Excitement is brewing in our home this week.  Our kids can finally look forward to experiencing a holiday during this school break.  My spouse and I did some forward planning this time.  The last time, the hotels were fully booked at our choice of destination and the kids were terribly disappointed.  And we discovered that our frequent flyer points weren’t of much use after all when we wanted to book the airplane tickets.  We were either too late or too early for bookings.  So, between my reluctance and his procrastination, we never did take a holiday together as a family since our youngest child was born.  That was two years ago.

I am just lazy.  I am already exhausted before a holiday thinking of the packing that needs to be done. Call me a homely person but I would prefer to spend my days curled up in bed reading a good book.  On the contrary, when in Europe, I was always ready for a trip to somewhere to see the snow or the mountains.  Tell me that we will be traveling, I wouldn’t think twice.  I would be ready to go in a heartbeat.  And that was how we toured Europe.  We would check the weather reports the night before, and decide to go somewhere the next day. 

When I came back to my home country, I was transformed back to my old self. I became a bookworm again. It is a phenomenon that I have stopped trying to explain, especially to myself. 

After some harassment from my spouse and pestering from my son, we finally planned for a holiday to the Penang Island.  And the boys, especially Daniel is really excited to go traveling.  Every day, he’d count the dates on the calendar to ‘get there’ when we’d go for a holiday. 

“Mummy, what date is it today?” Daniel would ask me. 

Oh no, not again.              

“I can’t remember Daniel.  Maybe today is the 27th.  What day is it today?” I replied. 

And that’s the truth. I don’t remember dates and days very well these days.  The point is there is no point in remembering when you have to work everyday with no holidays in betweens. 

“Today is… Tuesday,” Daniel replied while still looking at the calendar.

“Which means today is the 27th May,” I confirmed.

“When are we going to Penang.  Is it the 3rd June?” Daniel continued asking.

The truth is, I can’t remember either.  With Daniel, always confirm when in doubt.

“Yes,” I replied, keeping my fingers crossed.

“1,2,3…,” he counted out loud, his hands pointing at the dates. 

“6 more days!” he announced.

This holiday adventure has been a remarkable motivator for Daniel.  His mummy uses it as a tool to get him moving.  Well, psychologists might call this method the threatening method but as his caretaker, I call it a painless, effective way of handling the child.  I dubbed it the workable motivating factor. 

“Come and sit down here to eat your lunch!” I called out to Daniel from the dining table, while he watches TV six inches away from the screen.

The little boy didn’t budge.  In fact, he acted as if I was a little voice to be ignored.

“Do you want to go to Penang or not?  If you do, please come and eat your lunch now.” I said.

Penang and afternoon lunch.  What is the link between these two, you may ask.  I don’t know either. 

He promptly sat himself on the table. 

Wow!  There was no need for me to shout. 

We’d have this dates and days and countdown conversation a few times a day.  And as to date, Daniel just reminded me, we have two more days left before we finally go for a vacation.

We look forward to a great vacation by the beach.  I look forward to endless hours of fun in the sand and sun and for their father to get to know the boys better. Perhaps I might be able to take some time off to curl up in bed, catching up with my favourite book during the vacation.

Until we chat again which probably will be end of next week when we come back from our first real holiday in two years, have a good weekend! And a good week ahead!

Cheers!

Today is one of those many days.  A day when nothing goes right, and everything goes wrong.  Suffice to say it has been a trying day.

The children are all on school holidays, which means the whole bunch is at home creating havoc.  Well, it looked like they weren’t the only ones turning the house topsy-turvy.  Our washing machine has decided to call it quits as well, flooding our whole back kitchen with soapy water.  It did keep Daniel busy meddling with the leaky hose though.  And the whole morning it kept me busy mopping and cleaning up the flooded area.  

After the leaky machine adventure, Daniel had to find some other ways of having fun. He decided that taunting his brother would greatly enhance their bond of brotherhood. 

“I aaammm fir-erst.  Jaa-ames is laaa-sst!” Daniel sang.    

“Daniel, stop it!”  I barked, while busy in the kitchen.

“James is a scare-dy cat! James is a scare-dy cat!” he went on, trying to irritate the socks out of James.

And I knew what came next.  A big fight ensued. 

And the toddler was weepy today.  Nothing was right for the little fellow.  Going for a car ride was not right.  Not going for a car ride was not right too.  He was weepy before a nap.  He was weepy after a nap too.  He cried until he had a hoarse voice.  After a while, I didn’t care anymore.  I had no logical explanation for this toddler’s erratic behaviour today.  And I had run out of ideas on how to pacify him. And by the time he finished crying, I was an impatient, short tempered mother who was ready to throw in the towel.  I would quit being a mum for the day if I could, but there was no one to call for back up.  And these kids, they do share half of my genes.

The second boy, James, who is five years old is ill with a stuffy nose and an occasional cough.  The past two days he has been particularly demanding with his choice of drink.  I would make chocolate milk for him, and he would ask for honey.  And vice versa.  Today compounded by a weepy toddler and a leaky washing machine, I blew my top over him.     

“James, there is no meaning in this,” I spoke in my most adult tone. 

“When I make chocolate, you want honey.  When I make honey, you want chocolate,” I went on, feeling really frustrated now.   

“Can you please give me a reason for your behaviour?” I asked in exasperation.

“The reason is, there is no meaning,” James answered matter-of-factly.

I am still trying to figure out the awesome answer given.

It’s the end of the day.  All the boys are asleep, and the household has taken on a slower rhythm.  No more running feet, screaming and fighting and crying.  And no more mummy this, and mummy that.  Am I grateful for the peace and quiet?  Of course I am.  Does it mean I am a bad mother?  I hope not.  Even mothers need a break once in a while. 

Thanks for listening to my complaints.  Sometime I feel like a real whiner.  I know I just whined to  you that my children are difficult individuals.  But as contradicting as it sounds, my kids, they are great.  They don’t complain about their mother.  They don’t expect her to be perfect, abiding to all their wishes and needs.  To them, she is perfect.  And how do you think I know this?   I know because they never ever complain about me.  Not even when I become a screaming psycho maniac with a very short fuse when attending to them.  They are ever ready with a big sloppy kiss for their mummy at the end of the day. 

I reasoned that the children did not need a reason to be unreasonable today.  And I guess all of us have been in a bad mood before simply because we got down from the wrong side of the bed. 

As James aptly puts it, the reason is, there is no meaning!

Cheers and a good day to you!       
 

“Some days are diamonds some days are stones” – John Denver

We have a box of beautiful wooden set of train tracks in our house.  To complement these tracks, there are also trains, houses, churches, wooden people and green pine trees.  I like this set of tracks a lot.  They are service free, and needs no batteries to run on.   A child can create a simple round train track, or a complicated one with two loops that travels through a tunnel.  Incidentally, a tunnel here means our living room two seater sofa set.  And then, the child can create a forest reserve on one side of the track, and a school on the other side. 

Daniel loves his trains, and his tracks.  He loves them more than his brothers does simply because he is the one who loves most to work with his hands.  He is our carpenter, and our handyman around the house.  He builds his house roof from a box carton, uses lego blocks as his house fencing, and house walls are created by an airline kiddie lunch box and a tissue box.  Every detail is taken care of, for example the garage, the air conditions, the autogates etc.  There are some things his mother doesn’t even think about.  On the contrary, James and Brian have no interest in house building.  They are just happy being given a parking space in the house which Daniel built with his sweat and blood.  Truly, this child’s  joyful moments are when he gets to work with his hands.    

Last Saturday, playing with his train tracks was no different.  Daniel takes train- track building seriously.  He has everything he needs except for the bridges.  To elevate his tracks, he uses books of all sizes.  Big books, small books, thick ones, thin ones.  This train builder needs to find the right sized books to elevate his tracks to the exact gradient that he requires.  This takes time, effort and a lot of concentration.  He is playing happily and quietly when along comes Brian.

Brian is our two year old boy who loves to destroy.  He is our fun boy.   Brian is the name, and destroying is his game.  Anything that is systematic, tidy and straight needs to be meddled with.  It doesn’t matter what.  Give him a stack of nicely folded laundry, and he will create a heap of crumpled clothing for you.  Offer him a neat stack of flash cards, and you will find these strewn all over the floor in no time. 

Brian sees his brother building a nice looking railway track.  He runs over, and throws the tracks off course piece by piece .  

“Papa!  Look at Brian!” Daniel cries for help.  His papa is just sitting across him reading the newspaper.

“Brian is playing with my tracks!” Daniel screams louder to get his papa’s attention. 

Brian is just happy.  He is just happy dismantling the tracks.  And he continues being happy.  Ignoring his brother’s cries and wails, he happily continues   dismantling the railway tracks.

“Daniel!  Stop crying!  They are only tracks!”  his papa replies.

“You were a child once.  Remember how it felt when someone destroyed your toy?” I asked his papa.

Oh… how can one tell  a child not to cry and everything is all right when his whole world came tumbling down that morning?  His railway tracks are his whole world.          

School’s out, and the kiddie pool’s in!!

Cheers!  And a good week ahead.

Daniel is in primary one and attends class daily in the afternoons with forty plus other students.  He shares his class with another forty plus other older children who attend the morning sessions.  He is your regular kid.  Does his homework, pays attention in class, and gets along well with his friends.  Perhaps the only major flaw he has is that he keeps losing things in school.

He has this simple, apple green coloured, cloth-like pencil case with a single zipper opening.  It contains all the stationery one needs for a young schooling child. One day, he came home minus this casing. 

“Where did you put it, Daniel?”  I asked.

“Uh… I don’t know mummy,” he replied, with a tinge of regret in his voice.

It surely is lost. 

“Never mind.  Go ask your teacher tomorrow,” I consoled, only half believing that he will find his casing back.

I replaced the missing casing with a similar dark blue one.  And then, we moved on with our lives.

Two days later, he came back, waving a green casing in front of me.

“You found it! Who gave it to you?”  I exclaimed. 

There was silence, except for his grin.

I felt a warm feeling spreading across my chest when I saw the missing item, considering the size of his class and the fact that it is shared by eighty other students.  Someone was kind enough to hand over the green pencil case back to the teacher.  He is one very lucky boy indeed to get his casing back.

A few weeks after his lost and found adventure, his green casing disappeared again.   Off it went again on another great big adventure.    

This time it really is lost. 

Days later, he came home from school with his lost green casing once again!  Everything in its belly was still intact.  It was as if it had legs and decided to walk back to its owner.  

“You found it! You found it!” I chanted excitedly.  I was beside myself.   His mother was more excited than he was.  He is one very, very lucky boy indeed.  

He hasn’t lost his green casing since. 

The story doesn’t end here.  With Daniel there are so many other interesting things to lose.  About two months later, he had yet another lost surprise for me.  

“Mummy, my watch just dropped off.  And I don’t know where is it now,” he told me. 

“What do you mean you lost your watch?” I interrogated, looking at his naked left wrist. 

It wasn’t an expensive watch, but it was attractive looking.  It had a big face and one shocking orange stripe on each wrist strap.

It is attractive enough for a child to take.  It’s gone. It’s gone.  The watch must belong to some other boy now.            

My dad wrote a note to his class teacher.  I didn’t expect anything to come back.  For days he went to school without a watch.  That little fellow must learn not to lose things again.  For now, he will have to attend classes without a watch.     

Did he ever find his watch?  

He did! He did! He did!  It’s amazing!! 

He came back with his watch.  It was in perfect working condition.  He came back with his watch, can you believe it?

In this country, you could lose your mobile phone right under your nose, or your luggage as soon as your back is turned.  This is probably the best lesson the school taught this young boy.  Return what does not belong to you.  Honesty is truly the best policy.  Especially if you are at the receiving end.   There is still hope in our world full of deceit and lies.   Daniel is one very, very lucky boy indeed.

And Daniel, please don’t lose anything anymore.

With the weekend approaching, have a great weekend!  And summer’s here.  Have fun in the sun!      

Cheers!

Hi there!  How have you been?  And your family? It has been quite a while since I’ve posted anything and hopefully you haven’t stopped popping into my blog once every so often to share some of my thoughts.  And what have you been thinking about lately?

Nowadays, life begins after 10pm for me.  Right after all my children are asleep.  Even then, the housework occupies my children-free moments.   Other times,  I don’t get a break.  My children never sleep.  Not all of them at the same time anyway.  The three Cs seem to be catching up with me all the time, no matter how fast or efficient I work.  I meant the cooking, cleaning and childcare duties.  And recently, I stopped trying to be perfect to maintain my sanity.  My children share bathing towels these days, eat meals that are two days old, and gulp down junk food before their proper meals.  They don’t seemed to bother much, and is  still as happy and as boisterous as ever, even though I forget to wipe their chocolate stained mouth or didn’t change a soaked through nappy for almost two hours.        

Trying to reduce on washing culinary and cutlery (c&c) is a little trickier.  No matter how hard I try to reduce the amount of c & c used, I am still faced with the daunting task of washing a sink full of overflowing dirty plates and forks and spoons and pots and pans at the end of the day.  I feel as if I am working slow motion, not washing fast enough. Just bring them on baby!  Standing by the kitchen sink is not exactly my dream job.  And so, to reduce the plates and forks and spoons,now I use the same cutlery to feed all my three children, and myself as well.  It is a good thing I don’t have a pet dog.                  

Thanks for listening to my woes.  But this is not why I am posting this writing today. I would like to share the excitement we had in our tiny living room downstairs for the past few days. 

My dad is my children’s tutor.  Possibly he is the best candidate suitable for the role because no one has his patience. Possibly also, no one wants high blood pressure.  And possibly too, no one wants to turn into a screaming psycho maniac.  To complete a page of simple piece of homework could take my child at least an hour.  It doesn’t matter if the child is five or seven years old.  As long as he has to do his school work, you can expect that it’s going to be a mighty long day.  Even the phrase ’a long day’ is  an understatement.

Some days their mother is needed to be their replacement tutor.  A position I clearly would like to avoid.   A homework day with James proceeds like this.

“Sit down, and write your ‘a’ properly,” instruct his tutor.

After half a second of focus, James looks up.

“Mummy, what colour is a volcano’s lava?,” asked James.     

What has writing an ‘a’ got anything to do with volcano lava?

“Sit down and write,” I instruct, using my best tutor voice.

“Volcano lava, is it yellow in colour? Or red?” he pressed on. 

“Red.  Now start writing,” I replied.

And then, after two “a”s later, he looks up again.

“Can I put my teddy bear in the volcano or not?” he asked.

“No!  Now where is your pencil, James?” I shot back.

“Mummy, tomorrow I got school or not?” he asked some more as if he didn’t hear me speak.

I give up.

And you thought working for a tyrant boss is hard.  Try making a child write when he doesn’t want to.    

For the past three days, my children’s official tutor was busy.  He is seldom busy, except when there is good sports entertainment on tv.  I am talking about badminton.   Badminton really drives my dad. 

The Thomas and Uber cup were up for grabs. The matches were televised live from Jakarta, Indonesia.   On these rare occasions, my dad is just too busy watching television.  He hardly had time to tutor the two boys.

Maybe I am wrong.  He did tutor the children, on a different subject matter though.  There we were, sitting in front of the television set, yelling smash!!  And the children hadn’t got a clue of what was happening. 

The children learnt a different kind of vocabulary last weekend, words like smash!, drop shots and baselines.  And most importantly, they learnt that there are winners and, losers in sports.  And losers shake hands with winners regardless, even when they have lost a match.   

And shouting smash! is definitely more interesting than writing “a”s.  Isn’t that right, James?

And for now, I am going downstairs to finish up my dishes. 

Until my next posting, cheers to you!! And have a good smashing! week ahead!!!

This household has been alive with secrets and surprises for the past one week.  Having children infuse fresh energy and new perspective on aged-old occasions like Mother’s Day.

Daniel came home one day from school and had this conversation with his mother.

“Mummy, I have a surprise for you but I can only show it to you on Mother’s Day,” he said.

“Uh huh,” I replied.  Son, I already know you have a card for me!   I love you too!

Daniel did show me the card later that evening, and James got into a fit when he saw the attractive hand-drawn heart shaped card.  The reason he ( James ) got into a fit was because he wanted to give me a card as well but didn’t have any.  This is called, if you don’t know already, keeping-up-with-the-Jones culture.  If Daniel has a sweet, he must have one as well. If Daniel has two balloons, he must have two as well.  And naturally, if Daniel has a card for mummy, he must have one for her as well.    

It was already past his bedtime.  He was cranky.  I was cranky.  He was very tired.  I was very tired.   The card was the last straw.  He gave out a loud scream, kicked his legs into the air and started crying. 

For once, I commended his papa for his fast thinking.  He cut out a heart out of a beautiful deep blue coloured cardboard to prevent a further catastrophe.  The child instantly calmed down.  In a flash, he was seated on the floor with his colour pencils.  He wanted to colour his heart for his mummy.

“Close your eyes,” he instructed me.  “ Close, close…,”  he continued.

I played along.  I closed my eyes and occasionally peeped. 

Son, I already know you have a card for me!   Thanks for the card, but you are my perfect gift on this special day.

Your father, he cut the heart too big for you.  It will take you forever to finish colouring it.  You might not even make it in time for mother’s day.  Besides, it’s way past your bedtime. 

I opened my eyes while he was busy colouring.  He coloured green a few strokes and put it back into the box.  He coloured orange, then red, then green again with the same few strokes.  It was a painstakingly slow process. 

A little help is needed to speed things up.  James must be in bed now in order for his mum to keep her sanity!  And so, that night I vigorously helped James colour my own Mother’s Day card in order to get him to bed sooner. 

Thanks son, I really like your card. 

Husbands, tell your wives she is the most gorgeous, beautiful, wonderful woman on this planet earth.  And I don’t mean only when she’s in her expensive Armani power suit, or when using her Chanel lipstick.  I mean, her whole being.  Her smile, her laughter, her sparkling eyes, her joyful spirit, her calm soul.  Tell the mother of your children she is beautiful despite her belly’s stretched marks, or her too fat rounded thighs or her roughened hands due to overdoing housework or if you are a man of few words, just simply tell her she is beautiful.  She deserves this acknowledgement, especially on this special day.    

Happy Mother’s Day. 

Cheers! to you and a good week ahead.

A mother is she who can take the place of all others but whose place no one else can take. – Cardinal Mermillod

Daniel is seven years old this year.  Which means he gets to go to the big school, a big  progressive step from his kindergarten schooling.

I have always had some reservations of him adapting to a big school.  Time and again, my son has taught me not to underestimate him.  He has adapted well, and given me minimal worries.  He is your normal  happy school going kid who comes back and watches a bit of television before settling down to do his homework.   

Recently, he just finished his exams.  He came home with various marks for various subjects as expected.  At least, his parents expected that.  Our son, he is a perfectionist.  He expected one hundred marks for all his subjects from English to Maths to Mandarin. 

He was so upset, he tore up one of his examination papers. 

That was unexpected.  Did I tell you he is only seven? 

Parenting suddenly took on a new twist for me.  What do I tell this precious child?  How do I handle a delicate issue like this one?

“Why did you tear up the paper, Daniel?” I asked gently.

“I don’t know,“ he replied.

It is never easy getting anything out of this boy.  He doesn’t reveal much of anything.  

“Why did you tear the paper?” I asked again.

“Because, because… I didn’t get one hundred,” he replied, his face contorted in a twisted pain for a fleeting moment.

And then, he was gone.  He has gone to play with his siblings, leaving me with more questions than answers. 

Where did he get this outlook of life from?  No one in our home is a pressurising result-oriented maniac regarding his academic studies. 

At the start of his young life, he is already so afraid of making mistakes. 

I waited a few days later before asking him the same question again.

“Why did you tear your test paper? I asked.

“Because I got three wrong,” he replied, while holding up his three fingers with the same fleeting twisted pain expression.  

I felt that I had a responsibility to tell him that life in the real world does not depend on his English paper exam marks.  I wanted to launch into a lecture of how Robert Kiyosaki who didn’t do well in school but nonetheless, is successful in life.  And that it’s all right if he can’t remember two times two equals four.  There is always the calculator. 

In the end I said this.

“It doesn’t matter.  You can’t always get one hundred.  The most important thing is that you’ve done your best,” I consoled.    

And then, he was gone again.  To play.  

Did he get my message?  I don’t know.  

Maybe I should let Spaceboy relay the message to him. As Spaceboy from his favourite Rolie, Polie, Olie cartoon aptly puts it, “Be your best, and that’s the best you can be!”

Cheers to you!  And a good day.

Last Thursday was a beautiful sunny day that held promises of good memories.  I had looked forward to spend a day out with my spouse, but a small incident turned into an ugly scene.  An hour later, I found my angry self driving alone towards a destination I didn’t know how to arrive at. 

Sometimes anger is good because it compels you to take a little risk and elevates your independence instead of perpetually relying on someone else.  In my situation, I had depended on my spouse to take me to a booksale.  By sheer luck, some guts and three phonecalls later, I managed to get to the hall where the booksale was being held. 

As I parked the car and walked towards the hall, my thoughts were still angry.  My whole being was still angry.  I was just that.  Angry.  Too angry to notice the crowd.  Too angry to smile.  Too angry to look at my own two feet.  I walked around the hall aimlessly for a while.  Casually I rummaged through some musical books for children. 

“These are too expensive still,” I complained to myself.  I was still feeling angry.

I walked towards the end of the hall, picking up a book here and there on my way to nowhere.  I made a few observations.  This one is too thick.  This is not my cup of tea.  This looks too old.  This one’s still overpriced.

I started to loosen up.  There was every possible kind of book you can think of that went on sale that day.  The only difficulty was that the books were jumbled up haphazardly.  You never know what book lies beneath the next one. 

If there was anything that I needed that day, it was time. Precious time to dig deep into the heaps of books to find a good bargain.  I had no other plans that day and nowhere else to go.  So, I dived in and started searching for the right books.  A cookbook here, a biography there.  There were books about the weather, feng shui, fiction, fairy tales etc etc.  After fifteen minutes of reading and tossing, there it was.  A hard cover book of Beatrix Potter staring at me at a ridiculously low price.  I couldn’t believe my luck.  I had struck gold! 

With one hand clutching the book tightly, the other deftly dug deeper into the mountain of books in yet another treasure search.  Read and toss. Read and toss.  This sequence of actions go on for another ten to twenty minutes.  And then, there it was again.  I found Laura Ingalls Wilder hidden in a corner being sold dirt cheap.  I hardly could contain my excitement.  If you have never heard of Ms Wilder, she is the author of the book “Little house on the Prairie” which was later shown as a television series starring Melissa Gilbert. 

Having felt only anger when I first stepped into the hall, now I felt the familiar warmth spreading across my tummy as I read some chapters of Ms Wilder’s book at random.  I was being transported back in time to my childhood days.  I was a child of eleven again, reading simply for the pure pleasure of reading.

There were no children to chase after, and no partner to please.  I had only myself to think about, and my priorities that day were at my wimps and fancies.  I enjoyed that day, reading at my own pace and time.  Ah… The simple pleasure of life.  It was indeed a selfish, indulgent day for this mummy.  Albeit by accident.

The treasures were aplenty as I read and toss.  Winnie the Pooh was practically free of charge, begging to be bought.  I smiled a smile of contentment when I discovered Dr Seuss and his famed “The cat in the hat” book. 

“Look! I found my favourite Dr Seuss!” I wanted to shout. 

The book promptly joined my pile of overflowing books in my too small box.

There were so many good books and so little time.  In the morning I couldn’t wipe a frown off my face, and now I couldn’t hide a smile. 
A pocket sized hard cover book of M. Scott Peck (author of the book The Road Less Traveled) was sold cheaper than the price of a Mcdonald’s hamburger. 

So cheap! so cheap!, I kept telling myself. 

Today is really my day!   There were many other exciting discoveries that day.

Many days later, I still felt much pleasure being able to buy those books at a bargain.  I would play a game of show and guess with my spouse.  I would show him the book and he would have to guess the price I paid for it.  He would always make overpriced guesses and I would tell him the actual price with a laugh in my voice.  I am convinced he did this on purpose to please me.

Despite our current world of blackberries, i pods and, i phones, it only takes old fashion books to stimulate my mind and warm my heart.  These printed words put the music back to my soul. 

Last night I had a chance to read Dr Seuss to my son.  As I read, he was transported to the world of Yings and Goxes and Wumps.  His imagination taking flight, I saw the wonder in his eyes.  The magic of Dr Seuss.

“From there to here, from here to there, funny things are everywhere.”  Dr Seuss.

Cheers!  And a good day to you.