Mom Weighs in on My Engagement and Ring
Dec 23
On October 12, my boyfriend of nine years surprised me with a pretty epic engagement while we were in New York City. It involved a pre-recorded message from an American Gladiator and it was appropriately perfect given how goofy-schmoopy (goopy? that doesn’t sound right) our relationship is. The day after Jason proposed, I called Mom to break the good news.
Mom: “High bay-beee! Whatchoo doing?”
Me: “Hi, Mom. We’re in New York City until tomorrow. I just wanted to call and tell you that we finally got engaged!”
Mom: “Hahahahahahahaha!”
Me: “…..”
I wasn’t sure how my mom would react to the news, but I definitely didn’t expect heavy laughter.
Me: “Uh…”
Mom: “It’s about ti-iiiiiiiime!!”
She actually said that in a singsong voice.
Me: “Yeah, I know, we’ve been together forever.”
Mom: “No, is okay. Is good. You two more shuh-cure now, good to wait until you ready.”
Me: “Yeah, definitely.”
Mom: “Jason good man, smart man, he take good care of you.”
Me: “Yep, that’s why we’re together. You want to talk to him?”
Mom: “Oh-kayyyyy!”
I handed the phone to Jason and heard a loud “Con-grat-choo-LAY-shuns!!!” through the phone. Jason laughed and had a polite conversation with the future diminutive in-law before handing the phone back over. Mom wasn’t as happy-shocked as my friends thought she would be, but I wasn’t too surprised since she has two other children who have gone through the marriage/kids milestones already; plus, Jason and I have been together long enough that an eventual engagement wasn’t too out-of-the-ordinary.
After I got back to Seattle and we got my engagement ring re-sized and the design tweaked, I sent a picture of it to my mom. I had always told Jason that I wasn’t interested in diamonds, partly because of my half-white guilt over how dangerous and exploitative the diamond trade business is, and partly because I feel it’s a waste of money to spend on an artificially inflated commodity. Jason heeded my request and bought me a simple white gold band with nine cubic zirconia embedded in it. I think it’s just as pretty as a more lavish engagement ring and nobody knows the stones are fake until I tell them.
So anyway, I sent a picture of my ring to Mom:
The ring in all its simple non-glory.
I accompanied the picture with the following text:
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To my surprise and amusement, Mom fired back with this non-precious gem:
Wut.
I showed the text to Jason and we both laughed. He said, “Your mom is so weird.” I’m inclined to agree. Who’d have thought my little Korean mom would be such a bling baller, horrified that her youngest daughter would bring shame upon the family by preferring cubic zirconia over a bonafide diamond? I also like how she warned me not to tell anyone, as if my friends and colleagues would shun me for donning an imposter on my left ring finger.
Since I wasn’t planning on getting another wedding band (my engagement ring will serve as both), I responded with this:
And then Mom replied with this complete 180:
I give up.
She went from horrified and judgmental to complacent and non-plussed in the span of two text messages. I was confused but just went with it, since we’re talking about my weird mom here.
I forgot about my mom’s amusing reaction to the engagement ring until about a month later, when my brother John texted me with the following:
John: You’re mad at The Cha?”
Me: “Haha, no, did she say I am?”
John: “She told Lori. Something about your ring.”
DUDE, SERIOUSLY?!
Only my mother would take a little Korean dump all over my engagement ring (which I wasn’t even offended by, I thought it was hilarious) and then read into a completely straightforward text message with the conclusion that I was mad at her. She is an enigma. I’ll never, ever understand her.
I explained the whole ring backstory to John via text message.
John: “That’s funny. I guess that would actually bug her a little bit. I keep telling Lori to sell hers and buy some furniture or something but she refuses.”
Then he followed up with this:
John: “I guess I wasn’t supposed to ask you so never mind. So don’t mention it.”
No problem, brother, I won’t mention it to Mom…I’ll just blog about it instead.
Very happy for you both. The whole weekend was a blast and we look forward to seeing you again soon.
(For readers we were with Becs and Jason the day before)
I would never in a million years call my mother weird and use that as a funny anecdote to humor others. My mother is cute, charming, funny and way more precious than any ring. My sister it to get points from her all white friends. It gives me a sick feeling. It’s exploitation.
I meant to say “my sister does it to get points from her all white friends” She uses this to make her self perceived as more white. It’s sickening. Never would I call my mother weird.
I don’t think being weird is a bad thing. My mom is definitely weird in certain ways, which is why I describe her as such.
When my kids just stare at me, instead of saying, “Mom, you’re so weird,” I get offended. I like being weird. Especially by my kids (3 sons). I’m a Korean mom.
I meant to say, ” I like being called weird.”