Tag Archives: parents

Thanksgiving

Here is the reason we went up to San Jose for Thanksgiving. This is my niece, Myla, who just turned one not too long ago. Her upper teeth are probably due out soon so she likes to chew on her tongue.

Myla with her mom and the bunny we got for her.

Here Michelle is telling her the importance of online web presence.

Kids like me, and I think it’s because I look like a cartoon.

We made her play with the bunny every chance we got so it would become her favorite, and then we would become her favorite. Muahahahha!

Myla plays like a little boy. She doesn’t like to sit still and only has one speed, extreme. I was fascinated by the fact that she can mimic just about any sound you make. She can pop her lips, click her tongue, and do whatever that thing is called in the video.

Now that we’re done looking at my adorable niece, let’s talk about family and food.

People ask whether spending time with my niece makes me want to have kids any sooner. Playing with kids is pretty fun, but part of the fun is being able to say, “She pooped. Playtime timeout. Someone take care of this.” What you don’t see in all these pictures is all the hard work the parents put into raising Myla. You also don’t see the loads of stuff they have just to accomplish that task. Hard work is hard. As I am having a difficult time taking care of myself most of the time, I don’t think pushing up kids is a great idea.

Living away from home is expensive.

Me: Did you know laundry is $2.25 per load to wash and dry in my building? Do you want to make $2.25 per load of laundry?
Mom: That’s just to use the machines. That’s not including detergent and dryer sheets.
Me: Okay, well then how does $2.50 sound. That includes folding and delivery, right?
Mom: Delivery fees are high.
Me: You deliver food already to work. Let’s just use the same courier.

I think I’m just going to sneak in and do my laundry when they’re not around. My laundry will be free until they change the locks on me.

I need to find more places to eat.

It’s great to be able to walk into Downtown Culver City to grab a bite to eat, but you can only eat so many times at the handful of restaurants there. It gets even harder to pick a place when Michelle is off on her own plans. I can’t fly solo at some of these places. They’re not “soup for one” types of restaurants.

Fortunately I have Spencer and Vivian. They’re like the parents now that I’m not living with mine. They knew I was without Michelle for the night and invited me out to dinner. So I rode in the back seat, listened to them talk to each other about their days and make references to people I don’t know. Meanwhile I repeatedly kicked the seat and continually asked, “Are we there yet?” It’s just like having parents again. The only thing they didn’t do was pay for my dinner. Maybe next time.

Sunnin Lebanese Cafe. The combo kebab meal. The meats are not dry like most kebabs I have had, and there’s plenty for leftovers for lunch today.

Always a Parent

My brother went to Berkeley for college and has lived up there since then. When he does come home for a visit my mom always sends him off with potato chips and cookies. It’s not like he can’t buy chips and cookies up north. There was no great snack disaster of 2005 that left them without snacks in northern California.

At some point I realized it doesn’t matter that he can get his own food. My mom needed to do that to feel like a parent. Without kids to take care of, parents are just the oldest people around. So I decided to do what any smart individual would do. I was going to let my mom feel like a parent and take care of me, wait on me hand and foot. We call this living off the fat of the land, but to her she was just being mom.

Unfortunately all good things must come to an end. As you know I’ve moved out from under my parents’ wings. It’s something I had to do before I was thirty. Just barely made it. Still, I came into work and my dad handed me a bag. This is what was inside of it.

Looks like mom will always be mom.

Popularity as Measured in Bacon

If you ever look in my parents’ freezer or fridge at any given time, there is no bacon in it. There is one exception. Whenever my brother is in town there is bacon. He will be home for Christmas and there is bacon in the fridge. FOUR PACKS OF BACON! I’d say she’s playing favorites here by giving him special treatment, but I have the family company and I’ve been living at home forever.

Still I might give it all up for bacon.

Late is Relative

I’ve been working at my current job for four years now. In the past four years, I have been on time to work about five times. On average I roll into work fifteen to thirty minutes late. Why have I not been fired yet? SOB, Son of the Boss.

This morning I rolled out of bed pretty late. It was so late that my mom was up and about already, which is unusual because of her drinking problem. (My mom’s retired, but my dad and I like to tell her she does nothing all day but hit the sauce.)

Me: “I’m so late right now.”
Mom: “You’re not late if you’re there before the boss.”
Me:
“Is he still sleeping?”
Mom: “Yup.”

Enlightenment struck. Instead of trying to get to work on time, I should be making the boss late. Each night I will hide his keys and toothbrush. Some booby traps might help too, a snake pit or maybe a pipe organ made of human bones where the floor falls out from under you if you don’t play the correct notes.

And to think I’ve been doing it wrong all these years.

Sure I’ll Share. Except the Internet!

My parents are very generous people. Their successes in life are definitely due in part to their work ethic, but there is also an element of just being in the right place at the right time. For this they are very grateful and so they share their prosperity. Don’t get me wrong here. My parents are not sitting on piles of cash and diamonds, but the amount of money they put into charity would shame most of us. It’s probably more than a lot of us earn in a year.

I’d like to think they have rubbed off on me quite a bit in this area. Giving is in my nature. I don’t have a whole lot of money, but if I can give a couple hours of my time or the shirt off my back I would. Still, there are some places where a man must draw the line.

My parents watch a Korean television station for one particular drama, which I think takes place in feudal Korea. It’s funny because we’re not Korean and they rely solely on the English subtitles, about which my dad has said, ” I don’t really read those. I can get the gist of what’s going on with the tones.” At first it was all fine and dandy. I would give up the television as the hour approached. That’s what sharing is about, but now it’s been taken too far.

Both my parents have found the show streaming online. My Internet usage comes to a crawl when their marathon viewing sessions take place. They don’t even watch together on the same computer. They will sit in different rooms watching the show, using twice as much bandwidth. Do you know how hard it is to pirate new albums before they hit the shelves or full length feature films before their theater release when you have two computers streaming video on your network? Just kidding RIAA and MPAA.

Everyone has had a shower where there just isn’t enough water pressure. This is just like that, only slightly more serious.  My files are stuck to me, not able to be rinsed away. It’s beginning to sting in my eyes. I’m not crying! I have soap in my eyes!

I could rewrite the firewall rules so they can’t connect to the site at the same time, or maybe this is my cue to check into Internet rehab.

Time to Move Out or Hold on Tighter.

I sometimes wonder if I’m too old to be living in my parents’ home.

I pay a good chunk of the mortgage on this new house, so I’m not completely riding for free. My employer is my dad, so carpooling to work when we can saves money and helps the environment. My parents and I get along really well, and I come and go as I please.  With this economy the way it is, it seems foolish to try to set out on my own right now. Do I really need to get out and spread my wings?

Then my mom sends me this email.

I left you some spaghetti I fried from my lunch on the stove if you want it for dinner. The sauce is in the frig – you’ll have to heat it separately. The container the sauce is in is NOT suitable for the microwave.

I’m about to leave the house.

I should really get out of here, even if it’s just so that I don’t lose my ability to call myself a man. Or maybe it’s time to build a basement in the house with an entrance to the outside. Then I can tell people I have my own place, which just happens to be below my parents’ place.