Just the ladies chatting (as told to me by Amy).

AMY:  “Last week, Ooseung told me that one of her classmates has two moms.  Then she asked why can’t they find someone to get married to.”

BABYSITTING COUSIN:  “Wha?  Hahaha, unni….”  (covers mouth and laughs)

AMY’S MOM:  “That’s not funny.  In Corean newspapers, there’s more and more single moms because the husbands are leaving them these days.”

AMY:  “Umma!  That’s not the poin–”

AMY’S MOM:  “That’s why you have to wear more makeup and feed your husband every day.  Or else he’ll find a prettier nurse at work.”

BABYSITTING COUSIN:  “Halmoni, Scott wouldn’t cheat.”

AMY:  “Pfft.  Yeah, he wouldn’t.  Scott likes me just like this.”

AMY’S MOM:  “Ahhh, you don’t know about these things.  More makeup and feed him everyday.  You never know.”

—–

Different day.  Different grandma.

AMY:  “You know what your mom told me today?”

ME:  “Uh oh.  That you treat our son like a stepchild?”

AMY:  “What?!”

ME:  “Oh, nevermind.  That’s what she said to me about you, haha!  What did she tell you?”

AMY:  “I was pouring half and half cream into my coffee and she said it was going to make me fat.”

ME:  “Wow.  Didn’t your alcoholic cousin say the same thing at your mom’s birthday last weekend?”

AMY:  “No, he said if I ate that donut hole, I’d get fat.”

ME:  “Just the hole, not the entire donut?  I see a theme here.”

AMY:  “I told him he should eat the whole box then and he shut up.”

ME:  “My lazy mom and your malnutritioned alky cousin are telling you about nutrition.  That’s great.”

AMY:  “Like they know anything.”

ME:  “Whatever you do, don’t start wearing makeup the way your mom does.”

—–

While driving by Amy’s parents’ house, something occurred to me about my tough yet beloved wife.

ME:  “Do you have any good memories of you and your dad?”

AMY:  “Like what?”

ME:  “Like anything.  Any good time or moment you shared with him.  Ever.”

AMY:  “Hmm….  My mom told me that when I was born, he was so mad that I was another girl, he threw the money down on the cashier’s desk (back in Corea) and didn’t look back.  My mom got a hysterectomy after that.”

ME:  “Haha!  I remember you told me that.  Threw the money down, that’s a good one  … No, that’s not good.”

AMY:  “I remember growing up, he got so mad at me once, he threw my TV set out of our second-story window.”

ME:  “I wouldn’t do that with our flatscreen.”

AMY:  “Now he laughs about it and asks how many TVs do I have in my house now?”

ME:  “I read that as a man gets older, his testosterone drops and his prolactin rises.”

AMY:  “You told me that before.”

ME:  “This is why it’s common for grandpas to treat their grandchildren a lot nicer than their own children.  It’s hormonal.”

AMY:  “That won’t be hard to do.  My mom didn’t start hugging us until I was an adult and even now, it’s still awkward.”

ME:  “Really?  I thought the hugging problem was just me.”

AMY:  “They’ve still never said they love us.  That’s why I tell the kids I love them every day.”

ME:  “I don’t think I tell them everyday but I hug and kiss them every day so they can feel it.”

AMY:  “…”

ME:  “So, you can’t think of one single good time you had with your father, ever?”

AMY:  “Once.  It snowed a lot and I piled up all the snow to make an igloo.  I was digging inside and it was taking forever.  Then my dad came out and starting digging too and we got done really fast.  That was the one good time.”

That explained a lot, actually.

“Scott, don’t leave your mouth open like that?”

“Like what, mom?”

“People who have their mouth open all the time look dumb.”

“What if I’m eating?”

“You can open and close it when you are eating.”

Today,

“Sun Su, why are you blinking so much?”

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t have to blink four or five times in a row.  Once or twice, you know?”

“I can’t help it, appah.”

“I just don’t want people thinking there’s something wrong with you.  Other kids don’t do that all the time.”

I paused at the stairway after saying that to my son.  Bad dad.  Wondered how I could make it up to him, but also unable to take it back because I truly do want him to stop with the nervous tics or whatever this blinking is.  I suspect he’ll grow out of it.  I know I’m lucky to have a smart, adorable, sweet, normal boy.  I just don’t want people to think there’s something wrong when there isn’t.

He continued playing as usual.

His only flaw might be me.

The night’s closing in. I’m surfing the internet downstairs. Check my ebay sales. Scan the game blogs. Medical blogs. Porn blogs. The last lazy clicks of another night of nothing protesting the inevitable terrors and doldrums of tomorrow. Then I hear from upstairs –

“Go get appah, Sun Su! Get appah!”

Little footsteps running down the stairs.

“Appah!! Appah, the toilet!”

“Tell him to get the plunger, Sun Su!”

I’ve already got it. I spin around the banister and run up the stairs slideways from centrifugal force and traction-less socks.

The white bathroom floor is still dry. Brown water placidly rises in the toilet like impending storm clouds. I’m relieved it’s not over the edge yet.

Plunge! Plunge! Plungeplungeplunge!

The level drops with a satisfying gurgling sound. Crisis averted. Big deal. Then, as everything is quiet for a moment…

“WaaaaaaAAAAAAAHHHHHH!”

Sun Su starts balling. Just standing there and wailing, his face like a Greek tragedy mask. Ooseung is wondering what the commotion is about as she’s playing with her boat in a bathtub of blameless contentment.

“Sun Su, it’s over, what are you crying about?!” Amy asks.

I know what it is. It’s too much stress at once. Too much responsibility dropped on his little shoulders. Too scary to imagine what would happen if the brown water couldn’t be stopped and drowned everyone in our house. This white porcelain bowl used to be an object of tranquility and cool relief for a warm butt – but what the hell, now monsters can come out of it? Shit elementals? Creatures with unpronounceable names?

We calm him down. Amy tries to minimize the whole thing to him.

“Umma just didn’t want to mop the floor, that’s all, Sun SU. What did you think was going to happen?” Amy asks him. He doesn’t answer. I tell her to stop asking him that. A child can’t explain what lurks in the shadows of his imagination. I’ve listened to him playing and watched the things he pretends. I know he has an imagination like mine.

Before he goes to sleep, he goes into the bathroom and shuts that toilet seat lid for good measure.

Sometimes a part of me feels the same way in the hospital. Sometimes it is too much stress. Too much responsibility. One of these days, the plunger won’t work no matter how many times you plunge it. Life and death and neverending shit storms. One of these days the lucky breaks and close calls just won’t be there to fill the gaps where knowledge and deduction ends. One of these days you slip.

Each night before I just hope it isn’t tomorrow.

THE LAURIE PROJECT

A wonderful journaler and friend (Rasee) has asked me to pass this along regarding the dire circumstances of her dear friend, Laurie. Uterine cancer, seizures, pancreatic disease. She’s 27. And of course she doesn’t have money for medications. Just getting the word out.