Home Again, in Tokyo This Time

Home is a fluid concept for my family.

Story time at "home" in a hotel

In one sense, it’s where we rest our heads: On home leave or vacation, when Luca says, “I wanna go home!” he means the hotel, or the VRBO house, or his grandparents’ place.

Even at 4, he clings to the stability of somewhere to feel settled. He picked apart my in-laws’ house and my parents’ house, describing exactly what he liked and didn’t. “I like black toilets,” he told me. And another time: “I like the shape of this house, but not the rooms.”

Luca on a plane

When I was 7, my parents moved us from a little house in a tight neighborhood to a country house with lots of space to explore and a mini orchard where we could climb trees and eat fresh ripe fruit straight from the branches. But as a child, I was devastated at the idea. I couldn’t imagine life a whopping 25-minute drive from our friends and without our back deck, where my sister and I used to make treats with her little Snoopy Snow Cone machine. That moving day, even though my parents bought us donuts from Mr. T’s (mine was chocolate with chocolate frosting and rainbow sprinkles), I had a huge lump in my throat. I was leaving my home.

But I also knew exactly where I was going. We’d watched for months as my dad and his contractor friend oversaw and participated in the building of our future home, erecting walls and hammering nails. We’d commuted to school out in the country so we wouldn’t have to switch halfway through.

I remember one night several months after we moved, I walked out to the barbecue with my dad to “help” flip the meat, and a gorgeous evening sky greeted us: orange, pink, purple. I held my dad’s hand and looked up at him as we walked. “I like it here,” I told him. “Thank you for moving us here.”

As Joe and I move our children around the world, I can’t help but wonder how they feel to say goodbye to who and what they know in favor of a house and nation and people they do not know. I can certainly guess by the way behavior deteriorates after movers box up our things and transform our personalized home to a house we'll soon leave. Or by the way Luca has a sudden uptick in potty accidents.

Fun with the Kim side

And the truth is, it’s strange for me, too. When I move now, I move to places I’ve never been. Houses I haven’t seen.

We left Hong Kong in early July and jam packed six weeks with friends, family and fun on both coasts of the United States. As wonderful and amazing and vital as it was, it was also difficult. Of course traveling with small children is not relaxing, but there was something more, a nagging sense of homelessness. No grounding.

Peach picking with Halmonee

We let one home go with only a vague sense of the next home to cling to. We saw snapshots, but we had no idea how it would feel to be there, or how it would smell.

We felt untethered.

And that’s draining, yes, but in a way, for me, this was also a gift. While Luca saw the potential for “home” in each house we stayed, picking out things he liked and didn’t, I was taking the temperature of each place we stopped, too, projecting for a moment a glimmer of home. In DC, I batted around ideas of where I’d hang out and grocery shop, of who I’d see regularly, of which neighborhood we’d try to live in, which type of house. Rent or buy?

Pruning flowers with Nana

In Long Island, I noted all the fun activities available for children and the cute seaside towns where I could see making a cozy life (though Joe would have to get used to beach house style décor).

In Oakdale, I imagined watching my niece and nephew’s basketball and soccer games regularly and being part of all family holidays or random weekend gatherings. Of leaving the boys with my parents for a weekend to have an adventure with Joe.

In Sacramento, I spent a morning wandering around Capitol Park, one of my favorite activities when I lived in that city some years back. Across the street, I saw a church garden I’d found once before, with a little sign to welcome any who passed. I went in and the scene came back to me as through a memory—the little fountain trickling water and muffling the clamor of traffic outside, and the perfectly arched shade trees filtering the warm morning sunlight. I sat and wondered what kind of little respites I’d call my own in Tokyo, which coffee shops or park benches I’d frequent. Which activities and people would influence my children’s hobbies and loves.

Mountain trip with the Brewers

There was something encouraging about this virtual home shopping; it felt like a traveling mercy in our time of transition. In each place, I formed loose attachments and strategies for settling, but then I let them go to move on to the next stop on our itinerary. It formed for me a love for each place that was not possessive: An appreciation for having visited rather than a sadness to leave. An excitement for the possibility of what’s next. God’s gift to me, then, was an open idea of home, a readiness to settle in and make space for myself and my family to thrive together, and to welcome into our lives new life-long friends. To grow.

Walking in California

And the added bonus of our transience was that my boys, constantly together in a season of change, began to see each other as part of permanent "home." They transformed from baby and jealous toddler into brothers.

And Tokyo—what can I say? I was more than ready to love it here, but truly, it’s amazing. The things I picked out and loved about each place we visited over home leave are magnified here. I adore our home. I love our little segment of the housing compound complete with several fast friends, and I think the compound itself is fantastic. Beyond that, there is so much to love about Tokyo itself so far that I keep wondering if someone will pull back a curtain and say, “just kidding!” It can't be this good.

A lotus field we happened upon in Tokyo

I remember one Disneyland visit during college when I accompanied family friends who had young daughters. As we floated down the Small World river, the older little girl—about Luca’s current age—leaned up to her father and, emotion flushing her voice, said, “Daddy! It’s everything I dreamed it would be!!”

And I know we're still in the honeymoon phase with Tokyo, but I really feel that way.

The First Day of Letting Go, AKA Preschool

My house is eerily quiet, save for cicadas singing outside my window and the tune of “Hush little baby …” wafting down the stairs from Damien’s naptime elephant soother.

Usually during this time, I’m building towers out of magnet tiles or vans out of Legos, watching a Disney movie or reading a book while Luca watches Transformer Rescue Bots.

But today is different. Today is my first day of letting go.

Luca's First Day of Preschool, Age 4

They say “weaning” begins the first time a parent gives a baby solid food, and today feels similar. It’s Luca’s first day of preschool.

This, his first step toward independence from me, feels like a weight off my shoulders but also like loss. Excitement and pride and sadness. It’s my first step toward Room Parenting and Soccer Momhood and an empty nest, and his first baby step toward eventual life on his own.

I’ve been excited about Luca starting school this year. He’s 4 after all, and the research seems pretty solid that a year of preschool before kindergarten helps set the foundation for a student’s school success.

But it wasn’t until our orientation yesterday that it truly hit home.

The first hour in the gym was all business with sick policies and the like, but the second hour, in Luca’s classroom with his teacher, surrounded by art supplies and costumes and blocks, I nearly lost it several times. I was crouched awkwardly in a child’s wooden chair at a foot-high table, listening as the man who would spend hours with Luca gave a survey of his education philosophy and explained how his class would run.

I imagined Luca going through the procedures he mentioned, sharing questions and tasks with a crowd full of his peers. Learning to navigate new rules and structures. I knew Luca would thrive, and I worried he’d be rough with other children. I wondered how he’d do sharing control of games and toys. I marveled at how fitting the classroom would be for my boy. I willed my eyes to stop tearing up.

The teacher described how our children would be prepared for kindergarten, and suddenly my stomach dropped: Kindergarten means first grade then second grade then basically high school.

“Ten months, once it starts, just goes,” he said. “So we want to start off with a great year right from the beginning.”

Gulp.

And this morning (after the best commute ever: Down the stairs, through a tunnel and there, in less time than it takes to get from Target to my parking spot), as Joe and I dropped him off, I felt so proud, and he was so brave.

I helped him stow his belongings in his cubby and went to introduce him to his teacher.

Luca, after shaking the man’s hand, eyed the building blocks area and immediately found the giant Magnatiles.

“Oh, these stick together!” the teacher told him, sitting down beside him. “Let me show you.”

“I already know,” Luca told him.

“Oh, you already know,” his teacher said. “Well, then you show me.”

I gathered up Damien, who was bummed he didn’t get to stay and play in the colorful room, and dragged him away from the excitement.

Outside the classroom, rain pattered on the surface of the koi pond and created a mood that felt appropriate: beautiful, reflective, nostalgic, sad.

So it’s begun.

A Year Already! Damien's 돌 (Dol)

Somehow a year passed since I met my sweet second son.

Damien's first year of life surprised me, taught me how wrinkle free parenting a baby can be. His bright, easy-going demeanor and warm, dimpled smile bring a new dimension to our family—he has transformed us into a more complete unit.

To mark his birthday a little early, I baked him a small cake to smash and taste, and Luca helped him open (and play with) a few presents. One family of friends with kids close in age to ours came over to celebrate the occasion with us and add to our fun.

For his official celebration, though, Joe's parents had the brilliant idea to meet up in Seoul so Damien could have a traditional Dol, the Korean first birthday ceremony, and see relatives who still live there—especially Damien's great grandmother.

When my mother-in-law suggested it, Joe and I, starved for good Korean food here in Hong Kong, immediately took to the plan. Also, we'd had so much fun celebrating Luca's Dol when we lived in Korea that we wanted to give our second son the same kind of party.

Have I mentioned that Korean food is my comfort food? I never liked hot dogs or mac-n-cheese, but man, things like braised beef ribs and hot kimchi soup melt away my stress (while, I'm sure, simultaneously raising my blood pressure due to salt and MSG). So, despite a difficult morning wrangling two kids and inching through the ridiculous traffic from the hotel to the party restaurant, my mood swiftly switched to party mode once those first banquet dishes landed on the table—which, by the way, was the kind of traditional table that requires you to sit on the floor.

After lunch, Damien and Luca wore hanboks, Korean ceremonial outfits made of silk, and there were a series of blessings and ceremonies I didn't understand (including Damien's grandfather, my father-in-law, shooting an arrow out the door). Then the presenter led a happy birthday song (in Korean) and explained each of the items on a small table, set out for Damien.

Each item represents something: a band of strings for long life, coins for riches, bow-and-arrow for strength and athleticism, calligraphy brush for intelligence, gavel for justice or a career as a judge or lawyer.

Damien got two picks, as you can see in this video:

To narrate in case it's difficult to understand: The presenter asks Joe what he wants Damien to pick. Because it's the first thing to grab, he picks up the coins. He asks me; I say long life. Here's the part you can't really see: The presenter shakes the coins and puts them right on the edge of the table nearest Damien. Guess what Damien picks? The coins!

"It's a set up!" I tell Joe. He laughs.

For pick number two, I help arrange things equitably. Damien dives right in for the gavel, no hesitation.

So, apparently he'll be wealthy and just. I'd say that's a good combination.

After Damien overheated in the silk hanbok, and after my mother-in-law and Joe's aunts had divvied up all the cake and rice cakes from the Dol table into plastic bags to send with each group of attending relatives (in true Korean fashion), the room emptied and Damien and Luca enjoyed their own after party (and spilled rice everywhere).

Bangkok: A Realistic Look at 'Adventure Travel' With Kids

I’d heard parents say their kids are fantastic travelers—that they’ve carried on climbing Machu Picchu or walking the Great Wall of China with their little bundles of joy. I assumed Joe and I would be the same. Kids wouldn’t change the way we travel, right?

But for those who love to travel for fun and yet decide to procreate, it’s no surprise that this love of travel must shift—at least while the children are small. Add food allergies to the mix, as we have, and this shift grows.

Thai Ronald McDonald, "Sawasdee Kap!"

My parents told me McDonald’s was the fanciest restaurant they took us to while my siblings and I were tiny, and I get it. An adventure to any restaurant involves chasing, scolding, apologizing. What about several days of restaurants with foreign foods and tourist sites and unfamiliar beds?

Story time on a hotel bed with sleepy boys

Joe and I were surprised last year to find we were happy to never leave our Thai resort during a vacation last year, and this past long weekend came the next installment: A trip to Bangkok in which most of our time was spent at luxurious malls and our hotel’s pool.

Would you like to swim in his tank?

Divers feeding these sharks. I'm not kidding.

Given, these downtown malls are probably the most amazing I’ve seen anywhere—a first-rate aquarium, amazing food from all over the world, familiar fast-food chains, IMAX theaters or cinemas with luxurious couches and more. It was a whole world of modern luxury, all connected with a giant cement sky walk, perfectly shaded from the broiling Thai sun. 

Bangkok is old meets new:
An alley view from the skywalk

The skywalk and skytrain tracks

The skywalk reminded me of 1984

Luca's most frequent meal:
Japanese triangle rice with salmon

Lots of walking!

One day, we tried our hand at true traveling. We hopped on the sky train and barely made it to our stop in time for Luca to have a potty break. From there, we loaded up on a crowded commuter boat to float down the river toward the Grand Palace. When our stop arrived, we couldn’t shoulder our family of four through the crowd quickly enough to exit, so we offloaded our kids and stroller at the next stop… again, barely in time for another potty break for Luca. On the way out of the pier’s shopping area, we shrugged off the hat and parasol salesmen, only to realize we forgot to attach our stroller’s shade. Out in the hot sun, we slathered our sons with sunscreen and managed a standing diaper change for Damien, while his hat and our bag kept falling on the filthy ground and picking up a visible layer of black dust.

Potty break + nap

View from the boat

Temple view from the boat

As we pushed the stroller toward the historic palace entrance, the sidewalk narrowed, jamming us in with a mainland Chinese tour group following a teddy bear held up on a stick by their leader. Closer still, two or three other large tour groups converged, crowding the one palace entrance and the street crossing. Cars and motorbikes whirred through.

My face and neck reddened in the sun, burning within minutes. The boys’ cheeks, shaded under their hats, were ruddy with heat. The crowd hemmed us in further.

“This is not safe,” Joe said, envisioning a stampede over our boys if anything went awry. I pulled the stroller to the side while he scouted up to see if things got better further in. They didn’t.

“Let’s cross over and regroup,” I said, gesturing toward the other side of the road. “We’ve got to get these boys out of the sun.”

As close to the palace as we got...

Yum!

We tried to stop at a roadside shop selling coconuts to at least hydrate the kids, but it was swarming with tourists as well, so we pushed on, stopping in at the oh-so-adventurous Au Bon Pain to quench the boys’ thirst and feed them an early lunch so they could re-energize.

“Is this going to be: We came, we saw, we went to Au Bon Pain instead?” I asked from upstairs in the familiar chain, where we could see the intricate Thai roofs of the buildings beyond the walls.

“Nah, we can try again,” Joe said. “Maybe there’s another entrance.”

There was not another entrance. We walked around the palace wall, toward that pier we’d attempted to use as our boat exit, to no avail.

“I want to go back to the hotel!” Luca whined, sun-weary and dehydrated. Damien cried.

After restocking on water, we decided to call it a day. At least the boat ride had been a fun adventure, with cool temples to see along the way.

The boys on the boat

I loaded Damien in the Ergo carrier and paced to help him sleep, and I realized the intricate roofs across the street were not part of the palace. I looked closer and noticed a sign identifying the area as Wat Pho, one of the temple groups we’d read about.

Should we or shouldn’t we? We assessed our boys, Luca strapping himself in the Damien’s more restful spot in the stroller and the baby fussing, both begging for rest. I knew there was no way we’d force the boys away from the downtown area again the next day.

“I want to try,” I said. “Damien’s going to sleep, and I’m going to be disappointed if we don’t see anything while we’re here.”

Joe, supportive of me but doubtful and tired, went along.

We were not disappointed. Damien napped while Luca—at long last—got to run around and explore. What we saw was incredible and fascinating.

The adventure was exhausting and challenging, but it was worth it.

You know what? My kids are fantastic travelers.

Here’s a look:

Luca didn't want to leave this famous temple...

...because the chain gates and fans were way too fun.

Vegan Eggnog

I'm lactose intolerant, and I was invited to a Christmas cookie party by a pregnant woman, and I was in charge of bringing eggnog.

Now, we live in Hong Kong, so it's not a normal beverage to have around, even if I wanted the dairy kind. I've made the egg (and liquored-up) version before. But without the raw eggs, homemade eggnog is a different creation altogether.

I used this recipe and this recipe for inspiration and came up with my own version. It was a hit! The Vitamix even made it frothy enough on the first day to have that "homemade eggnog" feel. I used the leftovers to make eggnog lattes for a couple days. Yum!


VEGAN EGGNOG
(makes about 1.5 liters; easily halved)

4 cups almond milk
2 cans full-fat coconut milk
2 Tablespoons real maple syrup (not the corn syrup kind, but the kind that comes from a tree)
12-14 small pitted dates*
2 teaspoons nutmeg
2 pinches of salt
2 dashes of cinnamon
2 dashes of cloves

--Place all ingredients into a blender*
--Blend until smooth and uniform (this could take several minutes because of the dates)
--Refrigerate your eggnog until chilled
--Stir or shake before the first time serving to work the foam back in (this will make sense when you see it)

*If you don't have a strong blender, like a Vitamix, it might be wise to pre-chop your dates, and you may have to blend for longer to make the texture smooth.

Stitch Fix!!

Recently I brought out my bin of pre-pregnancy clothes, and with absolute glee, I hung up cuter, non-nursing- or pregnancy-specific shirts. After that glee faded, however, I realized many of my staple shirts were worn out, out of style or just no longer a good fit.

Sigh.

Since the idea of clothes shopping makes my stomach turn, I did not jump for joy and start planning a shopping spree. I simply resigned myself to thumbing through my closet each morning and trying on multiple shirts before settling on something to wear.

Enter Stitch Fix.

Have you heard of Stitch Fix yet?

I'm pretty sure this company was invented with me in mind. Get this: I fill out a style profile online, and a stylist chooses five things she thinks I'd like. She sends them to me in the mail, and I have a few days to try them on and mull it over, then decide what to keep and what to send back.

The cost? A $20 styling fee that applies to your order!

Brilliant!

Alright, here's what I got. Isn't it fun to see nice new clothes splayed out on your bed ready to try?



The clothes came with style cards suggesting how to pair the pieces included with other items already in my closet. At issue: I don't have these items in my closet! Oh, well.

First of all, the fabrics were all gorgeous, and the clothes well-stitched. I liked the style of everything,  but as you'll see, not necessarily the fit on me. The nice thing about Stitch Fix, though, is that the stylist gets smarter the more feedback I give.

HELMA DRESS: fun, but boxy on my shoulders 
and hips. The bullets don't work for me.

SHILOH TONAL DOT PRINT SLEEVELESS BLOUSE:
Cute style, but looks like a tent on me.

ADORRA SKINNY JEAN: Comfy and perfect fit, but I'm 5'5"
and these bunch like crazy around my ankles. 

The tag said "Ankle Jean."
Maybe if I was 5'11".

MONI GEO PRINT BLOUSE:
I wanted to love this, but somehow it make
my shoulders look particularly bulky.

CLARICE MULTI STRIPE KNIT DRESS:
Fun, flirty and perfect length. WIN!

So, I kept 1 out of 5 and had some fun. I can't wait for my next fix! 

*If you're interested, sign up using my Stitch Fix link here, and I'll get referral credit!*