Ethan (47 months) / Maya (23 months)

Dear Ethan and Maya,

You both have had your regular check-up this month. In fact this was totally unnecessary because you both seems perfectly fine. I am not a parent who will go psycho about the mosquito bite on your face. Sometimes I even question the importance of getting your shots separately. Wouldn’t it make more sense that you wait at least an hour in the clinic for all the 700 shots that you need when you are young, instead of only one? 700 shots. 700 hours. Another 700 hours off from my already shortened life.

However, I understand what comes along as a parent. And I willingly accepted it. So a week before your appointment, I proactively came up with a list of questions which I hoped the doctor will find me answers. And the one that I concern the most is your screaming problem. Why you can’t communicate like a normal human being but SCREAM? And it doesn’t only happen when you are upset, you both love to scream for fun. WHY? WHAT THE HELL IS IT SO FUN ABOUT?

Sadly, the doctor confirmed that you both are the models of perfect health, a diagnosis I found utterly tragic as that means you are just two irritable little turds who were born to ruin their parents’ lives. There is no medication for irritability, it lasts LIFETIME…LIFETIME…LIFETIME…an echoing amount of lifetime misery for a mother of two screaming persons who refuse to stop screaming. And I am sure no one will understand a word of the eulogy that you give at my funeral because it will just be one long string of SCREAMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMS.

Another frustrating fact of your growth is your massive height. We knew that genetically our children would not be short because your father and I are tall. The pants that we buy for you are always longer than average. However, when the doctor tried to make sense of what she had seen and asked me if I was sure you were only 23 months, Maya, because you are taller than all 23-month-old girls statistically, I was about to cry worrying about all the money that we have to spend for your wardrobe.


Maya, I think it’s about time that we address the issue of your hair. When your brother was six months old, we decided to shave his head because his hair was too greasy. And your grandma think that’s why his hair is growing heavier and thicker now. All along she’s been complaining why we didn’t shave your head, and she will keep on asking us to do that even when you are 20. In fact your hair looks fine. I like it light and soft. Your father once tried to put your hair into a ponytail like I always do. And he’s never asked to do that again since then because he realized that sometimes styling your hair is like trying to wrap a rubber band around a wad of jello. It just falls out everywhere a few seconds after I comb it into place. Maybe your grandma is right.  We should’ve shaved your head when you were still too young to protest about what kind of hair styling you want. Every morning after you are changed, you automatically demand to have that bowl of colorful hair bands to pick the color. Then you will pass it over to me assuming that I already know if you want a ponytail, pigtail or braid. And if I get it wrong, which happens all the time, your head will start growing teeth and fingernails along with the unyielding hair to pierce through my hands disapproving what I do to your hair. Beast becomes beauty once your styling is fixed, and you will be all content and cheerful, so pageant ready to win yourself Miss Congeniality.


Ethan, we have recently rearranged our home office to allocate an entertainment or get-away-from-nap area for you, hoping that you could draw or color or just do something ON YOUR OWN without ruining my only quiet hour for the whole day. In fact, since you figured out that nap is totally stupid and decided to completely cut it off, my life was…..Oh wait! I think I lost it. I am living in your life now. My last bathroom break was when you and your sister were watching TV, and I sneaked out to take it. Yes, SNEAK! Like it’s some kind of criminal act. I ran in the bathroom and shut the door as quickly as I could. Before I even sat down on the toilet you started knocking.

“HEY”, you yelled.

I didn’t reply, and you tried to turn the doorknob and realized I’d locked it.

“HEY, why you lock the door?” you asked.

“Because I want to pee pee ALONE!” Honestly, I was a little shaky.

“I don’t close the door when I pee pee.”

“Cause I have to come in to make sure you don’t pee pee everywhere. Now go away.”

“Alright!” You seemed contented. Except you warned me, “Mommy, if you pee pee everywhere, remember to wipe it, OKAY?.”

Eventually I had no problem urinating while you were trying to kick in the door, however I had to wipe the toilet after because of the laugh that I had a hard time to stop. Damn it!

The other day you came in the office preparing to write your alphabet book. I was going to leave you alone, except you got frustrated about the fact that not all the alphabets were traceable, and you had to write them without the trace lines.

“Ethan, why don’t you sit close to mommy, so I can work and help you with the writing at the same time?” I offered.

Completely approved the idea, you acclaimed, “This is a nice way to do it!”

And that’s one of the fun parts about letting you “working” with us – you look like you’ve become one of our co-workers who will rattle off some gossip or random sentence. Once it was “I don’t like eggplant” while you were coloring an eggplant in black. I didn’t know how to respond to this sudden declaration, so I just nodded really hard to assure you that I got your point, like, yeah, go to hell eggplant.


Your father and I have had our birthdays this month, and we are in San Diego, CA for a few days getaway. This is not our first time leaving you. And what’s the big deal of not seeing you for a couple days considering I will be seeing you everyday for at least another 10 years.  I thought I wouldn’t miss you.

The other day we came home after dropping you off at your grandparents and aunt’s houses. It’s past your bedtime, normally the most peaceful time of the day. That night it became too quiet cause I knew you were not sleeping in your rooms. Too quiet that I’ve started to miss your noise. And I feel thankful.


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