Daechoong Social Consequence

 Definition of Daechoong


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(1) : Unassumingly carrying out an act in a way that is just getting by (2) : Accomplishing a task while most of the time overlooking the details.

My daechoong-ness has at times served me well. It allows me to be adaptable, take risks, and see the bigger picture without stressing over the details too much. Often though, my daechoong-ness causes me to brazenly over estimate myself. I get an idea and all I see is the big picture, the end result, so I dive in not realizing I was way in over my head. In the past I have had social consequences to my daechoong-ness, being late, not fufilling promises, disapointing others. I'd like to say over the years that I've gotten better through my loving and patient friends, family, and community but still learning. Now, I'm starting to see how my daechoong social consequence or DSC, might affect my kids.

Today was one DSC day.

I attempted to cut my son's hair.

It was bad, o so very bad. And I feel bad, not only because he looks like a 18th century friar, but because I promised to not be that type of mom... like my mom.

My mom is amazing, very intelligent, kind, very adaptable but I remember this aspect of my mom would drive me CRAZY. She would say she would do something like it was no sweat, only to have whatever she would say she would do... go terribly wrong and often my brother and I would suffer social consequences.

DSC Hair Cuts

Like the time she tried to cut my brother's hair (ahem). He was in the 3rd or 4th grade. My mom bought a clipper set and said, like it was no big deal, that she would do it after dinner. My brother was very apprehensive but being the nice obedient boy he was,  he timidly followed her into the bathroom. I was up in my room and about 30 minutes went by and I heard my brother screaming, shouting, crying. I ran out thinking that my mom had nicked his ear with the clipper... until I saw the hair... O my it was bad. Visible groves, like she started clipping areas and then forgot, the top middle of his hair randomly was shorter than the rest.  My normally kind sweet brother was convulsing, angry, traumatized. He had to grow it all out and it took awhile, he walked around with hair looking like a neglected chia pet. After that day he never. Never. Ever. let her cut his hair again. He was so angry and traumatized at the experience my mom surprisingly never attempted again from what I remember.



DSC Wallpaper

When my brother and I were living in upstate NY as elementary school kids, my brother's room was a yucky pale orange color. One day my mom promised to take us somewhere and we were suppose to meet other people. My brother and I eagerly waited to get out of the house but my mom first said, I'm going to wallpaper David's room. My brother and I looked at each other. We didn't know much at the time but wallpapering a room seemed like it would take a lot of time and effort. Not something that could be done quickly. My mom reassured us it will be done in no time. She got the roll of wallpaper, and grabbed a bowl of water and started putting water all over the wall. By this time my brother and I were confused,

"Umma.. What are you doing?!?!?"

She said, as she often did, "Don't worry Umma knows everything!"

Then she started unrolling the wall paper and sticking it unto the wall only to have it fall. My brother and I stood watching, our mouths agape. My mom getting frustrated.

"Why it not stick!?!"

She just assumed that there was adhesive behind the wallpaper that, once wet, would cause it to stick. Till this day I have no idea why. My brother's room walls were wet, wall paper everywhere, and we did not get to go to Carvel or wherever it was. When our friends asked why we weren't there "Well cause you know.. we had to clean up the water and the paper..nevermind."

DSC Bookbags

I remember during Christmas time when I was in 6th grade and my brother was in 4th grade we both desperately wanted JanSport bookbags (90's y'all). One day after my brother and I came home from school she announced she had finally bought us each JanSport bookbags. My brother and I jumped in glee.

"Are you sure Umma? Real JanSport??"

"Of course, I know that." She says confidently. She opens the bag and I get the red one, my brother grabs the blue. We hug them.

"Thank you Umma" my mom glowing, proud. Then we look at it closely..

"BonSport?!?!?! Umma, this isn't JanSport, its BonSport!?!?!"

My mom surprised but not wanting to admit her epic fail says, "Nobody see don't worry"... I hated those lines as a kid. So I took my BonSport bookbag to middle school, the playing field of cruelty, emotional instability, and insecurity.. and sure enough kids noticed.

DSC Clothes

When my mom would get us ready for school as kids, and laundry wasn't done, she would just pick something out of the hamper.

"Wear this."
"Umma I can't there's a big spaghetti stain on the front!"
"Don't worry! Nobody see!"
Because there was nothing else to wear, I would wear the shirt only to have every White kid throughout the day, with a clean dress or ironed crisp shirt say in disgust "Uhh, you have a huge stain on your shirt.."

DSC Boots

When I was in 6th grade I needed boots for the winter. My mom would always buy something on sale at Burlington Coat Factory and was always supremely confident of her fashion sense. She bought a pair of pointy toed  boots topped with 3 inches of black fuzzy fur. The funny thing is now a days those boots would have looked good, maybe my mom was ahead of her time. But this was in the mid 90s way before the pointy shoe era. It was all Doc Martens, and military boots. No one wore pointed shoes, not to mention ones with fur.

Sure enough I wore them to middle school, the land of never ending name calling, and everyone called me "Eskimo", the whole winter. I remember kids pointing at my boots and laughing. I went home and told my mom..
"They're just jealous!" She said, another common response.

So I promised myself... and my future children that I would not do the same. I would know my limits so that my children would not suffer the social consequences of my daechoongness but today I failed miserably.

I had watched a couple YouTube tutorials on cutting and hair and I got so excited at the thought of saving money and not going through another terrible barber or hair salon experience. The last time the lady cut his ear and she made him look like we had just adopted him from mainland China. So I grabbed a pair of scissors and a comb, had him stand in the shower and wow it is tough cutting hair.

You have to be all exact and stuff...

He was a great sport though. Now I am so glad... SO GLAD, that he is still young and won't hold it against me. So glad he won't remember this day. So happy that for now his outward appearance has no correlation with his self esteem. Even if kids made fun of him now for his hair I don't think he would understand. For now he is happy and still loves his mom.  I felt so bad that I took him to Jamba Juice afterwards and hopefully that's all he'll ever remember of this experience "Mommy is cool she bought me Jamba Juice!" (Thumbs up!) Today was a good wakeup call. I need to heed my past experiences and all the more cherish the fact that he doesn't count my flaws against me=)






Still a happy kid.