It could have been pre-destined that May is not a good month for Son No 2.
Son No 2 spent the first two weeks of May taking his mid-year exams - which cover a total of 11 papers. Yes, you did not read wrongly - it is 11 papers for an 8-year-old boy, would you believe it? Let me list the papers again (I have frequently grumbled about this in my previous posts): Malay Writing, Malay Comprehension, Chinese Writing, Chinese Comprehension, English, Chinese Science, English Science, Chinese Math, English Math, Moral Education and Computer. By the time the exams were over, anyone would be braindead, I assure you.
As far as written sit-down exams go, I am convinced that for this age-group, they are biased towards girls. Girls have the better mental attitude and developmental maturity at that age to handle exams. Not the boys. Generally speaking, boys are playful, less meticulous and make careless mistakes frequently. And their attention span is really short. If you were to analyse most exam papers, the careless mistakes start appearing towards the end of the paper.
It is thus not surprising that all the the top 3 scorers in Son No 2's class are girls. It is also not surprising that the top student in the Primary School Leaving Exams (PSLE) in Singapore every year is a girl :(( Ya, ya, this is one sourgrape mother you are hearing from!
Anyway, Son No 2 DID beat the girls and came up top for one of his papers. *Hurrah* It's his pet subject, English Science. He couldn't wait to announce his achievement to me when I picked him up from school that day. Heck, not many adults is better than this third-grader (US equivalent) when it comes to English Science! Especially on this topic that he was being tested this term - Animals and Plants. The reward for his achievement? A photo of the magnificent jaguar on my desktop for a week.
May Blues nevertheless continued to follow Son No 2. He was not selected for participation in this year's Annual Sports Day (he won a gold medal last year) and was disappointed.
And he caught the flu bug a few days ago. Normally, I would self-medicate when the children had fever, cough and runny nose. But this time round, with the H1N1 threat in the air, I did not want to take any chances and took him to see the paediatrician. True enough, the good paediatrician said it was a common bug and prescribed exactly the same medicine that I would have given him. As it turned out, I really paid RM50 just for the peace of mind.
So Son No 2 is resting at home now. He can't wait for June as he will be going to Singapore for a holiday. He and his younger brother have been talking incessantly about the trip and are really excited. Let's hope that's the end to the May Blues.
Thursday 28 May 2009
Monday 25 May 2009
Fruit Diet Day
There is this email that has been in circulation in the cyberworld for a while - about the goodness of eating fruits. It advocates eating fruits before a meal (not after a meal as what is commonly practised) and having an all-fruit diet for 3 days for detoxification purposes.
Now I have always been sceptical about such emails. There are too many wild claims that are unsubstantiated. Son No 1, a true netizen, regularly asks me complex questions - derived from the internet - such as whether it is true that the length of one's thumb is always the same as the length of one's nose. *Roll eyes*
But this particular email caught my hubby's and my attention. Especially the detoxification part. Man, besides the various health benefits a fruit diet purportedly brings, it promises that I would be GLOWING after a 3-day fruit diet... Hmm, not bad a proposition at all, especially since I should try to lose some weight before the grand wedding bash that is coming up in one week's time.
So I floated the idea and received enthusiastic buy-in from everyone. We decided to try it out for one day first. It's not difficult to guess why we chose yesterday, a Sunday. We figured we would all be weak from the lack of carbohydrates and proteins and so what better day than Sunday, our rest day?
But first, we needed to stock up on fruits, and so we had a fruit shopping spree at Mercato (left) the night before.
Bananas (two combs), apples, pears, oranges, watermelon, lychee, mangoes, grapes... Be warned, it is not cheap to go on a fruit diet :)
Sunday morning came, we had watermelon juice, mangoes and bananas. Some of us miss our morning cuppas... and throughout the morning, we snacked on fruits.
We were a bit worried whether it was suitable for young children to go on a fruit diet and surfed the net to find out more. In any case, in the afternoon, we relented and told the two younger boys to go and drink some milk - which they gulped down hungrily. Son No 3 decided to push his luck further and asked for his otah bun - and he got it.
I was rather impressed, though, by Son No 1's determination to keep to the plan. He had a project group meeting at his friend's house that day and his friends had McDonald's take-way for lunch. But Son No 1, tempted thought he must be, did not sway. He just ate the pear that he had brought along with him - and later he told us that he only tasted the tomato sauce from McDonald's. Good on him.
Late afternoon, hubby and I drove out to buy the King Of Fruits - DURIANS! Ha, that was our secret weapon *grin*
I don't know if the writers of those fruit emails considered durians as a fruit - but it certainly is - and so we were not breaking any rules. We bought three fruits of the "udang merah" or "hong ha" variety - widely regarded as one of the superior species of durians.
After the scrumptious durian meal, we all felt full and contented. Ah, no sweat, this fruit diet!
For dinner, Son No 3 eagerly squeezed some oranges to make juice for us. We had more fruits - grapes, lychees, bananas...
That night, the children and I went to bed earlier than usual.
So did I glow at the end of the diet? Erm... not really. Maybe the next time, we will do it for 3 days. Just maybe.... It is not really a breeze, this fruit diet. The craving for some savoury food is there all the time - for me at least. Son No 2's verdict? "I don't like Fruit Diet Day", he said before he slept. Hmm... I guess it will be difficult to garner support the next time round!
Now I have always been sceptical about such emails. There are too many wild claims that are unsubstantiated. Son No 1, a true netizen, regularly asks me complex questions - derived from the internet - such as whether it is true that the length of one's thumb is always the same as the length of one's nose. *Roll eyes*
But this particular email caught my hubby's and my attention. Especially the detoxification part. Man, besides the various health benefits a fruit diet purportedly brings, it promises that I would be GLOWING after a 3-day fruit diet... Hmm, not bad a proposition at all, especially since I should try to lose some weight before the grand wedding bash that is coming up in one week's time.
So I floated the idea and received enthusiastic buy-in from everyone. We decided to try it out for one day first. It's not difficult to guess why we chose yesterday, a Sunday. We figured we would all be weak from the lack of carbohydrates and proteins and so what better day than Sunday, our rest day?
But first, we needed to stock up on fruits, and so we had a fruit shopping spree at Mercato (left) the night before.Bananas (two combs), apples, pears, oranges, watermelon, lychee, mangoes, grapes... Be warned, it is not cheap to go on a fruit diet :)
Sunday morning came, we had watermelon juice, mangoes and bananas. Some of us miss our morning cuppas... and throughout the morning, we snacked on fruits.
We were a bit worried whether it was suitable for young children to go on a fruit diet and surfed the net to find out more. In any case, in the afternoon, we relented and told the two younger boys to go and drink some milk - which they gulped down hungrily. Son No 3 decided to push his luck further and asked for his otah bun - and he got it.
I was rather impressed, though, by Son No 1's determination to keep to the plan. He had a project group meeting at his friend's house that day and his friends had McDonald's take-way for lunch. But Son No 1, tempted thought he must be, did not sway. He just ate the pear that he had brought along with him - and later he told us that he only tasted the tomato sauce from McDonald's. Good on him.
Late afternoon, hubby and I drove out to buy the King Of Fruits - DURIANS! Ha, that was our secret weapon *grin*I don't know if the writers of those fruit emails considered durians as a fruit - but it certainly is - and so we were not breaking any rules. We bought three fruits of the "udang merah" or "hong ha" variety - widely regarded as one of the superior species of durians.
After the scrumptious durian meal, we all felt full and contented. Ah, no sweat, this fruit diet!
For dinner, Son No 3 eagerly squeezed some oranges to make juice for us. We had more fruits - grapes, lychees, bananas...
That night, the children and I went to bed earlier than usual.
So did I glow at the end of the diet? Erm... not really. Maybe the next time, we will do it for 3 days. Just maybe.... It is not really a breeze, this fruit diet. The craving for some savoury food is there all the time - for me at least. Son No 2's verdict? "I don't like Fruit Diet Day", he said before he slept. Hmm... I guess it will be difficult to garner support the next time round!
Friday 22 May 2009
Manglish, Singlish, No Diff-la
Not too long ago, Son No 3 was whining about how much work he had and he said, "Aiyoh, want to pengsan already!".
Pengsan? I was quite amused to hear such a local expression coming out of the babe's mouth. I haven't heard this word for a long, long time.
Hmm... Son No 3 is getting quite localised. Actually, he did not understand what pengsan meant. He just knew that was what his teacher would say when she had too much work. [Incidentally, pengsan is the Malay word for "faint".]
Yes, amused I was, but at the back of my mind, I was also alarmed. I suppose there is nothing wrong with interjecting a local word or idiom into an English sentence. This is the mildest form of Manglish. But at school, children do pick up all forms of Manglish when they interact with other children.
We do not speak perfect English at home but we try to speak mostly Standard English. I admit we occasionally lapse into creole (which is what the linguists call this form of speech such as Manglish or Singlish) but I don't think it is often.
Son No 2 is not much better. When Son No 2 tells a story or relates an experience, he likes to begin, "One time ah, I did this and that...." And I will always correct his sentence and tell him to begin with "There was once I did this and that...".
On one occasion, he wanted to jump down the stairs and I warned him, "Don't jump!" His response was classic. "Where got I jump?!!"
Yes, he is beginning to speak the more serious form of Manglish. This is not unexpected because he goes to a Chinese primary school and the teachers there are probably the main culprits. This is the trade-off for going to a Chinese primary school. Luckily, Son No 2 likes to watch TV and that includes good edutainment channels like Animal Planet, Discovery, TVIQ and recently - and I was truly surprised by this - even the History channel. So his formal speech is quite OK.
I would like to think that the two boys can code-switch to Standard English when the occasion demands it. Most of the time, they can speak fairly well, though there is obviously room for improvement. I just hope there is no further deterioration.
Son No 1, though, almost always speaks Standard English. He has been attending premier schools since young, whether in Singapore or here in Malaysia, and his classmates mainly come from upper class English-speaking homes.
When he first started school here, he asked me what the word "action" meant. Of course, he knew the proper meaning of the word, but he has heard some of the locals here using it as a verb, as in "No need to action-la." I explained to him that action is akin to showing-off.
For me, I am used to hearing both Singlish and Manglish, and so I do not really spot any glaring difference between the two. The chief difference is that Singlish has more Hokkien/Teochew influence, while Manglish has more Malay influence.
Otherwise, both creoles are quite similar. Both creoles use the suffix "-lah" liberally, albeit in different forms as in "-leh" or "-lo". There is also a fondness to tag sentences with "-one", as in "It's not like that-one..." and to use "got" before any verb, to indicate the past tense, as in "I got eat already..."
I guess the commonality of Singlish and Manglish is the obvious manifestation of the "bond" that tie the people from Singapore and Malaysia as having the same roots. I wish more people will remember that.
Pengsan? I was quite amused to hear such a local expression coming out of the babe's mouth. I haven't heard this word for a long, long time.
Hmm... Son No 3 is getting quite localised. Actually, he did not understand what pengsan meant. He just knew that was what his teacher would say when she had too much work. [Incidentally, pengsan is the Malay word for "faint".]
Yesterday, Son No 3 surprised me again when he asked me what is the meaning of "alamak". Apparently, his English teacher had used the exclamation in school. I told him it meant "Oh dear..." and that it is a Malay word.
Yes, amused I was, but at the back of my mind, I was also alarmed. I suppose there is nothing wrong with interjecting a local word or idiom into an English sentence. This is the mildest form of Manglish. But at school, children do pick up all forms of Manglish when they interact with other children.
We do not speak perfect English at home but we try to speak mostly Standard English. I admit we occasionally lapse into creole (which is what the linguists call this form of speech such as Manglish or Singlish) but I don't think it is often.
Son No 2 is not much better. When Son No 2 tells a story or relates an experience, he likes to begin, "One time ah, I did this and that...." And I will always correct his sentence and tell him to begin with "There was once I did this and that...".
On one occasion, he wanted to jump down the stairs and I warned him, "Don't jump!" His response was classic. "Where got I jump?!!"
Yes, he is beginning to speak the more serious form of Manglish. This is not unexpected because he goes to a Chinese primary school and the teachers there are probably the main culprits. This is the trade-off for going to a Chinese primary school. Luckily, Son No 2 likes to watch TV and that includes good edutainment channels like Animal Planet, Discovery, TVIQ and recently - and I was truly surprised by this - even the History channel. So his formal speech is quite OK.
I would like to think that the two boys can code-switch to Standard English when the occasion demands it. Most of the time, they can speak fairly well, though there is obviously room for improvement. I just hope there is no further deterioration.
Son No 1, though, almost always speaks Standard English. He has been attending premier schools since young, whether in Singapore or here in Malaysia, and his classmates mainly come from upper class English-speaking homes.
When he first started school here, he asked me what the word "action" meant. Of course, he knew the proper meaning of the word, but he has heard some of the locals here using it as a verb, as in "No need to action-la." I explained to him that action is akin to showing-off.
For me, I am used to hearing both Singlish and Manglish, and so I do not really spot any glaring difference between the two. The chief difference is that Singlish has more Hokkien/Teochew influence, while Manglish has more Malay influence.
Otherwise, both creoles are quite similar. Both creoles use the suffix "-lah" liberally, albeit in different forms as in "-leh" or "-lo". There is also a fondness to tag sentences with "-one", as in "It's not like that-one..." and to use "got" before any verb, to indicate the past tense, as in "I got eat already..."
I guess the commonality of Singlish and Manglish is the obvious manifestation of the "bond" that tie the people from Singapore and Malaysia as having the same roots. I wish more people will remember that.
Thursday 21 May 2009
Mother's Day
Popo was in town on Mother's Day and we had a 3-generational celebration at a dim sum restaurant here.Son No 1 sent me a message on Facebook - and this is totally in keeping with his character. On-line chatting is his favourite mode of communication right now. I am glad I am his Friend on Facebook. The two younger boys made cards in school in conjunction with the occasion.
My sis sent me an sms message and showed her perceptive nature once again. She said boys are generally not very "showy" but she is sure my boys appreciated me just the same. Thanks, sis!
Pepper Lunch
The popular Pepper Lunch chain from Japan has opened its first outlet in Malaysia - at the Pavilion Shopping Mall. *Hurray*We have patronized the restaurant twice over the past one month since it opened. Its signature item, the beef pepper rice, served on a sizzling pan, is Son No 1's favourite and he never fails to order the meal whenever we have the chance to go to the Junction 8 food court in Singapore.
So enthusiastic was he over the dish that he tried to make his own version of the pepper rice at home (below, left). I reckon it's not too bad, considering he did not have the corn and the beef in his rice!
The real deal is on the right -enough to make you drool!!!
Telematch
Son No 3 won a gold medal for his race, "Goblin's Hobble" during his Pre-School's Telematch cum Sports Day last Saturday.The theme for the day was Magic Mogus and all the events were named after some magical creatures.
Son No 3's race was actually a three-legged race. He and his partner, Michael, anchored the race for his Blue Team and they bagged the gold. I must say the two boys showed very good team work.
Son No 3 was thrilled to bits and now his gold medal figures amongst his most prized possessions.
Aargh!!!!
I spent the whole morning doing a long post - and this is all that was saved!!!! And it's not my fault!
AARGHHHHH!!!
Wednesday 20 May 2009
"I Am Gay!!!"
This morning, during breakfast, Son No 3 asked my hubby the meaning of "gay".
*Pause*
My hubby was tongue-tied for a while. I quickly interjected that "gay" means happy. One tends to forget that this young child is growing up in a fairly cloistered environment in a conservative society. What else could "gay" mean?
Then my innocent son took it one step further - he began practising his new-found knowledge by saying, "I am gay! I am gay!"
Err... this will not do. What if he said it publicly? Not that I have anything against gays, but still... it may offend some people and we must not forget that in this country, homosexuality is a crime.
To rectify the situation, I had no choice but to tell Son No 3 that he should just say "I am happy." I told him "happy" is a better word to use than "gay". No further explanation needed or provided.
Luckily, Son No 3 did not pursue the matter further and I was let off the hook.
*Relief*
But I am not the type to be satisfied with "curing the symptoms". I had to find out the root cause. What he asked this morning kept gnawing away at the back of my mind.
So later in the afternoon, after school, I casually asked Son No 3 where he learnt the word "gay". Son No 3 told me he discovered the word "gay" from YouTube. Alarm bells started ringing. I asked Son No 3 to show me the video that he had watched. I was surprised it was entitled, "Spongebob: If You Were Gay". To those without pre-school children, Spongebob is a popular cartoon character with a regular TV series. All my three children like to watch this cartoon.
But it was not a real episode from Spongebob, the cartoon series. The video was the product of some people putting together some Spongebob scenes and editing them to certain words to create a new video. Aiyoh, people are so free-ah.... kind of wu-liao, you know. Luckily, the video was quite innocent, no graphic images as I had feared ... But it goes to show once again what a minefield the internet can be.
Hmm... the two younger boys already knew that they should not simply go into YouTube without my permission. But since Son No 2 discovered that he could watch his favourite Pokemon episodes from YouTube, he has been visiting that site more often and thinking that that's all he is doing, I have relaxed my guard.
Looks like now I have to increase my vigilance again... Or maybe what this stay-at-home mom really needs is some sort of full-time Nanny Guard that will do a good job. Yes, that's probably my next course of action...
P/S: I hope Son No 3 will not ask me the meaning of "queer" next - I notice the word was spoken in the same video!
*Pause*
My hubby was tongue-tied for a while. I quickly interjected that "gay" means happy. One tends to forget that this young child is growing up in a fairly cloistered environment in a conservative society. What else could "gay" mean?
Then my innocent son took it one step further - he began practising his new-found knowledge by saying, "I am gay! I am gay!"
Err... this will not do. What if he said it publicly? Not that I have anything against gays, but still... it may offend some people and we must not forget that in this country, homosexuality is a crime.
To rectify the situation, I had no choice but to tell Son No 3 that he should just say "I am happy." I told him "happy" is a better word to use than "gay". No further explanation needed or provided.
Luckily, Son No 3 did not pursue the matter further and I was let off the hook.
*Relief*
But I am not the type to be satisfied with "curing the symptoms". I had to find out the root cause. What he asked this morning kept gnawing away at the back of my mind.
So later in the afternoon, after school, I casually asked Son No 3 where he learnt the word "gay". Son No 3 told me he discovered the word "gay" from YouTube. Alarm bells started ringing. I asked Son No 3 to show me the video that he had watched. I was surprised it was entitled, "Spongebob: If You Were Gay". To those without pre-school children, Spongebob is a popular cartoon character with a regular TV series. All my three children like to watch this cartoon.
But it was not a real episode from Spongebob, the cartoon series. The video was the product of some people putting together some Spongebob scenes and editing them to certain words to create a new video. Aiyoh, people are so free-ah.... kind of wu-liao, you know. Luckily, the video was quite innocent, no graphic images as I had feared ... But it goes to show once again what a minefield the internet can be.
Hmm... the two younger boys already knew that they should not simply go into YouTube without my permission. But since Son No 2 discovered that he could watch his favourite Pokemon episodes from YouTube, he has been visiting that site more often and thinking that that's all he is doing, I have relaxed my guard.
Looks like now I have to increase my vigilance again... Or maybe what this stay-at-home mom really needs is some sort of full-time Nanny Guard that will do a good job. Yes, that's probably my next course of action...
P/S: I hope Son No 3 will not ask me the meaning of "queer" next - I notice the word was spoken in the same video!
Tuesday 19 May 2009
Another Piece Gone
I have given up on my Sony Ericsson mobile. In the past, it has given me lots of problems - I had to bring it back to the authorised agent less than 6 months after the purchase date. The servicing was free then as it was still under warranty and I must say the after-sale service was superb - efficient and prompt. Nevertheless, when one buys a durable good, one would prefer not to have to test the effectiveness of its after-sale service.
Even after the servicing and changing of parts, I lived with a cranky phone and a crankier joystick for years. The joystick was insensitive at times and when you applied more force, it jumped several notches down the list of options. It just did not want to point where you wanted it to. It was enough to make you want to scream. But to buy a new phone when this phone was functional - despite its quirkiness - would have been wasteful.
Anyway, finally, bits of the black casing started falling off last week, thus making it impossible for me to continue using the phone. Aha... now I do not have to contend with a guilty conscience when I go shopping for a new mobile.
As I do not have the time to shop for a new phone just yet, as a stop-gap measure, I am now using my hubby's spare phone.
That's when I realise there is a problem. The list of contacts in my old phone cannot be merged into my hubby's phone due to lack of memory space. I had to delete some "memory" in my phone. Anyway, I guess it is high time to do some house-keeping. The numbers that I have not used for years will have to make way for those with higher frequency of use.
So this morning, I set out the task to delete low-priority contacts. The majority of these are contacts that I have been keeping since my Singapore days. I am sure we all have such dormant contacts which we keep, either for sentimental reasons or because we are simply too lazy to remove them. So, one by one, ...
Delete - the colleagues from the bank where I worked.
Delete - the colleagues and lecturers from my NIE (teacher-training) days.
Delete - the colleagues from the school where I taught.
Delete - the students whom I have taught.
Delete - the dentist, doctors, gas man, the children's teachers, the schoolbus driver etc
I kept my friends, my family, my present students, my present colleagues and all those new utility numbers in KL.
But you know, that's a whole chunk of my life in Singapore - deleted.
Sure, some contacts from NIE were nothing more than project-mates. Son No 1's dance teacher's contact from his old school was in my phone simply because I might have needed to contact her over dance matters. The gas man, hell, was just a delivery service!
But those were the pieces that formed a part of my live. Every contact represented some piece of memory. As I deleted the contacts, I paused and remembered those moments I had with each particular person. Just a name and the floodgates of memories opened...
*Random*
- My NIE colleague who helped me source for sheep's hearts for my students' dissection.
- My well-educated, modern and wealthy Brahmin colleague from India who invited me to Calcutta (!) for his grand wedding with a girl of his parents' choice in an arranged marriage.
- My various students, their smiles, and mannerisms.
- And so on, and so on...
*Random*
Well, life goes on, I guess.
Though I did think of copying down those contacts in a faithful (paper-based) notebook, which would not run out of memory space so easily, I think there is no point, really.
Life is now, is it not? Anyway, that's what Oprah would have said.
Even after the servicing and changing of parts, I lived with a cranky phone and a crankier joystick for years. The joystick was insensitive at times and when you applied more force, it jumped several notches down the list of options. It just did not want to point where you wanted it to. It was enough to make you want to scream. But to buy a new phone when this phone was functional - despite its quirkiness - would have been wasteful.
Anyway, finally, bits of the black casing started falling off last week, thus making it impossible for me to continue using the phone. Aha... now I do not have to contend with a guilty conscience when I go shopping for a new mobile.
As I do not have the time to shop for a new phone just yet, as a stop-gap measure, I am now using my hubby's spare phone.
That's when I realise there is a problem. The list of contacts in my old phone cannot be merged into my hubby's phone due to lack of memory space. I had to delete some "memory" in my phone. Anyway, I guess it is high time to do some house-keeping. The numbers that I have not used for years will have to make way for those with higher frequency of use.
So this morning, I set out the task to delete low-priority contacts. The majority of these are contacts that I have been keeping since my Singapore days. I am sure we all have such dormant contacts which we keep, either for sentimental reasons or because we are simply too lazy to remove them. So, one by one, ...
Delete - the colleagues from the bank where I worked.
Delete - the colleagues and lecturers from my NIE (teacher-training) days.
Delete - the colleagues from the school where I taught.
Delete - the students whom I have taught.
Delete - the dentist, doctors, gas man, the children's teachers, the schoolbus driver etc
I kept my friends, my family, my present students, my present colleagues and all those new utility numbers in KL.
But you know, that's a whole chunk of my life in Singapore - deleted.
Sure, some contacts from NIE were nothing more than project-mates. Son No 1's dance teacher's contact from his old school was in my phone simply because I might have needed to contact her over dance matters. The gas man, hell, was just a delivery service!
But those were the pieces that formed a part of my live. Every contact represented some piece of memory. As I deleted the contacts, I paused and remembered those moments I had with each particular person. Just a name and the floodgates of memories opened...
*Random*
- My NIE colleague who helped me source for sheep's hearts for my students' dissection.
- My well-educated, modern and wealthy Brahmin colleague from India who invited me to Calcutta (!) for his grand wedding with a girl of his parents' choice in an arranged marriage.
- My various students, their smiles, and mannerisms.
- And so on, and so on...
*Random*
Well, life goes on, I guess.
Though I did think of copying down those contacts in a faithful (paper-based) notebook, which would not run out of memory space so easily, I think there is no point, really.
Life is now, is it not? Anyway, that's what Oprah would have said.
Tuesday 12 May 2009
To Work Or Not To Work
Some time last year, one of my good friends in Singapore returned to full-time paid employment after a long spell as a stay-at-home mom (SAHM) - and promptly lost her job a few months later due to the economic downturn.
So AA started job-hunting again. Notwithstanding the master's degree that she holds in the bio-medical life sciences field, she was quite open to other career options, including teaching, but she faced further rejections - which is not surprising at all in today's job market. The situation was enough to make anyone feel down.
As a fellow SAHM, I can perhaps empathise with her situation more than most. Before she rejoined the workforce, we shared many ups and downs in our lives as mothers and SAHMs (there is a perceptible difference between these two terms which I will explain another time) and I can understand her reasons for wanting to go back to work.
Heck, the same thoughts run through my mind frequently. Although we both believe that time spent with family is worth their weight in gold, and are fortunate enough to be in the position to actually have the option to stay at home, which many women don't, it is not clear-cut at all that staying at home is always the natural choice.
Anyway, now that AA has seen both sides of the coin again and again, she tells me something we all know - but tend to forget - that Time is the greatest gift that God can give us, and thus, by extension, Time is the greatest gift we can give to our loved ones.
Over the past few weeks, her hubby and one of her daughters needed medical attention (not life-threatening but time-consuming anyway) and she was glad that she was able to fulfil her duties as mother and wife. If she was holding her job, well, life probably would still have gone on, but the stress in juggling responsibilities and possible self-recrimination for not being there would be wrenching.
So for now, AA will consider some form of part-time employment. That might be the best option - but easier said than done. It is not easy to find part-time employment and job satisfaction is even more elusive.
Sooner or later, I too would be faced with the same soul-searching questions as my children grow and spend more time in school, leading their own lives in their own worlds. My presence will probably be required in diminishing proportions. Would I then rejoin the work force full-time, part-time or start something on my own as an entrepreneur? I do not think I am the type to be able to sit at home and take things easy (I wish I could!)
For SAHMs intending to rejoin the labour market, there is always the deep-seated fear that our value in the working world would have declined exponentially each year we are away from the work force. If we ever want to re-join the work force, there is a time limit before employers write us off mercilessly.
It is not going to be easy. Employers tend to have a negative view of women who were "housewives" before. And chances are the employers are younger than us and while we do not mind, they probably prefer someone who is younger and more malleable. It is going to be The Climb.
Sigh, crossroads again....
Maybe striking out on my own might be the best option...
So AA started job-hunting again. Notwithstanding the master's degree that she holds in the bio-medical life sciences field, she was quite open to other career options, including teaching, but she faced further rejections - which is not surprising at all in today's job market. The situation was enough to make anyone feel down.
As a fellow SAHM, I can perhaps empathise with her situation more than most. Before she rejoined the workforce, we shared many ups and downs in our lives as mothers and SAHMs (there is a perceptible difference between these two terms which I will explain another time) and I can understand her reasons for wanting to go back to work.
Heck, the same thoughts run through my mind frequently. Although we both believe that time spent with family is worth their weight in gold, and are fortunate enough to be in the position to actually have the option to stay at home, which many women don't, it is not clear-cut at all that staying at home is always the natural choice.
Anyway, now that AA has seen both sides of the coin again and again, she tells me something we all know - but tend to forget - that Time is the greatest gift that God can give us, and thus, by extension, Time is the greatest gift we can give to our loved ones.
Over the past few weeks, her hubby and one of her daughters needed medical attention (not life-threatening but time-consuming anyway) and she was glad that she was able to fulfil her duties as mother and wife. If she was holding her job, well, life probably would still have gone on, but the stress in juggling responsibilities and possible self-recrimination for not being there would be wrenching.
So for now, AA will consider some form of part-time employment. That might be the best option - but easier said than done. It is not easy to find part-time employment and job satisfaction is even more elusive.
Sooner or later, I too would be faced with the same soul-searching questions as my children grow and spend more time in school, leading their own lives in their own worlds. My presence will probably be required in diminishing proportions. Would I then rejoin the work force full-time, part-time or start something on my own as an entrepreneur? I do not think I am the type to be able to sit at home and take things easy (I wish I could!)
For SAHMs intending to rejoin the labour market, there is always the deep-seated fear that our value in the working world would have declined exponentially each year we are away from the work force. If we ever want to re-join the work force, there is a time limit before employers write us off mercilessly.
It is not going to be easy. Employers tend to have a negative view of women who were "housewives" before. And chances are the employers are younger than us and while we do not mind, they probably prefer someone who is younger and more malleable. It is going to be The Climb.
Sigh, crossroads again....
Maybe striking out on my own might be the best option...
Friday 8 May 2009
Maid Drama
When we sat down for dinner last night, we had no inkling of the drama that would unfold later that night.
We had dinner around 8 pm as usual. The dishes were cooked by our maid, Siti. Siti is 26 years old, petite in size, pleasant in disposition, and has been with us for about a year.
Lately, she has been receiving more telephone calls from Indonesia. We can only guess why. Her family problems, which she has confided in me before, are complex. She now lives for her only daughter, a toddler of around 3 years old. After each telephone call, Siti would be distracted and lived in a world of her own for a while.
Yesterday, Siti's husband left a message for her to call her father, which she promptly did after we finished our dinner. Her conversation with her father was pretty normal at first. Then she started becoming very agitated - shouting into the phone and speaking very rapidly. We did not really understand what she was saying.
Then in a split second, she fell onto the floor, the handphone she was holding flung across the room. We rushed to her side and realised that she had fainted. There was no response when we called her name repeatedly. She was as limp as a rag doll. As we shook her and applied medicated oil on her, she regained consciousness for a while, cried unintelligibly, then relapsed into unconsciousness again. This happened a few times. We decided to call for the ambulance.
Meanwhile, my three sons were feeling alarmed. The two younger boys looked scared and worried. They did not know what had happened and even thought Siti might have died. I hastened to explain to them that Siti probably had some bad news and was in a shock. Do shocks make you faint? Not all the time, only if the shock was too much and some people cannot handle it. Hubby explained it further in a way they could understand. It's like the computer "hanging" when there is an overload.
The ambulance took some time to come. We all waited silently and anxiously for the siren. Honestly, if it were a real medical emergency, this would not be good at all. More than 30 minutes later, two paramedics arrived, one Malay and the other Indian. The Malay chap took control of the situation and laid Siti down with legs propped up. He tried to revive Siti on the spot. He asked for some tap water, wet his bare hands with it and wiped Siti's face a few times. Wa, so easy-ah... just use water only. Siti slowly opened her eyes and seemed to be in a daze. She cried again, this time calling for her Allah while mumbling a string of arabic chants. Then she passed out again.
The paramedics felt it was better to send her to the hospital. Hubby went with the maid while I stayed behind to look after the children. Both the Malay and Indian paramedics were very helpful. We spoke with them in Malay and they spoke with us in English. I notice this type of multi-lingual exchange quite frequently - especially when all parties try to show respect for one another by speaking the other's language. The result may be a stilted conversation, but nobody bothers. In fact, I find this a pretty good sign of inter-racial tolerance at the ground level.
I slept with the two younger boys that night for fear that they would have nightmares, but all turned out well. Siti was not hospitalised and my hubby drove her back from the A&E in the wee hours of the morning. She was not sedated, nor was she given any relaxant (which I expected) but rather, the good doctors at the A&E gave her paracetamol. Just Panadol??? Wa, so easy-ah... should have just treated her at home.
This morning, Siti woke up with swollen eyes but she was back to her almost-normal self. What happened, we all wanted to know. In my mind, I was thinking that a tragedy might have befallen her daughter because I heard her calling her daugher's name in between her fainting spells. I knew that Siti previously had another young daughter who died in the hospital due to high fever. I thought if something similar were to happen again, she might not be able to take it.
But I was relieved when I heard her story. With tears flowing down her cheeks, Siti confided that her hubby had taken on a new mistress. (My mind was saying begitu sahaja? Like that only-ah...) This was the second time he had an affair. I knew that the first mistress had died during childbirth (the mortality rate in Indonesia seemed rather high compared to here). Nevertheless, Siti said her heart was very "sakit" or pained.
Compared to the scenario that I had painted in my mind, this was certainly not too drastic. Not to sound callous or anything like that, but oh my, if all the women in KL were to faint when they found out that their spouse had taken a mistress or had an affair, the A&E here would be very busy indeed.
All I can say is, with all the stories I have heard from the maids that I have had, I can write a book. "The Plight Of The Foreign Maids" - hmm, how does that sound? There would be some expose as well... like how some maids are forced to be intimate with their agents... (it really happened). Aha, more dirty secrets to be revealed when you buy my book!
We had dinner around 8 pm as usual. The dishes were cooked by our maid, Siti. Siti is 26 years old, petite in size, pleasant in disposition, and has been with us for about a year.
Lately, she has been receiving more telephone calls from Indonesia. We can only guess why. Her family problems, which she has confided in me before, are complex. She now lives for her only daughter, a toddler of around 3 years old. After each telephone call, Siti would be distracted and lived in a world of her own for a while.
Yesterday, Siti's husband left a message for her to call her father, which she promptly did after we finished our dinner. Her conversation with her father was pretty normal at first. Then she started becoming very agitated - shouting into the phone and speaking very rapidly. We did not really understand what she was saying.
Then in a split second, she fell onto the floor, the handphone she was holding flung across the room. We rushed to her side and realised that she had fainted. There was no response when we called her name repeatedly. She was as limp as a rag doll. As we shook her and applied medicated oil on her, she regained consciousness for a while, cried unintelligibly, then relapsed into unconsciousness again. This happened a few times. We decided to call for the ambulance.
Meanwhile, my three sons were feeling alarmed. The two younger boys looked scared and worried. They did not know what had happened and even thought Siti might have died. I hastened to explain to them that Siti probably had some bad news and was in a shock. Do shocks make you faint? Not all the time, only if the shock was too much and some people cannot handle it. Hubby explained it further in a way they could understand. It's like the computer "hanging" when there is an overload.
The ambulance took some time to come. We all waited silently and anxiously for the siren. Honestly, if it were a real medical emergency, this would not be good at all. More than 30 minutes later, two paramedics arrived, one Malay and the other Indian. The Malay chap took control of the situation and laid Siti down with legs propped up. He tried to revive Siti on the spot. He asked for some tap water, wet his bare hands with it and wiped Siti's face a few times. Wa, so easy-ah... just use water only. Siti slowly opened her eyes and seemed to be in a daze. She cried again, this time calling for her Allah while mumbling a string of arabic chants. Then she passed out again.
The paramedics felt it was better to send her to the hospital. Hubby went with the maid while I stayed behind to look after the children. Both the Malay and Indian paramedics were very helpful. We spoke with them in Malay and they spoke with us in English. I notice this type of multi-lingual exchange quite frequently - especially when all parties try to show respect for one another by speaking the other's language. The result may be a stilted conversation, but nobody bothers. In fact, I find this a pretty good sign of inter-racial tolerance at the ground level.
I slept with the two younger boys that night for fear that they would have nightmares, but all turned out well. Siti was not hospitalised and my hubby drove her back from the A&E in the wee hours of the morning. She was not sedated, nor was she given any relaxant (which I expected) but rather, the good doctors at the A&E gave her paracetamol. Just Panadol??? Wa, so easy-ah... should have just treated her at home.
This morning, Siti woke up with swollen eyes but she was back to her almost-normal self. What happened, we all wanted to know. In my mind, I was thinking that a tragedy might have befallen her daughter because I heard her calling her daugher's name in between her fainting spells. I knew that Siti previously had another young daughter who died in the hospital due to high fever. I thought if something similar were to happen again, she might not be able to take it.
But I was relieved when I heard her story. With tears flowing down her cheeks, Siti confided that her hubby had taken on a new mistress. (My mind was saying begitu sahaja? Like that only-ah...) This was the second time he had an affair. I knew that the first mistress had died during childbirth (the mortality rate in Indonesia seemed rather high compared to here). Nevertheless, Siti said her heart was very "sakit" or pained.
Compared to the scenario that I had painted in my mind, this was certainly not too drastic. Not to sound callous or anything like that, but oh my, if all the women in KL were to faint when they found out that their spouse had taken a mistress or had an affair, the A&E here would be very busy indeed.
All I can say is, with all the stories I have heard from the maids that I have had, I can write a book. "The Plight Of The Foreign Maids" - hmm, how does that sound? There would be some expose as well... like how some maids are forced to be intimate with their agents... (it really happened). Aha, more dirty secrets to be revealed when you buy my book!
Tuesday 5 May 2009
The Electric Plant
Today Son No 3 asked me another profound question.
He had earlier learnt that electricity was carried to our house via electric cables and that the electricity came from electric plants which could be normally found in the mountains.
"Who make the electric plants?"
"Engineers."
"Then who make flowers?"
"God."
"Why God make flowers but not electric plants?"
"Hmm... flowers are natural, but electric plants are made by people...."
(Pause)
"How the engineers know how to make electric plants?"
"Engineers go to University and they learn how to build all types of things."
"But not flowers?"
"Not flowers..."
"But why don't GOD make the electric plants?"
"Err...."
=^=
As the conversation continued, it dawned on me why Son No 3 was confused and why he kept drawing a parallel between the electric plant and the flower.
Son No 3 thought that the electric plant was actually a REAL organic plant - you know, the type with green leaves and all! LOL!
A real plant that could produce electricity???
Hmm... something for our environmentalists to think about...!
He had earlier learnt that electricity was carried to our house via electric cables and that the electricity came from electric plants which could be normally found in the mountains.
"Who make the electric plants?"
"Engineers."
"Then who make flowers?"
"God."
"Why God make flowers but not electric plants?"
"Hmm... flowers are natural, but electric plants are made by people...."
(Pause)
"How the engineers know how to make electric plants?"
"Engineers go to University and they learn how to build all types of things."
"But not flowers?"
"Not flowers..."
"But why don't GOD make the electric plants?"
"Err...."
=^=
As the conversation continued, it dawned on me why Son No 3 was confused and why he kept drawing a parallel between the electric plant and the flower.
Son No 3 thought that the electric plant was actually a REAL organic plant - you know, the type with green leaves and all! LOL!
A real plant that could produce electricity???
Hmm... something for our environmentalists to think about...!
Sunday 3 May 2009
G*U*N*S
Yesterday, Son No 3 got another belated birthday present. (WHAT, is this birthday thingy never going to end???)It's a pair of Ben 10 walkie-talkie. Son No 3 was very excited and possessive over the new toy. But this is one toy that is really no fun playing on your own - so in the end, all the boys had a go at it. I was quite happy to leave them alone playing with their new toy while I did my own thing on the computer. They were shouting inane messages loudly from one room to another - their actual voices drowning the transmitted voices - but no matter...
The next moment when I turned around, who knows, the walkie-talkies (see picture) had morphed into a pair or guns, lol! The boys were no longer contented with the game of transmitting voices but were now leaping off the sofa, hiding behind walls and aiming at each other with their "guns" - shooting, dodging, reloading..... are they creative or what? A two-in-one toy!
Sigh! Should have known this would happen.
I have never bought a single toy gun for my three sons - but this had not stopped my three sons from developing this fascination with guns and shooting. They somehow manage to turn whatever they can get hold of into their "guns", whether we like it or not.
You're right, it's in the male genes.
*Give up*
Mothers of daughters only will not understand.
I learnt very much earlier on, thanks to the boys, that the versatility of Lego building blocks makes them ideal for the construction of all types of fanciful weapons.
Disposal wooden chopsticks are also good materials for shaping into guns or bows and arrows.
Plastic drinking straws are easily available and quite malleable.
Even crackers can be bitten and shaped to become a 2-D pistol.
Ya, the boys' imagination knows no bounds when it comes to creating the things that they like (and forbidden).
And when absolutely nothing is available to them, then their thumb and first finger, shaped into the familiar L-shape, will give them the instant gun that they desired!
It's amazing how realistic the boys can be with this shooting-thingy. I notice that, a split second after they have fired a shot, their arm will jerk backwards - as if it was pushed back by the recoil force. Ah, where did they learn that - Newton's 3rd law of motion?! Dodging imaginary bullets, rolling on the ground injured, pretending to be dead - hmm, they can be really good actors, these boys. Hey, no need to go for drama classes-leh...
I have no doubt that, from here, the two younger boys will eventually move on to first person shooter video games - like Son No 1.
Last night, I heard a stream of merry laughter coming out of Son No 1's room. Curious, I went in to check what movie he was watching on his MacBook. But no... it was not a movie he was watching - he was laughing out loud for shooting the wrong people in some computer game. Really.
*Give up*
Women will never understand, I guess.
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