6pm: calling out to the kids to the table for dinner
6:15pm: still trying to get the kids to the table for dinner
6:20pm: finally got the kids to the table for dinner
6:45pm: Buddy's almost done though it took several negotiations to have him feed himself (something about being at him that makes him want me to feed him … maybe it's me)
7:00pm: Little Guy has left the table countless times
7:10pm: finally 3 or 5 more bites left for Little Guy
7:15pm: calling out to the kids for bath time
7:20pm: no one has come to take a bath … must be patient and try humor and pretend play to get them to the bath
7:30pm: it worked, everyone in the bath and almost done
7:45pm: fruit and milk time
8:pm: in the bedroom, play, read books
8:30pm: lights out … a round of thankfulness … kisses to each kid (5 for Buddy because he's turning 5 this year and a few for Little Guy through the wooden beams of his crib because it's so fun) … I stay in the room with them for a few minutes
8:45pm: I'm out of the room … hoping that's it for the night (it isn't always)
Yup, that's my evening … everyday. Some days my patience runs thinner. Usually when I'm tired or stressed about something, my tolerance is weaker. It occurred to me recently that my evenings remind me of groundhog day, where the same events repeat themselves day after day until the groundhog doesn't see its shadow and doesn't crawl back into its hole.
Sharing this comparison with a couple of friends this week … and they reminded me two very important lessons in my story.
1. Yes, it all sounds familiar. I'm not alone. And it's okay to not always have the patience for being on re-run day in and day out … and it's natural to feel bad about not having more patience.
2. Look at it another away … it won't be long before Buddy wants to bath himself, then Little Guy … it won't be much longer after that that Buddy will read to Little Guy … it won't be much longer after that that both Buddy and Little Guy won't want me to stay a little bit after lights are out.
Thanks to these reminders, I shall cherish these groundhog evenings before the shadow disappears and the groundhog stays out of its hole. Just as winters don't last forever (in most places on earth), this phase won't either.
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Thursday, June 19, 2014
Adversity. Don't follow my first … or second instincts!
Last week school had a Father's Day celebration. It was the first for the school and the kids. To say that Buddy was excited would be an understatement. However, we only received the notice one week prior to the celebration and GK couldn't change his work travel plans. When we realized that GK couldn't attend, my first instinct was "oh no, maybe I can go to take videos". Upon realizing that it probably wouldn't make sense for me to be there as it was for fathers afterall, my second instinct was "should I keep Buddy and Little Guy at home and do something special with them".
I was more concerned with Buddy because he's at the age where he can remember everything while Little Guy is still at the stage where he half understands and remembers things in spots. Buddy is also very observant and I know he would notice the difference between himself and those whose fathers attended. Although the motivation behind my instincts were to protect, if I had carried out my instincts, I would probably have dug myself into a hole where I had to explain to both kids why they weren't going to school that day and admit that I was worried about them having an unpleasant experience.
In that same week, I chanced upon this inspiriting talk by Andrew Solomon on How the worst moments in our lives make us who we are, which was a reminder that adversity and unpleasant experiences are a must in life if we are to learn and grow as a person. Of course, I shouldn't introduce them unnecessarily just to challenge my children and tough them up. On the other hand, I shouldn't overly protect … using "but they are still so young" as an excuse. If I carry on like, how old would be old enough for my children to experience adversity and forge meaning in them such that they become their potential?
While growing up, I always wished my parents stayed together and that we were a tight unit. During the holidays, while in college, I sometimes held onto that wish whenever I thought about not having a home to return to … no place where I still have my room (or shared room with my sisters) and my stuff. No, all my stuff was with me because I didn't have a home. The truth was, I did have a home - it just wasn't a physical house, rather it was the feeling of being with my family - my sisters, my parents (separately). Once I realized and made peace with that, I no longer wished for anything but exactly the childhood I had. It is part of and makes me who I am today.
The moral of this story is that I would be wrong to rob my children of opportunities to forge meaning in their experiences, pleasant and unpleasant, to create their own identities. I would do better at supporting them in that endeavor.
I was more concerned with Buddy because he's at the age where he can remember everything while Little Guy is still at the stage where he half understands and remembers things in spots. Buddy is also very observant and I know he would notice the difference between himself and those whose fathers attended. Although the motivation behind my instincts were to protect, if I had carried out my instincts, I would probably have dug myself into a hole where I had to explain to both kids why they weren't going to school that day and admit that I was worried about them having an unpleasant experience.
In that same week, I chanced upon this inspiriting talk by Andrew Solomon on How the worst moments in our lives make us who we are, which was a reminder that adversity and unpleasant experiences are a must in life if we are to learn and grow as a person. Of course, I shouldn't introduce them unnecessarily just to challenge my children and tough them up. On the other hand, I shouldn't overly protect … using "but they are still so young" as an excuse. If I carry on like, how old would be old enough for my children to experience adversity and forge meaning in them such that they become their potential?
While growing up, I always wished my parents stayed together and that we were a tight unit. During the holidays, while in college, I sometimes held onto that wish whenever I thought about not having a home to return to … no place where I still have my room (or shared room with my sisters) and my stuff. No, all my stuff was with me because I didn't have a home. The truth was, I did have a home - it just wasn't a physical house, rather it was the feeling of being with my family - my sisters, my parents (separately). Once I realized and made peace with that, I no longer wished for anything but exactly the childhood I had. It is part of and makes me who I am today.
The moral of this story is that I would be wrong to rob my children of opportunities to forge meaning in their experiences, pleasant and unpleasant, to create their own identities. I would do better at supporting them in that endeavor.
Thursday, June 5, 2014
What will they remember?
Writing in the midst of packing for a quick trip to Taipei. It's the first time I'll be flying by myself for pleasure since the kids were born. I'm also looking forward to being in Taipei with my sister, just the two of us. It might be the first time since we left in 1985.
Although it's a short trip, my heart is feeling rather heavy today because I'm dreading being away from Buddy and Little Guy. Upon reflection this morning, I realized that I don't want to miss out and I want to be in their memories. Practically speaking, this trip is a little crazy. I'll be on the ground for 36 hours and on the plane for 4 hours each way. So, why do I want to go so badly? It is precisely the fact that my sister will be there and we will have a chance to be by ourselves. It's a chance for a walk down memory lane of my formative years with my sister, with whom I shared many experiences in those years.
Most of the happy memories in my childhood were from those years growing up in Taiwan. Favorite foods that formed my taste buds' preferred flavors and textures. Hot tin lunch boxes that formed the basis of my preference for warm meals. Walks with my grandparents that grounded me and taught me to look for nature amongst the bricks. A broken down temple that served as a playground for imaginary play and offered endless opportunities for social skills development. Family outings at the rocky beaches and rivers that instilled in me a love of water.
What will my kids remember from their formative years? Buddy gave me a little insight about that this week when I asked him what his class was going to do for Father's Day celebration. Instead of telling me what his class was doing, he seemed to be pondering what he wanted to do for his Baba.
Then, he said …
"I don't know what to make for Baba." - I listened so he can continue to share what he's thinking.
"I don't want to make anything for Baba." - I replied with "ok" and continued to listen with curiosity.
"I just want to do stuff with him." - I thought "wow!" and said "that's a great idea! we don't always have to make things. sometimes having experiences together is the best gift!"
"Yeah!" - he flashed a contented smile.
We, as humans, are social beings and naturally crave connection. Perhaps this is a way for Buddy to tell us that he just wants to be with us most of the time. It's not about the toys or going anywhere specific (though he does love Legoland)? It's about being together and connecting. So … more walks and more experiences together! This shall be a constant reminder. :)
Although it's a short trip, my heart is feeling rather heavy today because I'm dreading being away from Buddy and Little Guy. Upon reflection this morning, I realized that I don't want to miss out and I want to be in their memories. Practically speaking, this trip is a little crazy. I'll be on the ground for 36 hours and on the plane for 4 hours each way. So, why do I want to go so badly? It is precisely the fact that my sister will be there and we will have a chance to be by ourselves. It's a chance for a walk down memory lane of my formative years with my sister, with whom I shared many experiences in those years.
Most of the happy memories in my childhood were from those years growing up in Taiwan. Favorite foods that formed my taste buds' preferred flavors and textures. Hot tin lunch boxes that formed the basis of my preference for warm meals. Walks with my grandparents that grounded me and taught me to look for nature amongst the bricks. A broken down temple that served as a playground for imaginary play and offered endless opportunities for social skills development. Family outings at the rocky beaches and rivers that instilled in me a love of water.
What will my kids remember from their formative years? Buddy gave me a little insight about that this week when I asked him what his class was going to do for Father's Day celebration. Instead of telling me what his class was doing, he seemed to be pondering what he wanted to do for his Baba.
Then, he said …
"I don't know what to make for Baba." - I listened so he can continue to share what he's thinking.
"I don't want to make anything for Baba." - I replied with "ok" and continued to listen with curiosity.
"I just want to do stuff with him." - I thought "wow!" and said "that's a great idea! we don't always have to make things. sometimes having experiences together is the best gift!"
"Yeah!" - he flashed a contented smile.
We, as humans, are social beings and naturally crave connection. Perhaps this is a way for Buddy to tell us that he just wants to be with us most of the time. It's not about the toys or going anywhere specific (though he does love Legoland)? It's about being together and connecting. So … more walks and more experiences together! This shall be a constant reminder. :)