Becoming like My Mom

When I was growing up, there was just one thing I wanted to achieve in life: To be completely unlike my mother.

Well, that boat had already sailed. I am becoming more and more like my mother.

In a lot of ways, we are very different. I follow recipes to the 1/4 teaspoon, at least the first time, before I make changes to adjust the caloric consumptions for this household. She never follows recipes. Ever. I make my kids go to bed, that sleep is one of the best gift I can give them. My mother firmly believes that children spend entirely too much time sleeping. I love to kiss my kids. My mother really only likes to kiss my Dad. I wait forever to buy plane tickets. She buys them as soon as possible. I have an obsession about my triceps, she does not care about her triceps at all. I warm up to people only if I like them. She is warm to everyone.

We, however, both yell very much the same way. "Are you listening? Just how many times do I need to say this?" Of course, she primarily yelled at her kids in Mandarin, which was one of the reasons that I didn't end up speaking Mandarin to A&Z more: I sounded just like her and it was spooky.

As the kids are getting older, I am turning into her.

Case and point. Piano lessons.

We embarked on our piano experience this weekend, as much as I told her that I was going to start these lessons in October of Never. Apparently, October of Never did arrive.

After much consideration, as a family, we decided that I would start them. I had contacted a teacher close by, but her studio was pretty full. I thought about hiring grad students from local places of higher education to teach them, but no takers either. A&Z also opted to have me teach them, instead of sitting in the car and waiting for the other sib to finish. Moreover, Aidan opted to save the money in tuition and spend that money on ice hockey lessons instead. (That, my readers, I will never be able to teach.)

The only advice my mother had for me were two points:
1. Be sure you teach them music theory from the very beginning.
2. Be sure you encourage them, "I wish I encouraged you more."

After browsing through my mother's entire piano studio repertoire- she mailed all of her books to me when she retired- I decided to start the kids using different materials. Mainly to ease sibling rivalry- as a middle child, I spend a lot of time thinking about sibling rivalry, which says more about me than my kids.

Also, Aidan is an excellent reader and I want to encourage that. Whereas, Zoe, after all, is three and is just more inspired by pretty pictures. Aidan is doing the Suzuki method, and Zoe is starting with the Sebastian series.

Here is the interesting thing: The books approach 'teaching piano' very, very, differently.

With Suzuki, the whole idea is to listen, imitate, and play. By the end of book 1, a child can play a whole lot of music using both hands. It assumes that a child can read music (?!) when starting the series. I find that kinda incredulous. Criticism of this method is that children sometimes end up not being very able music readers, because they rely on their ears too much. (Don't worry, I will be sure that won't happen, especially because I don't actually think Aidan is a particularly aural kid.)

In the Sebastian book, it is very much "here are the black keys, let's play them for a while."

Both kids are doing great with their own books. With Aidan, I am supplementing quite a bit to get him to read music, and he is catching on quickly. I am also trying to teach them in the way I learned music: If you hear this pitch, this is where it is on paper. We will have to see how it goes.

It is also becoming very clear that I need to sit with them to do this for a while- we don't expect children to read on their own in infancy, so I can't expect them to practice on their own in their infancy of learning piano either. That, is going to be a huge time suck, I mean, commitment.

But I am excited. Ideally, I would love to have a quintet, to play Schubert's "The Trout." But that would require me to have two more kids. And that, is definitely going to be a time 'commitment' I just can't make.

Bad Day

When my sister was in grade school, her Sunday School class sang for a Christmas service, and for some reason, my sister didn't know her words. My mom was MAD. On the way home, my mother wanted to know why my sister didn't know the words, why she didn't ask to learn the words...etc. My brother intervened, and said, "Oh mom, she is just having a bad day." My mother said, "Everyday is a bad day."

It was actually really hilarious, because, my mother always spoke to us exclusively in Chinese, and her English, at the time, was just so-so. Yet, this phrase, "Everyday is a bad day" came out of her with perfect grammar and diction.

I think we all laughed. Except my sister, I think she cried.

The story illustrates many things about our family, interpret what you wish. I am not offended- because I have thought about all of them already.

I think about that with my kids and myself now. "Everyday is a bad day." It is applicable here.

I slept well, Hubby got up with the kids at 7:30, and I rolled out of bed close to 8. I asked if anyone wanted French toast. Zoe wanted cereal, Hubby said, "I don't need anything fancy, cereal is fine." Aidan was silent on the subject. Even though they didn't want French toast, I had to make French toast. You see, my loaf of cinnamon bread was stale and if I didn't intervene, I was going to making my own penicillin off of it.

I made French toast. Of the 8 pieces, I ate one. Hubby ate another. SIX whole pieces were ignored. (Miff incidence #1.)

We got ready for church, and when I came back to the kitchen, the dishes were half put away. (Miff incidence #2.)

I taught Sunday school, the kids were fine, we had a good lesson.

I wanted to talk to my friends after church. But my kids wanted to go home. (Miff incidence #3.)

I made lunch, no one really wanted to eat it, other than Hubby. (Miff incidence #4.)

Then it was nap time, Hubby went to take a nap. Aidan started his quiet time. Zoe and I were going to nap too. She would NOT fall asleep. (Miff incidence #5.)

Aidan went to the bathroom, while talking to himself, a little too loudly for my taste. (Miff incidence #6.) So I yelled at the kids, which woke Hubby up. (I am one awesome wife.)

After some fruit for snack, I took the kids to the bookstore to give Hubby sometime to catch up on his work. Hubby wisely said, "I am not sure you should do this on your own. Maybe I should come with you." No, no, I insisted. "If they misbehave, I will just yell at them."

At the bookstore, Aidan was miffed about not being able to use his allowance to a new toy. (The next time he can buy a new toy is in February, he knew this. He already bought a Lego set for January.) Zoe opted to use her allowance to buy a set of Dora books. Aidan was more miffed that he didn't get to buy something, yet he didn't want to spend money on books. He wanted ME to spend MY money to buy HIM books. (Miff incidence #7.)

We walked over to the bank. The children fought over the deposit envelops for the ATM machine. (Miff incidence #8.)

I aborted our planned trip to Trader Joe's for treats, and drove us home. In stony silence. Not completely, because I had to say, "You know what?! I don't want to make dinner tonight."

In the end, of course, I made dinner. Hubby intervened. We all apologized. The children were fed, bathed, and read to, and bedded.

This is, what we would call, a bad day. Not because of my kids. But because I am sinful. Jesus, please come quickly. Please.

The Benefits

The benefits of making your child do stuff, is that you get to work on stuff yourself.

Hubby tells me, from time to time, I enjoy learning and perfecting a little too much. It is true. I love being good at things. Studying in college? I am going to make Dean's List. Don't talk to me. I am studying, I must make Dean's List. Then I am going to double major. Making cupcakes? I am going to work at it until it tastes like ones from Magnolia Bakery. Even if it kills me. Sure, I give up on things, from time to time. For instance, making beef stew like Thomas Keller? Nope, can't do it, too many steps. I will just eat at Bouchon instead.

Mostly, I want to be good at the task at hand.

When we went skiing, even though it was only the third time I strapped on hard plastic shells on my lower limbs, I was determined to get better. I was admiring those skiers coming down black diamonds and making plans. "I am going to keep taking lessons until I can ski down those slopes. Even if it costs me thousands of dollars in ski lessons, I don't care. I am going to good at this." (Then I had to throw myself down a blue slope, and changed my mind. The new task is, "I am going to ski down the blue slopes, and I am going to throw money at this problem until I master it.)

Aidan and Zoe are doing ice skating. Aidan CANNOT wait to do the ice hockey league- I am fully supportive, but am holding on to the chair a bit, since this is a traveling league, and the rink time is often at 5 am. (It really requires sacrifice from the parental units for kids to be exposed to different activities, and to be good at it. And it is just work. Hard. Work. That's right, I am patting myself on the back. I do all this hard work.) Zoe wants to skate to keep up with Aidan, and she is admiring all these other girls doing jumps and spins.

I went skating with Aidan on Monday. It was really fun! I got better at it. I could 'push and glide', and by the end of the hour, I was keeping up with Aidan! The next thing I am going to do is crossing over, then skating backwards, then, jumps. I can take lessons, just like my kids. Won't that be so awesome?!

Then I am going to take swimming lessons, until I can swim the butterfly and form my own synchronized swimming team.

Then I am going to take piano lessons, until I win some competition to play a concerto with some orchestra.

Then I am going to take voice lessons, and win an audition to sing with the Met.

For the finale, I am going to skate backwards, while singing, then jumping over the wall, to play my own music, and then flinging myself into the pool to do some synchronized swimming. Admit it, you want to see this show.

I have big plans. These children will do activities, and I will get to tag along and get better at things. It is going to be awesome.

Just Work

Perhaps, by now, all the rage against Amy Chua has died down. Over this weekend, there was an article at The Wall Street Journal, voicing a different approach. There were other snippets of opinions about it, mostly against Ms. Chua's method. As it turned out, the Journal, of course, only published possibly the most controversial section of the book. In the section where Ms. Chua answered some readers questions, she actually sounded, very, very normal.

Anyway, I was going to write about mothering the way Ms. Chua chose to parent her girls, and the implications of that. (I know the implications, because that was how my mother parented us.) There isn't whole lot to say about it, actually. Because, frankly, it was, just a lot of work. I am NOT saying that mothering any other way isn't a lot of work. But, really, let's be honest, it is easier to drop off a child at a playdate than to encourage/force/cajole the said child into practicing whatever-the-task-is for an hour and half, isn't?

It also requires advanced planning. Like only making one shopping trip per week, maybe every two weeks if possible, to be more efficient. Knowing how to cook huge amounts of food that is nutritious and quick to fix.

But that really isn't very interesting.

What is interesting, is the process of projection and projective identification.

Wiki probably has very good explanation of the above terms. Go look. This can wait.

Basically, I think, people rose to such uproar about this matter, because, fundamentally, there is no consensus about how to raise kids, and Ms. Chua successfully poked at people's insecurities.

This reminds me of what happened when I was a resident. I had this colleague who got out of doing a lot of work, (in my opinion, anyway.) This resident came in late, left early, punted work...etc. I was REALLY worked up about it. In fact, I confronted the said resident in process group. (Another topic for another day, but all in all, it was a really DUMB thing to do.) In the end, I realized this: I was MAD, not necessarily because I had to do extra work, but because I wanted to be like this resident. I wanted to go to work late, leave early, make other people do my work. I was JEALOUS. On the other hand, one of my worst fears in life was that people would think that I was slacking. I was afraid people would judge me the same way I judged this person! My feelings were not about her, after all, but about myself.

Here is my conclusion about Ms. Chua's controversy. People got all worked up because they felt Ms. Chua was judging them. On the other hand, they were jealous, because Ms. Chua has a seemingly successful/perfect life.

Before we get there...

I am amazed with how much attention Amy Chua is receiving. As they say in business, there is no such thing as bad publicity! While most of the opinions about her parenting method is not favorable, she sure is going to sell a lot of book!

Anyway, before I can even get to the topic of implications for her kind of parenting, I need to say some more about my mother.

My mother, is a very interesting woman, to say the least. My relationship with her is definitely not Gilmore Girls. However, I do always know that she wants what she thinks is best for me, and she has sacrificed so much for me to be the person that I am. She loves me. For that, I am thankful.

My mother is the second oldest of six kids, and I think it is fair to say that she is the most stable of her siblings. It must be a recessive gene, but she is determined and very, very, responsible. From what I have gathered, her parents employed the laissez faire kind of parenting, and my mother always wished that she was pushed harder, challenged more, and been 'made better.' At fifteen, she went away to college to become a teacher, not necessarily because she wanted to be a teacher, but because she didn't have to pay tuition at the teacher's college. She became a teacher at 20, married my dad at 22, then went on to have 3 kids, while working full time, essentially raising us alone, because my dad worked so, so, so, very much.

She kept me up at night, to practice piano, to practice penmanship, to memorize vocabulary, and it really was no fun. Come to think of it, you know how most American kids fight sleep? No such thing for me. Anytime I could sleep, I gladly chose sleep over being awake. It was a punishment to stay up.

It was hard to relate her, partly, because it wasn't cultural to 'relate to a child.' One's responsibility was to take care of the said child, not to be a mushy gushy about one a child 'feels'. I came to this insight when I was in therapy during training. I had gone on and on, and on, and on, and on, about her. How she drove me crazy. My therapist looked at me, threw her hands in the air, and said, "What did you want her to do? She raised you the best she knew how! Look at you! What else do you want from this poor woman?!" That, stopped me dead in my tracks. True, what else do I want from her?

Perhaps I wanted her to be my friend. A friend wouldn't make me work so hard, a friend would let me have a boyfriend, a friend would basically, let me pick my own path. However, that wasn't her calling! A parent's calling is to direct, to guide, to encourage. Friendship comes later, when the child is grown.

Anyway, I think she did a good job being a parent, even though I wanted a friend. For me, playing the piano and wanting a friend instead of a parent got all intertwined, then, because I didn't have a friend in her, I grew to resent the piano playing. Not because I resented the piano, but because I resented her not being my friend.

By the way, things were pretty difficult between us when I was a teenager. For me, going away to college saved our relationship, marrying young helped too. (Another post for another time- maybe I should write a book about myself? There seems to be enough chapters.)

To sum up, we are friends now. She doesn't make me practice the piano anymore. Instead, I practice as much as I can, whenever I have twenty minutes to spare. On Thursdays, when I can talk without interruptions, I call her to just tell her about how my kids are driving me crazy.

My Mother's Battle Hymn

There is a controversial article about parenting at The Wall Street Journal.

I admire this woman. First of all, she is going to get a lot of hate mail. Secondly, she is going to be selling a lot of books! (As someone who is still debating writing a book, I admire this fact tremendously. I pre-ordered the book, and it will be a work expense. I love my job, but you know that already.)

Amy's battle hymn is pretty much my mother's battle hymn. I had very few play dates as a kid, although it had more to do with the fact that my dad could not stand noisy children, and well, he already had plenty of those, and there was no point getting more of them over to his house. We weren't allowed sleepovers, again, less to do with any child rearing debate but more to do with the fact that my parents already knew adults could very easily become molesters.

I was made to practice a lot of piano and violin, and I was not allowed to have a boyfriend in high school. There was much resentment about the above facts. I had written lots of hate mail toward my parents in 7th grade and exchanged them with a friend. Her dad found them, and essentially banned her from being my friend, because I was a bad influence. (The topic of not having a boyfriend deserves many, many posts for later.)

Not even that long ago, I told some friends that I hated all those hours of practice and even now, I don't like music all that much. So I think I lied. I love music, I have always loved music. What I hated, was that I had to practice until very late, and because I was exhausted, I spent most of it crying, which then made me hate music itself. As a mother of two children who head off to bed at 7:30 pm, I am finally aware of this fact: How on earth did I stay awake to practice until 9 pm everyday? No wonder I was always crying, just like A&Z cry when they are too tired to do bath time, I was just too tired to think, to practice, to open my eyes.

I do have memories of mastering a sonatina, before my sister was even born (she was 7 years my junior, so I was probably about 6) and how good it felt. It was so cool to have perfect pitch which made music classes a breeze, and that four hours of practicing over the summer? Sure it was repetitive, and I imagined all these kids having so much fun doing something else, anything else, but the first hour was all scales and exercises, the second hour was all Baroque (Bach), the third hour was all Classical (Mozart and Beethoven), the fourth hour was for all other random composers.

Violin, on the other hand, was really just miserable. While I was pretty good at it (perfect pitch helped), I still didn't sound all that great. (Probably didn't help that the teacher chain smoked and was kinda inappropriate...another post for another time.) Eventually, it became clear that it was not meant to be.

As a mother now, I feel this polarity of parenting: Assume A&Z do not know what is good for them, and make them to stuff that is 'good for them', or, A&Z in fact know what they want and just let them be. (Perhaps, with all this information overload, this is the new mommy war. The debate about working for pay vs. working at home is so passe, the new fight is about make your child do stuff or let the child lead you!)

It would be foolish to say this is only one way. Every family is different and every child is different. This is what works for us.

I do think it is my job to teach them stuff: how to obey, how to wipe poop off their butts, how to add, subtract, how to problem solve, how to get along, and most of all, how to find out what you are good at. In teaching them, sometimes it takes some prodding/forcing/encouraging. Some kids never want to learn the multiplication table, but we make them, don't we?

Before Aidan started kindergarten, I held steadfastly to the 'golden rule', given to me by a colleague, a child psychiatrist. "Don't ever, ever, let them do more than two activities outside of school. They will be overly stretched." It made perfect sense to me. Until Aidan started kindergarten. Let's face it, our educational system is A JOKE. Aidan attends a top notch school, I adore his teachers, but really, in a class of 24, he isn't learning as much as he can. As for my colleague, I still like him, but because he doesn't have kids, what does he know about raising kids? He knows about pathologies, not your typical, healthy kid.

These days, he goes to a Chinese after school program daily, he works on his Kumon worksheets daily before breakfast, and has a Kumon session at the center on Tuesdays, there is ice skating lessons on Wednesdays, and in a few weeks, piano lessons will be added.

Is it a lot? Yes. Can he do it? Yes. Have I had to make him do his Kumon in the beginning? Yes, and now, he wakes up and races to the table to finish his worksheets. For Aidan, who has a pretty easy going personality and is just so fast at everything he needs to do, this is manageable. Will he have all this 'free' time later for these activities? Probably not. We must seize the day and challenge him now.

I also see that we are working on obedience with these activities: These are good things for you, and you must try these things, we are making you because we love you, and you need to obey.

Of course, this won't be our schedule forever. He will probably do Kumon for a very long time, since Grandpa runs the local Kumon center and picks him up and all. He will probably stop Chinese lessons by 6th grade, when he will be able to walk home on his own. Ice skating lessons will eventually turn into ice hockey league, which, dear God, has practices at 5 am. As for piano, the reason to do it is to develop an appreciation for music. When he reads music and can play at the level of sonatinas, he will then be free to choose an instrument. Already, he is talking about learning either guitar or trombone. Sure, he can just go learn guitar at some point, but it is come so much more easily if he can read music and hear the chords that he needs to play.

Sometime this week, I am going to write about the implications of being this kind of mommy.

Keeping It In the Family

I am a bit paranoid about A&Z's safety. They are now old enough to know to stick close to me when we are in a parking lot, that they need to be holding onto someone when we cross the street. To look and wait for us when they get to a street corner, basically, they are like little safety robots.

A little too much, sometimes. There are times, that I need to just leave them in the car, about 5 feet away from me, to drop off some stuff somewhere, the atm, Goodwill...etc, and they say, "But who is going to supervise us?" They also pray nightly for Jesus to send angels to guard their door.

The kind of safety I think a lot about, is molestation. I know, a truly cheerful topic.

I believe in talking to them about their bodies, to prepare them for the predator, I know, I know, really a bright discussion.

It is just that I have heard WAY too much about people being molested by a neighbor, uncle, aunt, siblings...

I usually start by telling them that God has given them really cute bodies. Each person is in charge of his or her own body. There are parts of the body that is not meant for people to touch, like your elbow. Just kidding. To avoid freaky searches on blogger, I am not even going to type the words. Of course, there are exceptions to the rule.

So, the other day, while I was rubbing lotion on Aidan's dry spots after bath time, I asked him, "Sweetheart, you have grown! I can't believe your body is so big now. Who is in charge of your body?"

Aidan: "Me."

Me: "That's right. Now, who can touch this part?"

Aidan, thinking hard, "Me, Dr. B (our pediatrician), you, Daddy, hmm, Zoe."

Me, stifling my laughter: "Actually, Honey, it is just for you now, and if it is hurting, for mommy or daddy or Dr. B to take a look. It is definitely NOT FOR ZOE, and actually, unless you have a concern, not for anyone else either."

I think, with enough brain washing, on his wedding night, he might have a flashback. =)