“One father is more than a hundred schoolmasters.”
- George Herbert

Papa is working late these days.  He hardly sees the children, and when he does, it’s only late in the evenings for a couple of hours. 

The boys were on school holidays for a week last week.  Papa took the opportunity to take a day off his busy schedule to spend time with his children. 

We wanted to go somewhere nearby for a short trip.  We know the boys enjoy being outdoors, so papa decided to take them trekking at a forest reserve.

It was a beautiful and sunny day, excellent for being with mother nature.  The five of us started walking alongside a cool flowing stream.  There were children playing nearby, the water cooling their bodies in the hot sun.     

There were man made steps to facilitate our climb at the foot of the hill.  The boys were energetic and excited.  We started our climb, and as we ascended the tall trees shielded us from the scorching sun, providing us with much needed shade. 

To my dismay, the higher we went, the more difficult the trekking turned out to be.  The man made steps disappeared, and there no longer was a well worn path.  The ground was strewn with brown fallen leaves which created a carpet of humus, and protruding large roots of huge trees. 

I discovered that I might trip if I was not careful as my feet might get caught in between tree roots.  However, if that was my concern, the boys did not seem to share it.  They were as enthusiastic as can be and I heard not one complaint from any of them regarding the difficulty of our ascension.   

We sandwiched the boys during the walk, papa the leader of the pack, followed by the boys and then me at the end of the trail.  At times, Brian our 3 year old faltered and almost fell.  Although he is a tough little cookie, I was nervous for him. 

I had myself to look after and my four month old pregnant swelling tummy.  I did the only thing I knew I could do.  I screamed for my spouse to hold Brian’s hand. 

He turned back and wore an annoyed expression.

“Leave him alone.  He’s fine.  Don’t worry,” he said.

I would very much have liked to argue with him but the pack had walked way ahead of me. 

Finally, we stopped to relax and swim at a secluded spot next to a shallow flowing stream.  We dropped our bags to the ground and sat on dirt. 

James didn’t mind at all, but Daniel disliked the idea very much of getting his pants dirty.  Well, I told him, this was a nature outing.  Anyway, it’s only soil and dirt.            

Papa removed James’s socks and lo!  There was a big fat leech clinging onto his foot, sucking his blood dry.  James was screaming by now, and that scared Brian.  The youngest boy screamed too when he saw blood stains on James’s sock.

My spouse yanked the leech off James’s foot although I read somewhere that it was not wise to do that, and threw it into the stream.  But we had to get rid of the leech somehow to stop the raising panic amongst the boys. 

Blood continued to ooze out of James’s foot and it didn’t stop for a long time after that, but the boys did stop screaming shortly.  At last, peace descended upon the forest again.  We changed the boys into their swimming trunks and took off their shirts. 

Papa built a dam using the rocks and stones in the flowing waters, trying to entice the boys to join him in the stream.  They were still cautious of wading in the waters, albeit it was a shallow stream, compounded by the knowledge that now a leech was lurking somewhere underneath.  

Minutes later, the two elder boys had overcome their fear from their earlier adventure with the little sucker and were happily building dams in the stream.  Papa’s great idea worked!  Except on  little Brian.

He decided that the safest place to be was next to his mother. 

I found myself a nice big rock to sit on next to the stream, letting my feet soak in the cooling waters.  Brian just sat as close as he could beside me the whole time.  He refused to budge, even when James tried to lure him in.  This was certainly not the same adventurous Brian I normally was used to.

The poor little guy seemed to be terrified of everything else besides the leech.  He screamed when papa tried to show him a tiny prawn found swimming in the stream. 

Soon, our family found some rhythm with the flowing stream.  We had the privacy that was needed to let down our guards and enjoy ourselves and each other.  The bigger boys were having fine time in the water.  They needed minimum supervision from the adults.  And Brian was just happy sitting next to me doing nothing.

My spouse and I had some uninterrupted time to share our thoughts.  I told him, wouldn’t it be great to have this stream behind our house.  He told me, he didn’t enjoy going to work anymore these days. 

We spoke of so many things, some trivial, and others deemed important.  We spoke of our neighbours and their weird habits.  We spoke of the progress of our boys in school.  We spoke of our unborn child.  We spoke of our current financial situation. 

Our conversation flowed effortlessly like the flowing stream. We joked and didn’t worry when we didn’t have all the answers to our concerns.  For the first time in many months, we were simply enjoying each other’s company. 

It all ended too soon, when James decided that it was time for a snack.  Daniel asked where was the picnic spot and the picnic spread.  He certainly had some fixed ideas of how a picnic should be.

Nonetheless, he enjoyed his corn creamed bun very much minus the picnic spot and spread.  I asked him to sit on the dirt with James and I, but he refused.  He was still very cautious of leeches.  Brian felt extremely secure in papa’s arms.  He too enjoyed his bun while papa carried him.  We ate in comfortable silence, to the sounds of living flowing waters and an orchestra of insects. 

It started to look cloudy, so we changed, packed and started our journey home.  And of course, we looked out for more leeches before the boys put on their socks. 

Papa blazed a trail for us to get back to civilization.  He helped us climb over fallen logs and created stepping stones to enable us to cross streams.  He thought of the best and safest ways to get us down to the foot of the hill again.

The boys and I trusted him completely to get us out of the jungle safely that day.  The children were on their best behaviour during the trek, adhering to their father’s instructions.  Step here.  Wait!  Stand still.  Give me both of your hands.

And Brian managed the trek on his own with minimum assistance.  Papa was right after all.   

Now I realised  why fathers are important.

My sons would never get a chance to acquire an experience like this one if their mother had organized the outing.  She would have taken them to a sterilized water park or an air conditioned science center.  

I didn’t exactly mention this to my spouse, but I am glad that he took the effort and time to be with his children. 

I think I should tell him exactly this when he gets up tomorrow morning.

And to you, my dear friends, here’s wishing you a great week ahead!

Cheers!              

PS  We found a tiny leech in one of Brian’s socks and, leech marks on Daniel’s backside later on!  Other than that, there were no other major catastrophes.

All for one and one for all,
My brother and my friend,
What fun we have,
The time we share,
Brothers ’til the end.
~Author Unknown

We have three boys of different ages.  They range between eight and three years old.  Because of the age difference, each child is constantly engaged in a different form of activity and has only a limited amount of time to spend with each other. 

During the weekdays, Daniel and James seldom have a chance to interact with each other.  This is simply because James attends school in the morning and Daniel attends in the afternoons.  When they do see each other in the evenings, the elder will be busy with his homework while the younger will be getting ready to go to bed.

Brian, the only one who is always in the house gets the privilege to spend time with a different brother at different sessions of the day. 

The boys are currently on a one week school break. 

On rare occasions like this one, I am able to gather and take all three boys to the park for an evening of fun. 

The day is warm and breezy.  We take along a ball for tossing and throwing.

After playing the slides and tunnels and swings, the boys run to  the huge football field beside the park.

I kick the ball to Daniel, who in turns kicks it to James.  Soon, the boys are having fun with the ball.  They hardly notice that I am not in the game anymore.

I take a deep breath.  In this wide open space, the boys need little supervision from me.  I sit on the grass and relax, enjoying the scenes unfolding before me.      

Daniel kicks the ball with his left leg and misses.  Instead of kicking the ball forward, his leg rolls over the ball and he trips.  Brian thinks this is funny and he laughs.  Daniel laughs too when he finds Brian being humoured.

They kick the ball to each other for a while.  None of them are fighting with each other yet.  This amazes their mother. 

With grass under their feet and wind blowing in their hair, it seems possible for play and fun without their normal squabbling and yelling.

After a while, Brian finds it easier to pick the ball up by hand.  James gets too excited and tries to kick the ball while Brian bends down to pick it up. 

James’s leg misses the ball, and kicks Brian’s face instead. 
 
Brian cries out loudly, tears rolling down his eyes. 

I cuff James on the arm without clarifying the matter in any way.  James runs away and I let him.  I am too busy checking on Brian to make sure that he is all right. 

After calming Brian down, I realise that there is a possibility that James did not kick his brother on purpose.  A wave of guilt washes over me.  I stood up, looking around for James.  Where is my little boy, I am wondering. 

And then, I saw a lone figure sitting at the see-saw sulking away.  I walk over to him, thinking of what I am going to say to him.

I say I am sorry for hitting him without assessing the situation first.  He says nothing, and still looks really hurt. 

I know this child sitting in front of me loves the feel of earth and grass under his bare feet.  Suddenly I have an idea. 

Why not take off his slippers to play, I suggest to him.  That way, if he accidentally kicks Brian again it wouldn’t be so painful. 

His face lights up and he nods.  He is gone before I can say another word. 

He runs towards his brothers, kicking off his dark brown slippers.  The other two boys, seeing this, quickly follow suit as well before continuing their play.  

James chases Brian, and Brian runs away while laughing.  All is forgotten, and they become fast friends again within minutes. 

I am merely a spectator now, none of them needing my facilitation.  The three boys are running after each other, their squeals of laughter being carried in the wind.

James chases after Daniel, and Brian is just running to join in the fun.  I see James pumping his strong legs fast, quickly catching up with his brother in this big green piece of flatland. 

With a wide open space available, they run chasing each other everywhere. There are no boundaries. They play among themselves far away from where I sit, three little dots in this big universe. 

Soon, they roll with each other on the grass, pulling at each other’s shirt.   

James lies down still for a while, looking up in the sky.  Brian, who is always eager to follow the leader, promptly lies down beside his brother.  He looks up to the sky as well, his pose exactly like his brother’s.  And Daniel is strolling aimlessly around, possibly taking a breather.       

These boys never tire of rough play.  James takes Brian’s head and slams it head on into Daniel’s chest.  I am mortified and am ready to scream.   The youngest boy laughs, and so does Daniel.
I stifle my scream.  I realize they are quite capable of taking care of themselves.    

Their play is unstructured and spontaneous.  They take no orders or promptings from adults.  They need no sophisticated sports gadgets to entertain them.  They appoint their leaders, make their own rules and play their own games.  

They enjoy jostling, chasing and tumbling on the grass among themselves.  They play London Bridge, Ring O Ring O roses and, hide and seek.  They discuss, persuade and haggle with one another for their favourite game to be played.

The boys play until twilight.  I call out to them to go home.  It’s time for dinner. 

These three boys came together one evening to enjoy each other’s company.  Their mother thought it was just going to be  another regular park outing.  How untrue!

It turned out to be an amazing event created by the power of play.  I’ve just witnessed three brothers in comrade. 

It was child’s play at its best.            

Here’s wishing you a great week ahead!

My father didn’t tell me how to live; he lived, and let me watch him do it. – Clarence Budinton Kelland

All his life, Daniel has slept through the nights with the accompaniment of an adult. 

Now, his father and I are trying to train him to sleep on his own, or sometimes with his younger brother in the same room. 

This has proved to be a challenging task because of the perceived monsters hidden in the darken bedroom existing in the realm of this young child’s imagination.  It doesn’t help to keep the bright light on either because that would cause him to stay awake.  Either way, sleep does not come easily to him.

One night, before I sent him into the room he said to me, “ I’ll be watching ya, always watching ya!”

Initially, I ignored him paying no attention to what he was trying to tell me.  It sounded like jabbering of a seven year old boy. 

When he repeated this phrase often before he was sent to bed, I started to take notice.

I found out that it was a line from the Disney movie Monster, Inc.  From the bare description I got from Daniel, I understood that it was a scene where a punk haired bespectacled heartless looking monster lady cautioned Mikey, the one eyed monster, “ I’ll be watching ya, always watching ya!”

But I still didn’t get it.  Why would he say that to me?

Then one night, a week after we started this routine, I heard him sneak out of his room minutes after he was sent to bed.  He stood hidden halfway at our staircase, observing the adults and their nocturnal activities downstairs.

The norm is that I would watch some TV or turn on the computer once the children go to bed. 

Some nights Daniel would ask, “Mummy, what will you be doing after this?  Will you be watching TV or playing the computer tonight?”

Other nights he would say in warning tones, “Remember mummy, when James and Brian go to sleep, I’ll still be awake and I’ll go downstairs.  I’ll be watching ya, always watching ya!”  

He knows his mummy is strict with his TV watching, allowing him only to watch certain hours in a day. 

Now I know it’s time for mummy to turn off her TV watching.

Because I’ll be watching ya, always watching ya!

Cheers!  And a good week ahead. 

Be who you are and say what you feel, because those who mind don’t matter and those who matter don’t mind.  ~Dr. Seuss

I took James and Brian to the park yesterday.  It had been a beautiful sunny day, and the children were restless being cooped up in the house the whole day.

There were many children at the playground.  Some were at the swings, and others were trying to fly a kite.  My children blended in with the rest enjoying the warm glowing evening.

A little later, the skies darken.  It looked as if there would be an impending storm approaching soon.  Guardians hurriedly gathered their young ones and went home. 

My children were having such a relaxing time that I was reluctant to leave. Besides, I too, was enjoying myself thoroughly and, figured that a little rain wouldn’t hurt anyone.

As everyone headed home, there left the three of us and another girl and her grandmother.

Suddenly, a gust of strong wind blew.  As if in autumn, a nearby tree shed its leaves covering the ground with a carpet of brown.     The wind blew up some already fallen leaves off the ground, depicting a playful dance. 

On impulse, I said to the boys, “Look! The leaves are dancing! Go dance with them.”

Brian joined them without a moment of hesitation.  He danced with them in their swirl and twirl, his whole being in rhythm with their invisible music.

But James was nowhere to be seen. This was so unlike our James.

Ever since he started pre-school last year he has grown to be a self conscious boy.  Recently we shaved his head bald. He kept running his hand across his short spiky hair and refused to go to school the following day.  What if my friends laugh at me, he asked. 

However, when he is alone with me his spontaneity shines.   Once I parked our car on the shoulder of the road outside our house.  As he opened the passenger side of the car to get in, he danced a short jig right there in the middle of the deserted road.  This is also the same shy boy at school who would suddenly break into a song when doing his school writing at home. 

Perhaps it was because of the presence of strangers that day that James hesitated in joining his brother.  Perhaps he was thinking, what if they laugh at me. 

A split second later, there was James!  Dancing with the last leaf before the wind died down.  He had decided to join Brian in the dance with the leaves. 

He was courageous enough to dance the dance he wanted to dance. 

What a simple profound lesson he taught his mother!

There they were beneath heavy dark clouds, two boys throwing caution to the winds, moving their tiny lithe bodies to the rhythm of the wind and the dancing leaves.

The dance lasted only a brief moment, but created a spontaneous happy memory of a lifetime for their mother. 

Shortly, the first drops of rain fell and we quickly made our way home. 

Here’s wishing you, my dear readers a good weekend!

Cheers!     

Daniel turned seven in October 2008.

When he was between five and six years old, he drew many pictures and stuck them on his bedroom door.

When he was five, he drew a skeleton face of a boy with a red crayon.  The boy had no hair, a straight thick line for a mouth and a neutral expression.  

This is me, Daniel said to his mother that day. 

There is another drawing of a ship sinking into the sea.  He happened to watch clips of James Cameron’s popular  movie,Titanic, on TV one day, and decided to take an interest in this sinking ship in the form of drawings.

He used a pencil to draw a simple outline of his Titanic.  It had three long funnels and he decorated the hull of the ship with a row of round windows.  He drew a triangle resembling an iceberg overlapping the tip of his ship. 

As he drew the last stroke, he looked up and said, “Oh I forgot, the accident happened in the night.”  Then, he proceeded to draw a crescent high up in the sky.

Although not one fond of using colour pencils, he decided for reasons unknown to me, to colour the funnels green and the hull of the ship red. 

Upon completion of this drawing, he wrote his name and the date 30-7-2007.

Of course, he stuck a drawing of his absolute favourite subjects; air conditioner units and big pipes.  He imagined and created the exterior of his dream house.  As always, he used only a blue ball point pen to draw. This piece only depicted strong bold strokes void of any form of colourings. 

The artist drew the exterior of a double storey house in skeleton form.  Then, he drew  a square box representing a unit of air conditioner on the top right and left hand corner of the house.  Each unit, installed with a cooling fan, was labeled ‘Panesonc’. A host of pipes connected these coolers to everywhere else.

Although it bore his mother to pieces, the boy got quite a thrill drawing his pipes and coolers.

An introvert by nature, he had found a way of asserting his character and preferences without having to be vocal. 

These drawings were this young child’s greatest treasures. 

He eagerly pasted these masterpieces up for exhibition on his bedroom door and they have been on exhibit for as long as I could remember.

Two weeks ago, he surprised me by tearing down his creations and discarding them.  He did this without promptings from any of the adults.  Clearly it was a self motivated act. 

His door was clean again.

Wait.  Something caught my attention. 

Pasted right in the middle of his door, a white piece of ragged rectangular paper read ‘PLeAs kNock Before you enter.’ in boyish handwriting.    

It struck me!  My little boy has grown up a little. 

He is at a magical age where reality and possibilities intertwine. 

He used to enjoy watching Mickey Mouse only.  Now he enjoys Mickey and National Geographic.  He is fascinated by the functions of the gear stick of a manual car.  At the same breath, he is still weary of monsters lurking under his bed. 

With a fair command in simple English and, the possession of an open mind for logic and adventure, I knew that this firstborn of mine is ready to share my passion of reading. 

I look forward to sharing with him stories that I loved as a child.  I am sure I will enjoy reading to him stories of pixies and fairies and gnomes in Fairyland authored by Enid Blyton.  She also wrote stories of little boys and girls plus a dash of magic to warm his heart and heightened his imagination. 

In my room now, there is a book I received as a birthday gift when I was ten.  The cover reads Arabian Nights Storybook.    I remember vividly its new smell, and the feel of fresh unwrinkled pages on my finger tips every time I glance at the twenty odd year old book.

I sincerely believe that a book as a gift is a timeless treasure for a child, and the child in every adult.   

Surely Daniel will love to listen to the story of Ali Baba and the Forty Thieves.  Soon, he will discover that “Open, Sesame!” is a magical phrase other than “Please” and “Thank You”.   I hope he will enjoy as much as I know I will  reliving the timeless tale of how a humble barber brought the Sultan’s favourite jester back to life and saved four other persons from the gallows in The Little Hunchback.   

I have no doubt he will embrace the technological age easily with her many gadgets; ipods, iphones,   blackberries and countless others that I’ve never even heard of. He has a lifetime to master these.  

In my opinion, he is already spending too much time in front of the TV and  playing computer games.

These days, I make an effort to read to him a short Enid Blyton story every night.  I have, after all just a fleeting moment to enchant him with Ms Blyton’s magical creatures.  He is seven years old only once in his lifetime.     

It is my hope that this precious boy will bring along some of this magic with him into adulthood.  At the dawn of adulthood, he will quickly discover that the worries of the world are aplenty.  

A little magic will surely help soothe his soul in the midst of all worldly worries as it did for his mother.

Here’s wishing you a good week ahead! 

Cheers!

Life is magic, the way nature works seems to be quite magical.
- Jonas Salk

We have fairly predictable days now.  The boys have settled in a daily routine which their mother is thankful for.  James goes to school in the mornings, albeit with a struggle.  Daniel wakes up, has breakfast and occupies himself with his drawings or pet fishes before going to school in the afternoons.  Then, James comes home from school, has lunch, and later does his homework before proceeding to other activities.  Brian has a nap in the afternoons, and plays throughout the day.  Daniel comes back from school in the evenings, and the boys have their dinner.  Thereafter, bedtime.

I blended easily into this routine until one day early this year, a pregnancy test strip changed my life.   Nothing has been routine ever since. 

My spouse and I had talked about the possibilities of having another child for months now.  Those were mere wants, and I gladly entertained him then.  And now, the possibility was as real as the strip I held in my hand that day. 

A train of thoughts rushed through my mind before I could catch my next breath.  Is it a boy or a girl?  Will it be a normal, healthy baby?  Why would I want another child?  And where is my breast pump?

I hardly felt the elation or happiness of a first time mum.  Instead I was apprehensive.  My current perfectly well balanced family life is about to tip once again, for the fourth time.  Having had three children before this, the hardest journey of a fourth pregnancy is knowing.    Knowing how I would have to cope with morning sickness and looking like a whale with a big belly.  Knowing how I will be overwhelmed with sudden emotional madness.  Knowing the pain of labour, hard and fast.  Knowing the responsibilities of looking after a baby with seemingly unending sleepless nights, frequent feeding schedule and a virtually non existent social life .

And then, there is the not knowing equation.  Not knowing if this worn out mid thirties body is capable of sustaining new life and nurturing it into a perfect healthy being.  Not knowing if I am capable of caring for a fourth baby with three other young boisterous boys in tow.   

I was entirely consumed by the state of my being.  I experienced bad nausea, and extreme tiredness.  Suddenly, my whole world revolved solely round this new life within and me.  It didn’t matter if the world economy is collapsing and Obama had announced his economic saver plan with a trillion dollar package.  At times, I didn’t know if Brian had been given his dinner or, that if James had done his homework.  I am grateful for my parents for helping out with my children.  It didn’t matter if the dishes were piling up in the sink, and the house floors were strewn with food scraps and milk stains.  It didn’t matter if I had not made any time for my spouse.  

I was just kicking hard trying to get out of the situation I had got myself into.   It was as if, I had undergone a metamorphosis. I used to love coffee, and now I detest the smell and taste of it.    The smell of my favourite green tea detergent turns me off completely now,  and my neighbour’s praying incense which I think of nothing before this, drives me up to my room everyday. 

Even engaging in a conversation became a task.  I stopped talking to anyone unless it was an absolute necessity.  It was easy to fall into an argument with my highly charged, mixed up emotions.  I kept mostly to myself either curled up in bed, or in the bathroom hovering around a wash basin trying to rid of my nausea.       

My Lord, I prayed, please deliver my baby tomorrow so that I can reclaim my old life. 

This may sound like a nonsensical prayer, nonetheless, I recited this prayer earnestly every day.  Well, the baby didn’t arrive the next day, nor the day after next. 

I was impatient.  I wanted to have the baby now!  Nature had other plans. There she was, whispering to me every day, reminding me that time is the essence of creating something beautiful. 

Not now, she whispers, the time has not come for this baby to be born. 

It has been three months since I first held that fateful pregnancy strip which changed my life.   In time, came acceptance.  I learnt my lesson well.   

The most beautiful things in life are not meant to be rushed.

For some of us, life is business as usual.  Here’s wishing you a good week ahead. 

Cheers!