Making A Difference

My adventure of life has taken a different toll in the past month and I am enjoying every bit of it.  Since I was 6 years old, my dream was a full time mom and had as many kids as possible. My concept of a mom was more like a teacher standing in front of the students in a classroom, everybody in their best behavior, sitting quietly, and eagerly attending the lesson. As the years pass by, my childhood fantasy of a teacher style mom was long gone, but being a full time mom and having dozen of kids have always been my dream until........I have my own.

A friend who was very involved in children ministry at church once jokingly said "I love children as long as they are not mine." The epiphany of mixed feelings became apparent once I was a parent myself.  I love my children as much as a mother can love a child, truth be told though there were times that my two monkeys brought out a side of me that I never realized before.  It feels like a live furnace burning from my back, traveling from my spine to the neck in lightning speed, then all the way up to the tip of my head. As a result, voice started to raise and things were said in a way that was not meant to be, to both children and my husband.  Rather than fretting over the discouraging voice played in my head, I retreated to prayer mode in top gear. My prayer was that instead of restraining my tongue or do what was "right", just change my heart to become more like Jesus and be submissive to wherever God leads me to. If it's God's timing, I pray that He will provide me with a part time job so that I can balance my life out a bit, yet I can still provide for my kids.  I used to be a behavioral analyst working with children with disability and autism before I had Keke, so I went back to my familiar field only this time I prefer not to be involved with the administrative responsibilities such as meetings, data analysis and report writings. My passion is working with children directly and I found great joy seeing the child succeeds even in the smallest ways. With this in mind, I applied for a part time school 1:1 aide and my thanks to God I got a job offer and started working since March. Turned out the child I support was the child I worked with 7 years ago and now he is 10 years old. He is still very medically involved and attends school for only 3 hours a day all the while I only need a few hours of work, so we are a great match and works out perfectly. I praise God for his wonderful arrangement and is excited for the change of directions it has taken place. The child I work with is non-verbal and there is no way he can tell me that he remembers me, but I hope this is not a wishful thinking if I believe he does.

So that's my schedule now, I drop off Kylie at a daycare few days a week as Vincent has weekdays off and  he takes care of Kylie in the morning. Then my mother hat is back on at noon when I pick Keke up from school after work.  In comparison, the few hours I work is much easier and relaxing than the split mind chores I engage at home. It's definitely a new adjustment for me after being a full time mom for more than three years, but for now, I am just glad that my job allows me to interact with people higher than 3 feet.



Summer's Footprint:

Before I step into school every day,  I tell myself it would be a fine day if I can make a difference in the life of the child I work with.  This week is teacher appreciation week and I received flowers from the parents of the child I support and a key chain from school that says "You make a difference, every day."

It's a fine day indeed.

Growth

When Keke was born, he was only a little more than 4 pounds because he was three weeks early and I had HELLP syndrome. Luckily all his organs were fully developed at birth except that there was little to no fat on his body. Therefore he had a hard time keeping his body temperature.  The picture of Keke's stick figure laying naked inside a box under a heated lamp was still vivid in my mind. I was also instructed to be "skin to skin" with him frequently at the hospital. Basically to put his naked body on my bare chest so that he can learn to regulate his body temperature using mine. At discharge, the pediatrician required us to bring Keke in every week for the first month to make sure he was gaining weight steadily.  After much worries, feeding and God's blessings, the result paid off in spade. Keke's weight rapidly excel from 2%tile to 50%tile in 4 months. It's like blowing up a human balloon in front of my eyes. At Keke's last physical check up, unlike the first 3 years of age which the baby's size can double in the first 6 months, the pediatrician told us his growth will start to slow down tremendously from now on.  For some reason, this is a new idea to me, that people grow in a certain rate at certain time and 3 years old is one of the marks.

Human physiology and genetics fascinate me. Although Keke was born as a stick figure, his head was average in size because the body automatically preserved his brain at all cost. According to research, the human brain develops in a particular order at certain age. Specifically, the frontal lobe of the human brain is not fully connected to the rest of the brain until mid 20s, and this accounted for the lack of judgement and risk taking behavior in the adolescence years. To make matter worse, children and adolescent's brains are born to be easily excitable to the environment because that's how children learn in a rapid pace. The downside to that is they respond too quickly and without the capability of connecting their actions to the consequence. Believing Keke as the reincarnated dare devil with a mixture of curious George, I have already tasted a glimpse of his teenage years since he was mobil. With Keke's unpredictable adrenaline rush, creative ways to somehow get himself in trouble, and his motto "I do it!", it's my personal achievement if Keke is still in one piece when he turns 18. I can totally see him sky diving, jumping off the cliff wearing nothing but his underwear and will not be surprised if he is featured in those extreme sports channel one day. To prepare me for Keke's treacherous years to come, "What is he thinking?" is not the right question to ask. Instead, remember to work on "What is he NOT thinking?"



Summer's Footprint:

Can you find the judgement gland?

The Teen Brain: It's Just Not Grown Up Yet

http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=124119468

Happy New Year

November was a busy and hectic month.  Our whole family went to Hong Kong for almost three weeks and came back half alive. The pace in Hong Kong was much faster than the U.S, there was no time to waste or idle. “Wait a minute” seemed too long for so many. What about “Wait a second?” Probably not. “Wait half second?” Time’s up!  As a mom, I had zero jetlag because my body was trained to sleep anytime, anywhere.  But adjusting to two young children’s 13 hours time difference was brutal.  Finally after two weeks, routine schedule found its place and Old Mac Donald was back on track in the car.

Kylie started a home daycare a few weeks ago because it’s time to expand her vocabulary in addition to the over generalized “mama”. On the way Keke and I drove to pick up Kylie, he asked why Kylie couldn’t be at the same class with him. I answered it was because Kylie was little and it’s better to stay in a small school.  “When will Kylie grow up?” Keke asked.  That caught me speechless for a moment. I just mumbled some nonsense explanations all the while  thinking to myself: Kylie is growing everyday, but so are you. You simply cannot wait for your sister to grow up and be at the same age.  Unlike time zone difference, the two years and four days difference between the two of you can never be adjusted. Son, you are the only big brother Kylie has in this world, treat her well and DON’T sit on her like a pony, for goodness sake.

As 2014 rolls, my two hot monkeys will continue to blast my mind. Although it's no end in sight, there is only one 2014 and before I know it, 2015, 2025 and 2035 will be around the corner. So I might as well just buckle up, take the wheel and launch this fantastic ride of 2014. Happy New Year!

Summer's Footprint:

Moo Moo Everywhere

Wednesday is a midweek I look forward to because it’s Vincent’s day off. Keke goes to school half day in the morning while Vincent takes care of Kylie at home so that I can attend a woman bible study class every week. As a full time mom, it’s a few precious hours that I can fully dive into and savor the word of God without distractions.

Today is a gloomy and rainy day. The smell of rain is what I long for and it wakes my senses up.  After the bible study, I stopped by a coffee shop to relish the sight of rain with a hot pumpkin spice latte at the window. Gardening is also my mental getaway, so I picked up a few pots of flowers to top off my lovely morning.   On the way home, I found a concert loaded in my car, which had no chance to air for more than a year because my songs of choice were closely related to Old Mac Donald and Wheels on the Bus since Keke was born. With vengeance, I blasted the speakers, opened the moon roof and sang my lungs out.   

Routine provides a harbor of comfort and stability, but at some point, it drifts into a mind of inertia. Much like a treadmill, the same calculated actions and thought pattern running steadily and endlessly.  So with this, I see taking care of Kylie and Keke becomes a job to fulfill, a way to get by.  The manifested symptoms include, but certainly not limited to, a drastic decrease of patience and exaggerated grumbling. The feeling of being unappreciated is prevalent and a silent bomb is ticking. Before I put up the sign “BEWARE OF BITTER WIFE”, the establishment of No-Kid Zone, whether it’s 20 minutes or a few hours a day, is crucial to rejuvenate my mind to reflect, regroup and reprioritize.

For me, the No-Kid Zone usually takes place when everyone is asleep at night or very early in the morning, and the luxurious Wednesday morning. Until then, the background music of my treadmill mind will sound like “Old Mac Donald had a farm, EIEIO, and on this farm he had a cow, EIEIO, with a moo moo here and a moo moo there, here moo, there moo, everywhere moo moo”

Yup, I can feel it, moo moo everywhere.

Summer's Footprint

Pearl Making

A lot of times, I have many strange thoughts.  For some reasons bewildered to me, the concept of death is as real as my own shadow. “Who is going to die first? Vincent or me?” “Who is going to handle better after one of us die?”  "What will my own funeral look like?” Graveyard is not my type. I would rather have my children scattered my ashes in Grand Canyon to remind them that human is so insignificant compare to the awestruck wonders of nature and the creator of universe. 

The wedding vow is a little blurry to me, I have to admit.   Memories of the wedding day are not so durable. However, I can still recall the feelings like yesterday when Vincent first held my hand in a mall. My heart beat so fast that zero gravity was not too hard to imagine.  The same racing heart could also caught in the moment and led to rampageous actions such as storming out of the room and driving 90 miles per hour when we argued. Fortunately, I just did it once and realized I have too much to lose in engaging in this type of actions. Every couple has their ups and downs and we are no exceptions. But what will happen one day if I find myself waking up with no one sleeping beside me? Like getting married and having a honeymoon, dying and being left behind are one of the stages we will go through down the road. It is just part of the marriage deal.  To die is easy, but to live meaningfully is the toughest part for the loved one who is left behind. After much contemplation, I told Vincent that it’s my hope that he dies before me because I can survive better if I am left behind. Of course, assumption is a freelancer of the mind until it is smashed by the unrelenting reality.

In the movies, the characters always wait till their last breath and utter their shivering words of “I…. love….. you……” I am not going to wait till my last breath?! Are you kidding me? On a more practical level, writing makes it easily assessable so that my husband (H) can read it whenever he feels disheartened, thinking what did he get himself into, when things are not up to par, or simply, whenever he pleases. 

Dear Mr. H,

The bible says, “That is why a man leaves his father and mother and is united to his wife, and they become one flesh” I try to think what does one flesh mean. Is it two people being duct taped together for the rest of the life? That would be so hopeless- hopeless to be bound together due to reasons other than love and commitment. Then I remember the process of pearl making:  

“The formation of a natural pearl begins when a foreign substance slips into the oyster between the mantle and the shell, which irritates the mantle. It's kind of like the oyster getting a splinter. The oyster's natural reaction is to cover up that irritant to protect itself. The mantle covers the irritant with layers of the same nacre substance that is used to create the shell. This eventually forms a pearl.”

Mr. H, I feel like I am the foreign substance in your life. No doubt, I did a fairly good job in irritating and annoying you (and vice versa) through the years. However, your endless layers of patience and understanding gradually transform me to a pearl. Can’t say that I become perfect (actually I never attempt to become one), but definitely a better person. Thank you for your shell of anchor, which allows me to shine bravely in your heart.

I love you.

Truly yours,

Summer

Summer’s Footprint:

“Oh Sweet Lorraine”-The story of a love song written by a 96 years old man whose wife recently passed away. Enjoy.

Home Countries

Walking around with air conditioner water dripping on my body from nowhere, the free hair compressor from the super air curtain at the doors of the malls and shops, the suffocating humidity and getting drown in my own sweat. That pretty much sums up my memory of the summer time in Hong Kong.

Aside from the weather, I cannot think of one thing that I hate about Hong Kong.  Hmm… take it back, maybe the traffic. It’s such a wonderful place and I am proud to say that Hong Kong is my hometown. So when I was 17 years old seeking education here in the U.S, there were some cultural gaps necessary for me to cross over.  One of the biggest differences that occur to me is personal space. Considering a population of 7 millions sharing 423 square miles of land, six times the size of Washington D.C, people in Hong Kong are squeezed all the time. Rubbing elbows is just an understatement. Human forced and packed like sardines to the subway trains, buses and elevators are not an unusual sight.  Hence, to say “Excuse me” in the U.S before I pass in front of someone two feet away is something I need to remind myself consciously.  Because I did learn this lesson the hard way by inviting some angry looks and someone saying “Excuse you!” while I was puzzling “What did I do?”

Another phrase that I need to get myself in habit of saying is “Bless you” when someone sneezes. What is the benefit of being blessed after sneezing? And if I don’t bestow the blessings would be perceived as rude does not make sense to me.  I thought blessing is arbitrary. Personally, I would rather save these blessings when I am under unpalatable situations such as crawling out of the bed at the cry of Kylie in the middle of the night, or the sheer sight of washing poop when Keke’s ass decides to explode in his underwear.  But that’s just me I guess and now I’m conformed to the world of abundant blessings.

To top my list of ever-confusing phrase is the term “Politically correct/ incorrect”.  I recently found out the word “Oriental” in the U.S may considered offensive or politically incorrect to some Asians because the term is based on the geographic relationship of Asia from a Western perspective.  What?! How come I did not feel offended at all even though I am a 100% Asian breed? A lot of times I am still learning what is correct or incorrect in this culture, offensive or defensive or whatsoever.  To add another level of correctness is like listening to Vincent talking endlessly about the torque, horsepower, and the engineering of various cars bla bla bla-all mumble jumble. 

Interestingly, after all the cultural adjustments I encountered in the U.S, it’s ironic to feel like a foreigner every time I go back to Hong Kong for vacation now that I have spend more time living here than in my home country. There is no escaping the fights for space both physically and emotionally is simply consuming, if not exhausting. 

On the other side of the horizon, it’s humbling to be a part of the collective, yet diversified cultural experience, and subsequently loving the people who make up this piece of land called United States of America.  

Summer’s Footprint:

The famous scene of Hong Kong is the nightly neon skyscraper. It represents productivity, prosperity and glamor.

But the poor and the disadvantaged are also the many faces of Hong Kong as the result of economic disparity. My heart went out to the two children in the following article, which depicted a boy sleeping and his sister studying on their exclusive  moveable area-the upper level of their bunk bed.

http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-2282764/Hong-Kongs-human-battery-hens-Claustrophobic-images-slum-families-squeeze-lives-tiniest-apartments.html