life@riang

Electric youth!

2011-12-10T22:30:00.001+08:00

It's the holidays and one by one, the kids take turns at going to camp. Confirmation Camp, Christmas Camp, Altar Servers Camp, Youth Council Shepherds Camp, Youth Council Retreat. 3 days and 2 nights spent not in a fancy resort by the sea but in a church-owned building in various parts of Singapore.

The sleeping bag has never seen such action.

Over the past few weeks, at any one time, at least one of the kids would be off somewhere.

It's been fun for them and for me, given me fresh insight into a group of people I'm only just getting to know through the eyes of my kids - the youths. And what I have seen so far impresses me and leaves me with lots of food for thought.

Invariably, these camps are run by young people in their teens to early twenties. Usually they are from the youth ministries in church. Both Isaac and Gillian are highly active in these ministries themselves. Isaac faithfully serves mass twice a week at least, attends meetings with the altar server boys. And both he and Gillian are in the Youth Council. Gillian in fact recently stepped up to serve as a 'Shepherd', a youth leader in the YC.

I like the fact that these activities keep them busy and engaged. They get to know committed, responsible young people, serve the community and along the way, shape their own faith.

These kids are a good bunch. When Gillian was hospitalised, they trooped down en masse for a visit, leaving a huge home-made get-well-soon card peppered with cheerful wishes, photographs and names that even the doctor grew to be familiar with. They are unfailingly polite and courteous when we meet.

Beyond this, I've seen them in action and I like what I see. The Risen Christ Children's League who organised the Christmas Camp is case in point. These kids - usually ranging from about 16 to 20 in age - run the Children's Liturgy at mass and they organise activities for the younger kids eg outings and camps during the holidays. They are such a cheery bunch, loaded with enthusiasm and ideas.

At the Christmas Camp, it can't have been easy looking after some 30 kids, some as young as six. But these kids took it all in their stride. They led creatively, patiently, with lots of laughter and improvisation. They managed the younger kids very well. I watched them keep the group in order, inspire the shy kids to get up on stage, manage the noisier ones, lead the singing with lots of smiles and encouragement and came mealtimes, they served the buffet line and were always, always polite with a smile.

Similarly the altar servers that Isaac work with are a great bunch. The older boys in their late teens take charge and lead the group. They behave with maturity and dignity sometimes beyond their years.

At a parents forum once, some parents gave them a hard time, pushing for some unreasonable requests. Sitting at the back of the room, I've rolled my eyes at these over-protective, critical, picky parents and wondered why they could not just leave the boys to manage the situation and work things out themselves - after all, the boys have done a great job so far. Once or twice I was tempted to tell these parents to just give the boys a break. But I didn't have to. The boys handled the prickly situations very well - always giving considered answers, always polite. They took every comment, suggestion seriously and explained clearly their stand. They never lost the "ma'am" and "sir" even when the comments grew heated. I was so proud of them and I wish I knew who their parents were - I'd shake their hands for raising such great kids.

At Isaac's confirmation camp, I realised that all the youth groups in church had been mobilised to facilitate and help in some way or other. They not only managed logistics and organisation but also facilitated discussion and reflection. How so that these kids had the maturity, faith and insight to share and to lead? To hear them speak, to hear them sing praise and worship, was stirring. I was seeing living faith in action.I was seeing youth leadership at work.

The catechists who worked with the kids for confirmation on their faith journeys from Sec 1 to Sec 3 are young people themselves, a few scant years older. I thought this was great - nothing like the young leading the young. Everything becomes immediate and more relevant. It is brilliant to get the young people to lead the faith journey. Far better than the old ways when adults did most of the teaching and the leadership.

Seeing kids lead like this gives me lots of hope for the future. Sure, not all of them are scholars, not all are brilliant in their studies, but if we get the youth of today - kids like these - growing up to fill the shoes of leaders in the future, then I think the future is in good hands.

Before my kids became teenagers, I'd fretted about them making the right choices in their friends and activities. Who has not heard horror stories of kids who went astray, made bad choices and paid the price? The image of young people - Gen X, Gen Y etc - was usually one that was self-absorbed, not altruistic, materialistic and irresponsible. They would be uncommunicative with their parents and there would be a huge chasm between kids and adults - or so I thought.

Then I met kids like these and it's set this common image up on end. The kids I know are not like this at all.

I tried to put my finger on it. Was it because of religion? Because these were church groups? But no. It went beyond religion.

In my work in the polytechnic, I get to meet and work with young people too. At least the ones I know are the same way - driven, committed, enthusiastic, creative, loyal and passionate in their views. See them lead in orientation camps. See how they manage themselves and others. They work very hard and contribute eagerly. Where was the irresponsibility, the angst, the selfishness, the arrogance often associated with Youth?

Couple of things I've reflected on - first, we must engage the youth. We must not be afraid to turn the reins over to them. We must give them a cause - something to believe in and then on our part, we must believe they have something to contribute and allow them to contribute. When they believe in something and when they are given enough trust and empowerment, you will witness the power of youth.

The power of the pack is also key and can move in either direction. Give someone lost and struggling a sense of belonging in a gang and that's where his loyalties will lie. Young people tend to search for a space they believe in, belong to and can call their own. If we can shepherd them into youth groups, and do it early enough, we can shape them for the better.

I am glad my kids are deeply involved in church groups. I never encouraged them to do so; they just found their own way in. These friends, their peers will give them a different validation and affirmation they need, that cannot be given by their parents. So I'm glad they're busy - out serving mass, facilitating a camp, decorating the church for Christmas - they are growing, learning and contributing productively. And most of all, I'm just glad they are in good hands.

Graduation

2011-12-08T22:28:00.001+08:00

Trinity said goodbye to her kindy years with her graduation ceremony a few weeks ago. Yet another milestone we crossed.

For me, it would also be my last kindy graduation for any of my kids. Hopefully though it would not be the last time I see any of my kids in graduation gowns and mortar board!

She was among the smallest in the line-up of graduates in her voluminous gown and was holding on self-consciously to her mortar board. I was fine all the way until I saw her collect her 'diploma' from the principal, bow and then promptly lose the mortar board as it fell off having been tied too loosely at the chin.

It dawned on me that this was really the last days of carefree childhood for her. From a sheltered Montessori education where she could learn at her own pace and find her own rhythm, she now had to conform to a beat not set by her but by a faceless bureacracy, just one of the many anonymous thousands of other kids.

I have to say a big thank you to Eileen, Maggie, Chen laoshi and all the teachers at Lumiere who have untiringly and patiently worked with Trin - and Owain - over the years. They took child-centric education to a whole new level. I don't know if any other kindy would have done the same. Perhaps the Montessori structure allowed it, but it also took their special brand of commitment to see it through all the way. Eileen in particular has always been warm, kind and nurturing to the kids. And even when I was at my most pessimistic about Trin ever making it to P1, and my fears on whether she could cope or be swallowed by the system, Eileen was always reassuring and confident. She gave me her frank observations and recommendations - whether it was to let Trin stay longer in the nursery class, to allow her to transition upwards at her own pace undictated by age or level and she did so with honesty, kindness and generosity.

That went a long way to easing the apprehension I had. My kids grew up with them and I was glad they did. I made the right choice when I decided to put Owain in Lumiere. It benefited him and Trin. They grew in this intimate, small-school family environment which took care of them and allowed them to grow whenever they were ready.

All this went through my mind as I saw her standing there, so small and yet ready to graduate and move on to a different level.

In the darkness of the auditorium, I teared up. I couldn't help it. I tried to wipe the tears away surreptitiously, hoping KH would not see. He would never let me live it down for being so sentimental.

But the tears just kept coming. These days would never come again. While I celebrate her being up there and growing up, in weird way, I was also mourning the end of babyhood for her and for me. I will really miss these days.

Taking back my turf...

2011-12-08T20:54:00.001+08:00

It's been more than 2 weeks since the maid was fired. KH is away in Monaco (the rat) while I am on my own personal journey of discovery... as a born-again hausfrau.

It's been tough, tiring and yet... exhilarating and liberating in many ways.

All my life I've been a bit of a princess. There was always mom (there still is - thank God!), KH (to drive me around and to clean my toilets), the maids (for housework).

So for me, thrown into the deep end, this period has been one of education and growth. In so many ways such as:

1) I have, for the first time in all my 43 years of life, finally gotten on my hands and knees and cleaned the bathroom. I got past the ick factor and once I hit the rhythm, I scrubbed like there's no tomorrow. All the gunk, the slimy algae (yes you shudder, such was the state of my bathroom since KH refused to clean it before his trip to Europe leaving me to party with the toilet brush instead) all went and one hour of furious scrubbing and rinsing later, my bathroom SHONE. The kids gathered around the door in wonder. They'd never seen mom like this. Heck, they'd never seen the bathroom this clean. I felt so liberated after that - cleaning the bathroom was a cinch! I could do it and I no longer have to depend on anyone else to do this.

2) My hands were red and chapped on day 1, but by today, they'd toughened up and are just peeling and dry on the fingertips. Gloves do not help. I have finally discovered the importance of hand cream.

3) The kids clean up their plates. I cook, they eat. They are full of praise and I love watching them eat the food I cook. When the psycho maid was here, the cooking was so bad that the kids were not eating that much, skipping if they could. Owain for instance, was losing weight. So these few weeks have been a nice change to see the kids polishing off their food and knowing that I am (a) utilising my resources efficiently and creatively - leftover chicken or pork stock for example, can be used for cooking a fresh batch of soup with new ingredients and (b) knowing that I CAN cook pretty decently. Plus their plates have to pass what Cait calls the 'Momspection' which goes like this:

Owain: "Done!" and hops off dining room chair.
Me: "Hold it!" checks the plate and then "Clean! Thank you very much! NOW, you can go to the kitchen and put the plate in the sink." Or I go: "Oi! You call that clean?? I want every grain of rice eaten. So there's less gunk to clear. Now clean that up!"

4) My days are more productive - I plan ahead and every waking hour is well used. No canteen breaks, no chit chat. My time and actions are carefully planned. After the first one or two days of extra work thanks to lack of planning, unfamiliarity etc, I have now gotten my routine down to a T. You'd find yourself expending a great deal more unnecessary energy if you failed to plan a household routine. I hate being counter-productive, wasting energy and time on superfluous action and quickly learned to finetune my routine for an overall economy of action and energy.

5) I eat a lot less. In the office, there is always a full lunch - usually a bowl of noodles, plate of rice etc. And sometimes a tea break, a curry puff, a snack. Here at home, lunch is miniscule, dinner spare. Snacks are cut fruit from the fridge.

6) Ice-cold glass of Coke is my fuel. It really keeps me going. In the office, I feel sluggish after a full breakfast or lunch. Here at home, the Coke keeps me going. Plus on a hot day, after sweeping and mopping the ground floor of my home, the icy Coke is sheer nirvana.

7) So I eat less, work more. I think I might actually lose some weight.

8) It gets easier by the day. I am defter in the kitchen, less tired than I was when I first started, more energised. I also sleep better at night. I may end my day past midnight but my sleep is sound and deep. In the past, I would wake up intermittently, my overactive mind reaching deep and thinking about stuff I needed to finish at the office, or worried about forgetting something, But these days, I sleep so well.

9) I get weaned off Facebook. Despite being at home for longer hours, I actually have less computer time than before. Hence I've been blogging less too.

10) I get free K-pop concerts from the kids - who sing along loudly - every Korean syllable. I am getting educated in K-pop world. 2PM, 2NE1, Girls Generation, Davichi - are now names as familiar as family now. Plus those catchy ditties, blasted loud, turn household chores into a song and dance routine.

11) Food bills have gone down. Even my grocery bills have shrunk. I can't fathom why when the maids were here, we had to spend so much and cook so much when we actually don't eat that much. And yet, in the scarce two weeks since we've been on our own, our food bills have gone down by at least 30%. Same goes for indiscriminate use of electricity and water. I am more mindful of these costs and I find ways to save - this is something I think I'm going to be very picky over when Lolita returns.

12) The kids help out - sort of. Everyone has their chores but sometimes I find yelling to remind them to finish their stuff is more painful than me actually just doing it myself. Gillian though, has been great.

13) Chopping and cutting is therapeutic. I get a deep sense of well-being and satisfaction from hearing the thunk of the knife on the board and feeling the pressure and the give as the blade slices through. Onions are my favourite. I enjoy my little challenges - how fast, how even, how thin?

As the days go by, I find myself more confident at home - yes, my own home! For too long I have left things to others. But these couple of weeks have shown me that it's not as bad or as tough as I'd imagined it to be. I thought I'd be scatterbrained, uncoordinated, sloppy and I would not be able to manage my household. But it has not been the case.

In fact I find myself now, easing into a familiar routine and with this familiarity comes confidence. With this comes the next level - higher standards. There is such a deep sense of satisfaction from seeing the house shine, seeing the kids well-fed and knowing it was all your own work. And especially for an ex-princess like me, marvelling that I could actually do all this.

To tell the truth, I've hit my groove so much so that I'm even a bit reluctant to hand the reins back to any maid.

Quite honestly though, I am also disillusioned with the whole convoluted, expensive process of getting her - or any maid - in. I've had two lemon maids in one year, spent several thousand dollars in wasted agency fees, admin costs, air tickets and not to mention emotional angst, just to get decent help in the home.

Even now, despite having paid more than $500 to the agent already, I still have no confirmation on when exactly Lolita would be able to come in. I have had to chase the agent and then given conflicting reasons for the lag from both Lolita AND the agent. I'm really getting very tired of this whole rigmarole. If this is not going to happen, I'm just going to throw in the towel and go without a maid. We would just have to find a way or make some tough decisions. I don't want to throw any more good money after bad.

It seems to make less and less sense why I should have to pay a hefty recruitment fee, monthly salaries, tolerate sulks and demands and then put up with sub-par work and risk another psycho maid. If it were not for the fact that Owain and Trin need someone at home when they come home from school, I would do away with the whole idea of having a helper in the house.

I've said before that I don't think I can be a superwoman. If I had to straddle a full day in the office and come home to do housework, I would cave. I can't do it all and I honestly don't think any woman can, or should. For me, it's got to be one or the other.

These few days have seen me staying home as a full-time stay-home-mom and I'm growing to love it. But I also love my work in the office. I just want to excel in whatever I do, devote my energies to making it work, doing good work - home or office. But I can't have it both ways. It would not be fair to either scenario. In the days when I was working half-time, my energies were so dissipated. I would be pulled in two different directions, my mind restive and making the switch from home/office always takes a bit of mental adjustment. I could not devote enough time/energy to either and in the end, it was just unsatisfying - to me and everybody else.

So bottomline - I love being productive at home. I also love being productive in the office. I sense a big decision coming up.

The trouble with maids...

2011-11-28T13:52:00.001+08:00

A week ago, I sent the maid packing. Immediately, that same day.

We already had plans to let her go and she knew that. I'd given her notice already so she had been sourcing for an employer but finally decided to go home so we'd bought a ticket for her to leave in December.

But last week, the crazy woman with more than one screw loose tried to pull one over us by pitching a 'fainting fit' when we said she could not go off that Sunday. For the record in case you're some diehard human rights activist reading this, we're not unreasonable ogres who keep our maids in chains. First, she was entitled to two days off. I had already given her THREE days off in the span of two weeks, as well as an advance on her salary. Second, she did not bother to ask us or inform us that she was going off that Sunday. I thought that was basic courtesy at the least.

So we said no. And immediately she started fake-hyperventilating loudly and then fell - rather gracefully I might add - into a faint.

Both KH and I stared at her for a second before I started laughing. I couldn't help it. It was sheer bad acting. I was also furious that she dared pull this stunt to hold us to ransom. To take the cake, while I was laughing and telling her off, she actually opened her eyes and looked at me before closing her eyes again. Less than five minutes later, she got up, went into her room and started messaging on her phone. So much for 'fainting'. Fastest recovery ever.

Bad acting or not, it proved that she was clearly not right in the head and quite unstable. It would not be safe or wise to leave the kids with her in the house. So there and then, I told her to pack up and we shipped her off to the agent, changing her ticket to a flight that left the same day. I was so glad to be rid of her. She took with her 7 pieces of luggage including five mobile phones, and almost left her room full of garbage, waste paper, sweet wrappers, dustballs, three pairs of shoes and an unmade bed. Had I not seen all the gunk, I would have been left to clear all that. As it was, I made her do it before we took her to the agent.

Still, I thought she got off lightly. I was so angry that I wished murder was legal.

For all the trouble, the lackadaiscial quality of work she gave, I felt really short-changed as an employer. We housed her, fed her, paid her and followed all the terms of her employment contract. She started off blur for someone who claimed to have three years experience (I later found out it was three years with four employers), and eventually added insolence and entitlement into the mix. Towards the end, it became so frustrating to deal with her, to instruct her and to supervise that I'd rather just do the work myself instead of asking her to do it. She was just slothful and incompetent. All I wanted was fair work and I didn't even get that from her.

So right now, I'm quite bitter about my experiences and really not feeling very charitable to any domestic worker or even to any human rights activist who dare champion these so-called 'rights'. These people should spend time in my shoes, spending the sort of money I've had to spend on lemon maids, have them enter their homes, wreck their possessions, put their children in danger through thoughtless behavior and still try to pull off irresponsible stupid stunts like that.

Not all maids are like that, true. Neither are all employers the Simon LeGree activists seem to love to paint. Before anyone starts to champion these causes, maybe they should walk a mile in the shoes of employers first. The maids have recourse to their embassies, to the activists and shelters. To hear the activists talk, employers often look like slave-driving, sick, sadistic, power-hungry opportunists. Okay, maybe some are. But what of the majority? What recourse do employers have when their maids turn out to be nightmares? Who speaks up for the employer who got scammed into hiring someone unfit and unsuitable?

I'm not even talking about the ones who completely go off the rails, but just the ones who are incompetent or lazy or both. Has any activist tried training someone like this? Especially if you believe the bullsh*t on the CVs they give out. It's annoying and frustrating enough to give you a coronary! Activists may think that maids are given the short end of the stick here, but there are maids who come here and think it is a stepping stone to freedom, a swinging social life etc, happy to do the bare minimum and demanding more from their employers.

This is the second one I've had to change in less than a year. I'm not a demanding employer, in fact I've been accused of being blind to their faults to the point of laxity. I don't make unreasonable demands like some employers who dictate everything from hairlength to mobile phone usage. I've given previous helpers a great deal of leeway and freedom - just ask any who've worked with me. Yet even this was not enough. For the record, I changed the one before this because she was busy moonlighting as a mamasan for other maids, matching them on their off days, with men. My neighbour complained after she'd persisted in offering her services to his maid.

These horror stories are more common than activists like to think.

To ship someone off, find someone new, get used to them, train them all over again is an expensive, exhausting, painful process with no guarantee of success. Each domestic disaster just makes you angry, more wary and less trusting. Its a vicious cycle that bodes no good for anyone - employer or maid.

We all have choices to make and nothing is ever a "no choice" situation. I put up with this because I acknowledge that I am not a superwoman. I've tried juggling housework, chores, cooking with a full day at the office, attention for kids etc and I just end up exhausted at the end of a very long day that starts at 5.30am and ends at midnight. I've come to the conclusion that we just can't have it all.If I want to keep my day job and even consider to increase my work hours, I'll just have to learn to close both eyes, grit my teeth and bear it - shoddy work, poor attitude and sometimes, psycho behavior.

I'll be a fair employer and give her what is due, what we agreed on in terms of pay, off days, sufficient rest, privacy etc (note, dear activists - what WE agreed on, not what YOU think is 'fair') I just won't be someone who treats the maid as 'part of the family'. She isn't and will never be part of our 'family'. She is an employee and I am an employer. Let's be professional about this. Compassion, love, and other warm fuzzy feelings are extra and not included in the package.

Any bleeding-heart activist who gives me drivel about this can just go stuff a sock in it.

Behind that prickly exterior...

2011-11-02T00:07:00.000+08:00

... is a girl who's a bit lost I think. But like all porcupines, its hard to get past the sharp spines. I speak of Caitlin of course.

This girl's got the face for poker. Inscrutable. Tears may fall when we talk but I never know - are they tears of sadness or anger? Is she upset with me? Upset with the situation? Upset with herself?

She never reveals her hand. Whatever is in her mind and heart remains known only to her. It's so very difficult to reach her. I never know if I am getting through. I never know if I am effective in my methods of reaching out. And I know it's only going to get harder as she grows older.

Gut feel tells me she needs help. I need to pay attention to her. She may seem like the most independent, the one who learns the fastest, and possibly the most streetsmart of the siblings. But I sense a vulnerable desperate core. It's there in her eyes, in her voice when she tells me a joke, a story, what happened at school, at gym training.

But perhaps the problem lies with me.

I feel disconnected. When she speaks, I find it hard to listen and horrible as this sounds, I feel a sense of impatience: get to the point. I tell myself that there is NO getting to the point with kids. That with kids, it is all about just listening, giving the time, the attention. No matter how repetitious, how boring, how silly, how tiresome, no matter how busy, how hungry, how distracted I get. I admire mothers who can do this - give total absolute attention to their children. Because everytime I can't, I feel less of a mother. A sham of a mother. How un-maternal it is to feel impatient.

I have to keep trying. I cannot give up. I can be angry and I can be frustrated and I can feel like talking to her is like bashing my head against a brick wall - pointless and painful. But I cannot give up. There is something there. I just need one breakthrough. I need to find that connection.

Random thoughts

2011-11-01T23:42:00.002+08:00

Have not been actively blogging for the longest time on the Riang blog so thought I'd just check in and post some random thoughts.

Life is crazy busy these days.

Trin has stayed away from school for the past two days, down with a persistently high fever that refused to go away since Friday. She's really all skin and bones now so I'm ditching nutrition for just weight gain which means I'm happy to offer fries, ice-cream and lots of milk if she's happy to finish those. I tried to treat her at home over the weekend but was just fighting a losing battle with the fever. The doctor listened to her lungs for an awfully long time on Monday before saying that she hears a barely audible crackle in the right lung. Could be bronchitis. Could be lung infection. I was told to bring her back by Wed if the fever persists.

It's Tuesday night now and I just gave her a dose of brufen. The fever reads as 38. Not as bad as the 39.7 reading I got on Sunday but it's not going away.

Weirdly of all the kids, she's the only one who hates the taste of meds. So each dose has to be accompanied with lots of coaxing and praise, something I never had to do with the others who would just happily slurp the meds as they would an ice-cream cone.

She's not the only kid on meds. Gillian is now wearing a brace which has to stay on for the next four weeks thanks to knee surgery she had less than a week ago. We'd put it off for as long as we could but the knee was increasingly unstable so it works for the better to get it done now. She faces intensive physio once the brace comes off and the ligament repair work more or less heals but by this time next year, she'd be walking and running with lots more confidence.

I am also grappling with maid changes. This one just is not working out and we're changing - and happy that Lolita will be returning to our household in a week or so. Good and bad. She runs the place so efficiently I don't have to step into the kitchen. But that means I lose my domain once again, having just found my footing and confidence again in the kitchen.

The days are flying by and we're heading for the end of the year again. I mark our lives by school terms, parent-teacher meets, year-end concerts, birthday parties, family holidays.

And all too soon, it will be Christmas. Which always makes me feel pensive. Must be the schmaltzy carols. Or the kitschy Orchard Road decor - which is already up but not lit.

Or maybe its the 80s music I keep on shuffle repeat these days. My favourite du jour - Amy Grant and Vince Hill: House of Love. Happy song.

2011-03-08T23:10:00.004+08:00

These days are such dark days. I really did not feel like writing. Everything feels so raw. But I think it would help a bit and it would also document the days we are going through now.

Tigerlily, who walked into our lives two years ago, has left us as suddenly as she came. Just like on that bright sunny day when she strolled across the street and lay down at my feet, allowing me to stroke and pet her, she lay down on a cushion in my living room, her life slowly ebbing away with every inaudible gasp.

She had been wasting away for months. Just before Chinese New Year we brought her to the vet because her fur was falling off and she was off her food. The vet thought it was hormonal and prescribed some hormones plus antibiotics just in case. Nothing worked and Tiger just continued her decline.

In her last weeks and months, she did not go out as often, preferring to hang around at home. Her favourite place to be was on the seat on our porch, watching the world go by in our garden and beyond our gates. Or she would be perched on our glass table content to snooze in the sun. Already a quiet cat, I guess she became quieter.

She was so off her food that we finally decided to bring her back to the vet on Saturday. Immediately she was hospitalised, put on a drip and forcefed, blood samples taken. We were taken aback at how ill she was because apart from her weight loss and lack of appetite, it never seemed that serious.

Things went downhill very quickly from then. We saw her in hospital, making it a point to visit her about twice a day. She could recognise KH and and I, trying a tiny meow when we greeted her. But on Monday, I got the call in the office. It was not working out and she was sliding fast. The bloodwork showed last-stage kidney failure and they thought she would not last out the night. The vet said it was likely the kidneys were not developed and could not support an adult cat - common in cats and dogs. It was nothing she caught or ate, nothing we could have done. It was congenital. The words just washed right over me.

KH and I took urgent leave, pulled the kids out of school and brought Tiger home for the last time.

We took turns sitting by her just to stroke her, talk to her and tell her it was okay, not to be scared, she was going to a better place where she could chase all the birds she wanted and what a pretty dance they would give her. She wagged her tail feebly a couple of times as we stroked her and talked.

Yes we cried. Cait, who was so attached to her, Owain and I. It was hard to say goodbye.

By 3.35pm. I was with her when she tried to get off the cushion. She stood for the last time in her life and took three shaky steps before collapsing, splayed out on the floor. KH scrambled over and we both held her. She spasmed twice and then it was over.

We called the pet cremation service. The kids were adamant that they did not want her ashes scattered in the sea with unknown other animals. So it would be a private cremation and she would be returned to us in an urn.

Isaac did not make it back in time to see her and to talk to her. He was in school and could not access the messages I left him on his phone. By the time he got to our gate and saw Owain in tears, he knew. And my big son, unabashedly wept.

She's home today, we received her in a tiny wooden box. And now she sits on our altar, flanked by the Holy Family and the Divine Mercy, her worn collar sitting atop the urn. She feels lighter than we expect. For all intents and purposes, Tigerlily is now officially an indoor cat. But I think once in a while, I will take her out into the garden and let her sit a while. Am I mad? Silly perhaps?

But then, she did so love the big earthen jar with the tempting guppies always taunting her as she stared in frustration at not being able to swipe one - I would always call out to her before she could. She also loved the lizards and the birds. They did not love her but she would enjoy sitting there eyeing them and trying to pounce.

In her last days, tired as she was, she managed to kill a sparrow and then tried to bury the carcass in her kitty litter!

She was an outdoor cat all the way.

We would never know why she chose us as her family. I'm sure there was a reason.

But we loved her till the end and for two years, we gave her a good home, food, shelter, love and lots of cuddles. I'm so glad we were with her till the end. I think she was glad to be home too - she must have smelt it in the air and in the light. I think for anyone, a beloved animal or human member of the family, this is what we can and should humanely do - bring her home to live out her last moments with the people she loved around her.

I never knew that losing a pet could hurt this much. And I always thought that cats, being less needy, less affectionate than dogs, would make far less of an imprint in our lives. But in two years, Tiger has left an imprint that would be difficult to erase.

Mornings will never be the same again without her usual greeting and then curling round our legs for a morning cuddle and stroking session. And she'd do this to all of us every morning. No more would she perch at the top of our gatepost surveying the neighbours, the cars, the children, like the empress of her domain, regal and elegant, complete with kohl-rimmed eyes. My bathroom window can now be left unlocked - no more fear that Tigerlily would escape our house at night. We tried to keep her in at night after that terrible time when she was caught in a trap at our neighbour's house. But we later realised that she had learned to unlatch the window so it was a nightly ritual that KH would call out "Is the cat in the house?" and if she was, we would close all windows and doors - including the bathroom door AND window. No more of that too now.

I will miss her sauntering into the house, leaving a warm patch on our beds when she naps for the afternoon. I will miss her eager pattering when she keeps to our heels as we hurry to fill her bowl with food. I will miss her elegant profile as she sits on the cushioned seat on our porch. I will miss calling her home at night - and she would come when I called. Only Cait and I had that privilege initially but later, she grew to include KH in her circle of trust.

My favourite memory of her? I guess it would be the day she came into our lives, when I first realised that we were adopted, and how I chose the name Tigerlily for her.

I will miss so many things. How can she be a mere cat? How can people say "its only an animal?" She was family. IS and always will be family.

And Cait. Poor thing. She looked lost in her bed, reading just a few minutes ago. Her eyes were red-rimmed. I know how she felt - there is something missing from her life that was once filled by a soft warm furry body lying next to her every night.

I tell myself that all animals go to heaven for they are created by God and as long as we loved them, we would surely see them once more. My sister agrees. She says that when I am ready to go Up There, I'd see Tigerlily there and there would be her fur all over my bed once more, ready to exasperate me again. Looks like I have to die with the lint roller in hand!

I tell myself that St Francis, the quintessential animal-lover, will take good care of her Up There. I told her that too, as she lay dying. I believe it, but it does not make me feel better. I guess I will, over time. But right now, my life is one big empty ache that only a tiny cat can fill. Right now, I will never want to get another cat. No one can take her place and the process of losing them again one day is just too painful. Once is enough. We've put away her things but I stop short of making plans to give them away. I can't. I can't bear to.

I will end with this description of how Isaac said goodbye. He had to leave to serve mass in the evening before the animal cremation people came. He stood for a moment next to her, then he bent and stroked her once, twice. Then straightened and said to her, in his usual, bright and cheery, casual way, as he always does whenever he leaves the house, as if she was still there: "Bye Cat!"

And I guess, that is the best way to say goodbye isn't it?

2011-02-06T18:05:00.003+08:00

We have had a new helper in the house since Lolita left after being with us for more than 5 years. We thought Trin would have a hard time adjusting but surprisingly, she's shown herself to be more resilient than we give her credit for. I think kids generally are a tougher bunch than we think.

So now we have somebody new and she's literally driving me up the wall. Perhaps it is early days and I am impatient by nature but this new person is really exasperating me quite a bit. On the good side, I guess it has forced me to be less complacent, less lazy and more hands-on in the home and in the kitchen. When you have a competent, efficient helper, it's always tempting to just give in and let her handle everything, run the kitchen etc. But these days, I find myself more involved and that can't be a bad thing right?

For one thing, I know what is actually in my fridge. For another, this is the first time in years, many years, that I have cooked as much as I have over the new year period. In previous years, we opted to eat out during the New Year or freeload off my mother's dinner table. But this year, I guess I went on overdrive. This is what I cooked over the four-day period:

Day 1 - steamed radish cake served panfried

Day 2 - chicken curry

Day 3 - fried beehoon with shredded chicken

Day 4 - chicken soup with abalone, fish head curry and giant panfried prawns in tamarind and chilli

It feels really good to be back in the kitchen experimenting. I experimented with the radish cake for the first time about two days before the New Year and it turned out too salty and too hard. On New Year's Eve I tried again with different composition of water to flour and it turned out a tad loose after steaming. I chucked it in the fridge and by the next day when I took it out to panfry this in the morning, it was just right - a nice soft, melt-in-your-mouth texture. Perhaps still a tad too salty even though I'd cut back on the salt by quite a lot. Next time, this will just be a pinch.

Best compliment - the kids and KH liked it. For a picky eater like KH, this was a real compliment. I'm planning to do this again but still experimenting - this time, I'd add shallot oil and chicken stock instead of water to the flour.

I am documenting this for my own memory (which has become rather leaky in recent years), and not because this is a great recipe to follow. I picked elements from other radish cake recipes on the net but in terms of proportions, I really just relied on my own gut feel estimates.

I used chinese sausages (laap cheong), dried scallops (the small ones), fresh shitake mushrooms and dried shrimps (hae bi). I soaked the scallops and the hae bi in hot water. Grated about 1 and a half radishes. Boiled the radishes using same hot water I used for soaking. Then I chopped up the soaked, now soft, scallops and hae bi. Meanwhile, I chopped up the laap cheong, panfried it without adding oil. When the oil from the laap cheong has come out, I add the scallops and hae bi, then the diced mushrooms.

Meanwhile I add rice flour and a little bit of wheat starch flour. I know now that the trick is to keep the proportion of flour very low. I got a bit nervous when I saw the loose watery texture and added more flour the first time I did it - big mistake. The flour is really there to just adhere the radish strips together and not really form the base. I seasoned the mix with salt and pepper and a dash of soya sauce. Keep the dash very very light. Then I added the ingredients in the pan, dropped the whole thing into a shallow disposable foil pan and steamed on high heat. Voila. Have to say, it turned out very very well!

Like I said, next round, I would try panfrying the cake with shallot oil and use chicken stock instead of just water when adding to the flour/radish mix.

2011-01-14T05:06:00.003+08:00

Its 5am in the morning and I am fresh from a dream. So fresh that my tears are still running, my hands are shaking and wads of tissues have come and gone.

The dream so vivid, has me in its grips and perhaps the only way to exorcise it is to write about it and then later read it in the cold clear light of day. I don't know if I will regret this later, writing about it while I am so raw but right now it feels like the right thing to do. It gives me a strange sort of solace.

I dreamed that KH died. Slumped on the ground, in my arms with the children around me, telling me he loved me. Even in my dream I kept willing him to come back and not leave but he did. The anguish. I still feel it. I dreamed of snatches of life after he passed - going to the supermarket, a child's wedding, and the terrible anguish still followed. Because I would see him everywhere but know he would not be real. I could still hear him giving me all his usual irritating sardonic asides. In my dream Gillian sat with me as I wept and asked, "He's not real and you don't see him right? Its just me." Weirdly enough the dream seemed to be narrated by someone and this line jumped out at me: KH giving tweets from the grave.

I woke, or rather the real KH woke me up because I was crying. Even Trin woke up. Perhaps I've dreamed of his passing before but it never hit me this intensely. He held me and comforted me for quite some time after but it was very hard to leave the dream and ease down on the tears. It occurs to me that he is getting a preview of my grief and comforting me for something which he would be unable to in the future.

Where do dreams like this come from? Is this what it will really be like? I don't know how or when life will pan out and if it will indeed come to this. But this dream has called forth a very deep fear in me - that of being left alone to soldier on in life without my partner, my best friend and my lover and the intense loneliness, pain and grief that accompanies this. In the throes of my pain just minutes after he woke me, I told him: "You cannot do this. You cannot leave before me. I won't allow you to. You go get it checked out. Every part of you."

I have this irrational fear of deja vu. His father passed at the age of 51, leaving a helpless wife and five kids. KH is turning out to look more and more like his dad did at that age. 47 is not far from 51. I know that it does not make sense and I worry for empty superstition but I will not be comfortable until he passes 51. We have so many things to do, so many plans. But I also know that these are empty - just plans. And rather than just plan, we should just live our lives, do the best with what we have now, because those plans might never ever happen. The reality is we never know when we're going to go and perhaps it is this lack of control that I fear. As a Catholic, I should have more faith in God, trusting His will and whatever He gives. But yet. I feel very small, scared and vulnerable as a human today.

We can only do the things we can and not worry about what has not come or the inevitable when it does. The day is starting now and the kids have to wake up for school. But before the busy-ness of everyday life seeps in and the dream is totally gone, I will try to remember just this one thing - to love as much while I can, not be afraid to put myself out there and while its hard to be in the moment every single moment, I can at least try.

While the pain of the dream is still fresh, I must also remember to appreciate everything about him - even the things I dislike. I never know when all these will really be taken from me. He may drive me nuts sometimes but even those, after he's gone, will look like lovely idiosyncrasies later and I know I will miss even these annoying habits.

I am taking a good deep whiff of fresh cool morning air. The dream is over. I am back in real life. I am letting go of the terrible pain and fear of the dream. Good morning life.

2010-09-08T11:27:00.002+08:00

Isaac served his first mass as altar-boy at the 6.30am mass two Saturdays ago. KH and I got up early just to attend mass to watch him make his debut. We were not alone. There was another eager-beaver parent there armed with video cam and camera to capture the moment for his son too. KH initially wanted to do the same except that I managed to persuade him that being ‘subtle’ was more important to his son’s very fragile ego. Yet despite the ‘subtle’ use of the iPhone camera, Isaac later muttered that he could see us grinning and snapping away – “so much for being ‘subtle’ mom and dad!”

But honestly, he was just too cute in his white cassock and red vestments, hands folded demurely in prayerful position. Too angelic! I was seized with the really unholy urge to burst into loud laughter when he first came out from the sacristy with the priests and the other altar-boys. After that I have to say that I didn’t really concentrate on mass, but just watching him with an eagle eye for any boo-boos. But God was with him that morning and it all went without a hitch – except from the occasional nudges and meaningful looks from the senior altar-boy serving alongside!

He’s served a couple more times since then and he seems to enjoy it. I’m happy for him that he’s found something meaningful where he can contribute in church. And being the oldest ‘trainee’ altar-boy there, he has somewhat got a sense of being the ‘older brother’ there that the kiddies look up to.

He’s growing up to be a little man. I find that I depend on him more and more these days.

Last week was Owain’s birthday. Because I was too ill with a bad viral infection to go to his school to distribute the goody-bags, Isaac went instead. There’s something very heart-warming and sweet about this as the big ‘kor-kor’ plays birthday santa to his little brother’s P1 classmates. I could just imagine the two brothers happily giving out the goody-bags!

When his father was not around last week and I was sick, it was Isaac who volunteered to put the eye-drops in for me – something KH had done. It was also Isaac who gave feedback on Owain’s goody-bags, offering ideas on how to improve the bag’s contents and brainstorming with me on how best to get this done. And it was he who offered to stay with Cait until her class started when I could not. And when Cait was acting like the diva, it was he who offered his opinion and bluntly told her off.

Things like these help to build responsibility, and a sense of usefulness, belonging and commitment to the family and the community. When he contributes like this, he grows as a young man too. The appreciation he gets from me, his younger siblings, fellow and senior altar-boys contributes to his self-esteem and peels away the layers of self-centredness and self-absorption. It will not happen overnight of course and in many ways, having Aspergers Syndrome makes it harder for him, than the average kid out there, to appreciate the social payback. But we’ll get there and these little things are the building blocks that will pave the way.

Cait too, is adjusting to the hectic training in the national squad and she’s finding that hard work pays off.

On Friday she came home with the two leotards worn by the girls in the national training squad – one dark blue with sparkles and another the red leotard with the Singapore flag on the front. This is the crown jewel that she has been eyeing since she got into the selection trials for the training squad. On certain days, the other gymnasts all wear national colours to train. For her and the others whose places in the team have not been confirmed, they wear their own leotards. So she has always looked upon these leotards with a certain sense of longing. Seems like her dream came true when she came home on Friday with the two 'national' leotards. We wondered if this means she has made the final cut to be part of the squad? Or not? Seems like a bit of a fait accompli to me.

On Sunday she took part in the 2nd Singapore National Individual Championships. She came away with silver medals in the floor exercise, uneven bars and vault events in her category. She was 4th in the balance beam event. Her total scores gave her the bronze medal in the Individual All-Around category. While there were competitors from other schools and other gym clubs, Cait and her group-mates in the national training squad were the ones constantly on the podium, hogging the top three places in every event.

The first time her name was announced, KH and I thought we heard wrongly and so there was some fumbling for the camera to get a picture of her on the podium. We both thought that was the first and the last and never expected her name to be called so often. It was really something to see her going up the podium to be garlanded with medal after medal. She was grinning from ear to ear with delight. And for me, I thought my heart was going to stop from sheer pride! We are so very proud of her.

I think all this has given her a boost in terms of self-esteem, in her determination to keep on training no matter how tough, how boring the drills may be. Hopefully in the days and months to come, as training gets tougher and the hours longer, she will look back on this day and find the willpower and inspiration to keep going. As she told me jubilantly after the competition, “This makes the hard work all worthwhile!” Let’s hope it lasts.

2010-07-27T20:38:00.000+08:00

We had murals done on the exterior walls when Trin decided to exercise some creative license one day.

Big googly eyes, a wobbly grin and pockets of teeth. A self-portrait. Thankfully she used blue colour pencils and not ink. There was ONE on the back wall where she did use a permanent marker, so it remains till this day.

I was more horrified and angry but decided that the best thing to do was to tell her not to do that again and to reinforce the message by asking her to clean the walls. We used detergent and water. She had a lot of fun so I'm not sure that the 'punishment' was a true deterrent.

However, she has not done done this again so I think the message stuck.

2010-07-12T22:01:00.002+08:00

Thought I'd update on the gym training situation with Caitlin.

I was feeling lost and conflicted about this. On one hand, did not want to be pushy mom but on the other, feeling like this was such a complete waste of talent and opportunity! Prayed about it and in the bus, I told God I'd just leave it to Him to show me the answers. And He did!

He gave me the opportunity to speak to two friendly moms whose girls are also on the national training squad. One of them has a girl who is in the same school, same class as Cait and who's also on the school team. She is highly talented and very advanced in gym.

Listening and talking to these two moms, thinking deeply about my own situation, being advised by the comments of friends etc led to several conclusions:

1) We have the wider perspective as adults so we owe it to the child to give them the perspective they lack. Cait just wants to be a kid. She is reacting like a kid. She wants friends, craves approval and friendship and affirmation, hates boring drillwork, prefers to stick to the tried and true comfort zone. But as her mom, there will be times when I just have to put my foot down and steer her in the direction she may not want to go. That, according to one gym mom's earnest explanation, is NOT pushing. If given enough time and perspective and experience, the child still decides that this is not for her, then yes, time to call it a day. But until then, we have to give them every opportunity to discover and to stick with stuff they may not like. That's our job as parents.

2) Some hard stuff are worth sticking it out. The hard lessons you learn about sticking to stuff you don't like, doing the boring drillwork and seemingly elementary details, will pay off in the long run. I was given lesson after lesson in gym in those two long afternoons I spent at the gym watching them train and for that, I am grateful to these mums for explaining and sharing their time, experience and perspective.

In competition, when we see those fabulous leaps and turns and flips, our jaws drop. But the reality is harder. Judges keep an eagle eye out for the slightest imperfection in those turns and points are deducted for every little deviation. Gymnasts who do not have the fundamentals firmly in place may have a hard time teaching their bodies to 'un-learn' the incorrect moves and conditioning them again appropriately. So everytime Cait yawns about doing "the easy stuff" I remind her to be patient - it will pay off in the long run.

Similarly, sticking it out in training will teach her about tenacity, responsibility, commitment. In life there are hard lessons all the time that we need not like what we have to do, but we just have to do it. We just pray for patience and grace in these times.

I explained to Cait seriously about the opportunities she would forgo if she quit now. So many kids will want the place she has in the training squad. If she leaves the squad, where will she get such training opportunities and with these coaches? I learned that several of them had a hand in training the Chinese Olympic squad. What a valuable experience. How to pass this up? And if she does, what then? The next best club that trains the better gymnasts (and several of her school team-mates are training here) is Prime. But Prime costs an arm and a leg. I told her that I could not afford thousand-dollar training fees. I had to also consider her siblings' other needs and money needs to be stretched very carefully.

So the best thing for her would be to stick with training here. For now at least. Who knows what will happen in 3 months? Perhaps she might not even make the cut to the final team selection. But for now, she just has to not only stick it out, but give her best and learn all she can.

2010-07-12T21:35:00.003+08:00

Drama on Saturday morning. I arrived at the bowling alley to watch Gillian in action during a bowling tournament when I was told by the teacher in charge that she was "injured". Turned out that her left knee cap gave way and she could no longer put any weight on it, much less bowl.

She later described what happened. It was the fifth frame and just as she released the ball, her right leg slipped, slamming her left knee onto the lane. She said it hurt but she could still get up and hobble back. She could even bowl the next time it came to her turn. But at that point, she heard a crack sound coming from her knee and the whole thing gave way. She crashed onto the lane, clutching her knee and that was when she was declared out of action.

I arrived to find her in tears and the parent volunteer present calling a physiotherapist for some advice. We managed to get her down from the bowling alley to the lobby and into a cab. The teacher in charge came with us. I decided on Mt Alvernia because of insurance issues.

They took an x-ray of the knee and the doctor pronounced it as acute subluxation of the patella. In layman's terms, it just means dislocation of the kneecap. The force, he surmised, must have knocked the kneecap off its position. Pain relief was given via injection to which my squeamish daughter protested because it was a male nurse giving the jab! The ortho specialist was called in and after palpating (with Gillian gritting teeth and semi-screaming), thinks that 80% it's a meniscal tear which requires surgery. An MRI would confirm it, he said. Meanwhile, she has to stay in hospital.

Long and short of it is, the MRI showed no meniscal tear but bone contusions and ligament sprains on the outer knee. However, she is still in considerable pain when he palpates the inner knee. He's not sure what it is and is a little bugged that the MRI may have missed something. One possibility might be a scaping of the bone or cartilage due to trauma - and this will only be more clearly defined over time.

So she's home now, or more accurately, in her grandmother's home where she will receive much pampering and cooing over. She's also exempt from school for a week and she's learning to navigate with crutches since she can't put her full weight on her left leg. Looks like no bowling for several months ahead at least!

2010-07-06T12:30:00.002+08:00

One week into centralised national training and Caitlin now says she wants to quit. I could see this coming. I know that this has been brewing over the past few days. She’s been going for daily training from 4pm to 8pm practically everyday except Saturday and on Sundays, she goes for school training – also at CCAB – for three hours. Her national coach has recommended that she completely stop school training to avoid confusion in coaching techniques and instructions. The school coach concurs. But I wanted her to keep in touch with the school squad at least once a week to keep a sense of loyalty to the school and to the coach. But perhaps, this is not quite a good idea after all as you will see when you read on.

Okay, I know her daily routine is rigorous. By the time she gets home from school, at 2pm, there’s barely enough time for her to have her lunch, get a bit of rest, and finish her homework etc before granddad comes to pick her up at 3.30pm. By the time we pick her up from training at 8pm, she gets a late dinner at 8.30pm, showers, does a bit of reading and then its bedtime at 10pm. So yes, it’s very hard. It’s tough work.

But the tough routine is not the reason why she’s caving.

When we pick her up from gym, KH and I always go a bit earlier so that we can watch her train. We’ve made some observations of our own. Firstly, it’s very clear that everyone is there to train. The gymnasts are very independent and disciplined. They train on their own most of the time, going through drills and routines over and over. Sometimes their peers will give comments and suggestions but the coaches seem to have a very light hand. It’s just plain hard work and everyone seems very single-minded on this point. There was once we saw a gymnast attempt a somersault but fail to land on the balance beam. She fell hard, hitting her head on the beam. There was a loud bang followed by a keening cry of pain, audible throughout the gymnasium and all of us parents there watching froze in horror. I was asking KH anxiously: should I call an ambulance?

But what really surprised me was that none of the other gymnasts went over to see how the girl was. She lay there for a quite a while. Only one coach walked over. The others paused for a moment to watch a bit and then went back to their drills. It seemed quite cold to me.

So I infer that the bottom line is – no one is there to make friends or be buddies. Everyone there is purposeful and serious about training. At the end of the day, everyone there is a competitor. They compete to be in the first team, they compete for spots to represent the nation in competition, they compete for medals.

For Ms Popular Caitlin, who is used to a great deal of camaraderie among her team-mates in school, this is quite a sea change. The girls she’s training with had entered the training squad a year before and so they were familiar with the coaches and with each other. So she feels a bit left out and excluded. Plus her Mandarin is not very good and so understanding instructions from the coaches, who are all Chinese nationals, becomes challenging – so much so that her training mates have had to translate once in a while. She’s also had to get used to other coaching techniques. Luckily, she still has her former school coach with her.

So the duck out of water feeling is what Cait is struggling with now. In addition, now that she’s training in the national squad, everyone there is as good as or even better than she is. For someone who hates to feel inferior, this is a real come-down. She’s got her work cut out to catch up and keep up. There is pressure not to lag behind.

For the first time, she’s been making excuses to not go for gym training so I knew that the storm was coming.

Yesterday we had a talk and she blurted out that girls in her school team (she still goes back for occasional training with her school) also call her “Traitor!” for training apart from them. She was in tears when she told me about this. I know how hard it is for someone like her, who wants to be liked, to be a partial persona non grata now.

It is painful and I feel for her. I also know that this is what the path is like. It can be very lonely. Look at our table tennis world champions. Damn if you do and damn if you don’t. Win and Chinese nationals call you traitor for not playing for China. Win and Singaporeans scoff and say you’re not true blue Singaporean but imported talent.

People are going to throw names at you all the time, I told Cait. Yes, it hurts. On the flip side, there are also lots of people who are very proud of you – our family, our friends, your school, your teachers, your coaches. We’re proud that she’s come so far. But more than just the name-calling, it's knowing that you are not going to fit in that well anymore. Like it or not, you're different (or better) and the opportunity cost of training elsewhere means you will not feel like you belong in either places - not at CCAB (because of the competitive nature of the place and the people) and not in school (because you lose the momentum of friendship made through shared hard work).

Still, it’s bitter knowledge to learn at this age. And I think this is only the beginning. Learning to move beyond the comfort zone, learning to be adaptable, learning the new rules of a different jungle, learning to develop rhino hide, to sift out comments that are constructive and valuable versus plain name-calling, to learn about envy, loneliness and being strong enough to take it all, wanting the big brass ring badly enough to take it all. This is what she has to learn. She has to ask herself how badly she wants it.

I feel for her and I can understand why she wants to throw in the towel. But I also feel that this is such a waste of talent. I am also angry that she is giving up. Why can’t she take it? Why can’t she WANT to take it? As an adult with access to a wider vista, I can see so clearly all the opportunities she would be forgoing and I'm getting an ulcer just realizing it.

But more than just anger at the loss of opportunity, I worry that she will grow into someone who just gives up easily without a fight. Is she becoming someone who will just take the easy way out? Yet what is really the easy way out? Everyone has choices in life – the fork in the road – so who is to say which one is the easy way out?

As a mother, I feel sad that she’s also got to learn hard lessons at this stage in her life. I also wonder, looking at the older gymnasts training, if this is what I want my daughter to become – this coolly indifferent, single-minded person who does not really care when others fall.

I feel conflicted myself.

“Why can’t I just do gym? Why can’t I just train with my school team?” she asked plaintively.

I think I was being a practical and ambitious mom when I replied, “To what purpose? You train and then for what? What is your goal? People want to move ahead – to represent school and then maybe, represent nation. But you don’t! So what’s the point of training so hard? Just do recreational gym then. Tell Mr Lim to downgrade you from competitive gym to just recreational gym. Then you can still do the stuff you love –but without the pressure of training, without the stress of competition!”

She just looked at me stricken because hard-nosed as that might sound, it’s also true. She has enough of a competitive streak in her for that alternative to sound unpalatable.

Do I push her? Or leave her? Am I pushing her for myself or for her? The lines are so blur. As a mom, do I accept my child for who she is, or do I push her to accomplish the ‘more’ that I think she is capable of? Do I let her make decisions which I think are bad for her in the long run, and then rue the day when it happens? Or do I steer her in the direction that I think is best? As an adult, I have perspective that she does not. Do I do the “this is what’s best for you” routine? Or allow her to make mistakes? I can explain the consequences and the opportunities lost till the cows come home but she may not have the maturity to grasp this. So do I just grit my teeth and let it happen?

Like dental hygiene – you know too many sweets are bad for the kid but you can explain it till you’re blue in the face and the kid will still bug you for more sweets. Do you let it happen and say, well, you’ll realize what a big mistake this is when your teeth start decaying? Or stand firm and say nope, no more sweets because mummy knows best?

I had a grim angst-ridden night last night. But before she went to bed, the funny girl left a hand-written contract – yes contract - on my pillow. It read:

“I, Caitlin Chong, agree to go for CCAB training on ONE condition – that you will allow me to go for Sunday training with school.” It came with blank spaces for me and for her to sign, with my full name in one corner.

I could not help but laugh. But as KH pointed out – it really sounds as if we are pushing her to do this. If she really wanted CCAB training, there should be no need for conditions. Sigh. Maybe its not a good idea to let her stay with school training until she's more comfortable at CCAB.

What are we going to do? I don’t know.

2010-06-27T20:54:00.002+08:00

Well the maid is home so I should be pleased right? Except that I do regret giving back my space in the kitchen. My new knife, so springy and responsive in my hand, will now be hers. My new grill pan will be hers to use. My system of cleaning the dining table will now take one step back. I have to get used to relinquishing control over domestic space.

Why give up, you may argue, since I am her boss and the lady of the house after all? But I know too well that when you work and you are out of the house for any amount of time, you have to let go. If I have to keep my hold on the nitty-gritty in the house and still keep my mind on stuff happening in the office, and keep tabs of the kids' lives, I know something will give. Likely, it will just be me going loco loco.

I don't think I am cut out to be superwoman. So much as I like the state of my knives and the organisation of my larder and my fridge, I will give it all back to the maid and go back to work. It starts tomorrow and already as if in transition, my mind drifts in the wee hours of the morning to pending issues at work, dreading the inevitable sandstorm of emails that I will be buried under and the headaches accompanying a major upcoming event that I am in charge of.

As if the make the transition even harder, its as if part of me is still floating in the turquoise waters of Tioman. Perhaps it takes the soul a little longer to reach home. I'm still out there slowly drifting my way back to reality.

2010-06-09T14:54:00.003+08:00

Lolita is off on holiday and so we will be maid-less for a couple of weeks. From tomorrow onwards, I will be a stay-at-home-mom, God help me.

For the past two days, my mum has held the fort, coming in early to cook and to manage the kids until we got home from work. So far, although the kids have kitty litter duty, they have been relatively chore-less. All that will change in the next couple of days.

KH and I work as a team in the mornings. We don't discuss our 'duties' - we just do them. In the mornings, I make the bed - easily done in 1min, get dressed and ready for work. Meanwhile, KH has taken the laundry and started the washing machine and watered the plants. Once downstairs, I make simple sandwiches for the kids who want them, feed the cat and then we're off.

Once home at the end of the day, we get dinner on the table. He clears the table, I wash the dishes (which takes me about half an hour! There has to be a better way to do this!) and bring the trash out. KH brings in the dry clothes and sorts - makes the kids put away their own clothes. Then he bathes Owain while I bathe Trin. Before we retire for the night for the usual bed-time routine, I do a quick 'round' of the living area to just pick up the cushions, neaten up the edges, put things away etc so even if the place has not really been 'cleaned', it looks clean!

The past few days have given me an idea of how full-time WOHMs (work-outside-home-moms) feel, particularly those with no live-in help. It's just exhausting to get home after a full day's work to be faced with kids who are clamouring for attention and with housework.

To be honest, I don't know how I am going to get through the next couple of days but will just get on with it. I think my mantra will be - don't be too ambitious. To do what is necessary and still give the kids and myself some down-time. Perfection will have to take a backseat.

It's the holidays so I will also have to plan some activity for the children or we will all go stark raving mad at home. So for a start tomorrow, I plan to bring them to the Children's Season at the Singapore Art Museum. The day after, maybe a hike in the southern ridges? Luge at Sentosa? Keep them busy and wear 'em out. That's my philosophy for sanity in the next couple of days.

I am also quite happy planning what to cook for the coming days. The shishamo experiment turned out well with my new grill pan and the kids are now fans. Looking forward to simple one-dish meals (experiments) too - seafood fried rice, crockpot beef stew, sesame seed chicken, chicken tempra?

I'll also have to give the older kids more chores eg mopping/sweeping - not on a daily basis but every alternate day?

The next few weeks are starting to look interesting... Will the kids and I make it out alive or will I prove myself to be the complete disaster of a domestic diva? Stay tuned.

2010-06-01T18:00:00.001+08:00

A local politician recently urged the government to allow Medisave to be used for vaccinations against cervical cancer. Along with the news story were quotes from gynecologists who felt that vaccination should be made mandatory for young girls.

Before they do that, maybe it’s just a better idea to allow Medisave to be used for routine health screening for women in general – specifically, one that includes PAP smears, pelvic ultrasounds and mammography. These costs of these screening tools (with the exception of the inexpensive PAP smear) are high and are a deterrent to many women from making regular screening a part of their lives.

The fact is, vaccination does not offer 100% protection. Cervical cancer is generally known to be a slow-growing cancer whose cure rates are high with early detection via the simple PAP smear. All it takes is awareness and education. Not mandatory vaccination. Lowering the risk of cervical cancer is not difficult – practice safe sex, avoid multiple partners. It’s a simple enough message that just needs to be shared more widely. The same message goes for HIV prevention, STD prevention, pregnancy prevention etc. In other words, the rare hereditary genetic element aside, cervical cancer can be largely prevented through lifestyle changes.

Right now, 3% of Singaporean women are vaccinated against cervical cancer. There are 200 cases of cervical cancer discovered yearly. Out of this, 100 women do not make it.

While I agree that even one death from a preventable cancer like cervical cancer is one death too many, I disagree that a blunt instrument like mandatory vaccination is the answer. In fact, vaccination might well lull one into a false sense of complacency that may lead to more permissive sexual attitudes.

We already have so many vaccinations in the childhood vaccination schedule – with growing calls to add vaccines for the rotavirus, the meningoccal virus and now, the human papilloma virus – where will it end? Above all, while everyone is quick to tout the benefits of vaccination, no one is in any hurry to examine the risks. Parents and women who consider these vaccinations need to be given a fairer and fuller picture – one that includes the efficacy rate of these vaccines, the ingredients that go into the vaccines, the adverse reactions that have occurred and the risk of developing these reactions. Doctors need to discuss these actively with their patients and not just brush off the risks involved just to sell patients a series of shots. Anything less than that is really just pure advertising and that would be a real disservice to those who are considering vaccination as an option.

Call me a cynic but I always throw in a shovelful of salt on anything publicly endorsed by politicians and doctors. In my book, the issue of vaccination has grown to be very big money to many pharma firms today. The stakes are high for everyone – governments, pharma firms, the medical community and not least, parents and children who will be the recipients of these enthusiastically recommended vaccines. More so than ever before, it’s caveat emptor for anyone contemplating these new ‘recommended’ vaccines.

2010-04-22T12:35:00.002+08:00

And while we're on the topic of honesty, sometimes I wonder why we mothers or parents in general, tend to wear this cloak of modesty when it comes to our pride and ambition for our children.

Is it so wrong to take pride in your child's accomplishments? Will we be judged arrogant and even if so, would that be so important to us what others think?

I find that whenever someone compliments me on my kids, my instant reaction is to brush it off. For example, someone says: "Your kids are very well behaved!" and I go "Oh you should see them at home - they're little monsters!"

Now why can't I just say something like "Thanks! I think they're behaving well today too!"

Is this because we're Asians and we grow up in a culture telling us that pride is immodest? That humility is the key to success?

Then things get to the point of being ridiculous. Let me cite this example. I was at Gillian's bowling tournament and sat next to a mom whose son was from a very well-known boys school. We started chatting about bowling in general and our children's respective schools. She told me that she was paying upwards of $800 a year just for her son to take bowling as a CCA in this school - apparently this well-to-do school does not subsidise bowling as much as it did for their other niche CCAs. On top of that, she paid for extra private coaching which comes up to about $55 per session - just so that her son could improve his scores since, according to her, he used to be a dismal bowler. In a month, she easily spends about $400 to $500 just on private coaching fees alone. That does not include the ball and the other bowling paraphernalia.

Then she adds the clincher at the end of it all, a modest, apologetic tinge to her tone: "Well, its really just to give him some exposure."

Did I roll my eyes at that line? No. I worked to keep my eyeballs in place but I think my eyebrows did rise a notch.

I don't know. Spending so much just for 'exposure'? Why not call it what it is - ambition? A desire for her son to do better, be in the school team, win medals, attain glory? Why is that so bad? Why not be honest about ambition? About wanting better for her son?

In my opinion, nothing to be embarrassed about.

In Gillian's case, we spend about $250 a year for school-subsidised coaching. Her grandparents fork out about $300 for a ball and we paid about $300 too for a ball and a pair of shoes which has lasted for the past 3 years or so. No private coaching. By chance she is on the school team. She is not a fabulous player. She may have the advantage of being a leftie in bowling but she still does not have what it takes to be another Remy Ong. I have no illusions about her talent. I don't want to spend money on private coaching. Now THAT is 'exposure'.

I don't know about the rest but I will work on being more upfront. Next time someone compliments my kids, I'll say thank you. Next time someone asks me about Cait and gym, I'll say: "Yeah we want her to be the Singaporean version of Shawn Johnson and if we could send her to gym bootcamp in China, we would!"

Come out of the closet O Naked Ambition!

2010-04-21T08:56:00.003+08:00

While housekeeping my inbox this morning, I find this email from KH circa 2004:

A love note to my wife:-
"During yr turbulent time, u will see 2 footprints on the beach sand. One is GOD carrying u and the other a step behind, ready to catch u when GOD hands over u to me."

I don't think he came up with it, but the thought is very sweet. Finding this little gem again after a few years warms the heart once more too. And makes you fall in love that little bit more.

2010-04-15T13:07:00.003+08:00

Just finished chuckling my way through Ayelet Waldman’s "Bad Mother". She’s pinned it down so well for me – what I am like as a mother. And I sure am glad, reading her account of her motherhood adventures, that I am not alone in my klutzy, kiasu, angsty, self-centred version of motherhood. Hers is the honest, no-holds-barred, warts and all version of what mothers are really like. And when I was reading it, I was largely laughing, sometimes sniffling but always nodding.

She writes about unrealistic expectations that we have of ourselves, and about others. What struck me most was what she said about other women being each other's worst enemies. I think its true. We mothers are our own worst critics. We tend to judge each other's parenting styles - often swiftly and harshly - with a critical eye, by our own personal yardsticks, often failing to acknowledge that each woman and each parent-child dyad is different. And often, we judge ourselves the harshest.

I know this is true because everytime I read about how well other parents' childrens behave or perform in school, I wonder if I might be selling my kids short, if I might be a better mother. And terribly, I wonder why my kids cannot be like those other kids. Yes I love my kids to bits but that does not stop me from wistfully yearning for perfection - in them and in me. Can't be healthy right?

Yet imperfect mother that I know I am, I still try to put up a good appearance. I try to belong. I want to belong. Hey, I’m Libran. It’s important to Librans to want to be liked. So I try - though often I feel like a troll wearing the haute-couture togs of perfection, unable to live up to the standards of others.

I never felt like I fit in with the other moms - hence my avoidance of any PTA activities for all my kids' schools. And yet. Reminiscent of secondary school cliques all over again, the need to belong, for validation, is still strong. This is the same for any group I suppose - even virtual parenting groups. Whether it is about breastfeeding, birth, schools etc, we go in to parenting groups to get information and to find validation. We need to be told that we are moving in the right direction, that other (read better) mothers think and feel the same as we do. I don't have to extoll the virtues of belonging in a group.

But a sharp knife cuts both ways. Just as we seek affirmation, definition in a group, the process can also be alienating and potentially damaging.

So maybe the best therapy for me is to avoid extended contact in these situations. Avoid the PTAs. Avoid the competitive mommy circles of school sports. Avoid online parenting groups. Avoid parenting magazines.

Its the same reason why I stopped reading women’s magazines (which basically make money out of telling women how they can do better/look better because they’re just not good enough). Why bother?

So like those glass bell domes that Ms Universe contenders stand under while the Q & A on world peace is going on, I choose to stand under my own soundproof glass dome. Call it denial if you like, for the sake of my sanity (and vanity). I still go into parenting forums from time to time, but I write less. And I skip more posts. And bad mother that I am, I now avoid the glowing testimonials like the plague! Life is short and there are already guilt trips aplenty, the less I compare, the happier I will be.

2010-03-16T12:40:00.002+08:00

Warning: lots of proud-mummy bragging coming up. So if you cannot stomach the glee and the gloat, skip this post.

We had a meeting with Gillian’s co-form teacher yesterday on her first term progress report.

I am VERY happy (no, ‘happy’ does not even begin to cover this. Over the moon more like!) to report that she is now 2nd in class, up from her usual seat at the 6th position. She has not left the top 10 for more than a year now, but she is moving on!

Out of the 5 subjects she took, she scored straight As for 4 subjects and a B for English. Even her B was 3 marks behind the maximum in class, giving her 3rd place in class for the subject. More importantly, it was far better than her previous grades in English, which had been steadily slipping for some time. So it came as a nice surprise that she was improving.

In all the subjects where she scored As, she was never beyond the 5th placing in class, except for Science where she took 10th place.

However, the biggest surprise came in Maths. She, who always, for as long as I can remember, struggled in Maths, failing most of the time, actually scored a brilliant 91/100, making her 3rd in class for the subject! Yes, I had to scrape my jaw off the floor when I saw that. KH was grinning from ear to ear!

So we are all very very proud of her. She has come a long way from those unhappy early primary and EM3 days when she was failing, feeling lousy and being sneered at by her peers. She is in a good place in her life now. She's hitting her stride, growing in confidence and maturity (her teacher says she's level-headed, staying far away from the trouble-makers in class, hangs out with a good crowd, is always polite and greets her teachers), finding her own unique niche in life. While we have the opportunity to push her up to the Normal (Acad) stream, we’re happy to keep her in Normal (Tech). I believe in the big-fish/small-pond concept. So better for her to do well in this stream and build her sense of confidence and self-respect.

The teacher shared about one of Gillian's classmates who had gone over to the Normal (Acad) stream in Sec 1 mid-year after doing very well. She could not cope with the higher acad level and had to return to Normal (Tech). But the net result was that she was so demoralised by her return, seeing it as a failure, that she reacted very badly, changing from the hardworking girl she was to one who made a series of rash, bad decisions in her behavior. That is sad to see and I am determined for that cautionary tale not to become Gillian's.

No, we will stick to Normal (Tech). I have learned the very hard way that certain kids just do better in a different academic flow. As I posted before, Normal (Tech) is not a 'bad' stream and certainly, the kids there are not 'stupid' or 'hopeless' as society would like to think they are. They are just a different bunch with different strengths and who can find their own interpretations of success. My child is not a label and I am happy for Gillian, that her successes have allowed her to re-define what she wants, opening new vistas of opportunities she would otherwise not have had.

Its early days yet but we have begun looking at ITE courses together already. With these excellent results, she can have her pick of any ITE course instead of being trundled to the bargain basement courses. And being in a better course means you are surrounded by like-minded kids who have also done well, this means a more motivated,driven cohort and less opportunity for mischief overall.

But I am getting ahead of myself. It’s only the first term so she’s got to show that she can maintain these results for the rest of the year. Still, it’s a great start and if she stays on the momentum that her triumphs have given her, she should have no difficulty in staying on course.

2010-03-08T22:18:00.002+08:00

The Lord's Prayer: Owain's version:
“…give us today our deadly breath,
Forgive us our sins…”

“…pray for us enough, now and at the hour of our death, amen.” (The Hail Mary according to Owain)

“…as it was in the beginning and now it shall be, world without men, amen.” (The Glory Be)

“I will continue, O my God to do all the actions for the love of you.” Er, what actions?

Yes, all these gems came from Owain. I cracked up especially at the 'deadly breath'! He was proudly reciting all the prayers he had learned in school and rattling them off like he was catching a train. And I was trying to keep a straight face. He was so proud of being able to say all his prayers.

What a contrast this was to what happened a week ago.

The other day he called me sobbing and crying over the phone. The fellow was panicking over not knowing his Chinese hanyu pinyin spelling. He had procrastinated over the weekend, dawdled until it was too late to get any help in terms of the pronunciation, the tonal sounds etc. So on the phone that day, he sobbed hysterically - I could not get a word in edgewise and in any case, he was not really listening, just busy sobbing.

I told him to calm down and take deep breaths so that he could hear what I was saying and how I could help him. I tried to tell him that all was not lost - that he knew the tones enough and as long as he knew how to match those with the consonants and vowels, he would be fine. I also tried reminding him how I had gone through spelling with him the week before, testing him on unfamiliar words and he had no problem matching the tones with the vowels etc. But he was having none of that and working himself into a real cry-fest.

Nothing was getting through but I kept my cool and my sympathy remained intact until he said: "Its your fault. YOU knew I needed help and YOU didn't ask me to study!"

Wow that really made me see red.

When will he begin to learn that he has to take responsibility for his own learning? I read him a stern lecture, reminding him that I did tell him to revise over the weekend and even the night before, but it had fallen on deaf ears. He had chosen to ignore what I said and now he would pay the price. It was nobody's fault but his. I was really angry and did not realise I was getting louder and louder.

By the end of the phonecall, I realised that my whole office had fallen silent. Working in an open-concept office just meant everyone was privy to all the goss that would go around, and eavesdropping is not intentional but a given. Some gave me sympathetic looks and quite a few said, "Oh he's so young, be less hard on him!"

But I stuck to my guns: he needed to learn and he might as well learn, starting now that he would get no sympathy from me if he was not more responsible for his work. My colleagues clucked and said I was too strict and too hard on Owain.

By the day's end, they again reminded me as we said our goodbyes for the day: don't be so hard, use a softer tone, be more forgiving, etc. Truth be told, I was already reflecting if I could have done it in a different way. Yes, the message needed to get across, but perhaps it could have been more gently put. I felt sad too, over the phone, even as I spoke so harshly, that he was afraid and sobbing away and I did not offer any comfort. My anger had once again over-ridden my better instinct as a mother. More than that, I was sad that he had to learn this hard lesson right now - that he would not do well in this test. What would that do to his sense of confidence? And being so strong and distant in my anger that morning surely could not have helped him learn. So I was feeling regretful enough to be especially loving, resolving to comfort him for getting 0 upon 8.I was ready to reassure him that it was okay, he could try again and this time, we would do it together.

But then back home, he breezed through the door, saying slyly, eyes downcast: "I got zero upon eight! I'm sure you won't want to sign my paper!" Then he waved it at me and shouted gleefully: "Tricked you! 8 upon 8! Hahaha! Wahooo!"

I glared at him but was still quite pleased. I reminded him that he had done it all by himself, he hadn't needed my help after all, and he obviously knew his work enough to mix and match the sounds of hanyu pinyin despite not studying for it. That is what hanyu pinyin is about after all - not memorising the words for spelling, but being familiar enough with the tones and letter sounds to combine them successfully. It felt good to be responsible for his success on his own terms.

His perfectionist behaviour in P1 reminded me of Cait's early days in P1 too. The same desire for perfection, and the angst and anxiety when he might not achieve that. In certain ways, he is still very playful, still likes to suss out the better deal, the shorter route etc. But he has had a taste of good grades and success and he obviously likes it. For now at least, he seems more driven to achieve this.

2010-02-24T17:21:00.001+08:00

I had my own internal struggles and even today, still trying to accept it. You know Cait was in dance and in gym and I had written before about the struggle - to keep on with dance/gym etc. We found out that she had been skipping dance rehearsals for the flimsiest of reasons and actually outright lied to her dance instructor about leaving early during rehearsals because her "mummy says she has to go for tuition!" Even going as far to elaborate the lie: "Tuition in maths, science and english cos mummy says that is very important and i have to concentrate on that!"

Of course we had a major blow-up. Very major. Spoke to her gym coach, spoke to her principal, spoke to dance teacher etc. Hours of discussion, angst and anger, threats and cajoling, tears. Long and short of it was she decided to quit dance.

And THAT made me sad. I think secretly, I was thrilled to have a girl like her - someone so smart, so talented, that I was harbouring ambitious dreams of having an over-achiever kid. You know the sort - the ones who juggle three CCAs, win medals, are head prefects and score all A-stars and who are also kind, well-adjusted, articulate kids.

Yep - fell into the ol honey trap called over-ambition. I wanted all the accolades for her. I wanted her to keep on with dance, widen her horizons. I wanted a DSA in the SOTA on offer. I wanted Distinctions in ballet and medals in gym and A-stars in everything else. I wanted to bask in reflected glory.

I want, I want, I want.

I forgot all about what SHE wanted. And the answer was plain as day - she didn't want dance. She was so totally clued into gym that she does not want anything else. Could she be making a mistake in dropping dance? Perhaps. We won't know until all this recedes in the back mirror of history. Does she have talent in dance? Oh sure. Spades of it. Do I feel like its a big waste? Yep. But the little fact still remains at the end of it - she did not want it. And without that, what did everything else matter?

So I struggled with this - holding her up to my mirror, to society's definitions of success - and being able to walk away and say, okay, never mind. Do what you really enjoy and have my blessings while you do it. You know, I never knew that it takes a certain of strength to pry my death grip from Ambition.

I think KH is a better person and probably a better parent who is far more accepting. I didn't feel that he angsted over this as much as I did. In fact, we had a sharp and nasty blow-up between us about this which ended with me turning heel and walking out in the middle of a sushi lunch. I apologised later of course so we're good but you see the tension in all our lives at the point in time?

So she's quit dance. I think everyone is relieved that we've made a clear decision. The dance teacher is relieved - now the choreography won't be screwed up. The gym coach is happy - full speed ahead for the nationals! The principal is relieved - problem solved, irate mother appeased. Most of all, Cait is pleased and relieved - the lying has lessened (we think) and she seems happier.

From this point on, we can only look ahead.

2010-02-23T21:41:00.002+08:00

I thought I'd do the lazy way out of my blog by reproducing here what I posted on AP.

Education always elicits a passionate response from parents whenever a thread on streaming, academic success, The Education System (which almost always gets a bashing) is started on the parents forum. Once upon a time, I would find myself among the ranks of the bashers - bitter and upset. But call me mellow or resigned - but I tend to be more reflective these days.

A system is just a system - blind, deaf and dumb. It is the students, the teachers and we the parents who define it. I just get a bit ticked when we don't recognise the part that we play in The System and in making it what it is. I also get ticked that parents don't realise that they CAN choose to NOT participate in the rat race and instead of defining their children by other yardsticks, to learn to define the kids by their own. Mind you, I don't love the system and I am not a govt mouthpiece either but I think I'd like to offer a different perspective. So this was my spontaneous, off-the-cuff response to the usual system-bashing that goes on.

I agree that children should not be seen as mere digits or products to be churned through a system as efficiently as possible. But the reality often boils down to funding (always limited) and the appropriate/ efficient/ productive use of funds, down to staffing issues, facilities etc. Like it or not, it is TRUE that laggers are resource-intensive. Sorry to be so blunt.

Inevitably and unfortunately, school is a really just a factory to churn out workers for the economy. This was how the concept of 'school' started in the first place, back in the days of the Industrial Revolution.

And Singapore being Singapore, we have to do this in the most 'productive' and 'cost-efficient' way possible. Even if that means the majority gets through and a minority gets channelled down the 'reject' conveyor belt, its 'okay' because the 'greater good' wins.

Like it or not, all education systems share the same fundamental pitfall - it cannot be tailored individually because it is for the masses - unfortunately though, every child is different. So we just have to live/work within it. Or homeschool. The Aussie Int'l School example Tracey gave - possible for them, why not for us? Simple - pay for it. These guys are paying upwards of $40,000 per year. Look at the teacher-student ratios etc. With that kind of money, its not impossible to have unique curriculum, small class sizes, different pedagogy etc.

But I have said before - stigma is in the eye of the beholder. So a kid has to do Foundation work, is that really so bad? Why is that bad? Or a kid makes it to Normal Tech - okay. After that, the ITE. And so? There is nothing wrong with the ITE. To me, it is just an alternative path for a different kind of kid. Just like poly. Or JC or Uni. Not the end of the world. Just a different world.

And while we lament the loss of self-esteem etc that these kids get tagged with, and blame it on the system, in all fairness, it is really NOT the system that perpetuates this but people - parents, relatives, teachers, peers, friends etc. My daughter got the hard brunt of it too, she had her share of name-calling and stigmatising. But looking at her today, I don't think her self-esteem suffered too much. Why? Because there were people around her who supported her and who believed in her, because she was lucky to have patient supportive teachers. I can't say the same for all the rest of her peers in NT.

If you read all the 'success stories' of kids who bucked the system - its not that they got a lucky break, or the system was kinder to them. It's because they were surrounded by people who believed in them and did not stigmatise them.

We argue for slow learners to be given time to catch up in the system, instead of being pushed up when they are not ready and perpetuating a vicious cycle of just lagging behind etc. I for one, also called for this once. But then sometimes, it is not about slower learners needing more time to learn the same things. That just presumes that everyone is created equal and everyone's ability is the same, just that some take longer.

But I disagree. I think every child has different abilities and different skills/talents. Some kids, no matter how long you give, just cannot make it through academia and perhaps they need a different path.

Not so long ago, and indeed in several parts of the world today, many kids learn tradecraft via apprenticeship at a young age. In our case, its the ITE at a not-so-young age.

Not easy for parents to accept that their kids might walk a different path. Everyone has their own idea of success and the thought that their kids might veer off this path is frustrating, disappointing, maddening. Unthinkable. So we lash out at the system. Certainly took ME a while to come to terms and work this out for myself. And even today, for all my different kids, I still struggle with MY own notion of sucess, society's idea of success and THEIR own ideas of success.

I don't know... I guess I've moved past the stage of denial, and I guess my anger at the system has pretty much been doused (for now at least). System is not perfect but I think its not easy tweaking it to please everyone. We all know our kids best and what they are capable of and with that knowledge, we just have to work within the system and do the best we can.

2010-02-20T16:40:00.004+08:00

Donations and sacrifices.

I guess that's the theme for this post.

Chinese New Year is the time for giving - and the school thinks so too, hence the boys all had to bring home a donation card to raise funds for their schools. They probably thought the usual rounds of visits would be very fruitful for fund-raising.

I would have thought my usually cheerful fishball would have no problem charming a few dollars from the many relatives and friends we would meet over the new year. But it was not so. He shrank behind his daddy and I, refusing to say even a word for his cause, leaving it to us to do the usual fund-raising speeches. Most people, in the spirit of the time, after failing to coax a word out of him, would just laugh, pull out their wallets and donate but both KH and I did not want to do Owain's job for him.

Finally in exasperation, Caitlin came up with this placard.

I think we have the makings of a street performing troupe. Isaac could clang the cymbals, Gillian call for attention, Owain walk one round with his placard, Cait perform some acrobatic tricks and Trin would make the rounds with a metal bowl for donations! Very useful to have five kids indeed - we won't starve!

Spring and renewal go hand in hand, so it was also timely that Lent started right after the first few days of Chinese New Year.

This is the first year that Owain is attending catechism in church and one of his assignments is to keep a Lenten calendar where he writes everyday (preferably!) the sacrifices he would make for the day in Lenten spirit.

At first, the crafty little guy offered to 'sacrifice' his computer time for Thursday - until I pointed out that he didn't get any computer on weekdays in the first place! So what was there to sacrifice? Sacrifice means giving up something he would value and offering it to God.

He's pretty serious about this. He's the only kid I know who sits and ponders what he could sacrifice. In his own human way, he tries to sacrifice something that does not give him too much pain, but the fact remains, he still tries. The fact that he even bothers to think about this really moves me - humbles me too, because I know I don't do this and I should.

So for today, being Saturday, he has agreed to sacrifice "fighting with Trin over the scooter" and
agreed to "give up computer time". Have to say, the last is very generous of him because his 15 minutes on the computer only comes during the weekends so to give up his computer time on Saturday is really hard!

Of course in the spirit of Chinese New Year there are many other people making donations and sacrifices too - to the new casino, at the mahjong table and over friendly games of blackjack in homes all over the island. I, on the other hand, stayed away. Uncharacteristically, did not even go near a mahjong table this year.

The best night I had during the Chinese New Year was when everyone went to my ILs and left me home alone and in peace to just marathon my night away with my K-drama du jour and a box of pineapple tarts. Bliss! Here's hoping for many other similar days in the rest of the year!

2010-01-26T11:41:00.001+08:00

For more than a year, I have been putting up with pain in the arch of the foot. This is a throbbing ache that is centred right in the curve of the arch. For most of last year I ignored it. I had other health issues – the uterine issues etc. But over the last few months, it got steadily worse. I put up with it during the Japan trip and during the Malaysian trip. But over December and January, it got so bad that I was limping some days, and even when I was sitting and not putting any weight on the foot, I still got a burning throbbing localised pain. The spot was about the size of a 10-cent coin but gosh, it burned!

Google told me that very likely this was a case of plantar fasciitis. I guess this means orthotics – feet support via insoles etc. And ugly granny shoes for life. Though to be honest, I had not been wearing pretty heels for the longest time already since my feet are a cross between elephant legs and pig trotters. Pig trotters do not go well with kitten heels and stilettos. So I have been content to live in my Crocs for many years until recently when I ditched them for sensible but a tad more fashionable Hush Puppies sandals and shoes.

My parents were concerned about the huge ginormous stumps I have for calves. And to be honest, I was growing pretty obsessed (and depressed!) with comparing my legs with the legs of other women. It seemed that even the most obese people I see on the streets have thinner calves than mine! Everyone who has a look at my legs usually has a reaction of horror, sympathy and fascination. Most ask if they can poke it. So it must be bad. But no, its not water retention either. They are just incredibly bulky and heavy.

It could be due to:

a) hypothyroidism (which fits my symptoms)
b) medication (one of the known side-effects of my hypertension meds is to have swollen legs) or
c) I’m just fat.

The internist that I see in the hospital just raised his brows, measured my calves (these are body stats I would be better off not knowing) and wrote it in my notes. A colleague said: maybe the chi is not moving through your legs. Acupuncture might help.

While that kinda makes sense, I still do not have enough confidence in TCM, so no acupuncture (hate needles) and I opted to put my faith in mainstream meds and see an orthopaedic surgeon instead, figuring that maybe the guy can tell me what’s wrong with the cankles and fix the pain in the arch as well.

So last week, I went off to the consultant. And what a nightmare that was!

Before I could tell him more, he had flexed my foot, knuckled the arch which made me wince and yelp, and then swivelled his chair, plucked a model of skeleton foot and told me what’s wrong with my foot. Plantar fasciitis, he said breezily and added the words that ran my blood cold: “I need to give you and injection.” Note how he phrased it: “I. Need.” Nothing in there about me, the patient but everything about him the doctor.

“What? Now?” Panic set in.

“Yes. Now.” I could have sworn he had an evil glint in his eye.

I was caught off guard. I had heard about such injections but thought they were meant as a last resort. Clearly not for this guy. He was literally hurrying me to lie down so he can stick the needle in.

Did I have second thoughts? You bet! Third and fourth even. Everything in me screamed no. But like a rabbit caught in the cross-hairs of a gun, I just stayed helpless. Every question I feebly asked was heartily tossed aside in the ‘pshaw-I-know-best-cos-I’m-the-doctor’ tone I hate so much.

“Er, would this be painful?” Pathetic, stupid question, I know.

“No, of course not,” went he. “You went though childbirth, this is nothing.” Liar.

“Shouldn’t I see a podiatrist? Get an insole done first?” I blabbered in desperation.

“No need. This one, plus physio, will cure it. 95% are cured in three months!” Is it me or does he sound like a used-car salesman trying to push a lemon sale? And what happens to the other 5%? I never found out.

At no time did he tell me what exactly he would be injecting into me, explain the pros and cons etc. My thoughts were flying all over the place and I felt railroaded into the examination table. Mostly, I think I was just paralysed by fear.

“Wait. Have a look at my legs. Why are the ankles so swollen?” I blurted.

“I don’t know. I can’t tell you why. Could be due to your medication,” brushed off the doc. Huh? My numero uno reason in seeing this guy was just answered, just like that. What a waste of time. He barely looked at my pig-elephant legs.

I lay down reluctantly, terrified. I wanted to sit up to watch but he said no. “Otherwise I might have to stick you twice, haha!” Evil laughter.

Let me tell you now, for the record, having gone through childbirth five times, the last two of which were drug-free, that childbirth is officially NOT the worst sort of pain in the world. Having a needle stuck in your foot and cortisone (he finally told me at the end, after it was all over) slowly injected in – is really right up there in the torture stakes.

That sort of stupid myth is perpetuated by doctors like him (who has never gone through childbirth by the way, so what does he know?) who tell cowering patients like me, that sort of lie. As he stuck the needle in and slowly pressed the plunger, I lay wide-eyed, in shock and in so much pain that I uttered strangled cries through gritted teeth, breathing fast and shallowly. It seemed to go on forever. At one point the nurse who stood beside me and gripped my hands (bless her) asked in concern: You’re not allergic to anything right?

Allergic to what? I didn’t even know what was going in! Maybe I looked like I was going into anaphylactic shock? Towards the end, I remember telling the doctor a bit hysterically: You’ve got to be kidding me! Oh you’re joking. This is bad. This is so bad. This is worse than childbirth!

Tears were in my eyes and after he had finished, I just lay there, in semi-shock. I couldn’t seem to bring myself to sit up and function. I think I was in a daze, can’t remember what I blabbered about. I went on auto-pilot mode after that, feeling a bit blank and wondering what the heck did I just put myself through?

For the first five minutes, I could gingerly walk. But after half an hour, the sole and the arch area had swelled up and was so tender I could not put any weight on it. I was supposed to take the train to pick Cait up from school. But I didn’t think I could make it and had to ask my mom to do this instead while I took a cab home.

For the rest of the night, and the next day, I hobbled. I could not walk upstairs but literally crawled up. The kids thought it was a hoot to see mummy on all-fours. Today, it’s much better. The swelling has gone down. The old pain is mostly gone but it does come back in twinges and this morning, the burning sensation was back too.

Looks like I went though all that for nothing after all.

Well, there’s always… acupuncture. After that horror story I lived through, how much worse can it get? Right?

2010-01-25T16:26:00.000+08:00

Third week of January and things are really getting back into the old busy rhythm. Training for the kids have started in earnest so we’re back to Saturdays being super-packed.

8.30am Send Cait to gym training in school
9.05am Owain has Berries class
10am Gillian has bowling practice in Chinese Swimming Club
11am Pick Owain from Berries
12pm Pick Caitlin from gym
12.30pm Pick Gillian from bowling
1pm Lunch
2pm Gillian, Cait and Owain have catechism class in church.
3.30pm Isaac has catechism class in church
4pm Swimming lessons for Cait and Owain
5pm Isaac ends Catechism class and takes a bus home by himself
6pm Finally everyone is home!

This weekend I’ll have to practise splicing myself into two or three. Cloning would also be a good option. Or does anyone have a teleportation device to lend me?

KH would be away on his ‘company cohesion’ trip in Bintan, officially paid for by the company and touted to promote bonding among employees, but what really is just a thinly veiled excuse for lots of wine, golf, karaoke and pool time! I am left to hold the fort. I will have to sit down and carefully work out the details on who goes where and where I have to be at what time etc. It will be a finely tuned plan of precision and balance but I think I can pull it off!

So our days can be crazy busy but I don’t mind this. Or more accurately put, I like it. I like the buzz and the energy. I like the pockets of downtime I get when I am in transit between picking up x and sending y to z class. It used to hurt my head to think about who goes where and when but now, it’s a cinch. By the end of the day, we’re all running on very flat batteries as the adrenalin winds down but we feel like it’s been very productive and that’s a nice feeling to have.

But you know, I really would not have it any other way. While there are days when I just want to tear my hair out and fervently wish (or yell!) for some peace and quiet, I know I would miss the constant swirl of activity that surrounds me now. I know I would feel a sense of loss when it goes – when the kids grow up, prefer the company of friends and leave home for families of their own. I guess I’ll have plenty of peace and quiet then but how lonely it will be!

Already I get a taste of this – on weekdays from 10.30am to 1.30am, the kids are off to school, the cat takes a siesta and the house becomes still and quiet. So quiet I can even hear cricket sounds, when the very air feels drowsy and slow. At first, I am gleeful: so quiet! No fights to referee! I can go online without anyone looking over my shoulder and bugging me to go on Facebook to farm! I can laze on the couch and read! I can even snooze without someone flinging herself on me and shocking me out of my sleep! Bliss!

But then, after the first 30minutes, the stillness gets to me. Like the princess on her bed of mattresses with a pea far beneath, I get a vague, indescribable sense that something is not quite right. A sense of restlessness that I am missing something. By 1.30pm, I am listening expectantly for the sounds coming round the corner – the high-pitched excited chatter that tells me the Holy Terror Trinity is home. Then the noise level slowly builds back to normal as one by one, the kids come home, the school bags are flung carelessly on the ground, my nagging starts and by evening, its full-blown chaos once again. And what is that I feel? That warm fuzzy feeling? It can only be… contentment.

2010-01-08T15:02:00.001+08:00

They say that after 17 years of marriage that there is little that should surprise us about our spouses. Yet KH still manages to surprise me once in a while.

When you look at him, with his salt and pepper hair, his stern demeanor, his loud voice and Neanderthal ways, you’d never guess that underneath all that thick crust is really… a marshmallow!

Let me cite these two examples.

One Saturday last year, KH brought the kids to Catechism class. Usually he would just drop them off and go but that day he decided to hang around to wait for the kids to finish their class. An old woman came by and asked him where she could “collect money”. He asked her what she needed. Turned out that she always comes by faithfully every month to collect the monthly sum allocated to her by the folks at St Vincent de Paul but that month, she’d missed the collection date for some reason. Every month, the Society of St Vincent de Paul gives a sum of money to really needy households and families. It’s not a lot, about $70 per household. My mother volunteers for SVDP and she tells me how heartbreaking some of these lives are. For only $70 per person (slightly more for a whole family), it’s really not a lot but these folks really need every cent they can get. The money goes a long way to covering meals, groceries, utilities, transport, medical care and so on.

So this little old lady wanted to know where she could go to claim her monthly ‘allowance’. KH asked how much she usually got. He directed her to the church’s administrative office but just before she went in, he stopped her and fished out his wallet. “In case you missed the deadline and really can’t collect your allowance,” he told her, giving her $100, “Here’s something to tide you over till next month.”

She was surprised and grateful and thanked him profusely. When I told him how proud I was of him, he just brushed it off (though I could have sworn I saw a blush!) and told me simply, “What is $70 to us? But it means so much to her and she obviously needed it a lot. It was such a hot day and she was so old, yet she walked all the way to church just to collect $70.” As it turned out, the church was happy to give the old lady her allowance for the month and with KH’s contribution, it was more than decent for her for the month.

The second incident took place recently.

At the dinner table couple of nights ago Gillian was chattering away full of excitement for her upcoming trip to Malaysia with her class. But not all her classmates were going, even though this Sec 3 camp was compulsory.

One them was her classmate, whom I shall call Alice. Alice is from a single-parent family and her mom struggles to work to put food on the table and keep the family together. She’s not a close friend of Gillian’s but from time to time we hear stuff about her and we know the family has their share of problems. This time, Gillian said, Alice can’t go on the class trip because she could not get her passport renewed. Her mom says she cannot afford it.

KH was silent at first then asked: “How much does it cost to renew the passport?”

I said it was probably about $70 to $80 but might take a while and it might be too late since the girls were leaving next week already. KH said, “Look it up on the internet and let’s be sure. But if it’s not too late, I don’t mind sponsoring her renewal.”

Gillian looked at her father incredulously and I swore she saw him through new eyes. Dad, she said, you mean you’d actually pay for it? Pay for Alice to go? Really?

Turned out that it was not too late – just a bit of a touch and go, since both Alice and her mom had to do the paperwork by the very next day in order to meet the deadline. Both KH and Gillian spoke to Alice and her mom. Amid much excited squealing from both Gillian and Alice. Both Alice and her mom were very grateful and very touched. Apparently, Alice’s mom said she had made an appeal via the school’s parent-support group for financial assistance to renew the passport but no one came forward. We never got the appeal and had it not been for dinnertime conversation, we would never have known.

So KH sponsored the renewal fees and the passport photography which roughly came up to about $100 or thereabouts. He said pretty much the same thing he did before: “It’s just $100 – what is $100 really? We think nothing of $100 these days, spending it so easily. But just for the lack of $100 and no passport, a girl could not go to camp and enjoy her time with her classmates, what is that? It’s such a pity!”

Ah that man, he warms the very cockles of my heart sometimes. Okay, most times.

The next day, Gillian accompanied Alice to see the teacher, who was also amazed and touched that someone had stepped forward to do this for Alice. Alice and her mom got the paperwork done. And next week, she’ll be on that bus with the rest of her classmates.

So what is a hundred bucks after all? A sushi meal, a dress, a concert ticket? Yes all those but so much more. A girl’s happiness at being included, my daughter’s new sense of love and respect for her dad, an old woman’s meals for a month...

What can $100 buy?

To me, plenty.

2010-01-06T12:36:00.001+08:00

Beginning of the new school year and we’re back to the harried life of waking at 5.30am, school runs, missing books, incomplete stationery, form-filling and orientation.

Owain started off on his first few days looking stoic and bored, grimacing everytime his trigger-happy camera-toting mother got in his face to take the umpteenth shot of him – well, he DOES look very cute in his new school uniform! Other than that, he seems enthusiastic and eager, having made a grand total of ONE friend (whose name he does not know) and pestering us to (a) send him to school on time (b) pack his bag for him and sign his forms and (c) choose the right storybook for him – he wanted to bring the bible at first, only for the reason that it was thick and impressive but I put my foot down. I wonder how long all this enthusiasm will last!

On the other hand, Isaac did not have a good start because both KH and I had refused to sign his report card for last year. He got an earful from me when I did sign and we agreed that there should be less slacking and more effort made in his studies for this year with the target of raising one grade at least this year. He can do much better, I am confident of that. I just need to find the right motivational trigger.

Caitlin got off to a good start, with gym training from the 1st day of school. Mr Lim has already warned us that this will only get more intense as training is ramped up over the weeks in preparation for the Nationals. We’ll have to make a decision soon re dance training too. On the academic side, the P3 girls were streamed into their new ability-based classes. They had ended P2 not knowing which class they would go to in the new year and when I asked last November, I was told the teachers had to meet to deliberate over this.

So on the first day of school, the girls were seated in the hall and names were called for the girls to join their classes. I was told that they did this in order of “the best to the worst” and Cait’s name being the 4th to be called, had been selected for Ixora, the best class. While I’m pleased and proud of her, I can’t help feeling that there’s got to be a better way of doing this. If Cait is right, and I have my doubts on whether she had exaggerated or not, then it must be quite morale-lowering to be told that you were in the bottom class. As mom to a kid like Gillian who struggled all through primary school and was clearly scraping rock bottom all the way, I can understand how painful this can feel – for the girls and their parents – to be told that your daughter was not among the brightest or the best. And to be told like this – in front of everyone? Ugh.

Gillian also started off well with being made science rep and environment rep for the class. The latter she protested that she did not sign up for and was arrowed to do it when she happened to raise her hand to open the window. The teacher pounced and said: “You have a pleasant and helpful face! You’ll do it then!” When I beamed in congratulations, she moaned, “But no one wants the environment rep job mom! I’ll have to lug down all the trash, all the heavy bottles, recycle them and so on you know!” Thankfully her good friend was also roped in as environment rep so the two girls will chatter while they recycle! Being in Sec 3, the school is kicking off the year with an overseas camp in Malaysia and she’s looking forward to that too. She’ll be back just in time to celebrate turning 15! So I’d say school started out on a bright note for her. Plus being in Sec 3 means she gets to lord it over the blur freshie Sec 1 girls!

On my end, I have moved office to a smaller space, a less private space. After five years of being in a room with a coveted window space, with a roomie who is so nice and accommodating, it’s going to take time to get used to this. I have been a bit depressed over this for a while but I’ve just got to learn to adjust, let go and move on. God always knows best and He’s given me this for a reason so I will learn to make the best of it and to move on.

Still, I can’t shake it but my gut feel senses rough seas ahead and I’m bracing myself for this. But I also try to be mindful and live in the moment and not worry too much over what has not happened yet. Even as I see dark clouds, there is also a lot to look forward to – bright patchwork pieces in life, such as my children’s gym and floorball competitions, bowling tournaments, lazy Saturday breakfasts with KH in the park, more of my favourite frothy K-dramas, sussing out new places to eat, meeting with old friends, travelling closer to home, hanging out more with my parents, perhaps a wedding(?) and just watching my children grow. I will hold these bright spots in my life and be thankful for all I have.

2009 has taught me these lessons (1) life can flip on its end overnight. Case in point – dad’s sudden but long illness with pancreatitis, (2) life means letting go and carving out a new path, leaving your crutches behind – my hysterectomy and my inner struggle with identity as a woman and a mother, letting go of any more babies that might have come my way and changing the way I see myself. Sometimes resisting only makes it harder. But if you let go and let God, maybe you’d have a different life, not a bad life, just one that is different.

2009-12-22T11:22:00.002+08:00

My dad is a real survivor. I think he will really make it to his 88 years as he wanted!

Once again, as it was 2 years ago, he has made it against the odds. After more than three months in hospital, he finally made it home. He made it through stints in the High Dependency, in the ICU, the episodes of near renal failure, the "messy op" (doc's words, not mine), the many side trips into complication-territory and so on... its amazing but he's done it. Came out in one piece minus his gall bladder and came home with still one drain left but he's still done it. To be honest, there were moments when I doubted he could make it, but he did!

Best of all, his personality seems to have undergone a bit of a change. Early days yet but I hope I'm right. I see a softer side, more interest in the family, a readiness to engage us. Case in point - he's actually joining us for Christmas Eve dinner, which he has not done for many years. I'm very happy about all this.

A big thank you to everyone for your well wishes, your prayers and your thoughts. I don't think dad would have pulled through without all the silent and unseen prayer warriors here.

A bigger, heartfelt thank you to my mum - the unsung hero in all this. I know he certainly would not have made it if not for her and her untiring efforts to keep him comfortable, get him the best possible care and so on. I hope he realises what a wonderful wife he has! And me, always thankful to have a mum like her.

What a year 2009 has been! Its come and gone so fast. In just a couple of days the kids will be back at school, a new cycle would have started and we've zoomed off to another year. But if I've learned anything this year, more than ever, its not to take for granted the big and little things that God has given you. Big would be health, our jobs, our homes, family, friends, stability, security but small would be the little unseen gems that pass unnoticed when we slip from one day to the next - a quiet hour with a book, breakfast in a park, my Korean dramas, Trin dancing when she's in a good mood, kids laughing at the dinner table, a nice afternoon's chat with friends and so on.

I'm greedy so I hope God will send more gems my way next year. But I also pray to remember the lessons learned this year - not to take anything for granted - you really never know what can happen, and to be strong enough to accept things and move on if or when the bad stuff really happens.

So a Blessed, Merry Christmas to everyone! May you be blessed with robust health and an unending stream of happiness for the coming year!

2009-12-21T23:47:00.000+08:00

This is a video of Caitlin's floor exercise at the recent competition. No chance to post till now. Since the competition, the kids have been sick, Trin in hospital and then we left for Malaysia - which also deserves a blog entry on Big On Trips. So I have not had time to upload this or even continue with my trip reports on Japan.

In this video, the man videoing is her coach Mr Lim. Sitting with the rest of her team-mates is her other coach He Laoshi.

2009-12-06T15:14:00.002+08:00

Despite feeling under the weather, Cait went for the competition. At first, she was not inclined to compete, looking a bit pale and with hair still uncombed from sleep. But with the bright lights and the excitement, seeing all the little girls and her team-mates wear their leotards, getting made up (glitter eye shadow!) and hair pulled into high perky ponytails, plus some egging on by me, finally she turned to me and nodded.

The competition, organised by UWC, looked more like a Sunday family carnival than a formal competition. Announcements were not clear, we could not tell when warm-up ended and the competition formally began and lastly, prize-giving was very informal - more like Uncle Charles' backyard barbie funfest prize-giving ceremony for the egg-spoon race.

In any case, I think the girls had fun and it was a good, tension-free introduction to the competitive arena. No prizes for Cait but her team came in 4th in the invitational section. The other CHIJ team came in 5th.

Cait looked better and happier when competition was over, so maybe it was just what she needed to get over the bug.

2009-12-04T08:22:00.002+08:00

Okay, life is definitely not returning to normal anytime soon.

I write this perched on Trinity's bed in a 4-bedded ward in KK Women's and Children's Hospital.

At around 9pm last night, she started throwing up. And kept on throwing up. Each time she vomited, the tummy spasmed so badly that she would scream and alternately call for me, her daddy and her Loli. I know how she felt - throwing up and retching so hard that your stomach feels turned inside out, wishing that someone can help you and make it go away and the awful thing is, no one can. When people throw up, one can only hold the person, but there is nothing one can do to make it go away.

We brought her and Owain (who was also throwing up and had been listless with a high fever since Monday) to the KK emergency room. Both were given meds and Owain managed to keep his down after observation for an hour. But Trin, despite given domperidone via a suppository, was still retching and throwing up like clockwork every 15min. By midnight, I think she had thrown up around 10 times. The doctor said we should admit her.

So KH brought Owain and his meds home and I ended up in a 4-bed ward (the singles were all out) spending a fitful night on a tiny foldable campbed next to Trin's bed. Would you believe the campbed actually had an indentation where the butt lies? How many parents have camped out on this bed so that it hollows out just right where the hips lie?

Trin was a trooper. I insisted on lidocaine cream before they inserted the plug. I was afraid she would scream to high heaven and throw one of her tantrums. But I need not have worried, she was so tired/sleepy and with the lidocaine, she barely flinched when the inserted the plug. I was the more anxious one, feeling the pain for her.

They have given her a glucose drip and for now, its nil by mouth. Despite that, she still woke up at least twice in the night to cry weakly and puke - the little that is left to puke, that is.

I had a restless night - babies and children crying and wailing in the night (poor babies) and frazzled tamped down sounds of mothers drowsily hushing, the beep of monitors, nurses coming in and out... I did not even dare use the toilet in the night lest it sets off the baby sleeping in cubicle just beside. Had to go out of the ward.

I am going to ask for a single room again. I am NOT looking forward to a second night like this.

Back home, things are also not looking good. Gillian is down with bad upper respiratory tract infection that has spread to her ears and left her nasal and clogged.As of last night, Isaac had diarrhoeaed twice and thrown up once. Caitlin has been diarrhoeaing over the past days but not been affected energy-wise. But last night, she threw up 4 times. By 3am, both Isaac and Cait were in the emergency room with KH. Poor man hardly slept with ferrying the kids to and from the emergency room. The senior doctor there took a look at KH and did a double take, asking KH: you look familiar. Didn't I just see you here? and poor KH had to say yes, bringing back batch no. 2.

I worry about Cait's competition on Saturday. We were up for filming on Sunday for a CNA documentary on big families but looks like that is going on the back burner. We have made plans for a trip up to Penang for our complimentary stay at the Parkroyal at Batu Ferringhi for the following week so hopefully the kids all recover in time.

Had to take a deep breath just writing that.

I was away from the office for two weeks, and out on child sick leave. When I came back, I was told some smart aleck passed this remark: she has too many children. My take is, its none of their business but if they choose to be narrow about this, too bad for them. I don't live my life by the yardstick of others who have narrow minds and small hearts. My life is hectic and full because I have five children, but this is what I signed up for and I will roll with the punches. There is never a dull day and today, I am living it.

2009-12-01T09:40:00.002+08:00

Ach dilemma again.

We're back from a numbing but so-lovely trip to Japan and life is trying to settle back to Normal. If there was such a thing in a crazy house with 5 kids.

Training has resumed for Cait - in dance and in gym. We got word from her Chinese coach that Mr Lim was displeased that she had been shortlisted for dance. They did not want her attention diluted and wanted her focus to be solely on gym. Before we left, Mr Lim had told her pointblank - choose. Can't have both. We left it at that two weeks ago, with KH and I still adamant that she would try dance and see how far this would go.

So yesterday, back from Japan, we resumed the juggle for now. Cait has dance practice from 12 to 2pm daily but because she's got the UWC competition coming up at the end of the week, she will leave dance early at 1.30pm to go for gym training from 1.30 to 6.30pm. Luckily both are held in school so its just a matter of rushing from the dance studio on the ground floor to the gym on the 5th floor.

When we picked her from training, her Chinese coach had a word with us. She said she would not be staying long in CHIJ as a coach. She would stay until the first term but once the national inter-school competition was over, she would move on to be a coach in the centralised training for national squad. Now my Mandarin is not very good and so I'm not sure if I heard correctly but the gist of it was, both Coach Shao and Mr Lim think Cait has potential to go further. So they are suggesting that she train with the national squad in the 7 to 9 age group, under Coach Shao. So instead of training with the school team, Cait would go for centralised training with the aim of representing Singapore one day.

Coach Shao saw that we were confused and hesitant, not sure about what this all means and the kind of commitment it would entail. To clarify, she said it means ramping up training significantly to three hours a day, seven days a week. But for a start, she added, we could just try it out three days a week. This means, AFTER school training ends at 5pm, three days a week, Cait would go with Coach Shao to CCAB at Evans Road and train from 6pm to 8pm.

Well, we're kinda gobsmacked. We actually just wanted to talk to Coach Shao about the competition schedule this weekend and did not expect this. We told Coach Shao we would think about this and let her know. Meanwhile, KH says privately to me, time for a family meeting. Because with her intense training, we'll have to rope in the older ones to help fetch/send to/from training and this may mean sacrifices on everyone's part.

In Japan, I teasingly called her my "world-class gymnast" and Isaac et al would protest ("WHAT world-class gymnast?!") but that was just a loving little joke. In the light of what Coach Shao said, this does not seem like a joke anymore.

We're proud of her, so proud that she has the talent and potential to go far. But what does all this mean and how far will we go? There will be lots for our family to discuss in the following days. Isaac and Gillian have no hesitation - "It's an opportunity, mum! It's not going to come again," says Gillian. And Isaac muttered, "I don't know what you are all waiting for, go for it lah. National squad you know!"

I know, and I am thrilled but scared.

2009-11-10T16:12:00.003+08:00

So I am walking to the canteen for lunch, a late lunch. I had just come off the phone from a 45-minute phone marathon with a Call-Centre Clone from the travel insurance company dancing circles around me. All I wanted was clear information on claiming for mum's flight cancellation and information on how I should claim if I went to Japan and had to fly back urgently. The Call Centre Clone was trying to be perky Pollyanna giving me the standard lines in sugar-coated tones. And calling me by my first name.

Pity the sugar did not last long. You know how the Call Centre Clones are right? They speak in caveats, footnotes and addendums in very fine print? Ah that was the case today. We were shadow boxing with definitions of words like "unexpected" and "original documents". To say it was frustrating is an understatement.

We had gone a few pointless rounds before I gritted my teeth and asked to speak to her boss, or her boss's boss - anyone who could give me a concrete answer. There was a stiff silence. Ms Pollyanna called me by my formal first name (no longer on casual first names!) and said she would put me on hold while she called in the troops for airpower support. She was no longer sweetness and light anymore. Thank God because any more sugar and I would have gone into a diabetic fit.

Her boss came on the line. Five minutes later, I got the answers I needed. By the way, remind me never to let Call Centre Clones call me by my first name. It just makes me angrier when they try to do the shuffleboard with me.

But I digress. So there I was - tired, stomach growling, faintly nauseous already, my eyes aching from proof-reading the prospectus, my mind mangled from the onslaught of too many thoughts and worries from all directions - Japan, insurance, work, dad, mum, new maid and so on.

And then The Voice comes. Literally right into my head, it goes: "Why are you always and forever questioning me ah? I already told you it will all go well and be as it should be. You don't trust me to make it right is it? You keep asking so many questions - I've told you: it will be okay! Now stop it!"

The voice of God perhaps? He didn't sound like God. But then who is to say God speaks the way the bible says He does, with all the thee, thy and thou of ancient texts? There was no booming Charlton Heston voice either. In fact, He sounded uncannily like Phua Chu Kang.

And He also sounded quite exasperated. I felt better immediately. By the time I thanked Him and tucked into my nasi padang, I was feeling quite cheery.

All in His hands - me, dad, mum, trip, insurance, Call Centre Clones. The Man juggles many balls but He would not drop them. It will all work out just as He says.

2009-11-09T11:24:00.003+08:00

Dad has been extubated on day 3 post surgery. He has had an additional Coop loop inserted into his left lung to drain the fluids collected there. The x-ray had showed the lung almost entirely opague and collapsed with no air activity, hence the need for a Coop loop. The loop worked very well and more than a litre was drained in the first 2-hrs post-insertion.

With dad, there is always good and bad news. So the not-so-good news is that the right lung is beginning to show some signs of fluid collection and dad is coughing out yellow phlegm, a sign of infection. Mom frets about pneumonia. But this may not happen and we will cross that when we get to it.

He is more lucid/conscious than previously and that is a good sign. He's also been a bit of a bad boy in trying to pull out (actually he did pull out) the tube in the nose that drains the bile. So the nurses have had to tie his hands with restraints. We were dismayed to see this but we understand that it is necessary. Dad, of course, is NOT a happy camper to be restrained.

Depending on who you talk to, his facial expression can be interpreted in two ways. My sister says it is a big eye-popping glare that he directs at her and mom because he hates being restrained and having all the tubes inserted etc. Mom, on the other hand, interprets the look as one of 'desperation'. I think its a bit of both. He is probably desperate, frustrated and angry at all that has been done to him. I don't blame him. In his shoes, I would have felt the same.

2009-11-06T09:15:00.003+08:00

Dad went for emergency surgery yesterday morning. He is now in ICU under close observation.

I think the surgery had mixed results. The gall bladder was removed, as planned. But the original intent to join the pseudocyst to the stomach wall did not materialise because of the condition of the pancreas.

Dad had lost a significant amount of blood during the op and his BP was very low post-op. The approach is to support him in whatever he needs - that includes blood transfusions and any blood products where necessary, drugs to boost the blood pressure and close monitoring for his glucose levels. They are also giving him morphine for pain management as well as sedative drugs. He is intubated and the machine is helping him breathe for the moment. When his vital signs are more stable, they will remove the tube.

In his sides are four drains, draining blood and fluid from the abdominal cavity and the pancreas. It is likely, says the doctor, that he will have to have at least one drain for a long time. They will slowly take the drains out over time, but it is likely that he might have to go home with one drain still in place. He also has a naso-gastric tube in place to drain biliary fluid - which is a fascinating electric green in colour!

I think we are all a bit numb by now. It is never easy to see so many tubes coming out of him. But I have a good feeling that dad will make it. It will take time but I think he will make it. As always, we take things a day at a time. For now, he is in ICU receiving constant attention and care, really the best place for him. Nothing much we can do for him at the moment and overall, it is best for him to just recuperate at his own pace. Spiritually, dad has made his peace with God - he has received the sacrament of the Anointing of the Sick and has made his confession, so I think there is a certain level of peace.

2009-11-02T11:05:00.006+08:00

What began on 26 Sept came full circle yesterday Nov 1 2009. This is all of us in the queue that hot Saturday morning, a friendship started by a common goal - Neil Gaiman tickets!

picture by Janice Tay

My Gaiman queue kakis had sent a string of emails planning lunch before the Gaiman event on Sunday. I missed that because I did not check my emails in the days prior to Sunday. I am usually check my email daily but the days in the lead-up to the signing were busy with several birthdays, visits to the hospitals, to the maid agency, running last-minute errands for the Japan trip and so on. Hence I missed the whole arrangement about meeting for lunch and sitting together in the VIC.

On Sunday afternoon after my own quick lunch with Isaac and the family at Marina Square, KH dropped me at the VIC. We were not late, but not early enough to grab good seats either. So we ended up towards the last one-third of the VIC. I was busy messaging Xuemei trying to find them. Finally saw Eldred - right in the front row!! Waved frantically. Wanida messaged me immediately to tell me she's got two seats right up front. So with seconds to spare, as Neil Gaiman walked on stage, Isaac and I hotfooted it over to the front. Prime seats - second row! Well within ogling distance! Plus I got to sit with my queue kakis too!

Gaiman was funny, self-deprecating, charming. He spoke about a project he was doing in China - Journey to the West! Can't wait to see what he would do with that mythological favourite. He also spoke at length about my favourite Japanese animator Hayao Miyazaki, bee-keeping, blogging, Coraline the movie, his new 8-minute silent movie with Bill Nighy, how his nick ' Scary Trousers' came about, his partner-in-crime for children's books and graphic novels, Dave McKean and there was even his encounter with a birth educator! I felt like I got a special shout-out when he talked about how he felt when the birth educator, while demo-ing the baby's passage through the pelvis (complete with baby doll and pelvis - so familiar!), accidentally yanked the baby's head OFF - I can tell you this is every birth educator's worse nightmare and one that I pray would never happen when I teach! Mr Gaiman, famous for his graphic and sometimes gory descriptions in his books, actually turned greenly squeamish when that happened.

The hour-long dialogue with Gaiman went by too fast, went everywhere (from movies to books, to his personal life) and I think we all wish it could have lasted longer. But no, there was another queue to be formed and autographs to sign. So even before the man finished his last sentence, we were already tense in our chairs, ready to spring out the nearest exit. In our case, being in prime front row seats, the exit nearest the Arts House was right next to us. Yay yay yay!!!

Then Gaiman got up to leave and so did we. We didn't even wait for the man to get off stage, just sprinted out the door, down and helter-skelter over the green lawn to skid to a halt where (impossibly so!) a queue had already formed. Still we were the lucky ones and got in where the queue was just beginning. Later, we saw that the queue had stretched all the way to the Singapore River! Had Wanida not saved us those prime seats, God knows how long Isaac and I would have had to queue.

Spent a lovely couple of minutes deciding WHICH book to let the man sign. We were initially told to bring only two items. But on that day, due to the sheer crowd size, signing was limited to ticket-holders only and then, only ONE item. The Graveyard Book was clearly one of them. My other favourite, Smoke and Mirrors had gone missing, to my frustration. I could not find it and figured I must have lent it to someone - mum or Gayle perhaps? After some deliberation, we decided on Neverwhere being the other book for the man to sign.

All too soon, my queue kakis and I reached the table where the man was seated. Wanida brought a cutting of Janice's column in ST. The longer version of the article can be found here in Janice's blog. My queue kakis and I had honorable mentions in it. So Wanida had brought it along and gotten Janice to sign. Mr Gaiman also signed on it - a huge signature. And gave Janice a hug - lucky woman!

picture by Kymberly Huang

A picture of all my queue kakis. I am not in the picture. This is because Mr Gaiman is looking at ME and signing my book. Yes, I am the unseen one right in front of him. Haha!

Here he is, signing me books!!! For the record, he drew two tombstones with our names on it and a moon on The Graveyard Book and on Neverwhere, he wrote "Mind The Gap!"

Having a very brief chat with Gaiman while he signs away. I asked if we would ever find out what happens to Bod after he left the cemetery. Gaiman smiled and said it is very likely that we would. It would not be a Graveyard Book part 2 but one where we will learn more about Silas and the underworld and so on. I said we would look forward to that! Can't wait to get hold of that when it comes out.

And finally, here we all are with Gaiman still busy signing in the background (except Xuemei who is still a little further behind in the queue) clutching our signed books and graphic novels and newspaper article. The line that we started on 26 Sept has come full circle. This is what I like about life - surprises, coincidences, serendipity, synchronicity, fate... whatever you choose to call it. Who knew what a queue could bring? I know this for sure, the next time Gaiman is in town, my queue buddies and I will reunite. And in the meantime, there is always email, facebook and visits (to Kyoto perhaps?) to keep the Gaiman link going.

2009-10-27T11:22:00.002+08:00

Dad's latest CT scan shows pancreatic abscess. The ascitic fluid shows that one of the pseudo cysts had burst, hence the muddy Milo water.

The doc has said that surgery is definitely on, it's only a question of timing. The aim is to clean up the peritoneal area to prevent infection, remove the gall bladder, open up the pseudocyst into the stomach, allowing the contents to drain from there, cleaning up the pancreatic abscesses.

From what I have read, the surgery itself is not quite the issue. It's what would happen AFTER surgery that is the issue. The risks of morbidity are high - as much as 30%. Doc has also acknowledged his reluctance to send dad for surgery since it would be akin to "taking one step back" since dad looks better after being on TPN. But reluctant though he may be, he said surgery is definitely a necessity, not an option anymore. He also warned us that dad will be "very very sick" after surgery so we have to be prepared for that.

By his reckoning, it looks like surgery will likely take place either end this week, or early next week.

I feel like we are all on tenterhooks here. I wish it would be resolved soon - one way or the other.

So to continue with the updates, so far dad has been taken off the pee catheter and has one Coop loop removed. That's the good news. The bad news is that his gout has come back and his blood sugar is high, hence the need for insulin jabs. Its the price to pay for TPN I suppose. More than ever before, I am amazed at how complex our body systems are and how much delicate balancing goes on in there everyday to keep the engines running well.

He seems more lucid than before, at least his hallucinations seem to be less frequent. Although just the other day, my sister had to leave the room in paroxysms of laughter because he and I were having a bizarre conversation about "blow-drying" Gillian's faulty high-tech phone gizmo. He said we should open the back, blow dry with a hairdryer and then put it back and no need to physically "rewind the tape". I figured that when dad was delusional, its best to just humour the guy and play along.

On his good days though, he can have a sense of humour with funny asides to our conversations. On his bad days, he becomes delusional. If he is not delusional, then he would be lucid enough to snap at mom, be petulant with everyone and lay the guilt trip on real thick and generally just be cuttingly unpleasant. He may be my dad and he may be ill but honestly, there are times when I wish I could give him a good hard shake! But since I can't do that, I have resorted to cutting short a visit or leaving the room.

I find that if I take breaks between visits, eg visit on alternate days, I am better able to take his orneriness. But poor mom, who comes everyday, twice a day and stays for hours at his bedside. She takes the brunt of it. My heart aches for this. So I aim to do what I can. On weekdays, I like to whisk her home early on the days I visit. Or go in her place so she gets a break.

But the star of the "getting mom to take a break campaign" is really my sister Vi. I really like it when Vi comes from KL and I really miss her when she goes home because Vi's brisk, no-nonsense personality being such, she is able to bully/frogmarch mom to get a break and always gruffly mollycoddles us. She spoils us to the extent that I feel bad that our roles are reversed - she is my kid sister taking care of her big sister, me. Yet, it's so nice to be taken care of and I love that she's such a breath of fresh air in all this. Her strength is so vast, so unflinchingly loyal and so steadfast that I always feel comforted and safe when she's around and I'm sure mom feels the same. You reading this my ONLY sister?? :-)

With this whole episode, I guess I learned that God does not work in meaningless ways. Of course not. Despite the bad, there are always slivers of good mixed in there. We just got to find them, even though it may seem like we are searching for needles in a haystack, and then be thankful when we do.

2009-10-26T17:19:00.002+08:00

So MOH has once again come out to say that there is no connection between autism and vaccines. Obviously whatever has been said before might not really be convincing to parents who believe otherwise.

Serendipity strikes my life yet again.

1) A letter from the school about Owain's orientation requested the following items - a vaccination cert (which I do not have), the BCG vaccination card (which I also do not have and did not know they even issued one these days!) and finally, his health booklet (of which his listed vaccinations to date number only ONE!)

2) Prevnar has officially been included in the childhood immunisations schedule for Singapore. To make it 'easier' for parents to vaccinate their children, parents can use their Baby Bonus and Medisave. Looks like MOH finally caved in to Big Pharma - they had previously stood firm on not including it into the schedule citing the low incidence of cases here, and low mortality rate thanks to our efficient healthcare and high hygiene/sanitation levels. So between then and now, what has really changed? In my opinion, nothing really. Big Pharma just got more effective at lobbying. Newspaper articles citing doctor's comments also do not impress me. They are still singing the same tune "more convenient for parents to vaccinate babies during well-baby checks" etc.

Again, no one seems to be addressing, or scrutinising the safety issue.

In Saturday's edition of ST, there was an article decrying the use of animal cells in treatments for humans. The writer deplored the use of animal cells, basically saying that this is unproven science, warning about the risk of exo-viruses which could exist in these animal cells and then potentially alter the very DNA in our system. And so on it went. I just want to know why there is such a hue and cry when animal cells have been used to culture vaccines and these are then injected into the immature immune systems of young babies? Bovine cells, sheep cells, simian cells have all been used at one point or another. SV40, identified from cultures of rhesus monkey cells was found to have contaminated one version of the polio vaccine. I won't go into the details of the SV40 debacle, just google it. But the point is, animal cells have been used for decades in vaccines. There are and have been no long term studies to demonstrate safety at all. If we're making a big noise about sheep cells injected for someone's vanity, I'd like to ask why no one is questioning the use of animal cells in vaccine cultures?

So anyway, the interesting events continue to unfold. A letter to the ST Forum recently asks a few pertinent questions, namely:

1) how much adjuvants are given to children in the form of aluminium and mercury salts in vaccines, besides preservatives, over a two-year period, under the Ministry of Health (MOH) childhood immunisation programme. Scientists have shown that aluminium and mercury are foreign to our biological system and do more harm than good.

2) Does MOH have a register of all complications related to childhood vaccines given in Singapore?

3) In a 2007 clinical study of 300 babies aged between nine and 12 months at five SingHealth polyclinics, what was the adverse complication rate and the severity, in terms of morbidity and mortality? Are these babies followed up long-term and for how long?

All great points and I'm glad someone is asking. But behold the official reply:

"...vaccines used here have been approved by the Health Sciences Authority and are deemed safe for the intended use by the general population. Side effects are usually mild, like a sore arm or a slight fever. Serious allergic reactions are very rare.

As for Mr Tan's concerns about autism and vaccination, there is strong scientific evidence to show that there is no link between vaccines and autism. This view is shared by the health authorities in the United States, Britain and the World Health Organisation. Independent reviews by the Cochrane Collaboration and the US Institute of Medicine have also come to the same conclusion."

Okay first, no one said anything about linking with autism. Methinks the official version doth protest too much. Second, the official reply does not answer any of the questions. At all. I too, would like to know - are there records and stats kept of children who have been diagnosed with some form of learning disorder over the years? This includes autism as well as other disorders. Does anyone track if the rise of these disorders are in tandem with the rise in the number of vaccines?

Not as far as I know.

I don't know if vaccines cause learning disorders or autism. I DO believe that these are on the rise. And if they are, perhaps something ought to be done to find out why. Rather than just brushing off the concerns of parents over vaccines, I think authorities worldwide ought to be trying to find out exactly why or what is really causing this increase. That would probably do much more in allaying fears instead of just the reflexive reply that vaccines are 'safe'. Show me how they are and I might be willing to believe you. But until then, you cannot blame parents for being sceptical. After all, when push comes to shove and a child develops a learning disorder, it is the parents who bear the burden and the grief. Not governments and not Big Pharma.

2009-10-19T13:54:00.003+08:00

Update on dad's condition.

Over the last weekend, several things happened. First, the doctors have determined that dad's ascites is a case of pancreatic ascites - a rare complication of pancreatitis. What this means is that the pseudocyst the doctors have been hoping would mature, has erupted and pancreatic fluid is now leaked into the peritoneal cavity. Hence the swelling. The second Coop loop placed beneath his umbilicus has been draining very little water but whatever is coming out looks dark brown - muddy water. In contrast, the other Coop loop in his side is draining clear yellow fluid - normal ascites.

A test of the muddy waters show high levels of pancreatic enzymes - hence the conclusion that this is pancreatic ascites. To rest the gut and avoid stimulating further release of the pancreatic enzymes, dad is now put on TPN - Total Parenteral Nutrition. Basically this means he does not get to eat or drink anything orally. A special team of nurses and doctors will put together a unique formulation of nutrients (amino acids, lipids, vitamins, minerals etc) that will be tailored to his daily requirements and this will go in via the PICC line. Meanwhile, he will continue with strong antibiotics which we hope will prevent infection from setting in. He will also be watched for any signs of a fever.

If there are signs of infection, surgery will look very likely. The hope is that the TPN will bulk dad up and give him the reserves he needs to come out of surgery strongly.

With the TPN in place over the past two days, we have noted that dad looks stronger these days and he is trying very hard to co-operate eg sitting out in the chair for long periods etc. In the past dad was so frail that four people were needed to get him off the bed and settled into the chair. Now, he only needs the help of one nurse since he is strong enough to stand momentarily by himself. So we are happy that the TPN seems to be working.

We get good days and we get bad days. On Sat when I was with him, he threw up a copious amount of brown/yellow fluid - water very likely, since I was giving him ice cubes before that. Looked very much like the Merlion to me! Okay, very ugh factor but it went all over my hand, his pjs, the bed etc. Very icky. The nurse had to change everything. Hopefully the vomiting would be an isolated one-off incident. We were worried that it was a sign that his gut was not doing well.

Gillian went to see him on Thurs after her exams and mom said he had such a big broad grin on his face when he saw her that mom went all teary. Gill thanked him for the handphone he bought her. He had bought it for her the day before he was first admitted and so never had the chance to give it to her. So mum thought it best to give the phone to her so that she could still thank dad while he was lucid. Gill was always his favourite and he really spoils her rotten sometimes, so it was understandable that he was so happy to see her.

With Gillian eliciting such a good response from dad, I am toying with the idea of bringing Trin to see him. My only worry is that Trin may jump on his bed, play with his tubes etc!

We take each day as it comes. I am still half-hearted about Japan. But I know KH wants to go. I think my sister has also pretty much pulled out already. Which in a way, frees me to go because I know she will be there for mom and mom will not be alone. But at the same time, I feel bad about not pulling my weight. It was the same the last time we went to Japan. I guess I will have to continue to sleep on it and keep praying for a direction.

Incidentally, I no longer see porridge, Milo and milkshakes in the same way. After taking care of some of dad's meals - blending porridge, mixing the Propass with Milo, giving the Resource etc, I think I can swear off fish porridge and milk shakes for a long long time. I used to like porridge - one of my favourite foods - but these days, ugh... no. It just reminds me too much of dad's diet before the TPN...

2009-10-14T10:21:00.003+08:00

Thanks everyone for all your thoughts and prayers. It is certainly not easy to see someone you love slowly wasting away.

Last night I was with mom in the hospital and we spoke to the senior consultant treating dad. Dr C was very frank and while he remained optimistic, I think we know just how risky everything is at this point. Everything that can be done medically, is already being done. Right now, dad is being sustained just by drugs alone. But come a day when the drugs no longer work, and according to the doctor, that day is not long in coming, then surgery will have to be considered.

Surgery is the last resort and Dr C was honest in telling us that surgery is "very very hard". The risks for complications and mortality would be very very high then. He is in fact, trying to hold off surgery for as long as he can. Given dad's age, failing condition of his organs etc, it would not be easy to get past.

Dr has said that they will try their best to resolve the ascites in the abdomen but if they can't, then surgery looks increasingly likely. Also, the water in the lungs may require a tube in there to drain.

I said it is hard watching dad be like this. It is ten thousand times harder for mom than it is for me. All this time, I have not really written about how I feel, just logged about his condition and progress. I try to keep things matter-of-fact. But so many weeks on, I think I just need to say a bit about how I feel now. And if this is how I feel, I dare not imagine what mum is going through.

Watching all this happen, I can understand why some people go for euthanasia. I don't condone this but I can understand. If ever I am in such a condition, please, just shoot me already. Just bring me out to an empty field and shoot me in the head. I would hate to go through what dad has gone through. I think he has been incredibly brave to go through all this and part of me feels so bad to let him go through all this. It has crossed my mind, controversially, would it be better to let him go gently or do so many interventions? To what end all these when the situation looks so damn grim? I know that to say this makes me look like a heartless b*tch who would rather stand by and watch her father die. But this is how I feel sometimes. Then, when he has better days, I chastise myself and think oh well, he is not going that soon so why am I being so pessimistic?

When I am with dad alone, sometimes his breathing is so shallow that I have to strain to listen to it. At times, I would actually stop, go near and check if he was still breathing. And terribly so, I pray, please God, if you have to take him, let it not be on my watch. I would not know what to do. But when I talked to mom about it, she said, it is a blessing to be the one to watch the ships sail out. At least he would not go alone.

When I try to talk about all this, sometimes people tell me I am being premature, or I am chastised for not being hopeful or positive. It is not something we like to talk about. So the only way I can get this off my chest is to spill my guts here. It is just the way I feel - sad, angry, frustrated, conflicted, anguished.

Everybody is praying for us to be strong, or praying for dad to pull through. I just want him and us to be at peace again. I just want it all to go away - my bit of denial perhaps. I just wish it all did not happen. That today, dad would pick up Caitlin from home and send her to gym as usual, then head off to Whampoa for his chess games, that we are carrying on with life and looking forward to Japan and so on. Pity that denial does not become fact. Life does not work that way.

What a big cross dad is carrying now. So is mum. They are - we all are - suffering in our own private ways. The path is ever twisting and dimly lit and there are shadows at every turn. I know where this is all going to end. But nevertheless, we just have to walk it together. This is the part of life's journey. Painful and scary though it is, we just have to walk it to the very end.

2009-10-13T13:39:00.002+08:00

Reading Brain Rules at the moment. I'm still in the early pages but its given me some fascinating insight into how the brain works and the little that we actually do know about it. Very easy to read and digest with very little technical jargon.

Found it interesting, for instance, to read about how everyone's brain is wired differently when it comes to language. We all think there is a specific lobe of the brain that is dedicated to language rules - but there isn't.

The writer gives a fascinating example of a neurologist who was performing open brain surgery on a girl who was still awake but sedated. He would gently touch one part of the exposed brain with an electrode and she would respond - sometimes it could be a sensation she felt or an image that flashed across her consciousness etc. Her responses varied depending on where he touched.

The doctor was literally mapping her brain with tiny bits of white paper, tracing where certain functions are stored before actually going ahead with surgery. Apparently despite the many patients he has worked with like this, he has never really found 2 similar maps where language is found. Everyone stores language in different ways and in different parts of the brain. Which might explain why someone like Trin might be able to have a very good working memory, is able to hear and understand what we say but unable to join the dots and articulate her sentences correctly or coherently as the other average 3 to 4 year olds.

Anyway, I'm still pretty slow with the book since I am also balancing other books eg travel research, comfort reading (eg my trusty James Herriot and Georgette Heyer favourites that I would revisit whenever the right mood hit), non-fiction essays on Japan, cat psychology and other odds and ends.

The writer of Brain Rules has a website which also looks interesting so if you're not inclined to pick up his book, hop over to the website. There are fascinating small snippets of factoids there that you might find interesting.

2009-10-13T11:24:00.003+08:00

Dad's not getting any better. In fact, he is getting worse. Slowly, day by day, his condition deteriorates.

He has been in the hospital for 6 weeks already? I am not sure. Losing count.

Right now, he is unable to eat well because his abdomen is so badly bloated and because he gets so exhausted just swallowing. His breathing is shallow and laboured. His albumin levels are so low that he has required several transfusions of albumin but they seem to be not very effective. His muscles are wasted from the lack of food and activity since he can only stay in bed and not move. He used to be able to walk from his bed to the door, but he no longer can. The most he can do is sit out in a chair and even then, not for very long.

Because he lacks activity, there seems to be already some fluid accumulated in his lungs. So his breathing is difficult and his lungs seem clogged with phlegm. He can't eat solids so mum has taken to blending his food but even then, he can't get past more than a couple of spoonfuls. To get enough protein in him, he is now drinking a liquid diet of protein drinks and diabetic drinks.

To relieve his badly distended belly, they have resorted to putting a permanent 'tap', as in a catheter to drain the fluids. Disappointingly, not much has come out. In some patients, as much as 5 to 10 litres may be drained but in dad's case, it was only about 100ml! They are now going to 'tap' the left side and hopefully more fluid will come out. He is already on furosemide and spirolactone to help get the water out but this does not seem to be working.

Sadly, dad has also lapsed into some form of disorientation and confusion. He seems to stare fixedly at a point in the ceiling sometimes and he talks about weird, irrelevant things. He seems a bit delusional at times. We don't know why but think that maybe its due to the long hospital stay. Just yesterday he was talking about "magnetic prawns" and how expensive they are at $70 a kilo and he was also going on about "the red flower and the white flower bending to each other... and when they touch, they will be very powerful"!! sigh. Don't know whether to laugh or cry.

All this has been very very hard on my mother. She goes to see him everyday, twice a day. All this travelling, to-ing and fro-ing has been very tiring for her. To see him slowly deteriorate is also painful. These days she looks very drawn and tired and there is a pinched look about her face that was not there previously.

I've called MAS and asked about how we can go about recouping cost of the tickets if we had to postpone or cancel. It does not look good with dad these days and I would not rule out anything happening at this point. I don't want to leave my mom alone here to cope as well. If dad does pass away, I will drag her off to Japan for a change of scene. But if dad is still very sick, how can I leave her here to manage alone?

So while I would love to go to Japan, it might not be possible at this time...

2009-09-28T20:46:00.001+08:00

Cotton On was selling these perky tanks with tulle wings. Thought Trin would look really cute in these. Especially in the pink tutu we bought from Malaysia. Tank was not very expensive at $12.95 each.

2009-09-28T10:48:00.006+08:00

Ah birthday weekend rolls round again.

Started out great with about two hours of queuing in front of The Arts House for Neil Gaiman Meet-the-Author tix. It was a cloudy day but also a muggy one but the company in the queue made it fun and time just breezed by. The box office opened only at 11am but I arrived at 9.30am to find a queue already formed. Apparently the earliest arrived at 6.40am! I did toy with the idea of abandoning brekkie and coming earlier at 8.30am but decided I would not be so kiasu. Brekkie is too important to forgo!

Luckily I decided to pop in only at 9.30am because the timing allowed me to meet some really nice people that morning - all fellow Gaiman fans who were in the queue just before and after me. The five or six of them included a first-year NTU student from the Philippines, an animator and very talented illustrator, a civil servant from Mindef and a lady who works at Apple. All from very different walks of life but all Gaiman fans!

Among them was the ST editor who writes my favourite ST column "Letter from Kyoto". Sheer wonderful coincidence. Her columns are at times lively, funny, at times moving and lyrical. They always never fail to paint an evocative picture of life in Kyoto - life as I wish I could live over there. I always make it a point to read her column on Saturdays. So imagine my glee/shock when I realised that I was sitting right next to her in the queue!! Had to stop myself from gushing - very gauche!

KH was very nice. Apart from a roll of the eyes, he left me to queue but came back with a big brolly and a bottle of water. He disappeared again but returned later with a cup of icy Coke (bliss!) and newly cut hair! To kill time he had gone over to Funan Centre. Rather than abandon me to my own devices and go off to pick Owain up from Berries, he decided to stick around and wait till I had my tickets. We ended up picking up Owain quite late! Luckily the Berries folks were okay about it.

With such fun company, time just flew past. It paid off too - I got my pair of tickets for the Gaiman event! Yay!!! I plan to bring Isaac with me. The next fun bit is deciding which book/s to bring for The Autographs. Definitely on the list is The Graveyard Book and Smoke and Mirrors(which contains the short story which made me fall in love with Gaiman's writing. The story about the cat which protects its human family through horrific nightly battles with the devil was both gripping and moving. Now, everytime I see Tigerlily perched on the gatepost, I am reminded of that story). Isaac is equally a fan, ever since he read Stardust at P6 last year.

Birthday weekend was nice all round. Saturday night was spent on a somewhat late birthday date with KH at Samy's Curry at Dempsey after picking me up from the hospital at 8pm. The masala chicken was spot-on that night and we both ate too much but we had a nice time.

Birthday Sunday was well-spent with a dimsum brekkie at Red Star. Birthday luck must have been holding out since we got a table almost immediately after we joined the long queue for tables. Isaac later told me someone gave us the middle finger as we were called out of the queue by the maitre'd. Too happy to be angry at the sorry person with the narrow mind, so we just ignored and enjoyed the dimsum.

Dad in the hospital also looked better. He ate 2/3 of his porridge and was more chatty than I'd seen him in days, talking to Gillian about getting a better bowling ball and growling about the triads in the Bruce Lee Ch8 serial. While I was in the hospital, KH took the kids to the park.

When he picked us up, we went to Island Creamery for ice-cream instead of lunch. Went home happy but the kids got drilled in their work, mummy's birthday or not. While they were swotting, I had a nag-free 3 hours to watch Nodame Cantabile, J-drama I was curious about. Sushi was offered for dinner but declined in favour of comfort cooking - steamboat!

The night ended with my kids around me blowing out candles of my Awfully Chocolate brandy cherry cake - yum!

40 was not a bad year. Hopefully 41 would be equally good, if not better. Now I am well and truly over the 40th threshold!

2009-09-28T10:39:00.002+08:00

Dad went home from hospital on Wed and promptly went back in on Friday. Like I said, one step forward, two steps back.

When he went in, his legs were swollen and according to my mom, his hypo count was so low, he was on the verge of a diabetic coma. When she brought him in, he was already slurring and his pupils fixed and staring. Since then the docs have put him back on antibiotics and a pee catheter to see how much he's passing out - which was not much until they gave him lasiks. He also had a blood transfusion on Sunday but his blood count remains low. He's also not eating much so we rejoice if he could even finish half to two-thirds of his food.

All signs point to the pancreas not working well, not healing as it should. With the second ultrasound already showing signs of necrosis, the slow deterioration is not a good sign.

I feel as if dad is just slowly fading. Oh sure, I should be optimistic, and I should have hope. Its not that I don't. But I also want to be realistic. I think they are busy just putting out fires as and when these appear and I wonder how long it would be sustainable and if this would be sustainable at home too - does not seem to be since he had to be re-admitted within days of discharge.

Its a long hard slog for anyone who comes down with pancreatitis. But given dad's age and other medical issues, its a harder slog for him and I don't think he would be ever as well as he used to be before this incident - if at all he makes it out of this one.

2009-09-22T11:47:00.002+08:00

The night I got my JR passes, I prolonged the happy-Japanese mood by treating myself to a late dinner at Itacho in Ion.

I had:

Super-jumbo scallop sushi (looks obscenely huge, draping itself over the tiny ball of rice - but so sweet and delicious!)

Fatty tuna with spring onion 'warship' aka the usual negitoro gunkan (minced toro looked pale but tasted good. Would still prefer the negitoro at the usual Ichiban outlets)

California roll (nothing to shout home about but serviceable. Mayo dribbled on the outside instead of in the roll)

Some clam (okay, this is lame but I cannot for the life of me, remember the name of the this clam except that it is a seasonal dish. I liked it. The texture is not rubbery hard, firm to the bite and sweetish in taste)

Squid and mentaiko warship (hmm, not sure why they call this a warship. Squid was very soft, squishy soft and the mentaiko lent a good spicy kick)

And finally, the two stars of the day...

Wagyu beef sushi (my first time tasting wagyu beef, let alone raw and in sushi form. Famed for its generous marbling of fat, the wagyu was buttery and melt-in-the-mouth. There was only the teensiest whiff of gamey-meet, enough to remind you that this is raw beef. The taste was very rich and while I enjoyed it, I think it can never replace the otoro as the emperor)

Otoro sushi (I was in two minds over whether I should have this first or the wagyu but I was glad I kept this to the last. Lush slab with fat veining through the portion, it was heavenly. Everytime I eat otoro, instinctively my eyes would shut and all my tastebuds just go on wild red alert and the explosion of taste and texture that the otoro commands.)

Truly a satisfactory meal.

Itacho sells its sushi in single pieces so the prices can add up. However, prices for even the premium fish are very reasonable. The otoro and wagyu cost about $6 each. While one may gasp at $6 going down at one pop, bear in mind that most other places will sell otoro in a pair at $22 or more. The ikura warship that I did not order this round, was also reasonably priced at less than $3 a piece but in other places, eg the sushi chains, you're looking at $6+ for a double portion.

Given the quality of the fish and the portion (thick generous servings that drape - this is important! - over the rice) I think Itacho has proven to be good value so far. It seems to be mid-priced sushi that is a notch or so above the kaiten chains we have here. The selection of fish is pretty good and seems wider than what the chains offer, although these are generally the pricier cuts of fish. My grouse is that they offer wasabi in a paste - typical of mid to low-range sushi joints, but still a pity considering the sort of fish they have on the menu. But I guess I can understand too, after all they do not claim to be the high-end boutique sushi restaurants that offer only the best grated wasabi.

2009-09-22T10:59:00.002+08:00

Its stalemate at the Riang corral yesterday.

The story goes back two weeks or so when we discovered Tigerlily missing one morning. KH followed the sound of her mews and found her caged and trapped in a steel cage in the neighbour's garden. There was much sound and fury that morning as we pleaded with the irate neighbour to release TL.

The man refused to do so claiming that TL had come in and peed/pooed on his backyard, ruining his tiny patch pearl grass. We peered over and true enough, there were brown patches where the cat's 'acidic' pee had seeped through. We could not say for sure if it was TL but the guy was adamant. He was furious and triumphant that he had caught TL. At one point, he sputtered, "Do you know how expensive it was to try to catch your cat? I had fresh fish in that cage for one and a half months and your cat did not take the bait!" Secretly, I was so proud of TL to evade capture for so long.

He wanted to send the cat away and initially refused to listen to any of our suggestions. We offered to train the cat - he scoffed: "Think so easy ah? Its not possible to train the cat!" And so on it went until he exhausted his fury. Can you imagine the scene. Both KH and I peering over the neighbour's fence in the alley behind our house, the shouting (mostly done by the old man and a fair bit by KH who was shirtless and thus had his love handle firmly in my pincer grip to prevent him from losing it and yelling his head off which would certainly have made things worse), the number of eyes that must have been watching from the various houses nearby etc.

Well we were both frantic with worry that the neighbour would not release TL, but finally he did. He gave us an unreasonable deadline of one week to train the cat. Which we said was impossible. But as I reasoned with him, at least give us time and a chance to try and do something about the situation. We gave him our phone numbers so that he could call us if TL did the naughty again and we also offered to send a gardener to patch the 'holes' in his yard. He was finally mollified enough to release the cat to us.

That episode resulted in many emails to cat-loving friends and contacts to seek advice. That very day, we closed up the whole house and left TL inside - and us sweating it out in the enclosed heat. We dared not open any window/door in case she escaped. I went straight out to buy a big kitty litter for her. Back home, I dribbled some catnip in front of the litter to entice her. TL launched herself on the catnip like an addict to marijuana! Following that, she immediately sniffed the brand new litter, cautiously went in to check it out and promptly did a pee/poo job in there! The kids and I stood there and applauded!

But after two days of stuffiness in a closed-up house, we decided to let her loose in the day. After that, came two instances where we received calls from the neighbour and Lolita had to be sent behind to his home to pick up her poo. So we fine-tuned the strategy by keeping her in for a lot longer in the morning - instead of letting her out at 6am when the doors are opened, we seal up the house until 9am when its bright. We are hoping she would not do the poo/pee in the bright open day and would use her litter box before she went out. We're not too worried about the rest of the day because cats generally sleep 80% of the time and TL is no exception. In the day, she can mostly be found on one of our beds, soundly snoozing away. It is the early morning and night hours, under the cover of darkness, that we worry about. So by adjusting the time we free her, we hope she will also adjust her pee/poo patterns.

So far so good. The neighbour has not complained in the past few days.

Yesterday the gardener also came and patched up his yard. The neighbour was a lot warmer and more conciliatory in his tone. We stood and made small talk in his yard while the gardener did the repair work. I was 'graciously' allowed in via the back gate! He even apologised for being "too harsh" on us and made jokes about "building a toilet" in his backyard for the cat. Since the gardener was there and had extra patches of grass, we instructed him to also patch up the areas which looked patchy but were not the cat's doing. I think the neighbour was pleased at our gesture.

I think it was just important to be seen as trying our best to solve the problem.

We will do what we can, eg adjusting the time we open up the house in the morning, buying a Cat Stop for the neighbour's garden, and keep making adjustments. I think the neighbour is aware that we are trying and I think he not unsympathetic. So for now, we have truce going on - hopefully it will last.

However we know that we are lucky this time to be able to find TL in time. We don't know where TL wanders and who knows, there might be a neighbour somewhere who might trap her and we would never even be the wiser. My aunt who lived in landed property and had outdoor cats too, told us that after a while, she became resigned to the fact that some cats would never come home - probably because they were trapped and sent away or killed by cat-hating neighbours.

My cat-loving friends also warned me about this - legally, these people have the right to trap cats if the cats go onto their property, hence it is best to keep her indoors - which both KH and I baulk at. We cannot shut up the whole house indefinitely. The very nature of our house makes this very hard. We have many large windows and the design of the house facilitates a lot of ventilation and wind. To keep the cat indoors would mean massive 'fencing' up of windows, installing screen doors etc at considerable expense and affecting the overall look and feel of the house. I would hate being 'fenced' in like this. For now, this is not on the table. We will try other ways first.

2009-09-22T10:49:00.003+08:00

On the hospital front, dad is doing much better. I think he can go home soon. I see this as a mixed blessing.

While we're glad he's well enough to go home, I feel sorry for my mom. Dad has regressed to infancy over the past few weeks. Tantrums, sulks and a general reluctance to do anything for himself. Poor mom has bent over backwards to visit him twice a day, cooking porridge and soups and trudging up and down the SGH hills to bring them to him for lunch and for dinner. She's there to feed him, wipe him, bring him to the toilet, encourage him to ambulate etc. She gets flak from him, tantrums, point-blank refusals to co-operate etc. She's worn out even though she puts on her usual tough "I-can-handle-it" veneer.

So yesterday I told her to stay home. I would handle his dinner. So with KH in tow, we headed for the hospital. Not to my surprise, dad behaved himself. He fed himself, went to the toilet instead of using a commode to relieve himself, and like a good boy, obediently sat in the arm chair for about 10 to 15min instead of constantly lying in bed. With great satisfaction, I reported this to my mom. I think he acts up because it is her and he presses all her buttons very easily. Plus she lets him!

Hopefully when he goes home, he will try to be more mobile and will co-operate with mom. I worry about the load on her once he gets home. Mom will be his private nurse 24/7. That can't be good for her. Will have to think of solutions when the time comes.

2009-09-22T10:20:00.002+08:00

The Breastfeeding Crazy Lady strikes (BCL) again.

Was in NTUC last night grocery shopping when a woman approached me in the baby section. Going by accent alone, she seemed like a Chinese national.

"Excuse me miss, can you tell me which brand is better for newborns?" she asked, brandishing a can of formula and nodding towards the shelves.

"None," says the BCL promptly. "Breast is best."

"But there isn't enough breastmilk," she replied and then waves towards the shelves again. "Which brand is better?"

"None. They are all the same." I was going to add my usual rant and spiel about how these money-grubbing companies use inferior products, slap fancy marketing and artificial hormones and additives in their ever pathetic bids to mimic nature's food for babies, but sadly, I was hampered by the woefully teensy Chinese vocab I have.

"Really," I gave a last-ditch attempt. "You should try again at feeding breastmilk. It really is what babies need."

Whereupon she gave me the look others usually give the BCL and other assortment of crazies, blinked and turned away. How rude. Not even a thank you. Too bad. There goes 10 IQ points down the drain. I actually wanted to dig out my handphone and give her the nearest LC's number but the cold shoulder and frigid temperatures now emanating from her told me that it would not be wise.

Standing far enough to distance himself from any hint of relationship with the BCL, KH sniggered. This morning in the car, he asked me what last night's encounter was all about. So he got my pent-up earful of a BCL rant instead!

I thought about it. Was I really not helpful? In such a situation, would it not be more polite to just point in one direction instead of pushing the breastfeeding issue? Could the BCL not have opened her mouth? Or could she have said it differently? But in all good conscience, I really could not recommend any brand. I WAS telling the truth - none were good. I did not know of any brand of formula that was 'superior'.

Oh well, I guess to the general public, I really come across as a BCL. Difference is, I am a trained BCL! Haha. I know I didn't do it deliberately to press her buttons or to belittle her choices. I told the truth to the best of my knowledge. After reading so much about breastfeeding and formula over the years and in the course of my studies as a birth educator, I guess my knowledge of breastfeeding, breastmilk and formula runs deeper than the average Jane out there. Ironic then, that all this knowledge is just sharply distilled into one line and a two-minute encounter between the shelves of a supermarket.

Sigh. I really should brush up on my Chinese. Who knows when the BCL will get another opportunity to come forth?

2009-09-20T22:44:00.002+08:00

Pictures from Cait's dance fest at CHIJ Toa Payoh fest.

This is Caitlin with her friends just before the performance. Daddy was going around taking pictures unlike the other parents who obediently sat in the audience.

No video because the' videographer' (aka Gillian!)had a bad case of the shakes so the video ended up very shaky and blur!

2009-09-17T09:58:00.002+08:00

Updating on my love for all things Korean...

I've got some K-drama withdrawal symptoms. Finished watching Terroir with the dishy Kim Joo Hyuk as male lead. Yummy! I really like these strong/silent/'masterful' characters. Sadist that I am, I think he's drool-worthy even when he's being mean and nasty to his leading lady Han Hye Jin - whom I didn't really like. Terroir was not bad - although, for something that cost US$6mil to produce though, its low ratings proved to be a real disappointment. Still, I enjoyed the scenes of the lovely French chateaus and countryside. Never was a fan of wine since half a glass will leave me red in the face and slurry already, but this series did perk up my interest.

Now that its over and the OST is downloaded and on permanent repeat in my Zen, I'm chaffing at the bit and wondering what's next. Terroir debuted in Korea late last year, or early this year but it took them this long to get the dvds out here! Looking at TS and Poh Kim, I wonder why they do not move faster to bring in K-dramas earlier and expand their range wider. The answer to that, someone told me, is that only a country bumpkin like me would still watch K-dramas on DVDs. The rest of the civilised world, I was told, has moved on to watch anything and everything under the sun on the internet via highspeed broadband connections!

So I tried hopping to Mysoju once in a while when the urge to catch up with hit K-dramas like City Hall or My Fair Lady hit me. But I have to say that watching dramas in 15min interrupted spurts is really exasperating at the best of times. Plus there are links that might not work and the small screen size really puts me off.

To ease my withdrawal symptoms - general restlessness, insomnia and OD-ing on the dramabeans blog - I am re-watching Delightful Girl Chun Hyang which was what got me hooked on the K-bandwagon in the first place. Happy to say that I still love it! And my expanded Korean vocab (thanks to my songsenim in Korean class!) helps me understand and appreciate it even more. Even K-pop is becoming a bit clearer to me now. Like jigsaws, the bare minimum I have in terms of vocab is helping me piece together a bit more of the picture but there's still much more to learn. Still I am happier with the tiny bits of revelation I get these days when it dawns on me with eureka moments - "Hey, I think I know what she's singing about - ka jok means family! Something about family! Yay!"

I've finished Korean stage 1 already but don't know if I should go for stage 2 since the Japan trip is coming up and I'm likely to miss at least 3 lessons already like this.

Korean stage 1 was interesting. We are taught formal Korean (songsenim says a foundation of formal Korean makes it easier to learn banmal later on) and I can now read and speak simple sentences. VERY simple sentences! Gillian usually hogs my notes when I come back from a class so she's also learning and we do trade simple - VERY simple! - sentences once in a while. In the long run, I think I am likely to take Korean further than the dabbling I've done in other languages like French (never moved beyond stage 1 elementary french) and Italian or Japanese.
Hopefully one day I'll be able to watch a full K-drama without any subtitles!

2009-09-17T09:05:00.002+08:00

Cait called me in the office yesterday. A bit shyly, she told me that she got her results from the UNSW International Competitions and Assessments for Schools. A month or so ago, she was shortlisted to take part in the UNSW ICAS Writing test. Yesterday the results came.

Cait got a Distinction! She is in the top 3% of the Singaporean cohort of P2 kids who took the test.

We were equally thrilled and shared her joy. KH and I are very proud of her. Sushi was our dinner treat to celebrate - just her, KH and I.

Today will see another milestone in the year - the CHIJ Dance Fest Viva Spiritus. P2 girls will put up dance performances for their parents. Cait has been very vague about the performance but we know that it is a Broadway number and the song is New York, New York. Complete with top hat - very Liza Minnelli! As was the case last year, she's told us that she's one of the five 'lead' dancers in the front. Having seen what she could do last year, KH and I are both looking forward to seeing her perform later.

2009-09-17T08:43:00.003+08:00

We're marking the second week that dad is in the hospital. He is out of the high dependency ward now and has had his tubes and lines taken out. He is more or less pain-free and is able to eat and drink lightly. His output has gone up significantly and his creatinine levels have come down. He has even taken a bath!

We're happy with whatever progress we can get but he is not out of the woods yet, not by a long shot. It really looks to me like we're taking one step forward and two steps back. While he is no longer in High Dependency, his recovery is extremely slow. His stomach remains bloated and the bloat has gone to his arms and hands so much that it is hard to even find a vein these days.

Another scan two days ago showed that his pancreatic situation has worsened than when he was admitted. There is a lot of fluid accumulation and parts of the pancreas are now showing signs of necrosis. His air entry into his lower lungs is also poor and they look like they are on the verge of collapse. He is now running a fever and coughing, all not good signs for his lungs. We worry about both the necrosis in the pancreas and the likelihood of pneumonia as exacerbating factor.

The docs have given him a PICC line because they can't find a vein anywhere else thanks to the bloat! He has to be given intravenous antiobiotics thrice a day to help stem infection in the pancreas. He has to ambulate, move around, sit out of bed etc to improve air entry into the lungs. But our friend is very stubbon, highly recalcitrant and would not, flatly refuses to do all this. We do understand why - he looks extremely tired and even that bath that day exhausted him so much he broke out in cold sweat from the effort. But its really a Catch 22 situation we're facing here.

Thanks to the second CT scan the dye, we're back to again scrutinising pee output and creatinine levels, hoping the kidneys would be able to withstand the insult from the dye. Thus far, he is peeing but output has again dwindled.

Two days ago when I visited him, he asked me to get Coke Zero for him! "Dad," I told him in exasperation, "even if YOU don't care, I don't want my head chopped by the doctors you know!"

Pursed his lips, sighed, looked upwards and basically just pressed all my guilt buttons. Finally I said I'd take a look at the ward vending machine. Nada. Triumphantly I told him they don't sell Coke Zero in the ward! But he looked so resigned and disappointed that I said I'd get him some the next day I came, but I would be the one to regulate how much he drank.

Next day I came, I brandished the Coke happily and poured out a smidgen for him. He was happy to just have that sip. And while I know Coke is not the best thing for him now, it is what he wants and one or two sips should not make a difference. Not when the man is already quaffing down cups of teh-O! Also, to be honest, I really don't know what's going to happen with dad. I don't know if he will get better or if he will leave us. It could go either way at this point. But I figure that one or two sips won't kill (there's enough going on inside him that will do that easily enough!) but if it is what he wants, and it makes him happy, why not? Maybe that is really what is important right now. Depressing thought though it may be, it might be one of the last few things that I might do for him. And morbid though it is, I think I do understand where dad is coming from. Life is short and at this point, it looks shorter than it ever has, so if I were in dad's shoes, I would also want to be comfortable and do the little things that make me happy - like having an illicit sip or two of Coke.

2009-09-14T16:04:00.002+08:00

I've been giving Owain pocket money since about a week ago. 50 cents a day. I thought it would help him learn a bit more about money, managing this small amount. He could either save it or use it to buy snacks and 'ice pops' from the nearby minimart.

Since then, he has been badgering me daily for his allowance. To the point that it gets really annoying sometimes. Case in point: I was in the car this morning on the way to work. Its 8am and our friend calls me on the phone. Still sounding sleepy from sleep, he goes: mummy, 50 cents.

That's not the worst. Sometimes he asks for 'advances' so that he can go buy 'yoghurt drink' which costs about a dollar. When I say no, he pesters and whines. Also, he's taken to 'betting' with me when I'm playing computer games. He'll wander past the PC and say: Mum, I bet you $1 you won't get past this round! Not the best thing to say to someone who's already gritting teeth, wild-eyed and frantically clicking away to clear a round. And he says this when its really clear I AM not going to make it past the round!

I've explained to him about saving and trying to persuade him to save but the advice has largely fallen on deaf ears. Instant gratification wins hands down. To incentivise it further, I offered 'interest', better than any bank can offer today - 20 cents for every dollar saved. But even that does not attract him.

He's quite savvy with money, able to add, subtract easily. We play Earthopoly and he's got no problems buying, selling properties, counting out his money accurately etc.

KH is thrilled that his son has dollar signs for eyes. He's always egging his sons on to be entrepreneurial but Isaac has turned out to be the risk-averse, kiasu bookworm, disappointing in the risk/entrepreneurial department but Owain has shown signs of promise. He's been that way since he was 4. I still remember that afternoon in Osaka two years ago when our little friend was busy picking up 'berries' from the ground with the intent to sell them back in Singapore because we don't have these berries in Singapore. When I teasingly pointed out that he won't be able to make any more money once his stocks run out, he said we'd just have to bring back the berries to grow them then!

And one more incident (unrelated) to share about Owain: I was having a tense moment during a game of Zuma when he came over and asked me to play Earthopoly with him. Distractedly, I asked: why would I want to do that when I can play Zuma right here. He said, very indignantly," Because I am YOUR son!!!"

That got my attention alright and we played earthopoly when I finally managed to stop laughing.

2009-09-07T17:07:00.002+08:00

Taking a break from the hospital updates, I just want to say that I was thrilled to find new sources of my favourite gourmet ham and sausages aside from the usual gourmet supermarkets.

Deep in the heart of Jurong factoryland, there are two factories or wholesalers selling imported foodstuff at prices which are about 30 to 40% lower than supermarket prices. In QB Foods, a packet of bratwursts cost $7.50. I found the same packet selling for $11.50 at Cold Storage. Parma ham, one of my favourite indulgences, was going at $7.50 for 100gms. In Cold Storage, this was going for $9.43 per 100gms. So needless to say, I bought loads of sausages - cheese sausages, brats, gourmet organic sausages, hashbrowns, french fries, chicken nuggets - yummy!

Across the road, there is another wholesaler/factory that sells ham and sausages at low prices. My porridge brains desert me now and I can't remember the name of the place. But its directly opposite QB Foods. From the outside, it does not look like much and in fact, you would not know that you could buy direct from them. But on a hunch, I approached some workers and they told me to go up to the office. They have a list of stuff you can choose from.

So I bought a 550gm slab of champagne pate at $9.50 or something like that. In Cold Storage, the same pate was going for $4.60 or so per 100gms. I also bought sliced shoulder ham, 500gms for $5.00 and cocktail cheese sausages and shaved champagne ham. All for prices lower than the supermarket's.

I'm sure there are more of these factory outlets retailing food at lower, wholesale prices in the vicinity. I tried asking at the Meiji factory but was turned away at the gate by guards. We'll probably have to cruise the area and check it out one by one, grow a thick skin and ask at security posts if they "sell anything"!

2009-09-07T16:54:00.002+08:00

Dad is still in the hospital on the DI List. Things are looking a bit better but its always a bit of a see-saw - creatinine levels go down and that's a good sign, but then calcium levels drop and that's worrying. Doctors are busy tweaking away.

Yesterday he took his meds like a good boy when I gave it to him, in contrast to the day before when he pursed his lips defiantly and gave us baleful looks. The pain seems to be a bit better controlled now that he's back under 24-hour morphine. The dose is super-low and he still complains of back pain though. He seems frustrated and who wouldn't be? Says he wants to go home. Or failing which, a hotel - heh, they've got better beds, he says. He still needs his backrubs and sleep is still elusive, so he has to get some help at night or he would be very restless. I feel sorry for the nurses - the guy keeps wanting to get out of bed. Or he's asking for The Pot every couple of hours - to get the nurses' attention, he puts his hand up as if in class! Nothing but gas comes out when he tries to poo but he still keeps asking. The other day he asked mom and I to shift him - he wanted to sleep at the foot of the bed! With all the tubes and wires running out of him!

His roomies in the Intermediate Care area have come and gone and he's the veteran tenant there at the moment. Its not the best place to rest since patients are moved in and out, monitors are beeping incessantly (and loudly!), patients are groaning, shifts change, nurses hand over reports, doctors move in and out and they talk to their patients as if they are hard of hearing (why DO doctors love to do this? They're ill, not deaf - someone should tell these doctors) and so on. The place can be busier and noisier than Orchard MRT station at lunch.

Overall, I think our mood has lightened. Dad is not out of the woods, far from it. But I think we feel more optimistic these days.

2009-09-04T10:32:00.003+08:00

Dad's still not looking very good. We're all keeping fingers crossed. Doctors are doing all they can but are really busy putting out the fires here and there.

He's now transferred to the Intermediate Care area, a step down from ICU. Hoping they won't have to bring him down to ICU. His kidneys are not looking pretty at the moment and seem to be on strike. Honestly, the pancreatitis may have been the trigger but all the underlying stuff are just making the situation worse.

Yesterday I brought Gillian to see him. She just stood there and softly called him. I told her to take off her mask so he can see her. And you know, he just smiled the biggest smile I've seen since he got into hospital. She's his favourite. Ever since we camped with mom and dad while house-hunting 10 years ago and even before that, when we would make the daily circuit to drop her at mom's place and pick her up at the end of the day, dad was always so in love with her. He would bring her for walks round the neighbourhood in the stroller, carry her, swing her, play with her and in the later years when I got cranky with her, dad always stepped in to defend her.

When it came to her PSLE, he tried tutoring her (which brought back memories for me!) and although the methods have changed and Gillian is a worse goondu at maths than me, he tried his best to be patient. Probably he was more patient with her than he ever was with me! I still remember him chain-smoking through my P6 year at the dinner table drilling me in maths. Maths was never my strong point and these sessions must have stressed him as much as it did me! He used to scold me loudly: You gorblock! Well he gave up tutoring Gillian and we got her Aunty Diane to do this instead. But to me, it was his effort that counted and we really appreciated it.

Just before he was admitted to hospital, he had taken the train alone to Chinatown to buy a phone for her. Just because Isaac had one, he said she needed to have one too. So off he went to get one with all the bells and whistles for her. Mom told him to give it to her only after her exams or it will distract her from studying. But then the next day he collapsed.

You know, I am not very close to dad - and this probably stemmed all the way from when I was a kid. When I was young, I remember he always came home late, slept in on Sundays and so on. He loved his chess, billiards, bowling and while he signed report books, picked me up from my teen parties at midnight and gave the occasional thrashing, he was just... dad. We never really talked and I had remnants of fear and awe of him.

Haha, but I did get an A for Maths. Probably the first and last time I ever did!

In all honesty, I think he was a far better grandad than he was a dad - but I love him for this. I love him for loving all my children and taking such good care of them, patiently ferrying them here and there, buying them forbidden fruit, defending them when I rant and rave...

So yesterday, coming home from the hospital in the late afternoon after spending the whole morning there, I took a cab home. Could not face taking the shuttle service, the MRT and then trudging home. I was too tired. Funny how emotional fatigue can translate into physical fatigue! So I took a cab home. And in the cab, my tears just started to come. I could not stop them. My ducts had a life of their own and it just flowed. I scolded myself: hey, he's not gone yet you know! But bloody ducts just kept the tap turned on.

When I got home, the kids of course spotted my puffy eyes and started teasing me about it. Which made me wonder tiredly - why are kids sometimes so cruel and insensitive? They don't mean to be hurtful but this is their grandfather who is so sick. Don't they have any compassion? Don't they feel anything?

I sat down and yes, I cried in front of my children. They watched with fascinated horror. I didn't mean to do it but I guess I was still over-wrought from the cab ride. I explained to them why I was sad and reminded them how much granddad loved them all and how much he had done for them. And then Gillian teared up. And Caitlin too. Girls seemed to be more emo than the boys who just listened stoically.

So last night, when I went back to the hospital, Gillian came with me and KH. She barely spent five minutes with dad, so nervous about seeing all the tubes, monitors etc. KH gave dad a backrub, which I thought was so sweet of him since dad and he were never close and always had that gruff patina to their relationship.

I don't know if it is the sight of Gillian or not, but dad perked up. Enough to insist to the nurses that he wanted a drink and he wanted it NOW. He seemed more lucid and clear-minded than in previous days when he just drowsed in bed. When I left for the night, his output looked better than it had previously and he said he had no pain.

I was happy he had no pain since the doctors had removed the 24-hr morphine drip and are withholding pain meds. I know why the docs did that - they did not want to compound the problem with the kidneys by adding more and more drugs when his output was already so low. Meant that the drugs would just accumulate in him and with pethidine (yes he was given pethidine!) the risk of respiratory distress would be present. Yes, how well I know the risks of Pethidine. And ditto morphine too. But I really worried that dad would be in pain. I just wanted him kept comfortable. No matter the outcome, please don't let him be in pain. But it looked like this was not to be.

Early this morning, the doctors seemed pleased with the increase output and plans to hemodialyse in ICU are on hold for now, contingent upon his creatinine results. Phew! Fingers crossed that he does not have to do that. So everytime I pee these days, I pee 'for' dad and send God the thought - let the same amount come out from dad! LOL!

Okay summary of treatment thus far in short - yesterday they started a central line in the jugular (neck) and they also started an arterial line in his left hand. Hence the move up to Intermediate Care which was more able to do such monitoring. Until last night and this morning, his urine output remained poor despite the litres of fluid being pumped in. At one point, docs told us they had pumped in 4litres and only 1 litre was coming out! To get the water out of him, they are giving lasix to help him pee. He still looks very bloated and lots of water retention now seen in his face and arms, hands as well. But this morning docs reported that they are pleased becos he seems a tad less bloated today than yesterday.

The pain meds are off for now and dad seems uncomfortable this morning. But docs have stood firm on their reasons and will only give small boluses of Pethidine - 25mg (this morning, a teeny bit of morphine).

All other vital signs remain stable - BP stable, oxygen saturation also stable. We're only waiting for his bloodwork results to come back to see creatinine levels. Hopefully calcium levels (which were lowish yesterday) would have come up. Still no food and drink allowed, only sips of water and boy are the dragons in the ward super-strict and miserable with the amount they give! I know I know... good reasons why they are holding back. But I feel so sorry for poor dad whenever he asks for water. Seems so inhumane to withhold even water.

We are all hanging in there - thanks so much to some of you who wrote, left comments or called me. Writing about this helps me feel better and put things in perspective. Mom was a bit disapproving about all this going on my blog but to me, it helps me deal with it.

2009-09-02T09:49:00.002+08:00

Yesterday afternoon I got a call from mom which began ominously: "I don't want you to worry but..."

Turns out that dad collapsed at home with severe abdominal pain and vomitting. Mom had to get an ambulance to get him to the hospital. As usual, the man was resisting the hospital but mom said he looked really bad so against his insistence that he can take the pain, mom sent him in.

I cleared my work and went to the hospital to be with mom. There was probably nothing I could do for him, but I didn't mom to wait alone in the hospital for hours.

By evening, they had transferred him to the High Dependency Ward. At 7pm the doctors came out and took us aside.

Dad is diagnosed with acute severe pancreatitis. In layman's terms, it just means that his pancreas is badly inflamed. Usually someone with a history of alcohol drinking or gallstone disease would be predisposed to this. In dad's case, he does not drink so we have narrowed this down to gallstones. Early scans however, showed no gallstone blockage.

The picture is not very pretty at the moment. Dad has elevated potassium levels, signalling that his heart is not doing very well. His blood pressure is also high at 160/100. Significantly, the doctor has said his kidneys are in a state of advanced impairment. The kidney specialist has been called in and dad may face long-term dialysis if he ever gets out of this one.

In short, the doctors have put him on the dangerously ill list. There is nothing they can do with pancreatitis except to rest the pancreas so no food and drink allowed, and lots of IV fluids given intravenously. Antibiotics are also given, although I have read that this is controversial and not all antibiotic-use have been proven effective although about 3 out of 5 studies have said this has been linked with better outcomes. More importantly, they are keeping him as comfortable as possible since he was in a great deal of pain. Morphine is out so they are using Pethidine with Maxalon - Pethidine to sedate and Maxalon to counter nausea and vomiting which are associated with Pethidine.

It must be Japan.

The last time we planned a trip to Japan, dad had the emergency bypass on the eve of our departure, literally leaving me strung up by my toenails in agony trying to make a decision of whether to stay or go. We went and thankfully, that episode resolved itself well.

Now, this. I feel like this is deja vu all over again. No doubt this time the trip is months away. But I feel the same sense of unease, doubt and worry. What will happen to him? And what will happen to mom if anything happens to dad? While mom sometimes snarks about dad and grimly declares she wishes she didn't have to worry about him or take care of him etc, it is always done with the familiarity of long-time married couples. When one couple has been together for so many years and shared so much history, that bond is inevitable. Whether that bond is made from love, comfort, companionship or just familiarity or even pragmatism, that does not matter. If anything happens to dad, what will happen to mom? I worry about her. She will miss him tremendously.

I will miss him too but it is different for me. I have my own family and my own journey. And in my life, maybe I am at the midway stations. But for mom, with the passing of her parents and perhaps now, if dad goes, that's like an era quietly faded to white. Like footprints that are obliterated by fresh falling snow so that you no longer can really re-trace your steps anymore.

Everything will eventually work out, whatever the pathways are. I know this. I know we will all be alright one day. But right now, we just have to hold on tight to our seats, brace ourselves for a hard ride and wait and see what happens. We can only do that much.

2009-08-26T09:10:00.003+08:00

Picked Cait up after gym training yesterday. She was so tired she slept in the bus - knocking off even in the short 10min ride to our home. Gym was good yesterday, she said. She's learned to do the back flip and finds it lots of fun. She also showed me her blisters on her palms. Honestly speaking, as a mother, I feel a bit sad. Not too long ago, these were tiny baby palms that I held and I kissed and now they are red, hard and calloused.

I asked her: Why do you like gym so much even though you get so tired and you get blisters like this everytime?

She thought for a while and replied: I should finish what I started shouldn't I? Isn't it easier that way?

O-kay! Point taken.

2009-08-24T14:15:00.002+08:00

I am in uncharted territory where Isaac is concerned.

He has hit that age - you know the one where all parents shudder about. While I was bracing myself for all the horror stories of teenhood, I never expected it to creep up on me as it did - not with Gillian but with Isaac of all people!

By day, he is your average student, quiet, seemingly well-behaved. But there is another side of him slowly emerging. The secretive, sensitive freedom fighter side.

It's been building up I guess. The lost phone and SIM card (barely weeks after I bought it), the lack of interest in work, the flagging grades (Bs and Cs), the total nonchalence about life, the defiant and blatant disobedience, the furtive early morning visits to the study room to use the computer despite my warnings not to. To which he turns a deaf ear of course. By the way, Isaac is never openly defiant or rude. Rather, he just blanks you out (poker face that he is, I can never tell if he is actively listening to my lectures!) and then quietly, in his own time, goes and does exactly what I explicitly told him NOT to. So I seethe and I nag.

Things finally came to a head two weeks ago.

KH and I were sick with H1N1 remember? So we were at home recuperating. It was a Monday. Isaac was supposed to be home by 2.30pm. School ended at 2.15pm and because we live a mere 15-min walk away, he should have been home latest by 3pm even if we factored in dawdling.

But nope. No sign of him. Not even a phonecall. By 5pm, I asked Gillian to call his buddy and our neighbour Bryan. The boys go back a long way. Bryan, or Bry as we call him, by sheer chance, went to the same kindy and today wound up in the same class as Isaac in school. His grandfather lives a few doors down the street and Bry is a common fixture around our house. Most evenings would see him hanging out here, sometimes dining with us and waiting till past 8pm for his parents to pick him up. I always say Bry is like an additional child of mine who wanders in, gets fed and then goes to another home for the night cos the next day, he's back haunting the yard again!

So Gillian called Bry. Bry says airily: "I dunno where Isaac is. I last saw him at 4.30pm in school."

6pm came and went. No Isaac. By then we were no longer fuming but just plain worried. Could something have happened? Was I going to get a visit from a policeman with bad news?

7.30pm and our friend finally, sheepishly walks through the door. Intact. Of course that didn't last long because I was ready to rip him into 28 pieces and scatter him for the wild dogs in some field in Punggol!

The interrogation started. Version 1 of his story went like this: I was at my classmate's house. No, you don't know him. No one was at home, only his maid. We finished our homework. Then we played some games on the Xbox and I got carried away and forgot about the time. Bry was with me.

Wait a minute. Bry? The holes in his story started to enlarge as I probed deeper.

Version 2 (what really happened) went like this: He went to Bry's house. They played on the Xbox and online as well. Gillian called and he told Bry to lie for him. They played until 7.30pm when Bry's parents came home and gave him a lift back to our house. And no, at no time during this whole escapade did he think of calling back to let us know.

So... not only did he not come home when he should have, he did not bother calling, and he lied. So many issues, which one to punish him for? How to punish? I didn't know where to begin. KH said shortly: cane him and throw him out of the house! Silly man. This is a strapping 12-going on 13- year old boy who is as tall as I am! It's ridiculous to cane him! And the "throw him out of the house" line is seriously getting old.

I didn't want to just punish. I wanted to delve to the bottom of this behaviour and I wanted him to see how wrong it was and to change. Already, he and his daddy have faced off on several issues. At least for now, I am still someone that he is quite close to, still affectionate with at times and will listen to (at least he still gives me the respect of acting like he is listening!). So caning and drama is out of the question.

Instead, I read him the riot act, took away his dinner and told him he can jolly well stand outside until I tell him to come in. So he stood outside, in his school uniform, schoolbag on his shoulder, from 8pm to 10pm. Guy got off cheap. If we lived in ancient China, he would have been kneeling on flagstones until his knees bled!

I was still troubled by the incident for several days and did a fair bit of soul-searching and reflecting. And recently, I had sort of an mini epiphany.

1) At dinner one night, I asked him: if you were asked to play a game which you had no hope of winning, against other better players, would you play? Would you be game for the experience? He went silent. Bingo. So I went on. This is why you don't do well in History, Geography, Lit right? These are subjects which I expected you would do well in, given your command of the language and your interests in these areas. So it was a surprise that you did not do well. But now I think I know why. You don't do well in these areas because this is new to you. It's unfamiliar. The rules of the game have changed. Its not enough to know the facts you need opinions and intelligent analysis. So you're not sure. You're not sure how to can play the game. So instead of learning the rules and playing to get experience, you'd rather sit the game out. You'd rather not play if you can't win. That is it, in a nutshell. Isn't it?

After a long while, he nodded reluctantly. I think I found out why he does not want to engage with the subjects - he prefers to avoid those that are harder, a bit more of a challenge and if they are not immediately something he knows he can do well in. But in avoiding and procrastinating, he is simply digging an even deeper hole of failure. I don't have an answer on how to motivate him, but I told him that whatever I can help with history, geog or lit, if he wanted, he could ask me, and certainly he should ask his teachers and never be afraid of seeking help or looking stupid because that was the only way to do better.

2) Looking at his behaviour over the past weeks, it is clear that he wants to flex his muscles of self-autonomy. Yes, his behaviour right now does not seem to merit my trust. Yes, he is looking less than responsible at the moment.

But as a mother, did I make it easy for him to gain my trust? I don't think so.

I keep telling him the usual: trust has to be earned. But I forgot one thing - that for trust to be earned, some has to be given out first. Like a small pile of capital that is wisely invested and grows. That is trust. How could I say I trust him if I were constantly tracking him, nagging him about his work, about why he is late from school, what he did, where he went etc. How much faith am I putting in him to make good (or even bad!) judgements when he hardly has the opportunity to do so?

I have to learn to let go. Let my children go, bash out their own paths, get scratched along the way. I have to get rid of rescue mode.

Last week, I finally bought a new cheap basic phone and a new SIM card and gave it to him. I told him: With this phone, I'm going to put some trust in you. I will trust you not to lose your phone and to take care of it. I will trust that you will know when to come home. I will trust that you will be responsible enough to call if you are delayed for whatever reason. Beyond that, I will not keep calling you, or tracking you, or calling your friends to find out where you are. About your grades, well, I don't want to sound like a broken record and I don't want to keep chasing you and bugging you about it. Honestly, I'm getting real tired of all this and I'm sure you are too. So I will leave it to you. You know what to do. While I really despise the feeling of 'regret' in life, if you have to have a taste of it, you just have to. You make your own road.

Well, its been more than a week so far. And I am getting regular calls and messages from him: I'm on my way home, geog teacher held the class back. Or walking home now, back by xx time.

I don't know if he is telling me the truth about why he has to stay back or why he is delayed etc. I find it hard to sit on my hands and NOT ask or probe. Not easy keeping to my end of the bargain. But I'm happy that he volunteers the information. And the talk about his work might have struck a chord somewhere. Bry came by the other day to say that Isaac scored Distinctions in Maths and Science. So maybe the lack of push helped?

And speaking of Bry, I had a quick chat with him too regarding the lie for Isaac. He looked abashed when we spoke but I think he got the message.

I think as parents, we might find it hard to let go. When our baby is learning to walk, how we baby-proofed the house, watched in proud anxiety as he took his wobbly first steps. But eventually, he learned to walk and we no longer watch the boy walk in nail-biting tension.

Teenhood is similar I think.

I am slowly learning how to let go. It's hard. And very scary! I still have the maternal-anal retentive feeling of wanting to rush in and smooth things, make it better, easier, do it more efficiently etc. But I think I would not be doing him any favours if I did.

If he screws up, or makes a major boo-boo in life, it will be bittersweet for us but it will be part of his journey, and it just has to be that way, whether I like it or not.

I'll just be standing in the wings watching, with that same heart-in-the-mouth-will-he-screw-it-up feeling. And if he does fall, just help him to his feet and do what I do now to all my babies - put a plaster and give a hug to make it all better.

2009-08-24T08:42:00.002+08:00

Blogged earlier about Cait's gym schedule and how heavy that was. Well, that schedule just got heavier as the coaches upped the ante with her!

She has been pulled out of the other Level 2 gymnasts group to train with the core school team. She will no longer be training with the other P2 girls, but will now train with the older girls - the P4s, P5s who are at a higher level. The coach feels that she picks things up very fast, thinks on her feet and can do more. Coach Sao was explaining in Mandarin and my Mandarin is never very good so I gathered that the gist of this is due to 'succession planning'. As the older girls 'retire', one or two of the younger girls who demonstrate greater potential will be pushed up to the next level and given more intensive training. These are the potential medallists so they will be training harder and longer hours than the others.

So now, Cait's training schedule looks like this:

Monday: 2pm to 6pm

Tuesday: 2pm to 6pm

Wednesday: 2pm to 6pm

Thursday: Berries class from 4pm to 5.45pm

Friday: 6pm to 9pm

Saturday: 9am to 12.30pm

Sunday: 4pm to 8pm (used to be 4pm to 6pm)

Looking at the schedule, she's clearly already training six days a week, and at longer hours too. Ballet is clearly no longer in the picture now. Coach says she is very good for someone who was 'spotted' only at end P1. She had skipped Level 1 gym and jumped straight into Level 2 'fresh' without prior training and now, less than a year later, will be training with the other bigger girls. They are pushing hard for next year's C Div Inter-Schools Artistic Gymnastics competition. Coach thinks that by Feb/March next year, with this intense coaching, Cait would be ready to take on at least one event. CHIJ Pri had won some medals this year and so I guess the heat is on for the medals to keep coming in!

Coach thinks she can do it because she seems like a bright girl. Mr Lim told us yesterday: To do well in gym, you need this (points to his head!) because when you are up there, you need to think about and remember many things - where your legs are, how pointed are they, the pose, the routine etc. And when you're swinging around on the bars, that can't be easy!

KH is perturbed at the intensity of training but also proud of her for coming this far. We've sat her down and talked about all the implications. The longer training hours mean she would be more tired and this would be hard on her physically. She knows this already.

On Saturday while picking her up after gym, the teacher-in-charge came down to the car with Cait. I was not there but KH said the teacher was reassuring him that Cait was alright, speaking in Mandarin, that she was crying a bit because she felt giddy after several rounds of handstands but, she "did very well in gym, she's the best in the group!" Cait said she cried because she had "a very bad headache" because she worked too hard in gym.

We were also concerned that with the intense training, she would hardly have time to work academically. We've also told her in no uncertain terms that while we support gym, her grades cannot flag. If they do, we will take her out of gym or cut down on training. She's got to find a way to balance both. To which she nodded soberly and perked up saying: "I have one hour before gym starts. I can do my homework then or if daddy has work for me, I can bring the assessment books to school and do it then!"

Well, I'm proud that she can think like this. I think she has the discipline to do this. But I know it will be hard for her at times, challenging too. As KH sighed to me this morning, even if her grades flag, how to take her out of gym? It will demoralise her so much that her grades will slip even further!

I guess we'll just have to watch her carefully, not only in terms of her school work but her health, make sure she eats well (she eats like a horse now actually - lots of food, loving the carbs, the fruits and the greens!) and that she gets enough rest and R&R time.

2009-08-12T09:20:00.002+08:00

Updating on Trin and Owain. I tried them with the Ladybird Reading Scheme and they have both finished Books 1A and 1B with no problem. Tonight I'm going to start them both on Ladybird 2A and 2B. Trin seems faster than Owain and picks up faster. I am not sure if she is reading with understanding or just reading by rote. Her memory work seems good and she is able to retain the word after a few prompts and reminders. Owain seems to have to work harder at remembering/retaining words.

I find that Owain enjoys having people read to him but has no inclination to read by himself. Maybe he lacks confidence in his abilities? The only time he does this willingly or enthusiastically is when I work with both Trin and him together. Then he sees it as a 'competition' and would approach it with greater gusto. Reads like a shinkansen on overdrive - no full-stop! Had to keep reminding him to take a breath! He still seems hesitant when it comes to blending and decoding sounds. Eg the 'ch', 'sh' and 'th' is still approached with caution and some inaccuracy. I sense that he seems unsure. When done in a phonics workbook from school, he can do this - and seems happy to recite the list to me and can do so relatively fluently. But the same words, when taken in a different context, found in a book or somewhere else, he seems to lose his confidence - even if he could very well read it in his phonics book.

His teachers have taken great pains to assure me that his progress is normal. I might be more paranoid than the usual parent out there given the family history but my antenna is really up and beeping away. Is it me - that I am unduly paranoid or expecting too much? Or is there something not right - mild dyslexia or, as in Isaac's case, just poor phonological awareness? Either way, those are real issues that can handicap learning.

I see similarities in him and Isaac - particularly when it comes to Chinese. Isaac, funnily enough, despite poor phonological awareness and some inaccuracies in decoding sounds, words, still loves to read. But not Owain. Certainly, Isaac at age 5 was a great deal more fluent a reader than Owain. I think back then he progressed so well and so fast that we were all very surprised. Even Melissa, who worked with him for so long. I do not see this in Owain. Is this comparison helpful? Instead, Owain's caution (aversion is too strong a word) with reading seems to mirror Gillian. See my warning red flag waving again?

I am not going to jump the gun, and I will give him time - until the middle/end of P1 next year, to see how he copes with reading and with Chinese. But my gut feel is that he will struggle and there might just be an underlying issue somewhere.

Trin is one child I can't quite figure out. Yes, she still has speech issues - not in pronunciation but in grammar, sentence structure, content. She is very chatty - just a bit incoherent sometimes. Eg "I go for you" instead of "I go with you". But then she's able to pick up on puns/meaning. Eg she overhears us saying "Gosh, she's such a bossy baby!" and she says "Huh? I am the boss? Yes! I am your boss! Okay?!" She loves to chatter - baby talk, incoherent chatter, and she loves to sing. So clearly not an issue of NOT talking. I find this very hard to understand or even to explain this. I think in terms of other 3 to 4 year olds, she might be 6months to a year behind in expressive language structure. But then again, she seems to be a bit advanced when it comes to simple reading. One step forwards, two steps back? Frustratingly puzzling.

Trin is very motivated by lots of praise - the more enthusiastic, the better. She also seems proud to know that she is able to finish two books by herself. Trin also seems happy to read words off the TV screen - she reads parts of the subtitles. Lately I realised that she could read more than the usual sight words. She was including words like "birth" "happy" "love". She's happy to read all the time - road signs, shop signs, banners, newspaper headlines and all manner of incidental text. I don't see this same interest manifesting in Owain.

Trin can be a real tyrant though and she has this bad habit - she can also be a real little hypochondriac and that can be endearing or exasperating, depending on your mood. She could be very annoying whiny at times. Just over the weekend, she entertained us with dramatic proclamations - "My hand!" " My nose!" "My stomach hurts" "Itchy!" "Blood!!" "I want a plaster!!" (for a teensy cut on her knuckle that had dried up already and to appease her, we had to give her a plastic that practically covered her fist. She was proud of that. Made her look like Rocky). At bedtime, her routine is "Give me my medicine now. I want to eat medicine!" She means her usual dose of multi-vits and probiotics. Even my normally patient and doting mother finally snapped after a weekend of "My nose!"

KH himself commented once: "You're as bad as your nai-nai!" Haha! At least he acknowledges what a chronic hypochondriac his mother is - and how annoying that can be!

2009-08-12T08:43:00.002+08:00

My regular hypertension check-up with the doctor took place last week. A blood test showed low sodium levels. Normal levels are between 136 to 145 mEq/l. Mine is 131 mEq/l. Doc says anything below 130 is not good. He thinks its the diuretics he prescribed to help control the blood pressure. At 12.5mg of chlorothiazide, this is actually a low dose but apparently, he thinks it has caused sodium levels to fall as a cumulative, long-term effect.

To counter this, he took me off the hydrochlorothiazide and kept me on Nifidepine 60mg only. I did tell him that after surgery sometime back, I took myself off the hydrochlorothiazide since I found that the BP was well-managed and in fact, was on the low side. But after about 2 to 3 weeks, I found the BP rising again to well past 145/100, so I put myself back on the meds. Since then its been well-controlled at readings of 110/75.

So for now, I'm off the diuretic and diligently monitoring my BP to see what the impact would be. So far so good. BUT the bad news is, I am already seeing some changes to sleep and pee patterns which I am not sure are healthy or not in the longer run. These are:

Significantly reduced pee levels. I peed TWICE in the daytime yesterday - once in the morning when I woke up and then nothing for the whole day until I got home. Imagine - I never visited the loo even once in the entire working day! Its been like this since I got off the meds last week. Funny thing is, while I don't pee much in the day, I wake up to pee once in the middle of the night - which I find very disruptive and something I have not done since I went on the meds.

Disturbed sleep. I either find difficulty getting to sleep or sustaining sleep. And my dreams have been generally disturbing ones that leave me awake in the middle of the night, unable to go back to sleep or generally in light, troubled sleep. I do not sleep soundly and I wake up feeling draggy and tired.

I am blogging this because I need to keep a log of any changes that might be attributed to the change in meds for discussion purposes with the doctor when I next see him.

2009-08-03T12:01:00.002+08:00

The flu saga has spread over to this week.

After KH fell sick, it was Gillian's turn. On the second visit to the doctor, they did a swab test and this time, she tested positive for Influenza A - H1N1. By Saturday, I was feeling a bit under the weather myself.

I've found that H1N1 reacts differently with different people. Both KH and Gillian were very sick. Gillian developing a chesty, phlegmy cough while KH had very bad body aches. I, on the other hand, have a nagging irritating cough but not phlegmy and low-grade fever hovering around 37.6. So off I went to see the doctor this morning. Because Gillian had tested positive, it was also likely that I had the same thing. So we're both on long MC for the rest of the week.

The doc offered Tamiflu to me because she categorised me as a 'high-risk' case because of my asthma history and hypertension. Plus, sadly I know, I am considered borderline obese (hate that word!). She said the best time to start Tamiflu was now, but I decided against it. You know me and my aversion to drugs. I will watch and see and if things get worse, I'll see the doctor again. But as of right now, I'm feeling okay - generally fluey but not desperately sick.

2009-07-29T10:01:00.002+08:00

Two kids down with flu. In both cases, cough manifested before fever which seems to fit the H1N1 profile well. And since infection rate has now gone past 50%, it seems likely that they have this. The doctor did an Influenza A test on Owain which came up negative but warned me that the Influenza A test is not infallible (hah!) and has a high 15% false negative rate.

We were sent home with meds to treat symptomatically and to adopt wait-and-see attitude. Owain, in particular, with his asthma background, needs to be watched carefully.

So both are now home from school and pumped with Fedac, Promethazine and Wink To Learn plus Yi Xiu videos - which they enjoy. Trin seems to pick up the Chinese words faster than Owain, her rate of recall is higher. But both do enjoy Yi Xiu, which apart from being fun to watch (even I enjoy it!) and exposing them to Mandarin, is also set in feudal Japan. This allows me to explain Japanese history to Owain through a story that seems more immediate and relevant. The cartoon has scenes of Kinkakuji in Kyoto where we will be going so I was happy to point that out to him. When we do see the actual temple, it would certainly be more meaningful to him.

2009-07-29T09:18:00.002+08:00

Cait came home yesterday with her cert from RAD (Royal Academy of Dance) for the ballet exam she took. Not only did she pass, but she passed with a Distinction!

We are very proud of her and happy that she has done well. But once again, we are very mixed about gym vs dance. Although she's already made the decision to stop ballet, this recent development again got me thinking. Are we making a mistake? Should we have let her continue?

If the girl is just passing ballet with a simple pass grade or even with a merit grade, it would be an easier decision to make. She too, is now very mixed up and confessed yesterday that "this is a hard decision mummy."

At the same time, I suppose something's got to give right? Her schedule looks like this:

Monday: School, Gym training from 1pm to 5pm
Tuesday: School, home
Wednesday: School, home, Berries from 4pm to 5.45pm
Thursday: School, Chinese supplementary class from 1.30pm to 3pm
Friday: School, Gym training from 1pm to 5pm
Saturday: Gym training 9am to 12.30pm, Catechism from 2pm to 3.30pm, Swimming class from 4pm to 5pm
Sunday: Gym training from 4pm to 6pm

By the time she gets home, has her bath, dinner, finishes her homework and some revision that we set her, she's seriously tired already. Her only 'free' day is Tuesday but if we include ballet, this would mean Tuesday afternoon slots from 1.30 to 3pm. So there goes the 'free' day. The second slot would clash with Friday gym training too.

Are we overdoing it? But if we don't, are we constraining her total development? I've said that if a child demonstrates a talent, an inclination for something, then as parents, we have to do all we can to let her take it as far as she can go so that she has more choice. Just wondering if, by taking ballet out of the equation now, are we limiting her options/choices?

2009-07-14T12:13:00.002+08:00

Japan here we come... again!

Tempted by the MAS offer of S$398 all-inclusive fares Japan, we pressed the 'buy' button last week. The kids fare is slightly less at S$382. We'll have to transit in KLIA but for this sort of fare, ah, okay. I never thought I'd see fares to Japan go as low as this and I thought the earlier NW deal of $498 was already pretty low. SQ's lowest fares to Japan hovers around $598. Amazingly, KH was the one who said book 'em.

Our trip is scheduled for Nov 14 to Nov 28 inclusive. 15 glorious days of autumn in Japan!

This means we will take Caitlin out of school a week before school officially ends for the year. The older kids would already be on holiday since sec schools close for the year earlier than their pri counterparts. We would also not miss O's P1 orientation at SJIJ on Nov 7.

We're all very excited about it and the pleasure of planning has started in earnest.

I am torn between heading along the Inland Sea coast, covering the rural Shikoku island or moving inland to Kanazawa, then Takayama, the Shirakawago World Heritage Site and then down to Tsumago and the old post towns. Or cover Nagano, take in some snow at a highland resort? In late Nov, the ski season has not started in earnest but you could still get some early snowfall in the higher elevations. I know that Karuizawa starts officially on Nov 1 with artificial snow. But Karuizawa is known to be very expensive, so while I am tempted, it does not seem likely.

For sure we will cover a bit of Kyoto again - this time, the rock garden of Ryoanji, Kinkakuji and definitely also, Nara. Spend a day on Ohara - splendid autumn foliage there. Possibly a night on Koya-san? Also definitely on my list is Hiroshima and Miyajima, Himeji. I would also like a day and a night in Kobe and Arima Onsen but might have to sacrifice this for time if we go inland.

Looks like we'll buy the 7-Day JR Pass but also exploring car rental. If we are heading along the Inland Sea coast, stopping at pretty fishing villages, then trains would not be possible. And certainly, a car would allow us to drive through the gorges and valleys of Shikoku as well as rugged cliffs of Shikoku where the trains don't go.

Decisions, decisions... I feel like such a kid in a candy shop!

Mum is coming with us this time and it would be great! She's such an experienced traveller herself and is always gung-ho for something new, fun and different. Definitely not the aches-and-pains, can't-do-this-and-that sort. My sister may just hop along for the ride. The kids are thrilled to be going back too.

Oooh, I am so looking forward to this!! I'll post more on the travel blog.

2009-07-14T11:16:00.002+08:00

Caitlin is now training 4 times a week for gym.

Friday, 2pm to 5pm
Saturday 9am to 12.30pm
Sunday 4pm to 6pm
Monday 2pm to 5pm.

She is now in the school team, the training squad. They are gearing her up for the Singapore International Junior Cup competition in Dec to gain some experience in preparation for the Inter-Schools Nationals next year in April. No expectations but good to have some experience in competitions under the belt.

During Sunday training her coach took them through the choreographed routine for the floor exercise. Proud mummy that I am, I think she looks so graceful! Monday training same thing but with music which Cait said was "very funny!" and lasted only for about a minute.

For all this to happen, ballet has been sacrificed. I'm mixed about this because I think it would have been good to keep up ballet and some form of dance training which would (a) keep her options open and (b) benefit gym as well. But I do acknowledge that with Berries re-shuffled to Wed afternoons, ballet 2x a week and gym 4x a week, this will take its toll on her studies. So something has to give.

KH thinks that Cait will have no time for her studies (which have been flagging since the CAs in March). This is true because she comes home from gym tired enough to fall asleep in the car. Once past dinner and a bath and she's out like a light - no time for work. She'll have to learn how to adjust and juggle this better. Learning curve ahead for all of us.

2009-07-14T10:03:00.002+08:00

Owain is now officially an SJI Junior boy.

I was toying with the idea of sending him to Maris instead of SJI but he was balking at the thought of too much Chinese. As Sam said, being in a place where disliking chinese is the norm or even 'fashionable', vs a place where chinese is in the environment, is important and can make a difference in terms of one's attitude towards learning the language.

But my gut feel from observing Owain says that SJIJ might be a better fit for him. He's always been the sort who learns best when he is (a) not bored and (b) not discouraged/turned off the subject. As we all do of course. But I read Owain as a bright kid and I would not want to stump his efforts to shine in other areas - which might be hampered if I put him in an environment where he is totally unhappy in. As was the case in Magdalene's Kindy - hence the switch to Lumiere, where he is much happier and has made big strides in learning.

My key worry, be it SJIJ or Maris, is still Chinese. We're going to pump him with as much help as necessary. Berries will continue, Wink to Learn and YiXiu are now household DVD staples and if necessary, we'll have to hire a tutor to keep Chinese going. I don't want Chinese to be the archilles heel that loses him the race in the long run.

Owain, half tongue-in-cheek and half seriously, told me to get him exempted from Chinese like his elder brother and sister. And to be honest, I am considering this. When I work with him for chinese, I can really see the difficulty he has in differentiating the tonal values of each word. He just can't seem to grasp the differences in sound/tone. I saw the same thing in Isaac. Which makes me wonder if his phonological awareness is just as poor as his brother's. We'll only know through a psych eval. I'm not going to do this now, but will keep plugging at it with him, at least till the end of the year or next year.

So while I am not just throwing in the towel just yet for Chinese, I am keeping my options open. With Isaac, I regretted that I did not seek exemption sooner. Had I done that, he might have taken a different path in his primary school life since the kids are 'streamed' into classes of varying ability depending on their overall grades in P2. With Isaac scoring well below 25marks most of the time, his overall grade was natually pulled low and he spent about 2 years in a class which did not match his ability for English, Maths and Science. Still, the boy says those were the best days of his school life in SJIJ.

With Owain, I'll see how it goes for P1. His Chinese teacher in Berries told KH that he cried in class on Saturday. He either could not recognise the word, or pronounced it wrongly. He cried out of frustration. When I worked with him, I saw the same thing - not recognising the same words, not able to retain the meaning and sounds etc. I could see that he was frustrated but I'll say this for him - he has determination and grit. He moaned, groaned and complained about 'doing Chinese' but you could see him trying and trying. I love him for that and I feel for him.

That same grit was seen in swimming class on Saturday.

He was told to swim the length of the pool (50m) - and he did. When he reached the end, he was told to swim back. KH was swimming beside him. Midway through the lap, he noticed that O was gasping up to breathe, clutching at the wall with every stroke. Each stroke was degenerating gradually. Whereupon KH stopped him and asked why he was swimming like that. And only then did he realise that O was in tears. He was too exhausted from swimming the first length and found it "too hard" to do the return lap but had to do it. So he pushed himself but was also so tired and frustrated that he cried.

When he related the story to me, my heart hurt for him and I was rather indignant: "Why did the coach do that? You know his strokes aren't even right yet, so naturally all this takes a toll on him. Two laps for this little boy at this stage is really a bit much!"

To which my dear husband, taking on the boot camp instructor role, retorted: "Good! Toughen him up! He is a BOY. If he does not push himself now, NS would be worse!"

Well, I can't and don't buy that. My heart went out to my little fishball. How to protect him and his spirit?

With all this running through my mind, I registered him for school at SJI on Monday. Owain seems happy and I think I made the right choice. Next step - Orientation on Nov 7.

2009-07-08T11:37:00.002+08:00

Owain is finally vaxed.

I think, as a parent, I've done as much as I can to minimise the risk of any adverse reactions happening. These are:

Extended breastfeeding to build immunity
No vaccinations in the first year of life
Delay vaccinations until immune system is stronger - ie 6 to 7 years of age
Vaccinating only what is legally required
Single shots instead of combination vaccines
Supplemented with high levels of Vit C, Vit A, echinecea, probiotics before and after vaccination
Specified needle length
Specified location of shot
Spacing out the shots
Keeping him home from school for better recuperation

I dosed Owain with extra high levels of Vit C and A before the day. He had more than 5000IU of Vit A and I gave him 1000mg of Vit C. This is far above the usual norm recommended for children but for vaccination, which stresses the immune system, this was acceptable.

We went to the Japan Green Clinic yesterday. I promised him ice-cream and sushi if he would not panic and freak out on me. He asked if it was okay if "a little tear" came out and I said, it would be okay for him to cry if it was painful and I would hold his hand.

The doctor was surprised that he was not vaccinated yet and confirmed with me that the measles shot was his primary shot and not a booster. I asked the doctor to verify that the needle used is a 25mm and not a 16mm. He was happy to check the packaging and confirmed that the clinic only uses a 25mm or a 35mm. The needle, being longer, goes deeper and these lengths have been associated with less adverse reactions.

He asked where I would like Owain to be injected and I specified - upper arm. Less pain and swelling reported with an upper arm injection site as compared to the thigh. Doctor grinned and said, "Smart!" heh.

With all this about needle lengths and injection sites and questions on batch nos (I wanted to be sure that the batch nos were clearly reflected and in his notes too), he asked if I were medically trained. No, I said, just a very concerned parent who does her homework. As if to further reassure me I guess, he told me that the Japanese company manufacturing the vaccine has been around for more than a hundred years. Hmm, while that is interesting information, I am not and I guess I will never be, convinced of any vaccine's safety, so 100 years of history notwithstanding, I would not vaccinate unless I absolutely had no more choice but to do so.

The injection itself went smoothly. I think I was more anxious for Owain, as I gripped his little hand. He looked at me and grimaced a bit as the needle went in but otherwise, seemed fine. It looked like there was localised swelling almost immediately but he said it didn't hurt. After that, he was back to his usual self - rough-housing with Isaac, irritating the girls and pinching my butt again. I checked with him several times (paranoid!) but he seemed fine - did not report pain in the arm, no fever yet and his appetite was good (yes I made good on my promise and we took him for some sushi).

The injection, including consultation with the doctor, cost $96.30 (includingGST). Compare this with Raffles Hospital's Children Centre and Olive Tree, which charges around $200 for the whole thing. Moot point anyway because RH and OT both did not have ready stock when I called. As for the diphtheria vax requirement, I will give the DT vax at least a month or more from now. Incidentally, only the Japan Green Clinic has the DT vaccine.

Owain's health book, once pristine and free of any notations on the vaccination page, now has one lone mark in the box tagged 'measles'.

Hopefully this will be enough to get him registered for primary one for now.

2009-07-03T09:43:00.002+08:00

Yesterday I did something I had not done in a long time. I went to the post office, bought a congratulatory card, stamps, wrote a message on the card for a friend's daughter, and posted it.

Snail mail.

I enjoyed that. It felt good. Brought back memories of the old days when snail mail was the norm and email unheard of. When I was younger, as a teen, it was always a thrill to open the letter box and find cards and letters. Christmas cards, birthday cards, good luck cards, Valentine's Day cards, Chinese New Year cards. It was all fun to send and to receive.

Back then, we use to send cards for everything we needed to say. Or could not say. So if we were interested in a boy or a girl, ah a sweetly-worded card would say it all. Or tenderly wish a loved one a happy birthday. I remember standing for hours at card racks reading all the mushy messages, trying to find that one perfect meaningful card for a guy I once loved. And receiving one in return. Or getting cards from bashful guys who had a crush on me but never dared say so in person. I still keep them all.

Yes, more often than not, it is not poetry and the words are corny, the sentiment overly-mushy. I don't know about you, but they still touched me very much - but then I am a sentimental romantic at heart!

Seeing someone's handwriting on a card somehow makes it so much more meaningful and personal. We may have fun e-cards today with sophisticated animation and even sound effects and music. But they can't beat the cards of yesteryear for sheer meaning and significance.

It is easier to send a card with just a few clicks today, but for someone to actually buy or make a card, handwrite it, lick and stick on a stamp, there's so much more effort involved and therein, the meaning and the care.

2009-06-30T09:13:00.005+08:00

Fell asleep on Fri night thinking about the finer points of the recipe for hawker style soupy prawn noodles. Woke up on Sat inspired. So I gathered the ingredients at the market and on Saturday afternoon while the kids were at their assorted classes and KH working at the dining table, Lolita and I got to work.

It didn't taste good at the stock level but the finished product was surprisingly tasty and sweet. Not a bad attempt for a first time, declared KH. Isaac rated it 6.5 out of 10. But the girls liked it and I finished all the soup in my bowl, something which I don't usually do at the hawker joints no matter how much I like the noodles.

While I largely followed Mrs Lee's recipe from the original Mrs Lee's Cookbook, I also did not adhere strictly to it and adjusted for taste. For instance, Mrs Lee added MSG, while I went without. She also added pig's tail and pig skin, which I also skipped. I substituted brown sugar for her white sugar. Oh and I added a fat clove of garlic to the stock. I also changed the order of some steps but other than that, it was similar.

I do want to document this before I forget, so here's my recipe (and notes) for prawn noodles.

1 kg yellow noodles and half packet of bee hoon (parboiled. Be careful not to keep this too long in hot water because the yellow noodles get soft and soggy.)
Kangkong - also parboiled (Mrs Lee included tow gay but I omitted this because of my towgay-hating kids)

500g of soft pork bones (neng kut)
200g of pork fillet (shoulder butt - nicely marbled and considered the 'redder', softer part of the pig)
200g pork fat (cut into small cubes)
500g small prawns (peeled but keep the heads and shells)
4 dried chilli - pounded coarsely
4 small shallots - thinly sliced
1 fat clove of garlic (lightly bashed)
two tablespoons of white peppercorns
brown sugar
salt
dark soya sauce
light soya sauce
2.3l of water (enough for about 8 to 10 bowls of noodles)

First, fry the pork fat in a wok - smells heavenly but the cholesterol must be sky-high! Then I remove the bits of pork fat, leaving the oil and fried the shallots till golden-brown. Remove that and most of the oil. Fry the 500g of soft pork bones including the 200g pork fillet. Add a bit of oil when necessary. Remove the pork to a large stock pot. The pork would have emitted a bit of water in the frying process but don't remove that from the wok. Add the pounded dry chilli flakes and fry. It forms a paste with the tiny bit of pork stock left in the wok. Add in the prawn shells and fry until it turns bright red. Add in the 2.3l of water. Leave to boil, add peppercorns, clove of garlic, brown sugar, salt, dark and light soya sauce to taste and for colour. Stock should be a dark brown with a tinge of orange. When you are happy with the taste (this is not the point where you taste and decide if you'll have a winner on your hands, just taste to see if it is adequately salty or sweet enough) and with the colour, strain the stock in the wok (hey it rhymes!) into the larger stock pot where the pork is resting. Bring to boil again. Boil the de-shelled prawns, remove when cooked. Also remove the 200g pork fillet and slice thinly.

Serve the parboiled noodles, kangkong, slices of pork and prawn in very hot soup (keep stock pot bubbling hot) garnished with the pork fat and shallot oil, side dishes of chilli padi and soya sauce. Add in a dash of chilli powder if you like the chilli-hot kick. The soft pork bones can also be served with the dish since soft pork bones have a generous padding of meat, this would have softened with the frying and boiling and the meat slides off the bone very easily while still tasting sweet.

The taste of this can be described as mellow and comforting. The pork and prawn stock blend in nicely so that you can taste both elements of land and sea. The proportion of 500g pork bones and 500g prawns to 2.3l of water ensures a stock that is thick with flavour. Mrs Lee's original recipe called for 200g prawn and 300g pork bones, so I'm confident that this version would have a tastier stock.

Note that the prawn stock, once blended and reboiled with the soft pork bones, would taste much better and more 'complete' after being mixed and boiled with the pork. I made the mistake of tasting only the prawn stock and grimaced thinking something was missing. I thought I had a disaster on my hands since the prawn stock tasted weird and 'off'. But later, when I had a go at the finished product, the prawn and pork had melded into a nice blend of flavours - sweet, tasty. And no MSG! So overall, I would declare this effort a success but would need to work on it to refine it again and add that oomph factor. Maybe next time I'll include the pig's tail and the pig skin.

Finally, the taste would not be complete without the sinfulness of pork fat oil. Even plain shallot oil cannot make up for the fragrance and texture of lard in the soup. The extra lardy bits, shallots and oil went into a glass bottle for future use. Really, throw the diet plan out of the window when eating this otherwise you would not be doing the dish justice by omitting the lard and the oil.

2009-06-29T17:21:00.002+08:00

Trin reads!

Was busy over the weekend adjusting my powerpoint slides for a talk on birth and babies with Trin on my lap as usual. To my surprise, she read the words "happy" "God" "birth" "baby" along with her usual sight words - to, on, the, can etc.

Any progress is good progress. I'm happy she's picking up words that she's seen often. The word 'God' obviously was picked up from the slides shown at mass!

Speech-wise, I'm working with her on using correct particles - which are now missing from her speech/sentences. Also, concepts like 'on/under', 'front/behind' and early math concepts like patterns, comparing length and size.

Baby steps. All very heartening to this lazy mom - I am inspired to get off my lazy butt and do more now!

Also nice to note that she prays before bedtime. Very cute, goes like this: "Goodnight God, goodnight Jesus, goodnight Mother Mary, goodnight angels, goodnight saints. Thank you for everything. I love you. Please take care of me. Amen."

Owain does not know how to make the sign of the cross but Trin can and will. Unlike her brother, she 'participates' in mass by going for communion with me, arms crossed/folded over her chest and she enjoys bowing, the sign of peace and identifying words on the big screen. I find her so cute and I'm not alone. The other day she wore this cute long maxi dress to church, her hair pinned up with a dozen flowery clips, her arms nicely folded, marching back to the pew - elicited lots of 'oooh so cute' remarks from other worshippers.

2009-06-23T14:16:00.003+08:00

According to the Mayan calendar, the world will end in 2012.

Yeah, it just might, since the Mayan calendar runs out of days just about then. And then mankind will be decimated in a mighty nuclear apocalypse or aliens will come in motherships with flashing disco lights and enslave humans to distant star colonies. Or maybe there will be giant tsunamis that wipe all land off the face of the earth - all because we did not heed the global warming warning. People will be lining up from here to eternity at the Pearly Gates and St Peter will be striking names off his longish list (about 144,000 according to the bible). There will be much weeping and gnashing of teeth.

Something like that.

But before all that happens - there's my 20th wedding anniversary to celebrate. I refuse the allow the world to end before then.

Like crossing the international dateline, depending on your perspective, the actual 20th year is either in 2011 (where we registered our marriage and could now have permissible legal sex) or in 2012 where I had that horror-story of a tacky wedding with a bad perm and pink-eye. Either way, the world must NOT end until I've had my 20th anniversary fun. (for planning purposes I think I will define the period as being from June 28 2011 to Feb 8 2012)

Because I had a tacky wedding, I am determined to do it right this time and have a super-duper, solid, no-holds-barred anniversary celebration.

I don't want any fancy expensive diamond rings to commemorate 20 years together - why waste good money on a rock? Instead, just like how Singapore loves to celebrate milestone events - with many 'fringe' and 'core' events, that's how I'll plan our 20th WA celebrations! Cue gleeful handrubbing and evil cackling. Poor KH... he just does not have a clue what will hit him. Okay, neither have I, but I'm having fun with this for now!

Whatever plan I have definitely includes a weekend in Marriage Encounter. He owes me and the church. We didn't go for the church's Marriage Preparation Course back then and he promised Fr Francis that we would go to ME to make up for it. But of course, the man turned squeamish and thinks ME is marriage counselling AA style so he refused to go. But with the 20th year coming up, no more excuses!

But the biggie for me is The Trip. It will be our first trip sans kids in I dunno how many years! I think the trip will last at least 2 weeks if not more. Not sure where we will go and that's part of the fun of planning.

With my current Japan craze, its likely to cover Japan (ooh, onsens, rotemburo, ryokans - reason to splurge on a relatively expensive one for a night since we will not have kids with us! - love hotels, capsule hotels, backpacking). Maybe take an overnight ferry from Japan to Vladivostok and then train down to Beijing? I've always wanted to just backpack Japan with KH. We'll take the train mostly but also do a bit of driving eg in Shikoku. We would just stop for the night at any town when we got tired enough or if the place looked nice enough. Not too much planning, just spontaneity. We have not done this sort of trip for so long.

Or maybe we'll go back to Europe - its been so long. We'll visit old haunts like Venice, the Italian lakes, our favourite hotel in Sienna and in Sorrento (Hotel Lorely et Londres - surly waiter, beautiful room, old terazzo floor, a generous terrace, fragrant lemon groves below and the blue sea further down). And then there's pretty Vernazza on the Cinque Terra. I still remember the sunset on the top of the ruined castle on a hill overlooking the Mediterranean and the colouring-book cute pastel houses down below. You can't get more romantic than that... Only thing is, the euro is just too high to make any European trip value for money these days.

Or perhaps we will revisit Hawaii where we had our honeymoon in 1992. We still talk about it and remember all those quirky bits - when we unknowingly stayed in a 'boutique' hotel which had the night trade as a sideline and the slinkiest streetwalkers I've seen, getting lost in the misty hills off Kiluaea on the Big Island and then chancing upon the cutest little B&B I've seen, driving up past pastureland, into and above the clouds in our red convertible to the roof of Haleakala to watch the sunset, and of course, me puking three times on the 300 hairpin turns on the infamous road to Hana. Who can forget that.

This time, might be nice to go back to Maui and bring that long-held fantasy to life - renewing our wedding vows on a clifftop in Maui with the Pacific Ocean pounding on the rocky shores below, in a picture-perfect vermillion Hawaiian sunset... ooh yes nice thought... but first got to lose enough weight to look good on that clifftop! And we'll have to bring the kids for that vow-renewal thingy if we go that route. Would be more costly then... but still, wouldn't it be nice? To have my children around us as we renew our vows? I can see Isaac and Gillian rolling their eyes at their cheesy mom again...

In 2011, Isaac would be 15 and Gillian, 16 by then. Caitlin would be 10, Owain 8 and Trinity 6 years old. Just thinking about all this makes me sigh - how big they will be, how far we've come.

After all the hills and valleys that KH and I have trudged up and down together for 20 years, I think we've earned the right to celebrate this and celebrate this well! I'm off to do more fantasising... no, I mean planning...

2009-06-23T13:51:00.002+08:00

I've liquidated my life insurance. Finally got round to doing this after procrastinating over months/weeks.

I bought this policy for all the wrong reasons 18 years ago. Insurance as a form of investment, ie if you hope to see returns, is really the wrong instrument. The policy had no coverage for critical illness (not that this is a great idea anyway) and I'm no longer so altruistic that I would buy insurance just so that I can leave a tidy sum to my kids when I'm dead and gone. Not as if the death payout for this policy was so great either.

So couple of months ago, I bought a term life plan for higher coverage and lower premiums - my kids will now get more when I die and I pay less while I'm alive. Hm sounds weird but there's logic in that sentence somewhere. Anyways, with the lower premium, I can take the extra bit and add it to a savings plan and grow the money.

Now that I've cashed the policy in, I have a modest five-figure sum from the policy cash-back. Which means I need to invest it. The banks pay crap interest and honestly, there are better ways to grow money. I plan to invest this lump sum, then turn my MSA account (which pays crappy interest) into a regular fixed savings-investment plan.

I don't intend to touch this money in the short to medium term. My only aim is to grow the funds a bit more before I take them out and re-invest again. Slow and steady is the way to go here, so I'll be patient.

Only thing is - which plan and/or which fund to buy into? Mindboggling headache since there are so many funds out there.

Having this teeny nest egg sure makes me feel good. It's not much and in fact, most people would definitely laugh at the amount, but for someone like me, whose never had this much money before in her bank account and who lives from month to month in a mild panic with a near empty bank account, it sure feels good to have a little more padding in the money dept. I mean, to have enough to even consider 'investment', that's something! Me and my money now, feels kinda like Scrat and his acorn.

2009-06-17T16:24:00.003+08:00

So why I am depressed? What is this blue funk I am in? That led me to massacre my hair.

Two weeks ago, my vaca plans were dashed when KH said he was anticipating a large tender coming in and he'd have to design the system. We had to pay extra to defer our plane tickets to December. Luckily his company paid up. But still, there went my two weeks of vaca in Penang.

Just then, my colleague told me I'd have to move. Move from my cosy cubicle in the sky, with its own window space, down to the bowels of the general office. Okay, I exaggerate but yes, I will have to move. The space I have now is lovely - a largish cubicle, great roomies, the water-cooler is right next door and I have a window - premium stuff! Here, far away from my boss, I could listen to music while I worked, check on emails etc. Okay, generally slack off, bad girl that I am.

But now, the party's over. I have to move. Down to the main office where I lose my window and my sense of privacy. I've looked at the plans and its 'open concept' office where basically every Joe that walks past behind me gets to see what's on my screen. I feebly protest. Didn't get anywhere. Bargained for a 'screen' - quite desperately - but does not look like it will succeed. I have ideas for hot-desking but I also don't think it will work and right now, am too uninspired to try raising it.

Went home in a big depressed haze. Brooding. Panicky.

When KH's big tender papers failed to show, he decided to cheer me up by taking us to Malacca for a short extended weekend trip.

There, the full extent of my stress and depression was unleashed - on my face. I broke out with a red, tender, splotchy and swollen mess of a rash that spread from my left cheekbone to my left eyelid, down to my left earlobe. It wasn't any ordinary rash. It had irregular shaped blobs of pus.

To say I looked awful is an understatement. KH said I looked like someone bashed me up. But I gamely walked around Malacca and KL. Did I care that I looked like shit? No. I didn't know anyone and trusted that no one knew me and anyway, I was happy to wallow in depression.

Notwithstanding all that, I had a decently good time eating my favourite stuff (mee siam at Donald and Lily's, razor clams in belachan, prawn mee, wanton mee) and discovered where Madam Fatso had gone to. Next trip I will have my milk crabs. I was also happy to find a good range of Kdramas and their OSTs. So now I know where I can get my K-drama fix in Malacca.

Came home to find that while the rash on the face subsided, it had erupted on my left arm. A visit to the doctor and to the specialist drew blanks. Even a swab and culture came up empty. The doctor was baffled but as it was clearing up, we let it pass. I think its remnants of a mutated herpes virus that got triggered by my stress and depression over my office move.

On top of that, I had a fever while in Malacca. Spiked high one night and then went away. But as the days passed, I developed a dry cough which is now getting worse. As I write, I can hear the chest-rattling phlegm whenever I coughed.

So now, my funk. I was actually relieved to be on medical leave and not be back in the office. Could not bear that I am one day, one week closer to moving. Not just moving location but moving to a different phase of my work life. Gosh that sounds so drama, but I feel it so. I think this move is just a catalyst for what has been swirling deep inside me for the longest time.

This weird mix of restlessness, boredom, sadness.

My funk - if I have to put it simply, I guess I'm searching for some meaning in life. That sounds very trite.

I don't know what else there is to do in life. Not very happy at work. I find work and life in general, a grind and generally I'm feeling very restless but I'm also scared to probe, look too deep or ask myself too many hard questions in case I don't like what I see. Does it make sense to say I'm running from myself?

I think I know my problem. Too lazy. Have it too good and now cannot stir myself. Thats why work looks so unappealing. I've thought about it. The only cure for laziness is to cut off choice. Throw me into the deep end where I have no time to decide if I would like to have a pina colada on the beach or pink champagne on the lounger - I just have to swim. But the very thought of that horrifies my lazy soul to the core. Look at the poor starving masses in a famine or poverty-stricken land - no choice, they just take what is given. Laziness is an affliction of the well-endowed. Not talking about financially rich. I'm certainly not that. But in my life, I have been very blessed and look what I have done with it. I've become fatter and lazier and wasted it.

I am naturally indolent but its now eating away at me. I procrastinate and am easily gratified by cheap retail therapy. The hair therapy was a mistake. I am not a productive mother at home and I'm not productive in the office either. Then I feel guilty for being non-productive.

I look in the future and ask: so what's there eh? Solution: quit boring job but that is too frightening and too much for my lazy butt to comtemplate. Even that might not be an answer. Find a passion and do something - but like what? Even birth issues make me feel laggy. I don't feel the same passion/fire for it. So then what? I did think of going back to school - picking up a uni course since I never did go to uni. But its just idle empty thoughts. I don't think I have the courage to do this.

See what I mean when I say I am going around in aimless circles?

After two weeks of feeling grief at losing my comfy space in life, my cubicle and generally anger at being uprooted, I think I have come to terms a bit better with it. I tell myself God has a plan. He must surely have a plan for me when I move. I may not like it. I may not know what's coming. Indeed, it might force me into action from my current slug position. I don't know. I just get the feeling that there are rapids ahead but also I cling on to the knowledge that God has a plan. And whatever plan, it will work out for me somehow. So that makes me feel a bit better. Maybe this is exactly what I need. Not want, but need.

I'm still thinking so tune in next time for another episode of Momto5 Goes Quietly Insane.

2009-06-17T15:58:00.002+08:00

Combine mild depression, restlessness, boredom and a trip to the hairdresser and what do you get?

Yes, exactly that. A hairy recipe for disaster!

I ended up doing something which I have not done for more than 15 years - get a perm. Thanks to my hairdresser who coaxed me into it - though to be fair, she'd tried before but I never caved, until now. The magic words she uttered which finally did the trick: "I just want you to try it. If you don't try anything how will you know whether you like it or not?"

So in a reckless moment of abandonment, I said: Okay lah!

Before that, I cross-examined her on maintenance, hair damage, cost, how long the perm was going to take, if my puffy face was going to look puffier and to be specific, "just how curly is curly? wavy curly? afro curly?"

Wavy curly. Big curls. You will look soooo cute, she assured me happily. And young too!

$273 poorer and 2 hours later I emerged.

Owain ran out to greet me when I came home, stopping short and staring and finally saying: You look funny mom. And then he yelled for the rest: COME SEE WHAT MOM DID TO HER HAIR!

Cait's frank opinion summed it up: "you look like yoo-jin three years later."

That cryptic line is shorthand for godawful-ugly.

For non k-drama fans, Yoo Jin is the female lead character in Winter Sonata. Played by k drama queen Choi Ji Woo, she had short hair in the serial. But in the last episode, the story flashforwarded three years. And tada, here comes Yoo Jin in the most stilted, stiff hair extensions I'd ever seen. They seem attached to her straight hair as an after-thought. Back then, while watching, I'd rolled my eyes at the hair and got the girls laughing about it.

But now, its payback time. So I look quite the ageing (and puffy) version of Yoo Jin. Argh. Very ajumma.

Later my sweet Cait said, while playing Monopoly Deal with her depressed mom, "Mom, I actually think you look better in this hairstyle. Really. I'm not just saying that."

Sweet liar.

KH came home late so he never saw my hair last night. But this morning he said, very bluntly: "What happened to your hair?" When I didn't reply, he snorted: "Ah-soh hair!"

Yes, kick me when I'm down, why don't you?

There goes $273. Never. In. My. Life. I've never paid so much for mere hair. *sob* All that went though my mind as I trudged down Orchard Road after leaving Shunji was:

"$273 is half an air ticket to Japan."
"I could buy three $90 Japanese melons with that"
"That's like, 5 expensive freshly-shucked oyster laden buffets."
"A night's stay in a hotel here"
"Two nights stay in a KL hotel, or two rooms for the whole family for one night in KL"
"More than 10 CDs"
"About 13 DVD boxsets"
"Two family sushi treats"
"The price of one facial package at the Body Shop"
and
"WTF was I thinking????"

Live and learn. Live and learn. I thought I did. Thought I passed my salad days of bad hair decisions made while deep in the misery trough. Obviously not. 40 years old and I'm still making vanity mistakes.

I will be in hibernation until my hair grows out or until I get used to my hair. Whichever comes first.

Meanwhile, I'm still depressed.

2009-05-25T17:51:00.002+08:00

Tay Ping Hui winked at my daughter.

Okay, I've been instructed by KH to blog this. So for his benefit and the benefit of my children who will read this blog later in life and realise how cheesy their mother was, here it goes.

We had finished gym practice on Sunday and were grocery shopping at J8. On impulse I stopped to buy some snow ice. Only while I was paying did I glance up at the guy next to me and yikes, it was the very tall and dishy Tay Ping Hui.

Of course, I got all fluttery and flustered and KH was busy shaking his head at me. Not that I'm a fan of Mr Tay's but seeing him in the flesh and a mere inch away really made the old heart go pitter-pat.

So because KH was making tsk-tsking noises, I had to regain some dignity right? So I turned away when I realised Mr Tay was heading towards us - we'd already moved off to stand near a pillar devouring our shared cup of snow ice. Cait was facing me and my back was towards the approaching Star. Then KH chuckled in amazement and said: Wah, Tay Ping Hui winked at my daughter!

According to my sole eyewitness, he said Tay was approaching and Cait was just looking at him and then the guy gave a roguish grin and a wink at Cait. And Cait? Jaw dropped!

My turn to tsk-tsk. Knew the guy was a lady's man but this is too much!!! Now why didn't I turn instead? Darn it all.

2009-05-25T16:43:00.002+08:00

Three seemingly random events took place over the past week that now appear to be linked in some indefinite way after all.

Now I'm no mystic, not into any New Age mumbo-jumbo and I'm not particularly religious, but I do believe that from time to time, God speaks to us in ways that are not immediately obvious. Call it a sign from heaven or what you will. My phone connections to God have never been crystal clear and the reception is often poor with lots of static noise in between. So while I believe that nothing ever happens in isolation, I do find it hard trying to decipher the message (if any!) that He sends.

Case in point - these three odd events that took place recently.

First, on Wednesday last week, my colleague showed me photographs he had taken of the church St Mary of the Angels. Beautiful place. He lived in Bukit Batok and enjoyed walking around the neighbourhood, taking pictures of the people and the places he visits. On Sunday, he had gone to St Mary's and taken some pictures. He had taken some nice shots. As he was showing me the pictures, he paused at one bronze statue and asked: Do you know anything about St Bernadine from Sienna?

My first reaction was no, I've heard of St Catherine of Sienna and we visited Sienna and the places associated with her, but I'd never heard of St Bernadine. Curiosity piqued, I googled St Bernadine and came away with a cursory paragraph or two but nothing really stood out and I thought no more of it.

Later that same afternoon I was flipping through my church bulletin in search of Ascension mass times when the usual paragraph on saints' feast days caught my eye. There was that name again - St Bernadine of Sienna. And his feast day was - May 20, that very day. So imagine if you will, the swirl of 'coincidences' that already surround this - Sunday, the day I picked up the church bulletin from church was the same day that KJ my colleague took pictures at St Mary's; Wed, May 20 was when he showed me the pictures and pointed out St Bernadine to me and the same day happened to be St Bernadine's feast day.

Don't you feel a chill yet? It does not end there.

On Saturday while on our usual free time sans kids in the morning, instead of going to the Botanic Gardens where we usually go, KH suggested going further afield. We ended up driving past Upper Bukit Timah Road, towards Bukit Batok Park. I've been thinking hard about it and I'm pretty sure that it was KH who said casually: you know that church, the state-of-the-art one, where is it? Let's go check it out.

St Mary's was re-built in 2004 to a bold and fresh design which later won it architectural accolades. The premises housed the church, the friary for the brothers, a kindergarten and a columbarium. Sleekly designed with straight elegant lines, pared down minimalist in tone... it was quiet and understated but yet bold in many ways. While we've often said we'd visit it and see, we never did. It was just not in our neck of the woods.

So up we drove to the church - which was indeed inspiring and lovely. It didn't look like your typical church but it kept faithfully to Catholic church design requirements.

What threw me was when we entered the columbarium - a lovely airy space with lots of natural light, black stone wells of running water and sandstone niches. I was taking my time admiring the light and the feel of the place when KH called me over. He pointed to the small bronze statue perched on a marble pillar and said: Look at this! Sienna! Do you remember this saint?

I shook my head and corrected him: We visited St Catherine's house not St Bernadine. But it was all I could do to remain coherent - what was going on here? How many references have been made to this obscure little saint in the space of just one week? Hello God, are you trying to tell me something? Paulo Coelho where are you when I need some insight into deciphering this one!I've only won 4D once in my life but I know the feeling of thrill when luck or coincidence or a higher cosmic order comes into play in my life. And that was precisely what was going on then.

I went back and did some research on the net again, trying to find out more. St Bernadine was a dedicated lawyer, orator and preacher and he had refused Bishophood thrice. Yes, he worked tirelessly, selflessly and at great personal risk to himself caring for people during the plague, and his work had made a big impact against the encroaching tide of Protestantism, so yes, he was a good man etc. Yet, nothing particularly outstanding. Just like any old saint. Led a life of general good. That's it. Nothing stood out for me - what was the message? I felt there had to be something in there for me. I just wasn't sure what it was.

Only two possibilities. One, St Bernadine was known for his strong and harsh attacks against sodomy. Was that it? Was this all because I had blogged earlier about my views on homosexuality and how 'neutral' (so AWARE huh?!) I was in my views? Was God trying to give me a kick in the seat for that? Was I being a bad Catholic mummy in having neutral, even sympathetic views on homosexuality? Was this because I was so hooked on Coffee Prince and all its homosexual undertones? And was all this string of sneaky little coincidences God's way of telling me I'd better toe the line? If so, I wish He'd just come right out and say it. All this guesswork is tiring and a real hit-or-miss affair.

I also found out that St Bernadine is the patron saint of advertising, communications, compulsive gambling and respiratory disorders. Okay, if you count the fact that I had childhood asthma, worked in advertising and communications and get a kick out of making scissor-paper-stone bets with my kids (if I win, they give up the computer for the week and if I lose, I owe them a ramen treat) then yes already - I get it, St Bernadine has to be my go-to saint for life.

So which is it? Both? Neither? One or the other?

Like I said, there's no such thing as coincidences. Cosmic events harkening days, thoughts and actions to come? Bah, like tarot cards and other New Ageism - these hold no water with me. But I think I have enough of a streak of mysticism in me that says that nothing happens for nothing - after all, how did He call those other ancient prophets of His - through dreams and in their sleep right? And if we're talking mysticism, you can't go more mystical that St Teresa of Avila and her ecstasies. So He speaks through fuzzy dreams and big showtime productions like a burst of strong light, stigmatas, burning bushes and such. Mine must be somewhere in between because I stubbornly believe the Big Guy up there is trying to tell me something. Only thing is - what?

So frustrating. I wish He would hone His "God calling Earth" act to limit any comedy of errors that might occur and for me, I guess I really should start working on my listening skills.

Pay attention woman! He's talking...

2009-05-19T14:11:00.002+08:00

Been following the AWARE sage and the resultant controversy over sex education and its place in our lives, or more accurately, our children's lives. While its been interesting to watch the drama unfold, my comments were usually kept to dinner table talk. But last week Lianhe Zaobao interviewed me briefly on my views as a parent on this issue, which forced me to think carefully about the issue before opening my big mouth on it on a national platform.

So here are my two cents:

First, I don't think there is an either-or solution to this. Sex ed should not be the premise of either parents or schools but a good partnership and mix of both. While the call has been for parents to be actively involved in sex ed for their kids - ie talk to them about the birds and the bees and the values that go with these, I believe schools have a very important part to play in all this too.

A key reason being that not all parents are comfortable with speaking to their children on all this. Yes, ideally, we SHOULD. But the reality is, many, or most, don't. Many feel uncomfortable broaching this topic. Many may feel they do not have the facts themselves. Parents who want to speak to their children about sex may not also know the best way to approach this without looking stiff and authoritarian. Heck, once kids turn teenagers, its hard to even talk to them about the weather without the usual blank stoned expressions and monosyllabic grunts. So how to talk to them about something as delicate as sex? Trust me, the kids feel as paiseh as their parents about this!

So maybe sex ed should be for parents and not for kids - not just about the facts but HOW to talk to their kids about it. How to adopt the exact correct combination of cool nonchalence, and parental concern. After all, the hip quotient has to be just right!

Ultimately, no matter what, there will be parents who feel extremely uncomfortable and I guess this is where schools come in. I think whatever sex ed the schools take should follow the social norms of the day. Or the values that the schools themselves espouse. So naturally if you send your child to a catholic school, you can expect any sex ed dispensed there to follow catholic precepts.

It takes a village to raise a child. And schools are a valuable extension of the village concept. Thus it has to reflect the views of larger society - what does Singapore society at large think about homosexuality or premarital sex etc. Note, I said larger society - not the loud voices of the liberals, which I believe are a minority. So if we say we live in a conservative society which views heterosexual sex as the norm, then let sex ed reflect this.

There was a letter in today's newspaper which called for schools to just teach the biology and parents, the morality of sexuality. I don't think you can divorce these issues so neatly. And honestly, I'm not sure how many parents really think about the morality of sexuality themselves.

Take me for instance.

The whole episode has forced me to think long and hard about my views on homosexuality, premarital sex etc. I've never been one to be particularly conservative and neither am I too liberal. On an intellectual level, I am comfortable with homosexuality. I have friends and colleagues who are homosexual and that is fine by me, or rather their sexual orientation have never made a difference in our friendship. I think so what if two people of the same sex love each other? Being of the same sex does not make their feelings any less relevant, real or important.

But then, what do I tell my kids? At the age of 13 or 14, do I give them this liberal viewpoint?

And if I censor, then am I not being honest or real? But if I say all this at a time when they are just beginning to discover their own sexuality and are prone to confusion and crushes, do I not complicate things even further for them?

Probe deeper and I ask myself - what if one of them has homosexual leanings? Can I accept this? I think I can. I hope I can. See how unsure I am? All I know is that I love them no matter what. But do I tell them this?

Now throw religion into the mix and the waters get murkier. We are Catholics and while the church is not anti-homosexual (love the sinner hate the act), heterosexuality is promoted as the norm. They go to catechism class in church, they are taught about sexuality as viewed by the church. My personal values and views might well clash with those of the church. Does this make me a bad Catholic? How then should I guide my children?

And that's just about homosexuality/heterosexuality alone. Let's not even go into premarital sex!

The good thing for us is that sex is not a taboo subject. It's dinner table talk. So everyone from the 14-year-old to the 3-year-old listens and joins in. We've discussed what French kissing is, what is oral sex, teen pregnancy, heavy petting (and its perils) and so on. Body parts and functions are (pun unintended!) touched on. And of course, kids keep their ears open whenever its time to test Gillian on her favourite science chapter - human reproduction! At home, we're also comfortable with our bodies and our nakedness - we still change in front of the kids - well, the younger ones at least!

So maybe I'm luckier that in my family, we find these things easier to talk about. But how many others out there have the same experience and are just as comfortable?

Parents, schools, religious groups - it takes a village and a multitude of views to raise children. The burden and the responsibility does not just rest with one group. So it's not just so simple as to say well, its the parents' job. Because I think parents have their share of personal baggage and angst and unless parents really sit down and think hard about their own personal views and convictions about sex, they are likely to muddy the waters more than clarify it.

2009-05-13T15:42:00.003+08:00

First off, I found my English-subbed Coffee Prince - yay! And a very nice 3-disc soundtrack from Lovers in Prague. Both of which I am enjoying at the moment.

Just wanted to put on record the funny stuff that Owain and Cait did recently that almost my side split.

Owain has started swimming lessons. He's the smallest guy there in his group and always looks so cute in his trunks and wet curly hair (Gill and I agree that he's a mini version of Gu Jun Pyo!). He's doing well, gamely doing everything the coach tells him to, and he seems to enjoy it. He has little fear of water since we've brought him to the pool as a toddler, so learning the proper strokes etc is just the logical next thing to do.

During swim class, there is one boy there who loves to 'bully' Owain. The guy is at least a head taller, bigger-sized and fits KH's definition of a bully (in other words, loves to pick on someone smaller than him but who would fall to pieces if confronted!). So this guy picks on Owain - pushing him, splashing water at him, taunting him, stepping on his feet etc. To all this, Owain just assumes a resigned indifferent attitude. Nothing the guy does fazes him. He does not bother to retaliate or tell the coach or lose his cool. Finally, in the shower room with his daddy, KH asked: Owain, that boy loves to bully you. Why don't you fight back?

And my son tells his father patiently: Dad, it's okay. He will just go to hell faster than me, that's all!

And as for Cait...

The other day, she was doing a comprehension passage for exam practice. The passage was a touching one about a young man who chanced across a little boy in tears because he could not afford flowers for his mother. The young man himself was about to just order a bouquet from the florist to be sent to his mother since he could not make time to celebrate her birthday. Touched by the little boy's tears, the young man bought the flowers for him and gave him a lift. He directed the young man to the cemetery and laid the flowers on a fresh grave. His mother had died recently and the little boy wanted to tell his mother how much he loved her. After he heard the story, the young man immediately went to see his mother.

The comprehension question asked was: Why did the young man visit his mother suddenly?

And my dear daughter's reply: It was cheaper to send the flowers there himself instead of asking the florist to send!

2009-05-08T11:29:00.002+08:00

Forgive me for I am addicted.

It has been one month since I confessed my K-addiction and I am more deeply addicted than before.

In that time, I have spent sleepless nights and endless hours in front of the television. I have neglected my children, forsaken my books and ignored my cat. I have spent much money wantonly on numerous boxsets. Mysoju and Dramabeans are now part of my permanent list of favourites (thanks Mag!).

In that one month, I have watched The Vineyard Man, Boys Over Flowers, My Girl, Princess Hours (twice!), Lovers In Prague and one episode of Winter Sonata. I have three more boxsets bought on impulse and still unopened. I have taken to haunting TS and Poh Kim in search of Coffee Prince with English subtitles. I know I can catch this online but I like the idea of watching it on a bigger screen with much clear visuals. And anyway, I need an excuse to keep popping in to TS all the time!

We are so immersed in the Korean language that I think the kids speak better Korean than Mandarin these days. Korean dramas, K-pop at home, on the car radio, K-sites online. Isaac has taken to striking up a friendship with the lone Korean boy in his class. Gillian even greets me in Korean when I get home from work with a cheerful "Annyeonghaseyo Oma!" We are trading Korean words and phrases these days. My favourite is "Pahbu!" heh... Even Owain now asks: "Boh?" instead of "What?" and Cait warbles K-pop (she doesn't understand a word of it but just takes it on a phonetic level!).

Only thing we have not done so far is eat Korean - but that might change soon!

Of all the series I've watched, I still like Princess Hours - great sets, very lush colours and overall beautiful art direction. Interesting plot, cute leads and coupled with a really nice soundtrack. The much-touted Boys Over Flowers runs along similar lines - fish out of water concept where ordinary girl gets thrust into the lifestyles of the rich and famous. The art direction and set design was nice, even extravagant in some places - think beautiful scenes in the South Pacific heaven of New Caledonia compared to PH's shoot in Bangkok!

But despite the big budget overseas shoots that BOF had, I thought Princess Hours was still a superior production. I found BOF to be inconsistent in terms of quality - plot, continuity and acting. The soundtrack is not bad. But overall, the whole package does not measure up to what I expected given the hype. Still, have to say Lee Min Ho makes the best-looking lead compared to the Japanese Hana Yori Dango and Taiwanese Meteor Garden leads.

The series I liked the least is The Vineyard Man. Fast-forwarded my way through most of it. Even though it had the lovely Yoon Eun Hye from PH in it, I did not like the plot or the setting and the soundtrack was meh. Worse, the male lead had googly eyes!

Now that I've just finished Lovers in Prague (ah, great scenery, very nice cinematography - some shots very beautifully framed and angled, interesting plot and premise, likeable characters, smouldering male leads and hummable soundtrack) I'm looking for the next Big One to watch. Will it be Winter Sonata or the mega omnibus of Dae Jang Geum (Jewel In the Palace)? Not quite in the mood to plough through so many episodes and not in the mood for the teary histrionics of Winter Sonata even though both were apparently big hits and have garnered strong positive reviews.

Now where's my Coffee Prince when you need him? If I can't find him and I'm feeling desperate for K relief, I think the DVD boxset for My Lovely Kim Sam Soon is now going for a mere $15 at TS...

2009-04-21T11:11:00.002+08:00

Cait's commitment

Cait is going for extra gym practice on Sundays, having been identified by her coach and teachers as someone with 'potential' to do well in competitions. Next year would be the first year she can go for the nationals so this is the year to start preparing.

When Cait came home with the letter from her coach, I was in two minds over this. First thing that came to mind was: she's only 8. And she's already so busy. This extra gym practice will take away more of her personal time. The next question for me is: push or don't push? And is this more for her or for me?

We've had two or three long serious conversations about what this means. If she was serious about gym, she would have to work hard during training. This may mean she's extra tired or maybe sometimes, even incur some pain along the way. Training being on a Sunday evening means forgoing some family activities which she might enjoy. There is commitment and sacrifice to be made if she wants to pursue this seriously and she must be prepared to commit to this wholeheartedly. She cannot be half-hearted about this.

And then there is the issue of dance, which she loves equally as much. She learns fast and she is imbued with a natural grace and a strong sense of rhythm. In last year's year-end performance, she was among the three girls chosen to execute more complex moves than the others in the front and centre of the formation and according to her, it is the same again for this year's year-end dance performance. If she is shortlisted for dance, another core activity in IJ, what then? Might seem like I'm counting many unhatched chicks and being presumptuous. But I like to consider all possibilities and this one is very real. I've seen what she can do and each time KH and I see her dance, we're just bowled over. Where did all this come from? Not from us that's for sure! If we see this love and this talent, should we not as parents, support this, develop this?

But bottomline is, she can't have everything. Both gym and dance are core CCAs for the school and very demanding in their time and commitment. There is still academic work to consider too. While Cait is doing well in school so far, the work is still easy for now. What happens when the pressure builds in P4, P5 and P6?

So I outlined all this for her. She went away thinking about it. As recently as last night, I brought this up again. She said nothing but this morning when I came downstairs, she was poring over the gym form with her father and he was already signing his consent.

When I asked her in the car why she made this decision, she said simply: "I want to win. I want medals."

I can't describe how I felt. Cait is very different from her siblings in that she can be very ambitious and very driven. On one hand, I felt proud of her for knowing what she wants and being willing to work to get it. On the other hand, I wanted to protect her - from any disappointments that might come out of this. Does this mean I have no confidence in her to succeed? How disloyal is this lack of faith. Should I, as a parent, brush aside all my inner concerns and fears and just blindly believe too? Do I just egg her on in her self-belief and in her ambition? Or do I temper her ambition, water down her appetite for success?

It was on the tip of my tongue to say: "but you know, sometimes no matter how hard you try, how much you want it, you might still be disappointed because others might be better."

But caveats like this pour cold water and dilute the flip side of the equation, which is the belief that if you try your best, and you want it bad enough, you work damn hard for it, you will be rewarded for it. And this is the kind of fighting spirit we want to encourage in her which can only help her in her life.

KH is not very supportive either. He never was 100% in favour of Cait taking gym. And while he's proud of her, he would be happier to see her leaving gym and moving to dance. Likewise while he's chuffed to see her being recognised for her efforts, appointed leadership roles in class (believe it or not, terms like "subject reps", "class ex-co" roll effortlessly off her tongue these days), doing more in gym, ballet, dance etc, he's also pragmatic enough to worry about the impact that all this will have on her academic work. That, for him will always come first. While I am the first to applaud her achievements, push her and strategise with her, he views all this with some amusement and scepticism. He sees this as more of a 'pushy-mom' initiative than hers. But I disagree. I know how much Cait values approval, applause and accolades.

Maybe I find this all a bit scary - that I have this over-achiever of a child in my midst. Cait is moving so fast these days in a way that impresses and scares me. How to manage this?

I'm still thinking hard about this one.

2009-04-20T16:26:00.002+08:00

Perfectly imperfect

KH bought me a 16GB Creative Zen on Sunday. So this is my new toy. Very excited about it and still trying to figure this out. But 16GB is a big improvement over my current player which is only a 1GB baby. So many possibilities! Now the kids are elbowing each other trying to be in pole position to inherit my 1GB player. I'd mentioned that I was running out of space on my player and my new fascination with K-pop and K-dramas meant that I was looking for something that would allow me to store my favourite K-drama scenes and K-pop videos. It was just a passing comment but KH noted that and on Sunday, he made it a point for all of us to go to the Creative store at Marina Square.

KH has been very sweet lately. Not just because of my new toy, but he's turned a tolerant blind eye on my latest craze for K-dramas. I think he can be exasperated by my antics - buying the umpteenth box set, blasting K-pop in the car, pulling all-nighters (I lasted till 3am once and he gamely sat with me to watch) and generally neglecting our children for the gogglebox. But I give him full credit for not scolding me for it or being scathing about it and taking interest in what I am watching. And then there are our Saturday brekkies in the park. I look forward to those. Actually I look forward to our daily brekkies when we go to work in the morning after we send the kids off to school.

Also he gets my deep emotional thanks for being there over the past few days when I've been crouching over our toilet bowl, puking endlessly. He was sweet enough to take me home from work in the middle of the morning last week when I puked four times in a row, send me to the doctor, stroke my back when I retched and retched and then taking the rest of the day off, making sure I took my meds and keeping the kids away from me. He did the same again yesterday when I was still violently sick. I guess when a guy can see you at your worst - and how elegant can puking over a toilet bowl be huh? - and still care for you, I guess it's gotta be love huh?

The MCYS ad making its rounds these days - depicting a woman's deep love for her husband through her moving eulogy made me teary more than once - in fact every time I see it. How many of us can see past all the imperfections? And I'm not talking about the snoring or the 'rear wind action' either. Though, with KH, I get plenty of that! Made me think what I would say about KH in a eulogy. And that made me reflect on my life with KH.

This blog has seen me through a time when I was very low and found marriage hard-going. Good friends will know exactly what I mean. I spent months in a funk. Contemplating painful and once unimaginable impossible scenarios. But you know what? I'm glad I did. Doing that was good for me. The very exercise itself threw open possibilities and scenarios that I walked myself through, and having done so, I know exactly what I could or could not do. What I could let go of, and what I could not. The knowledge gave me strength and peace of mind. And then days passed, then weeks, and the funk eased off. I saw things in a better light. Didn't happen overnight. Took me a long long time.

Today, a friend emailed me about how hard she was finding it - marriage.

Here's my take. I think we walk on life roads that take us through valleys and peaks. And right now, this is her valley. But it's not necessarily bad to be in the valley for a while. Sometimes, we just have to hang on for the ride. I did that. And I think I have emerged from that dark period - and I say this cautiously because I do not want to over-reach myself - with the certainty that while I can certainly live without KH and life will go on, life would be far, infinitely far less rich or complete without him. As I sat on my porch last night, I think of all that has come and gone - my life with KH, that MCYS ad, the K-dramas I watch, even Richard's death, everything came together in one jumbled mess and my only coherent thought is - I'm glad I hung on.

I don't say that to everyone. I don't believe all marriages are made in heaven and meant to last forever. Sometimes it would really be for the better for people to part ways. But I also think that these days, maybe most people give up very easily. The imperfections overwhelm. Or maybe that wall of pride is just insurmountable.

I'm not the best person for marital advice. But here's my two cents. I think there are people who are worth hanging on for and some who are better let go. Some whose paths are just utterly divergent from yours - you know then that perhaps its best to go separate ways. But there are some whose paths start out the same, deviate a little, take the scenic route but ultimately have the same destination as yours - those are worth keeping right? Worth hanging on for the ride - even though the ride might be scary and too fast for your liking and you feel as though you are in danger of being flung off.

For this second group - even with the most ferocious 'rear wind action' - you know you should hang on to them for dear life. I guess KH falls into this group for me. We've had our tough times. I'm sure we would have equally challenging times ahead. And no matter how I rant and rage, how many tantrums I throw on this blog about him from time to time, KH is still someone worth hanging on to for dear life. I actually think he's a much better person than I am. Maybe if I hang around him more, this might just rub off on me.

In case you're wondering, KH does not read this blog. And I am not the most emotionally expressive person around. We're both gruff recipients when it comes to mush and I cannot remember the last time we even told each other those three little words (which I think are over-rated anyway!). KH would probably roll his eyes! So if anyone has suggestions on how I can tell KH all this - without being too mushy, maudlin or sentimental, post it!

2009-04-20T16:07:00.003+08:00

15 minutes

Last night, I had a rare 15min of being alone in a house full of people. The kids were in bed. KH was coaching Isaac in Maths. The cat was out on the prowl. And I had 15 blissful minutes alone outside on the porch. In semi-darkness illuminated only by the orange glow of the streetlamps, I sat, enjoying the breeze. It had been such a hot muggy still day and the house felt so stuffy - despite all our large windows flung open. It was sheer pleasure sitting there in the cooler outdoors, with earphones playing my favourite music stuffing my ears.

For once, I could sit and watch as lightning streaked and glowed across the night sky. I could see the resident bats swoop from one branch to the next, one tree to the other. My thoughts could roam where they will without interruption.

And then, came a voice plaintively calling: "Muu-uuummmmyyyy..." and my alone-time ended.

But for 15min - sheer bliss.

2009-04-20T15:55:00.002+08:00

Cherry blossoms

I've said before that I found a certain loneliness in Japan. And I feel for the place because I feel the same loneliness many times. Today, I'm seeing pictures of cherry blossom in Japan, in most places, the trees are now mostly green, the blossoms mostly on the ground already, the crowd thinning out. I used to think that the best time to visit Japan is during the height of the cherry blossom season. But now, I think otherwise. Perhaps the best time to visit Japan is really the end of the season. When the leaves turn green, when the wind blows pink and white petals hither thither and the ground is littered with trampled blossoms and the parks return to their quiet, crowdless state.

Cherry blossoms last only about a week or so on the branch. For the Japanese, the coming of the cherry blossom signals re-birth, fresh beginnings. And the very fleeting nature of the cherry blossoms signify the fleeting nature of life itself. There is a certain poignancy to this. So when the petals fall, perhaps that would be the best time to really savour the meaning of cherry blossoms.

I've always said Japan is a place I'd like to travel alone to. One day, when the kids are older (or is that only an excuse?) I'll take myself off to Japan and I'll be sure to go at the tail end of the cherry blossom season.

2009-04-13T10:13:00.003+08:00

Gobsmacked!

Ever watched the musical Victor/Victoria? About a woman playing a man playing a woman? I watched it once and emerged totally confused about the whole thing. I'm sure there were clever gags and insider smirks but those were totally lost to me.

I feel just as lost now when I think about Tigerlily.

Turns out that my Tigerlily is not a 'she' but a 'he'!

We'd sent the cat for spaying yesterday morning only to get a very abrupt call from the vet at 4pm. "Your cat... this Tigerlily... did you get it as a kitten or just adopted?" he demanded without much preamble.

I was a bit taken aback because he sounded a bit indignant. Before I could gather my thoughts, he went: "Did you know your cat is a male?!"

After my first "WHAT???" the whole car (we were in the car then, together with the children) erupted in a huge uproar and I could barely hear the man on thel ine. A few incoherent sentences later, we agreed to pick the cat up immediately and get the facts.

"Oy, the vet checked and said it was a girl cat what!!" That was the general shocked and upset mood in the car.

We all had trouble getting our heads around the fact that the 'girl cat' was actually a boy cat in disguise! And all this time we'd been calling her 'girl' and using all the female pronouns! Yikes!!

How could she be a he? She was growing breasts - so said Caitlin. No penis - show me a penis - demanded KH. No balls, daddy don't all boys have balls? Tigerlily has no balls - went Owain. "How can the vet make such a mistake? The very first vet said she's a girl... "(that was me repeating the same line dully over and over again) The only reasonable voice in the cacophony was Isaac's who said: It must be a mistake. Just bring the cat to another vet and get a second opinion.

To the vet we zoomed, all full of anxious questions. Cradling a very drowsy and tranquillised Tigerlily, he showed us the penis, a very teensy pink one that had to be probed and pushed out of the inner folds of the body. He also pointed out the vulva lips, part of the female sexual anatomy, but noted that there was no vagina and no uterus. The vet also showed us the scrotum, two tiny bulges just below the anus. They were certainly not like other adult male cats, whose scrotum hung outside the body. They looked like, forgive me, mangosteen slices instead. And when probed, there was nothing there. No scrotal sacs. It could be that the testicles were undescended but given the cat's age as an adult cat, this did not seem likely. Your cat, he said, is bisexual.

Owain yelled excitedly: We have a gay cat!

No! Apart from being very politically incorrect, that is just the wrong description of his/her condition. The vet said this was due to its mother cat's hormonal imbalances during gestation, that caused this strange development.

A hermaphrodite cat! Who knew?? Tigerlily has joined the ranks of snails, hamlets, earthworms and banana slugs in the genre of homogamy.

The vet was fascinated and said that in all his years, this was the second case he had seen. He took pictures of Tigerlily and her unique anatomy for his personal records. Very rare, he kept saying. But for the record, he said Tigerlily was more male than female. Even so, he could never impregnate other cats because he didn't have the hormones for sperm production and scrotal development. Despite the presence of a vulva (which was how the younger vet was hoodwinked earlier), there were no other female sexual organs - no vagina. So definitely can't get pregnant.

It ended with the vet refunding us the sterilisation fees and telling us that we were 'lucky' - this cat would never exhibit the tomcat-like aggressive territorial behavior of male cats (not enough male hormones) but neither would it get pregnant etc as a female cat. So no need to spay - for the moment. But if the testicles look like they are forming and the cat starts caterwauling, then I've got to bring it back for a second look. But, he said, this is not likely to happen.

We're all still a bit dazed by this development and we all still trip over the pronouns, so used were we to the 'she' and 'her'. And now, there's the big issue outstanding - what to call him? Whoever heard of a male cat called Tigerlily? Fairy stories aplenty! KH, pragmatically said, just call him Tiger. But he's such a gentle cat, certainly far from tiger-like, the name would not suit!

Family meeting tonight for sure - we need to talk about a name for our unique bisexual cat!

2009-04-13T09:33:00.002+08:00

Just catching up

Back at work for a week now and I'm still adjusting. Luckily its term break now so things are very quiet and most people are on leave. Adjusting to a longer work week and getting some resistance from my inner self. After working 2.5 days for more than 7 years, it seems harder even to just work one more day a week! I'm sorely feeling my loss of personal time and half regretting the move to work 3.5 days. But I've just got to bite the bullet and do this. Pathetic as it may sound, Trin can use the money for her Nursery education.

Yes, we've decided to go ahead and continue her in Lumiere Montessori. KH was very reluctant but after thinking long and hard, I think its what is best for her. She's used to the place and to the teachers, the Montessori way of individualised learning is still what is best for her (particularly given her extra strong will and personality), it's also more convenient, etc etc. Have to say I visited the PAP kindy just to have a feel of the place and within five minutes, I pretty much decided against the mainstream kindy. I disagreed with practically everything I heard! So, feeling this way, I could not in all good conscience put her there - even if the disparity in fees is at least 3 times!

Trin's really cute when she goes to school. She eagerly puts on her uniform, takes her bag and bugs everyone to get ready when its time to go! She loves it there, so even though I hate working 3.5 days a week, it's worth the pain if she really enjoys school and if she grows and learns.

The speech therapist did another test with her and said that she shows signs of attentional deficit. She was fidgety during the test, could not seem to process information well and responded only to binary questions. Therapist recommended that Trin start language, not speech, therapy and to be further evaluated by an educational psychologist.

One part of me is so resigned - why am I not surprised? Given our experience with Gillian and Isaac, this does not faze me as much, but I still feel a big sigh coming. Asked myself over and over again - what did we do wrong? I kept ultrasounds to a minimum, had a natural unmedicated birth, delayed cord clamping, declined all vaccinations, breastfed until she was at least three. So what went wrong?

Then again, I'm not the kind to keep wallowing. So best to just do what needs to be done - I've pushed her paed appointment at KKH up two months to May, spoken to Eileen at Lumiere about this and asked for her observations of Trin. By the end of this term, I would have more information to feed the paed and push for a referral to an educational psychologist. Hopefully by the second half of the year, we would have embarked on some early intervention programme. I'm quite prepared to get Melissa back on board to work with Trin on attentional issues.

Owain - being a real gem of a kor-kor in school. He does a lot for his baby sister. They fight a lot at home but in school, he seems pretty protective. He reports to me on a daily basis what Trin does in school and it looks as if he wanders over to the Nursery section often just to check on Trin!

Caitlin is starting the new term well. She's been appointed Social Studies Monitor and earmarked to go for 'training' in a special leadership training workshop for student and CCA leaders in the school. She's doing well in gym and in dance. So I think there will come a day when she's got to make a choice between gym and dance as a CCA.

Isaac is rather quiet these days - I don't hear much from him. The doors of adolescence seem to have cracked open a teensy bit and there is a new sort of tension between him and KH. I can sense it whenever KH comes down on Isaac and I try to soften things whenever I can. From past experience I already know that Isaac will not back down from a clash of wills. So I try to deflect it or talk to him separately. He's not outwardly rebellious or rude or defiant. He's just very quiet about it and that is the scary bit - because a lot of how I approach him is based on my gut feel and less on what I actually know. He reminds me of an iceberg - quiet and still, a small piece showing above the water but massive on the inside. Lucky for me that our bond is still quite strong and we have a lot in common. That helps.

Gillian is... shining like a beacon these days. She is really coming into her own now. Today is the first day of the C Div Nationals for bowling. She was very psyched up and very nervous this morning - worried that she would pull her team's scores down. But I think she'll be fine. Yesterday she played three games under her grandad's eagle eye and she was scoring well above her targets. Saturday's training also saw her scoring on target. We had set these targets for her to reach as gradual milestones. She seems to be hitting her stride and once she plateaus, we'll push her harder again. She's slowly improving and we are happy that she has the focus and determination to do so - that really is what's most important to us.

Gill has also been shortlisted for the GEM programme in KC. We attended the first briefing and she's gone for the first camp already. Its a nine-month long programme filled with camps, workshops, meetings and so on. I thought it sounded like a good programme to build self-confidence, self-discipline, motivation etc. Already after the first camp, she told us that she had such a good time that she's made new friends (more positive ones than her usual gang in class - which I am trying to steer her away from) and she's inspired to become a mentor and return to serve in the camp next year. You don't know how happy I was hear this coming from her - positive role modelling, self-motivation growing - so different from the girl she was a few years ago. Even at home, these days when it comes to work, we hear fewer moans and complaints than before. She grumbles a bit but knuckles down to work more willingly.

2009-03-25T19:04:00.002+08:00

Random thoughts from Owain

This came from Owain. We were at the computer and he just started to say this out of the blue. I thought it was pretty insightful. So I wrote everything down verbatim. Dated 25 March 2009.

“You have to let go of stuff because you will die soon. And you have to say goodbye to everyone.”

What is the stuff you have to let go of? (This is what I asked him)

“The stuff that you like very much, like your mummy and your children. But soon you will meet each other again.

I think this up inside my mind.

Either you will go to hell or heaven but you don’t need to do anything in heaven but in hell, you have to work fast because hell wants to trick people that hell is heaven. The devil will treat you very bad but in heaven you will always be happy.”

Interesting take. I'm just wondering why he said this to me out of the blue.

2009-03-19T21:05:00.003+08:00

Hooked

I've finally done what I swore I would never do.

One by one, friends have succumbed to this addiction and how I have scoffed and sniffed at them and their weakness. But as they say, the more you scoff the harder you fall. Or something like that.

It started in the hospital, when bedridden, thanks to the bloody urine bag, I was forced to watch, night after night of My Sassy Girl Chun Hyang - bubble-gum pop Korean drama dubbed into Mandarin. I can thank my drama addict Gillian for this.

Yes I could have surfed to a different channel, but anaesthesia does funny things to your judgement and I have to admit that the bubble-gum, as with all bubble-gum, is sweet goodnatured fun.

My disease progressed thus:

By the time I was discharged, watching the daily episodes had become a daily highlight I looked forward to.

By week 1, I had developed the habit of zooming straight into the drama synopses section of 8 Days just to get the plot of the week. Even that wasn't enough.

By week 2, on the day I visited my doctor, I took the opportunity to visit the video shop to surreptitiously suss out the boxset of My Sassy Girl. I told everyone who asked me (with that once familiar aghast look I once wore myself in similar situations) that it wasn't for me - it was for Gillian.

But who was I kidding?

And by the way, since it was a buy 1 - get 1 free deal, I nipped another box set. Full House - which had the awful-looking Rain and the very pretty Song Hye Geo in it. It came with rave reviews. I had descended to the point where I actually accosted virtual strangers in the shop to ask their opinions on what was a great K drama to watch. A really nice lady obliged my madness and we really bonded over 15min of recommendations and suggestions. It was good fun and I thank the lady who fed my thirst, though I never got her name!

By week 3, it was the school holidays and Gillian and I had polished off every disc in the My Sassy Girl boxset. For the first time, Gillian willingly came home early from school without the usual excuses for dawdling after school. By 3pm, both of us would be perched on the sofa, the dvd player humming and the familiar theme piping through the speakers.

The day I actually finished TWO discs back to back, I knew I was a goner. The telly was on from 10am to 6pm. I've never felt so guilty about electricity usage in my life. Lucky the kids were all at their cousins' for the day. Gillian was really sore with me for finishing two discs (8 episodes) without her!

Have to say Gillian and I really bond over the K dramas. We bitch about the villains, we sigh in sympathy when the lovers separate, we grin in delight when they reconcile. We have a lot of fun discussing what happened and what will happen next. Gillian and I have had many happy moments tearing away in front of the TV together. Its been great fun!

Unlike the heavy handed TCS dramas, the K dramas were light, frothy fun. There was no sex, and any on-screen kissing did not involve tongues. They were either chaste pecks on the cheeks or boringly dry 'chin' kisses. Any suggestion of a carnal nature in the series was met with wide-eyed horror by the main characters.

What's there not to like? The actors and actresses were all good-looking. Doe-eyed, bee-stung lips (and those were just the men!) Okay, so we know the plastic surgery rate in Korea is sky high and nothing you see there is really real or natural... big deal. Yes, we can tell who has had a perky nose job. So what? Everything about the K-drama is sheer fantasy anyway. The plots are often trite - boy meets girl, fall in love, meets with obstacles, enter a rival/s, they separate, they reconcile, overcome obstacles, live happily ever after. Not award-winning stuff, but just plain fun. Everything is just too cute. And rather than pathos and tragedy, I really enjoy the light bubble-gum flavours of the romantic comedies I have seen so far.

The characters are so likeable, I just can't help rooting for them, and of course feeling a twinge of pain when the sad bits hit. I've been so long out of the old romantic grind that watching stuff like that brings back nice memories of what it was like back then. All that teen angst! So fun! Man, I miss those days...

And finally, I've never met a K drama soundtrack I didn't like. They really know how to work those strings arrangements! Cue soulful violins and contemplative piano! So much so that Gillian and I have hit the CD stores and the video stores - looking for K soundtracks and for new box sets. We've even gone online to discover blogs and sites on K dramas! Which of course makes us more eager than ever to find new boxsets to sigh over.

So I guess I'll just go ahead and admit it - I'm now officially a K drama addict. There. I've come out of my closet and joined the K fan club. If anyone out there has a good suggestion for a delicious K drama for me to sink my teeth into, please send it my way.

Even better, fork over those boxsets.

2009-03-14T14:35:00.002+08:00

Over the moon!

I just came back from Gillian's parent-teacher meeting. I am totally, absolutely over the moon today! I've got a grin plastered on my face like a toothpaste advertisement. I can't remember how many times I told Gillian how happy and proud of her I am! So just bear with me while I give my proud-mama boast. Dodge the exclamation marks ahead if you can!

First - a bit of an explanation on the school's target setting. The MOE computer system set targets for the various subjects she would sit for and the teachers would also set their own targets for her accordingly. Because she scored 98 for the PSLE, the system expected her to hit at least all Ds for all her subjects. The school had set similar targets.

But this girl just took off running and never looked back and whacked those targets out of the window. She scored a C for English (which needs working on but looking at the previous year's grades, she is scoring better now). Wonder of wonders, she made it to a C for maths!!! Something she has never ever done in her life, having flunked maths for all her life since P1! I expected something like a borderline pass/fail grade but gosh, she actually leapfrogged past that. Her position in class for Maths scores was 10 out of 32 - which means the whole class probably sucked at Maths but the point was - what a big leap she made!!

She scored an A for Science, taking 4th place in the cohort, an A for Computer Applications at 6th position in class and another A for Home Econs coming in 1st in class. Her overall position - 7th place in class.

When I looked at her results over the last year, I could see her moving up the ladder slowly but surely. She started out in 28th place last year term 1, crawled up to 23rd place, then 22nd place and finally 14th place in the overall full-year scores. And today she's in 7th place. Her overall score has moved from 54% early in Sec 1 to 62% at the end of Sec 1. Today, she's hit 71%. So it looks like she's been consistent in moving up and on, but this first quarter results are just like a huge sprint up, let alone baby steps in improvement.

Why am I so overwhelmed? Because this girl has had such a hard tough journey getting here. We've been through so much. Among family, we've all commented that she seems changed in some way this year that we find hard to define. Quieter, less impulsive perhaps. She seems more focused. The results bear this out.

I think she's hitting her stride and I'm so pleased, so proud of her to make these great big leaps. For parents who have children who are naturally gifted, who always do well in school, they have every reason to be proud. But perhaps after a while, a sense of expectation and comfort sets in. But for people like Gillian and for me, it has never been easy. Never at all. So when she does a hat-trick like this and upend all our expectations on our ears, we are just so very puffed up full of pride. The victory is even sweeter.

This does wonders for her self-esteem. Plus the fact that she got into the school bowling team this year and is actually selected to compete in the coming C Div Nationals. Two days ago she came home and flashed her team t-shirt, happily beaming away, ah well... it was wonderful. And now this icing on the cake. She's in such a good place in her life now.

The sense of achievement and pride will give a different perspective to how she views herself, and how she views life. It will help keep her focused and less interested in the 'fun' that some of her classmates engage in. Now she knows - that she can do it, she's not dumb, hard work is all it takes. That this is not just something mummy mouths off about. Hard work does pay off.

We tried to keep our feet on level ground though, I reminded her that she should keep this going, don't lose the momentum and slack off and she soberly nodded. But there's just no getting past the giddiness we have right now. Family celebration ahead!

2009-03-06T18:08:00.003+08:00

Not quite back in the saddle

I think I spoke too soon about my recovery. I knew I must have hexed myself posting about how good I felt.

It started with a burning sensation when I peed and my lower abdomen felt uncomfortable - it ached and kinked up everytime I stood from a sitting position. Add to that a constant lowgrade fever that came every evening, left me in chills by 8pm and asleep by 9pm. A dipstick test showed high alkalinity and significant haemoglobin levels in the pee.

From the sound of it, it was a UTI. Thanks to the catheterisation of course.

Made my way to the polyclinic today with my fretting mother in tow who angsted over "why your belly so distended? Is it bigger than before? Maybe you are having a slow bleed inside!" to "that stupid doctor of yours, why didn't they discharge you properly, tell you what to look out for!" etc etc. Love my mom, she's absolutely on my side. A bit paranoid thanks to 40 years of nursing, but useful to have in a corner when dealing with the medical establishment.

The goondu doctor at the polyclinic at first brushed me off - "You're just 9 days post-op. Its not unusual to feel this sort of pain. Its major surgery you went through. Go home and if you feel worse, go to the A&E."

Huh??? Go home? I know what I'm feeling and you know how I feel about unnecessary interventions and tests and drugs etc. But my gut tells me something's not right. Otherwise why bother to make the trip to the polyclinic right? Duh!

I noticed my mother quietly walk across the room to stand beside me. Before she could go ballistic on the goondu doctor, I insisted that something was not right and he reluctantly sent me for a urine test and a full blood count. Turns out that there was a whole column of red on the screen when the results came back - white blood cell count elevated in the abnormal column, red blood cell count down, haemoglobin, haematocrits all down. Clearly signs of an infection.

But believe it or not, the goondu refused to prescribe anything and told me he would refer me back to the hospital. Argh!!

Back to the hospital I went. After looking at the test results, the doctor there said it was a clear-cut case of UTI and treatable. Mom was wondering why they ushered us in so quickly after triage. And one look at the referral letter by the goondu doctor and it became obvious - the guy had written - "suspected septicaemia"!! Huh??

To cut long story short - I am now on stronger antibiotics (there goes my gut!) . Keeping fingers crossed that the infection will blow over.

2009-03-04T10:52:00.002+08:00

After

Exactly one week ago, I was lounging around in my room in a white surgical robe, impatiently wondering why they hadn't yet called me into the OT. The op had been delayed for hours. I finally made it to the OT only at noon. Things moved swiftly from there. The anaesthetist after poking me twice to find a vain - big ouch - finally put me under in less than 10min. Have to say it was a really nice feeling to just drift off. Woke up at 3pm hearing someone call me from a distance. The rest of the day I just faded in and out of consciousness, letting people ask me questions, do things to me that I was only vaguely aware of. The pain and the cramps kicked in hours later when most of the anaesthesia had worn off and they fed me the painkillers. Which I have been faithfully popping since then.

Flash forward to today where I am sitting at home, Trin on the desk, writing this entry in the blog. I am feeling loads better today than a week ago. Day by day, I feel better, and stronger. I feel so physically and mentally, emotionally.

So yes, they've taken my womb. The doc asked me cryptically minutes before surgery: Do you want us to keep the womb if its a 50-50 situation?

And I go: Well gee thanks doc, for asking me this question now just mere minutes before cutting me open! I don't know. I feel sad about losing it but I have psyched myself up for this already, so either way do what is necessary.

He pats me absently, nods and says: Ah, a thinking woman.

Whatever it was, he said later that they pulled it as far as it could go and that was pretty far! So they took it out. Gave me a picture for it which I decided best not to post on the blog. Left my ovaries. Repaired the rectocele and the whole back wall.

Was it painful? Only when I tried to be a hero and wean myself off the painkillers. The one time I did it, I was awakened at 2am by the pain and had to crawl downstairs to get them. Not fun.

Today, maybe because I am getting more rest than I ever had even after birth, I feel rested and restored. I feel optimistic. Hopeful. Energised. I get the feeling there is a lot to look forward to, lots more that will be happening in my life. I actually feel renewed. My friends and family have played a major role in getting me back on my feet - spoiling me with home-cooked food, nourishing soups and sesame seed stews, bottle upon bottle of chicken essence. One friend walked in during dinner when I was in hospital and promptly, despite my protests, threw out the hospital curry dinner and bought me fish soup. She proceeded to deliver a stern lecture on what to eat for healing, then when the kids came, good-humouredly did the nagging and mothering I was too out of it to do. I feel so pampered!

And then there are the dreams. I have never dreamed like this in all my life. I don't know whether it is the anaesthesia or what, but I have had the lushest, fully-technicolour dreams in my sleep everynight. I no longer night-wake feeling my heart pound in my ears. I wake instead feeling rested with a strong sense of well-being.

Trin no longer actively nurses at night, and she nurses so seldom these days that perhaps this is really the season for letting go of that part of my life. I am careful about nursing also because I am pumped full of antibiotics and painkillers so I try to keep the rare nursing sessions that come, short as possible. At this point, is it child-led or parent-led weaning? I don't think it really matters. We have come to this point so gradually. Never forcefully, no tears. She seems ready and so am I.

I have one month at home before returning to a three and a half day work week which I applied for before going for surgery. So I will make the best of it - not by rushing around doing as much as I can but just by savouring it. Taking my time, doing what I feel is good and right. And its not as if I'm not looking forward to work - strangely enough, I feel ready and anticipatory.

To share one last vignette of life. Two nights ago at dinner, all of us around the table, under cheery yellow light, sharing food and the day's events. The cat curled up watchfully at the glass doors next to us. My family is complete and I felt utterly content.

2009-02-23T15:07:00.003+08:00

Nerves

One more day to go. And I feel like a deer caught in headlights. I just feel like grabbing my womb and making a mad dash for it. Or picking up the phone to cancel everything. But then, in my mind, the same boring conversation replays itself over and over again in a tiresome loop. Goes like this:

"Hey, why fix what ain't broke? You're not feeling unwell. Its not cancer you know. Its bothersome and annoying to have fecal incontinence, to not be able to wear a tampon but what the heck, the prolapse is still manageable right? Its not too bad... What happens if you fix it and end up worse off? Now there's no pain, but what if you fix it and then there's pain? Not op pain but chronic pelvic floor pain forever after that? Or they sew you up so tight you can't ever have sex again? Or worse, what if you can have sex but CAN'T feel a thing because they killed all your nerves down there? Worse right??"

"Stop being so squeamish! You can't NOT do it. Don't do it now and then what happens next time when the prolapse is worse? Are you going to wait until everything drops right out of you? You've seen the picture, it ain't pretty. And when you're older? How well will you heal? Then the risk of recurrence is higher right? How many surgeries you want to endure for this? Better get it over and done with. Trust your surgeon to do a good job. You've done your homework. Relax. And anyway, what makes you think you're going to be worse off? You're going to have a brand new vagina! Just think of all the fun you can have with that!"

Both sides have logic and reason. But this is not about logic and reason. This is just pure emotion. And the one key emotion radiating through me is fear.

So what am I fearful of?

Making the wrong decision, making a mistake. Scared that I will end up worse off after the op. I'm not regretting a decision made or having trouble with this decision. I'm just fearful.

I'm also very, very sad.

I've been apologising a lot lately - to my womb.

Its worked long and hard for me over the years. Its the first home for all my children. And now I'm demolishing it. Its where they grew up, were nurtured for the better part of a year. Its housed my children, those here and those gone away and its offered me possibilities untold. So now that its served its purpose - thanks very much, but its got to go. I feel like a real ungrateful jerk for doing this.

So I've been apologising to it, saying how sorry I am.

My relationship with my womb has not been so lovey-dovey always. I've done my fair share of cussing in the early days whenever my period came. Cramped my style - in more ways than one! But over the past days, I've been relishing every moment. I can't remember exactly when I got my first period. Somewhere between 13 and 14 years old. But I guess I will forever remember the days of my last period. And even then, my womb has been good to me - it does not cuss me back when I cuss at it. I've had no endometriosis, no fibroids, no cysts etc. Even when I have my periods, recently at least, it only lasts 4 days max. It comes like clockwork and does not try funny surprises every month. There is a rhythm to all this. Its a rhythm I will no longer have and I find that strangely unsettling. No more cycles. You know the talk about lunar cycles, lunacy and wolves howling at the moon? We all live by certain cycles and this particular cycle that has marked my life month after month, will now be gone. I never thought I'd say this, but I will miss it.

I am truly sorry to say goodbye to my womb. I am saying goodbye to a time when I was every inch an earth mother, fertile, lush and ready to grow a baby and birth a baby. I am saying goodbye to the unexpected. I am saying goodbye to the possibility of another child. I am saying goodbye to all my clucky pangs.

Not that my clucky pangs ever go away. Over the weekend, I saw babies in arms, babies in slings and I felt a pang - I know that after this week, I will never be able to have another child - and all the adventures and emotions that that may entail. Even seeing slings make me sad. No longer will I be able to cradle a sleeping newborn in them. No longer will they graduate from cradle hold to sitting up like a sack of potatoes in the sling, and from there, to the usual hip-seat. My arms feel empty even now. All my slings have so many memories.

When I try to tell people how I feel about my uterus and my clucky pangs, they scold me - isn't it enough? You already have five!

Yes and no. I have said that five is plenty, and it is nice to have more time to myself. But I have never fully closed off that option of having more. Every month, I still hold my breath to see if my period comes and when it does, I do feel a mix of joy and regret. But now, I will no longer have that option open.

Its also not about the number of children you have. Its about losing a part of yourself, closing a door that can never re-open. So final and thats what makes it scary. Worse that I am the one making this deliberate decision to do so. I mean, if its cancer or life-threatening in one way or another, the issue of choice is pretty much taken out of your hands. But this is not the case.

I've read that depression after a hysterectomy is common. Particularly so for women who have not completed their family. So is my family complete? Doctors love to ask that question. "Have you completed your family?"

I know the answer to that one. "No, I do not complete my family. They complete me."

That's the smart-ass answer. But the truth for me has always been that I do not know how to answer this straight from the heart. I always hesitate. And maybe that alone is already the answer.

So now, no more womb. Will I be depressed after this? I guess if this blog starts showing more whiny, anxious, sleepless, weepy moments, you'll know. Actually, I think I AM already depressed.

I know, I know. I'm being maudlin - over-indulgent with the emotions, over-sentimentalising all of this. Humanising my uterus. What kind of crap is this?

But this is how I feel. I am acknowledging this. I am saying goodbye. I am mourning. I am grieving. That part of my life is over. That little pear-shaped pouch at my very core, silent but present and in its way, ever faithful, will soon be gone. My life will be different, I'm sure. Saying goodbye is very tough. Very hard to give this up. I have tonight and all of tomorrow to reflect and say goodbye.

Tomorrow morning, I will pack my bag. Take a bus, then a train, then the shuttle bus to the hospital. It sounds so normal - like I'm going shopping or off to a routine doctor's appointment. Instead, I will be checking into the hospital by 2pm. And sometime early the next morning, they will cut me open and remove my womb.

I will go alone. Or my mom might come. But it's alright. I don't mind being alone. All the better to think.