Something I wrote to the paper came out today. It made me look so insensitive, rubbing salt into the wounds of the family whose 3 years old daughter had died of choking. When I pressed the 'Send' button the other day, I had regretted it. I felt like I shouldn't say what I wanted to say for the fear of hurting the bereaved family members. I felt rotten because it may appear to the majority of self-righteous, ready to curse others, people think that I am one of them. Those people who likes to stand by the sidelines of gross accidents and say 'I told you so', 'You should have know better', 'Why you so stoopid', 'You never pray ah?', 'You got bad karma' etc etc.
Let's face it, we mortals love tragedies and enjoy dissecting what went wrong, who was wrong and speculate all the dirty side of things. This is especially so in vernacular papers like those Chinese papers. They will dig out the seedy side of things and blast it for all to enjoy. As a results, many of us fools will see the drama instead of the facts.
But heck, I am not a bitch where CPR is concerned. I had included in my original letter why I dare to say what I wanted to say. I had provided links to my previous articles on CPR. I had done it for my son Vincent. I had been at his bedside when his doctor revived him on another occassion. I had seen how another batch of doctors couldn't revived him. My hubby has also seen with his own eyes the agony of another father who brought in his lifeless baby to the ER. I had seen it all.
Thank God, while seething with anger over the manner of which my say was potrayed, my eyes glanced on my horoscope reading today (am a perfectionist Virgo). It says 'Don't be too hard on yourself'.
Yeah, good advice. I do not give a damn if the million plus readers of The Star thinks I am some insensitive bitch who rubs salt into the wounds of others. I had said what I wanted to say. Everyone of us should be more knowledgeable. Everyone of us has a part to play in our society. Go on - learn life saving skills for God's sake!
Tuesday, November 30, 2004
Food - Puffy fish ball
One of my breastfeeding forum mom, Michelle Sau gave us a recipe. Yeah, food also featured prominently in a breastfeeding forum because we are all loving mothers mah. We provide the best nutrition for our children, from breastmilk for infants to home cooked meals for children of all ages. All original wan, like original milk for human babies is breastmilk.
1 kati tenggiri fish meat (deboned and blended)
4 eggs
salt and pepper to taste
1 tsp baking powder.
Mix all ingredient together. Deep fry.
I am someone who reads a lot but never follow most of the things I read. (that's how I fail exams all the time). But the thing turned out great eventhough I used only 3 eggs (scared of cholestrol mah).
Why I posted this recipe on a parenting blog? Because when the puffy balls are in hot oil, they really puffed up so huge, almost spilling out of the wok. I called my older kids to witness how the gluey fish paste blew up into big balls and then shriveled into wrinkled balls the moment they are out of the oil. It is such fun to see them kembang. Anyway, I like to get my kids involved in the kitchen in the hope that they will learn cooking someday. With a mom like me, it is not mere cooking but fun play. If there is something interesting, I will then call for one of them to take photo. Hopefull, one day when I am long dead, they will still remember me for the cooking. Just like I remember my mom for her cooking and the time spent in the kitchen with her.
For a wonderful read on mom, cooking and memories, check out mumsgather's entry .
1 kati tenggiri fish meat (deboned and blended)
4 eggs
salt and pepper to taste
1 tsp baking powder.
Mix all ingredient together. Deep fry.
I am someone who reads a lot but never follow most of the things I read. (that's how I fail exams all the time). But the thing turned out great eventhough I used only 3 eggs (scared of cholestrol mah).
Why I posted this recipe on a parenting blog? Because when the puffy balls are in hot oil, they really puffed up so huge, almost spilling out of the wok. I called my older kids to witness how the gluey fish paste blew up into big balls and then shriveled into wrinkled balls the moment they are out of the oil. It is such fun to see them kembang. Anyway, I like to get my kids involved in the kitchen in the hope that they will learn cooking someday. With a mom like me, it is not mere cooking but fun play. If there is something interesting, I will then call for one of them to take photo. Hopefull, one day when I am long dead, they will still remember me for the cooking. Just like I remember my mom for her cooking and the time spent in the kitchen with her.
For a wonderful read on mom, cooking and memories, check out mumsgather's entry .
Monday, November 29, 2004
Oh Christmas tree, oh Christmas tree...
I guess these photos say it all. My very colourful Christmas tree filled with baubles of all colours and sizes. It has no theme, like all silver or all red or all purple. It is just a tree filled with things my kids chosed from the 50% discount bin over the last 2 years ('cos baubles are so damn expensive wor). The colours and varieties reflect the colours in our lives, I reason with myself. (I know my more creative friends are going to say 'aiyoh... your tree so jinjang wan)
I had written a 1,000 words article about Christmas and had closed my eyes, crossed my fingers, said a prayer and press the 'Send' button to The Ed of StarTwo. If I don't see my story on national paper and get paid for it, I am never, ever going to try my luck again. I can wax lyrical about Christmas not because I am now a Christian (a 2 yrs old one). Christmas has so much meaning to me because I did not have the faintest idea who Jesus is except the song I heard, Jesus Christ, Superstar back in my kampung when I was 5 years old. So, if you guys don't see my Christmas story in paper, that means the world has lost one of the best writer! kikhkikhkikh (that's a giggle, fyi)
I had written a 1,000 words article about Christmas and had closed my eyes, crossed my fingers, said a prayer and press the 'Send' button to The Ed of StarTwo. If I don't see my story on national paper and get paid for it, I am never, ever going to try my luck again. I can wax lyrical about Christmas not because I am now a Christian (a 2 yrs old one). Christmas has so much meaning to me because I did not have the faintest idea who Jesus is except the song I heard, Jesus Christ, Superstar back in my kampung when I was 5 years old. So, if you guys don't see my Christmas story in paper, that means the world has lost one of the best writer! kikhkikhkikh (that's a giggle, fyi)
Pt 2 - Before and after kids
Went to a wedding dinner at Northam last Saturday with toddler tagging along.
Observed this:
Before toddler : wear slinky dress (over-dressed guests give me this idea, definitely wasn't my style hor?) with spaghetti strap and sequins. Killer high heels and carry those icky, girlish handbag that makes one look like some mamasan's 'worker'. Sit at the table and make idiotic grins and tilt head and 'fly' hairs (whatcha call that pantene girl style ha?).
After toddler : wear clothes that doesn't have dangerous buttons/straps that toddler can unbutton/undress in a moment of tantrums. Definitely have to be full cotton with no sharp buttons or sequins or else may scratch toddler. Flat heels so that you can sprint and save toddler from pulling down the mega-speakers or trip waiters balancing sharks-fin soup. Bag? Backpack that has contents like wet wipes for poo, towels to catch any vomit, spare clothings and food to amuse toddler. Table manner? Where got time for manners? Did not even have chance to sit. In between keeping an eye on toddler, stuff food down throat while standing around the table. Damn hungry mah.
Outside the dinner hall, got one Indon maid carrying a screaming 2-3 years old (daddy, daddy, daddy....struggling to go in the direction of the dinner hall, kid's face red and got big tears). Apparently, the parents brought the maid and kid along, left poor them outside the hall while they did what Group 1 (before toddler) do. Sit and act sociable and civilised. Appear cultured.
Signed : One sour-grape mom
Observed this:
Before toddler : wear slinky dress (over-dressed guests give me this idea, definitely wasn't my style hor?) with spaghetti strap and sequins. Killer high heels and carry those icky, girlish handbag that makes one look like some mamasan's 'worker'. Sit at the table and make idiotic grins and tilt head and 'fly' hairs (whatcha call that pantene girl style ha?).
After toddler : wear clothes that doesn't have dangerous buttons/straps that toddler can unbutton/undress in a moment of tantrums. Definitely have to be full cotton with no sharp buttons or sequins or else may scratch toddler. Flat heels so that you can sprint and save toddler from pulling down the mega-speakers or trip waiters balancing sharks-fin soup. Bag? Backpack that has contents like wet wipes for poo, towels to catch any vomit, spare clothings and food to amuse toddler. Table manner? Where got time for manners? Did not even have chance to sit. In between keeping an eye on toddler, stuff food down throat while standing around the table. Damn hungry mah.
Outside the dinner hall, got one Indon maid carrying a screaming 2-3 years old (daddy, daddy, daddy....struggling to go in the direction of the dinner hall, kid's face red and got big tears). Apparently, the parents brought the maid and kid along, left poor them outside the hall while they did what Group 1 (before toddler) do. Sit and act sociable and civilised. Appear cultured.
Signed : One sour-grape mom
Sunday, November 28, 2004
The aftermath of having kids - PT. 1 - Toddler stage
My home sweet home, two years ago when my #5 was a newborn.
My current pig-sty. Photo taken today, Nov 28 2004 when #5 is exactly 22 mths old.
Note : This photo is not taken with a wrong angle. It is just our way of putting the chairs (in the name of child-proofing the home), all lying down so that toddler doesn't climb on the dining table and does catwalk or mixed 2 dishes and one soup into one dish resembling puke.
Love can never be shown equally
Today is #3's eight years old birthday. Poor guy, being the middle child, had been thirsting for his birthday for the last 364 days. As he is borned in the year end, he never has the opportunity to celebrate his birthdays in kindergarten or primary schoolwith his school mates due to school holidays. So, I have to make it up to him by doing things to satisfy the 364 days of waiting.
Two days ago, we were at ToysRUs for the sea monkeys for #2 and #3 wasn't able to make up his mind on what to get (until TRU close shop liao at 9.30pm). Ideally, I want to get him something of equivalent value to #2's seamonkey (RM89.90) but kiddo wants a RM12.90 sword ala Aragon. It made me guilty, you see. I still perceive sharing love and showing it by spending the same amount of money.
So, today, we went back to TRU and still #3 cannot make up his mind because all he fancies are cheapo toys like marbles which cost RM7.90 or RM1 to drop into the rubber balls dispensing machine. In the end, I offered him several toys and also PS2 DVD plus some party flavours (or whatever you call that spray) totally less than RM30. In the evening (now) Papa's offer of buffet dinner at the Revolving Restaurant also not fancied by #3. Chey.... then, I missed eating at one of the more interesting restaurant liao. (where the restaurant turns all the time, with a 360deg. view of Penang island.)
Now, we are going out again, trying to find more things to spend more money on so that I can feel 'I am showing equal love' because I am itching to get something expensive for #5.
(The mandatory cake. With The Incredibles, what else? I don't have the maternal instinct like Double Happiness who actually decorate her twins birthday cake.)
Two days ago, we were at ToysRUs for the sea monkeys for #2 and #3 wasn't able to make up his mind on what to get (until TRU close shop liao at 9.30pm). Ideally, I want to get him something of equivalent value to #2's seamonkey (RM89.90) but kiddo wants a RM12.90 sword ala Aragon. It made me guilty, you see. I still perceive sharing love and showing it by spending the same amount of money.
So, today, we went back to TRU and still #3 cannot make up his mind because all he fancies are cheapo toys like marbles which cost RM7.90 or RM1 to drop into the rubber balls dispensing machine. In the end, I offered him several toys and also PS2 DVD plus some party flavours (or whatever you call that spray) totally less than RM30. In the evening (now) Papa's offer of buffet dinner at the Revolving Restaurant also not fancied by #3. Chey.... then, I missed eating at one of the more interesting restaurant liao. (where the restaurant turns all the time, with a 360deg. view of Penang island.)
Now, we are going out again, trying to find more things to spend more money on so that I can feel 'I am showing equal love' because I am itching to get something expensive for #5.
Friday, November 26, 2004
More monkeys to the monkey household
#2 son is born in the year of the monkey. All four kids of mine live up to the characteristics of this zodiac animal. More so because we live in Penang where the monkeys roam the Botanical Gardens and become the tourists attraction.
As if 4 monkeys are not enough, I got infected with some drliew-ism and ended up buying a set of seamonkey for my #2 son. It costs me a whooping RM89.90. But when it comes to things to please my kids, nothing is too expensive. Especially when they are for the middle kids. Eldest kid and youngest kid already have their share of pamperings. But the two middle kids usually get hands-me-down clothes, books, toys and almost everything. So, whenever they have someting they really fancy, we will try to make it up to them as 'compensation'. (eldest/youngest vs. middle kids syndrome will be another blog one day)
So, today is Day One when we put the eggs of the seamonkey to hatch. I shall see if my son has the discipline to rear these tiny creatures. The clever marketeer of this product has conned yours truly to believe every word they say such as :
BENEFITS:
• Parents and educators have used Sea-Monkeys as first pets for over 40 years
• A fun and easy introduction to science and biology
• Teaches responsible, nurturing pet-care
• GUARANTEED TO LIVE 2 FULL YEARS
As if 4 monkeys are not enough, I got infected with some drliew-ism and ended up buying a set of seamonkey for my #2 son. It costs me a whooping RM89.90. But when it comes to things to please my kids, nothing is too expensive. Especially when they are for the middle kids. Eldest kid and youngest kid already have their share of pamperings. But the two middle kids usually get hands-me-down clothes, books, toys and almost everything. So, whenever they have someting they really fancy, we will try to make it up to them as 'compensation'. (eldest/youngest vs. middle kids syndrome will be another blog one day)
So, today is Day One when we put the eggs of the seamonkey to hatch. I shall see if my son has the discipline to rear these tiny creatures. The clever marketeer of this product has conned yours truly to believe every word they say such as :
BENEFITS:
• Parents and educators have used Sea-Monkeys as first pets for over 40 years
• A fun and easy introduction to science and biology
• Teaches responsible, nurturing pet-care
• GUARANTEED TO LIVE 2 FULL YEARS
My toddler has PMS
I pooh-pooh those moms who get exasperated just because their angelic babies turned notty. The experts make millions of dollar writing books on dealing with the terrible twos, tantrums and blahs. What's the big deal? It is so fun to have my 22 mths old toddler turned into a monstrous little guy overnight.
Technically speaking, his huge molars are sprouting and he drools, again. It must be damn uncomfortable. So he took it out on us. He is my anak bongsu, my gift of God. He has the luxury of torturing his 3 big brothers and I. Things he did these few days:
1) Bashed up his #3 brother. He knows #3 is the youngest, so easiest to bully. He kick him in the groin, grab his pants at the part where it hurts most and when he can't get to it, he pulls the pants. #3 wears elastic pants, so things can get hilarous when you see a toddler tugging at the half-drawn pants of his 8 yrs old brother. I swear no one taught my little guy to target below the belt but instinct did that.
2) He will annoy #2 when he is in a middle of an online game. #2 merely had to push the little, stubby hands away from the keyboard and lil guy will come screaming and howling with big tears, holding the hand to tell me he kena hentam. I swear I never teach him the Bollywood act.
3) #1 big bro is too big for him to bash but he is not going to leave him alone. Still, he shows off who is mummy's favourite son now. He did not allow big bro to sit at the dining table when we have lunch. And grab every dishes away from him.
Gee.... life is so interesting and amusing when you have a toddler who has mastered the act of an adult. Cunning, full of lies, manipulative, dramatic and remains tweet and cute. What terrible twos? Only terrible parents who dunno how to fit in their roles as parents.
Technically speaking, his huge molars are sprouting and he drools, again. It must be damn uncomfortable. So he took it out on us. He is my anak bongsu, my gift of God. He has the luxury of torturing his 3 big brothers and I. Things he did these few days:
1) Bashed up his #3 brother. He knows #3 is the youngest, so easiest to bully. He kick him in the groin, grab his pants at the part where it hurts most and when he can't get to it, he pulls the pants. #3 wears elastic pants, so things can get hilarous when you see a toddler tugging at the half-drawn pants of his 8 yrs old brother. I swear no one taught my little guy to target below the belt but instinct did that.
2) He will annoy #2 when he is in a middle of an online game. #2 merely had to push the little, stubby hands away from the keyboard and lil guy will come screaming and howling with big tears, holding the hand to tell me he kena hentam. I swear I never teach him the Bollywood act.
3) #1 big bro is too big for him to bash but he is not going to leave him alone. Still, he shows off who is mummy's favourite son now. He did not allow big bro to sit at the dining table when we have lunch. And grab every dishes away from him.
Gee.... life is so interesting and amusing when you have a toddler who has mastered the act of an adult. Cunning, full of lies, manipulative, dramatic and remains tweet and cute. What terrible twos? Only terrible parents who dunno how to fit in their roles as parents.
Thursday, November 25, 2004
Hellthy snacks
# 3 Son : Mummy, I want something crunchy to eat.
Me : Carrot sticks or celery sticks
Son : Siao wor (crazy ah), you think I rabbit ah?
Me : Children must eat healthy snacks wan, the book says wan........
Son : Got what to eat that is crunchy and crispy? (getting grouchy due to low blood sugar liao)
Me : Dunno lar, you go and check the granary
(Granary is a place to keep food. In our household, we spent about RM200 on each grocery shopping per week and yet, food disappeared fast. Don't say I did not warn you that having many kids means spending lots of money on their food ha.)
Son grumbled that the granary is empty (ala Stronghold the game, the granary is empty m'lord). Told him to go down and buy a loaf of bread. You know, the mamak roti that rode a bike and go 'ting, ting, ting' at the same time everyday, rain or shine? But chey.... forgot to scream that no junk food allowed. So, he came back with two packets of junk food. Cannot scold him liao 'cos he is so considerate, caring and sharing mah. Buying an extra packet for his #2 brother though they can't stand each other.
Hellthy snacks vs. hellthier snacks (hellthy = eat too much can go to hell)
Me : Carrot sticks or celery sticks
Son : Siao wor (crazy ah), you think I rabbit ah?
Me : Children must eat healthy snacks wan, the book says wan........
Son : Got what to eat that is crunchy and crispy? (getting grouchy due to low blood sugar liao)
Me : Dunno lar, you go and check the granary
(Granary is a place to keep food. In our household, we spent about RM200 on each grocery shopping per week and yet, food disappeared fast. Don't say I did not warn you that having many kids means spending lots of money on their food ha.)
Son grumbled that the granary is empty (ala Stronghold the game, the granary is empty m'lord). Told him to go down and buy a loaf of bread. You know, the mamak roti that rode a bike and go 'ting, ting, ting' at the same time everyday, rain or shine? But chey.... forgot to scream that no junk food allowed. So, he came back with two packets of junk food. Cannot scold him liao 'cos he is so considerate, caring and sharing mah. Buying an extra packet for his #2 brother though they can't stand each other.
Hellthy snacks vs. hellthier snacks (hellthy = eat too much can go to hell)
Well, instead of allowing my kids to eat too much hellthy (no typing error, it is really hell-thy) snacks, I decided to fry some for them. At the very least, I know the oil used is not carcinoegic (right spelling ah? can cause cancer that type)
In the photo, you can see the filament sticks (those red batang the sushi people call kanikama/mayo?) deep-fried. Method : tear and shred the filament sticks till fine and deep fry. Walau-eh, very shiok to munch leh. And some onion rings from Tesco brand (taste the best so far) and the keropok ikan from the East Coast of Malaysia (this one in the photo is from Jusco MidValley snack station).
I can hear the tsk, tsk, tsk, so oily, so full of cholestrol, so fattening.... But I would rather die young (say at 75 years?) than to die at 99 years old, regretting on my death bed alone (as I had outlived everyone else) that I had never tasted tau-eu-bak, deep fried chicken, yau-char-kwai, tai-lok meen and char koay teow with extra bak-eu-phok....... all my life but only snacks on celery and carrot sticks.
The perfectionist mom breeds fussy kids
OK, first thing first. I believe in God and only God. But then, hey, I cannot resist taking a quiz to find out how much of a Virgo I am just for kicks. And boy... am I a perfectionist. Because out of 200,000+ people who took the same quiz, their average score is only 67%. I am way up high on the perfectionist tower at 73%. Well, does that mean my kids have a hard time trying to live up to my demands? I don't think so 'cos I am probably the sloppiest person around when it comes to parenting. My house is untidy, their clothes are crumpled and wrinkled, they wear mis-matched, oversize shirts and we have no routine. My 21 mths old toddler is not toilet trained, not sleeping through the nights, nothing about him goes by the book.
But..... yikes, I breed one very fussy son. The 12 yrs old who wears only matching clothes. Which pants go with which shirts are fixed. He takes care of his belongings like they are some treasures. He eats only food prepared in the 'right' way. Everything about him has to be in order. He cannot stand sticky spots or dirty floors. Well, he is a Virgo too. So, I do believe in horoscope, just a little.
Do you believe? Check it out anyway by clicking the below link.
| You are 73% Virgo
|
|
16 years and many more to come
Today is my 16th wedding anniversary. Asked hubby, "Aiyoh..? you no take leave to spend with me ah?"
Hubby : "What for? Every year also got anniversary wan mah."
Well, I could have been very angry, pouting, merajuk, throw cups and plates or I could see it positively. Positively because hubby is going to spend many, many more years anniversary with me. So what if he can't afford to take a day's off from work this year? After all, we should be thankful that at least he has work and needed at work.
Then, I prodded about gifts, "How come no gifts wan?"
Hubby : Got.... that packet of chocolate mah for you wan lor.
Me : Chey... last time, Lindt chocolates, now Cadbury only wor. How can...
Hubby : You don't see meh? The chocolate is Time Out and the number of pieces represented the number of years of our marriage. (yes, there are indeed 16 pieces of Time Out in a pack. But chey... why Time Out hor? Why not Love Bites or something romance like that.)
Oh well, my mom never taught me never to marry an accountnut. They calculate everything to the last sen. But sudah married, we stay married, for now and eternity. Not even death shall keep us apart.
I suppose it is good to remind myself about this. When you are married, you stay married because it is an agreement. When there are kids involved, then one should work even harder to make the marriage intact. 16 years and many more to come.
Hubby : "What for? Every year also got anniversary wan mah."
Well, I could have been very angry, pouting, merajuk, throw cups and plates or I could see it positively. Positively because hubby is going to spend many, many more years anniversary with me. So what if he can't afford to take a day's off from work this year? After all, we should be thankful that at least he has work and needed at work.
Then, I prodded about gifts, "How come no gifts wan?"
Hubby : Got.... that packet of chocolate mah for you wan lor.
Me : Chey... last time, Lindt chocolates, now Cadbury only wor. How can...
Hubby : You don't see meh? The chocolate is Time Out and the number of pieces represented the number of years of our marriage. (yes, there are indeed 16 pieces of Time Out in a pack. But chey... why Time Out hor? Why not Love Bites or something romance like that.)
Oh well, my mom never taught me never to marry an accountnut. They calculate everything to the last sen. But sudah married, we stay married, for now and eternity. Not even death shall keep us apart.
I suppose it is good to remind myself about this. When you are married, you stay married because it is an agreement. When there are kids involved, then one should work even harder to make the marriage intact. 16 years and many more to come.
Killing our future with over-nutrition and driving them nuts
A few days ago, something in the paper caught my attention. Our country came in second place for its efforts to reduce under-five child mortality rates as mentioned in a United Nations Children’s Fund (Unicef) report. (to my blur sotongs frens, it means our country has reduced children's death. Mortals are people who can die. Immortals are people who never die. Immorals are people, well, who are bad. Morals are good people, well, like me.). Well, it is nothing to be proud of and nothing of interest to me. But what struck me are two words. One of them is something new to me - over-nutrition. The second one is mental illness.
I am infuriated with this. Angry with who? I am not sure but I suppose all the adults, like you and me. And usually, these dumb adults who caused their kids to be over-nutrition are the ones who are rich, educated and should know better. They are the kiasu parents who would attempt to feed the brain of the fetus even before pregnancy. These crazy people would be passionately discussing about eating how many servings of mackerel, tuna, salmon and all the angmoh fishes. I usually feel like throwing a rotten kembong in their faces because they will be discussing things like deep sea cold fishes which are non-existence in Malaysia. Gawd, we are Malaysians mah. We eat ikan gelama and kembong and if orang kaya, bawal putih and pomfret. And these parents don't just stop at eating fishes but also stuffing themselves with pills to increase neuro whatever wor. Then, they will be fooled with all the hype created by the formula milk companies. In fact, the poor kid never even have a chance to breath because dumb ma and pa will be stuffing and stuffing the kid with multi-vitamins, health supplements, organic foods, filtered water etc etc with the hope of producing a genius.
Second thing that infuriates me even more is the fact that mental illness amongst children are increasing. Again, this is the result of stupid and blind parenting. Stupid not as in not enough education. But rather, in trying to be super smart. Blind because the parents do not see the real meaning of bringing up a child. Parents pushed their children like some robots to excel in fields which the adults hope will bring glory to them. Let's admit it. Though we adults will be preaching that we are doing so much because we want the best for the future of our children, in there lurks the adults' hidden desire to glorify themselves through the achivement of their children.
Yeah, yeah, mental illness is not going to happen to our kid. We are not going to push our kids to the brink of cuckoo-ness. We can judge mah, we know a lot about psychology mah, how can we make our child gila. Kenot wan...... But have we forgotten that our children are going to grow up in a society that is going to be filled with many mental patients?
Don't get me wrong. I have lots of empathy for people with mental illness. I had known a few closely and know their sufferings. I had provided one with my friendship at the hours of her death due to suicide. So, I do get very angry when we allow our children to fall into depression. I do worry what the future holds for my children if they have to live in the companies of depressed persons. It is not very far-fetched to imagine that we will end up like the angmohs where school children gunned down their fellow classmates.
Part of the article is pasted below:
Full article from Star Online dated Nov 19
“There are always problems like obesity and over-nutrition. Our children are not underweight. We don’t want them to be obese and have them develop hypertension when they are adults,” she said yesterday after launching the Unicef “Progress for Children” Global Report (Vol 1 2004).
Dr Narimah said more children were experiencing mental illness, which resulted from modern living
I am infuriated with this. Angry with who? I am not sure but I suppose all the adults, like you and me. And usually, these dumb adults who caused their kids to be over-nutrition are the ones who are rich, educated and should know better. They are the kiasu parents who would attempt to feed the brain of the fetus even before pregnancy. These crazy people would be passionately discussing about eating how many servings of mackerel, tuna, salmon and all the angmoh fishes. I usually feel like throwing a rotten kembong in their faces because they will be discussing things like deep sea cold fishes which are non-existence in Malaysia. Gawd, we are Malaysians mah. We eat ikan gelama and kembong and if orang kaya, bawal putih and pomfret. And these parents don't just stop at eating fishes but also stuffing themselves with pills to increase neuro whatever wor. Then, they will be fooled with all the hype created by the formula milk companies. In fact, the poor kid never even have a chance to breath because dumb ma and pa will be stuffing and stuffing the kid with multi-vitamins, health supplements, organic foods, filtered water etc etc with the hope of producing a genius.
Second thing that infuriates me even more is the fact that mental illness amongst children are increasing. Again, this is the result of stupid and blind parenting. Stupid not as in not enough education. But rather, in trying to be super smart. Blind because the parents do not see the real meaning of bringing up a child. Parents pushed their children like some robots to excel in fields which the adults hope will bring glory to them. Let's admit it. Though we adults will be preaching that we are doing so much because we want the best for the future of our children, in there lurks the adults' hidden desire to glorify themselves through the achivement of their children.
Yeah, yeah, mental illness is not going to happen to our kid. We are not going to push our kids to the brink of cuckoo-ness. We can judge mah, we know a lot about psychology mah, how can we make our child gila. Kenot wan...... But have we forgotten that our children are going to grow up in a society that is going to be filled with many mental patients?
Don't get me wrong. I have lots of empathy for people with mental illness. I had known a few closely and know their sufferings. I had provided one with my friendship at the hours of her death due to suicide. So, I do get very angry when we allow our children to fall into depression. I do worry what the future holds for my children if they have to live in the companies of depressed persons. It is not very far-fetched to imagine that we will end up like the angmohs where school children gunned down their fellow classmates.
Part of the article is pasted below:
Full article from Star Online dated Nov 19
“There are always problems like obesity and over-nutrition. Our children are not underweight. We don’t want them to be obese and have them develop hypertension when they are adults,” she said yesterday after launching the Unicef “Progress for Children” Global Report (Vol 1 2004).
Dr Narimah said more children were experiencing mental illness, which resulted from modern living
Wednesday, November 24, 2004
What makes The Incredibles, incredible?
Photo taken from The Incredibles official site.
When you have 4 kids, two of whom are considered adults, going to the movies is a luxury and rarity. Firstly, our beloved Malaysia has much to offer (you know what I mean?) so not every movie is worth the trip. And my calculative accountant trained husband will tell me that we can do it for a fraction of the price at home, in the comfort of our own sofa.
But, it is the school holidays, we have nothing much to do in KL and so we packed the kids to the theatre in GSC Midvalley. The 21 mths old toddler made his first trip to the theatre to watch ‘men-men’ (all superheroes are men-men to him, as in Spiderman). After the initial frights of the extremely loud sound effect, he blends in.
The Incredibles captured his attention and of course, mine too. I will not go into details about the usual movie review. But what I found in the movie are probably unnoticed by others. Such as :
1) Helen Parr, the mom who used to be elasticgirl is concious of her big butts (yeah! Just like me)
2) Dash and Violet, the son and daugther fight like my kids too.
3) Bob Parr is forever the ‘listen to what your mom says’ kinda father.
4) Jack-Jack the baby is sooo messy.
One of the scene that touched me somehow is when Dash asked his sister, horrified “Are mom and dad going to die?”
Violet replied (not exact sentence ‘cos my memory not so good liao) “Something worse, their marriage is breaking up”
Someone I know is divorcing after several years of marriage and I was trying to comprehend their problems. When I heard these uttered by the Incredibles kids, it just adds on to my belief that all parents should stay together, no matter what. Yeah, I am diverting from superheroes movie to family scenes but just can’t help it. I love The Incredibles not so much for its’ superheroes drama but rather the importance of staying together as a family. It is very heart-warming to see Violet rise up to the occasion to protect her brother Dash using her super power. It is very touching to see Dash racing around to help his family. And yes, Jack-Jack turning into a little monster is so very ‘acceptable and normal’.
Usually, all Disney and Pixar movies like Nemo, Lilo and Stitch etc don’t leave my kids hungry for all the novelties. They will wait patiently for the pasar malam version. But this time, my 8 yrs old and 21 mths old are sooooo obssessed with the t-shirts, shoes, posters, socks, bags, bolsters, pillows etc etc. Especially my 21 mths old. He brightens up whenever he sees Bob Parr. So, how can a mom deny a lil baby like that? Now, I ended up with The Incredibles screen saver on my phone and my computer. And every piece of things from newspapers to cereal boxes will end up in my 8 yrs old treasure drawer. Plus I have to keep track when McDonalds has a new Incredibles toy. Such is the incredible attraction of The Incredibles.
Sunday, November 21, 2004
Fear Factor
I hate and love cable TV at the same time. Sometimes, the shows made me so disgusted I threatened my kids that I am going to unsubscribe if they don't change channels. But those kids threatened me back that I am going to be without my HK series, no two continuous hours from 8.30pm-10.30pm, Mon-Fri to escape the real world and live in Honkie fairytale land.
My home channel is without those sexy, slutty singing channel. (yeah, yeah, throw rotten eggs this way, curse me) So, I do not have to worry too much about my sons being too obssessed with breasts and butts before they even know what they are for, except breast is to provide milk and butt is a cushion to sit on. Or getting tortured with music like Linkin Park, Metallica and all those dreadful looking people with white faces, dark rings around their eyes, tongues longer than biawak, anorexic etc etc.
What I am venting is Fear Factor. I hate them soooooo much. In fact, I think the world is coming to a sickening end. How could our ever so strict Govt. allow this stupid show? And at one point, even goody miss Siti also advertised it on TV! It is now on our national TV. Swimming in pig's blood (promoting violence?), eating maggots filled food (no self respect), dunking themselves in rotting animals (no stand, sell your soul to money) and other gross acts for some money. Yes, I could switch off the TV, don't allow my own precious brood to watch and stay way up high in our protective tower. Bring up my sons without TV, cannot watch violent movie, cannot watch kissy-kissy parts, cannot watch horror movies etc etc. But my approach is to let my kids immerse in everyday things so that they don't grow up to be nerds. I cannot shield them permanently so I might as well give them some exposures from young, with me nagging in the background, pointing out to them what is right and what is not so right.
And yet, it is so wrong for our Malaysian kids to watch Fear Factor and all those 'for money sake, nothing else matters' kinda show. Some of us maybe able to guide our kids, tell them right from wrong. But how many of us amongst the 22 millions raykat Malaysia can do that? So, million of kids are still going to be exposed to this very sickening state of affairs and grow up with an equally sickening mind. What has happened to our Government's judgement? Now that they have changed the big boss in charge of entertainment, I hope to see some improvement soon. I hate censorship but I also hate it when there is a lack of it on national TV.
I am writing this while screaming to my kids to change channel or else.... I am listening to people puking after eating some iccky rotten intestines. Excuse me, I think I am going to throw a brick at the TV.
My home channel is without those sexy, slutty singing channel. (yeah, yeah, throw rotten eggs this way, curse me) So, I do not have to worry too much about my sons being too obssessed with breasts and butts before they even know what they are for, except breast is to provide milk and butt is a cushion to sit on. Or getting tortured with music like Linkin Park, Metallica and all those dreadful looking people with white faces, dark rings around their eyes, tongues longer than biawak, anorexic etc etc.
What I am venting is Fear Factor. I hate them soooooo much. In fact, I think the world is coming to a sickening end. How could our ever so strict Govt. allow this stupid show? And at one point, even goody miss Siti also advertised it on TV! It is now on our national TV. Swimming in pig's blood (promoting violence?), eating maggots filled food (no self respect), dunking themselves in rotting animals (no stand, sell your soul to money) and other gross acts for some money. Yes, I could switch off the TV, don't allow my own precious brood to watch and stay way up high in our protective tower. Bring up my sons without TV, cannot watch violent movie, cannot watch kissy-kissy parts, cannot watch horror movies etc etc. But my approach is to let my kids immerse in everyday things so that they don't grow up to be nerds. I cannot shield them permanently so I might as well give them some exposures from young, with me nagging in the background, pointing out to them what is right and what is not so right.
And yet, it is so wrong for our Malaysian kids to watch Fear Factor and all those 'for money sake, nothing else matters' kinda show. Some of us maybe able to guide our kids, tell them right from wrong. But how many of us amongst the 22 millions raykat Malaysia can do that? So, million of kids are still going to be exposed to this very sickening state of affairs and grow up with an equally sickening mind. What has happened to our Government's judgement? Now that they have changed the big boss in charge of entertainment, I hope to see some improvement soon. I hate censorship but I also hate it when there is a lack of it on national TV.
I am writing this while screaming to my kids to change channel or else.... I am listening to people puking after eating some iccky rotten intestines. Excuse me, I think I am going to throw a brick at the TV.
Saturday, November 20, 2004
12 yrs old whiskey & 12 yrs old monkey
My side of the family has it's very first marriage, that of my eldest sis's daughter. As with all Chinese wedding, it has the usual curry_ok, booze, yam3seng3 (echo lar) and all the blahs that come with typical Chinese weddings. I trusted my 12 yrs old and 8 yrs old son to behave themselves with their cousins, a 10 yrs old boy and my eldest nephew, a doctor, mind you. (I will tell you why I have to emphasise the doc there.) So, big bro of the bride was moving around with the family to yam seng at every table, holding a bottle of Chivas Regal, the 12 yrs old whiskey. My two monkeys trailed along to lend their loud voice to the yam seng. Mana tau, the big cousin gave my ever inquisitive, ever curious, ever adventurous 12 yrs old kid a few dribble of the 12 years old whiskey. The two 12 years old hit off immediately!
And I ended up with a 12 years old who laughed uncontrollably like a hyena! Gosh, I knew something is not right when this normally solemn, shy kid of mine suddenly have so much things to laugh and talk about after returning from the yamseng rounds. Meanwhile, my #3 who was bored got hold of the head of the fried chicken (from one of the dish), poked a chopstick to the neck part, stuff some confetti on the beak and made a voodoo chicken head to amuse the equally bored crowd.
Photo of some of the kids (not all are mine) with the chicken head confetti.
Most of my nieces and nephews are of the marrying age so I have to keep reminding myself that 12 years old whiskey and 12 years old kid make a lethal partner.
And if my 12 years old is never ever smart enough to be a doctor, I can blame it on the brain cells that had been damaged by the 12 years old whiskey.
And I ended up with a 12 years old who laughed uncontrollably like a hyena! Gosh, I knew something is not right when this normally solemn, shy kid of mine suddenly have so much things to laugh and talk about after returning from the yamseng rounds. Meanwhile, my #3 who was bored got hold of the head of the fried chicken (from one of the dish), poked a chopstick to the neck part, stuff some confetti on the beak and made a voodoo chicken head to amuse the equally bored crowd.
Photo of some of the kids (not all are mine) with the chicken head confetti.
Most of my nieces and nephews are of the marrying age so I have to keep reminding myself that 12 years old whiskey and 12 years old kid make a lethal partner.
And if my 12 years old is never ever smart enough to be a doctor, I can blame it on the brain cells that had been damaged by the 12 years old whiskey.
Friday, November 19, 2004
My Hokkien speaking toddler
One of the favourite sentence both my hubby and I throw around like a ball is 'You and your rotten egg/gene'. We will mutter this each time our little 21 mths old toddler got into trouble. That's the only way we can justify the endless mischief he got himself into. I will say something like "yalor, same surname, same face like you mah, so he got your bad gene lor". Then, hubby will retorts "I give good genes lar, only your egg rotten lor" Don't get me wrong. While we grumbled and ngam-ngam-cham-cham, our hearts swell with pride.
Today, he is into turning over waste paper baskets and use it as stool. Or throwing remote controls into the tong sampah. Tong sampah already placed on top of TV cabinet but still it is not toddler-proof. He climbed up to the manchester table (mantelpiece), grabbed his papa's precious working spectacles and was envying himself in the mirror quietly. The moment he knows that I notice him and was coming, he flatten his face and body on the wall, like an insect splattered against the windscreen or Spiderman landed flat on a glass wall like that. Then, he shuts his eyes. It is so funny 'cos he thinks - if I don't see mommy, probably she also won't see me. *sigh* Good theory comes from great mind.
Another antic of his is grabbing his papa's favourite spot on the sofa. He will probably be playing around but the moment he sees his father about to sit down on the sofa, he will run and grab the seat. Then, grin and extend his legs to show that he is the king of the nest. And yes...(shhhh) suddenly pull his papa's boxer shorts down!
It is hard to have a 'normal' toddler when he is so bonded with his 3 big brothers. He mimics and apes the big brothers and this is certainly not very socially acceptable. He may shout 'oi.....pah chi liap lok khi' (oi.. give you one slap - in Hokkien) or 'chey...' and 'tsk'. And when he is in a playful mood, he will give very hard punch right on the eye socket. I never intend to bring up a toddler who speaks Hokkien, cursing like a teenager and box like the PS2 games superheroes. But what to do? Damage is done and I am so proud of him leh. Of course, he knows please and thank you too. Like when he sees his brother with some M&M, he will go 'piss' and extend his hands, looking so tweet. Who can deny a cunning little guy like that?
Thursday, November 18, 2004
A vote for full time mom
Everyone of us needs some affirmation, acknowledgement, confirmation etc sometimes to assure us that we are doing something right or something worthwhile.
It is one of those moments when I wonder if my presence in the home is appreciated by the kids. School holiday is here and any mom with school-going kids will tell you that it is nightmarish to have the kids at home 24/7. Yeah, yeah, I love them, I made them but still....
Last night I was watching National Geographic documentary 'Taboo' about this housewife in Bangkok who volunteers to collect dead bodies from accidents/murders/suicides scenes. In Bangkok, people die too fast and too many for the authorities to handle. So, they have these volunteers who helped with the hope of gaining merits (as in Buddhism merits). I jokingly mentioned to my #2 son that I also want to volunteer with our Malaysian 991 (what's the name of the organisation? Is it Jabatan Pertahanan Awam?). He must have gotten a little affected by the gruesome documentary. He gave me a stern look and told me 'You sit in front of your computer enough lar!' Ok, that means I have the blessings from my #2 son to play online games the whole day. Hurray!
Then, today my #3 watched the cartoon Stanley. Stanley's mom is a dentist while his father is a stay-at-home-dad/cartoonist. Stanley told his pet fish that he wish to have a mom who stays home instead. I asked #3 if it is ok if I go to work every morning and returning in the evening. #3 is a happy-go-lucky, always cincai, eager to please me kinda guy. He said "You want mah can lor." Wah...my heart broke. I resigned from my over-paid, under-worked job six years ago all because of him. And now, he doesn't give two hoots if I am home or not. How can, son? You know ah, I threw away all the glamorous, bitchy, politiking, easy life of a sexy-turkey for you. But..... ahem, I told him, "Really ah, I can go to work la? Wah...nice lor. That means tomorrow, you go to daycare for the whole school holidays hor. You remember daycare hor? Teachers and studies?" So, I got my #3 to vote for a full time mom which means no routine, no studies, just lepak.
That leaves two more votes. Without asking, I know #1 enjoys having a mom who cooks him sambal hairbee, nasi lemak, fried belacan chicken, asam pedas stingray with pineapple.....(drool, drool, drool) rather than someone who order home-delivery KFC, McD, Pizza Hut after a hard day's work. You can't get a 14 years old to express his feelings so I shall take those moments when we have lunch together as a yes. Times like today when we sat together eating rice at home and arguing whether the soup is lacking salt, sugar or tamarind.
As for #5, well, there is only one choice- that is a full time mom who asks every hour, you got shee-shee, you got ngggh-nggghh? You want orr-orr, you want milk-milk?
Must go look in the mirror and tell myself, yes, yes, yes, you are a great HOUSEWIFE. The best of the bestest.
It is one of those moments when I wonder if my presence in the home is appreciated by the kids. School holiday is here and any mom with school-going kids will tell you that it is nightmarish to have the kids at home 24/7. Yeah, yeah, I love them, I made them but still....
Last night I was watching National Geographic documentary 'Taboo' about this housewife in Bangkok who volunteers to collect dead bodies from accidents/murders/suicides scenes. In Bangkok, people die too fast and too many for the authorities to handle. So, they have these volunteers who helped with the hope of gaining merits (as in Buddhism merits). I jokingly mentioned to my #2 son that I also want to volunteer with our Malaysian 991 (what's the name of the organisation? Is it Jabatan Pertahanan Awam?). He must have gotten a little affected by the gruesome documentary. He gave me a stern look and told me 'You sit in front of your computer enough lar!' Ok, that means I have the blessings from my #2 son to play online games the whole day. Hurray!
Then, today my #3 watched the cartoon Stanley. Stanley's mom is a dentist while his father is a stay-at-home-dad/cartoonist. Stanley told his pet fish that he wish to have a mom who stays home instead. I asked #3 if it is ok if I go to work every morning and returning in the evening. #3 is a happy-go-lucky, always cincai, eager to please me kinda guy. He said "You want mah can lor." Wah...my heart broke. I resigned from my over-paid, under-worked job six years ago all because of him. And now, he doesn't give two hoots if I am home or not. How can, son? You know ah, I threw away all the glamorous, bitchy, politiking, easy life of a sexy-turkey for you. But..... ahem, I told him, "Really ah, I can go to work la? Wah...nice lor. That means tomorrow, you go to daycare for the whole school holidays hor. You remember daycare hor? Teachers and studies?" So, I got my #3 to vote for a full time mom which means no routine, no studies, just lepak.
That leaves two more votes. Without asking, I know #1 enjoys having a mom who cooks him sambal hairbee, nasi lemak, fried belacan chicken, asam pedas stingray with pineapple.....(drool, drool, drool) rather than someone who order home-delivery KFC, McD, Pizza Hut after a hard day's work. You can't get a 14 years old to express his feelings so I shall take those moments when we have lunch together as a yes. Times like today when we sat together eating rice at home and arguing whether the soup is lacking salt, sugar or tamarind.
As for #5, well, there is only one choice- that is a full time mom who asks every hour, you got shee-shee, you got ngggh-nggghh? You want orr-orr, you want milk-milk?
Must go look in the mirror and tell myself, yes, yes, yes, you are a great HOUSEWIFE. The best of the bestest.
Kidz n Kitchen
I happen to have a close relative who proudly declared that cooking is a waste of time and money, dirty and something people who have nothing better to do, do - pathetic! She would hang around the mini wet market in our housing estate, rambling this to all the ah-sohs doing their marketing. If my mother happened to bump into her dil (guess the relation to me?), she will fled quickly due to embarassement. But hey, close relative is from a rich family and can afford to brag. She managed to bring up a healthy, smart daugther just on processed infant food and proceeded to 'ta pau' (take-out) food.
So, for someone like me who had been cooking from as young as 10 years old, you can imagine how distateful I found people who fall into the same pangsa (category) as her. They don't know what they are missing. In the good ole days, we don't use gas because Esso hasn't invented cooking gas. We use charcoal and firewoods stove. We have no Teflon non-stick pan. Only ironcast wok that weighs a ton and rusts all the time. But I can fry cucur kodok (banana mashed and mixed with flour and sugar) from the bananas I chopped down from the tree we planted. I can cook monitor lizard which I caught and skinned, seasoned with kunyit, salt and sugar. Yeah, biawak. It taste like chicken, only better. I cook frogs caught from the paddy field. Exotic!
I used to fry rice to ta-pau to school from as young as in primary school. Hey, now that I write about this, I think I am very 'keng' (fantastic), hor? I was born to cook. I can cook for the whole clan. Chinese New Year dishes are my specialities. My cooking skill is so great that any old ladies will love to make me their daugther-in-law. Probably when I broke off with one Canto guy, his mom must have missed me like hell. She must be more broken hearted than him. Now, I had totally forgotten the guy but what his mom taught me about cooking Cantonese dishes stayed with me. Tak rugi la like that. Too bad my mil never teach me any Hakka dishes 'cos we never really bonded as mil and dil.
Though I have four batangs (sons), I am going to make sure that every one of them at least learn some basic cooking skills. There is something romantic about having your man in the kitchen, dishing up meals for a woman. So, I have been training my sons in the kitchen. They can fry an egg, make omellete, scrambled, half-boiled, hard boiled and in every style. Of course, the mandatory instant noodle also. This evil mother-in-law-to-be is going to screen her future daughter-in-laws 'qualifications'. If any one of them has the same attitude towards cooking like the above-mentioned close relative, she can 'puadah' (get lost). No sons and future grandchildren of mine are going to eat take-out food as the staple meals. Only home-cooked meals for them.
A woman is a great mom if her son can cooks. Just like Peter Tan's mom. He can cook, inspite of the fact that he is in a wheel-chair and his mom is no longer around.
So, for someone like me who had been cooking from as young as 10 years old, you can imagine how distateful I found people who fall into the same pangsa (category) as her. They don't know what they are missing. In the good ole days, we don't use gas because Esso hasn't invented cooking gas. We use charcoal and firewoods stove. We have no Teflon non-stick pan. Only ironcast wok that weighs a ton and rusts all the time. But I can fry cucur kodok (banana mashed and mixed with flour and sugar) from the bananas I chopped down from the tree we planted. I can cook monitor lizard which I caught and skinned, seasoned with kunyit, salt and sugar. Yeah, biawak. It taste like chicken, only better. I cook frogs caught from the paddy field. Exotic!
I used to fry rice to ta-pau to school from as young as in primary school. Hey, now that I write about this, I think I am very 'keng' (fantastic), hor? I was born to cook. I can cook for the whole clan. Chinese New Year dishes are my specialities. My cooking skill is so great that any old ladies will love to make me their daugther-in-law. Probably when I broke off with one Canto guy, his mom must have missed me like hell. She must be more broken hearted than him. Now, I had totally forgotten the guy but what his mom taught me about cooking Cantonese dishes stayed with me. Tak rugi la like that. Too bad my mil never teach me any Hakka dishes 'cos we never really bonded as mil and dil.
Though I have four batangs (sons), I am going to make sure that every one of them at least learn some basic cooking skills. There is something romantic about having your man in the kitchen, dishing up meals for a woman. So, I have been training my sons in the kitchen. They can fry an egg, make omellete, scrambled, half-boiled, hard boiled and in every style. Of course, the mandatory instant noodle also. This evil mother-in-law-to-be is going to screen her future daughter-in-laws 'qualifications'. If any one of them has the same attitude towards cooking like the above-mentioned close relative, she can 'puadah' (get lost). No sons and future grandchildren of mine are going to eat take-out food as the staple meals. Only home-cooked meals for them.
A woman is a great mom if her son can cooks. Just like Peter Tan's mom. He can cook, inspite of the fact that he is in a wheel-chair and his mom is no longer around.
Wednesday, November 17, 2004
Drug your child to sleep
I had been blogging about bedtime and sleeping for the last two days. And what do you know? The Star feature this today. I am not anti-US of A but I think something is seriously wrong with them. Read the below paragraph I copied from Star Online at
http://thestar.com.my/lifestyle/story.asp?file=/2004/11/17/features/9367130&sec=features
According to her, in the United States, sometimes physicians recommend or parents would use over-the-counter medication to help their older children sleep.
These are the very people who preached about setting bedtime routines, sleeping in own room, etc etc. Now, can we still believe them? Their kids need sleeping pills to sleep? For all my 40 years, I have never seen a sleeping pill. Maybe only half of a sleeping pill when my ob-gynae decided that I need some calming down before my next-day caesarean section. I swear, I only need half a sleeping pill in 40 years because I never have sleep problem because I sleep under my mom's ketiak from birth till the ripe old age of 21 years old (my father died when I was 7 years.
It is another case of neurotic moms bring up neurotic kids.
http://thestar.com.my/lifestyle/story.asp?file=/2004/11/17/features/9367130&sec=features
According to her, in the United States, sometimes physicians recommend or parents would use over-the-counter medication to help their older children sleep.
These are the very people who preached about setting bedtime routines, sleeping in own room, etc etc. Now, can we still believe them? Their kids need sleeping pills to sleep? For all my 40 years, I have never seen a sleeping pill. Maybe only half of a sleeping pill when my ob-gynae decided that I need some calming down before my next-day caesarean section. I swear, I only need half a sleeping pill in 40 years because I never have sleep problem because I sleep under my mom's ketiak from birth till the ripe old age of 21 years old (my father died when I was 7 years.
It is another case of neurotic moms bring up neurotic kids.
Bed partners
More on bedtime stories.
I had been sleeping together with my mom, probably from birth till I am 21 years old. I would have continued sleeping with her had I not turned rebellious and decided to move out on my own at 21 years old. It is such a natural thing to do. That mothers sleep with their children until an age when they have grown too big for the same bed or they had procreated too many kids to fit into the same room.
What's the big deal about sleeping with babies? Yet, we can see shelves of books on teaching parents how to handle the sleep separation. You can see all these glossy books written by the 'experts' teaching parents how to let their kids and even babies to sleep in their own room. Let them cry, let them whine. Leave them lil ones alone to get used to the routine. Harden your hearts, deafen your ears. What kind of theory is this?
What's so sinful about allowing our lil ones to sleep in the same bed and when they are bigger, in a seperate cot in the same room? A lot of parents will probably say "I can't sleep with another person in the same room" Hey, how come you can sleep with an adult size man who probably snores but you can't sleep with that little bundle of soft hair, sweet smell, velvety skin, cute little face person whom you procreate? That little one needs the security that you are nearby to sooth those frights. That little one needs the assurance that mommy and daddy love him enough to bear with all the minor inconveniences. I can bet that these women or men who claimed that they cannot have a peaceful night of sleep if put in the same room with their own children will ****warning, suggestive languague coming up ****** have a good f*ck with a one-night lover/colleague/someone's else wife/husband/SYT/toy-boy/whatever and can easily snooze in dreamland in some sleazy motel. Yeah, I can bet on that. They cannot sleep with their own kids but I am sure they can sleep with some strangers when desires get the better of them. Ooops, I am not implying that parents who do not sleep with their babies are adulterers. I am just making comparison, ok? Don't anyone get agitated, ok?
So, it does get rather tiring when I have to listen to people discussing how to put their small child of less than two or three years old in another room. It is just so selfish. Wanting a conducive environment to berasmara (romancing) is not an excuse. Wanting to teach their baby to be independent is also not a good reason. Wanting to ape the west is a monkey act. And putting their precious child to sleep with their maid is even more scandalous! Goodness sake, sleep with your baby. Sleep with them until the day when they start complaining that your snores are keeping him awake.
I had been sleeping together with my mom, probably from birth till I am 21 years old. I would have continued sleeping with her had I not turned rebellious and decided to move out on my own at 21 years old. It is such a natural thing to do. That mothers sleep with their children until an age when they have grown too big for the same bed or they had procreated too many kids to fit into the same room.
What's the big deal about sleeping with babies? Yet, we can see shelves of books on teaching parents how to handle the sleep separation. You can see all these glossy books written by the 'experts' teaching parents how to let their kids and even babies to sleep in their own room. Let them cry, let them whine. Leave them lil ones alone to get used to the routine. Harden your hearts, deafen your ears. What kind of theory is this?
What's so sinful about allowing our lil ones to sleep in the same bed and when they are bigger, in a seperate cot in the same room? A lot of parents will probably say "I can't sleep with another person in the same room" Hey, how come you can sleep with an adult size man who probably snores but you can't sleep with that little bundle of soft hair, sweet smell, velvety skin, cute little face person whom you procreate? That little one needs the security that you are nearby to sooth those frights. That little one needs the assurance that mommy and daddy love him enough to bear with all the minor inconveniences. I can bet that these women or men who claimed that they cannot have a peaceful night of sleep if put in the same room with their own children will ****warning, suggestive languague coming up ****** have a good f*ck with a one-night lover/colleague/someone's else wife/husband/SYT/toy-boy/whatever and can easily snooze in dreamland in some sleazy motel. Yeah, I can bet on that. They cannot sleep with their own kids but I am sure they can sleep with some strangers when desires get the better of them. Ooops, I am not implying that parents who do not sleep with their babies are adulterers. I am just making comparison, ok? Don't anyone get agitated, ok?
So, it does get rather tiring when I have to listen to people discussing how to put their small child of less than two or three years old in another room. It is just so selfish. Wanting a conducive environment to berasmara (romancing) is not an excuse. Wanting to teach their baby to be independent is also not a good reason. Wanting to ape the west is a monkey act. And putting their precious child to sleep with their maid is even more scandalous! Goodness sake, sleep with your baby. Sleep with them until the day when they start complaining that your snores are keeping him awake.
Tuesday, November 16, 2004
Bedtime routine
With the long holidays, we sleep at 3am in the morning. And wake up at 11 am. A complete 8 hours sleep. Very healthy indeed.
I remember my eldest son had a question in his Pendidikan Moral exam paper. It was a right and wrong kinda question (where you marked with a tick or cross). The question was:
If it is a holiday tomorrow, what does your father let you do?
a) Go to bed at the same time.
b) Go to bed late.
Of course, my son has good moral because his parents have very good moral mah. And sure enough his choice is (b). Habislah, salah. Well, poor kid came home confused. That is what his papa allowed him to do, go to bed late, as late as way past midnight. Sometime, we even go out for teh tarik, soup lembu, roti tisu, nasi kandar at 1am. Usually, our family stick out like a sore thumb. This couple with 4 kids of all ages, as young as a year old child tucking in at the mamak stall along with the hip and happnening crowd from the pubs and karaokes from Upper Penang Road.
Back to my kampung lifestyle, I don't remember any specific time I should be in bed. The only bedtime routines I read were from the Enid Blyton story books where children go to bed by 8 pm and fairies and toys became alive. 8 pm? Are they out of their mind? Why would anyone wants their kids in bed so early? What are they going to do in the next 4 hours (usually adult bedtime is 12 midnight, no?) without the kids romping around, filling the house with their laughters? Some people may say the kids are an annoyance and best put to sleep? Horrors, isn't that like wishing the kids to be dead and permanently leave the house peaceful and noiseless?
I don't know about other people. But my husband only gets home from work at 7 pm. I would want my kids to spend at least 4-5 hours with him each day. So, there is no such thing as bedtime routine for me or my kids. We hit the sack when we are sleepy.
I remember my eldest son had a question in his Pendidikan Moral exam paper. It was a right and wrong kinda question (where you marked with a tick or cross). The question was:
If it is a holiday tomorrow, what does your father let you do?
a) Go to bed at the same time.
b) Go to bed late.
Of course, my son has good moral because his parents have very good moral mah. And sure enough his choice is (b). Habislah, salah. Well, poor kid came home confused. That is what his papa allowed him to do, go to bed late, as late as way past midnight. Sometime, we even go out for teh tarik, soup lembu, roti tisu, nasi kandar at 1am. Usually, our family stick out like a sore thumb. This couple with 4 kids of all ages, as young as a year old child tucking in at the mamak stall along with the hip and happnening crowd from the pubs and karaokes from Upper Penang Road.
Back to my kampung lifestyle, I don't remember any specific time I should be in bed. The only bedtime routines I read were from the Enid Blyton story books where children go to bed by 8 pm and fairies and toys became alive. 8 pm? Are they out of their mind? Why would anyone wants their kids in bed so early? What are they going to do in the next 4 hours (usually adult bedtime is 12 midnight, no?) without the kids romping around, filling the house with their laughters? Some people may say the kids are an annoyance and best put to sleep? Horrors, isn't that like wishing the kids to be dead and permanently leave the house peaceful and noiseless?
I don't know about other people. But my husband only gets home from work at 7 pm. I would want my kids to spend at least 4-5 hours with him each day. So, there is no such thing as bedtime routine for me or my kids. We hit the sack when we are sleepy.
Sunday, November 14, 2004
Colourful childhood
It is Hari Raya today. My kids are at their Muslim friends' homes. Each one to a different place, a different friend. They have gone out since lunch time and said that they won't be back till tonight. I see this as an achievement, an affirmation that I had brought up my kids well. In our flurry of activities in trying to get our children to be educated, we may forget one of the most important lesson. We want them to have excellent results in their studies, we want them to master learning maths and science, we want them to possess leadership quality, be involved in competitive sports and all the trendy things modern kids learn nowadays. But what good are they if our children cannot mingle well in a Malaysian society? What good is it if they only mix with their 'own feathers'? It is the norm for the Chinese to send their kids to a Chinese school and our Malay friends too are in favour of sending their children to an Islamic school. In a Chinese school, the kids only mingle with Chinese and probably one or two Malays and Indians. In an Islamic school, all the children are Malays. So, when do these Malay and Chinese children's path crossed? In university? By then, they are too old. They will be too stubborn to be sensitive to the other races. And if they don't meet at universities and colleges, are they able to blend in at the workplace, the market, on the road, in the neighbourhood?
Therefore, as a Malaysian, I feel that it is very, very important that we inculcate the semangat muhibbah in our children from young. But before we can do this, we have to learn and understand each other's religion. We still see adults getting confused with Hindus and Indians. Some people wish all Indians Happy Deepavali which is incorrect. Deepavali is a religious celebration of the Hindus. Hinduism is a religion. I have to often remind my children on the religious sensitivities of the other races. I do not allow my children to eat in front of their Muslim friends when they come to my house after school hours. The young one will argue with me that he is not eating pork. But I forbid him all the same.
Like most of us adults, my kids too are confused with their Indian Muslim or Indian Christian or Indian Hindu friends. Then, it is more explanation again. (they do not have problem understanding that Malays are Muslims) I like explaining to them what is religion and what is race. It is only when we are sure of our fellow brothers and sisters Malaysian sensitivities that we can live in harmony. We have to learn and to know before we can accept and receive them with our open hearts and open arms.
I feel blessed to live in colourful Malaysia. When I see the kind of tragedies that is happening to our South-East Asian countries, I am even more determined to see that my kids grow up in a peaceful, harmonious and muhibbah Malaysia. It is our responsibilities as parents to see that Malaysia continues to be a country that other countries emulate in terms of peace, harmony and unity.
Therefore, as a Malaysian, I feel that it is very, very important that we inculcate the semangat muhibbah in our children from young. But before we can do this, we have to learn and understand each other's religion. We still see adults getting confused with Hindus and Indians. Some people wish all Indians Happy Deepavali which is incorrect. Deepavali is a religious celebration of the Hindus. Hinduism is a religion. I have to often remind my children on the religious sensitivities of the other races. I do not allow my children to eat in front of their Muslim friends when they come to my house after school hours. The young one will argue with me that he is not eating pork. But I forbid him all the same.
Like most of us adults, my kids too are confused with their Indian Muslim or Indian Christian or Indian Hindu friends. Then, it is more explanation again. (they do not have problem understanding that Malays are Muslims) I like explaining to them what is religion and what is race. It is only when we are sure of our fellow brothers and sisters Malaysian sensitivities that we can live in harmony. We have to learn and to know before we can accept and receive them with our open hearts and open arms.
I feel blessed to live in colourful Malaysia. When I see the kind of tragedies that is happening to our South-East Asian countries, I am even more determined to see that my kids grow up in a peaceful, harmonious and muhibbah Malaysia. It is our responsibilities as parents to see that Malaysia continues to be a country that other countries emulate in terms of peace, harmony and unity.
Hear me roar
She has only one leg. She moves around in a wheelchair and crutches too. She even hop on one leg, a few steps to get from place to place. She has the happiest look on her face. She frolicked in the water, playing with her son. A cute little boy of about 2-3 years old. He squeals and screams with delight. She cuddles and hugs him. They were such a lovely family. Her husband is by her side when she needs to get on the wheelchair. A handsome looking man. They enjoyed their time at the water park. Looking at how she cared for her son, I felt so overwhelmed. Here is a woman with one leg. Enjoying life. Here I am, a woman with two legs, worrying if cellulites get magnified in the bright sunshine. Worrying of getting sunburn, pigmentation and therefore, hiding in the shades with my toddler. I should be so ashamed. I suppose many of us should feel ashamed too. We often cry and whine over unnecessary things like a few pounds overweight, bad hair day, bad skin, sagging breasts, flabby tummies.....we complain about just anything. We curse and we rant. When I see her, I realised something. I exist not to please others. I am not an eye candy for others. I exist for the sake of my children. My children do not care if I have no legs to harbour cellulite. My children do not care if I am bald. My children do not care if my breasts which had provided them mommy's milk sag to the floor. Heck, they don't care. What they care is how I feel about myself. If I feel great, I generate greatness that rub on to them. They feel love when I love myself. They feel happiness when I am happy. So, I hope after meeting her, I will learn to love myself more. I will stand up and roar! Like a tiger.
Saturday, November 13, 2004
Best things in life are free
Never trust advertisements. That's the moral of the story. We went to the Tambun water park in Ipoh. The advert says it is the biggest (something) in South-East Asia. It turns out to be just another water park, just 1/3 of Sunway Lagoon in terms of size and 1/10 in terms of excitement. The only thing it has that others don't is the natural hot water spring. But how fun can it be to soak in a tub of hot water, things you can do at home if you have a hot tub.
But we are not a family of whiny pots. We do not mind travelling the few hundred kilometres from Penang to Ipoh because there are lots of adventure to thrill the kids. We took the old, trunk road from Cangkat Jering, stopping by several rambutans, manggis and durians stalls. The kids had a swell time running into people's kampung. Finding a lone duck in the bushes is fun for them.
Then, on the way back, we went to the night zoo in Taiping. Just another fluke. But it was a rainy night and it is not often the kids get to walk in the rain. So, the best enjoyment is those money can't buy. Rain drops and kampung life.
Thursday, November 11, 2004
Of durians and onde-onde
It is Deepavali today. When it is holiday time, all we can think of are swimming and food. Took the kids to the wet market in Batu Lancang and everyone has a good time. The toddler is so excited to see so many 'eak' (egg) in one spot. Brown, white, black, spotty, big and small. #2 is thrilled to find freshly made 'thnee kueh' (the kuih bakul). Never knew that we can find this Chinese New Year delicacy all year round. Got some fresh grated coconut, santan/coconut milk/durians and we decided to make durian rice with santan and brown sugar. Picture above.
The weather is too hot for any outdoor activities so decided to try making ondeh-ondeh. It is really easy and yummy. And most of all, #3 enjoyed filling and shaping the dough. That's why you can see the brown sugar dripping out from the below picture.
Recipe for ondeh-ondeh
10 pandan leaves - use a little water and blend it/sieve
200 gms glutinuous rice flour
1 tablespoon of cornflour
Pinch of salt
1/2 mug boiling water
Mix the flour and salt in a large bowl. Pour hot water and the pandan leaves juice. Use the water sparingly, adding bit by bit. Knead to the right consistency. If too wet, use more flour. If too dry, put more water.
Chopped half gula melaka and add a little white sugar (not sure why the sugar is needed though)
Take a small portion of dough, the size of a fish ball. Flatten, fill with gula melaka and seal it.
Boil a huge pot of boiling water, put in the ondeh-ondeh. Let it boil till all the balls float. Leave another 2-3 minutes when floated. Scoop out.
Put into grated white coconut. (50 sen of grated coconut mix with a pinch of salt. This coconut is the one that is without the brown parts.)
Excuse me, back to eating.......
Wednesday, November 10, 2004
White lies, gray lies
I read about George Washington and the apple tree when I was small and somehow that story has stayed with me. Back then, all the stories we have are Aesop fables where everything comes with a moral at the end of the stories. There is no LOTR or Harry Potter kinda adventure. And certainly no Dr Seuss. Reading about green ham can cause lethal effect to the child's development like eating green ham. (meats when turned very bad will become green, fyi) So, I dare say that those stories, though filled with simple characters like rabbit and tortoise, ant and crow, fox and other animals, have somehow influenced me to be a little uprighteous and quite truthful. I don't remember being disciplined for telling lies. Other than these stories, there is the Haw Par Villa kinda punishment that I am most afraid. All the Taoist Chinese temples have these huge, scary statues of people being tortured in hade by the god and general. Tell lies, go to hell and get your tongue cut off. Gambling, you get both hands chopped off in hell. Stea your neighbour's wife and errr.. that thing will get chopped off. (Thank God I am a Catholic now or else I will get my tongue sliced and minced. My God is a forgiving God.)
Well, that is until I became a secretary where the ability to tell white lies without unconciously giving away with subtle body languages is an asset. Wow, I mastered telling white lies so well I impressed even the Bukit Aman top guns who was in my office waiting lounge. Sometimes, I tell at least 5 white lies in a few minutes. Like 'Yes, Tan Sri ABC, Datuk HH is in. I will put you through now.' and next minute, ring, ring, 'Nolah, Mr Apek asking for donation, boss in overseas and won't be back till next month', ring, ring again 'Good morning, Mr Small client from overseas, can you wait a minute? I am a new staff, not sure if Datuk HH is in. Let me ask his secretary.' and it goes on, day after day for 12 long years.
So, when I am that good at telling half truths, I suppose teaching my kids this important tool for survival is a breeze. All good moms must certainly equipped their children with the art of telling half truths and also the art of 'bodek-king'. How else is your child going to climb to the very top of the corporate/political/business ladder if he doesn't acquire these two important skills? All the MBA, PhD (my PhD holder friend Ros term it Permanent Head Damage) and whatever degree is not enough.
Well, it is not hard to start the lesson.
Lesson during family gatherings
Mom : When you see all the aunties/uncles (yee ma, ku cheh, tua kor, tua koo) you must remember to call loud-loud hor? And wish them Keong Hee Huat Chye.
Kids : If we don't leh?
Mom : Get smaller ang pow lor.
If tua kor asked if you like her food, must remember to say 'very good lor' even if you don't like to eat ha.
Kids : Like that mah tell lie lor.
Mom : Never mind...., that one is not called lying. It is just a little white lie, to make tua kor happy mah.
Lesson at home
Mom is still zzzzz at 11 am.
Phone ring, ring.
#3 son, age 8 yrs old : Harloh (munching Twisties and drinking cherry flavoured, sugar laden, colour filled soda)
Nosy in-law on the other end : Where is your mommy?
#3 son whom had been trained : Oh mommy ah? Errr.....(looking frantically at mommy's snoring) Ahh...err.....mommy is bathing baby, not free.
Nosy in-law : Oh like that ah? You eat full ah (usual for Chinese to ask as courtesy).
#3 son : Yes, chiak pah liau (eaten)
Nosy in-law : Wah.. you eat good-good (healthy) food ah?
#3 son : Yes loh.... Bye-bye kor-kor (auntie/father's sister), I ask mommy to phone you later ha.
When mom wakes up, she knows that she had carried out her parenting responsibility well! Bravo, son #3! You have graduated from the school of white lies/half truths.
P/S : House rules # 101 - White lies and half truths are acceptable when talking to others but cannot be applied in conversation with your parents. It is to be used only to take care of someone's feeling or to protect someone's reputation.
House rules # 102 - No one is to tell lies that hurts or injures others. The penalty for lying is a whack with the clothes hanger. Lying to parents means several whacks with the clothes hanger which leaves embarassing marks on the lower legs for school mates to laugh at.
Well, that is until I became a secretary where the ability to tell white lies without unconciously giving away with subtle body languages is an asset. Wow, I mastered telling white lies so well I impressed even the Bukit Aman top guns who was in my office waiting lounge. Sometimes, I tell at least 5 white lies in a few minutes. Like 'Yes, Tan Sri ABC, Datuk HH is in. I will put you through now.' and next minute, ring, ring, 'Nolah, Mr Apek asking for donation, boss in overseas and won't be back till next month', ring, ring again 'Good morning, Mr Small client from overseas, can you wait a minute? I am a new staff, not sure if Datuk HH is in. Let me ask his secretary.' and it goes on, day after day for 12 long years.
So, when I am that good at telling half truths, I suppose teaching my kids this important tool for survival is a breeze. All good moms must certainly equipped their children with the art of telling half truths and also the art of 'bodek-king'. How else is your child going to climb to the very top of the corporate/political/business ladder if he doesn't acquire these two important skills? All the MBA, PhD (my PhD holder friend Ros term it Permanent Head Damage) and whatever degree is not enough.
Well, it is not hard to start the lesson.
Lesson during family gatherings
Mom : When you see all the aunties/uncles (yee ma, ku cheh, tua kor, tua koo) you must remember to call loud-loud hor? And wish them Keong Hee Huat Chye.
Kids : If we don't leh?
Mom : Get smaller ang pow lor.
If tua kor asked if you like her food, must remember to say 'very good lor' even if you don't like to eat ha.
Kids : Like that mah tell lie lor.
Mom : Never mind...., that one is not called lying. It is just a little white lie, to make tua kor happy mah.
Lesson at home
Mom is still zzzzz at 11 am.
Phone ring, ring.
#3 son, age 8 yrs old : Harloh (munching Twisties and drinking cherry flavoured, sugar laden, colour filled soda)
Nosy in-law on the other end : Where is your mommy?
#3 son whom had been trained : Oh mommy ah? Errr.....(looking frantically at mommy's snoring) Ahh...err.....mommy is bathing baby, not free.
Nosy in-law : Oh like that ah? You eat full ah (usual for Chinese to ask as courtesy).
#3 son : Yes, chiak pah liau (eaten)
Nosy in-law : Wah.. you eat good-good (healthy) food ah?
#3 son : Yes loh.... Bye-bye kor-kor (auntie/father's sister), I ask mommy to phone you later ha.
When mom wakes up, she knows that she had carried out her parenting responsibility well! Bravo, son #3! You have graduated from the school of white lies/half truths.
P/S : House rules # 101 - White lies and half truths are acceptable when talking to others but cannot be applied in conversation with your parents. It is to be used only to take care of someone's feeling or to protect someone's reputation.
House rules # 102 - No one is to tell lies that hurts or injures others. The penalty for lying is a whack with the clothes hanger. Lying to parents means several whacks with the clothes hanger which leaves embarassing marks on the lower legs for school mates to laugh at.
P/S #2 : This blog is filled with no lies.
Tuesday, November 09, 2004
One suku Hainanese, tiga suku Hakka
We were at the kopitiam eating Hainanese chicken rice and I decided to plant some roots in my kids. They love Hainanese chicken rice and I told them, hey, I am a Hainanese and I can cook chicken rice too (but never done it before though). Kids' eyes were glazed and they were too busy eating to take in the sejarah lesson. Heck, they couldn't care less to what I am saying. My words probably were one ear in, one ear out, only rice go down. I continue blabbing like grandmas do all the time. I reminded them that their grandfather and granduncle, my father and his brother travelled from the coconut trees island of Hainan across the big, big sea to Malaya. Grandpa was from China and yet, he learnt English and became an English teacher. Still not much reaction, still not amused. *sigh*.... the next time I tell them this story again, I should probably add in a few pirates whom grandpa fought on the rough seas, grandpa found some of the pirate treasures but there is a map of more hidden treasure somewhere.
Since they see Hainanese chicken rice stalls more than any Hakka mee stalls (btw, anyone knows what Hakkas are famous for?), I suppose it is safe to assume that my boys will remember that they are suku Hainanese and proud of it when they grow up. (I am half Hainanese 'cos mom is a SingNing so my kids mah become suku lor). Other than using Hainan chicken rice to instil this lesson on roots, I really do not know other ways. After all, the only Hainanese word I know is of course the one and only bad word everyone knows. PLK! And all I can find on Hainan island is this.
Since they see Hainanese chicken rice stalls more than any Hakka mee stalls (btw, anyone knows what Hakkas are famous for?), I suppose it is safe to assume that my boys will remember that they are suku Hainanese and proud of it when they grow up. (I am half Hainanese 'cos mom is a SingNing so my kids mah become suku lor). Other than using Hainan chicken rice to instil this lesson on roots, I really do not know other ways. After all, the only Hainanese word I know is of course the one and only bad word everyone knows. PLK! And all I can find on Hainan island is this.
My other son
Many people are uncomfortable with me. Some make snide remarks to me to go back to my 'lot' . Some forever go 'poor thing' and think I need their sympathies. Some do not know what to say to me and therefore, keep quiet, keep a distance and pretend like they don't know anything. Well, does it matter? It doesn't. I don't give a damn to anyone's remarks. Life is too short to be bothered with what people thinks. Life is too wonderful be to spoilt by the rotten few. Life has much more to offer than to care if anyone cares.
Being a bereaved mom is not the end of the world. I never go around begging people to listen to my sob-sob stories. My tears are too precious to be shown to anyone. But sometimes, I do enjoy opening up a few eyes with what I went through. I do get a kick out of giving some people a knock, knock, wake up, get out of your shell and live life fully. The world is full of people who lives in glass houses. They have everything provided for. They have proper home, proper food and clothing, proper kids, proper spouse, proper routine like waking up, eat, shit, sleep, waking up, eat, shit, sleep... And in the process, they think the world revolves around them and goes by their rules.
I had been through a lot, against the storm, the clouds, the rain, hailstorms, earthquakes, drought. These have toughen me up and today, I can stand up and rejoice that come what may, life is never going to get me down.
I owe this brave attitude to one person. My other son. He is my other son because he is no longer here. But that other son will remain weaved in my life. Everything I do, I do it because of him. Not for him but because of him. Here is my son which I am terribly proud of:
Vincent Loh
24th September, 2001 ~ 1st May, 2002
His life story can be found at his special site.
Being a bereaved mom is not the end of the world. I never go around begging people to listen to my sob-sob stories. My tears are too precious to be shown to anyone. But sometimes, I do enjoy opening up a few eyes with what I went through. I do get a kick out of giving some people a knock, knock, wake up, get out of your shell and live life fully. The world is full of people who lives in glass houses. They have everything provided for. They have proper home, proper food and clothing, proper kids, proper spouse, proper routine like waking up, eat, shit, sleep, waking up, eat, shit, sleep... And in the process, they think the world revolves around them and goes by their rules.
I had been through a lot, against the storm, the clouds, the rain, hailstorms, earthquakes, drought. These have toughen me up and today, I can stand up and rejoice that come what may, life is never going to get me down.
I owe this brave attitude to one person. My other son. He is my other son because he is no longer here. But that other son will remain weaved in my life. Everything I do, I do it because of him. Not for him but because of him. Here is my son which I am terribly proud of:
Vincent Loh
24th September, 2001 ~ 1st May, 2002
His life story can be found at his special site.
Not sure why I bring him into the topic but I guess I am about to embark on something big, new and scary to me. So, I will probably dig back the kind of courage I had back then and use it for good purpose this time.
Sunday, November 07, 2004
A conversation with John
John is the kind of person many people will pretend not to see or like to go near. He walks with a limp and flailing arms because he has two bow-legs, two hands that bended in, gnarled fingers and head that shakes due to a tic. I know I would be * one of those people (ok, let's admit it, many of us are like that) who will feel uncomfortable being with a person that we refer as cacat (handicapped). (* more about this later) If John wants to talk, he will need to muster all his facial muscles and even his body to get just a 'hello' out of his mouth. His teeth are uneven, yellowed, decayed. When he says a few sentences, his saliva will dribbled down his mouth. One has to go rather close to him to catch what he is trying to say. And on days when John has not been taking care of himself well, that means, probably had not been bathing, it does get a little hard on our noses.
But John... I suppose is a happy person. That's what I told him today. He asked me to pray for him. He asked me if I know his name. The face lighted up when I told him yes, John, everyone knows your name.
I told him that even if I don't pray for him, the Lord will take good care of him. He insisted that I pray for him. I assured him I will.
John : Aaaaaaaaaunnnnnntie.... can you pray for me? (for the 3rd time)
Me : Sure, of course. You want me to also pray that you find a wife to take care of you?
John laughed at my joke. It is great to make someone like John laugh.
Me : John, you know you are a very lucky person? You do not have to worry about working and earning money. You have no one to make you angry. You are always so happy. Not like auntie. Auntie got so many things to take care and to worry about.
I know John believes what I said. And I hope everyone who sees a special person like John will believe me too. He may not have a family, no real pal, no proper home, not much respects from the people around him, no money, no everything but he feels love all around him. He get hugs from many kind people, he gets just enough money to buy the next meal, he enjoys all the small things in life (like looking at babies, he loves babies), he is happy and he is protected by the angels and under the watchful eye of God.
(*) - At any other time, I know I wouldn't dare to go near people like John if I had not been dealt with the possibility of having a handicapped son once. It is not easy for every one of us to see beyond the imperfections, disabilities, deformities to appreciate the beauty and the special qualities of the person. If I am John's mother, I would be very happy to know that John is being taken care of. (I am not sure where she is but John told me he lives alone.) If I am John's mother, I know I would be proud of my son. It is not easy for a person with legs like John to walk and even harder to talk. John speaks English very well and he can even sing with all his heart.
I hope every mother will be proud of their children, no matter what. But sometimes, some of these special children ended up in homes or even by the roadside, motherless. If you ask me what kind of mothers I respect most, it is those mothers who take their special children out in the open, share with them the beauty earth has to offer. Children in wheelchairs or children like John. Children who are blind or mute. It is mothers who have no problem sitting down for a meal in the public with sons who border on looking like daughters. I had met two such women before. The people around her (including bad me) stared at her son looking like a daughter yet she couldn't be bothered. These mothers gain my highest respect. Read a very inspiring piece by Erma Bombeck here.
So, remember to say a little prayer for John and say an even bigger prayer for mothers to children like John. Amen.
But John... I suppose is a happy person. That's what I told him today. He asked me to pray for him. He asked me if I know his name. The face lighted up when I told him yes, John, everyone knows your name.
I told him that even if I don't pray for him, the Lord will take good care of him. He insisted that I pray for him. I assured him I will.
John : Aaaaaaaaaunnnnnntie.... can you pray for me? (for the 3rd time)
Me : Sure, of course. You want me to also pray that you find a wife to take care of you?
John laughed at my joke. It is great to make someone like John laugh.
Me : John, you know you are a very lucky person? You do not have to worry about working and earning money. You have no one to make you angry. You are always so happy. Not like auntie. Auntie got so many things to take care and to worry about.
I know John believes what I said. And I hope everyone who sees a special person like John will believe me too. He may not have a family, no real pal, no proper home, not much respects from the people around him, no money, no everything but he feels love all around him. He get hugs from many kind people, he gets just enough money to buy the next meal, he enjoys all the small things in life (like looking at babies, he loves babies), he is happy and he is protected by the angels and under the watchful eye of God.
(*) - At any other time, I know I wouldn't dare to go near people like John if I had not been dealt with the possibility of having a handicapped son once. It is not easy for every one of us to see beyond the imperfections, disabilities, deformities to appreciate the beauty and the special qualities of the person. If I am John's mother, I would be very happy to know that John is being taken care of. (I am not sure where she is but John told me he lives alone.) If I am John's mother, I know I would be proud of my son. It is not easy for a person with legs like John to walk and even harder to talk. John speaks English very well and he can even sing with all his heart.
I hope every mother will be proud of their children, no matter what. But sometimes, some of these special children ended up in homes or even by the roadside, motherless. If you ask me what kind of mothers I respect most, it is those mothers who take their special children out in the open, share with them the beauty earth has to offer. Children in wheelchairs or children like John. Children who are blind or mute. It is mothers who have no problem sitting down for a meal in the public with sons who border on looking like daughters. I had met two such women before. The people around her (including bad me) stared at her son looking like a daughter yet she couldn't be bothered. These mothers gain my highest respect. Read a very inspiring piece by Erma Bombeck here.
So, remember to say a little prayer for John and say an even bigger prayer for mothers to children like John. Amen.
English - then and now
A few days ago, I watched this English lesson on the TV Pendidikan channel. It is probably for the primary school but unfortunately, this auntie cannot understand what they are teaching. Why do they have to make things so complicated?
Since small until now (very old lar but young also) I can never differentiate what is a noun and a verb. I have no idea about grammar rules. By just reading a sentence, I can 'feel' if it is wrong or right. By just looking, I can 'feel' if the spelling is right or wrong. I can easily remember past tense and present tense but never sure when to use them.
Have the method of teaching the English (or even Bahasa Malaysia) subject evolved so much since errr...30 years ago? A simple question like 'What are you doing?' is just that. But on the TV Pendidikan, alamak... they broke the thing into several parts, like 'action' etc etc (dang, I can't even remember what the heck they taught within 10 seconds!).
Who are the guilty parties who brought up a generation of Manglish speaking Malaysians? It has to be these too smart alecs who screwed up our future generations. And it could be the parents also.
I learnt my almost perfect (ahem!) English by just reading, reading, reading. I read because the books are easily available to me. I read as young as 7 yrs old because life in the kampung has nothing to offer except building coconut leaves tents, playing masak-masak with real fire and sliding around the kampung on pinang leaves (frond). I read because my mother NEVER tell me to. I read because the Government NEVER tell me to. I read because the Japanese/American/other blood sucking marketeers NEVER tell me to. I read from Shakespeare to Harold Robbins, Reader's Digests to some Communist China magazines (just looking at the pictures la) and whatever few books my poor school library can offer.
Kids today? Their parents will shove books down their throats as early as.... before they weren't even born. Parents take great pride in showing off their immaculate routine of 'bedtime story' ala the angmohs. Back then, the only bedtime story I heard from my mother is the homemade version of Hansel & Grethel where old ladies eat little children. That's my only bedtime story. (the result? I very scared of old people wan)
But look at the standard of English. Read some of the blogs from the young people. Walau eh, chia lat lor. (teruk la) Auntie never get bedtime story, never attend the British Council English class, never been to kindergarten, did not even know ABC when entering Standard one and yet... Auntie got articles in the newspapers and magazines. (some articles available for reading here) Can you figure that?
So, for my kids, I wouldn't dare to send them for any tuition lest the tuition and the school teachers corrupted their mind with their method of teaching English. I will just dump more and more books in the house and hopefully, they will learn English and Bahasa Malaysia, my way...(singing) I did it my...... way....
PS : If you notice any grammar errors on this blog, just keep it to yourself. Thank you. I will 'feel' for them and make my own correction.
Since small until now (very old lar but young also) I can never differentiate what is a noun and a verb. I have no idea about grammar rules. By just reading a sentence, I can 'feel' if it is wrong or right. By just looking, I can 'feel' if the spelling is right or wrong. I can easily remember past tense and present tense but never sure when to use them.
Have the method of teaching the English (or even Bahasa Malaysia) subject evolved so much since errr...30 years ago? A simple question like 'What are you doing?' is just that. But on the TV Pendidikan, alamak... they broke the thing into several parts, like 'action' etc etc (dang, I can't even remember what the heck they taught within 10 seconds!).
Who are the guilty parties who brought up a generation of Manglish speaking Malaysians? It has to be these too smart alecs who screwed up our future generations. And it could be the parents also.
I learnt my almost perfect (ahem!) English by just reading, reading, reading. I read because the books are easily available to me. I read as young as 7 yrs old because life in the kampung has nothing to offer except building coconut leaves tents, playing masak-masak with real fire and sliding around the kampung on pinang leaves (frond). I read because my mother NEVER tell me to. I read because the Government NEVER tell me to. I read because the Japanese/American/other blood sucking marketeers NEVER tell me to. I read from Shakespeare to Harold Robbins, Reader's Digests to some Communist China magazines (just looking at the pictures la) and whatever few books my poor school library can offer.
Kids today? Their parents will shove books down their throats as early as.... before they weren't even born. Parents take great pride in showing off their immaculate routine of 'bedtime story' ala the angmohs. Back then, the only bedtime story I heard from my mother is the homemade version of Hansel & Grethel where old ladies eat little children. That's my only bedtime story. (the result? I very scared of old people wan)
But look at the standard of English. Read some of the blogs from the young people. Walau eh, chia lat lor. (teruk la) Auntie never get bedtime story, never attend the British Council English class, never been to kindergarten, did not even know ABC when entering Standard one and yet... Auntie got articles in the newspapers and magazines. (some articles available for reading here) Can you figure that?
So, for my kids, I wouldn't dare to send them for any tuition lest the tuition and the school teachers corrupted their mind with their method of teaching English. I will just dump more and more books in the house and hopefully, they will learn English and Bahasa Malaysia, my way...(singing) I did it my...... way....
PS : If you notice any grammar errors on this blog, just keep it to yourself. Thank you. I will 'feel' for them and make my own correction.
Saturday, November 06, 2004
Homemade cakes, toffee and BOMB?
5xmom
The reason I have so many kids is because no two kids are the same. Each of them have their own individual character. Though they look the same, I cannot get tired of churning out one son after another because each of them drives me up the wall because of different things. So life is very interesting.
#2 is 12 years old, a timid and quiet guy who can sit through 2 hours of boring documentaries like China history, Egyptian mummies, WWII, more WWII and Pearl Harbour (the boring documentary, not the movie) and stuffs that made me zzzz within 15 mins. He can assembled those miniscule models that cost a bomb (one box cost RM400), paint them with 20 mini size tins of paint that also cost a bomb (RM8/tin). (but if I want to buy a bottle of nail polish that cost RM5, the father will say -what? so expensive?)
Now, with the evil, bad broadband internet, he is into searching for 'how to make muffins'. (thank goodness, only breakfast muffin recipes turn up) As a mama who encourages her children to explore, I do not mind going to the kitchen and dish up some muffins with him. Next, he get adventurous and search 'how to make toffee'. Also can, we went to Cold Storage and bought damn expensive stuffs like molasses, gylcerin (blech) and things that cost me at least RM30 to make a blob of ugly looking toffee that no one likes to eat. The sweat-flavoured sweets then sticks to my wall, kitchen top and floor. (to make toffee, you need to pull the warm mixture, so it is sweat flavoured lor)
Still can tahan. But even under my watchful eyes, he managed to surf at things very 'heart-attacking'. How to make fireworks! Wah... this is getting hot oredi. He had bugged me to find potassium nitrate and sulphur for him since last week. He got all the measurement right to the milligram. Which chemical mixed with what, get which colour. After one week of deaf ears from me, he turned to the next project. How to make smoke BOMBS! This time, he bugged his father pulak. So, off they went to get Epson Salt (dunno for gastric or constipation or whatever lar) from Guardian and had been cooking Epson Salt and sugar.
One of his good points is his patience. He had made 3 batches of the stuff, using different stoves, different ratio of salt and sugar and he is still not giving up. His mission - to make smoke bombs that can drive the Bomba to our apartment unit. Like I expected, the project of making smoke bombs, bombed. All failures. Only smell of caramel sugar emits from the house, no smoke, no fire.
But... I suppose his next search will be 'how to make nuclear bomb'. So, if you find the newspapers headline with 'Penang island mysteriously disappeared overnight', you know that my son has finally succeeded cooking in my kitchen. I am writing this at 1.30 am in the morning because the possibility of bringing up a future terrorist keeps me awake.
The reason I have so many kids is because no two kids are the same. Each of them have their own individual character. Though they look the same, I cannot get tired of churning out one son after another because each of them drives me up the wall because of different things. So life is very interesting.
#2 is 12 years old, a timid and quiet guy who can sit through 2 hours of boring documentaries like China history, Egyptian mummies, WWII, more WWII and Pearl Harbour (the boring documentary, not the movie) and stuffs that made me zzzz within 15 mins. He can assembled those miniscule models that cost a bomb (one box cost RM400), paint them with 20 mini size tins of paint that also cost a bomb (RM8/tin). (but if I want to buy a bottle of nail polish that cost RM5, the father will say -what? so expensive?)
Now, with the evil, bad broadband internet, he is into searching for 'how to make muffins'. (thank goodness, only breakfast muffin recipes turn up) As a mama who encourages her children to explore, I do not mind going to the kitchen and dish up some muffins with him. Next, he get adventurous and search 'how to make toffee'. Also can, we went to Cold Storage and bought damn expensive stuffs like molasses, gylcerin (blech) and things that cost me at least RM30 to make a blob of ugly looking toffee that no one likes to eat. The sweat-flavoured sweets then sticks to my wall, kitchen top and floor. (to make toffee, you need to pull the warm mixture, so it is sweat flavoured lor)
Still can tahan. But even under my watchful eyes, he managed to surf at things very 'heart-attacking'. How to make fireworks! Wah... this is getting hot oredi. He had bugged me to find potassium nitrate and sulphur for him since last week. He got all the measurement right to the milligram. Which chemical mixed with what, get which colour. After one week of deaf ears from me, he turned to the next project. How to make smoke BOMBS! This time, he bugged his father pulak. So, off they went to get Epson Salt (dunno for gastric or constipation or whatever lar) from Guardian and had been cooking Epson Salt and sugar.
One of his good points is his patience. He had made 3 batches of the stuff, using different stoves, different ratio of salt and sugar and he is still not giving up. His mission - to make smoke bombs that can drive the Bomba to our apartment unit. Like I expected, the project of making smoke bombs, bombed. All failures. Only smell of caramel sugar emits from the house, no smoke, no fire.
But... I suppose his next search will be 'how to make nuclear bomb'. So, if you find the newspapers headline with 'Penang island mysteriously disappeared overnight', you know that my son has finally succeeded cooking in my kitchen. I am writing this at 1.30 am in the morning because the possibility of bringing up a future terrorist keeps me awake.
Thursday, November 04, 2004
Pls & TQ, pissed & f.u. :O)
Warning : The following passages may contain foul languages. Do not attempt to read further if you have only Please and Thank you in your vocab!
My home is just a shout away from my kids' primary school. So, it is like a half-way home for many pre-teens and 12 years old. Occassionaly, I get visitors whom are my eldest son's school-mates from secondary school. They are very well brought up. Hello auntie, thank you auntie. But....when they think that I am out of ear-shot, then the f.u. will popped out of their mouth. Put them together in front of the PS2 and boy....auntie feels like bringing the toilet brush and soap to wash their mouth. But auntie couldn't care less because how other parents brought up their children is their own business. However, if it is one of my own, they can bet on getting two red cheeks with five finger prints on them.
My kids never hang around their friends' houses so I do not know if they speak the same language there. But I have one theory. If I teach my kids all the names of the organs of the human body in every languages, Tamil, Hokkien, English, BM, they will not be so curious and won't treat foul languages as a novelty to show off to their friends. Does that make sense?
Is there a book or chart that you use to teach, auntie?
Nay...they learn every word while in the car, when I am driving.
tsk tsk tsk, auntie, how can like that? You say bad words in front of your children ah?
Why not? It is better than to bottled up the anger and whacked them unnecessary, no? Afterall, those morons on the road deserve it.
So it is the unwritten rule that I, the mother, the great one, can say "eee eh mak le" (curse your mother) but they cannot because they are not mothers. Or if I accidentally kicked and injured my big toe, I can say 'pooh....' (minus the ki) or 'chi.... (minus the bye?).
Well, another theory of mine is if the kids are happy and not having bottled up foul moods, then they wouldn't be using foul languages. If I don't force please and thank you down their reluctant throats just to prove that I am a good mother who brought up good mannered children, then I won't get pissed and f.u. flowing out in retaliation.
So, meantime, they can stick to using 'horseshoe crab sperm' (hou siaw/bluff) as their first bad word. Anything further, they are risking getting a thunderbolt from me. Oh ya, they are also allowed to complete the 'ki' and the 'bye' from my uncompleted words. But hey, I do not kick my toe everyday, ok?
My home is just a shout away from my kids' primary school. So, it is like a half-way home for many pre-teens and 12 years old. Occassionaly, I get visitors whom are my eldest son's school-mates from secondary school. They are very well brought up. Hello auntie, thank you auntie. But....when they think that I am out of ear-shot, then the f.u. will popped out of their mouth. Put them together in front of the PS2 and boy....auntie feels like bringing the toilet brush and soap to wash their mouth. But auntie couldn't care less because how other parents brought up their children is their own business. However, if it is one of my own, they can bet on getting two red cheeks with five finger prints on them.
My kids never hang around their friends' houses so I do not know if they speak the same language there. But I have one theory. If I teach my kids all the names of the organs of the human body in every languages, Tamil, Hokkien, English, BM, they will not be so curious and won't treat foul languages as a novelty to show off to their friends. Does that make sense?
Is there a book or chart that you use to teach, auntie?
Nay...they learn every word while in the car, when I am driving.
tsk tsk tsk, auntie, how can like that? You say bad words in front of your children ah?
Why not? It is better than to bottled up the anger and whacked them unnecessary, no? Afterall, those morons on the road deserve it.
So it is the unwritten rule that I, the mother, the great one, can say "eee eh mak le" (curse your mother) but they cannot because they are not mothers. Or if I accidentally kicked and injured my big toe, I can say 'pooh....' (minus the ki) or 'chi.... (minus the bye?).
Well, another theory of mine is if the kids are happy and not having bottled up foul moods, then they wouldn't be using foul languages. If I don't force please and thank you down their reluctant throats just to prove that I am a good mother who brought up good mannered children, then I won't get pissed and f.u. flowing out in retaliation.
So, meantime, they can stick to using 'horseshoe crab sperm' (hou siaw/bluff) as their first bad word. Anything further, they are risking getting a thunderbolt from me. Oh ya, they are also allowed to complete the 'ki' and the 'bye' from my uncompleted words. But hey, I do not kick my toe everyday, ok?
Tuesday, November 02, 2004
Referee dutee
Is something wrong with my method of upbringing or is something wrong with other people's children? As usual, I am always the perfect one. How can I go wrong..... no way man..... I am always right wan....
How come I don't see other kids/siblings punching each other in public but my kids do that all the time? Or nudging each other till they fall off the chair/seat? And doing this in church, in a Catholic church when we observe the most prim and proper way of worshipping in silence? Oooh... I am trapped between the devil and the deep blue sea. If I don't bring them along with me to church more often, I am not being a good mother. If I bring them every week, one of these days, the whole church is going to see this woman possessed by the devil and giving her two sons, one on her left and one on her right, two tight slaps on the left and right cheeks - in the middle of 'Grant us peace, grant us peace'.
I think it is healthy to allow kids to express themselves. They must be able to tell if they are angry, annoyed, irritated, disgusted, pissed off, (ok, no f word allowed at home)..... They should be able to release those bad 'chi' inside them. So, I let them take it out on each other. It is pure, innocent, child-like display of affections to me. It usually starts with each other poking fun, laughing at each other inane jokes then it progresses to names calling like 'headless chicken', 'moron', etc etc. But soon, one of them is going to get angry, an arm or a leg is bound to cross territories, more arms and more legs and .... that's where my referee whistle will come in. But I don't have a whistle, I use my loudest voice. Tsk, tsk tsk, it is not nice to shout at your kids, auntie. Hey, if I don't do something to stop that pronto, someone is going to get hurt. And I also get to practise my vocals too, good for choir.
*sigh* It is real fun to live with 4 sons. As one can see from the photo above. Only the #2 and #3 fight but overall, they provided each other the best companies. And the best lesson too - you gotta live with people you can't stand and you gotta love them at the same time. Tough but that's life.
Monday, November 01, 2004
Love bites
Something I made for my #1 son.
I am either a very loving mom or I am a very nutty mom. It is one of those days when hubby is not eating at home. So I am at the mercy of my kids. If it is a family meal, then everyone is expected to eat what is laid on the table. But when the man of the house is not taking dinner at home, then I will be waitressing. Son #1 wants fried rice with spicy dried prawns. Son #2 wants a ham and cheese omellete. And if I think I can just get son #3 to eat what #2 is eating, then I am safe. But no... he hates cheese and ham and he wants scrambled eggs. Then, what about son #4 who is only a toddler? Should I serve him eggs and bread? Nope, he got China-man tummy and doesn't fancy western style food. So, I have to find some rice for him. But son #1 fried rice is not suitable for him. Which means I have to fry rice for a toddler. There I was, in the kitchen, toiling over eggs and rice, cooking four separate meals.
Of course, I do not mind doing all the above, washing the frying pan again and again, sweating over the stove, making mundane meals because as long as my kids are fed, I am real happy. But ha ha ha, hubby said he needed something to eat before his dinner with his expat colleagues. Yah, yah, he is eating lobster and sharksfin and I am home waiting for leftovers of cold, mashed up, half-eaten eggs and probably spitted fried rice from the toddler. So, would I be asking "Dear.... what do you want to eat? Fried or scrambled, spicy or non-spicy, with meat or without? bla bla." No way... I just pop in the microwave - a plate of rice, some dishes from leftover from lunch and splattered, eat! That's it. The man who brings back the bacon has no 'authority' to order his meals. But my four princes will get to make a waitress, kitchen helper, cook out of me. All in the name of love.
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