Reconnecting With My Asian Roots

There's something fascinating about growing up the child of two Chinese immigrant parents in the United States.  And as I become more in tune with American culture and tradition, even at the age of 30, the more I recognize that much of my childhood was embedded in very traditional Chinese ways.  Yet the exception to the rule were the little ways my parents pushed us to be more American.  A walking paradox, confused state of mind, one could say.

To stay out of the kitchen and do my homework (except for the dishes, then I was welcome), to immerse myself in extracurricular school activities and socialize with my classmates to guarantee easier admission into college but to be forbidden to stay overnight at any friend's sleepover party.  To do well in school and attend Chinese school on the weekends, to attend SAT prep classes but still speak Chinese at home (Chinglish more like it).  To respect my parents, show filial piety, and address all adults with Mr. or Mrs. Surname, even when I am in college and my friends' parents insist I call them by their first name.

Here I am at 30, still Asian and still trying to learn more about my own culture that I thought was very much a part of me until now.  Now, I'm realizing I don't know how to cook any of the dishes I love.  And I can't rely on my mom to mail me food or tell me how to make it in a frenzy over the phone my entire life.  I have to start collecting.  Making note of the recipes.  Gathering the recipes.  Practicing the recipes.  Doing my due diligence to nurture my Asian side.  I can't remember most of the Chinese fables that go along with each season or holiday and find myself googling it to see if I can jog my own failing memory.  Learning about my own culture as if I didn't live it growing up.  As if I never heard those stories a thousand times at Chinese school.

I tried to make Sunday our Sushi Sunday yesterday.  I had great plans.  I was so excited.  I couldn't wait!  Growing up, I always helped my mom make rolls and it was always so easy.  Of course, I never knew the exact ingredients, but I was a good roller and our sushi looked great.  Me on my own?  Not so much...

Nothing a ton of soy sauce and sriracha couldn't fix. 

Today, we're trapped inside from the snow outside.  We only have one car that can make it in the snow, so Andy took that car (not without first trying with our other car and failing).  So today, I will also take a stab at making some red bean soup, though I don't have any of the glutinous rice flour to make my glutinous rice balls (tang yuans) in pink and white. 

And then we'll probably make some homemade bread.  Go to the apartment gym and run around.  Watch some tv.  Nap a little.  Sing some songs.  Clean the house.  What else is there to do when you're snowed in?  

Chinese Mom Say

I love my mom to pieces but more often than not, I am so glad she is my mother and not my mother-in-law (good luck future brother's wife).  My own mother-in-law is also Chinese, but having come to the US when she was 18 and having married a wonderful white man, she is unaccustomed to the Chinese ways that my mother still is so peculiar and particular about.

I talk to my mother everyday, sometimes more than three times in a day, and some days I want to hit myself on the forehead repeatedly.  Other days days I actually want to scream in rebellion.   But most days, I am becoming better at accepting her love (as weird as it may seem) and learning not to talk back (because it's not filial if I do).  Here are some of the things she says to me.

The following has been translated to English for your reading pleasure.

Your child is too skinny.  Don't you feed him anything?
Your child poops too much.  What are you feeding him?

Of course you think your child is cute, he's yours!
Your child is pretty cute, if I do say so myself.

Don't feed him chips!  That stuff is unhealthy and fattening.
Don't give him that, it's too oily!
Why is your son so skinny?  What are you feeding him?

You look dark.  Yellow.  Unhealthy.
Go get a facial.  I'm sending you face masks now.  They're in the mail.

Pull his legs straight or he'll be bowl legged.
Don't let him walk too much because his bones are still underdeveloped.

He can't eat popsicles!  Too cold!
He can't eat chicken nuggets!  Too hard to chew!
He likes ice cream?  You loved ice cream too!
He likes french fries?  Don't let him eat french fries!

What did Jordan eat today?  How many times did he poop today?
Wow he poops a lot.  He never stays still!  No wonder he's so skinny.

Are you making Andy and Jordan smoothies everyday?
Your house looks messy, have you been cleaning it?

Did you workout today?
You need to eat more, you're too skinny now.
Don't let yourself go!  Are you taking care of yourself?
Are you fat or skinny now?

Ever wonder why I am the way I am?  Well, now you know.  Wouldn't trade it for anything, Chinese moms are the best...even if they are quirky.

Zhua Zhou: Our Family's Chinese Tradition

Whenever a child turns one in my family, it's customary for us to have a zhua zhou.  Translated to English, zhua is "to pick" and zhou is my Maiden name, or a first anniversary.  Upon turning one, a bunch of symbolic items are placed before a child for them to choose from.  Items represent future career paths or interests, with traditional Chinese items that are homonyms (such as green onions for intelligence since it sounds like smart in Mandarin) and other more straightforward items which have stood the test of time (like a stethoscope or calculator).  

I don't remember my own, but I remember vividly my brother Ray's, my cousin Eileen's, and my cousin's child, Abby's - the family gathering and anticipating which item the child would pick... the screaming, the outward gushes of excitement and loud laughter... not so much what they picked though.  In our family, it's a fun little tradition which doesn't mean much despite it "predicting" what future career paths or interests a child might have.  The Chinese elders like to talk about it like it was obvious from the zhua zhou but I guarantee you I did not pick a calculator (at least I hope not)...

The Koreans do a similar thing called the doljabi only it actually entails a fancy party, some rice columns as part of the decoration and an elaborate Korean outfit the one year old will adorn halfway through the party.  I saw some super cute doljabi boards online but noticed there were no zhua zhou ones, so with the help of my new Adobe Photoshop, I made my own!  I won't be blowing it up to a big board like the Korean parties, but I may print an 8x10 and frame it for the family to make bets and give whoever wins a photo of Jordan framed hahahaha.  

And I made a happy birthday sign.  I haven't decided what I intend to do with it as we're not throwing a party... but my dad got so excited about Jordan's zhua zhou, he offered to pay for whatever we do end up doing as part of our Lee Family Reunion in Santa Barbara this upcoming weekend where Jordan will have his zhua zhou one month early (as we'll be in Washington D.C. with Andy's family on his actual one year birthday).

Tiger Mom Much?

We start 'em young.  

Happy Chinese New Year!

I didn't have any shark fin soup this year for Chinese New Year's.  Last year, I couldn't have any because I was pregnant.... this year I didn't have any because we spent New Year's with my mom's side of the family instead (and my dad's sister is the one who knows how to cook it.. it's a pretty hard recipe from what I hear).  My mom, dad and brother were sadly absent from the festivities here in the U.S.... probably having a more authentic and elaborate celebration in Taiwan.  With the Chinese New Year being such a big deal in our family... it was kind of strange not having them around this year, so it was nice (and a sigh of relief that I didn't have to try my hand at some Chinese dishes) when my uncle invited the three of us over to his house to celebrate.

Besides the extensive menu of fish (it's important to eat, supposed to be good for the upcoming year), pork, chicken, and other stuff I'm incapable of translating, we watched football and drank a lot of apple cider (which my cousins got for us as they drank Taiwan Beer, yet at the end of the night, everyone was drinking apple cider because let's face it... it tastes way better than beer).  We did come up with the realization that once our parents are gone... none of us know how to cook Chinese food the way they do.  That's going to be a sad day but probably remedied by a lot of take-out from fobby Chinese restaurants.

Now the tradition of lucky red envelope or hong baos is you stop receiving once you're married and have to give a red envelope once you are married to the single children.  So we gave my thirteen year old cousin a small red envelope for the new year and scored with Jordan who left with five red envelopes!  He didn't care for the green inside, but he sure loved those red envelopes this morning!  He's meticulously inspecting each one before tasting them, and he decided that wealth tastes bittersweet.

Gong Xi Fa Tsai!  Good fortune and propserity and hopes for a dragon Phillips baby, though a snake would be okay too...as my uncle reminded my recently married cousin and her husband they had three more months to make a dragon baby!

The lucky platter of fruit and Chinese candies and nuts

Our Chinese New Year meal!  

My racist cousins. Note Cindy told her husband to put up a peace sign, then advised him to squint his eyes.  Yes, that's my family folks.  

Pray.. not Play.

It's common knowledge that native Chinese speakers attempting to speak English confuse their Rs for Ls.

So English becomes EngRish.

Hello becomes Herro.

And then we joke about it and flip it the other way...

Sorry becomes sollie.

Very becomes Vely.

Why do we do such things?

My brother's English name is Ray and I swear my parents didn't do it intentionally, but his Chinese name is Lay-Lay.  One friend who found out Lay-Lay was his actual name, not just a nickname I had come up with to poke fun at the R-L and L-R confusion, pointed that out to me... and we laughed for days.

So tonight, when Jordan again refused to sleep... laying on his stomach in the pack n play, he bumped his head towards the mesh to see if he could break through, giggling with increased volume, hoping we'd get him.  It was a funny and cute sight and we both held back our smile, forcing a frown as I advised Jordan it was time to pray, not play.  At the sound of my own R-L comment, Andy and I both laughed.  To which Jordan joined as he continually shoved his head towards the mesh, as if to show us the true round shape of his head and simultaneously see if he could indeed get closer to us.  He then decided to use his hands to do the same thing... his hands opened to give us five, he pressed against the mesh, looking out at us with his eyes wide and hopeful.

Yet again, we told him it was time to pRay not pLay.

pRay!  Not pLay!

It has neLer stopped being funny foL me.  At Reast not yet.