The Greatest Compliment

Over the years, many parents of students I have taught or still teach have paid me very nice compliments. It's reaffirming to know parents appreciate me for my knowledge and talents. One parent wrote me a note when her son was stopping lessons saying she wished she had found me earlier as a teacher for him. 

Despite these wonderful praises, I don't think I knew what the greatest compliment I could receive as a teacher could be until this summer. In late May this year, I received a text from a former student:

I was wondering if you are doing any summer lessons? I don’t have a summer class this year and have some extra free time 😊 

Believe it or not, this is not the first time I've had a former student restart lessons with me. I have had students in the past leave piano for various reasons and a few were able to resume them with me after a period of time. This was the first time a graduated student in college wanted to return for lessons during the summer. 

We found Hook Hand at Disney 1.5 years ago

 
I was so excited. We had eight weeks of lessons together over the summer and it was so good to be able to see this student again. I loved that we were able to pick up right back where we left off as student and teacher. I loved how we could adapt to both being adults and it was apparent what a few more years of maturity could add to the learning process. 

This student wasn't a stellar performer or prize winner by any means. This student wasn't even someone who excelled for their age. But what this student has is something I did not have when I was the same age. This student has a love of the instrument, a desire to continue learning, and an open mind. And it's the cherry on top that I get to be the teacher who helps make it possible.

I remember all the seniors I've graduated from lessons and still make an effort to send a birthday email every year just to wish him or her well. Most of them write back to me, and it makes me smile to read their short reply.  

This student, by taking lessons with me this summer, paid me the greatest compliment without even knowing it. It is an honor to be remembered. 

The Crippling Side of "Knowledge"

I'm going to write this blog as an entire hypothetical math/science problem because that's the simplest way I can explain it. All numbers are hypothetical and not meant to be informative or correct. 

**** 

We have ABC Soap. You saw this cool video online showing you how make DIY foaming soap. You were told to use 30% soap and 70% water.  We mix 30% of ABC Soap with 70% water. We put it in a foaming dispenser and dispense it. It works. Yay! That was so easy! You can make your own DIY foaming soap and you don't have to pay a premium to buy the foaming one from the store.

Fast forward 2 years. You ended up having to move to a different state because your job relocated you. The store doesn't carry the brand ABC Soap. You find XYZ Soap which is a similar product. You go home, make your 30/70 mixture of soap to water, fill it in your foaming dispenser, and you have your foaming soap again!

Foreshadowing: XYZ Soap is less viscous than ABC Soap.  

Now, you invite some new friends over to your house as a housewarming party since your move. You're having a great time, but suddenly, one of them approaches you and says, "Hey, your foaming soap isn't really working. I can't get the chicken wing grease off my hands. What's going on with it?"

I asked AI to generate me an image and I got a kitchen sink basin in a bathroom setting.

You immediately get angry with this friend because it's your trusty DIY foaming soap method. You followed the instructions and immediately cancel this friend in your head because she doesn't like your soap. She's not getting invited back to your house ever again. Little do you know, the rest of the guests at your party are also not fans of your foaming soap, but they didn't bring it up to you. 

**** 

If you're reading this and your brain is cranking, that's great! There's so many things to think about with regard to this story. First off, let's start with the soap. Did the video use ABC Soap when teaching you how to make foaming soap? Regardless if they did or didn't, there's a margin of error. What if you used a 35/65 ratio? What if you used a 25/75 ratio? Would they still have worked? Did it have to be that perfect 30/70? 

The biggest shortcoming in this story is that the main character ended up buying a different brand of soap after the move. Even though they followed the original ratio, if someone says she can't get the chicken wing grease off after washing her hands with soap...I think the logical conclusion is that there is something wrong with the soap. Of course, we are under the assumption that she isn't lying, used soap, and washed her hands correctly. If all of those factors are true, then all signs lead to the soap.

The main character refused to acknowledge the soap as the problem because the same ratio was used in making the foaming soap. But did this person think about the viscosity and feel of the soap before and after making it foam? Making your own foaming soap is not as easy as it seems because it depends on what your starting point is. The internet can only give you generic information because it is trying to appeal to a wide audience. If your liquid soap is more watery to begin with, you will need to add less water to make it foam. If your liquid soap is more thick to begin with, you will need to add more water to make it foam. The most important factor here isn't the percentage of soap to water at all. It's actually the dilution factor. Nobody labels dilution factors on packaging because if they did, we'd all feel scammed by how much water is in liquid soap.  Even though this character followed the instructions given, it wasn't enough knowledge to successfully accomplish the goal at hand. 

****

I've used foaming soap as an example here to represent how someone can follow instructions and believe everything is "right" while still ending up in the wrong.  Our intelligence, however strong, still has to be coupled with experience and the ability to analyze. For this situation, I would ask this main question: did you use your own soap and experience its washing capabilities? 

Educated Guessing

About a month and a half ago, I did a craft with some kids and used toilet paper cardboard rolls. I gathered all the ones I had saved up in our house at the time and brought them to be used. The kids had a lot of fun with our project and I had no more toilet paper cardboard rolls at our house. I always save them because we use them for various purposes around the house.

• DIY firestarters by filling them with dryer lint
• trash can tampers
• plant seedling starters
• craft uses

After the craft I did with the kids, we started over from zero. This week out of curiosity, I counted how many we had - 5. 

There's one more in a different bathroom.

 
Now in the last approximately 45 days, I didn't make any DIY firestarters, I didn't make any plant seedling starters, and I haven't done any more crafts. If I used any as trash can tampers, I wouldn't know anymore because they get trashed after pushing the trash down. My guess is we used at least 1-2 to tamp down the bathroom trash.

Using my best educated guessing, I'd guess in the last month and a half, we used the 5 rolls of toilet paper which I have cardboard rolls from, 2 rolls for tamping trash, and maybe another 2 rolls for margin of error.  That would put our toilet paper usage at approximately 9 rolls of toilet paper in the last 45 days. 

I don't think most people know how fast their toilet paper gets used. I really didn't until I did some math just now. The only other way people know how fast their toilet paper gets used is if they realize they're buying it very quickly. This happened to me in college when my roommate and I seemed to be going through a roll of toiler paper per day. It wasn't me...

Something that's always been in the back of my mind has been how much daily living essentials cost us. Food is food and calculating it is kind of irrelevant because when we're hungry, we're going to need to eat. Whether that comes from our refrigerator, freezer, pantry, or in the form of takeout, I'm not going to deny hunger requests. Food and groceries are rather easy to calculate because we buy them frequently.

I'm talking about the daily living essentials like toiler paper,  toothpaste, shampoo, conditioner, body wash, face cleanser. How long do these actually last us and how much are we spending on them? 

I used to see the price of an expensive face cream and scoff a bit because it cost so much. Now that I'm older, Ive begun justifying buying these because I know they last a long time. I was gifted a face moisturizer for my birthday a few years back and I used it for at least six months if I remember correctly. Sure, the upfront cost seems steep, but when you calculate it out for how long it lasts, you end up at around a quarter per day. I can justify that. 

Anyone else out there actually think about these things?  

The Dying Conscience

Lately, and by lately I mean in the last 1-2 years, I've been noticing a lot more crazy driving out on the roads. Just this morning alone, I was driving back from the store to my house - so 2.5 miles from my house, a mere 10 minute drive - when I witnessed all of the following:

- A car slowed down because it knew there was a cop checking speeds up ahead.
- The same car left turned at a red light after significantly missing it (as in it didn't barely turn red, it was a solid 1-2 seconds) because it didn't want to wait the 1 minute 30 second cycle in order for the next turn arrow to appear.
- While I was in the left turn lane waiting for my arrow, a car turned left on his green light when a car was going straight dangerously close and got honked at. With any difference in seconds, it could have been a collision happening right in front of my eyes.

I understand there are crazy drivers out there, but for me to witness the last two bullet points within 5 minutes of each other at the same intersection was a little beyond coincidence in my opinion. 

This is not to say the countless number of other times I've witnessed crazy driving. We live next to a school in our neighborhood and the school zone lasts an additional 15 minutes after the elementary school starts school. It seems cars forget the school zone still exists during these 15 minutes because when I pull out to take my daughter to her school, numerous cars tailgate me and a few have even illegally passed me because I was "driving too slowly." It's infuriating. Lately, I've seen cops on the road during this time and I get a certain amount of satisfaction hoping these cars seemingly unaware of the school zone will get ticketed. 

In November of last year, I was driving my daughter home from school and we were going down a road that gets fairly busy in the afternoon rush hour. The left turn lane had backed up pretty far. Three women on motorcycles were driving in front of me in the left lane. At the light, they swung over into the front of the left turn lane in front of the first car waiting. I was going straight so I kept driving, but I was left with a very bad feeling. I know motorcycles are small, but since when was it acceptable to cut off 10+ cars? 

You think this is an isolated incident?

We were driving home one evening and were stopped at the same intersection mentioned in the very beginning waiting for our left turn. We were the first car stopped and a motorcycle was behind us. Before I knew it, the motorcycle went around our car and planted himself in front of our car in the left turn lane. 🤯 

Both of these happened within months of each other. 

I can't imagine I'm just "lucky" enough to witness all of these incidents and that this "isn't the average person." I've never been the lucky one. There's no way I'm getting lucky here and all of these people just happen to break the rules while I'm around. And this is where setting an example matters. I'm getting worked up just writing this post and thinking back on all the traffic violations I've witnessed which haven't been caught. The more of these incidents I see, the more I feel a part of the "good" inside me wanting to die. And it both breaks my heart and feels so cruel that I can't do it, because if I do, I become one of them. For whatever it's worth, that is the absolute last thing I'd ever want to do with my life.  

Going back to the first scenario I witnessed just this morning. I was impressed all the cars around me within my visible line of sight did not get pulled over by the cop who was checking speeds. But as soon as I saw that car left turn on the red light because he/she was too impatient and selfish to wait for the next cycle, I lost any neutrality I felt. What good is following the rules if you only do it when you know you're being watched?

I don't know the person in the car personally. Could there have been other reasons I can't see because I don't know the person? Absolutely. But based on what I saw alone, these are the conclusions I'm drawing.  

I don't believe following the rules in this life is worth it for ourselves. Because there is always someone out there breaking the rules who can get away with it. However, I do believe we must follow the rules in this life in order to receive something that is worth it in the long haul. What is the treasure that is truly worth it? Leaving a legacy of respect, honor, and one worth passing down. This isn't witnessed in day to day actions alone, but takes years of consistency to build.

That's hard. 

The Power of Failing

My youngest turned 5 recently. Part of me is dying inside because age five just seems too old for it to be the age of my youngest child. At the same time, I'm loving this new stage of life we're in. I don't have to carry around a diaper bag, there are no baby food pouches, my kids can get in and out of the car by themselves 90% of the time (certain car seats are harder than others), and I can feel like an adult again instead of someone's mother. Don't get me wrong - I love being a mother and I wouldn't have had two children if I didn't and serve them in all the ways I have - but it's really nice to have adult conversation, be able to read books, and not be called on for miscellaneous help every 5 minutes.

But, there are still hard moments. Even though he's 5, he doesn't verbalize as much as he should when he needs help due to his shy personality. When he plays, he's super verbal. Otherwise, for the big things, he needs to be prompted in order to elicit a response. I'm trying to get him out of the habit because I need to know he can survive if he's not next to me. Could I just send him off to day care/school and force him to interact with others? I could and I can, but that's my choice not to. So these lessons need to be learned in other ways.

He asked for a snack last week and I gave him a cheese stick. Everything was going fine, but he couldn't open it, so he shoved the cheese stick in my face. Of course, I knew what he wanted me to do. I could have easily opened it for him, given it back, and life would have gone on. However, that's not what I did. I told him to tell me what he needed. He didn't. So then began a half hour ordeal of crying, pouting, and me putting the cheese stick back into the refrigerator.

I went over to him and told him: we, he and his mommy, had a special bond, and mommy could read his mind and figure things out without him needing to say anything. But not everyone had this special ability. And I needed to know, if it was required, he could verbalize what he needed to get the assistance or help he needed. He proceeded to cry on his bed and I left him alone and started to write this blog. 

Just under ten years ago, I remember having a conversation with my aunt. My husband and I had driven the few states over to visit her and it was the first time I truly sat down and had conversations with her as an adult. We didn't have children yet at the time, but we were talking about kids, how to raise them, and some memories my aunt had when her children, my cousins, were younger. At one point, we were talking about one of my cousins and a difficult period for him. I had commented that sometimes you have to let them learn the hard way. 

She responded to me and said, "It's really hard to watch your own kids fail. You will know when you have your own children."

Fast forward many years, and indeed, I had my own children. I love them dearly and they are so special to me. The other day I just sat in the car and stared into my daughter's face for what felt like a minute as she stared back at me thinking to myself, how is my daugther so beautiful? And I've also had many hard times with my children which have made me yell, scream, and smack some tables. It's an imperfect journey that will never be mastered. 

But I've watched my children fail. In our latest cheese stick scenario, I watched him fail, grab his penguin for comfort, and go lay on his bed and cry. As a parent, this is hard. I sat on the couch listening to him cry while I opened the mail. And as much as I hated to hear his whimpering, I knew this had to be one step in the long journey of life he has ahead of him. Even if he doesn't learn from this situation, it's going to be part of the building blocks which make up his experiences, his personality, and ultimately, what his life will be like. *He never ate the cheese stick, didn't respond to anything I had said, and it felt like this situation resolved without being resolved.*

A few days after this incident, he chose a packet of crackers as dessert for finishing his dinner.  He and his dad went to get it from the pantry and then he came over to me as I was still sitting at the kitchen table. He handed it to me and asked me to open it with a complete sentence, and very nicely at that. I wish I could remember his exact words as I remember being in awe he had come up to me and said that. Many instances after, I've heard him ask me to help him open individually wrapped food (including multiple cheese sticks).

My son failing with regards to this cheese stick incident has small repercussions in the grand scheme of things. But less than a week later, he got it. Was my aunt right when she said watching my own children fail is really hard? Absolutely. And this may be a very small representation of what is to come in our future experiences. But the cost may be ultimately greater if we don't let them fail in healthy ways.

Introduction: Takeout With the Tos

I never thought I would be someone who loved cooking. As a child, I loved watching cooking shows. America's Text Kitchen, Julia Child, Yan Can Cook, Ming Tsai, and of course my all-time favorite, Jacques Pepin. I loved watching them put together both simple and extravagant dishes. 

In college, I cooked out of necessity as a third-year senior. I don't remember exactly what I cooked because it wasn't extremely delicious, but I kept myself alive and fed for the year. This was a chicken pot pie dish I made for myself as a 21-year-old.

I'm not sure how I would feel today if I served myself (or anyone!) this.

When I went to China, I didn't think I would be cooking a lot at all. After all, delicious food was just downstairs a short walk away. It was the cheapest food I would ever pay for made by someone else in my entire life. Why would I cook, right? 

Well, sometimes, or more than sometimes, the thought of bundling up to go downstairs and walk through brutal (-30F) cold to get something to eat was too much to bear. So I did actually cook a decent amount. To this day, I think the most delicious ribs I've ever made were in China. 

The first time I attempted this recipe was really successful.

When I got married, I thought I was a decent cook. It was mostly tasty, cost-efficient, and I could get by with a variety of cuisine and dishes. However, it wasn't until Covid when I realized the food I missed the most was Chinese food. We stopped going to restaurants completely so we were eating only whatever I could cook. This left much to be desired in the Asian department. My Asian/Chinese cooking skills before Covid were limited to American Chinese flavors. Although it can be enjoyed sparingly, it wasn't the food I desired after being at home with a newborn for so long. 

So I learned. I watched videos online. I looked up recipes. And I even have a few cookbooks now in my collection. Because of my work schedule, I do all my cooking on Sunday afternoon. We do still rotate different cuisines, but Chinese food is probably what I cook the most. It's rare (but has happened!) when my husband tells me he's craving something American. 😂

When I cooked Lion's Head Meatballs （狮子头）for the first time, it was a huge accomplishment. This dish is very involved and time consuming.

In 2025, I want to bring a fun blog series to you and share what we eat on a weekly basis. I've turned in into a joke that we are buying our own "take-out" food. I'll be assigning my own prices to my dishes as if we were purchasing them from a restaurant. And along the way, I'll share stories about what inspired me to cook them and flavors or ingredients I enjoy. I hope this blog series can inspire you to cook something fun and delicious. I hope cooking can be seen less as a chore and more as a delicious, creative outlet.

Join me in 2025!

For the Need of a Plastic Bag

Life as a mostly stay-at-home mom with some part-time working on the side is pretty mundane for the most part. I pack lunches. I grocery shop. I do laundry. I wash dishes. I clean toilets. And then I get my 3-4 hours per day where I feel like a competent, knowledgeable human being. Honestly, I love it. It's the best of both worlds with my two dream jobs which occasionally compete with each other.

But sometimes, the mundane has small excitement. 

I was at Costco this week picking up a few items (yes, I mean "a few" in the Costco sense. Six to be exact!) and had an interesting encounter. A man came up to me and said,  "Excuse me, where can I take this one?" *tugs my bag gently*

His actual reference was to locating the red plastic bags used for meat/seafood. In truth, I myself had been darting my eyes around looking for them just minutes prior. So I pointed my finger in the direction of where they were. He saw them, his face lit up, and then he went on a mild sprint to get them and return back to where I can only assume his cart was. 

I forgot to take a picture of the meat in my cart, but here is a representative pack of meat in a plastic bag, similar to the one the man was asking for. 

 

 

 

 

Now I'm not going to lie. There were a few seconds there where my brain was actually wondering if he was politely asking if he could take the ribs I had just chosen and bagged for myself. Or if he was asking me where he could find the ribs. (I was standing right next to them). English was not his first language and with the way he had phrased his question, it could have been misunderstood in a few ways.

His use of the word "take" was not the most appropriate. "Find" would have been the ideal word choice for his request. "Take" is the word which led my brain to wonder if he wanted something I had which was more valuable than a plastic bag. He also tugged at my plastic bag which made me wonder if he wanted my actual item/the bag with my item in it.

Our encounter was actually cute. When I think back on the way he approached, his mannerisms, his voice, it brings a smile to my face. On the contrary, I can see how someone without an understanding for language and patience for differences could have been annoyed or even angered at this situation due to a misunderstanding if his or her brain led them to the possible conclusions I listed above.

I've always believed the primary purpose of communication is to be understood. I still believe that. Through all the language barriers, nonverbal gestures and reading body language can communicate a lot in itself. However, the piece often overlooked is the bias the person receiving the communication adds to the situation. If I had an issue with someone touching my things or reaching into my shopping cart, I could have gotten very defensive very quickly without meaning to. If someone is triggered by grammatical errors in speech, an initial response might be one of shutting down or getting angry.

The more you know, the better you can be. Never stop striving to know.

Running Power

Nearly 13 years ago, I was probably at the lowest point in my life due to choices I had personally made. So this doesn't include my mother dying because that wasn't in my control. This was in my control, and I was facing it head-on.

The irony of this situation is that less than a month later, I met my future husband. I didn't know he was my future husband at the time. I was a clueless 20-year-old going into my last year at college wondering what in the world I was going to do with the rest of my life after I graduated. He was just a guy sitting across the table from me at a restaurant as we celebrated a mutual friend's birthday. Oh, and I did think he was cute.

But this isn't about him. This isn't about what brought me to the lowest point in my life either. This is about what I did after to bring myself out of the lowest point in my life. This is about a pair of shoes.

My 13-year-old shoes. 

I bought these pair of shoes brand new that fall as I started my third and final year of college. I was highly stressed, very lost, and I had trouble sleeping at night. I found myself lying awake with my thoughts, unable to shut off my brain. So I found a way to use my restless energy. I started running. The loop I ran around campus was approx 1.7 miles. This is the number I calculated based off a rough estimation from reading a campus map and using my AirPods case as a measuring tool. It's probably pretty accurate because I remember it was about a 2 mile run if I didn't take the shortcut.

On top of running, a friend and I would do Insanity workouts at her apartment in the afternoons after class twice a week. I think once, I was crazy enough to do both: an Insanity workout in the afternoon and a run in the evening. Thinking about doing that much exercise now makes my knees want to buckle. I'm 100% sure my body would not be able to handle that today. But at the time, it's exactly what I needed. 

After graduation, these shoes came with me overseas as I moved away for a year. They walked on icy ground. They rode trains with me as I traveled across a foreign country. They bicycled with me over the old city walls of Xi'An. And they came with me when I moved back. 

They got a lot of rest for the nine or so years after. In the last year, I brought them back out and they went biking with me. They took walks with me when I needed to heal my knee. And I finally noticed their wear and tear.

The mesh is tearing at the front corners
and the front of the sole is detaching. 

Earlier this year, I was in the restroom at a Walmart. There was an older lady walking out of one of the stalls. By chance, I happened to be looking toward the floor as I made my way into the restroom. And I noticed her shoes matched mine. The very same pair of shoes from 13 years ago which I'd purchased for myself. Could hers have been 13 years old, too? It's unlikely they were too new because the design and model has long been replaced with newer versions. But I couldn't mistake the color or the design - they were the same. 

It's nearing the time when I will replace this pair of shoes. Part of me is elated to not match the fashion choices of someone twice my age. But part of me is sad because getting rid of these shoes will mean getting rid of the physical history attached to them - the places they've been, the things they've done, the ground they've walked. Yes, my memories will be there, but that will be all. 

This pair of shoes saved me during a very difficult time. And I never knew they had the power to do so.

Clearance Gas

 One morning as we were driving to school, my daughter was looking out the window and told me, "Mommy, gas is on clearance! I see a 166." Now I've been alive long enough to know gas does not go on clearance. Only if there is a signage error is anyone able to get gas for anything close to "clearance" prices. Gas does not go on clearance, ever. But there was a reason she was telling me this, and I knew she could read. So while I was at the stoplight, I looked over toward the gas station and looked everywhere for a clearance sign. I looked at the gas pumps. I looked at the window to the little store. I did not see a clearance sign anywhere. 

The light turned green and I had to move on and keep driving. I told my daughter gas does not go on clearance and the conversation ended. We went to school and that was the last I heard about clearance gas for a few weeks.

After a few weeks, we were stopped at the same light, and again, my daughter told me, "Mommy, look, there's the clearance sign!" I turned to look again. This time, I saw it. Because of where the car was stopped and the angle at which I was now looking at the gas station. I saw the clearance sign. 

Finally, I understood what she was showing me. And then I explained to her what the word clearance means in this context. She's been very familiar with the word clearance in regards to shopping. Mommy looks at the clearance at Lowe's. She looks at the clearance at Kroger. She looks at the clearance at Walmart. She scans aisles for clearance at Sam's Club and Costco. We look at clearance at Michael's. We loved the clearance at Bed Bath and Beyond before they shuttered all physical store locations. Clearance has been a part of her life since she was a newborn. 

But this was the first time she's seen it in regards to height. So I explained to her that certain trucks or vehicles are very tall so they need to know if they can fit underneath. The sign lets the driver know how tall the top is. If the driver's vehicle is taller than that, he/she cannot drive underneath. And that is the second definition of clearance she's now acquainted with. 

I was glad to solve this mystery. 

Just Fine

There are many things I did not appreciate about my childhood growing up. Once having my own children, I shaped a lot of my parenting on the exact opposite of the way I was raised. However, there is one poignant moment which has always stayed with me and goes down as the best parenting I've ever experienced.

8th grade was my last year as a straight-A-student. I had just started high school and it was one of the report cards in the middle of my freshman year. I was attending one of the most difficult high schools in my district. High school came like a slap in the face. My report card was littered with B's and even a C or two. The A's were a rare sighting that year with only 2-3 per grading period. 

My report card had arrived and was sitting on the counter atop a pile of mail and advertisements. As we were eating, my dad looked over my report card and asked me one question: Why are your grades so bad?

I responded with a simple, truthful, answer: School is hard.

After that, he put the report card down, we finished the meal, and my guess is no more words were spoken the rest of the evening.

I don't think my dad ever asked me about my grades again after that grading period. My grades stayed more or less the same in sophomore year. Junior year, they started to pick back up again and the majority became A's with a few B's and probably one C here and there. Senior year, I was a straight A student again. 

College was, again, a slap in the face because there was a learning curve to figure out how to balance 15 hours of class spread across 5 days. And to factor in the unspoken 20-30 hours of homework and studying a week for those 15 hours of class. Again, I followed that same trend of struggling immensely freshman year first semester and figuring out in the next 5 semesters which followed. Eventually, I regained my straight A status. 

I have to credit myself for being the kind of student and child who understood responsibility. I knew what to do and when to do it. If it didn't happen, it was because it was out of my ability or I had other priorities - for better or for worse. 

I was reminded of this memory again because I had a student come last week and she seemed kind of down. I didn't pry about it, and we had a great lesson together. When her lesson was over, we had to wait for her to get picked up. She muttered something about her mother "probably still mad at her" and I asked her why her mother was upset. She told me it was because of grades. I sighed. 

I've never thought of my parents as awesome parents who modeled wonderful parenting, but this one memory from my dad still stands out to me today. And honestly, I hope I can deal with the future grades of my children with a similar straightforward attitude. Because I know firsthand the difference it makes and the impression it leaves when you handle a situation with tact.

Sometimes I do wonder if this is how my dad still sees me....
because I know I will forever see my children as my babies. 

And I think, for however much he displays it, he knows I ended up just fine. Maybe better than just fine. 🙂

The Power of Play

We’ve had many things lost under our refrigerator at one point or another. There was a trapped marker for the longest time which I fetched out a while after it was originally lost. There have been blueberries hiding underneath from being dropped on the floor. Once I spilled a bag of frozen shrimp and one was barely tucked underneath the fridge. It’s a good thing I saw that one in time and fished it out before it mysteriously stunk up the kitchen.

One item which had been lost underneath the refrigerator and never rescued was a lone chopstick. I no longer remember when and how it was dropped, but this one single chopstick was trapped underneath for the longest time. Multiple occasions, we said we’d fish it out, and we never did, because let’s be honest. Life gets busy. There are other things more important than fishing out a single chopstick. And quite frankly, if our children hadn’t noticed it one day while playing on the floor, we would never have noticed we were missing one because we’ve always had plenty of extra.

Yesterday, something amazing happened. My five-year-old found a way to get the chopstick out from underneath the refrigerator. She grabbed a flashlight which they already played with and built a long stick out of some Lego pieces. Then, while shining the light underneath the refrigerator, used the Legos to swipe the chopstick out from underneath. Genius, right? 

Creative genius at its finest. 

To our credit, she’s seen me innovatively fix things or solve problems for her using everyday objects. She had seen her daddy just earlier take a stick with some fabric wrapped around it and clean dust from underneath the sofa. Perhaps this inspired her to do the same underneath the refrigerator to get the chopstick out. (Now, the real question is, why did my husband not swipe underneath the fridge to retrieve this chopstick instead of swiping under the sofa? Ha….)

When I see my daughter display these moments of brilliance, it makes me so proud. At the same time, I wonder if my mother noticed these things when I was younger. Did she ever watch us do something profound or special? If she did, it’s a shame there is no record or written evidence of it. And it’s a pity she will never be able to tell me about them.

I’ve never been one of those mothers to keep the house absolutely sparkling and to discourage my children from playing with non-toys. Yes, there are things she should not be playing with. But if it’s not a dangerous or precious item, chances are, I’ll let her play with it. And as a result, I get to see her be creative, be innovative, and think in ways much beyond her years. Do I encourage this because I want her to be top of her class earning the highest grades possible? Nah. I truly don’t because I wasn’t that student myself. What do I care about? I need to know that she is going to be okay without me whenever that day comes, whether through natural, healthy reasons, or due to heartbreaking circumstances.

She’s slowly showing me she will.

PT R2

My daughter potty trained during Covid at 2.5 years old. Also, I got tired of paying for diapers for two after about six to eight months. After she potty trained, I told myself I was going to potty train my son by the time he was 21 months old - by the end of the next calendar year. 

Haha. Jokes on me. 

Here we are nearly two years later from my initial ambitious thought, and almost two months into the process since we started. In the beginning, it felt promising because he was going potty on the toilet and staying dry. However, I was reminding him and setting timers every 30-45 minutes. We soon realized, this was not true potty training as he would not go unless we reminded or asked him. The instant we forgot, he had wet bottoms.

This continued for about a month with reminders when we remembered and wet clothes when we didn't. I then started incentivizing him with candy. This definitely made a difference and he started to take initiative in going to the potty instead of only when we reminded him. We kept continuing to keep up good habits at home but wearing a diaper when we went out in public, especially for extended periods of time.

I remember watching the lead teacher give skittles to kids in our 18-24m 
old class when they could communicate their need to use the 
restroom. And now it's my reward for my own children.   

The real progress appeared one morning when I had a two-hour board meeting via Zoom. So although I was merely feet away from my children, I couldn't help them do much. I did notice my son go to the bathroom at least once in my meeting.

When I witness small wins like this in parenting and life, it warms my heart, because they're little reminders I have succeeded as a parent. When they no longer need my reminders and will do what they're supposed to do (something as simple as peeing into the toilet and not into the underwear), it's a little preview of what I hope the rest of their life looks like. 

Potty training my son took much longer than it took my daughter, but it was actually much less stressful. There was way more laundry and soiled clothing to wash but much less yelling and crying. We are far from being a diaper-free household as he still needs one at night, but it still saves a huge chunk of change to not be changing diapers during the daytime. 

All Four Bicycling

My mother didn't know how to ride a bike. I've known this about her, but for the last however many years, this fact has eluded my memory. Today as I was riding my bike next to my daughter, I remembered.

I occasionally glanced over to see my daughter riding her bike next to me. I thought about my old childhood memories riding my bike. It was always the three of us. My mother never came. I'm sure she had things to do around the house, or maybe she wanted quiet time away from us. But it may have been that she didn't know how to ride and could not come with us.

We went to Martha's Vineyard twice. The first summer we went, the boys rented bicycles and biked to the beach from the town. My mother and I took the bus and met them there. I remember feeling sad I didn't get to ride a bike with the rest of the kids. At the same time, I was too scared to ride on a rental bike (and I don't think any of them actually fit me.) The second summer we went, I rented a bike and rode to the beach with the boys. My mother rode the bus by herself. On the way back, we had to ride back through the crowded town streets. It was my first time riding a bicycle without back-pedaling brakes, and I wasn't completely comfortable with hand brakes. As we rode through the town, there was a downhill road, my bicycle picked up speed, I didn't know how to comfortably stop using my hand brakes, and I lost control and there was a minor collision of some sort. I was okay. 

This was the souvenir I'd picked out from one of the trips.
My mother wanted to buy things that would be practical with purpose.
I wanted something pretty. This...met both the the requirements.
Sort of. It's a business card holder. Little did I know at age 11-12,
I would have business cards for it a decade and a half later. :) 

My daughter finally got the courage to try and ride her bicycle again without training wheels. It helped to go riding a few times with our neighbor's kids. Watching them inspired her to ride again and try without the training wheels. I've known she's been ready for years now, but her own fear was holding her back. We started her on a balance bike and she was very comfortable with it around 2-3 years old. However, her fear of not having her feet touch the ground and the inconsistency of spending time outside practicing prevented her from learning how to ride a bicycle until now. It's still pretty early if you ask me. 

I don't have memories biking with my mother. That's an activity she got left out of because she didn't know how. I'm hoping my children's memories of biking will be able to include all four of us.

My First Car

Happy birthday month to my first car! My car is turning 18 this year. It's kind of surreal I drive a car so old. Ha. I know the trend for some people is to drive a car until they're tired of it or something breaks or the features become too old. And then they sell it, trade it in, and get a newer model or a different type of car. Me? I've never felt that way. I'm a one and done kind of person. If things didn't deteriorate, break down, or wear, I'd keep things forever. Unfortunately (and fortunately for some things,) that is not the case and we replace clothing, shoes, cars, appliances, etc. Bluey would say replace husbands, but I think Gerald and Hecuba might disagree. 

This was the first car I ever learned to drive on. In driving school, they actually had the exact same make and model of car as well so I never got used to driving any other car. I know everything this car has been through. There's a paint scratch on the back rear from when I hit the gas while still in reverse. That was probably the worst thing I've done to the car. 

In high school, I was driving a pretty new car. It wasn't a brightly colored VW bug or a sports car, but it wasn't my parent's old minivan either. 

By the front passenger door, there's a dent from my 17th birthday. The car was about 15 months old. I was running late for school that day and didn't park well. The right side of my car was on the line of the parking spot. I didn't have time to readjust. Or I chose not to readjust. Whatever the case, it was a teenage decision made from running behind and laziness. When I left school, I didn't notice anything major. The car beside me had left before I did though. A few weeks later, I noticed the dent. My mind was able to piece together where the damage came from, and I've never fixed it. It's purely cosmetic and the car has driven fine. I never told my dad about this and he's never asked. 

We brought our first baby home from the hospital in this car. It went from being the pristinely clean car for a college kid to a car filled with food crumbs, dropped cheerios, toys in crevices, and tissues and wipes shoved into door handles. But I wouldn't have it any other way. This car has served me well through many stages of life and continues to do so today. 

I rarely do this anymore, but it was very satisfying to fit toilet paper, 

diapers, and wipes in addition to grocery items in the trunk of my little car. 

There's other dings and nicks in the car over the years. I lost one hubcap about three years ago and we removed all of them. My car definitely looks like an old car when I drive it. I don't notice the outside of the car when I'm inside so it doesn't phase me. The inside to me still looks pretty good. It's lacking some of the nicer features - no backup camera, no built in GPS or bluetooth connectivity. My clock went out years ago so I never know what time it is when I'm driving. Some of my control lights don't illuminate anymore at night.

It occurred to me this year my mother never knew this car. My dad purchased it the year after she died. It replaced the Chevy Celebrity she used to drive. The car started having some more problems and with my brother being a brand new driver, my dad wanted him driving something more reliable. That's how I ended up with such a new car in high school. I think I surprised myself because although I know my mother has missed out on many things in my life, my car has been in my life for a long time.

But that shows how much longer she's been gone....

This is almost the exact color of the one we owned. 

I only feel how old my car is when I have something to compare it to. I notice it the most when we travel and rent cars. Even our Kia rental car had nicer features than my car. I'd never choose to purchase that car for myself, but yes, it felt like a newer car on the inside. 

The hope is for my car to make it long enough so my daughter can learn how to drive on it. That would be monumental if it were to actually happen. We do take pretty good care of it - parked inside, lightly driven, no punching the gas - so we'll see. 

My first car. It'll always have a special place in my life no matter how plain it is. 

Shadows to See Light

The blog has been very quiet lately. It's been an intense month. I haven't quite figured out how to put all of my feelings into words. I may never. 

Work is busy. I took the last two weeks of the month off, and it still isn't enough time to get everything done. Granted, we were on vacation for almost one of the two weeks, so not much was able to get done then. It was a much needed vacation. The kids were able to get away. We had a much more successful flight this time than the first time we flew with kids. I haven't been able to write about that in four years because of how triggered it made me for the longest time. 

My daughter was one. We were flying to see friends moving halfway across the world. It was my first time meeting her two children and her first time meeting my husband and only child (at the time). The flight was delayed so she fell asleep at the airport instead of during takeoff like I had anticipated. Strike one. On the plane, an elderly woman had taken our seats so we sat in the seats across the aisle. I proceeded to wipe down the seats, trays, window area, and then a flight attendant came over. She told us we couldn't sit in the Exit Row with an infant. Of course....of course....and when we told her where our actual seats were, she didn't ask the elderly woman to move, because who does that? It's rude! So instead, the lady sitting in front of us offered to trade her seat with our row. 

So we ended up sitting in different seats than we'd originally purchased, and I did not wipe them down because I was too flustered from all the shifting.

After take-off, I went to give my daughter a sip of her water, completely forgetting that bottles pressurize with the elevation change. Water came shooting out of her bottle through the pop-up straw and splashed some to the people sitting in front of us. The lady completely flipped out that her iPad was splashed with water and almost ruined and basically ruined the rest of the flight for us. Every time after that when I put the tray up or down, she'd turn around and glare. She chatted with the elderly man sitting next to her and he did the same. When I bent down to try and retrieve something from my backpack to calm my child down, he glared because he couldn't stand the pressure for 10 seconds for me to retrieve something. 

At least one of them was Canadian. Canadians are known to be kind and generous and forgiving. Not this one. Canadians are people just like any other nationality and they can be real PITA too. Look at the person. Not the label. 

I was too nice then. I'm also not the fastest thinker when I'm anxious or stressed or under pressure. But if I had the nerve or if it ever happened again, I'd give her a mouthful. 

You think I'm excited about flying with a one year old? You think I wanted to sit behind you on this plane? You think I want the plane to be this squished and the seats so close together that I have to push on the seat in front of me just so I can bend over in a way to retrieve something to try and help your comfort on this plane so my child isn't going nuts or being loud? My daughter feels exactly the same way you do right now. But she's one. You on the other hand are a grown adult who should be able to control feelings and think for someone else. You used to be my daughter's age. What would you do if you saw someone glare at your mother like that? Immaturity is only acceptable when you are not expected to know any better. I think you'd lose to my one year old. 

I'm still triggered thinking about that incident. Sometimes I wish my memory weren't so vivid. 

My kids did really amazing on their plane rides this month. Yes, I have a five and three year old now, so the expectations are a little different, but both of them did really well. The flight there was the best it could have been. Quiet kids. No crying. No screaming. No noise basically. The flight back was a little rougher as my three-year-old was over tired and he cried for a bit. But people were understanding. Nobody said anything or glared or gave us stares. Or maybe they did and I didn't see it, but ignorance is bliss. 

***

We are a family of four. We have a three and five year old. Not too far off. We've gone shopping there many times as a family. I've gone shopping there myself since I was a teenager. I don't think I can ever go back. I couldn't sleep for days after it happened. Two days after, I broke out in hives all over with swollen hands. At first, I thought it was stress. But it kept getting worse. I was on antibiotics that week. After 36 hours, I went to an urgent care to get it looked at. He told me it looked like an allergic reaction to the medication. We switched medication and the rash started to subside. My body returned back to normal, or as normal as I could feel physically. But mentally? It's still there. 

The week after it happened, we ran errands as a family. We went to Old Navy. We went to a mall. We went to a restaurant. At one point, I checked my phone and saw a notification of a message regarding a shooting. I thought it was another one. Then I clicked in and saw it was 6 days old. The immediate panic went away. But the residual feelings did not. They still haven't. 

It actually occurred to me when I was on vacation, I shouldn't feel as afraid walking around in this state. Because their laws were different. I should actually feel safer, more relieved, to be here than I do at home. Isn't that weird? I've never thought in my adult life I'd come across feeling safer somewhere which wasn't where I called home, but I did. And then it hit me. During the year I moved to a different country and lived by myself, never once did I have fears like this. Fears of getting mugged by thieves? Sure. Being abducted? Maybe. But being shot openly in broad daylight doing mundane everyday tasks? Never. 

I was reading about one of the shooting victims who didn't die. He said God had plans for him and that's why he survived the shooting. I'm glad he thinks that way, and I think he should think that way, but what about everyone else who didn't survive? Was that God's plan, too? It is so hard for me as someone who believes in God to answer yes to that question. I don't want to answer yes to that question. I want to kick and scream and yell at God for letting it happen. I have a three year old. 

And then I have to remind myself. Vermeer's painting Girl With a Pearl Earring depicts a young woman with a light-skinned face. I remember the light-skinned face by memory. But Vermeer used dark paint on her face as well. Why is that? 

Her face has a shadow. And we don't know until we see the whole painting. 

Tomato Babies

My mother lived at the new house after we moved for three years before she died. In those three years, there was one season when we went to the store and bought plants. We planted azaleas and gladiolus in the front and tomatoes in the backyard. 

I don't actually remembered what sparked this choice to go purchase plants. I don't remember my mother ever taking care of plants except a pothos plant she'd had since my brother was born. But I remember planting all of these plants. We were just playing really. Nothing actually grew well. The azalea did okay for a few years but didn't thrive. The gladiolus bloomed that first year and never again. 

The tomatoes? Oh the tomatoes...now these I remember vividly.

We planted the tomatoes next to the fence facing south. They received a decent amount of sunlight, and it really wasn't a bad place to tuck some tomato plants and still stay out of the way of the rest of the yard. 

I was in charge of taking care of all the plants. I remember coming home from school in the afternoon everyday and I'd go outside and fill up watering jugs, open the front gate and water the azaleas and the gladiolus in the front. Then I'd go back into the backyard and swap my watering jug for the hose. I'd stretch the hose out and wind it around the backyard to where the tomatoes were. I'd stand there watering the tomatoes and watch water drip off their foliage. 

Then I'd proceed to water the rest of the grass in the backyard and make my way back toward the spigot to turn off the water once I'd sprayed the whole backyard. I would reel the hose and wind it back onto the hose stand nearly before going back inside the house. I enjoyed watering these plants after school. It was fun. I was alone. It was therapeutic.

One afternoon I was poking around the garage and I found my dad's fertilizer. Lawn fertilizer, although I didn't know the difference. Being about 11-12, I understood that fertilizer helped plants grow faster. I also knew I needed to wear gloves handling them as it is a chemical. But I did not know about the correct amount of fertilizer to apply. I did not know that too much fertilizer would turn into poison. I also didn't know that lawn fertilizer should not be applied to garden edibles, but let's not forget how old I was. 

I took small handfuls of the fertilizer and placed them at the base of each tomato plant. Then, I watered it in. We had six tomato plants to start with. Four of them died. The other two sprouted up wildly and became large, untamed tomato plants. I thought it was cool. This tiny little stem of a plant became this large entanglement of stems and leaves and fruit buds. I didn't understand or know the need for a tomato cage or support at the time. Neither did my mother, so we didn't have one. They just....grew. 

I never ate a single tomato off of those tomato plants. It's probably better I didn't anyway because I used lawn fertilizer on a tomato plant. Oops. But I did pick one tomato. I picked it when it was still mostly green and a little red. I picked it because the animals were getting to them and if I wanted to pick a fruit and show myself what I grew, I'd have to get it before it was ripe.  Otherwise, an insect or an invasive mammal would beat me to it. We didn't know to protect the fruits. 

The tomatoes we once grew in my dad's backyard have been long gone. After I realized we weren't going to be eating any tomatoes that year, I cared for it less. Also, the hot summer made it unenjoyable to stand outside and continue watering. Interests changed. Most likely it died in the first frost that winter and didn't return after. Life got busy. 

Now, I grow my own plants. I do not sprinkle lawn fertilizer on my edibles. I support my plants with stakes and cages when needed. I have a soil moisture meter to prevent over and under watering. I pick off bugs on leaves by hand if I see them. This is my third year involved in growing. The first was research and learning from my neighbor who's a master gardener. She shared so many of the fruits of her labor with me. I saved seeds, I researched plants, I studied sun patterns around our house, and I started planning. The second, I tried germinating seeds I'd saved. That was quite an adventure. But late summer, I actually had some harvest. Although not nearly as large or tasty as grocery store peppers, it was satisfying to eat the fruit of my own labor. 

This year, I'm growing peppers from seeds I've saved over the years. I'm also growing some Thai basil from seeds I purchased last year but couldn't get to germinate. The seeds are still good - it was user error why no basil sprouted last year. I managed to get some Genovese basil seeds, saved from my neighbor, to germinate as well. 

But you know what my favorite is? My tomatoes. 

I saw this tomato plant at Costco and could not resist. It was the last tomato plant they had.
The tallest part of the stem had broken off due to mishandling probably, but I knew I could help
with the right care. It has grown beautifully. 

My cherry tomatoes. Cute and sweet, hopefully just like the fruit.

Yes, tomatoes are "easy to grow." Yes, tomatoes grow rather quickly given the right growing conditions. Yes, we eat and cook with a good number of tomatoes. But that's not what makes growing them special. My tomatoes are special because they resurfaced this memory for me after all these years. And it wasn't even that my mother gardened with me and we have memories growing tomatoes together. We didn't. 

But she was the one who said, "Let's grow some tomato plants."

This is 19. 

The Hare's Real Problem

One of my teaching analogies I use is retelling the story of the tortoise and the hare. I don't need to retell the story because by the time my students are old enough to understand this analogy, they know the story. When I ask my students what the purpose of this story is, they typically respond with, "slow and steady wins the race."

And that's what we were taught growing up. However, over the years, I've begun to question this proverb. Is it true that if you work slowly and steadily, you will eventually finish your project or reach your goal? Yes, absolutely. Progress, however slow, is still progress. But this proverb fails to take into account some other facts of the story.

The hare is faster than the tortoise. That was, is, and always will be a fact. By sheer ability, the hare is faster. The hare was created that way, and he is faster than a tortoise. In most retellings of the story, the hare gets a great lead in the beginning because of how fast he is. He looks behind him and notices the tortoise is nowhere to be seen. He is obviously ahead of the tortoise and has an easy lead. 

Then, the story goes to say the hare takes a nap and falls asleep under the tree. Most renditions of the story paint the picture that the hare taking a nap means he is lazy and not hard-working. This is where the tortoise keeps going at his slow pace, overtakes the hare, and wins the race.

bye bye, hare

Is the hare actually lazy though? I'm sure it was work for the hare to reach where he was along the race path when he decided to take a nap under the tree. Even if it may have been "easy" for him, it took energy and effort to get that far in the race. Could he have made the decision to rest a while and take a nap? Sure. Was he in the lead and ahead? Yes. Therefore, you cannot attribute the hare's decision to take a nap as being lazy.

You know where the hare went wrong? His nap was too long! He fell asleep for so long that the tortoise was able to catch up and slowly amble to the finish line. Although let's be honest, however slow the tortoise was moving, in reference to his ability, it wasn't ambling. He was probably moving at his fastest pace possible.

Taking a break is not a bad thing. Relaxing is not wrong. Sometimes, loafing is necessary. But the problem is, so many of us do not know when to resume. Could the hare have just run the race, finished it, and won without stopping in the middle? Yes. Could the hare have still won the race with a shorter nap in the middle? I believe so, yes. But sadly, the hare did not win the race when he took a nap, lost track of time, and did not finish the race in time. 

I don't think we should be told to be like the tortoise. Sometimes, for things we struggle with, we do need to be like the tortoise and trudge on through it, even if it's something we don't like. But I also think we should learn a lot from the hare. Take advantage of your big leads when you have one. Use your talents and gifts in your favor. And don't be afraid to take breaks or rest when you want to. 

But, you must know when to resume.

The Hardest Part of Parenting

I used to think the hardest part of raising kids was sick kids. Sick kids ARE super frustrating. Especially when it's puke going everywhere you don't want it to because they do not know how to drop everything and run to the toilet. Non-sick kids are also frustrating when you see them stick their fingers into their mouths in all places after touching all sorts of things and you can just envision yourself in 24-48 hours having a child wake up in the middle of the night screaming because his/her throat hurts and the cold is coming. Sick kids take a lot of love and effort. But that is not the hardest part of raising kids. 

The actual hardest part of raising kids is disciplining them. And I don't mean discipline like raising your voice at them, sending them to time out, or even spanking them. Those are easy. 

We were going to bed the other night and my daughter picks out her clothes for the next day before bed. She opened her drawer to grab her socks and finds that her brother's socks are in her drawer. She's also holding up the pair she wants to wear which also belong to her brother. And she knows this.

I told her to hand me the pair of socks to put back into his sock drawer. She hands me one pair and clings to the other she wants to wear. I ask for the second pair. She unwillingly hands them over and then bursts out in tears. This is where the hard part begins. Because you see, she is wrong. She is absolutely wrong and she knows it. And yet, she is the one crying. I was also at the end of a long day myself after not feeling great, watching the kids, and then teaching my own students. By 8:30 pm, I was ready to get the kids into bed and do my own thing, whatever that meant. 

Her beloved pair of socks with the rainbow trim...I remember pushing her in her stroller at about 9 months old buying this pair of socks so I do not discount her sentimentality one bit.

So first, I had to ask her to complete her outfit selection for the next day, because since she took out the pairs of socks which were not hers and handed them to me, she had not moved an inch. So I firmly asked her to finish picking out the rest of her outfit or there would be consequences. 

Then, I held out my arms, she came over, and I gave her a hug. I. gave her a hug because I wanted to and not solely because I knew that's what she wanted. There are times when I don't want to give her a hug even though I know that's what she wants and needs, but I'm not ready. 

As I hugged her, I began asking her a series of questions.

1. Whose socks are those, yours or your brother's? Brother's.

2. Since they belong to him, who gets to wear them? He does. 

And then I explained. 

They used to be your socks when you were little. But your feet got bigger. So now he wears them because they fit him. They don't fit your feet anymore which is why you don't wear them. You wear socks that fit your feet. I continued by using an analogy to some of my old toys. It's just like when we go to grandpa's house and play with Mommy's old toys. They used to be mine, but I am not a little kid anymore so I do not play with them anymore. You are a little kid so I have passed them onto you to play with. She loves playing with my old things so I think this made my point very clear.

She then asked me if she could have rainbow socks. I told her we could get some for her birthday. So now I have to go find some rainbow socks for her that aren't absurdly priced per pair. And I actually will because part of parenting is following through with what I say. Well I know what's on my to-do list for the next month...

You know why this is hard? Nobody modeled this for us. Had this happened to me as a child, I would have been told, "Give me the socks. They're not yours. Stop crying. Go to bed." End of story. 

Sure, that's discipline. But that's easy discipline. Easy discipline doesn't raise capable adults. Easy discipline raises resentment, frustration, and manipulation. Being a parent now, it's up to me to end the cycle at the next generation. If I want my children to think independently, use good logic, and have wisdom in their decisions, I need to model it, and it starts now. 

I don't always respond like this. There are many times when I revert to old habits that are "familiar" and the situation ends up a little bit different. But this is what I strive for, and this particular incident was probably one of my finer parenting moments. 

That is the hardest part of raising a child. 

My Year in Books

I read 12 books this year. It doesn't sound like a lot, and I know it's not. I used to read nearly 12 books a semester for one English course. Life is very different now and the demands on my time are different. I was pretty intentional about the books I read. They're not all spectacular books, but there was a reason, whether random or logical, why I chose to read them. So in the order I read them, here they are:

1-5. The Selection Series: The Selection, The Elite, The One, The Heir, The Crown - Kiera Cass

I actually came across these books from the scholastic website. I was cross referencing some reading levels of books and came across this series. I did some searching online to see what the premise of them was. It sounded interesting enough to be some light entertainment reading so I started. Perhaps it was the girly girl inside of me, but I was pretty hooked. Before I knew it, I'd finished the three books in the first series as well as the two books in the second in about two months. They're described as Hunger Games meets The Bachelor. That's accurate. 

6. The Pearl - Steinbeck

In 9th grade English, we were offered extra credit at the end of the year if we wanted to improve our grades for the last six weeks. Our extra credit was to read this book and write an essay after reflecting on...a theme(?) within the book. I can't remember the topic anymore, but that's what remains in my memory. Being a teenager, I didn't read the complete book, looked up some cliff notes, and wrote an essay that was probably really bad. I don't remember if I got the extra credit or not. 

Over 15 years later, I still remember this, and I decided to read it again. And I did. I read the whole book and I was left stunned. Do not underestimate this book by its "low" reading level or the length of the book. It is packed with thought provoking themes and "mind games." I found the ending quite creepy as an adult.

This is one of those books I would say I'm glad I read, but I don't think I could ever bring myself to read it again. 

7. The One Thing You'd Save - Linda Sue Park

This book caught my eye at the library. I was with my children looking at books in the children's section when I saw this book propped up on top of the shelves. The title intrigued me and I checked it out for myself to read. 

This book is probably written for anywhere from a 2nd-4th grade reading level depending on how advanced a student is. I love the emphasis on perspective in this book. Something important to one person may not seem important to someone else. It's the start of empathy. 

8. The Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo - Taylor Jenkins Reid

One of my students mentioned to me in a lesson that she had borrowed this book from a friend to read. I'd heard of the title before but hadn't read the book. Out of curiosity, I read it myself. It was interesting, but had my student not mentioned it to me, I would have probably never thought to pick it up and read it myself. 

9. One Time - Sharon Creech 

I have loved Sharon Creech's books since I was in grade school. My all time favorite book is still Walk Two Moons. I've already written about why I love that book. I saw she had published this book rather recently so I wanted to read it and see what kind of impression it would leave on me. It was okay. I honestly didn't remember what the book was about since I read it almost six months ago. After a quick search online to refresh my memory, the vague plot line came back to me. Another one of those books being a nice read but not special. 

10. Boundaries - Henry Cloud and John Townsend 

I remember hearing about this book in college. A few people I knew were reading it or had read it. I didn't think much about it at the time. This summer, one of my friends told me she was reading it. I decided to read it as well and it turned out to be a great read. Since reading this book, I think I've found a lot of freedom in the way I live my life and make decisions. Much of this book seems like common sense. However, having it explained and written out gives it new perspective. Not only has this book helped me feel more in control of my life, but I feel like I can better manage my business and make decisions. I'm definitely a feelings-oriented person, but reading this book has helped me to see situations more logically and remove some of the feelings. 

There are a couple ideas within the book I don't agree with 100%, but the general premise of the book I think is helpful to understand the decisions we make, we should make, and why we make them. It is based on Biblical teachings so if you don't share perspective with me there, I can't fully recommend this book to you. 

11. Crying in H Mart - Michelle Zauner 

I read this book because I saw one friend post about it on Facebook. I'd heard about it and seen it elsewhere, but I didn't choose to read it until I saw my friend's post.  Honestly, it hit me differently than I thought it would from seeing the hype about this book. Before reading it, I think I thought I would relate more to her because we had experienced similar upbringings and experiences. After reading it, I think it made me realize even more what I never was able to experience: I never got to be an adult next to my mother. 

I could write a whole other blog solely on this, so I'll leave it be for now.

12. It Ends With Us - Colleen Hoover

This book probably ended up on many people's reading lists for 2022 even though it was published six years ago. That's the power of social media. I saw it recommended on a few other people's posts and thought I'd read it to see what the hype was. It's not your typical romance novel which I liked, and although the book is fiction, it is based off non-fiction people. 

This was one of those books for me where I was sad when it was over. I spent the whole book getting to know these characters and living their lives through a third-party lens, and then when the book ends, everything ends. It's that feeling of breaking up with someone except it's people in a book. I wanted to keep following along and seeing what would happen to them, but I can't because the book ended. 

And that's why authors write sequels. The sequel actually came out this year, but I can't justify purchasing books for fun reading like this, so as of today, I am still on the library waitlist for this book. It'll probably end up on next year's book list. :)

Any recommendations for next year? I don't plan these in advance. This list just made itself as the year passed. Always open to suggestions!