I read this line recently: “American parents just want their kids to be happy. Chinese parents just want their kids to be successful.” How true is that. Along similar lines, check out this article, I thought that being miserable was just part of being Chinese American. Ah, how central the “eat bitter” concept is in all Chinese storytelling…

Anyway, I was thinking about parenting this week, because well, my parents called me yesterday from Taiwan. I was handling some more real estate transactions for them, and so dad called to thank me. Then, Mom (shall I just start calling her my nemesis already?) got on the phone. She asked, “So, how much longer are you planning to try out this ‘different lifestyle’?” Yeah, as if I were living in a tree or sitting at home all day eating bon bons and watching soap operas. WTF??? To simplify, maybe I should just tell her I’m now a full-time student, because no matter how many times I explain, she just doesn’t. get. it. So annoying. Can the mother-daughter disconnect possibly grow any wider? Ugh. I can’t even believe that I am now nearly 38 years old, and this shit just keeps happening… I know. I need to pipe the hell down. She really does irk me though.

So anyway, I was thinking the other day about the comparison game, and how deeply ingrained that behavior is in my life. Why is it ingrained? Did my parents shove the concept into my being, or is this just how society works? For example, I was walking Marty at the park yesterday, and the leash got under his legs again. He NEVER readjusts to let the leash back out. I know, a minor thing really, but with Remy (and Helix even), she always stopped and lifted her leg to untangle. I started feeling really frustrated with Martin. Like come on, fix the leash!! Sometimes I would just tug on the leash, but he would ignore my signal, and the leash would just dig into his armpits. Other times, I would stop abruptly and again, he would just continue bumbling along. I distinctly remember thinking, goddamnit Martin, why can’t you be like Remy? And so there it is. Favoritism at its worst. I’m comparing him to a fucking dead dog.

The thing is, I think parents always try to be all PC about loving their kids: “No, I love them equally,” they insist. Really? I call bullshit. At least my parents never tried to throw out that malarky. And yet, I felt bad that I was comparing Martin with Remy. I explained my frustration to John, and in Martin’s defense, he said that’s just who Martin is: he’s easy-going, not particular, just happy-go-lucky. Then I felt like a real ass. I mean, I try to appreciate his good-natured, patient temperament, but he’s just so simple!! So yeah, the comparison habit crops up. A lot. Is it a form of grieving? Is it my perfectionism/lack of gratitude/hypercritical obsession rearing its ugly head?

Should I feel guilty for feeling closer to Remy? I don’t know. But the universe is definitely fucking with me: In the last week, I’ve seen three shiba inus in my neighborhood . Never saw any prior to this.

I miss Remy so much. My emotions are under better control these days, but sigh. She really was such a great dog. I have a birthday coming up, and I’d love to have a party with games and karaoke and all the usual festivities, but things feel really different this year. Yet another milestone that Remy never missed before.

I’m noticing differences too with Martin now. He doesn’t seem to hear as well. He’s starting to shuffle a little funny when he gets up or lies down. I really need him to go the distance right now… maybe he will if I’m more supportive and less critical. Fuck, parenting is hard!!!

Incidentally, I was just thinking of all the activities where I compare things: clothing, recipes, shoe sizes, emails, draft posts, photographs, the eye exam, parking spots, dining table locations, driving position on the highway, produce… am I the only one obsessed with this? One option is ALWAYS better than the other, right?? It’s a constant assessment and evaluation. No wonder I’m feeling exhausted!

This morning I woke up vowing to re-energize. For some reason, I’ve been thinking lately of Annette Benning’s character  in that movie American Beauty. She plays a realtor who goes through a dryspell of not selling any houses. One day, she wakes up and is completely determined to make a sale that day. She spends all day scrubbing the property, re-arranging the furniture, getting the place all ready, showing prospects, etc. and then it’s the end of the day and she has no bids/sales. Fatigued and overwhelmed with disappointment, she collapses into a meltdown. The weird thing is, I sometimes derive some strength and resolve thinking about her determination at the beginning of that day… but then, yeah I have to hope for an alternate ending.