this and that
Posted September 26, 2012on:
she led me by the hand after circle time and said, by way of explaining herself, “Here, mommy, come with me. Let me show you the door to go out, you can leave anytime you feel like it.” It was very sweet, very earnest, very eloquent, and, ha ha, quite shocking. First she showed me where the tissue boxes in her class were, because earlier I had asked her if she knew their locations in case her nose is running. Then after that, she showed me the door.
Time with May these last few weeks, as the count down for NHT begins, seem to stretch out in slow motion. Maybe it’s 3rd trimester insomnia induced. Things like watching May when she’s sleeping, or cuddling with her, or giving her a “yes” day, or let her take her sweet time being distracted instead of redirecting her attention. For all the extra attention, patience, and companionship that I offer, May pays me back in full and then some. She tries harder to please me, be more mindful of my preference and needs, remembers my words and apply them diligently. We are totally in a baby-moon phase, heh.
The cat, on the other hand, is going senile. Or something. After 3 years of being so content and well fed by the automatic feeder, suddenly he has now decided that the feeder must be a sentient being! So he begs it. 3-5x / day, about 30 minutes before it dispenses his meals. I understand the logic, but it’s just so %$!%$!$#!# stupid. The sheer stupidity annoy me. Anytime Thien hears me say “I’m going to kick that cat’s ass,” she goes, “oh Linh! this used to be your baby!”
The best view of our house faces east. It’s perfect for moon viewing. Except, these past few days, the fog would roll in at around 4pm, so thick, we might as well be facing west because we can’t see much of anything. It’s a 50/50 chance for us to see the Harvest Moon. Speaking of which. I got some mooncakes from a famed bakery down south. Then I remembered. From my experience, I find Chinese-bakeries’ lotus paste mooncakes to be much better than lotus paste mooncakes made by Vietnamese bakeries. I was complaining to Thien tonight, and she procured one made by a local Chinese bakery in SF, one where she and her friend waited in in line for 1.5hrs this past weekend. The verdict: Chinese 1 – Vietnamese 0. But because of that mooncake, my stomach hurts from lack of space. ACK.
This past Saturday, May and I were waiting for our train in SF together on the platform. May had a little kid menu from a restaurant with 4 little flags on one page. May pointed out the American flag because she recognized it, then she asked me about the French, Italian, and Japanese ones. So I named them all for her, in both English and Vietnamese. Suddenly a lady sitting next to May turned and said something like, wow, how awesome that you guys are looking at international flags! It’s good that you teach your child early. I myself come from the Netherlands, and my flag is not on here, but it has the same color as French flag, just different order! Very good!
I thought it was a bit offensive to me. I know the lady meant to be friendly and nice, but it’s not how I would like to be approached. I don’t wish to receive criticisms nor compliments on the way I’m parenting my child, it’s something deeply personal and even intimate; not just anyone can have the privilege to opine to me. So what if I expose May to the UN or the periodic table at her young age? It might or might not be a good thing, no one can tell unless they spend enough time observing my child. If you just assume things about us, instead of starting with a question to learn more, then maybe it’s better that you don’t bother at all. I wasn’t particularly irked by that lady. I am irked in general by people who say things as if they must give out grades or evaluation to everything they encounter. Like the ones seeing me speaking Vietnamese to May and rush to assure me that it’s absolutely the best thing I’m doing for my child. Do I need that affirmation ? Do I need their opinion ? Did they wonder about that? They should.
I know that these are not things to sweat about or lose sleep on, so I usually don’t pick a fight. I just keep it to myself. If I open my mouth, Trang will probably change her mind on her initial impression of me as a laid back person. Like how I have been feeling offended almost daily whenever a man comment on my pregnancy. And, without fail, it’s something like 3-1 when it comes to the ratio of men who say something about my pregnancy vs. women (except for that one hag at Monterey Market last week, who saw me walking by wearing a simple pregnancy top and plain pants, and said loudly to her companion, “Pregnant girls these days love to show off their bump, in my time, we were always hiding…” something something I can’t remember. WTF. It wasn’t my problem that you had to hide your bump, but it’s my problem when you comment about me loudly enough for me to hear, which is very rude). Anyhow, my attitude about my pregnancy is this: respect the bump. Don’t joke about it, don’t ask about it, don’t say anything about it unless you know the person. Who the fuck cares if a random stranger is carrying a boy or a girl. Why would I feel compelled to disclose to you May’s personal interpretation of what’s going on? Get the fuck out of my way.
The first time I was pregnant with May in York, I didn’t have this problem – at all. York is a small, moderately conservative little town in comparison to the Bay Area. People greet you on the street, kids greet you on the street. Being pregnant in York was heaven to me, because everyone quietly and tactfully kept out of the way, but several people would immediately appear if I needed a hand. I liked most strangers I encountered in York. Here, where I now live, I don’t like strangers as much.
I have spent more than 1 hour ranting about these craps. I think maybe it’ll be more useful for me to take a shower and turn in for the night! I’m a very difficult person, I just mask it well!