I’m sitting across from Sabrina when the epidural doctor comes in. He is described by the nurses as an extremely good doctor and very handsome. He looks touched to me. A day prior, on Amanda’s due date, Sabrina’s labor was induced but not much had happened until the past hour when the contractions got more severe and Sabrina asked for the epidural. I’ve been running on caffeinated adrenaline with alertness, focus, and calmness. Emotion was in there somewhere but was hard to tap. Hard to tap until I saw the doctor prep Sabrina for the epidural. Numbing shot. Long needle. Epidural shot. I felt it then. This is real. ...

It is 2006 and one of our routines was to visit the Jianguomen Haagen-Dazs which was next to the international club where Yang and I would occasionally play tennis. Lydia and Aidan were two to four years old. Plenty old enough for an Allio to get hooked on ice cream. It was a kind of sit-down ice cream place which I didn’t know was a thing. White linen tablecloth. Glass stemmed water glasses I was terrified the kids would knock over. A menu would be brought over but that was no fun so I’d lead Aidan and hold Lydia to the ice cream case so they could choose. Aidan would go by flavor, Lydia by color and admiring the rose water. ...

We are driving to Hairun to drop off our dog Kobe before Sabrina’s baby heartbeat and contraction monitoring appointment. Sabrina snaps a groupie of her, Kobe, and me on the drive. I look old, chubby, and out of shape. That is my misplaced or correctly placed focus. Two days prior Sabrina felt the baby, Amanda, might be coming and got things ready for the hospital. She hesitated to wake me up. Need to work on that. By morning she was feeling better and we went to her normally scheduled pregnancy appointment. Sonogram. Baby and contraction monitoring. The elderly doctor, who I offensively refer to as the sugar nazi, insists Sabrina go to hospital for a couple days of observation since her blood sugar is a bit high. We go to hospital, run the same monitoring tests again and the hospital doctor says everything looks good. We go home. ...

About three years ago a co-worker asked me to give a talk with him on our experience as foreigners working in China. The talk was delayed for various reasons including indifference until last week. During the delays it was never far from my mind about the message I wanted to share. Certainly not the CCTV happy foreigner. Did I dare share the unvarnished brutal truth as ugly as it might be? No, can’t do that. For one, it’s not that ugly even if there has been moments that felt that way. Second, as the minority there is a bit Stockholm’s syndrome and I am careful not to overstep and put the majority on the defensive. ...

About a year ago I was scrolling through Twitter and saw that Duane Kuiper’s wife had died and decided it was time to talk to Sabrina about having a child. By talking, I mean texting. I texted that I was now open to having a child. I had a condition. I wanted to really take care of this one and be a Mr. Mom and quit my job meaning she’s needed to go back to work. ...

I’m at the last Friday of the month team lunch. Something I schedule since I don’t do lunch. Someone suggests each person share the craziest thing they’ve ever done. This would be interesting except it’s not because people won’t be that open around coworkers. And the fact is, it isn’t that crazy of a bunch. I have a few stories, but I settle on a safe one. Yang and I moved to Beijing with two small children, jobless, homeless, and our belongings limited to checked in luggage. ...

I’m in Sabrina’s hometown apartment, sitting in the corner of the couch, reading the book Chaos. Sabrina is on my left and on her left are her parents. The TV is on, and I look up when I hear some English dialog. It is a scene from the oval office of the 1950s. Someone who doesn’t look much like Eisenhower is asking a naive question about the Soviet / China relationship. The advisor angles towards Eisenhower and the camera and in a knowing way says not to underestimate Mao - that he’s in in total control. The flash to another scene with Mao sitting at a desk, reading papers when his daughters come in and share some playful banter before Mao returns to his work. ...

It is maybe January 3rd, 1989 and the next day I will move out of my parents home and into my own apartment. I have a box of kitchenware, not exactly out of the Crate and Barrel catalog, more like from the lost and forgotten catalog. My dad tells me the closet is ready to paint. Having me paint my parents’ bedroom closet has been a mild obsession with for my father over the past month. Now was the moment. I was ambivalent to the whole thing, so I just went upstairs, took his direction, and started while he left the room. ...

I’m watching an episode of Winning Time when Lydia calls me. She’s about to have the final exam for her pre-calculus class and she’s feeling anxious. I leave my apartment and go down a flight of stairs into her mom’s apartment and find her petting their cat, Saisai. She describes her anxiety and I say I will hang out. I really don’t like hanging out in that apartment that used to be my apartment. I sit in living room then decide I want water. While in the kitchen I eat a couple cold dumplings from the fridge. Aidan is in the den playing a video game; I call out to him. ...

I’m scrolling through twitter and a global times opinion piece with headline “US pullout of Shanghai consulate staff reveals who the world’s biggest Karen is”. I don’t read he post but take a screen shot and send to a friend. I send it to point out how divisive media in China is getting and also comment that US media (Fox anyway) is also divisive. Then I realize I am falling into the no classic social media trick – reacting to the reactionary. And I admit that there are times when I look at Twitter just to find the tweets I can take offense at; like checking CNN during the Trump presidency. My nature, however, embraces diverse opinions. ...