Joestie comes to China

I'm not very responsible or artistic with a camera, so I delegate photography tasks to anyone else who is with me witnessing anything worth remembering. Such were the funny, frustrating, and fantastic experiences we shared with Joestie, my sister Christie and her husband Joe, when they visited us last month. We were so thrilled to have them come, especially since Christie has already been to this part of China and Joe is a polite, tidy, non-chaotic sort of person (the antithesis of China living)-- we knew they were actually wanting to see US! Actually it was probably the kids, but we were pleased anyhow and had a great time showing them around Tianjin and Beijing. Their six-day visit flew by, as we'd anticipated it would. Here's a sampling of our activities:

Christie is a licensed massage therapist, so was eager for the opportunity to be in the receiving end of one, at least until the foot reflexology came out and the masseuse had her squirming and giggling (a Goodwin trademark) in pain all over the bed. Alas, the masseuses (husband and wife team worked on Joe and Christie together) insisted the suffering would benefit all sorts of Christie's organs, as would forsaking cold water and ice cream, but somehow I think such would be even less bearable than the foot massage...

All of Wednesday was consumed by preparation and execution of Didi's birthday party. I waited so we could throw it while Joestie was here, and I was grateful to have their help indeed. Under normal mental-health conditions, there are few things I love more than throwing a good party. However, the past year there have been few things more stressful and strenuous on my nerves and emotions than hosting a social event. When I've attempted it, I've suffered from anxiety-induced insomnia for days before the event and sometimes even inexplicably burst into tears after the party because of how awful I perceive it went. Anyway, thanks to Joestie's help with this one (beach themed, in their honor!), no such tears were shed. The weather wasn't quite cooperative (it was ultra windy and with Tianjin's air quality, wind is somewhat less than refreshing), so I didn't attempt any of the games I'd been exceedingly stressed over, but the food was good and I was very happy that our friends took the time and trouble to come and celebrate Didi's first year of life. Now if only we had that birthday video montage... (are you all still hounding Kyle for that with me? I can't be the only one who is interested in the finished product.)


Didi was in lovely spirits for most of the evening, right until the point where we put the cake in front of him and prepared to sing the song. Then he grabbed a handful of the frosting, which is what babies do, but several of us made some sort of concerned or surprised exclamation that wasn't intended to be scolding, but the sensitive little kid just howled...

...and honestly wouldn't stop crying until long after the cake was devoured and the photo opps expired. This is why we call Didi bi-polar. When he's happy, he could charm the marshmallows out of any leprechaun, but if you do anything at all to upset him (usually something as subtle as removing a dangerous object from his hand or giving a bite of food to someone else first), he's truly inconsolable for a little while. I don't mind him being an emotional, sensitive little guy in general (if he turns out to be the thoughtful, compassionate kind), but it will be nice when he learns to channel his emotions into expressions a little less disruptive.

Here's the fan club as we know it. Our mix of American, Korean, Indonesian, and Chinese friends in Tianjin.


The next day we headed up to Beijing for some obligatory sight-seeing, which doesn't mean it's not enjoyable, but you just can't really come to this part of China and miss seeing the Great Wall or Tiananmen Square. We were lucky (or not lucky, depending on who you ask, when it comes to hygiene standards and odors) to secure a hotel almost overlapping with Tiananmen Square. Here's a night view of the famous Mao portrait and gate that leads to the Forbidden City.


This is how many more seconds remain until the Olympic opening ceremony (as of May 30, 9:20pm), in case you were wondering. Do you think they're excited? Actually, I think it's great. I'm happy for the Chinese to get this opportunity and I wish the international community was a little more respectful and considerate about China's progress, efforts, and what hosting this enormous event successfully means to them. But that's a discussion for another post.

The Forbidden City, open to the masses.

We met up with members of our church group for lunch and a show. Ellie is shown here possessively protecting her new bff, as Christie dubbed it, aka PJ aka Peach Juice. At first I think she just liked it because it's pink (I'm starting to think that some irrepressible affinity for pink resides in little girls' genes, because I've sure promoted other colors, but to no avail), but after one sip she was quite committed to PJ and spent the rest of the trip cuddling and clinging to it with great affection and loyalty.

The Kung Fu show was vibrant and impressive and a little scary at times; good entertainment, though a sad story. We've always liked the idea of putting our kids into martial arts, for the athleticism and discipline it teaches, and most importantly, so they can kick the rears of any kids who persecute their nerdiness (and with us as parents, that's inevitable).

Our hotel was also a hop and skip away from Beijing's Planning museum, which was amazingly uncrowded and sterile, and even displayed some interesting aspects of the city environment. This huge screen (consuming half of a museum floor) flashes psychedelic images completely unrelated to the city or its plans, but it makes a cute picture of Ellie and her Auntie C.

One floor displayed a model of the important parts of the city, so of course Joe the architect, Tiff the geographer, Christie the historian, and Kyle the map-head enjoyed gawking at it.

Here's a classic Goodwin scenario. I insisted that Kyle try to capture the essence of our hotel experience with this attempted reenactment of our sleepovers. The beds were so slim that we pushed all three together and slept facing a variety of directions (particularly Didi, who was kicking a new person's face every few hours) on the remarkably stiff mattresses. Our accommodation left a bit to be desired, especially for Joestie, who remember how nice American living is, particularly the part where the walls reeked of fresh paint and the only ventilation was a crayon box-sized window. Yes, we are cheap, but Joestie also claimed they didn't mind having an adventure, so I booked the cheapest hotel available and figured we'd make some memories (and with sleepovers, we always do), and we rested assured that with the Goodwin's history of motels, we know we've endured much worse.

I think because of wacky sleep schedule, Ellie was throwing a disproportionate amount of tantrums during Joestie's visit, and yet they say their willingness to have children is unaffected. Here's Ellie in the aftermath of one, in which she insisted on stripping off the top half of her dress because a white ice cream bar dripped a few drops on it. How is it possible that I'm raising a neat-freak?

After we sent Joestie off to the airport on a shuttle bus, we headed back to Tianjin via train, but were only able to secure standing tickets. I was sure someone would offer us seats somewhere, as they almost always do for people with kids on public buses. No such luck. We were filthy already, though, so weren't so opposed to chilling on the ground for the ride.


I wish I'd taken some pictures of Joestie and all of us together, or some more representative of the goodness of our time together (like custard pies and roadside ice cream stands), but this is all I've got. Nevertheless, we really did love having them here and appreciate their tolerance of China's lack of charms (I didn't even get into our customer service nightmares at the antique market, train station, and Great Wall, all magnified by language barrier) and the kids' bouts of screaming and whining. Navigating China (especially during the weekdays when Kyle was at work) without speaking Chinese is no cup of green tea, but Joe and Christie are easygoing, gracious, and a lot of fun, and that made it all worthwhile. Kyle and I decided that we need to be next-door neighbors with them for life. They are just too cool, funny, and lovable to live far from.

Congratulation to Me, the almost-native

Yes, I will toot my horn on this one, partially because nobody else (who speaks English) was there to witness my spectacular achievement and boast on my behalf. I had to do it without waiting or thinking, otherwise I would have recognized I was setting myself up for failure and frustration, and thus never would have accomplished such a feat.


Few environments are scarier to me than Chinese hospitals, and I maneuvered through one and the whole slew of associated processes last Friday SANS translator. Be impressed. Be very impressed. If you're not, you may need to revisit our post on hospital experiences in January to glean the severity of my task, but even then it can truly only be captured by experience, so you'll just have to take my word for it.

What looked like mosquito bites on Didi's back and hands multiplied over a period of a few days, and by Friday morning they were covering his hands and feet and (gasp!) even a few near his mouth, causing me to momentarily fear the worst (aka Foot/mouth/hand disease which have had some deadly outbreaks among kids in China recently). Also, I've allowed myself to get about eight months behind on Didi's immunizations because obviously I try to avoid Chinese hospitals, and words like diptheria and hepatitis somehow haven't worked their way into my humble vocabulary yet. I had it on my "to-do" list weekly for several months, but previous troubles at the imm. office contributed to my deep desire to procrastinate. So, my ayi (household helper) was convinced that Didi had contracted one of those diseases that he should have been vaccinated for already if I hadn't been such a slacker mom. Without having access to my nurse consultant friend in Tianjin anymore, nor her husband who served as my trusty translator (miss you, Em and Chris!), I was forced to tackle the hospital alone. My ayi thankfully consented to watching Ellie at home. That was our first step toward success.

The second was arranging for a friends' driver to escort me to the hospital. As you may conjecture, Tianjin public transportation leaves much to be desired as far as efficiency and cleanliness are concerned. Under normal circumstances, I cease to be fazed, but when I fear my child has contracted a terminal illness, I am a bit too panicked to deal with long waits and bumpy rides. Besides, I didn't know a bus route to the hospital where Didi gets immunized.

My only bilingual friend who doesn't work during days was helping another friend at a different hospital that day, so I was on my own. Oh, the other reason I loved taking the driver was that I got to say his name/title a lot, which is Lee Shir Foo, meaning "Master Lee." I feel like I should be bowing or at least round-kicking every time I address him, but no. He is a master of the Tianjin roads, which is probably at least as challenging and far more life-threatening than martial arts, if you ask me or a stray dog.

Anyway, the immunization office was inexplicably closed (but the nurse behind the desk was bandaged and hooked up to an iv, so maybe needed a day off???), so we went to the Children's Hospital. Thankfully, I remembered which of the countless counters was for checking-in. I used some sign language to explain our problem and was given a ticket with which I walked around aimlessly for a while until I was directed toward a register counter. It's not that hospital employees are unkind, but truly they're not helpful unless you explicitly ask for direction. They just see too many people all day long to take a vested interest in any one of them, and this includes the doctors. Fortunately, I'm not afraid of talking to strangers, even in my broken second-language, so I minimized wandering time by frequently asking employees and bystanders "wo choo nar?" meaning "Where am I going?" Of course I wanted to ask, "Where should I be going?," but they got the point, and usually pointed me in the right direction.

So, up and down corridors and escalators I went, and seven mandatory locations later, I'd registered, paid for the doctor visit (about 60 cents), seen the doctor, paid for medicine, verified my purchase with the doctor, and finally retrieved the medicine. It was a Christmas miracle, six months early. And not only did Didi NOT have foot/hand/mouth disease (but rather, an allergy to grass that is seasonal and hopefully will not persist throughout his life), but he also cooperated with me by not insisting on walking on the filthy floors and decided to be particularly charming and flirtatious with the nurses.



So, that's my latest and greatest accomplishment. You may be thinking, "You've lived there almost a year so your Chinese must be sufficient, especially if you were able to successfully navigate the hospital alone." You may think that, but you'd be wrong. Oh yeah, I did utilize cell phone technology with that bilingual friend to understand the doctor's diagnosis, since I basically understood about 0% of what she was talking about. So yes, basically I understand hardly any Chinese, but I can still express myself in very layman's terms almost all of the time, when we're referring to necessary conversations, nothing deep or philosophical, of course. This is another way in which Kyle and I complement each other, because he understands 50-90% of the Chinese he hears, but struggles to construct sentences verbally.

How my beginner-level verbal Chinese suffices, and indeed in many cases I end up being the translator of choice among foreign friends, is truly a wonder. Perhaps my Chinese ancestors are involved? I haven't learned as much Chinese here as I originally hoped to, but as one who spends most days indoors with little kids or outdoors with English-speakers, I shouldn't be expecting too much. I have, however, developed the communication skill that served me so well on this hospital trip. I will call it the "clever manipulation of 12-word vocabulary plus Olympic-worthy charades" fluency factor. And no, I am no less verbose in Chinese than in English.

Happy Father's Day

It is already Father’s Day in my hemisphere, so I’d like to pay a small pictorial tribute, interspersed with reflections on fatherhood, honoring the fathers and fathers-to-be that we are fortunate to have among our family and friends. We are remarkably blessed to be connected with so many admirable, selfless, talented, and loving men.

"One father is more than a hundred schoolmasters." --English proverb

"Blessed indeed is the man who hears many gentle voices call him father!" -- Lydia M. Child

"He didn't tell me how to live; he lived, and let me watch him do it." --Clarence Budington Kelland

"The longer we live the more we think and the higher the value we put on friendship and tenderness toward parents and friends." --Samuel Johnson

"It is a wise father who knows his own child." -- William Shakespeare

"My father used to play with my brother and me in the yard. Mother would come out and say, "You're tearing up the grass." "We're not raising grass," Dad would reply. "We're raising boys."" --Harmon Killebrew

"Better to be driven out from among men than to be disliked of children." --Richard Henry Dana

"If the new American father feels bewildered and even defeated, let him take comfort from the fact that whatever he does in any fathering situation has a fifty percent chance of being right." -- Bill Cosby

"All the feeling which my father could not put into words was in his hand--any dog, child or horse would recognize the kindness of it." -- Freya Stark


"One night a father overheard his son pray: Dear God, Make me the kind of man my Daddy is. Later that night, the Father prayed, Dear God, Make me the kind of man my son wants me to be." --Unknown

"The family--that dear octopus from whose tentacles we never quite escape nor, in our inmost hearts, ever quite wish to." -- Dodie Smith

"Fatherhood is pretending the present you love most is soap-on-a-rope." --Bill Cosby

"A father carries pictures where his money used to be." --Unknown

"When a father gives to his son, both laugh; when a son gives to his father, both cry. " -- Jewish proverb
"It is admirable for a man to take his son fishing, but there is a special place in heaven for the father who takes his daughter shopping." -- John Sinor

"When I was a boy of fourteen, my father was so ignorant I could hardly stand to have the old man around. But when I got to be twenty-one, I was astonished at how much he had learned in seven years." --Mark Twain

"A truly rich man is one whose children run into his arms when his hands are empty." --Unknown

"There are three stages of a man's life: He believes in Santa Claus, he doesn't believe in Santa Claus, he is Santa Claus." --Unknown

"You know, fathers just have a way of putting everything together. " -- Erika Cosby

"Father! - to God himself we cannot give a holier name." --William Wordsworth

Of course I want to pay special tribute to my husband for being such a kind and devoted husband and father. He is truly more patient than I can ever dream of being. He is considerate, humble, generous, loyal, disciplined, sensitive, and loves me and the kids the way every wife and children dream of. I love you, Kyle.

And to my own father, who belongs to the highest class of men on the earth. I think one of the best essays I’ve ever written was in the fifth grade for state testing—a creative essay on a topic of our choice. I wrote of everything I loved about my dad, and I received the highest scores of anyone in my school. Somehow I don’t think I can take the credit, though— it wasn’t difficult to rave over you, Dad, and it wasn’t hard to persuade the test graders that you were worth A+s all across the board; I wrote from the heart, and my love and admiration has only increased with time. If only all men could be like you, the world would be very near perfection. It has been through your example that I have learned what true manhood is, including how a husband and father should treat his wife and children. Those are lessons that, I believe, can only be learned through example, and are among the most significant of my life. Thank you for all you are to Mom, me, and the rest of us. I love you, Fa.

Happy Father’s Day to all.

Isn't "leisure reading" an oxymoron?

There are lots of things I feel guilty about: eating the whole batch of cookies (especially if they're gone before Kyle even comes home from work), letting Ellie "babysit" herself and her brother every morning so I can sleep in a little longer, occasionally staying up late scribbling down do-it-yourself home decor ideas from HGTV.com, etc. This entry isn't a confessional, though. It's a plea for help. See, I also really feel guilty about never making time to read. I like to use the alibi that ever since I've been old enough to have good taste in literature, I've made myself too busy to pursue it. This, unfortunately, must be untrue, because in reality I'm no busier than your average adult who still makes time to read for leisure. I was perusing a friend's blog the other day and he wrote a lengthy post about how much more attractive his wife is, how intelligent and informed and conscientious and confident-- yadda yadda you get the point-- she is because she reads. I'm thinking, "but I read... my emails... and other people's blog posts... and Green Eggs & Ham..." No no, this girl doesn't read-- she just inhales mass amounts of written work. She's read over 70 books this year already. How that's possible except through osmosis, I'm not sure. Then again, she's doing her masters degree in library science, so it may not all be elective reading.

In any case, I know many within the audience of this blog find the time to snuggle up with a paperback on a regular basis. How do you manage to do this without ignoring your familial (and other) responsibilities? During the few periods in which I've picked up a novel the past year, I was basically non-functional outside of the realm of that book. Until I'd reached the last page, my husband and kids didn't get any meals or attention, messes didn't get cleaned, I doubt I showered, I definitely didn't sleep much, didn't answer the phone, yeah. So... I have this great desire to read real, good stuff, and not just out of guilt! I really, sincerely do enjoy it, and recognize the value for myself and anyone else within my social sphere. So here comes my inaugural blog post survey:




Note: I don't think you should vote for that last one, though. Every mother knows that once the kids suspect something is more interesting to you at that moment than they are, the previously appealing distraction becomes sharply disinteresting.

Okay, while we're all in cyber audience participation-mode, let me also request recommendations for children's books and authors. I've grown quite weary of kids' Chinglish literature and the few books we brought from home, and the others I borrowed from an art teacher, so they're all Caldecott winners but the writing surprisingly lacks substance and creativity. Since I'm coerced into reading the same book of Ellie's choice several times daily for a stretch of days, I'd just appreciate being able to somewhat enjoy the material myself. Dr. Seuss is wonderful, but if all you read was Dr. Seuss three times a day, you'd be seeking some variety, too.

While you're at it, feel free to throw in a couple recommendations for my brand new "up next on the shelf" book list. I've been away from the library for so long that I've never heard of any of the books you all are reading, so please enlighten me, but only if you responded affirmatively to the first survey question. Otherwise you're just taunting me and perpetuating my poor mind's cycle of guilt and ignorance.

Coming soon...

...A complete post enumerating the adventures of we four plus my sister Christie and her husband Joe during their visit with us last week. Good times were had. Greasy food was had. But surprisingly few pictures were had. I'll favor you with a couple from Didi's birthday party, though. Speaking of which, Kyle still has Didi's first-year-of-life video montage in the works. Feel free to join me in nagging him daily to complete and post that project.


Before the compliments start pouring it, let it be known that Joe was the one to craft this beautiful cake, perfectly beach themed, and sans the Wilton tools I always require. So please direct compliments to Joe.

Ready or not...

... here comes the next wave of baby modeling shots. Oh, there's one of me and Kyle thrown in there, too, for contrast. =)

These are in reverse order. This was Ellie at the very end of the day. You can surely imagine the accompanying dialogue.


This one was taken while I was helping Ellie at the squatter. How they managed to successfully evoke an inebriated expression out of a baby holding a beer bottle, I don't know. That's what makes them trained professionals.


I'd like to Photoshop my arm out of this one so Ellie looks all independent and koala-like.


Yes, your observation is correct: Didi is wearing Ellie's shoe. Chastisement from the general public (the Chinese fliiiip out about babies and their cold feet, and cold heads, and don't get me started on cold bellies...) about my child's poor, cold feet finally made me cave. For heaven's sake, we were INDOORS!


I find kids (and of course beagles, Christie) wearing glasses one of life's more amusing spectacles. Good thing, too, because with our set of genes, our kids will be sporting prescription lens' in the very near coming years.

I'd be nervous with Didi behind the wheel, too, Elle, especially if he takes after his maxophobic Mom.
The kids will never be this refreshing combo of ages in China again, so was it too much to ask for a single photo of them smiling together, adorned in Chinese faux-silk, perfectly content and frame-able? Yes, it was. This was the best of the lot.


This is why I love candids so much. You can't command a toddler to inhale the deep aroma of plastic roses with this degree of determination.

Forget Origins and Oil of Olay-- the best remedy for complexions is black & white photography! I mean, is there a way to carry around a color-muting screen over my face all day? Too bad in Chinese culture black and white photos are strongly associated with funerals. Boy, will I look good in my obituary!

Props to Kyle's sister Tana for the homemade panda hat that has gone over exceptionally well in this country. I hear rumor of a new Kung Fu panda show soon-to-be gracing American screens... perhaps this will boost your headgear revenues, Tana???


I don't mind the pink backdrop-- this one's actually my fave. It reminds me of my baby sis Mish (sorry, even though you're an adult now, you know well that you will ALWAYS be my baaaby sister, at least as long as you're so snuggly and stinkin' adorable) making her newborn debut from the hospital in a Christmas stocking.


I love this shirt you sent, Grandma L, even though in Tianjin it never stays white more than five minutes. So here I must also give a shout out to Mish (haha, that pun was purely accidental) for sending that superbly useful Shout detergent pen.

Do you ever wonder what they're thinking about and who they're gazing at over your shoulder? I believe babies know a lot more than they are able to disclose.


Again, my vain ambitions... this is the closest we could get to "playful, natural sibling love." At least one of them is crying in all the other twosome shots.


This concept would have been captured better in the nude, but still there's such an endearing vulnerability to a baby donning angel wings and smiling through his tears. I'm still working on growing mine, Dad. =)


The photographer made a cute little storybook from the photoshoot, starring Princess Ellie as Sleeping Beauty, of course (unfortunately, this creation was not included in our free package, though we're still attempting to secure it in digital form). It was all nonsensical, misspelled English, of course, but that added to its charm. Despite our attempts to stifle her "I'm a princess who's obsessed with pink and poofy dresses so I can have whatever I want and there's nothing you can do about it" attitude, the girl remains quite convinced of her royal status and claims affinity for all things pink and poofy. ("But Ellie," I encourage her, "Blue is a great color, too! Did you know green is MY favorite color? I think I'm going to wear pants today-- would you like to wear pants, too? They're just as pretty as poofy dresses!")

Just like her mama... coupons are surely worth rejoicing over.


Okay, you'll love this: while browsing the proofs, I immediately recognized that something is abnormal with Ellie's face in this and several other outdoor shots. I'm going to let you all guess, though, and disclose the secret at the end of the post...


"More french fries, please!"


No words escape Ellie's mouth more frequently than the fiercely independent assertion, "No, I'LL help YOU!" And actually, her helping herself does free up a small portion of my responsibilities, so I can't very well complain. Unless we're late and she still won't let me help her dress or eat.

Well, did you guess it?

Does Ellie look suprisingly well-rested and China doll-esque to any of you? They completely Photoshopped out (haha, that is an official verb by now, right?) her undereye circles. I always thought it a shame that Ellie should inherit all of Kyle's good features and yet be burdened with my nose and undereye baggage, particularly with such a fair complexion. Still, though this face could grace Parenting magazine covers, I remain partial to my shadier-eyed girl.

It's not that I'm offended that they would presume to alter the complexion of my two-year-old, but well, I guess I don't exactly know why I dislike her shadow-less eyes. Because the other her is the real one? Because she's too young to be addicted to concealer like her mom? Because every mother believes her children to be perfectly good-looking? Don't know, don't care. I'm happy the pictures are cute, and happier that the models are mine for keeps.