Cautionary tales for my future daughter

6 years ago, I never thought about having kids. I was eating In N Out on a biweekly basis and shamelessly sauntering – yes, on foot – through any drive through to get it. Drinking Melon Vodka in a Ralph’s handicap bathroom was a regular pastime (I was with friends, OK. Put your judgy expressions away). You could feel the springs of my polyester couch – mainly because you could also visibly see them protruding through the cushions.

No, I wasn’t homeless. I was in college.

Today, I’ve watched friend after friend get preggo, stop eating sushi, and pop out a child. There have been countless baby showers – and although I am creepily obsessed with each and every one of these babies – I have to admit that I am not a huge fan of watching people open presents for little people. WHY DO WE HAVE PARTIES TO WATCH PEOPLE OPEN PRESENTS FOR LITTLE PEOPLE THAT DON’T EXIST YET?

But I digress. Times have changed, and 6 years later, I have come to the terrifying realization that I will one day have a child of my own. Likely, it will be a crazy-haired daughter who will cause as much trouble as I did to my poor, frazzled, adorable Mama. For the sake of this story, I will call this daughter-to-be Dolores.

Dolores Park (Nope. Don’t worry Mom – I’m not engaged, just making wild assumptions here).

Dolores baby, this is for you.

On PE

PE will be a confusing subject for you. You will like PE because you hate class, but you will hate PE because you will probably not develop strong hand to eye coordination until the 6th grade. Kickball and dodge ball will be a bitch. You will kill it at sit ups and sit-and-reach, but you will probably be the slowest runner during that fitness test at the beginning of every school year. Do not try to compete with the boys that run 7 minute miles, because you will die.

This all sounds fairly crappy, but relax – at the age of 2, I vow to enroll you in Cheryl Burke’s dance school, and you will be a hip hop star on America’s Best Dance Crew. All dem bitches will be laughing when you’re the one high-fiving Mario Lopez on MTV.

On Following Your Dreams

It takes courage to dream, and you should do it. If your dream is to write weird stories about your teachers turning into aliens or to start a dancing puppet show troop, I will still love you even though no one else does. You are creative, strong, and unique, and someday someone is going to think you’re cool.

On Heartbreak

I will add no other context other than this: If a shitty bastard breaks your heart, do not follow your gut. I repeat: DO NOT FOLLOW YOUR GUT. If you are like me, your instincts will tell you to mail him a fiery piece of poop or pour Diet Dr. Pepper down his gas tank. Avoid this. Although it may feel like a better option than inhaling gallons of ice cream or crying in your bed, it is only marginally so. One day, you will be 24, and you will encounter this boy or girl and all their friends at some random bar, and you will want to rip your skin off because it really is that awkward.

Be cool, man.

On Being Asian

This is part B to the aforementioned point about heartbreak. There are about 4 million Asians in America, which is not very much. You need to know that almost every Asian is connected by 1-2 degrees separation, max. This is like playing the easiest game of 6 degrees of Kevin Bacon ever. Hypothetically, If you mailed that fiery piece of poop, there is a good chance that some other random Asian dude from New Jersey will be your potential future employer, and having already stalked you extensively on Facebook because he heard about the fiery poop story, he will promptly stamp REJECT on your resume before you walk in the door for the interview. Very uncomfortable.

On Choosing a Major

Unless you want to be a doctor, engineer, astronaut, or biochemical engineer, you can major in whatever you want because it won’t matter. I will think you’re amazing regardless, unless you’re a lazy bum. Years out of school, the only time I utilize my English degree is when I drunkenly recite the prologue to Romeo and Juliet at parties. Then again, I was an English major, the language I also speak. <Asian parents, you can insert your disappointed sigh here.>

On Bullying

Be nice. Don’t be a bully, because bullies suck. If you are bullied, the answer is and always will be Krav Maga.

Dolores, you are my world and I love you. If I ever catch anyone playing in, around, near, or next to Dolores Park after hours, they will have hell to pay.

Love,
Your Mom