Konglish Kids

I can't even imagine

2012-03-08T05:10:00.005-08:00

Yesterday I read this article in the Army Times about a Special Forces Warrant Officer who escaped a house fire through his second story bedroom window with his wife first and then went back in for his two little daughters and never came out. He died with his daughters in the fire. He'd returned from his sixth deployment to the Middle East not too long ago and was preparing to leave the military behind.

Ever since I read it, I've carried the tragic story around with me. I think I've written here before, I'm a worst case scenario person. It makes me face my fears, plan and move on. It's just how I deal.

I've worked out other scenarios already. Like, what I'd do if my Captain J died, or left me. Or if one of the kids got sick, or....what I'd do if a monster tsunami was headed for Honolulu (while we were living there) or if we were all separated when some other sort of disaster struck like an earthquake. Every time I overstock our pantry, I think "That's ok. I'm just preparing for a possible ZA (Zombie Apocalypse)" And then I feel like I should stock up even more.

But, I don't think I've ever thought about losing the rest of my family in one swift motion like that.

I can't seem to come up with a plan of what to do if it should happen to me. Well, I have one....and I've informed someone of it so they could watch out for it and hospitalize me, so I guess I have done some planning. I know, I am extremely practical and morbid. But that's really the only one I could come up with because I would want to go with them. At least in the first moments when the loss is fresh....that would be my plan. But I'm scared to write that here because there must be some way to give this other mother and wife strength, but I can't seem to think of it. And I swear, I've been thinking and thinking.

It's horrible.

My heart goes out to her. It aches for her.

I am so sorry.

4 years ago...

2012-03-01T03:49:00.003-08:00

It's Gracie's birthday tomorrow. Her fourth birthday. If you've read my blog(s) long enough, I think you'd know by now that I'm not that sentimental. At least not the write-a-letter-to-my-kids-every-month/year/anniversary or write a love letter to my husband or something. I love LOVE reading them on other blogs (so please don't stop!), and I've flirted with the idea of doing them too, but they don't really come naturally to me so I don't. But I have marked a birthday or a special event here and there.

For some reason, this particular birthday is hitting me hard. Maybe because up til last year, she still felt like a wee little thing....still. But not this year. This year, she is a full fledged preschooler, ballet student, paper cutting and play doh expert, and rememberer of entire really long songs. This year her long legs are starting to dangle down to my knees and below when I hold her. This year she picked the theme and location of her party. I am just the provider and assistant.

So, I am reflecting a lot on this eve, this last day I have a three year old in our home. And I came upon my description of her crazy dramatic birth on one of my old blogs. On that old blog, I used to call Captain J just J, Jun = Turtle and Gracie = Mouse. (I realized reading it through that I kind of liked those names.) I am reposting it here to remind myself that things could have gone so differently four years ago. I am still grateful. I still Praise Him, for her, for our family, for these last four years, and for all that is to come.

it's been almost a week (i can't believe it) and i wanted to record little Mouse's birth story here for posterity. so here it goes....

disclaimer: what you are about to read is a birth story that could seem pretty graphic to you. if you are not interested in reading about the process or about female parts even, you shouldn't read any further. you've been warned....

once upon a time, last sunday, March 2nd 2008, J and i decided to have some lunch in china town at a newly discovered yummy restaurant before heading off to do some errands for the day. we had just finished church during which i commented to J that in a couple of weeks i wouldn't be able to enjoy sitting in on services anymore. that i would miss worship until mouse was old enough to attend the preschool service by herself.

turtle fell asleep (as planned) on the way to the restaurant, so once there, we parked him in his stroller along side our table. i helped J pick out our dishes and i decided to use the restroom. once in the restroom, i discovered i was bleeding. a little. i was a bit alarmed because i knew that any amount of bleeding isn't good during a pregnancy. i washed my hands thinking that i should call my doctor once i was back at our table. i dried my hands and turned towards the door when there was a GUSH from me. confused, i walked back to the toilet to see what was up. i expected to see clear liquid and thought my water had broken. instead i found that it was more blood. a lot of it.

panic.

i pulled my pants up quickly and quick stepped it out to J. he was ordering and when he saw me come around the corner with a look on my face that told him something was wrong, he said that he told the waitress that he thought i wanted to change something in our order and to wait. instead, i told him "i'm bleeding. we need to go to the hospital NOW." as i picked up my purse and turned in one motion to get out of the restaurant. J quickly followed with turtle still sleeping in his stroller. it seemed to take forever for him to unload turtle, buckled him into his car seat and put the stroller away. i waited with my heart in my throat knowing something was wrong.

as J started up the car, the first contraction hit. it wasn't that bad. what freaked me out was the gush that came with it. heart racing, i directed J stupidly to the hospital i was pre registered at. it was stuck in my brain that since that was THE women's and children's facility in our city, that THAT was where we had to go. not until we were on the road in the middle of a traffic jam did i remember that there was a major hospital mere blocks from us. i told J that we had to go there instead and called my mom to ask her and my dad to pray for me and the baby.

we made it to the hospital emergency room entrance in probably 10 minutes, but it felt like an eternity as i felt a couple more contractions on the way. once we got past security, the clerk told me to take a seat. !!!! i immediately burst into tears and told him that "i'm going to freaking bleed all over your floor if you keep me waiting here!" thankfully a wise nurse had a wheelchair there in seconds and began to ask me questions as she rolled me to the elevator. clearly i was pregnant, so i commend this nurse for taking me to the labor and delivery floor right away. good choice. except that she got off on the wrong floor at first, probably because she was busy trying to decide what was wrong with me, and we had to get back on the elevator.......which caused more tears.

once on the right floor, i was wheeled into a room and met by several other nurses. one woman stands out in particular. she immediately tried to calm me down by saying that my water probably broke with some bloody show and that i probably wasn't actually bleeding. wanting to believe anything but the worst, i actually hung on to this possibility as i changed into a gown and they hooked me up to monitors. but any hope was lost when i had another contraction and gushed another amount of blood. the nurse immediately called a doctor and an anesthesiologist calmly while i sobbed. the contractions were coming every two minutes now and getting stronger. BUT the good news was that the monitors picked up my baby's heartbeat and i was told that the baby was actually looking good and that nothing had happened to her.

relief.

i asked J to call my brother to come and get turtle. fortunately, when he called, my brother was already on our floor of the hospital because my mother had called him in a panic and asked him to get over to the hospital to get information about me to her. because his future father in law worked at the hospital, he was able to get directions to exactly where to go to find me. he was able to take turtle back home so he wouldn't wake up to all the trauma and J would be able to focus on me.

the surgeon arrived first as the nurses were taking my history and J was on the phone with the financial department giving out insurance information. being informed of my previous c section he said that i would receive another one that afternoon as soon as i was ready. he didn't seem to alarmed. and then i guess i got bold or something because i asked him if a vbac was still possible. J actually laughed when i asked because he could see how ridiculous my question was. but to me, the baby was fine, i was lying down so i wasn't seeing how much i was bleeding anymore, the contractions were actually bearable (contractions without the pitocin is much easier to handle), and since the baby was early and would be small, i thought that maybe possibly i could push this one out. the surgeon kind of gave me a funny look and said "no, i think it would be best if we did the c section."

this while a nurse inserted one of those pee tubes (pain.), and the anesthesiologist got the spinal in (more pain.) THEN, even more gushing. the doctor decides we can't wait. i am suddenly pushed down the hallway and into an OR. they transfer me to the OR table and there is even more blood. the blue sheet thing that they use as a curtain to separate you from the rest of your body is suddenly flung over the upper part of my body and over my face as i notice more people stream into the room. J says that as he stood helplessly outside the OR doors, he heard a call for a special team of doctors and a bunch of them ran past him and into the room. he said that when the doors opened, i saw me for a brief second and wondered why i looked so blue.

at this point, i looked over at a nurse and told her "i'm feeling rrreealllllly lllllooooopy." reality started to break apart for me and i just got so tired. and then i got scared because i realized that this could be it. i could close my eyes and wake up in heaven (it's the afterlife i believe in). and i didn't want to. so then the silent and eventual verbal begging to let me live started. a doctor as me if i felt him pinch my belly. i told him "yes." he muttered something about me not being ready yet in a frustrated voice. i prayed and prayed, it was all i could do as i heard the doctors suddenly tell each other "cut her! cut her!" and they did. and i felt it. i felt the cutting. clear down to my toes. thankfully the anesthesia had taken some effect so everything felt muted and stung just a little, but i still felt what they were doing.

but soon, with some shoving and pulling i heard a lusty cry from far away and realized that mouse had been born. and she sounded so beautiful.

now the prayers turned into a passionate plea to not let me leave J alone with two kids to raise. it took awhile to close me back up, but once the baby was out, they were able to get the bleeding under control and J was able to join me in the room. J says that he walked in to see tons of blood on the floor around the bed and doctor's shoes splashed with blood. he also said that it was explained that they needed to conduct the "crash" c section without him because we had been in danger. luckily he's not freaked out about that kind of stuff. he was able to say the right and comforting things to me, give me updates on the baby (who was doing pretty well), and assured me that i was fine.

apparently i had experienced a placental adruption, and not just a mild case. there was complete separation of my placenta on the OR table, but because i was so prepped for surgery, they were able to go in and get the baby out before anything bad happened. all in all the whole thing happened in an hour, from the first time i noticed blood to when little mouse was born. crazy.

even with all that drama, once the bleeding was stopped i recovered quickly. even with 2000 ccs of blood lost, i didn't need a transfusion and was awake the whole time. they kept the baby in the nursery for about a day to watch her breathing, but i really didn't mind because i was busy doing a little recovery of my own. once they brought her to my room, it was love at first sight and i was totally well and ready to do the mommy thing.

things could have been so much worse. praise God that it happened on a sunday when J was with me. i can't even imagine if i'd been alone with turtle. praise God that we were so close to a hospital. apparently the timing was just right to ensure the best results. praise God that it was a day off for most people so we could get some help with turtle. praise God that the quick thinking nurse knew exactly where to take me and that such competent surgeons were on duty. there are so many reasons to praise Him.....

i still get freaked out when i think about it. just writing it here has gotten my heart racing again. i don't want to be all dramatic and say that i've looked death in the face, or stood at the edge of life of anything, but it's good to be able to say that i'm glad that i'm still here and all is well. we spent a few days in the hospital recovering. my mom was able to fly in early (she was supposed to get here on the 17th for my delivery on the 20th, ha!) and my goal to breastfeed looks like it will come to be. most importantly, everyone is ok and safe.

another thing to good to be true? well, i might jinx it by telling you, but mouse is the easiest baby i've ever known. she eats at the pace that i need her to. she sleeps for four hour stretches at night. and she waits patiently most of the time when i need an extra moment to do something for turtle instead of attending to her right away. i realize that i may be singing a different tune in a couple of weeks because babies change all the time, but for now my biggest complaint is how HOT i feel ALL the time. but this too shall pass. and seeing as how i'm SURE she's my last one (because really, let's just admit the fact that i really suck at the giving birth part) i'm trying to enjoy every newborn moment.

sigh. i lurv that new baby top of the head, folds in the neck smell. wish i could bottle it and save it for the rainy day when these two will be too big to hold.

some fun stuff

2012-02-26T18:38:00.001-08:00

so that depressing post can move on down the line.

I love pinterest!!

If you don't know what pinterest is, click on the link above to find out. Love is probably too weak of a word at this point. I am addicted to pinterest? maybe? I feel like that's too harsh, but Captain J would probably agree. It's like it was made for me! My bookmark bar is crajee because I'm always bookmarking crafty stuffs and recipes that I want to use, and DO use and then leave there. Pinterest solves that problem for me and then I can steal everyone else's pins too.

Yesterday, I made the family these.

Totally from Pinterest! They came out amazing and totally tasted a lot like Malasadas. I put them in front of the family and they were gone in minutes. I made only 7. (There were 8 but I had to "test" one before I served them.) There was a fight over the last one with loud crying involved. I am not telling you this to show you how greedy and famished my family is all the time (I swear I feed them) but to show you THAT'S how good they were.

The donut shops here in Korea kind of suck. Except for the Krispy Kremes....which also kind of suck because they don't really make them on site. All the donuts get made somewhere else so we usually end up with stale hard donuts. It's like Koreans don't know what the really yummy donut is supposed to taste like. But we buy them for the kids anyway because the donut shops package them in these cute little boxes and the donuts are covered in different colored cremes and even have pop rock sprinkles (I kid you not.) The kids end up licking off the sprinkles and creme and leaving the rest.

These donuts got EATEN. They were fluffy and soft and warm and all kinds of yummy. And I definitely felt like all kinds of Martha Stewart because I can make donuts now! (even though they were semi home-made.)

There has also been some non pinterest fun too. Gracie finally stopped coughing. The doctors on base kept sending us home without being able to do anything for her so I splurged and took her to a Korean pediatrician (it's about 30$ a visit. Sometimes Universal healthcare for everyone makes sense.) and they found an ear infection. After a round of antibiotics, the cough is magically gone. How about that? Two months of constant coughing, finally done.

It's really nice to have two systems to work with here. If one is not benefiting us, then I can hop over and try the other one. Korean schools not working out? Then we shall use the American ones. The American doctors not able to stop the cough? Then lets give the Korean doctors a go. Win!

When they handed me the little packets of powdered medicine though, I worried. How was I going to get her to take the unfamiliar form of medication? But it was pink! And when I opened it to sniff it, it smelled like strawberries. Gracie reported that it tasted like strawberries too. Thank goodness it ended up not being a problem. Those Koreans, they are clever with things like that.

Then a day later, Jun got off the school bus and started to cough. Gyah! I can't wait for this winter to end. Only a couple of days until March. I can feel it. Warmer days are just around the corner.

Why not a Korean School?

2012-02-25T05:29:00.005-08:00

I'm going to try and tread carefully during this post. Because I really don't mean any of my fellow Koreans any harm by my words. I'm just stating things as I see them and how I've experienced them.

So, now that That disclaimer is out of the way....

Have I explained to you why Gracie is attending preschool on base instead of a Korean preschool off base yet? If you remember when we first moved here, I had all these plans to put the kids in local Korean preschools (because technically Jun is still Preschool-Kindergarten age, not regular school age here) and maybe not even bother with the regular public school offerings on post. I had all these lofty ideas of returning home with completely fluent bilingual children who would leave behind sobbing native Korean friends. It was such a nice dream.

Then we got here during the height of summer and I experienced reality. I won't even write about how the Korean kids are actually kind of really mean to anyone different than themselves. Let's just say they couldn't really figure Jun out. He was Korean, but he wasn't. So they decided to outcast him. It was sad for such a social guy. Which lead to behavior problems at school, which the teachers dealt with time out because we had him at a frou frou school with a good rep because it was said that at less well to do schools they still used some corporal punishment. Except we found out later that time out meant being locked inside of a bathroom. Alone.

I know. I sobbed. And I found my Korean fluency evaporates when I get really angry. I hate that.

Besides that. At another school I visited, one I was considering for Gracie because it was another one that came highly recommended, I witness a child being dropped off her cheeks bright red because she was so hot with fever. Her father handed the wimpering hot child over to the woman who met them at the door. She took the child and a little package of medicine, told the father not to worry and took the child down the hall. I watched after them, sure that there must be a separate room for sick kids. But nope. The child was taken into a classroom filled with other kids. I hugged Gracie tight - a Gracie who had already been hospitalized once because another child who attended a Korean preschool had brought home hand foot and mouth disease and given it to her and it had gotten into her spinal fluid and developed into meningitis, and knew that this wasn't the school for her. When I asked if everyone had their vaccinations at the school, I didn't get a straight answer. Then I saw that they had a couple of those portable potties inside classroom that were both almost full of pee, which meant that the kids stayed in that little room all day. They weren't even taken to a bathroom. And the pee. Yuck.

Then I knew. I knew that even though the Child Development Centers on base didn't have the best reputations when compared to the preschools back home, it was the only option I had. At least there everyone had a vaccination card that was checked out and if I suspected my children were being mistreated I could go ~~yell at~~ speak to someone fluently and there were superiors I could ask for. In the Korean system I was lost and I hated feeling that way when it came to my children.

I've met a lot of Korean women here who married American soldiers. They do their best to get stationed here in Korea and stay here when they have young children. And when they do, they take full advantage of the myriad of Korean preschools before sending their school-age children to the Public schools on post. They are constantly asking me why I don't send Gracie to their younger child's preschool, as we stand at the bus stop sending our older children off to school. They look at me and shake their head, certain that I'm missing out on a precious opportunity, and then cluck with disapproval when my children answer their questions in minimal Korean, or even worse, in English.

I shrug it off. I am disappointed more than anyone else that I am going to leave Korea with kidsters who are less fluent in Korean than when we arrived. They are culturally more fluent (that's something), but their language skills actually were better when they lived near their Korean speaking grandparents in America.

I understand that they think speaking Korean is better for my children. But I don't tell them this. I stay silent because once I start talking, I will start to talk about why I don't send my kids to those Korean schools and then they will get offended. Like my rude prissy American-ness is judging them, and Korea in general. It can't end well anyway. They have made their decisions, I have made mine. What I tell them will only make them feel bad and will make them feel badly towards me in the end. Because really it's the same for them. It's easier for them to send their children to the Korean school because if they have a beef with something, or they need to butter somebody up for something, they can. They can go over and do it in Korean. Just like I felt found at the preschool on post because the forms were finally in English, it's probably just as comforting for them at the Korean schools. They'll have to deal with the unfamiliar American system sooner or later as their children get older so why start now? Why not focus on the benefits of the language and ignore the other parts? So, they keep nagging (because they are Korean) and I keep silent (because of my American-ness and I don't want to fight.)

Fortunately, we lucked out big time. Preschools on army bases are sadly known for their lack of quality most of the time, but Gracie ended up with a teacher who is leading a class in one for the first time. I don't know if it's because it's a first class, or if it's because she's a naturally amazing person, but she's one of those people that go over and beyond what is required. Gracie absolutely adores her and even cried over Christmas break because she missed her beloved teacher. Gracie's teacher is constantly using her own funds and time to keep things exciting for her class and lovingly keeps order. Seriously, God gave us a huge break with this one. So, for Gracie preschool is currently a very joyful experience. In English, with lots of different friends. There are three other children in the class like her who are Korean, but they speak much better Korean than her and actually speak Korean to each other so Gracie's actually picked up some Korean from them. There are several sweet African American friends for Gracie and a couple of Caucasian kids, one little girl in particular who goes to ballet with her. I love it. It's a little mix of everyone in that little room playing, eating and napping together and Gracie is getting to love them all. And everyone washes hands after using a working potty, before and after they eat, they brush their teeth after lunch, there is a large outdoor playground they visit twice a day weather permitting (there is hardly any outdoor play time at Korean preschools), and regular American school type sick kid policies apply.

We just got word from our second choice preschool in Hawaii for the next school year that Gracie has a spot with them if we'd like. It's a place that will give her quality care, good food, and enrichment. Yes! We would like. I couldn't get that fee to reserve her spot into the mail fast enough. That and she'll be spending afternoons with her Korean speaking grandparents, which means her Korean will probably get better again. Isn't it Ironic? Don't you think?

How far we've come

2012-02-12T20:18:00.000-08:00

4 more months. That's what we're down to. Can you believe it?

I can and I can't. On one hand, this is the longest we've been anywhere for the last 7 years so it feels like we should get going already. Such is the life of a military family. Always packing up, unpacking and moving around. But, at the same time, there are people I've only just begun to get to know, place I am still discovering here and things I still mean to do - I may never get to do now.

What will I miss? Lots of things. The fresh produce. I think I read somewhere that Korea is 80% self sustaining. I don't know if that's completely accurate, but I believe that if roads were cut off and planes and boats weren't able to come in, life would still go on here. It wouldn't be like back home where we'd literally run out of stuff. Even if people would have to tighten their belts a little, Korea is able to produce a lot of their own goods, thanks to their whole "made in Korea, buy in Korea" campaign. At the stores here, a high percentage of the fruits and veggies were grown in Korea. Since Korea isn't that large of a country, the produce isn't shipped from that far away so whatever shelf you buy it from, it's still bound to be fresh. But Koreans go further and keep certain produce within certain boundaries. For instance, apples from Daegu (oh my goodness, so crispy and delicious!) can only be found in Daegu! It would be so easy to ship them to Seoul, a mere three to four hour drive away, but no, they don't. So only Seoul people with relatives or friends in Daegu who can mail them or gift some Daegu apples to them can enjoy them. Isn't that wild? Especially for us Americans chomping up all sorts of fruits flown in from South America all year round.

Yes. This also means the fruit is seasonal here. You eat the strawberries during strawberry season. You grab the tangerines when you can because they might not be there in a couple of months. And the peaches, the amazingly juicy white peaches, will only be there for a couple of weeks so eat them up as fast as you can!

These things I will miss. These amazingly juicy and sweetly timed right fruits and fresh crispy greens, when I am far away from here.

But looking ahead, I am so excited. We will be returning to the states a totally different family. When we left, we were sort of limping along and kind of in a sorry state. Captain J had just returned from a year long deployment in Iraq during which time Jun had really been emotionally hit hard. Little Gracie had grown into a toddler from babyhood without a daddy, so a big move and the addition of a new member in the family really kind of ticked her off. And honestly, the move from California to Hawaii to Korea all within 5 months post deployment didn't help our marriage any. Not that things were ever really bad between us, but after a year of being apart dealing with different issues on our own ends, it would have just helped to have some stability. Sometimes I just think Uncle Sam should know better.

But that's then, and this is now. And now is much much better.

Now is when Jun is able to tell a bunch of boys in his class that got caught bullying one of Jun's classmates that he thought what they were doing was mean and he wanted no part of it. With some coaching on our part he is now prepared to blow the whistle on them should they try to pull any funny business on Jun's friends again. Jun was recognized as student of the month last month for his marvelous behavior. Can you imagine? Our Jun.... We are finally at that age with him where even if he does still get up early... so SO early... every single morning, on weekends I can leave out a clean bowl and spoon and cereal box within reach and he can make himself breakfast quietly in front of the TV until the rest of us wake up. We came to Korea with an angry and whiny preschooler and now we head back with a considerate and playful child.

And Gracie. When we got here she was still a toddler. A toddler who ended up in the hospital within the first few months because of all the new germs she encountered here. But now she'll turn four (!) in a couple of weeks and has to be frequently be put in time out because of her sassing back. example "No, I don't want to because I don't love you anymore mommy!" and "Well, you can take all my toys away and even my candy because I don't care!" She is a Joy! Ha. But in all seriousness, we landed in Korea with a little girl that still felt like a babe in my arms, but now when we return she will be attending a PRESCHOOL (waaaaah!) and will be only one year away from Kindergarten (aka real school.)

Which means that I am in a very different place now. No more husbandry absences when we return. No more cloth diapers to wash or babes to constantly hold. I will be sleeping through most nights (at least until the kidsters start having evening engagements and then I will be up again nail biting and worrying, but lets not think about that yet.) There will be some shuttling of peoples back and forth to lessons, practices, meetings and what not....but this is a whole new ball game. Am I right?

So finally, it's my turn. At least that's how I'm seeing it. My turn for what, you ask? Good question. I'd like to help and make some money while I'm at it (but much to the chagrin of my Korean parents) but it doesn't matter how much really, while I'm helping. It would be nice to use what I studied while I was at it. But being a military spouse means that I moved around a lot at the mercy of the government which also meant that I wasn't very marketable at any given time. An interview question you really do get: "Your husband is in the military. Do you plan to follow him to the next duty station?" (implying that they really don't want to invest in someone who is going to up and move soon.) Yes. Unfortunately, that's how this marriage and family thing goes.

In any case, this time THAT won't be a factor when I go out and look for something to do. But the fact that IT was a factor til now might. We shall see. I will finally get to see. Really, in the end it will be nice to finally make friends and know that I can call upon their names and be in their hearts for more than a year at a time. Come what may, I will have family near by to catch up the over flow if it ever comes to that. It will be so very nice to know my children will build memories of places they will not forget the next year. Who knows what other problems might crop up, but at least the moving will be done. Finally, I can put my pack down.

There is surely a future hope for you, and your hope will not be cut off. Proverbs 23:18