Our online chat tonight:
Thanks Bro. I needed that slap to the face. I'm 34, not 24 or 14, maybe I should stop trying to ball like I am. Just maybe...
Wednesday, May 28, 2014
A Taste of My Own Mortality
I believe I've had my first taste of my own mortality tonight. "Bads come in threes," is what I've been told by friends and family. I've had three problems as of late: right shoulder, right elbow, right boob. Not until chatting with my brother about my recent doctor visits (yes I've had multiple for the above stated problems) did he make me realize my mortality with one comment.
Our online chat tonight:
Our online chat tonight:
Friday, November 29, 2013
Babies on the Brain, Babies in the Belly
*I found this draft when revisiting my long, lost blog...It was written in August 2012. Out of order time wise, but hey it gives a clue to what has occurred since 2011...
It's been more than a year since I've posted on this blog of inconsequential thoughts and happenings in my life. I did briefly, for a time, 9 months to be exact, evade my mother and her constant haranging to have children. This is because and in fact, my younger sister saved me. You see, my sister is actually in labor as I type this barrage of recent events. As it so happens, my sister's pregnancy, her baby bump, bun in the oven, being in the family, on a stork watch has all distracted my mother quite nicely for almost the entire course of the last three semesters of my 2nd year of graduate school. My mother even said to me once over the phone that it was ok if I didn't want to have kids, its not for everyone and some people just like to study and work. Finally, admittance that one can be perfectly content being a book worm, married, as well as occupy a space with one, large (finniky, anxious, and maniac) dog. Not only have I been able to enjoy the peace of silence on the talk of getting myself knocked up with or without my husband's approval or assistance, I have been able to delight in the upcoming joy of once again being the world's best Auntie. I do enjoy being an Aunt. Spoiling the little shits rotten, and then being able to release the hounds back to their rightful owners!
I suppose I am in fact recounting some events here at this time of my sister's labor, because I am nervous for her. I'm having a hard time with thinking about her giving birth, I can't even imagine what or how she is feeling right now. She has reached the 24 hour mark about an hour and a half ago, after being induced due to passing her due date, as well as low fluids in the womb. My mother is of course here, and has been harassing me to drive her to the hospital since yesterday. But my duty here is to keep my mother occupied and far away from the hospital. Its not so much that my mom isn't allowed there at the time of the labor, its more that her anxiety and worry makes us all experience increased anxiety and worry including a pregnant lady who is currently trying to "evict" her offspring. Ok and lets face it, my mother can be a bit of tyrant. Ok there, I said it.
Anyway, the whole purpose of spewing my thoughts forth here is to basically describe how much I have enjoyed 9 months of freedom from harassment to bear heirs and pass on the lineage. At this point I don't know what the lineage is, me being of Vietnamese and Dutch origin and my husband being a mix of lord knows what European decent. If I am a half-breed to crudely put it, that would make our children some awful mix of mutt. A smattering of yellow, white, big, tall, petite and small.
It's been more than a year since I've posted on this blog of inconsequential thoughts and happenings in my life. I did briefly, for a time, 9 months to be exact, evade my mother and her constant haranging to have children. This is because and in fact, my younger sister saved me. You see, my sister is actually in labor as I type this barrage of recent events. As it so happens, my sister's pregnancy, her baby bump, bun in the oven, being in the family, on a stork watch has all distracted my mother quite nicely for almost the entire course of the last three semesters of my 2nd year of graduate school. My mother even said to me once over the phone that it was ok if I didn't want to have kids, its not for everyone and some people just like to study and work. Finally, admittance that one can be perfectly content being a book worm, married, as well as occupy a space with one, large (finniky, anxious, and maniac) dog. Not only have I been able to enjoy the peace of silence on the talk of getting myself knocked up with or without my husband's approval or assistance, I have been able to delight in the upcoming joy of once again being the world's best Auntie. I do enjoy being an Aunt. Spoiling the little shits rotten, and then being able to release the hounds back to their rightful owners!
I suppose I am in fact recounting some events here at this time of my sister's labor, because I am nervous for her. I'm having a hard time with thinking about her giving birth, I can't even imagine what or how she is feeling right now. She has reached the 24 hour mark about an hour and a half ago, after being induced due to passing her due date, as well as low fluids in the womb. My mother is of course here, and has been harassing me to drive her to the hospital since yesterday. But my duty here is to keep my mother occupied and far away from the hospital. Its not so much that my mom isn't allowed there at the time of the labor, its more that her anxiety and worry makes us all experience increased anxiety and worry including a pregnant lady who is currently trying to "evict" her offspring. Ok and lets face it, my mother can be a bit of tyrant. Ok there, I said it.
Anyway, the whole purpose of spewing my thoughts forth here is to basically describe how much I have enjoyed 9 months of freedom from harassment to bear heirs and pass on the lineage. At this point I don't know what the lineage is, me being of Vietnamese and Dutch origin and my husband being a mix of lord knows what European decent. If I am a half-breed to crudely put it, that would make our children some awful mix of mutt. A smattering of yellow, white, big, tall, petite and small.
Hiatus
Today's Date: November 29th, 2013, The day after Thanksgiving...
September 2011 - has it really been that long since I've last written an entry! Well let's just say I was on a three year hiatus with a lot of things going on in between. Since my last entry, I am still childless. Yes, that's me, going on 34 and still child free. And yes, I still receive the phone calls from my cute yet demanding Asian mother, who really WANTS not needs grandchildren, regarding my current abominable state. My current and ensuing state of childlessness supersedes the fact that since 2011 I have completed a graduate degree and received an award for my thesis research, as well as moved states twice, once to Boise, Idaho and then again to Colorado closer to my younger sister. I guess it doesn't help matters when my younger sister had a baby in that time and my newly wedded older brother is preparing to welcome their first child! I thought that my mother gaining two new grandchildren to add to her collection would deter her from harassing me for a while. Boy, was I wrong!
Tonights phone call started out pleasantly enough. I happened to just buy a new car today. Since completing my degree and securing a stable job, I decided it was time to purchase something that doesn't overheat going almost 11,000 feet over the Vail pass to get to Denver. I purchased a shiny, new Ice Silver Metallic Subaru, something that can handle the snow and ice of the Colorado Rockies.
First inquiry from my mother, "Who drive the new car?"
"Well mom, Josh will drive it most days because his work is further and it will get better gas mileage compared to his truck."
Mom, "What! Why he make you buy the car and he make you drive the truck? That not TRUTH! That not the good thing! He don't give you baby and he make you drive the truck!" And she's off! Her ranting has begun regarding what she views as the "truth" of things and what she deems "good" things. This made me hysterical - with laughter that is! How does she manage to fit in the baby talk during a conversation about cars!
"Mom, its okay, my work is only 4 blocks away. I can walk to work. I don't need to drive the car."
"What about the dog? He still live?"
"Yeah, the dog is still alive. I had to find a babysitter for the dog, because the dog was acting crazy and needed someone to walk him."
"They take him from your house? They watch him all day? How much you pay? Who pay for that, Josh or you?"
"We both pay for it."
Getting angrier, "WHY he make you take care his dog? That he dog. He need to watch he dog. He want to have a dog but he don't want to give you baby. He WATCH HE DOG!! He PAY FOR HE DOG."
Eeek! The anger over raising dogs rather than children rises again. There is a back story to this dog issue. My mother had once blamed Josh's mother for teaching him to raise dogs instead of children. Apparently, this is all Josh's mother's fault according to my mom, as she explained it to me back in 2011 shortly after this blog was created. Back in 2011 around the holidays, she huffed under her breathe, "There goes the son and the father." She wasn't talking about God or Jesus that's for sure. She was referring to my husband and Zeuser, his golden retriever son. My husband did not help matters when he jabblingly described to my mother how his mother calls Zeus her granddog.
My mom, "Hmmmpf."
Since we have moved to Colorado, we now only see my mother a couple times a year. For her next visit it is my plan to completely shave the dog, teach him to walk on two legs and dress him up like Charlie Brown. Now, where is that dog whisperer's phone number? She's so desperate for a baby, I think she'll accept Zeus as her new grandchild. I just hope she doesn't mind changing his diapers, or reading to him.....in his kennel.
Sunday, May 15, 2011
Addendum to the Master Scheme
10:15. Ahh, the luxury of sleeping in. And then the phone rings. It is my mother. I assume she is calling to ask if I have eaten breakfast yet or what my nephew, who came to visit this weekend, is doing. My standard answer to the food question is always rice and chicken. I tell her I eat rice and chicken for every meal. I am not sure why. Those two words, com and ga, just seem to roll off my tongue so easily, especially when my mom constantly asks if I have eaten, what I ate, if I cooked it, and if not then why can't I be a better woman and learn how to cook. This morning though she went straight to the baby talk.
She had a reworking of her master plan of going to the sperm bank from yesterday. This morning she tells me that I can just collect the specimen from my own husband and take it on down to the sperm bank for implantation. No need to involve the non-relationship men from the bank. Even better, I could collect implantation material from my own home and as my mother states, this would further teach my husband a lesson.
My response, to yawn. "Yeah, ok mom. Ok, sounds like a good plan. I'll talk to you later." Mom, "Hehehehe." Click.
Later in the evening, my husband and I went to drop off my nephew at my mom's house. I was hoping to enjoy one last bowl of shrimp soup before I had to return home. I was in the bathroom and when I came out my husband was saying to my older sister, "Tell your mom to stop harassing me. She doesn't know how stubborn I can be. I had a show down with your son in the bathroom for 2 hours to make him brush his teeth. I am very patient. At this rate, she will never get grandchildren." Woah people, whats going on? Can't I take a pee without you all fighting over non-existent children? My mother in retaliation mutters in Vietnamese something about being selfish and only buying toys for himself. Then she sits by me and whispers, "It's okay. You just collect the specimens later and you can bring it down to the place when you are finished with school." My older sister says to my husband, "You better watch those two, they are over there scheming and pretty soon she'll be popping out her babies." Thanks Sis, not helping!
My mother packed up a couple care package bags to send home with us as usual. On the drive home, my husband questions out of the blue, "What the hell are you suppose to collect it in??!!"
When we get home my husband opens one of the care package bags. It is a plastic bag filled with other plastic bags. No food. "What the hell! Did she send all these bags so you could collect my sperm?"
Hahahaha. Good one, hun.
She had a reworking of her master plan of going to the sperm bank from yesterday. This morning she tells me that I can just collect the specimen from my own husband and take it on down to the sperm bank for implantation. No need to involve the non-relationship men from the bank. Even better, I could collect implantation material from my own home and as my mother states, this would further teach my husband a lesson.
My response, to yawn. "Yeah, ok mom. Ok, sounds like a good plan. I'll talk to you later." Mom, "Hehehehe." Click.
Later in the evening, my husband and I went to drop off my nephew at my mom's house. I was hoping to enjoy one last bowl of shrimp soup before I had to return home. I was in the bathroom and when I came out my husband was saying to my older sister, "Tell your mom to stop harassing me. She doesn't know how stubborn I can be. I had a show down with your son in the bathroom for 2 hours to make him brush his teeth. I am very patient. At this rate, she will never get grandchildren." Woah people, whats going on? Can't I take a pee without you all fighting over non-existent children? My mother in retaliation mutters in Vietnamese something about being selfish and only buying toys for himself. Then she sits by me and whispers, "It's okay. You just collect the specimens later and you can bring it down to the place when you are finished with school." My older sister says to my husband, "You better watch those two, they are over there scheming and pretty soon she'll be popping out her babies." Thanks Sis, not helping!
My mother packed up a couple care package bags to send home with us as usual. On the drive home, my husband questions out of the blue, "What the hell are you suppose to collect it in??!!"
When we get home my husband opens one of the care package bags. It is a plastic bag filled with other plastic bags. No food. "What the hell! Did she send all these bags so you could collect my sperm?"
Hahahaha. Good one, hun.
Saturday, May 14, 2011
Scheming
My mother broke the mold today with her new schemes to obtain her much deserved grandchildren. In the past, she has only bribed me with a cool $10,000 per child or nagged me about how I'm getting older and there is no time to waste. She once told me she would bring me to a Chinese herbalist and then my husband, as she was sure there was something wrong with our ability to procreate. I will have to get back to these incidents in more detail later, but for now the happenings of today.
I went out to my mother's house today to enjoy a fine bowl of shrimp and tomato soup, Bun Rieu, she had prepared. I don't often get out to my mother's house since starting graduate school and salivate at the mention of Vietnamese food. I figured today was as good of day as any to visit her, since I hadn't been in a while, and my semester has ended leaving me with more free time. The enjoyment of my soup, laden with shrimp paste and hot chili sauce, went peacefully enough. However, it was too soon after that the mention of babies and pregnancy spewed forth from my mother's lips. This time she had a remedy, well several remedies, to my husband not impregnating me.
The first and most obvious solution was for me to stop using birth control. She laid it out for me about how easy and simple it would be, despite that it would be slightly deceptive. My only response was to be as honest as I could and say, "Um Mom, it's called a condom." (TMI - I know, lol.) Well, it only took a split second for her to come up with her next plan. She is a quick one. "Don't sleep in the same room as him," she tells me in a stern Vietnamese accent. Then in Vietnamese she explains that if he won't impregnate me then we should not sleep in the same area and that I should teach him a lesson that way. She also says she was not opposed to divorce, since a child was not being produced.
Her next idea was that I should just adopt. And that she was okay with me adopting from any country, as long as I brought a baby home. Now, if you know my mother this is a total turn around from a few years ago, when I told her I wanted to adopt a child from Korea (mostly because I lived there and was/am at times obsessed with Korea!) A few years ago she just wanted me to have a child and couldn't understand why I would want to adopt in lieu of conceiving. But today she says I am getting to the age that in a few years, I might just have to end up adopting and its okay by her. She also said that this should be a total embarrassment to my husband for his inability to impregnate me at this point. She then continued on about all the ways she has helped me, him, us, and I guess in retribution we should provide a grandchild for her. At this point I started to fall asleep, as it all sounded like blah, blah, blah. Ok, I confess, I did fall asleep.
When I woke, my mother had already packed up extra noodles and soup for me to take home. Have to love the care packages even if it comes at a price! I made it home and in less than in hour she called me 3 times. I had my ringer off and did not hear my phone. On the 4th call, I answered, expecting her to ask if I'd gotten home okay and if I'd eaten the soup even though I'd just eaten at her house. However, to my surprise, she asked me neither of these things. Instead, she described how I can go to a place and get "sperm" without having a relationship with the men. That I could have this place put the sperm inside my egg and have a baby that way. Then of course, it would be my choice as to whether or not I told my husband. If I did tell him, it would be to embarrass him for his failure to impregnate me in a timely and convenient fashion and to basically force him into submission in order to fulfill his duties at a later time. She didn't know the word for sperm bank or sperm, but she did a good job in Vietnamese explaining her point. She also believes this place, where they can impregnate me, is at the regular hospital up the street. I also believe, that she believes this is her greatest plan yet in achieving the creation of another grandchild.
My response, in English, "Mom, wouldn't it just be easier if I poked a hole in the condom?" The other end of the phone line broke out in little old asian lady giggles. "Hehehe. good idea," in thick accent. Click.
I went out to my mother's house today to enjoy a fine bowl of shrimp and tomato soup, Bun Rieu, she had prepared. I don't often get out to my mother's house since starting graduate school and salivate at the mention of Vietnamese food. I figured today was as good of day as any to visit her, since I hadn't been in a while, and my semester has ended leaving me with more free time. The enjoyment of my soup, laden with shrimp paste and hot chili sauce, went peacefully enough. However, it was too soon after that the mention of babies and pregnancy spewed forth from my mother's lips. This time she had a remedy, well several remedies, to my husband not impregnating me.
The first and most obvious solution was for me to stop using birth control. She laid it out for me about how easy and simple it would be, despite that it would be slightly deceptive. My only response was to be as honest as I could and say, "Um Mom, it's called a condom." (TMI - I know, lol.) Well, it only took a split second for her to come up with her next plan. She is a quick one. "Don't sleep in the same room as him," she tells me in a stern Vietnamese accent. Then in Vietnamese she explains that if he won't impregnate me then we should not sleep in the same area and that I should teach him a lesson that way. She also says she was not opposed to divorce, since a child was not being produced.
Her next idea was that I should just adopt. And that she was okay with me adopting from any country, as long as I brought a baby home. Now, if you know my mother this is a total turn around from a few years ago, when I told her I wanted to adopt a child from Korea (mostly because I lived there and was/am at times obsessed with Korea!) A few years ago she just wanted me to have a child and couldn't understand why I would want to adopt in lieu of conceiving. But today she says I am getting to the age that in a few years, I might just have to end up adopting and its okay by her. She also said that this should be a total embarrassment to my husband for his inability to impregnate me at this point. She then continued on about all the ways she has helped me, him, us, and I guess in retribution we should provide a grandchild for her. At this point I started to fall asleep, as it all sounded like blah, blah, blah. Ok, I confess, I did fall asleep.
When I woke, my mother had already packed up extra noodles and soup for me to take home. Have to love the care packages even if it comes at a price! I made it home and in less than in hour she called me 3 times. I had my ringer off and did not hear my phone. On the 4th call, I answered, expecting her to ask if I'd gotten home okay and if I'd eaten the soup even though I'd just eaten at her house. However, to my surprise, she asked me neither of these things. Instead, she described how I can go to a place and get "sperm" without having a relationship with the men. That I could have this place put the sperm inside my egg and have a baby that way. Then of course, it would be my choice as to whether or not I told my husband. If I did tell him, it would be to embarrass him for his failure to impregnate me in a timely and convenient fashion and to basically force him into submission in order to fulfill his duties at a later time. She didn't know the word for sperm bank or sperm, but she did a good job in Vietnamese explaining her point. She also believes this place, where they can impregnate me, is at the regular hospital up the street. I also believe, that she believes this is her greatest plan yet in achieving the creation of another grandchild.
My response, in English, "Mom, wouldn't it just be easier if I poked a hole in the condom?" The other end of the phone line broke out in little old asian lady giggles. "Hehehe. good idea," in thick accent. Click.
A Toast...
Years ago I wanted to create two blog spaces, both about my parents, whom are now divorced. My father, who is American of Dutch descent, was raised on a farm which is now labeled a century farm in Oregon. He grew up in a large Catholic family with more children then I have fingers to count. We will call him Neon, like the light, which is actually his real name. He is probably the smartest person I have had the chance to meet. His child rearing techniques were certainly interesting, and of course always pushed the limits of mental ingenuity and creativity. (For example, he would read me Shakespeare and Schiller followed by full adult explanation and conversation, while all my classmates were reading The Baby Sitters Club.) He is also pretty hilarious, has a nickname for everyone, and will try to get your goat whenever he can, which only adds to the random discourse that can occur with him. I wanted to create a blog with random questions I would ask him and see what his response would be to them. As most likely, he would have a response to all of them. This of course was foiled when Shit My Dad says was created, (the t.v. show and I know there is a Facebook page with outrageous sayings from someone's father). That was my idea! At least in part!
My mother came to America as a Vietnamese refuge during the war. No, I was not a war baby and most people don't even know I'm Asian at all, as I acquired the Dutch height from my father. Anyway, I digress. With my mother, I wanted to document all the crazy ass shit she says to me, the majority of which revolves around me being a married woman in my early 30s, with a husband who refuses to impregnate me. That's right, she wants her grandchildren and it's entirely his fault at this point. No will or reason will convince her otherwise. He is on her naughty list, or possibly at the bottom of the good son list or favorite children list. She does not hold back on her right as an Asian woman to demand the creation of her grandchildren. In doing so, she is constantly scheming new ways to procure their creation. With this little introduction being said, please read on, cuz this shit does get funny! Just imagine my itty bitty little mother of 65 unleashing her asian furry upon my ears with a thick Vietnamese accent, or entirely in the Vietnamese language when she wishes to talk smack about my husband right in front of him without him knowing. Well, he knows she is talking smack, as the intonation is unmistakeable, but the content is empty to him. (Except for the foul words I originally taught him in my attempts to "teach" him the language, hehe). BTW, my mother shall be called Bac, which is her real American English name she acquired when she came to the states, which also means woman in Vietnamese, which is an entirely different story as to how her first name ended up being Woman....
So, to end my little introduction I give a toast, to all the shit my parents say and all the stories I have to write.
My mother came to America as a Vietnamese refuge during the war. No, I was not a war baby and most people don't even know I'm Asian at all, as I acquired the Dutch height from my father. Anyway, I digress. With my mother, I wanted to document all the crazy ass shit she says to me, the majority of which revolves around me being a married woman in my early 30s, with a husband who refuses to impregnate me. That's right, she wants her grandchildren and it's entirely his fault at this point. No will or reason will convince her otherwise. He is on her naughty list, or possibly at the bottom of the good son list or favorite children list. She does not hold back on her right as an Asian woman to demand the creation of her grandchildren. In doing so, she is constantly scheming new ways to procure their creation. With this little introduction being said, please read on, cuz this shit does get funny! Just imagine my itty bitty little mother of 65 unleashing her asian furry upon my ears with a thick Vietnamese accent, or entirely in the Vietnamese language when she wishes to talk smack about my husband right in front of him without him knowing. Well, he knows she is talking smack, as the intonation is unmistakeable, but the content is empty to him. (Except for the foul words I originally taught him in my attempts to "teach" him the language, hehe). BTW, my mother shall be called Bac, which is her real American English name she acquired when she came to the states, which also means woman in Vietnamese, which is an entirely different story as to how her first name ended up being Woman....
So, to end my little introduction I give a toast, to all the shit my parents say and all the stories I have to write.
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