we had talked about us giving everything away for quite a while, I think it was hard for her to see emptiness where there once were lots of tiny, cute baby things. She has had such a major role in raising both boys and I really underestimated how difficult it would be for her to part ways with that stuff. She was really upset about it, and only now in thinking about her feeling like that, I'm sad too.

I'm so happy that my friends, who will soon be first-time parents, will enjoy the clothes and other baby items, but it does make me wistful realizing that the babies grow up so fast. Even though Nolan is only a year old, I already miss some of the babyness about him. I think that in being so happy thinking about my friends' impending parenthood, I pushed away my own feelings about leaving a part of my life behind. It's just socks and onesies that I'm giving away, really, but for some reason, there's a deep emotional connection that's just hitting me now because of my mom this morning.

I don't know what I'll do when the boys go off to college, leaving me and Vic with an empty nest.

The Incredibly Irritating Invasion of Captain Underpants

2008-09-29T23:49:00.006-04:00

Captain Underpants has invaded our home.

Nico first discovered the Dav Pilkey series of "epic novels" one day when browsing at Mac's Backs. He was immediately hooked. He can read these books for hours at a stretch and is now even making his own abridged versions of these comic books.

One of my friends, a grade school teacher, detests these stories. I wasn't sure what the big deal was until I actually read one. Nico is constantly spouting nonsense about wedgies, talking toilets, poop and diapers.

*sigh*

I wonder how long this phase will last.

Wedding and work anniversaries

2008-09-24T23:04:00.000-04:00

What a week of milestones!

In addition to Nolan and Vic's birthdays, I just celebrated both my wedding and work anniversaries. Vic and I have been married for seven years now, and I've been working at Case Western Reserve University for five years.

When I started working at the university, I thought it would be funny to choose my wedding anniversary as my start date. Little did I know how prophetic that would be - the work-life balance has been a constant challenge for me. I've blurred my home and work lives completely.

On the bright side, Vic and I went on a very nice date to celebrate - we went to Lola for dinner, a restaurant we had been meaning to check out, especially ever since Chef Michael Symon won the competition to become the latest Iron Chef. It was great!

Birthday weekend

2008-09-22T22:57:00.000-04:00

Nolan and Vic celebrated their birthdays this past weekend. It was Nolan's first!

It's hard to believe that Nolan has only been a part of our lives for one year. His birth was such a special day, as he was surrounded by so many people who love him. A year later, he was again surrounded by family and friends. He is - and we are - so lucky.

Wait 'til next year

2008-09-09T21:52:00.002-04:00

Wait 'til next year
Originally uploaded by Chiubacca

Nolan isn't even a year old, yet he is wise beyond his months. Check out his amused expression in this photo as he models his first (and last?) Browns outfit. He seems to be saying, "You expect me to wear this with a straight face? I think not."

Feasting at festivals

2008-08-26T22:14:00.007-04:00

I'm Nico and I approve this Feast

August in Cleveland means two of my favorite festivals - the Feast of the Assumption and the Greek Festival. (Festivals with food? I'm there!)

This year, we strolled Nolan (Nico rode his bike) down to Little Italy for the Feast. We chowed down on cavatelli and pizza and rode the carnival rides all afternoon. Nico was really into it, as you can see by the photo of him wearing a red, white and green "Italia" headband.

The following weekend, we went to a wonderful Greek Festival in our neighborhood. We met up with friends and enjoyed another Mediterranean feast. We aren't a religious family, but Nico asked us if this is our church since he has attended three Greek Festivals and two christenings there.

We had to explain to Nico that he is not Greek Orthodox, but this cultural confusion thing is really starting to concern me. I think it's time for Chinese School.

Aside from the delicious food, I'm glad the boys are getting exposed to different cultures. Nico is curious and eager to learn, so we're making a very conscious effort to educate him about his heritage and others'.

Reflecting on my high school reunion

2008-07-27T23:00:00.005-04:00

Last night, Vic and I attended our 20-year high school reunion. We had a really good time, despite the fact that we arrived an hour late to the dinner dance (due to bad time management on my part).

I wasn't very excited about going, especially after finding out that some of our closest friends weren't planning to attend. It would be like going to a wedding where you don't know anyone, I thought. Plus, Vic and I have been so consumed with home and work responsibilities lately that we haven't really been focusing on us - our relationship, our history, our past, present, future. I had been kinda grumpy about it for the past few weeks and asked Vic if he was looking forward to the reunion at all.

"Sure!" He smiled. "I mean, the 10-year worked out pretty well for me." I was a little surprised he was so cheerful about it, but happy he remembered the last reunion as an important turning point for us. After all, that was when we had started dating again. We had been together our senior year of high school for a brief period, but it was at our 10-year reunion that we really got together. After that event was over, we spent the next several hours catching up on everything we had been up to since high school. Following that, we maintained a long-distance relationship - Cleveland/Los Angeles - for several months and then moved to San Francisco together.

Ten years later, we are married with two young boys. We've moved back to Cleveland and we're building a life together that is crazily overstuffed. It seems that this has been the case for many of our fellow high school classmates. In reading my classmates' bios in our reunion memory book, it was plain to see that we have traveled similar emotional journeys. Along the way, we've lived through joy, disappointment, births, deaths, marriages and divorces.

Last night, I reconnected with a number of old friends and acquaintances. We talked about our growing kids, our ailing parents, our jobs, our hobbies. I talked to a few women about the classic push-pull of being a working mom.

Today, thinking about my conversations from the night before, I was reminded of something I read in college in a creative writing class I took with Mary Grimm. The novella, The Age of Grief by Jane Smiley, stuck with me over the years. Even though it moved me then, it didn't seem nearly as relevant as it does now. This part, in particular, resonates with me:

I am thirty-five years old, and it seems to me that I have arrived at the age of grief. Others arrive there sooner. Almost no one arrives much later. I don't think it is years themselves, or the disintegration of the body. Most of our bodies are better taken care of and better-looking than ever. What it is, is what we know, now that in spite of ourselves we have stopped to think about it. It is not only that we know that love ends, children are stolen, parents die feeling that their lives have been meaningless. It is not only that, by this time, a lot of acquaintances and friends have died and all the others are getting ready to sooner or later. It is more that the barriers between the circumstances of oneself and of the rest of the world have broken down, after all -- after all that schooling, all that care. Lord, if it be thy will, let this cup pass from me. But when you are thirty-three, or thirty-five, the cup must come around, cannot pass from you, and it is the same cup of pain that every mortal drinks from.

I'm not feeling defeated and fatalistic about things, but I am feeling a bit melancholy. At one point during the reunion dinner dance, Vic turned to me and said, "Wow, when did we become middle-aged?"

For a banquet hall full of middle-aged people, I think we all looked pretty good, overall. We're older, of course, and some of us are grayer, balder, heavier. But it seems like we've weathered the years pretty well. It was fun to reconnect with people who shared a common set of experiences.

Later in the evening, Vic and I danced to Billy Joel's "This Is the Time", which had been the theme of our Prom(see below) and Berlin's "Take My Breath Away." It really brought me back to 1988, reminding me of the emotions I felt as a high school senior.

Anyhow, it was a wonderful evening and the organizers did a superb job putting the reunion weekend together. Despite my initial reservations about going, I'm looking forward to the 30-year event!

(Writer/Editor's Note: Vic and I were supposed to have gone to Prom together, but *someone* dragged his feet getting his tux and our tickets, so the other person decided to find another date. It is still a sore subject we don't like to talk about.)

Nolan rocks at Rock Band - well, not quite

2008-07-21T01:16:00.002-04:00

Now that Vic and Nico have both become Rock Band junkies, it is time to get Nolan involved in the new family obsession.

Check out this video of Vic enouraging Nolan to get into percussion:

Vic rocks at Rock Band

2008-07-16T00:48:00.004-04:00

I may have created a monster. Or monsters.

Vic and Nico have both become Rock Band junkies. Nico, it turns out, has inherited some perfectionist traits from his nutty parents and is now obsessing over Rock Band like it's his job. He insists on listening to Rock Band songs at bed time, particularly Deep Purple's "Highway Star".

Anyhow, Vic and Nico spend about half an hour each day rocking out. Check out this video of the two of them performing Soundgarden's "Black Hole Sun ":

And here is a great acoustic version of Chris Cornell performing it solo - I luuuuurve Chris Cornell. He is dreamy.

Nico rocks at Rock Band

2008-07-15T21:21:00.007-04:00

So for Father's Day, I gave my husband, my darling Guitar Hero, a new game: Rock Band.

The game comes with a drum kit, so it was much harder to hide from Nico. With Guitar Hero 3, we would just wait until he fell asleep before busting out the game guitar. Then, when we were done, we'd simply stash the guitar in a closet. We got away with this for months. Nolan was part of the conspiracy too. As his big bro snored away, Nolan either sat next to us on the sofa or bounced along as we Baby Bjorned him while rocking out.

Because the Rock Band drum kit is not easy to stuff into a closet, we decided to let Nico in on the family secret that we have XBox 360. Now Nico is a hard rockin' fool. He isn't very good at the guitar or drums, so he puts all his energy into singing. Check out this video of Nico's first foray at Rock Band. He's singing Radiohead's "Creep".

Nico didn't really know the lyrics so he was mainly trying to read along. He was stunned, though, when the crowd turned on him.

A year ago today

2008-07-13T22:16:00.005-04:00

It's hard to believe that one year ago today, Nolan wasn't born yet. Vic and I were, in fact, quite worried about the pregnancy then. Today, Nolan is a robust little boy with four hippo teeth!

Last summer at this time, I was anxious and having a tough time dealing with the modified bed rest order. This year, thankfully, our family of four has been having a busy, active summer. We've been spending a lot of time outdoors with friends, walking to the library and to various neighborhood restaurants, playing catch in the back yard (Nico has improved a lot!), going on rides at a number of church festivals and splashing around in the community pool. I haven't been riding my bike, though; these days, I'm mostly pushing around Nolan in his jogging stroller.

We've come a long way and we are so lucky that all of us are healthy.

Child's play

2008-07-02T09:35:00.007-04:00

I recently had the opportunity to work with some great people on a fun project - a Web resource for parents and caregivers, focusing on children and play. Creativeplayplus.com is a partnership between Step2, a local toy manufacturing company, Optiem, an interactive marketing agency, and the Schubert Center for Child Studies, which is housed in the College of Arts and Sciences (where I work) at Case Western Reserve University.

One of the most fun parts about launching this resource was spreading the word about it. Kim Wheeler, an anchor and education reporter for WKYC, did a great story about it.

Asian drivers ... ROCK!

2008-06-23T13:45:00.005-04:00

OK, so I realized after I posted the entry about Whirlyball that I neglected to address an obvious question: How did I do in my first foray at it?

Well, while it is true that one might expect me, an Asian American woman, to fare poorly at Whirlyball, a recreational activity that requires some driving skills, I assure you that I did much better than you might think. I even scored a few points! True, I did get stuck in the corner a few times, but I eventually figured out how to free myself.

Granted, I am not the best driver in the world. I hate to reinforce stereotypes, but I'm afraid I fit the bill when it comes to the idea of Asian women being bad drivers. This issue was raised recently, after I noticed how torn up our tree lawn was. There were tire tracks and deep mud grooves where there should have been nice grass (carefully planted and cared for by my lovely husband). Standing on our driveway with hands on my hips, I had decided enough was enough. "That's IT!" I declared. "I've had enough of these random people tearing up our lawn! Let's dissuade these randoms from using our driveway. Let's put ROCKS on the sides of the driveway. Big ROCKS!"

"Uh, are you sure about that?" Vic asked.

"Yeah, why not? Let's put big rocks there so these randoms will pick someone else's driveway to plow over."

"Rocks? You sure?"

"YES! BIG ROCKS!"

I talked to our neighbor about the plan. He was amenable and followed our lead in putting a big rock on his side of the driveway. Vic asked me one more time if I was sure I wanted to go through with this plan. Annoyed by his reluctance, I asked him what his problem was.

"YOU are the one who keeps tearing up the tree lawn! You and your dad!" Vic finally blurted out.

Since it was my own plan, I didn't want to abort the mission. I also needed to prove that I could navigate our car between the rocks. So the rocks went down, according to plan.

Then I noticed how narrow our driveway apron was. It's abnormally narrow! I don't even know how regular cars fit on it. We have a compact car even - I can't imagine how one would drive an SUV on it. I asked Vic if maybe we should remove the rocks and hire a contractor to expand the apron. Vic responded with a sound that was half-growl, half-guffaw.

My dad has been complaining about the rocks too. I don't know about him, but I've run over the rocks only once.

So far.

Happy Father's Day to a lovely man

2008-06-15T23:44:00.001-04:00

Happy Father's Day
Originally uploaded by Chiubacca

Nico made a very sweet Father's Day card for Vic.

The cover had a rocket ship heading into space ("because Daddy likes outer space") with a countdown of "5 4 3 2 1 0!!!!" I love that Nico used four exclamation points. I generally think one exclamation point is enough to convey a message, but I think it's OK for kids to use more if they want.

The inside of the card had a cute drawing of the family. All of us have orange faces. Interestingly, I am the tallest and have two pink hearts above my head. Nico said they are earrings. Vic appears only slightly taller than Nico. Also, I seem to have an abundance of black hair, whereas Vic, Nico and Nolan have none.

The best part was the message Nico wrote all by himself:
Dear Daddy
I love you so much as I wish.
You are so lovely.
You are the best dad!
Love Nico

Whirlyball after work

2008-06-14T23:48:00.004-04:00

IMG_0006 1.JPG
Originally uploaded by gravity0069

I played Whirlyball for the first time on Friday night - Friday the 13th, in fact.

I joined my former colleagues in University Marketing and Communications at Case Western Reserve University for the fun activitiy. I hadn't seen many of them since my goodbye party, so it was nice to hang out with them outside of work. Whirlyball is hilarious! How can you not love an activity that combines bumper cars with lacrosse, basketball and a good amount of trash-talking?

Heidi Cool captured the experience on video - that's me at the very end. I'm not sure if I scored that time. I probably didn't.

Here's another Whirlyball video Heidi took. Were we really shrieking like that the entire time? Yes, apparently.

Anyhow, it was a really fun time and I hope to do it again some time.

Mother's Day

2008-05-12T20:03:00.004-04:00

Mother's Day
Originally uploaded by Chiubacca

I had a wonderful Mother's Day.

Nico woke me up by entering my bedroom saying, "Happy Mother's Day, Mama! I hope you have a beautiful, wonderful day!" His arms were full, carrying a large envelope and a wrapped gift on top of it.

The gift was a bright red and yellow handprint magnet Nico made in school. "Red is my favorite color!" I told Nico. "I know," he replied. "But I made it red and yellow to look like Iron Man."

The envelope was decorated with a crayon drawing of me standing next to flowers and - a bit strange for this time of year - a Christmas tree. Inside the envelope was a booklet entitled, "My Mom is the Most Wonderful Mom in the World!" It was awesome. This is what the pages said, with Nico's answers in red (you know, to be like Iron Man).

My mom's name is Lisa.
My mom has black hair and brown eyes.
She is 8 feet tall and weighs 80 pounds.

My mom likes to eat salad.
My mom is happy when I clean the house.
But I know she is really angry when I hurt her feelings.

My mom's favorite TV show is the Animal Planet Channel.
My mom is smart! She knows all about nursing.
If my mom could have one wish come true, it would be to have flowers.

I love my mom because she loves me and I love her.

Nolan at Adelbert Hall

2008-05-04T14:50:00.000-04:00

Nolan at Adelbert Hall
Originally uploaded by Chiubacca

In cleaning out my office and preparing for my new job on campus, I took Nolan to work on Sunday to pack up some of my things. Nolan enjoyed accompanying me on the errand. Like his brother, he seems to enjoy going to work with me. I snapped a photo of Nolan on the stone wall of the porch facing the Case quad. It goes with the one I took of Nico last year.

May the Force be with you, UMC!

2008-04-29T18:45:00.006-04:00

Chiubacca cake
Originally uploaded by Chiubacca

WARRRRRGH!

(That's the sound a Wookie makes when s/he says goodbye.)

Today, at work, my friends and colleagues in University Marketing and Communications threw a goodbye lunch for me, complete with a Chewbacca cake! It was really nice. The cake, in particular, was incredible. You probably can't tell by my cameraphone photo, but the bangs on Chewbacca are really well done!

I have one minor flaw to point out, though: Shouldn't the first set of quotation marks be right before "Chiubacca" instead of "We'll"? I guess it could be worse - the quotes could have been around "miss", i.e. "We'll 'Miss' You".

Even though I'll be sad to leave my UMC pals, especially the media relations team, I'm looking forward to my new role at the university - heading up marketing and communications for the College of Arts and Sciences, my undergraduate alma mater.

We heart soccer!

2008-04-14T17:56:00.005-04:00

It's soccer time!

This spring, Nico is playing in a different league from the one he had been in the past two seasons in the fall. We started Nico in soccer probably much earlier than we should have. At age four, he really didn't do much but run around in circles a lot. Most of the time, we had to yell, "Turn around! Turn AROUND!" One time, when he was goalkeeper, he lifted up his shirt and actually gazed at his belly button.

Anyhow, Nico is five (and a half!) now, so we expect he will be much better this time around. The weather was kinda bad for the first game this past Saturday, so I stayed home with Nolan, while Vic and Nico headed out. I felt bad for missing the first game, but luckily, my friend Chris captured the essence of the experience on camera. In the photo, Nico is the guy on the sidelines, hands pulled into his sleeves, looking absolutely miserable.

Yay, soccer!

Nasty cupcakes

2008-04-10T00:06:00.009-04:00

"Cupcake"
Originally uploaded by Chiubacca

Over the weekend, I celebrated my birthday.

For weeks, Nico had been planning the festivities, which were meant to be a big SECRET and SURPRISE! "Your birthday is almost here," Nico would remind me, "and maybe you will get flowers! It will be a SECRET!" Then later, he would tell me, "Soon it will be your birthday! And maybe you will get CUPCAKES! It will be a SURPRISE!"

Sure enough, as part of my birthday celebration, Vic and Nico baked cupcakes for me. Nico had, apparently, picked out exactly what kind of cupcakes he wanted me to have. He chose a recipe from Disney The Magic Kitchen Cookbook. The cupcakes were supposed to be angel food cake, but somewhere, something went seriously awry.

When it was time to taste the freshly baked creations, I noticed that the cupcakes looked a little misshapen. Then I took a bite. Trying my best not to insult Vic nor crush Nico's spirit, I tried to temper my comments.

Here's a transcript:
Me: [gently] Did you bake these?
Vic: Yes, of course.
Me: I mean, did you cook them?
Vic: Yes. What do you mean?
Me: I mean, did you BAKE them?
Vic: I said yes.
Me: I mean ... did you turn on the oven?
Vic: annoyed] YES!
Me: [checks oven to see if it is warm] Hmm. OK. So, I'm not sure what happened here.
Vic: Well, this is angel food cake. It's not like regular cake.
Me: But this doesn't resemble angel food cake. Do you know what angel food cake looks like? I mean, like the texture and stuff?
Vic: Well, yes, these came out kinda dense. I know. They are dense cupcakes.
Me: They're not just dense... they don't really resemble cake in any way whatsoever. But thank you! Thanks for making them.
Vic: Yeah, they kinda remind me of some Asian pastries I've had before.
Me: No, no. They don't remind me of anything remotely similar to a pastry. But thank you!
Vic: They're dense.
Me: They're not just dense.

At some point during this exchange, Nico had left the room. Later, I found out that he had eaten one cupcake and then abruptly left the table. Vic had offered him another cupcake and Nico responded, "No, thank you!" That should have given Vic a sign that something was wrong. Nico does not turn down cupcakes - normal ones, that is.

When Vic was out of earshot, I tracked down Nico and asked him what he thought of the cupcakes. "They tasted yucky," Nico whispered. "No, they weren't yucky," he corrected himself. "They were NASTY! He shook his head. "They tasted EMBARASSING!" He punctuated that last comment with a vigorous two thumbs down gesture.

For a long time, I couldn't find the words to describe the "dense" cupcakes. Finally, I put one in a Ziploc bag to show my friend Bethany. A dutiful friend, she examined the contents of the bag. "I don't understand," she said. "Walk me through this." I explained what I thought happened and Bethany poked and prodded the cupcake. "I've got it," she said, finally. "It has the shape and consistency of a Reese's Peanut Butter Cup, only it's white, covered with a bit of whipped topping, with some shaved coconut on top."

Bethany theorized that not enough air was stirred into the mix and that the batter was not whipped into stiff peaks before it was baked. Thus, the batter collapsed and coagulated into a semi-solid state that resulted in an end product that was almost the exact opposite of the desired outcome of a light, airy angel food cake.

The next morning, as Vic was helping Nico get ready for school, I heard Nico say, "Daddy? Let's never, ever make cupcakes again."

Boy colds

2008-04-07T23:43:00.000-04:00

Sick boys
Originally uploaded by Chiubacca

Q: What is worse than having one husband with a man cold?
A: Having two sons with boy colds.

The whole family is sick.

Vic and I took both boys to the doctor last week and yes, both Nico and Nolan have ear infections. Nolan also has a wheezing problem that means we need to have him on a nebulizer three times a day. He might have asthma. I'm hoping the wheezing goes away. We did spend a lot of time around cats last weekend, so maybe he's just allergic to them like I am.

Vic and I are sick too, and both of us are exhausted from taking care of the boys. My mom has caught the bug too, so she is also tired.

Check out this pic of the boys at the doctor's office. Nico looks half-conscious and Nolan is crying.

Yep, that pretty much sums up how this week has been.

High Fives

2008-03-19T22:44:00.001-04:00

Brothers
Originally uploaded by Chiubacca

Nico, age five, and Nolan, age five months, have a very cute relationship, for the most part. Despite the fact that Nico is constantly squeezing Nolan's head and shouting crazy things at his little bro ("YEAH! This is my rock! My rock! Yeah, I love this rock head! Transform, you rock!"), Nolan absolutely adores his big brother.

The first thing Nico likes to do when he wakes up is find his brother, snuggle up next to him and say, "Hi Angel Face! Hi! Hi! Hi Baby Angel Face! Hi Strong Baby!" Nico's face totally softens when he looks at his brother.

Nolan, in turn, beams at his big brother and even when Nico is tormenting him, tends to put up with quite a bit of his shenanigans before protesting.

The smiles they give each other just melt my heart. It's so adorable!

Note from Nico to Mama

2008-03-10T01:35:00.003-04:00

Nico spent a few hours with me at work on Friday, when his after school program was canceled due to the snowstorm.

He was surprisingly well behaved and drew pictures of George Washington and Abraham Lincoln to pass the time. Then, he wrote a nice message on my white board. It almost makes up for the note he wrote the night before, proclaiming "We Hate Mommy Day".

Kindergartners are so much fun!

Wednesday is We Hate Mommy Day

2008-03-08T23:21:00.001-05:00

The other night, after dinner, Nico announced that he wanted to make a book for Nolan. I praised him for being so thoughtful and kind to his baby brother. We set up crayons and paper and Nico got to work. He started writing a letter: "Dear Noli Poli, today is We-".

It went downhill from there.

Here's a transcript:
Nico: How do you spell Wednesday?
Me: [pauses and decides not to throw him off with the "d"] How do you think it's spelled?
Nico:I don't know. Why don't you tell me?
Me: How about if you sound it out?
Nico: [impatiently] No. How about you just tell me?
Me: Sound it out. Wennnnnnsday. Wennnnnnnnnsday.
Nico: [enraged] JUST TELL ME!
Me: Just try to sound it out.
Nico: FINE! FINE! STUPID!
[one minute of silence]
Nico: [smiling sweetly] Want to read my letter?
Me: Okay.
Nico: I'll read it to you: Dear Noli Poli. Today is We Hate Mommy Day!

For emphasis, Nico made "Hate", "Mommy" and "Day" three different colors, with the exclamation point elaborately decorated in four colors - black, red, yellow and green. Then he circled "Hate" - just in case I missed it.

I would have posted a photo of the drawing, but he scribbled black crayon over the entire paper.

Note to self: Hang on to this drawing so when he's a teenager asking for money, I can whip this out and say, "I don't think so."

Note from Nico to Nolan

2008-02-29T23:43:00.001-05:00

Note from Nico to Nolan
Originally uploaded by Chiubacca

Nico is interested in writing letters these days. He wrote one to Nolan that was touching and funny: "I still love you even win [sic] you scratch me and win [sic] you cry!"

Nico earns a white belt

2008-02-28T23:30:00.000-05:00

White belt
Originally uploaded by Chiubacca

On Monday, Nico was awarded a white belt in his kuk sool won class. He was so proud!

Since getting his uniform, Nico has been taking his martial arts class a lot more seriously. Before we bought him the uniform, he would goof off in class and get distracted easily.

Now that Nico has earned a white belt, he has been setting his sights on getting a black belt. He has also been practicing his moves a lot. He is especially fond of doing "knife hands" on me.

Vic and Nolan RAWK out at Rock Party

2008-02-24T13:16:00.003-05:00

Vic and Nolan RAWK out!
Originally uploaded by Chiubacca

Our friends Bethany and Jeff threw a super fun rock 'n' roll party that featured karaoke, dancing and Guitar Hero. If you knew my friend Bethany, you'd know that she is an impossibly creative person who goes ALL OUT when she throws a party. This was her best party yet!

This party was for adults only, except for Nolan, who was allowed to come. In the invitation, we were instructed to fill out tech riders that outlined our backstage needs. I demanded a number of items from Whole Foods, along with precise room temperature guidelines and a specific brand of toilet paper for the bathrooms.

When we got to the party, a bouncer checked our IDs and made sure we were on "the list". Apparently, Nolan was on the VIP list. Then, we were given all-access passes to wear around our necks. Nolan even had his own miniature-sized pass, attached to a pacifier holder.

A green room featured all the items from the guests' tech riders. These included Twizzlers, M&Ms (minus the blue ones), chicken wings, Cheetos, Cool Ranch Doritos, beer, Coke, diet Coke, caffeine-free diet Coke, caffeine-free Coke, fresh veggies, fresh berries, hummus and pita chips. The food was adorned with fresh red flowers (as I specified in my tech rider).

The living room was transformed into a karaoke parlor, with an actual stage. The dining room was made into a dance floor, with a strobe light. The guest room became a Guitar Hero haven, where Vic and Nolan rocked out.

Everyone came dressed as a rock star, including Nolan, who wore a baby Harley Davidson t-shirt.

We had a ton of fun. I don't know how Bethany and Jeff will top this one next year.

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