Virtual Reality

     It's March 2020. I’m exhausted, drained, and just not fucking interested in being around anyone including my own kids and Jose. Both my parents are now deceased and I’m only 38. My kids didn’t even get a chance to really know them. The 2 people I was the most proud to be associated with. Then Covid hits. Kids home all day. Jose working. Me grieving while cooking and cleaning and managing and logging on. All the Zoom calls, so goddamn many. For kids! Wtf! Plus covid. Plus the fucking FEAR. Omg the fear. I had to stop calling my beloved siblings because I was already in shambles and their constant Corona-anxiety was making me straight up homicidal. My “life” outside the home is my happy place. Highly extroverted! Now I’m trapped. For a month. Two months. Rat in a cage. Three months. 

     We are Montessori Parents and that is impossible “during these uncertain times”. I’m completely overwhelmed. My kids don't get iPads unless they’re on a flight. I want to run the fuck away. I consider building a shed in the backyard and moving there. Stock it with notepads and whiskey. Escapists be escapin’! By Day 2, I hand over the iPad. By Day 3, I’m listening to “explicit lyrics” while making dinner. Perfect Parenting can suck it. By Day 4, Perfect Parenting dies. It is reborn as Apocalypse Parenting. And apocalypse parenting comes with edibles! God bless California! 

     My best friend Michi is thousands of miles away, but with quarantine we now get to have regular happy hours. My humor gets darker. Drew, my brother from another, matches my mood and it’s a race to the bottom. An Anthony Jeselnik-esque race to the dark side. And I can’t remember the last time I laughed this much. I’m no longer a disgruntled employee in my own home. In the pure shit of it all, so much beauty showed up. I get to see friends “virtually” whenever I want. My little one asks me to call Drew everyday. He makes her laugh too. Jose sets up weekly happy hours with his closest friends. He gets to “see” them every Friday. He used to see them once a year. A few weeks of this and the kids finally know who all their “Tios” are. The little one refuses to go to bed until her Tios say goodnight to her. 

     More virtual happy hours. Group threads. Paint nites. Cap sessions. Do you know how much that changes a person? Regular interactions with friends. Who woulda thought? Jose and I decide to further relinquish control over each other. I read a NYT article: Why Are All The Exes Texting?. Lol. Um, because the news is terrifying and we are quietly saying goodbye and grieving the world. The hotel&restaurant industry is decimated. The industry that made me. Most of my friends lose their jobs. 20 years in the biz and it’s gone as we know it. The ones who keep their jobs have survivor's guilt. The news makes me spiral. Callous pundits hypothesize, "perhaps they can retool". Perhaps. Hyper social hoteliers and restauranteurs can be Computer Engineers apparently. Do you even code bruh? 

     In Chicago and New York it sounds like the air is killing people. We wax poetic with our beloved friends, we know we aren’t going insane. They concur. So many important, life-altering conversations. It’s like we’re in college again. I feel both liberated and suffocated. The world is ending so what even matters anymore? Catch up with whoever you want. Apologize. Show love. Friends we never approved of? Check. Exes? Check. 
     The world further descends into chaos and I am pretty much catatonic without Ma. I miss her so much and it stings and I’m just not ready to talk about it, ok? I’ll talk about who she was as a person allll day though. But how I feel about the fact that I won’t touch her skin ever again? Nope. Can’t do it. She had skin that Buffalo Bill would have wanted to wear. That put-the-lotion-in-the-basket kinda skin. And the way she smiled at us...and her cooking...And how she constantly worried about me and I gave her nothing. Minimal information about my life. And now having daughters, I know how much that must have hurt. NOPE! We aren’t going to get into all of that! And we are definitely not going to discuss how fucking unfair it feels that she wanted me to have kids so badly, so we could bond, and by the time I was finally ready she had dementia and couldn’t really talk anymore. Or remember that my kids even existed. I still refuse to climb the mountain that is my father's death, so we sure as shit won’t be processing Ma's anytime soon. I smile thinking about my Dad. Damnit. My kids will never hear his uncontrollable laughter. They will never get to see it. I will never see it again. Ever. 
     Speaking of the kids, they’ve been hiking and enjoying nature so much more. Canyon hikes and coffee drives have been saving my sanity. Yes we live right by the beach, but I’m not a beach-with-3-kids person. We have to pack so much shit it feels like we’re moving. I hate packing. If you’re an immigrant, then you know. Packing is triggering af. Shits gonna get lost. A towel or a kid. You never know. You know what you need on a hike? Water. That is all. And my kids don’t leave my side on hikes because we legit have LIONS here. Yea I live in a place that has Mountain Lion warnings on kid-friendly trails. No fear at the beach though, so I’m constantly chasing after them. They scatter like mice. Stressful af. This never bothers Jose. The beach is his zen. He is one with the waves. How can one person's zen be another person’s scratchy tag? But we’re both so in love with our kids right now. We quietly brag about them to each other after they go to bed. I feel so grateful, SoCal with kids is the shit! But damn do I miss my friends “back home”. 
     Where the fuck is “back home” anyway? It used to be an easy answer...”My parents live in Toronto. I live in Chicago.That’s where home is”. Nope. Not anymore, gotta go claim a new one now. Huntington Beach? Haha. That’s a Hard No. They have Nazis here. Like actual Nazis. The Shaved-headed and Swastika-tattooed ones. Ones that have told me to my face, “people like you don’t belong here”. But hey, have you seen the wave report? Low tide baby! Surfs up! Hmmm. I consider moving “back home” for a brief minute.        
     The news gets more catastrophic. Luckily, most of my friends seem to play it safe. I really don’t want an invite to a Zoom Funeral. You know I’m going to log on late and have to text the whole group for the password. And then when I finally get into the meeting, I’m going to accidentally mention that thing I wasn’t supposed to say in front of your parents/spouse/kids. Man I really hope everyone is wearing a mask out there...

The Crystal Ship

I’ve been telling people to avoid cruises since 2006. I didn’t need to hear about Norovirus or Coronavirus or any of these apocalyptic viruses to know better than to pay money to be sent out to sea. But sometimes you do crazy shit for the people you love and I loved the shit outta my co-workers so when they suggested all of us go on a cruise, I was in! Yea, I can’t believe I used to work with people I would actually consider vacationing with. I can’t even remember the last time I wanted to have a sandwich with a co-worker, leave alone go on a 10-day cruise...
Anyway, we go on this cruise and since Jose and I didn’t gamble we decided to take classes and learn some shit. One of the classes we took was an Art Appraisal class. Full disclosure there was free champagne so naturally I was intrigued. We were pretty lit after class and ended up chatting with the Art Appraiser. He had worked for Christie’s and Sotheby’s which was so insane to me that this caliber of person was teaching a free class on a fucking cruise ship. Is it any wonder that the Tiger Mom in me is like, “all of my kids are going to med school”. Anyway this art appraiser was absolutely gorgeous and dapper...did I mention he was British? Like Tea&Crumpets British not like Oi-I-play-rugby British. Very different. Anyway this Gorgeous Human decides to casually ask us to buy him drugs at the next port. Uggh, what in the actual fuck! Do we look like people who like to shove drugs up our bums? Mind you this is back when brown people caught with just weed were promptly thrown in jail, no questions asked. Oh what? That’s still happening? Even though weed is pretty much legal now? Hmmm. Interesting. Anyway as I mentioned, the Art Dude was British and so well-dressed and he was the first person who explained Joan Miro to me. He was so damn striking that even Jose was like “yea let’s just get this guy some drugs”. Luckily our Indian/Teacher side prevailed and we decided against it. We got to the next port, drank mushroom punch (that was totally legal btw) and when we hopped back onboard we decided to avoid the Art Appraiser at all costs. 

We spent the next 2 days at sea which meant all of us were drinking ourselves insane. On one of the nights we tried to go to a fancy dinner&show but we had drank so much that we were behaving like ship-wrecked toddlers. And by “we” I mean our entire group except a couple of the wives who were not raised in barns and were very pissed that we were being complete assholes. A few hours of this “descent into madness” and we decided to all go our separate ways. Mostly because everyone wanted to drunk-fight in private, we were still white-collar after all! Jose and I decided to put in some overtime at the Deck Bar because we had magically bypassed blacking out and needed to celebrate. A few drinks in and it was time for a second dinner. We staggered across the ship and stumbled into the 24-hour cafeteria and ordered up All The Foods. All of them: wings, shepherds pie, sliders, dumplings. There may have been fucking lamb chops, who knows, it was insane and it was ALL free! (spoiler alert, not all free, ended up with a $2000 bill). Anyway the food arrived and I lost my mind. I looked like a cartoon frantically shoveling All The Foods directly into my face. But alas! Amidst the feeding frenzy I dropped my spoon. But there was no time to waste!!No time!! I needed that food in my belly! So I grabbed a chicken bone and did what our ancestors would’ve done. The next thing I knew I was looking up at the Art Dude/Drug Lord. He had spotted us and waltzed over to see how his two drug mules were doing. He smiled down at me like a cheeky British Jesus and whispered..."I see you’ve fashioned that chicken bone into a spoon. I hope it’s working out for you”.... And that’s why I don’t go on cruises anymore. 

Californication

I've had New Year's resolutions die the day they were born. Committing to "doing better" is not a good look for me. Committing to anything positive is actually a negative. The rebel in me squashes it before it even gets a chance to breathe. I knew that back in 2016 so when I set 2017 goals I made sure they were fun and attainable. I planned to accomplish just 2 goals, #1: Be more active on Twitter and #2: Write more. I figured these would be doable and with a 3rd baby in tow, I wasn’t trying to set myself up for failure. Well, a full year passed – 2018 showed up - and I hadn’t written shit or even logged into Twitter since Dec of 2016. Literally the month I decided to do more is when I stopped doing anything. Fact is, if you have a rebellious nature, setting goals just sets you up for failure. 

Example: the New Year’s after I had Jahnvi I was committed to losing weight so Jose and I decided to go on a Shakeology and P90x regiment. I knew I was going to get back to my fly self!! I even had Jose take some very unflattering “Before” photos of me and then I smashed those shakes and workouts daily....For 2 days. Then I was like, this is some bullshit, I can’t live like this. Drinking doo doo shakes and jumping around the house? Yea, no. So I just went back to my usual Do Nothing Self and it was everything I knew it would be. The point is, I am who I am and it has taken an unreasonably long time to figure that out. If you are a self-saboteur, you gotta own that shit so you can work around it. Otherwise you will constantly put yourself in bad situations, like when those goddamn "Before" pics pop up on our screensaver and Jose is like, what-do-I-do-with-these-pics-I-want-to-delete-them-but-I-can’t-delete-them-they-are-so-hilarious. I mean, they are hilarious and the fact that I was so geeked up about that program for all of 48 hours is the best/saddest part. 

By that point in life, I should've known better, but the pressure to Goal Set is so insane I just kept setting them and failing. Another example of Goals Gone Wild: When I was pregnant with Kali and then Jahnvi, I was determined to skip the epidural each time. I was going to do this old school style! I told my doctors and pretty much anyone within earshot about it!! Aaaand, I ended up getting an epidural both times. With Jyoti I decided that epidurals are actually a gift from God and I was determined to receive my free gift! Nope. Ended up at the hospital with 20 minutes to spare before she was born. No time for my epidural gift. I even cried to the nurses that “I was promised an epidural and I get one every time I come here” but they all laughed in my face. See, a true rebel’s body will conspire against her. Point is, I decided to keep 2018 goal-free and all types of shit is happening.

Making shit happen in LA though is a bit different than in other cities. People hustle quietly here. Half the time you have no clue what people here do for a living. But it’s these quiet hustlers that are changing the world! California boasts the 5th largest economy in the world (eat shit Britain!) and I want IN. Unfortunately, working for NYC-based companies for the past 6 years has hurt my chances of being a part of the “Cali Boom” that’s happening around me. Hell, people in NY still wear suits to work! People are still getting hemmed up for weed!! Anyway, the point is I just can’t do this anymore. You guys I am SO done. The corporate ass-kissing that I was once so fluent in is dying a quick death. People are living their truths out here! It’s hard not to be influenced! But it’s also hard to be fully involved with it...You see, the locals here are some of the most boring people I’ve ever met. Fact: anyone who is remotely interesting is not originally from here. Or they grew up here but did "time" (work, grad school etc) somewhere else. The full-on locals? Boring-est, but nicest people ever. I’m a big believer that if someone is described as “super nice” we probably won’t get along. Nice people are the worst. How can you just be “nice”? It's so basic! Anyway, I really did try to make friends with the locals here at one point. But, every time I thought I had befriended a "local" it turns out they actually spent years in Boston/Africa.  It's easier for me to recognize this now that I've learned one core truth: a true LA local has no sense of humor. They're so busy making sure they don't offend anyone that they can’t add a damn thing to a conversation! They just sit there like “Conversation Usurpers” and usurp all the risky hilariousness from us transplants. It's not right!! 

Jose and I tried to make it work. We'd have these “so nice” locals over and then be forced to carry the conversation all night. We felt like fucking clowns. Just entertaining people all night, it was awful. And if you know Jose, that man does not waste any of his words so I was basically tap-dancing solo. After the first couple of times we noticed Conversation Usurping, we chalked it up to a fluke but by the 4th time (yea, there was a 4th time) we just agreed to stay quiet, go with the flow and see what happens. Let me tell you what happened. NOTHING. Nothing happened. These fuckers sat in our home till MIDNIGHT on a goddamn Tuesday saying nothing of use. Jose kept looking at me like, "YOU BROUGHT THIS SHIT INTO OUR HOME”. Never again. We stay strictly transplants now.

I couldn’t understand why anyone would want to hang out with us and not contribute a word until my girl schooled me to what she calls People Collectors. These are people that see something in you and just want to be “near” it. It could be your magnetism, raw wit or your general hilariousness. They want SOME but have nothing to offer in return. I share this with you as a warning since chances are at one time or another, unbeknownst to you, a Californian has tried to “collect” you. Just to have you around...like a pet. LIKE A FUCKING PET!! And I am no one’s pet. See why I loathe nice people? Because there’s always an angle. Always!! They want to collect us! They want to pet us! Ugh, so how am I supposed to work with the locals and be a part of the Cali-Boom when I am trying to avoid the Cali-Niceness??? This Cali-Niceness” has already crept itself into my psyche. Lots of things I avoid joking about now. Lot’s of things I avoid eating….Lot’s of weird shit I’ve tried and then promptly regretted. Like the time I ate placenta pills after Jyoti was born. They were supposed to chill me out post-baby but because I was essentially EATING MYSELF I would go into full rage-beast mode after eating them. It was pretty scary actually. I’m not a "so nice" Californian and I should have known better than to fuck around and pretend to be one. I need to just be comfortable as a Citizen Of The World for now. Besides, most of the Cali-boom is happening because of immigrants and I'm one of those sooo...by the transitive property, I'm basically Elon Musk. Boom!  
  

Dancing With Myself

why the f*ck does he still have better hair than me??

I love this photo.  Not just because it has my favorite people in it but because of the fact that we all showed up to the photo session in a murderous rage. We are smiling but our eyes are dead.  One of us was pissed because the photo session was during “peak surfing time”.  Another person was pissed that they were lured into an activity that had no snacks.  And one person in the photo is wondering why the fuck she bothers with these people at all.  All she wanted was 1 goddamn photo to give the Grandmas what they’ve been asking for 4+ years! A professional family photo.  Not some random selfie where half the family is cut out.  Anyway, we got through the 20 minute session (yes, it was only 20 minutes – all that tomfuckery for 20 minutes) and the Grandmas are getting what they want, so all is good. 
This was such a great reminder that you can’t please all the people all the time. And as our family grows from 4ppl to 5, there will be a daily rotation of who gets the sh*t end of the stick. Growing up in Hong Kong in an Indian family,  the shit-end of the stick was what you called “daily life”, especially when you're the youngest. No one gives a f*ck about what you want or have to say. You go to school, play quietly, go to bed and repeat.  Because it was the 80’s we couldn’t go out past 4pm because of “Triads” and the heroin epidemic. We would regularly find syringes in the park (no needles) and fill them up with water to make tiny water guns...I’m kinda wondering why no one was concerned that an 8-year old had a collection of syringes in her room. I guess that's what life with 3 kids looks like, you just don’t have time to go through all their shit.
I had some great highlights growing up in Hong Kong though, we traveled a ton and on birthdays I got to pick out my very own cake and every August I got to pick out new school clothes too! By Asian standards, I was spoiled.  We’d spend holidays in India in a relative’s stuffy apartment (can’t open the windows, there are bats!) for 2-3 weeks doing nothing but listening to family chat in a language that my mother forgot to teach me.  We did not dare complain, it was the 80’s and slaps were handed out like candy.  I’d spend half of these India trips visiting Drs who would tell me, “you have a worm, take these turmeric pills”. There’s was no whining what are we dooooing today? There was no complaining that my classmates got to go to Bali or Phuket or somewhere else that was Asia’s Cancun at the time. There was no annual passes to Disneyland.  But, you know what?  I’m grateful for those experiences because not only did I survive, I am now easily satisfied and totally fine with long stretches of boredom and being left the f*ck alone.  This is what I’m trying to instill in my kids. Except they live in LA. And it’s 2016. And if you don’t entertain your kids you are basically considered a sh*t parent. Disneyland is a 45 minute drive away from us. Pretty much everyone’s parents pull their kids out of school at one point or another to go. There’s surf camp, art camp, parks, splash pads you name it.  It’s impossible not to get roped in.  But I want my kids to learn how to be happy with entertaining themselves, I want them to be happy with boredom.  But Michelle Obama said we have to get moving!! Aughh, it’s too much! “Get moving” in LA means get in the car and drive somewhere so you can then “get moving”.  F*cking hassle. There’s no acre-large backyards here! Our backyard is mostly concrete and we found coyotes hanging out there. Jahnvi’s squishy, the dingos will eat my baby!!!  

At ages 2 and 4, we still need to supervise our kids and I can only go to the park and watch my kids do dangerous sh*t for so long before I lose it.  Just sitting around is not their style.  Recently I learnt that the US now has the highest rate of anti-depressant use in teens and the belief is that teens today are “uncomfortable” with boredom, they need life to be exciting all the time and since life basically sucks until college, they feel depressed, anxious and alone. They suffer from FOMO and they think YOLO means you gotta live in a beer commercial at all times or your life is in shambles. The fact is though, life’s not that exciting, it’s kinda boring most of the time. And that’s ok, you don’t need to be constantly entertained, sometimes just staring off into space should be activity enough.  For most of us who made it to our 30’s, being alive and healthy is more than enough, but this generation of highly-tended to, over-entertained kids makes me nervous... 
I was reading about how Rosie O’Donnell’s daughter ran away from home and then had the nerve to shit-talk Rosie to the press. She went on and on about what a terrible mom she was. She mentioned that Rosie bought the house next door and converted it into an Arts&Crafts cottage and would just smoke weed, listen to Madonna and craft all day. And that Rosie hired a nanny to take care of the kids while she got blew the f*ck out and did some knitting. I cannot believe that little sh*t put her mom on blast like that!! She should be so lucky!!! She was given a silver spoon in this lifetime and has the nerve to throw that sh*t around and complain??? If I could afford to buy the house next door you damn skippy it would be my weed&craft house. I would have zero intentions of doing anything OTHER than chiefing and crafting and my kids better not say sh*t about it.  Rosie’s daughter went on to say how she would only show up to eat take-out with them and watch movies. Well, it’s probably because you’re a whiny little b*tch. I would stay the f*ck away too. Anyway, my point is if you want to raise ungrateful, whiny brats, then keep entertaining your kids, they’ll just want more and more – silver-spoon kids are rarely satisfied. If you want them to grow up to be people who are happy with just being alive, take a trip to someone’s motherland, sit in a stuffy apartment and chat in a foreign language all day long while your kids just sit there and watch shitty VHSs. Trust me, they will thank you one day.          

Three Little Birds

As many of you know, once you get married people start harassing you to have a baby. And once you have a baby people start harassing you to give Kid #1 a sibling.  And god forbid, you have 2 kids of the same gender, girls for us,…well you get the question of when are you going to try for a boy?  So I want to write this post to answer everyone’s question. There is no such thing as “trying for a boy”. That’s not a thing. What people need to say is "when do you plan on rolling the dice and then draining your finances while your hair slowly falls out?". Because that is life with more than 2 kids. For some of us, that’s actually life with more than 1 kid. But no one gives a good goddamn about your mental well-being, your financial matters or the fact that vaginas are not objects you can simply replace when they are destroyed.  Everytime I’ve been asked about “trying for a boy” I launch into a 3-minute long tirade about how there is not a single woman with more than 2 kids who's life I envy. Do you know who I envy? Michelle Obama. And guess what, I now have the EXACT same life as her (minus pretty much all her accomplishments). I have my Sasha, I have my Malia and I have just enough sanity left over to be there for my friends&family when they text me (not when they call, I am still not answering the phone for at least another 2 years).

I look at both my sister-in-laws like they are saints because they are raising 3 young kids and they rarely ever lose their sh*t. They shower every day. They are coherent, normal people. I find this shocking everytime I see them. There’s no way I would be even halfway normal with more than 2 kids. Managing small humans is not my forte. I’m good at it, but I’m better at other stuff.  Like eating food, watching tv, and pretending to hike (not on an incline though. So really just walking). Let me start with my first love: Food. With kids, during any given meal I will be asked to get up no less than 10 times for water, a new fork, more food etc. To the point that I no longer eat breakfast because if my cereal gets soggy one more time I wil burn the house down.  Next, TV. I prefer shows that have cursing and hook up scenes. This means I can’t watch TV till after 7:30pm when kids are asleep. Also, Jose’s pretty “Montessori” so that means no TV for the kids. So the TV is in 1 room of the house and is not on during the day. Do you have any idea how many times you get asked for shit when your kids don’t have TV/ipad? It’s maddening. Finally hiking. We got rid of Jahnvi’s Ergo when she started walking because she would flip out in it and wriggle like crazy. After we both tweaked our backs because of her wild wriggling we decided we would just hike “virtually” instead (googling shit we can't do for another 2-5 years).
Another part of my decision to stick with 2 kids is I love my friends. And none of you fuckers live in LA. I miss you all and I think of our shenanigans and I smile. And even though that chapter is closed for a while, I can at least start travelling a bit more to visit.  Now that the kids are 2 and 4, they don’t freak out when I leave.  So I get to visit!! I get to go to concerts! I get to have grown-up fun again! In fact, this was the first year since having kids that I left them to go on a girl's trip. And it was as amazing as you can imagine.  Another thing, I drive a Honda Civic! It’s the largest car I’ve ever driven and I’ve still ran it into shit so yeah.…a minivan/SUV is not an option.  There was one time I rented a Rav4 and almost killed us all.  Fact is, SUVs and Asian drivers are just a bad fit.

 The other day Jose asked me if I would ever consider a 3^rd kid. I laughed (maniacally) and was like…"and make Jahnvi a middle child?? Look at her!! She’s a fucking rockstar! She’s no middle child!”. Jose then pointed out that he is in fact a middle child and I did marry him…and my sister is a middle and she’s my lifeline so… Ok fine, so not all middle kids are destined for the Pole.  Some are the peacekeepers of their family and the kindest people on the planet. But that ain’t Jahnvi. She’s got my naughty streak and she is more of a shitstarter than a peace maker. Being a middle, is not for her!.....Except, the only prob is I just found out I'm pregnant with number 3...!! Baby’s due election day, so let’s hope Bernie wins so we get free college!  Did I mention it’s a girl?             

Me and all my kids.

Bad Fish

As I sat there reeling from my test results, tears sprung to my eyes. I couldn’t believe what I was reading. Jose and I had a nagging feeling for years but we never thought to look into it.  It’s one thing to think something and push it to the back corner of your mind.  It’s a whole other thing to be confronted with the truth while sitting at work.  I had just receive my results from Buzzfeed’s How Many Children Should You Have? quiz.  And the answer was 1. I should have just 1 kid. I fucking knew it!! Outside my office 2 sets of tiny fists banged away at the door shrieking, Mama? Mama!! Muuuuumma, Muuuuma….muuuuuuuuummmmmiiieaaaah!!!  Goddamnit!! I can’t even focus on the What Color Is Your Aura? quiz with all that racket!!!

 “Jose?? Jose!! I am trying to get some shit done in here – can you collect these tiny terrorists????”

 “Yep, I can but they ain’t asking for me! Pretty clear who they want!. Besides it’s Saturday and you’re not working you’re just fucking around on Facebook and I’m trying to clean out the garage.”

 “What the fuck? All of a goddamn sudden I’m not allowed to have ANY leisure time??? Your ass went surfing for like 1000 hours this morning and now you have the AUDACITY to clean the garage? Who do you think you are? The King of fucking Spain???”

“Really toons? The King of Spain?”.

“Fine, fuck, go clean the garage.”

It’s not that I don’t cherish them – my kids are the cutest and sweetest little people I’ve ever known. I’ve never loved like this before. Louis CK has this great bit where he talks about meeting your spouse, falling in love and then having a child together…and when you see your baby you look at them and think, oh my god. You’re mine! You have my DNA!! And then you look at your spouse and think, who the fuck are you? You’re a stranger!!! That’s how deeply parents love their kids (most of us anyway).  But it doesn’t change the fact that these little people come with a whole pile of shit you gotta do. Everyday. They cannot do dick for themselves and that level of helplessness is taxing on my soul.  As a mom I’m not supposed to say that taking care of kids sucks. Eventhough it’s akin to saying “yeah! I love my house!  I just hate cleaning it.” If moms complain about raising kids they are suddenly a candidate for a DCFS home raid.  But the truth is raising kids and doing a good job of it is hard work.  You need to vent!  It’s the hardest job in the world.  At least at work, you know what the expectations are and what you can do to do a good job.  Parenting on the other hand? Total fucking mystery.  You can be a perfect, conscientious parent and your kid might grow up to be a meth head.  Awesome! Thanks for doing nothing with your privileged life!  Or you can be a sh*tty parent and let wolves raise your kid and because of all that they had to overcome, they end up winning the Nobel prize.  It’s hard to know what the correct amount of love, attention and activities are.  Especially with the advent of mind-fucks like Pinterest to make you feel like a failure because you aren’t some sort of arts&craft ninja.

I’m so grateful I have my sister and BFF to balance out my parenting neurosis.  They are both what I like to call Undercover Assholes.  They are loving and pinterest-y with their kids, but on the sly are scheming about how they can run the fuck away to Paris without them.  No shame in the fantasy, we all have our own. Mine is to read a book in peace. Jose’s is to live in a VW bus on the beach.  Both dreams shattered when Jahnvi was born.  Raising 2 kids and maintaining our previous lifestyle is one of the most unrealistic goals I've ever had. When Kali was born, Jose and I were the poster for perfect parents. We rocked that sh*t. And Kali was world’s most difficult baby. But it was all good – we only had the 1 child and there was 2 of us! Then Jahnvi showed up, with her massive smile and easy-going personality and everything went to shit.  My limited patience evaporated. Jose’s interest in changing diapers dwindled. We were sleep-deprived, irritable and exhausted from entertaining a toddler while caring for an infant.  But it seemed like everywhere we looked people were having more babies! 3’s a charm! they said.  I have 5 kids and it's great! I have 4 kids and I homeschool! What?? I cannot even fathom how the hell these people do it. I stare utterly horrified at people with 3+ kids. I seriously think they are funded by the government to make sure America stays Number 1. Can’t be number 1 when all your citizens are waiting till their 30's to have kids, then only popping out 1.  You gotta ensure people are having 3, 4,5 kids and then pay them to talk about how “oh it’s not so hard, oh it’s the same as having 2”. Bullshit. But the lies of motherhood are lurking everywhere.  For example, we were watching American Sniper and this scene shows an Iraqi man inviting the American soldiers to stay for dinner that his wife just “whipped up”. Their tiny apartment was fucking occupied by like 10 soldiers all goddamn day long and his wife managed to cook an entire feast in her shoebox kitchen with like, 30 different side dishes. ARE YOU FUCKING SERIOUS?? What the fuck is this?? I will turn that shit off!!! I refuse to watch Good Housewife propaganda!!! The scene was just put in there to make women feel like shit. Ohhh waaaahhhh your soooo fucking busy at your bullshit job to cook a proper meal for your husband and kids. Frozen lasagna again? You asshole! Look at me! My house was invaded and I cooked a lamb’s head WITH side dishes!!!! Bitch, have a seat. I do not need this shit in my life.

Maybe parenting is just easier for some people.  People who don't have Netflix...or hobbies...or tempers.  When I was a kid my mom told me that she had to have tests done when she was pregnant with me because of her age (she was almost 45!) they needed to make sure all was ok. Well, the test came back and said I had a 1 in 12 chance of being mentally disabled. 1 in 12. Just to give you an idea of what that means, when I was preg with Kali my test came back as 1 in 100000000000. And I was still nervous. 1 in 12 means you should probably buy your baby a helmet asap. But I came out fine and I’m still pretty damn perfect. Every now and then my mom would cuddle me and say “ohhhh my little Mongoo baby!” And I always thought it meant mongoose. Like “oh my cute little fuzzy baby!”. But it turns out, Mongoo is actually slang for retarded. My mom’s term of endearment for me was literally, ‘My Little Retard’.  And it was only when my Undercover Asshole of a sister kindly informed me did I realize that maybe “pretty damn perfect” was a huge overstatement. So when I lose my sh*t on my kids I seek comfort in knowing that I’m just a little retard trying to make it in this crazy world of parenting. And when I think about all the challenges I will face this summer when both Kali and Jahnvi are home while I’m trying to work…and how my Bright-eyed, bushy-tailed, pinterest-y mom-friends will ask “Soooo what are you up to this summer??” I will know just what to say: Drinking. Heavily.
 
A baby mongoose and her mom

Everyday People

The thing about your kid going to school is you get a great opportunity to meet other parents.  Kali is in Spanish-immersion Montessori so you figure the parents of her fellow students are going to be similar-minded to me and Jose. I highly doubt some red-neck hillbilly is interested in sending their kid to “Spanish-immersion” anything . So we’ve been looking forward to the kinds of people Kali will bring into our lives. Especially because Jose and I have had the conversation of um..do you find it weird that everyone in Huntington Beach is either white or Hawaiian? We are in SoCal where are all the Latinos?!! How will Kali know her roots if we don’t have Latino friends here? I don’t mention Indians because they are all hiding in New Jersey so no point looking. Anyway, with the school year in full swing we have...not been invited to sh*t. Apparently Kali is a racist and only hangs out with Asians.  We knew she had an affinity for Asians since she was tiny. Only straight up Asian people would get a smile out of her. And it persists to this day.   Jose and I totally thought we would be meeting cool-ass surfer moms and dads and maybe get invited into the Hawaiian community so Jose could finally say “Shaka Brah!” without sounding like a tool.  NOPE. This little girl’s 2 best friends are Vietnamese and Chinese. And their parents are straight up from Vietnam and China. And if you’ve ever dabbled in Competitive Parenting, you know damn well that Asian parents are the fucking WORST. I know because I have Asian parents. And when it came to us kids, they bragged constantly and about the most random shit. With my brother it was legit bragging, he was a f’ing genius. My sister could cook her ass off at like, age 4 so that was warranted too.  But me, I was downright average at everything.  So…they had to find something! My mom would tell everyone how good I was at cleaning. I shit you not, CLEANING. Mind you this is the Indian community in Hong Kong so this shit was like Asian-squared, supa dupa Asian.  Competition was fierce. Sadly though, trumping one parents’ My-Daughter-Is-Doing-Calculus-At-Age-10 with My-Daughter-Loves-To-Clean does nothing but make your child look like a retard. And I VOWED never to do that to Kali, I will not engage in that nonsense. So every morning when her little friend’s are being dropped off and I have to run into their competitive-ass parents, I try and keep my head down. And without fail, every day I am assaulted with more questions as to how Kali is “progressing”.  And these are not close-ended questions you can weasel your way out of. These are the essay-type questions basically shouted at me due to the severe asian-ness of these women. For example, last week was “WHY YOU POTTY-TRAIN KALI?” and “WHY SHE TALK SO GUUUD??”.  Fuck, ok.  I’m not gonna mince words here, Kali’s an f’ing genius. She is smart. Like wicked smaaht. She talks a lot, knows all kinds of shit, like the difference between an octagon and a hexagon for fuck’s sake (which truthfully I still need to count the edges to figure out). Needless to say, this would’ve been a FIELD DAY for my parents to brag about. Too bad it’s their offspring’s offspring not their own, so they could give a shit. The competition ended decades ago when I went to State school and my sister decided to pursue a degree in “Fashion Design”.  Which is literally un-translatable into the Indian language because it is so far from being a Doctor or Engineer that it’s unnecessary to have a word for it.  Anyway, I will not do this to Kali. Because we all know that intelligence only gets you so far. If you are a complete dick, guess what you will never get that far. If you have weird social-skills, you better be a scientist because that is the only field that will overlook it. So given Kali’s insane temper (she threw a stockpot at me the other day!) and her inability to get along with most people until the 50^th time they’ve met, and the fact that at age 2 she has already dropped both the F and S bombs, I just see no point in going on-and-on about what she can do.  I’d rather focus on the Sharing Is Caring stuff because at the end of the day when China owns us, the only way we will differentiate ourselves as Americans is by being the “nice” ones.