Having had clinical experience on the benefits of providing young children with daily fish oil tablets, I decided that this was the appropriate course for our son when he was about 3 years old.
What I did not factor in was the enormous resistance from my wife, Ms B.
According to Ms B, fish oil tablets were artificial and could damage our child's health.
Well, I went to the trouble of providing Ms B with relevant clinical studies to get her to understand the neurological benefits to a growing child of supplementation with fish oil tablets, but to no avail.
As it turned out a week or so later, Ms B was talking to one of her Chinese friends, and mentioned our disagreement over fish oil tablets. This friend has a child in school in year 6, who had apparently just topped the year academically. This friend commented that she had been supplementing her child with fish oil since the child was two.
Well, not long after I get a frantic call from Ms B while I was at work in my clinic, asking me to purchase fish oil tablets for our son that evening.
I did so and when I got home, the first thing Ms B did was check that I had purchased the tablets. When she looked at what I had purchased, she lamented that I had purchased the WRONG brand!
Her friend apparently buys label A, whereas I purchased label B. They are both however identical in terms of quantity and quality, but this was not good enough for Ms B.
She said: "My friend told me that label A has the best fish oil tablets. They won many awards around the world. I only want my son to take the best fish oil tablets."
I responded by saying:
"Which awards did they win? Please let me"
Ms B couldn't answer me but was insisting that label A were award winning tablets.
I proceeded by saying:
"Both labels are effecetivelly identical. There is NO difference amongst these two labels."
But this meant very little to Ms B. She was told by an authority, being her friend, that label A was the best fish oil in the world, and that was that.
I had to go back to the pharmacy and replace my purchase with the other label.
Well, I thought that at least our son would now be getting fish oil supplementation in his diet, which at the end of the day is all that mattered.
Monday, November 23, 2009
Wednesday, November 18, 2009
The language barrier
You know, I sometimes have difficulty understanding some Chinese born Australians, even those that have been in Australia since the late 1980s.
Some people, despite their excellent grasp of the written word in English, continue to struggle with pronunciation.
There are some doctors that I work with whose English vocabulary is second to none, yet when we speak it is at times an uncomfortable experience. I find myself often asking them to repeat what they said. In these cases I find that we tend to gravitate towards email correspondence as our main medium of communication.
Ms B however speaks excellent English. She, like many of the doctors I work with, arrived in Australia in the late 1980s, and yet her spoken English is far superior to many others that came to Australia around the same time.
Having said that, we still experience many misunderstandings on the nuances, or subtleties of speech. I also find that Ms B often misunderstands my body language, which I believe is much restrained than the Chinese are used to.
We Anglo's also refrain from saying many things, which can be mis-interpreted by the Chinese as agreement, or even capituation.
This is almost the opposite of what I expected, given the emphasis of 'saving-face' which is such an important part of the Chinese culture.
My point here is that the mechanics of language, with all its difficulties, can often be overcome, as is evidenced in my work, but the subtleties of intimate communication will always be a struggle with cross-cultural relationships, I suspect because these things are hard-wired into us while we are young, and is probably something that we find difficult to re-learn.
Some people, despite their excellent grasp of the written word in English, continue to struggle with pronunciation.
There are some doctors that I work with whose English vocabulary is second to none, yet when we speak it is at times an uncomfortable experience. I find myself often asking them to repeat what they said. In these cases I find that we tend to gravitate towards email correspondence as our main medium of communication.
Ms B however speaks excellent English. She, like many of the doctors I work with, arrived in Australia in the late 1980s, and yet her spoken English is far superior to many others that came to Australia around the same time.
Having said that, we still experience many misunderstandings on the nuances, or subtleties of speech. I also find that Ms B often misunderstands my body language, which I believe is much restrained than the Chinese are used to.
We Anglo's also refrain from saying many things, which can be mis-interpreted by the Chinese as agreement, or even capituation.
This is almost the opposite of what I expected, given the emphasis of 'saving-face' which is such an important part of the Chinese culture.
My point here is that the mechanics of language, with all its difficulties, can often be overcome, as is evidenced in my work, but the subtleties of intimate communication will always be a struggle with cross-cultural relationships, I suspect because these things are hard-wired into us while we are young, and is probably something that we find difficult to re-learn.
Sunday, November 15, 2009
Racial identity - part 3 - my mother is not Chinese!
When I first entered university, I was living on my own and had to pay my own bills.
So for two years I got by working the night shift in a factory. Athough study during the day and work during the night took a toll on my body, it was a great time in my life and I remember those days with great fondness.
On my first day on the job I was taken around by the Supervisor and introduced to the other guys on the shift.
The machinary was loud and everyone wore ear plugs, so the initial introductions were brief and relied mostly on a few loudly spoken words, and some facial gestures.
I clearly remember the first guy I was introduced to that night, being a young man called Adam.
Now Adam looked for the most part to be Chinese, but like many eurasians, something about him looked different. When I was first introduced to him I could not hear him speak because of the noise, and his features were partly obscured by the safety gear he had on.
I later found out that he was born in the US, spoke with an American accent, and had a Polish father.
As time moved on, I realised, as all the other guys on the shift knew only too well, that Adam never mentioned his mother, nor his self-evident part-chinese lineage.
Because of this, during our mealtimes Adam bore the brunt of many sarcastic comments about his background.
Some guys would ask:
"Adam, are you Chinese?"
To which he would respond by saying that "No, I am an American with a Polish father"
When asked if his mother was Chinese, Adam would often use profanities, get up and leave the table in a huff.
Everyone would chuckle as a result, because it was clear that Adam had an issue with being referred to as Chinese.
I remember feeling quite embarassed for him, and wondered how his mother would have felt knowing the extent he would go to hide his Chinese background.
Well, things sometimes go full circle, and here I am now the father of a bi-racial child.
For me, it would be a nightmare magnified ten-fold if my son ever behaved like he was embarassed of his Chinese or Anglo lineage.
Although at the end of the day I hope that my son sees himself as an Australian first and foremost, I hope he always recognises how lucky he is to come from two proud, enriched and admirable cultures.
I hope that he can embrace both parts of his identity equally, and take from them what he need to carve his own identity in this world.
So for two years I got by working the night shift in a factory. Athough study during the day and work during the night took a toll on my body, it was a great time in my life and I remember those days with great fondness.
On my first day on the job I was taken around by the Supervisor and introduced to the other guys on the shift.
The machinary was loud and everyone wore ear plugs, so the initial introductions were brief and relied mostly on a few loudly spoken words, and some facial gestures.
I clearly remember the first guy I was introduced to that night, being a young man called Adam.
Now Adam looked for the most part to be Chinese, but like many eurasians, something about him looked different. When I was first introduced to him I could not hear him speak because of the noise, and his features were partly obscured by the safety gear he had on.
I later found out that he was born in the US, spoke with an American accent, and had a Polish father.
As time moved on, I realised, as all the other guys on the shift knew only too well, that Adam never mentioned his mother, nor his self-evident part-chinese lineage.
Because of this, during our mealtimes Adam bore the brunt of many sarcastic comments about his background.
Some guys would ask:
"Adam, are you Chinese?"
To which he would respond by saying that "No, I am an American with a Polish father"
When asked if his mother was Chinese, Adam would often use profanities, get up and leave the table in a huff.
Everyone would chuckle as a result, because it was clear that Adam had an issue with being referred to as Chinese.
I remember feeling quite embarassed for him, and wondered how his mother would have felt knowing the extent he would go to hide his Chinese background.
Well, things sometimes go full circle, and here I am now the father of a bi-racial child.
For me, it would be a nightmare magnified ten-fold if my son ever behaved like he was embarassed of his Chinese or Anglo lineage.
Although at the end of the day I hope that my son sees himself as an Australian first and foremost, I hope he always recognises how lucky he is to come from two proud, enriched and admirable cultures.
I hope that he can embrace both parts of his identity equally, and take from them what he need to carve his own identity in this world.
Friday, November 13, 2009
Our relationship
Well, I don't know how to put this, but after being so accomodating for so long, I have finally come to terms with the fact that Ms B's behaviour in bed, is......hmm, let's just call it unconventional.
Despite my patience, I don't think she will be able to change.
Ever since Ms B and I first consumated our relationship, I was quite struck by her imobility in bed.
She is completely non-tactile, and she just doesn't move.
This is not to say that she doesn't enjoy sex, which she does, but the act of sex for us is not based on mutual reciprocation.
I am the active party and she simply lies there and enjoys it.
I have tried encouraging her to simply touch me during the act, so that we can experience the intimacy of being together, but try as she may, it seems as though it just makes her very uncomfortable. It goes without saying of course that other sexual pleasures of a more engaging nature are out of the question.
Ms B also considers full-mouth kissing as unhygenic, and simply cannot bring herself to kiss in that manner.
This inability to be tactile is however not a hallmark of our relationship outside of the bedroom.
Ms B loves to hold hands, lie on the couch toghether, and cuddle each other late at night.
This sexual dynamic is something that of course I must live with, but it is uncoventional and not what I expected.
Now this of course begs the question as to whether the multitude of Chinese women who wear sexually provocative clothing also behave in such a non-tactile manner in bed.
This I do not have an answer for, but it is an interesting question.
Despite my patience, I don't think she will be able to change.
Ever since Ms B and I first consumated our relationship, I was quite struck by her imobility in bed.
She is completely non-tactile, and she just doesn't move.
This is not to say that she doesn't enjoy sex, which she does, but the act of sex for us is not based on mutual reciprocation.
I am the active party and she simply lies there and enjoys it.
I have tried encouraging her to simply touch me during the act, so that we can experience the intimacy of being together, but try as she may, it seems as though it just makes her very uncomfortable. It goes without saying of course that other sexual pleasures of a more engaging nature are out of the question.
Ms B also considers full-mouth kissing as unhygenic, and simply cannot bring herself to kiss in that manner.
This inability to be tactile is however not a hallmark of our relationship outside of the bedroom.
Ms B loves to hold hands, lie on the couch toghether, and cuddle each other late at night.
This sexual dynamic is something that of course I must live with, but it is uncoventional and not what I expected.
Now this of course begs the question as to whether the multitude of Chinese women who wear sexually provocative clothing also behave in such a non-tactile manner in bed.
This I do not have an answer for, but it is an interesting question.
Wednesday, November 11, 2009
Racial identity - part 2 - is that really your daddy?
"Is that really your daddy?"
A question asked of my son all too often when he is spotted with me by his friends.
I guess it refers to the differences in our features, but I hope that it becomes nothing more than a passing nuisance.
My concern is that these questions may engender in my son a sense that I am a lesser father to him, given this perceivable racial distance between us. This is in fact my greatest fear, as I have a really strong bond with my son but he is now at an age where the external world will start playing a bigger role in his thinking.
Although I am protective of my son about this issue, this is something that my son has to manage on his own, and I know this. I just have to continue being a loving and involved father.
A question asked of my son all too often when he is spotted with me by his friends.
I guess it refers to the differences in our features, but I hope that it becomes nothing more than a passing nuisance.
My concern is that these questions may engender in my son a sense that I am a lesser father to him, given this perceivable racial distance between us. This is in fact my greatest fear, as I have a really strong bond with my son but he is now at an age where the external world will start playing a bigger role in his thinking.
Although I am protective of my son about this issue, this is something that my son has to manage on his own, and I know this. I just have to continue being a loving and involved father.
Sunday, November 08, 2009
Bedtime Chatter
Well, after an enjoyable Saturday evening out with friends at a restaurant, we got home, put our young one to sleep, had a quick shower and got ready for bed.
After seeing all those provocatively dressed women all night long, I was in a somewhat frisky mood. It was Saturday night after all, the only night of the week where we didn't have to worry about getting up early the following morning.
Ms B finished her shower, came into the bedroom, and dropped the towel she had on to the floor. It seems she was feeling naughty tonight as well.
There she stood, my Chinese wife, in all her naked splendor. A gorgeous heart shaped bottom, lovely curvacious thighs, pristine porcelain white skin and shiny long black hair.
She jumped on the bed and lay beside me. I started to stroke her body gently, then without even giving it a thought, I whispered in her ear, "Talk dirty to me!"
She looked at me in a puzzled way, probably wondering why I wanted her to talk dirty to me when I was about to get the real thing.
However, the poor thing took a deep breath and whispered the words.
"Honey, do you want to have sex with me?"
I put a big smile on my face, said "Yes, of course", then asked her to talk dirty to me again.
Ms B then responded, "Didn't I already speak dirty to you? Didn't I say the 'sex' word?"
Well, it was not quite the 'dirty' I was looking for, but I didn't want to spoil her mood, and was thankful for her effort.
We spent the next few hours in bed, just she and I, enjoying ourselves the way nature intended. It was a great night for both of us.
After seeing all those provocatively dressed women all night long, I was in a somewhat frisky mood. It was Saturday night after all, the only night of the week where we didn't have to worry about getting up early the following morning.
Ms B finished her shower, came into the bedroom, and dropped the towel she had on to the floor. It seems she was feeling naughty tonight as well.
There she stood, my Chinese wife, in all her naked splendor. A gorgeous heart shaped bottom, lovely curvacious thighs, pristine porcelain white skin and shiny long black hair.
She jumped on the bed and lay beside me. I started to stroke her body gently, then without even giving it a thought, I whispered in her ear, "Talk dirty to me!"
She looked at me in a puzzled way, probably wondering why I wanted her to talk dirty to me when I was about to get the real thing.
However, the poor thing took a deep breath and whispered the words.
"Honey, do you want to have sex with me?"
I put a big smile on my face, said "Yes, of course", then asked her to talk dirty to me again.
Ms B then responded, "Didn't I already speak dirty to you? Didn't I say the 'sex' word?"
Well, it was not quite the 'dirty' I was looking for, but I didn't want to spoil her mood, and was thankful for her effort.
We spent the next few hours in bed, just she and I, enjoying ourselves the way nature intended. It was a great night for both of us.
Saturday, November 07, 2009
Chinese Fashion
Well, another Saturday night has passed.
We went out to a resaurant in china town.
We went with some friends and their daughter, who are Mandarin speakers, but who have been in Australia since they were very young.
Sinclair and Nancy are very nice people, are great to have a conversation with, and given that they speak Mandarin as well, they keep my mother-in-law involved in the conversation, so she doesn't feel left out.
The main topic of discussion over dinner last night was co-incidental in that it is a topic that I have previously raised in this blog.
It was initiated by Nancy as an observation while we were walking to the restaurant through china town.
Nancy said: " Chinese women have changed so much. They all want to look rich or sexy. How can a man respect them when they dress this way?"
It was in response to a sequence of Chinese women that we had passed on the way to the restaurant wearing really sexualised clothing. I need to emphasise that this clothing stood out a mile away, and can only be described as excessively sexualised, at the expense of good taste.
Even my 7 year old son whispered to me: "Daddy, I can see that woman's bum" and then started giggling. This woman was wearing extremely short shorts along with high heels. These shorts exposed the top of her underwear (being a g-string of course).
Both Nancy and Ms B could both be described as conservative dressers, and so during the evening Siclair and I joked that they could learn something from these women, and start wearing more attractive clothing.
It was all in good humour of course, and provided us an evening of laughter and enjoyment as we continually pointed out more and more examples of dresses or skirts or other provocative clothing that our women should be wearing.
We went out to a resaurant in china town.
We went with some friends and their daughter, who are Mandarin speakers, but who have been in Australia since they were very young.
Sinclair and Nancy are very nice people, are great to have a conversation with, and given that they speak Mandarin as well, they keep my mother-in-law involved in the conversation, so she doesn't feel left out.
The main topic of discussion over dinner last night was co-incidental in that it is a topic that I have previously raised in this blog.
It was initiated by Nancy as an observation while we were walking to the restaurant through china town.
Nancy said: " Chinese women have changed so much. They all want to look rich or sexy. How can a man respect them when they dress this way?"
It was in response to a sequence of Chinese women that we had passed on the way to the restaurant wearing really sexualised clothing. I need to emphasise that this clothing stood out a mile away, and can only be described as excessively sexualised, at the expense of good taste.
Even my 7 year old son whispered to me: "Daddy, I can see that woman's bum" and then started giggling. This woman was wearing extremely short shorts along with high heels. These shorts exposed the top of her underwear (being a g-string of course).
Both Nancy and Ms B could both be described as conservative dressers, and so during the evening Siclair and I joked that they could learn something from these women, and start wearing more attractive clothing.
It was all in good humour of course, and provided us an evening of laughter and enjoyment as we continually pointed out more and more examples of dresses or skirts or other provocative clothing that our women should be wearing.
The cake of soap
Well, our differences seem to extend into the shower.
I like to use a soap with a pleasant fragrance to it. However Ms B and her mother insist on a cake of soap with an odour resembling some kind of harsh industrialised detergent.
I don't know where they find this soap, but it certainly wouldn't sell in a Coles or a Woolworths.
Every time I get near it I get an idea of what life would have been like in those concentration camps in China during the cultural revolution. This is really harsh soap that leaves one feeling that their body has been stripped of all vital moisture. It is certainly not a luxury item.
In any case, its always there in the shower, whether I like it or not.
In order to get around this, I recently purchased a bottle of body shampoo, as something that I could use and at least feel like I had a real showever.
The day after I purchased it, the bottle went missing.
When I asked Ms B what happened to it, she quickly ran to the bathroom. She returned with an old handwash bottle.
She then proudly stated that her mother diluted the contents of my bottle, and got to fill four old handwash bottles.
When I told her that it was for me to use in the shower, she looked at me strangely and said, "why would you use that in the shower? We already have soap!"
I like to use a soap with a pleasant fragrance to it. However Ms B and her mother insist on a cake of soap with an odour resembling some kind of harsh industrialised detergent.
I don't know where they find this soap, but it certainly wouldn't sell in a Coles or a Woolworths.
Every time I get near it I get an idea of what life would have been like in those concentration camps in China during the cultural revolution. This is really harsh soap that leaves one feeling that their body has been stripped of all vital moisture. It is certainly not a luxury item.
In any case, its always there in the shower, whether I like it or not.
In order to get around this, I recently purchased a bottle of body shampoo, as something that I could use and at least feel like I had a real showever.
The day after I purchased it, the bottle went missing.
When I asked Ms B what happened to it, she quickly ran to the bathroom. She returned with an old handwash bottle.
She then proudly stated that her mother diluted the contents of my bottle, and got to fill four old handwash bottles.
When I told her that it was for me to use in the shower, she looked at me strangely and said, "why would you use that in the shower? We already have soap!"
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)