Cotton-Pickin’ Days

Everyone should have a personal motivational coach. Offline, I’m lucky to have many who support and encourage me. Online, one person in particular has given me some very timely nudges, served as my muse, and explained the technical rigamarole of blogging software - Christina Jones.

Christina and I first met at About Weblogs now b5media. She writes eBeautyDaily and beauty.wurk.net among others. Recently, Christina took over the b5media Women’s Channel editorship. We chat daily and always find something to laugh about. The number of great ideas we come up with together could rule the world. Well, maybe just the blogging world.

Thanks, Christina, for always keeping me on my toes and for motivating me to work harder. And, of course, for covering my a**!

Who’s your personal motivational coach?

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When I read your blogs, I feel as if we’ve talked in person. And it’s doubly nice to IM or e-mail regularly with a number of you. So, when I tell Marv about my day, I often find myself saying, “I was talking with my online friend today….” or “My online friend said….” Why do I differentiate between online friends and offline friends?

There are so many different ways to categorize friends:

• Online or Offline
• Married or Single
• Parent or Child-Free
• Classmate or Random
• Meat-Eating or Vegetarian
• Glasses-Wearing, Contacts-Wearing, or Free-From-Wearing
• Type A or B
• Dyed or Au Naturel Hair
• And the classifications can go on and on and on….

In the end, you’re all my friends. It doesn’t matter if I’ve never met you face-to-face or if we’ve had completely different life experiences. Each of you contribute something to my life that no one else can. You are a friend indeed.

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If you’re ever trapped in an enclosed space with me, you can bet I’ll smile and say hello. If you happen to have children with you, I’ll probably ask you how old they are and say something nice about them.

Earlier this week, I was on my way out with Stephen when a young expat mother with one those big all-terrain, three-wheel strollers squeezed into the elevator with us.

I made eye contact and asked, “How old is he? Six or seven months old?”

“No, he’s three-and-a-half months,” she replied.

“Oh! He’s a big one and so alert for just three months.”

She didn’t ask about Stephen at all.

I hope I didn’t say the wrong thing but the conversation ended there. When the elevator doors opened, we smiled at each other and went our separate ways.

And that’s how it usually is around here. A few civil words, but no tentative offers of friendship, like exchanging names, apartment numbers, or other personal information. Some mothers don’t even bother making eye contact or returning smiles. Does everyone already have enough mommy friends or does nobody want to deal with the hassle of getting to know each other?

Kimberly wrote at DotMoms,

Making mommy friends is a lot like cruising the singles scene. There’s a lot of hanging around making discrete eye contact, while sizing up the prospects.

*****
Once the target has been acquired, there’s the whole “making contact” dance. Showing interest, but not too much. Breaking the ice with a clever line. Trying to mask the whiff of desperation (among other things).

I’m not particularly desperate anymore like I was when we first arrived in Vietnam. In any case, it was never about finding friends for me as much as finding friends for Stephen. And since he’ll be starting school soon, that’s no longer as big of a concern.

Maybe it’s pathetic, but I get all the support I need from Marv or friends online. There are a couple of mommies here I enjoy hanging out with and going places with once a week or so. And, sadly, some “friends” are often more hassle than they’re worth.

Next time I see another mommy, I may just avert my eyes and keep my mouth shut.

NB: I’m only speaking of other expat moms because my Vietnamese is close to non-existent, making it impossible to meet and make friends with local mothers.

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In Japan, where Stephen was born, it is not standard practice for fathers to attend the birth of their children. In fact, it is against many hospitals’ policies to allow husbands to be with their wives during labor and delivery. According to former Japanese midwife, Mika Koyama,

It is very unusual for a husband to be present at the birth of his child. Men work hard, long hours in Japan, and job security is extremely important. Husbands may also be embarrassed or afraid to ask their boss for time off to attend their child’s birth.

Luckily for us, my friend recommended a hospital that was traditional in many ways, but did permit Marv to be with me from beginning to end (even if he may have wished for a break!).

I don’t even want to imagine the psychological trauma I might have suffered if Marv hadn’t been my lifeline during those long hours of on-and-off pain. His support was all the more important because we were in a foreign country where no one else could take his place. Being together during that time was a unique experience neither of us would ever replace.

In Tuesday’s New York Times, Dr. Keith Ablow cautioned women to reconsider this practice.

In the age of the “new man,” very little consideration is given to the potentially negative side effects of togetherness in the delivery room. Every man I have spoken with over the past few years knows he is expected to be with his wife when his child comes into the world.

*****
“Honestly,” one man, married for 12 years, told me, “I think one of the main reasons I don’t feel attracted to my wife is that I saw her give birth three times. It’s like I know too much about that part of her.”

The mystery is gone. And while there are other contributing factors to the loss of passion in the man’s marriage, one of them does seem to be his presence in the delivery room, three times.

*****
Women may want to consider the risks as they invite their partners to watch them bring new life into the world. For some of the passion that binds them together may leave their lives at the very same time.

I don’t know how much the average couple sees, but neither Marv nor I saw much of what was going on. Intellectually, I know that giving birth should be about the amazing way nature bring life into the world, but even with my background in medicine and healthcare, I wasn’t interested in seeing everything in all its gory detail. And, I certainly didn’t expect Marv, international relations and businessman extraordinaire, to be eager to see or do anything, including cutting the umbilical cord (not that the Japanese doctor would have allowed it anyway).

I don’t doubt that some fathers (and even mothers!) are disgusted or traumatized by the birthing process, but I would hesitate to dump the blame for a failed relationship on the birth process. In our case, the emotional support we provided to each other (ok, maybe Marv gave more than he took) made “the passion that binds us together” even deeper and more meaningful. Asking women to shoulder yet one more responsibility for keeping the couple or the family together is beyond unfair and widens the gulf between us even further.

August 7, 2002

Pointer from Blogging Baby.

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Space-crazy Stephen with his planets and
space shuttle ready for launch.

My friends’ generosity never ceases to amaze me. We received a birthday package for Stephen today filled with all the things my aspiring astronaut loves: astronaut ice cream, 3-D glow-in-the-dark planets, magnet Geomag, and the IMAX Space Station DVD. And much to my surprise, we didn’t have to schlep to the post office to pick it up like we usually do when we receive packages. D and S must have some VIP connections all the way out here in no-man’s land.

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LTF, a friend from junior high, found me last week. She’d been asking mutual acquaintances about me and after doing some online searches, she found me via About Weblogs Network. Over e-mail, we’ve caught up on each other’s lives and exchanged pictures of family and kids. It’s hard to believe that we were close friends almost 20 years ago and haven’t seen each other since 1988.

It’s not the first time serendipity has brought a childhood friend back into my life. Last year, my sister bumped into a high school friend, JK, at an outlet center’s In-N-Out Burger. My sister was telling her own friend about me over lunch and JK was at another table with her husband and toddler son. When she overheard my name, she approached my sister and they exchanged contact info. Since then, we’ve been in touch, but haven’t rekindled the friendship. We’re all busy with our own lives and it takes a lot of effort to keep in touch (although I suppose they could read my blog for random updates).

Finding out that people from my past were thinking about me made me feel special. Every now and then, I’ve Googled a few people and usually don’t find any truly revealing information. And I’ve definitely never taken the trouble to try and re-establish contact. Simple curiosity made me wonder where life has taken my old friends but in many ways, I still care about them.

These childhood friends meant a lot to me at one point. They were part of my everyday life; we gabbed on the phone for hours (sometimes tying up the phone line so my parents couldn’t reach home), and we got on each other’s nerves for the silliest things. (I still remember when a few thought it was funny to take people’s personal belongings and hide them much to my extreme annoyance.)

None of us are the same people we were 20 year ago or even five days ago, but when we were together, we shared little bits of ourselves with each other. Little gems that I will treasure forever and are part of my sense of self.

Thank you to:

• LTF for guiding me along music’s path.
• JTP for showing me kindness.
• JK for always lending an ear.
• DPL for being strong and dependable.
• JMS for your humor.
• ASC for putting up with my nonsense.
• SSW for inspiring me to try new things and have no regrets.
• WHLK for your generosity.
• My sister and friend, MLF, for putting up with me and being a partner in striving for excellence.
• And, everyone else, especially my online friends, for teaching me understanding and awareness of other points of view.

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3-Heart Collage Birthday Card for Marv
The collage is made of scraps from the J.Crew catalog -
specifically the pages showing neckties and polo shirts.

Inspired by .

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Marv is not a perfect husband nor am I a perfect wife. That doesn’t mean, however, that we’re seeking to reform the other. Most people, men especially, think that their significant other is always trying to change them. I was happy to hear that while Marv agreed that most women try to change their husbands, he didn’t think I was guilty of it.

Marv and I were married young, 23 and almost-22 years old respectively, but were never under the illusion that our relationship was perfect, that we’d never fight, or that life would treat us, as a couple, kindly. Boy, were we right.

Although sometimes I wish Marv would spend more time doing something else besides playing video games, enjoy traveling a little more, or trim that errant nose hair, those are not fallibilities that obscure the more important traits of being a loyal and supportive husband. I knew all about his proclivities before we were married and some even before we were officially dating. Maybe we were lucky that neither of us have ever tried to hide anything from each other.

Of course we have and will change as time goes by, but it won’t be because we were nagged into it. Some of the changes we make will be because we naturally care about getting along and being happy together. Other changes will be unexpected and will, hopefully, be pleasantly surprising, adding spice and newness to our relationship.

Proof that this approach works? Next week we’ll celebrate our eleventh wedding anniversary.

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For many years while living in Japan, our TV was usually tuned to CNN during the daytime. One of the reporters who most impressed me was Rebecca MacKinnon. She is a graduate of Harvard University and speaks Mandarin Chinese fluently despite not being of Chinese heritage. I happened to come across her blog, RConversation, when pieman of noodlepie mentioned that he was supposed to have met up with her in Ho Chi Minh City today.

Interested in what MacKinnon has been up to since she quit CNN last year because they asked her to change her reporting style, I looked through her archives (as much as I could anyway before my Internet connection crapped out). In February, she wrote this after reading Judith Warner’s Perfect Madness: Motherhood in the Age of Anxiety,

I wonder even more than usual why so many financially independent American women are in such a hurry to do the marriage-and-children thing.

Why? First of all, societal pressures and evolutionary drive are hard to overcome. While I don’t doubt that it’s possible to be happy as a single, childless woman, in my experience, a good marriage or lifelong partnership offers some things that no other relationships can adequately live up to.

In marriage, I have experienced a level of intimacy and love rivaled by nothing else except motherhood. I have found acceptance, support, and unconditional friendship. Marv is available to me 24/7 whenever I need another viewpoint, an honest opinion, or someone with whom to share the responsibilities of the world. (Sometimes I do have to poke his sleeping butt a few times but he usually acknowledges me.) Unlike the workplace or The Apprentice, I have never been set-up for failure nor am I expected to succeed at my task every time.

In motherhood, I have been loved and needed beyond my expectations. I am at the center of someone’s universe and it makes my life feel worthwhile. The joys of motherhood are too many to count. Being with Stephen reminds me of the many things I used to take pleasure in, i.e., learning trivia about our everyday world and playing pretend. By carrying memories of me, he helps me make an imprint that will last longer than my physical life. Without Stephen, I would be more self-centered. He is the best motivation possible for me to make the world a better place. And at the most basic, babies are a blessing, toddlers are a delight, big kids are a mirror of ourselves, teenagers teach us what unconditional love really means, and adult children are our offer to the future of humanity.

Rebecca says that she makes no apologies for liking her freedom. And I make no apologies for needing someone by my side.

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My maid, Tram, showing off one of her dishes, fried pho noodles.
Deep fried rice noodles topped with sliced beef and a sauce of green vegetables, mushrooms, and tomatoes.

One year ago, my domestic helper, Tram, started working for us soon after we arrived in Vietnam. I had my concerns about having a maid, not the least of which is calling her a maid because that’s what they’re called in Asia. While we’ve had some misunderstandings, I’ve grown to appreciate having Tram’s help around the house.

She buys fresh produce for us from the local market where foreigners often pay double the price. She helps with ironing and dishes in addition to cooking local Vietnamese food for us a few times a week. She’s also great company when we go to the park or out for groceries.

Most importantly, Stephen likes her and feels comfortable with her. It’s a relief to be able to ask her to babysit him when I need to get a haircut every few months. She is even more trustworthy because she used to be a kindergarten teacher before her own daughter was born eight years ago.

When I was preparing myself to be a good employer, I read Global Woman: Nannies, Maids, and Sex Workers in the New Economy ed. by Arlie Russell Hochschild and Barbara Ehrenreich. This book plus many of the other articles and books I’ve read about employing nannies and housekeepers reminded me to treat her fairly especially when it comes to salary. So, to celebrate the one year she has spent with us, I gave her a 10% raise.

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