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!*

I Am Entitled to Nothing

This season has been tough.

Because I had to go to the bathroom
rather than scoop food he's perfectly
capable of scooping himself.

I’m not asking for sympathy—I never expected life with two tiny boys to be easy. Parenthood isn’t supposed to be easy.

Some days are all sweet cuddles and playing happily together and reading books.

Other days, we have tantrums and territorial disputes over toys and Mama’s lap and Mama’s undivided attention.

Some days I’m patient and creative and happy. Other days I’m irritated and frustrated and exhausted, and I DESERVE A NAP.

I’m ok with having bad days now and then—they’re normal. They happen.

But after we returned from our trip to the U.S., the massive, lingering dose of jet lag exacerbated by a sleepless baby—along with the wonderful fun that is age three—sent me reeling into a series of bad days.

I’m a smiler, so it wasn’t a good sign when Joe had to ask me a few times if I was angry about something.

One morning, I retreated to my one respite, those few blessed moments alone in the shower, and I asked myself and God: Why am I so easily irritated lately? Why am I sour?

The answer hit me, and a weight lifted.

I went to find Joe and told him, point-blank: “I am entitled to nothing.”

“What?” he asked.

“I am entitled to nothing,” I said again. “I’m not entitled to an easy day or to time on my own to catch up on writing my backlog of blog ideas. I’m grateful for those things when they happen. But I am entitled to nothing.”

“You know that was Frank Underwood’s campaign slogan, don’t you?” Joe asked.

“What? Oh, Yeah. No, that was, ‘YOU are entitled to nothing.’” I reminded him. “This is different.”

“Oookaaay,” he said, going about his business.

I followed him. “I am not entitled to your love, but I’m really grateful you freely give it and choose to fulfill your vows,” I said. “I’m not entitled to good food and clean water, but it’s awesome that I have both, and that’s mainly an accident of birth. We’re not entitled to have someone clean our house, but I’m extremely grateful we can afford to employ Sheryl.”

He got the point.

When things go generally well in life, it’s easy for people to take it all for granted. Of course things go easily for me. When something snags, we get annoyed. When things take a turn, we ask, “WHY?!”

That whole day, I looked at everything through my new lens: I’m not entitled to hit all the green lights and avoid the reds. I’m not entitled to a morning without traffic, or to a spot in the fastest lane. I’m not entitled to a quick entry into the elevators when there’s a long line of people waiting. I’m not entitled to a perfectly-behaved 3-year old who doesn’t test his limits. I’m not entitled to a full night of sleep. I’m not entitled to U.S. prices in Hong Kong.

And guess what?

I felt joyful.

I felt happy.

I felt less stressed and less annoyed.

When I shifted my expectations to gratitude instead, I began to enjoy the day.

I suddenly recognized my default setting was a subconscious, subtle shade of sheer pride and selfishness, a product of human nature fostered by societies and advertisements that sell the idea that I deserve it.

Our culture is so ingrained with a "have it your way" philosophy that it's easy to expect just that out of more than just Burger King. And so each day has its share of disappointments, big and small.

I think humility may be the true secret to happiness. (So does David Brooks, by the way, in this awesome take down of high expectations.)

And funny enough, this was essentially the call of Christ: humility. To stop thinking we’re “good people” enough to deserve a suffering-free life on Earth and then Heaven for eternity, to stop thinking anything we could possibly do could earn us a relationship with God or a happy life, but rather to look at life as though the needs of others are just as pressing as—or more pressing than—our own. To sit back in gratitude for the perfect sacrifice of Jesus on the cross. For the love of family. For a sunny day. For a roof and a meal.

Now, to find a loving way to teach this to my 3-year old…

Brothers as Babies: 6 Months of Comparisons

Somehow six months have come and gone since Damien's birth, and my gorgeous second born is healthy as ever. He is a happy baby who loves sleep, which is slightly different from my previous experience mothering a baby. (understatement)

Over the months, relatives and friends often comment on whether they think Damien looks more like a Brewer or Kim. They ask if he looks like his big brother.

My answer isn't fun, but it's truthful: They look like brothers, but also distinctive. Both are a mix, with strong notes of both Brewer and Kim.

Here are some side-by-side comparison pictures so you can judge for yourself.

NEWBORN

Luca newborn

Damien newborn

1 MONTH

Luca 1 month

Damien 1 month

2 MONTHS

Luca 2 months

Damien 2 months

3 MONTHS

Luca 3 months

Damien 3 months

4 MONTHS

Luca 4 months

Damien 4 months

5 MONTHS

Luca 5 months

Damien 5 months

6 MONTHS

Luca 6 months

Damien 6 months