Oatmeal - the search

So we thought nothing of missing out on food from NY.

I have heard that food in Japan was awesome and what was Amazon for anyway?

Alex's love for McCaan's Irish Oatmeal saw no end.

He realized he started missing the stuff a few days into our live in Tokyo.

"Alex, I will get your oatmeal tomorrow" went on for weeks.

Alex was starting to suspect I was a liar.

So off I went to the supermarket to get one.

We scouted the cereal isle and found nothing.

Tokyo seemed to be in the midst of a granola fad and there were many nutty granolas.

As Alex is allergic to nuts, we had to avoid those.

We went to another supermarket.

Same thing.

We finally saw the word "oatmeal" at the third supermarket we went to.

Alas it was the horrid instant type.

One look at just the picture must have brought back memories in the Bahamas. He was gone in a flash.

Does it look that different? I would never know.

So I turn to our trusted Amazon.

And I find our trusted Steel Cut Irish Oatmeal.

I buy, and I get stuck.

I failed to see the warning "This item can only be shipped to the 48 contiguous states"

Amazon dot com has a Japanese version that is Amazon dot co dot jp.

I go there and type in "oatmeal".

I see no steel cut.

I start to panic.

How are other people getting hold of steel cuts?

I e-mail some of Alex's classmate's moms.

The are mostly Japanese married to foreigners and have no idea what I am talking about.

The only American mom tells me I can find Quaker Oats at a supermarket in Hiroo.

I go ask on a message board for expat moms in Japan.

I get ignored.

The dire reality is setting in. We cannot eat steel cut oatmeal here?

I google frantically and find absolutely nothing. This cannot be happening. The internet has brought people and products closer than ever. You are supposed to be able to buy anything anywhere.

 I have to inform Alex of the unavoidable truth.

As long as we live here, he will not be able to eat steel cut Irish oatmeal.

Alex is crushed.

He goes to his room to cry quietly, recalling the texture, taste and aroma that has so eluded him.

Nearly a year into our life in Tokyo, I wander past a chi-chi supermarket in a chi-chi area. There I find the golden can. The real deal. I take as many as I could carry and then realize that all I have to do is come back here when I run out. So I buy 1 can and take it home.

Alex and Irish oatmeal are united. He eats it every day that the can is empty within a month.

I go out for another one, but of course, it's sold out. The store does not intent get anymore since procedures for grain import in Japan is a royal pain and the trade company just stopped doing it.

Alex does not understand why I cannot produce another can.

I am not trying hard enough, he claims. I should never give up. Persistence is the key. Keep trying.

Ugh, the things you tell your kids that come back to haunt you.

I am still trying.

Oatmeal - the introduction

We have brought up Alex on oatmeal.
Well, actually our babysitter, Joan, did. One day after Alex started solids, she recommended that oatmeal will be perfect for him.

I have had bad experience with oatmeal. I could not imagine dealing with that mushy stuff.
But still, life was all about making Alex happy so I went out and sought the best looking oatmeal possible. I didn't understand the taste, so I went for the looks.

I didn't like boxes. Imagine, the grain touching the inside of a box that you have no idea how it was made and where it was stored. Okay, maybe the grains are contained in a plastic bag that went in the box but still, I had phobia about food in boxes after I found something bad, really bad, in a box full of food when I was 18.

So in the isles of Citarella, there was this cool looking can that screamed "I'm traditional, I'm the real deal, I'm good". I liked the look of it, so it came home with me.

My mother abhorred cereal and anything related to that. I had to sneak in a box of chocolate Rice Krispies in the cart in the hopes that it will pass through the cashier (ah, those innocent times when boxed food was gold). I have had shouting matches at supermarkets and dramatic "you don't love me"s over sugary breakfast carbs. She considered instant oatmeal to be in the same category. "Bad food". To prove that, she made a tasteless one for me. Needless to say, I hated it. And now, I have turned into my mother.

So Joan, whom I am sure raised an eyebrow at the lack of normal household (boxed) food, must have been happy to see the shining can.
She made it the day she saw it and Alex was, as she had predicted, delighted. The can was big so it lasted quite a while, but I could tell Joan was feeding Alex this every day.

We taught Alex sign language for "more", when he couldn't talk. It's clicking all your fingertips together, and Joan would tell me he would do that obsessively when he sees just the can.

So we travel to the Bahamas and they serve all you can eat breakfasts at the hotel. I find Quaker Oats instant oatmeal with banana or something and think this will do for our trip. At least it is in a plastic container and not in a box.
I add warm milk and a few minutes later, it seemed to be done.
I put it in front of Alex.
He looks at it warily.
"what's this?" he asks.
"oatmeal" I answer.
He looks puzzled but takes a sip.
"no" he protests.
"yes" I reply.
"NO" he shouts.
"yes" I say irritated.
"NOOOO!!" he screams and bangs his fist on the table.
Quaker Oats spill.

"Alex, this is oatmeal. Remember that thing Joan feeds you every day? The one you sign 'more'?"
"no, no, no! This not oatmeal!!"

What in the world was Joan feeding him? Or did I do something wrong by choosing the banana taste? Or did I just make it the wrong way?

I taste what is left in the plastic bowl. It brings back horrible memories with artificial banana added on. Okay, so it was the banana.

I go back to find one without artificial taste. I make it again.
I force a distraught Alex to try it again since the banana is gone now.
He puts a spoonful in his mouth and proceeds to spit it out.
"NOT OATMEAL"

What am I doing wrong here?
Ken persuades me to give up on the oatmeal battle, and Alex goes on happily eating real banana.

On the way out of the restaurant, he is traumatized by the sight of Quaker Oats instant.
"ahhhhh! not oatmeal!"
He is close to tears.

We go back to New York and check out our oatmeal.
The can is almost empty and I am sure Joan is making it, not throwing it away. So I decide to make it and feed it to Alex, just to see if it has to be made by Joan.

It looks different than the Quaker Oats one.
Can't I just dump warm milk on it and wait 30 seconds?
I look at the instruction.
"Simmer uncovered for 30 minutes"
WHAT?
Isn't this oatmeal?
Isn't oatmeal suppose to be instant?
And this 30 minutes thing is AFTER I have to continuously stir until it's thick.
I spend nearly an hour tackling this.

I serve it to Alex, forgetting to sweeten it.

He gobbles it up like there is no tomorrow.
"mmmmmmmm. oatmeal."
He is a happy camper.

I look at the can again.
It says "steel cut" "Irish Oatmeal" "Uniformity of Granulation"
I look it up online.
Apparently they are completely different from the instant stuff.
I eat a spoonful.
It's nutty with a soft yet distinct solid feel.
Nothing like my mother served.
I am floored.
At the same time I am surprised at how Alex was able to tell the difference at 1.5 yo.
From then on, there was no looking back.
It was McCaan's Irish Oatmeal all the way.

Until we moved to Japan where grain import is a PITA.

Ads for who?

When we moved here Alex was (and still is) mesmerized with this ad.

And this.

And this.

You'd think it's an ad for an amusement park or something.

Wrong.

First one is for a driving school.

Next is for a bank.

The last is for a gambling arcade.


NY moms might be outraged.
"They are targeting children as young as 4?"

I don't think the marketing department had that in mind.
The arcades don't admit children and they are pretty strict about it.
No, they were targeting adults.
Bona fide adults.
And adults in this country fall for this kind of advertisement, it seems.
It's amazing
My child wants to join.

I tell him it's for grown ups.
He is incredulous.
"no it's not. It has cartoons! It's for kids"
I guess not in this country but Alex is not convinced.

On the other hand, the trains have magazine ads hanging from the ceiling that cater to the horny set.
It seems to talk a lot about how promiscuous celebrities are.
And to drive home the point, the 3 alphabets, "S" "E" and "X" are splashed across the ad.
Don't know why that part needs to be in English but it serves to be the perfect opportunity for Alex to brush up on his reading.
"Mommy, that says 'sex'! I can read it! What does it mean?"

Urgh, this is NOT a city to raise kids!

Plastic Wraps that are Better than Sex

I have issues with plastic wraps.

They are an annoying piece of work yet essential to my life.

I have dealt with this thing for my entire life, yet have not come to peace with it.

Why can't I, for once, get a clear, sharp cut in the size I want?

Why is it so difficult for Reynolds to make a contraption that will allow the plastic wrap to slide out and slice off without effort, without the roll coming out of the box?

I cannot count the times my fish or chicken or pork or beef has been the victim of kitchen rage due to plastic wraps.

Working in a Tokyo kitchen a third of the size of that in New York (not that NYC ones are large!) forces me into combat mode.

I see the unopened box of plastic wrap that Ken has bought right next to Alex's leftovers that are going in his lunch box the next day. I can feel the rage coming even before I touch anything.

I pick up the plastic wrap box that is half the length of any American one I have seen.

I open the box, take the tape off and slice.

 

And it slices. like. butter.

Perfect shape, perfect size, perfect cut, perfectly fast.

I am amazed.

I cut more than I need to.

I am covered in plastic wrap.

I am feeling something I haven't felt for decades.
I am in heaven.
Sooooooooo satisfied.

I go out to the supermarket to buy more.

They come in short, medium and long sizes.

I GET TO CHOOSE THE SIZE!

I buy all.

This is way better than sex.

Conflict Resolution

I went to a conflict resolution workshop.
One of the speakers start off with "Welcome to Japan. The land of assumptions".
He is an Asian American, probably 4th or 5th generation, sent to Japan because he was good at what he was doing and because the Tokyo branch wanted him desperately.

So he was facing the same thing I was facing.
Within his company, feared by his Japanese staff because he must be an "aggressive insensitive American". Outside his company, considered by Japanese as a little mentally challenged because he doesn't get the fast language.
I'm just assuming here, but I guess that is where the opening comment came from.

I was so looking forward to overcoming the assumption but that wasn't laid out for me.
The "assumption" issue was just one example of how it could lead to conflict.
And the theme was about resolving that.

So what did I take home from this workshop?
A print out of recommended books.
I had no idea that a lecturer could get away with not offering anything but a list of books.
The speakers must not have been experienced in talking about conflict resolution since at the end I had no idea what the gist of their philosophies were.
But the books, ordered via Amazon as soon as I was home, sounded promising.

I take "Getting Past No - Negotiating in Difficult Situations" to my office since commute is an hour by train. I chose this book simply because it was the smallest and lightest.
I read on.
And then my mind wanders off to other tiny conflicts in my life such as struggling to have Alex change himself first thing in the morning.
I go back to reading, failing to remember that this book was intended for business people.

It's a dead ringer to "How to talk to kids so kids will listen and listen so kids will talk".
So in essence, regardless of age, the key is to listen to your counterpart first, then validate the other's feeling by repeating (or rephrasing) what he/she says. Then find a middle ground where it's a win-win situation.

It's an eye opener that I can treat my son and my business partner (a CEO of a company) the same way while getting positive results. Who knew life would turn out to be so easy?

250 days

So I have made lunch boxes for Alex for nearly 250days.
I have definitely gotten better with the help of gadgets and books.

Here is one.
This was in January.
Alex wanted me to make a spider web rice ball so I did.
Note the amount of veggies he eats.

Then another.

This is April.
I have started to cut corners and buy prepared food (veggie stir fry), pre-cut Nori (the birds on rice) and frozen mini burgers (with ketchup face).
Still, it looks sensible.

And then this.

This is May.
When I calculated how many more days of my life I would be committing myself to make these things.
another 2000 days at least.
I don't want my teenage son eating fries at the cafeteria, so 2000 days it is.
So the novelty totally wore off.
Everything except the strawberries and Nori are frozen now.
Did I hear someone talk about frozen strawberries?

A new puppy

I've always wanted a pet.
A cat or a dog, it didn't matter which.
But my mom was allergic to animals so no pets for me.
I thought of getting one when I got married but the it turned out I was allergic to felines and canines.
But these days I am thinking to hell with allergies.
What's the worst that could happen? Watery eyes? Itchy arms?
Alex begs for a pet all the time as well.
Guess what dear. You are allergic to cats and dogs too!
Still a puppy would be great for this household.
We already have a goldfish and I've managed to keep it alive for months.
I think I can do a puppy too.

One sunny Sunday I hear scratching behind the door.
I open and see - him.
Small with dark hair, all bright eyes, wet nose and excited heavy breathing.
He is bouncy and lively and surely would be wagging his tail 24/7 if he had one.

I give him water and decide to take him for a walk.
He runs in front of me, hiding in the bushes, smelling flowers and other stuff.
I come to a park bench, sit down and open a bag of biscuits.
I take one out and hold it in my hand wondering if he would eat one.
I decide no, but he's already next to me licking the biscuit.
Ewww, now I can't eat it!
Here, it's yours.

After a few biscuits he's off and finds someone's dog to play with.
They are rolling in the grass and having a grand time.
Some other dogs join in and it's visibly becoming dusty.

He comes back for water panting, drinking from the spout of the bottle, all dusty with grass in his hair.
I am thinking what a nightmare it will be to wash him down.
He's still energetic and goes back to the group of dogs.

They eventually disperse, with their owners pulling their dogs away and he decides to come back to me.
I walk home while he runs excitedly around me.

While I am fumbling for my keys in front of the door, he walks between my legs, rubbing his neck, head and shoulder against me.
Is he itchy or something?
Is he trying to transfer some bugs onto me?
Then he looks right at me with the cute innocent looking puppy eyes and wet nose and I decide to deal with the bugs.

We are inside and he runs to the bathroom leaving a trail of dirty footprints all over the carpet.
Now that annoys me.
Who's going to clean this mess up?

Ken showers him down and now he is all fresh and clean.
His puppy eyes and wet nose are still the same but he looks somewhat like a human being now.
"Okay, Alex. Lets clean your dirty footprints and let's wipe your nose cos' it's all sweaty".

I guess I don't need a puppy.
One human puppy is enough.