On the other hand, if you’re here to hear about my sassy kid, you’ve come to the right place. Those of you who are Facebook friends of mine will have already heard this story, so you can feel free to tune out now.

On Saturday morning, we ended up in Panera after a surprisingly successful emergency potty run (K was switched to underwear on Wednesday at preschool, and we’re trying to continue it). K loves muffins, and since we were at Panera, I decided to buy one for her for her afternoon snack. After much deliberation, K selected “the one with the polka dots” (a chocolate chip muffie), and we left holding a brown paper bag that held K’s treasured treat.

K: Can I hold the bag?

Me: Yes you may, until we get to the car. But you can’t open it.”

K: Okay!

[get to the car. try to take bag away.]

K: No, Mommy, I want to carry the bag!

M: I don’t think that’s a good idea.

K: Can I just hold it?

M: If you hold it, you can’t open it.

K: But I want to.

M: But you can’t. If you are going to open it, then I won’t give it to you.

K: But I want it!

M: Are you going to open it?

K: No.

M: Okay. You may hold it. But don’t open it, otherwise I’ll take it away from you, okay?

K: Ooooookaaaaaay, Mommy Dictator.

[Helpless laughter ensues.]

I gotta be honest. I never expected to be called a dictator by my 2 1/2 year old. Now, for those of you wondering where she learned the word “dictator,” this is a cautionary tale. It’s possible, just possible, that a certain mother of hers may have repeatedly called her “My little dictator” whenever she was issuing commands. As in, “My little dictator, we don’t give commands, we ask,” or “Are you being a little dictator? Are we supposed to be giving commands?”

I don’t *think* I’ve called her this in a couple of months, but it’s certainly true that I was doing it for a bit. Fast forward to today, and apparently my child fully understood my context and decided to pay me back. She got such a reaction that she’s called me a dictator at least 2-3 times a day since. It’s really hard to stifle the laughter! As my friend Kathleen says, “smart kids means better back talk.” Don’t know how smart the kid is, but her vocabulary is certainly growing by leaps and bounds.

Of course, two minutes after this little interlude, the following happened:

Mommy, I started to open the bag. You’d better take it away from me.

Priceless.

K's Favorite Pair of Shoes

K has also very clearly been showing her fashion sense. whenever given the choice, she chooses pants with pockets and mismatched sneakers. And she looks damn good in them too.

I think I’m in trouble.

Here we are eating a new year dinner, only to be interrupted by lions!

I talked last week about how much I loved party snaps as a kid – as you can see, K does too:

I think K enjoyed it thoroughly. I know I did!

Around Christmas time, I  always make it to Cali for at least a week with the kiddo, and my oldest sister and I have been celebrating Thanksgiving together for the  past 16 or 17 years (with one or two exceptions). Besides, those holidays are important, but as established earlier, I don’t have the strength of memories associated with those holidays that others do. (As an aside, why haven’t you all told me about your favorite traditions?!)

But Chinese New Year…This I remember.

There could be several reasons for this:

• As a kid, you get little red envelopes called lai see which contain money.
• It’s everyone’s birthday party.
• You get to play with things that go bang.
• There’s food. Lots and lots of food.
• There’s a book about it. And I’m in it. For real. (See below)

But to be honest, I think I really like Chinese New Year because my grasp on Chinese culture is tenuous at best. Chinese New Year is the one time that I have a decent grasp of what’s going on and what I’m supposed to do. And it so neatly wraps up so many of the things I associate with being Chinese into one little package.

It’s also just a lot of fun, particularly when you have a kid. Next week, we’ll go down to Chinatown to see the lion dance and partake in the rest of the festivities. I expect to hear K say, as she often does, “Don’t be scared, Mumma – it’s just a lion.”

So on this Chinese New Year, K and I both wish you a hearty Gung Hay Fat Choy.

This book is now out of print, but I do have a copy that I use to read K. She loves looking for Poh-Poh and Gung-Gung as well as her aunties, uncle and mommy in the book. Her father once remarked that in every picture in the book, some 4-year-old little urchin is reaching for food. Some things never change.

Of the 200+ articles I found on the web, my trusty Google News search suggests that only eight actually named NF as the cause of the tumor. 8. Out of more than 220. The rest merely referred to a “rare genetic disorder.” What’s more concerning is this: the CEO of the hospital where the operation took place told CNN that it was the same disease as that of “The Elephant Man.” Except the latest research suggests that Joseph Merrick, popularly known as “The Elephant Man,” is suspected of having Proteus Syndrome – a completely unrelated disease. If the medical community doesn’t even understand NF, and the press doesn’t report on it when provided an opportunity to educate, it’s no wonder that so few people have ever heard of the condition.

NF1 is the most common neurological disorder caused by a single gene, occurring in one in every 3,000 births. According to the Children’s Tumor Foundation, NF1, and the much rarer NF2 and Schwannomatosis (collectively, the three are the “Neurofibromatoses”) affect more than two million people worldwide, making NF “more prevalent than cystic fibrosis, Duchenne muscular dystrophy, and Huntington’s Disease combined.” Yet I’m almost certain you’ve at least heard of each of the other three conditions, and nearly as certain that you likely haven’t heard of NF.

In fairness, those three conditions have significantly worse prognoses than NF, and complications are generally much more severe. But I still find it at least somewhat astounding that outside of the medical profession, relatively few people have heard of this disorder.

No, I don’t want the condition to be defined by a worst-case scenario that’s not likely to happen in the US, but – and I hate to sound like a shill here – just as other conditions can benefit from research funding and support organizations, so too can the NF foundations like the Children’s Tumor Foundation and NF, Inc. I hate to put it this way, but frankly, we could use the publicity.

Call it gawking, rubber-necking, education or research – Humans by nature are curious. We seek to understand, to compare, to understand often so we can be relieved or so we can help prevent it from affecting ourselves or one of our loved ones. This phenomenon can lead to two of the most important actions – scientific research and funding. The latter is necessary to perform the former and is the easiest thing that the general public can do.

I’m not trying to turn this into a circus freak show, but I can’t help wondering – doesn’t it behoove our community to educate the general public during those rare occasions when we draw their attention?

Unless, of course, you’re interested in hearing my self-congratulation. Because, really, that’s all this post is about. So. A few stats:

• 100 blogs. Wow. Totally thought I would have quit blogging by now. Oops. Probably shouldn’t have admitted that.
• 7,500 page views. (wow – thanks guys)
• Five most popular posts to date in order:
  • A New Chapter – Life Changes
  • D-Day: Time to Plan Our Divorce Party!
  • Our Story: Baby Girl – Epilogue
  • Our Story: Baby Girl – Part 1
  • Our Story: Baby Girl – Part 2

• Five most commented on blogs:
  • Take Your Girliness and Shove It
  • D-Day: Time to Plan Our Divorce Party!
  • An Introduction to Neurofibromatosis
  • Sideshow Act: She Can Sing! She Can Act!
  • Stupid Parenting Concerns

• Five posts that I think *should* have gotten more traffic (in no particular order):
  • Life’s Lessons: Taking a Look at Wake’s 200th
  • Imagining a World Full of Awesome
  • Keeping Perspective: Flight, Fright or Fight?
  • “I am Chinese American”
  • Take Your Girliness and Shove It

I’ve been having fun with it so far – have you? And to make this post not entirely all about me – tell me which topics you like best and which topics you’d like to me to tackle more often.

I’ll see you again at 200.

But for me, this story was an unpleasant reminder of what could happen to my little girl. Just six short weeks ago, I talked about the struggle for calm in the face of my daughter’s neurofibromatosis (NF type 1). Because it turns out that this Vietnamese man also has NF1.

Now look. Just as many others must have, I had a “we are so lucky” moment when I read the story – We have the resources, insurance, means and access to get her any help she needs regardless of how severe here NF is. We may not be able to “save” her from it, but we can certainly mitigate its impact on her life. I know the circumstances are different.

In my calmer moments, I also recognize that we can’t dwell on the worst case scenarios. According to the Children’s Tumor Foundation, “most cases of NF1 are mild to moderate.” And while “learning disabilities are five times more common [up to 60% of] in the NF1 population than in the general population,” that’s frankly something I worry relatively little about.

K during her ambulatory EEG. Look at that smile!

Unfortunately, this story came on the heels of K’s week-long ambulatory EEG, which her neurologist scheduled to identify the cause of odd shuddering episodes – episodes that have increased in frequency over the past week or two from once every couple weeks to nearly every day. These episodes seem to bother me a lot more than they bother K, but this barrage of reminder on the potential effects of K’s condition has required more than one deep breath in the effort to reach some semblance of calm.

And so we’re left with three options:

Which would you choose? Flight, Fright or Fight?

Flight: Stick my head in the sand. Pretend there’s nothing wrong. And really, maybe there isn’t. Again, most cases of NF are mild. She may have nothing more than a few café au lait spots and a small lump or two. At worst, perhaps some help for yet to be defined learning disabilities. Heck, my divorce will probably scar her far more than her “condition.” Certainly not much more than your average child.

Fright: I could freak out about everything. I could spend hours researching, reading, analyzing. I could take her to every specialist and be hyper sensitive to changes in her health or behavior – to the point where I begin to imagine things that aren’t there. Surely this behavior would make me more prone to catching things early, which is only good, right? Right? Hmmm…maybe not.

Fight: The third option is about arming yourself for battle. It doesn’t necessarily have to mean that you go to war – because maybe last minute peace negotiations will pan out and the war you expect never comes to your doorstep. But that doesn’t mean you don’t prepare. You learn about your enemy (Neurofibromatosis). You familiarize yourself with the different paths the enemy might take (learning disabilities, tumors, epilepsy, scoliosis, disfigurement, cancer, optic gliomas…). You identify your allies (doctors, specialists, non-profits, support groups, family and friends). You prepare, but you don’t live in fear. You become educated, but not overwhelmed. You hope the day will never happen, while developing a plan in case it does. And you never, ever forget how to laugh. To enjoy life. To experience. And you teach your kid how to do the same thing.

Guess which path I’m going to choose?

The following took place in the car on the way home from preschool:

K (whining): “I want my George!”

Me: “You’re going to have to wait. George is at home.”

K (louder): “I want my George!!”

Me: “Sweetie, I don’t have George. You’ll have to wait.”

K: “Yes you do!”

Me: “No, I don’t. Would you like your airplane instead?” (I grab toy airplane from purse without looking and hand it back to K.”

K: “I want my George! He’s in your purse!” (Refuses to take toy plane. I toss plane back in purse.)

Me: “No, I don’t. I can’t create him. You have to wait.”

K (quieter now): “I want my toy plane.”

Me: “Oh, now you want your plane? Okay, here you go.” (Grab toy plane without looking from purse. Hand back.)

K: “That’s not my toy plane.”

Me: “Yes it is.”

K: “No. It’s not.”

Me (exasperated now): “Then what is it?”

K: “Mommy’s hair clip.”

Me: “Oops. You’re right.”

Silly Mommy. It did break her out of her funk though. It’s almost like I planned it.

K's Toy Airplane

This is George the Giraffe

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The airplane and clip next to each other. As you can seem they are roughly the same size and texture. If you imagine it being dark and me not looking, it would be easy to understand how such a mistake could happen!

But honestly, I hate new year’s resolutions. So instead, here are my top 5 reasons why you won’t get a post about my new year’s resolutions:

1. It will get buried among all the other introspective and insightful blogs currently flooding the blogosphere.
2. I can’t think of anything original. You know, lose weight, get healthy, cook more, etc. etc.
3. I’m feeling lazy, and don’t want to write something insightful. That’s why you’re getting this post instead.
4. I’ll just break them tomorrow anyway.
5. No one’s going to read it – they’re all recovering from their hangovers!

So that’s it. My top 5 reasons for not imposing a New Year’s Resolution post on you.

Don’t worry. I’ll have something introspective and insightful soon enough. Maybe.

In the meantime, Happy New Year!

Why does this exist?

Most of you know my rather strong feelings about gender stereotypes and expectations. I don’t have a problem with girls being exposed to “girly” things, but I do have a problem because it seems  that everything a girl is exposed to is “girly.” Why are there entire aisles awash in pink? Why must everything be Barbie-this or Princess-that? And why do I always have to go to the boys’ section to find red, grey or black gloves or shoes that are neither pink nor have hearts or princesses all over them?

During this Christmas season, as I’ve talked to friends and family who all have kids of about the same age, I’m noticing the same bias show up even this early. The boys got train sets, trucks and building toys. The girls got a preponderance of dolls, clothes and cooking toys. Everyone got books and art supplies. [For those of you who gave K one of the above, please note that I am NOT making a commentary on you! She loves dress-up and loves to "cook," so you did good. I'm talking about societal trends here, not your particular gift.]

I don’t mean to jump on the “rail against gender bias” wagon here (oh wait. Yes I do.), but seriously, how do we expect our daughters to become the strong, self-empowered women we know they can be if, at the tender age of 2, we are already showing through our actions that they should be focused on looking pretty and taking care of their home and family? It is absolutely fine to have some of that stuff, after all, many of them like it. But why, oh why, is that message so predominant? The world of “Let’s pretend” is awesome, but it’s also very, very large. Let’s let our girls move out of the kitchen, nursery and party dresses and show them the world of super heroes, athletes, astronauts, carpenters, pilots, truck drivers and more! They absolutely can hang out in the kitchen when they want (K sure loves hers!), but let’s make sure they know that girls can be those other things too.

The awesome Rocket Ship that wily Santa Claus left K

I want my kid to be whatever she wants to be. And should she choose, some day, to focus on being the girliest girl that ever was, then, god help me, I will attempt to support her. But only after I am damn sure that she knows she has the ability to be anything else. Or better yet, that she doesn’t have to be only girly, she can be girly and strong, girly and smart, girly and athletic, girly and awesome.

I take great joy in the fact that K’s favorite toy from this Christmas in the Rocket Ship doll house that Santa brought her. And it’s sitting right across from her toy kitchen.

And so I leave you with this video of the four-year-old girl Riley who so eloquently vents the same frustrations I feel, and that I hope K will feel when she’s a little older…all while holding a doll. Click here for the video.

Pure Awesomeness.

UPDATED (12/29/11):

Based on some comments I’ve received from friends on Facebook, I feel I must clarify something:

I don’t remember much about Christmas at my house growing up – in large part because, as we’ve established earlier, I have a sieve-like memory. But I’m also the youngest of four kids (by six years), and my parents split when I was eight (I think. I always thought I was six, but in a recent conversation with my sister, it turns out I must’ve been 7 or 8 since she was already in college when it happened.) We aren’t religious, so we didn’t do the whole church thing, and my parents are immigrant Chinese (funny to think that – they’ve been here almost 50 years now!), so the whole Christmas thing wasn’t the ingrained cultural thing that it has become for many, if not most, Americans. I remember stockings, singing Christmas carols and the (occasional?) Christmas tree, but I don’t really have the major traditions that stick in my mind the way so many other people do. Just to be clear, I don’t feel I was deprived of anything – It’s just I don’t have these major traditions that others have that I feel compelled to repeat over and over again. The same is true of Thanksgiving, actually. We spent most Thanksgivings at the table of our friends, not our own place, so I have no “we must….” dishes.

Anyway, my point is that the holidays are awesome as a time to get together with family, but I’ve never thought much about the traditions that surround it – the tree, the magic, the food, the order of events, Christmas Eve, etc. And so I’ve always thought that the trappings of Christmas didn’t much matter to me.

Since K was born, however, I’ve learned just how wrong I was.

Two years ago was K’s first Christmas, and we arranged to go to LA the week before Christmas, arriving home on the 24th.

A pate and prosciutto Christmas lunch

As a result, we didn’t buy a tree or decorate the condo. We bought and wrapped our gifts to give to everyone else (and K), but planned to spend the day at others’ houses.

And I realized that while I don’t feel like I had a deprived childhood, I wanted K’s Christmas to be deeply rooted in tradition and wonder. I want her to feel anticipation as Christmas gets closer. Experience the joy of finding the perfect Christmas tree. I want her to know that Santa Claus comes every Christmas Eve and that every December we read Twas the Night Before Christmas and How the Grinch Stole Christmas. That her daddy will be making shortbread from her great-granma’s recipe, and that Christmas brings with it a roast, pate and prosciutto.

And when she grows up, I want her to be able to describe what her Christmas was like and to have created traditions that she passes on to her family some day.

So while we’re still in the midst of creating her traditions, tell me – what are your favorite ones?