In the weeks leading up to my trip to Costa Rica, I would remind my mom that I was traveling to Central America for a week and she would respond the exact same way each time: Mom: “Oh my gahhhh. You be careful! My gah. You going with friends? Okay, good. You be careful. You go places with Jason–don’t go places by youself. My gah. I raise you all by...

My mom makes the best mandu. For those unaware, mandu is a Korean dumpling that closely resembles gyoza. Mom’s mandu are so freaking tasty — she makes them big and stuffs them full of meat and veggies. I can easily polish off an entire platter of the stuff (all while she alternately tells me I’m fat while piling more food onto my plate); it’s...

I mentioned before how Mom scrutinizes her kids’ weight. Last October I visited Michigan, and from a self esteem standpoint the trip didn’t go well. Not only did I find out that my visit was poor timing due to Mom’s pepper obsession, my little Korean mother obliterated any positive body issues I had in just four short days. By the time I flew into...

Of my siblings, my brother John is the only one who remains in Michigan. As such, he gets to experience the bulk of Mom’s, well, Mom-ness. He told me that whenever there’s extreme weather of any sort (when it’s either really hot or really cold), he always has the exact same conversation with Mom over the phone. The following example is from a very...