Nov 27, 2013 |
I could easily be convinced that making all decisions, major and minor, foreign and domestic by means of Rock Paper Scissors is the purest and most diplomatic form of government . . . but that’s a different blog.
This one is about kids.
Kids like mine. Kids who have been through or are right in the middle of major life transitions. My kids have done it before (when we moved to China) and are doing it again (now in America). In fact if transition were a person he would be one of the most familiar faces in our family and my kids would know him well.
The question is, “would they like him?”
Would transition be the cool uncle who brings them great gifts, opens their eyes to new things and takes them to awesome places or would he be the creepy uncle who puts them in a headlock, gives them noogies* and says, “pull my finger”?
Transition is one relationship that my kids cannot ignore. So instead of complaining about it, ignoring it or making excuses for it when we know it is coming over for the Holidays I would prefer that they develop a healthy outlook towards it.
I think Rock Paper Scissors is the answer.
Let’s start with ROCK
Rocks don’t move when everything else does. Wait. Flip that around. When everything else moves . . . rocks don’t.
If your kids are like mine (and you are like me) you worry sometimes. You worry that transition is going to break them. You worry that the constant moving pieces in their every day lives are going to be too much for their fragile minds to handle. You worry that all of the third culture kid stereotypes and statistics are going to do permanent damage.
• “I don’t know how to answer the question, ‘where am I from?'”
• “I’m not sure where home is”
This is where the rock part comes in. I am genuinely convinced of what I’m about to say however it is attached to a HUGE BUT (don’t go there).
TRANSITION ≠ INSTABILITY
(BUT . . . If there are no rocks it does)
Rocks are the pieces that don’t move when everything else does. They are the things that will always be present and real and unchanging even when everything else in your child’s life feels like a tornado. Rocks are the objects that always travel with you, the traditions that you never miss and the quirky little mannerisms that make your family distinct. The single requirement is that they can and do remain constant no matter where you live or how much your surroundings shift. When everything else changes . . . they don’t. There’s a good chance that they’re what you roll your eyes at as a kid and remember with great fondness as an adult.
What are your rocks?
You’re not alone if your first response is the big stuff. Love, Family, God. No argument from me. Those are rocks for sure but they’re not what I’m talking about here. I’m going one level more specific. If love is an unchanging rock in your family, how do you express it to your kids? And could you still do it that way if you lived in Mexico City, or Nairobi or the International Space Station? If God is an immovable rock in your faith how do your kids know it?
There can be tremendous stability in a home that is in consistent transition when kids know . . . really know . . . that some things never change.
Here are Five Ideas of the Practical Sort . . .
1. Rock Your Family Night
Lots of families have family night but it takes on life when you give it a personality of it’s own. Pizza and popcorn are the rocks in our family night. From there we watch a movie or play a game but pizza and popcorn are the non-negotiables. No matter where in the world we have been so far we have successfully found some variation of these two things. We have scoured unfamiliar cities to scrounge up some dreadful, nasty pizza and stale, practically petrified popcorn but we have always arisen victorious and family night has lived on.
What can you add to your family night that is 100% transferrable to any location and will become something that your kids recognize as a symbol of the strength of your family?
2. Rock Your Own Family Day
Think of it. What if June 14th was (insert your family name here) Extravaganza Celebration Day? Think back to your childhood. Which days stand out more than any others? Remember blowing out candles on your birthday cake? Waking up your parents on Christmas morning? Passing out love notes or ears of hardened feed corn with your 2nd grade dream girls name on it which you spelled out by meticulously removing one kernel at a time in hopes that she might choose you as her Valentine over Chris Tomkins?* Anyone? Me Neither.
What if there were one extra special day of the year that belonged entirely to your family? A holiday just for you.
You decide what the traditions are. You choose the special foods, write the special songs and buy the special gifts. Take the day off work. Pull your kids out of school. Play it up and make it something worth looking forward to every year. Your kids will grow to love it and you can celebrate no matter where you live.
Declare it to be so. Pick a day and name it “The Annual Festival of the Joneses Day” (only change it to your name – that’s our day).
3. Rock a Family Mascot
If you’ve lived overseas, you’ve more than likely been asked to accompany “Flat Stanley” on a tour of your neighborhood. Flat Stanley is a brilliant idea where 1st graders color Stanley, cut him out and send him to visit friends all over the world. Then they compile the pictures of his travels to the Grand Canyon, the Great Wall and Grandma’s back yard. Stanley’s got it good.
What if your family had it’s own Stanley? Only instead of traveling without you he only went where you go. Important side note: it’s not essential that you call him Stanley. You can call him anything you like. Call him Goober if you want to.
Including a family mascot, whether it is a colored piece of paper, a stuffed animal or a rubber chicken, in your family pictures is a fun way to run a simple unifying thread through your memories. Think of the wall of pictures that you will someday have with your kids at various ages in different places all accompanied by a rubber chicken named Goober.
Let your kids choose a family mascot who will accompany you from this point forward on all of your adventures.
4. Rock the Old Traditions
Holiday traditions are an extremely important part of building stability in chaos and giving your kids a connection to your passport culture even if they have never lived there. The most memorable traditions though are the customized family ones that you and your kids can own and will stick with them forever. This is your chance to upgrade the run of the mill celebrations to distinctly yours. It can also be a good chance to incorporate your host culture and your home culture if you are living cross culturally.
For example:
- We always sing happy birthday in English, Chinese and Korean. It’s a tradition we picked up in China because all three languages were often represented in any given birthday party but now it’s a part of who we are.
- On Christmas Eve we give each of our kids a small amount of money, draw names between the four of us, split up at the mall and buy small gifts for each other in one hour. Then we get ice cream.
- We take a picture of our kids every year in the same Santa hat.
Be creative. Make a plan to customize the old traditions.
5. Rock the Generosity
Simply put, I want to do things that build character in my kids. I don’t want them to simply see me doing something generous now and again. I want generosity to be a rock that they see in me no matter what else changes. This can be a tough one because generosity wears different robes depending on the culture it is being expressed in. Giving gifts for example, always comes attached to a cultural obligation. Where I come from it is humble appreciation. Not expressing appropriate gratitude can be extremely rude and may impact a relationship. In China, however, the obligation is repayment. Not repaying a gift or a good deed, with something of equal or greater value may lead to a loss of face and/or strained relationships.
Consider the cultural implications and commit to living generously. Ask your kids for ideas. They’re smarter than you.
Kids who thrive through transition ARE an option. Rocks are a decent place to start. Paper and Scissors are good to . . . but that’s another blog.
I’m anxious to hear about the rocks that have worked for you.
_________________________________
*For those with no older brothers or creepy uncles
noog • ie – ˈno͝ogē
noun – a hard poke or grind with the knuckles, esp. on a person’s head.
*Chris Tomkin’s name has been changed to avoid any legal recourse surrounding the defamation of his conniving, two bit, no good, box of chocolate giving, no creativity having character (or lack thereof). But you know who you are Chris Tomkins. You know.
Oct 7, 2013 |
You’re moving to China??!! They run over their people with tanks!!
That’s what the guy who weighed our bags at the airport said seven years ago. It made me question whether or not airlines had ever considered any form of “Things Not to Say” training for their employees. It’s funny (not “funny ha ha” or “funny strange” but “funny disturbing”) how easy it is to build a complete understanding of a nation based on the most shocking news that comes out of it.
My daughter recently turned ten. Know how we celebrated?
We rode roller coasters.
Real, American roller coasters strategically engineered by certifiable maniacs to flatten your internal organs against your spine, stretch the front of your face to the back of your head and cause you to scream like Little Miss Muffet on Fear Factor.
It was awesome.
I had groomed her for this day since she was nine months old when I would pick her up, fling her over my shoulders, flip her upside down and throw her in the air as high as I could (much to the dismay of her mother). My reasoning? Roller coaster training. I was ensuring that I would have someone to ride the rides with someday in the future.
My investment paid off.
The perfect day had finally come. She had grown to the exact minimum height limit (possibly earlier that morning) and more importantly . . . we were finally in America. She had only dreamed of such coasters as she was growing up in China where most of the rides we had access to were more reminiscent of a county fair from the 1950’s. In fact, before we left China, I learned that this might actually be her version of the complete American dream.
As we were packing our things I asked her how she was feeling about the big move.
“Eh . . . good and bad.”
I actually smiled from the inside out because I’ve come to realize the absolute essential nature of processing the paradox of transition. If it’s all good, you’re setting yourself up for a fall. If it’s all bad you’re a real pain to be around. I was thrilled with her answer, so I pushed for more.
“Yeah? What are you looking forward to?”
Without blinking, “Roller coasters.”
I gave myself an internal high five and tried to keep a straight face. “Yeah me too. What are you afraid of?”
“Mmm. Getting shot.”
Phuaw. It’s funny (not so much the “ha ha” kind) how easy it is to build an understanding of a nation based on the most shocking news that comes out of it.
I guess it goes both ways.
Sep 4, 2013 |
I learned about twerking today . . . or was it twinking? One of those.
I’ve been in China for seven years. That’s really not very long. It’s only one dog year. Wait. That’s backwards right? Either way. It’s not very long.
Now I have returned only to discover that this is exactly how long it takes for a nation to fall apart at the seams. That’s it. One dog year . . . or 49, I don’t know.
And for once politics has absolutely zilch to do with it. When I left for China (I can remember it like it was yesterday) the whole country was exactly polarized over every possible issue from human rights to school lunches and people were frenzied over what was happening in the Middle East with the fighting and the weapons of mass destruction and the never ending debate over whether or not we should be sending our boys and girls to fight. I also remember something about everyone bad mouthing the President.
It was actually a bit soothing to step off the plane and see that politics hadn’t changed a bit. Feels like home.
But what in the world did you people do to Hannah Montana?!!
When I left, Walt Disney was introducing her to the world as the quirky, average teeny bopper by day and uber famous pop star by night. The whole premise and plot of this super-mega hit show was that (and I quote wikipedia) “she conceals her identity from the public, other than her close friends and family.”
Did you catch that? “She conceals . . .”
Miley Cyrus ain’t concealin’ nothin’ anymore. In fact she has traded any semblance of concealing for this new twinking thing . . . or was it twerking? Whatever.
Point is . . . I left for a moment and you broke Hannah Montana.
And invented twerking.
Good, bad or deeply disturbing . . . culture never slows down.
And for those of you who can’t keep up, here are a couple of resources:
1. Twerking as it was explained to me via my younger, more twerk informed American colleagues via the New York Times article: Explaining Twerking to Your Parents.
2. Here’s the MTV interview where Hannah Montana explains that she was conspiring with Robin Thicke to, quote, “make history” at the Video Music Awards and also that she “didn’t even think about it.” Seven years ago we thought about it when we wanted to make history. I can’t leave you people alone.
Aug 26, 2013 |
They say that blogs resemble their owners.
They don’t actually say that. They do say that about dogs. They should say it about blogs too.
Blogging for me has been a thoroughly enjoyable stress release in the chaos of my daily bumblings as a foreigner in China. It has forced me to process, more completely, what I actually think and feel in the context of a constant flow of phenomenal experiences such as having my bowel issues publicly assessed by an entire community of well meaning, amateur Chinese medical experts or coming home with 28 enormous hickeys on my back.
It’s therapeutic really.
Beyond that . . . it’s me. Through this goofy little blog I have discovered something about myself that I didn’t realize before.
I love writing.
I wish I was a painter . . . that would be so much cooler. Or a musician. Maybe a drummer. Famous rock star with tattoos.
But I’m not . . . and chances are, at this stage, short of a lobotomy and a dramatic shift in popular culture that’s not going to happen.
But I do love to write.
Writing has become a part of my identity. I even say so up there at the top of this blog . . . And I quote:
“I’m a husband, a dad, a trainer, a writer, an expat, a foreigner, a Chinese faker and a culture vulture who loves having a front row seat to watch the world turn.”
Here’s the kick in the pants — My blog is having an identity crisis.
Somewhere between my last post (ages ago) about my career as a Chinese supermodel and this post we moved back to America. Did you catch that? Even though my so-called blog still says I am . . . I am actually no longer an expat (although I’m feeling very much like a foreigner). I’m still a dad, still a trainer, definitely still a culture vulture and I still fake Chinese (albeit only in Chinese buffets)
BUT I DON’T LIVE IN CHINA ANYMORE.
That was the whole fun point of The Culture Blend. Goofy foreigner . . . China . . . bumbling. I feel like my blog doesn’t know who it is anymore and you know what they say about blogs.
Or at least they should.
My blog’s identity crisis makes the whole writing thing painfully inconsistent. It’s confusing, misleading and unclear.
In short, it’s in transition . . . and so am I.
But in the chaos I’m starting to get a clear picture of two simple truths.
1. Culture keeps on blending no matter where you are which means there is a lot more to write about
and
2. I still love to write.
So give me some time and I’ll replace the growing number of “used to be true” statements here with the “yet to be seen” facts as I figure them out. I’ll push through the awkward part and someday soon it will make more sense. The whole thing will be less utterly lost and more profoundly insightful.
I’m talking about the blog . . . not myself.
But you know what they say about blogs.
Jun 22, 2012 |
Life as an expatriate is tainted by a single word.
“Goodbye.”
By nature, the move TO a foreign country is launched with a massive, painful farewell that is partially numbed by anticipation, excitement, adrenaline and sheer exhaustion. It’s an all out frenzy, as the days are counted down, to spend an appropriate amount of quality time validating every significant relationship (and some that aren’t so significant) wrapped in the chaos of arranging visas, making travel arrangements, finding a home for the hamster, cramming suitcases to just over the allowed weight limit, selling your old Tupperware, your bowling ball, your car and your house.
Honestly . . . and I mean this in the best possible way . . . the initial goodbyes aren’t so bad. Not because we won’t miss those people horribly. We will. But four things make it easier.
1. In the chaos there is no time to breathe, let alone process reality.
2. We knew this was a part of the deal when we decided to move.
3. It’s always easier to leave than to be left.
4. We’ll probably see those people again.
Come on fellow expats – don’t leave me hanging . . . “Did you see what Jerry wrote?! He said leaving his family and friends was easy . . . and wonderful.” Not what I said. But if you’ve been through it you know I’m right. Horrible as it is, the worst of the pain gets overshadowed by the madness.
But that’s only one set of goodbyes.
What you don’t expect when you move to a foreign country is that every June will feel like you’re taking a metaphorical golf club to the metaphorical teeth. Metaphorically speaking of course.
What is really cool about our particular expat experience is the people we meet. The other expats around here are amazing and we’re all in the same expat boat. Actually maybe it’s a submarine because we tend to go a little deeper really quickly. We come from all over the world but we are all sharing the joy and pain of China together. All of our kids are getting stared at and photographed every time we go out. We’re all faking Chinese every time we get in a taxi. None of us knows where to buy good bacon or milk or DVD’s or get our hair cut, or permed or straightened, or dyed (at least without dire consequences). We all know nothing together, but when one of us discovers something there is excessive jubilation. Like warriors returning from a great victory we come together in the expat village square to celebrate and divide the plunder. The children laugh and play games while the men and women riverdance and parade around with hand sewn banners reading, “WE . . . HAVE FOUND BACON!!”
Ok . . . still speaking metaphorically but the points are genuine. We like these people. We connect on a level that is deeper than the surface. We help each other. We laugh with each other. When something horrible happens to one of us we all understand the pain of going through it away from home so we all try to fill in the gaps. Our celebration may take place through email or text messages but when we find something new, we pass it on . . . and we all feel a little bit better.
And in June . . . we say goodbye.
Expats aren’t lifers. There are very few deep roots here. Our kids don’t graduate with the same kids they went to Kindergarten with. Most people stick around two to five years and just a handful stay longer. There are constantly newcomers and constantly outgoers but June is the worst month of all.
Click here to read about The Transition That Never Ends
Literally, in the course of two weeks we have said goodbye to more than 35 of our friends and that’s a typical June. Ranging from acquaintance to neighbors to close friends it’s a bit surreal to walk through our community and realize, “Oh, the Blabla’s are gone . . . and they’re not coming back”
We’re expert farewellers but with every goodbye there is an ignored reality that we don’t dare mention out loud. We cover it up with overly optimistic and misguided statements like, “We’ll come visit you” and “We’ll skype every week.” Those well wishes help us feel a little better but they don’t come true. The sad truth is that when we say goodbye (with a few beautiful exceptions) we will never see these people again.
Click here to read Hello Again: The Unanticipated Bright Side of Perpetual Goodbyes
So to all of you dirty jokers who have moved on in the past few weeks . . . Thanks for ruining June for the rest of us.
Seriously . . . the kids are out of school, the weather is gorgeous and the smell of barbecue is in the air. It’s supposed to be a happy time. But no. You had to leave and you took your kids with you.
You will be missed. Thanks for being expats with us.
3. Rock a Family Mascot
