We celebrated our daughter's 21st birthday -- that's 21 days -- with several breastfeedings, intermittent sleep and a short trip outside. Joanna seemed to enjoy all of the festivities, especially the breastfeedings. But I'll say this about my daughter: She's very social. When we put her down to sleep in her crib and we leave the room, she'll start crying almost immediately. I'll return, pick her up, and put her down on the couch with mom and dad, and she'll go to sleep right away while Phuong and I watch CNN. It seems she wants to know people are nearby so she can relax and sleep. Maybe she'll be a people person. I'm the opposite. I scream when people are nearby. For the most part, I like being alone (except when I can be with Phuong and Joanna).
I may be less social than everyone else, but I've got lots of new friends in Bien Hoa these days, thanks to my daily walks through the city. All of the coffee shop waitresses, scrap collectors, lottery ticket sellers, security guards and street vendors have become the White Monkey's best buddies. Everybody needs friends, right?
The guy who sleeps in the park now wakes up and says hi to me, with a big smile, when I pass by. Welcome to my world. You're all invited, if you can get away.
Phuong, Joanna and I got away this past Thursday for a trip to Ho Chi Minh City. We had to go to the U.S. Embassy and get papers stamped -- and then go to a worthless agency about a mile away to get verification that those same papers were stamped at the U.S. Embassy -- so we can apply for Joanna's birth certificate in Bien Hoa. When we eventually get our daughter's birth certificate, then we can return to the U.S. Embassy in HCMC to apply for Joanna's U.S. citizenship. Other trips for her passport and social security card come later. I don't care. I'll get her U.S. citizenship no matter what -- regardless of the hassle, bureaucracy, inconvenience, money and bull$%&! Phuong supports me on this and has been an invaluable help. And Joanna charmed the bureaucrats so we had our initial document mailed to us. I think Joanna is great-luck charm.
Phuong is getting stronger every day, and she's started walking up and down the stairs a little. She did the wash and cooked dinner yesterday, and I couldn't be happier. No, I'm not happy because I can become lazy again. I'm happy because my incredible wife is getting her life back little by little. Phuong is so happy and so proud of Joanna. And now she's feeling good physically. It's wonderful to see and be a part of.
Joanna scored a trifecta Thursday and Friday: She pooped all over my legs, all over Phuong's arm, and all over Phuong's mom's dress. In every instance, she had a little poop first to lull all of us into a false sense of security, then came back with a big blast a couple of minutes later to catch us off-guard. Hilarious.
On my daily walk I wear headphones and blast my music. I've mentioned this before. This week as I walked past a car wash (I know. A car wash of all things... in Vietnam), one of the washers started repeatedly shouting "HELLO!" next to my head. He was being a smart-ass for his car wash buddies. I ignored him, waited, turned around, tip toed behind him and screamed HELLO in his ear as he walked away. The startled car washer jumped three feet in the air. He turned around and laughed and I laughed. I have another new buddy.
I have a deal at my massage parlor. Only this little girl named Chi gets to rub the White Monkey's head and shoulders. There's nothing sensual about this massage. Chi grinds on my shoulders and, as a result, a persistent pain in my right shoulder has gone away. I sleep on my right side, so I think that's the culprit. That, and the fact I'm an old White Monkey. Chi has fixed the shoulder, but she hasn't made me any younger. Actually, that's Phuong's job.
I exceeded 20,000 hits on my blog and I'm close to 21,000 already thanks to a surge in Russian readers. By the way, I don't agree with banning Russian athletes from the Olympics (because a lot of Russians read my blog). I also think that Barrack Obama is a great president, Hillary Clinton will be fine as president, and that Donald Trump is a conceited and scary guy. I saw him speak in person in Bakersfield and his favorite word was "I". Sorry, not sure how I got on these topics.
Finally, again and again I thank everyone for their "likes" and kind comments on Facebook and in emails directed toward my beautiful daughter. She would thank you herself, but she's breastfeeding at the moment.
Saturday, July 30, 2016
Sunday, July 24, 2016
The joys of fatherhood at 61
Being the 61-year-old father of a half American, half Vietnamese, beautiful newborn girl is both exhilarating and exhausting.
The exhilaration comes from seeing Joanna pucker her lips and stick out her tongue to breastfeed. Or it comes from watching her sleep and kick off every blanket and towel she's wrapped in. Yesterday, she grabbed her own hair so hard she started crying, and she wouldn't let go. I had to literally pry her fingers open to make her let go of her hair. Phuong was concerned and wanted to put gloves on Joanna , but I laughed and kept watching my daughter. I say no gloves or hat at this stage -- two weeks old -- because she spends almost all of her time in our second-floor bedroom with her mom. Joanna loves her daily bath, and she has already kicked off her little belly button cord somehow. She loves to kick and stretch, and thankfully all signs point to a normal and very healthy baby girl. I think back to my first two daughters and remember how fantastic it was seeing them grow, learn, and develop into wonderful women.
Now for the slightly exhausting parts of my new life. First of all, I'm 61. Just the thought makes me tired. And there's the lack of sleep caused by Joanna's demand for mom's milk. But this is to be expected. As for me not getting enough sleep, so what. I'll sleep when I die. I've returned to work, which is a little tiring, but almost all of the students have been extremely cool about the new addition to our family. Because Phuong had a C-section, her mobility is quite limited. This means I do all the cooking, laundry and cleaning. I'm in a good rhythm with all the chores, and I really enjoy cooking, although I sweat a lot in Vietnam's god-awful heat. But I've gotten creative with fish and pork and cooking with beer, as well as making different smoothies and ice drinks. The part that's most difficult about the cooking and chores is the stairs. The Vietnamese may be the stare masters, but I'm the real stair master. I estimate I go up and down our three flights of stairs about 12 to 15 times a day. Our washing machine is on the third floor. So is the printer for my school work. When I carry food to Phuong on the second floor, I inevitably forget something crucial, like chopsticks or a fork ... or the main course. But I'm excited to go up the stairs because I know I'll see Phuong and my daughter. I hate going down the stairs because it hurts my ankles and usually means I have to do the dishes. But maybe my fitness will improve a little.
Speaking of fitness, I still do my daily walk, and I've expanded it a little so I can buy milk from a store near my coffee shop. The park I often write about has gotten a little seedy -- no shock there. A guy was in the park training his chicken for chicken fighting; another guy sleeps there every day; and a group of guys play cards there daily. Now, I do my chi at home when there's time.
The great news, after Joanna, is that I'm still not smoking. I haven't had a cigarette in more than four months and I have no desire to start smoking again. Well, maybe when I'm 70.
The exhilaration comes from seeing Joanna pucker her lips and stick out her tongue to breastfeed. Or it comes from watching her sleep and kick off every blanket and towel she's wrapped in. Yesterday, she grabbed her own hair so hard she started crying, and she wouldn't let go. I had to literally pry her fingers open to make her let go of her hair. Phuong was concerned and wanted to put gloves on Joanna , but I laughed and kept watching my daughter. I say no gloves or hat at this stage -- two weeks old -- because she spends almost all of her time in our second-floor bedroom with her mom. Joanna loves her daily bath, and she has already kicked off her little belly button cord somehow. She loves to kick and stretch, and thankfully all signs point to a normal and very healthy baby girl. I think back to my first two daughters and remember how fantastic it was seeing them grow, learn, and develop into wonderful women.
Now for the slightly exhausting parts of my new life. First of all, I'm 61. Just the thought makes me tired. And there's the lack of sleep caused by Joanna's demand for mom's milk. But this is to be expected. As for me not getting enough sleep, so what. I'll sleep when I die. I've returned to work, which is a little tiring, but almost all of the students have been extremely cool about the new addition to our family. Because Phuong had a C-section, her mobility is quite limited. This means I do all the cooking, laundry and cleaning. I'm in a good rhythm with all the chores, and I really enjoy cooking, although I sweat a lot in Vietnam's god-awful heat. But I've gotten creative with fish and pork and cooking with beer, as well as making different smoothies and ice drinks. The part that's most difficult about the cooking and chores is the stairs. The Vietnamese may be the stare masters, but I'm the real stair master. I estimate I go up and down our three flights of stairs about 12 to 15 times a day. Our washing machine is on the third floor. So is the printer for my school work. When I carry food to Phuong on the second floor, I inevitably forget something crucial, like chopsticks or a fork ... or the main course. But I'm excited to go up the stairs because I know I'll see Phuong and my daughter. I hate going down the stairs because it hurts my ankles and usually means I have to do the dishes. But maybe my fitness will improve a little.
Speaking of fitness, I still do my daily walk, and I've expanded it a little so I can buy milk from a store near my coffee shop. The park I often write about has gotten a little seedy -- no shock there. A guy was in the park training his chicken for chicken fighting; another guy sleeps there every day; and a group of guys play cards there daily. Now, I do my chi at home when there's time.
The great news, after Joanna, is that I'm still not smoking. I haven't had a cigarette in more than four months and I have no desire to start smoking again. Well, maybe when I'm 70.
Tuesday, July 12, 2016
We have a baby girl: Joanna Pham Millman
The process was difficult. Phuong shared a bed with another pregnant woman. They were in a room with 38 other pregnant women and their families. Phuong's cervix didn't dilate in time despite a painful process to prepare her for a natural delivery. When doctors couldn't force the cervix open after her water broke, a caesarean section was performed.
Despite the difficulties and challenges, the end result was perfect. Phuong is OK and we have a healthy baby girl. Joanna Pham Millman was delivered at 6:20 p.m. on July 9. I found out by watching a TV screen, where new births would pop up and list mom, mom's age, baby's weight, time of birth, and baby's sex.
I wanted a girl and I got my wish. I have two daughters in the United States -- Jessica and Caroline -- and they're both talented, successful, kind and caring young women. I know Joanna will be the same.
Fathers aren't a big part of the birthing process in Vietnam. Phuong's mother was the primary caretaker, and I was asked -- make that told -- to leave the room when Phuong was being examined or cleaned. Nobody I had contact with could speak any significant English, including Phuong's mom. We checked in Thursday and the baby was delivered on Saturday evening. I never spoke or had any meaningful exchanges with a doctor or nurse the entire time. I saw Phuong for about 20 minutes Saturday morning before she was carted away. I never spoke with her or saw her through the decision-making (on the c-section) or birthing process. I got to see the baby for five minutes about two hours after she was delivered, and then I was told to sign a paper and come back later. I got to bond with Joanna and see my wife the next day. The hospital wasn't overly friendly, but it's crazy busy because of its reputation for prenatal care. For me, Joanna and Phuong are beautiful and special, so I couldn't be happier.
Phuong is doing quite well, considering she had a major surgery (36 percent of births in Vietnam are by c-section, according to NBCNews.com). Phuong and Joanna have begun breastfeeding, and that provides its own challenges and frustrations. But I know Phuong and Joanna will persevere.
Nurses, family and friends say Joanna looks like me. Well, she can have some of my features, but I sure hope she doesn't LOOK LIKE ME. Babies change so much that it's hard for me to tell who they resemble. Health and happiness will mean a hell of a lot more than looks as Joanna gets older. I would prefer that she looks more like Phuong than the White Monkey, but again, as long as she's happy and healthy, life is wonderful.
Phuong says we now have a little diamond in our life. I already had a big diamond in my life with Phuong. I feel like a very rich man these days, and it has nothing to do with money.
I got to spend a little time in Ho Chi Minh City, and I didn't like it. There are way too many motorbikes, way too many food stands on the sidewalks that force you to walk in the street and almost get hit by the way too many motorbikes, and way too many shady characters everywhere. I walked up to a coffee shop in the morning and before I could get inside a girl came striding toward me saying "No, no, no!" and giving me that god-forsaken hand wave in the face. As I walked away I saw that the coffee shop also had a "massage" parlor in the back and was packed with men, who I'm guessing were johns waiting for their tricks. One of the "johns" stared at me like he wanted to kill me. I don't think he's a real coffee lover.
One place I loved in HCMC was a French bakery next to our hospital. Tous les Jours had tremendous fresh baked pastries and a pretty good cappuccino. I went there two or three times a day. Their smoothie machine was broken, but I haven't found a working smoothie machine in Vietnam yet. The staff at Tous les Jours did speak a little English, and were very friendly. I highly recommend it.
Finally, I want to thank everyone who congratulated Phuong, Joanna and I on Facebook or by email. I'm happy to bring Joanna into a world that has so many kind and thoughtful people. Thanks again, everyone.
Despite the difficulties and challenges, the end result was perfect. Phuong is OK and we have a healthy baby girl. Joanna Pham Millman was delivered at 6:20 p.m. on July 9. I found out by watching a TV screen, where new births would pop up and list mom, mom's age, baby's weight, time of birth, and baby's sex.
I wanted a girl and I got my wish. I have two daughters in the United States -- Jessica and Caroline -- and they're both talented, successful, kind and caring young women. I know Joanna will be the same.
Fathers aren't a big part of the birthing process in Vietnam. Phuong's mother was the primary caretaker, and I was asked -- make that told -- to leave the room when Phuong was being examined or cleaned. Nobody I had contact with could speak any significant English, including Phuong's mom. We checked in Thursday and the baby was delivered on Saturday evening. I never spoke or had any meaningful exchanges with a doctor or nurse the entire time. I saw Phuong for about 20 minutes Saturday morning before she was carted away. I never spoke with her or saw her through the decision-making (on the c-section) or birthing process. I got to see the baby for five minutes about two hours after she was delivered, and then I was told to sign a paper and come back later. I got to bond with Joanna and see my wife the next day. The hospital wasn't overly friendly, but it's crazy busy because of its reputation for prenatal care. For me, Joanna and Phuong are beautiful and special, so I couldn't be happier.
Phuong is doing quite well, considering she had a major surgery (36 percent of births in Vietnam are by c-section, according to NBCNews.com). Phuong and Joanna have begun breastfeeding, and that provides its own challenges and frustrations. But I know Phuong and Joanna will persevere.
Nurses, family and friends say Joanna looks like me. Well, she can have some of my features, but I sure hope she doesn't LOOK LIKE ME. Babies change so much that it's hard for me to tell who they resemble. Health and happiness will mean a hell of a lot more than looks as Joanna gets older. I would prefer that she looks more like Phuong than the White Monkey, but again, as long as she's happy and healthy, life is wonderful.
Phuong says we now have a little diamond in our life. I already had a big diamond in my life with Phuong. I feel like a very rich man these days, and it has nothing to do with money.
I got to spend a little time in Ho Chi Minh City, and I didn't like it. There are way too many motorbikes, way too many food stands on the sidewalks that force you to walk in the street and almost get hit by the way too many motorbikes, and way too many shady characters everywhere. I walked up to a coffee shop in the morning and before I could get inside a girl came striding toward me saying "No, no, no!" and giving me that god-forsaken hand wave in the face. As I walked away I saw that the coffee shop also had a "massage" parlor in the back and was packed with men, who I'm guessing were johns waiting for their tricks. One of the "johns" stared at me like he wanted to kill me. I don't think he's a real coffee lover.
One place I loved in HCMC was a French bakery next to our hospital. Tous les Jours had tremendous fresh baked pastries and a pretty good cappuccino. I went there two or three times a day. Their smoothie machine was broken, but I haven't found a working smoothie machine in Vietnam yet. The staff at Tous les Jours did speak a little English, and were very friendly. I highly recommend it.
Finally, I want to thank everyone who congratulated Phuong, Joanna and I on Facebook or by email. I'm happy to bring Joanna into a world that has so many kind and thoughtful people. Thanks again, everyone.
Sunday, July 3, 2016
Baby deadline; tardy students; lotto ripoff
The doctor in Ho Chi Minh City gave Phuong a July 7 deadline for our baby. In other words, if Phuong doesn't go into labor before then, doctors will take steps on July 7 to induce labor and deliver our baby. The baby weighs close to 8 pounds so the doctor doesn't think waiting much longer is a good idea. Phuong is calm and practical about everything. I'm a mess. I'm tense when I teach (sorry, kids), and wherever I go I wait for a phone call from Phuong. Of course, she doesn't call, so I'm even more tense and more of a mess.
Let's talk about something else ...
My students, who I really respect and enjoy, have taken tardiness to a whole new level, and it's not cool. I have anywhere from 10 to 16 students per class, and lately no more than two students show up on time for any of my classes. I wouldn't care so much -- they're wasting their time and money, not mine -- but the students stroll or strut or scurry into the room 5 to 10 to 15 to 20 minutes late, make a big deal of apologizing to me and interrupting my lesson, and finally sit down to talk with friends at an unacceptable volume level. Sometimes, I stop teaching and tell the late chatterboxes that it's rude to talk when someone else is talking. So I suggest they share whatever they were blabbing with the class and I'll shut my pie hole to show respect to them. I even offer to go home and let them teach the class since they love talking in front of the group. You see, the thing that really upsets me is that the late catwalk, followed by disrespectful chatting, happens around four times per class. So if I teach 10 classes a week, I have to put up with 40 catwalks/chatwalks a week. Not cool. I had to deal with the same thing in Peru. But Peruvian students have been exposed to more English and American culture than students here so they knew to enter the room quietly when they were late. But Vietnamese students are very bright and willing to learn, so I'm sure they'll eventually learn to either show up on time for my classes or shut their pie holes when they enter my classroom late. After all, the two or sometimes three students who show up on time deserve to get a full 90-minute lesson from the White Monkey. I may not be the greatest teacher, but I prepare (my wife will vouch for this) and try to do my best for the students.
Word on the street travels quickly in Bien Hoa, and that's not great news for me. I have been buying lotto tickets lately for Phuong, and the sellers must have spread the word because when I get coffee at my favorite cafe on a busy street corner, I deal with a parade of ticket sellers every day. I relented one day, and a woman stole 10,000 dong from me. How? Well, tickets are 10,000 dong each (about 50 cents) and I gave her 20,000. She basically refused to give me change after I took one ticket, so I told her to go home and keep the money to avoid a big scene. I'm sure she would have started arguing and I've learned after three motorbike accidents that I'm always wrong in Vietnam, even when I'm right. The lotto woman doesn't speak English, of course, but she understands theft in any language. My fault for engaging her in the first place. But many business people here don't think long-term. They would rather steal 50 cents from you today than keep you as steady customer for years to come. Maybe it's a "now culture" thing and I just don't understand. Even some Vietnamese agree with me on this point, but they're more willing to accept this philosophy than I am. I really shouldn't care. I can just take my business to the folks who treat the White Monkey with respect.
Let's talk about something else ...
My students, who I really respect and enjoy, have taken tardiness to a whole new level, and it's not cool. I have anywhere from 10 to 16 students per class, and lately no more than two students show up on time for any of my classes. I wouldn't care so much -- they're wasting their time and money, not mine -- but the students stroll or strut or scurry into the room 5 to 10 to 15 to 20 minutes late, make a big deal of apologizing to me and interrupting my lesson, and finally sit down to talk with friends at an unacceptable volume level. Sometimes, I stop teaching and tell the late chatterboxes that it's rude to talk when someone else is talking. So I suggest they share whatever they were blabbing with the class and I'll shut my pie hole to show respect to them. I even offer to go home and let them teach the class since they love talking in front of the group. You see, the thing that really upsets me is that the late catwalk, followed by disrespectful chatting, happens around four times per class. So if I teach 10 classes a week, I have to put up with 40 catwalks/chatwalks a week. Not cool. I had to deal with the same thing in Peru. But Peruvian students have been exposed to more English and American culture than students here so they knew to enter the room quietly when they were late. But Vietnamese students are very bright and willing to learn, so I'm sure they'll eventually learn to either show up on time for my classes or shut their pie holes when they enter my classroom late. After all, the two or sometimes three students who show up on time deserve to get a full 90-minute lesson from the White Monkey. I may not be the greatest teacher, but I prepare (my wife will vouch for this) and try to do my best for the students.
Word on the street travels quickly in Bien Hoa, and that's not great news for me. I have been buying lotto tickets lately for Phuong, and the sellers must have spread the word because when I get coffee at my favorite cafe on a busy street corner, I deal with a parade of ticket sellers every day. I relented one day, and a woman stole 10,000 dong from me. How? Well, tickets are 10,000 dong each (about 50 cents) and I gave her 20,000. She basically refused to give me change after I took one ticket, so I told her to go home and keep the money to avoid a big scene. I'm sure she would have started arguing and I've learned after three motorbike accidents that I'm always wrong in Vietnam, even when I'm right. The lotto woman doesn't speak English, of course, but she understands theft in any language. My fault for engaging her in the first place. But many business people here don't think long-term. They would rather steal 50 cents from you today than keep you as steady customer for years to come. Maybe it's a "now culture" thing and I just don't understand. Even some Vietnamese agree with me on this point, but they're more willing to accept this philosophy than I am. I really shouldn't care. I can just take my business to the folks who treat the White Monkey with respect.
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