Maidless in Singapore

After going through 3 'mainstream' domestic helpers, (there was one who was a downright nightmare, while the other two were mediocre at best) we took a plunge and decided to hire one from Myanmar for helper no. 4 after the contract expired for no. 3.

It is common knowledge that helpers from Myanmar speak very little english so there's always the factor of language barrier to consider. Plus they were known to be slow in their work. But to be starkly honest, Indonesian and Filippino helpers were getting waaay expensive. So although we were really apprehensive, we went ahead and hired one from Myanmar.

No. 4 arrived with a really pleasant disposition! While I understand hiring a domestic helper is all about an additional pair of hands and nothing about how she looks, I'm sure most would agree that having a pleasant helper would be a bonus. Plus, (suprise!) she could speak a smattering of Malay!

Anyway, when no. 4 was here, my home was in its neatest, cleanest state ever! Granted that she could be pretty slow completing the chores, she was thorough and learnt fast. And she was always ready to help around. Some helpers adopt a 'do minimal & pretend never see dirt' attitude, but no. 4 was ever ready to lend a helping hand - and with a smile. She was clean and neat in her chores and courteous and well, she was Perfect. We thought we hit jackpot.

And just when we were starting to be getting used to having her around and I was beginning to allow her more kid-involving chores, a phonecall relaying news of her mom being admitted to the hospital came out of a sudden, and 'POOF!' Her attitude, emotions and standard of chores dwindled faster than I could say 'wa lao eh!' Not that we blame her though. Some things just cannot be controlled and the hiring of a good helper is really about heng-sway, right?

Well, to cut the long story short, we sent her back to the agent for arrangements to 'balik kampong'. She left with several ang pows, new t-shirts, stationary sets and biscuits for her son as a small token of appreciation from us for the help she gave us in the short but good 2 weeks.

I know all good things must come to an end, but seriously? Two weeks is pretty darn short. In meantime, our house is in a messier state while we wait for the replacement to arrive. Delays were to be expected due to the festive period and our patience stretched thin as we battle household chores and mountains of cleaning. 

I'm convinced no. 4 was my best helper yet, although I truly hope that no. 5 would prove me pleasantly wrong. In meantime, we'd just hope for the best! If not, I'll just re-read my post and remember the best helper I had for all of 14 days.

Happy CNY y'all.

Ten minutes in the morning

We had a little extra time again today. Thinking I'd take a short stroll with her to the porch to wait for her school bus, we left the house ten minutes earlier.

In an effort to allay her separation anxiety during these first few tender weeks of school, I try to bring her down slightly earlier if time permits. In this way, I don't have to rush her small steps. We could walk at a leisure pace, and at the same time enjoy the morning and each others company.

A cool breeze was blowing by that morning. As we walked hand in hand down the walkway admiring bright orange and yellow flowers planted by the sides, I listened to her making observatory comments all along.
"The flowers are so nice!"
"Ooh! The wind is so cold!"
"Mommy, look at the clouds!"
Such was my chatty little girl, who in the midst of those comments, suddenly exclaimed that she forgot to eat her strawberry sweet last night. I laughed, because unknown to her I had already eaten it.

In no time, we arrived at the porch. I sat onto the wooden bench and she promptly climbed onto my lap. Together, we sat there pointing out at the birds and colours around us.

We spotted green parrot-looking birds perched onto a tree, counted the numbers of noisy mynahs hopping and squawking on the road, and laughed at them when one attempted to peck at a plastic bag. We matched orange flowers with the colour of the barricades, green grass with plastic casing covers, and before long, her familiar yellow bus was spotted pulling into the driveway.

She pointed excitedly at it, exclaiming "Oh, my schoolbus is here! See you tonight, Mommy." With a hug, a kiss on her cheek and without so much of a fuss, she boarded the bus. I waved at her until the tail lights disappeared from my sight.

Such a difference from the beginning weeks ago, when she'd bawl and cling onto me at the arrival of her bus. Then a week later, she progressed to tearing slightly and reluctantly boarding the bus. Last week, she gave me tentative goodbye waves and it was only recently that she managed to say 'bye Mommy' before the bus drove off. It is a joy seeing her progress as the weeks go by and I am glad she's enjoying school.

And as I rush off getting ready for work, I realise that there's a smile on my face too. Those extra ten minutes in the morning? I guess they start off my day as well.  :)

Primary 1

Nursery and childcare passed by too fast.
Kindergarten too, has come to a past.
The journey through preschool has come to an end.
We start a new phase now, let the Primary education begin.

★★★

Preschool has passed by quickly. As did the December hols that was part spent on a short holiday, and the rest whiled away watching cartoons and playing with his toys. In the blink of an eye, schools reopen again, and I hit panic mode as I prepared S for his new school.

Packing his new school bag, snack box, wallet, pencil case and water bottle, we also showed him where the money was kept. (I wondered if $1.50 was enough pocket money for him.) He was basically given a 101 back-to-school crash course.

All too soon, my baby boy has grown up to become a full-fledged student. From a preschooler who didn't understand the difference between behind and in front, or how to climb a ladder, or work his facial muscles without spewing a whole lot of saliva while blowing out birthday candles - to becoming an independent (almost!) primary school student.
We have really come a long way.

It is with excitement, trepidation and anxiousness that we embark onto the  primary school journey. It will be a brand new change in every way for my boy. A new start in a new environment, with new faces and teachers. Knowing the  difficulties he faced in several aspects of his development, I wondered apprehensively how S would adapt.

The Mommy-me had a million and one fears in my mind. Topmost on the list were:

Would he get lost on his way to class?
Would he know how to buy food in the canteen?
Would he have friends?
What if he needed to poo in school? (I haven't perfected his sh*t wiping skills yet.)
And the list goes on.

But whether he was ready or not, school beckoned with its wide open arms, and with the turning of age of the magical number 7, he was propelled into it's embrace.

Tears welled up in my eyes as I bade him goodbye that first morning. Watching my little boy in his new uniform, black shoes, school printed socks and oversized bag boarding the school bus, I felt a sudden inexplicable sense of ache. It was like pushing my little boy out to face the world alone, knowing he wasn't yet ready.

But it was a rite of passage that only he could take by himself, in a journey towards gaining new knowledge and independence. Although watching S looking so tired and lost, I wished I could bubblewrap and keep him protected until he was better prepared.

It's hard to imagine how much my preschooler has grown and at the same time, my heart swells with pride as I recognise the changes and progress made during his passage of time. 

We tailed his school bus all the way to school and I observed him from afar as he walked to the auditorium hall for assembly. Seeing him struggle with his bag as he walked up the stairs, I resisted the instinctual urge to run towards him to help. And I stood staring at the empty corridor long after he disappeared from my view.

And then I realised this was where I needed to learn as well. Where I learn to let go. And believe in my child, trusting that all we and his preschool teachers have ever taught him, will come to use.

It isn't easy, but I'll learn to let go little by little as the days go by. 

My son, I wish you days of happy learning, wonderful friendships, new milestones and achievements. You have grown up.

Or in his own words, 'I'm a big boy already. I'm 7 years old.'

I think I would very likely sob my heart out when he enters army.