The Crippling Side of "Knowledge"

I'm going to write this blog as an entire hypothetical math/science problem because that's the simplest way I can explain it. All numbers are hypothetical and not meant to be informative or correct. 

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We have ABC Soap. You saw this cool video online showing you how make DIY foaming soap. You were told to use 30% soap and 70% water.  We mix 30% of ABC Soap with 70% water. We put it in a foaming dispenser and dispense it. It works. Yay! That was so easy! You can make your own DIY foaming soap and you don't have to pay a premium to buy the foaming one from the store.

Fast forward 2 years. You ended up having to move to a different state because your job relocated you. The store doesn't carry the brand ABC Soap. You find XYZ Soap which is a similar product. You go home, make your 30/70 mixture of soap to water, fill it in your foaming dispenser, and you have your foaming soap again!

Foreshadowing: XYZ Soap is less viscous than ABC Soap.  

Now, you invite some new friends over to your house as a housewarming party since your move. You're having a great time, but suddenly, one of them approaches you and says, "Hey, your foaming soap isn't really working. I can't get the chicken wing grease off my hands. What's going on with it?"

I asked AI to generate me an image and I got a kitchen sink basin in a bathroom setting.

You immediately get angry with this friend because it's your trusty DIY foaming soap method. You followed the instructions and immediately cancel this friend in your head because she doesn't like your soap. She's not getting invited back to your house ever again. Little do you know, the rest of the guests at your party are also not fans of your foaming soap, but they didn't bring it up to you. 

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If you're reading this and your brain is cranking, that's great! There's so many things to think about with regard to this story. First off, let's start with the soap. Did the video use ABC Soap when teaching you how to make foaming soap? Regardless if they did or didn't, there's a margin of error. What if you used a 35/65 ratio? What if you used a 25/75 ratio? Would they still have worked? Did it have to be that perfect 30/70? 

The biggest shortcoming in this story is that the main character ended up buying a different brand of soap after the move. Even though they followed the original ratio, if someone says she can't get the chicken wing grease off after washing her hands with soap...I think the logical conclusion is that there is something wrong with the soap. Of course, we are under the assumption that she isn't lying, used soap, and washed her hands correctly. If all of those factors are true, then all signs lead to the soap.

The main character refused to acknowledge the soap as the problem because the same ratio was used in making the foaming soap. But did this person think about the viscosity and feel of the soap before and after making it foam? Making your own foaming soap is not as easy as it seems because it depends on what your starting point is. The internet can only give you generic information because it is trying to appeal to a wide audience. If your liquid soap is more watery to begin with, you will need to add less water to make it foam. If your liquid soap is more thick to begin with, you will need to add more water to make it foam. The most important factor here isn't the percentage of soap to water at all. It's actually the dilution factor. Nobody labels dilution factors on packaging because if they did, we'd all feel scammed by how much water is in liquid soap.  Even though this character followed the instructions given, it wasn't enough knowledge to successfully accomplish the goal at hand. 

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I've used foaming soap as an example here to represent how someone can follow instructions and believe everything is "right" while still ending up in the wrong.  Our intelligence, however strong, still has to be coupled with experience and the ability to analyze. For this situation, I would ask this main question: did you use your own soap and experience its washing capabilities? 

Playing Cards

My kids have gotten into playing cards now. They love playing Go Fish, Crazy 8s, 3 Up 3 Down, and War. It's actually a lot of fun to play with them but I wish I had more energy. For some reason, sitting on the couch with them playing cards induces a sleepiness I never knew I possessed. I think the most logical explanation is that I'm constantly "on alert" as an adult, so for me to sit down and relax allows my body to feel tired, hence the sleepiness. Reading books to them used to do the same thing to me, but now that both my children know how to read on their own, I haven't read a book to them...in a while. 

Having my children playing cards resurfaced an old memory I had from a card game my grandfather taught me. He would deal out the cards in a Solitaire style with seven wells. The first well only had one card face up. The second well had one card face down and one card face up. The third well would have two cards face down and one card face up. Once 7 wells were dealt out in this same pattern, the remaining cards in the deck were all dealt face up evenly distributed between wells 2-7.  

Game Set Up. 

The cards are then linked by number and suit in order. Whatever cards are underneath the card to be moved must follow the card as you move cards between the columns. Face down cards can only be flipped if the whole column of face up cards are moved to connect into a different column. For the photo above, some viable moves would be moving the 8 of spades from column 2 underneath the 9 of spades in column 3. You can also move the Jack of diamonds from column 6 underneath the Queen of diamonds in column 4. Both these moves would result in being able to flip a card from the wells in column 2 and 6. Once a column was empty, you could move Kings into their place, but the maximum number of columns was 7.

I never learned the name of this game. It might be a Chinese name. But I loved playing as a child. The winning percentage of this game is extremely low. By a completely random shuffle, the odds of winning were less than 10%.  

Because this game was so difficult, I would sometimes continue the game by moving Kings into extra columns just to see if I could win the game that way. If I won with extra columns, it was nice, but it didn't feel as special. For the games I was able to win playing according to the actual rules, I made a wish.  

No more moves.

 

The closest game to this one I've found is a card game called Scorpion. The initial deal and playing rules are the most similar I've seen to the one my grandfather taught me. 

I can play Scorpion online if I wanted

 

I taught this game to my daughter one day when she said she was bored. It's a little too much for her to handle right now, but I hope one day she can enjoy this card game by herself and have fond memories of playing cards. 

Our House is Special

We've been in our house for 11 years! The journey of our house was a long five months, we lost a lot of houses I really wanted, but I believe we got the perfect house for us in the end. 

My daughter and I went on a walk after lunch recently on a Tuesday afternoon on one of her home school days. I wrote about why I love the school we go to, and being able to take walks with her in our neighborhood during the week is an example of the extra time she and I have gotten to spend together. On this particular day, we ran into a neighbor one street over.

This neighbor is an artist and she showed us her latest charcoal drawing. She talked to us about the birds in their yard, the flowers she planted, and we had a nice chat together. After saying goodbye, we kept walking. I waved to a neighbor mowing his lawn outside. I don't personally know him, but we frequently see him outside working in his yard.

As we came back around to our street, we walked about halfway home and ran into a neighbor, J, who has shared so many plants with us.  

She dropped this off for us this past Christmas.

As we got to her house, the neighbor across the street had just parked their car.  J called them over to our side of the street and introduced us to each other. After our brief meeting, J explained to me how they got into the neighborhood. Their parents and siblings were down a few streets over in another part. This house was the closest they could find for their other son whom I had just met. 

J and I talked and shared some life moments. I gave her the 5-minute synopsis of my latest and ongoing family stress. She shared with me her mother had just passed. We bonded over an eternal joy and hope which helps us to keep our eyes on the prize.  

As our conversation wrapped up, the neighbor who lives next to us was walking his dog by. I noticed only one dog. I asked if they had to say goodbye to Allie. They did. She was 15. After a brief conversation about plants, we both said goodbye to J and walked down the street to our houses. This neighbor is 79 and turning 80 in June. 

By the time my daughter and I returned home, it was nearly 2:30. Being that I start work in the afternoon and work through evening hours, I have to watch the time on my "fun" to make sure I can get to work on time. Although I wasn't late by any means, it was much later than I had anticipated on making it back home. Our walk lasted nearly an hour and it was getting hot outside. 

Although I returned home physically tired and a bit stressed at having to teach 4 hours of lessons that afternoon and evening, it was joyous. I love getting to walk through my neighborhood and smile at neighbors I know and have conversations with them and share life. I love feeling the comfort my neighbors bring when I see them and being able to enjoy their company. I don't take this for granted because I know not everyone has this or feels this way. I know I didn't grow up with it in either of the houses we lived in when I was a child. 

Our house is very special. 

It Ends With Me

Eating brought a lot of trauma for me as a child. I never thought of it as trauma until I became an adult and started to develop concerns with my own children's eating habits. Growing up, when I didn't finish my school lunch, I was reprimanded for something which was only partially in my control. I didn't have enough time to eat for one. I was a slow eater as a child. And what second-grader wanted to sit inside during recess to finish her lunch in solitude with a teacher? Um, no. It wasn't until 8th grade when I clearly remember being able to eat and finish my entire lunch at school. 

In elementary school, I'd arrive home after school and get grilled on how much of my lunch I finished. I bought school lunch so there wasn't a lunch box full of leftovers to be pored over. I used to draw pictures for my mom to show her how much of my lunch I had eaten, and most of the time, she'd always be disappointed, even when I thought I had eaten a good amount. 

These were the drawings of my childhood.

 
Now, my own child brings a lunch to school and I ask her in the car on the drive home if she finished her lunch. Most days, she tells me she did. Now, we pack her lunch so we're aware not to overload her with giant portions she can't finish in 20 minutes. Most of the time I expect her to finish her lunch because I know it wasn't actually a lot of food. 

Every now and then, she doesn't. One Friday, she told me she didn't finish her lunch because she had a birthday treat to eat. I asked her what it was: ice cream, in her favorite flavor, chocolate. Even without looking back at her (because I was driving) I could hear the joy in her voice as she told me about eating chocolate ice cream at school as a birthday treat. 

I actually felt it inside me, disappointment, as a parent, because she didn't finish her lunch. But hearing her talk about her ice cream was so special. I couldn't quash this moment for her. I didn't want to mar it with disappointment and sadness. So I didn't say anything. But I felt the pang of emotion - the emotion of wishing my mother had spared me from this trauma that lingers even decades later and knowing that holding myself back and not saying anything is against every fiber of my being. I can't change the way I feel about things like this, but I can change how my children will feel about these things years down the road.

Vintage Memories

For the Christmas of 2002, I received two Barbie dress sets. I had actually picked them out myself prior to Christmas. They were wrapped up and I opened them as my Christmas presents to partake in the joy of opening gifts on Christmas. 

Christmas 2002

 

I never actually liked Barbie dolls. I just wanted the accessories. For many childhood birthdays growing up, I picked Barbie play sets as my gifts. Instead of dolls, I used my stuffed animals to play in the play sets. The one aspect my stuffed animals couldn't truly experience was the Barbie clothes. Built for a slender-figured lady and not a round bear full of stuffing, I couldn't actually put my Barbie clothes on anything. Nevertheless, I still wanted some beautiful sets of Barbie clothes. I have the Barbie rotating closet, the one which came out in 1998. I have many articles of Barbie clothes stored in there as well as some accessories. However, there were three Barbie gowns/dresses which wouldn't fit into the closet because they were too long. 

 

My mother and I sat down one day and made our own mannequins for them out of clay. We used the plastic mold that came with the original packaging to mold three busts for the dresses. A chopstick was inserted into the bottom of the bust and attached to another mound of clay for the base. Inside the base, we added a coin for some weight to make sure the mannequin would stand up properly.  

 

 

 

Considering our net cost was basically zero (maybe cents if you count in the money used for weight...) since we already had all the materials, this was a fun solution for my childhood. However, nearly 25 years later, these Barbie dresses are now vintage. I wanted a more permanent and protective solution to display them. 

Even bringing these mannequins back to my own house, they would have been 
displayed out in the open which doesn't protect them enough for how old they are.
 

I asked my friends who have a 3d printer if they could print me 3 custom hangers for these dresses.  I was so excited when they arrived because they were so cute. I was also ecstatic because they fit. I had drawn up a sketch and provided measurements by using one of my children's fidget toys as a guide. The fact that they fit perfectly with my less than perfect geometry angles and measuring skills was a great surprise. (Maybe my math skills haven't rusted as much as I thought...)

 

Hangers!

 

Before I put everything together in the final display I was going for, I had to do some minor repairs. I had an old Barbie pearl necklace which probably doesn't actually go with any of these sets. However, I've included it with this dress because I don't have any other set it would pair well with. The elastic on this necklace was completely stretched out and ineffective. 

You can see how much extra elastic there was from where I cut it. 
It basically turned into a basic string.

 

I had so much extra beading string and wire from my daughter's hobbies so I took some clear cord and restrung these plastic pearls back.  

 

Good as new. Don't mind my leftover knot cord. 
I'm just happy it's secure and not overly loose. 

 

 

I purchased a shadow box frame to display all of these dresses in. This way, I had space not only to hang and display the dress, but I could also add the accessories to the side and keep the sets complete. Displaying the shoes was a little tricky. My first thought was to use the pins and hang the shoes off of them. While this worked for two pairs because of the straps on the shoes, It wasn't the most aesthetically pleasing.  

 

Our final solution was to use clear thumbtacks and clear museum gel to secure the shoes to the thumbtacks. After letting the gel cure properly and readjusting the shoes a few times during the curing process, they stayed upright!

 

 

Left: 2001 Barbie Fantasy Princess Gown 47605

Middle: 2002 Barbie Bridal Collection 68065

Right: 1999 Barbie Fashion Avenue 25755

This project turned out exactly how I thought it would. I'm so glad to be able to display these three complete sets and keep them protected for years to come. As I was going through this process and thinking how I wanted to update the displays for these dresses, it occurred to me that my mother isn't physically a part of any of the new display anymore. By removing the mannequins we made, it would be removing the final aspect linked to these dresses that she physically had a hand in. 

Although it is bittersweet to think about this project from that perspective, I think prioritizing longevity and protection of these dresses needs to take precedent over keeping the exact materials we used over two decades ago. Simply taking the mannequin stands and throwing them into a display box would not have done the sets justice in my opinion. This is why passing on the stories of the items we choose to keep and preserve and pass down are so important as well. When I see this display box with the three Barbie dresses, I see my mother. I remember the mannequins we made. And I remember how special she was and still is to me. Nobody else in the world can value these the way I do, but I can share the story to make this more than just a display. It's a memory.

Twice

My maternal grandmother died twice in my life. Let me explain.

During the year I lived overseas, my dad had called me one evening and told me my grandmother had died. I froze and said, "No, this can't be right." I freaked out and started emailing, calling, and texting various family members (besides my dad) from the internet. It took two hours, but I confirmed my grandmother was in fact still alive. I even managed to call my grandmother and talk to her. What actually happened was that my sister-in-law's grandmother had died. My brother informed my dad he was going to New York for the funeral, and my dad misunderstood it as our maternal grandmother as she lived in that same area. 

But in my heart, I felt it. For approximately two hours, I was living the grief of what I would feel when she died. This was the first time. 

The second time, she actually died. 

I was getting ready for bed that evening and I went to close my computer. In the corner of my email, I saw a chat message pop up. It was from my aunt. She told me my grandmother had died. It was May 1, 2014, ten years from the day my mother had died. 

When my grandfather died, I missed his funeral. I had told myself I would do whatever I could to make it to my grandmother's funeral. I missed her funeral, too.

It was a decision I made on my own, and sometimes, I wonder if it's something I truly regret. At the time, I was working as a special needs assistant to a kindergarten-aged girl. I was hired privately by her mother. Her mother was a preschool assistant at another school. If I took any days off, her mother would need to take days off to take my place with her daughter for the day. 

This put me in a hard place when my grandmother died because if I had taken the days off to go to her funeral, the mother would have had to take the same number of days away from her work to assist her daughter in my place. I had already taken one day off, the day after I found out about my grandmother's passing, because I had stayed up most of the night crying. I would have been very ineffective had I gone in to work.  

In lieu of going to her funeral, I made a video sharing my words which was played at the funeral. I rerecorded it so many times because I couldn't stop crying to say anything. 

Over a decade later, I still think back to these decisions I made. Sometimes, I wish I had done things differently. Sometimes, I think about how things could have been different but don't trust myself to have been able to make a different decision.  Would you view the decision in this situation as selfishness for choosing your own desires over the desires of someone else? Or would you view it as commitment to family, dedication, and love over commitments to job obligations?

I wrote down the last conversation I ever had with my grandmother face to face. It was about 10 months before she died. I'm not sure what caused me to write it down. I think a part of me knew deep down it could have been the last time I would see or talk to her in person. 

*Translated* 

 Grandma: I heard you're leaving soon.

Me: Yeah.

G: Where are you going?   

Me: Back to Dallas.

G: To start school?

Me:  No, just going home. 

G: Where?

Me: Dallas.

G: I wish I could help you.

Me: You don't need to help me. I help you. 

G: Yes. You always help me. 

March 2010

What I don't regret is the time I spent with my grandmother. My freshman year of college, I spent spring break visiting her. She had just had her stroke. The summer after my freshman year, I spent two months living with her.  The summer after that, I went back and visited for about two weeks. I didn't go the summer I graduated because I was getting ready to move overseas. This was an intentional choice I made, and I'll never forget the blessing of getting to see her the year after for another two weeks.

For my grandmother, spending the time I did with her when I could was important. And I did. For the special needs girl and her mother, showing up to work as her assistant was important. I think in this light, I was able to do what was important for both sides when I needed to.  

My dad didn't make an attempt to go to either of my maternal grandparents' funerals. He did however attend my cousin's wedding. I have lots of thoughts in this regard, but not now.

 ***

Wang Fu Yu, aged 97, passed away peacefully on May 1, 2014.

Fu was a high school teacher prior immigrating to the United States in 1968. She taught Chinese and History in Taipei, Taiwan. After moving to the US, she devoted her time to her family. She enjoyed traveling the world with her late husband and cooking exotic food for her family and friends.

She was preceded  in death by her husband, Chih Chiai Yu in 2005, and her daughter Donna Yu in 2004.

Money Can Buy Time

It comes up every now and then in conversations, but other moms will ask me why I chose the school my children are at. The simple answer? Time. My kids go to school three days a week, it's a private school, and I pay for it. The school has other fundamentally good things about it, but my answer has remained the same for years - I relish the extra time I get with my kids, even if I'm paying for it.

I can't call it a regret because it wasn't my decision to make, but I still get worked up when I think about all the years my mother had to go to treatment in Houston and didn't take us with her because we had to go to school. Perhaps it was the "must follow directions" cultural training from her upbringing. I always resent the fact that they didn't try harder to make accommodations or do something differently. It was just a straightforward, "You've got to go to school and do your homework. We can't take you."

4th grade was the worst. They went so many times that year. I so badly wanted time with my mother, even if it meant waiting in a hospital hallway because I was too young to go inside the treatment room. Each night before they left, I'd practically beg them to wake me up the next morning and take me with them. They lied to me and said they would. I went to sleep. The next morning, I'd wake up at 7 am to a dark, empty house. I'm still traumatized thinking about it. 

This shaped the way I viewed my kids' educations. When my oldest was preparing for kindergarten, public school was basically eliminated because they didn't offer anything less than a full day. I had known this was coming. The first year of the district's full-day kindergarten was the 2008-2009 school year.  I always told myself, if my kids ended up in public school, they would be allowed to miss school whenever they felt like it and I'd be completely supportive. Now, don't get me wrong, this is with the assumption that they are exceeding grade level standards and completing their homework responsibly. I'm not condoning this for someone with a student who isn't meeting standards. And, knowingly, this would end once they reached the middle school and high school years. 

The old adage is: money can't buy time. I'm here to tell you it can, and we do it all the time without thinking about it. I'm buying time by paying for my kids' educations to have two home school days per week. This is two more days they would have with me than if they went to public school. We buy time when we pick up fast food because our children are hangry instead of waiting to drive home and grabbing something from the freezer or refrigerator at home to heat up or cook. We buy time when we purchase pre-peeled garlic instead of buying the heads because we don't have to stand there and peel the cloves one at a time. We buy time when we pay for a housekeeper or lawn maintenance so we can do other things with our time in lieu of cleaning or mowing. We buy time when we pay the premium at Disney for Lightning Lane passes instead of waiting in the "regular" line. 

Now, bottomline, nobody is adding extra hours or days to their life by spending any money. If we could, we would all go broke. Probably every single person alive would be going broke buying more time for themselves or for someone they loved. But, we buy time in our own ways. We buy time every single day, most likely, without even realizing. It's been labeled as convenience. 

I can't say how long we will stay at our current school. Things may change years from now and we may switch back to public school or a different school. But for the next couple of years, this is what I need. This is what I want. And I will savor the time I've "bought."