Heck, even today, I’m still pretty fuzzy on the details of their lives before they immigrated to the United States in 1971.  They have never openly discussed how they grew up, how they met and married, or their lives in Korea.  The details of their childhoods remain mostly unspoken to my sister and me.

Then, in 2003 The Husband and I traveled through South Korea with my parents.  Together we toured the country–from the southern city of Pusan, up to the capital city of Seoul.

During this trip, we drove through the Korean countryside at a leisurely pace with many stops at  Korean museums and historical markers.  I began hear their stories during in this journey.  Not just because of the things that were said, but also because of the places we visited, and the things we saw together.  My eyes were opened to lives that my folks had led as they shared their experiences as young people growing up during the Korean War.

It was in off-handed comments that I learned the most about them.  My father mentioned how he would watch dogfights over the city, and that his family had fled as the North Korean and Chinese armies descended upon Seoul.  Or when my mom recalled how her father’s farm was confiscated by the North Koreans…but as a very young girl, she was just excited because she thought her family was moving.  I never knew these things.

I began to grow in understanding why they rarely chose to speak of these memories, and to not share them with my sister and me.  They were painful to remember, and they were working hard to build new lives in the U.S.  They were not looking back on their past.

I’m glad I got to see pieces of it, though.  Even if it’s just a little bit.

This post was inspired by The Art of Hearing Heartbeats by Jan-Phillipp Sendker.  Join us at From Left to Write for our discussion of this book.  As a member of From Left to Write, I received a copy of the book, but all opinions are my own.

So I thought.

On that day in June of 1993, Terry took me to The Mall in Washington.  Lying on the green grass, the blue sky above and the Washington Monument towering over us, Terry gently told me.  He’d changed his mind, he didn’t want to have a girlfriend, he wasn’t ready to be in a committed relationship.  As he spoke, he stared out over the monuments, avoiding eye contact with me.

My heart shattered.  Simply fell apart into a billion pieces.  I never thought this would happen…we were so blissfully happy.

So I thought.

Over the next few weeks, I discovered my face could produce an obscene amount of liquid. I had no idea I could cry until there was nothing left, yet tears still ran out of my eyes.

I could not imagine my life without Terry.  Who would I meet for dinner?  Would I need to find a new study partner?  My life had changed for the worst.

So I thought.

Time and distance heals.  Thank goodness for time and distance.  I can now honestly say that it was better that Terry ended things with me when he did.

When Terry came out of the closet in 1996, I wasn’t too shocked.  Surprised, but a lot of things made sense after he told me.  I actually felt a lot of relief…that it truly hadn’t be me.

These days, Terry is on my speed dial.  We talk a few times per month, and he is still beautiful, and he still makes me laugh.  I do not have to imagine my life without Terry because he is a part of it.  But…I am glad I am not married to him after all.

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This post inspired by the book Lost Edens by Jamie Patterson.  This book was given to me for my online book club.  More posts inspired by the book can be found at From Left to Write.

What I was really looking forward to was our honeymoon!  I couldn’t wait to be sitting on a hot beach sipping a cold drink.  When we were planning our honeymoon, I had dreamily mentioned that I wanted to go to French Polynesia…but we weren’t willing to travel the long distance for our honeymoon.  We settled instead on an all-inclusive resort in Mexico, which was perfect for us.  The Husband said that perhaps we would be able to to go to Tahiti/Moorea/Bora Bora for our tenth anniversary.

Well.  We are celebrating ten years later this week, and needless to say, we are not going anywhere near the South Pacific!  With three kids, a mortgage, and the cost of living life, it simply isn’t in our budget to jet off to Tahiti right now!  I’m okay with that, though.  My dream vacation will still be there when we are at a point in our lives where we can go and enjoy it.  At least I hope it will be.

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This post inspired by the book The Unexpected Circumnavigation: Unusual Boat, Unusual People by Christi Grab. This book was given to me for my online book club.  More posts inspired by the book can be found at From Left to Write.

Ten years ago, I was planning my wedding.
I was sure it would be the best day ever.
I busied myself with every detail of joining our lives together.
My thoughts were only on the two of us, our wedding day, our future.

Ten years ago, I did not know my three children.
I didn’t know if we’d even have kids (although I hoped to).
I didn’t know their names, their faces, their personalities.
I didn’t know a thing about motherhood.

In ten more years, The Husband and I will be celebrating 20 years of marriage.
I will have three teenage children.
I will, undoubtedly, sport more gray hairs and fine lines on my face.
And I will be more in love with my family than I am today.

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This post inspired by the book 29.  This book, written by Adena Halpern, was given to me for my online book club.  More posts inspired by the book can be found at From Left to Write.

It started rather innocently.  It was at my first job.  I sat down to lunch in the teachers’ lounge with a bunch of colleagues and noticed that one had a bagful of a strange fruit.  I asked her about them, and she handed me one.  From the very first bite, I knew I had found true love.

I managed to bum the rest of the bag from my colleague, who assured me she would be able to get more from her in-law’s tree.  I closed my eyes and reveled in new love.

Unfortunately, things came to a screeching halt soon thereafter.  I could not continue the relationship because I did not have a source.  The figs I found at the grocery store?  Blech. They didn’t have the sweet crisp flavor and the texture wasn’t the same. Fig Newtons?  No thank you.  And so, my passionate love affair was put on the backburner for a few years.

I pined away for fresh figs for a bit and then my obsession faded for a while…until I stumbled upon a Craigslist ad.  It placed by a woman who had a fig tree in her backyard!  I called, she had too much of the fruit, and voila!  My love affair was re-ignited.  My fig lady would have her children pluck the fresh fruit and bag them in brown lunch sacks for me to purchase for a song.  It was embarrassing how often I called to see if she had enough to fill another bag for me.   I devoured the figs, ate a ton, and always wanted more.

This beautiful relationship was on for a few years, until my fig lady and her family moved away.  I cried when I realized I lost my source of fresh figs.  I hope my beautiful memories will be rekindled into a continued love affair some time soon.  Very soon.

Maybe I’ll see if I can grow a fig tree in a container…

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This post inspired by the book Lunch in Paris: A Love Story, with Recipes.  This book, written by Elizabeth Bard, by was given to me for my online book club.  More posts inspired by the book can be found at From Left to Write.

One such memory occurred during my postpartum days, when I realized I was out of maxi pads.  The Husband had already left base, plus it was a Wednesday–the day the commissary was closed.  So I decided to brave the local grocery store to purchase my needed supplies.

It was a like a scavenger hunt as I roamed the store, trying to find the correct aisle.  I knew I had hit jackpot when I came to the products adorned in polka-dotted pale pink and green.  But then the real problem began:  I cannot read any of the Japanese letters.  This left me useless to figure out which package I needed.  I squinted at the boxes, as if magical X-ray vision would allow me to see the products inside.  I massaged the soft packages and figured out which were tampons and which were pads…but beyond that, I was lost.  I tried very hard to compare the writings on the packages to see if I could determine which were mini, maxi, and super maxi, but my efforts were in vain.

Frustrated, I finally grabbed the carton that I most approximated to be what I needed. When I got home, I tore it open and realized I’d guessed completely wrong.  Instead of a small box of maxi pads, which is what I’d hoped for, I had a jumbo box of mini pads.  Teeny tiny mini pads, which did me no good.

My life was much like this for the time we spent in Japan.  I was never quite sure what I was going to get when I shopped in the local markets.  I was a college educated illiterate, just doing the best I could.

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This post inspired by the book, Mr. Rosenblum Dreams in English: A Novel.  This book by Natasha Solomons was given to me for my online book club.  More posts inspired by the book can be found at From Left to Write.

Well.  We do not live in The Middle of Nowhere, and The Husband and I are not the only people who touch our children’s lives.  It’s just not reality.  Despite wanting to protect them from the big bad world out there, we navigate the shark-filled waters of our lives every day single day.  I am grateful for the days where nobody gets bitten!

I am also appreciative of the other people in my kids’ lives who are helping shape them as well.  For better or worse–and as a mother, I work hard to ensure it’s for the better!–there are people who are a part of my kids’ lives.  Grandparents, aunts and uncles, cousins, friends, teachers, pastors, babysitters…all these people have a hand in developing my kids into well-rounded people.  There are conflicts and snags that are bound to occur; still, there is something to be learned from every interaction, positive and negative.

As much as The Middle of Nowhere appeals to me on a bad days where I disagree with my kid’s teacher, or the DC area rush hour makes me want to pull my hair out, I wouldn’t like it as much as I think I would.  I know I’d become real tired real fast of being with my dear family 24-7.  Despite loving them more than the breath of life, I have no desire to be with them all the time.  No, thank you.  Actually, now that I think about it, there’s not a single person in this entire world that I want to be with 24-7!

Yeah, I think I have neat children and I enjoy watching them develop into people that I know I’m going to like some day when they are adults.  I know I have a hand in how they are developing into cool people…but mine is not the only hand.  For this I am grateful.

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This post inspired by the book Room by Emma Donoghue.  I received a free copy of this book from the publisher.

To read other posts inspired by this book, check out my book club’s website, From Left to Write.

First, my Korean mother was here visiting (all in all it was a great visit.  We only almost got into a big blow-out fight one time!).

Second, I was reading the latest greatest book for my online book club, From Left to Write.  If You Knew Suzy by Katherine Rosman is one of the books this month, and I dove into it quickly.  Here is a little synopsis of the book from the publisher’s page, to give you an idea of what was the stimulus for aforementioned head spinning:

Faced with the loss of her mother, Suzy, to cancer at sixty, Wall Street Journal reporter Katherine Rosman longs to find answers to the questions that we all wrestle with after losing someone we love. So she does what she does best: she opens her notebook and starts investigating.

I am fortunate my own mother is alive and healthy and I hope she will be around for many years to come.  I also hope that I will be around for a long, long time for my own children.  This book, however, had me wondering what my own daughter Cupcake might say about me some day if she were to eulogize me at my funeral.  I know, totally morbid, but it’s the thought loop that my head was stuck on…

Will Cupcake talk about my odd habits, such my inability to keep socks on my feet if I am not wearing shoes?  Will the strangeness of  idiosyncrasies stick in her mind some day as funny things to laugh about as she remembers me?

Or maybe the eulogy will be about the way I adore her and her brothers…my desire for The Very Best in Life for them, and my willingness to work hard for them to have the opportunities for those things.  I hope she will recognize that I only want what is best for her and her brothers, even if she is unable to see that while in the moment.

Maybe the great love shown between her father and me will be remembered in her words…how the marriage between her parents is a commitment and a choice we make every day to one another.  I hope and pray that our example of love, commitment, and marriage will the measuring stick to which she chooses her own partner and know how she is to be treated.

I don’t know what Cupcake (or anyone, really) will say about me some day.  I hope, however, that reflecting on her mother’s life is something that will give her great pause as she realizes my life was worth living because of the people I am surrounded by today.

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This post was inspired by the book, If You Knew Suzy by Katherine Rosman.  You can read this and other fantastic posts inspired by Ms. Rosman’s work on From Left to Write.   A copy of this book was given to me by the publisher for this book club.

Not for me!  I graduated from college without a special guy in my life.  And so I entered the working world as a single gal, wondering if, how, and when I’d meet Mr. Right.

(The funny thing is, I met him pretty soon after I finished college.  I just didn’t know it at the time…nor was I ready for him then!)

I laugh as I think back on my seven years of single gal life, when I worried about becoming an old maid.  I can honestly say now that I enjoyed my time as an unmarried professional woman–my life was mine, as was my money, my time, my sleep, my food…However, I spent many of those seven years wondering if I would ever meet the right guy and live happily ever after.

Life is full of what ifs and woulda-coulda-shouldas.  I can look back on my single gal fretting and smile because I know it turned out well.  I find it hard to imagine my life without The Husband and am so glad we are spending our lives together.

Still, sometimes I wonder what life would look like today had my life followed the get-married-right-out-of-college plan I had laid out.  I would’ve married at age 23, or even younger.

Would I be as happy as I am today?

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This post is written in response to I Am Nujood, Age 10 and Divorced, the SVMoms Blog Book Club selection for May.  I was given a free copy of this book to read and discuss on my blog.  Read more responses to the book here at DC Metro Moms!

Edelman’s daughter, Maya, gains a new friend–an imaginary one–by the name of Dodo.  We are well-versed in imaginary friends in this house, as Cupcake currently has twenty-two “imagination friends.”  These friends are all nameless girls who are about the size of her thumb. Sometimes they ride with us in the minivan.  Or they might be on vacation at the beach.  They could be waiting for her at preschool, sleeping on the sofa, or at home with their mothers.  Other times, Cupcake doesn’t know where they are, but it’s okay since she knows they’ll be back.

Maya’s friend Dodo, however, is a different sort of imaginary friend.  His disturbing hold on Maya alarms Edelman and her husband.  Maya develops negative behaviors (hitting, tantrums, refusal to do things) that she blames on Dodo.  All the usual parenting tactics do not resolve these problems.  Edelman and her husband eventually resort to seeking out Mayan healers while they are traveling in Belize. The healers attempt to rid Maya of Dodo using ancient rituals.

I admit when I started reading this book, I rolled my eyes more than a few times.  I just couldn’t see how an imaginary friend who incited some bad behaviors in a little girl would lead otherwise stable, normal parents to take their beloved child to strange shamans in a different country.  Especially to shamans who had rituals that weren’t even understood by those parents.  It was a little too outside the box for me–as it was at first for Edelman.  But then the journey caused Edelman to open up to a whole different world of beliefs.

Me, however…well.  I put this book down several times and could not get into it.  Until last week, when my son Bito (age 6) fell ill.  He awoke one night drenched in sweat and with chills that left him shivering.  The Husband and I treated the symptoms, keeping Bito comfortable, hydrated and on an ibuprofen and Tylenol regimen.  Bito refused to eat anything, and just wanted to rest a lot (so unlike him), mostly with me snuggled up close to him.

It was during this time, immobilized on the sofa next to pitiful Bito, that I picked up The Possibility of Everything and finally dove in.  And this time it clicked.  As I looked at my feverish first-born, I realized if it were my child–my Bito or Cupcake or BabyMuffin–who was ill (spiritually or physically), I would go to great lengths to have him or her healed.  No matter if it were a far-fetched plan, was weird, sounded crazy, and caused other people to look down at me.  Of course I would.

This was reinforced the other night  when The Husband and I were watching Lost (yes, we’re Losties).  In one scene, Dogen tells Sayid about his previous life in Japan, and his son.  Dogen endangered his son’s life when they got into a car accident because he (Dogen) was drunk.  In order to save his son’s life, Dogen strikes a deal with Jacob to go to the Island and never see his boy again.

Spontaneously, I turned to The Husband and asked, “Would you do it?”  His response was immediate: “Yeah, I would.  Would you?”

What wouldn’t I do?

This post is written in response to The Possibility of Everything, the SVMoms Blog Book Club selection for March.  Members were given the book to read and discuss on our blogs.  Read more responses to the book at Silicon Valley Moms Blog.