The Paths We Take

I tend to not mention religion much on my blog.  I tend to not intertwine my religion with the rest of my life much either.  Religion and faith are deeply personal and something that I don’t take very lightly, which is why I am very careful about when it’s appropriate to discuss.

My father is Roman Catholic.  He was raised Roman Catholic, but isn’t currently practicing.  He stopped going to church before I was born.  He has no problem with the faith, but with the church.  When my parents got married the church discriminated against my mom and he has never really forgiven them for that.  He still believes and has faith, but he doesn’t attend church. 

My mother is Buddhist and still attends temple.  There are different types of Buddhism.  My mom follows a form of Mahayana Buddhism which includes belief in Boddhisatvas.  Boddhisatvas could be similar to Saints I think.  They help those of us on Earth; there are many of them; and they each have their own purpose.  We attend a temple devoted to Guan Yin, who is the Boddhisatva that is linked with compassion.  We believe in God.  When I pray I pray to God or to Guan Yin.  Usually if I feel I need guidance or help I pray to Guan Yin for help. 

Growing up I didn’t attend church and I didn’t attend temple.  My parents were very open with me about faith and about my path.  They always instilled in me that the religious path I choose is my own and I was free to discover what that was.  They preferred that I wait until I was older to decide.  I began to attend temple when I was 10.  It was something that they weren’t going to stop me on, but that they wished I had waited longer to do. 

It was very important to them that I discover what my beliefs are myself and they always encouraged me to attend services for any church or religion.  I took them up on it and went to several throughout junior high and high school.  I was always searching, knowing that the path I chose was my own.  Everyone has their own path, and mine is not yours as yours is not mine.  I view the path more as a way to live on earth than a path to get into heaven.  I think that is why I don’t believe that we can be right or wrong in following any path.

I always went back to temple.  Always.  I always felt at home when attending temple.  That was just a part of finding my way. 

My husband was raised Catholic, worked for a Baptist church, and has explored other religions including Zen Buddhism.  He currently attends temple with me, however, that is in part because he loves the food. 

Chloe attends temple with me and my mom, so I’m doing things a little differently than my parents did.  All of my children will attend temple, and when they are older I will want them to explore their own path and discover what it is they believe.  Having my children attend temple is partly to expose them to what I believe and the path that I have choosen for myself.  Their path will be choosen by them later on in life, hopefully after they have fully explored their beliefs and the different beliefs that other religions and faiths hold.  Another reason why I want them to experience temple with me is to expose them to a religion that does not follow the mainstream beliefs because I want them to develop a respect for it.  I don’t want them to fear what is different in regards to their own religious beliefs and those that the people of this world follow.  That is very important to me, that Chloe and my future children can respect the other paths, the religions of the world and not fear that which is different.

It is what my parents gave me.  Even though they believed differently, they always showed respect for one another’s beliefs.  I don’t think that my dad agrees with my mom’s religion and vice versa, but they can respect one another and respect that they have different paths.

My Parenting Lessons

There are a few times where I have to defend why we have choosen to cosleep or do extended breastfeeding. For the most part, I am fine with it – with the argument and with the choices that I have made as a mother; I accept that my choices have not been how the majority of mothers have choosen to parent. Then there’s one conversation every once in a while that really gets under my skin. And part of what really gets to me is because I don’t ever start a conversation with a mother by demanding “Why don’t you cosleep with your toddler?” or suggesting that not doing so is doing a disservice to her child.

Most everything I have learned about parenting I have learned from my daughter. (Not everything, my own parents have taught me a thing or two in my 27 years.) My daughter is beautiful, and tall, and smart, and quick to learn, and emotionally demanding. It was this emotionally demanding part of her that has taught me the most and challenged my ideas of parenting the most.

Before having my daughter I held the same beliefs as many people do. I need to be the boss. My children need to be taught to be independent. My children will not sleep in the same bed as me. I will only try to breastfeed for about a week, and if that doesn’t work it is okay.

My daughter, however, had different ideas than I did. She needed more than I expected to give her. She demanded that she be with me while she slept. She demanded to breastfeed – completely refusing the bottle and anything but the breast. She demanded my time and my energy and my love. And I learned to listen. We coslept and breastfed and held her as much as possible. When she demanded – we listened. And she thrived, emotionally. She needed for us to do that for her.

Not shockingly, she still is this way. She needs us to emotionally hold her hand for certain things before she will be secure and independent. We’ve learned, through trial and a ton of error, that pushing her into insecure situations has the opposite effect of what most people (including us at times) believes it will do. It leaves her more insecure than ever before. She has a need inside that drives her to make herself be comfortable with every situation.

A few months ago we went to a summer street fair. They had a kiddie section with a few of those air bounce house play things. One was an actual bounce house, and another was a pirate ship. You’d walk on the plank into the pirate ship, then climb over the wall and slide down to the other side, then run around and do it all over again. She WANTED to go on the pirate ship. If you know my daughter, you know she really isn’t that outgoing – this is not something she normally wants to take part in. But she really wanted to do it. Beforehand we explained that she would be going on by herself. She agreed and went on. The first time off the slide she ran right to me and hugged me and held me tight. She looked up at me and I asked if she wanted to do it again. She said yes but stayed locked tight around me. I told her that she can go ahead and I’ll be right here. So she went. The second time she slid down, ran right to me, hugged me, looked up at me with her sweet smile – and ran around to do it again. The third time was even faster. By the sixth or seventh time she would run to me and touch me run back around. A few more times and she would run by me without touching me and run right back in. A few more times and she was doing it all on her own without even a glance back at me.

I’ve been through that same type of situation long enough to know that had I not allowed her to use me emotionally that she would not have been nearly as independent in the end. Once she’s charged up emotionally – she’s good.

I’m glad that we made the choice to cosleep, among other decisions. I’m the first to admit that I’m a very laid-back mom. But I think that I can be “the boss” and listen to what my child needs. She’s taught me a lot about parenting, about listening, about making decisions on what is best for my child. These are all things that I will be able to use with our next child, listening to his cues and deciding what is best for him. We may cosleep, we may not. We may breastfeed (that’s another topic I want to write on – maybe next week), we may not. I don’t think that involving him and his individual needs on these decisions does a disservice to my child. I don’t think that involving their individual needs creates a child who is the boss or tells them in any way that I am not the one in charge of their boundaries.

And just as an aside – a child does not turn into some mini adult at the age of one. This need to push a child who has just turned one into a more independent child rubs me the wrong way, but that’s just my opinion.

I have every faith that my daughter will be a strong and independent young woman – she won’t be sleeping in my bed at the age of 20. But I know through experiencing her that part of that is going to rely on how emotionally secure she feels now. The decisions that I have made isn’t for every parent or every child, but it is what works best for my family, and very importantly, for my daughter. I love what she has taught me. What I am learning from my daughter is a large part of what is shaping my identity as a mother.

In Her Own Time

I sometimes forget that it is my daughter who dictates when she is ready to do something. She has been this way since she was a tiny little baby, especially when it has to do with her body. With the exception of sitting and walking she was late (ie. later than her parents expected/wanted her to be). She didn’t learn to roll over until much later than learning how to sit, but she didn’t really want to do it. Once she wanted to do it there was no stopping her. Same with crawling. She didn’t start crawling until after she learned how to pull herself up to a standing position. But she didn’t want to crawl, so not long after she learned how to walk. Her first tooth didn’t come in until, I believe, about 9 months old. Trust me, I thought her teeth were never coming in. She was practically bald until after she was 10 months old, then by the time she was a year she had a full head of beautiful and thick hair.

There’s more, but you see, she’s always just done things on her own time – when she or her body wanted to. This little girl is not willing to be pushed to do ANYTHING. Everything is by her own internal clock. She has taught us so much about listening, really listening, to our child. And we mess up on our listening skills every once in a while. But she has definitely helped us grow. I knew so little when we first had her. She was the one who refused – REFUSED – to sleep anywhere but in our bed. She was the one who, when I would go to work, would refuse to eat from a bottle (in fact, I remember one day my dad remarking that my little 4-month old looked offended that he would even try the bottle or formula). She would wait until I got home to eat, and she would breastfeed practically all night long. That carried on until she started solids. She’s still breastfeeding, but I know that one day she will just stop. It’s how she is.

For months we’ve been struggling with her potty-training. She’s been very non-committal and uninterested. Well-meaning people have taken that as a sign that she needs to be pushed harder to potty-train.

“Why is she still in diapers?”

“. . . .because it’s less gross to clean up poop in a diaper than in panties. . .”

And her parents got frustrated too, mostly because we didn’t want to clean up diapers anymore – and we discussed off and on that perhaps she just isn’t ready and we need to wait it out, even if the wait seems to be taking forever and ever and ever and ever and you feel like one day you will have an 18 running off to college still wearing diapers. But I kept telling people, myself included – one day, she’ll just be ready.

“But she’s smart enough now to do it.”

“Yes, but she’s not emotionally or mentally ready to do it.”

She’s now exactly 3 and half years old. Just in the past week she has decided, all on her own, to just go potty. She doesn’t even tell us anymore – she just walks into the bathroom and does her business. No fuss. No big deal. She’s just ready.

Needless to say, it’s been a really celebratory atomosphere here lately. There are hi-fives all around. And, Chloe gets the honor of going to Disneyland (her favorite place) with mommy and daddy this weekend. I’m so proud of my little baby. She has taught me so much. And she knows herself, she knows when she is ready to do something, and when she is ready there’s no stopping my little one.

There Once Lived A Mommy Who Had Friends. . .but now I can’t find her

I have 3 very close girlfriends. We’ve been friends since high school, which was nearly 10 years ago. I love them dearly. All 3 of them mean a lot to me.

Shawnette is awesome. She taught me a lot about not being afraid to go after what you want in life. Sometimes in life you have to just jump. You have to risk falling to have it all. She is the epitomy of the person who would rather try and fail than never to have tried at all. The thing that I love about her most is that she has faith. She believes. She has faith that so many things are possible. It is a very glass is half full look at life. I met Shawnette during lunchtime our senior year of high school. She always sat to the left of me. She always ate my oranges. And she always had lively conversation for everyone at the table.

Eva is nice. Eva has charisma. I love that Eva always puts other before herself. Of course, that’s also what I complain about, that she doesn’t put herself first, but I realize that how she is is a beautiful way to be. I met Eva sophomore year of high school in our biology class. We both had Mr. Hyke. It was my first year at that school. I don’t talk to people, but Eva was always talking to me – asking how I was or talking about class. Eva makes people feel comfortable. She really does care.

Erica is my partner in crime. Speaking of crime. I met Erica my senior year of high school. The first day of school I picked the seat right next to the door in my 1st period Economics class. The next day I was late – and Erica was in the seat right next to the door. Lady stole my seat! Erica goes along with my crazy ideas. There are a ton of concerts and places I’ve dragged her to just for the fun of it. Want to go to San Diego in the middle of the night because you’re mad at your boyfriend? Call Erica. Want to plan parties and try out different crazy themes – she’ll be there. I’ve been through so many funny adventures with her.

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After Chloe was born I was talking to another dear friend of mine. She said that I would be losing all my baby-less friends because they just don’t understand. Not my friends, I thought. I really do have the greatest friends. And how can that change?

Well, with marriage and babies, that’s how. I still love and adore my friends dearly. Two of them are still single (very happily, which is fine). And they both love and adore Chloe. As time goes on it gets harder and harder to keep up the maintanence. There are some very keys points in my life that is hard for them to understand, and it’s very hard for me to go back to what it meant to live the single life and the things that it encompassed.

I can’t help but wish that they had families and understood where I was coming from, and where my values and priorities are now – and had their values and priorities in the same place. I want to have the common bond of all of these big LIFE things. It’s been 3 years, and I feel like things have been slowly deteriorating. Again, not that I don’t like them anymore, just a change of having common bonds.

Is this no baby-less friends thing true? Is there a class someone teaches on keeping in touch mentally and emotionally with baby-less friends without pulling all your hair out?

Natural Discipline?

Discipline is one of those having children things that I’m not used to. It doesn’t feel natural. It is very definitely the thing that comes hardest. At any moment I fully expect my 3 year old to call me out on it (well, okay, not really).

I remember when I was young and mom would say, “this hurts me more than it hurts you.” I thought, “then STOP.” Now I haven’t broken down and actually said it hurts me more to my daughter – but I have thought them on numerous occasions (particularly when she sits in timeout and cries out, “but I LOVE YOU MOMMY!”). So I do it. I send her in timeouts and wish I didn’t have to, realizing that I can’t stop. Learning to use discipline when necessary has been one of the more difficult things to deal with in my parenting life. It just takes time to figure out (and I have totally done it wrong before).

While I realize it is completely necessary, it hasn’t started to feel right yet. Maybe one day when she’s old and has her own children and comes to me and says, “mom, remember all those times you stuck me in timeout. I’m okay with that. I turned out better for it.” Okay, so that’s probably not happening either. haha. I can dream.

Hide and Go. . .?

Chloe decided she wanted to play upstairs, which is where her toy room is so it wasn’t surprising. Calling me from upstairs, she wanted me to play with her. I was finishing up a scrapbook page. I figured another few minutes, I’ll be done, and I can go play with her.

Few minutes pass, and suddenly we hear crying from upstairs. Pretty loud, sad crying. As if she had been crying for a while. The cries were slightly muffled so my first thought was that she had accidentally locked herself in a room. She knows how to open doors, but isn’t always successful at it. So, I run upstairs and follow her cries.

I realize that her cries were coming from our bedroom, not her toy room. My daughter was under the covers of our bed. Crying. Sobbing.

It took a few minutes to figure out that she was playing hide and seek. Well, she hid under the covers and was waiting for us to find her. She had started crying because we hadn’t found her yet.

We had a small talk about how we need to tell each other when we’re going to play hide and seek so that the seeker can actively look for the hider. Nevertheless, it must have been scary for her. I’m a little glad that she did this in the safety of our home and was able to learn this lesson. God help me if she up and decides to play hide and seek in a store or at the park.

Interviewing Techniques

Right before a job interview I always look up those lists of what to do and what not to do. My husband and I have been talking about our upcoming social worker interviews and what to say and how to act. (We finally got our bill in the mail a couple of days ago. I felt weird being so happy paying a bill. It’s just not natural.) I know that a large part of it is being ourselves and being upfront and honest. But, just like a job interview, I believe there has to be a certain aspect that involves putting ourselves out there in a way that will make us look good. It’s about presenting yourself well.So we think and we wonder. We wonder how we look as potential parents. (One of the things that has made us happy is that attachment parenting is so well received as a way to parent adopted children. We’ve received so much criticism for parenting Chloe this way. I almost feel like it’s an excuse so that we can co-sleep and not spank and hold our baby all the time without questions or comments or criticism.)

While I have heard and do believe the social worker is there to help; there is an understanding of we’re being interviewed and judged and looked at with scrutiny. It’s enough to make any parent go nuts. Now I have to question and wonder how I look as a parent, which, with Chloe I don’t even sort of have to do. Well, sort of, I do wonder how Chloe will see me as a parent. I’ve read so many books on parenting, articles on parenting, web sites, blogs. . .and in the end – I’m honestly just winging it. I’m going based on what I think is best for my family at the time.

And honestly. I don’t always make the best decisions. I don’t always keep a calm, cool head and in fact can get downright frustrated with my child sometimes. I do let her watch a bunch of tv that I know I shouldn’t, but I give in because I want to be able to relax too. I don’t cook her nutritious meals every night. I don’t even sort of keep my house spotless, and one of us is always stepping on some toy or thing that isn’t where it should be. I do sometimes give in to her whining just because I don’t feel like fighting. I don’t always understand what she wants or needs. I curse while I’m driving. I have arguments with my husband in front of her. I don’t live in a large home.

We’re not perfect parents. We do have lots of love. And we have lots of fun. I hope our social worker can see that. Can see that we do everything we can to do the best we can.

Everyone Isn’t Chinese? What the Hell?

When I was a little girl I was under the assumption that everybody was Chinese, like me. I suppose all little kids assume every other child is just like them. Why would I think otherwise? One day, in Kindergarten, one of my classmates said something mean about Chinese people. And I was so confused. Really confused. So I approached her and pretty much asked something like, “how can you do that to yourself? How can you say that when you’re Chinese too?” She explained, rudely, that she wasn’t Chinese and continued on with her jokes.

There were a few things. First, everyone isn’t Chinese? I mean, what the hell. A really huge fact in my life was just blown to pieces. Secondly, it was the first time that I was pushed into feeling different. It was a new, very uncomfortable feeling. And I didn’t know what to do with that feeling.

When I saw my mom next I remember crying to her. I told her what happened. I don’t know what I expected, but I was only about five, so I suppose I expected some kind of solid answer. But my mom didn’t have any answers. I think she told me that some people are just mean. It’s not a bad answer. It’s not necessarily the answer that I expected. The thing is, it’s 20 years later, I’m 2 years away from having a 5 year old and I’m no closer to a better answer than the one my mom gave me.

My experiences continued on, and the truth is that they mostly had to do with how people classify me – and, if they were white or Asian, whether or not their decision on who I was would mean acceptance into “their” culture. And God forbid I identify myself as someone other than who they think I am. It was “I’m Asian” – - “but you’re white too,” or “I’m white” – - “no, you’re different.” The scary thing is, I’m a part of a society that forces us to choose. I do the same thing. I know that when I see someone, I have already chosen their identity in my mind and who I believe them to be. And therein lies the problem. We have to stop and think about what we are participating in as a society. It is not just a “they are the problem.” It is a problem that all of society has to deal with, including those that are aware.

These kinds of questions are on my mind a lot lately. How I will raise my daughter and my future children in regards to their culture. What do I say and do when they begin to experience these situations where they discover how different cultures and race are perceived and what that means.

I wrote a paper in college for my sociology class. The title of the paper we were told to write was, “Who am I?” I wrote all about different perspectives of who I was, mostly having to do with my heritage. I thought I did a pretty fabulous job of explaining exactly who I was, with proof – that is, what other people thought of me and my experiences in that. Needless to say, I didn’t realize how much that sucked until I got the paper back with a lower grade than I expected, with a note from my professor that all of my examples are reflections of who other people percieve me to be and he ended it asking for my perspective and my belief of who I am. It took months (okay, maybe years) for the reality of this to hit me. Figuring out who I am – not based on the bias of how society perceives me. Mind blowing for me, at an age where my identity was most confusing to me. I still have issues I need to figure out. And what makes it even heavier is that I have this generation under me that will, hopefully, benefit from what I learn and can pass down.