jennifer patel

I've been having a lot of "these are my last babies" moments. Sprinkle those on top of exhaustion and it can feel really sad sometimes. baby clothes for a 12 month old. V's batman socks for scale.  Sometimes when the boys are at school, the girls and I will run errands. We always, inevitably, end up in girls clothing. It's impossible not to... Baby clothes are ridiculous. You hold them up and think, "how can this tiny pair of shorts fit anyone?!" Turns out, they fit a baby.  And they're just the cutest. I wish all of the girls' clothes came in my size and that it was appropriate and adorable for me to have fat rolls spill out from them...

I don't know my enneagram number.  Do you call it your number? Or would I say I don't know my enneagram? If I get into something, I want to do it right. I can't rely on random internet quizzes...what's the best source? Who invented enneagrams? I'm definitely not paying for anything. I want to know everything!  I checked out a book from the library about enneagrams. I did. True story. I wanted it all explained and for my number to be the most accurate number it could be.  I wanted to believe. But, I never read the book. Just like everything I think "I'm going to start..." it was returned and forgotten. This is not about enneagrams, but I feel like if I knew mine, it would help in this post...to set the stage...to illustrate my persona.  <insert shoulder shrug emoji>  Like most things though, this is about me.  How I am naturally introverted and deeply shy when meeting people for the first times. I don't always come off this way at first becaus

photo credit: V. Patel Dear 2023, I did not eat black-eyed peas on New Year's Day. They're mushy and gross. I've always thought that, the many years I previously choked them down in the name of tradition and luck. The truth is, I've reached a point in my life where I'd rather be granted time over luck. I need more time. I need more time to snuggle my baby girls who are growing up at breakneck speed. I want to soak up all the moments, joyous and/or not, because they are my last babies. I'm holding on tight to those little hands and feet, burying my face in their baby soft hair, constantly kissing their big, fat cheeks and hugging them as hard as one can safely hug an infant, hoping all of it will magically make them stay small and innocent just a little longer. I want so many things for them in their life. I want strangers to stop asking if they're twins when we're out and they're dressed exactly the same...and look exactly the same.  I need more time

  RIP Rhonda Shortly after I graduated high school, a classmate I was acquaintances with got into a car accident. The version of the story I heard was that after the fender bender, she decided she was sore, but otherwise fine and went home. Then she died the next day from undiagnosed internal bleeding. It shook me because we were so young and at the peak of feeling invincible. It seemed like such a freak incident. But yesterday, as the firemen and EMTs were loading me into the back of an ambulance to be checked out, that story was the only thing I could think about.  We had a very full Saturday. We went to look for peaches at the farmers market (not yet), shot some family pictures, and ended the evening celebrating Z's birthday with his cousins and grandparents. On our way home, I was driving and we were stopped at the front, at a red light not even a mile from where we started out. One minute, we were talking and suddenly, out of nowhere, it felt like there was an explosion. My ea

As I continue to find endless places to dawdle on my walk out of the fog, I have learned many things. The internet is a field of rabbit holes when it comes to finding information, stories and support for adoptees. There are more resources than I could have ever imagined. Connecting with stories written and words spoken by adoptees is intoxicating. I haven't even scratched the surface. The adoptee community is vast and their voices are getting louder. Even though I'm still the girl trying to fit in with a group of acquaintances by standing awkwardly on the outside of the circle, nursing a drink that I don't really like and nodding and laughing like I know exactly what is happening, I'm slowly gaining the courage to one day, maybe, join the conversation...without crying...probably. Conditions have never seemed more favorable. Today is the inaugural, annual Adoptee Remembrance Day. Pamela Karanova, founder of Adoptees Connect  explains the purpose of this day as a reflecti

I've shared this photo before. I used to see this picture as me, the really fat baby wearing some sort of weird vest. I've made fun of it countless times by comparing my size to my cousin's who is only one day older than me. I can't pinpoint the exact moment when I granted myself permission to finally wonder about my real Korean identity, instead of refiling the thoughts, but I can tell you where I found it...Facebook. There is a group of American Korean adoptees that formed a Facebook group where they chat about all things Korean adoptee. I found it by chance at the beginning of this year and have described it to my friends as the scene in Toy Story where Buzz Lightyear learns he is not a unique toy. He watches the commercial and sees there are thousands more just like him, waiting to be bought at the store. It was freeing...such a relief. I read the posts and, like when I read Nicole Chung's memoir, I was floored at the similar experiences we sh

Originally started June 2019. It turns out you can stand at the threshold of a cracked door far longer than you might expect. As stated before, I am level expert at filing away unpleasant thoughts and old habits die hard, or not at all if you like the way things are. And I do. I have to credit the husband for being the first person to repeatedly challenge me on why I have never wanted to learn about my Korean identity. He is a first generation Indian and can switch effortlessly now between his Indian and American cultures. He can be proud of both identities. Of course he would wonder why I didn't want to learn about my Korean identity. He would send me articles or book recommendations written by other Korean adoptees. Each time, I kindly (and silently) dismissed them and kept on living my life. Before I returned to the next heritage camp with Alex, I prepared myself more thoroughly on what I might encounter and how I would handle it. No crying this time! (Yes I did and yes

Originally written February 2020 middle school? high school? does it even matter? #90s Like a majority of my peers, I took driver's ed the summer after I turned 15 to get my learner's permit. There was a boy from a nearby high school who had the same driving time as me. Sometimes we drove together in the same car, but more often we were told to drive to a common lunch spot by our driving coaches. His name was Ben...and he liked me. Ben was (is) Korean. Like, actually Korean. Like, his parents were (are) Korean and he was (is) his parents' child. At that point in my life I did not identify as Korean. I was surrounded by white all the time and physically looking Korean was a real inconvenience to my adolescent goals of blending in with the natives. There were many hours spent talking to Ben on the phone. He was a very kind soul. It makes perfect sense that when we finally got to the point where he wanted to go places and actually hang out instead of just talk

pioneer woman's tortellini soup I worked my first church potluck soup dinner this past Friday. The different groups of the church take a Friday of Lent and this week was the garden group...which we have belonged to going on three years. I made The Pioneer Woman's tortellini soup and a peanut butter pie. I only have a few rules for making food for other people: 1) Is it easy with relatively few ingredients that can be found at a common grocery store? 2) Do the ingredients sound good? 3) Have I made it at least once, succeeded and enjoyed it? That's all it really takes. My kids like this tortellini soup, therefore it's gold in my book. When I got to the hall, they had long tables set up with power strips and extension cords. There were about 20 crock pots of soups lined up and ready to go. I was assigned to serve my own soup and was put next to a woman I knew from many Saturdays in the garden together. Let's call her Denise (as in " You were at m