Battle Hymn of the Tiger Mother - Amy Chua [60]
“I don’t want to give a toast,” was Lulu’s response.
I pulled out the big guns. I threatened everything I could think of. I bribed her. I tried to inspire her. I tried to shame her. I offered to help her write it. I jacked up the stakes and gave her an ultimatum, knowing it was a pivotal battle.
When the party came, Sophia delivered a minimasterpiece. At sixteen, standing 5’ 8” in her heels, she had become a stunning girl with a sly wit. In her toast, she captured her father perfectly, gently poking fun but ultimately lionizing him. Afterward, my friend Alexis came up to me. “Sophia is just unbelievable.”
I nodded. “She gave a great toast.”
“Absolutely . . . but that’s not what I meant,” said Alexis. “I don’t know if people really get Sophia. She’s totally her own person. Yet she always manages to do your family proud. And that Lulu is just adorable.”
I hadn’t found Lulu adorable at all. During Sophia’s toast, Lulu stood next to her sister, smiling affably. But she had written nothing, and she refused to say a single word.
I had lost. It was the first time. Through all the turbulence and warfare in our household, I’d never lost before, at least not on something important.
This act of defiance and disrespect infuriated me. My anger simmered for a while, then I unleashed my full wrath. “You’ve dishonored this family—and yourself,” I said to Lulu. “You’re going to have to live with your mistake for the rest of your life.”
Lulu snapped back, “You’re a show-off. It’s all about you. You already have one daughter who does everything you want. Why do you need me?”
There was now a wall between us. In the old days, we’d fight ferociously but always make up. We’d end up snuggling in her bed or mine, hugging each other, giggling as we imitated ourselves arguing. I’d say things totally inappropriate for a parent, like “I’m going to be dead soon” or “I can’t believe you love me so much it hurts.” And Lulu would say, “Mommy! You are so weird!” but smile despite herself. Now Lulu stopped coming to my room at night. She directed her anger at not just me but also Jed and Sophia, and spent more and more time holed up in her room.
Don’t think I didn’t try to win Lulu back. When I wasn’t furious or fighting with her, I’d do everything I could. Once I said, “Hey Lulu! Let’s change our lives and do something totally different and fun—let’s have a garage sale.” And we did (net earnings $241.35), and it was fun, but it didn’t change our lives. Another time, I suggested she try a lesson on the electric violin. She did, and liked it, but when I tried to book a second lesson, she told me it was stupid and to stop. Before long we’d be at it again, locked in hostility.
On the other hand, for two people who were constantly at each other’s throats, Lulu and I spent a lot of time together, although I wouldn’t exactly call it quality time. This was our usual weekend drill:
Saturday: 1 hour drive (at 8:00 A.M.) to Norwalk, CT3 hour orchestra practice
1 hour drive back to New Haven
Homework
1-2 hours violin practice
1 hour fun family activity (optional)
Sunday: 1-2 hours violin practice2 hour drive to New York City
1 hour lesson with Miss Tanaka
2 hour drive back to New Haven
Homework
In retrospect, it was pretty miserable. But there was a flip side that made it all worthwhile. The thing is, Lulu hated the violin—except when she loved it. Lulu once said to me, “When I play Bach, I feel like I’m time traveling; I could be in the eighteenth century.” She told me that she loved how music transcended history. At one of Miss Tanaka’s biannual recitals, I remember Lulu mesmerizing the audience with Mendelssohn’s Violin Concerto. Afterward,