A letter to my bump

Dear Baby,


My last post was in October, and you were also "born" in October. Coincidence? Nausea and my super tired state through the beginning of this year all point to a big fat no. (OK, so you weren't actually quite born the way most people think of the word, but you certainly changed my world as soon as I knew about the existence of you! That's pretty darn "born" to me.)


I first knew you had arrived in my belly when I couldn't drink. No, your mommy does not need to join a 12-step program, but I do - I mean, I used to - often enjoy a glass of wine (or two) with dinner. One night, many nights ago, that second glass of red just wouldn't go down. I had a sneaking suspicion that you had joined our family. Both your daddy and I were super excited and happy when we saw your healthy little heartbeat at the doctor's office when I was eight weeks pregnant.

Time passed really quickly, yet I also felt like I was pregnant for a long time. And finally and amazingly, today is supposed to be your big, official predetermined birthday... but you seem to be happy just staying put in my tummy. You, like your mommy, must not be in a very big hurry to jump out of a warm and cozy bed. You, like your mommy, must enjoy making a fashionably late entrance. Though your mommy understands how you must feel, she is very, very anxious to meet you! Can you come out soon, please? There are so many people who want to hurry up and love you.

I love you so much already. When I think about holding you in my arms, my eyes get teary - and I am not a crier! I wonder if you look like your mommy or your daddy. I hope you have daddy's long, lean build. (But he was also a TEN-pound baby, so I hope you don't follow him in your birth weight!) Between your daddy's noggin and my own, it's pretty much inevitable that you will have a big head... but that just means you will have a large, smart brain. I haven't heard labor is exactly fun with a melon-headed baby, but I'm ready for you, my love!

Thankfully, you have given me a very easy pregnancy. I was pretty tired and a little nauseated during my first trimester, but I kept everything down and did not have many food aversions or cravings at all. The only cuisine I didn't want was Indian food and kubideh - I usually love both. I wanted to eat anything Korean, probably because it's my comfort food. And lately, I can eat an entire watermelon in just a couple of sittings.

The second trimester was a total breeze; I felt like regular old me, just with an added bump. The third trimester had me feeling a little heavy, but I've been as active as ever. I gained a full 35 pounds (which is on the upper end of the recommended 25-35), and it happened steadily at a pound a week from the moment we confirmed you were growing. Maybe that's why I've been lucky enough to avoid stretch marks (knock on wood). Many of my friends told me that they didn't start gaining until their fourth or fifth month, and some even lost weight in the beginning. But not your mommy! I've had NO problems with eating or sleeping, so I consider myself very blessed. I've had no problems with much of anything outside of my already Flinstone-like feet turning into Shrek feet with all the swelling.

On July 11th, on the first day the new 3G iphone was offered, I stood in line with your Auntie Janet to get it. Uncle Byong didn't seem happy that she was leaving behind her seven-month old baby, Mason oppa, and taking your nine-month pregnant mommy to camp out for a tech toy. But everything worked out beautifully in the end. As far as I was concerned, I was totally fine. Ask me to tell you the story when you get older.

Just this past Sunday, your daddy was planning on going to a Yaz concert with some of our friends. Yaz is already considered old school, so you'll probably consider them absolutely ancient. Anyway, I wasn't planning to go since the 930 Club is pretty much standing room only. My Shrek feet weren't going to fare too well with all that. However, one of our friends backed out, so I decided to check out just a couple of songs... and ended up staying for the whole thing! Your mommy really believes in embracing life and making the most out of every situation, and she plans on passing on that attitude to you too. Your poor daddy has some full hands ahead of him!

Speaking of your daddy, he already loves you too. He's been talking to you and calling your mommy when he's out to make sure you've been safe. When he found out you were going to be a girl instead of a boy, he worried for a full day because he already started to think about your teenage years. Do me a favor and take it easy on him when you get there. You'll want to rebel, and you'll like boys, but let's shield your daddy from the stuff that'll stress him out too much. You don't have to be as much of a prude as your mommy was, but just be a good girl and make sure your daddy knows your goodness. He's a great man, and he's going to be a wonderful daddy. I have a feeling you're going to be daddy's little girl.

You love to move around in me, and you just kicked my rib. You always kick me on my right side. It must be getting tight in there, so come on out whenever you're ready! If you don't make your way out by Monday, your mommy is getting induced. I've heard that labor becomes even more painful this way and possibly leads to a higher rate of C-sections, so we're trying to avoid that. Mommy has been walking a LOT, and the doctor told me at today's appointment that you've dropped a lot since last week, and I'm finally one whole cm dilated (vs the "fingertip" you've been for the last couple weeks). I'm hopeful you'll be ready to make your grand entrance soon. But I don't want to push you if you're not ready, so you go ahead and do whatcha gotta do, baby girl.

Til then, we love you!

Momzilla

For some reason, I had the notion in this noggin o mine that my little Korean mama, though cray-jee in other aspects of her life (and mine), would somehow be laid-back and unopinionated in the planning of our wedding. Silly me.

"Umma, I have exciting news! I went to this wedding event thing, and I found my dress!"

"Oh, you bought it already?" Uh, oh. She didn't sound happy. Maybe she's upset that she didn't get to go shopping with her only daughter to buy THE dress. I should probably offer to go shopping again with her back home. "... Because I was thinking about it, and I meant to tell you that I don't think you should get a strapless dress. You have wide shoulders, so something with a little bit of a sleeve or something on the shoulders would look better."

Ohhh-kay. "Well, it is strapless, so that's that. Hey, let's talk about the venue instead. What do you think of Napa? I always liked the idea of getting married at a winery."

"No. Too far."

"Uh..... Well, what about the Legion of Honor? That's very San Francisco, and our ceremony would overlook the Golden Gate Bridge. You took your wedding pictures at the Palace of Fine Arts. Wouldn't that be pretty?"

"I don't like outdoor weddings. The weather is unpredictable."

"But I think the pictures turn out nice with outdoor ceremonies. We can keep it quick and go inside for the reception."

"If all you think about is the pictures, then you're not being very thoughtful to your guests. A wedding should have deep feelings and be sincere. You can take pictures one week before, like we did. There are some very good Korean photographers who take beautiful shots, both outside and in a studio."

In a studio? Cheesy images popped into my mind of Taer popping out from behind a fake tree as I giddily laughed with my hand 'glamorously' perched under my chin. I shuddered at the thought. "Umma, we can have a meaningful wedding even if it's outside. And we'll take pictures the day of the wedding, before the ceremony. I don't want to have the wedding party get dressed twice, and that's how all my friends did it."

"If you are asking my opinion, then I'm going to tell you. If you want to just plan everything by yourself and just invite me to attend as a guest, then that's fine too. Ma-um de-ro heh. Do what you want."

Argh!

My mom ended up calling 10 minutes later to tell me that my dad thought the Legion of Honor was a good venue, which made her begin to see the merits of the choice.

My dad got on the phone, "Hi, honey. It's near Lincoln Park, right? With The Thinker? Yeah, it's very nice there. Your Mommy and I will go check it out together."

I love my mom tons, but sometimes I'm really thankful for my Daddy.

All I ever asked of you was that you become a lawyer

"I love your daughter very much. We want to get married, and we would like to do it with your blessing."

My parents were finally ready for THE TALK. It had been almost four months since my move from San Francisco to DC. I was calling often, both out of obligation as a dutiful daughter and also because I missed them. Mostly because I missed them. A lot.

Taer and I made sure that his parents were fully prepared to embrace me whole-heartedly into their family, just as my dad requested. He reported that our mission had been accomplished.

"Jenn has spent time with my parents, and they like her. They, like you, had a difficult time in the beginning, but they are happy to welcome her as their daughter-in-law."

My mom was ready to accept Taer; it was my dad who was stubbornly holding his ground. I get my stubborn streak from my father. At this point, however, I felt like even he had softened up a lot since I'd left. Before our visit, he told me in a sad voice, "I miss my ddal (daughter)." He didn't want to lose his little girl.

Taer didn't think they would give in without still more of a fight. He was sure they'd "grab him by the nuts" for a while first. (Those were his own words.)

"Jenn has been an ideal daughter. [Not too much nut grabbing there.] To us, she is lacking in nothing, and she could be with anyone she wants. She has made it clear that she has chosen you, and we think you are lucky. [Balls are ever so slightly squeezed.]

"You are both grown adults, and you could have just gone and gotten married without caring what we thought. This whole time, however, you have been asking for our blessing. We appreciate that.

"Jenn has told us that she wants to be with you. All that we ever asked her to do for us was to become a lawyer. She has done that, and so now we have to give her what she wants in return. Welcome to the family."

I'm not so sure that suffering though three years of grueling law school and enduring the pain-inducing California bar exam is exactly Even Steven with my parents' blessing to marry the man I love. But whatev's - the wedding is on!

Leaving their laps

My mom emerged from the other room with a clipping from the Korean newspaper. My parents have pointed out newspaper articles and shared inspiring stories with us for as long as I can remember. My dad even gave me a book titled "The Real Coming of Age" for my 30th birthday, claiming it came highly recommended by Dr. Phil. How or why he knew that, I didn't ask.

My parents' attempts often made me laugh and/or sigh in exasperation, but I did always remember them. This particular news article ranked the top schools in the U.S. "These are the medical schools, law schools..." My mom pointed to each section as she spoke. "And look at this! Do you see this? The top schools tied for number one for English literature are Harvard, Berkeley and Yale. Berkeley English major - that's you! I wish you had more drive. You are so talented, you could be anything!

"You are good with people, and you are a good speaker. You could be a politician!" Sure I could... if I had any interest in politics. A politician?!?? Wasn't seeing me wear the ill-fitting straight jacket of law school for three years of my life enough for them?

I wanted to tell my mom that she didn't have to talk to me as though I were moving to another country. My move to the east coast was not equivalent to her move to the States years ago, when she left her parents in Korea. But I knew she wouldn't listen. This talk was as much for herself as it was for me.

"We won't have time for these kinds of talks anymore. Yuhl-shim-ee sah-ruh. Put 110% into everything. Live life fully and honestly, and you will be fine. You don't understand what I am saying now, and you think we are silly. Someday, when you have your own kids, you will understand."

I understand now. I feel her mother's love and pain of losing me now. I understand that she feels the pain of not being more thoughtful of her own mother's sadness during her departure, how difficult it was that she only got the chance to go back to Korea a handful of times.

My dad continued the heartfelt talk and brought tears to my eyes. "First of all, I want to tell you that your Mommy and I are very proud of you. You have been a joy as a daughter.

"Now you are [something in Korean I couldn't understand]; it means you are 'leaving our laps.' This time comes for everyone, but I hope you know that you can always call us to talk about anything. Don't forget that this will always be your home too. We will support you as much as we can. I did not have that because my own father passed away when I was young. I had to come here on my own and support myself, and I made a lot of mistakes.

"You can always call us. Always. You make your own decisions now. We will support you in any decision you make. We love you very much."

When my parents dropped me off at the airport, my mom insisted on helping me roll one of my huge bags inside. I think it may have been bigger than her 5' frame, and I knew I could handle it on my own, but she insisted. And no one can win in an argument against my insistent Korean mama. No matter how big, old or responsible I get, I know I will always be her baby daughter.

My dad hugged me and simply instructed, "Call your Umma often."

Eating ramen and springing forward with the 'rents

I took my parents to Santa Ramen for linner, and when we were all done, my mom decided she wanted to take her leftover broth home.

me: Umma, I don't think you can do that.

mom: Why not? The soup is the best part. I can just make some noodles at home, and if I put that in, it'll be so good!

(I never thought that my mom was ghetto; but at that moment, I was trying to picture whether or not she'd look good with gold-capped teeth. Or teef.)

me: The noodles here are good too! Anyway, this is a small place which takes pride in serving good bowls of ramen. The orders take so long already, I'm pretty sure they don't have to-go containers.

She was not to be deterred.

mom: [to waitress] Do you have one of those soup boxes, so I can take this with me?

waitress: No, we only have Ziplock bags.

me: [in my head] Please don't take it. Please don't take it!

To be relief, my mom decided that the plastic baggie might not be ideal. Until my brother called. He wanted to see if we were still out to dinner, but I told him we were finishing up. He said it was cool, no biggie, and we hung up. But my mom heard. And a mother will do anything to feed her hungry young - even when that young takes form in a 27-year old son who can easily feed himself.

mom: Jimmy can eat this! [And then, to waitress] Can I have that Ziplock after all?

So we walked out of the restaurant with a broth-filled plastic bag in hand. But that's not the end of it. Oh yes, there's more.

Then my mom asked me to help her "spring forward" the clocks in her car. She ordered my dad to learn so that he could do it next time. I showed my dad which buttons to push, and just as he was ready to set the time to 7:10...

mom: Wait! Wait until I tell you to set it!

She then flipped open her cell phone and looked at her watch so that we could set the time not only to the right minute, but to the correct second. My gold-toofed mama is not only ghetto, she's also super anal.

me: Don't you want to maybe put it ahead a minute or two?

mom: No. [a few seconds later] Almost... NOW!

And THEN we had to go through the same thing again with the clock on the installed radio in the car too. My dad decided to tease her a bit.

dad: I'm going to push it now!

mom: NOOOO!!!!!

dad: OK, then... NOW?

mom: NO, wait until I tell you! HOney!

She mentioned that it used to drive her crazy that one clock was two minutes slow before, and the other one was four minutes behind. She couldn't have been happier when everything was set just as she wanted. My mom's clocks were in sync, and the entire family would be happily fed. All was right with the world.

And my dad and I just laughed.

Mother's love

"This country is so BIG! California alone is four times the size of Korea..."

My little mom gets upset every time she's reminded of my pending move. She's been saying things like, "I didn't think about my own parents when I left them in Korea to come to the U with your daddy. I realize now how sad they must have been."

And then that makes me sad too.

I was born in San Francisco, and I have never lived anywhere outside of the bay area. After graduating from Berkeley (which was only a half hour's drive from my parents), I moved back home while I worked in public relations for a year, and I continued to live at home during law school. When I finally moved away from the nest again, my mom almost cried. And it only takes me 20 minutes to drive back to that nest - maybe even 15 if the traffic and lights cooperate. It's no wonder she's unhappy now; I've trained her to believe I'll always be nearby.

I'm finally ready to cut the strings. It's like I'm 30, going on 18.

The last time I was home, my mother fell asleep on the couch and mumbled that she was too tired to get up when I left. Usually, she walks me to the door and waves her goodbye as I pull away. She never closes the door until I've driven away completely. I used to think that maybe it was a Korean thing, but I realized that my Korean dad and my Korean brother only occasionally joined my mom at her farewell post. So then I thought that maybe it was a mom thing. Now I'm thinking that maybe it's a "my mom" thing. I sometimes didn't want her to walk me out, but I'll admit that there's something very comforting about seeing her tiny 5' form in the frame of the front door.

I kissed my parents goodbye for the night, and I felt a little empty when I let myself out, unaccompanied. But as I pulled away, I noticed a familiar silhouette in the upstairs window. There she was, half-asleep, watching over me. There's something very comforting about knowing that there are some things I can always expect of my mother.

The hardest thing I ever heard

"I have made my feelings clear, but you can live your life the way you want. If that’s what you choose, then I will not be your father anymore."

I heard these awful words twice. The first time that I tried to talk to you about my relationship with Taer, you were firm about your opposition to the idea. You repeated your message again to me last night.

Appa, you know that I have been dating Taer for almost four years now. I know how you feel about this, but please know that I really never wanted to hurt you or go against your wishes. I even thought about breaking up with him several times in the past because I didn't want to upset you so much. Your happiness means that much to me.

So far, I have lived much of my life in a certain way because I knew it would please you. I have fulfilled the wishes and dreams you and umma have had for me. You told me to go to law school; it was not something I would have chosen to do on my own. You somehow decided that being “very smart, a good writer, and a good speaker” equaled being an attorney (especially since my non-science background wouldn’t have worked for med school, your other ideal offspring choice as a Korean parent). So I did it.

You wanted me to pass the California Bar even though I had absolutely no desire to practice law. It made you proud, so I did it. Your new favorite phrase was, “I tell people that now I have my own personal lawyer – my daughter!” I loved seeing you so happy.

But I was never able to part with Taer, even though I knew that was what you wanted from me. My life makes no sense if he’s not in it. It’s just not an option for me. We love each other, and now we are ready to spend the rest of our lives together. I love you so much and don't want to lose you, so what can I do to make this right for you?

I understand that because he has the same last name (and origin) as us, it’s simply wrong to you. You grew up learning and believing that this was just not done; there was no question about it. You even used the word “taboo” – a word I was actually surprised you knew – years ago, the first time, as you pounded your fists on the table to emphasize your point.

You and umma instilled a lot of strong cultural ties in us, but I was still born and raised here, in the U.S. This isn’t wrong to me. We are obviously not related even though we have the same last name, so our kids will be fine. That was the concern centuries ago. It may have been valid then, which is why there was an antiquated law banning such marriages before. However, even in Korea now, that law has changed.

You’ve said that we would have to prove ourselves to you to win you over, but you never gave us the chance in the past. You only allowed yourself to meet him once in all these years, and even that singular time was not out of choice on your part.

How do I know he’s the right one for me? You simply have to see us together. I have always looked at you and umma as having the ideal relationship, the kind I would want. I grew up setting very high standards for my own future relationship because of you. The love between you two is so obvious, which is unfortunately not common, especially among Asian parents of your generation. When I tell my friends that I grew up with the two of you kissing and holding hands all the time, they’re always in disbelief. But that’s how I picture you: laughing together, hand-in-hand. That’s how it should be.

And that’s how it is. That’s what I have with Taer. Ours is the kind of love we can’t hide. I’m practically giddy when I’m with him, even after all this time together. He’s so good to me and so good for me. I think most of our friends picture us laughing together, hand-in-hand. He just makes me so happy.

Now I understand what you need at this point. You say that when a man and woman want to get married, the man's side is supposed to woo the woman's side. His side should be completely "ready" before he approaches you. You want to make sure he’s from a decent family, and you also want to make sure that his family fully accepts me. Because they are also having a problem with the last name, you do not want to send me into another family who will not be completely happy to welcome me as their own. You love me so much and you are so proud of me, you think anyone should be overjoyed to have me as a daughter-in-law. You don’t like the fact that you don’t hear any of your friends speak very favorably about their own daughters-in-law. You think I deserve more than that.

You also say that a mother often feels that a daughter-in-law is taking her son away, so she is threatened. Do you think a father can feel the same way about a son-in-law? The first thing you said last night is that you were sad. You felt so sad that I was choosing to go against your wishes. You talked about the father-daughter relationship and how we used to be so close. You said that becoming less close with time was natural, but I noticed the unhappiness in your voice in that sentence. Are you afraid that you might be losing me now?

Appa, I love you so much. I will always be daddy’s little girl. Nothing can take that away.

Thank you for letting me talk to you last night, and thank you for giving this a chance. I know you're not promising anything yet, but this really means a lot to me. “Maybe” is the best I can ask for right now. I love you.

Quesadillas for my Korean parents

The 'rents hosted a dinner party over the weekend, and my mom asked me to come home to help. The weird thing is, she wanted me to make quesadillas as appetizers for their friends. I guess quesadillas shouldn't seem all that odd, but Korean parents don't normally think of serving them, and it's not a dish which exactly goes with the rest of their Korean-themed meal. I figured it wasn't my menu, so I didn't question the decision and simply offered my services.

"What time should I come over?"

"Maybe around 6. And make yourself pretty."

I was wearing my comfy and not so pretty clothes, in my glasses, sans makeup. I hadn't planned on dolling up. "Really?"

"Yes, I want all my friends to say that my daughter's pretty."

When I was younger, my parents wanted their friends to praise my brother and me because of our good manners and scholastic achievements. They didn't let me wear makeup nor did they want me to waste my time and money on shopping back then. I was well behaved, and I went to the right schools, so I guess those ducks were all rowed up. My mom now had new goals in mind. "Ok, I'll put on some makeup and change first."

"Oh, and don't wear anything beh-kohp bo-yeen nun-gut."

"What?" I didn't understand why my mom thought she had to instruct me not to wear an outfit that would show my belly button. I don't wear half shirts, and even if I did, I wouldn't do it in front of my parents.

"Do you know what beh-kohp is? It's..."

"Yes, umma, I know. Of course I know. My naval. When do I wear things like that?"

"Well, you know, that's the fashion nowadays."

It is? Where the heck is my mom getting her fashion cues? Can someone please tell me if I've missed an issue of Vogue or InStyle that I don't know about? And can someone else please tell me if my mom is normal?

The 'rents

My parents crack me up. We were in the car, on our way to meeting Jimmy for linner, when we had the following conversation:

My dad inquired, "Can people be toast?"

"Huh?"

My mom clarified, "We were reading the Korean newspaper, and the person who teaches English phrases said that some person did something bad, so he was toast."

After thinking for a bit, I realized what they were talking about. "I think you mean it like this. If I'm afraid I'll mess something up, I might say, 'I'd better try my best, because if I don't get this right, I'll be toast.' It means I'll be in trouble."

I forgot who asked, but the question, "Can you say you're toasted?" was asked.

"No, it's just toast."

"Is it an adjective?"

"No, I believe it's a noun."

"That doesn't make sense." My dad didn't seem happy with my explanation.

Ever since I was a kid, my parents always worked on perfecting their language skills. "You have to tell us if we say something wrong, or if our pronunciation is incorrect." I used to try to hide my giggles when I pointed out the mistakes of their Koreanized English.

All that hard work paid off. Their English is quite good. I'm not sure how I feel about this "teacher" from the Korean newspaper, though. My parents have been asking me about some pretty funky and/or antiquated phrases lately. And knowing them, they'll actually try to use them in everyday conversation.

I decided to change the subject, and I threw a pop quiz their way. "Do you recognize who this is?" I was playing Michael Jackson's "Billie Jean" in the car. "Let's see who gets it first."

My dad was certain my mom would win. She guessed, "Is it Madonna?"

"No."

After listening for a bit, my dad knew. "Michael Jackson."

"Very good! Appa wins."

My mom wasn't going to give up so easily. "It sounds like a woman."

"No," my dad informed her, "It's a typical Michael Jackson beat."

Did my dad really just say that? Does he really know what he's talking about? I guess I should give him some credit. I did once catch him raising the roof.

Maybe I should've just stuck to talking about toast.

Live. Just live.

Two very different, life-altering pieces of family news made me really think about the meaning of giving thanks this weekend.

Thanksgiving has always been a huge affair for our clan. A lot of my dad’s side of the family lives in the bay area, so we always find ourselves with 30-40 people under one roof during the holidays.

When I got to the house this year, Beverly, one of my cousins among the clan, was sharing pictures… the sonogram pictures of the baby living in her expanding belly. Bev and I were the only two girls among us eight cousins who grew up together. This year she, the 26-year old, got married in May. This meant that I, the 30-year old, heard it all from the ajummas (Korean aunts who are the Asian version of the women in My Big Fat Greek Wedding) at my cousin’s wedding. “Jennipah-ya, how old are you now? When are YOU getting married?”

And now, she’s expecting. I’m happy for her, don’t get me wrong. Beverly was actually quite sweet about it all, glumly saying “sorry” to me as soon as I congratulated her, and trying to shield me from the hordes of the in-your-face aunts who attacked me with, “Jennipah, look at Beburee! When are YOU getting married and having babies?” I told Bev that there was no reason to be sorry. This was such happy news for her; I could handle the other stuff.

I just smiled and escaped under the guise of wanting to get more food. We have turkey and all the traditional fixings of stuffing and mashed potatoes; and then on the other side of the table, we also have a Korean feast of meat, seafood, veggies and kimchee. I can never quite fit everything on one plate. I had an especially overflowing plate to deal with this year.

We found out that my other cousin, Alan, had been diagnosed with throat cancer.

Alan, the oldest among the eight cousins, was our proud leader, orchestrating our games of hide and seek, Monopoly or whatever else he made up for our entertainment. One year, he directed us all in our “show” for the adults, where the boys performed their best breakdance moves, and I sang to Madonna’s Dress You Up with a bow in my hair and gloves sans fingers on my hands. He is my oppa, my older brother. He’s only 33 now; he has a three-year old daughter. This can’t be real.

Alan oppa was hanging out upstairs, away from the pitying eyes and his mother’s tears. I joined him, trying to chat about life as normally as possible.

“Hey, Jenn, how’s it going? How’s work?”

“Everything’s good. I still love my job. I can’t complain.”

“Are you still with that boyfriend?”

“Yes, I am. I love him, but our parents still don’t approve. My dad keeps threatening to disown me.”

“Jenn, let me tell you something. The truth is, I could die soon. That's made me evaluate life from a different perspective. I’ve been thinking about what Lance Armstrong’s motto Live Strong means. You have to live each and every day to the fullest, and you have to live freely.

“My parents didn't approve of my relationship either. I was 26 years old, one of the youngest in the family to get married. My bride was 22. It’s been seven years and, I have not regretted one day of it all. I think of what I do regret: the smoking, the missed vacations because I was trying to make too much money too fast.

“If you love him and he loves you, you have to be with him. Don’t waste any more time. Your father holds very high standards for you, as high as I would hold for my own daughter. He is idealistic, and he puts you up on a pedestal.

“But you are not a statue; you're a person.

“I’ve asked all the uncles how to succeed. Your father made it all on his own. He passed the students’ exam to enter the country. Do you know how few people got in that way? He’s a very smart man. He didn’t get a helping hand like a lot of our other relatives did. You should be very proud of him.You know what he said when I asked him how to succeed? He said, ‘Moderation.’

“You did the whole law school and lawyer thing without complaining to them. You were being a dutiful daughter, which is great, but that was never you. That is not moderation. If you keep living for them, you won’t be happy. You know what will make you happy, who will make you happy. Don’t waste any more time. Live. Just live."

Remembering my aunt

I just found out that my aunt in Korea passed away, and I'm still in a state of shock. I'm feeling a little sick today, so I was resting at home and talking to Taer when my dad called. My mom is almost always the one who calls, the one who relays information through the family, but I didn't think much of the fact that my dad was on the other end of the line. He told me that we lost kun eemo today, and when he tried to pass the phone to my mom, she wouldn't take it. I could hear her crying. I feel so bad. I feel like I should do something, but I don't know what.

Kun means big, and eemo shows she's from my mom's side. (An aunt from my dad's side is called gomo.) So kun eemo was my mom's oldest sister. Because my mom was the youngest of six, that meant my kun eemo was a good 20 years older than my mom, and she was practically a second mother to her. My maternal grandmother passed away when I was in high school. I had only seen her a couple times, so while I felt the loss, it's nothing like now. Kun eemo felt more like a grandma to me.

She was the one who taught me to make dduk bokee when I stayed with her in Daegu. Every summer during college, I visited Korea and spent time with kun eemo. She taught me many more Korean recipes, in that way you can only learn in person, without measuring spoons and with the extra loving touch. She visited our family several times in San Francisco also, probably more than any other relative, and our kitchen was always alive when she was around. My mom seemed to have a little more energy and laughed a little harder whenever she talked to kun eemo. She also slipped into her country Daegu accent and manner of speaking, putting aside the proper Seoul way to talk. She slipped back into another sense of home, the one where my mom got to be the kid who was being taken care of for once, the one who was being nurtured.

Kun eemo loved to laugh. My mom used to urge her to get cosmetic surgery so she could see better out of her old, sagging eyes. Kun eemo would respond by pushing down on the skin of one of those drooping eyelids with her hand, shutting it completely. She would just laugh and laugh with that one shut eye, showing she didn't care about any kind of surgery.

I can't believe she's gone. She will be missed.