Kimchi Mamas

Roots (part 2)

So, last time, we left off with my hal muh ni becoming pregnant long after my hal ah buh ji was gone. I am not sure how this happened. Well, I know the mechanics of it (heh) but I am not quite certain of the circumstances surrounding it.

My oldest cousin told me something that implied that my hal muh ni was raped. Something about how women those days couldn't do anything if a man forced himself on them... But his mom (my oldest gomo) implied at a different time that my hal muh ni had had an affair with a local man. She said something about how my hal muh ni's mom (or her grandma, I'm not sure) was "into men" and how that "bad character trait" lasts 3 generations. Sounded like bologne to me but I'm just reporting here.

Roots (part 1)

This is the story of how I ended up living in the US. I think it's pretty long so thus, I put part 1. And due to its sensitive nature, I've opted to leave this post anonymous. I've told snippets of this story to a lot of my friends but never had time to write it all down. What better place to do it than here on Kimchi Mamas?

It all starts with my grandparents. My hal ah buh ji (grandpa) and hal muh ni (grandma) were apparently pretty well off during the pre-Korean war times. My hal ah buh ji owned a mill and my aunts and uncles told me that if you had a mill during those days, that meant that you were pretty well off. My hal ah buh ji, I was told, was also quite a handsome man. He was totally in love with my hal muh ni and he would even take her on his horse to watch the movies when the movies first came out. He was a community leader and a faithful Catholic. He never turned away a hungry person who knocked on his doors. These are all just stories I heard from my aunts and uncles so I'm not sure how much of it is true but they seem to be truthful... 

A Penny for Your Name?

My MIL called a couple of days ago and unfortunately, I was napping so the hubs answered the phone. When I woke up, he informed me that our second son's Korean name was Hyung Ooh. Interesting.

I didn't like it or dislike it all that much... but it didn't roll off the tongue as much as I wanted it to. And I also wanted our second son's name to have at least one same syllable (why does that spelling look so wrong?) as our first son. First son's name is Jung Ho.

Since MIL lives in Korea and doesn't have much "say" in our day to day lives, I thought it'd be nice to have her name our children... their Korean names I mean. Hubs and I decided on the English names together without input from any grandparents.

Actually, it wasn't exactly her who gave our boys their Korean names. She went to a "place." I don't even know what it's called in Korean. When I translate to the hubs, I call it a wise man or a fortune teller. Anyway, she goes there and tells them the date and time of the birth... and I'm not sure what other information, and pays a certain fee and voila, the wise man names the kid.

The Third Generation's Tongue

Hidden among my sons' many books are three Korean board books. Two are familiar Western fables translated into Korean, another is a Korean fable. I've tried to encourage my mother and halmoni to read them to my older son, but it's never really happened. And considering that my halmoni insists on speaking to my son in broken English rather than Korean, it's no surprise.

It makes me sad that my sons will probably know just as little Korean as I do.

So when my older son asked me to read the Korean fable to him the other day, I complied. In my halting and broken Korean, I stumbled over the words as my son patiently sat next to me. Listening. Intent. One day my son - who is now just three - will stumble over English in the same way I will always stumble over hangul.

Neither of us understood the words I read.

Taking care of the postpartum daughter or DIL

My aunt emailed me asking if I wanted my mom to come help me out after I have my baby.  

I replied, "I'm not sure if I want my mom to come when I have my son (did i tell you it will be another boy?). I think if she comes for a short time, like 2 weeks, it might be OK but if she stays a long time, it will not be good for our relationship."

My relationship with my mother is super duper complicated. I won't go into that now in detail but to sum it up, it's not good.

For some reason, she feels that it is her "duty" to come and "help out" when her daughters have babies. Of course, there are terms attached. For instance, she did not go to help out my sister with her second child because when my sister asked her to come, she gave her the exact date she wanted her to come, and the exact date she wanted her to leave. This bruised my mom's ego and so, my mom used "things to take care of" as an excuse and did not go.  

Secret Service

OK. Not THAT kind of secret service.

So, this morning, a dried out puddle of pee greeted me as I entered the bathroom. My natural reaction would have been to be pissed off and I was thinking about what I could say to the culprit to get him/her to clean up after his/her own mess. But then I just read this book about Christian discipline about the discipline of secret service (serving others in secret and humility) and thought, I should just clean it up and not say anything. Of course, now I am telling it to the whole world so I guess it wasn't such secret service but as I wetted the toilet paper and carefully wiped the floor, I thought about my maternal grandmother.

I don't know her very well at all but from my few interactions with her, she has been nothing but a sweet sweet woman. She must be near or over 90 years old. She lives in the countryside and tends to a little farm. She grew peppers that she made into go-chu-jang (hot pepper paste) and once, my mom gave me some to take back to the US when I was visiting (my mom has lived in Korea most of her life). Man, that was the best go-chu-jang I ever had.