How to Impress Your Beloved’s Asian Mom

This is a requested follow-up to my Valentine’s day post.  I had several friends comment on how they have been affected by what I call the Gen0 (immigrant) or Gen1 Chinese-American upbringing of “Study study study, no, no…Yale, Harvard, Princeton” then entering college, followed immediately by, “Where is husband?”.  Several of the more confused of those “affected” individuals are the current boyfriends or suitors of the Chinese-American women.  These individuals seem baffled by the Stockholm-syndrome-like relationships many young, unmarried Chinese-American women have with their seemingly harshly worded, scrutinizing, and all-self-sacrificing mothers.  As promised, here’s my best take on some observations and advice.  For those men trying to put a ring on it but finding the potential future mother-in-law to be unwoo-able, commit this to memory.  There’ll be a quiz later.  And remember, anything below an A- is basically failing.

1. Babies, babies, babies.  There is nothing more that a Chinese-American mom wants for her daughter than babies.  You should express your absolute desire and unconditional support for 1-3 children, especially if your beloved is 28 or older.  (1) will greatly mitigate the need of (2)-(10) on this list and scales according to age and your beloved’s enthusiasm for children: the higher the age, or the lower your partner’s enthusiasm, the more you should weight (1).  
2. Insurance policies: Health insurance, car insurance, home insurance, renter’s insurance, flooding insurance, earthquake insurance, tornado insurance, sandstorm insurance.  Be prepared for a high level of risk aversion from your partner’s mom and address it head-on, “Yes, roof came off during a heavy rain?  We’ve got insurance for that.  Chance of robbery?  We’ve got insurance for that.  In fact, we’ve got insurance on the insurance policies.”
3. Discuss your savings plan for your non-existent children’s college tuition.  Discuss how you’ve done the research on your local town for average SAT scores and entries into the top 10.   Have contingency plans for moving if the schools are not up to par, and buy your home based on the education system.  This conversation is appropriate during any setting, at any time.
4. Unquestioning, completely faithful eating.  Ever done the trust fall?  Be prepared to do so at the dinner table once your beloved’s mother prepares food.  Try everything.  Pick a few that you really enjoy and dig in.  Don’t know what’s in that stir-fry?  Not sure which animal (or animal part you’re eating)?  Push all questioning thoughts out of your mind, pick up your chopsticks, and make sure to compliment the chef.
5. Show a fascination with the Chinese language, but butcher it completely.  There is nothing more adorable than the foreign guy in the room innocently missing the pin yin so that he ends up saying, “Your horse is very beautiful” instead of “Your mother is very beautiful”.
6. If your beloved’s father sits you down at dinner and says, “The man is the head of the body.  He must be in control of his household,” and your beloved’s mother turns to scream with anger, “But the neck controls the head!” change the subject and discuss education systems for your non-existent children.
7. Discuss your willingness and excitement to travel back to the motherland once a year.
8. Research what hot, new item is the Chinese obsession but designed and invented in the U.S. (for the past few years, this means most Apple products).
9. Show your absolutely attentiveness to the health of your beloved’s grandparents.  If her grandparents are living with them, walk them down the stairs.  Pull out their chair for them at the dinner table.  Make hot tea and serve it.  Fuss over their health, and don’t let them drink cold water.
10. Express your indignation and confusion over the big fuss on this article.

In the end, keep in mind that your beloved’s mother is a big part of her life.  The relationship between mother and daughter is a mixture between teacher and student, caretaker and child, disciplinarian and disciplined.  Most importantly of all, Chinese mothers want to know her daughter is being treated with kindness, care, and respect.  If you can properly show that, feel free to toss everything above out.

Okay, got it all?  Have I missed anything?  If so, please respond below in the comments sections!

Valentine’s Day Special: Dating an Engineer & Dating for Ambitious Women

Part 1: Dating an Engineer

Nearly 3 years ago, I moved from London to the world’s tech center for a job and to escape the rain.  Silicon Valley is everything the stereotypes make of it: start-ups originating from someone’s conversation late one night on the couch, horror stories of failed pitches to venture capitalists, and even crazier stories of companies that had made it.  Of course, one of the most notable features of the Valley is the high ratio of Engineer:Non-Engineer.  The place is seething with engineers.  You can’t escape from it.  Even on 4 hour bike rides that carried me to what would seem like the countryside (say, Half-moon Bay or Pescadero), I often heard conversations like this one at the local coffee shop in a town of 3,000 people:

“A ram access takes 60 nanoseconds, and I don’t have that kind of time!”, or

“I have to load up those ring buffers and flush them…”, or

“Kernel networking is no joke.”

Now, as a woman in my late-twenties, I thought I’d move to the Valley for my career.  Having been romantically unsuccessful in previous cities that have been noted for their plethora of young, single adults  (ahem, London, New York City), the last thing I thought I’d find was a relationship in a place that inspired this movie about a guy who falls in love with his computer.  This is why when I found myself - three weeks after having moved to California - on a date with an eccentric, lovable software engineer and his 3 male friends playing Street Fighter II (he had double-booked seeing me with “video arcade day”), I couldn’t help but appreciate the zany irony life decided to throw at me.

Two and a half years later, I will share with you all the following tips from what I’ve learned after dating an engineer:

1. Say exactly what you mean.  Now, I know plenty of male friends who would argue this relates to all men, but I would argue that you need to be especially precise with engineers.  Here’s a joke I often refer to: A wife sends her engineering husband to the store and says, “Get a gallon of milk, and if there are eggs, get six.”  The engineer comes home with 6 gallons of milk to a surprised wife who says, “What have you done?”  He replies, “There were eggs.” 
2. Context switching can be especially challenging in conversations.  I’ve nearly pushed my boyfriend into panic attacks with conversations when I move from the weather to the car to work to my friend Suzie and back to the weather again. 
3. Romantic ideas or events - such as dates - will require some additional guidance and clarity.  In my relationship, I’ve learned it’s not because he doesn’t care.  Most times, it’s because he is caught up trying to sort out all the details, and of course, perfecting them.  In addition, if you’re like me and enjoy surprises, you’ll have to get over the fact that you need to be explicit about it (see Tip 1)
4. Where there's boys’ nights, there will be tech talk.  There’s actually no way to get around this one, so you’re on own here.
5. Consistency is key.  One of my male friends is constantly confused about the “mixed” messages women he dates give to him.  When I asked him to give some examples he said: “Well, one moment she says she wants to spend more time together, and then next moment she says, ‘It seems like you want more time alone, so it’s up to you!’  Well, what does she want?! Yes or no?” To which I replied, “That’s obviously a trap, and the answer is always ‘It depends’."
6. Be careful of what you ask, as the answer might be brutal.  Most engineers I’ve met have to be very precise in their professional lives, and that carries into their personal lives.  Luckily, having been together for a long while now, my boyfriend can usually tell when the question is rhetorical and the expected answer is comfort versus a real opinion.  For example, one of our recent conversations: “Have I been high maintenance lately?” I asked one evening after a particularly stressful day at work.  I looked to him, and I noticed he wouldn’t look me in the eyes.  He deliberated for some seconds.  Then, suddenly, he pushed his face close to mine, squinted one eye and stared me down and replied, “It’s a trap!  It’s a trap!”
7. Behind all the technical discussions, facts, intellectual chat, there’s probably a shy, lovely person who doesn’t quite know how to “shoot the shit”.  Be patient, and you’ll probably be surprised at the fun eccentricities and quirks and, in turn, really learn to love them in your relationship.

Part 2: Dating Experience - from One Ambitious Gal to Another

I grew up in a stereotypical Chinese-American household with a step-cousin and step-sister of similar age to me.  When we were teenagers, none of us were allowed to date because we were expected to focus on our schoolwork and extracurricular activities.  Dating was secondary, and it was also considered a needless distraction from our “priorities”.   We each took our family's advice seriously and put our heads in the sand, worked really hard, and ended up doing fairly well academically.  Then suddenly, when we came back from our respective colleges during a family holiday, we were faced with prying questions of:

"Why no boyfriend?”

“Where is boyfriend?”

“Why you bring female friend home?  Why no boy?  Next year, we want to see boyfriend.”  

Suddenly, after spending 18+ years prioritizing work and education, we were expected to find a boyfriend just like that. To make matters worse, it wasn’t as if the pressures and challenges of remaining a career-driven woman were excused.  So as you can imagine, all three young ladies of the Cheng-Ding household grew up to be fairly independent, highly driven, Type-A ambitious women for whom dating was a slightly nebulous and confusing new territory (and should be saved for later stories).

Since our early twenties, we’ve each learned quite a bit from our romantic adventures, but this leads me to the next set of advice: Dating for Ambitious Women.

1. Finding a partner is not like climbing the career ladder, getting a degree, or completing an Ironman.  It just isn’t.  There’s no linear path, and there’s no real way you can control your surroundings. You don’t get to succeed by working really hard at it.  Sorry to say, but dating is uncontrollable, oftentimes irrational, and definitely not a reflection of your success or worth.
2. Avoid the null set.  I’ve heard friends say the equivalence of the following when describing their ideal partner: “Climbed Mt. Kilimanjaro, traveled the world, really successful in his career, wants children, willing to be a stay-at-home dad, wealthy, kind, and romantic.”  I’m really sorry to say, but you’ve just described the null-set to me.  No one like this exists, and finding someone who doesn’t fit all those builds isn’t “settling”, it’s being realistic.  Pick a few top priorities (a few, not half a dozen) and ignore the rest.  
3. Learn to let go.  This one reminds me a little of (1).  When I was younger, I often achieved things people said were impossible for me by sheer stubbornness.  I applied the same fervor and ambition toward certain relationships that just didn’t work, and one day, I realized that banging my head against a brick wall wasn’t going to move it an inch.  
4. Smart men like smart women.  Period.  Throughout the past 10 years, I’ve heard countless times (and have even been a perpetrator) that men don’t like smart women.  I simply disagree based on fact alone.  I would say most of my male friends here in the Bay Area are insanely proud that their girlfriends are “smart and successful”.  If your relationship falls apart because of your success, don’t put it on yourself and say, “It was because he was intimidated.”  No, it was more likely he is a moron.

5. What relaxes you after a hard day?  Find that in a partner.  Before I had more dating experience, I thought I wanted a partner that could keep pace with me.  But the reality is, I needed someone who admires and enjoys my pace of life but could at the same time support me.  This meant slowing things down.  Keeping things calm.  Weathering the stress and not being worked up with it.

6. Learning to be vulnerable grows relationships.  Vulnerability is hard for everyone.  But, if you’ve gotten to where you are in life from playing the “tough gal” role, being vulnerable can seem like a flaw.  What I’ve learned over time, though, is that you’ve got to ask for help and let other people take care of you.  Otherwise, it’s not a genuine relationship.

7. Stop looking at the next step, and start enjoying your relationship today.  I’ve always had a hard time getting to point B without trying to figure out where point C will be.  Relationships, however, really test this tendency.  In dating, maybe there is the next step; maybe there isn’t, but if you keep thinking of “what next?” you might miss big clues that are right in front of you.  

Now, go out there and enjoy the beautiful day with friends, family, or your loved one.  Happy Valentine’s Day!

Halloween, Huiling and a Freak Snowstorm

While I was at the beach in China, Cheshire Connecticut made it through hurricane Irene with minimal damage this past year.  The State had prepared for the worst of it.  Families like mine had gathered bathtubs full of water, my mother spent a few days baking goods (which included about 50 hua jiuan, approximately 100 bao zi, 3 kg of some kind of salted beef), they bought extra batteries from Costco and boarded up the windows, and I was receiving updates that neared the scale of about twenty international calls from the US per day.

While I was driving down to Connecticut from Potsdam New York (one hour shy of Ottawa), I realized that a freak snow storm had hit the northeast, leaving about 3 million people without power (and the unlucky well-water users like our home without water).  I came home to Connecticut, six hours south of Canada, to about a foot of snow, chaotically fallen trees and telephone lines, and no electricity.  It felt like the dead of winter.  It was barely even November.

* * * * *

Growing up as a first generation Chinese-American child, I inherited a list of memories that signify an immigrant childhood.  I waited for Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny and was usually disappointed in the mornings when my mom presented me an unwrapped gift, usually some kind of winter clothing wear and not the awesome new Barbie doll or hotwheels toy (or whatever other thing was in style during the 90s).   I wore about three layers of long underwear underneath my jeans to school.  Each day, my mom packed me enough food to feed a small family going on vacation, and my hair was always tied up with a ridiculous number of bows and hair ties until I reached the age of six, which was when my mom cut my hair into the infamous bob (with bangs), which I wore until the age of eight.  If you want to see what I looked like, just google “asian kid hair up”, and you’ll probably get a good idea for it. 

Anyway, to leave my digression, we celebrated almost no holidays except for Halloween.  For whatever reason, my mother found Halloween to be some exceptional event, and I would be dressed up in a costume that allowed me to wear about six layers of clothing underneath, since god forbid I would get cold trick-or-treating.  This usually involved a costume that involved some kind of a mask.  “Good!  Even better.  Your face will be covered, and you can stay warm that way,” my mother would say.   [note to reader: a good cultural explanation for this is that even though China has a similar climate to the US, Chinese people are extremely – and I mean extremely – abhorrent to cold weather.  My aunt once called both my uncles to remind them that I was not allowed to drink warm or cold water during my stay in China, for fear that I would get sick.]

My hindsight explanation for my mother’s love of Halloween is the following: given that she was a graduate student living on a stipend, Halloween was the one holiday that meant I could get free stuff (and who cares if candy gives you cavities, excess sugar, too much saturated fat?), and she could watch in happiness over my excitement at organizing my hard-earned candy at the end of the night (back in my AAAAAA days, I used to organize them by brand, type, size, and preference.  I have, since then, made leaps and bounds to rid myself of some of this admittingly obsessive compulsive behavior.  It’s taken a lot of hard work, but I’ve made progress.  I am now only a type AA personality.).  As for my mom, well she is probably an economist’s perfect example of the assumption that more is always better, and I think part of her felt happy to know that I was celebrating something that other kids did in a culture so different than the one we left. 

So we’d leave the house when it was just barely dark, or when it was socially acceptable to begin trick-or-treating, and I always went alone.  My mother, being who she is, always had a strategy and route planned: we would pick the densest homes, and she’d make sure I took the shortest routes: hypotenuses across lawns, cutting and zig-zagging through streets depending on the frequencies of the houses.  She would have me persistently ring door-bells of unlit homes just in case, and if a home ever left a big bowl of candy out that said, “Help yourself”, I’d always take one and turn to my mom who would say, “Well, you may as well just grab a few more.”

Genealogically speaking, I believe hording does run in the family.  My grandfather used to have a tendency to hide photography and dentistry equipment that he’d buy or pick up from places, and I was always given the task of cleaning out his room to make sure he didn’t stash too much useless stuff under the bed and in the closets.  I attest that my mother’s Halloween frenzy was a direct trait that carried down from his line. 

“One more street,” she’d say.  This meant that after the usual three hours of trick-or-treating, I was exhausted and probably begging for her to let me stop.

“But I have school tomorrow,” I’d plead back to her. 

“I think they still have their lights on.  One more.” And we’d drive up to another street corner, and I’d lug my bag of candy with me and ring the door bell, always slightly embarrassed that it was about 10:00pm, and I was still out.  And then afterward, I would beg her to go home, and she’d persuade me to go down to another street until one by one, the little lights from the homes disappeared into the dark of night.

* * * * *

I think I stopped trick-or-treating by the age of twelve or so, and during high school, spent my evenings handing out candy and probably doing my homework and being angsty or moody.  In college, I did what the rest of my peers did at Yale, which meant running and thrashing from dorm to dorm in what we would call, “liquor treating”, and we’d always end up at the yearly Orchestra concert in Woolsey hall in a drunken stupor of sorts.  I’m not sure I’m too proud of those Halloween years, although I am proud to say that I’ve never dressed up in a fantastically “slut-tastic” outfit (read: the one time in the year when it’s OK and preferred to be a minimalist in clothing).  One year, I remember being an alcoholic drink (rum and coke?) and another year one of the Seven Deadly Sins by dressing up as gluttony in an inflatable sumo-outfit (read: male magnet.  Ladies, you really got it all wrong.  The way to go is to inflate yourself to the size of a small vehicle and run around down the busy streets of New Haven, knocking into people.  You will be sure to be noticed.).  After college Halloween night, we’d all get up early in the morning and frantically do our reading or problem sets to off-set the hang-over guilt.  I remember locking myself up in one of the weenie bins of CCL with a bottle of orange juice (sorry Yale library) and a few sleeves of crackers.

* * * * *

As I was home for this year’s Halloween, I watched my little sister with some nostalgia and some nervousness over the memory of how serious we all took Halloween during my youth.  This year, however, was marked by about two feet of snow and no power in the town of Cheshire.  When you’re from a town like Cheshire, it’s possible for all the worried little parents to gather together and discourage a dark Halloween for the sake of the children.  It is then possible to set a unified time for a “post-poned” Halloween (two weeks later), that all the neighborhoods would agree upon. 

Now, given the storm, we had lost power and water in our home, which made daily life a living nightmare.  So, luckily, my stepdad took Sophia and me to his work place (thank you B--- pharmaceutical company!), where we hid in a corner in a cafeteria, trying not to be noticed by normal people who were working, and in the after-hours, we’d sneak into the gym and shower like fugitives.  On Halloween night, I got a call from my mother as she was driving home to check on the power situation, “Pan, I think Halloween is postponed in Cheshire.  If that’s true, I will bring Sophia’s costume to Wallingford, and we’ll go there.  If it’s in Cheshire, I’ll pick you two up and you can both go.”

“Mom, I’m too old to go trick-or-treating.”

“Ok, then take Sophia.”

“Mom, there’s two feet of snow and it’s about two below zero.”

“Her costume is big.  I made her into a banana this year.  She has a lot of clothes underneath.  Just wear gloves.  Do you want me to bring you another pair of pants to wear under yours now?”  I knew arguing with her on this was futile.  So we set off in Wallingford that night, my mother driving the minivan, and me walking with Sophia down the dark streets covered with snow. 

There were a few who braved Halloween 2011 through the cold and the wet.  My sister probably got overheated given the number of layers my mom made her wear, and as Sophia chugged along on the sidewalk in her banana costume, I surprised myself by shouting, “Sophia!  Hurry up, you can finish this street in about ten minutes, and that means we can move onto the next one and get more houses before we have to go to dinner!”