Golden Anniversary

We stood behind the doors, waiting and anticipating.

My heart was beating fast in anticipation and nervousness of what was to come, and of what may c*ck up. One of my hands, fingers icy cold, was held warm and firm in yours, while my other was tucked between the folds of my gown.

We shared a nervous smile and moments later, as if on cue, the doors opened wide. We began our walk down the red carpet in slow steps, and amidst the applause and glittery confetti, walked towards a new beginning in life.

That was ten years ago.

A million steps later, we have arrived at a milestone. Our Golden anniversary.

Looking back, that first step that we had planted together on the red carpet ten years ago, signified the beginning of our journey as husband and wife. In the space of the last decade, we have evolved and grown in so many ways, moving forward together, one event and one grey hair at a time. 

We have witnessed the passing of several of our loved ones and mourned for the loss of them. We celebrated the births of our beatiful children, and watched as they stumble and fall, and made progress at their own pace.  

Our lives also changed. Over the past ten years, there were some changes that were big, and others that were small. Our progression from a couple to parenthood made the most drastic changes to our lifestyle. Nights out that lasted till the wee hours and glorious sleep ins till noon have become quiet nights in and early rises in the mornings laden with responsibilities. 

Eating out no longer meant a table for two at a cosy corner. Instead, we looked out for places that were big and child friendly, and had clean baby chairs. Every meal revolved around the presence of wet wipes, hand sanitisers and plastic forks and spoons. 

Some of our characteristics were also transferred onto each other. Initially polar opposites, the gradual rubbing off each other over the years have caused the differences to somehow, meld together. Some of my likes became yours, and some of your dislikes became mine. 

You lost your ability to detect the off putting smell of pork, while I gained your sense of sensitivity in meat products. You, the ‘chinaman’, could now tolerate more bread in your diet, while I a previous bread-lover, became a fan of rice. The differences were subtle, and yet huge considering how far we both started out initially at opposite ends of the spectrum.

After 10 years, we have become, in your words, 老夫老妻了. There is no more a need for showy displays of love and affection. In my personal dictionery, little thoughtful acts and sacrifices that you do for me, matter much more than flowers, presents and lavish dining. (Although I do enjoy a good gorge-out at buffets from time to time.) These simple, everyday acts are what love is to me.

Love is all these and more.

Love is being the one that gets up earlier on weekends to keep an eye on the kids, so that I can sleep in a little later.

Love is fetching me to and fro, even if it means forsaking sleep after coming home from work at 5 am.

Love is always letting me have the bathroom first, no matter how hot and tired you are.

Love is giving me that only piece of dumpling in your bowl of noodles.

Love is offering me the cheeks of your fishead - the tenderest part of all, and helping to de-shell the prawns and crabs.

Love is sharing everything on a plate, right down to that egg on the plate of mee rebus, and letting me have that last piece of potato chip.

Love is loving each others' parents, and showing appreciation and respect to them.

Love is buying me penang tau sar pia, (I love those!) even though you only went to KL.

Love is filling up the petrol tank when you see it getting low, even though I am the one that is using the car.

Love is your warm hand on mine, and our footsteps side by side.

Love is quiet, constant, steady.

Our milestone of ten years. Let's continue on our journey towards many more decades to come.

Happy Tenth Anniversary, my Darling.

I love you.

Imagine.

During one recent evening, L came to me holding onto two stones that she had randomly picked from downstairs. Two black stones rested in her little palms, as her eyes eager and bright, asked if I could 'turn these stones into diamonds' for her to put on her crown.

My little girl has asked some of the oddest questions before, but this one totally floored me. Although children often think the world of their parents and our ability to make wrong things right again, this was obviously beyond the parental 'superpowers' that I owned. 

I could kiss away the pain of cuts and bruises. 

I could soothe sadness and angry red rashes better.

I could dry tears and hug away fears.

I could fix broken toys and turn a frown into a smile. 

But there was no way I could turn rocks into diamonds.

I didn't know how to react. I wondered if I should chuckle at her silliness, or encourage her little mind of magic and fairytales. Should I explain the harsh fact of reality, or indulge in her sense of wonder? 

Her mannerisms reminded me of someone I knew a long time ago. A little girl that was me, when I was an eager believer in all things magical.

When I was a little girl, I adored Walt Disney's movies. I'd marvel in all the magic that each show contained, and secretly imagined that I was a princess. I remembered The Little Mermaid most vividly because it was the last movie that I caught in the string of Walt Disney shows. 

I'd cringed whenever Ursala came on, and loved all the songs sung by Ariel, specifically 'Part Of Your World'. I memorised all the lyrics and sang when I was in the shower or when I was alone. Whenever I went swimming, I would dive down to the bottom of the pool and imagined myself touching the ocean floor.

Somewhere in between, I also gravitated towards books. I read several titles here and there, some books by Roald Dahl, and coincidentally chanced upon books titled The Little Princess and The Little Prince to name a few. The contents of these books are recalled in varying degrees of vagueness. But all that I remembered reading were books of fiction and fantasy. 

Of all my books, I remembered most the books of Enid Blyton's Enchanted Wood and the Faraway Tree. I'd delight myself in their world and imagined what it would be like climbing up the tree to have tea with Moon-face and his friends, or visit whatever lands that swung by at the top.

As I grew a little older into secondary school, grades, school work and hanging out with friends took up a big part of my life. I read less until I didn't read anymore. And once I graduated into the world of adulthood, fiction and fantasy had totally lost its hold over me. Reality in all its glory and responsibilities had crowded into my life and stealthily elbowed away the ability to dream and to believe. 

In its place, performances and figures held importance. Issues like how I could get moving on in life held importance. Facing my father's impending passing, held importance. 

Time was constantly and ruthlessly moving onwards. There was none left to look back, and to stop and dream. I had lost myself in the world of reality, until I lost the ability to believe.

I should have encouraged her sense of magic and weaved a tale of how a fairy might come and turn those stones into diamonds if she was good. Instead, my trigger response then was to launch into an explaination on why it was impossible to turn stones into diamonds. I watched as she walked away disappointedly, instantly regretful to have killed off a portion of her sense of imagination with my grown-up response.

Growing up into a realistic adult is great. But she is barely only five years old and adulthood is far away still for her. I'm sure she could be indulged with more years of wondrous, magical imagination before growing older.

L's recent request was a reminder of the magical moments that I once believed in, and the imagination that I used to own. I had a lovely childhood and I'd want nothing less for her to own.

Now, how do I turn two stones into diamonds? 

Little L and her embarrassing Qs

At age 4 going on to 5, Little L is at that inquisitive stage where she is constantly observing and enquiring about the things she sees. Mature enough now to know how certain things are, she queries about the what-whys of things that seem out of the norm to her. Some of her questions and observations are fascinating. Others though, can kill. At least several times, I have found myself almost dying of embarrassment at the things she utters.

There was once, I found her standing outside a lingerie outlet in a shopping centre, admiring the video of triumph(-ant) ladies sashaying down the walkway in their underwear sets. When I asked her what she was doing, she replied me in her nonchalant chirpy voice, that she was 'just looking at the neh-neh-pok'.

And another time when we walked past a lingerie store (again), she promptly marched up to a row of bras that was on display and much to my chagrin, stopped in front of one pair and in a not too soft voice, exclaimed 'MOMMY LOOK! YOU HAVE THIS ONE TOO!"

She has also, on one occasion, ransacked through my grocery shopping and picking up a packet of sanitary napkin, demanded to know why I bought such a big packet of 'tissue'.

Another question that had previously piqued her curiousity was why she couldn't stand up and pee 'just like kor kor'. Her stubborn streak showed up here when she adamantly stood in the shower and peed standing up despite my explanations to her.

There was also another instance when she asked why the Indian lady in the sari wasn't wearing her clothes properly, and that she would 'catch a cold' because she didn't cover her tummy up.

Our latest 'incident' happened last week while we were having our lunch. L, who had recently mastered the art of making her eyes crossed, was laughing as she pointed to some one behind me. I turned around and to my horrer, realised that she was actually laughing at a lady seated a few tables away, who actually suffered from Strabismus. She had thought that the lady was being funny. I quickly shushed her up and explained that the lady wasn't being playful like her and that some people were born like that. She quickly sobered up after my explanation.

I've lost count of the number of embarrasing occasions Little L has unknowingly and naively put me in. But I am thankful and glad for these times because her observations and questions on the many occasions showed me that she wasn't just a little chatterbox. She was constantly observing about her surroundings, constantly learning, constantly understanding, and thus, constantly growing.

However, I must add that it is a challenge coming up with instant answers, and to moderate those answers accordingly to her age and maturity. I often struggle through her questions to come up with an appropriate answer, even more so since I grew up in a typically old fashioned asian way, where certain issues and topics were kept low in profile.

I am still not quite used to answering her awkward questions candidly but I force myself to open up, knowing that the way I react and the explanations I provide her now will form building blocks in how she understands and perceives things in time to come. It is a big responsibility moulding her perceptions and the way that she will learn to think.

As she grows, her questions grow with her, getting more difficult and complex to answer. And I have to admit that there have been many occasions when I had wished that I heard her wrongly, and even more times when I was tempted to conveniently 'pretend' that I didn't hear them at all.

Tempted as it may be though, I try to incorporate mini impromptu sessions, educating her with each 'topic' that she comes up with. From another perspective, each question that she asks is an opportunity to engage and guide her into learning and understanding life. I can't say that the answers I provided her were model answers, but I try my best. As I grow and learn along with her, I hope to be able to mould her into a person who will grow to be empathetic, open-minded and kind.

In time to come, when she gets older and becomes everything cool, hip and in, and when she understands more in the ways of the world, she will no longer come running to me to ask me things that she doesn't understand.

Perhaps it will be me then, the bumbling embarrassing mom, running to her for explanations that I don't understand.

Learning is a lifelong process, no?

So shoot away my darling. Try to embarrass me less. But ask me more, ask me many. And I will try to answer them as best as I can.

March Hols 2015: Journey to the west, to Kidstop Science Centre

Our day started out bright and early.
Well, not so early at 10 am actually, but early enough. 

We began our journey to the west by stopping midway to pick my MM. Since Hub was busy working, I had enlisted the help of my dear Magnificent Mom (MM for short la) to our trip to Kidstop.

After a hearty breakfast at a very warm Yakun (their aircon had broken down), we resumed our journey westwards and arrived at Science Centre 20 minutes later under the GPS's robotic directions.

The last time that I had set foot onto this place was over twenty years ago during a school excursion. Other than a vague recollection of the main building's structure and a McD outlet just outside, I was looking at everything else with brand new eyes. The proverbial tourist in my own country. 

Once there, we were greeted by this gigantic dinosaur display and Smiley S (SS) rushed forward eagerly and excitedly to have his photo taken. Little L (LL) on the otherhand was frightened of the dinosaur and was apprehensive in even walking up the main steps.

Glad to see that there was no queue at the ticketing counter, I purchased our 4 tickets and politely declined joining the Science Centre membership. $72 poorer and a short walkway later, we were finally begining our agenda for the day.
Kidstop at last. 

It was then that I realised the reason there wasn't any crowd at the ticketing counter was because we were late. Kidstop was split into two sessions. Morning sessions from 9.30am to 1.30pm, while afternoon sessions were from 2pm to 6pm. 

Arriving at 10.30am, we were greeted by swarms of children, some in a school group, others with their families, in a wild buzz of activities. Every where I looked, there were clusters of children engrossed with the various activities scattered around. 

As soon as they were cleared to enter, SS and LL dashed in different directions, into the mayhem of activities leaving MM and me frenzily trying to reel them back. After setting some ground rules (NO running ahead without the adults,) we spent quite some part of our initial period 'dipping our toes' in the first few activities nearest to the entrance. 

There were many kids milling around a control panel controlling a giant claw (much like the ufo catcher we see at arcades) that grabbed plastic balls from a big container and then shower it down onto children below it. SS was, among many other kids, vying to control the claw, and was reluctant to leave without having his uninterrupted turn at it.

A little further away, LL was fascinated with a set of binoculars, trying to spot the 'animals' hanging from the ceiling. Probably her first exposure to binoculars, she had to be guided towards the correct angle to look. There were three binoculars, each facing a different direction, and she busied herself moving from one to another, excitedly pointing out each animal that she had spotted.

Deciding that they had spent enough time on one activity, we moved them onwards into a large sandpit, where they attempted to dig/brush/scrape (depending on what tools they could find lying around in the sand) dinosaur bones like an archeologist. They emerged from the sandpit awhile later with their soles and butts dusted with sand.

As I was frantically brushing off the sand, I recalled this small bottle of talcum (NOT compact) powder lying somewhere in the deep recesses of my backpack. I remembered reading a mummy's useful tip that powder could help remove the sand from skin because the sand would slide right off and I tried it on the spot. It worked like a dream and we were (mostly) sand free in no time.

An hour later, we finally moved beyond the entrance and progressed further into Kidstop. SS spent quite another while at the indoor maze climbing up and down and up again, perspiring buckets in the process. I noticed that unlike some children who shout incessantly for their Mommies to look at them when they have climbed to the highest point, SS never called out to me to profess his achievement. I was half-disappointed in knowing that my boy didn't have this innate urge to want to share his achievements with me, but was also half-glad of the independent streak that he had. 

On the other corner, LL contented herself at the baby gym with super large lego blocks. Like me, she doesn't have much adventure in her soul nor is she a fan of heights. I'm still trying to encourage her sense of adventure and to try out new experiences, but it is evident that she needs more time.

Just beside the maze, there was this big intimidating slide that required the kids to don protective hats and overalls before being pulled up to a height with a pulley and sliding down whenever they felt ready to let go. I asked SS if he wanted to give it a try. He replied "No, I'm scared" before scampering off up his maze again. For some reason, I was relieved of his answer. Probably because it indicated that he possessed some sense of danger in him and that I didn't need to overly worry about him jumping headlong into doing something he didn't have confidence in. For a child who doesn't relate much, that meant a lot to me.

Lastly, we moved onto the last and quietest stretch of activities; its opening tucked neatly beyond the entrance to the omnimax theatre. Several small rooms with different themes for tinkering around lay along a walkway. 

There was a room with a stage in a corner complete with microphones and a camera like a production set and kids could perform and sing karaoke to nursery rhymes. However, neither of them seemed interested in the entertainment scene so that corner was promptly neglected. 

There was also a booth where kids could try their hand at stop-motion animation. I had thought that SS would be interested in this activity given the stop-motion tomica YouTubes that he had been surfing awhile back. But surprisingly, he paid fleeting attention to it before going off to sit in a car that simulated him driving on a busy street. 

As usual, LL could be found on the tamer activities and here, she was playing with a table full of red and green beans scattered all over, scooping and pouring them out with a container.

In another room, there was an assortment of animals that included a sleepy gerbil, a tree frog (which we couldn't spot), millipedes, chirping crickets and several yellow fluffy chicks. I wasn't surprised to see that the chicks were their favourite. 

Reaching the end of the exhibition, we began walking backwards towards the entrance for a final round at their favourite activities before we had to leave. SS immediately headed towards the giant claw while LL went back to her trio of binoculars.

Walking back, we managed to squeeze a session at the simulated typhoon booth where earlier on, had been either too crowded or the machine needed to cool down. Only SS was game to try it with me. We stepped into a small booth and hugged each other tightly as huge gusts of winds blew at us, twirling my already messy hair wildly into knots. SS might have exclaimed 'I'm scared' several times, but over the whirl of the wind I really couldn't hear anything. Ah well, we already 上了贼船 (were in a pirate boat) and I emerged seconds later looking like a mad lady.

They also entertained themselves at the wind tube that they had missed earlier on, watching as the ribbons get blown higher and higher before flying out from the top. Squealing as they tried catching the falling ribbons, they would put it back into the tube and watch the whole process again.

Before long, an announcement was made for visitors to leave Kidstop. It also signaled the time for our late lunch. MM and me were already famished from chasing them all around. 

After writing so much, it is easy to forget that we had only visited one small part of the Science Centre. But I was glad that SS and LL managed to participate in almost all the stations and I could tell that they really enjoyed their time at Kidstop.

This had been a really fruitful trip and clearly, we'd have to make another trip with papa soon.
Maybe we'd even join as members. Who knows?

A little Triumph in Maths

26th Jan 2015
Just one week ago, I lost my temper at this boy. I lost it in a flare and a torrent of scoldings. The Math syllabus had introduced counting up to 1000, and S who usually had difficulties with counting even into tens, and sometimes in his unfocused state (which happens pretty often), he also counts his ones wrongly.

So when the thousands were introduced, he struggled for quite a bit with the placement values. Then they had to learn number patterns and he too, struggled with finding the missing numbers. He couldn't understand the concept of adding (or subtracting) with the numbers before and after to get the missing numbers in between. It was very frustrating teaching him because in a number pattern of say, 200s, he would fill in the missing number with a ridiculous answer like '5'. Even though I had sat beside him and explained at length on how to derive the pattern, he still couldn't get 'it'. And I would get mad at him because, the answer was so obvious to me, yet the concept totally eluded him.

I knew that it wasn't fair to him by losing my temper like that, and that getting angry with him wouldn't suddenly make his mind wrap around the math concept, but in a moment of frustration and anger, I lost my temper at him. He too, was frustrated at me and at himself, for receiving my unnecessary temper and for not being able to understand.

So I pulled up my socks and did revision with him on his textbook over the weekend; something that I ought to have done right from the beginning but hadn't been conscientious about it. I tried teaching him variations of the examples the textbook gave, twisting this way and that, and forwards and backwards, and it took quite a bit of efforts (and threats) to stay his attention as it strays away after a short while.

Hub also reinforced values of the hundreds by showing him the top speed of several cars listed in a magazine, teaching him to compare the speeds of the cars and which model went the fastest by looking at the km/hr speed.

The next few days after that, his understanding of the math concept still wobbled as he couldn't yet fully grasp the things that had been taught and I didn't think too much into it.

Today as usual, we started on his homework straight after dinner. He presented me with a few pages of math worksheets on long additions into the hundreds. I saw that while he had attempted two questions on his own (with wrong answers), he had also pre-wrote an additional ten carried over from the ones value on all the questions including those that he hadn't yet done. I was dismayed.

I rubbed off all his little ones and explained that while I was happy he had attempted some of them by himself, they were done wrongly. I then guided him step-by-step on the first question and suddenly like a lit bulb, he just knew how to handle the rest of the sums. I watched with amazement and pride, his pudgy fingers moving as he calculated the additions with minimal mistakes. It was literally like the 'gears just clicked'.

The comments that flowed from him subsequently as he breezed through the next few questions were varying versions of 'aiyah this one so easy, I know how to do already', or 'easy peasy lemon squeezy', or even 'see, I'm very good in maths now!'

Seeing his smugness and ease in completing the sums, I couldn't decide if I wanted to scoff or laugh at his 'revelations'. But I was very glad for him because these reactions were a complete contrast from the usual blanked out, perplexed or guarded look he usually had while I was teaching him maths. It brought a smile to my lips but I hid that smile as I listened to him chattering animatedly on how 'good' he was in maths now. 

I couldn't bear to burst his bubble nor afford to indulge and overly boost his ego, so I told him quietly that while he was doing a good job, he had to do his sums properly and carefully to avoid careless mistakes. I am not sure how much of what I had said went through his inflated ego and into his mind, or how long he will retain this topic since he tends to forget the things that he learn rather quickly. But today has undoubtedly been a small triumph for us in the confusing and complexing world of math and its problem(atic) sums. And I let him soak in that triumph. 

It is these tiny little triumphs that give me - and him, the strength and perseverance to continue teaching and learning, and moving forwards inch by inch in the many miles ahead to cover.

Well done my boy.

I hope you and I will never forget the feel of today's triumph, giving us the strength and tenacity to always try to strive towards overcoming the difficulties we face.

2015 Week Two

It's 11.30 in the night. Sitting alone at the dining table, I attempt to self reflect while winding down for the day.

We're barely into week two of 2015, translating equally into the second week of Primary Two, and I'm ashamed to say that I have already blown off my temper at S. Why do P2s have to learn into the thousands?!! Did I learn that in lower primary as well? I can't recall obviously.

In fact, recollections of my time in primary school is vague at most. Bits and pieces of happenings around but nothing about the syllabus. However, I can recall that I enjoyed lessons (at least for primary school) and that I definately didn't have as much homework as him.
It's frustrating to compare, and I know that the comparison is irrelevant now, but the mental strain of the current syllabus for an eight year old somehow seems too much for not only him, but myself too, to take.

After work and a quick shower and dinner, we immediately start on his homework (2 pages of Maths and English each) and a little preparation for spelling on Wednesday. A glass of milk later and its 10pm. My boy crawls into bed, eyes red and sleepy, and he's flat out asleep within the next ten minutes. He gets his bare minimum of eight hours sleep before waking up bleary eyed the next day for school.

And this cycle goes on for him for the whole school week. On the luckier days that he doesn't have homework, I get to take a break as well. (Provided that he has learnt his spelling.) I get to unwind and have some me-time before the night gets too late. These times are like catching a breeze during the hot summer days - a brief respite in the neverending heat.

Come weekends, we don't try to pile the usual enrichment classes onto him. Instead, we enrol him for non-academic classes of swimming and art lessons, leisure and life skills instead of focusing on the academics. He has also expressed his interest in wushu or taekwondo and we may register him for a class if we find a suitable one.

So, in the blink of an eye, the weekend ends and the cycle continues on until the school holidays arrive for a much needed breather.
A working mom's life is tough.
A student's life is tougher.

First Day, Primary Two. Learning journey for Mommy.

The first day of school today.

Doubtlessly, many of my fellow parent friends have been busy posting pictures of their P1 going children. As I scroll through my news feed, delighting in the pictures of the many children in various uniforms, I am reminded of this same time last year when S first attended primary one.

Kan cheong and nervous as they were, I had posted my fair share of photos of S in his oversized uniform and huge Mcqueen bag, looking all uncertain, afraid, and a little excited. I didn't post a photo of myself then, but if I had, you would have seen me, anxiously wringing my hands and with tears in my eyes. And the smile that I mustered as I waved him goodbye while he boarded the school bus certainly didn't match the frown that I had knitted between my brows. 

That significant moment the automatic doors of the bus closed in my face, signaled the start of the letting-go process.

My child, who had been a baby in my eyes up until then, who had never left anywhere without me, was now boarding the bus alone, and away from me. The fact was made even more obvious as I stood there, waving as the tail lights became smaller and smaller.

Soon after, we had immediately scrambled into the car and trailed the bus to school. And from there, was another big moment in learning to let go as I forced my feet to remain still while watching my scrawny, unsure boy from afar, losing his way around the unfamiliar compound.

These scenes that I had described were just the surface ones. There were many other learning points that went on backstage before this big day. For starters, I had overlooked in teaching S the concept of money and of buying things, and only gave him a crash course the night before. That subsequently led him to be quite confused while buying food at the canteen. For months, all he could handle were two one-dollar coins because he only knew that he had 'one' or 'two monies'. If we gave him an assortment of change, he would only buy something to eat and nothing to drink, or vice versa. 

I also didn't tally his booklist and did not realise that the school diary was missing. I would later realise that the diary was an important bridge between parents and teachers because they wrote everything on that little spiral book. All the homework, assignments, tasks to do, notes and reminders were written in there. And because I could never count on S to relay to me the messages or homework that he had to do, that meant that I didn't know when spelling was, or that he needed to bring rags to school the next day.

As the months passed, S slowly settled into school and its routine in his own ways while I gradually learnt the ways of being a primary-1-mommy, although I still made several mistakes in the months that followed. 

In one particular incident, I had read in the weekly newsletter that S had to bring his apron to some sort of a home economics class every Thursday. At the back of my mind, I knew that he had a school issued apron lying somewhere unopened in the box but somehow, my mind didn't register that fact. I then went on to Daiso and bought him a nice, green polka-dotted one instead. Smugly packing that to school for him, I only realised my mistake two weeks later when in a chance conversation, he mentioned that all his friends had laughed at him. The guilt that I felt in shaming my son then was immeasurable. But now, I snigger to myself whenever I recall what I had put him through.

Fast forward one year later, I am no longer a newbie schooling parent as I prepare S for his journey onto primary 2. With one year of experience under my belt, I can now pack his school bags with surer hands and a calmer disposition. It is also much easier 'letting go' now. Watching my not-so-scrawny-anymore boy handle school with ease and confidence on his first day today, I am heartened and reminded by his progress.

He has improved over the year, and although not 'perfect', he is better at handling his money now, surer of his school's syllabus and has improved in answering questions. Beyond these, there is still much more things for him to learn and realise along the way and for me too, to learn and realise together with him. As I learn how to help him learn in managing school, I realise that the school is not only a place of learning for children, but for parents alike.

As we continue onto our second leg of his journey this year, I look foward to the progress that we may cover together, and the discovery of new wonders everyday.

Together, may we scale greater heights than the year before.

Happy schooling everyone.