Twilight mom

I've been very lazy lately, using all my spare time ploughing through all four of the Twilight saga books.  They've been out of stock in HK for a while and I've scoured quite a few of the large centrally located English language bookstores to no avail.  Then one day, I walked into our tiny local bookstore out in the middle of reclaimed land and there they were - all huge, shiny and black.  

The author Stephenie Meyer is not the most eloquent of writers (but who cares and does it matter?), in fact large chunks of the books are fairly cringeworthy, repetitive but I just found them sooo addictive.  Even though I was physically very tired and my eyes were going fuzzy every night, I just couldn't put them down.  

Until I saw the film, I had never heard of the books and mania surrounding the series. The film is done so that it appeals to more than just the teenagers it was originally intended for.  Although the books are not very sophisticated, they are still more entertaining than the film though.  Anything to be able to escape from my sometimes hum-drum every day routines and life.  

I've always been an avid reader, as a child I used to bug my mum everytime we ever went near a WH Smith (large newsagent/ stationery/ bookstore chain in the UK) to let me go inside and flick through their books.  She'd regularly catch me reading using a torch under my bed covers way past my bedtiime.  That's why I'm the only one in our family of 5 that is short-sighted.  All self induced.  

Books are so expensive in HK and to really enjoy reading you need to do it without much distraction.  Not so easy nowadays.  So I guess that is why I do a lot of my reading online now.  Still doesn't do my eyes any good.  

Apparently, there are two types of Twilight fans out there.  One is the 'Twi Tweens" and the other is known very embarrassingly as the "Twi Moms".   I really do forget how (or maybe I'm trying to) I'm not that young anymore.  It still shocks me when I realise that some people might actually think I am "old" *gasp*.  

The big ill

This week has been rubbish (hhmm, does anything good ever happen these days??).  A got ill, then O (who took it much worse than her naturally) and then me.  An excellent combination!  

A was off school for 3 days and because of O's 3 day fever we were pretty much housebound.  She was literally bouncing off the walls, sofa and me whilst poor feverish O clung to me desperately as he watched his overexcited sister.   This is no party when you're nursing a fever yourself, but the lack of appetite was good for getting rid of excess weight.  

By Saturday morning, everyone seemed to have recovered pretty much and off we trundled to a pre-arranged visit to some friends with young children in the afternoon.  They had a beautiful house and A & O were happy to see so many new toys to play with.  Come snack time, O then decided that the exquisite dining table and its expensive placemats were lacking something and thus decided to projectile decorate them himself.  Even the Tommee Tippee bib overflowed with his work and I watched in embarrassment and horror as his "artwork" made its way all over my jeans.  Now smart mummy always has a spare set of clothes or two for O but not-so-smart mummy never carries a set for herself.  So despite my best attempts at cleaning myself up and rubbing alcohol hand gel into my jeans I smelt like ....  Vomitted dairy is the worse type of vomit smell there is (is such a thing as good vomit smell??).  

Our friends were very understanding, but I still felt very very bad for them and their other guests.  

Despite O's regular projectile history, 99.9% of the time it was confined to when he was at home.  Yesterday's episode was only the 2nd time he'd "released" elsewhere.  Until today.  We'd only popped downstairs for a quick bite for lunch and when my food came I plopped O back into his stroller and gave him a biscuit (which he has had on numerous occasions without much ado) to occupy him.  Uh oh.  

The employees of the restaurant didn't seem to notice what was going on, I was too busy trying to clean him off and prevent everything from pooling on the seat of the stroller.  I left Hubby and A behind to pay the bill whilst I marched off home first but not before stopping to apologise to the middle aged couple (who didn't even offer us a napkin to help) in the next booth.  

From the look on their face, you'd thought I'd smeared myself in dog poo, licked their food before making them eat it whilst insulting their mother.  They obviously thought that I should go throw myself off something high for having a vomitting baby.  For some stupid stupid reason, I let their reaction upset me more than my son being sick.  I was furious at them and then at myself for letting it get to me.  

Kids are napping now, I'm exhausted as I was sick in the sink after cleaning them up.  I'm really hoping that next week will be a cheerier one, one with less angst and more patience in dealing with the kids and their demands.  The muggy weather hasn't helped the tired and flary tempers at all.  I promise not to write about vomit anymore.  

Cantopopped on Chinese Valentine's Day

Yesterday evening as I was driving out to TST, I couldn't help but be distracted by the beautiful sight of the moon.  I haven't seen it so bright, so full and seemingly so close for a very long time.  It was breathtaking.  Fittingly, this 15th day of the Lunar new year is also known as Chinese Valentine's Day which also officially marks the end the lunar new year celebrations.  No more laisee giving until next year.  

So in anticipation of this "date night" a couple of weeks ago, Hubby arranged to get tickets for the "Alan Tam & Hacken Lee" concert playing at the revamped Hong Kong Coliseum.  I was not so keen as I envisioned how much work our Helper would be lumbered with if I was not around for the evening routine.  But what the heck it's not as if we have an evening out every day/ week or month for that matter.  I know I need to make my husband the priority more often.  

As the concert started at 8.15pm I had an frenetic adrenaline filled afternoon, escorting my daughter to her ballet class and back, entertaining energy bunny O for an hour whilst the Helper walked the dogs early and fried some rice for dinner.  Ballet class was late out which meant we didn't make it home until 6.20pm whereby I quickly bathed A and did dinner with her before dashing out of the door at 7.15pm (not before forgetting my ticket and having to go back for it though), leaving my Helper just to feed and bathe O and putting both kids to bed.  

Cantopop concerts are always broad in their appeal because HK is just too small in order to entertain a niche selection of the population and make a decent living.  Last night's concert was no exception, there were at least 2 toddler aged children in my immediate vicinity (we had excellent row 4 seats) who both had complete meltdowns by about 10pm.  One set of parents left with their child at this stage, whilst the other mum was still bouncing her visibly tired and upset child on her knee enthusiastically to the beat of the music at 11.15pm.  The oldest was an 85 year old spirited lady who proudly announced her age into the microphone.  She was enjoying herself immensely.  

So despite Alan Tam (a cantopop superstar, with a career spanning 40 odd years whose prime was probably during the 80s and 90s) being 60+ yr old and Hacken Lee (a very effortlessly good singer with an excellent voice, but whom never had huge commercial success) about 40ish the concert still took me by surprise.  

Here were the predictable bits:- sparkly, crystal encrusted costumes, young energetic beautiful dancers, good selection of classic songs, guest appearances, free inflatable plastic clappers and a good band.  

The more eye-opening elements were:- topless, bodybuilding posing by the 2 stars who had both spent 3 months with a personal trainer getting fit, laisee collecting from the audience (proceeds of which go to the Sichuan Earthquake charities), big flat screen panels around the stage which flashed up lyrics for the benefit of Alan Tam who is notorious for forgetting them (even his own songs), fireworks, and let's not forget the dance routines which included hip hop, street, modern, marching band majorettes, raunchy lithe gyrating and 2 pole dancers.  Excellent family show.  Oh and the sponsor of the concerts was oddly the "HK 2009 East Asian Games".   

It was not a brilliant show but entertaining nonetheless, me & Hubby were unashamedly dancing out of our seats.  So yes, we've become the embarrassing set of parents who think they still look cool dancing.  

Fast forward

Have you ever seen that (not so good) film, "Fast Forward"?  Whereby the main character has in his possession a remote control which allows him to fast forward/ rewind through life.  Well, today was definitely a fast forward day.  It was crap.  

O woke up with a fever because he had his prevanar shot yesterday, therefore breakfast was nicely brought back up.  Thank heavens for Tommee Tippee plastic bibs, the ones with the upturned bottom bit, they have saved me from having to mop the floor on many many occasions.  (On bad days though, the bib has been known to overflow).  But luckily, O didn't seem to be too under the weather and quite happily played with his toys alone as long as I was in the vicinity.  

Then there was A.  Tempers were frayed, voices raised, juice was spilled, plus a stint in the naughty room.  Like I mentioned before, she does love her brother.  He has been taking baby steps since Christmas day and it has only really been the last week where he has had the confidence to toddle around the flat from one room to another without resorting to crawling when the going gets tough.  He has even managed to walk without raising both his arms high above his head for balance.  Naturally though, he is still really unsteady on his feet.  

A's affections for him (and also towards the friends she really likes) manifests itself in neck hugging rugby tackles when she rushes over to kiss him.  Sometimes he cries, sometimes he screams, sometimes he shakes it off amused, but most of the time they end up a crumpled pile on the floor.  Each time A is reminded nicely/ firmly not to push or pull her brother otherwise he could get hurt.  She always nods her head and repeats that "O is just a baby mah".  

Today she just decided he was competition (for me) and on several occasions knocked him over on the sly when she thought I wouldn't notice.  I can't remember exactly how many times this scene was repeated, but it seemed like I was constantly raising my voice at her this afternoon and evening.  Distracting her with different things to do didn't help and going out was not an option (on good weather days we always try to go to the park or one of the many mini playgrounds dotted around our estate) due to O's fever.  She finally got sent to the naughty room when she smirked at what she had done.  

I just felt exasperated because she obviously knew what she was doing was wrong but chose to push me and my buttons.  Well, that's what it felt like anyway.  But now, I'm sitting here feeling crap for shouting all afternoon.  My eyes are going fuzzy too but the optometrist says its not because I need new prescription lenses, it's because I'm too tired and they can't seem to reset themselves.  

A was the easiest going baby ever growing up, she never had separation anxiety, was always friendly to strangers, sociable, sweet and never protested when she didn't get her way.  So her behaviour since she turned 2.5 years old has been a bit of a shock to me.  I honestly thought we were lucky here, not having to go through the terrible twos.  

O, on the other hand is easy going in other ways, but from a young age he always knew how to voice his discontent and get what he wanted from the adults by demanding it.  He has mini strops whenever he doesn't get his way.  So do I start mentally preparing myself for next year or will he miraculously (and hopefully) get it all out of his system by then?

Arrgh, tomorrow will be a better day.  

Chinese spirits in the sky (II)

Since we moved flats, all has been relatively well and my husband has made more of a conscious effort to visit his mother's burial site yearly.  I have been unable to go since the first time because I was either pregnant or nursing.  (These conditions are pre-excused, even in the underworld apparently).  

Over a year ago, Baby O was born at a healthy size and weight.  Gone were the insecurities and various first time mother issues I had when my daughter was born. The confidence we had as a family in dealing with such young and helpless creatures was a solid resounding "good".  

At just over 6 months old (August - Chinese Ghost Festival month), we took him to the baby clinic for his scheduled jabs and check-up at the hospital where he was born.  From then on, and for about 4 months thereafter Baby O was more or less continually ill - roseola, gastroenteritis, coughs, colds (new germs Toddler A was bringing back from nursery), fevers,  vomit, vomit and more vomiting.  As a result, basically he stopped growing.  He would just cling to me at every opportunity and whenever I left his sight he would be completely distressed and terrorised (ok, I know this is normal to a certain extent in babies of this age, but he really would be absolutely petrified).  

Visits to pediatricians, GPs, baby clinics and even a homeopath yielded no real answers.  It was not pyloric stenosis, reflux, allergies and blood tests showed that his liver, kidneys, heart, bloodcount etc were all fine.  To say that my normally calm self was fretting, is an understatement.  On some days when the vomiting seemed relentless, I was absolutely distraught.  It seemed as if he was trying to purge his body of something.  

Then one day (14th November) as my parents took Baby O out for a walk, a complete stranger (middle aged lady) remarked to them that Baby O looked like he had been "frightened" by something.  The lady asked whether O had been unwell for a while, as she said that whatever this "thing" was, it had been bothering him for quite some time. After she said this, the lady just went about her way, she did not ask for any money nor advise my parents what they needed to do etc.    

My parents being my parents, naturally freaked out upon hearing this, made a few phone calls to relatives asking for advice and rushed home to me and asked for an item of Baby O's clothing (top, trousers won't do).  My dad promptly went to a temple/ Chinese Medium somewhere in Tai Po to "bai sun" (praying to the gods).  

Later my dad told me that all he told the Chinese Medium was my son's name and date of birth, the Medium then said that indeed there was something following my son.  (Note: the Chinese Medium has never met my dad and was unaware that my dad was coming to see him and for what purpose.  You never make appointments to see Mediums, you just show up and normally very early in the morning.  Once you see one Medium for something, you don't usually go back to see them ever again, even for unrelated purposes.  They are also not allowed to profit for their advice and actions.   They were given this special "gift" as a privilege and thus are not allowed to abuse it, only to use it to help others).  

Anyway, to cut a long story short, offerings were made to the gods and my dad was given 2 charms (one for O to wear on his body and one to put under his mattress) and 2 small pieces of paper to burn and the ashes mixed into O's bathwater over 2 days.  

Now, my son loves his baths, from day one.  He has never been afraid of water and would happily splash around for ages if we let him.  Strangely, for the 2 nights where we had to crumble some of the ashes into the water (which promptly dissolved), he screamed and screamed and screamed.  He refused to sit down in the bath and was clambering all over me to get out.  

I can name the glorious date of 16th November as the day when my son stopped his daily vomiting.  Even when he was ill, he was always a really smiley and happy baby. But from that week on, it seemed like I got a brand new baby who was happier tenfold and suddenly calmer.  He would happily leave my side voluntarily and play independently.  He stopped screaming in terror for me everytime I left the room. Then came the growth spurt - yey!  

Baby O will still vomit occasionally, but now very cleverly only does it whenever he doesn't like what we are serving him.  Since that day, he's only had 2 low grade fevers that went away after half a day and one cold.  

Now the cynical, non superstitious side of me thinks that it was pure coincidence that my son got "better" after the bai sun and that it was his body's immunity finally kicking into gear that did it. 

But honestly, I'll let my parents take credit for it this time.  There really was no harm in what they did, so what if some people think it's a whole lot of crap?  The Medium never did/ could disclose "what" had been bothering my son.  My parents thought it was my deceased mother-in-law (again), but surely a grandparent would not cause suffering to their own loved ones, right?  

At a stretch, maybe she has unresolved issues with my husband (he was the only child not to be at her side when she passed away) and was using my son to try and get through to him about something.  My husband is not the most sensitive, perceptive type, so maybe he had been missing her attempts all these years (he says his mum does appear in his dreams sometimes), so my son was used as a desperate measure.  Hmm, highly unlikely, I think.

As Baby O got sick almost immediately after his visit to the hospital at 6 months, maybe a wandering spirit of someone who died there, thought he was cute and followed us home.  Maybe even a spirit of someone who had once lost a child. (That's why in Chinese culture, children are not allowed to attend funerals and during the month of the Ghost Festival you shouldn't be out late with them for the same reason). Babies and toddlers are supposedly more sensitive and able to see these "beings", they lose this "third eye" when they develop the ability to fear them.  

I still don't believe in ghosts or whatever 100%, but I do believe that there must be something else besides us mortals out there.  

Bedtime stories

It seems little O has (thankfully) managed to get back into the routine of settling himself to sleep.   Now when we put him down in his cot, we give him his security thingy (one of several dozen muslin cloths we have), which he promptly rubs his face with and Samuel (a teddy bear we bought O for his birthday).  Then we leave him "chatting" and chewing on Samuel's nose as we bow out gratefully from the room.  All credit goes to Samuel.  

So last night, when Hubby was dressing A for bed after her bath, she asked, "Where's A's Samuel?".  Hubby then pointed out her array of soft toys on the bed and said, "You don't need a Samuel because you have a lot of toys already.  You can always give them names you know".  

A picked her raggedy teddy and declared, "This is Samuel".  

"Samuel is the name of O's bear bear, why don't you choose another name?"  A puts on her thinking face.  After a while, Hubby suggests, "How about Daniel?" which always guarantees an eruption of giggles from A (because that is the name of her classmate crush).  Feeling inspired, she then went onto to name the other 3 toys on her bed after her favourite friends.  Then she picked up the giraffe and named him "Zac Effron".  

The giraffe has always been her least favourite amongst the soft toys on her bed, that's the one she tries to palm off onto O whenever he's playing there.  But last night before her Dad left the room, she had it squished under her arm and declared, "A sleep with Zac Effron tonight!".  Sure enough, when I checked a few hours later, Zac was still there.  If only they remain this innocent forever.  

Happy Birthday O

I'm still feeling emotional that you turned 1 yesterday.  You can't see the emotion on my face, but inside it's churning and churning.  It's a mixture of disbelief (that this year has flown by so quickly), sadness (because you are growing up so fast), relief (because you do not seem to be plagued by vomit inducing illnesses anymore), throw in some physical and mental tiredness and you'll get an idea of what a mess I am at the moment.  

I hope you had a good day yesterday.  It started in the morning with me, Dad and Sister serenading you with "Happy Birthday" as you looked on delightedly from your cot.  After your Sister came home from school, we all piled into the car and headed off to Playtown at The Westwood.   

Me and your Dad decided against going out and celebrating with a nice meal somewhere because this won't have been too enjoyable for you and A.  So we thought a few hours crawling, stumbling around colourful padded things, shoving new toys in your mouth might be more your thing.  You would have probably enjoyed it more if your Sister had actually let you sleep longer in the car.  If only we could stop her screaming, alas there was not much we could do all strapped in with our seatbelts.  

Playtown is a great place for little energy bunnies and we can't wait for the day when the both of you are old enough for us to just leave you to it there, whilst we sit on the couch and chill with some magazines.  But for now, it's ok for us to act us bodyguards against older excitable children and to rescue you when you are drowning in the ball pit.  

Your Sister, does love you to bits.  She has done so from the moment we brought you home. She does tend to get over enthusiastic with her affections towards you and often you scream longingly at me to help get her off.  Which of course makes her want to hug/ squash you even more.  I love the way she can be counted on to bring you a selection of toys when she sees you sit down for meal.  If you throw or drop things from your highchair, she will come by, pick them up and then reprimand you gently for being "naughty".  It is very cute to watch, but also a reminder to myself to think of what I say and do seriously, because I am being imitated on a daily basis. She has scolded you in the past, using words I had used to scold her.  It's very strange to hear a 2 year old speak like that.  

This past year of staying at home is and has probably been the happiest in my life. Nothing can compare to it.  The enormous guilt I felt having to return to work full time after having A, still hangs over me because I know I can never ever get that time back with her.  But this past year has been super in terms of spoiling both of you with my time.  However, this doesn't mean that feelings of guilt are completely banished.  (An entirely separate post altogether).  

The family dinner ended with the candle blowing (helped by your Sister) and the cake cutting - which you did expertly with the plastic knife and could not get enough of, by wielding it around and trying to stab at the cake a few more times before we wrestled it from your strong tiny fingers. I suppose this is better than putting your shoe in it (another cake) like last Saturday in the presence of your Grandparents.  

The opening of presents swiftly followed and of course, like most small children you actually found the packaging more fun than the gift.  Which was good for A, because then she got to play with all the presents.  

Happy Birthday my sweets, I hope you love me as much as I love you because then I'll be the best loved mum in the world ha ha.  I had been cuddling and kissing you extra extra some yesterday that you definitely smelt funnier by bathtime, I just couldn't help it.  

Chinese Parenting (III) - Babying your baby

These past few days I have been looking at my son in disbelief because he turns 1 tomorrow.  How can it be so soon?  It seemed I blinked and here he is now, this walking, babbling, giggling, climbing, mischievous little monkey.  So he's officially a toddler now I guess?  

The Western upbringing in me is telling me, I need to teach him to be more independent, hold his bottle, self feed, re-teach him how to settle himself to sleep again (he did this beautifully for months but for some reason this all went belly up a few weeks ago).  

The Chinese-ness in me is saying, but he's still a baby.  Enjoy this time because it will (and evidently has) pass by so quickly.  If I let him hold his bottle, all he does is throw it on the floor and think its funny.  When I let him self feed, it just ends up everywhere (table, floor, hair, clothes, ears, face, me) and is so messy.  I can't stop myself from wiping him/ surroundings as soon as it is smeared with food because if I don't the splats would just compound and become unbearable.  But this is something that I'm just going to have to get over because Toddler A is regressing, she sees the extra attention the Baby is getting and wants in on the action.  She has now stopped feeding herself and no amount of bribery is working.  She thinks it's fun to be like her brother.  Aiya.  

As for the sleeping, he would happily be put down in his cot awake for naps and at night, I'd give him his cloth, walk away and when I check on him a few minutes later he would be asleep.  It felt like magic.  Then for some unfathomable reason (not teething, not new illnesses etc), a few weeks ago, it all changed.  When he was left alone he would cry and cry and then vomit.  So I was reluctant, or felt unable to let him cry it out alone in his cot.  This boy can will himself to vomit (even when he is not ill), I have seen it happen when he doesn't like what he is eating and on occasions when he doesn't get his way.  

I am horrified that I am being manipulated in this way, but aside from giving in on this I don't know what to do.  Cleaning up vomit is not my idea of fun, nor does it make me a better mother.  

I helped out at my daughter's class a few months back.  Cooking of all things.  She attends the international stream so there is good mix of nationalities amongst the 20 kids.  We worked with the kids in small groups to make some icing, which involved stirring, mixing, spreading and sprinkling.  

Interestingly, (and this is a generalisation) most of the kids from "Western" countries of origin (America, UK, Italian, French, German, Israel etc) worked way more independently that the HK, Indian, Japanese children.  Some kids in the latter group just sat there frowning at the spoon and bowl, probably thinking, what do you want me to do with that?  They needed a lot more help, prompting and some didn't do anything at all.  My daughter was totally disinterested and refused to sit still at the table.  

I was really surprised by what I witnessed and felt a bit of a failure as a mother to be perfectly honest.  Am I too soft on my kids and pampering them too much?  Do I need to be a bit more insistence in getting them to do more for themselves?  Or will my preference for an easier life (i.e. no shouting, tantrums or harsh discipline) and general laziness rule?  What do you do when each meal becomes a power struggle?  How do you convince yourself that she will be fine if all she will eat is a couple of spoonfuls of food?  How do you do this everyday, 4 times each day without losing your cool? 

Or is it ok to "enjoy" the baby period a bit longer because eventually they will do all those things independently?  It seems the harder we insist on the eating issues, the more resistance is put up.  Should we just wait until she feels she's a big enough girl to feed herself?  Or chip away at it each day hoping she gets it before I go insane?  I don't know.  

No photos please

Yesterday we went to the Wise Kid's playroom in Cyberport for the first time.  Facilities wise, it is not bad, clean and spacious but it definitely won't interest kids much who are over the age of 5.  My daughter loved it and really didn't want to leave.  

One thing I don't understand about these places is why they prohibit parents from taking photos of their kids there.  We were there with A & O's cousin (who is only a couple of weeks younger than O), whom we met for the very first time because they had just stepped off the plane from Canada the day before.  So it was a special day for us all.  Naturally, we wanted to have a record of the occasion.  But no, we were not allowed.  

It is a paid playroom and they limit 2 adults to accompany each child (usually parents or helper).  It was not that packed either.  I as a parent, would not object to other parents taking pictures of their kids and if my kids happened to run into the frame, then so be it, no big deal.  It is also a playroom, not a swimming pool, everyone is fully clothed.  There are no non-child accompanied adults, so what is the problem??

I understand rules are rules, and if I want to go there I must play by their ways.  But then I was told that, they do allow photo taking there, but only if I have booked a "birthday party package".  What's the difference??  About $4,800 apparently.  

(I did manage to take a few sneakily before I was asked not to).  

On ageing

You know it's a one way street when you walk into M&S, pick up a few (ladies) items of clothing and think, "Hmm, I wonder what size I am".  Then you find that their trousers are actually a good and comfy fit for your post babies bottom, there really is no going back.  Might as well stock up on granny knickers whilst I'm there.  

Even my mum has referred to me as a "see lai".  Oh crap.  

Demon adults

Today started off ok, but by early evening before dinner, it just went totally crap.  Two adults raising their voices at each other, always emotionally draining but throw in some extreme tiredness on my part (still feeling rubbish since Christmas) and it's a recipe for tears.  Not mine, unfortunately.  Toddler A ended up very unfairly on the receiving end of an over-the-top outburst which should have been directed at me.  You should have seen the look on her face and the tears that followed, my heart broke.  

(Hopefully) horrified at what he did, Mr., quickly embraced her and told her he was sorry, but not before she was made to tidy up her toys.  She then told him, she was sad, very sad over and over again.  My heart lurched some more.  

After a few more hugs and asking her to bring some toys to distract her brother, she was as right as rain, all smiles and playing again.  I love how tough she is, how she doesn't wallow in her misery.  

I shouted at her unreasonably once, a couple of weeks back.  Baby O's continuous illnesses was draining me physically and I was tired, tired, tired.  In my agitated sleep deprived state, I really raised my voice at her and I can't even remember what it was about.  All I remember afterwards was how I felt like a total shit, and what a total cow I was.  I was mortified when I realised what I had done.  Again, the look on her face almost killed me inside.   I vowed to myself to try and never ever take my own problems or issues out on my kids.   How do you know whether what you are doing is ultimately damaging to them?

I remember when growing up, there was a period of time (must have been when I was about 8-11) when my Mum would regularly fly off the handle with us.  I'd end up crying my eyes out and locking myself in the bedroom I shared with my sister.  It was an incredibly sad time, thinking why did my Mum, someone who was so central to my world, hate me so much etc.  It was only when I was a bit older and started to realise and understand that my parents were in fact going through one of their difficult patches, and that my Mum's seeming intolerance to us was a reaction to what she was going through.  I now know she kept a lot of the sadness to herself, but it inevitably seeped out and affected those around her.  But when you're a child, you don't see all of that, you just think that you'd rather have not been born.  That is an awful feeling to have.  Do the repercussions ever truly go away?

Chinese spirits in the sky (I)

One very bland manifestation of my practical and logical nature is that I'm usually very dismissive of anything that is irrational and plain mumbo jumbo.  I never believed in Santa Claus or fairies and from a young age knew that real princesses didn't exist (not in the glittery, beautiful, delicate, sing-songy type anyway).  I was usually the one poo-pooing, and rolling my eyes at the stories of others that even dared to stretch one's imagination a little.   Ghosts .... are you kidding me??

Well, here goes.  Since the birth of my children, there have been 2 notable incidents which have made me sit up and look warily at the walls in my surroundings.  

I'm a relatively healthy person, I used to pride myself on the fact that I rarely needed to see the doctor and even if a visit was warranted, I would normally bounce back to my normal self within a few days.  I went for years without needing any sort of medication to help put me right.  

So, I was naturally perplexed when after the birth of my daughter, I had a string of medical related incidents.  Within 10 days of giving birth, I was suddenly struck down with a high fever and throbbing chest pains.  Me being me, thought I'd just lie down for a bit, let the body heal itself and make it stronger by fighting off whatever it is naturally.  Pause, oh wait.  I have a suckling daughter to think of, I might pass on something her developing immune system can't handle yet.  So off to the doctor I went.  Mastitis. 

"Lucky you came when you did, if you had waited any longer, we might have needed to drain the abscess surgically".  Oh.  This scenario more or less repeated itself a few weeks later, except I was quicker to go and get my antibiotics this time round.  Throb throb for a few days.  

Mastitis is not that uncommon in nursing mothers, what's so unusual?  A few weeks later, I managed to hurt my left foot to the point where I needed minor surgery.  Having anesthetic injected into my toes was more painful than childbirth, I kid you not.  Even the 60 year old patronising surgeon managed to raise a smile to that comment.  Hobble hobble for a week.  

Not long after that, wisdom teeth needed seeing to and extracted at great expense.  Impacted to the bone was the comment, hence the need for a bigger cut and subsequent wound.  Since I was still nursing my daughter, I think I was sent away with nothing stronger than a panadol.  Hamster cheeks for 2 days.  

Then for the grand finale, viral gastroenteritis which resulted in a 3 day hospital stay (2.5 days of which I was virtually unconscious).  My husband and I had the same meal, and he was completely fine.  Puke puke and watery poo.  Yuck.  

The night I came home from the hospital, I was resting in bed, tired and drowsy at around 9pm.  My daughter was asleep in the cot beside me.  I started having these dream like visions, of me speeding through various scenarios of my life where people were represented by ink black stick figures, shadowy representations with zipping movements.  As I was hurtling through these scenes, I physically felt I could not move, like something was pinning my limbs down on the bed.  I wanted to open my eyes, but they seemed heavy and uncooperative.  I willed myself to fight back to whatever was holding me down and in my mind, this struggle ended up with me pushing this "force" onto the ground.  I heard my daughter stir in her cot and I shouted (in my mind), "Please don't hurt L.T.H." (daughter's Chinese name).  

Then suddenly, this jet black veil lifted, I could open my eyes and move my body.  I sat up on my bed and looked over to my daughter, who was still sleeping peacefully.  I was shaking somewhat.  I can't remember where my husband was or how I ever fell asleep that night, but I suspect drugs might have had something to do with it.  The chemical cocktail which the hospital pumped into my body whilst I was unconscious would take 10 days to clear my body.   

The next day I was on the phone talking to my mother about this, expecting her to laugh at my story.  Instead, she mentioned that it was the month of the Chinese Ghost Festival.  I also told her that my daughter would cry and cry and cry whenever my Father-in-law ("FIL") would come and visit.  All he had to do was appear within her range of vision and the poor baby would become inconsolable.  

"Your Mother-in-law ("MIL") died relatively young, right?"

"I guess so, when my husband was in his teens"

"Maybe she has some unresolved business"

"Hah??"

I had mentioned to my husband previously, that since we got married, he had not taken me to "meet" his mother at her place of rest.  (Note: In Chinese culture, ancestral worship is a big deal, you must honour and do right by your dead ancestors in order to have a prosperous and healthy life etc.)  In fact, he hadn't even visited her himself for a fair few years.  He said, his Dad (my FIL) usually went by himself and never asked the kids to accompany him.  This would be a big no-no in my family.  

Turns out that despite my FIL's many visits, since we got married, he was a big vague when we asked him whether he updated his wife on the latest with their kids.  He didn't even tell her that she now has another grand-daughter.  He said he talks to her about "other" stuff.  

After further discussion with my side of the family, they thought maybe, MIL sensed something was up and followed my FIL here when the gates to the netherworld were temporarily opened during the Ghost Festival.  My daughter would cry because of her hovering presence around my FIL.  As a wake up call to her son, my "weakened" (not just physically but due to loss of "chi - Chinese life force", hence easier to take advantage of) post pregnancy body was used to alert him.  

Rapid preparations were made for a visit to the Tseung Kwan O public cemetery, with our then 5 month daughter to meet her Grandma.  Respects were paid, conversations had and presents laid.  I can honestly say from that day on, my daughter never cried like she did when she saw my FIL and I didn't seem to be inflicted with any more ailments.  

My rational and logical self still thinks that it was all a bit of a coincidence.  That because I didn't rest properly after the birth and the punishing task I set myself of whizzing home a few times a day to nurse my daughter whilst working full time, my body was just sending me breakdown and slow down signals.  (I did reduce my working hours the following month).  

When talking about this whole episode with my helper a few days thereafter, she told me that she saw a black shadow in the living room one late afternoon passing by the bedroom doors (the day I was about to come home from the hospital).  She thought it might have been my husband, but then she saw him sleeping on the couch.  She said, she didn't say anything at the time because she didn't want to scare me ...... 

(We moved from that 40 year old flat in the mid-levels when the lease was up 2 months later).  

Sisterly love

M:  Wow, Daddy told me you kissed a Prince today, was he handsome?

Toddler A: Yes

M: So who is more handsome, Daniel (classmate crush) or the Prince?

Toddler A: Prince

M: How about Zac Effron or the Prince?

Toddler A: Hmm, the Prince

M: Ok then, how about Baby O or the Prince?

Toddler A: Baby O

Chinese Parenting (II) - Favouritism

In line with my general horribleness of late, I was pretty short with my mother last night over the phone.  I guess it was the culminations of weeks (months) of "non-helpful" comments from my parents about my child raising abilities that did it.  Everything from implying that I was somehow making my son sick with the way I was looking after him, how I was stirring the congee too much and giving him "wind", how I shouldn't be giving home made yoghurt to my children (despite the fact that my son is a crap milk drinker), how their home is more Christmassy than ours, how my dad refuses to have dinner at our house because we can't provide a palatable meal, how the organic fruit and veggies I buy for my family are actually not good for them etc., to name but a few.  

Comments, yes they can send me in a rage and with time my anger will lessen, but the one thing that breaks my heart is seeing the blatant favouritism for my son over my daughter.  This is not uncommon in Chinese culture, and my father is by far the worst offender.  (He was the eldest only surviving son with six younger sisters, so he was really doted on).  But in this day and age, where there are no property or inheritance rights at stake, why is my son considered more worthy of love and attention than my daughter?  

My daughter may be young, but I believe she has picked up on what's going on, she used to ask about her "Gong Gong" all the time, he was by far the most favoured grandparent (my mum was in London at that time) when she was younger, even though he wasn't the one she saw the most.  Now she rarely mentions him outside of visits.  

My mum (still won't admit that it is so) is more conscious of her interactions with them now, and tries very admirably to be fair.  But my dad, doesn't even try to deny it and has repeatedly asked to take Baby O back to their home and look after for a period of time (days and weeks, I'm talking here).   I don't have a problem with the kids staying over with them, but not when they only want one of them.  I said, if they take one, then they have to take the other.  Silence.  "We can't handle them both" was the reply.  "Ok, so take Toddler A then".  Silence.  

Basically the above conversation was repeated regularly for months and months, and finally culminated in my dad screaming at me over the phone that I should let them take the Baby because I didn't know how to look after him properly and that's why he was always sick.  I cried that night, the first time since I had second trimester spotting and I thought I was going to lose my son.  

My dad and I haven't spoken properly since then, not that we ever had "heart to hearts" or anything.  Now, we are just courteously ignoring each other more or less.  It's sad, but I'm not sad, I can't be.  I can't change the way he thinks, my daughter will learn to be more resilient and figure out that life is sometimes not fair through no fault of her own.  

Nothing's perfect

I'm all out of sorts these past few days.  Everyone and seemingly the littlest of things is irritating me no end.  This post is one rant of many I have building up inside of me.  I think the relentless entertaining over the past week or so has contributed quite a bit to it all - parties, family gatherings, a wedding, dinners etc.  I know I will come across as a big petty moany cow in this post, but I just have to get it off my chest.  

My helper gives me the moody treatment every so often, and for the sake of not making it worse, I can usually ignore it or let it be, because we all have our bad days, right?  But I just can't take plain disrespectfulness.  She's been with us for close to 3 years now, and for the first 2 years she was great.  She joined us just before Toddler A was born (as I was going back to work full time after maternity leave) and was a great help, clearly loved my daughter to bits and was helpful, polite and well meaning.  Although, she clearly is not family, she was definitely treated well and respected as a member of this household.  

Then she went home at the end of her first contract, just a few months after Baby O was born.  We were glad for her, as it must be really hard to be away from your family for such a long time.   When she came back, it seemed something had changed.  No longer, were morning greetings exchanged cheerily, instead I was met with indifference, silence and even when the "morning" was returned, it was seldom with eye contact.  No big deal, I hear you say, stop being so finnicky and let the poor woman be.  Ok, ok.  

Yes, she must have missed her own family and no doubt felt that her 3 weeks with them was too short (we gave her an extra week off).  But surely thats not an excuse for bad manners?  Well, it's not just the morning thing.  It's a common occurence in our daily communications for her to not even acknowledge that she heard me, no look in the eye, I would have settled for a mere grunt.  Thus begins an era of "misheard" or ignored instructions, weird cooking, general long faceness, teasing my daughter to tears whilst playing (to the point where even a playgroup instructor felt she had to mention it to me).  

I was discussing this amongst some friends and relatives and they said, maybe its because she resents the fact that I'm a SAHM now.  So to a certain extent, she's lost her "freedom" because I'm around most of the time.  So instead of seeing me, as being around to "lighten the load", I'm now around to "keep an eye on her".  Well, you know what, since the change in her, I'm certainly glad I made the decision to stay at home and raise the kids myself.  She's certainly not doing herself any endearing favours there.  

So why don't you just get rid of her?  Millions of women who have 2 kids, 2 dogs and a household to run manage perfectly well without hired help.  How hard can it be??

To be perfectly honest, if we didn't have a domestic helper, the ensuing squabbles with my husband over who does this and that, who's lazier than who, why haven't you done this, where's my ...., how could you be some gross and unhygenic etc, would probably lead to a divorce ... I kid you not.  We're just that kind of weird couple.  Obviously, we'd rather that not happen.  So for now, this is how it will be, until I go back to work sometime next year (plan to anyway).  

Disco Babies

Having been brought up in a non-religious household (Mum is a non practicing Christian and Dad is a typical Chinese person who adheres to ancestral worship), Christmas doesn't really have any religious significance for us.  For as long as I can remember, it was never really celebrated, gifts were rarely exchanged, Mum opting for the easier task of giving money instead (what does a 7 year old want a tenner for?) and Dad never bothered at all.  For a few years we did decorate our house festively in the same old same old, and I used to sit under the fairy lights listening to Last Christmas by Wham, True by Spandau Ballet, the Rapture album by Anita Baker etc.  

Christmas card giving and receiving was a most political affair at school.  It was an indication of popularity and you only had to look at the design of the card to see just how much the giver liked you or not.  I decided to forego all this "nonsense" by announcing that I would not be "celebrating" Christmas when I turned 13.  I was such an idealist and thought I was such a cool person for shunning such mass commercialisation.  So for years and years, Christmas simply meant, time off school/ university/ work.  

Now, that I have children I have had to think what do I want this festival to mean to our family?  There's no trying to deny that this festival exists, because everything Christmassy is designed to draw the attention of children.  My husband and I do not adhere to any particular religion and it's hard to teach your children that when you do not hold the belief yourself.   So we've decided not to take the high road and just enjoy it as it is, a bit of fun, time off for everybody, a chance to see the extended family etc.  

What better way to round off Christmas Day (after we had to cancel an invitation to a slap up meal because Baby O came down with a fever and was sick) than by having a disco at home.  Blinking fairy lights make for excellent disco illuminations.   The Toddler has some real funky moves (encouraged by her Dad) and even the Baby was givin' it some whilst cruising around.  I think for years to come when my babies have well and truly flown the nest, I will always always remember these moments of true silliness by our little family.