Category: Random Thoughts

I am not good with pain. It dulls my senses to joy. An almond croissant no longer cheers me up. It can actually cause more pain as I am fighting the agony of strep throat. It hurts to talk. My communication with the kids is reduced to encouraging nods and exaggerated smiles. No yelling or nagging. They might prefer this kinder version of mom.

It is the worst time to be sick. I am on sabbatical. I am supposed to be productive with these precious non-teaching days. The prolonged sickness has chewed away my patience and I start counting my opportunity cost. Literature review day. Gone. Meeting with Jessie about model modification. Gone. The chance to submit my revision before Christmas. Totally gone. The more I count, the more anxious I become.

Thankfully I have enough self awareness to realize how unnecessary and foolish my anxiety sounds. This is the best time to be sick. I have no lectures to give and no students to accommodate. A pause is all that is required. I surely have a hard time doing that.

In his inspiring Ted Talk, Bruce Feiler shares his tough year battling cancer and how it was “a lost year”. He said the biggest lesson out of his journey is “the idea of pausing”. His motto for his girls is “Take a walk with a turtle. Behold the world in a pause”. I don’t need a turtle. I have David. On our walks in the neighborhood, he stops and gets off the bike just to pick up a leaf, a pine cone, a rock, or a cicada shell. On our ride to school, he points out the moon, a plane, or a pretty tree. If I miss it, he insists we turn around and go back. Children don’t need a pause. They are never racing against time.

I break the rules when I am sick. Two mini ice cream cones after breakfast, or Chinese stand-up comedy (脱口秀大会) before noon. Distraction and noise are my goto pain relievers, but should I try and learn to be still, in pain? On a quiet afternoon, I worked on my Bible Study and then French lessons, while Chris was on the other side of the dining table working on his computer. We didn’t talk. The only movement in the room was the sunshine that poured in through the big window. I have not found more healing power than those two hours of stillness.

This paragraph from the book “Ten Ways to Destroy the Imagination of Your Child” explains it well:

If our children learn to be comfortable in silence —– and worst of all, in silence when they are among other people they love, feeling their presence nearby without needing to say a word to them —– then a door will be opened that it might take many years of careful schooling, overexposure to the jitters of electronic media, and inundation under the inanities of breathless news that are not news, to shut. For in that deep quiet of the heart we hear things. We hear that the world as we know it is passing away. We are passing away. Yet the world is beautiful, and good is no illusion. Evil is the illusion; it is weak, a shadow, a parody of good, a specter. We seem to crowd many years into a single instant, or we call an instant years later, as if it were present now in all its power and life.

It started from 6pm the evening before my birthday. My phone rang for the two separate messages from mom and dad: “Happy birthday!” Of course, it was already my birthday, China time. I called mom right away to video chat. For the 76th time, she told me about the day she birthed me. She was in the hospital for one night and one day with contraction but no progress. Just before 8pm the second day, the next shift doctor showed up, surprised: “You are still here. Let me help you!” “She was really pretty, that doctor!”, mom never forgot to add that detail. Tools were quickly gathered and a C-section was performed. I was born.

Mom never tires of telling me about that day. I never tire of hearing the same story. It only got better after I gave birth twice myself. We started comparing our experiences and connecting to each other in a new way. The night I had Kate through a C-section, my parents came to the hospital to see me and the newborn. Mom walked in, came straight to my bed, and hugged me: “That is so much suffering my kid.”

My birthday started with me taking the kids to their swimming lesson. Chris and I went to brunch at a Mediterranean restaurant and then a stroll in a park nearby. I no longer use the word “best friend” as an adult, but our easy conversation made me think of that term. After 11 years of marriage and 2 kids, we still long for time together, whether it is grabbing lunch from a taco truck on a work day, browsing through houses on Zillow while praising the one we live in, or watching one episode of Seinfeld after putting the kids down. It makes me happy to have a spouse who happens to be a great friend.

I had one hour to myself in the afternoon before taking Kate to her tennis lesson. After learning that many Chinese books are available on Kindle, I downloaded one novel and added two classics to my reading list. Those books were the ones I always thought: “One day, I will read them.” When that thought was turned into a tangible plan, I was liberated.

More than once in the past, I cried on my birthday about disappointing gifts. It probably reflected more poorly on me than on the gift giver. Over time, gifting in our family has evolved from a guessing game to hint dropping and then to clear pointing. I knew what I was getting this year, either a Thor’s hammer Lego set or a Transformer Lego set. They are my favorite worlds combined. My passion for Lego and Marvel movies is a puzzle to some, but I know they are just a continuation of my childhood favorites: 雪花积木(snowflake toy brick) and 圣斗士星矢(Saint Seiya: Legend of Sanctuary). I used to spend hours building butcher stores, playgrounds, and living room furniture with snowflake-shaped bricks as a child. Recreating the world in a miniature form brings me endless fun. Followed by Ninja Turtles and Transformers, Saint Seiya was my favorite show in childhood. It is about a group of teenage warriors wearing a sets of sacred armors and fighting against evil. The Avengers are the grown up version of those saints, plus they fight on a larger scale. In the “End Game”, Captain America had a line: “Avengers! Assemble!” I jumped to my feet and cheered.

The evening went by with the presence of good friends and one slice of strawberry whipped cream Japanese-style cake. At night, when I laid my head on the pillow, gratefulness and contentment filled my heart. I thought to myself, it was a good day.

I never pictured myself pulling weeds tirelessly in a squatting position on a hot summer day. That is because first, Chinese hate sun. The sun umbrella is one of our greatest inventions. Second, I knew nothing about gardening growing up. I had to Google “what is the difference between perennials and annuals?” When Aisela gave me an introductory lecture on plants, she started with: “Look, this one is a tree.”

Our family decided to plant some flowers and vegetables last year. We started with snapdragons, marigolds, sunflowers, strawberries and herbs. Since then, we found ourselves spending much more time outside, to water the plants, to check on the ripening fruit, to cut some basil for my chicken dish, or to simply enjoy a cold drink in that space. Summer days became fun and fruitful. It was a fairy tale until the villain showed up: the weeds.

Weeds are easy to deal with when they are small and when the roots are weak. But if neglected for a while, weeds will overgrow and choke all the desirable plants in the area. After a month of vacation last July, I came home to a garden bed with an excessive amount of weeds. Instead of changing and unpacking, I looked for my garden gloves and started weeding. Not only did I voluntarily put myself to hard work in the sun, to my surprise, I did it with great joy and satisfaction. My desire to kill weeds is proportional to my love for my plants.

Is that how God sees sin? He loves us too much to allow sin. If allowed, sin will deepen its roots, grow its leaves, and eventually take over.  Only when sin is dealt with promptly, can we grow freely.  I am fortunate to have God as my loving and relentless gardener.

“What is funner, mom? Tell me the truth. Is it funner to be a child or an adult?” Out of nowhere, Kate popped this question during a bedtime chat. It is a good one.

There are definitely moments that I wish I was a child. For example, before leaving on a trip I find myself packing for two kids, two adults, cleaning up the fridge and ignoring work emails. Kate puts on her pink backpack and announces “I am ready!” When a family friend asks Kate, “What is your favorite subject at school?” Her eyes light up. With pride she says “Lunch.” When she saw me pleased with her handmade happy mother’s day card and a kombucha she bought with all her savings, she added, “It is nice to be a woman, huh?!”

Her world is so pure, fun and easy. I was tempted to give an easy answer to the question. Yes, as an adult, I know more about pain, anxiety, guilt, and a sense of loss at times. But I also fully enjoy my autonomy. I get to decide when to splurge on a cashmere sweater and when to bargain for a 10% teacher’s discount. More constraints are self-imposed as I age. Such as only one Marvel movie each week and no online shopping in the office (the former one takes 90% of my discipline). The children in our house rarely have something to say about what to have for dinner or where we go for a vacation.

The autonomy comes with responsibility and work. It is a fair trade to me.

Kate asked me to tell her the truth. So I told her: “It is nice to have both.”  Some days I long for the simplicity of childhood, but having tasted the freedom of adulthood, I wouldn’t go back.

Plenty of things in life cost very little, but bring me so much joy. Morning sunshine on a slow day, my kids’ fast and steady footsteps to my room, a nice walk in Ault Park, and watching Iron Man put on his suit (no marginal cost with a Disney+ subscription).

Out of the things I spend money on, nothing beats the joy per dollar provided by flowers. However, flowers seem such a luxury purchase. They are short-lived, not edible, and serve no practical function. But they never fail to spark joy in me. They are alive,  unexpectedly beautiful and unique with colors and shapes made by nature. They brighten the room and my mood. With an opportunity cost of two pounds of chicken, I always hesitate to put a bouquet in the grocery cart, but not once have I regretted it.

I have used Mother’s day as an excuse to get jewelry in the past. But this year, all I asked for from my family was flowers from the farmers market and a trip to my favorite bakery.  It was a money-saving and joy-enhancing choice.