Pink Martini
I am listening to Pink Martini's Sympathique on the MP3 at the moment.
I'd always been curious about this name and the other day at That CD Shop, I picked one up and had a listen. And gosh, I like what I heard!
I'm no music critic but they have sounds from Iberia, Latin America, Japan, France and a gorgeous mix that sounds so very timeless and classy. The sounds and the moods are very global. The music could have come out of the 30s or 40s and yet, it has a very interesting contemporary outlook. Indeed, in the words of the band's founder, Thomas Lauderdale, "Pink Martini is like a romantic Hollywood musical of the 1940s or 50s – but with a global perspective which is modern. We bring melodies and rhythms from different parts of the world together to create something which is new and beautiful.”
For me, music is only as good as the imagination. So if I listen to a piece and it takes me somewhere and helps me feel something, ah then this is good music. Music and imagination and heart go all hand in hand. Good music takes you places and makes you think, makes you feel. And I think Sympathique certainly does all of this.
With Pink Martini, certain pieces transport me to different times and places. The title song Sympathique brings me back to prewar Paris, The Song of the Black Lizard is a very melancholy yet intriguing ode to loneliness and solitude and so very Japanese in that respect. Andalucia is intriguing, the instruments (and the title!) hint of Spain but yet my mind keeps turning to the landscapes of China and Mongolia - don't ask me why! When I listen to it, I get the exhilarating feeling of being on a train bound for adventure, crossing endlessly green plains somewhere in China - but certainly there is the feeling of going on a journey somewhere. La Soledad infuses Chopin's "Andante Spianato" with Latin rhythms and China Forbes' vocals is a haunting, almost eerie, take of the old favourite Que Sera Sera.
Their music is at times joyous, heady, fun, then contemplative, lonely, melancholy, then vibrant, alive, twirling the spirit...
I think this is one talented band and I think I have discovered them rather late since Sympathique was their first album and this came out in 1997!!! Where have I been?? But hey, never too late, so I'm off to get their second and third albums!
To read more about Pink Martini, check out the home page: http://www.pinkmartini.com/index.html
Better yet, pick up the album for a listen. You'll find yourself going places you never thought you would.
Tuesday, May 27, 2008
Monday, May 26, 2008
A contrast in weekends
I just had a great weekend which started out on Saturday night with a BBQ with my family on my mother's side. My uncle was back for a visit from New Zealand. It was great hanging out in my aunt's place.
The kids went swimming in the pool in the evening and later on, hungry after all the exercise, we all cooked on the barby and gorged ourselves silly on herb-garlic sausages, lamb loins, beef slabs and so on. Pleased to report that the beef and my XO sotong marinades had good reviews. They were rather yummy if I do say so myself. The XO sotong was swimmng in brandy - lovely!
But the best part of the night was just sitting down with my aunts and uncles and cousins and talking, reminiscing. My aunts joshed my mum about how she made dad suffer by going out with a doctor while my dad waiting patiently beneath a lamppost until 3 in the morning ("reading a book!" my aunts howled mercilessly with laughter). They apparently saw all this as they peered agog through the window at poor dad.
"Your mum," said Aunty Sue, "...had great clothes. Gosh she was such a clotheshorse! So stylish with all the chiffon and french lace... gorgeous... Aunty Peg and I used to really envy her! She was so pretty then!"
"Still is now!" I said and mum grinned.
"And the boyfriends she had...whoohoo!"
Listening to my aunts and my mum talk about their old admirers and boyfriends with nicknames - one of them was called pantak jarom (translated to mean needle in the bum). When I asked why call him that, Aunty Peggy laughed: "Everytime he came to call, he'd just sit for a short time and then jump up and say he had to go! Like someone was poking a needle in his backside!"
We talked about how Uncle Boris met my grandparents for the first time - inauspiciously pissed drunk after granddad invited him to join him and his buddies for a drink (which turned into one too many!) "Your aunt wasn't at home so your granddad was there with a couple of his friends and he asked me to join them. One thing led to another and we ended up talking nonsense, some throwing up... your grandma was horrified later when she met me! Long hair, pimples... and drunk! What she thought of me then..."
We laughed till it hurt to hear Uncle Boris describe how his parents disciplined him with the cane "...and they were both guerilla fighters so you know how physically tough they are!" (Both his parents were guerilla fighters in the resistance against the Japanese in the Thai Burmese border so it was never a good idea to cross them.)
We remembered how chocolate was such a luxury to us back then. Aunty Sue who was an oh-so-glamourpuss of a Singapore Girl, came home from London with suitcases filled with goodies. "We would all crowd around to see what she brought home!" said Aunty Peg. I remember those days and being so awed and happy that she had brought some Cadbury chocs for me! I still have one picture of myself as a 4-year-old, singlet grimy with chocolate stains.
Even KH was dragged in when the older relatives started asking how we met, and asking Gillian who was fiercer at home - mummy or daddy. The girl had a field day with those questions!
It was such fun talking and there was so much laughter. And that was a good thing for all of us since the last time we met like this was at Marc's funeral. I have not seen Aunty Peg and Uncle Boris laugh like this since Marc died. Seeing Ryan, I thought he still looked different - sober, older and still a bit shell-shocked. But then its only been five months... We didn't talk about Marc that night though, but he was there, unspoken beneath the waters of our conversation. The only time he surfaced noticeably was when Aunty Peg showed me the album full of pictures of Marc and his funeral. We looked through the pictures, mostly taken by KH, read his wife's longingly loving notes to him on Valentine's Day and on their anniversary. I felt a bit teary, but the mood was just too good to spoil by crying.
I was just struck by how different an experience this was with a week earlier when I had a gathering at my ILs' place. In contrast to this (everybody sitting together, sharing and talking and laughing, no exclusions), there was not much camaraderie, not much shared laughter. Oh yeah the kids played together and KH and his sibs banded together. As usual, I was the odd one out. I didn't even have Pauline's similarly isolated experience to commiserate with since she did the smart thing and begged off the gathering.
Sitting there, I don't think I said more than 5 sentences the whole night. I remember it went something like this:
BIL: "Hi Pat so do you see Cheryl in school?"
Me: "Yes I do. I saw her at the fire drill the other day!"
SIL A: "Fire drill? hahaha..."
Me: "Yes we were having this fire drill in school and I saw her at the gathering spot where all classes had to gather and the craziest thing was..."
SIL A: "Eh is this hor fun?"
SIL B: "Yeah... we have packets of fried rice too..."
BIL: "What about the gravy for the beehoon? Oh there it is."
And I realised no one was actually listening anymore. Pass the beehoon.
After a while, KH and his sisters sat together and talked among themselves while I was left sitting in the living room.
I know the drill.
I knew what I was in for, and I was hoping to at least watch some tv but no such luck - they had turned on their vacation videos instead!!! Yikes! I didn't even have the benefit of being stoned by mindless tv chatter - now I actually had to sit through a whole vacation video of people I didn't even like!
It turned out to be a video of a trip we all took to Genting Highlands about 4 years ago. It was a two day overnight trip which included Malacca, but which I had begged off and gone in the opposite direction instead - to Penang where we had a great time! And thank God for that because if the video was any indication, it would have been a mind-numbingly boring trip for me. In the entire video, which lasted at least an hour, there was only ONE scene where I caught a glimpse of myself and that was only in passing. Other than that, you would not have known that I was on the same trip. I realised that they had given equal exclusive treatment to Pauline too. Barely two seconds of footage. Blink and you'll miss us.
It really speaks volumes of how they see us in the family. Pauline and I are the invisible women who happen to marry their brothers and produce a series of offspring - five of them, in my case.
I mean, I don't think they are being deliberately mean or catty or they mean to exclude us. They just do. How many times have I experienced this - sit at the same table, engage with some conversation or at least just listen in and then 10, 15 minutes later, one by one they drift away. And before you realise it, its just me alone at the table or with Pauline or with one other BIL. Then when you stand up and look, you realise that the group has reconvened at another place and the conversation is going on like a house on fire - just without you in it.
At the very least, its plain rude. And at its most, its just unthinking, hurtful exclusion. You know you're NOT part of the family because their behaviour and their body language tells you this. Which is why I absolutely detest these ILs gathering, find them a pure waste of time. KH told me before, you can read a book... I told him that if I could read a book, I'd rather read in the comfort of my own home! I mean... why bother?
Looking at my relatives and how they include everyone in the conversation on Saturday night, I think my ILs have a great deal to learn about how to be a classy host. But before they do, best to avoid these IL gatherings as much as I can...
I just had a great weekend which started out on Saturday night with a BBQ with my family on my mother's side. My uncle was back for a visit from New Zealand. It was great hanging out in my aunt's place.
The kids went swimming in the pool in the evening and later on, hungry after all the exercise, we all cooked on the barby and gorged ourselves silly on herb-garlic sausages, lamb loins, beef slabs and so on. Pleased to report that the beef and my XO sotong marinades had good reviews. They were rather yummy if I do say so myself. The XO sotong was swimmng in brandy - lovely!
But the best part of the night was just sitting down with my aunts and uncles and cousins and talking, reminiscing. My aunts joshed my mum about how she made dad suffer by going out with a doctor while my dad waiting patiently beneath a lamppost until 3 in the morning ("reading a book!" my aunts howled mercilessly with laughter). They apparently saw all this as they peered agog through the window at poor dad.
"Your mum," said Aunty Sue, "...had great clothes. Gosh she was such a clotheshorse! So stylish with all the chiffon and french lace... gorgeous... Aunty Peg and I used to really envy her! She was so pretty then!"
"Still is now!" I said and mum grinned.
"And the boyfriends she had...whoohoo!"
Listening to my aunts and my mum talk about their old admirers and boyfriends with nicknames - one of them was called pantak jarom (translated to mean needle in the bum). When I asked why call him that, Aunty Peggy laughed: "Everytime he came to call, he'd just sit for a short time and then jump up and say he had to go! Like someone was poking a needle in his backside!"
We talked about how Uncle Boris met my grandparents for the first time - inauspiciously pissed drunk after granddad invited him to join him and his buddies for a drink (which turned into one too many!) "Your aunt wasn't at home so your granddad was there with a couple of his friends and he asked me to join them. One thing led to another and we ended up talking nonsense, some throwing up... your grandma was horrified later when she met me! Long hair, pimples... and drunk! What she thought of me then..."
We laughed till it hurt to hear Uncle Boris describe how his parents disciplined him with the cane "...and they were both guerilla fighters so you know how physically tough they are!" (Both his parents were guerilla fighters in the resistance against the Japanese in the Thai Burmese border so it was never a good idea to cross them.)
We remembered how chocolate was such a luxury to us back then. Aunty Sue who was an oh-so-glamourpuss of a Singapore Girl, came home from London with suitcases filled with goodies. "We would all crowd around to see what she brought home!" said Aunty Peg. I remember those days and being so awed and happy that she had brought some Cadbury chocs for me! I still have one picture of myself as a 4-year-old, singlet grimy with chocolate stains.
Even KH was dragged in when the older relatives started asking how we met, and asking Gillian who was fiercer at home - mummy or daddy. The girl had a field day with those questions!
It was such fun talking and there was so much laughter. And that was a good thing for all of us since the last time we met like this was at Marc's funeral. I have not seen Aunty Peg and Uncle Boris laugh like this since Marc died. Seeing Ryan, I thought he still looked different - sober, older and still a bit shell-shocked. But then its only been five months... We didn't talk about Marc that night though, but he was there, unspoken beneath the waters of our conversation. The only time he surfaced noticeably was when Aunty Peg showed me the album full of pictures of Marc and his funeral. We looked through the pictures, mostly taken by KH, read his wife's longingly loving notes to him on Valentine's Day and on their anniversary. I felt a bit teary, but the mood was just too good to spoil by crying.
I was just struck by how different an experience this was with a week earlier when I had a gathering at my ILs' place. In contrast to this (everybody sitting together, sharing and talking and laughing, no exclusions), there was not much camaraderie, not much shared laughter. Oh yeah the kids played together and KH and his sibs banded together. As usual, I was the odd one out. I didn't even have Pauline's similarly isolated experience to commiserate with since she did the smart thing and begged off the gathering.
Sitting there, I don't think I said more than 5 sentences the whole night. I remember it went something like this:
BIL: "Hi Pat so do you see Cheryl in school?"
Me: "Yes I do. I saw her at the fire drill the other day!"
SIL A: "Fire drill? hahaha..."
Me: "Yes we were having this fire drill in school and I saw her at the gathering spot where all classes had to gather and the craziest thing was..."
SIL A: "Eh is this hor fun?"
SIL B: "Yeah... we have packets of fried rice too..."
BIL: "What about the gravy for the beehoon? Oh there it is."
And I realised no one was actually listening anymore. Pass the beehoon.
After a while, KH and his sisters sat together and talked among themselves while I was left sitting in the living room.
I know the drill.
I knew what I was in for, and I was hoping to at least watch some tv but no such luck - they had turned on their vacation videos instead!!! Yikes! I didn't even have the benefit of being stoned by mindless tv chatter - now I actually had to sit through a whole vacation video of people I didn't even like!
It turned out to be a video of a trip we all took to Genting Highlands about 4 years ago. It was a two day overnight trip which included Malacca, but which I had begged off and gone in the opposite direction instead - to Penang where we had a great time! And thank God for that because if the video was any indication, it would have been a mind-numbingly boring trip for me. In the entire video, which lasted at least an hour, there was only ONE scene where I caught a glimpse of myself and that was only in passing. Other than that, you would not have known that I was on the same trip. I realised that they had given equal exclusive treatment to Pauline too. Barely two seconds of footage. Blink and you'll miss us.
It really speaks volumes of how they see us in the family. Pauline and I are the invisible women who happen to marry their brothers and produce a series of offspring - five of them, in my case.
I mean, I don't think they are being deliberately mean or catty or they mean to exclude us. They just do. How many times have I experienced this - sit at the same table, engage with some conversation or at least just listen in and then 10, 15 minutes later, one by one they drift away. And before you realise it, its just me alone at the table or with Pauline or with one other BIL. Then when you stand up and look, you realise that the group has reconvened at another place and the conversation is going on like a house on fire - just without you in it.
At the very least, its plain rude. And at its most, its just unthinking, hurtful exclusion. You know you're NOT part of the family because their behaviour and their body language tells you this. Which is why I absolutely detest these ILs gathering, find them a pure waste of time. KH told me before, you can read a book... I told him that if I could read a book, I'd rather read in the comfort of my own home! I mean... why bother?
Looking at my relatives and how they include everyone in the conversation on Saturday night, I think my ILs have a great deal to learn about how to be a classy host. But before they do, best to avoid these IL gatherings as much as I can...
Friday, May 16, 2008
Too much navel-gazing
We are so wrapped up in our world, in our lives and sometimes we lose perspective of what else is out there, that life, and the world, is far larger than us and the spheres we live in.
Just the other day I was out at the bus-stop waiting for my bus. It was not a special day, but it was a beautiful one. It was late afternoon. The sky was so blue, the trees looked beautiful and I could feel the warmth of the sun on my skin. I turned my face up and breathed in deeply. I thought - this moment is perfect. Lovely. I feel so good. Life, indeed, was good.
And then it hit me.
Right then, several thousand miles away, even as my face was turned up to the sun, there was a mother wailing for her child, tears streaming, frantically scrabbling immovable concrete slabs with her bare hands. In a soggy padi field in the Irrawaddy delta, children with huge eyes and bloated bellies stand silently and wait patiently for aid that might never come. In a crowded street in Jaipur India, a bicycle filled with a homemade bomb has exploded and blood is now splattered everywhere. In an alleyway in a city somewhere in the developed world, someone is lying on cardboard and hoping the night would not be too cold.
My life is tiny compared to that.
My woes, no matter how big they seem to me, now seem miniscule compared to picture after picture coming out of China now - pictures of death, destruction, devastation, chaos and pain. And in Myanmar? Despite the lack of publicity, I'm sure there is a great deal of agony on the ground. People have lost their homes, food is scarce, clean water is non-existent and disease is rife.
There are other bigger problems out there. Its all about perspective. I got to shift mine.
As all these thoughts ran through my head, I took a deeper breath of the sunshine and sent it with love and feeling to all the devastated mothers there in China and in Myanmar. Its not much but at that moment, it was all I could do. I prayed that better days would find them soon, that they may one day stand out in the sunshine as I was doing then, and share the same sense of well-being. Right then, I lived the meaning of the phrase: our thoughts and prayers are with you.
Mine were surely with them that afternoon even though I stood more than half a continent away.
We are so wrapped up in our world, in our lives and sometimes we lose perspective of what else is out there, that life, and the world, is far larger than us and the spheres we live in.
Just the other day I was out at the bus-stop waiting for my bus. It was not a special day, but it was a beautiful one. It was late afternoon. The sky was so blue, the trees looked beautiful and I could feel the warmth of the sun on my skin. I turned my face up and breathed in deeply. I thought - this moment is perfect. Lovely. I feel so good. Life, indeed, was good.
And then it hit me.
Right then, several thousand miles away, even as my face was turned up to the sun, there was a mother wailing for her child, tears streaming, frantically scrabbling immovable concrete slabs with her bare hands. In a soggy padi field in the Irrawaddy delta, children with huge eyes and bloated bellies stand silently and wait patiently for aid that might never come. In a crowded street in Jaipur India, a bicycle filled with a homemade bomb has exploded and blood is now splattered everywhere. In an alleyway in a city somewhere in the developed world, someone is lying on cardboard and hoping the night would not be too cold.
My life is tiny compared to that.
My woes, no matter how big they seem to me, now seem miniscule compared to picture after picture coming out of China now - pictures of death, destruction, devastation, chaos and pain. And in Myanmar? Despite the lack of publicity, I'm sure there is a great deal of agony on the ground. People have lost their homes, food is scarce, clean water is non-existent and disease is rife.
There are other bigger problems out there. Its all about perspective. I got to shift mine.
As all these thoughts ran through my head, I took a deeper breath of the sunshine and sent it with love and feeling to all the devastated mothers there in China and in Myanmar. Its not much but at that moment, it was all I could do. I prayed that better days would find them soon, that they may one day stand out in the sunshine as I was doing then, and share the same sense of well-being. Right then, I lived the meaning of the phrase: our thoughts and prayers are with you.
Mine were surely with them that afternoon even though I stood more than half a continent away.
Letting go - slowly!
I know my daughter is 13. And this is an age where she wants to stretch some wings.
She's been asking me if she could go out with her friends after school. Most of the time I have said no. And each time I say no, she pleads very drama-queen like: "Why? oh WHY??? Please mum please mum please mum pleaseeee!!! How come I can't go??" and so on.
But when I stand firm, she backs down and accepts it - not very happily, but she accepts it. She sounds a bit sullen but still okay and by the time I get home, she's all smiles. That's just her sunny nature.
But lately I've been thinking that its time to let go of the tight reins a teensy bit. I can sense that if I carry on like this, I think she will rebel sooner or later. Yes, she's been very good about it so far, but there will come a day when she no longer accept this "no" from me.
At the same time, I am worried that if I let her go with her friends, what would these girls be up to? Perhaps this is terrible but my mind gives the most horrendous pictures - from shoplifting (did you know that most female shoplifters start at the age of 14 in Singapore??) to having a smoke in a stairwell, to being in a gang fight, to hanging out with boys and, the mildest of nightmares, eating at expensive fast food joints with no money for this.
I am afraid of the influence these girls may have on her. I know one of them has the unfortunate habit of wandering around before and after school without informing her frantic mother of her whereabouts, flaunting the many expensive handphones she has (yes the family is wealthy) (and yes she's idly offered Gillian a handphone too!), boasting of frightening stories of (1) being in girl gang fights (2) having her limbs broken in multiple places (3) having an abortion etc. In case this forms the picture of uncaring nonchalant parents, this is wrong - for I've met her mother and I know her mother cares a great deal for her - only thing is she may not have absolute control over the situaton at the moment.
So I'm worried, yes.
But I also know that its time to give a little leeway. So the other day she called and begged me to let her to go to Parkway after school with her friends. I took a deep breath and said yes. BUT, I said, on several conditions - (1) give me the handphone number of your friend you're going out with and (2) must be back HOME by 11am, not "on the way" but really physically in the house.
It was already 9am when she called. So that would mean she would only have less than an hour at Parkway with her friends since the bus journey alone would take an hour. Still, she readily agreed to all my conditions.
At 11am, I called home. And yes, she was there. Phew!
One small step for us. It hasn't erased my doubts but increased my trust in her a teensy bit. I might be more inclined to letting her go out with her friends for short bursts like this more often. After school is okay. But Am I being too anal-retentively strict? Over-controlling?
I find it so hard to let go and trust that nothing bad is going to happen, that she will not get into trouble. Is this lack of trust a remnant of our stormy past? Perhaps so. Is this due to a stereotype I have in my mind of NT kids? Perhaps so too. Despite all my talk about accepting NT kids and giving the benefit of the doubt, I still hang on to these preconceptions. What are these stereotypes that trouble me? That NT kids come from troubled backgrounds, that they have a penchant for getting into trouble, seeking the wrong kind of attention etc. Maybe I must first work on myself and rid myself of these preconceptions.
How do I do this?
One idea that comes to mind is to hang out with them (though they may be resistant to hanging out with me - a mom!). I could ask Gillian to ask them over to the house for the holidays. Take the bunch out to a movie. Take time to get to know them and to know my daughter.
And one way to do that is via the Mother-Daughter Project (MDP). I read the book and was so intrigued by the idea that I felt I had to do something like this here. Gut feel just tells me that I need to reach out to Gillian and vice versa before she gets to the age when all the channels are down. Right now, she still calls to ask me for 'permission' for everything - can she go on the computer, can she go to the neighbour's house, can she eat the candy in the fridge, can she switch on the tv etc. But there will come a day when she no longer will. And what do I do then?
So the MDP means setting up a support group for mothers and daughters around the same age range. I wrote to the Chairwoman of the KC PTSG and got a warm response inviting me to sit in at a meeting and present this idea to the committee and the school. So I did.
I was very nervous and everyone was new to me. I wondered if my idea would be accepted or if it would be slammed. A short conversation before the meeting started already left me feeling a bit discouraged. I'm not a trained psychologist and I am worried if I am able to carry this out, by facilitating a group like this and motivating other mothers to co-facilitate etc. And gosh, how to deal with mother-to-mother politics and daughter-to-daughter politics?? I was (am!) worried.
But when it came to my turn to speak, shakey-voiced or no, the idea just took on a life of its own and sold itself. Net result was the principal, the VP, the teachers present and the parents validated the idea and affirmed it. I have their support. Gosh, I was so relieved! We agreed that the group would start and hopefully grow from parents in Gillian's class. So my work is to contact them via email and hopefully get a decent response and initiate the first meeting. Mothers meet mothers for the first 6 to 9 sessions until we're all comfortable and then we bring the daughters in.
So this is a start. A start to helping me let go, helping me trust and to move on a different path (untested waters!) with a budding teenager. I will post more on the MDP when things start moving further.
I know my daughter is 13. And this is an age where she wants to stretch some wings.
She's been asking me if she could go out with her friends after school. Most of the time I have said no. And each time I say no, she pleads very drama-queen like: "Why? oh WHY??? Please mum please mum please mum pleaseeee!!! How come I can't go??" and so on.
But when I stand firm, she backs down and accepts it - not very happily, but she accepts it. She sounds a bit sullen but still okay and by the time I get home, she's all smiles. That's just her sunny nature.
But lately I've been thinking that its time to let go of the tight reins a teensy bit. I can sense that if I carry on like this, I think she will rebel sooner or later. Yes, she's been very good about it so far, but there will come a day when she no longer accept this "no" from me.
At the same time, I am worried that if I let her go with her friends, what would these girls be up to? Perhaps this is terrible but my mind gives the most horrendous pictures - from shoplifting (did you know that most female shoplifters start at the age of 14 in Singapore??) to having a smoke in a stairwell, to being in a gang fight, to hanging out with boys and, the mildest of nightmares, eating at expensive fast food joints with no money for this.
I am afraid of the influence these girls may have on her. I know one of them has the unfortunate habit of wandering around before and after school without informing her frantic mother of her whereabouts, flaunting the many expensive handphones she has (yes the family is wealthy) (and yes she's idly offered Gillian a handphone too!), boasting of frightening stories of (1) being in girl gang fights (2) having her limbs broken in multiple places (3) having an abortion etc. In case this forms the picture of uncaring nonchalant parents, this is wrong - for I've met her mother and I know her mother cares a great deal for her - only thing is she may not have absolute control over the situaton at the moment.
So I'm worried, yes.
But I also know that its time to give a little leeway. So the other day she called and begged me to let her to go to Parkway after school with her friends. I took a deep breath and said yes. BUT, I said, on several conditions - (1) give me the handphone number of your friend you're going out with and (2) must be back HOME by 11am, not "on the way" but really physically in the house.
It was already 9am when she called. So that would mean she would only have less than an hour at Parkway with her friends since the bus journey alone would take an hour. Still, she readily agreed to all my conditions.
At 11am, I called home. And yes, she was there. Phew!
One small step for us. It hasn't erased my doubts but increased my trust in her a teensy bit. I might be more inclined to letting her go out with her friends for short bursts like this more often. After school is okay. But Am I being too anal-retentively strict? Over-controlling?
I find it so hard to let go and trust that nothing bad is going to happen, that she will not get into trouble. Is this lack of trust a remnant of our stormy past? Perhaps so. Is this due to a stereotype I have in my mind of NT kids? Perhaps so too. Despite all my talk about accepting NT kids and giving the benefit of the doubt, I still hang on to these preconceptions. What are these stereotypes that trouble me? That NT kids come from troubled backgrounds, that they have a penchant for getting into trouble, seeking the wrong kind of attention etc. Maybe I must first work on myself and rid myself of these preconceptions.
How do I do this?
One idea that comes to mind is to hang out with them (though they may be resistant to hanging out with me - a mom!). I could ask Gillian to ask them over to the house for the holidays. Take the bunch out to a movie. Take time to get to know them and to know my daughter.
And one way to do that is via the Mother-Daughter Project (MDP). I read the book and was so intrigued by the idea that I felt I had to do something like this here. Gut feel just tells me that I need to reach out to Gillian and vice versa before she gets to the age when all the channels are down. Right now, she still calls to ask me for 'permission' for everything - can she go on the computer, can she go to the neighbour's house, can she eat the candy in the fridge, can she switch on the tv etc. But there will come a day when she no longer will. And what do I do then?
So the MDP means setting up a support group for mothers and daughters around the same age range. I wrote to the Chairwoman of the KC PTSG and got a warm response inviting me to sit in at a meeting and present this idea to the committee and the school. So I did.
I was very nervous and everyone was new to me. I wondered if my idea would be accepted or if it would be slammed. A short conversation before the meeting started already left me feeling a bit discouraged. I'm not a trained psychologist and I am worried if I am able to carry this out, by facilitating a group like this and motivating other mothers to co-facilitate etc. And gosh, how to deal with mother-to-mother politics and daughter-to-daughter politics?? I was (am!) worried.
But when it came to my turn to speak, shakey-voiced or no, the idea just took on a life of its own and sold itself. Net result was the principal, the VP, the teachers present and the parents validated the idea and affirmed it. I have their support. Gosh, I was so relieved! We agreed that the group would start and hopefully grow from parents in Gillian's class. So my work is to contact them via email and hopefully get a decent response and initiate the first meeting. Mothers meet mothers for the first 6 to 9 sessions until we're all comfortable and then we bring the daughters in.
So this is a start. A start to helping me let go, helping me trust and to move on a different path (untested waters!) with a budding teenager. I will post more on the MDP when things start moving further.
Monday, May 12, 2008
Bird life and fat cats
Wanted to blog this before but had no time in previous weeks.
Some weeks ago, we spotted a huge adult owl in the tree just outside our house. Could not see the markings clearly since this was at night and the orange light from the streetlamps were not very helpful either. It looked like it had a white face and chest, big dark eyes and (I think!) brown feathers. It was a huge bird! We stood beneath the tree watching it for a while before it flew off. When it did, we marvelled at its wing span - must have been easily more than a metre across!
It was so rare to see an owl in the open! It flew eastwards but about a week after that, it returned. Must be the same owl - can't be so many owls suddenly flying about like that right?? Unless you're living in Little Whinging of course! The owl perched on the same branch, surveyed us a bit and then flew off towards the west. I wonder where it was going? Reading an article on the Nature Society website about owls in Singapore, I wonder if the owl will also survive long. For it to have grown so big, it must have - but what of the rest of its kind? In this sort of concrete jungle, can it survive? The fact that its spotted in a heavily built-up residential area, nowhere near the central catchment area, makes me wonder - can it survive and adapt for much longer?
Then on a Sunday night after dinner at Bukit Timah Road, just outside Old Holland Road, we saw a glimpse of white in the trees and realised they were not doves but cockatoos! White cockatoos - about three or four of them, perched high up in the trees. They looked like those white cockatoos which are so abundant in Australia. How did they get here??
All of us were so thrilled to see them - we were craning our necks trying to spot them even as the car was moving.
Just about three weeks ago, we were in the car at the CTE slip road leading to Bukit Timah Road near KKWCH when we saw an eagle soaring high above us near Cavanagh Road. Huge wingspan and so majestic as it swooped and glided on the air currents. We figured this one must be nesting somewhere in the nearby Istana grounds, which were appropriately wooded. Not the first time we saw an eagle flying in the city, another time was at the Botanic Gardens - And on my way to Batam a few weeks ago, I spotted a white-bellied sea eagle flying off from Sentosa's fringes - oh, majestic!
What are the odds of seeing an owl and cockatoos flying free in the city? I am still amazed at our luck at seeing these birds fly freely and not at the Bird Park.
And finally, speaking of fat cats (I seem to see them everywhere I go!) I've spotted a few more well-fed (to be polite!) creatures at the HDB flats across from CHIJ Toa Payoh. The other day, to cheer up a crying Caitlin just before school, I stopped to buy her a drink from the minimart there. We spotted a fat cat sitting near the lift, grooming itself. When I came near, hoping to take a picture of it on my phone, it looked up then walked past, curling itself around my calves as it did so. Caitlin said in delight: Ooh it likes you mum! Then it just gave me the usual disdainful and inscrutable look, sat down and continued grooming itself. It did not seem frightened or wary of humans, so I think it must be quite well cared for by the community. One of its ears was tipped - a sign that the cat had been sterilised and released back into its habitat.
That was not the only fat cat we saw in the vicinity - all had an ear tipped - and all were nicely plumped up. I think these community cats here are very lucky - they have found a home which accepts them. So many of their counterparts in other parts of Singapore may not be as lucky.
Wanted to blog this before but had no time in previous weeks.
Some weeks ago, we spotted a huge adult owl in the tree just outside our house. Could not see the markings clearly since this was at night and the orange light from the streetlamps were not very helpful either. It looked like it had a white face and chest, big dark eyes and (I think!) brown feathers. It was a huge bird! We stood beneath the tree watching it for a while before it flew off. When it did, we marvelled at its wing span - must have been easily more than a metre across!
It was so rare to see an owl in the open! It flew eastwards but about a week after that, it returned. Must be the same owl - can't be so many owls suddenly flying about like that right?? Unless you're living in Little Whinging of course! The owl perched on the same branch, surveyed us a bit and then flew off towards the west. I wonder where it was going? Reading an article on the Nature Society website about owls in Singapore, I wonder if the owl will also survive long. For it to have grown so big, it must have - but what of the rest of its kind? In this sort of concrete jungle, can it survive? The fact that its spotted in a heavily built-up residential area, nowhere near the central catchment area, makes me wonder - can it survive and adapt for much longer?
Then on a Sunday night after dinner at Bukit Timah Road, just outside Old Holland Road, we saw a glimpse of white in the trees and realised they were not doves but cockatoos! White cockatoos - about three or four of them, perched high up in the trees. They looked like those white cockatoos which are so abundant in Australia. How did they get here??
All of us were so thrilled to see them - we were craning our necks trying to spot them even as the car was moving.
Just about three weeks ago, we were in the car at the CTE slip road leading to Bukit Timah Road near KKWCH when we saw an eagle soaring high above us near Cavanagh Road. Huge wingspan and so majestic as it swooped and glided on the air currents. We figured this one must be nesting somewhere in the nearby Istana grounds, which were appropriately wooded. Not the first time we saw an eagle flying in the city, another time was at the Botanic Gardens - And on my way to Batam a few weeks ago, I spotted a white-bellied sea eagle flying off from Sentosa's fringes - oh, majestic!
What are the odds of seeing an owl and cockatoos flying free in the city? I am still amazed at our luck at seeing these birds fly freely and not at the Bird Park.
And finally, speaking of fat cats (I seem to see them everywhere I go!) I've spotted a few more well-fed (to be polite!) creatures at the HDB flats across from CHIJ Toa Payoh. The other day, to cheer up a crying Caitlin just before school, I stopped to buy her a drink from the minimart there. We spotted a fat cat sitting near the lift, grooming itself. When I came near, hoping to take a picture of it on my phone, it looked up then walked past, curling itself around my calves as it did so. Caitlin said in delight: Ooh it likes you mum! Then it just gave me the usual disdainful and inscrutable look, sat down and continued grooming itself. It did not seem frightened or wary of humans, so I think it must be quite well cared for by the community. One of its ears was tipped - a sign that the cat had been sterilised and released back into its habitat.
That was not the only fat cat we saw in the vicinity - all had an ear tipped - and all were nicely plumped up. I think these community cats here are very lucky - they have found a home which accepts them. So many of their counterparts in other parts of Singapore may not be as lucky.
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