Bubby's 1st Birthday

The morning began with me (and half the kitchen) covered in vomit courtesy of the birthday boy. He had a mild fever and was most definitely feeling under the weather, a real shame considering that he just got over bronchitis. Luckily, a small dose of Children's Tylenol seemed to do the trick.

It's customary in Korea for parents to celebrate their child's first birthday with an extravagant party called 돌잔치 (dol-jan-chi). I've heard stories of (and been invited to) 1st birthday parties costing upwards of 10 million won ($10,000!). They are often elaborate affairs complete with lavish table settings and decor, a large buffet, an MC, and hundreds of guests bearing cash and/or gold jewelry for the little one. While I appreciate that some families choose to celebrate in this way, Clark and I opted for a much more intimate and small scale celebration.

We reserved a private room at a well-known Korean "family restaurant" called VIPS, known for it's "western" buffet and steak, and invited Clark's parents and a few aunts and uncles. Being from the older generation, Clark's relatives didn't much care for the food and made that fact painstakingly clear. It was quite amusing trailing behind Clark's father through the buffet as he repeatedly exclaimed "뭐야!? / What's that!?". And a recurring conversation at the table was:
Relative: (holding something up on their fork or between their chopsticks) 뭐에요? / What's this?
Me: it's an olive/mango/pasta/pizza/chicken/etc.
Relative: 맛없어 / It doesn't taste good.

Logan received a gold ring and a ton of cash. We're going to deposit the money into his new bank account (started by his Canadian grandparents) to go toward his future education. I sincerely appreciate Clark's family for coming to the party today and showing Logan their love, but one thing that really took me aback was when they (and by they I mean ALL of the aunts and uncles) asked what Logan's name was! The Koreanized part of my brain logically understands why this is so; Koreans don't typically use first names, but instead refer to others based on their social rank or role (e.g. sister, husband, so-and-so's mother, manager, teacher, etc.). My more Western sensibilities, however, cannot fathom how you could not know the name of your own nephew but have a desire to attend his birthday party and shower him with gifts! It stands to reason that they also have no clue what my name is, but I'll save that ditty for the Thanksgiving Holiday coming up in a few weeks time.

Here's the awesome chocolate cake that we ordered. Perhaps not as delicious as something to be found in Canada, but damn tasty by Korean standards!

Singing the Happy Birthday song...

Grrrr...I have a fantastic video of Logan eating the cake, but it won't upload! :(

HAPPY BIRTHDAY BUBBY!!!! Mommy and Daddy LOVE LOVE LOVE YOU!!!!

Bubby Goes to the Beach

Yesterday, Grandma and Grandpa took Bubby and I to Grand Bend. Bubby had lots of fun playing on the sand and in the water (didn't even cry when I dunked him for the first time). We're going to go again next week when Auntie Kristen is here.

Air Canada

I chose Air Canada because it's the cheapest way to get from Seoul to Toronto. In the future, I may just have to suck it up and splurge on a non-stop flight with another airline because I'm not sure I can tolerate another trip like this (I say this, yet I still have the return flight to contend with...)

We arrived at Incheon Airport 3 1/2 hours early because Clark needed to get to work. I had already done the on-line check in and confirmed my seat, so getting the boarding passes was simple enough. Passing through security was likewise without difficulty, and no one batted an eye at my giant carry-on's filled with water, formula, food, etc. Incheon truly is a lovely airport, and after a very brief run through a couple of Duty-Free shops, Logan and I settled down in a kid's play/nursing area to wait for our boarding call (2 carry-on's and a baby was just too heavy for any extended shopping to occur).

We boarded with the First-Class passengers,but were then forced to sit on the runway for about 90 minutes. Blaming the wind, the pilot announced the ground crew needed to unload some extra cargo because we were too heavy for take-off. This would've been ok with me except for the Nazi cabin crew who demanded I stay seated and hold onto Logan even though we were parked; we hadn't even taxied down the runway. They refused to let me sit him on the floor in front of me (we were in the bulkhead seats) or even let him stand. Eating was just about the only way to keep him calm ~ so he munched and munched and munched some more...

Once we were in the air and the seatbelt sign was finally turned off they presented me with two options: hold him or hold him. At no time was I allowed to have any part of him touching the ground (I tried it once and got reemed out huge). He slept on and off for a total of about 3 hours, but the poor little guy was so uncomfortable (never mind the pain and sweat his mommy was in) that he was constantly crying out and writhing around. Once, when he was fast asleep, I asked for a bassinet but was refused on the grounds that he was too old and had the ability to sit up; my assurances that I would pick up him immediately if he woke fell on deaf ears. Each time the meal cart came by they'd tease me and ask if I'd like something ~ "Uh, sure, are you gonna hold my baby or let me put him on the floor while I eat? Yeah, didn't think so." I was, however, able to drink water.

He didn't show any interest in the tv screen or any of the toys I'd brought along, but the elderly Korean couple behind us provided some comic relief from time to time, as did the magazines and emergency safety card instruction booklet. The man sitting next to us was of absolutely no help, preferring to stare straight ahead engrossed in movies, hogging the armrest, and spilling his scalding hot ramen noodle water onto my leg. Once, Logan did manage to rip his glasses from his face, which was worth a good giggle from mommy.

I found the change table in the bathroom pretty convenient, but a little to my surprise no one ever offered to let us go ahead of them, so we often waited in line 10-15 minutes. When I had to go, the flight attendants held on to him for me; but poor Bubby REALLY didn't like that idea.

The second leg, from Vancouver to Toronto, was smoother than the first. In Vancouver we easily passed through customs thanks to the notarized consent letter Clark and I had prepared for solo travel with Logan, and the baggage claim was a breeze because my suitcase was tagged priority. This flight was only about half full, so they moved us to an almost empty row, where Logan got his own seat next to one of the sweetest women in the world who helped me entertain him the rest of the way.

The lesson in all of this? If you can afford it, do not fly Air Canada buy your baby their own seat!