Alright folks, just when you have gotten used to writing 2011 on your cheque books, its time to make the same mistakes again come 2012. The year, the weeks, the days, the hours, the minutes and the seconds are ticking way too fast for me, for you, anyone with me?
I am not sure how many of you like me have a cluttered work desk but in the midst of piles of papers, there's a photo here, a picture frame there, a piece of drawing your child did at play group, a sketchy penmanship of your 5 year old that says, Happy Mother's Day? Memorabilia to remind us of the passage of time. Then it dawned on you that your little child is now turning 13 and ready to embark on another journey. It daunting to be reminded that the clock is indeed ticking mercilessly. Everyone is aging, coping with wrinkles, age spots, greying hair and whatever comes with becoming a year older.
In a few hours, we welcome 2012. To some, its a radiant new beginning, to some, another dark, painful year, with nothing to look forward to. Some have great pay bonuses while some will wonder if whatever little they have will see them through the month. Its been like a long distance run for me.
At some stage, I pace well. At times, I sprint and many times I pant. Its the uncertainty of the physical and emotional momentum that we are often not prepared for. We don't know how far the drop is. But we just close our eyes and hope we survive the fall. Isn't life all about risk-taking?
The kids had great gifts this Christmas; a smart phone, and mp4 player, a nintendo wii, Nike Pegasus (while my trainers are in dire need for a trip to the cobbler). Its all about the kids isn't it? My biggest wish for 2012 is to see my family happy and indeed, they are. No skiing trips but Hong Kong was just as awesome. The company was all that matters. I just make sure they know mum and dad work really hard to give them a well deserved gift and their obligations is to be good kids and to do their best in school. A good friend had to be away on work stint for most part of the school holidays, as it comes with the job. To make a living, to provide for the family. If you don't give your family the best now, then when? The fragility of life is very frightening. There may come a time when we can no longer provide. Embrace them while they are clingy for they will not be so very soon.
New year resolutions are archaic. I never make them and never will. Do yourself a favour, don't. Live for the here and now. I hit the gym less than 10 times this year and the scales didn't lie. I enjoy my food escapades with my family way too much to be worried about whether I fit into my Levis. So what if you are a couple of inch wider, not gonna hurt anyone? You know your own body better than anyone. Listen to your body and take good care of it. Eat all you want but know when to stop.
Nope, I am not going to fret the small things in life. Be happy you still have a job, your children, spouse, parents, friends, best friends, lovers and that they are all well, and truly be happy inside. We are all communal beings, no man is an island. Reach out and talk to someone. You never know you could save a person's life just by opening up to him or her. Be a better person, be generous, don't talk behind each other, hard to do but try. I am still struggling with this for the longest time. Don't talk about others because we are also easy targets for gossips. Its so hard to be good, so easy to be bad. If there's ever a need to make a new year's resolution, let this be one. To be a better person, period. That alone encompass lots of elements to make the world a better place to be. There's always a way out, just open up your world and get out of that dark tunnel. To those short-sighted, narrow minded, selfish people, I hope you'll be enlightened in some way. Be nice and don't take unfair advantage of people. What goes around, comes around.
To all my acquaintances, friends, siblings, colleagues, my closest friends, my husband, mum and dad, have a Funtastic & Happy 2012. Let the good times roll. I wish you and your family well, hope to see you more often and looking forward to hear your happy stories. Cheers to all and to my special ones, I love you dearly...
Friday, December 30, 2011
Thursday, July 7, 2011
What Matters Most is Love...
Many of my friends and acquaintances whom I "see" regularly on Facebook have posted photos of their children, including myself and tapping open their photos to reveal the beautiful interaction between parent and child and the deep bond my friends have with their children.. indeed heartwarming.
The imminent day will come when we grow old and eventually fade from this earth, how will our children remember us? Have you wondered what the eulogy would be? If there's even going to be one for that matter? Being the positive me, assuming there is. What would your children say about you to the world. Have you influenced their lives greatly or are you one that your child resent and not wanting to be associated with? Or rather to be a person who have made such an impact to the people around you and to be immortalised in that very brief eulogy, so people will know you, as a person, a spouse, a friend. You will be surprised how little people know about you.
It's a very profound thought which I recently had. Being a person who cares about what others thought of me, I want to leave this world knowing I have touched someone's life. Even if its just one person, it will make my life worth living. I may not be that rich tycoon to donate a hospital or fund a school project but closer to home, have you made a difference to your child's life. The child will know when you are nagging and when you meant well. Will your child proudly profess to their own children when they become parents one day say, "you know what, my mum and dad was there for me, for richer and for poorer...", just to borrow a line.
We have evolved to become greedy, self centered people that we often use monetary or material rewards to barter trade time with our children. We get too engaged in your career building so we can hoard enough for our childrens' needs. Nothing wrong but what message are we telling them. What seems so right can turn out to be so wrong. Are we giving them the wrong signals. As parents we work hard, I'm sure we want our children to appreciate the long hours we toiled , the overtime we do, the late night staying up to finish a presentation. They must know that it's not a given. My parents don't owe me an education. Count your blessings if you are born into a well to do family, your parents can buy you an education but the boy who helps his dad deliver newspapers at the break of dawn, he has just as much a rewarding life than anyone out there. He is emotionally rich in his relationship with his father. He loves his dad enough to offer his time.
I wasn't born with a silver spoon. We've had our ups and downs. I never once blamed anyone for having lacked anything. It was something that has to happen to make me who I'm today, not a charmed life but a complete person, one who has been through some test in life. I can tell you this now that I have done my homework in the dark. Been there, done that. But with that brief episode in my life, I can appreciate basic things I now have. I can only say it doesn't matter how little or how much I have. I have now a shelter over my head, hot meals on the table, a lovely family with a caring spouse, my folks are well, charming siblings, a niece that adores me and my boys to keep me on my toes.
To me, there's so much one can have, and one can have only so much. My agenda in life is simple, to bring up my children to the best of my ability, give them the time they deserve. Engage them in your conversations and don't think they don't understand what's going on. They observe but they may not tell you what they see, why should they? Keep life simple, we really don't need a whole lot of things. It will all come to nothing one day. The intangible things like time, feelings, thoughts, kind gestures, they'll go a longer way than most material things, and people remember you through that.
If you live a life like a hermit, you will die a hermit. Stretch out your hands and reach out, show a little love, tell that person he/she looks well, share a story, be that listening ear, be humble and ask for help, smile and say thank you to the person that hands out the free papers every morning at the train station. Not difficult. The petite lady at the train station gives me my papers and with every copy she greets, never ever missing a beat. That must have been a record breaker for the most number of times a day one says "good morning sir/madam". I was having a quick lunch one day and 2 ladies who seemed like foreign domestic helpers wanted to share a table. They were so polite that I was slightly embarassed. "May I share your table?", one of them asked, that did it for me. From now on, I will use this phrase, rather than "anyone sitting here?", see the difference. We learn from one another, never be a snob. Good manners reflects good upbringing.
Nothing else matters like loving your loved ones like there's no tomorrow. Enjoy the moment, seize every opportunity to tell them how much you appreciate and love them. Better to let them know when you can than when you can't.
Don't be afraid to love...
The imminent day will come when we grow old and eventually fade from this earth, how will our children remember us? Have you wondered what the eulogy would be? If there's even going to be one for that matter? Being the positive me, assuming there is. What would your children say about you to the world. Have you influenced their lives greatly or are you one that your child resent and not wanting to be associated with? Or rather to be a person who have made such an impact to the people around you and to be immortalised in that very brief eulogy, so people will know you, as a person, a spouse, a friend. You will be surprised how little people know about you.
It's a very profound thought which I recently had. Being a person who cares about what others thought of me, I want to leave this world knowing I have touched someone's life. Even if its just one person, it will make my life worth living. I may not be that rich tycoon to donate a hospital or fund a school project but closer to home, have you made a difference to your child's life. The child will know when you are nagging and when you meant well. Will your child proudly profess to their own children when they become parents one day say, "you know what, my mum and dad was there for me, for richer and for poorer...", just to borrow a line.
We have evolved to become greedy, self centered people that we often use monetary or material rewards to barter trade time with our children. We get too engaged in your career building so we can hoard enough for our childrens' needs. Nothing wrong but what message are we telling them. What seems so right can turn out to be so wrong. Are we giving them the wrong signals. As parents we work hard, I'm sure we want our children to appreciate the long hours we toiled , the overtime we do, the late night staying up to finish a presentation. They must know that it's not a given. My parents don't owe me an education. Count your blessings if you are born into a well to do family, your parents can buy you an education but the boy who helps his dad deliver newspapers at the break of dawn, he has just as much a rewarding life than anyone out there. He is emotionally rich in his relationship with his father. He loves his dad enough to offer his time.
I wasn't born with a silver spoon. We've had our ups and downs. I never once blamed anyone for having lacked anything. It was something that has to happen to make me who I'm today, not a charmed life but a complete person, one who has been through some test in life. I can tell you this now that I have done my homework in the dark. Been there, done that. But with that brief episode in my life, I can appreciate basic things I now have. I can only say it doesn't matter how little or how much I have. I have now a shelter over my head, hot meals on the table, a lovely family with a caring spouse, my folks are well, charming siblings, a niece that adores me and my boys to keep me on my toes.
To me, there's so much one can have, and one can have only so much. My agenda in life is simple, to bring up my children to the best of my ability, give them the time they deserve. Engage them in your conversations and don't think they don't understand what's going on. They observe but they may not tell you what they see, why should they? Keep life simple, we really don't need a whole lot of things. It will all come to nothing one day. The intangible things like time, feelings, thoughts, kind gestures, they'll go a longer way than most material things, and people remember you through that.
If you live a life like a hermit, you will die a hermit. Stretch out your hands and reach out, show a little love, tell that person he/she looks well, share a story, be that listening ear, be humble and ask for help, smile and say thank you to the person that hands out the free papers every morning at the train station. Not difficult. The petite lady at the train station gives me my papers and with every copy she greets, never ever missing a beat. That must have been a record breaker for the most number of times a day one says "good morning sir/madam". I was having a quick lunch one day and 2 ladies who seemed like foreign domestic helpers wanted to share a table. They were so polite that I was slightly embarassed. "May I share your table?", one of them asked, that did it for me. From now on, I will use this phrase, rather than "anyone sitting here?", see the difference. We learn from one another, never be a snob. Good manners reflects good upbringing.
Nothing else matters like loving your loved ones like there's no tomorrow. Enjoy the moment, seize every opportunity to tell them how much you appreciate and love them. Better to let them know when you can than when you can't.
Don't be afraid to love...
Saturday, June 25, 2011
My Bucket List
I am sure you heard the expression to "kick the bucket". Makes me ponder what will be in my bucket list. Its quite thought provoking. Its about things I want to do, goals I want to achieve, places I want to visit before I die. So inspired to start my very own list here. I have yet to have 10 most wanted things to do let alone 101 things to do. But I think 101 seems a good number to work on. It may not be some some out this world goals like visit NASA space station but little things like grow a plant, paint a picture, something so trivial yet I never got around to do it. I get caught up with daily routines and start giving myself all sorts of excuses. Then before you know it, I will start regretting not having done this or that after knowing how little days I have left in my life.
I am starting one now, just randomly recording things I wanna do at some point my life. It gives me some direction and meaning to my short existence on this earth.
Not in any order of preference...life isn't about rules remember
If there's any chance I can get some help in achieving these goals, I'd love to hear from you, could be a suggestion on a place to visit etc.
1. Take my mum and dad on a holiday
2. Own a convertible
3. Visit Holy Land
4. Sponsor an orphan
5. Write and publish a book
6. Decide on my final resting place
7. Make a time capsule for my boys
8. Renew my marriage vow
9. To tell someone "the hell with you"
10. The world is too big, so I wish to travel half the world instead
(I had dreams about São Paulo, so Brazil is a must)
11. Ride on a horse
12. To be on a Harley on a freeway (my hubby will not ride on a 2 wheeler ever)
13. Get on top of the Empire State Building
14. Go skinny dipping
15...... oh I think I can go on and on...this is fun...
I am starting one now, just randomly recording things I wanna do at some point my life. It gives me some direction and meaning to my short existence on this earth.
Not in any order of preference...life isn't about rules remember
If there's any chance I can get some help in achieving these goals, I'd love to hear from you, could be a suggestion on a place to visit etc.
1. Take my mum and dad on a holiday
2. Own a convertible
3. Visit Holy Land
4. Sponsor an orphan
5. Write and publish a book
6. Decide on my final resting place
7. Make a time capsule for my boys
8. Renew my marriage vow
9. To tell someone "the hell with you"
10. The world is too big, so I wish to travel half the world instead
(I had dreams about São Paulo, so Brazil is a must)
11. Ride on a horse
12. To be on a Harley on a freeway (my hubby will not ride on a 2 wheeler ever)
13. Get on top of the Empire State Building
14. Go skinny dipping
15...... oh I think I can go on and on...this is fun...
Monday, April 25, 2011
Marriage….is there a used by date? (Part One)
In a couple of hours, my cable network will be devoting the entire week to the wedding of the century. In 1981, Princess Diana and Prince Charles charmed the entire world with their fairy tale wedding. Prince William, the very fact that he is a prince makes the world sit up, plebians like me want to know how pompous the royal wedding will be. Prince William marrying a commoner would have earned him a few extra brownie points. This was the only thing that made me realized that the monarcy has opened up and have accepted that love meant everything, doesn’t matter Kate Middleton’s parents merely owned a party planning business albeit a rather successful one. I will be witnessing it on telly for the second time, the first when I am 9 and now 31 years later. To some, it may be their first. It will be a educational ride for my boys to see how being born into a royal family, the whole world wants to know you, every single detail that goes into the planning, consisting of security, logistical and every iota will be scrutinized. For me, it will be to know what Kate Middleton’s choice of flowers would be.
With so many weddings you hear about, there’s just about as much number of divorces you know about. Some even very close to home. Think about that aunt of yours, a friend, a sister, a brother or even yourself, who has been through a amicable or ugly divorce. Its so common these days, maybe we should have legalise a drive-thru divorce kiosk. I am sure somewhere around in this planet, some entrepreneurs are already cashing in on this one.
Not dwelling into the contractual obligations in the legal proceedings of a divorce. I just want to know at which point do you say, “listen up mate, I think I had enough of you, I don’t think I am going to spend the rest of my life living with you, goodbye, see you in another life!” I doubt there will ever me such a statement uttered to an ex-spouse. Surely there must be some good times to cherish, right? So how can you turn around and tell this person whom you stood with before the justice, pledging that “only will death do us part”? What happened to the vow? If it didn’t mean anything to you, why say it? Does that mean, marriage is simply an institution? Maybe marriage is passé. Two people in love, living together, have children, why is the marriage paper necessary?
We hear their stories, biased and often we don’t get to hear both sides of the story, its almost impossible to empathise with one and not feel anything for the other. Human beings are not made to be impartial. Lawyers are paid to be partial, so they need to take sides. I want to be on the side of the “victim”, but how sure are you that the other party is not the “victim”? A lawyer friend of mine discouraged my son from taking Law as a profession. Its tough and its miserable, I quote him. My friend refuses to handle divorce cases, it painful he said. This comes from someone who married a public prosecutor.
Maybe human beings are like any other animals, made to mate with multiple partners. So every marriage has a use by date…is that it? Having said that, I often marveled how some folks stay married for 50, 60 years. It’s so amazing, when two people, still holding hands like when they were 16 years old, still got the hots for each other when they are old and feeble, its often an awe, to wonder how they are made for one another probably until they reach the end of their lives. Quite recently, I read of an elderly couple in Canada winning the lottery. They were richer by several million. They gave away their winnings to charity. They are clueless on how to use the money and quite frankly, do they really need the money? That is 100% charity, 0% greed. I would just cringe, oh, just give me 10%, that’s all I need…
Marriage with a used by date? How did that happened? To be continued……
With so many weddings you hear about, there’s just about as much number of divorces you know about. Some even very close to home. Think about that aunt of yours, a friend, a sister, a brother or even yourself, who has been through a amicable or ugly divorce. Its so common these days, maybe we should have legalise a drive-thru divorce kiosk. I am sure somewhere around in this planet, some entrepreneurs are already cashing in on this one.
Not dwelling into the contractual obligations in the legal proceedings of a divorce. I just want to know at which point do you say, “listen up mate, I think I had enough of you, I don’t think I am going to spend the rest of my life living with you, goodbye, see you in another life!” I doubt there will ever me such a statement uttered to an ex-spouse. Surely there must be some good times to cherish, right? So how can you turn around and tell this person whom you stood with before the justice, pledging that “only will death do us part”? What happened to the vow? If it didn’t mean anything to you, why say it? Does that mean, marriage is simply an institution? Maybe marriage is passé. Two people in love, living together, have children, why is the marriage paper necessary?
We hear their stories, biased and often we don’t get to hear both sides of the story, its almost impossible to empathise with one and not feel anything for the other. Human beings are not made to be impartial. Lawyers are paid to be partial, so they need to take sides. I want to be on the side of the “victim”, but how sure are you that the other party is not the “victim”? A lawyer friend of mine discouraged my son from taking Law as a profession. Its tough and its miserable, I quote him. My friend refuses to handle divorce cases, it painful he said. This comes from someone who married a public prosecutor.
Maybe human beings are like any other animals, made to mate with multiple partners. So every marriage has a use by date…is that it? Having said that, I often marveled how some folks stay married for 50, 60 years. It’s so amazing, when two people, still holding hands like when they were 16 years old, still got the hots for each other when they are old and feeble, its often an awe, to wonder how they are made for one another probably until they reach the end of their lives. Quite recently, I read of an elderly couple in Canada winning the lottery. They were richer by several million. They gave away their winnings to charity. They are clueless on how to use the money and quite frankly, do they really need the money? That is 100% charity, 0% greed. I would just cringe, oh, just give me 10%, that’s all I need…
Marriage with a used by date? How did that happened? To be continued……
Tuesday, April 19, 2011
The Invisible Mother
It all began to make sense, the blank stares, the lack of response, the way one of the kids will walk into the room while I’m on the phone and ask to be taken to the store. Inside I’m thinking, ‘Can’t you see I’m on the phone?’
Obviously not; no one can see if I’m on the phone, or cooking, or sweeping the floor, or even standing on my head in the corner, because no one can see me at all. I’m invisible. The invisible Mom. Some days I am only a pair of hands, nothing more! Can you fix this? Can you tie this? Can you open this??
Some days I’m not a pair of hands; I’m not even a human being. I’m a clock to ask, ‘What time is it?’ I’m a satellite guide to answer, ‘What number is the Disney Channel?’ I’m a car to order, ‘Right around 5:30, please.’
I was certain that these were the hands that once held books and the eyes that studied history and the mind that graduated summa cum laude -but now, they had disappeared into the peanut butter, never to be seen again. She’s going, she’s going, she’s gone!?
One night, a group of us were having dinner, celebrating the return of a friend from England . Janice had just gotten back from a fabulous trip, and she was going on and on about the hotel she stayed in. I was sitting there, looking around at the others all put together so well. It was hard not to compare and feel sorry for myself. I was feeling pretty pathetic, when Janice turned to me with a beautifully wrapped package, and said, ‘I brought you this.’ It was a book on the great cathedrals of Europe . I wasn’t exactly sure why she’d given it to me until I read her inscription: ‘To Charlotte , with admiration for the greatness of what you are building when no one sees.’
In the days ahead I would read – no, devour – the book. And I would discover what would become for me, four life-changing truths, after which I could pattern my work: No one can say who built the great cathedrals – we have no record of their names. These builders gave their whole lives for a work they would never see finished. They made great sacrifices and expected no credit. The passion of their building was fueled by their faith that the eyes of God saw everything.
A legendary story in the book told of a rich man who came to visit the cathedral while it was being built, and he saw a workman carving a tiny bird on the inside of a beam. He was puzzled and asked the man, ‘Why are you spending so much time carving that bird into a beam that will be covered by the roof, No one will ever see it. And the workman replied, ‘Because God sees.’
I closed the book, feeling the missing piece fall into place. It was almost as if I heard God whispering to me, ‘I see you, Charlotte. I see the sacrifices you make every day, even when no one around you does.
No act of kindness you’ve done, no sequin you’ve sewn on, no cupcake you’ve baked, is too small for me to notice and smile over. You are building a great cathedral, but you can’t see right now what it will become. At times, my invisibility feels like an affliction. But it is not a disease that is erasing my life. It is the cure for the disease of my own self-centeredness. It is the antidote to my strong, stubborn pride.
I keep the right perspective when I see myself as a great builder. As one of the people who show up at a job that they will never see finished, to work on something that their name will never be on. The writer of the book went so far as to say that no cathedrals could ever be built in our lifetime because there are so few people willing to sacrifice to that degree.
When I really think about it, I don’t want my son to tell the friend he’s bringing home from college for Thanksgiving, ‘My Mom gets up at 4 in the morning and bakes homemade pies, and then she hand bastes a turkey for 3 hours and presses all the linens for the table.’ That would mean I’d built a shrine or a monument to myself. I just want him to want to come home. And then, if there is anything more to say to his friend, to add, ‘You’re going to love it there.’
As mothers, we are building great cathedrals. We cannot be seen if we’re doing it right. And one day, it is very possible that the world will marvel, not only at what we have built, but at the beauty that has been added to the world by the sacrifices of invisible women.
- a friend whom I least expected sent me this, came at a moment when I felt so vulnerable, so exhausted and everyone just wanted a piece of me. I cried as I was reading this. At times, it all gets too much. Behind the facade, I struggle to be the best mom, the perfect wife, the exemplary worker, to be in touch with my Saviour. How can one handle so much just to keep it all together. I have always felt invisible, but now I know someone is watching, God sees. That's all I care. If you can, share this with a someone you care about and let them know that they are appreciated.
Obviously not; no one can see if I’m on the phone, or cooking, or sweeping the floor, or even standing on my head in the corner, because no one can see me at all. I’m invisible. The invisible Mom. Some days I am only a pair of hands, nothing more! Can you fix this? Can you tie this? Can you open this??
Some days I’m not a pair of hands; I’m not even a human being. I’m a clock to ask, ‘What time is it?’ I’m a satellite guide to answer, ‘What number is the Disney Channel?’ I’m a car to order, ‘Right around 5:30, please.’
I was certain that these were the hands that once held books and the eyes that studied history and the mind that graduated summa cum laude -but now, they had disappeared into the peanut butter, never to be seen again. She’s going, she’s going, she’s gone!?
One night, a group of us were having dinner, celebrating the return of a friend from England . Janice had just gotten back from a fabulous trip, and she was going on and on about the hotel she stayed in. I was sitting there, looking around at the others all put together so well. It was hard not to compare and feel sorry for myself. I was feeling pretty pathetic, when Janice turned to me with a beautifully wrapped package, and said, ‘I brought you this.’ It was a book on the great cathedrals of Europe . I wasn’t exactly sure why she’d given it to me until I read her inscription: ‘To Charlotte , with admiration for the greatness of what you are building when no one sees.’
In the days ahead I would read – no, devour – the book. And I would discover what would become for me, four life-changing truths, after which I could pattern my work: No one can say who built the great cathedrals – we have no record of their names. These builders gave their whole lives for a work they would never see finished. They made great sacrifices and expected no credit. The passion of their building was fueled by their faith that the eyes of God saw everything.
A legendary story in the book told of a rich man who came to visit the cathedral while it was being built, and he saw a workman carving a tiny bird on the inside of a beam. He was puzzled and asked the man, ‘Why are you spending so much time carving that bird into a beam that will be covered by the roof, No one will ever see it. And the workman replied, ‘Because God sees.’
I closed the book, feeling the missing piece fall into place. It was almost as if I heard God whispering to me, ‘I see you, Charlotte. I see the sacrifices you make every day, even when no one around you does.
No act of kindness you’ve done, no sequin you’ve sewn on, no cupcake you’ve baked, is too small for me to notice and smile over. You are building a great cathedral, but you can’t see right now what it will become. At times, my invisibility feels like an affliction. But it is not a disease that is erasing my life. It is the cure for the disease of my own self-centeredness. It is the antidote to my strong, stubborn pride.
I keep the right perspective when I see myself as a great builder. As one of the people who show up at a job that they will never see finished, to work on something that their name will never be on. The writer of the book went so far as to say that no cathedrals could ever be built in our lifetime because there are so few people willing to sacrifice to that degree.
When I really think about it, I don’t want my son to tell the friend he’s bringing home from college for Thanksgiving, ‘My Mom gets up at 4 in the morning and bakes homemade pies, and then she hand bastes a turkey for 3 hours and presses all the linens for the table.’ That would mean I’d built a shrine or a monument to myself. I just want him to want to come home. And then, if there is anything more to say to his friend, to add, ‘You’re going to love it there.’
As mothers, we are building great cathedrals. We cannot be seen if we’re doing it right. And one day, it is very possible that the world will marvel, not only at what we have built, but at the beauty that has been added to the world by the sacrifices of invisible women.
- a friend whom I least expected sent me this, came at a moment when I felt so vulnerable, so exhausted and everyone just wanted a piece of me. I cried as I was reading this. At times, it all gets too much. Behind the facade, I struggle to be the best mom, the perfect wife, the exemplary worker, to be in touch with my Saviour. How can one handle so much just to keep it all together. I have always felt invisible, but now I know someone is watching, God sees. That's all I care. If you can, share this with a someone you care about and let them know that they are appreciated.
Thursday, March 10, 2011
The Passage of Time
I was struck by how time was ebbing away while I was at mum's place over the weekend. Mum's place was always an escape for me. Going back to my former bedroom which dad now occupies, I could almost re enact the memories of my childhood. My room overlooks a playground, this very playground my son fell off the playground equipment 4 years ago and had to be whisked off in an ambulance and treated for fractured tibia and fibula. There was also a multi-purpose court for badminton and sepak takraw and a row of shops which has now changed hands many times. There was once a video rental shop where mum constantly patronize to get her Hong Kong drama series fix. The mama provision store sit directly below my living room, where we bought our freshly grated coconut, beer and ciggies for visitors. Gopal, the shop owner who counts mum as a regular regular and allowed us to buy these questionable items without questioning. I swear we were tempted to knock 3 times on our floor with a bamboo pole and Gopal would send up our groceries. Some things never change, I still tell my mum, "hey I will meet you by Gopal's shop". I wonder where he is now.
Mum has a knack for making the house look pseudo new and refreshing although we've had this home for close to 25 years. She rearranges the furniture, just little adjustments here and there and viola, a new look. We think mum's a genius, a Martha Stewart or sorts. The house recently got a fresh coat of paint after some retrofitting works (home improvement scheme from the govt). Mum's thrilled she got 2 new toilets, new pipes, new kitchen floor, a new fire proof door and wrought iron gates which was literally falling apart. I was hoping to win a big lottery and buy my folks an apartment but since I don't see that happening anytime soon, the new fittings was just what my parents needed. On hindsight, mum always made the home very cozy even though we don't have expensive furnishings. The softness of the tea lights that illuminate the home was enough to make you indulge into a sweet slumber. The harshness of fluorescent lighting can be such a killjoy to anything. Everything looks better fuzzy.
So going back to where I started, going through some of my personal belongings still boxed up in one corner of the bedroom, lies old photo albums, school yearbooks, the odd Home Economics textbook, a stack of birthday cards, letters, diaries, autograph books, things I have forgotten that I even had. Its almost surreal to read those old aerogrammes from old friends, diary entries that still amazes me. Recalling places I have been, food I have eaten, people I have been with, movies I have seen, with who and where. What really amazes me are my primary school friends still remembers me after 30 years. I begin to wonder if they remember my smile or that I was a nasty girl hanging around the old National Library before school hours, not necessarily to borrow books but also to do with some boys in white uniforms with green badges who hung around the vicinity. Reminiscing, I miss that library down at Stamford Road. You almost feel like an academic doing your research in that massive landmark, every book that came with a library card and date due stamped on the first page. Its all so personal back then, now my librarian is a machine.
There's a part in all of us which yearns to go back in time just for a day, to relive the moment, to unite with friends we left behind, to say the things we didn't get to say, to tell them how sorry you were, how much you actually love them but because of choices we had to make then.
I became aunt to a new born baby on Valentine's Day. My younger sister delivered a bouncy baby much to the delight of everyone in the family. Its been almost 11 years since we last had a baby in the household. About time I thought. It was such a thrill to hold a baby. I have almost forgotten how to hold one, to smell them which I feel almost obliged to do. These new born have that unique scent that can never be replicated. My baby sister is now a mother. Feeding and tending to her child, she's now so complete, no longer the little girl I used to know. She's all grown up and ready to embrace motherhood with all her heart and soul. Describing the pain she had to endure without an epidural. While just few short years ago I was listening to her talking about her varsity days.
I am somewhat of a hoarder. I have problems parting with things that may mean very little to some people. I will even keep a stub of a train ticket or a cinema counterfoil. I'd see them once every few years, noticing much they have mildewed and eradicating the occasional silverfish which was chowing up my photo album. My boys are actually enjoying reading what my friends wrote about me in autograph books some 25 years ago. They asked if I still kept in touch with this person or that person. Some I said are in my iphone contacts but many I have lost touch or moved to another country or worse, left the face of this earth.
These are "priceless", I quote my primary school friend who saw my posting of a movie advertisement which I have kept and dated. I did that for a short while. After the watching the movie, I'd go back to the papers, cut up the ad, stick them on a notebook, date them, rate them and who I went the move with. I am sure my friend didn't remember ever having watch that movie let alone with who. I now understands why mum still keep a denim jumper that my sister wore in the early 70s. The same jumper I wore, then my younger sister, its ridiculous. But some things just last forever don't they? Now where did mum kept that woolen booty I wore as a baby. I am 100% sure its around. Now should I even wonder if my mum kept my sister's dried up umbilical stump. I like all things old-school, don't blame me. I just cannot keep up with the latest gadgets. I have problems managing digital photographs, but getting better.
Time, ticking away mercilessly. Listen, that second just gone. If you don't freeze it, don't over estimate that memory of yours...but I do wish time could be slowed down especially when you are happy and yearn for precious moments to linger a little longer. I am not ready to deal with my son's acne problem. That explains why people say "funny how time flies when you are having fun".
Mum has a knack for making the house look pseudo new and refreshing although we've had this home for close to 25 years. She rearranges the furniture, just little adjustments here and there and viola, a new look. We think mum's a genius, a Martha Stewart or sorts. The house recently got a fresh coat of paint after some retrofitting works (home improvement scheme from the govt). Mum's thrilled she got 2 new toilets, new pipes, new kitchen floor, a new fire proof door and wrought iron gates which was literally falling apart. I was hoping to win a big lottery and buy my folks an apartment but since I don't see that happening anytime soon, the new fittings was just what my parents needed. On hindsight, mum always made the home very cozy even though we don't have expensive furnishings. The softness of the tea lights that illuminate the home was enough to make you indulge into a sweet slumber. The harshness of fluorescent lighting can be such a killjoy to anything. Everything looks better fuzzy.
So going back to where I started, going through some of my personal belongings still boxed up in one corner of the bedroom, lies old photo albums, school yearbooks, the odd Home Economics textbook, a stack of birthday cards, letters, diaries, autograph books, things I have forgotten that I even had. Its almost surreal to read those old aerogrammes from old friends, diary entries that still amazes me. Recalling places I have been, food I have eaten, people I have been with, movies I have seen, with who and where. What really amazes me are my primary school friends still remembers me after 30 years. I begin to wonder if they remember my smile or that I was a nasty girl hanging around the old National Library before school hours, not necessarily to borrow books but also to do with some boys in white uniforms with green badges who hung around the vicinity. Reminiscing, I miss that library down at Stamford Road. You almost feel like an academic doing your research in that massive landmark, every book that came with a library card and date due stamped on the first page. Its all so personal back then, now my librarian is a machine.
There's a part in all of us which yearns to go back in time just for a day, to relive the moment, to unite with friends we left behind, to say the things we didn't get to say, to tell them how sorry you were, how much you actually love them but because of choices we had to make then.
I became aunt to a new born baby on Valentine's Day. My younger sister delivered a bouncy baby much to the delight of everyone in the family. Its been almost 11 years since we last had a baby in the household. About time I thought. It was such a thrill to hold a baby. I have almost forgotten how to hold one, to smell them which I feel almost obliged to do. These new born have that unique scent that can never be replicated. My baby sister is now a mother. Feeding and tending to her child, she's now so complete, no longer the little girl I used to know. She's all grown up and ready to embrace motherhood with all her heart and soul. Describing the pain she had to endure without an epidural. While just few short years ago I was listening to her talking about her varsity days.
I am somewhat of a hoarder. I have problems parting with things that may mean very little to some people. I will even keep a stub of a train ticket or a cinema counterfoil. I'd see them once every few years, noticing much they have mildewed and eradicating the occasional silverfish which was chowing up my photo album. My boys are actually enjoying reading what my friends wrote about me in autograph books some 25 years ago. They asked if I still kept in touch with this person or that person. Some I said are in my iphone contacts but many I have lost touch or moved to another country or worse, left the face of this earth.
These are "priceless", I quote my primary school friend who saw my posting of a movie advertisement which I have kept and dated. I did that for a short while. After the watching the movie, I'd go back to the papers, cut up the ad, stick them on a notebook, date them, rate them and who I went the move with. I am sure my friend didn't remember ever having watch that movie let alone with who. I now understands why mum still keep a denim jumper that my sister wore in the early 70s. The same jumper I wore, then my younger sister, its ridiculous. But some things just last forever don't they? Now where did mum kept that woolen booty I wore as a baby. I am 100% sure its around. Now should I even wonder if my mum kept my sister's dried up umbilical stump. I like all things old-school, don't blame me. I just cannot keep up with the latest gadgets. I have problems managing digital photographs, but getting better.
Time, ticking away mercilessly. Listen, that second just gone. If you don't freeze it, don't over estimate that memory of yours...but I do wish time could be slowed down especially when you are happy and yearn for precious moments to linger a little longer. I am not ready to deal with my son's acne problem. That explains why people say "funny how time flies when you are having fun".
Thursday, January 20, 2011
Parenting...my style
Over the last few weeks there were some thought provoking media I came across which dabbled on the topic of parenting. I decided to reflect on my own style of parenting. Wall Street Journal and New York Times does its best when you like to ponder over opinions. Amy Chua, Professor of Yale Law School guarded her children with an iron fist, dragon-lady, child abuser...call her what you want. She is now subjected to critics, several detractors that slams her style. Strangely and from her claims on a lot of Chinese parent, her system works, so what can you do about it?
I don't know which style of parenting is more widely adopted, but with any relationships, there's no right or wrong and its none of our business to judge. Our very own parenting style would be equally subjected to scrutiny. If a child excels in school, displays good character and ability, then we immediately assume that he was well brought up and it reflects good parenting. Then its vice versa.
My dad was self employed and runs a company selling American stainless steel cookware. He was a busy man but gave us what I thought was adequate attention. Mum was a housewife and she took care of most of our needs. All three of us were mostly given the liberty to manage our homework. My sisters and I had the opportunity to learn classical piano but I wondered if it was ever our choice. For me its was "sister did it so I should too". It never lasted. We never had tuition even though my second language and math were just mediocre. It was only later in junior college when I needed to get a pass for my second language did my parents offered to hire a home tutor for me. Even with that extra help, my foundation wasn't adequate to see to a pass. We spoke mainly English and dialect at home. Mum spoke fluent bahasa malayu and Dad was bilingual. We watched lots of Mandarin programmes, Cantonese drama serials but mainly it was English pop songs that blasted from our boombox. English sitcoms like Family Ties, Different Strokes, The Cosby Show were our staple.
I don't recall mum and dad ever coming to parent teacher conferences (was there ever one during my time?). Not that they didn't want to but it was never required. I guess we didn't cause much of a stir in school to warrant a school visit. So long at the end of each semester, we brought home our report cards without a comment like "your child is seriously...... We usually get good comments from teachers anyway (ahem). That was probably good enough for my parents to know that we are not going to join the secret society. When it was time for us to enter secondary school, any school was a good school. Co-ed it was. We had a "no boys allowed" policy for the longest time. My 18th birthday was the only exception, and that's the moment when my folks finally worked that out, that at 18, I need boys in my life.
We were allowed to buy casettes, pop magazines, fill our bedroom walls with centrefold pin ups of idols, peeling off paints at the same time. We kept our rooms relatively neat and if my memory didn't fail me, my sister only had 2 girlfriends for a sleepover. It was convenient as we had 4 bedrooms, so rooms were more than enough. But never the other way around. My parents always had issues with that, and I have somewhat adopted their style, sleepovers were restricted to cousins. My first sleepover was when I was 17 and we had to bunk with my buddy after a night at the disco. We took turns to wash our ashtray smelling hair, chatted till 3am, and waking up late morning with breakfast prepared by the lovely mother of my buddy. But that's also because we didn't want to pay for midnight surcharges which for a college student, extravagant.
Although mum and dad were strict, they had reasonable curfews. We had to be home by 11pm. I think now that I am married with a family, I have quite naturally kept to that curfew. Not that I am a party pooper, but I just have obligations to my family and I don't think anyone should fault me for that. I guess because I was brought up in non-traditional Chinese family, which resulted in what we are today, I can conclude that have had a pretty decent and happy childhood. My boys are allowed to stay up late during school vacation, watch TV, play computer games, the freedom to choose their CCAs, select their own clothes, have the latest toys, eat whatever they want. I am guilty of bargaining though and some form of barter trading. I give them the freedom in exchange for good grades. I don't expect straight As, but would be a real bonus if they did come home with As. I will get really mad if I felt they have not put in their best effort and that is when I take away privileges. I have been chatised for being so laid back, my expectations of my children so low. I never once bought a cane and never will. I have never spank my children and never will. I have never yelled at my children and never will. I respect them for who they are and I expect the same from them. Every child is unique and the last thing you want is a clone. If you want your children to be your friend, you have to befriend them first. You get to their level and then you will understand why they do the things they do. Children want to be independent just as adults, we don't like to be caged up or dictate their every move. Children do know what they want and what they don't want. Eg. Son No. 1 was approached recently by the head mistress to stand for election for the post of Head Prefect. The boy politely turned down the offer and apologised that he was happy to just remain as regular prefect. Simply because he felt the need to focus his attention on his school work. Some parents would have jumped and trust me, I was a bit uncomfortable about his lack of interest in developing his leadership skill and was getting too cushy in his post. I queried him, heart to heart, why he turned the head mistress down without much consideration. He then told me that he would need a lot of time campaigning, and the opportunity cost being time away from homework, plus he may not necessarily get elected. While I don't necessarily agree with him, I respected his decision. Now he is happy and even happier to be a campaign manager for his classmate, like Joe Biden for Barack Obama, a running mate. Another scenario, both the boys were asked if he would like to go to Suzhou for an immersion change programme. Heavily subsidized and great opportunity for learning outside the classroom. I was like, "go go go, good for you" but the boys were like "no no no, not good for us without mum and dad!" They were not ready to travel without us, well so be it. "Another time then," I said, "whenever you are ready".
To me, even with a best fool proof formula of parenting, the best input may not equate the best output. We will not know how our children will turn out. There will be lots of trial and error, mistakes big and small. We just have to give it our best shot and pray for God's blessings. If you think you have done your best, then by your personal standards, you have. So what if you pay thousands for violin lessons, you can't force your child to join the orchestra if he has decided to be banker, instead he display his stradivarius in his office.
Gotta go get them home from sports practice, I leave you with this thought....
I don't know which style of parenting is more widely adopted, but with any relationships, there's no right or wrong and its none of our business to judge. Our very own parenting style would be equally subjected to scrutiny. If a child excels in school, displays good character and ability, then we immediately assume that he was well brought up and it reflects good parenting. Then its vice versa.
My dad was self employed and runs a company selling American stainless steel cookware. He was a busy man but gave us what I thought was adequate attention. Mum was a housewife and she took care of most of our needs. All three of us were mostly given the liberty to manage our homework. My sisters and I had the opportunity to learn classical piano but I wondered if it was ever our choice. For me its was "sister did it so I should too". It never lasted. We never had tuition even though my second language and math were just mediocre. It was only later in junior college when I needed to get a pass for my second language did my parents offered to hire a home tutor for me. Even with that extra help, my foundation wasn't adequate to see to a pass. We spoke mainly English and dialect at home. Mum spoke fluent bahasa malayu and Dad was bilingual. We watched lots of Mandarin programmes, Cantonese drama serials but mainly it was English pop songs that blasted from our boombox. English sitcoms like Family Ties, Different Strokes, The Cosby Show were our staple.
I don't recall mum and dad ever coming to parent teacher conferences (was there ever one during my time?). Not that they didn't want to but it was never required. I guess we didn't cause much of a stir in school to warrant a school visit. So long at the end of each semester, we brought home our report cards without a comment like "your child is seriously...... We usually get good comments from teachers anyway (ahem). That was probably good enough for my parents to know that we are not going to join the secret society. When it was time for us to enter secondary school, any school was a good school. Co-ed it was. We had a "no boys allowed" policy for the longest time. My 18th birthday was the only exception, and that's the moment when my folks finally worked that out, that at 18, I need boys in my life.
We were allowed to buy casettes, pop magazines, fill our bedroom walls with centrefold pin ups of idols, peeling off paints at the same time. We kept our rooms relatively neat and if my memory didn't fail me, my sister only had 2 girlfriends for a sleepover. It was convenient as we had 4 bedrooms, so rooms were more than enough. But never the other way around. My parents always had issues with that, and I have somewhat adopted their style, sleepovers were restricted to cousins. My first sleepover was when I was 17 and we had to bunk with my buddy after a night at the disco. We took turns to wash our ashtray smelling hair, chatted till 3am, and waking up late morning with breakfast prepared by the lovely mother of my buddy. But that's also because we didn't want to pay for midnight surcharges which for a college student, extravagant.
Although mum and dad were strict, they had reasonable curfews. We had to be home by 11pm. I think now that I am married with a family, I have quite naturally kept to that curfew. Not that I am a party pooper, but I just have obligations to my family and I don't think anyone should fault me for that. I guess because I was brought up in non-traditional Chinese family, which resulted in what we are today, I can conclude that have had a pretty decent and happy childhood. My boys are allowed to stay up late during school vacation, watch TV, play computer games, the freedom to choose their CCAs, select their own clothes, have the latest toys, eat whatever they want. I am guilty of bargaining though and some form of barter trading. I give them the freedom in exchange for good grades. I don't expect straight As, but would be a real bonus if they did come home with As. I will get really mad if I felt they have not put in their best effort and that is when I take away privileges. I have been chatised for being so laid back, my expectations of my children so low. I never once bought a cane and never will. I have never spank my children and never will. I have never yelled at my children and never will. I respect them for who they are and I expect the same from them. Every child is unique and the last thing you want is a clone. If you want your children to be your friend, you have to befriend them first. You get to their level and then you will understand why they do the things they do. Children want to be independent just as adults, we don't like to be caged up or dictate their every move. Children do know what they want and what they don't want. Eg. Son No. 1 was approached recently by the head mistress to stand for election for the post of Head Prefect. The boy politely turned down the offer and apologised that he was happy to just remain as regular prefect. Simply because he felt the need to focus his attention on his school work. Some parents would have jumped and trust me, I was a bit uncomfortable about his lack of interest in developing his leadership skill and was getting too cushy in his post. I queried him, heart to heart, why he turned the head mistress down without much consideration. He then told me that he would need a lot of time campaigning, and the opportunity cost being time away from homework, plus he may not necessarily get elected. While I don't necessarily agree with him, I respected his decision. Now he is happy and even happier to be a campaign manager for his classmate, like Joe Biden for Barack Obama, a running mate. Another scenario, both the boys were asked if he would like to go to Suzhou for an immersion change programme. Heavily subsidized and great opportunity for learning outside the classroom. I was like, "go go go, good for you" but the boys were like "no no no, not good for us without mum and dad!" They were not ready to travel without us, well so be it. "Another time then," I said, "whenever you are ready".
To me, even with a best fool proof formula of parenting, the best input may not equate the best output. We will not know how our children will turn out. There will be lots of trial and error, mistakes big and small. We just have to give it our best shot and pray for God's blessings. If you think you have done your best, then by your personal standards, you have. So what if you pay thousands for violin lessons, you can't force your child to join the orchestra if he has decided to be banker, instead he display his stradivarius in his office.
Gotta go get them home from sports practice, I leave you with this thought....
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