Kimchi Mamas

Goodbye Halmoni

My grandmother had six children. A boy, and then a girl, and then another boy, and then another girl, and then another boy, and then another girl. My dad was the middle boy.

A professor of population studies asked me during a discussion if my grandmother had six children and if my mother had two. I answered yes. Yes and yes. Apparently, Korea had very strict population control and those were the ideal numbers for those days. I was quite dismayed to learn that my family was so typical. The number of cousins and siblings so determined by governmental forces.

6.25. 육이오

Today is 6.25. 육이오. Today is the 60th anniversary of the Korean War. The Forgotten War as many call it. Apparently, a lot of Americans have forgotten about it. Well, not me.

My grandfather died during the war. My father was a toddler when the war broke out and walked until his feet bled, trying like everyone else, to flee to Pusan. The war made my grandmother a widow, and in a way, is the reason why I am even in America. If it wasn't for the Korean War, I am pretty sure that I would be living in South Korea right now.

My deepest gratitude goes to all the soldiers who fought in the Korean War to defend South Korea. I also thank the countless people that worked to help South Korea recover from the war and help it be the amazing and economically thriving country that it is today. Thank you.

- Mary is taking a moment to reflect on this day even though she should be preparing for her son's dol (1 year birthday) tomorrow.

Summer Camp in the Motherland

My in-laws live in Seoul and visit us about once a year. Our relationship is fraught and complicated, but (hopefully) improving with time. Regardless, they love our two sons and I know they try their best to be good to us.

When my first son was three months old and I was returning to school to finish my last quarter of undergrad, my mother-in-law pretty much offered to take him to Korea with her for the next three months. She was worried I wouldn't be able to handle a baby and school. I, on the other hand, was so appalled at the very suggestion of living an ocean apart from my infant for three months that, in my shock, I blurted out rudely, "I would never do that!"

Fast forward a few years and now we have two sons who are four and nearly two. Every visit, my in-laws drop hints that in a few years they expect us to send the kids to Korea for the summer to stay with them. I know that, as much as they want to spend time with the children, they also think of this as a generous way of giving us a much-needed break. But, much as my reaction to my mother-in-law's initial offer so ungraciously showed, I still have a hard time wrapping my head around the idea. As much as I think that spending a summer (or summers) in Korea would be a wonderful experience for my kids, I still can't imagine sending them anywhere without me. I can barely leave them overnight at my parents' house when Yubo and I manage to plan a night away for necessary romantic purposes. And not just because I miss them, but because they seem insecure and overly irritable for days afterward.

Is this just me being overprotective and overly attached? Perhaps. But, to be honest, I'm comfortable with that. Even if the idea of a whole summer without the kids is mildly tempting (freedom!), I'd still much rather spend that time with them than without them. And as someone who tries to practice attachment parenting, I have a hard time believing that young children benefit from being away from their parents for extended periods of time. I know that there are plenty of Korean American kids (including some of my friends growing up) who spent summers with relatives in Korea and they turned out fine blah blah blah, but I'm still not sold on the idea.

Chicken?

I find myself in a game of chicken with my mom. A very twisted one. It's a strange situation so I thought maybe doing a Kimchi mamas post about it would clear some things up.  

After living with me for about a year and a half and taking care of my first son for us, my mom moved to Boston to live with my sister. Why you ask? We fought. A LOT. And she's a little bit crazy. =)  Just kidding. She's a LOT bit crazy. 

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.