Pajama Band Debut: The Lonely Bull

We dedicate this to one of the world's top Mom and the one and only Guama we know who can still get down and boogie with the Awimbaway Song and Dance Troupe.

Reaction Video

Video of Lynne May's (my mother) reaction to 50th birthday DVD.

Audrey's videos

This is the first published video of many videos that Audrey has made. We hope you enjoy the many characters, including Mr. Remote Control!

Why Reading is Cool!

I can read even if I am little. I am five years old but I am learning to read. Now I can read. It feels really good. Now I can read a book that has a number one (she means the level one I Can Read books). It really is easy. Trust me. If you don't believe me, just go to the library.

- Audrey

It is a joyful and proud moment when one's child is beginning to read on her/his own. From my perspective, Audrey's foray into reading highlights her expanding independence from me as well as our continuing interdependence. It presents new opportunities for her to know more about the world in which she lives, and to be an active participant in it. She can begin accessing information on her own. The ways she can be helpful is also (theoretically) increasing. 

On my end as her parent, this milestone challenges me to find new ways to support her growth and development. At the same time, it is a moment when my hopes fly high - Can I finally be liberated from doing some things for her? Can I now finally truly begin to do some new things with her? Can I now begin to stand back and watch her handle more things on her own and offer guidance and support when needed or sought? Can I now gradually begin to do things I want to do for myself?

I sometimes tell Audrey to read to herself at bedtime while I finish washing the dishes. To her delight, we occasionally choral read or do a dramatic reading of a story together (e.g., taking on characters in the story). Sometimes I ask her to read the tiny prints on bottles and boxes that my aging eyes are no longer able to read without the help of eyeglasses. She asks me what certain words mean as she comes across them on food labels and everywhere else, and how to spell words the conventional way. She reads signs on the roads and keeps herself entertained and useful. "Speed limit 45, Mom." She is beginning to do and make things for herself, like pancakes for breakfast on Saturday morning. I am grateful for good recipes printed on the back of boxes!

She still needs to hold my hand as she falls asleep. I still help her dry off after bathing. She needs her cuddles and tickles. She needs me to educate her about what is safe and not, and why that is so. Audrey needs to try things out for herself and make mistakes, no matter how many times she will do the same thing and make the same mistakes. That is how she learns and grows stronger in mind and heart. She went through the same process while learning to read. Reading feels liberating to new readers and to the adults who had guided them in the process. That is my and Audrey's experience. This is a new partnership, a new chapter in our continuing journey together.

There goes Lynne May and her dramatic proclamations, one might observe. I do speak from my heart. When Melanie started reading on her own at age four, I felt joyful and proud. But the impact of that event on me was different then, simply because I was at a very different stage in my own life as an individual, a mother, a teacher, and a woman. That event took place nine years ago, when I just entered the 40's. Now I am about to mark half a century of being on this planet. The urge to do something substantial, and to define what that can be, is strong. I keep my eyes trained on my children, and always will. As I do that, I also see the world around them and everything that is in it, including my own fingerprints and the empty spaces.

I filmed Audrey making her own blueberry pancakes. This was her third time making pancakes straight from the box. This is not her first time being filmed, talking to her audience, sounding like one of those people on How-To television programs. I know she will be an avid reader just like her sister. I hope she will be a better and more enthusiastic cook than I am. Maybe she will begin making our dinner when she is in first grade.

- LM

For My Mama: Obama Music Video

In our household, there is currently only one registered voter, and of course, it can only be an adult member. Guess who? Anyway, Audrey had no doubt in her mind that the vote should be cast for Obama. Melanie seemed indifferent, but when they had a mock election held at her school, she went for Obama. And Obama did win the mock election. 

Chong Lim is predictably a Republican. He is a free market advocate though he does not support the conservative agenda of the religious right. But there is only one legal vote to cast, and it was cast by an Independent voter, me. I voted for hope that we will see a change in the way we look at this country and the way we look into the future, and made my choice. I did not go gaga over him, though I am moved by his words, his story, and the person that he seems to be. Whatever the outcome of the election, history has been made and was being made. 

I am embedding this video to mark an election that delightfully surprised me, not because a black man won the election, but because I witnessed my mother, sisters, and nieces in Washington state become actively involved in the political process, and be among the millions of voters who got caught in the Obamamania wave for hope and change. Especially my mom. She was awake at 3 a.m. in anticipation of Obama's presidential inauguration, 5.5 hours ahead of schedule. So, Mama, this is for you:

Our Only Family Picture of 2008

We've taken hundreds of pictures this year, and not one was a family picture. Fortunately, we remembered before 2008 ended and before Guama ask us for a new one. Oh, I just realized that this one will not work for Guama because of the picture's orientation. We'll try to take another one before Chinese New Year just for Guama. Say "cheese!"

Is Santa Real?

Over the years, some friends had shot those looks at me, warning me NOT to do anything to give their children the idea that Santa may not be real. Yes, some people have lovingly placed me in the same category as the Grinch, someone who could potentially spoil Christmas. But really, all I wanted to do is to help my children live through the holiday season, and hopefully, enjoy it in the process.

When Melanie was four years old, life had to be in black or white. The "grey areas" felt intolerable to her. For instance, on Halloween, she could not bring herself to step outdoors. Just the thought of seeing people dressed in costumes freaked her out. She could not handle Ambiguity. And so, with Santa, she was doomed. She survived the last ten Christmases (and Halloween) because, when she was four years old, I calmly assured her that the Santa who climbs down chimneys with gifts is a make-believe Christmas character, and that ordinary people dress up in costumes on Halloween and in Santa suits on Christmas. My words served as the security blanket she held onto as she lived through the holiday season year after year. Armed with "the truth" about Santa, Melanie began to tell other children that Santa is not real, and almost spoiled Christmas for them, according to the parents of those children. My next conversation with Melanie had to be about respecting other people's beliefs when they differ from hers. She understood and aligned with the grown-ups to keep the truth about Santa a secret, sealing her vow with that I-know-what-you-mean, one-eye wink.

With Audrey, it is almost the same story, but not really. This Christmas marked the first time we spent Christmas Eve at our own home since Audrey turned three years old. At last, here was my chance to pursue an inquiry: Can a child of mine believe in Santa? So, after we've had our Christmas Eve dinner, I told Audrey that perhaps Santa will come to our house this year since we would be home. Audrey froze. She knew who I was talking about. No smile. Wasn't she singing "Santa Claus Is Coming to Town" over and over just the other night? Then a panic attack. "He's coming to our house? Waah!" Oh dear. The seven-year-old grandson of the Haights with whom we had Christmas Eve dinner, told her she has nothing to be scared about, and that Santa arrives only when the children are asleep. "And you should put out milk and cookies for Santa, and carrots for the reindeers," he advised. Audrey turned to me and whispered, "I don't want Santa to have a sleepover at our house." All the adults assured her that Santa does not stay for the night at people's houses because he has to bring presents to all the children in the world. Audrey looked anything but excited. She worried about it all the way home. She worried about it when she stepped into our house. She brushed her teeth, changed into her pajamas, and hopped into bed. I decided to reinforce the story of Christmas - that it is actually the celebration of Jesus' birthday. "Three kings from far away came to see him and gave Him presents when He was born. That is why we give and get presents on Christmas as a way to celebrate the birthday of Jesus." My attempt to justify gift-giving at Christmas time, as you can see. Then I read her an illustrated version of the poem, "The Night Before Christmas." I read parts of the foreword section, particularly the part that says that Clement Clarke Moore wrote the poem for his children and created the concept and image of Santa in a red suit with a round belly, rosy cheeks and a hearty laugh. I also told her that St. Nicholas and the three kings were real people who lived a long time ago, while Santa was just Moore's invention. She was very sleepy by now and flatly told me, "Just read the book, Mom." When I finished reading, she asked me to stay with her until she falls asleep (which is what I do every night anyway). And before she nodded off to slumberland, she said, "Mom, don't put out any milk and cookies and carrots." A strategic move, I thought. A guarantee of protection against the irreconcilable, worrisome thoughts. That night, I wrapped the things I bought for her and Melanie and put them on the table next to our fireplace where all the presents received from friends and family were placed (we do not have a tree). The next morning, I heard Audrey coming down the stairs while I was in the kitchen. She ran to me and exclaimed, "Mom, Santa did come. We have presents!" Later, after all the presents have been opened, she said to me, "Mom, I now know that Santa is real. Remember? We saw him." I remembered the Santa we saw several days before. No, it was not one of those Santas at the department store with whom children take pictures while sitting on their laps (I don't do those things with my children). It was a black man, dressed in a Santa suit, standing on a sidewalk in Boston, chatting with another man in street clothes. He waved at us as we passed him in my car. That experience, and the presents she found on Christmas morning, seems enough evidence that Santa is real. For now. So, yes, a child of mine actually says she believes in Santa.

Audrey is practical. She decided to make peace with the notion of Santa so that she can fully enjoy the occasion. She would rather spend time opening presents, relaxing, and having fun, than spend hours agonizing and trying to make sense of the mountain of information the world (which includes her mother) throws at her about Christmas and Santa. As for Melanie, she stayed true to herself all these years while letting others remain true to themselves. That's admirable. And no, I am not a Grinch. I may be rated by others as "low-key" when it comes to presents and festivities around Christmas time, but I am certainly not a Grinch. Till next Christmas...

P.S.-The picture attached to this post was taken in 2005 when Audrey was two and Melanie was ten years old. We also stayed home for Christmas Eve because Audrey had a heavy cold. No awareness of Santa back then.