The Household COO

In Chinese culture, filial piety is very important.  One of the duties that demonstrates filial piety is the taking the responsibility of looking after the elderly in their old age.  Although the Chinese tradition is for the sons to look after the elderly, in this modern day, it is equally applicable to both sons and daughters to assume the responsibility of looking after the elderly. 

Raised in a Western society, there were a lot of Chinese traditions that I was never made aware of.  However, this Chinese tradition was not one of them.  From an early age, my parents inculcated the importance of filial piety and the need to look after the elderly in their old age. 

When hubby and I got married, we had originally decided we wanted to live on our own, however the hubby made it clear that my in laws would eventually move in and live with us as they grew older.  Having been raised to that expectation, I have never had an issue with this.  In fact, had he not believed in this practice, I would have assumed that responsibility because it was what I had been taught since young.

What I never expected was to be living with my in laws during the early part of our marriage - even if it was intended to be a temporary measure.  Even more unexpected was that I would be living in the house of my in laws, rather than they living in our house. 

What’s the difference, you ask? Well, when you live in someone else’s house (even one that you call home), there are certain expectations that you need to follow just because this house belongs to them.  That means that there are a lot of things you cannot do because you need to be mindful of the person who runs the house (at least, that’s how it should be if you respect that person’s feelings).  When you own the house, you have greater liberty to do as you please.

This minor adjustment is something I could live with since it is, after all, just a temporary measure.  What I found most challenging was learning to understand the way my in laws tick because they are very different people to my parents.  When you stay in close quarters with others, there is always a greater tendency to inadvertantly rub sandpaper on raw skin.  Learning how to live together takes time and effort.

For instance, when I was a kid, my Dad had a pretty explosive temper.  Now that he’s older, he seems to have mellowed out somewhat - either that or distance has made his temper seem cooler.  What I discovered while I was growing up was that giving my Dad a wide berth when he was mad was often the best thing to do.  My Dad appreciated the time to cool off on his own and I developed a similar preference of wanting to be left alone when I was mad at something that wasn’t in reference to anyone in particular.

So on days when my MIL lost her temper, I tended to stay away from her - to give her the time to cool down without being underfoot.  Little did I realise was that with my MIL, this is exactly what you should not do.  It took me a while to discover this, but I’m glad I did, because at least now I know how to help her better.

Even though living with my in laws is a very different experience to living with my own parents, there are a number of practices that my MIL has that I like.  For instance, I like how they always wait (whenever possible) for everyone to get home first before having dinner so we can all sit down together for a meal on a regular basis.  In my house, we only ate together if everyone happened to be home at the same time.  Sometimes, we didn’t eat together because someone would be busy doing something else around the house, or another person wasn’t hungry yet.  What I like about eating together is that it encourages bonding for strong family ties.

Although we had a number of teething periods when we first moved in, I find they grow less and less as we spend more time together and learn to live together.  If I felt intimidated by the idea of living with my in laws in their house initially, I can honestly say that I do enjoy living here now.  That said, I still look forward to the time when we will move into our own house because I want a place of my own to furnish as I please.  My TY bears are still waiting for a proper home outside of a plastic box, Gavin still needs a dedicated play area that he can freely mess up and be responsible for, and I want an area where I can set up my ergonomic computer desk and chair.  I also want my own kitchen because I’ve always felt more comfortable cooking in my own space - knowing exactly what I have stock of and what utensils and equipment I have available.  Cooking in someone else’s kitchen just isn’t the same.

Recently, my aunt was in town and I met up with her.  She was telling me about how my cousin wanted to quit her terrific, high paying job in finance to become a lowly interior decorater.  She was even taking a course in interior design, much to my uncle’s disappointment.

Okay, so maybe I’m reading between the lines there, but if I know anything about my uncle, I’m pretty sure I’ve got the nail on the head.  All my aunt said was that my uncle felt it was a waste.  He thought that if she wanted to do something of her own, she should have started her own business or do something else related to her current profession.

Well, that’s the thing about the older generation.  To make a drastic career change like what my cousin is doing is the most ridiculous notions they have ever heard.  Don’t I know it.  I faced the exact problem when I told everyone I wanted to quit dentistry to do something else.  I’d be rich if I had a dollar for every time a person told me it was such a waste.  I didn’t listen and I quit.  Looks like my cousin’s doing the same thing.

If you ask me, I think half the reason why this is happening is because we studied what we studied out of parental pressures to make waves in life.  Not just any waves but the kind of waves that our parents could be proud of. 

As a child growing up, I remember the intense rivalry between my parents and my aunts and uncles with regards to whose children were scoring the best grades, getting into the better Universities and studying the better courses.  The funny thing was that we kids never competed against each other.  We never cared who did better or who was smarter or who got into what course.

For our parents, it was never about what we were interested in but how smart we were and how much money we could make.  When we were finally in the workforce, the bragging continued.  “My daughter’s with one of the top law firms…”, “My daughter gives me $x amount every week!”

It wasn’t even that they needed the money.  My parents generation was always very careful with money.  I would be surprised if they ever needed me to provide for them in their retirement (not that I wouldn’t give it to them in an instant if they needed it).  The point is, the money they receive from their children is another bragging point - “my son gives me more money than yours”, etc.  You get the point.

Although I don’t really care what my extended relatives think about me, it still matters to me what my parents think.  I still feel this obligation to give money to my mother not because she needs it but because it is one of those things that you do.  It’s so ironic that I who scoff at ridiculous traditions, superstitions and beliefs should feel it necessary to adhere to this expectation. 

In the Chinese tradition, this is called honouring your parents - a form of filial piety. 

Some time back when I was helping my MIL prepare some of the worship items for Charlie’s grandmother’s death anniversary, my MIL was telling me about some relative’s experience with their dead daughter’s spirit.  We were folding up the shiny bits of paper into shapes that resemble gold ingots from the olden days of Chinese history.  During the worship session, the paper gold ingots are burned as a means of transferring them to the spirit world so that the dead have money to buy the things they need.  You can also burn other things, like paper clothes, paper shoes and paper cars so that the dead have clothes to wear and a car to get around the afterlife in. 

My MIL was telling me that nowadays you could even buy paper bras to burn for the dead if you wanted to and they even come in different sizes!  She remarked that she thought this was a bit much and I naturally agreed.  Even burning the paper seemed a bit silly to me, although I got into the swing of pyromania pretty easily because I’ve always found it interesting to see flames and burning paper. 

Perhaps my MIL felt bad for ridiculing the beliefs of her religion, but she proceeded to tell me a story about some relatives.  This ceremony of burning things for the dead can only be performed by the live children in honour of their dead parents.  In the event where a child’s demise preceeds the parents, the parents are not allowed to burn things for their child’s use in the afterlife.  In the case of our relatives, the daughter passed away before the parents.  Being unable to burn things for her, my MIL said the dead daughter’s spirit returned to tell her parents that she was suffering in the afterlife because she had no money to buy food or clothes.  Since the parents can’t do the offerings, her sibblings had to burn the paper money and clothes for her.

As my MIL related that story to me, I merely nodded acceptingly, deciding that it was not worth the argument to dispute what our relatives experienced.  The whole time I listened, though, I was extremely skeptical.  I realise that this is the stance I switch into whenever I hear stories about spirits in this world.  It probably seems odd that I am a Christian, though more and more, I fear that there is a part of me that believes that nothing happens after we die.  We merely cease to exist.

Despite hearing from time to time about people who are more “sensitive” to spirits in our world, never having had a personal experience of my own to relate to, I can’t help the skepticism with which I view the subject.  Although I listen accommodatingly and I never openly dispute the experiences of others, the scientist in me finds logical explainations of what really happened.

It has also occured to me that perhaps I don’t want to believe because I fear such things.  The idea that spirits move around with us isn’t a particularly pleasant one in my book, even if they are friendly ones.

Even though I think it would be nice to have something to go to after we die, I question whether such a place exists to accommodate the growing number of souls that travel there.  I mean, even on Earth, our growing population is sapping the resources of our world.  Surely the afterlife (if it even exists) would have long since exhausted their resources with the never ending influx of souls when no souls leave?

It was Valentine’s Day and also the eighth day of New Year which is the official New Year’s Day for the Hokkien Chinese. 

Why don’t Hokkiens celebrate Chinese New Year on the same day as everyone else?  About six or seven years ago, my friend B explained the legend to me.  He had been reading a book about Chinese myths and legends.  According to the legend, some spirit or god or evil being (I can’t recall which) was after all the Hokkiens.  Warned of our impending doom by some guardian angel, all the Hokkiens hid in the bamboo forest until the evil spirit left.  Since the Hokkien people were in hiding during the actual New Year’s Day, they weren’t able to celebrate the New Year so they celebrated it on the eighth day - the day they came out of hiding.  Since then, the Hokkien people have always celebrated Chinese New Year on the eighth day to commemorate their lucky escape from extinction.

Below: A picture taken in 2006 because I haven’t yet downloaded the photos from camera from this year’s celebration.

There are no photos for this event in 2007 because I was still in confinement after delivering Gavin.  I’m not sure exactly why but we weren’t supposed to perform any of the New Year ceremonies last year because I had just delivered Gavin. 

The following post was originally written in Babylicious.  It has been copied here because having a Pui-Yuet for a month was another Chinese tradition I had to get accustomed to after I got married. 

If you have read any of my previous confinement posts, you may be aware that it is common practice in Asia for a “pui-yuet” (companion for the month) to live in with the new family to help look after mother and baby in the first month after delivery. This is an age-old practice that continues to provide a lot of benefits to both mother and child. The only problem in recent times is the difficulty of finding a good pui-yuet.

I’ll be the first to admit that I wasn’t keen on the idea of having a stranger live in my house and look after my newborn son and myself. After being forced to endure “the month”, I have to say that having a pui-yuet isn’t without its benefits. For instance, after breastfeeding the baby at night, she was there to burp Gavin, change his diaper and put him back to sleep while I got some much needed rest. Breastfed babies feed every two to three hours after birth, so poor Mummy would probably not get any rest at all if she had to do all these things on her own. Since Mummy is still recovering from the delivery, rest is a good thing to have.

In the months leading up to my delivery, we were looking high and low for a pui-yuet to look after Gavin and me. I heard a lot of horror stories about pui-yuets who didn’t respect the mothers right to breastfeed, who demanded obscene amounts of money, who ate the nourishing confinement foods that were supposed to given to the mother, and the list goes on. None of these stories did anything to allay my gripes about having a pui-yuet in my house.

When my MIL finally found a pui-yuet for me, they spoke at length to ensure that this pui-yuet would not give us any of the nonsense we had heard about. We also wanted to make sure that she was clear on her responsibilities. Since the pui-yuet came highly recommended by a relative, we were a little more relaxed.

Due to my confinement overlapping Chinese New Year, I only had my pui-yuet for three weeks. Actually, it was probably more like two weeks because I spent much of the first week in the hospital with Gavin who was jaundiced. Aside from a few misunderstandings, things with my pui-yuet went quite well - well enough for me to recommend her to a friend of mine who was delivering her baby in Australia and looking for hired help.

After the things my friend told me that she did, I feel terrible that I recommended her. For instance, she demanded her own TV from my friend so she could watch her Chinese soaps. Then when they were shopping, the pui-yuet would ask my friend and her mother to buy her some t-shirts she wanted to buy and when it came to the payment of those t-shirts, she told my friend to take the money from the “red packet”.

Let me clarify this point for those who are not in the know. Aside from the payment for the pui-yuet’s services, some expect a red packet. The red packet is a token amount of the MIL’s choice that is given to the pui-yuet at the end of the month. As far as I understand, the symbolism of the red pack is to balance the “good will” - something akin to “you scratch my back, I’ll scratch yours”. When the pui-yuet comes to help the new family, it is considered that she is doing a favour to the family (even though she gets paid for it). In the Chinese culture, a favour that is given (whether in the form of a gift or an action) must always be returned.

According to my MIL, it is only in more recent times that a red packet is given. Historically, what the pui-yuet is given is an outfit for her to wear. The substitution of the outfit with the red packet is one of convenience. It is also worth noting that since we had our pui-yuet during Chinese New Year, she is also supposed to be given a red packet because the occasion demands it. Yup, Chinese New Year is a very expensive time of year to hire a pui-yuet. Not only do you have to give her two red packets but you also have to pay her double because it’s like working through Christmas.

Much of the problems with pui-yuets lie with the fact that a lot of these arrangements are made by word of mouth. Often there are no written credentials for you to check her out capabilities and you don’t get to test her until the day your baby is born. There are also no written agreements for the work she is required to do. Since there are a lot of unspoken rules with pui-yuets that one wouldn’t know unless you were familiar with the culture, it often gives rise to misunderstandings during the month.

Here are some of those unspoken rules and expectations:

1. A pui-yuet is only responsible for the mother and baby. Any work outside of those responsibilities are not part of her duty. That means, she isn’t required to do any housework except wash the clothes that belong to the mother and baby, and the dishes that were used by the mother and baby. That also means she doesn’t have to cook for the father, wash his clothes or anything else that belongs to the father. Some pui yuets will do housework if you are willing to pay them extra.

2. A pui-yuet’s responsibilities does not include her own meals. Some pui yuets will overlook this point but the more picky ones will expect their meals to be provided for them. Some picky ones will also expect more money if they are required to cook for themselves.

3. A pui-yuet is employed for 28 days. It commences on the day the baby is born and ends on the day of the baby’s full moon. Even if mother and baby are still at the hospital and cannot be discharged, the one month count-down has begun and the pui-yuet’s time is ticking.

4. As mentioned earlier, a pui-yuet that is hired for a month that includes Chinese New Year has to be paid double. An additional red packet is also given for Chinese New Year.

5. At the end of the month, a red packet is given to the pui-yuet as a token of appreciation for her efforts (this is additional to the amount agreed upon for her services for the month). There is no stipulated amount - it works a little like a tip. The happier you are with her services the more you can put inside the red packet - usually $100 - $200. Unlike a tip, you still have to give her something even if you think her services are poor, you just give her less. I think a red packet containing $1 shouts volumes about what you thought of her services.

6. According to the traditional hierarchy, the pui-yuet is only answerable to the MIL. This goes even if the person paying for the pui-yuet happens to be the father or the mother. Even though I was aware of this, I was still surprised to hear from my friend that the pui-yuet was more accommodating when her MIL gave the instructions but completely ignored her own mother. It was quite amusing to note as well that when my MIL was standing watch over my pui-yuet as she changed Gavin’s diaper, her normally calm and experienced manner with which she handled him was suddenly all thumbs.

7. For whatever reason, if you discharge the pui-yuet early, she still has to be paid the full amount agreed upon unless it was a mutual agreement to part ways before the end of the month. For instance, in my case, we decided we didn’t need the pui-yuet after Chinese New Year and she herself wanted to take on another job that would overlap with mine if she were to finish the month with me. We agreed to pro-rate her pay and part ways.

There are also a few additional points that a new mother ought to be aware of when she looks for a pui-yuet which have nothing to do with tradition. From my understanding, most pui-yuets are not in favour of breast-feeding so it is best to be clear on your desire to breastfeed during your preliminary discussions. Please do not end up like a friend of mine who lamented to me that the result of her inability to breastfeed was due to her pui-yuet who sabotaged her efforts to breastfeed.

It is speculated that pui-yuets do not encourage breastfeeding because of the increased night duty involved. Breastfed babies are thought to require more night time responsibilities such as frequent stirrings for night feeds and diaper changes. Don’t quote me on this - it is just a theory.

Pui-yuets also have their own way of doing things so if you have a specific way you want your baby to be bathed or handled, it is best to get this cleared up front to avoid battles during the month when you will be in no condition to argue your point. It is unfortunate but pui-yuets tend to bully the new mother if there are any disagreements on how the baby should be handled. This is a time when a stern talk from the MIL will come in handy.

The best way to avoid an unpleasantness is to discuss everything and outline your expectations before agreeing to sign on the pui-yuet. Hash out any potential problems you can anticipate before the actual month takes place. If your mother or MIL is engaging the pui-yuet on your behalf, make sure you meet her before hand because you are the one who has to live with her. One month is a long time to be with someone you don’t get along with.

About a week back, the hubby and I were looking for a wedding present for my brother and his wife. We thought a nice dinner cutlery set would be a very practical and useful gift. Unfortunately, dinner cutlery sets come with a set of butter knives and that would probably go down poorly with the bride and her family who are traditional to the core.

Tips for the uninitiated:

If you are shopping for a wedding present for a Chinese couple - especially a traditional one, or one with traditional parents - anything with knives are out of the question. There is an age old belief that the knife bodes ill for the couple because it represents the severing of the relationship. Whether it infers a future divorce or just a difficult relationship, I am not certain. Whatever the case, just stay away from the knives.

If I thought I had a lot of traditions to observe for my wedding, I ought to think again because I’m sure my brother has it a lot worse.

When the hubby and I decided to get married, I told him that he ask my parents for permission first. This is the standard expectation for most Chinese parents. I learned this lesson when I was still a teenager when my cousin and her boyfriend came home one day to announce that they were getting married. Her father, my uncle, ranted and raved for days about how kids these days had no respect for their elders.

For my brother’s case, merely seeking the parents approval is not sufficient. They have to get the fathers to talk. Her father asks my father if agrees to the marriage and in return my father has to ask her father if he agrees to the marriage. This is where it gets complicated. C’s father is in Shanghai and he only speaks Mandarin. My father’s Mandarin is limited at the very best.

Having worked in Taiwan for just over a year, I have to say I was quite impressed with my brother’s language acquisition. However, even with what he had managed to learn in that time, it was still very much like the blind leading the blind.

Since we were all rather clueless as to the specifics of the requirements, my Dad made the grave mistake of not asking C’s father if he approved of the marriage. He had assumed that all that was required was merely for him to say he agreed to the marriage.

And that was just the beginning.

After talking to the hubby I realised that in my family’s ignorance, there were a number of things we did during my wedding that was apparently considered to be bad mannered. And here I thought we were just being easy going. Since the hubby’s family knew we were oblivious to the expectations, they overlooked our “poor” manners.

From what I was made to understand, such mistakes would not be acceptable in my brother’s case. It is also more complicated because he is the groom, whereas I was the bride. I guess you could say that in a Chinese wedding, it’s easier to be the bride.

I’ve always thought of the dowry as a rather superfluous part of the wedding and hence I told my hubby that my parents expected nothing. However, in Chinese customs, just because someone says something is not required doesn’t mean you can ignore it. The hubby’s parents still made jewellery (among the other things) to give me during the “Koh Tai Lei” because what they give me during the ceremony is supposed to represent my worth. To give nothing would imply that they thought I was worthless. It also meant that my hubby is rather silly for marrying a woman who is considered worthless.

Complicated isn’t it? This is apparently just the tip of the ice berg. All I can say is, “Good luck, my brother.”

It almost sounds like something out of a wearwolf movie but no, the “full moon” marks the baby’s first month of life outside the womb. In the Chinese tradition, this celebration is even more important than the baby’s first birthday.

Gavin’s full moon was celebrated on the 27th day after his birth. I don’t know why it was the 27th day and not the 28th day - it was the date given to us by the “wise old man” from the temple. Being the most ignorant in my new family of these customs, who was I to argue?

On the morning of the full moon, the baby’s head is supposed to be shaved. I negotiated for just a trim since Gavin had such a beautiful head of hair and I couldn’t bear to shave it off. After the hair cut, baby and mother have to bathe in water washed over pomelo leaves to remove any bad spirits.

The belief is that after delivery, both mother and child are “dirty”. From what I understand, it was bad luck to come into contact with us prior to the full moon. Relatives of the family will not visit the mother and baby until the day of the full moon after they are “cleansed”.

Full moon packages are prepared with red eggs to be given out as gifts to family members. The baby is dressed in gold to greet his deceased paternal grandparents - or so I was told. I confess I was a little alarmed to see my MIL take my baby in front of the altar to pray since the hubby and I have both agreed not to make any religious decisions for our child. It seems this little ceremony was merely to introduce my baby to his grandparents, although the whole affair appeared to me very much like a religious ritual.

The hubby went out to burn more paper after the greetings with his grandparents were exchanged after which lunch was served.

The full moon party took place in the evening. Friends and relatives gather for an evening of feasting and to welcome the new addition to the family. The lucky little boy received lots of red packets and presents, although he was oblivious to much of the affair since he slept through it all.

I wasn’t able to take any photos of the evening as I was busy carrying Gavin around, but here are some of the photos from the morning’s events:

Traditional Chinese families often have a preference for offspring of the male gender. This predilection dates back to a historical era when females who were married off where no longer considered a part of the family. Once married, they became a part of their husband’s family and were cut off completely from their own family. Male offspring, on the other hand, formed the foundation for the next generation within family and hence the reason why they were valued more highly. They were responsible for carry the family name and ensuring the family prevailed (much the same way as a dynasty).

Of course, in this current day and age, such traditions no longer apply. A daughter still remains very much a part of her own family regardless of whether she is married or not. Even so, we still observe the bias for male offspring which has resulted in China’s imbalanced ratio of men to women which is progressively getting worse with their one-child policy.

This bias was still evident up to my parent’s generation. My FIL had a friend whose wife was made to take a cab to the hospital whenever she went into labour because she was carrying a girl. The only time that the husband ever went to the hospital was for the birth of their last child, because she was delivering a son.

Up until recently, I thought that this age-old Chinese bias had ended with the last generation. I know a couple who were living in Sydney. When the wife became pregnant, her hubby automatically assumed she was carrying a boy. He was so insistent that it was a boy that he would always tell her, “Make sure you take care of my son.”

Recently, she had an ultrasound check to determine the sex of her baby and the doctor told her that her baby was a girl. She called the hubby and told him over the phone. He swore in Chinese, “T.. N… Ma!”

Now the most amazing part is this: the hubby is a doctor who spent most of his life growing up in Australia.

Lucky his wife is keen on a girl. Poor dear. This whole thing has made me reassess my own bias for a girl. I have decided not to talk about wanting a girl any more. I don’t want Gavin to feel that his Mummy didn’t want him because he was a boy.

Last night, the hubby and I were visiting PL and JV. Hubby is the god father of their baby girl, Emilie, so we often go over to visit. We joke that the only reason we see them so often is because of Emilie, but come to think of it, it’s probably half true. The same goes with god daughter Rachel - we’re never over there to see the parents, we’re always there for Rachel. I suppose the same thing will happen to me when Gavin is born. Gavin will be the one having all the visitors and I’ll just happen to be there because I’m his mother. Digressing…

Back to the point of this post… With Christmas approaching around the corner, PL has been playing Christmas songs on their old player. Keeping in mind that hubby has never grown up with the concept of Christmas or Santa Claus, he made a remark last night that sent us all roaring with laughter. When the song “I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus” came on, hubby exclaimed what a whore the mother was to be kissing Santa Claus and what a bastard Santa Claus was to be taking advantage of the situation.

Of course he wasn’t really aware that traditionally it is Daddy who dresses up as Santa Claus and the kid in the song was really watching Mommy kiss Daddy who’s wearing the Santa oufit. Being a child who still believes in Santa Claus, she wouldn’t know that the Santa she was looking at was really her Dad.

With Christmas around the corner, I was checking out some toys and cute clothes at The Curve yesterday and I thought of what the hubby should be getting for his god daughters. When I called the hubby, he said that he didn’t celebrate Christmas so he wasn’t going to buy presents. I suppose that is his perogative but it got me thinking about Gavin and how we’re going to raise him.

Just as the hubby’s family have their own traditions and festivals that I have agreed Gavin will be a part of, Christmas is one of my traditions and festivals. I want Gavin to know about the story of Christmas and all the fun things related to Christmas. Perhaps it’s time for hubby and I to have another discussion about Gavin’s upbringing…