Nephews Are The Best

During my past few visits with the family, I spent a lot of time with my cousin's son, my adorably mischievous nephew J, who's now about 20 months old. Maybe because I rough house him and goof off with him with abandon, he's taken quite a liking to me. In Cantonese, my kinship title is 表姨, pronounced like "biú yi," but for some reason the kid likes to say, "bía." In spite of him being perfectly capable of pronouncing it correctly, he still insists on calling me Bia. My stone cold heart melts a little when he exclaims, "Bia!" and runs to hug me. I love having a unique nickname. I hope he keeps calling me Bia even when he's thirty.

Apparently, even though my home is across the country, my nephew will think of me. When he goes to my parents' house, he'll walk into my old bedroom, the one I still sleep in when I visit, and declare, "Bia!" Sometimes he'll poke his mom and say, "Bia," signalling that he wants to Facetime chat, something that we'll occasionally do together. Gah, the kid breaks me.

He also points to pictures of other women and says, "Bia!" as if there's something about them that reminds him of me. Among them include:

Ronnie Spector, which perhaps makes sense, given that when I hang out with him, we always dance together to The Ronettes, which is something that his mom and I used to do when we were little. He'll remark, "Bia!" whenever he hears "Be My Baby" come on anywhere.

Teresa Teng, who is my mom's favorite Taiwanese pop star. My mom plays her music when she looks after him. I don't think I look like Teresa Teng at all, but I sing a lot around the house, so maybe that's the connection.

But apparently the kid has also pointed to a porcelain figurine of some Chinese goddess in his grandmother's house and said, "Bia!," so maybe he has some face recognition issues. Either that, or he thinks I'm pretty, given the flattering comparisons. 

My mom tells me that most recently, he pointed to some fashion models on television and also shouted, "Bia!"

My mom's response: "Your Bia is not that pretty."

Awesome.

Adventures in Babysitting

Mama Fung now spends much of her days looking after my cousin's one-year-old. To entertain the kid, she has pulled out the arsenal of VHS tapes that my brother and I grew up watching. (Yes, my parents still own a VCR. Baby is getting a lesson in antique machinery.) To get a break from Barney the Dinosaur and Disney Singalong Songs, I tried to get the kid to sit through an episode of one of my favorite cartoons, The Animaniacs. I admit that the puns, pop culture references, and quick-paced dialogue are beyond a one-year-old's appreciation. My parents, however, saw an even greater problem.

Mama Fung: "What is this? Why is this so strange?"
Papa Fung: "This is an anarchist cartoon."
Mama Fung: "This was your favorite? No wonder you turned out so crazy. Don't let the baby watch this."

END. 

The only thing creepier than thinking about your parents having sex is thinking about them thinking about you having sex.

Upon learning about a relative's unexpected pregnancy, my brother decided to freak my mom out by telling her that I was pregnant. This is how my mom relayed their conversation to me:

Mom: Your brother wanted to scare me by telling me that you were pregnant.

Me: Did it work?

Mom: No, because it wouldn't be a big deal.

Me: Really? Even though I'm unmarried and in the beginning stages of a very demanding career and can barely afford my own living expenses?

Mom: But you're old. It's about time you had a baby anyway. I could help you take care of it.

Me: Thanks, mom.

Mom: Besides, I knew your brother was lying because you were home all summer, so there was no opportunity for you to get pregnant anyway. Hahaha.

Me: ...

END.

My Mom Loves Me. Really.

I have, like, eight friends who are pregnant right now. So babies have been on the mind. My mantra used to be, "Babies = Death," but maybe because I've been around so many of them lately, or maybe because my "clock" has skipped forward a notch since turning 30, I've started to warm up to the idea of having kids someday. The thought still terrifies me, though. I already feel like I don't have enough hours or energy in a day to do all the things I want to do. I like that I can go to work, go to Taekwondo class, volunteer in the community, find things to do spontaneously, sit down and read a book, spend an absurd amount of time painting my toenails. I've witnessed how kids have completely overhauled my friends' lives, and frankly, I don't envy them for a second. But the thing is, I don't want to wake up one day and wish that I had kids when it's too late.

I was talking to my mom about babies on the phone the other night. When it comes to advising me about how to plan my life, she's on the fence about this particular issue. She definitely wants grandkids, and she has a hard time picturing a life that doesn't entail being settled down with a husband and kids. But she has never recommended her own life choices for me and envies my freedom. Here was one portion of our conversation.

Me: I'm so glad I don't have babies right now. I really like my life.

Mom: Yes, you are very lucky.

Me: Babies ruin everything. They make your life terrible.

Mom: Yes, they really do.

Me: Did I ruin your life?

Mom: Why do you think I look so old?

END.