A Wedding in the Tropics

By now, Cribsheeters are used to my homesick accounts of trips to visit family in Malaysia, where I lived before a certain Minnesotan man swept me off my feet and convinced me to move to his snowy land.

Well, we just got back from three weeks in Kuala Lumpur. I always get weepy on these trips - you'd cry too if you gave up a tropical paradise to live in the tundra - but this time there was added reason.

My little brother got hitched.

TY is seven years younger and my sole sibling. I remember the night my mother didn't come home because she was in the hospital having him, this long-awaited and much-anticipated baby. My elated parents named him Tien Yue, literally Gift from Heaven.

For years, he was the little one, the one who flew out to visit me in the various cities I've lived so we could go on another adventure. We got lost hiking in Spain; got sunburned riding camels in the Rajasthan desert. I sent him on his first descent into the subways of New York City. He was my plaything, then my pal, then at some point, something shifted and he became the more rational, thoughtful counterpoint to my more impulsive nature.

I became a journalist. He got a totally grown-up job as a management consultant, then joined the family business.

And now he's ready to start his own family.

I saw the way my daughters' eyes lit up when they talked about "Aunty Shen." She bought them cute outfits, called each "princess" and had them over for sleepovers, where she washed their hair with apple-scented shampoo. One time, she turned an empty room in his bachelor pad to into a playroom for the girls, stocking it with a miniature shopping cart and plastic groceries.

That was when I decided: hey, she's alright.

The wedding was a blending of traditions. There was the signing of papers at a government office ("Department of Marriage and Divorce" read the unfortunate sign).

There was the bride-fetching. TY and a dozen of his best buddies showed up at the bride's parents' home intent on "fetching" her. But first, her friends put them through a series of good-natured obstacles and humiliations....making them eat spoonfuls of fiery wasabi, get spanked and dance while wearing adult diapers.

You had to be there. I wasn't, but my husband Chris was. I think he enjoyed the spanking.

Unless you've done it, it's quite impossible to explain the emotional punch packed in the simple words, "Papa, Mama, drink tea," said while proferring a tiny porcelain thimble of Chinese tea. For the parents, it's the signal their child is finally an adult, ready and willing to produce grandbabies.

More than a few tears were shed, including by my Minnesotan mother-in-law, who flew in for the occasion. My own parents....well, they just couldn't stop smiling.

Finally, there was the evening reception, held at a downtown hotel. Our Zoe and Maya - 6 and 4 - were the flower girls. Looking slightly stunned by the size of the crowd, they held the hands of the groomsmen (whom they logically called "The Flowermen") as they walked in with the wedding party.

The rest of the evening was a blur of speeches, photo slideshows of the bride and groom growing up, tributes from friends and lots of catching up with friends and family. Roses, there were a lot of roses.

I made it all the way until past midnight, when the older folks had gone to bed and the younger ones were ripping up the dancefloor, before I started bawling.

Congratulations, TY and Shen. I can't wait to meet your babies.