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Having just finished visiting where the great wall enters the sea, we are driving around central Qínhuángdǎo looking for a place to kill the next couple of hours. A modern mall where the kids could run around and we could relax a bit would be nice. Aidan is sitting in the passenger seat with Yang and wants an ice cream from KFC. I am trying to navigate the traffic with is heavy and tight and slow going. I light turns red and I stop. Just then Yang’s mom Yihong – who has been soundly asleep in the back seat along with Lydia and Elisa – wakes up. Without missing a beat she says “Lai Ba” (“we’re here”), wakes Lydia, and opens the car door. She’s about to step out into traffic when Yang calls her back and she realizes we have not parked but remain stuck in traffic. ...

Yang drives into the heart of Beijing in order to buy freshly roasted Chestnuts. With fall comes Chestnut season in Beijing and the street side store Yang is going to is the most famous and the best roaster of all. As she gets near the stand she notices the long line and the complete lack of parking. Lack of parking except for an illegal spot right in front of the stand. With kids in the car and the prospect of having to drive in endless circles Yang contemplates the illegal park. Then she notices the the two soldiers standing right in front of the illegal spot. Two soldiers holding automatic (think AK47) weapons. So Yang does the only rationale thing, swing in between the soldiers and the takes the illegal spot. I mean, after all, what type of Beijing police would bother to ticket a car when it is being guarded by two of the nation’s finest. ...

I walk into my office and shut the door. I am mad and angry and there is no where to go with it. Mad at amateurs who tried to give me the equivalent of “throw strikes” advice and angry that I could not just brush them off. I want to sit under my desk and hide but instead I scan my office for something…looking…and then my cell phone rings. It is Aidan. He tells me he just got home from school and he sounds like he is in his normal cheerful mood. At once I am a bit more relaxed. ...

He makes a suggestion to me. Then she does. Then they all pile on. I want to say “fuck you” but instead I say “yea” and when this encourages them I say “yes, I am aware” and when they continue I stare down at the table blankly and part of me disappears. Well, gee, do they think I’ve never heard that advice before. Do they think I am not harder on myself than them. I return to my office. Go to the bathroom. Run the scissors under the scolding hot water. Back to my office. A thin slice, just enough to bleed, and relief comes. It will heal no matter what they say. And then I wonder if they would ask a cripple to run faster, to jump higher, to pirouette like a ballerina. ...

The thing about kids is they mature faster than our adult memory can keep up with. A couple of recent examples. At Hong Kong disneyland, Aidan is looking at toys when I ask him if he likes a particular one. He doesn’t answer “yes or no” but rather if he can have that toy. And he notes the price. If I say “yes”, he will then use that toy’s price (in this case 35 HK) as a baseline to buy the toy he really wants. He’s been doing this for about a year now. ...

I’m sitting with a class of high risers. A woman whose dark eyeliner I like for the effect she intended says she remembers when I visited taipei. I laugh a little and say i’ve never visited taipai. moments pass. we exchange stories. i thought she was interested in what i was saying, finding my comments insightful at best, funny at worst. which is when she says “you are so serious”. at which point i know it was with contempt at worst and indifference at best that she was feeling. I died a little inside. Which isn’t so abnormal for me but felt fairly painful as my self denial did not work. ...

It is one am and I am in the deep near death sleep that follows a thirteen hour trans pacific flight. I am lying side by side with a blond woman, I think caucasian but could be asian, I’m not sure. I have my arm around her waist and our waists our pressing down hard. Then I am on top, then she is, then she is not and I am not. I know it is a dream because the feeling is too good to be real, too free of any subtext that goes with my non dream state, a too idealized state. Then the dream is over and a fight not to open my eyes and try to reenter my dream but it is gone, lost. ...

It is the night before the HK Disneyland trip and Aidan and Lydia are having a bit of a hard time falling asleep. My initial thought was this was nothing new, as they often are little chatter boxes or Lydia is fussy or Aidan is scared. My job is to come to their room from time to time and settle them down. But I hear a new noise tonight and I’m not quite sure what it is. I walk into the room and Aidan is softly weeping. I asked him what’s the matter. He says he misses Elisa. I say Elisa is in the room right next door, with mommy. Aidan says he is missing Elisa for tomorrow because when we go to Disneyland we are not taking Elisa with us. ...

We have a six year old, a five year old, and a one year old. The other thing we have is eight years of marriage. Well, if we are not counting in the cumulative sense. I was trying to do the math. No, not that math. The kids math. Three kids in eight years. With any luck we should be married another forty years. So that means 15 kids total. ...

I remember the night Elisa was conceived and while I won’t go into details, I often get asked if Elisa was planned or an accident. And despite the answer, here we are, with her at one. I am writing this on the flight to Xian, Yang asleep to my right. Moments ago she told me that earlier today Elisa was standing in her crib, asking for the ayi to hold her. The ayi told her to wait until the clothes were folded. When the ayi was done and went to the crib to pick up Elisa, Elisa waved her off – the rejected child becoming the rejecter. ...