Morning routine

4 months on into school, the differences that hub and I observe when we prepare our darlings for school are glaringly obvious.

Not being much of a morning person, S normally prepares for school in silence. He wears his uniform in auto mode, but fusses over his shoes and socks in a goldilocks manner, adjusting many times over until he is satisfied. He goes through the "too tight!", "too loose!" and "not comfy!" phase before becoming 'just right'. 

And while waiting for the arrival of his bus, he stands there quietly dazing away, (I'm guessing) into his missed sleep like a zombie until the bus arrives. He then boards the bus, and without a backward glance, off he goes to school.

L, on the otherhand, is much more of a conversationalist and a slow coach. She can take forever to get her teeth brushed and changed. Once she's ready, my princess will walk out dressed in her uniform, and normally with an
array of mismatched clips on her head.

Take yesterday for example, there were clips of flowers, a giraffe and a rabbit perched in her hair. I suggested for her to remove some, prefering a simpler look instead, but she insisted to keep them all on. For a 4 year old, this may well be the start of her statement of fashion.

While walking her down to the bus, she would be making chatty comments along the way on not touching this flower or that because 'it will poke your hands' or how nice the 'bouganla' (she means bougainvillea) looks. 

And after she boards her bus, I will have to stand rooted at the same spot because this girl will give me goodbye waves until the bus turns out of sight.

I stand there waving away until the bus disappears from my view and then slowly make my way to work.

A brand new day beckons.
Good morning to all.

Auto mode: ON

What is the meaning of 'auto'?

According to dictionary.com, it is:

A designated condition or status in performing or responding to a problem.

From a parenting point of view, at least in my personal context, being 'auto-mode' simply means that the child is able to self help and settle problems on their own without needing us to lift one finger, or even to supervise. 

To say the obvious, I'm not refering to 'fire burning the house down' type of problems. I mean the daily aspects of going to the toilet / washing of hands / playing quietly by themselves kind.

At this point, I might sound like a lazy parent. And I admit that I am to a certain degree. But surely every parent can empathise with the 'agony' of being at the beck and call of your child's every need. More so if your child is in the toddler/preschool range. And if you have more than 1 child, that need is multiplied by the respective numbers. That can amount to quite an overwhelming number of requests/demands to entertain daily. Afterall, we only have one pair of ears and hands to handle.

Children are never the most patient little people around. They don't understand the meaning of the word 'Wait'.

You mean you're in the midst of the loo?

Completing that report due first thing tomorrow?

Watching that last 5 minutes of the last episode of your favourite drama?

Well, their unrelentless 'iwantitnowiwantitnow' can practically drive us crazy. 

Imagine being able to fast forward life to a few years down the road when they would have been old enough to operate in 'auto-mode', how much more carefree our lives would be? I can only anticipate with glee.

But since we can't just hit the fast forward button in real life, we'd just have to slug it out during these in-between growing years. 

I am currently in the process of crossing that bridge . Elder boy who is 7 is already pretty adept at almost everything. If I can keep my eyes one closed, then he probably CAN do everything. Right down to sticking his head into the fridge for 'aircon' relief, or retrieving his car from some dark and dusty corner.

Sister at 4 has barely made halfway mark. She tries very hard and is making great 'progress' but needs more 'practice'. She is able to lug a chair to elevate herself when washing hands at the too-tall sink, but isn't fantastic at getting her hands cleanly off soap or safely back down. She is stubbornly autocratic in her choice of clothes and in  wanting some things done her way, but throws selfish tantrums when they don't go as planned.

The examples go on as we cater to their demands and whim, bargaining and exerting our stand every single day. It can get back-breakingly tiring and the days seemingly neverending. 

And then one day, I came across this.

From it, I am pointedly reminded of how little-a-time we actually have with them as kids. By breaking the years down, I realise that these back-breaking, tiring and frustrating years are only so short. That I must cherish these moments now because time will never return me back to these kiddy moments again. 

There is only that little few years we have with them thinking the world of us, of them wanting to hold our hands, welcoming us with big hugs and wide smiles after a long day's work, bedtime snuggles, laughing and playing with wild abandon, and showering us with all that innocent and unconditional love that they have.

There will come a time when our children will not be children anymore, morphing into this rebellious teenager in the process, pierced body parts, tattoos and all (figments of my imagination). And suddenly just like that, they will take off with their new found wings, leaving their hugs and snuggles behind like an outgrown teddy bear. My heart will ache for their little kisses and my ears will miss hearing their laughters ringing at home.

Suddenly, a lump in my throat forms and time fast-forwarded doesn't seem so appealing anymore. Instead, I wish for a 'pause' button to stand time still so these moments will never disappear into a memory. 

Life doesn't rewind (sound familiar?), and it doesn't come with a 'pause' or 'fast forward' button either. 

So, while 'slugging it out' during these frazzling back-breaking, tiring days, I shall persevere, cherishing and nurturing them until they reach auto-mode status. Until then, I will take every hug, every kiss, every snuggle and laughter that they have to offer, and return it double-fold. 

And then truly, when the time comes for them to fly away, I hope they carry with them fond memories of their childhood and growing years.

And as I stand grounded proudly looking up at them soaring in the skies, I would reconcile the beautiful memories of them growing up with the beautiful adults that they grew up to be, and know that somewhere along the way, I played a part.

**********

Afterthought:

And most certainly, I'll (try to) not cringe (too much) at the piercings and tattoos that appear along the way. 

At least my parents didn't. And I wouldn't.
Ok, I'd try! Promise.

School's out and we survived!

School holidays were once deemed as a period of avoidance. Whenever the hols hit, I'd avoid the malls, restaurants, libraries, holidays, toilets, swimming pools, cinemas, and everywhere else that would have been saturated with noisy, rowdy children.

Once again, the March holidays descends upon us, releasing its hoards of children into the many places I'd mentioned earlier on. This time however, there was to be no escaping the crowds since darling S has newly joined the hoard of schooling kids island wide.

More importantly, this first term hols also marks another very important milestone - S successfully completing his first term of school! Ahem, make that our first term of school.

Time has passed by rather quickly while we were preoccupied with adjusting to life in school (for S), as well as managing life with kids in school. And with L enrolled into full day at a new childcare during the same period, there was certainly a lot for us to juggle.

As I reflect on the events that we ploughed through during this term, I realised that although the process had been one of blind groping and haphazard manoeuvring, ultimately I survived the new environment and role that was thrust onto me.

Being a parent to a primary schooler is very much different than to a preschooler. There was just so much to process and take in, in the new system. In addition, much patience was also required in guiding S around his learning difficulties during homework.

Looking back, the term definitely passed with several hiccups. There were ups and downs, and moments of pleasant suprises and frustrations.

Starting right from the beginning when S first brought home his spelling list, but wasn't able to tell me when his spelling was. "When is your spelling?" I'd ask. "I don't know" he'd reply me everytime.

It was especially exasperating in that kind of way because relating and explaining events were difficulties he constantly struggled with, much less tell me about the going-ons in school. And being a 'fresh' mom, I hadn't thought to trawl through the school website for answers.

I had waited for a few days checking through his bag every evening (and finding nothing), before deciding to contact the teacher. She informed me that the dates would have been indicated in the school diary.

Which brought us to our second hurdle. He didn't have the school diary. And he didn't tell me about missing the book. In the end, I had to get the teacher to help purchase the book while I paid her through S's wallet.

I said 'through' because since S hadn't quite grapsed the concept of money yet, the teacher had to take the money from his wallet herself.

Although S's concept of money wasn't up to par yet, we were thankful for him to have a helpful buddy who guided him during recess the first few weeks. Trouble began once the buddy-system stopped.

On the first day that he was buddy-less, my boy bought a packet of milo. And then, (this is through my own assumptions because there was no way I could verify it from him) because he couldn't register that he was still able to buy another meal, he didn't have any food for a solid 8hrs! Needless to say, he was starved by the time he reached home for lunch!

Then, there was this other time I got a huge scare when the school contacted me to inform of his 'little accident' of cutting himself while 'preparing fruit salad with a blunt knife'. I came home later to discover that although the cut was pretty deep, thankfully there wasn't much blood. Heartpain, yes. But it was a lesson for him to learn in handling knives in future. He now knows that knives are to be handled 'with care.'

And yet another time when the p.e teacher called to inform of his bloody tooth. (It turned out that his milk tooth was dropping off.) To add on, there were several times after that when I would belatedly realise him missing a tooth or two. Obviously those milk teeth had somehow fallen off in school, but in his own 'independent' way, he didn't 'feel' the need to share these incidences with us. He would reply me nonchalantly when I queried later on, that he 'plucked it out' and threw it 'into the dustbin'. Like 'huh', the tooth fairy certainly didn't have a spot of existence in my boy's life.

But for all the hiccups that happened, there were moments when pride and hope lit up the otherwise monotonous schooling life. Like the time he scored full marks for 听写, the wushu moves he proudly shows us, feedbacks of improvements from his teachers, and above of all, watching him increasingly manage his homework, with only little guidance given.

I'm not sure how he would fare for second term, but I think we did a pretty good start. He survived, and we survived. And what matters is the journey we took together to arrive at this milestone. I am sure that the experiences gained during this term would pave for a smoother way in the terms to come.

And so, I've been indoctrinated into the ranks of parents with schooling kids, and now welcome term breaks with open arms.

Enjoy your holidays, dear children. You certainly deserve it as much as us parents do.

E-Rivalry

My four year old girl has been very fond of asking me about my emotions of late.

"Mommy, are you happy? Or sad?" She'll ask.
"I'm okay," I tell her. "Maybe a little tired" I add, especially if her bright-eyed questions catch me early in the morning and I'm still struggling to totally shake off sleepiness. 

"Nooo.. I don't want you to be tired (or angry, depending on my response). I want you to be happy." And I'd tease her by replying that I will be happy as long as she is a good girl and behaves herself well.

Then one morning, after reading a newspaper article (titled Children's new rival sibling: Parents' digital devices), it dawned on me that despite me telling the kids to be 'good', I haven't been a 'good' mother myself.

In short, the article writes about how parents are often overly focused on our devices, 'swiping and typing away' until we neglect our kids, causing the children to 'feel hurt by the lack of attention'. It likens the situation to a sibling rivalry; with an electronic imaginery sibling vying for our attentions. 

How many times have I ignored the kids for the beep of my phone, an 'interesting' youtube clip, an 'important' watsapp chat, or that 'last' game of farm heroes saga, that isn't considered last unless all 5 lives have been used up? 

I'm not proud to admit that those times have been more than I can count, more than I can remember, and much more than I would have liked.

How many times have I told her to wait while I busied myself with the beeps and swipes of her electronic 'sibling' while she, in all her eager excited impatience to show me the new move she had learnt in school, had to repeatedly call out for my attention.

"MOMMY! LOOK AT ME!!" She'd say again and again until I finally put down my phone and gave her my due attention. She would make sure that I really looked, not glance at her, before she began her 'performance'.

Whether it was a new song, new dance moves or belting out Disney's Frozen 'Let it go' unabashedly in her off-tune childlike voice, she would perform in such glorious gusto, in as best and as proud as a 4 yo pre-schooler ever could.

However, in my (at-times) blind obssession with my phone, many such delightful performances have been regretfully missed. Afterall, I'm aware that she wouldn't be forever this eager beaver 'singing' for me.

Times like this would not last long. Soon, my little girl would grow up a little more, growing more shy as awkward consciousness sets in.

Then, slowly but surely, those hair-tearing teenage years will roll in and before too long, she would have grown up into a woman of her own. And if I am not careful, I would let her last performance slip by unnoticed, and forever miss the chance for an encore.

How many of such endearing performances have I already missed during those times when I had subconsciously placed my attentions on the mobile phone instead of them? How many more of such opportunities will I have before she outgrows this adorable stage of hers? Before growing up takes it all away, I hope to be able to be her number one fan.

So, devices that can be easily done away and replaced with just a drop of my hand, versus these precious little irreplaceable beings. 

It is actually very simple.

There really shouldn't be any rivalry at all because there is simply no comparison. 

Period.

As parents, we weld enormous 'power' over our kids, being able to solely influence their emotions with just one word, one hug or one callous disregard to their feelings. Yet despite having this knowledge, there have been many instances when I had been overly occupied with my phone, leaving my children feeling neglected.

It isn't easy to be always in tune with such 'powers' and to remember to tread with care around their emotions because if we aren't careful with our actions or words, we could easily break their little hearts and fill their eyes with tears of sadness and disappointments. 

I will have to make more conscious efforts in being less obsessed with my phone, reducing the (dizzying array of) distractions it provides. So that whenever I spend time with the kids (or husband for that matter), I will choose to focus my attentions on them, because they are the ones that really, really matter.

A few nights later, I was treated to another of her performance where she sang 'I'm a little teapot' (complete with arms like a handle and a spout), followed by 'hickory dickory dock' (with hands that ticked along like a clock), and her grand finale of 'Let it go' sang in repeat mode.

I sat there with my phone tucked far away, my attention undivided, and my heart filled to the brim with eager anticipation. I lapped up all of her animated performance and clapped as loudly as I could when she bowed and said her 'thank yous'. The big wide grin that broke out on her face afterwards said it all.

I haven't properly answered her question yet. 

"I am happy whenever you are happy."

Mountains of weeks

Friday came with a big blast bang.

With anticipation for the weekend's plan.
Saturday came in a slip slide fast.

With the blink of an eye, suddenly it is past.

Where are you going my dear, dear Sunday?
Don't be in such a rush to meet up with Monday.
Why, Monday, hello. Again we meet.
Excuse me while I shuffle my feet.
As I make my way through today.
Stretching my neck and looking for Friday.
Its Tuesday now, we're another step closer
Towards the long week getting over.
Wednesday! Ah~ we've reached midweek.
Time seems to be moving as we speak.
We're halfway done from scaling the mountain.
Towards weekend; our rejuvenation fountain.
Thursday comes and I can smell
Weekend's joyous cheerful bells.
Before we know it, Friday's here!
Shall we celebrate with some beer?

Happy weekend, everyone.

Of Love, Life and an Expiry date

14th February - a day to celebrate love.

I see couples with bouquets of flowers walking down the street. I attended a wedding - a joyous occasion of two individuals who have decided to start a life together. I know of some who were born on this day and also heard with a heavy heart, separate news of two individuals who had their lives cut short.

As I reflect on the turn of events within this day, I am reminded once again that Death doesn't wait for an 'appropriate' moment to strike. 

It doesn't not strike because it is a day of celebration for love and cny festivities. And it certainly doesn't postphone its plans because it is a day of someone's birth or wedding.

Death doesn't need a reason or an excuse. It strikes just because.

We have no way of predicting when that day will come, only knowing that when it eventually does, it will cut deeply, thoroughly and painfully, brutally snuffing out whatever light the person once had in their life. Life, with all its beauty, sweetness and joys, comes along with an unstamped expiry date.

But often, because of not knowing when that day will come, we begin to slowly forget about the existence of it and gradually take the people around us for granted. Such is the habit of many including myself. Seldom cherishing what we have in abundance, only holding precious those we have scarce.

It is only when the 'expiry date' gets stamped, and the knowledge that time is now limited, that we start to clamber and grasp for whatever remaining time that is left. 

Do we need to have that 'expiry date' marked and unveiled, in order to start cherishing the lives of those that we love around us? I'm sure the answer is a definate no.

But cherishing, loving and appreciating the ones who matter with the time we have now and not until time is left little and precious, is something that is easily said but not done. I have personally experienced the devastating moment when my Dad died. I understand time and its limits, but yet take my loved ones for granted on many occasions without meaning to.

As the day winds down to an end, so does Valentine's day with all its lovey dovey theme of roses and hearts. For some, it signifies the end of an occasion for love. Personally, it is a reminder that the celebrating of love, giving of flowers and presents, and showing of appreciation, shouldn't be hinged on just one day. Love, together with life, should be celebrated every single day. We cannot control when or how that day will come, but we can control how we treat the ones that we love until that very day.

Because the people that we love matter to us everyday.

Because we never know how much time each of us may have left with each other.
Because today might be the last.
Because love doesn't need an appropriate day.
Because love doesn't need a reason or an excuse.
We love just because.

Household chores, and a MOUNTAIN of them

I write this post at the risk of sounding like a spoilt brat (I'm not, btw) but I'm going ahead with my rant anyway.

Some of you might have read my previous post about going maidless for a few weeks (and still counting while I wait for a replacement helper to arrive.) And while we have been previously without a helper for weeks before, the absence of one this time round was particularly magnified due to the arrival of the (jeng jeng jeng...) Chinese New Year.

I live in a big household (三代同堂-kind and not forgetting my two geriatric dogs who mis-cue in pooing and peeing regularly,) lots of visitors during weekends, and with a great deal of cooking, washing and cleaning going on daily. While we battle mountains of laundry, oily kitchens, sink-full of dirty plates, mopping and cleaning, and more mopping and cleaning in the absence of a helper during this period, I am very thankful to have a helpful and spontaneous family who chip in to do the chores.

My elderly in-laws help out in whatever ways they can, doing the laundry, ironing, cleaning and many other chores too detailed to list, and my sisters-in-law volunteer when they come to visit, in the bathing of the dogs, doing the dishes, clearing of the doggie pee and poo and many more. Hub and I did whatever that was needed to be done and I must admit, I have never done so much mopping, cleaning, ironing, wiping and washing in my life!

On top of these chores, the twice weekly spelling, daily homework and prepping of the kids to school took up the rest of whatever 'free' time I had.

Some days passed by through sheer grit of determination to finish those chores and also in trying to stay on top of the spelling and homework within that precious 'golden' hour. I'm not talking about the glitzy glamour kind of 'golden'. I'm talking about the very, very limited kind of 'golden'. It was the slot of time I had right after I came home from work and finished my dinner, and before the kid's bedtime.

Some days were a mad hectic rush as I race against time trying to cram the cleaning, spelling and homework before S's bedtime, while other days went on a little easier. Sometimes my arm felt like they were dropping off. Other days my feet were really killing me (and I don't even wear heels.) On most days, my back felt like they were breaking and I literally hear the crack of my bones as I stretch.

But at the end of the day, after the house gets cleaned and scrubbed, and the laundry washed and ironed, there's a certain sense of satisfaction and house-proud smugness that gets achieved. * pat on back *

I respect families who do without domestic helpers (and they don't rant off like me either) and while I hope to be 'maid-free' too someday, I'm not quite prepared for that situation in the near future.

Being without a helper this time round has revealed several things to me.

One: The kids need A LOT more training in housekeeping. Here's how L hung the clothes when I told her to help. Well, I give her TEN points for trying. *clap clap*

Two: Need to sweep and mop but feeling lazy? Use stuff like these! They are a heck lot breezzier then the old fashioned broom and mop, (we still do that btw) or lugging the bulky vacuum out from the store. Using this is like cheat sweeping and mopping. But it works! So, Whatever. Plus I buy those 'chiong' ones from the provision shop near my house which are so much more economical. Talk about being lazy and a cheapo. Lols.

Three: Mountain of laundry to iron? Do like what I did. I blasted my music player and grooved/danced/shook like a mad woman to my favourite music while I did the chore. Very therepeutic actually.

But I must admit, I really don't know how to work my iron. Poor ironing board. Well, you can't blame ME for the lack of trying.. Meh.

But all is not lost. The holes seem to be getting smaller as I progress.

As I anxiously count down the days till the next helper arrives, I shall resign myself to ironing the clothes with my favourite songs blasting off while making sure I don't burn down the whole ironing board.

Did I say it was therapeutic?