Seoul-long, Farewell...

The time has come to leave this beautiful land and move on to the next phase of this adventure I call my life. I'm nervous, I'm excited, and I'm really going to miss being in Korea. As I reflect back on the last two years, I realize that living here may have a lasting effect on who I am as a person and a parent.

South Korea is not without its problems. In many ways, it still feels like a very young country that has a lot to learn about how to get along with others, how to be warm and welcoming of outsiders, and how to be inclusive and tolerant of people who don't necessarily fit into this homogeneous society. Generally, I felt safe and comfortable walking down the streets of Seoul, taking taxis and other public transportation at all hours of the day and night. But, as a foreigner, I was acutely aware of my otherness and often shied away from clothing and shoe stores, not so much because of the language barrier, but rather the size difference. 

Koreans come in all shapes and sizes, but the overall sentiment seems to be that Americans are large people who don't always fit into Korean clothing. For most of my time here, I was pregnant and therefore I really couldn't wear most items I came across at Korean boutiques. However, following my pregnancy, I've worked pretty hard to get back into shape and I'm pretty proud of my progress. Unfortunately for me, a shopkeeper at a store I recently visited affirmed my reservations about trying on clothes here when I expressed interest in a dress. She quickly sized me up and declared that the dress was too small even before I had the chance to try it on. Thankfully, my husband has been very supportive of my post-pregnancy transformation. He quickly suggested that I try the dress on anyway and bought it for me on the spot upon seeing that it did, in fact, fit perfectly fine. 

In short, what didn't kill my confidence has made me stronger. I simply realized that bluntness is a part of Korean culture and being told that you look tired, or sick, or fat is more of an expression of concern for one's 'condition' than it is a put down. 

As a parent, I've had the unique opportunity to not only give birth to my child in a country that values motherhood and provides paid maternity leave, but also begin my journey as the mother of a little black boy outside of a country that seems to lack concern for the lives of its black children. This experience has made me think long and hard about raising Seoul Brother #1 or any child/children that may follow within the confines of such a hostile environment. While one would think that living in a place that is still technically at war would feel more dangerous than living in the 'Land of the Free and Home of the Brave,' something about watching things happen from the outside of the burning house looking in at the people complaining about it getting warm in there makes me want to wait until the dust settles and things get rebuilt from the ground up. 

Therefore, it is with some level of reluctance that I return to a place where guns are legal, healthcare isn't free, mothers return to work often days or weeks after giving birth because they can't afford to stay at home, and blacks are shot dead in the streets by the people sworn to protect them. The lesson there: the USA is pretty good at defending and protecting the rights and liberties of other people (i.e. the ROK), but not so good about taking care of its own people. Something is fundamentally wrong with the idea of living in a city within missile range of a sworn enemy and never questioning my safety or the freedoms I've given up by not living in my country of origin, but worrying about returning to said country of origin and feeling as though my very existence will constantly be threatened. 

It is, though, with an open mind, a new appreciation for the hard working military members, their spouses, and families, and a new perspective on the world that I head back to the States...for now. 

I bid my beloved Seoul a fond farewell   (Ahn-hee-kay-say-oh!)

  

Seoul Searching

Seoul Brotha #1 just turned three months old, so that means it's just about time for me to go back to work. As I reflect on my maternity leave, I realize that I've probably broken just about every mommy rule in the book. I feel somewhat guilty for some of the faux pas, but mostly like kind of a rebel. I guess I just wouldn't be me if I went completely by the book, so in the interest of maintaining some of myself during this life-changing experience, I'm doing it my way.

Rule #1: Back is best - In my defense, the rule used to be in favor of baby sleeping on his or her tummy so that just in case he or she vomited, they wouldn't aspirate on it. Made sense to our parents, I always did it when I babysat back in the day, and all of us are still alive. This is a great rule unless baby doesn't actually like sleeping on his back, which mine doesn't. I've tried to follow this rule, but honestly I wouldn't be able to write this post right now if I had put the little guy down for a nap on his back; he'd wake up, freak out, and I'd end up holding him to get him to sleep for more than 10-minutes at a time, which of course they tell you not to do.

Rule #2: Don't hold the baby all day - Well duh! at some point you're going to have to pee or hopefully take a shower or something else that requires you to put the baby down. In spite of the fact that I think that he's just the cutest little thing and I love cuddling with him, I can't get a whole lot of anything done if I'm holding him. But, I have to admit that I kinda break this rule. If he's not doing tummy time or playing on his back on his play mat, he's probably in my arms. I've compromised a bit on this and ordered a Boba wrap, so that I at least have my hands free, but again, he can only stand being on his back for so long, tummy time leads to nap time, and he can't sit up on his own yet, so he spends a lot of time being held. Yes, this includes while he's sleeping.

Rule #3: Don't let the baby sleep in your arms - If he gets too fussy, usually because of gas, I pat his back until it passes and he falls asleep. To the creator of this rule and all the science behind crying it out and comforting them and then putting them back down, I have one question...have you ever had a baby? This child can scream (and I've timed him) for a full hour without ceasing! Picking him up to quiet him and then putting him back down just serves to further aggravate him and if I try to put him down after he's fallen asleep, 9 times out of 10 he wakes up again and starts screaming. It's a vicious cycle that's easily avoided by simply finding a safe, comfortable place for us both to fall asleep with him in my arms or on my chest.

Rule #4: No co-sleeping - I understand that there are some very large people out there who have rolled over on their children and suffocated them, or people who can't afford a bed big enough for more than one person, but neither of those things apply to me. Most of the time, he sleeps nearby in a bassinet-like thing (if I can get him to sleep on his back) but other times, in the early morning when I'm about to get up anyway, I pull him into bed with me to catch another hour or so. Honestly, after doing this for a little while, I can't figure out how you could smother your child and not know it, but I guess that's your story and you're sticking to it.

Rule #5: Don't let the baby fall asleep while breastfeeding - Really?!? please tell me how to keep him awake while cuddled up snug and warm against my stomach with a milky boob in his mouth. I certainly don't want to sit there in a cold room with my tit out just to keep him awake. Taking his sock off to keep him cool only makes him mad. Rubbing his cheek to keep him sucking just makes him smile in his sleep, which is cute but not effective, and trying to get him to unlatch has nearly caused the loss of my nipple on more than one occasion. So guess what...we break that rule too.

There are tons of other Do's and Don'ts when it comes to taking care of an infant and I've definitely set aside more time than I ever thought I would reading about what I should or shouldn't be doing. In the end, I think it all comes down to common sense, trial and error. You have to do what's right for you and your baby, listen to the advice you think is good, and ignore anything you think is bad.

My advice: Don't down a bottle of wine, breastfeed, and fall asleep with your baby on his stomach, in your arms, or in your bed and I think he or she should make it to his or her first birthday.

Seoul Brother #1

Hello friends! Let me begin by apologizing for not blogging at all throughout my pregnancy, but I guess this post is better late than never. Overall, those nine months were uneventful. I didn't have the dreaded morning sickness, I traveled to Hong Kong, Japan, and Jeju Island without much incident, and I worked up until the day I went into labor; literally going to the hospital from work when the cramping and bleeding started. Due to a significant interest in some of the more gory details of labor, delivery, and the postpartum experience, I've decided to share some of the things that your mom and most of the pregnancy books don't tell you. As one friend so eloquently put it, it's not all "rainbows and glitter".

Here are a few fun facts and suggestions on how to make things a little more tolerable starting with the last month of pregnancy:

1. Swelling happens: as if being 20-50 pounds over your regular weight isn't bad enough, there's the swelling. Your feet, ankles, hands, and any other body parts that haven't already expanded significantly will probably swell up. Those beautiful wedding bands that you love so much will no longer fit your fat fingers and be thankful for the fact that you can't reach or see your feet because you won't be able to recognize those cute, pedicured piggies anyway.

• Suggestion: In spite of how difficult it is to reach your feet, try your best to wear lace-up shoes even if it means employing the assistance of your significant other or a helpful friend. And, although it goes against logic to drink water especially when your bladder is so compressed by the weight of a fully baked "bun in the oven" that you may be wearing adult diapers just in case there's any leakage, drink as much water as you possibly can. My doctor actually recommended about 120oz a day. Lastly, don't be ashamed to ask for a foot massage once in a while. Unless you've been on bed-rest or sitting at home on your butt not doing anything at all, walking anywhere with all that extra weight on your bones entitles you to some tootsie TLC.    

2. The myth of the broken water: We've all seen movies and TV shows where a woman's water breaks at the most inconvenient and often comedic time possible, but it doesn't always happen that way. In fact, it may never break on its own. I was in labor for well over 10 hours before the doctor finally broke my water to speed things along.

• Suggestion: Don't freak out! You may experience some bleeding -- cleverly called "the bloody show" -- cramping, pooping, puking, and other lovely symptoms well before your water breaks, if it breaks on its own at all. If you're really concerned, or if your water does break, make sure to go to the hospital to get checked, especially if you test positive for Group B Strep. 

3. Privacy Laws?: Your private parts will never feel private again after you've been checked, poked, prodded, and possibly had your membranes stripped. Just when you thought they took all the blood from you that they needed when they tested for STD's, your blood type, and 100 other things that might be lurking in your blood waiting to endanger your unborn child, the nurse will stab you with a giant needle that she swears can't be any smaller, draw your blood, and leave the needle in your arm just in case you need fluids or antibiotics. Not only does it suck, it hinders your movement, and won't get removed until your doctor is sure you're totally fine and ready to be discharged.

• Suggestion: Suck it up! Turn your head when they jab the needle into your arm and get ready for a panel of people looking up and at every orifice you hold sacred at regular intervals until you get your discharge papers. Not only did I pee on a nurse during the whole catheter process, I pooped on the table while pushing out the baby right in front of the nurse, the doctor that I'd just met hours before I delivered, and my horrified husband who was dutifully holding one of my completely numb legs while I was being told to bear down. He saw the poop emerge, my hemorrhoids bulge, and of course my vagina stretch to allow a hairy little head to pop out, followed by the rest of our child's slime covered body.  

4. Give me the drugs!!: I wanted a natural child birth and had even worked out a birth plan that included my wishes to avoid medication unless it was absolutely necessary. Somewhere during the wee hours of the night, after walking the halls of the hospital in more pain than I've ever experienced in my life in a successful attempt to dilate to the point where I could officially be admitted, I verbally declared myself a complete wuss and decided it was time to get an epidural. Thankfully, I was dilated just enough to go straight into the delivery room and wait just a short time for the nurse anesthetist to come in to give me the magic back juice that numbed me from the waist down. I got some pretty good sleep after that in spite of the routine checks from an endless stream of doctors and nurses.

• Suggestion: In case you haven't realized it already, giving birth is unlike anything you've ever experienced.  Therefore, try your best to keep an open mind about things throughout the process. If you walk into this thinking that your ten page, detailed birth plan must be followed to the "T", you will probably be sorely disappointed or flat out enraged. If you need the epidural, get it! You'll have plenty of time after the baby arrives to be in some significant pain. 

5. The Power Play: About 24 hours after my contractions had started, I pushed out a 6lb 11oz baby with a lot of help from the nurse (who had to tell me when the contractions were coming because I could no longer feel them, my legs, or anything else below my waist), my loving and devoted husband (who was by my side or in every place he needed to be with me every step of the way), and the doctor (who did a great job considering it was his first delivery at that hospital, he didn't seem to know where anything was, and we'd just met that day). My labia ripped and was immediately stitched up after the baby was out and before the epidural wore off. And, I held my slimy, screaming, swollen, but beautiful baby boy in my arms as soon as he emerged (basically the only thing that happened per my instructions).

• Suggestion: Cherish those moments with your baby and your partner before the epidural wears off. Those tears of pure joy will quickly change when the numbness turns to a tingle as your legs start to wake up and your who-ha realizes it is completely traumatized by this whole ordeal. Your bladder will also revive and want to empty itself, sending you wobbling to the bathroom like the Little Mermaid getting her land legs, at which point you will wish you still had that catheter in. The sting of the pee hitting your raw lady parts is rather unpleasant, as is the feeling of trying to wipe away that pee and the blood that's been storing itself in your uterus for the last nine months. Oh yeah, it was nice not getting your period all that time, wasn't it? Well, have fun bleeding for the next few weeks to make up for that. My advice: pat, DON'T WIPE! And, if you have a shower head that comes down, rinse gently with warm water as soon as you can. I've heard about rinsing with the squirt bottle offered at some hospitals, but I can't comment on its effectiveness as I couldn't bear to shower at the hospital (only really scary part of my room). 

6. The Aftermath: So after the tinkle from Hell, I waddled back to my bed, disgusted by the fact that I just realized that most of that baby weight was still lingering and I still looked very pregnant but saggier, looked over at my adorable, sleeping baby who woke up and, with a ear piercing shriek, demanded to be fed, then changed, then fed again, then changed again, and so on and so forth on into oblivion. To add insult to injury, I had one nurse tell me my nipples were too flat to breastfeed and I had to ask another (older) nurse to help me, which entailed being milked like a prized dairy cow to get a paltry amount of colostrum to come in, to rub it under the baby's nose, and tempt him into nursing. Yeah that only kind of worked and mostly it just made my nipples really sore (great, more pain!).

• Suggestion: Don't look in a mirror or weigh yourself for a while; there's just no need to put yourself through the disappointment. Bring some of your stylish maternity clothes to wear home from the hospital and just accept the fact that you may be wearing them for a few more weeks. Accept all the help you can get from anyone who offers it, especially the nurses or lactation specialists, and if you really have your heart set on breastfeeding, don't give up until you've truly tried everything (nipple shields, feeding positions, nursing pillows, regular pillows, etc.) Oh, and FYI, baby poop at this point is meconium, which basically looks like tar and is just as difficult to clean off of baby's butt...so have fun with that.  

7. Got Milk?: Some of the best advice I got from a very good friend (you know who you are *wink*wink*) was regarding the recovery process that began when I got home. At this point, I was bleeding, wincing every time I peed, sat, or moved the wrong way, my nipples hurt, and my baby had a screech like an Irish banshee that woke me like clockwork every two hours demanding sustenance...and then it happened. Just as my friend had warned me, my milk (which according to the nurses might not come in for a week or more) suddenly came in and woke me from one of my brief evening naps. You guessed it! More pain!!

• Suggestion: Get up slowly, take a deep breath, then take a warm shower. Massage your hardening breasts as much as you possibly can and then pump or nurse until your boobs feel empty again. You also may as well get used to this feeling because every time your baby is hungry, your boobs will feel like this; and, when you go without nursing or pumping for an extended period of time, your boobs will feel like this; and, if you try to ignore this feeling, your boobs will leak until you feel like you're going to drown in your own breast milk. 

8. Coitus: Here's where my mother, mother-in-law, and other maternal-type relatives should stop reading.  Yes, there is sex after baby, but you're supposed to wait six to eight weeks (*insert teenage giggle here*). Let's just say that after trying and often failing to have sex while pregnant, we didn't really have a reason not to try to have sex afterwards. And, yes, it hurts.

• Suggestion: At the risk of sounding repetitive, suck it up! and wait the six to eight weeks especially if you ripped or were cut and stitched back together. I mean really, haven't you bled enough? Only one person will really get any pleasure out of it and, let's be honest, that person did not actually give birth. Sorry little groundhog! Get back in your hole...you've still got a couple more months of winter. Plus, there's really nothing sexy about dripping breast milk pretty much everywhere.  

Finally, for the rainbows and glitter part: Your partner will forgive you for whatever obscenities you yelled at them while your hormones were raging, they'll ice their hands after feeling your vice-like grip, they'll put Neosporin on the places where your nails dug into their skin. You will thank your partner for all of their love and support, look down at your newborn in the moments when this amazing little creature is sleeping or doing something really cute (like yawning, or staring at you while you're staring at him/her) and, although I wish I could tell you that you'll forget all the pain or trauma that you just endured, you won't; but, you will do so lovingly and without blaming this tiny babe for all the trouble they've just caused you. You will probably laugh, as I often do, at the man-sized belches and sharts that come out of such a small body. And, assuming that you weren't completely traumatized by this, you will think to yourself...maybe I can do this again...one day.

• Final suggestions: Sleep while the baby is sleeping. Accept any and all help that is offered. Enjoy being a new mom!
  

Seoul Music

If there's one thing that is almost always a part of my kitchen, it's music. You can't be the child of a DJ and a music enthusiast without rocking out to tunes more often than not while cooking dinner, entertaining guests, or cleaning things up after a meal. So what would my Seoul Kitchen blog be with some mention of the music of Seoul? Now, actual music is one thing; and music that makes your soul sing is something else. This beautiful Spring season, I would like to share with you some of the songs that my soul has been singing as I walk through the streets of Seoul.

I don't have to walk very far before inspiration strikes. A new coffee shop/art bar that popped up recently is giving the street a little color...literally. The latest addition to the artwork featured in the gallery is actually a painting of Marilyn Monroe on the sidewalk outside. You have to step over her face in order to walk in. It's great!! and it was definitely a delightful surprise that brightens up an otherwise rather drab, albeit lively, side street. One look into Ms. Monroe's seductive eyes and at her inviting smile and I'm already singing, "I wanna be loved by you..."

Right now, cherry blossoms, magnolia trees, and every other kind of fragrant flower imaginable is blooming and saturating the air with the fresh smell of springtime. And to celebrate, Seoul is promoting the annual Cherry Blossom Festival everywhere! I have yet to see a single area of the city that doesn't have at least a couple of blossoms blooming somewhere. These beautiful trees completely line the streets on post and just make you want to skip along humming, "It's a beautiful day in the neighborhood..." all along the path.

Truth be told, I'm not a very big fan of flowers. I've never had a green thumb, I'm not the kind of girl who truly appreciates roses on Valentine's Day, and until recently, I wasn't likely to stop and smell anything that was growing out of dirt or near grass because it just wasn't my thing. But, for some reason, this year is different; living here has obviously brought a little extra estrogen out of me and I'm not afraid to change or ashamed to share with the world that I have a tiny tune playing in my head as I walk along not only stopping to take in a deep whiff of these wonderful weeds but sometimes snapping pictures of them too, just to brighten my day later on.

The music of Seoul is more than just the songs playing on the bus, blasting out of the nightclubs, bars, restaurants, and electronics stores, it is the chirping of twitterpated birds and the hum of every happy person walking by enjoying these lovely Spring days before the oppressive heat of Summer. Sometimes it seems that everyone is singing "Tiptoe Through the Tulips" right along with me and other days I may just be singing "Love is All Around" all by myself. Either way, I'm a happy girl surrounded by these big buildings, beautiful blooms, and the synchronized sounds of my Seoul Music.

Seoul of a Woman

I'm learning more about myself every day and I have to blame that at least in part on living and working in Seoul. For whatever reason, one of which is probably the limited communication I have with others here because of the language barrier, I am much more reflective outside of my native country than in it. I've come to define myself lately as a wife, mother/daughter/friend/sister, and teacher.

Living here has shown me that I'm much more than I thought I was, I can be more than I am, and I have to be more than I ever dreamed I could be for myself as well as others. When I arrived, I thought of myself as the kind of person who could do just about anything, but I didn't necessarily think of that as a positive thing. I considered myself a "jack of all trades and master of none". That opinion has definitely changed. I now believe that I can be and have started to be much more than that now that I've focused my efforts on one career path and have settled down with one person. Because I'm not just my own person anymore and have to think about the child growing inside of me as well as the "man/child" I call my husband -- I say that with the deepest love and adoration of his playful character -- I now know that I have to be more than a Jack and more like a Queen who rules with kindness, fairness, humility and strength over my ever evolving family.

I am a wife who often hears people say that they didn't know my husband was married or they didn't know that I was here in Korea with him. My first inclination is to be upset and wonder if he spends too much time out and about without me. But upon closer examination, the truth is that I'm the one who's usually out somewhere without him. I miss out on things he usually does because I'm at work -- a choice I've made because of my strong need for independence and an individual identity apart from "my husband's wife".

Seoul is one of those cities that really doesn't sleep; therefore, students don't think twice about scheduling English classes until 9pm on a Friday evening because they have plenty of time to go out after class. I don't share their enthusiasm or energy level, especially these days, and can seldom bring myself to venture out into the night to go anywhere but home after a long day; thus, leaving my husband to his own devices, to amuse himself with his friends, colleagues, and of course their wives while I sleep rather soundly at home without giving the situation a second thought.

But I wouldn't trade being a teacher for much of anything, especially not being a housewife. I give kudos to those who do it, but when you love what you do as much as I do, going stir crazy at home after everything is clean, tidy, and in its place is not an option. I am a teacher because I want to be, but moreover, I feel like I have to be. I don't just think that I'm pretty good at it and other things the way that I used to, I think of it as part of my nature; something that was hiding in my soul, waiting for the right time and place to emerge.

I'm proud to classify myself by these new terms and look forward to growing into them over the next year here. Seoul has brought some very special things out of my soul.

Seoul Baby #1

And now for the moment you've all been waiting for: We are pleased to announce that Seoul Baby #1 is scheduled to make his/her international debut in late August. This marks the first time in either of our families that a child has been born this far away from our home state.


Although there has been some discussion as to whether or not mother and baby will make the 15-hour trek back to the U.S. so that baby can be born on American soil, we've decided that Korean soil is just as good -- and has definitely proven itself to be fertile enough for this little family to grow.

Seoul Baby #1 will join a highly diverse pool of "new recruits" arriving this summer at the acclaimed Yongsan Garrison in Seoul, South Korea.

Stay tuned for up to due date information about our little Seoul Man or Seoul Sista.

Live from Seoul it's Saturday Night!

So this post is a little late, but should prove to be a pretty interesting one, if I do say so myself. Last weekend, my adventures in Seoul took me to the ultra-modern Blue Square Theatre to see Mama Mia! for the first time. As a theatre nerd, I am ashamed to say that I've never seen the show before; however, that didn't keep me from jamming along to all the ABBA songs and dancing with the gal-pals during the curtain call.

It was a fantastic show (in English with Korean subtitles) with everything that I've come to expect from living in Seoul. There were bright lights, loud music, flashy costumes, and of course a completely foreign cast (and by foreign I mean British -- I told you this place was totally international), which never seems to matter much here as long as the subtitle screens are working properly. The predominantly Korean audience packed the intimate theatre interior dressed to the 9's in their evening wear and my two companions and I fit right in...you know, except for being American and all.

We laughed, we sang, and after the show we went out into the crisp night air in search of a late dinner. No problem, we thought, in a city that seems to be quite lively after dark. To our dismay, many restaurants close their kitchens around 9:30 pm and only the bars are open after that. I'll begin by saying that explains a lot considering how many extremely drunk people I've seen wandering, staggering, falling, and puking about the streets, and finish by saying THAT'S INSANE!!! While I'm sure that clearing the tables of everything but glasses drives liquor and beer sales, clearly these people need food to soak up the alcohol.

As my tummy grumbled and curfew for the mommies with me grew close, we finally found a cute Spanish tapas restaurant that was still serving food and sat down in a cozy corner of the restaurant. We raved about the show, started to make plans to see another, laughed and talked about life, thoroughly enjoyed our food, then departed.

We had a wonderful Saturday night in Seoul. Maybe next time we'll even bring the hubbies along...maybe.