Omma Omma Omma

Omma. Omma. Omma. I called my new mom, omma, because I did not know English at the time, I suppose. I was only about 2 1/2 years old when I was brought over to California from Korea with my sister. But now that I think about it, I might have been calling out for or asking for my omma in Korea, or I might have been confused where my omma was. All this time I just assumed I was calling my new mom, omma, because someone told me to call her mom. But maybe I was just looking for my omma.

I remember loving the kids' book, Are You My Mother? And now my son, Josh, loves that book too! It never occurred to me the significance of being so fond of that book as a child, and now when I read that book with Josh, it makes me think of that book on a whole other level, almost allegorical or mythical. There are some ironic twangs, if you will, in that book though, and they would only resonate that way from an adoptee's point of view, I think. When each animal is asked if it is the bird's mother, each animal says, "no." There is a bittersweet moment when the bird asks, "Are you my mother?" to the cow, the cow says, "No. How can I be your mother? I am a cow." Now why does that feel strange or matter-of-fact? Well, to the average reader, it won't have any other level of meaning, except the surface literal meaning. Well, the cow is saying that a cow cannot possibly be a bird's mother, because they are biologically different animals. Makes sense, right? Logically, yes. However, if that "logic" is applied to humans, then how could a Caucasian woman be the mother of a Korean girl? The answer is: she can't possibly be her mother. And that is the scrutiny that I have endured throughout my life. That kind of pairing out in public automatically receives stares and confused looks. A waitress once thought my mom and I were out to lunch because she was tutoring me in English. I had to be her student learning English because what other reason would I have to be sitting with her in a restaurant?

It's always strange to me when people don't think little kids remember things as toddlers and babies, because I remember some Korean words from when I was 2 years old. Now that I am an Omma and I have a son, I know just how much little minds really know! I remember Josh at 2 years old and I think to myself, gosh, this was how old I was when I came to America and I was thrown into this culture and just expected to blend in and adapt. I can't imagine throwing Josh into another country and expecting him to pick up the language and culture so seamlessly, let alone telling him to call someone else "Mommy." Josh is 4 now and he remembers quite a bit from when he was 2 years old. What happens then is that memories get pushed back and new memories take "precedence" in the brain, so it seems like little kids don't remember their childhood, when in fact, everything is in their dendrites--it's just a matter of accessing them (kind of like trying to recover data files from a hard drive that has crashed)!