Living it up later
Okay, on to something lighter now... enough of all the naval-gazing. I'll bounce back soon enough from the brouhaha.
Was having lunch alone today and saw the gardeners at work in the poly garden. There were about 7 of them. All in a row, all on their haunches, carefully weeding out the unwanted growths, some laying a plastic layer on soil and pebbles on top. Grab, pull, throw. The work had a rhythmic quality that was almost hypnotic to watch. They worked in silence in the blazing mid-day heat, hats or caps the only protection from the sun.
I liked what they did. Whenever I do this in my garden, I get carried away and can go on and on just pulling the weeds. So I think I won't mind a job like that - just pulling weeds. Of course in a week or so of this, I might get a bit bored and then my mind would be wandering to find ways to either speed up the process or be more productive. Which is why I probably would not last long at a job like this. But it would be nice to do for a while.
Another job I think I would really enjoy is to be a local tour guide. Once upon a time I even explored the possibility of signing up for a tour guide course and then to be registered with STB upon passing the exams. Apparently you can also earn quite a bit from this - fees and tips included! But the course fee (I think it was $1800 then?) stumped me (yes, I was a poor struggling journo then!) and so I gave up the idea. But I've always liked the thought of meeting people from overseas, showing them around, giving them snippets of history, folklore etc. Who knows, when I retire, I just might do this! When I have more time on my hands next time, I might start off as a museum docent first - that would be fun!
I think I might like to try factory work too - working in a conveyor belt system where you just do that specific portion and pass it on to the next. Like weeding. It hypnotically mindless - don't need to think so hard, just fix and pass on and so on. Only drawback would be the shift work. I can't see myself working a graveyard shift!
Or an assistant in a GP's clinic - must be slow-moving clinic! - where I can happily label the meds, sit amidst the colourful bottles (always a fascination for me as a child!), call out names importantly etc. And educate the doctor about breastfeeding and birth on slow days!
See? I'm all ready to work up to 65 and beyond! But work aside, I would like to make time to do the fun things that I've never had the guts or the time to do before - like paint! On canvas - just mucking it up! Or 3D sculptural work with clay. Or learn a foreign language - French? Spanish? Japanese? Teach English for a month or two in a remote village in China! Learn to bake! Learn to do the tango! Or the foxtrot! Learn some taichi! Walk a bit further on an unknown trail. And when it comes to travel - backpack to South America, take the Trans-Siberian railway from Vladivostok to Moscow, drive on the Karakorum Highway, walk the footsteps of Christ in Israel, spend time on a retreat in a mountaintop in Italy and if possible, travel the overland route from Singapore to Paris in a jeep with KH.
All these dreams.
I might not be able to fulfil all of them. But half the fun lies in the dreaming today of what may come tomorrow. So that alone is good for a muggy Monday afternoon's worth of day-dreaming!
Monday, October 22, 2007
Me? A breastfeeding nazi?
Okay, I will be the first to say it - I believe in breastfeeding. I totally absolutely support it and I like to think that I walk the talk. I don't love it though, but I believe in it. Out of five babes, I have nursed three. While it hasn't been the wonderful earth-shaking emotional bonding experience some have touted it to be, I believe it is just the normal way for human babies to be fed and I believe that every baby has the right to human milk from the nursing experience.
Why is this surfacing here in the blog? Because I am working out my feelings and blogging helps me work out the kinks in my thoughts/emotions.
Over the last week and the weekend, several posts were logged in AP. A mother was wondering if she should give semi-solids to her baby. She was fretting about a 400g lag in weight, that her child was only in the 25th percentile. Underlining this was pressure from external quarters to have her baby plumped up more than he is now and hence, the reasoning that breastmilk was not sufficient enough to promote that kind of growth.
I don't know this woman. But from what I read, gut feel said this was not an issue of weight, or baby's wellbeing alone, but support (or lack of it) that this mother was getting. My guess was she was being worn down by the negativity towards breastfeeding and she is second-guessing her decision to breastfeed her baby.
Initially I wasn't inclined to jump in. AP had loads of these queries and the same information had been given out many times over. (I always wonder why people don't read the archives before posting!) But then out came a post from two mothers, both of whom claim to be pro-breastfeeding. But both, in the long and short of it, said okay, don't feel bad about not breastfeeding. Since, I thought, there are mothers who are encouraging her to stop, I felt that she should be given enough information on the other side of the coin.
So in I jumped, gave all the information on the sterility of the gut, the porosity of gut lining before 6 months of age, the physiological reason why breastmilk was necessary in the first 6 months etc. Other mom came back with Dr Jack Newman's handout, reiterated she was pro-breastfeeding but again said it was okay to give semi-solids. The reference to Dr Jack Newman seemed to imply that he thought it was okay, so it has to be okay!
Call me anal, but to me, it was not a question of opinion but fact. I read Dr Jack Newman carefully again, and clearly while semi-solids was preferable to formula supplementation, it was recommended in cases where the weight lag was significant, and after all measures to promote milk supply and the continuity of the nursing relationship had failed. So I posted this again.
Back came the reply and there was a whole barrage of other replies by then which went along the lines of "its her decision" (I never said it was not!) "don't let other people pressure you to nurse if thats what you don't want to do" etc, that the parenting relationship went beyond just breastfeeding, that one should "enjoy the baby" and if breastfeeding was causing tension in the equation, then it was not wrong to take breastfeeding out of the equation totally and she should not feel bad for doing so. (I have a problem with the last bit - read on)
Long and short of it is, I felt a bit gobsmacked at the reaction. Did everyone think me an unfeeling heel for giving the facts - as if in some indirect way, the information I gave was 'pressuring' her to continue breastfeeding. I read the response to me, and the other responses to the group and I felt as if I was deemed the local breastfeeding nazi - someone who would push aggressively for breastfeeding against all odds. Am I really a breastfeeding nazi? Or am I reading too much into this? Just being too sensitive? Did I really exert pressure for this mother to breastfeed? Should I have tempered my responses with similar platitudes about "breastfeeding is not everything etc"? To be honest I felt a bit hurt and unappreciated. But when I thought harder about it, I recognised it more as my need to belong surfacing again than any direct criticism. Here I go again - feeling lousy because I did not move with the crowd, and I stood out like a sore thumb. Urgh. Need to work on that.
I'm not the touchy-feely sort and I am inclined to be blunt and to call a spade a spade. But perhaps that does not sit well with everyone. I've been told this before but clearly I never learn. Couple of ways I can go from here - I can beat a hasty retreat, not post on AP for a long time, lie low, and if I ever do post, then be careful to sound solicitiously supportive and sugarcoat my facts. The other way is to ignore and move on - and to weave a thicker skin about me so I won't be so easily stung by the opinions and perceptions of others (hence negating the need for angsty-naval-gazing posts such as this). And not feel low because I did not get crowd approval. In other words, don't live with my version of the AC Nielson ratings! I need to believe in myself and in what I say - if I think this is valid and valuable information I am giving, then stand firm - why let a lack of popularity cloud the issue? And if people don't like to hear it, that's okay.
I believe in breastfeeding. I believe in giving mothers the facts. I don't believe in judging their motives for breastfeeding or not breastfeeding. I have my own personal convictions about this and very often, they do not agree with many mothers'. But I don't intend to convert people into breastfeeding supporters. But neither do I want to compromise my views on this issue.
I can't and won't sugarcoat facts. I can't and won't say inane things like "Enjoying your baby is more important than breastfeeding." Simply because I think those are two entirely different issues. This may sound very harsh but I think babies are not born for us to 'enjoy'. They are not toys nor possessions. We have a huge responsibility to do what is right for them. Hard though it may be at times. That includes breastfeeding. And the commitment to do so - to give them what is normal and right for them. And if one can't or won't give the commitment, then at least be honest about it - and then blame not the lactivists for any guilt that one might have.
Breastfeeding is not a smooth ride. Yes, women do face problems - but more often than not, these problems are fixable. Not talking about those rare physiological cases where breastfeeding is not physically possible. I am talking about women who can nurse, have the capacity to do so, but are finding it tough going.
I think sometimes, if breastfeeding seems like an issue, the root of it may stem not from the baby, nor from breastfeeding, but from ourselves. So we fix the problem, not by taking away the nursing relationship, but by being honest with ourselves, asking the hard questions about our motives and feelings on nursing. And if those answers come up against the devil and the deep blue sea, then so be it. If we decide that breastfeeding is not for us, then there is no guilt. Why should there be?
Breastfeeding is a very touchy landmine of emotions. It's got all the drama, the angst, the chest-beating guilt etc. I've been through this. I've been on the other side of the camp where I did not breastfeed and thought all breastfeeding mothers were supercilious heartless activists who loved to slather on the guilt to non-breastfeeding mother. I said so to assuage my guilt for my own lack of honesty.
But over the years, thanks to my long journey, I believe that you can bring a horse to water but you cannot make it drink. I believe that success is defined by ourselves. How or what is breastfeeding success, boils down to a mother's attitude and convictions. Women breastfeed for all sorts of socio-emotional reasons - good for baby, to please someone, to be seen as a 'good mother', personal satisfaction, for a sense of achievement etc. And that's fine, as long as they are honest about it to themselves.
I hope the mom who posted the original question will be honest - to herself at least. I think there may be other issues going on that we may not know about, and really, there is no need for us to know. But she's got to be honest with herself. The support, when it comes from the community, should be to encourage her honesty and respect her choice. Not just give inane sweet talk to whitewash any conflicting guilt that she may feel.
Okay, I will be the first to say it - I believe in breastfeeding. I totally absolutely support it and I like to think that I walk the talk. I don't love it though, but I believe in it. Out of five babes, I have nursed three. While it hasn't been the wonderful earth-shaking emotional bonding experience some have touted it to be, I believe it is just the normal way for human babies to be fed and I believe that every baby has the right to human milk from the nursing experience.
Why is this surfacing here in the blog? Because I am working out my feelings and blogging helps me work out the kinks in my thoughts/emotions.
Over the last week and the weekend, several posts were logged in AP. A mother was wondering if she should give semi-solids to her baby. She was fretting about a 400g lag in weight, that her child was only in the 25th percentile. Underlining this was pressure from external quarters to have her baby plumped up more than he is now and hence, the reasoning that breastmilk was not sufficient enough to promote that kind of growth.
I don't know this woman. But from what I read, gut feel said this was not an issue of weight, or baby's wellbeing alone, but support (or lack of it) that this mother was getting. My guess was she was being worn down by the negativity towards breastfeeding and she is second-guessing her decision to breastfeed her baby.
Initially I wasn't inclined to jump in. AP had loads of these queries and the same information had been given out many times over. (I always wonder why people don't read the archives before posting!) But then out came a post from two mothers, both of whom claim to be pro-breastfeeding. But both, in the long and short of it, said okay, don't feel bad about not breastfeeding. Since, I thought, there are mothers who are encouraging her to stop, I felt that she should be given enough information on the other side of the coin.
So in I jumped, gave all the information on the sterility of the gut, the porosity of gut lining before 6 months of age, the physiological reason why breastmilk was necessary in the first 6 months etc. Other mom came back with Dr Jack Newman's handout, reiterated she was pro-breastfeeding but again said it was okay to give semi-solids. The reference to Dr Jack Newman seemed to imply that he thought it was okay, so it has to be okay!
Call me anal, but to me, it was not a question of opinion but fact. I read Dr Jack Newman carefully again, and clearly while semi-solids was preferable to formula supplementation, it was recommended in cases where the weight lag was significant, and after all measures to promote milk supply and the continuity of the nursing relationship had failed. So I posted this again.
Back came the reply and there was a whole barrage of other replies by then which went along the lines of "its her decision" (I never said it was not!) "don't let other people pressure you to nurse if thats what you don't want to do" etc, that the parenting relationship went beyond just breastfeeding, that one should "enjoy the baby" and if breastfeeding was causing tension in the equation, then it was not wrong to take breastfeeding out of the equation totally and she should not feel bad for doing so. (I have a problem with the last bit - read on)
Long and short of it is, I felt a bit gobsmacked at the reaction. Did everyone think me an unfeeling heel for giving the facts - as if in some indirect way, the information I gave was 'pressuring' her to continue breastfeeding. I read the response to me, and the other responses to the group and I felt as if I was deemed the local breastfeeding nazi - someone who would push aggressively for breastfeeding against all odds. Am I really a breastfeeding nazi? Or am I reading too much into this? Just being too sensitive? Did I really exert pressure for this mother to breastfeed? Should I have tempered my responses with similar platitudes about "breastfeeding is not everything etc"? To be honest I felt a bit hurt and unappreciated. But when I thought harder about it, I recognised it more as my need to belong surfacing again than any direct criticism. Here I go again - feeling lousy because I did not move with the crowd, and I stood out like a sore thumb. Urgh. Need to work on that.
I'm not the touchy-feely sort and I am inclined to be blunt and to call a spade a spade. But perhaps that does not sit well with everyone. I've been told this before but clearly I never learn. Couple of ways I can go from here - I can beat a hasty retreat, not post on AP for a long time, lie low, and if I ever do post, then be careful to sound solicitiously supportive and sugarcoat my facts. The other way is to ignore and move on - and to weave a thicker skin about me so I won't be so easily stung by the opinions and perceptions of others (hence negating the need for angsty-naval-gazing posts such as this). And not feel low because I did not get crowd approval. In other words, don't live with my version of the AC Nielson ratings! I need to believe in myself and in what I say - if I think this is valid and valuable information I am giving, then stand firm - why let a lack of popularity cloud the issue? And if people don't like to hear it, that's okay.
I believe in breastfeeding. I believe in giving mothers the facts. I don't believe in judging their motives for breastfeeding or not breastfeeding. I have my own personal convictions about this and very often, they do not agree with many mothers'. But I don't intend to convert people into breastfeeding supporters. But neither do I want to compromise my views on this issue.
I can't and won't sugarcoat facts. I can't and won't say inane things like "Enjoying your baby is more important than breastfeeding." Simply because I think those are two entirely different issues. This may sound very harsh but I think babies are not born for us to 'enjoy'. They are not toys nor possessions. We have a huge responsibility to do what is right for them. Hard though it may be at times. That includes breastfeeding. And the commitment to do so - to give them what is normal and right for them. And if one can't or won't give the commitment, then at least be honest about it - and then blame not the lactivists for any guilt that one might have.
Breastfeeding is not a smooth ride. Yes, women do face problems - but more often than not, these problems are fixable. Not talking about those rare physiological cases where breastfeeding is not physically possible. I am talking about women who can nurse, have the capacity to do so, but are finding it tough going.
I think sometimes, if breastfeeding seems like an issue, the root of it may stem not from the baby, nor from breastfeeding, but from ourselves. So we fix the problem, not by taking away the nursing relationship, but by being honest with ourselves, asking the hard questions about our motives and feelings on nursing. And if those answers come up against the devil and the deep blue sea, then so be it. If we decide that breastfeeding is not for us, then there is no guilt. Why should there be?
Breastfeeding is a very touchy landmine of emotions. It's got all the drama, the angst, the chest-beating guilt etc. I've been through this. I've been on the other side of the camp where I did not breastfeed and thought all breastfeeding mothers were supercilious heartless activists who loved to slather on the guilt to non-breastfeeding mother. I said so to assuage my guilt for my own lack of honesty.
But over the years, thanks to my long journey, I believe that you can bring a horse to water but you cannot make it drink. I believe that success is defined by ourselves. How or what is breastfeeding success, boils down to a mother's attitude and convictions. Women breastfeed for all sorts of socio-emotional reasons - good for baby, to please someone, to be seen as a 'good mother', personal satisfaction, for a sense of achievement etc. And that's fine, as long as they are honest about it to themselves.
I hope the mom who posted the original question will be honest - to herself at least. I think there may be other issues going on that we may not know about, and really, there is no need for us to know. But she's got to be honest with herself. The support, when it comes from the community, should be to encourage her honesty and respect her choice. Not just give inane sweet talk to whitewash any conflicting guilt that she may feel.
Wednesday, October 17, 2007
A marriage proposal first kisses
Isaac received a marriage proposal - from his best friend Patrick!
In the car on one of our many family outings over the weekend, Isaac announced that Patrick his buddy in school had suggested that their friendship could be further cemented into family ties by Isaac marrying either Patrick's sister or his cousin. And from Isaac's tone, he didn't think the idea half bad too! When I demanded: why can't Patrick just marry one of YOUR sisters (you have three for him to choose from!) instead of you marrying his sister, the disloyal boy protested vehemently: What! Gillian is too old and baby is too young and that leaves Ning-Ning! Hah!! No Way!!
To which his usual no-nonsense younger sister said: Hah! Better not! You think I want to marry him ah? I'll kick his butt if he tries to be funny with me!
Yes, the Ning-ster as I call her, can be quite the fierce, aggressive I-Am-Woman-Hear-Me-Roar type. KH and I think she's the supermodel sort - tall, thin and all arms and legs. And very sassy.
But I digress. The conversation was steered to first kisses. The Fishball was kissed by a P4 girl during Children's Liturgy at mass. One of Gillian's friends, the girl had apparently taken him under her wing during Liturgy and found him so cute and irresistable, had kissed him soundly on the cheek - to his horror! But this curly-haired little boy does have this effect on girls. Teen girls and aunties alike have been known to coo at him and exclaim: SO cute!!!
So there went his 'first' kiss. Gillian's first kiss was in the plaza in front of Milan's great cathedral. She was 15 months old, standing in the sprawling plaza as we gazed up at the cathedral facade when an Italian boy came wheeling by on his tricycle (must have been about four or five years old), stopped, went over to hug her and kiss her! What a memorable setting!
Isaac's first kiss was given by a little girl neighbour around his age. The toddlers who were around 2years old then, used to hang out at each other's homes and on one of those occasions, she just leant over and kissed him on the cheek.
Ning asked wistfully if she had had a first kiss and I said, so that she would not feel left out, yes of course! The very first kiss you had was when you were just born.
Even when I was wet and with blood everywhere? she asked eagerly. Even then, I nodded, we were so happy when you were born.
She was pleased to hear that.
Isaac received a marriage proposal - from his best friend Patrick!
In the car on one of our many family outings over the weekend, Isaac announced that Patrick his buddy in school had suggested that their friendship could be further cemented into family ties by Isaac marrying either Patrick's sister or his cousin. And from Isaac's tone, he didn't think the idea half bad too! When I demanded: why can't Patrick just marry one of YOUR sisters (you have three for him to choose from!) instead of you marrying his sister, the disloyal boy protested vehemently: What! Gillian is too old and baby is too young and that leaves Ning-Ning! Hah!! No Way!!
To which his usual no-nonsense younger sister said: Hah! Better not! You think I want to marry him ah? I'll kick his butt if he tries to be funny with me!
Yes, the Ning-ster as I call her, can be quite the fierce, aggressive I-Am-Woman-Hear-Me-Roar type. KH and I think she's the supermodel sort - tall, thin and all arms and legs. And very sassy.
But I digress. The conversation was steered to first kisses. The Fishball was kissed by a P4 girl during Children's Liturgy at mass. One of Gillian's friends, the girl had apparently taken him under her wing during Liturgy and found him so cute and irresistable, had kissed him soundly on the cheek - to his horror! But this curly-haired little boy does have this effect on girls. Teen girls and aunties alike have been known to coo at him and exclaim: SO cute!!!
So there went his 'first' kiss. Gillian's first kiss was in the plaza in front of Milan's great cathedral. She was 15 months old, standing in the sprawling plaza as we gazed up at the cathedral facade when an Italian boy came wheeling by on his tricycle (must have been about four or five years old), stopped, went over to hug her and kiss her! What a memorable setting!
Isaac's first kiss was given by a little girl neighbour around his age. The toddlers who were around 2years old then, used to hang out at each other's homes and on one of those occasions, she just leant over and kissed him on the cheek.
Ning asked wistfully if she had had a first kiss and I said, so that she would not feel left out, yes of course! The very first kiss you had was when you were just born.
Even when I was wet and with blood everywhere? she asked eagerly. Even then, I nodded, we were so happy when you were born.
She was pleased to hear that.
"This is not an emergency!"
I keep repeating this line over and over again in exasperation but it falls on deaf ears. My kids' deaf ears to be precise.
Since it is PSLE marking week, the tribe has stayed home from school. And because Gillian has no more school work, no more revision etc, with loads of time on her hands, she has been very restless. And infecting the younger ones with her restlessness. So I have been on the receiving end of countless phone calls on my cell phone for various inane reasons such as:
1) "Can we watch TV?"
In my house, I try (and I emphasise the word *try*) to limit TV times to a few hours in the day - usually one hour of sesame street in the morning, half an hour of Hi5 at noon and then the regular cartoon slots from 5pm to 6.30pm. Hmm, in retrospect this looks like a lot of TV!! Maybe its time to cut down - and drive my kids into a tv-less withdrawal frenzy. Not that they're not far from it already.
2) "Can we eat the box of stuff in the fridge?"
'Stuff' is usually defined as biscuits and chocs - usually the ones that KH and I buy for ourselves but never really get a chance to eat before its discovered and devoured by the hungry hordes.
3) "Can I eat your 'P'?"
Usually from Isaac. The 'P' is a slab of Belgian choc that KH brought home for me from Paris. He's always trying his luck and I always say no. The word 'no' has never deterred him from asking. Again and again.
4) "Can we watch the Japanese cartoons?"
This usually comes when I say no to tv time. They know I have a weakness for Japanese cartoons and I am trying to pep up interest in the coming Japan trip. So chances of me saying yes to this are considerably higher.
5) "Can I watch my Barbie DVD?"
Usually from Caitlin. I usually say no. DVDs only at the weekends. She does not get much support for this anyway from her sibs because they're sick of Barbie - Barbie swanlake, Barbie the ice princess, Barbie rapunzel etc. She's only missing the Island Barbie one - which she will probably get for Christmas. I never learn.
6) "Can Brian and Charmaine come over?"
Neighbours. I have issues with one of them. But the kids are a forgiving lot. So these days, I usually say yes if its 5pm or 6pm that the request comes in. Or depends on how I feel at the moment.
7) "Can we go to the playground?"
I usually say yes. With the proviso that the older kids bring the younger kids and looks out for them.
8) "Can we play Super Granny on the com?"
This depends. On whether they have done their work, are already on a ban but trying to be sneaky about it in the hope that I won't remember, and how long the computer has been on. I usually give my hissy spiel about saving the earth, saving electricity, saving money etc and not using the com for too long. But I usually give in - half an hour is the max!
9) "Mu-umm, XXX hit/kicked/punched me/pulled my hair/called me names/irritated me... all for no reason! I didn't do anything! Waa-aaah!"
All of them call me for this at some point or other. I hate playing remote referee.
10) "Trinny wants to talk to you.... (whispered loudly in the background) Say something Trinny... Trin say helloooo mummy! Hey mum, she REALLY said mama just now! Really!"
Of course I hear lots of movement, snuffling and heavy breathing but not much else. Trin has not called me 'mum' yet and I don't think I'm likely to hear this for the first time on the phone!
10) "Where are you? What are you doing? When are you coming home?"
Yes, they give me the third degree too.
And these phonecalls will keep coming in on my phone, throughout the day. To be fair, its not only Gillian who calls - they all do - 365 days of the year as long as I'm not home. I think this is how remote control mums function. It's not ideal though. And my phone bills have increased - enough to make contemplate upping my phone plan. I have stressed that calls should be kept to those of an urgent and emergency nature. I have diligently gone through the definition of 'Emergency' with them, ie:
Someone died
Someone is seriously injured
There is blood. A lot of blood.
The house is on fire
Lolita is tied up by bandits and can't get to a phone
Never worked. I've tried 'fining' them for every non-emergency phone call. Also never worked. (too much work for me to keep track!) Use my office phone at least, I begged. Never worked - they only know my cell number.
The "Call Daddy instead of Mummy" campaign also never worked. In the car at the end of the day, KH and I would trade notes with each other - did Kid #3 call about this? Did you give permission for Kid #2 to get on the com? And usually, daddy gets no calls. The only time daddy gets calls is when mummy says no. Then the discovery process goes like this:
"Did you give Kid#2 permission to play on the com?"
"Er... ya I think so. Why?"
"He's on a ban for flouting computer time rules! Didn't you know this?"
"Er I dunno... He called me in the middle of a meeting and I just said yes!"
He always says yes. He doesn't think before he says yes. They know this. Them wily ones know all the tricks in the book. They can't get past me though. I'm a lot sharper than KH and can sniff out a lie a mile off. KH is clueless and they know this. He's putty in their hands.
So I have been trying to get them to stop calling me unnecessarily. Until a line in a parenting magazine/newspaper caught my eye the other day. It said something like: Parents must keep the communication channels open and be ready to listen to their kids. Kids should not be afraid to call parents at work to discuss or share anything. To limit calls to only emergencies closes the communication channels. Something like that.
Made me stop and think for all of five minutes. Bah! The guy writing this does not have five children calling him day and night!
But the reporter is not wrong - if a mom is out of the house working, all the more important it is to keep in touch via the phone. Some diligent mums have video phones, video-conferencing set up on their office computers. I'm not one of them. Not that I don't want to talk to my kids. I just wish they weren't so prolific about calling! I could empower them of course - some people say how wonderful it is that the kids still call to get permission about everything - well, yes and no! Empowerment comes with trust. Unfortunately, I don't think kids, my kids at least, can be trusted to stick to any time allotted, say for TV or computer etc. So for now its still a double-edged sword - good that they call me to get my permission, but bad that they have to keep calling me for every other thing! There has to be a happy middle ground somewhere.
I don't have a solution to this at the moment. I'll think about it after I answer this call. Yes, the cell is ringing again. And yes, caller ID is flashing: "Home".
I keep repeating this line over and over again in exasperation but it falls on deaf ears. My kids' deaf ears to be precise.
Since it is PSLE marking week, the tribe has stayed home from school. And because Gillian has no more school work, no more revision etc, with loads of time on her hands, she has been very restless. And infecting the younger ones with her restlessness. So I have been on the receiving end of countless phone calls on my cell phone for various inane reasons such as:
1) "Can we watch TV?"
In my house, I try (and I emphasise the word *try*) to limit TV times to a few hours in the day - usually one hour of sesame street in the morning, half an hour of Hi5 at noon and then the regular cartoon slots from 5pm to 6.30pm. Hmm, in retrospect this looks like a lot of TV!! Maybe its time to cut down - and drive my kids into a tv-less withdrawal frenzy. Not that they're not far from it already.
2) "Can we eat the box of stuff in the fridge?"
'Stuff' is usually defined as biscuits and chocs - usually the ones that KH and I buy for ourselves but never really get a chance to eat before its discovered and devoured by the hungry hordes.
3) "Can I eat your 'P'?"
Usually from Isaac. The 'P' is a slab of Belgian choc that KH brought home for me from Paris. He's always trying his luck and I always say no. The word 'no' has never deterred him from asking. Again and again.
4) "Can we watch the Japanese cartoons?"
This usually comes when I say no to tv time. They know I have a weakness for Japanese cartoons and I am trying to pep up interest in the coming Japan trip. So chances of me saying yes to this are considerably higher.
5) "Can I watch my Barbie DVD?"
Usually from Caitlin. I usually say no. DVDs only at the weekends. She does not get much support for this anyway from her sibs because they're sick of Barbie - Barbie swanlake, Barbie the ice princess, Barbie rapunzel etc. She's only missing the Island Barbie one - which she will probably get for Christmas. I never learn.
6) "Can Brian and Charmaine come over?"
Neighbours. I have issues with one of them. But the kids are a forgiving lot. So these days, I usually say yes if its 5pm or 6pm that the request comes in. Or depends on how I feel at the moment.
7) "Can we go to the playground?"
I usually say yes. With the proviso that the older kids bring the younger kids and looks out for them.
8) "Can we play Super Granny on the com?"
This depends. On whether they have done their work, are already on a ban but trying to be sneaky about it in the hope that I won't remember, and how long the computer has been on. I usually give my hissy spiel about saving the earth, saving electricity, saving money etc and not using the com for too long. But I usually give in - half an hour is the max!
9) "Mu-umm, XXX hit/kicked/punched me/pulled my hair/called me names/irritated me... all for no reason! I didn't do anything! Waa-aaah!"
All of them call me for this at some point or other. I hate playing remote referee.
10) "Trinny wants to talk to you.... (whispered loudly in the background) Say something Trinny... Trin say helloooo mummy! Hey mum, she REALLY said mama just now! Really!"
Of course I hear lots of movement, snuffling and heavy breathing but not much else. Trin has not called me 'mum' yet and I don't think I'm likely to hear this for the first time on the phone!
10) "Where are you? What are you doing? When are you coming home?"
Yes, they give me the third degree too.
And these phonecalls will keep coming in on my phone, throughout the day. To be fair, its not only Gillian who calls - they all do - 365 days of the year as long as I'm not home. I think this is how remote control mums function. It's not ideal though. And my phone bills have increased - enough to make contemplate upping my phone plan. I have stressed that calls should be kept to those of an urgent and emergency nature. I have diligently gone through the definition of 'Emergency' with them, ie:
Someone died
Someone is seriously injured
There is blood. A lot of blood.
The house is on fire
Lolita is tied up by bandits and can't get to a phone
Never worked. I've tried 'fining' them for every non-emergency phone call. Also never worked. (too much work for me to keep track!) Use my office phone at least, I begged. Never worked - they only know my cell number.
The "Call Daddy instead of Mummy" campaign also never worked. In the car at the end of the day, KH and I would trade notes with each other - did Kid #3 call about this? Did you give permission for Kid #2 to get on the com? And usually, daddy gets no calls. The only time daddy gets calls is when mummy says no. Then the discovery process goes like this:
"Did you give Kid#2 permission to play on the com?"
"Er... ya I think so. Why?"
"He's on a ban for flouting computer time rules! Didn't you know this?"
"Er I dunno... He called me in the middle of a meeting and I just said yes!"
He always says yes. He doesn't think before he says yes. They know this. Them wily ones know all the tricks in the book. They can't get past me though. I'm a lot sharper than KH and can sniff out a lie a mile off. KH is clueless and they know this. He's putty in their hands.
So I have been trying to get them to stop calling me unnecessarily. Until a line in a parenting magazine/newspaper caught my eye the other day. It said something like: Parents must keep the communication channels open and be ready to listen to their kids. Kids should not be afraid to call parents at work to discuss or share anything. To limit calls to only emergencies closes the communication channels. Something like that.
Made me stop and think for all of five minutes. Bah! The guy writing this does not have five children calling him day and night!
But the reporter is not wrong - if a mom is out of the house working, all the more important it is to keep in touch via the phone. Some diligent mums have video phones, video-conferencing set up on their office computers. I'm not one of them. Not that I don't want to talk to my kids. I just wish they weren't so prolific about calling! I could empower them of course - some people say how wonderful it is that the kids still call to get permission about everything - well, yes and no! Empowerment comes with trust. Unfortunately, I don't think kids, my kids at least, can be trusted to stick to any time allotted, say for TV or computer etc. So for now its still a double-edged sword - good that they call me to get my permission, but bad that they have to keep calling me for every other thing! There has to be a happy middle ground somewhere.
I don't have a solution to this at the moment. I'll think about it after I answer this call. Yes, the cell is ringing again. And yes, caller ID is flashing: "Home".
Friday, October 12, 2007
Lust Caution
Because my birthday was spent cooped up in the office listening to my managers being snarly to each other, I decided to treat myself to a belated 'happy day' at the movies.
With all the hype about Lust Caution going on, it being given an NC16 rating after distributors decided to screen the tone-down version, I decided to go watch the movie and judge for myself what the hoo-ha was all about.
So bright and early I headed for VivoCity's GV and bought myself a Gold Class ticket. This being my virgin Gold Class experience, I didn't know what to expect. That early in the morning, I found myself being the only one in the Gold Class lounge feeling like a Economy class passenger in a First Class passenger lounge. The prices in the menu were ridiculous but I decided that I would go the whole hog and order something for the movie. Somehow the good ol movie standbys like popcorn and Coke just didn't fit into the lofty Gold Class. So I ordered potato wedges with three different dips - one of the cheapest items on the menu already at $8. And plain water. :-)
The cinema was one of the bigger Gold Class cinemas with about 60 seats. Mine was right at the back. Have to say the seat was PLUSH. Almost made the $25 price tag of a Gold Class ticket worthwhile. It was a big comfy armchair which had buttons that allowed one to recline and for leg rests to come up. A thick blanket was also provided. I'd brought my shawl, so I wrapped myself snugly, tipped the seat back, leg rest up, blanket over my legs and prepared to enjoy the movie. I thought I was going to be the only one in there until a young teen couple came in (thats why the distributors made the movie NC16 - so smoochy teen couples could get in and mooch around in their armchairs!).
My potato wedges were served to me later - nothing to write home about and the sour cream dip was so thin it was almost watery. So definitely the food was not worth it. I thought that for a $25 price tag, at least a decent minimal buffet of food could have been included - like just tea or coffee or free popcorn or for a really luxe experience, even finger sandwiches wouldn't have been half bad. That would really have been classy of GV but I guess the bottomline always gets in the way of class. Although something like that might well have made their Gold Class halls more full than near empty since it would be considered better value for money. Ah well.
So anyways the movie came on and I snuggled back down in my bed-like chair and watched. If you intend to watch the movie then better stop reading - some spoilers ahead.
Lee Ang as always, creates great mood and setting. There seems to be a constant touch of blue in the light and indeed, Tang Wei's lovely cheong-sums were largely in shades of blue and turquoise. With a haunting score, it set the tone for a melancholic mood. The sets, the costumes and details were down pat, bringing us right back into Japanese occupied Shanghai. While the movie is largely in Mandarin, there were bits in English, Cantonese and Shanghainese. And I loved the sing-song lilting tones of Shanghainese!
With Lee Ang, its always a case of less is more. So you never get the excessive outbursts of emotion and one has to read the faces and body language of the key characters to understand what is going on - which is good. And hence this is why it is a pity that the sex scenes were slashed for the NC16 version. Because it is through the sex scenes that one can better understand the dynamics of the complex relationship between Mr Yee and Mrs Mak aka Wang Chia Chi. The NC16 version is so clean that you do not see any skin below the neck. There are one or two scenes of post-coital facial expressions where you get fleeting glimpses of the intensity and ferocity of their sexual experience but not enough for one to go deeper into their characters.
So how far and how much each gives to each other, how much each reveals of themselves, and therefore how much more they stand to lose can only be guessed at but never revealed fully. And this is why the sex scenes, unlike many other movies, are central to the plot and character development and never merely gratuitous.
Clearly the affair is one where both let go a bit of themselves, lose a bit of that identity they had and bare more than they bargained for, invested more of themselves in each other. But we can never know or understand the full extent of this, thanks to the snips. Of course, the more they reveal, the harder they fall, the greater the loss. And loss is revealed, devastatingly but wordlessly in the white-faced anguished eyes of Mr Yee in the last scene.
Not for nothing is Tony Leung known for his liquid eyes - sheer deep wells of emotion. Fear, sadness, loneliness, tenderness - you see them all in his eyes. And as for Tang Wei, I think Lee Ang chose right when he passed over the Zhang diva for the unknown actress. She brought to the role courage, loneliness, fear and sacrifice. Even Joan Chen, the mahjong-playing tai-tai wife of Mr Yee, rose to the occasion (has she never??). All the performances (with the exception of Wang Lee Hom - who looks good in blazers and vests - but who cannot summon up much convincing emotion and just ends up looking wooden and pained!) were spot-on.
The movie and the acting never called for big drama moments so all these big emotions lay more as undercurrents in the movie and were shown through spare, careful, controlled, small actions - the cast of a mahjong tile on the table, the intonation of a word, the camera's lingering on an elegant hand and of course, the careful facial expressions. Some people say this is self-indulgent of Lee Ang and makes the movie drag, that it only serves as build-up to the sex scenes which has been so hyped, but I disagree. I think the dialogue and pacing, the style of speaking, the nuances are typical of the era and of the tension of the day. They don't serve as handmaiden to the sex scenes, but the sex scenes cap and underscore what the reserved nuances cannot say.
I would want to watch the movie again. There are so many details that I think might click better with a second viewing. But this time, I'd want to watch the full version.
So the NC16 movie is still not a bad movie - it still maintains the elegance that Lee Ang intended, the melancholic mood, the great cinematography, the perfect costumes etc. And the plot is still gripping enough, with a constant sense of danger and exposure, to keep you riveted through the movie. But it could be much better had the distributors put art ahead of money and screened the full and complete version.
Because my birthday was spent cooped up in the office listening to my managers being snarly to each other, I decided to treat myself to a belated 'happy day' at the movies.
With all the hype about Lust Caution going on, it being given an NC16 rating after distributors decided to screen the tone-down version, I decided to go watch the movie and judge for myself what the hoo-ha was all about.
So bright and early I headed for VivoCity's GV and bought myself a Gold Class ticket. This being my virgin Gold Class experience, I didn't know what to expect. That early in the morning, I found myself being the only one in the Gold Class lounge feeling like a Economy class passenger in a First Class passenger lounge. The prices in the menu were ridiculous but I decided that I would go the whole hog and order something for the movie. Somehow the good ol movie standbys like popcorn and Coke just didn't fit into the lofty Gold Class. So I ordered potato wedges with three different dips - one of the cheapest items on the menu already at $8. And plain water. :-)
The cinema was one of the bigger Gold Class cinemas with about 60 seats. Mine was right at the back. Have to say the seat was PLUSH. Almost made the $25 price tag of a Gold Class ticket worthwhile. It was a big comfy armchair which had buttons that allowed one to recline and for leg rests to come up. A thick blanket was also provided. I'd brought my shawl, so I wrapped myself snugly, tipped the seat back, leg rest up, blanket over my legs and prepared to enjoy the movie. I thought I was going to be the only one in there until a young teen couple came in (thats why the distributors made the movie NC16 - so smoochy teen couples could get in and mooch around in their armchairs!).
My potato wedges were served to me later - nothing to write home about and the sour cream dip was so thin it was almost watery. So definitely the food was not worth it. I thought that for a $25 price tag, at least a decent minimal buffet of food could have been included - like just tea or coffee or free popcorn or for a really luxe experience, even finger sandwiches wouldn't have been half bad. That would really have been classy of GV but I guess the bottomline always gets in the way of class. Although something like that might well have made their Gold Class halls more full than near empty since it would be considered better value for money. Ah well.
So anyways the movie came on and I snuggled back down in my bed-like chair and watched. If you intend to watch the movie then better stop reading - some spoilers ahead.
Lee Ang as always, creates great mood and setting. There seems to be a constant touch of blue in the light and indeed, Tang Wei's lovely cheong-sums were largely in shades of blue and turquoise. With a haunting score, it set the tone for a melancholic mood. The sets, the costumes and details were down pat, bringing us right back into Japanese occupied Shanghai. While the movie is largely in Mandarin, there were bits in English, Cantonese and Shanghainese. And I loved the sing-song lilting tones of Shanghainese!
With Lee Ang, its always a case of less is more. So you never get the excessive outbursts of emotion and one has to read the faces and body language of the key characters to understand what is going on - which is good. And hence this is why it is a pity that the sex scenes were slashed for the NC16 version. Because it is through the sex scenes that one can better understand the dynamics of the complex relationship between Mr Yee and Mrs Mak aka Wang Chia Chi. The NC16 version is so clean that you do not see any skin below the neck. There are one or two scenes of post-coital facial expressions where you get fleeting glimpses of the intensity and ferocity of their sexual experience but not enough for one to go deeper into their characters.
So how far and how much each gives to each other, how much each reveals of themselves, and therefore how much more they stand to lose can only be guessed at but never revealed fully. And this is why the sex scenes, unlike many other movies, are central to the plot and character development and never merely gratuitous.
Clearly the affair is one where both let go a bit of themselves, lose a bit of that identity they had and bare more than they bargained for, invested more of themselves in each other. But we can never know or understand the full extent of this, thanks to the snips. Of course, the more they reveal, the harder they fall, the greater the loss. And loss is revealed, devastatingly but wordlessly in the white-faced anguished eyes of Mr Yee in the last scene.
Not for nothing is Tony Leung known for his liquid eyes - sheer deep wells of emotion. Fear, sadness, loneliness, tenderness - you see them all in his eyes. And as for Tang Wei, I think Lee Ang chose right when he passed over the Zhang diva for the unknown actress. She brought to the role courage, loneliness, fear and sacrifice. Even Joan Chen, the mahjong-playing tai-tai wife of Mr Yee, rose to the occasion (has she never??). All the performances (with the exception of Wang Lee Hom - who looks good in blazers and vests - but who cannot summon up much convincing emotion and just ends up looking wooden and pained!) were spot-on.
The movie and the acting never called for big drama moments so all these big emotions lay more as undercurrents in the movie and were shown through spare, careful, controlled, small actions - the cast of a mahjong tile on the table, the intonation of a word, the camera's lingering on an elegant hand and of course, the careful facial expressions. Some people say this is self-indulgent of Lee Ang and makes the movie drag, that it only serves as build-up to the sex scenes which has been so hyped, but I disagree. I think the dialogue and pacing, the style of speaking, the nuances are typical of the era and of the tension of the day. They don't serve as handmaiden to the sex scenes, but the sex scenes cap and underscore what the reserved nuances cannot say.
I would want to watch the movie again. There are so many details that I think might click better with a second viewing. But this time, I'd want to watch the full version.
So the NC16 movie is still not a bad movie - it still maintains the elegance that Lee Ang intended, the melancholic mood, the great cinematography, the perfect costumes etc. And the plot is still gripping enough, with a constant sense of danger and exposure, to keep you riveted through the movie. But it could be much better had the distributors put art ahead of money and screened the full and complete version.
Wednesday, October 10, 2007
Kids say...
And while we're talking about Fishball, I have to blog this or I will forget.
These days when I deny his request to nurse, he will groan very dramatically and say: So cruel!!!
Cait has started counting down to Japan. Everyday she will ask me: How many more days is it to Japan? She's looking forward to it and so am I! When I ask Fishball if he is looking forward to Japan, his eyes light up and he says: Yes! That means we can eat sushi everyday!!
The kids all have opinions on what I wear. The girls being girls, will comment on my accessories and my outfit. Eg Gillian will say: this makes you look thin/fat. And Cait will say things like: I like your outfit today especially your necklace - it matches your skirt!
Fishball, on the other hand, is learning and showing an early preference for cleavage and skin! He will point to female underwear ads in the magazines and papers and say: Mum, this one is very nice! And yes, he loves to watch pageant shows! Women in bikinis also get a second look from him. Certain night-dresses that I have will earn an approving (slightly leery) smile from him as he says: Ooh mum, I like you in this dress!
I find all these children very funny - their comments are innocent and yet so honest.
And while we're talking about Fishball, I have to blog this or I will forget.
These days when I deny his request to nurse, he will groan very dramatically and say: So cruel!!!
Cait has started counting down to Japan. Everyday she will ask me: How many more days is it to Japan? She's looking forward to it and so am I! When I ask Fishball if he is looking forward to Japan, his eyes light up and he says: Yes! That means we can eat sushi everyday!!
The kids all have opinions on what I wear. The girls being girls, will comment on my accessories and my outfit. Eg Gillian will say: this makes you look thin/fat. And Cait will say things like: I like your outfit today especially your necklace - it matches your skirt!
Fishball, on the other hand, is learning and showing an early preference for cleavage and skin! He will point to female underwear ads in the magazines and papers and say: Mum, this one is very nice! And yes, he loves to watch pageant shows! Women in bikinis also get a second look from him. Certain night-dresses that I have will earn an approving (slightly leery) smile from him as he says: Ooh mum, I like you in this dress!
I find all these children very funny - their comments are innocent and yet so honest.
Playing Dum
The boys (KH, Fishball and Isaac) were in my room playing Dum until quite late last night. And what a game it was. Fishball held Isaac to a draw and would have won on sheer points alone except that Isaac refused to give in and admit defeat, so KH had to call it a draw. This morning, KH told me what happened.
Couple of nights ago he had a game of Dum with Fishball. To his surprise Fishball actually almost had him at point non plus. There were several times during the game when he had to pause and really think hard to get himself out of a bad situation. He won only by the skin of his teeth. KH of course, was impressed with his son and told me that its a whole different game with Fishball now. No more is Fishball making beginner moves, or even thoughtless silly amateur moves. Fishball is now thinking, totally serious and absorbed in a game - and making calculated moves - enough to make his daddy sweat. He said the look of concentration on Fishball's face is similar to that when he played Rush Hour.
So before last night's game, KH warned Isaac that his little brother was no longer playing 'baby dum' - no more could Isaac play Dum with Fishball, read a book at the same time and still win. Isaac of course, laughed it off and bragged about how it would be easy-peasy thrashing his baby brother at Dum.
He stopped laughing soon enough when Fishball cruised very quickly to establish two Queens. KH said that Isaac had several moments of panic where he had to stop and think frantically about his next move.
The game ended with Fishball having 3 queens and Isaac two. But Isaac refused to concede defeat, sputtering indignantly all the way and demanding a re-match. KH finally refereed it and put it down to a draw and the night ended with Isaac telling Fishball that "tomorrow, when I get home from school, I'm gonna play with you and this time, you're dead meat!"
Well I won't be around to see this, but even should Fishball lose (and it seems likely because he has not lost his innocence and naivete yet about openly sharing his next moves freely with his opponent! Fishball likes to say, with all the impulsivity that young children have - "I'm going to eat your pawn here!" or "Kor-kor, you have to eat my pawn here or I will chung-kong you!") I don't think Isaac will have an easy time as he used to.
The boys (KH, Fishball and Isaac) were in my room playing Dum until quite late last night. And what a game it was. Fishball held Isaac to a draw and would have won on sheer points alone except that Isaac refused to give in and admit defeat, so KH had to call it a draw. This morning, KH told me what happened.
Couple of nights ago he had a game of Dum with Fishball. To his surprise Fishball actually almost had him at point non plus. There were several times during the game when he had to pause and really think hard to get himself out of a bad situation. He won only by the skin of his teeth. KH of course, was impressed with his son and told me that its a whole different game with Fishball now. No more is Fishball making beginner moves, or even thoughtless silly amateur moves. Fishball is now thinking, totally serious and absorbed in a game - and making calculated moves - enough to make his daddy sweat. He said the look of concentration on Fishball's face is similar to that when he played Rush Hour.
So before last night's game, KH warned Isaac that his little brother was no longer playing 'baby dum' - no more could Isaac play Dum with Fishball, read a book at the same time and still win. Isaac of course, laughed it off and bragged about how it would be easy-peasy thrashing his baby brother at Dum.
He stopped laughing soon enough when Fishball cruised very quickly to establish two Queens. KH said that Isaac had several moments of panic where he had to stop and think frantically about his next move.
The game ended with Fishball having 3 queens and Isaac two. But Isaac refused to concede defeat, sputtering indignantly all the way and demanding a re-match. KH finally refereed it and put it down to a draw and the night ended with Isaac telling Fishball that "tomorrow, when I get home from school, I'm gonna play with you and this time, you're dead meat!"
Well I won't be around to see this, but even should Fishball lose (and it seems likely because he has not lost his innocence and naivete yet about openly sharing his next moves freely with his opponent! Fishball likes to say, with all the impulsivity that young children have - "I'm going to eat your pawn here!" or "Kor-kor, you have to eat my pawn here or I will chung-kong you!") I don't think Isaac will have an easy time as he used to.
Thursday, October 04, 2007
Stressed out
Its been a slightly stressful two weeks. At work, I've had to work on my off-days thanks to a number of important meetings at work, preparation for audit etc. Those work days included my 39th birthday. Usually I take the day off, go off for a nice lunch as I did last year, go for a nice spa experience perhaps, but not this year. Instead I was in the office generating and compiling data for a big meeting, sitting in on meetings and ducking the cross-fire that erupted. I will take my birthday pampering treat another day when the heat is off.
On the birthright end, I had one private class and gave my usual talk during the Parenting with Grace workshop on Sunday. Also busy preparing for class this weekend. So things have been busy. The stress is not bad stress, but challenging stress, which is good.
At home, Gillian was preparing for PSLE over the past few weekends/weekdays. So that meant drilling her in paper after paper for maths. I didn't give her anything for English - I was, am, pretty confident that she can pass the English paper. It is Maths that is the big problem. Late Sunday night, I was awakened by KH's yelling and thumping of books on the table. If the sound could reach me through closed doors and through deep sleep, you know he must have been pretty loud.
Immediately I went downstairs. I saw Gillian looking sullen, KH looking murderous, shaking his head in frustration. I sat down. While I didn't want to interfere with KH teaching Gillian, I also didn't want father-daughter relations to sour either. At the age of 12, I don't think Gillian now takes kindly to loud scoldings and shouts. Plus it was late - 11+. So I just said quietly, okay, if you can't do it now (and it was a simple question: give the formula for finding the area of a rectangle!) you're tired. Your eyes are red. Go to bed.
I looked at Gillian as I said this, and saw that she was teary. Poor girl. She always takes it like a champ, right on the chin. I felt sorry for her. Even I feel tense when KH gets into one of his snits, what more her? Yet at the same time, I could understand how KH felt. I felt like this too, once upon a time. Frustrated, angry, depressed and worried.
I sent her up to bed, and spoke to her quietly, telling her to just work as hard as she could. The PSLE was right around the corner. Just push herself these few days and it will soon be over. I explained how her daddy felt and she nodded. She's a good girl, she understands, but she's hurt I can tell.
The next day, I speak to KH in the car on the way to work. I never have to belabour the point - he knows what I mean. He agreed that he needed to back off a bit or it may stress her so much that she shuts down for the PSLE. I said that he had to get things in perspective - we already know what her situation is like, so no amount of screaming, yelling or table-banging would solve things. Just got to let it go, leave it in God's hands, do what we can and not stress out about it. So I volunteered to take over the bulk of the coaching for maths - something I have not done for yonks because it affected us so badly then. That day, I took half day off, came home and tutored Gillian. Same the next day and so on.
Yes I was frustrated at times, but I was also impressed. And hopeful - something I have not felt for a long time with her. I saw that she had improved. She was not as bad as she used to be. And what made me so happy was the fact that we could sit down and do this and not have a usual round of screaming, tears etc. She told me later, mum I prefer you to teach than daddy. You're more fun and you explain things better. Now that, really made my day.
With me taking over, KH had less to scream about, or maybe it was because of our talk in the car. He let go a lot over the past few days. So we kept revision tension manageable in the days running up to the PSLE.
We kept the tone casual in the morning as I wished her good luck for the PSLE and said, just pretend you're doing it right at home, and mummy is right there, telling you the usual thing: read the question, don't guess. I told her, and I believe this: you can do this.
She came home after the English paper, sounding chirpy and confident. Then at night, I let her sit through a two-hour specimen PSLE maths paper. She scored 79/100. So we left it on that note for the night. I showed her the many loving messages that I got on my phone for her - from Barbs, Cory, Mags, etc. Mama smsed all the way from Israel to say that Gillian will always be uppermost in her prayers. Uncle Paul said 50 for every subject she passes. Gillian said gleefully, 50 what? Dollars of course! Both of us were touched by Aunty Pam's message telling us that she would say the rosary with Gabriel for Gillian that night and send her baby angel Paul to watch over her. I think so too - that baby angel Paul must have been right there.
This morning, she went for her Maths paper. It should be about by now over as I write. I am keeping my fingers crossed. The results will be out on Nov 22 - and we will be in Kyoto then. We will get them from her school when we return.
Its been a slightly stressful two weeks. At work, I've had to work on my off-days thanks to a number of important meetings at work, preparation for audit etc. Those work days included my 39th birthday. Usually I take the day off, go off for a nice lunch as I did last year, go for a nice spa experience perhaps, but not this year. Instead I was in the office generating and compiling data for a big meeting, sitting in on meetings and ducking the cross-fire that erupted. I will take my birthday pampering treat another day when the heat is off.
On the birthright end, I had one private class and gave my usual talk during the Parenting with Grace workshop on Sunday. Also busy preparing for class this weekend. So things have been busy. The stress is not bad stress, but challenging stress, which is good.
At home, Gillian was preparing for PSLE over the past few weekends/weekdays. So that meant drilling her in paper after paper for maths. I didn't give her anything for English - I was, am, pretty confident that she can pass the English paper. It is Maths that is the big problem. Late Sunday night, I was awakened by KH's yelling and thumping of books on the table. If the sound could reach me through closed doors and through deep sleep, you know he must have been pretty loud.
Immediately I went downstairs. I saw Gillian looking sullen, KH looking murderous, shaking his head in frustration. I sat down. While I didn't want to interfere with KH teaching Gillian, I also didn't want father-daughter relations to sour either. At the age of 12, I don't think Gillian now takes kindly to loud scoldings and shouts. Plus it was late - 11+. So I just said quietly, okay, if you can't do it now (and it was a simple question: give the formula for finding the area of a rectangle!) you're tired. Your eyes are red. Go to bed.
I looked at Gillian as I said this, and saw that she was teary. Poor girl. She always takes it like a champ, right on the chin. I felt sorry for her. Even I feel tense when KH gets into one of his snits, what more her? Yet at the same time, I could understand how KH felt. I felt like this too, once upon a time. Frustrated, angry, depressed and worried.
I sent her up to bed, and spoke to her quietly, telling her to just work as hard as she could. The PSLE was right around the corner. Just push herself these few days and it will soon be over. I explained how her daddy felt and she nodded. She's a good girl, she understands, but she's hurt I can tell.
The next day, I speak to KH in the car on the way to work. I never have to belabour the point - he knows what I mean. He agreed that he needed to back off a bit or it may stress her so much that she shuts down for the PSLE. I said that he had to get things in perspective - we already know what her situation is like, so no amount of screaming, yelling or table-banging would solve things. Just got to let it go, leave it in God's hands, do what we can and not stress out about it. So I volunteered to take over the bulk of the coaching for maths - something I have not done for yonks because it affected us so badly then. That day, I took half day off, came home and tutored Gillian. Same the next day and so on.
Yes I was frustrated at times, but I was also impressed. And hopeful - something I have not felt for a long time with her. I saw that she had improved. She was not as bad as she used to be. And what made me so happy was the fact that we could sit down and do this and not have a usual round of screaming, tears etc. She told me later, mum I prefer you to teach than daddy. You're more fun and you explain things better. Now that, really made my day.
With me taking over, KH had less to scream about, or maybe it was because of our talk in the car. He let go a lot over the past few days. So we kept revision tension manageable in the days running up to the PSLE.
We kept the tone casual in the morning as I wished her good luck for the PSLE and said, just pretend you're doing it right at home, and mummy is right there, telling you the usual thing: read the question, don't guess. I told her, and I believe this: you can do this.
She came home after the English paper, sounding chirpy and confident. Then at night, I let her sit through a two-hour specimen PSLE maths paper. She scored 79/100. So we left it on that note for the night. I showed her the many loving messages that I got on my phone for her - from Barbs, Cory, Mags, etc. Mama smsed all the way from Israel to say that Gillian will always be uppermost in her prayers. Uncle Paul said 50 for every subject she passes. Gillian said gleefully, 50 what? Dollars of course! Both of us were touched by Aunty Pam's message telling us that she would say the rosary with Gabriel for Gillian that night and send her baby angel Paul to watch over her. I think so too - that baby angel Paul must have been right there.
This morning, she went for her Maths paper. It should be about by now over as I write. I am keeping my fingers crossed. The results will be out on Nov 22 - and we will be in Kyoto then. We will get them from her school when we return.
Strange sleep habits
Miss Mu-mu aka Caitlin, is one weird kid. She reminds me of Christina Ricci in the Addams Family sometimes.
The other day KH went in to check on the girls in the night after they'd all gone to sleep and to his horror, found Cait sleeping with her eyes and her mouth taped SHUT with masking tape! He whisked off the tape immediately of course. When we asked her about it the next morning, she just said she did it because she liked it. When I probed further, she reluctantly revealed the reason: she didn't like to snore in her sleep. But, I told her, every one snores sometimes - its okay to snore. Even her venerable mama, I added, ruthlessly decimating my mother's reputation, snores like a freight train. Cait nodded but said she still didn't like the idea of snoring or talking in her sleep. Either way, I told her, she must not tape her mouth and eyes again - it was dangerous.
Then again the other night, she fell asleep on the living room couch so KH carried her up to her bed. When he put her down, he felt something hard beneath the pillow. It was not one object but three! A picture of the Virgin Mary, a small framed picture of St Michael slaying the dragon, and of course, a rosary. Perplexed, we asked her why she had so many religious objects beneath her pillow.
She said she got scared after I told vampire stories. Well, I don't remember telling her any vampire stories recently (I say 'recently' because I admit to enjoying telling my round-eyed crew about the old pontianak and orang minyak legends - I think its a part of their cultural heritage, but that's another story altogether!). She said the pictures were there as religious 'protection'. Yes but why THREE? A rosary would have been sufficient devil-repellent I thought. But she told me confidently: three better than one! I see.
I let her keep them under her pillow.
Miss Mu-mu aka Caitlin, is one weird kid. She reminds me of Christina Ricci in the Addams Family sometimes.
The other day KH went in to check on the girls in the night after they'd all gone to sleep and to his horror, found Cait sleeping with her eyes and her mouth taped SHUT with masking tape! He whisked off the tape immediately of course. When we asked her about it the next morning, she just said she did it because she liked it. When I probed further, she reluctantly revealed the reason: she didn't like to snore in her sleep. But, I told her, every one snores sometimes - its okay to snore. Even her venerable mama, I added, ruthlessly decimating my mother's reputation, snores like a freight train. Cait nodded but said she still didn't like the idea of snoring or talking in her sleep. Either way, I told her, she must not tape her mouth and eyes again - it was dangerous.
Then again the other night, she fell asleep on the living room couch so KH carried her up to her bed. When he put her down, he felt something hard beneath the pillow. It was not one object but three! A picture of the Virgin Mary, a small framed picture of St Michael slaying the dragon, and of course, a rosary. Perplexed, we asked her why she had so many religious objects beneath her pillow.
She said she got scared after I told vampire stories. Well, I don't remember telling her any vampire stories recently (I say 'recently' because I admit to enjoying telling my round-eyed crew about the old pontianak and orang minyak legends - I think its a part of their cultural heritage, but that's another story altogether!). She said the pictures were there as religious 'protection'. Yes but why THREE? A rosary would have been sufficient devil-repellent I thought. But she told me confidently: three better than one! I see.
I let her keep them under her pillow.
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