Day in my life
As a cookbook author, mom of two, CEO, and producer
4:30 a.m.: My 2-year-old accidentally kicks me in the face, waking me up. We are on the second floor bedroom of the family cottage in the Swedish countryside, where we go to nearly every summer to escape the Taiwanese heat and visit extended family. “Where’s Dad? Can I see Dad?” he asks in Chinese. I change him out of his pajamas and tell him to be quiet. His dad is downstairs with our 4-month-old. They are still asleep.
Grandma makes my toddler breakfast on a centuries-old-year-old robin’s-egg-blue table while I sit there, comatose. I’m not hungry, but I force down two open-faced sandwiches: rye bread smothered with margarine and topped with slices of "priest cheese” and pickles.
5:00 a.m.: Grandma tells me to nap in her room, which is adjacent to the dining room. I think it’s a bad idea but I try anyways. Within minutes my toddler bursts in, finds a flashlight, and asks to play with it. I get no sleep. We go back to the dining room. My toddler finishes his breakfast.
6:30 a.m.: My husband walks into the dining room with our 4-month-old and hands her to me. It’s go time. My toddler gets excited at the sight of his father and begins asking him to play cars with him in Swedish. I change our daughter, strap her into a carrier against my chest, and make her milk. I pace back and forth in the dining room while feeding her, my son’s airplane noises filling the room. My husband juggles his own breakfast while our toddler crawls on and around him.
