8 | Overflow
The unspoken langauge of love
To my mother and mother-in-law, if you are reading this: we love you.
I gasped when I walked into Ada’s room.
A huge pink castle tent stood there among her tricycle, horse toy, and tubs of stuffed animals. It almost touched the ceiling.
I left right away. Nothing bothers me more than clutter—especially in an outrageously expensive New York apartment, where space itself is luxury.
My mother-in-law sends Ada a package every few weeks and never misses a chance—or, in my view, an excuse—to spoil her first and only granddaughter. Shorts, skirts, and T-shirts for summer. Swimsuits and floaties. “New School Year” goodies: a backpack, coloring books, pens. Jackets, sweaters, birthday presents. Halloween costumes and decorations. Now, a tent. I wouldn’t be surprised to see a real pony next Christmas.
I calmed myself and told my husband. He agreed to talk to his mom. He did.
A few weeks later, another package arrived—this time slimmer, with children’s books and socks. Carefully wrapped. Handwritten address.
“My mom said my dad sent it,” Ryan said. “Grandpa’s gift for Ada.”
I smiled. Of course, she had picked everything, packed it, labeled it, and asked my father-in-law to drop it off.
Then I thought of my own mom. Ryan hates the nonstop cooking whenever she visits—the smoke, the noise, the overflowing leftovers we can never finish. Even when we tell her not to, she somehow finds a reason to hand-make hundreds of dumplings, pre-fry pounds of meat in different shapes and flavors, and fill our fridge the same way Ryan’s mom fills Ada’s closet and bookshelf.
Moms are moms. You tell them to stop; they pause. Then they secretly resume, hoping you won’t notice.
Only because they care—and overflow is the language they speak best.
Later that night, Ryan asked if he should put away the tent.
“No,” I said. “Ada looks happy.”
We bought baguette, swiss rolls, croissants, pain au chocolate, and toast. I told my mom there's no need to cook breakfast. The next morning, she made a pot of steamed huajuan (花卷) and said with puppy eyes, “Ryan needs to take some to school for lunch.”