Kimchi Mamas

Figs

Last time my mother-in-law was here, I was not quite myself.

I had been living with my mom for about a year by then and she was literally driving me crazy.  Her constant nagging and criticizing to her taking over the house and putting everything where she wanted, etc... was slowly chipping away at my sanity.

So, when my MIL was visiting, I was not the perfect hostess that I would have otherwise been.  (Who am I kidding, I would NEVER be the perfect hostess.)  But yeah, the last LAST time she was here, she seemed to like me enough and I think she had a good time even though the jet lag and plane ride was taxing on her frail health.  

The main reason my MIL visited this time was because my mom was going to Korea for about a month so my MIL came to watch and bond with her only grandchild.  It was kind of like an excuse for her to visit... we could have put him in daycare or something but I think it was around his dol (1 year b-day) too so yeah, she came for about 2 months (it ended up being 2 months because my mom stayed in Korea for longer than expected and then even when she came back, my MIL stayed longer.)

Kimchi Mama guest post by Michelle from Wife and Mommy

Please welcome guest poster Michelle from Wife and Mommy! I met Michelle at Blogher '09 and knew immediately after having lunch with her that she needed to tell us her story. She shares an aspect of her Korean-American life here and I am sure many of us can relate. —Stefania Pomponi Butler

Of all the areas in which I feel insecure about raising my children, exposing them to their Korean culture is the most worrisome for me.  I am uncertain how to teach them the traditions and nuances of the beautiful, rich culture that my own parents taught me.

I’m a first generation Korean-American—I was born in the U.S.A., effectively beating out my entire family to citizenship.  Growing up, I felt split between two cultures.  At home, I was a dutiful Korean daughter.  I served my father Korean meals that my mom prepared.  I did as my parents expected, studying hard and bringing home good grades (for the most part).  I played the piano and violin.  I followed my father’s rule, even though I internally rebelled against my father’s attempt to have us speak only Korean in the house.  

My American persona emerged when I was at school and with friends.  I eschewed Korean culture and did everything I could to forget my Korean-ness.  I was embarrassed by my parents’ odd Korean manners.  I didn’t want to bring my friends over lest they smell our kimchi kitchen.  I was timid in asking my friends to remove their shoes upon entering our home.  I ignored Korean peers at school and went out of my way to not be associated with them.

My exposure to the Korean culture was simply what I absorbed in my day-to-day living.  I managed to avoid the dreaded Saturday Korean School that my sister was made to attend, but now I can’t read and write Hangul.  I made no effort to learn Korean customs nor have Korean friends despite my parents’ desire for me to do both.  

I married a white-bread American guy and we now have three beautiful multicultural children.  My desire to know more about Korean culture has increased in an effort to teach it to my kids.  Since they aren’t immersed in Korean culture in their home as I was, how will they ever learn about it?  I am not Korean enough to adequately educate them.  I lean on my parents to show their grandchildren, but they live overseas now and we only see them once a year or so.  

So I try.  We go to the Asian grocery store as often as we go to the regular supermarket.  I attempt to make my favorite Korean dishes so their young tongues can develop an appreciation for the delicious flavors of my childhood.  We have dolls dressed in traditional hanbok.  We read Korean folk tales and eat a lot of rice.

For now, I hope it’s enough.  Maybe I’ll see if I can find a Korean school for them to attend once they are older.  

***

Michelle is a Wife, Mommy, former school teacher, writer, and procrastinator (among other things). 

Michelle's parents immigrated to the U.S. a year before she was born, thus giving her the distinction of being the first American citizen in the entire extended family!  She grew up in the DC Metro Area, where she still lives with her white-bread midwestern boy, The Husband, and their three children:  Bito, Cupcake and BabyMuffin.

She writes about her life at Wife and Mommy.

Cleaning Out the Closet

We've been busy cleaning out our 1300 sq. feet hobbit house to prepare for the arrival of the little guy.  We have clutter all over the place.  I used to live here alone until Jeff moved in almost three years ago.  We merged two households into one and banished most excess belongings to a storage unit in the South Bay near where Jeff used to live. We now live surrounded by a hodge-podge of mismatched items and piles of random things that have no place to call home. 

We've been slowly trying to bulldoze through the debris for the last few months.  I hear the little guy is going to be pretty darn little, but boy, talk about all his stuff. Just dealing with the necessities -- mainly the crib -- has been a challenge.  Two weeks ago, we moved our wardrobe down to the garage to make room for the crib in our bedroom, where we expect him to stay at least three months.  I have since been sorting through our clothes in our closets and drawers to make room for his tiny outfits, diapers, and toys, buying extra bins to place under the bed and figuring out what needs to stay, what can go.   

Hungry like a 늑대 . . .

My kids had their first day of school today.  I am sitting in my home office at almost 12 noon, wondering how their first day at their new school is going and if they will like the Americanized doshi-raks I packed them this morning.  (There are no food services at their school so packing lunches is a necessity.)

And since I'm feeling a little nostalgic for Korean comfort food today, too, I think it's Spam and kimchi on my menu for lunch.  ; )

What's in your kids' lunchbox?  What do you like to pack?  What do they eat?

--Angie in Texas is enthusiastic about packing lunches . . . for now.  Ask her how she feels in about 3 weeks.

You can do it all...

... just not at the same time.

This is my new mantra.  I spent four days at a leadership development program specifically focused on Asian Americans.  It was awesome.  I met women, who like me, struggled with figuring out how to balance work and family.  And repeatedly, they said, "You can do it all... just not at the same time."

I wish someone had told me that earlier.  I have that instinct in me - to always do more.  I think the high (or low?) point for me was when I overrode my adviser's advice not to take any classes during the semester when I was due with my daughter.  Slow down for pregnancy?  Put my education on hold?  While I pop out babies?  No problem, I can do it all.

And the thing was, I thought I was doing it all.  Everyone commended me for my commitment to my education.  People called me super woman for managing a crazy work schedule and a crazy personal schedule.  And all that ever did was encourage me to take on more, to keep going.  Because hey, I am superwoman, right?

Now, I'm just overwhelmingly tired.  I still have these overachieving urges to go back to school, to take on additional responsibilities at work.  I have a hard time saying NO to what look like good opportunities.  I spend almost every moment that I'm not working with my daughter.  And when I'm not with my daughter, I'm with my finance.  And rarely am I just with myself.

I'm glad that someone finally told me to slow down.  Which isn't the same as compromising on my personal goals and desires.  Yes, I intend to go back to grad school.  But that doesn't mean that I need to  get married, back to school, work, and pop out more babies all at once.  It just means maybe I'll go back to school in 10 years, have babies in 5 years, and get married in one.

It takes a little bit of the pressure off.  Just a little.  That I don't need to tackle everything tomorrow.  What has helped you manage all the roles in your life?  What did you struggle with along the way?

-- eliaday, who is a recovering overachiever.

Hot dog nuggets

One of my most memorable fights with my mom featured Nathan's hot dog nuggets.  Sixteen of them.  You know, those that look like miniature corndogs, but without the sticks.  They came in a green and yellow paper box with a flimsy cut-out latch, the kind that never kept the box properly closed.

I picked them up at Nathan's in the Long Island Railroad terminal in Penn Station on my way home from work.  I was in my early 20s, living with my parents in Long Island, and working as a paralegal at a law firm in midtown Manhattan. On the nights I worked late, the firm allowed me a $15 stipend for dinner.  On this night, instead of buying dinner while I was working, I waited until I got to the train station to get the hot dog nuggets.

Happy Father's Day

Happy Father's Day to all the great Dads out there - we love you and are happy to have you in our lives.  You make our lives beautiful and FULL . . . and the not-so-great Dads - you are a part of the goodness and wonder that made us Moms, Mamas, Mommies and Uhmas. 

As a single mother for a very long time, please take the time to reflect on one of today's Postsecrets:

--Angie in Texas wishes the great dads in her life a great day and the not-so great dad in her life better perspective.

A Source of Shame

Communication is one of the things, if not THE ONE thing, that make a marriage work.  I’d like to think I’ve learned from my first marriage – and preparing for the second one has made me more aware of the critical role communication plays in a successful marriage.

Recently we’ve been communicating about . . .

To Bilingual or to Not Bilingual, That is the question.

I just came home from a BBQ where I met a French woman who is trying to raise her French/English (as in British) children bilingual in the Bay Area. She is aware of a private French bilingual school but it's too expensive. I told her that although I can speak Korean pretty well, having come to the States when I was in the fifth grade, I am not speaking Korean all the time to my son at the moment. Especially since my husband doesn't speak it that well and it's hard to make the effort myself.

A part of me knows that that was just an excuse. If I really wanted, I CAN speak only in Korean to my son... but I have passively come to a place where I am not doing that. 

Am I a terrible mother? I have met/read some mamas to whom it is so important that their kids are bilingual. I mean, since I "can" teach Korean to my kids, I "should"... right?

To Wear or Not to Wear

I was the only one in my family who didn't throw her shoes on the pile behind the front door. As soon as they entered, the other members of my family took their shoes off and chucked them where they landed. The left pair of my mom's florescent yellow plastic slipper often sat between my dad's brown strapped slippers that he had owned since Korea and his tennis shoes, whose back flaps had been permanently folded down. My sister's sandals from the past summer were piled up on top of the sandals from the years past. My mother's pumps gathered dust next to her various pairs of $8 black, thick-soled, orthopedic-like shoes that she picked up from a Chinese vendor under the bridge on Flushing's Main Street. My brother's assortment of sneakers -- all of which looked the same but served some mysteriously distinct functions -- provided additional heft to the pile.

Unlike them, I kept my shoes in my own closet. The ones out of season, like my winter boots, were in their original boxes stacked in the back row of my tiny closet. The ones in current use, like my sturdy pair of rubber-soled black leather shoes that I purchased in the Village, sat prominently in front row, along with my favorite summer sandals and running shoes.