When Artie was around 18 months, Tom and I felt like we’d gotten into a good rhythm. I’d written this post a few months before and was still enjoying this early phase of toddlerhood. Artie was happy at home, happy at his daycare, happy at our friends’ homes and various playgrounds where he proved to be surprisingly independent. He was always down to explore or up for a jump.
Continue reading “This is Not the Age”
Our neighbors have a fat toddler.
Continue reading “Sydney Coronavirus Days, 2”
Growing up, I didn’t like my name. I’m still not crazy about it. Continue reading “What’s in a Name?”
This morning, my mother texted me and my brother.
“Today is Mid-Autumn Festival,” she wrote in simplified Chinese. “Don’t forget to text dad, and grandpa Happy Mid Autumn Festival. This is all basic etiquette I should teach you.” Continue reading “Mid-Autumn”
My dad turns 70 today. Continue reading “My Dad’s thoughts on turning 70”
“It feels like your wedding was ages ago,” my cousin said on the phone last night.
It does and it doesn’t. We’ve been stumbling back into real life, the first week a blur thanks to jet lag, and now, three weeks in, the muted “oh…” feeling has fully settled in: the realization that, after the wedding, nothing really changes about you or your spouse or your life unless you make it so. Continue reading “Don’t Blink”
On Friday afternoon I called to tell my father the good news.
“A full time offer,” he said, “Congratulations.” Continue reading “Big Company”
My dad puts marmalade on his turkey sandwiches. Continue reading “Chinese-American Dad”
Earlier this evening an old friend of my parents joined us for dinner at Grandpa’s house. My parents told her not to bring any dishes – Grandpa doesn’t each much and they’d cooked enough to ensure leftovers for at least two more meals – but Mrs. R– hopped in ten minutes late carrying a big pot of “lion head” meatballs and a smaller platter of stir-fried cucumber and sliced fish cakes. Continue reading “Little Children”
An essay I began back when I was unemployed.
My mother is worried.
“If you find a job,” she says, “Then you can get engaged soon after.” Continue reading “Marry Me, Maybe?”
VERY HIGHBROW 