Hello!  How are you today?  And how is your family getting on? 

I have here a poem contributed by a very special mum, Jackie.  She currently stays in Melbourne, Australia with her spouse and two beautiful children.  She is the CEO of her home, in charge of her two children aged 2 and 4 and runs an entire household from top to bottom. 

“Can I post a poem on your blog?” she asked me weeks ago.

“Of course!” I replied.

Writingbeginnings accepts all writings of life experiences that create those unforgettable moments and  beautiful memories and of course, new beginnings..

She has experienced more of her children since being a stay home mum, and gladly shares her daily joys of her children through this poem she has made slight changes to.  

A recipe for all Mothers

Today I left some dishes dirty;
The bed I made at 3.30
The nappies soaked a little longer,
The odour grew a little stronger.
The crumbs I spilt the day before
Are staring at me from the floor.
The fingerprints, there on the wall
Will likely still be there, next fall.
The dirty streaks on the window panes
Will still be there next time it rains.
“Shame on you old lazy bones,” I say
“And just what have you done, today?”

I nurse a baby till she slept,
I held a toddler while he wept.
I played a game of hide and seek
I squeezed a toy, so it would squeak
I pulled a wagon, sang a song,
Taught a child right from wrong.
What did I do this whole day through?
Not much that shows, I guess it’s true….
Unless you think that what I’ve done
Might be important to someone
With bright brown eyes and soft black hair
If that is true, I’ve done my share.

- Joanne Green

Here’s wishing you a good weekend!  Cheers!

Hello!  How are you today?  And how is your family?

I am glad to be back here spending some time with you.  I miss talking to you.  Really. This is the only space that allows me some form of thoughts and expressions.  Of course, you my avid reader,  gives life to writingbeginnings.

This past week has been a grueling one.  Like dominoes, one after another of the boys have fallen ill.  It has been a long week of wiping wet noses, (force)feeding paracetamol syrups and  sponging feverish heads. 

Brian was down the most.  This must be some mutated virus to cause so much grievances to the little boy and his mummy.  If you listen close enough, you can hear his phlegm playing a whizzing symphony in his lungs when he breathes.  To rectify this uncomfortable condition, this gutsy toddler coughs out loud and hard to bring up his unwanted phlegm.  He coughs until he turns blue, and then coughs some more.  In the beginning, I was sure he would cough his lungs out.  Well, it’s a fine thing that hasn’t happened yet! 

Brian is one gutsy toddler, but not strong enough to sleep through the night with a fever and cough and blocked nose to fight off.  He woke up in the middle of the night two nights in a row, and needed to be comforted.  This has been an “intense” week of child caring for me.  Brian is sticky and wants only his mummy during this trying time.  Surely this is nature’s way of ensuring his ultimate survival at his moments of illness.

Mummy can take care of me best.

It is good for baby but bad for mummy.  This means I get no breaks at all.

Normally I get my breaks when papa puts him to bed at nights, but the recent week he wanted no one except his mother.  

Brian is a strong headed boy with the will of a seven year old wrapped in a two year old physical being.  Did you get that?  I meant to say he is as stubborn as a mule.

His papa seems to be a distant stranger now at nights trying to put him to bed.  The room lights are off, and I can hear the boy sobbing for his mummy.

Perhaps he will stop crying in a minute.

I continue to clang on my keyboard.  The boy doesn’t know when to stop.  He is like an energizer bunny, crying on and on in the darkness. 

In the end, I gave in.  His crying broke my heart.  After all I am his mother.  I opened the door, and there he stood in the darkened room, waiting for his mummy to pick him up.  And where is papa?  Papa’s fuming mad.  If Brian wants his mummy, he wants his mummy.  There is no negotiation.  Perhaps he got his stubborn streak from his mother.

During this intense period, the world stops turning for me.  I am obsessed with snatching sleep, measuring red cough mixtures into syringes and monitoring hot heads.  And of course, making sure the toddler doesn’t drown in his own phlegm. 

I realized that the world got on fine without me, albeit the rising gas prices and  falling house prices.  Sometimes it is hard to find joy when all there is to tend to is an untidy house and three nose sniffling young boys.  At times, I find myself trudging through the day trying to find something to look forward to. 

It was fortunate that I attended my monthly self improvement workshop last weekend, and came home with a wealth of information.  The trainer, a success himself, suggested that we discover our destiny and live by it.  The way of knowing is to listen to our hearts.  Some of us receive a fat paycheck at the end of each month but are  never happy.  How true.

He goes on to say that listening to your heart is not the easiest thing to do.

Yeah,  especially if you have two huge mortgages, four dependents and a long list of credit card outstanding loans.

But I gave him a chance, and listened further without prejudice.  He went on and on.  And then he said a phrase that caught my attention. 

“If you do the things you want to do, you will find glimpses of joy,” he said.

Glimpses of joy?  

Like a lightbulb, my mind turned on.  In my pathetic state of mind, I suddenly felt like a fortunate soul. 

I write, as I am writing now, is because I enjoy writing.  Sometimes it is not easy with three demanding children.  I write mostly late at nights when the world is asleep.  My physical being is screaming for some rest, but my spirit is ever willing to go on.  Just one more sentence.   I would gladly defy fatigue to put my thoughts and emotions on paper.  

And what is the satisfaction of completing a topic well written?  It is a feeling of great achievement  Suddenly the whole being comes to life, and feels a burst of happiness.  Perhaps these moments were the glimpses of joy he was talking about.

These rare moments have heightened my sensations, and given me my self worth.  It is a wonderful experience!! And truly joyful moments!! 

Perhaps I can make some work out of my writings.

I wish for you to discover your destiny and experience your glimpses of joy.  Is it to sing, or to work with your hands or to be a parent?  There are no wrong answers.  Only you have the right answer.  The world awaits your contribution the best you can give.

So, be silent and listen to your heart…

  
Till we meet again, here’s wishing you a good day.
       

For SS

Dear Boss,

I am leaving.   Firstly, I would like to thank you for making all my years of working with you pleasant.  I am grateful that you have never shouted at me before, although sometimes you can be difficult with the same intelligent questions which you ask time and time again.  I know, not everyone is perfect.   

For a long time I had to deal with yearly menial increments in our world of growing inflation. On the dot every year, the personalised increment letter would be handed out in the usual ceremonial manner, sounding as if it is a message from heaven.  Printed on crisp expensive white paper, the letter is sugar coated with the yearly carbon copied meaningful message, being consideration given to job performance and the current inflation rate.  The whole process looks good from the texture of the paper to the signature of the director.  It is a shame though,  the increment amount offered had a hollow sound to it.

Is that all?  After the millions of dollars in interest I’ve saved the company last year?    

It is obvious that you and I belong to two different worlds.  I am an earthling, residing on planet earth.  To date, I am still trying to figure out which planet you live in.  Planet Mars perhaps?  Well, for the benefit of all your fellow  marsians, I would like to inform you that the price of petrol has increased drastically on planet earth.   Like a hideous chain reaction, prices of foods and services have also followed suit.  As an earthling having to deal with earthly issues, I will need to cope with these drastic prices increase.

Together with the currently reviewed monthly increment I’ve been given, my salary can now only afford me half month’s worth of petrol while maintaining my current lifestyle.  I would like to think that I live in a big bungalow, owning two sports cars but I don’t.  Instead, I stay in a regular house, drive a regular car and eat regular meals.    In view of this, please expect me to be late the remaining half of the month as I will have to take the public transport to work.   If I am late reporting for work, I will need your assistance in performing my essential tasks of the day.  For your easy reference, I’ve pasted a list of key persons and important contact numbers in your office.    

Thank you for your regular nine to five working hours.  This arrangement has enabled me to engage in a second and third job in the evenings to ensure that my family and I are able to live decent lives.  This is a friendly reminder to you that my basic salary has not been reviewed for the past seven years.  Commanding a salary based on a stone aged salary scheme does nothing to beat the current high inflation.  To add salt to  wound, the increment given is hardly a fraction of that salary.   

Oh!  What good is a good performance review if the increment given is not at par? 

I can no longer afford the same simple lifestyle I had seven years ago.  Of course, I should not expect you to understand this economic change planet earth is currently experiencing as you are a Martian.           

I have to leave as my children have to eat.

And so, I tip my hat off and bid you farewell.  Au revoir!

Yours Sincerely,

An earthling employee.      

Happy Father’s Day to all fathers and grandfathers!  Better late than never.

My father used to play with my brother and me in the yard.  Mother would come out and say, “You are tearing up the grass.” “We are not raising grass,” Dad would reply. “We are raising boys.” – Harmon Killebrew. 

Weekends are always the busiest for me.  Their papa works hard on weekdays and only gets to sleep in during the weekends.  And this he greatly deserves.  The children do not know this arrangement though.  They always keep to a schedule no matter what day the calendar dictates; always asleep by nine and awake by seven. 

When papa gets his much needed rest during the weekend mornings, mummy has to hold the fort on her own.   I realized that even working at lightning speed to complete my household chores of laundry, cooking and cleaning, I had to put my children in front of the TV for some good number of hours to keep them out of mischief.   Having read about the damages of excessive TV watching to a child, I am not in favour of this method.  Shamefully I do it because it is the easiest thing to do.  When the TV is on, miraculously my children stop scampering about and even the whiniest of the boys stop his whining.  Only when the children are settled, then can I carry on my endless routine of cook, clean and wash. 

Well, at least they are not watching junk on TV, I reasoned.  Except for Mr Bean. But they are happy and laugh loudly when watching Mr Bean and all his silly quirks, I rationalized further.  

I like my children when they are happy.              

Perhaps it is the gnawing guilt of this form of liberal TV watching upbringing, or perhaps it is the toiling of mundane housework late into the night I am not sure, but there is a seed of deep resentment growing within my heart.  As my man sleeps soundly through most of the weekend mornings, I am already downstairs halfway through a busy day of noisy boisterous boys and a cluttered kitchen. 

I work hard throughout the week too, so why does he get to sleep in and I don’t?

And why does he have time for himself and I get to take care of the children all the time when he is home?

Being critical over the share of housework and child rearing can ruin a happy marriage.  I felt bitter that I had to embrace most of the responsibility of the home including the children’s education and well being.  When the resentment grew, it became easier for me to focus on the negatives.  Nothing my man did was right.  I started to fret the small matters. 

I would like to think my partner’s working ethics are the same as mine.  But you already know how far-fetched this expectation is.  No two persons work using the same method and with the same precision.  I am always furious if he does not perform a task in the exact fashion that I want him to.  I could have been sweet and polite when speaking my mind, but I wouldn’t allow him this luxurious approach.  The bitterness accumulated inside me snaked its way out and transformed me into a psycho screaming maniac.     

“You should have let Brian wear his pampers instead of his nappy!” I screamed.

“Are you on the phone again?  You should be keeping an eye on the boys!”  I
said sharply. 

“You didn’t take the rubbish out again last night!” I accused.

I could feel my anger rising rapidly.  My whole being was geared towards spewing out unkind comments and making irrational demands against my man. I broke every good trait listed in my little black book.  I was rude, sarcastic, and fault-finding.     Sometimes I just want to stretch and see how far I can go with my madness.  Other times, I shock myself even.  Who was that yelling just now?  Was that really me? 

Was I really going mad?  It was as if an evil streak had taken control over my usually patient, mild mannered self.  The poor man was looking somewhat shock, trying to make some sense of what triggered this woman’s wrath. 

I knew I had broken the golden rule when Daniel spoke to me the other day. 

“Why are you always scolding papa?” the seven year old boy asked in his own placid manner.

I had vowed never to put up a fight with their papa in front of the children.  Now, I seem to be the one starting one every single weekend.  I really felt like the evil stepmother of Snow White.  What would the children think of me screaming and shouting at their father? Most importantly, what would they think of their papa now?  Surely he deserves better treatment than this.   

When it is deep into the night and the children are asleep, my anger is spent and sanity returns. The stepmother in me disappears and I am once again transformed into a humane being.   I have no logical explanation for this transformation even today.   I profusely apologise to my spouse for my bad behaviour.

“Some days I really hate you. Evil,” he says passionately.

I look away and keep quiet.  Heavy silence hangs in the air.        

“What?  You have nothing to say?” he asked when he sees me attempting to say nothing.

He has spoken the truth.   I have nothing defensive to say. 

What is wrong with you, I sometimes ask myself.  There are many reasons I can think of.  Maybe I am going through a midlife crisis, or depression or simply going through a change.  The only sure part of this whole equation is that this is a bumpy stretch for our marriage.   When will this madness stop, me lady?

For the first time in the still of the night, he talks and I listen.  For a long while we are silent as we watch TV together.   He loves me, he loves me not.  He speaks and the silence is broken.  And I know I am forgiven all over again.  He loves me, he loves me, he loves me still! 

Every so often now, I try to walk the path of my man.  He is responsible for bringing home the bacon.  He works hard to put food on our table.  At work, he currently has to deal with a difficult superior.  This has created much stress for him.  When he gets home spent after a hard day’s work, he will need to wash the dishes and mop our house floor.  If he is home early enough, he puts the toddler to bed, before doing the house chores mentioned above.  And during weekends, he cleans our rooms and bathrooms.  To top off his list of concerns now, he has to deal with a tyrant wife back home. 

The more I ponder, the more I realized how difficult his average working day can be. 

For Father’s day this year, I want to say thank you. 

Honey, I want to say thank you.  Thank you for feeding us and giving us a good home.  Thank you for the chores you do to keep our house clean.  Thank you for loving the boys and teaching them to be little men.  Thank you for being cheerful despite a hard day’s work.  Thank you for cleaning my car. Thank you for forgiving your tyrant wife so easily.  And thank you for listening to my miseries this morning. 

Thank you! Thank you! Thank you! 

Happy Father’s Day. 

Of late I’ve been feeling a little like a chameleon, changing colours from light green to beautiful lavender.  Perhaps it was being at the wrong place at the wrong time, and the darkness didn’t help either.  The blow came unexpectedly.  It came swift and strong, resulting in a swollen left eye.  My immediate thought was, am I blinded.  I wasn’t.  Three cheers! But wait!  l I felt a tender lump growing just above my eyeball.  I wasn’t brave enough to look into the mirror to see if I looked like Frankenstein, but I definitely felt like the monster.  I rush to get my cold pack to nurse the lump, hoping to reduce the swell.  And there I sat on the couch, pressing the blue pack over my left eye while watching TV and intermittently during the commercial breaks chant, please let it go down, please let it go down.      

The swelling has all but subsided and much to my chagrin, attracted attention to my left eye.  In the beginning, the area around my eye was the colour of deep brown.  A few days later, it turned to a mixture of deep piercing purple and yellowish green. Naturally people would stop and ask.  At times, this made me feel like someone popular, for the wrong reasons.  Now, my skin has faded to the colour of light lavender and gold.

At a glance, if I made up my good eye as well, I could easily appear as if I am wearing Chanel’s summer’s 2008 makeup collection.  The outward appearance of the eye has been severed but thankfully, it still functions well and good.  Three cheers!  

The children made no fuss over their mummy with a black eye.  These kids would fret over a toy crane with two missing wheels, or a mismatched pair of socks but, never mind if mummy looks odd and unlike her usual self. She is still expected to function well to meet their needs and demands.  In some ways, I am thankful I deal mostly with children daily.  Whether I have stunning makeup on or just a plain face to exhibit, it doesn’t matter to these little ones.  The same goes regardless of whether I am wearing a DKNY Top or my well worn used one.  I am always at ease with children.  I don’t have to wear a mask or put on a pretentious front.   Unlike adults, children are never judgemental of one’s appearance.  Most importantly, my children and I, we are connected at the heart.      

And how have you been lately?  Surely I pray that not one of you have a black eye experience to share.  And what have you been up to lately?  More time outdoors and less time indoors, I hope.  Summer is here and it is time to play in the warm sun!

Here’s wishing you a good day.  Cheers!

Three adults and three children packed themselves like sardines into our car to go for a holiday.  This was a rare occasion as we have never been so physically close together as a family for a long, long time.  Our busy lives set us apart daily, with different schedules.  We seldom meet at the dinner table, and, most of the time, adults and children talk only during bedtimes.

Our children live in a concrete jungle.  They wake up to the sounds of peak hour  motorists traffic and the whirring sounds of tractors at a construction site nearby our home. For entertainment they watch Mickey Mouse on TV and the closest these poor souls can ever get to a cow is at the zoo or served on our dinner table.  These children, like all children love the water and the feel of sand in between their toes, so we decided to take them to the beach to be close to nature.   

Our journey by car was estimated to take three hours.  We had a neat schedule on paper, but had a hard time keeping to it.  We were lagging behind even before starting our journey.  For starters, I tried to reduce my whole house into a tiny suitcase.  This was no small feat, considering that I had to deal with a screaming spouse reminding me every ten minutes that we were running late.  Two hours late and a little later, our car sped down the highway with an overstuffed car boot,  three excited children and one very agitated driver.

The trip was not all fun.  There were always the small things that created friction amongst the adults, and not everyone wanted to do the same things at the same time.  The adults were constantly bickering over what to eat, and the children were just happy being spontaneous. Being spontaneous meant an emergency trip to the washroom in the middle of a meal, or turning in early for the night when we had planned to shop around at the flea market walking distance away from our hotel.  In addition to that, I still had to deal with fights amongst the boys over petty issues like who gets to hold the TV controller, or who gets to use the bathroom first.  A mother never stops being a mother, at home or on holiday.                     

For all the inconveniences and small arguments our family had, the beach made up for them.  Our house is a maze of adventure for the children with its accompaniment of chairs, tables, hot stoves and wet bathrooms. Every item could be a potential hazard when handled by a curious child; our bed is transformed into a jumping trampoline, or the under of our dining table is like a long exciting tunnel.  When the boys are awake, I am never at rest.  On the contrary, the beach, with its endless stretch of sands and wide open sea, provides the much needed space for the young and energetic.   

The fine sands.  The warm winds.  The shining sun.  The rolling waves.  These elements of nature calmed my children and gave them a new sense of purpose.  With a bucket and a spade, the boys immersed themselves in building sand castles, and big drains.   Brian is just happy filling his bucket with sand, emptying his bucket and filling it up again.  This repetitive motion he gladly did on his own many times. His soul is joyful, his work giving him fulfillment.  When they are tired of building, the bigger two stand near the edge of the water, waiting for the waves to come rolling in. Then squealing and laughing, they run back towards shore and let the waves chase them in.  Seconds later, they run out again to catch the next rolling wave. These two boys usually at each other’s throat were finally playing happily together.     

For those brief moments, I was free.  Free from the worries of a child falling off his chair, or those little fingers getting caught in between the crack of a door. I was free to think my own thoughts, and enjoy the feel of the warm sun on my back. Time stood still for me.  Unlike my normal hectic routine, I was unhurried and found pleasure in breathing in the salty air deeply.  I relaxed to the steady rhythm of the waves rolling to shore.  This was life at its best, I told myself.   

All too soon, the shadows of the pine trees were at their shortest, and the sun was glaringly burning.  And I knew this fairy tale segment of my life was about to end.  Calling out to the boys, reluctantly we made our way back to our hotel.

We were extremely behind schedule starting our travel home.   Being late was starting to be the norm this trip.  The adults agreed to travel express non-stop unless there was an emergency.  Only shortly afterwards we discovered that with traveling children there would be an inevitable emergency every ten minutes.  Our journey was punctuated with many stops to cater to the demands of the little ones.  I looked at my spouse, and my spouse sighed.  At other times, my spouse looked at me, and I sighed.   In the end, what does it matter.  Four hours and a little later, we arrived home still and safely with three sleeping children and a carload full of memories.

School has reopened and our home runs like clockwork again on a daily routine.     

I wish you a good day, and a good week ahead!

Cheers!