The past two weeks have been rather exciting.  The elder two boys are on school holidays, and so, they get to stay home all day with mummy. 

The first two days, our eldest, Daniel, decided that he would like to sleepover at his uncle’s house.  The routine was that he would come home for lunch, before returning to his other new home.  The second day he came home for lunch as expected.  Later that day, he behaved exceptionally well.  He asked if he could spend another night at his other home.  When I said yes, he wasted no time in finding his way there. 

Without any need for prompting, he took the house keys hanging near the door and opened the door grill. Then, he returned the keys, pushed his bicycle to the gate, opened the gate, pushed the bike out, closed the gate and rode off down the road without looking back. 

I observed all these with amazement and wonder.  He was normally slow moving, and whinny, and fussy, and this and that, before he ever did anything.   A few minutes ago, he just showed me that he was capable of doing an eight step process in a methodical, efficient manner.  And all these he did with no adult supervision needed. 

I seriously needed to find out what was so enticing at his new home that turned my normally laid back big baby into Mr Fast-And-Efficient. 
I called my mum. 

It took me only five minutes to uncover the secret. 

Apparently, he has easy access to a notebook and its endless streams of computer games found on the internet.  He even asked an adult there to set up the notebook for him before he came home for lunch that day. 

And I found out that he had been staying up late playing games for the past two nights. 

I shook my head.  I was not entirely surprised though.  He loves playing computer games more than anything else. 

I kept him home permanently when he came back for lunch the following day. 

He was, naturally, very upset.

Now there are four boys at my home all day, every day until school reopens next week.

There are normally two favourite questions being asked by the boys daily.  Sometimes three, but always these two.

“Can we play the computer today?” and “Can we watch TV?”

I am perpetually finding ways to distract them from these two of their favourite pastimes. 

“Why don’t we read a book first?” I’d say.  “Why not play some pirate games first?  Why not do some drawing first?” 

“And then, can we play the computer?” they’d reply.

Somehow, they had learnt the skill of negotiation far better than cultivating good manners. 

One fine day, after a difficult morning of endless pleas from them to play the computer, I stopped negotiating with them. 

“Well, if there is nothing you’d want to do besides playing the computer, you can sit and sulk, and do nothing,” I said. 

And that was that.  It was final, and they knew that I meant it. 

James, an extrovert, started to wail and cried many a tear. 

Daniel, an introvert, put on the saddest face ever to show his unhappiness.

And Brian, being only four, was not bothered at all by the whole explosive scenario. 

The boys literally sat in a corner, and sulked. 

I took no pity on them. 

I reckoned sitting down and doing nothing was better than being exposed to the violence, foul language and, sarcasm that the boys had easily picked up from the TV.   And the computer does funny things to young boys.  Playing games make them forget to eat, sleep and pee.        

Sat and Sulk they did, but not for long. 

The boys started fooling around among themselves.  One decided that he would strip naked and do a dance.  The other two started throwing the sofa cushions on the floor, playing a game that they had made up. 

I am just happy to fade into the background, giving them space to kid around. 

This sure beats watching TV and playing computer games!

Sometimes you have to be cruel to be kind.

Cheers! And a good day to you. 

This is an excerpt from the Reader’s Digest March 2003 issue, page 132.  The best workout plan ever is men who have sexual intercourse two or more times a week.  They are 50 per cent less likely to die from coronary heart disease than those who have sex less than once a month, according to research done by the University of Bristol in England.

I often wondered if this workout had the same effect on women. 

Having had four babies, I could no longer fit into most of my pre-natal blouses and skirts.  I had expected this, and thus, did not find this a too distressing matter to handle.

Approximately six months after having my last baby, I made a decision that I would give myself a new beginning in the form of a new body.  I do not consider myself a vain pot.  However looking in the mirror everyday, I secretly confessed to myself that I would gladly trade my flabby stomach for a well toned one.       

So, I once again, jump started my daily workout routine.  There are only two fitness gurus in my life, Jane Fonda and Kathy Smith.  Now you have some inkling of which generation I come from.  Unlike most women, I actually enjoy working out.  I enjoy waving my arms wildly in the air and kicking my legs in all directions.  Workouts seem to provide a way to easily channel out stress from my body system.

The old story was, that is before I got married and had children,  I could jump around in front of the television for as long as I wanted to.  Normally this would be an hour or so before I collapsed due to extreme fatigue.  I never did figure out how the fitness trainers and their counterparts could still smile and look so fresh after a vigorous workout. 

The new story is more interesting and extremely short.  This is after having four children.  I turned on my Kathy Smith workout DVD, and started moving my limbs to the beat of the music.  In less than five minutes, I found a toddler trying to crawl between my legs as if it was a fun game as I tried, in a futile manner of course, to march in accordance to the tempo of the music.  Folks, that was the end of my workout. 

Thereafter I tried, albeit in a series of failed attempts to start my workout routines but these never culminated to anything.  There was always something that needed my attention immediately; a crying baby, a whiny toddler or an ensuing fight between the two elder boys.    
 
Needless to mention, it was easier to do nothing than to start the workout routines.  So, I stopped doing the workouts that I hardly started doing.  The flabby stomach stayed, and I shelved my dream body aside which was supposedly to resemble GI Jane’s.  It seemed that the new beginning that I wanted to give myself had abruptly ended before it had a chance to begin.  

Recently, my spouse has bestowed me with the prestigious ‘aunty’ title.   The aunty of the house need not worry about brushing her teeth in the mornings.  She need not worry about a bad hairdo day.  In fact, she need not even have to worry about brushing her hair.  The aunty of the house need not have to crack her head thinking of what apparel to put on for the day. It is deemed to be perfectly normal for the aunty to be still in her pyjamas even when noon approaches.

The aunty is given all the freedom she desires with one condition. The children are her main responsibility.  With children aged from nine years old to nine months old, the aunty’s day’s work never ends but stretches late into the night.     

I love the boys, and I love my spouse.  But lately, it is disturbing to note that my spouse has perceived me to be a frump.  In his mind, I had become the mundane, steadfast mother whose role is to be a constant provider of food and security for the family.   In some ways, this holds true.  I am after all, the mother of his children. 

Mothers are not seen as sexual beings.  I am fine by this statement.   The issue is this; my spouse is not my son, and I am not his mother! 

Ever time he calls me aunty, I get really mad.  Stop it, I want to yell out.  Look, can’t you see that I still have curves and breasts, I want to scream back at him. 

It wasn’t his fault.  The curves and the breasts were hidden beneath layers of shapeless, oversized, worn out T-shirts and baggy culottes.  Uninteresting and unattractive, this form of clothing is good for comfort but does nothing to fire up one’s imagination!     

I hated to admit this to myself, but I was not only perceived as a frump, I was a frump. 

How many two legged females  with cleavages does he see on the streets every day, I wondered.  Without warning, a feeling of insecurity welled up from within.    

Then, I chanced upon the workout article printed in Reader’s Digest. 

I needed to workout, but most importantly I needed to feel attractive once again. 

I went rummaging in the darkest corner of my cupboard for my light pink lingerie.  Sleeveless and made of transparent material, it is adorned with lace at the hem.  I finally found it hidden in between two T shirts, and in good condition.  After all, it had been only worn once or twice and had since been lying untouched for years and years now.

Gingerly, I slipped the flimsy material over my head.  It had fitted perfectly the first time I wore it.  Now it was too tight every where.  I looked into the mirror.   Of course, the first part screaming for my attention was my flabby stomach.  Purposely ignoring that, I glanced at the other parts of my body and took pleasure in knowing that the lingerie had also done a good job accentuating my womanly curves.

The first night ever I wore it after my baby was born, which was almost ten months ago, my spouse looked at me twice.  I finally caught his attention.  And mind you, he didn’t call me ‘aunty’ at all that night.  

Getting to exercise in bed proved to be more difficult.  That night, the baby woke up crying twice in a row and the toddler found his way into our bedroom to spend the rest of his night. 

Regardless, it was a good start to more interesting nights to come.  Instead of chucking the lingerie back into the dark corner of my cupboard, it now hangs behind my room door for easy retrieval. 

There were many more hot, steamy nights after that fateful one.  Some nights we worked out in bed, other nights we didn’t.  Regardless, it is good to feel attractive once again.

I also discovered that having sex is like riding a bicycle.  It has almost been a year,  but you never forget how it’s done even after a long, long time. 

Get intimate with your partner today.  You might discover yourself once again. If that does not motivate you, think of the health benefits involved when you take part in this pleasurable activity.   

Cheers!  And a good weekend! 

“Faith is taking the first step even when you don’t see the whole staircase.” – Martin Luther King, Jr.

We have these somewhat similar conversations almost every day nowadays.  It goes like this:

“ Hon, how much should I pay my credit cards this month?” I ask my spouse.  When we discuss monetary issues, I always try to talk to him when he is in a good mood.   Well, he is in one now. 

“I don’t know, dear,” he replies without looking up while tapping away on his notebook. 

“Well, when is the paycheck coming in?” I ask. 

“I don’t know, dear,” he replies without missing a beat. 

I cringe when I hear his response. 

We started a new beginning this year when he decided that he would do some free lance business instead of working for an employer. 

After being in a dead end job for a year with no light at the end of the tunnel, we decided it was time to take a little risk by doing something different. 

Truly it was a new beginning.  The regular paycheck didn’t come in on the twenty fifth of every month as it normally did.  Well, that created much havoc in my life.  There are bills to pay, mortgages and overdrafts to service, children’s expenses, and of course, the darn credit card bills.  Now, those come on time every time.  By the middle of each month, they arrive promptly in the mail no matter if it rains or shines.       

When they do arrive, as much as I dread this, I know that we will need to have the how-much-should-I-pay conversation once again.   I am not sure which is worse, having to have this conversation or having to pay for not one, but two credit card bills.
 
This credit cards issue is one beginning I would like to see an end to. 

However, there are other beginnings worth mentioning.  These are beginnings I’d love to share with you.  My spouse no longer hates going to work everyday.  Nowadays, he comes home happy every evening even after having to put in long hours at work.     

In the meantime, let me just leave you for a while to finish up my monetary conversation with my spouse.  After all, the paycheck might come in tomorrow. 

Every day is a new beginning! 

And you my readers, please remember to pay your credit card bills on time.  If you are not aware of this yet, it is good to know that you will be charged late charges and then, finance charges for every day of late payment. 

Cheers!

“You see, Wendy, when the first baby laughed for the first time, its laugh broke into a thousand pieces, and they all went skipping about, and that was the beginning of fairies.” – an excerpt from J.M. Barrie’s Peter Pan

The baby is growing beautifully.  Little Simon is nine months old now.  He is very much aware of his surroundings these days, making him a popular pastime with the other children and adults.  Every one wants to make him a funny face or, play peak-a-boo with him or, simply shower him with kisses. 

All of us wants to play with him because we love to listen to him laugh his hearty laughs.  He is such a happy baby.  He laughs and laughs, and never tires of it. 

Every regular activity to us is a new adventure to him. 

He laughs when he sees Brian tossing a balloon into the air. He laughs out loud when his father throws him into the air.  He laughs when I caress the palm of his chubby hand.  He laughs when Daniel plays peak-a-boo with him.  He is tickled when he sees trickling water. 

The house resonates with his laughter.  My being is joyful when the baby laughs.  His laughter is like a breath of fresh air.  The tainted world that I know of seems renewed, as I see it through the eyes of a baby. 

Today, my spouse asked me what had happened to the flashcards  he purchased years and years ago.

I remember the cards.  These were bought when our first child was born nine years ago.  My spouse had wanted to raise a genius, and so with much enthusiasm, he went and bought two stacks of flashcards.  One stack consists of various types of animals, and the other, fruits.   

The purple coloured boxes that contained the cards are long gone  but the cards are still kept intact.  They are being stored in  one of the drawers downstairs.  Lying untouched, they looked new, as if these were bought yesterday. 

Slightly smaller than an A4 sized paper, these are beautiful cards.  An eye catching coloured picture is printed on one side of the card, and the word describing the picture is printed on the overleaf. 

I used the cards on Daniel when he was around a year old.  This October he will turn nine years old. 

I did exactly what the cards indicated.  I flashed them at him.  Well, I cannot confirm whether card flashing brought out the genius in the boy, but I can surely confirm that practically, it was a messy affair.  He would only be interested for the first few minutes.  Thereafter, he would reach out for the cards in an attempt to put them in his mouth or scatter them on the floor for his pure entertainment. 

After a few rounds of gathering scattered flash cards from four corners of the living room, I took the practical route.  I stopped using the cards altogether.   

It seemed to me that my spouse had shown more enthusiasm purchasing the cards rather than flashing them in front of the child.  I reckon he had only done it once or twice with Daniel, and none with James and Brian.
 
I look at him now and reply, “Didn’t you ask for the same thing when James or Brian was around this age?”

He gave me the sweetest smile ever.

This felt like déjà vu.

The both of us had no patience nor persistence in using the cards on any of the boys.  It’s no wonder that none of them are geniuses yet.

Well, it’s still not too late with little Simon yet.  Perhaps I’ll flash the cards tomorrow.  Perhaps, perhaps, perhaps.

In the meantime, we are just too busy flashing our monkey faces at him trying to make him laugh.

Wishing you a great weekend!  Cheers!