Me & My Three Sons

This Is It

2009-08-16T20:37:00.003+08:00

Tomorrow I am rejoining the workforce full time. I have been preparing for this day the past few months. Well, as far as I can see, the children, and I, and my helpers, are all ready for the change.

First, my children. The 3 boys have known of this change - that mummy will be working the whole day from mid-August - for weeks now. The idea is not strange to them - working mothers are quite common in our society, and anyway, they have played SIMS before, and they know that both parents should get jobs, lol!

Son No 1, the teenager, took the news matter-of-factly. For most of his life, I was a working mom and it probably made little difference to him now whether I spend my days around the house or at work.

Son No 3 understood the significance of this from his own point of view. He told me earnestly: "You know, mummy, now you REALLY need to tell me your password!" He was afraid that he would not be able to gain access to the computer when I am not around! Hmm, he is 6 years old, the world should revolve round him *grin*

I would say that Son No 2 gave the most, erm..., appropriate response, as far as I am concerned. On hearing that I will not be around to take care of him all the time, he faked great sobs on my shoulder, in the most dramatic and theatrical manner. Cute little guy :) But I know he is the most nervous of the three boys of this change.

As for my maid and my driver, I have given them a weekly schedule that detailed all the children's activities. We have had weeks of dry run now - and hopefully, there will be no hiccups. Ya, both my hubby and I are kind of paranoid about such things and leave little to chance. In addition, I have typed out the menu for lunch and dinner for the whole week, so that the maid can help me prepare all the meals and I do not have to think about that during the week. And yes, the fridge is stocked with enough food to last the whole week.

OK, so I am ready for work tomorrow. The home front is well taken care of. As for myself.... Last night, I dug out a chest of old clothes - my old working clothes - but alas, I can hardly fit into them anymore! Not surprising, of course. It has been 2 years and 8 months since I became a stay-at-home mom. But I have been working part-time and I have enough clothes to last me temporarily, I think - it's not as if I am joining some glamorous corporate sector, haha...

Mentally, I am very well prepared. Teaching is in my blood. Now I can't wait to go to the starting line....

Closure

2009-07-13T05:24:00.008+08:00

A number of good friends and loved ones have asked me about the sudden silence on this blog and I apologise for it. Truth is, I have lost the inspiration to write during the past 2 months or so - and even now, as I write, I am struggling to pen my thoughts into words and coherent sentences.

During the past two months, I have unravelled my life... and put it together again. Come 17 August, my title will be reduced back to "mom" and not "stay-at-home mom".

The decision to go back to work is not a difficult one - I have always known that I am not cut-out to be a permanent stay-at-home mom and that at some point in time, I will start to dabble at some other things to keep my mind occupied. [This blog has more or less served that need for the past one year.]

The timing, though, has always been a big question mark. At which point in time do I cross the hurdle back to the working world?

There are practical considerations (like having reliable help at the homefront) as well as affective ones such as the desire to be there when the children are young, at a time when they need me the most. But there is no magic formula to determine the point of intersection when the graph for children's needs (presumably negative gradient) meets with the graph for the mother's needs, beyond which there is no longer incremental utility for staying at home. In addition, there is always the fear factor - which is the decreasing market value of the mother the longer she stays away from the workplace.

Many people think that "if it ain't broken, why fix it?" - and my life certainly isn't "broken". This is not a mid-life crisis! I want to state categorically that I am happy as a stay-at-home mom, and I treasure the times I have with my three sons... and certainly, I will always look back at this period of time as God's greatest blessing on me.

And yet, there is this desire to do more, to stretch myself. God has given me certain talents and nurture has ensured that I am not one to be complacent. At this crossroad in life, I have considered many options (which I will not go into details here) as to what I will do with the remaining years of my life, and ultimately, I have decided to return to my first love, which is teaching.

And so, I will be teaching Chemistry and Biology at the KS3 and KS4 levels (UK curriculum) in an international school here. I will be a full-time staff member working from 8 am to 2:30 pm. The job requirements are quite similar to my last job in Singapore. But hopefully, the work-life balance here, under a team of Brits, will be different from the crazy workaholic work culture in Singapore schools.

On the practical side of things, my going back to work means a re-look at the the children's logistical needs. We considered school buses, shifting activities to weekends, daycare for the two younger boys. We went house-hunting to see if we can shift closer to the children's schools, failing which we considered changing schools for the children. We seriously considered all these possibilities (that's why I said I was unravelling our lives here) but in the end, decided the best option was really to engage a driver to ferry the children around. It is not the most cost-effective option, but it is probably the best option. Thus, as far as the two younger boys are concerned, everything remains status quo, except for the driver of the vehicle.

Son No 1, however, will be changing schools. We have already been contemplating changing schools for him for more than a year now due to the shortcomings of his current school and this presents a good opportunity for him. We will be going to the same international school and though he understandably has his apprehensions about his mom being in the same school, he is mature about it. After all, the fees are very much reduced due to the staff benefit accrued to his mom!

As the next phase of my life is about to begin, I can't help but reflect that life is short. It is up to each of us to make full use of it, based on our best judgment and individual circumstances. Each of us is presented with a unique set of cards and each of us has to find the best path for oneself. As I embark on this path at this point in time, I can only ask for God's blessings. I hope you will do the same for me.

I Am A Teen!

2009-06-01T23:30:00.004+08:00

Today I am 13 years old. Wow.

It has been an incredible 13 years. And today I am officially a Teen. Hmm... this day has great significance but since my mom has been super-busy, I just have to take things in my own hands and register this special day on this blog :)

I was born in the Year of the Rat. According to the Chinese Lunar calendar, individuals born under the sign of rat are shrewd and intelligent, possessing a strong zest for life. So far, in the first 13 years of my life, many would attest that I have lived up to my reputation *blush*.

My mother’s earliest memory of me - the real me, not the image of me in her womb – said much for my zest for life. My mother told me that, in the nursery of the hospital where I was born, I cried the loudest. My screams constantly disturbed the other infants who had the dubious pleasure of sharing the nursery with me.

Resting in a ward several doors away down the corridor, my mother could recognize my screams (or so she claims) but would surreptitiously feign ignorance. [“Wow, whose kid is that? What strong lungs, *laugh*!] Nevertheless, the wise nurses had a way of dealing with such situations – they just rolled my crib down the corridor so that I landed up next to my mother who had no choice but to acknowledge me.

My novice mother moved up the learning curve quickly, putting all the theories that she had read from her parenting books into practice immediately. Indeed, here is one mom who would refer to her book before attending to her child. When Method 1 did not work, flip a few pages, apply Method 2. If Method 2 did not work, try Method 3 on page 64. If it still did not work, repeat Method 1... or pass the buck to dad. (Just kidding)

But as all experienced mothers would tell you, nothing beats learning on the job.

I continued to test my mom's patience during the first two months of my life. But as we got to know each other better, we began to tango together smoothly, each day better than the previous day. She understood with her maternal instinct the things that upset me and I knew where she would draw the line and not push my luck too far. We were bonding.

I would not be able to condense 13 years of my life here. But I know my mother loves me more than life itself. I am sure she will write more about my special day another time.

So, nite, nite for now!

May Blues

2009-05-28T05:21:00.006+08:00

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.

Fruit Diet Day

2009-05-25T06:07:00.010+08:00

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!

Manglish, Singlish, No Diff-la

2009-05-22T16:05:00.005+08:00

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".]

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.

Mother's Day

2009-05-21T10:31:00.004+08:00

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

2009-05-21T10:19:00.005+08:00

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

2009-05-21T10:11:00.003+08:00

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!!!!

2009-05-21T09:18:00.002+08:00

I spent the whole morning doing a long post - and this is all that was saved!!!! And it's not my fault!

AARGHHHHH!!!

"I Am Gay!!!"

2009-05-20T15:51:00.014+08:00

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!

Another Piece Gone

2009-05-19T14:27:00.006+08:00

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.

To Work Or Not To Work

2009-05-12T16:27:00.004+08:00

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...

Maid Drama

2009-05-08T21:07:00.010+08:00

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!

The Electric Plant

2009-05-05T17:14:00.009+08:00

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...!

GUN*S

2009-05-03T22:55:00.011+08:00

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.

Restaurant City

2009-04-30T23:46:00.013+08:00

The three boys and I have moved on from Pet Society and are now playing Restaurant City.

Both games are found in Facebook.

If you have always wanted to be an entrepreneur, this is the game for you :)

Restaurant City is a game in which each player runs a restaurant. The game is quite simple.

The aim is to (1) run the restaurant efficiently so that customers are satisfied and (2) to grow the business so that it is the highest-ranked restaurant and/or the most beautiful restaurant.

Briefly, the modus operandi is as follows:

1 The number of workers and the size of the restaurant is contingent on *gourmet points* earned based on customers' satisfaction. To level up, players need to collect these points. Customers give a thumbs up for a meal promptly served, thumbs down for a long wait or unclean tables. At higher levels, customers also demand clean toilets.

2 The player hires the workers from the pool of Friends. These workers are designated either as Cleaner, Cook or Waiter.

3 For each meal served, dollars are earned. These dollars are used to upgrade the restaurant or to buy other functional items to improve the popularity of the restaurant. Full discretion is given to the player with regards to the aesthetics and the layout of the restaurant. Dollars are also used to buy food for the workers. If the workers are not taken care of, they will stop working.

4 The menu is dependent on the ingredients collected by the player. Each day, a free ingredient is given when the player logs in. Nevertheless, to make a meal, necessary ingredients can be traded with Friends (ah, there's where the social networking element comes in).

5 The efficiency of the restaurant is measured by the popularity indicator. The absolute maximum is 50.

Watch this space for tips on playing the game!

Postscript: The restaurants depicted above belong to the 4 of us. Come and visit!

Oscar Biggies 2008

2009-04-29T14:35:00.013+08:00

I know the Oscar season is over - but it is only now that I have managed to catch most of the big 2008 shows:)

First of all, a word of thanks to the *sponsors* - the blackmarketeers of DVDs - without whom I would not be able to watch the latest movies or TV series in the comfort of my home at a fraction of the cost.

And thanks to their sophisticated technology and know-how, these DVDs are crystal clear and they come with good English subtitles, audio options for many Asian languages and even special features for most. What more can you ask for?

Ya, I ought to be shot... but I am not going to get on the high horse :)

I have watched most of the contenders for the major awards and my take is this:

Slumdog Millionaire: Overrated. The plot is predictable yet unbelievable - is that an oxymoron? Not really. If you, like me, have grown up watching melodramas from Asian film-makers, particularly those from Hong Kong and Taiwan, you would recognise the same elements - once you take away the "Millionaire" subterfuge. Suffice to say, there is nothing new in this show for me. I find the show - contrived?

The Reader: The best movie of the lot. Movies about the holocaust tend examine the extremes of human nature - from the diabolical to the heroic - but this show focuses on the question of morality, a topic which always intrigues me. Kate Winslet and David Kross (who is NOT the guy from Narnia) are both very good.

Revolutionary Road: Powerful - and emotionally draining. I find the notion of "hopeless emptiness" in the show - with the emphasis on the "hopeless" part - depressing. This is not a feel-good show, but it is a show that one will not forget easily. Kate Winslet thoroughly deserves the Golden Globe Best Actress for this show.

Milk: Stories about true public figures are always somewhat educational and I enjoyed the learning process. Gay rights continue to be a contentious issue that is divisive in most Asian societies but whichever side one is on, if we look at the show from the general angle of how a person can overcome overwheming odds, it is an inspiring show. Sean Penn is not easy on the eye (the reason why Son No 1 did not want to watch the show). But well, pretty boys seldom get to win the Oscar - just look at Tom Cruise nominated for 3, winner of none.

Doubt: Disappointing. Good acting notwithstanding, the entire show is really much ado about nothing. When I compare with the other show about nuns, "Agnes Of God", this show is paler than pale.

Frost/Nixon: Interesting perspective of another historical figure. Excellent acting by the entire cast. When anyone were to mention Richard Nixon now, I can only visualise the face of Frank Langella - who is incidentally my choice for Best Actor award.

Vicky Cristina Barcelona: So-so. Not much impression. Forgettable. Penelope Cruz was lucky to have garnered the Best Supporting Actress Award. I would have given it to Viola Davis from Doubt.

Rachel Getting Married: This is a heavy drama - make no mistake about it - it is certainly not My Best Friend's Wedding. Watch this show for the unconventional wedding ceremony and celebrations.

Changeling: Memorable and engaging show. Angelina Jolie is very watchable. I love the 1920's set design - the manual switchboards, trams, and T-Fords.

The Dark Knight: I am not a big fan of the superhero genre - but I must say this show is awesome. I'd like to think this is the thinking adult superhero show. Oh, the mind games played by the Joker are good. So is Heath Ledger.

The one biggie that I missed is The Curious Case Of Benjamin Button. For some reason, our regular DVD could not get a decent copy for us.

So there you are. My brief take on the movies of 2008. Comments welcomed :)

Belated Birthday Treat

2009-04-27T11:25:00.010+08:00

Son No 3's birthday celebration ain't over yet!

Owing to our hectic schedules over the past 2 weeks, we have not had time to keep our promise to bring him to MegaKidz, the huge indoor playground at the Mid-Valley Megamall. It was to be his birthday treat. So yesterday, we finally made our way there. The children spent 4 hours there crawling through tunnels, sliding down the mega-slides and jumping at the bouncy castle. Hmm... it's a good way for them to expend all their excess energy :)

Good thing the place was located within the Megamall. Hubby and I left our maid, Siti, there with the children and had a pseudo-holiday - in mini-Singapore! We had lunch at the Food Junction, shopped at Robinson's and enjoyed coffee and kaya toast at the Killiney Kopitiam for tea, lol!

That night, we celebrated Siti's 26th birthday at home with pizza delivery and a cake (see below).

Well, I guess another to look at it is that we went to MegaKidz today to celebrate Siti's birthday!

First Taekwando Competition

2009-04-26T22:52:00.012+08:00

Son No 1 went for his first taekwando competition yesterday. He has been attending taekwando lessons for more than two years and now holds the red belt, which is one grade below the black belt.

As this was his maiden competition, the aim was to get match experience. He was such a novice that he was still learning the rules and how to score points just before the match, lol!

To us, it was an eye-opener because we did not realise that it was such a popular sport. There were many serious competitors there - and we were like the most "recreational" type that you can find.

Son No 1 did not win his match but got the match experience that he needed and which would come in useful for future competitions.

After the match, Son No 1 complained that his jaw hurt - but as we reviewed the mini-video recording that we made, we could see that he gave as much as he got. His ego probably got more bruised in the process, but hey, don't forget it's The Climb -things can only get better from here!

Below left: Son No 1 waited for about 4 hours for his match
Below right: Son No 1 was the competitor in blue, executing a kick

Turning 6

2009-04-25T15:04:00.021+08:00

So now my baby is 6 years old.

More than one well-wisher have wistfully reminded me to enjoy the children while they are young.

I know.... very soon, my baby will be in primary school and when that happens, he will enter a new phase of life.

What will I miss?

Someone who is still keen to tag along when I run my errands

Someone who skips in the carpark on the way to school

Someone who tells me all the details of what happened in class

Someone who calls me on the phone when I am not around

Someone who laughs out loud at his own lame jokes

Someone who laughs out loud at my own lame jokes

Someone who thinks I know everything and am the greatest

Someone who holds my hand tightly for comfort or security

Someone who helps me look at the world thru a child's eye

Someone who can be delighted by the simplest things - like an ice-cream or a sweet

But most of all, the 3 things I will miss:

Someone who welcomes my bear hugs and hugs me back tightly

Someone who still enjoys being kissed

Someone who murmurs softly, at the brink of falling asleep... "I love you the most."

Sigh....

A Low-Key Celebration

2009-04-23T22:46:00.010+08:00

Son No 3 turned 6 yesterday.

In our family, we have traditionally celebrated the 6th birthday in a big way. Turning 6 is somewhat a milestone as it signifies the end of toddlerhood. When my two older boys turned 6, each of them had a birthday party at McDonald's. They invited their friends from their class and had loads of fun - the McDonald's way.

I wanted to keep the tradition and throw a McDonald's party for Son No 3. In fact, we discussed about it way back in February. But Son No 3 was not keen on the idea. I guess he is like me - he does not like to be in the limelight.

Not only that - but initially, Son No 3 did not even want to celebrate his birthday in school. I asked him many times whether he was sure about that because in his class, it is almost a norm for the class students to celebrate their birthdays in school. The birthday child will cut a cake and give a goody bag to each of the friends to bring home.

Who knows, to our surprise, at the very last minute, Son No 3 changed his mind and asked whether he could bring a cake to school. Maybe it's the excitement catching up with him finally.

So the night before his birthday saw me and my hubby scrambling to Mutiara Damansara to get a birthday cake large enough for his class of 18 students. We got the cake at 9 pm and did not have much choice (see above left). Luckily, I already had the goody bags packed earlier on and they were ready to go.

I went to his school for the celebration. Son No 2 also came along. It took place during their snack-time and was over in a jiffy.

Son No 3 was nervous and was not his normal self but I was glad that he at least made the effort to have the simple "do" in school.

That night, we had a simple dinner at our favourite family restaurant, Wok Hei. We bought another cake for our little home celebration and took some shots for the album. Hmm, this time, the birthday boy looked happier in the photos!

Real Living Differences

2009-04-20T11:20:00.014+08:00

Based on 2008 estimates, Singapore's per capita income is 3.4X higher than that in Malaysia (2003: 2.7X). This significant difference in per capita income is unlikely to be eroded in a short time, whichever way the current economic storm blows and affects both countries.

Having been back in KL from Singapore for more than 2 years now, I am in a position to translate what that difference in per capita income really means to the general population.

At the macroscopic level, in terms of housing and infrastructure, this is evident even to first-time tourists. Once we cross the Causeway into Johor, it is a different world. The buildings are less gleaming, the roads have more potholes, the surroundings are less spick and span and the cars are no longer all spanking new, shiny and spotless. To a lesser extent, this description of JB also applies to KL.

What would be more interesting is to see at the microscopic level what the lower per capita income really equate to in the daily lives of the ordinary people.

For example, motorcyclists carrying their entire families on the motorcycle is not an uncommon sight - the father in front, holding a toddler in front of him, with his wife behind and perhaps 2 children squashed in between. My first reaction used to be to blame the irresponsible parents and after that, I would lament on the poor enforcement of the law. But now, on further reflection, I guess I can afford to be more sympathetic and recognise that some people may not have a lot of choices.

We see the same motorcyclists sometimes ferrying long poles or heavy equipment - why can't they take a taxi?! - and the answer is probably they cannot afford it. Although motorcyclists are the undisputed menace on the road (together with heavy trucks), I know that for some of them, it is their only form of transportation. It thus adds the pressure on me as a motorist to make sure that they are safe.

At the petrol station, I often see motorcyclists filling their petrol tanks only to as much as their pockets could afford. Thus, (on the right) the display shows a purchase of RM2 worth of petrol. That's less than SGD1! Well, at least, this motorcyclist can travel a little closer to his destination with his 1.11 litre of petrol.

Sometimes, workmen carry mobile phones - but they are still uncontactable. Why? Because they have no money to top up their pre-paid telephone cards. The phone is for showing-off only!

At the kedai runcit (sundry shop), the shopkeepers still sell cigarettes by the stick and colour pencils by the pencil. Apparently, not everyone can afford a box of cigarettes or a box of colour pencils. Note that we are talking about cigarettes here, not cigars, lol!

At the market, we find that the best vegetables and fish have been exported to our southern neighbour for the higher prices that they can fetch - as a result of which we end up buying produce that are not of the best variety. Imported goods are available but by local standards, they are out of reach to many ordinary people.

One phenomenon that we do not see here is declining birth rate. Many of the lower income Malays continue to have large families with an average or 4 or 5 children. When I give away my children's old clothes or toys to the general workers in the condominium, they are truly appreciative - and I can guess why.

Overall, what we have here in KL is really not too bad, considering that Malaysia is ranked 3rd in per capita income in South East Asia, after oil-rich Brunei and Singapore. In the world, Malaysia is ranked 58th while Singapore is at an incredible 7th position.

In fact, there are many students from African nations who come here for their tertiary education and are wowed by what they see. Most of the African nations presently occupy the bottom half of the per capita ranking table.

I do not mean to say that KL is a hardship posting - far from it! There are things that we can afford here that would be quite out of reach in Singapore because of the lower cost of living here. It's just that when comparisons are made, it is inevitable that there will be some areas in which Malaysia falls short.

As for me, having lived in Singapore for a quarter of a century, it did take a while for me to get localised again. The difficulty in adjustment is not due to the less affluent living conditions, but rather, a matter of difference in national culture. But that will be the topic of discussion for another day :)

The Climb

2009-04-18T20:02:00.015+08:00

I remember when I was teaching an O level class some years ago, we would choose some motivational songs to sing together, especially when the exams were nearing and the going got tough. Two of those that we liked were Diana Ross's "If We Hold On Together" and Mariah Carey's "Hero" .

Recently, I heard this song, "The Climb" by Miley Cyrus and would deem this song to be the most appropriate yet. The lyrics are really meaningful and encouraging. Check it out - I have supplied the lyrics after the video:

I can almost see it
That dream I am dreaming
But there's a voice inside my head saying
"You'll never reach it"

Every step I'm taking
Every move I make feels
Lost with no direction
My faith is shaking

But I gotta keep trying
Gotta keep my head held high

There's always gonna be another mountain
I'm always gonna wanna make it move
Always gonna be an uphill battle
Sometimes I'm gonna have to lose

Ain't about how fast I get there
Ain't about what's waiting on the other side
It's the climb

The struggles I'm facing
The chances I'm taking
Sometimes might knock me down
But no, I'm not breaking

I may not know it
But these are the moments that
I'm gonna remember most, yeah
Just gotta keep going

And I, I got to be strong
Just keep pushing on

Piracy Reigns

2009-04-18T08:49:00.006+08:00

Over the past 2 weeks, Son No 1 and I have visited several shopping malls, looking for a new Wii game.

Son No 1 was having his Easter break and was looking forward to a new Wii game. We did not have plans to go anywhere for the holidays because the two younger boys were still having school. The 3 boys follow different school calendars and that make it difficult for us to plan vacations. In fact, their holidays do not coincide until December.

Anyway, while traipsing from one shop to another, I was reminded once again how rampant piracy was in this part of the world. Most of the game-shops stock only pirated Wii games. I guess that is where the demand lies. The handful of shops that carry the original games had only token titles.

We do not stand on moral high ground on this issue and frankly, would have bought the pirated games... if only we could play them on our console. But we made the mistake (?) of purchasing a Wii console that was not "cracked". Only the "cracked" type of console could play the pirated versions of the game.

We already knew the difference when we chose to buy the original Wii console. We knew that the original Wii console could play only original Wii games, which cost substantially more, but this factor did not figure prominently in our purchasing decision as it was never our intention to buy a lot of Wii games - it would be too distracting for the children.

Furthermore, we thought we should be assured of a continual stream of games from the original creators while there was no such assurance from the pirates. If the pirates faced a massive crackdown, there would be no more pirated games and the "cracked" console would be rendered useless. As the original and the "cracked" consoles cost about the same, it seemed to make sense at that time to buy the original console.

But we have underestimated the pirates. They truly have cornered the entire market here. So, although we were willing to pay 20 to 30 times more for the original games, we could not lay our hands on the titles that we wanted. The shops were just not selling them. The pirates have won convincingly.

The last few original games that we bought were from Singapore and we were about to send an SOS to our relatives there to courier to us the original games. But in the end, Son No 1 chose a title, that was not his first choice - but was a first-shooter game nevertheless - and settled for that. I guess it was partly due to what is known in the marketing world as buyers' fatigue. He was just too tired to go round shopping any more and just wanted to get over with it.

And so what is the dubious moral of the story? If we can't beat them, join them??? *Sigh*

The Worker Is King

2009-04-16T16:29:00.023+08:00

This morning, the check-out cashier at the Carrefour hypermart made a mistake while scanning the very last item in my trolley.

Not unusual. I pointed out the error to her, thinking that all she needed to do was to reverse the item and rectify the error. But nope, she asked me to pay first, and seek the refund of about RM6 from the Return Counter.

Now, why should I do that? It would be a waste of my time. The Return Counter was at the other end of the store, was frequently understaffed and I did not know whether there was a queue there. I insisted that the cashier reversed the item on the spot - it was after all quite a simple task.

And so the cashier reluctantly tried to reverse it. But, alamak, try as she would, she couldn't do it. She just did not know how to undo the error.

Worker incompetence is not uncommon here...so that's not the point of my story.

To continue with the story, the cashier, a young Malay girl, then called her supervisor and explained the situation to him. The supervisor was a little better in customer service - he greeted me with a smile and apologised to me - and then proceeded to show the cashier how to reverse the item.

And then, HE got stuck, lol! He was also unable to reverse the transaction. In fact, the more the both of them tried, the worse the situation became.

Well, that's also not the point of my story. As I said, worker incompetence is something that one got used to after a while.

So, to solve the problem, the supervisor told the cashier to void all the purchases - and re-scan ALL the items in my trolley.

Dismay filled the cashier's face. I can understand why. Since I was doing my weekly grocery shopping for a family of 6, including 3 growing boys, you can imagine what a load of shopping I had and how much unnecessary work that translated to - unloading and reloading.

Nevertheless, instead of being apologetic for taking up MY time, the cashier then showed a BLACK face to both me and the supervisor - although the supervisor did his best to assist her in the re-scanning process. The cashier had neatly forgotten that it was her mistake that led to all this. Well, I couldn't care less about her attitude - I just watched the digital check-out display like a hawk to make sure that she did not make any errors this time.

And THIS is the point of my story - that the Worker Is King here. Not the customer. Not the employer or supervisor. In fact, both the customer and the employer have to live with the worker's atittude.

The lower level workers, especially, often show this couldn't-care-less attitude. It is as if they have nothing to lose for poor performance and nothing to gain for good performance. So why perform? Some of the workers here work in a perpetual slow-motion mode - they talk slowly, walk slowly, react slowly, stare blankly when you talk. My mother, a true Type A personality, is so used to the super-efficiency of Singaporean workers that she never fails to grumble about the workers here each time she comes back for visits. She buay-tahan:)

The government and the law also tend to favour the workers. It is not easy to fire a worker - many employers have been brought to court on the grounds of unfair dismissal and it is the onus of the employer to show negligence or non-performance of the worker. This is not easy to prove in court because workers can do the bare minimum with the poorest of attitudes and still, they would be deemed to have carried out their job functions. The courts tend to favour the workers when in doubt. I can see how frustrating it can be to be an employer here.

As for me, the customer, I have gotten used to all this. Believe me, I was not agitated this morning despite being held up for 20 minutes, which caused me to be late picking Son No 3 from school. We just have to accept this is how things are. *Peace*

My Son, The Blogger

2009-04-13T17:24:00.012+08:00

Hey, there's another blogger in the family!

Son No 2 has been asking me to make a blog for him for weeks. He has seen me blogging and he seems fascinated by the process. He has never really read what I have written - which is a bit too long-winded for him - but he has an idea what blogging is about. The idea of writing on his favourite subjects enthuses him.

I did not take him seriously at first and used my normal delaying tactics to avoid creating a blog for him. I did not want him to start something and then abandon it.

But he was persistent, as only 8-year-old little boys can be.

So finally, last weekend, I sat down with him and together, we set up the blogger account. I gave him some ideas how he could name his blog and he chose the name, Jian's Diary. I like the simple title of his blog. He chose the template and soon, he was writing his first post. Hmm... it looks like he's going to take away my blog traffic, since we are likely to have the same target readers, but never mind!

Over the past three days, Son No 2 has written 6 posts. Not bad at all :) The story ideas are all his own. I step in to correct some grammatical and spelling errors - though as far as possible, I try not to change too many things or alter the flavour.

But I do take this as an opportunity to hone Son No 2's writing skills. I would ask him questions like, "So how do you feel?" or "What did you see?" - to help him in the writing process. From my experience with Son No 1, boys tend to be very focused on action when they write ("they did this, they did that") and not enough on the feelings or senses. I would like Son No 2 to be more perceptive in that way.

Well, it is really very easy to set up a blog, but it is the maintenance that is going to be tough - it does require considerable discipline, fortitude and a love for writing. There are millions of blogs in the world of which only a fraction are active. The rest end up as litter in the blogosphere.

Anyway, I am just glad that Son No 2 is enjoying himself now.

If by chance, he discovers that he has a love for writing, that will be a real bonus :)

Learning Mandarin

2009-04-12T23:02:00.011+08:00

Son No 3's favourite subject in school is ... *gasp*.... Mandarin!

No kidding.

It's totally unexpected because he is immersed in an English-speaking environment - we speak mainly English at home, his teachers speak mainly English in school, he watches only English TV shows and he plays computer games that are written in English.

At the beginning of last year, Son No 3 told me earnestly that all the boys and girls in his class were English - I was puzzled because I knew that was so-not true. His class has a good mix of Malays, South Asians and Chinese.

Son No 3 also said he was an English boy. An English boy?!!

I then realised what led to his confusion was that in the construct of his world, there was no such concept as race or ethnicity. His classmates speak English, and so they must be English. Similarly, he speaks English and that's why he is an English boy, lol! Children are truly colour-blind.

When I explained to him that he is actually a Chinese boy, he became very motivated to learn Mandarin. He reckons because he is a Chinese boy, he must know Chinese (Mandarin)! He came up with that conclusion all by himself - and that's the truth, I did not say anything to that effect :)

There may be other reasons why Son No 3 likes learning Mandarin. For one, he is well ahead of his classmates in the language and so it makes him feel good. Mandarin is a compulsory subject in his school and many of his classmates are disadvantaged because they are non-Chinese. He has a natural advantage because we do try to speak a smattering of Mandarin at home now, I can coach him a little in the subject and additionally, Son No 3 goes for Chinese enrichment classes.

The other reason why he likes Mandarin could be because the Mandarin teacher is very strict and makes them do a lot of writing - and that is something that he likes! Son No 3 is a pretty serious learner, lol!

There is also a niggling suspicion that he wants to learn Mandarin because he has a strong kiasu streak. He feels left out when his brothers and I talk about or in Mandarin and he desperately wants to participate. He constantly sets his second brother as the benchmark and so, he needs to be good at Mandarin.

All in all, this is a happy situation to be in.

When Son No 3's friend gave him a diary with a lock, he started keeping a "journal" - in Mandarin! (See picture above) Now, he can only write simple sentences, but nevertheless, it is a good start.

What A Wonderful World

2009-04-09T23:21:00.007+08:00

Exactly one year ago, Son No 1 complained that he was not able to read clearly what his teachers wrote on the white board. We brought him to the optometrist and it was found that he had slight myopia (around 100). Although the optometrist thought he did not really need glasses, we made a pair for him anyway.

Son No 1 only wore his glasses during lessons. At first, we just let it be. But since late last year, we realised that his vision had deteriorated somewhat. But still, he wouldn't wear his glasses regularly. It became frustrating talking to him because he was literally blur. His world has shrunk to less than 20 feet in radius around him.

Why didn't he want to wear his glasses? In one word - vanity.

It is something that I find hard to understand. This is what I told him - that the world is a beautiful place and God has given him this wonderful gift of sight and it is such a pity that he is not using this gift fully. I would be distressed if I see someone walking to me and I cannot see the face - should I smile or not? I wouldn't want to miss out on interesting things happening around me that others talked about. And I wouldn't want to see trees as blobs of green - I want to appreciate every single leaf.

I was not just saying all that to make a point. I really meant it. My sight is very precious to me. In fact, now that I am getting older, my biggest complaint is that I am not able to read well. Yes, long-sightedness has caught up with me and it is such an inconvenience.

Anyway, Son No 1 finally changed the lens to his spectacles today. His myopia had gone up from around 100 to 200. And today, he has started wearing his glasses more than usual. From his excited exclamations about the ordinary things around him, one might be forgiven if one thought he was someone learning to see for the first time.

Yes, dear, it is a wonderful world.....

I see trees of green, red roses too
I see them bloom for me and you
And I think to myself what a wonderful world.

I see skies of blue and clouds of white
The bright blessed day, the dark sacred night
And I think to myself what a wonderful world.

The colors of the rainbow so pretty in the sky
Are also on the faces of people going by
I see friends shaking hands saying how do you do
They're really saying I love you.

I hear babies crying, I watch them grow
They'll learn much more than I'll never know
And I think to myself what a wonderful world
Yes I think to myself what a wonderful world.

All I Want For Christmas...

2009-04-08T23:05:00.008+08:00

Son 2 lost both his upper incisors over the past 2 weeks and is darn proud about it.

Both teeth dropped off without fuss or fanfare, tears or hysterics.

I'm glad my boys are stoical about such things :)

Speech & Drama Class

2009-04-07T14:35:00.021+08:00

When I went to pick up Son No 3 from his Speech & Drama class today, he was the first to leave again. He said he wanted to leave quickly because "we were not learning anything!"

Son No 3 has been attending the after-school enrichment class for 2 months already and well... it's just not his cup of tea.

From what he told me, their activities sounded fun - so far, they had role-played shoppers and shop-keepers, king & queen with their soldiers, dirty but hard-working farmers, pirates and so on. Sometimes, he came back with paint on his face - which is something that he did not like. He agrees that the activities can be fun but still, "we were not learning anything!"

Hmm, that's an interesting point of discussion from this young mind - so what constitutes learning? Sitting down, reading and writing? We have chosen this pre-school because we do not want him to get too stifled in a rigid learning environment - he will have plenty of that when he enters primary school.

And we carefully chose Speech & Drama for his enrichment so that he will have the chance to get out of his comfort zone. Son No 3 is slow to warm to new people and new situations - although he can be very mischievous with people whom he knows well (his long-suffering cousin sister can attest to it!) Speech & Drama classes seem ideal.

He may not like the classes much, but already, he is showing signs that he is getting used to them. In the beginning, he would be quite quiet after each session, as if a lot of energy has been drained from him. Nowadays, the classes do not affect him so.

I am convinced in the long run, something good will come out of it, though it might be nothing tangible. That's what experiential learning is all about.

Three Is Fun!!!

2009-04-07T07:39:00.005+08:00

Note: For all who are watching from the office, be reminded that you need to switch on the sound to hear the audio.... :)

12 Going On 13

2009-04-05T23:10:00.013+08:00

Today, Son No 1 joined his classmates for a hang-out at Mid-Valley for the entire afternoon. Note that "hang-out" is the politically-correct term - not an outing, a gathering or an excursion, all of which sounded too "schoolish", so I was told.

The classmates have been planning this hang-out for weeks, chatting almost every night over Facebook or MSN - where to go, what to do, which day should they go. You may wonder, since they see one another in school everyday, why don't they just talk about it in school, but ah, that's not how young people communicate nowadays. I have seen youngsters sitting around the table, "talking" to each other on Facebook, lol!

This was a hang-out that Son No 1 almost missed. Based on some earlier plans that we had, our whole family should be in Singapore today. I told him well in advance of our plans so that he could canvass among his friends not to have the hang-out today, but still, the majority voted for today. When the voting results came out, Son No 1 hid his disappointment well - but he knew his priorities - we were going to Singapore for Qing Ming - and that was something that was non-bargainable. I am proud of his maturity over this clash.

Then, by a stroke of luck, our plans unexpectedly changed and we were back in KL yesterday, enabling him to make it for the hang-out in the end.

Son No 1 was the first to arrive for the 11:30am appointment time. He was already all dressed up and ready to go by 10am, which was pretty unusual - his penchant for last-minute preparation is legendary. Unfortunately, his friends were tardy. We waited there with him for half an hour before going off and only 3 other boys had arrived. The girls were all going to be late - what a shame. But in the end, they all made it and they went bowling, had McDonald's and watched a movie together. You know, basically hanging out....

My firstborn has grown up much this past one year. His voice has deepened and he is more outgoing. Clothes and hair gel are now on his shopping list and black suddenly became a favourite colour. He is both more considerate and more self-centered, it depends. He is both the nurturing brother and the bullying brother, rolled into one. He is both more chatty and more silent, depending. Like the weather, his taste and predilection can change overnight.

Ya, it's the onset of puberty. There are both positives and negatives associated with this adolescent period. I can't help but notice the growing maturity in thoughts and speech in my firstborn. Nevertheless, the negatives have not escaped my dear son. Mood swings are more common now. For mild moodiness, I would just ignore it. I may roll my eyes, or pass a sarcastic remark of my own, or grumble to my spouse, but largely, I can understand it and would put it down to hormones.

However, when it comes to excessive displays of temper or moodiness, I will not condone it. Hormones or not. While I may understand the scientific basis of the biological response, it is something else if we let such hormones control or take over our lives. Humans are blessed with the faculty to think and this is what sets us apart from other animals. We can choose how to behave and hormones should never be used as an excuse.

Just like my son facing uncharted waters as he enters his teenage years in two months' time, I face my own virgin territories as I challenge myself to remain an effective, relevant parent as my child grows. I have never been a mom to one who is at the brink of adolescence before. Nevertheless, whether it's 2 going on 3, 12 going on 13, or 22 going on 23, the same basic principles should apply to make it work: Love, respect, honesty - from both sides.

Baby, I think we should do fine.

Qing Ming

2009-04-04T18:32:00.005+08:00

Yesterday, my hubby and I, together with the 3 boys, made an overnight trip to Johor Bahru, my hubby's hometown, some 300 km away. We were observing Qing Ming, which is the Chinese equivalent to All Souls' Day. Traditionally, the English translation of Qing Ming was Tomb-Sweeping Day, an important day in the Chinese calendar where families gather to commemorate the departed in their ancestry tree.

In Son No 2's Chinese school, Qing Ming is a school holiday. In general, schools in Malaysia have 3 discretionary holidays, and I am glad that the Chinese vernacular schools here have chosen to use one of those discretionary holidays for Qing Ming. It signifies the Chinese community's deeply committed values of filial piety and remembering roots.

For the first time, I was in charge of buying all the things that were traditionally used for such visits to the grave. My sister-in-law was ill and we were on our own this time.

Now, I am not a believer of burning joss sticks and paper effigy or things like that and I do not believe that burning such things will eventually reach the intended recipients. [Interestingly, I told the children we were going to "visit" grandma and grandpa's graves while my hubby told them we were going to "pray" to grandma and grandpa - I noticed the difference in terminology - but I wonder whether the children realised the difference.]

But I carried out my duty to shop for joss sticks, candles and stuff on my spouse's behalf and I did the best I could. I was amused that nowadays, besides the mansions, maids and mobile phones, the paper effigy merchants actually stocked LV handbags, birds' nests and even lace lingeries! The departed must be having a really rocking time down (or up) there. On the other hand, it was sad that school uniforms were also available for children who had met untimely deaths.

Anyway, this was the first time that Son No 2 and Son No 3 followed the rest of us to visit the columbarium where both their paternal grandparents rested. Unsurprisingly, they had plenty of questions. When we showed them the photos of their grandma and grandpa, Son No 3 was pretty insistent that he wanted to see them (as in physically), although he knew they were dead. I don't think he really understood what death meant.

Both of them were intrigued by the burning of the hellnotes. Why was it that when the money was burnt, the money would go to dead people? Well, I am glad they were logical thinkers! I told them it was just a traditional belief - I actually used the word "traditional" - lol, trying to hide behind big words again. But they were smart - they knew what I meant. Oh, you mean, it is like play-pretend??? Yes, something like that.

After that, Son No 3 asked why do dead people need money? Aha, good question. I told him, not really.... and before I could continue, Son No 3 answered his own question. Oh yes, he forgot, it was just pretend.

Son No 1 made an interesting observation of his own - the hellnotes had the same serial numbers! Trust him to be so aware of numbers!

The next question the younger boys asked was where did dead people go? I told them honestly, we really don't know - and that there were some things that people do not know, even when they became adults. I know it would be easy to tell him that dead people went to heaven, but there are some things that I think they would have to search and find answers for themselves.

Then came the difficult part - when they asked, after dead people were buried, what happened to the bodies underground. I remember they have asked this before when their pet hamster died. I told them the bodies would disintegrate. Disintegrate meant decay. In the end, the bodies would become like the soil again. Oh, they asked, is it like they will disappear....? Ya, something like that. Son No 3 then asked would worms come out from their bodies. Well, I think enough is enough! Surely we do not need to go to the gory details.

It was a quick and tiring overnight trip. But I am of the view that Qing Ming is a good and meaningful Chinese tradition. I look at it devoid of religious implications and I intend to carry on this tradition within my family. Now my children are young but looking into the future, it should provide yet another opportunity for busy family members to make time to get together and reflect on their common past. It would be a good way to refresh and renew ties.

What A Waste Of Time

2009-04-03T10:08:00.007+08:00

I hate wasting time - I really do.

I make sure that every minute of the day is spent on activities that are of utility value. It doesn't mean every minute of the day is spent making money, or doing good stuff or anything like that. I mean, if you are tired, even sleeping has utility value. There must be some benefit accrued to either yourself, your loved ones, things that matter to you or the greater society in general.

But this morning, I just wasted 1.5 hours of my time. If I did not cut it short, it would have wasted more than 2 hours of my time. I chose to walk away.

I am referring to the Meet-The-Parents session that I was supposed to have with the teachers in Son No 1's school. The school has this policy that every semester, the academic report will only be released to parents so that the teacher will get a chance to talk to the parents about the child. It all sounds fantastic on paper.

What happens is that the school's turnover of teachers is so high that the teachers do not know the students well at all. And the teachers do not bother to know the students. It is such a farce.

To compound it all, this morning, the session was supposed to start at 9am. When I arrived at the school at 9:15am, after braving the morning traffic snarl, there were already a few parents there. But most of the teachers were not there! Some of the more dedicated teachers (mainly the older ones who look like the retirees - these are the really good teachers from long ago) were already seated. But I would say the majority of them were not there.

What a sloppy attitude by the teachers. It did not reflect well on the school at all. After waiting for 15 minues, I took the bull by its horns and went to look for Son No 1's teacher - who turned out to be a young angmoh (westerner expatriate) with a crewcut hairstyle - a cross-between Justin Timberlake and David Beckham, if you like. I know he is a new teacher, from what Son No 1 has told me. He did not appear apologetic - rather, he looked lost. When he asked who my child was, he was not able to connect the name to the face. I gave up. I told him that I was in a hurry and please, could I just get the report as I needed to go.

So I "cut" the queue, grabbed the report and went. Talking to him would be a waste of time because I know nothing useful would come out from the conversation. I am not trying to insult him, but it is a matter of fact. Better to cut loss - I had better things to do.

Now, if the teachers can make the parents wait, I cannot imagine how they behave with the students. This is not the first time that I have had such experiences with this school. And to think I have to do this again in a few months' time. Aargh!

Sunday School

2009-03-28T05:34:00.008+08:00

My mother believes in Deng Xiaoping's famous quote, "It does not matter whether the cat is black or white so long as it catches the mice."

Just consider how I got to go to church when I was young...

To provide some background: When I was in primary school, the medium of instruction in school had already been changed to Malay, and the second language was English. Thus, I did not have a chance to learn Chinese - which my mother thought was a shame.

So when my mother found out about the Sunday school at the Emmanuel Baptist Church which was conducted in Cantonese, she allowed me and my sisters to attend the classes every Sunday - notwithstanding that she was not a believer. Both my mother and grandmother were Taoists and for a short while, my mother was also a believer of a Japanese sect of Buddhism.

But my mother has always been a practical sort of person. She thought that by attending the Sunday school, we would get some "free" exposure to the formal Chinese script and that would be good for us. In her opinion, the content was secondary - and anyway, my mother would rationalise, which religion teaches its followers to be bad?

Christianity was not totally alien to my mother. Her father (my grandfather, already deceased at that time) was a Christian. All my mother's cousins were Christians too. In fact, it was her cousins who attended Emmanuel Baptist and encouraged my mother to send us there.

So that was how I started going to Sunday School. Our Sunday school book was written in Chinese characters and every week we were supposed to memorise a "golden" verse in Cantonese. Besides the verses, I soon got to learn the books of the Bible and names of prophets in Cantonese. We also sang Cantonese worship songs.

The Sunday school made it hassle-free for us to attend. A small church van would come to pick us up about 7:30am and bring us home after Sunday school about 11am - gratis. We got to know the van-driver pretty well - he was a volunteer of course and was really a butcher on weekdays. My mother would give us 10 cents or 20 cents each time so that we could put into the offering bag that was passed around.

We became involved in other church activities as well. During the school holidays, we would attend the Vacation Bible School that was conducted within the church premises itself. Every year, we would participate in the Bible Verse Recital Competition.

I remember doing quite well in those competitions - in fact, it was for one of those competitions that I first learnt the entire passage on Love from 1 Corinthians 13:

"Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It is not rude it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. Love never fails."

But I did not do it in English - imagine memorising the whole verse in Cantonese, lol!

"爱是恒久忍耐，又有恩慈。爱是不嫉妒，不自夸，不张狂；不作失礼的事，不求自己的益处，不轻易动怒，不计较人的过犯；不喜欢不义，只喜欢真理。爱是凡事包容，凡事相信，凡事盼望，凡事忍耐。爱是永存不息的。"

Easter, Christmas... we would be celebrating them at the church and we would invite family members to participate in the events. My grandmother and mother would come to church on those special occasions. I also remember witnessing baptism ceremonies whereby members who were being baptised were totally submerged in water in the small glass enclosure that was at the center of the pulpit.

Sad to say, Cantonese remains my foreign tongue. My knowledge of the Bible could only be superficial because I could not really read Chinese, without formal instruction. Thus, when I was older, I inevitably turned to reading the Bible in English and started attending other churches.

But I would always remember the warm-hearted members and pastors of Emmanuel Baptist who made us all feel very welcomed in the church. My mother would be glad that her objective was achieved - albeit in a small way. After all, I did become acquainted with the Chinese script in the end!

My First Job

2009-03-23T14:53:00.019+08:00

My first job paid RM4.50 an hour - and I was only 10 years old then. No, I was not a victim of child labour. I was actually doing a part-time job that I enjoyed.

I was introduced to this job by the new girl in school that year. CH's family had just moved to PJ and she joined our Standard 4A class. She was very talented - excelling in both the piano and ballet. She told us that when she grew up, she wanted to do a degree in Fine Arts or Performing Arts - that was the first time I ever heard of such a degree. She also had a talent in fashion designing. My fondest memories with her were our endless pursuits in designing our own wedding gowns, lol! We became bosom buddies. I remember she was into classic movies - she would dream of Clark Gable (Gone With The Wind) and Omar Sharif (Dr Zhivago) and I would roll my eyes.

Anyway, CH's aunt owned the only ballet school in town then. CH told me that the ballet school was always on the look-out for part-time pianists for its ballet classes and encouraged me to join her to play piano part-time there. At that time, I was already sufficiently advanced in piano and I thought why not? It was not difficult getting the part-time job - and I do not think it was purely due to nepotism!

Money was not the key motivation for taking up the job. I played for a few classes, perhaps around 2-4 hours a week - and although it felt good to be paid, the money I earned was just put aside as savings. I wouldn't say that I was needy or that the money was handy or anything like that.

There were two reasons why I chose to play the piano there.

One was the innate desire to spend my time meaningfully. I was coping well in school, there was money to be earned, and I could spare the time - so, it seemed a worthwhile endeavour and a good way to spend my free time.

The other reason was that I felt I could learn a little ballet that way - what other legitimate way was there to gatecrash ballet classes for free?? I do not love ballet, the way I love the piano, but I was fascinated and keen to learn more about this dance form. There is something romantically appealing to see classical ballet dancers in their ballet shoes and tutu. In fact, at one stage, my bedroom walls were all covered with pictures of ballet dancers.

Indeed, I managed to learn some ballet from the classes that I "attended" as a pianist. Well, in theory, at least. I learnt what was a plie, an arabesque and a grand jete. I learnt the 5 basic positions of ballet. I learnt the techniques for executing a piroutte and even a double piroutte. Again, I stress - the theory part, not the practical. At home, I would hold on to a bar and copy those movements and try to practise on my own, but, hmm...not very successful-leh. I was never known for my grace *blush*.

Playing piano for the ballet school had its challenges. Most of the time, we had to play the pieces on sight. Photocopying was not common at that time and we could not bring home the pieces to practise. Thus, I could remember occasions when I would cringe in embarrassment for bungling some pieces big-time. But the key thing was to continue playing, regardless - do not stop! The ballet students and their teacher would be very upset if the pianist stopped in the middle and they had to begin all over again.

I do not know whether ballet schools still have pianists in the studios nowadays or they prefer to use CDs now, which would be more cost-effective. But having pianists had a lot of advantages - we could play, on demand, slower, faster, we could "rewind" to the exact bar that the ballet teacher may want to repeat. And our reaction time was immediate. Hah, try to beat that!

This part-time job would not be possible without my mother's support. She drove me to the ballet school and drove me back. I did this for a couple of years until other activities took up my time and I had no time to spare. But it was a good experience while it lasted and I would always remember my friend who shared so much with me. CH was only in my school for about 2 years, before she followed her family to Seremban - it seemed they were always on the move. We have since lost touch.

Postscript: The last I heard some years ago, my friend, CH, eventually did go to the States and got the degree that she coveted. While I was writing this piece, I casually googled her name to see if I could find out more about what she is doing now and I was really happy to see that her name covered more than 1 page of Google Search! She is now a successful published composer of children's music, based in the States. Always knew she could do it :)

Western Influence

2009-03-22T20:50:00.012+08:00

I grew up in a dialect-speaking household. My family spoke Cantonese at home as my mother and grandmother did not know a word of English. I only picked up English when I started school. But very quickly, I became fluent in the English language, through my voracious reading habits, and perhaps to a lesser extent, through the television programmes that we watched.

English may be my adopted language but through the language, I began to absorb elements of western culture. Overall, the impact of western influence on me – my thinking, my outlook and my way of life – has been substantial.

If I were to examine the western influences in my life, the first change took place in terms of food. As a traditional Chinese family, our diet used to consist largely rice and noodles, including chee cheong fun. For breakfast, we normally ate bread and biscuits with Milo, sometimes egg, sometimes broth (porridge). That was all.

It was my cousin's girlfriend (now wife) who introduced us to things like Kellogg's Cornflakes, Campbell's Soup, Ham and Steak. We also began to cook Hamburgers at home, bought Hot Dogs from our favourite hot dog stand at Taman Jaya and ate Waffle with Maple Syrup and Root Beer from the A & W Drive-in, which was the only fast-food restaurant in Malaysia in the seventies. We loved all these new western tastes and experiences. This type of cuisine may be taken for granted now (oh, so pedestrian, I hear you say) but at that time, believe me, it was something else.

In terms of literature, I was influenced by my two elder brothers who introduced us to UK comics like Beano, Dandy, Tammy, Mandy and later to British magazines like Jackie.

I also got to read the paper-back fictions that they passed down to us - which were pretty, erm... educational. Because of my brothers, I read Harold Robbins and Jacqueline Susann when I was an innocent 12-year-old. I remember being shell-shocked as I turned the pages of those novels because these adult fictions were a quantum leap from the Enid Blyton, Nancy Drew and The Three Investigators books that I had been reading. There were some passages that I had to re-read to understand exactly what they meant... but I learnt fast. And my outlook broadened considerably, to say the least :) Today, these novels would be considered trashy but at that time, well, they were just eye-openers, lol!

In terms of popular culture, American hegemony was not absolute then, like how it is today, and definitely not as accessible. There were no internet or i-tunes or CD's or MP3's. We only listened to the local radio and bought cassettes of our favourite artistes. Cassettes were magnetic tape recordings (left) and we listened to the songs on a cassette player. The original cassettes were expensive and it was only later that cassette piracy came in a big way. In those early days, we needed to save to buy the original cassettes. Alternatively, we paid a small fee to the cassette shop and asked them to tape selected songs for us on blank tapes. I remember our favourite cassette shop at that time was called Horizon at the Jaya Supermarket.

But when I was in my early teens, my second brother was studying in London and he used to compile pop songs for me on cassettes. He recorded the latest songs or even the entire UK Top 40 radio programme on blank cassette tapes and he would send them to me from the UK by post. I used to so-look forward to receiving such cassettes in the mail. As a result, I invariably began to follow the pop charts in the UK Top 40, rather than the US Billboard. Boomtown Rats, Culture Club, Police... they were all big British bands at that time. It was not surprising thus that I favoured Top Of The Pops to Solid Gold.

Finally, my second brother was the one who introduced me to English soccer and tennis. Not the physical game, please, but as a spectator sport. At that time, the English Premier League went by a different name but the big clubs playing at the top division of the league were more or less the same. Liverpool, MU, Arsenal, Spurs. Then, Nottingham Forest was a big name. Although I was not a big fan, I took an interest in the league, even up to today. I also started watching and following the tennis championships. Bjorn Borg, Jimmy Connors and Chris Evert Lloyd... I remember when I visited UK in the 90's, I made it a point to take the train to the town called Wimbledon to see the Wimbledon stadium where the famous tennis championships are held every year.

Due to these influences, I've always had a strong affinity for all things British. I absolutely love the British accent. I love British movies - Chariots Of Fire is one of my all-time favourites. I used to read all the news about the British monarchy, especially when Princess Diana was alive. I watched her wedding to Prince Charles live on TV. Even today, I feel a class above when I eat scones and jam and sip Earl Grey. In the World Cup, I am always a firm supporter of the English team.

Is that just the Colonial hangover, I wonder?

Battle With The Bulge

2009-03-20T14:35:00.009+08:00

When I was about 9 years old, my grandmother and mother decided that I was too skinny and sickly. I don't know what got into their heads. I had a father whose nickname was Fei Lo, roughly translated to Fatty, and so I could be anything but. In fact, I was blessed with fat genes from Day 1, for goodness sake! But, I concede, since young, I have always been sniffing and having a runny nose due to a sensitivity condition called allergic rhinitis. And that might have given them the impression that I was sickly.

So, my grandmother and mother asked the wise medicine men at the Chinese Medical Hall for advice and they recommended something called Waterbury's Compound. I have always pinpointed this event, rightly or wrongly, to be the start of all my trouble with the bulge (if we were to disregard the gene theory for a while).

This wonderful tonic was sold in a darkly-tinted red-labelled bottle and was hugely popular at that time. Everyday, my mother would pour out this black liquid into a tranparent measuring cup and I had to swallow that yucky tonic. The medicine men were good - the tonic was very effective. The results soon showed and my puppy fat began to pile.

When I was about 9-10 years old, I was so overweight that I had to tailor-make my dark blue pinafore that I wore as my school uniform. I still have some photos taken during that period which, ahem, shall remain in my private collection. Fortunately or unfortunately, there was no TAF or any well-being programmes in school at that time and so my weight was not monitored officially. I was ballooning for everyone to see and had no clue that it was undesirable. I was just a clueless kid.

The one who came to my rescue was the most unlikely person - my eldest brother. My eldest brother is my Yee Ma's elder son who always fancied himself as being hip or in today's lingo, what we call, cool. You know... popular, fashionable, "in", with a good dress-sense. Ten years older than me, he probably saw where I was headed and was troubled enough to buy this teen annual called Jackie for my younger sister and me.

Jackie was a UK magazine, with articles on make-up, fashion, hair and pop stars - all meant for teenage girls or tweenies, of which I was one at that time. It dawned on me thereafter that being fat was something that I, as a young girl, should be very concerned about. I began to ask my mother to buy the magazine for me fortnightly. From then on, I found myself gradually getting immersed in British culture. I also learnt the rudiments of weight control.

No longer clueless, I began to assert myself as to what I would eat and what I would not. Thus, since I was around 10 years old, my battle with the bulge had begun.

I remember my unwavering determination to win the battle. At that time, my cousin's girlfriend was working as a cashier at the local supermarket and we could buy ice-cream from the kiosk at greatly discounted staff rates. Every trip to the supermarket would see us pampering ourselves with a cone each. That had to stop immediately. I did not eat any ice-cream for years after that. Seriously. Not a single scoop, not a single spoon, not a single lick. I told myself my whole campaign would be ruined if I were to give in just once - for if I could give in to temptation once, what was there to stop me the second time?

For years, I also did not eat Kentucky Fried Chicken - I only ate the potato and the salad - and when I relented much later, I only ate the chicken meat and tore off all the skin. I tried to count calories (the western style of dieting that was popular then) but it was not possible. There was simply no calorie counter for the local, Asian food that we ate. There was no point knowing how much calories a single helping of bread-and-butter pudding or 100g of roast beef contained, was there?

Though I could not control the food that was served at the dining table at home, I tried to control the amount that I consumed. And that led to inevitable battles with my mother. My mother belonged to the generation of mothers who showed their love through food. When we ate a lot, she would beam. But when we rejected the food, it would seem like we were rejecting her love. Of course, at that time, I did not understand this, and when I rejected the food, I am sure she must have felt hurt, and so there would be battles.

Exercise was never part of the equation, but in my secondary school days, I must have burnt a lot of calories doing the march-past under the hot sun.

Driven by vanity, rather than health reasons, I count myself a success of my strict diet regime. When I entered secondary school, I was pretty much a normal teenager, in terms of weight. Nobody would call me slim, but neither can anyone call me plump either.

I know the fat cells in my body would never go away. They always threaten to swell at any hint of indiscipline - and so, throughout my life, I have always been aware of what I ate.

Today, I should be dieting for different reasons - for health reasons - but the will is getting weak. Darn, the metabolic rate is slowing down so fast that it seems to be grinding almost to a halt! Anyway, life is too short to deprive myself any more of the joy of food. Now I enjoy all my food.... but I control the quantity. If I take half a piece of that delicious carrot cake, I would already have reduced my calorie intake by 50%. Wow, isn't that an achievement? *Twinkle*

TV - The Golden Oldies

2009-03-18T19:17:00.016+08:00

In the 60’s and 70’s, we had a black and white TV, which looked something like the picture on the left. At that time, we had only 2 channels and broadcast times would start in the evening and end by midnight.

Son No 1, who will be 13 this year, expressed surprise when he first heard about this. Only then did I realize how much this younger generation took the TV for granted. He and the other two younger boys were born in an era where TV programmes were on 24/7 and they could channel-surf close to 100 channels. He probably never imagined that TV could ever exist without cable, or subscription, TV. But I digress.

Coming back to those days, even within the limited broadcast hours, we managed to watch quite a number of programmes. One of the earliest shows I remember was the cartoon Scooby-Doo, Where Are You, the timeless classic that continued to captivate my own children today. [I realise now that for one year from 2004 to 2005, Scooby-Doo held the Guinness World Record for having the most episodes of any animated television series ever produced. Amazing!]

As very young children, my younger sister and I also watched a local children’s production called Tepuk Amai-Amai. Every week, the host would interact with different groups of invited children and one of the segments had the children skip around the room riding a wooden-stick horse. I remember we would follow this segment in our living room by skipping around the room, using our bolster or anything that resembled a pole, as our de facto horse! As far as western educational programmes were concerned, I don’t remember Sesame Street but instead, at that time, we watched a similar show called The Electric Company.

But the two shows that were the most popular amongst us in the 70’s were The Six Million Dollar Man and The Bionic Woman. The former was about a man called Steve Austin who had parts of his anatomy replaced by mechanical (bionic) parts which enabled him to perform super feats. The Bionic Woman was a spin-off from the show and more or less followed the same story line with a woman protagonist called Jaime Sommers.

These were the Super Heroes of our time and we followed each episode faithfully. Believe it or not, I was such a fan that I kept a log which documented the development of the story line each episode – that clearly showed my love for writing since young! The guy who played The Six Million Dollar Man, Lee Majors, recently took the role of the grandfather in the action movie, Ben 10.

Another category of shows that we loved to watch were the family shows. My firm favourites were The Brady Bunch (left) and later, Eight Is Enough. We also watched The Little House On The Prairie and The Waltons but I was never really hooked on these two shows as they were a bit too... wholesome? I also remember a show called My Three Sons which of course is the inspiration for the title of this blog of mine :)

In the late 70’s, we watched Kristy McNichol in the family drama, Family, which explored social issues in an upper middle class family with 3 fairly grown-up children.

In terms of soap, we watched Peyton Place – which was unbelievable, because the themes of adultery and betrayal in a small town were really not very suitable for our very young minds then. But the show was not graphic like the shows of today. Later, we watched Dallas – which had all the girls in school swooning over Patrick Duffy who played Bobby Ewing, the younger brother who was always outsmarted by the evil J.R.

Our diet of TV shows consists of shows from many different genre. As far as entertainment variety shows were concerned, who can forget The Donny And Marie Show? Click here for the Youtube video - “I’m a little bit of country.... and I’m a little bit rock n roll…”

For crime shows, we loved Charlie’s Angels, a show about 3 beautiful lady sleuths which shot Farrah Fawcett-Majors, Kate Jackson and Jaclyn Smith to fame. I also followed a fairly light-weight show called CHiPs, which was about the adventures of two California Highway Patrol (geddit?) policemen and the only reason it remained in my mind was Erik Estrada. The high profile detective shows like Hawaii 5-O, Kojak, Starsky & Hutch and Mission Impossible were not really my cup of tea, though these were household names during the 60s and 70s.

I also remember the medical drama, Emergency!, about two paramedics who drove an ambulance and the World War 2 show about a group of American soldiers in Europe called Combat. The fantasy genre threw up shows like Bewitched and Fantasy Island.

That’s not all. The 60's and 70’s had some of the best sitcoms ever. Before Cheers, Seinfeld and Friends, there were Gilligan’s Island, Happy Days and Laverne & Shirley. And they all have memorable opening songs which I am pretty sure we can still hum after all these years... Thus, I will leave this post with this great show opening number from Laverne & Shirley - Make Our Dreams Come True!

Standard One

2009-03-17T22:43:00.002+08:00

I do not remember much about my first day of school. I had been in kindergarten for two years before that and I was pretty mature for my age. So I believe I had no difficulty adjusting to primary school.

But this incident, I remember very well. On my first day of school, I was put in Class 1C. Now, although my mother did not speak English, she knew the letters of the English alphabet very well. And “C” was definitely not a good class to be in. I had topped my class in kindergarten the year before and she was worried that my potential might not be recognized in the new school. [Yeah, I went to a competitive kindergarten that had tests and class positions even at that level, lol!]

Anyway, the next day, my mother marched up to my class teacher then, a lady called Mrs Yong, and… well, enlightened her as to my brilliance, precocity or whatever, and also let out that my father had just died and so I should be given a fair chance to succeed in life (you get the drift) … and ultimately made her point that I should be transferred to Class 1A. Mrs Yong was sympathetic but told her not to worry. There would be a streaming test soon and if I passed it well, I would definitely go to Class 1A - which I did, soon after.

My new teacher in Class 1A was Mrs Chew. Mrs Chew and Mrs Yong were good friends and I am sure Mrs Yong would have talked to her about me, my (overbearing?) mother and my rather unusual circumstances. So my mother had in fact succeeded in singling me out to my teachers and making sure that I received due attention among the 48 students that each teacher had to manage in the classroom at that time.

Would that be a reason, I would never know, but that year in Standard One, I was given my first position of responsibility, the start of many that eventually led me to being the head prefect of the school.

In Class 1A, I was one of the four appointed leaders in class. I was responsible for collecting books from my row of tables. In addition, I was also tasked to send the teacher’s record book to the office and at the same time, collect the class register everyday, responsibilities which I carried out with great pride. I remember there was once, one of the other girls tried to “usurp” my duties, and I actually cried – the only time I ever remember crying in school!

As a class leader, I know it was not big deal but every journey began with a small step. I had thus begun my journey up the school student hierarchy from being a humble leader in Standard One to being a class monitor in later years and then graduating to becoming a prefect in Standard Five and the head prefect in Standard Six. I must add that I was well-liked by both teachers and friends and my serious but mature disposition suited positions of responsibilities very well.

Now, how my life eventually turned out - getting scholarships and so on - hinged not only on my scholastic achievement but also my student activity record. And so, I often wondered, if I were to trace back to where it all began, would I say it began the day my mother opened the door for me when she spoke with my Standard IC teacher….?

House No 136

2009-03-16T18:56:00.008+08:00

Throughout my primary schooldays, we lived in a single-storey end-terrace house near my school. This humble home of ours held a lot of fond memories for me.

House No 136 faced the main road and was built below road level, so that there was gentle slope going into our house. When it rained heavily, the front porch would be transformed into a shallow pond as rain water flowed rapidly down from the road towards our house. For the children of the house, such rainy days could be fun. At the first sign of the rain water coming in, we would quickly remove all slippers and shoes from the front porch. Bare-footed, we would slosh in the ankle-deep rising waters and use the lidi broom to sweep the water away as fast as we could to prevent the water from entering the house. The optimists would say this was good fengshui as water signified riches and we certainly had plenty of those flowing into the house! On the flipside, the rain water also frequently carried mud. And after the rain, the arduous task of clearing the mud would begin.

The house had three bedrooms and all three bedrooms faced west. This meant that all the rooms would be subject to the hot afternoon sun. As we did not have air-conditioners at that time, it was pretty warm at night as the walls would emit the heat that was retained during the day.

There was only one bathroom and one toilet for the whole house. In the small bathroom, there was a tiled half-wall built at one end and this was used as a common water receptacle for us to keep water for bathing. We would use a bucket to scoop the cool water out and splash the water over our bodies. The cold water was very invigorating in our tropical climate. We had no water heater, of course, and so we always bathed in the afternoon or evening.

As we bathed, the tap water would be running so that the water in the receptacle would always be replenished. We did not have a long bath tub for soaking but I remember when I was about 8 or 9 years old, I would sometimes surreptitiously climb into the water receptacle and immerse my whole body gleefully in the water. How nice and refreshing that was, especially on a warm day!

Our house had to accommodate at least 7 of us – my grandmother, my mother and us, the five siblings. Sometimes, the number of occupants would increase if my cousins were staying with us. Thus, we were pretty flexible in our sleeping arrangements. There were always the portable camp-beds which were cool and comfortable. To create more living space, the center portion of the house was partitioned to make another bedroom and the back of the house was extended to encompass the kitchen, dining area and backyard for washing clothes.

At the backyard, we apportioned some space to rear a few hens - I remember regularly collecting freshly-laid eggs which were still warm from the chicken coop. We loved to eat these nutritious eggs half-boiled for our breakfast every morning. That was the pleasant part about rearing hens. The less pleasant part was washing away the hens’ droppings everyday - though I was never tasked to do that as I was too young. During the day, we would let the hens roam around the backyard. Come evening time, when it was time to put the hens back into the coop, we would merrily chase them and ambush them – even the youngest among us became quite adept at catching them by their wings and holding them down so that they could not slip away.

My favourite spot in the house was the narrow plot of land at the side of the house. This was where I would go to get away and read my books quietly by myself. Here, we grew a papaya tree, sugar cane and tapioca to provide some shade – the land was too narrow for any other trees. My younger siblings and I would also play teacher-student here, because my mother got a “blackboard” built for us (actually just a piece of darkly-painted wooden plank) and we used chalk to write on the board for our pretend classroom sessions here. Guess who always got to play the part of the teacher?!

In front of the house was a huge saga tree and we would spend many hours collecting the cherry red saga seeds that fell from the tree. These were pretty to look at when we put them into transparent glass jars. We also used these seeds to fill up our “five stones”. Sometimes, when we were more adventurous, we would climb into the huge drain outside our house and catch tiny fishes. I must admit my younger sister enjoyed this particular activity more than me!

In the evening, we would arrange our flower pots to form a circle in the middle of our porch so that we could ride our tricycle round and round the pots of plants. When we were older, we would play badminton with each other, or with our neighbours, over the front gate or over the fence. At night, we would listen to Cantonese tales from the redifussion with our grandmother.

These were but some of the scattered pictures of the smiles we left behind in this house that we called our home for six years. Life was indeed very simple then.

PJ - Here We Come

2009-03-15T23:08:00.004+08:00

Before my father passed away, there were plans afoot for us to shift from KL to PJ. My father had wanted us to shift to a better neighbourhood, now that my younger brother had been born and I was about to start my formal education.

But my father died just 3 months before I started primary school and we were still living in KL. Would our plans be scuttled with this change in events?

Not if my mother had any say in it.

My father had earlier bought a double-storey bungalow for us in PJ in preparation for our move. We had in fact visited the almost-complete bungalow some time back and my younger sister and I had even earmarked one of the upstairs bedrooms as ours. The bedroom that we had chosen faced the front lawn and had a balcony – we had planned that space to be our play area. In the spacious living room downstairs, I had privately visualized the space that would be reserved for my piano – for at that time, I already knew I wanted to learn to play the piano.

Unfortunately, when my father died, the bungalow was still incomplete and not fully paid-for. My mother most certainly did not have the means to continue with the final instalments now. Our dream house was going to evaporate into thin air.

Fortunately, though, the title to the property was in my mother’s name. She managed to find a buyer, sold the house and invested the money in a completed shop house which she reckoned might give a good rental yield and provide a stable source of income for us.

Given the changed circumstances, it might have been easier if we had just continued living in KL and attended school there. But my mother was not one to take the easy way out. She was determined that our lives would continue the way she and my father had planned and so, she did all she could within her powers to stick to the plan.

The main stumbling block then was that we had no home to shift to and school was starting soon. As a desperate temporary measure, we shifted to a 3-bedroom house that was about 5 km from my school. The house was not ideal as it faced a sewerage facility and every night, a foul stench would drift towards our house.

Soon after though, we moved to our permanent home about 1 km from my school. This single-storey end-terrace house No 136 would be our home for the next six years.

We were now ready to start our new lives in PJ.

The Day The Music Died

2009-03-14T10:22:00.003+08:00

My childhood came to an abrupt end in the wee hours of one October morning when I was six years old. I was awakened from my sleep by some unusual sounds. I opened my eyes to see my disheveled mother sobbing and rummaging through some drawers. What she was looking for, I had no idea. But when she realized that I was awake, she called my name tearfully and broke the news to me that my father had died. Ironically, it was not the message, but the sight of a crying adult - my mother - that was traumatic to the six-year-old.

The rest that followed was a blur. I remember the dark dinghy corridor of the hospital – or was that my imagination? I knew which hospital my father was sent to because my mother had blamed the hospital for not taking prompt action which might have saved my father from the fatal stroke that struck him that night.

My father’s death was a pivot point in my life. It was like the storm that blew Dorothy’s house away and left a scary new world in its place.

This is not about the emotional void left by my father – that would be a lie. I really was too young to realize the significance of what was happening but what I was experiencing then, at the funeral and the days that followed, was scary enough. As children, our security came from the familiarity of our surroundings, our routines and our trust in the adults being in control and making everything alright for us. Overnight, I was stripped bare of all feelings of security.

My father’s wake took place in the second wife’s bungalow which had a large compound that was suitable for holding a wake. We had never visited the house before this. At that time, I was not aware of the complicated ties within the family. All I knew was that we were in this strange place, surrounded by a sea of strange faces, doing strange things that I had never done before. We wore strange clothes, there were strange smells in the air and people were behaving strangely.

Amidst all the strangers, I remember how glad I was to see some of the relatives from my mother’s side as well as some of my mother’s friends. When I saw them, I smiled and greeted them, “Aunty”, like what I have always been taught to do. Surprisingly, though, they hushed me up, saying that I must not smile, that I should be crying. I remember thinking how unreasonable adults were, forcing me to cry when I did not want to cry, but at other times, I was scolded when I did cry. But obedience was my second name and so I tried hard to force some tears out… but I just could not cry.

Then there were other aunties who held me and told me that now I must be grown-up and remember to take care of my mother, my younger sister and brother. And true enough, as if through their very bidding, I grew up overnight.

Things continued to take strange turns after the funeral.

My father had died at 53 years of age - which was considered young - and so the family was in deep mourning. All of us wore black, white or dark blue attire for one whole year. We used a safety pin to fasten a piece of rectangular cloth on the left sleeve of all our clothes to signify our mourning status.

According to Chinese beliefs, the soul of the departed will return home on the 7th day after his passing away. I remember on that 7th night, all of us slept in one room and there were talks amongst the adults that some of them might like to peep out of the room to see if anything was going on. It was also debated which household the spirit would be going home to, seeing that the departed had a choice of three households. Thinking back, it must have been truly frightening for a young child then at the prospect of seeing a ghost. But my mother would say, silly girl, it’s your own father, do you think any harm would come to you?

My mother continued her desire to contact the spirit of my father via mediums. She would try to “talk” to my father, or to get instructions from him, through these mediums. If the spirit insinuated that something was lacking in the afterlife, she would burn incense and other things to make amends. It was perhaps her way of coping with her grief during those difficult early days. I would normally not be a party to such excursions to the mediums, except on one occasion, when we were visiting Ipoh and we had nowhere to go, except to wait in the car for my mother. These visits to the mediums soon stopped altogether – the Chinese believed that only fresh newly-departed spirits would talk to those remaining in this world. I do not know the rationale – it could be the belief of reincarnation, or the thinking that the spirits too had their own lives to lead in the other world.

Those early days were indeed painful for my mother. To ease her pain, which we did not fully understand then but could intuitively sense, we tried to behave ourselves and kept quiet most of the time. I did not know then, but my father’s finances were not exactly in order - and our very survival would have been my mother’s immediate worry.

Later, my mother told us that it was the second wife, with whom she had had no prior contact before the funeral, who had come to our rescue - not the first wife, who had turned strangely cold and distant. The second wife had offered financial assistance straight away without any conditions and this helped us tide over those early days.

Over the subsequent years, we had come to grow close to this magnanimous lady - my father’s second wife - whom we called Yee Ma. We visited each other’s houses often and shared many memories together.

But that would be another story for another time.

Drink A Cup Of Tea

2009-03-13T15:40:00.006+08:00

This won’t be easy because I am going to tell a story that is strictly not mine to tell. But my mother’s story has such a profound influence on my life that my own story will not be complete without an understanding of her story.

My mother is my father’s third wife. Before I continue further, it is important to remember that, at that time, polygamy was not such an unusual institution. In the sixties, polygamy was legally recognized by the State and all the wives had official status – this is evident from the fact that my mother and the other two wives all received a share of my father’s pension from the government after his demise.

But when I was young, it was beyond my capability to rationalize, as I can now, the state of affairs that gave rise to my conception. I just knew that I grew up in this family that was vastly different from those of my friends, and I (figuratively) just wanted to curl up and disappear from the face of the earth... forever.

This is the story as I know it from my mother’s perspective and which I would tell as objectively as I could.

When my mother met my father, she did not know him as a married man. Later, my father told my mother that he already had a wife and that the wife was barren. They had so far adopted two children, a boy and a girl, but he craved to have his own biological children. It seemed as good a reason as any to take a second wife.

My mother was “officially” accepted by the first wife, via a tea ceremony. In Chinese tradition, the cup of tea is strongly symbolic. It can represent acceptance, forgiveness, filial piety or respect, depending on the situation. In this case, the cup of tea sealed the matrimonial arrangement and thereafter, my father and mother attended all official functions as a couple.

Soon after, though, some of my mother’s cronies told my mother that they have seen my father with another woman and two school-going boys. The final beans were spilt when my father admitted to having a second wife prior to my mother and that this second wife had already borne him two biological sons. The first wife had “colluded” because she never did like the second wife and had hoped that my mother would dilute the second wife’s influence on my father.

My mother naturally felt betrayed and angered, but there was nothing much that she could do. The rice had become broth. My father treated all the wives well and apportioned each with a fair share of time. Each of the wives lived under separate roofs and essentially led their own lives.

All the above were told to me, not in one setting, but in bits and pieces over the years by my mother. She cherished her memories and she usually talked about my father, whom she called “fei lo”, with great affection. I remember for years and years after my father's death, she would still shed tears during Qing Ming and other occasions of significance. I sense, from what she told me, that she was convinced that she, and only she, was the one true love of my father.

I am not attempting to do a character study of my father here but all I know is that growing up in those first 6 years of my life, I hardly knew my father at all. My memories of him were dim - he just did not figure in our daily lives. Perhaps this was not as unusual as I had thought, given that I now know many fathers of that generation who hardly spoke to their children, even if they were there physically.

As a child though, I could feel the immediate repercussion of my complex background. When I was in primary school, I would stammer or turn red, whenever a friend or a teacher were to ask me a simple question: how many brothers and sisters do you have?

I did not know how to answer. From my mother’s side, I already had two elder sisters who did not share my surname. Not that I knew its significance – it was not until one day when a friend in primary school asked me why my two elder sisters did not have my surname, that it dawned on me that something was amiss. I just did not know that siblings normally have the same surname - it was not built into my mental schema of things.

If one were to think about it, my answer to that dreaded question could be any of the following:

A. One brother and one sister
B. One brother and three sisters
C. Three brothers and one sister
D. Three brothers and three sisters
E. Four brothers and four sisters

Whatever I answered, I was afraid that my story and my younger sister’s story did not jive - for we had a number of friends in common. Or that my answer might not be consistent with what I might have said before. Oh, what a mess. Perhaps, that's when I started my anti-social behaviour and avoided conversations altogether.

When I finally got my act together, I tended to favour the response (D). I did not include the two adopted children of the first wife because we did not have any dealings with them and I had never met them until a few years ago.

Under (D), I am ranked fifth in terms of birth order. My friends, especially those in Singapore, would go "Wow, such a large family!" and I would smile and change the subject. But in reality, I have always been brought up as a firstborn and had the responsibilities of a firstborn thrust on me early in life.

It might be interesting too to evaluate the psychological impact that my father might have had on me in terms of my relationship with the opposite sex or my view of the world, but I am not about to do a Meredith Gray here. Anyway, psychoanalysts would just normally encourage the analysee to talk about the past – so my blogging about it should do the trick and save me from paying the moon to get an answer. Not that an answer is important, always remembering that it is how we live our lives today that's important, not the past.

Telok Intan a.k.a. Anson

2009-03-11T13:02:00.011+08:00

When we were young, and when it was time for a holiday, my mother would load us into our car and drive 3-4 hours along minor trunk roads to the small town of Telok Anson in Perak to visit my Tai Yee. My Tai Yee, who passed away last year, was my mother's only sister and she was older than my mother by 10 years.

Telok Anson is now of course no longer found on the map. Its name has been changed to Telok Intan, after Malay nationalists decided to change all names, with the slightest reference to our anglo-colonialist past, to local names.

Anyway, in those pre-Expressway days, travelling on the road meant navigating through narrow roads that were mostly one-lane each way. Sometimes, if we were behind a slow-moving vehicle, we would need to wait for the right opportunity to overtake it. That took a lot of patience. Road trips were somewhat more interesting as the scenery was not bland, unlike what we have now along the highway. We would jot down the names of towns that we passed in a little note book. And to break the journey, we used to stop along small towns, like Tanjong Malim and Bidor, sipping Fanta Grape and shopping for local delicacies like the famous Bidor Chicken Biscuits.

My Tai Yee lived in a single-storey semi-detached house in a quiet neighbourhood in Telok Anson, or Telok Intan. She did not mind that we invaded her home and disrupted her peaceful life. When we reached her house after our tiring road journey, she would welcome us with my favourite dish - steamed kampung chicken. The chicken had that to-die-for firm golden yellow skin that could only be found in genuine home-reared chicken. As a young child, I had loved chicken skin - oblivious, like everybody else, to its unhealthy dietary effects. Ah, what blissful ignorance!

Telok Intan is not that small, as far as small towns go. In fact, in the league of small towns, it should rank quite high. At that time, the town already had more than one cinema, a couple of schools, a town center that was built in a mini-grid structure, a hospital and even its own landmark, the Leaning Clock Tower. Later, some entrepreneurs started a department store and a small hotel, but that's about it. Much still remained the same when I visited the place briefly last year.

So what did we do during our holidays there?

Our holidays in Telok Intan had always centered round food. In the morning, we would go to the the famous Great Asia coffee shop for breakfast where my Tai Yee and my cousins were such regulars that everybody knew their names. My favourite was the kaya toast.

In the afternoon, we would wait for the tinkling of the ice-cream man who came by on a trishaw. It was not the Walls or Magnolia ice-cream that he peddled, but even better, it was a locally manufactured ice-cream that was less milky but just as creamy. You couldn't get it anywhere else! The delicious sweet corn ice-cream which would melt in your mouth was also cheap, and that was always good, because we could bring our own bowl or saucer and greedily ask for multiple scoops. Yeah, that would be our first Earthquake, lol!

For tea, we would have rojak which I remember was special because it had lots of mangoes and prawn paste. And for supper, we would go for the assam laksa which cost only 20 sen a bowl. The various local kuih were also very cheap. No wonder we stuffed ourselves silly and thoroughly enjoyed it.

At that time, most of my cousins were already working in the city and it was only my youngest cousin who was still around to entertain us - sometimes. Most of the time, we were left to our own devices.

In between the makan times, we would sit at the corner of the mahjong table, quietly watching my mom and her friends play mahjong. Or we would run up and down the long corridor which led to the three bedrooms. In retrospect, I do not think the corridor was that long, but it sure seemed long at that time.

Those were the days. Road trips only meant one destination - and that was fine by us.

Under The Star Fruit Tree

2009-03-10T06:01:00.006+08:00

At the small compound in front of the house where I spent the first 6 years of my childhood, a star fruit tree used to stand. Beneath its foliage, my younger sister and I had spent many happy, carefree hours. We were the best of playmates - I do not remember ever quarrelling with her. We were not rambunctious children, like my three sons, who favoured boisterous, rough-and-tumble, competitive games. Rather, we loved cooperative role-playing games and our imagination knew no bounds.

Under the star fruit tree, we played make-believe masak-masak. We used imagined utensil to stir-fry its leaves. Then, we garnished the dish with the delicate magenta flowers from the same tree and finally served it with pretend-rice, which was nothing but the soil of the earth. The sandy soil also doubled as cake mixture or pancake dough at our command.

Besides masak-masak, one of our favourite role-play was pretending to be poor. Ya, get over it….! For whatever reason (the 60’s Cantonese movies that we watched with my mum and grandma?), pretending to be poor seemed fun, lol! Our hand-quilted blankets would end up as the roof of our humble abode and we would huddle in a corner to escape the pelting rain which threatened to drown all our precious belongings, usually pillows and bolsters!

Our versatile pillows and bolsters also became our stepping stones as we attempted to cross raging rivers. Our games would be peppered with conversations, in pretend high-pitch adult voices - the more urgent the situation, the higher our pitch!

Toys were rare. I don’t remember getting my first doll until I was in primary school. It would seem my mother preferred sensible, affordable toys. I remember a set of building blocks, not Lego, but those wooden Made-In-China ones, with pre-fabricated columns, windows and arches.

From the same shop in the vicinity of downtown Petaling Street, my mother later got us a box of wooden reading tiles, also Made-In-China, with pictures on one side and both Chinese and English inscriptions on the flipside. My mother thought it was an educational toy but unknown to her, we privately used those 3cm by 3cm tiles to play our version of mahjong and other card games.

Not all memories are sweet. In May 1969, when KL was reeling from racial riots, we had curfews. I was too young to know what was going on but I remember we were kept indoors for days with all our doors and windows shut. Curious as to what was going on outside, I remember peering out through the slit under the door to get a glimpse of what was happening outside - which, luckily, was nothing. The area where we lived was a traditional Chinese stronghold.

But stories of senseless killings filtered to us by word of mouth and for months after May 13, there were many areas in the city that we continued to avoid. My mother was expecting my brother at that time and I have no doubt that it was a stressful time for her. As a young girl, I could already sense the gravity of the situation, though not fully comprehending the far-reaching impact these events would have on the Chinese community in years to come.

Now, more than 4 decades later, the house No 11 where I spent my childhood is still there. Strangers now occupy the place. As I approached No 11 in my car one hot weekday afternoon, the street was quiet and still, without a single soul in sight, notwithstanding that there were cars parked bumper-to-bumper on both sides of the street.

I felt a sense of deja vu. The compound in front of the house was now cemented and the star fruit tree was no longer there - in its place were several potted plants. But the patterned grills of the gate were the same, painted in the same silver paint, and the bamboo roll-up blinds still remained more than 40 years later to shield the occupants of the house from the afternoon sun.

For a while, I was transported back in time.

I saw my mother talking to our neighbours: the family living on the third floor, the spinster and her father across the road and another family two doors away. Mun Soh, Biew Soh, Lei Ku Leong... At that time, the community spirit was strong.

I saw us - me, my sister and my younger brother - cycling up and down the pavement. It was safe then. And I remember the spot where my brother fell from his tricycle and caused a panic.

And I saw my deceased grandmother sitting down and eating her favourite curry chee-cheong-fun with us. She was probably smoking and grumbling too, for her bark had always been known to be worse than her bite. But she had a heart of gold. And we, the children, were her treasures.

Baby Steps

2009-03-07T05:35:00.010+08:00

Not all of us are destined for greatness. Not all of us are destined to build a nation, set world records or blaze trails for future generations. But each and everyone of us has a story to tell.

And my story began one morning in early March at the KL General Hospital. On the same day that I was born, elsewhere in the world, the first US combat forces arrived in Vietnam with 3,500 Marines and the UK No 1 hit was I'll Never Find Another You by The Seekers. That year was a tumultous year in the annals of local history. Lee Kuan Yew and Tunku Abdul Rahman sought to meet the demands of their respective communities and amidst a yawning ideology gap, found that separation was the only way out, thus paving the way for the birth of the tiny nation called Singapore. That same year, The Sound Of Music won the Oscar for Best Picture.

Oblivious to the changing world around us, back in the KL General Hospital, I was happily cosseted by a doting mother and a father, who could have been happier if I were a son, but nevertheless, rejoiced at my birth, his first biological daughter. At that time, the gender of the baby was not known until the actual birth and I could imagine how anxious both my parents must have been while awaiting my arrival.

I was given a name to signify the high expectations that they had of me, a name that is not overtly feminine, which was the trend at that time (eg flower, cloud, rainbow), but a name that sought to combine elegance with greatness and majestic splendour. It was a good name - a name that carried the hopes and the cherished dreams of my mother.

The nurses in the hospital had another name for me, though. "King Kong", they nicknamed me. At >9 lbs (>4kg) at birth, I was a huge baby with lusty cries. I believe I must have got the best of attention from the nurses because we were in a first class ward. My father was a respected civil servant who enjoyed hugely subsidised rates in the government hospital and would never consider a private hospital, unless he was under extreme duress.

My first home was the ground floor unit of a 3-storey walk-up apartment block in the "East End" of KL (see above). We lived with my maternal grandmother who, bless her, took care of me and my mother. My father went for a World Tour shortly after my birth. A World Tour was a big deal at that time and I believe he was away for months. I have seen a photograph of my father at the Macao landmark, Ruins of St Paul, and some postcards that he wrote to my mother in his well-formed cursive handwriting.

I have not heard many stories about me when I was a baby, but my mother loved to tell the story of how I learnt to walk at 9 months (which could be a mother's exaggeration, I don't know, or maybe not, because after all, I was a big baby to begin with). I was already running around during my 1-year-old birthday celebration, with the knife meant for cutting my birthday cake in my hand. We did have some photographs taken on that special occasion which I promise to hunt down one of these days.

My mother's other favourite story was how I was admitted to the KL General Hospital when I was 17 months old, at the same time that she was admitted for the delivery of my younger sister. I had some throat problems - it could be croup or tonsilitis - but it was definitely something serious enough that warranted close medical supervision. But as my grandmother did not want to cause my mother any anxiety while she was recuperating from the birth of my sister, my mother was actually kept in the dark about it. Understandably, she was pretty upset later when she found out.

When I was very young, my bogyman was one of my mother's close friend, a lady called Lily. I do not know why but I grew to fear her more than anyone else. I know that at times, memory may blend with imagination, so that one is unable to separate the two after a long while. But to this day, I have a vision of a very young me sobbing after taking a bath, half naked with just a towel draped around me, and Aunty Lily wielding a cane at me! Was it trauma that caused this slice of memory to be burnt deeply into my psyche, I wonder?

Activity Snapshot

2009-03-06T09:57:00.007+08:00

The following snapshots feature "One Week In The Life Of...."
(Scheduled events only)

Son No 3

- 5 days of kindergarten (8:30am - 12:30pm)
- 3 Mandarin Enrichment classes
- 1 English Speech & Drama class
- 1 Piano lesson
- 1 Taekwando class

Son No 2

- 5 days of primary school (1:05pm - 6:40pm)
- 2 Mandarin Enrichment classes
- 1 Piano lesson
- 1 Taekwando class

Son No 1

- 5 days of high school (8:00am - 3:30pm)
- 2 Mandarin Enrichment classes
- 3 Tennis sessions
- 1 Taekwando class

Mummy

- All of the above (driving duties only)
- Less overlap in Taekwando (class attended by the 3 boys together)
- 1 Marketing trip to the wet market
- 1 Grocery shopping trip to the hypermart

Wow... how humdrum can life be...

OK, invites going out to everyone to top the humdrum scale....=^=

Pop Snapshot

2009-03-05T07:38:00.016+08:00

This is the result of my straw poll yesterday, plus recent observation:

Son No 3

Current Favourite Song
Circus by Britney Spears.

Current Favourite TV Shows
1) Tom And Jerry
2) Spongebob Squarepants
3) Little Einsteins

Current Books
Chinese "Little Scrolls" Series

*****************************************************************************
Son No 2

Current Favourite Song
Love Bug by Jonas Brothers

Current Favourite TV Show/Movie
High School Musical 3
The Most Extreme Animal Series

Current Books
The 6th book of the Secret Seven series
Various animal books

*****************************************************************************
Son No 1

Current Favourite Song
"Don't know"
Listens to I-Tunes Top 10 Songs

Recently Watched TV Show
90210

Recently Read
The Twilight series
Dan Brown

******************************************************************************
Mummy

Current Favourite Song
None.
Now listening to Stephanie Sun in the car.

Current Favourite TV Show
Brothers And Sisters
(just finished Season 2)

Recently Read
Living History by Hillary Rodham Clinton

Now Reading
Bill Gates Speaks by Janet Lowe
The Memory Keeper's Daughter by Kim Edwards

The Rainbow Connection

2009-03-04T08:45:00.013+08:00

It is fair to say that whatever our age, we are excited when we chance upon a rainbow. But after the initial excitement, what next? Well, then it does depend on your age...

Son No 3 would say "I want to go to the rainbow". His mummy, down-to-earth and dead-honest as usual, would say that he can't. Why not? Well, because a rainbow is just a vision.... (blank look), it is an illusion... (huh?), it is not real.... (it looked very real to him). Look, it will disappear when you go near it, OK? "You mean, it is like the clouds?" Hmm... never mind, I do not really want to take away that innocence so soon. I can't very well tell him that the rainbow is caused by the refraction of electromagnetic waves when the waves travel through media of different density.

Son No 2, two years older and thinking that he is wiser, would say "No-la, you can only get the rainbow when there is rain and sun together, right, mummy?" Then he would go on to say, "I want to go to the end of the rainbow." He has heard of the common folklore and wants that pot of gold. I am not sure whether it is a sign that there is still some innocence left in him.

Son No 1, the analytical big brother, would want to show off to his younger siblings. He would say, "I can tell you all the colours of the rainbow" and would go on to rattle off the names of the colours by heart. Then mummy would challenge him, so which colour is in the inner arc of the rainbow? And after pausing for a while to think, he would be able to provide the answer.

Mummy, on the other hand, would keep her thoughts to herself - pondering philosophically why she sees more rainbows here in KL than in Singapore. The last one she saw was just during the Chinese New Year period. Is the weather pattern here really so different?

Or is God showering more blessings on this country? After all, this country is run by clowns (and that's putting it really mildly since clowns do no harm to others) and yet, the country has managed to function and even escape great calamities. The country has been registering positive growth over the years despite the huge amount of wastage that flows through the very large crevices that everybody knows about. Is this country blessed (in a certain way) or what?

Coming back to the rainbow, some may offer this simple explanation: that Singapore has too many highrise buildings which block the line of sight. To even see the sky, for heaven's sake, one needs to look vertically up. So how to see the rainbow?!

There is an even simpler explanation: when most people come home from work, it is already dark. If one does not even see the blue sky, then how to see the rainbow?

Photo courtesy of pauel_0206

Rainbows and Traffic Jams

2009-03-03T20:56:00.013+08:00

Yesterday, we saw another rainbow on our way home after fetching Son No 2. The rainbow was spectacular, arching over the entire sky. It lifted our spirits and as always, I am reminded of the Bible and God's covenant to mankind.

I have seen more rainbows here over the past two years than my entire life in Singapore.

Today, there was no rainbow. Instead, I was caught in a 1.5-hour traffic jam going to fetch Son No 2 AND another 1.5-hour traffic jam coming back. That's altogether 3 hours on the road. My fingers were so stiff gripping the steering wheel that I had to do finger-flexing exercises. My right foot was similarly stiff after holding it angled in a fixed position for 3 hours.

I have had more traffic jams here over the past two years than my entire life in Singapore.

That about describes my life here in KL.

BTW, in case you missed the point, this is supposed to be cheem!

My Piano And Me

2009-03-01T18:56:00.004+08:00

My love affair with the piano began a long time ago. I have no idea what triggered it but I have always wanted to play the piano.

I started piano lessons when I was 8 years old. My father had passed away and my mother was making ends meet. Life was ...well, not really hard... but certainly not easy. But my mother knew that I wanted to play the piano and she found a piano teacher for me. I remember how my mother bargained on the fees from the going rate of RM30 to RM28 a month. That savings of RM2 a month was enough to cover the transportation cost.

I went for my piano lessons every week by bus. My piano teacher's house was at Old Town which was like a 15-minute bus ride away. My eldest sister would accompany me for my piano lessons after she had finished school. Later, my piano teacher shifted to Section 7 which was nearer to my house and I walked there every week by myself.

The duration of the official lesson was 1.5 hours, but I remember my mom would always encourage my sister be late in picking me up. She reckoned it was more worth the money if I stayed longer, lol! My piano teacher did not mind and I ended up doing a lot of theory practice.

When I delve into the corners of my mind, it's amazing what inconsequential memory still holds in my memory bank. I remember my piano bag was a clear plastic bag with red trimmings and a big strawberry picture in front and my first piano book was Michael Aaron. I remember my sisters gathering round me and singing Christopher Columbus, one of the earliest songs I learnt during those first few lessons.

I was a very disciplined music student. I practised everyday, initially an hour a day and steadily progressing to 3 hours a day when I reached higher grades. My family gave me a lot of encouragement. They never complained, not even once, when I banged away on my scales or my exam pieces repeatedly day in day out. In our small house, the racket that I was raising must be considerable. My neighbours must have wished that we would go away, I am sure!

My first piano, oh, I do not even remember its brand - it was a second-hand piano that my mother got for me for practise. When I reached Grade 5, my piano teacher advised my mother to get me a good piano. The Challen that we got was a joy to play and it was with me for many, many years.

As for my first public performance.... ah! When I was in Standard Four, I was the most advanced piano student in my class as I had skipped two grades. My class was scheduled to perform during one of the assembly periods. I remember I played Strauss's "Tales From The Vienna Woods" while a friend of mine choreographed the dance.

Once, I also played for a radio programme. My piano teacher had some connections with a radio station and she managed to get a slot for a few of her students to perform. I was about the youngest student that she chose to perform and I remember I played Dvorak's "Humoresque".

I finished my Grade 8 when I was 14. My teacher thought I should continue my music education with another teacher and she recommended me to one who lived at Pantai Hills. My mother would drive me there and wait for me for 45 minutes to finish my lesson.

I never completed my diploma in piano because I went down to Singapore to study when I was 16. For a short while, I had lessons in Singapore but staying in a hostel, it was just too difficult to continue. I had to walk like a mile to the music room to practise on this rickety Made-In-China piano. I enjoyed the walk though :)

But strangely, it was when my formal lessons ended that I really learnt to play the piano. I started experimenting with pop songs and making up my own music whenever I could and it was liberating. When I was in JC, I accompanied a friend of mine in a singing contest, playing the Carpenters' hit, "Goodbye To Love".

Today, I play all sorts of music, whatever my mood suits me, whatever I feel like playing.... the Classics, Mandarin pop, English pop, Disney's songs, Richard Clayderman ... When words fail, my music takes over.

For all this, I thank my mother - who gave me this great gift - a music education.

Tee-u-tion And Exams

2009-02-27T13:28:00.009+08:00

The other day, Son No 2 asked me, "What is tee-u-tion?" Apparently, all his friends went for tee-u-tion and he was wondering why he did not.

Tee-u-tion is of course the local (mis)pronunciation of tuition.

I told him that he did not need tuition. Which is true and yet, not. This is because I personally coach him every weekday morning and so he does not need to go for tee-u-tion. At home, I take our coaching sessions seriously. We follow a fixed schedule: we start lessons at 9am every morning and end around 10-ish. When exams are near, we also do another short session at 9pm every night.

I have come to realise that, except for the really brilliant few, all students here do need tuition... for the simple reason that the young students are burdened with too many subjects. In the Chinese school that Son No 2 is attending, the students are expected to master 3 languages: Mandarin, Malay and English, besides other curriculum subjects, Math and Science. The standard of Mandarin and Malay are very high since both are pitched at the first language level. These two subjects alone take up most of our time. Language learning is really no joke. Luckily, Son No 2 reads a lot in English and has no problem there.

I have ranted endlessly about the system of education here. There are so many things that need fixing besides the curriculum. I have written to the press about it, many times, and even left my comments on the PM's webpage .... but this is not my focus today. Don't get me started! Coming back to Son No 2...

So, instead of engaging an external tutor, I am his personal tutor because I don't think anyone else can do a better job. Really. I am not trying to boast or anything... but the mother knows her child best AND the mother has the child's best interest at heart. Another advantage is that I can point out things to them that relate to their current learning, whether it is from the TV, newspapers or from the world around us.

Son No 2 is pretty disciplined himself and is a joy to teach most of the time, despite the inevitable ups and downs. He is now in the midst of his first term exams and he has been pretty pleased with himself the past few days.

When I pick him up after school, he would wear a big grin on his face. And in the car, he would be telling me what questions came out and how he answered them. Always seeking affirmation... and I would tell him that so long as he has done his best, that will be good enough. If he has made a mistake, it's ok, he just needs to learn from the mistake.

Son No 2 ever told me before that some of his friends were getting 3 marks, 14 marks, and so on, out of 100 marks. And I feel deeply for these children. Who will help these children? I know some of them are from disadvantaged background and I wish there's more institutional help for them....

But anyway, so Son No 2 is coping, despite the ills of the system. At the end of the day, the actual marks that he is getting is not that important. I just want him to maintain that positive self-esteem. That is reward enough for me.

The Talk

2009-02-26T07:27:00.010+08:00

I did not expect to get The Talk from Son No 3 yesterday.

Yesterday, Son No 3's school organized a Parents-Meet-The-Teachers session. Normally, there would be no school on that day but because his Chinese enrichment class was still on, he still needed to attend lessons. The prospect of my being around his school while he was having lessons must have troubled him. In the morning, Son No 3 made it point to specifically tell me that "when I am doing my work in my Chinese class, you don't look through the window and see (look at) me, ok?"

It was The Talk - the one where the children tell their parents how to - or not to - behave. Huh? I did not expect it so soon from Son No 3. He is two months shy of his 6-year-old birthday.

My hubby and I only received The Talk from Son No 1 when he was 10 years old. Son No 1 was going to perform a dance on stage and we would naturally be in the audience. Before the performance, he made sure he "prepped" us on how to behave. He told us that, whatever it is, Do Not Wave. Hmm... he must have been pretty bothered when we did that in the past. Clearly, our outward show of support was not appreciated.

I fully understand that there will come a time when children will want to be untied from the apron's strings. Heck, we raise them to be so - nurturing them to become confident and independent, ready to go out to embrace the world. So, should we be happily giving ourselves a pat on our backs?

Not so soon. I need to know one thing: that the children are NOT embarrassed to be seen with their parents. That they know that the image of them with loving, caring parents does not somewhat reduce their stature among their friends. That it does not take away their masculinity, manliness or machoism, whatever name we want to give to that quality that boys or men crave to be in front of their friends.

Of course I do not go out of my way to embarrass the children.

Recently, Son No 1 went for an outing at Mid-Valley with his classmates (5 girls and 4 boys). They were going to meet at KFC and then just hang out. When Son No 1 realised that I was going to park my car and go down with him, I could sense that he was kind of alarmed. But now that he was older and being the tactful boy that he was, he did not want to come outright to say that my presence would ...err, not be welcomed. Do not worry, I assured him, I was not going to tag along. [I didn't need to because two of the girls' mothers would be there *grin*] I was going window-shopping. See, I am not the molly-coddling parent.

I certainly do not want to hang out with their friends. But my point remains that my boys need to understand that it is alright to be seen with loving parents - whatever shape and sizes the parents are. If the friends view it negatively, then I would question the values held by those friends.

I remember this story one of my primary school teachers told us during moral lesson:

There was this girl who was ashamed of her mother because her mother was disfigured. In front of her friends, she would humiliate her and deny her presence. To the girl, the mother was ugly and she did not want to be associated with her at all.

Until one day, her principal called her in and told her why her mother was disfigured. When the girl was a baby, there was a big fire and the girl was trapped in the house. To save her baby, the mother fought her way through the flames, enveloping the little bundle with her own body. As a result, the mother was badly burnt and was disfigured.

Now, our lives are seldom fraught with such drama. But we do see the moral of the story.

So, you may ask, did I peep into Son No 3's Chinese class in the end? If you had ever been a mother of a pre-schooler, you would already know the answer. Truth be told.... of course I did.... I just made sure he did not see me!

The Myth of Multitasking

2009-02-24T16:56:00.012+08:00

I am lousy at multi-tasking and I've always known it. I felt like an uber-underachiever when I was juggling work and family responsibilities. I was like going nowhere. This lack of ability to juggle tasks has seemed like a liability and a deficiency, especially when I look at some supermoms out there.

But now... aha, now I have come across a book that validates my position that multi-tasking is a myth (see left). We are essentially uni-task creatures.

According to this book, we cannot perform many jobs at one time and still achieve the same level of success, simply because our brain and neurological pathways are not designed that way. Millions of readers have since concurred that this has been their experience too. Good to know that I have lots of company out there.

Those who claim that they are great at multi-tasking may cry foul now. But really, according to the book, what they are doing is either 1) background-tasking or 2) switch-tasking. Yeah, learn these new jargons, man.

Background tasking has to do with focusing on one task while performing another task that does not require focus, like ironing clothes while watching TV. It is debatable though which is the background task and which is the task that requires focus. For me, ironing would require total focus and watching TV is the background task, though for others, it might be the other way round.

The other behaviour, switch-tasking, happens when one switches focus between tasks rapidly. The premise is that this is less efficient than completely focusing on one task and then moving on to the next task. According to the writer (and he has done studies to prove it), giving full attention to a task is more effective and efficient.

I do find it true in a way - I remember when I was studying for exams, I would listen to music, but the music would recede to the background when I was totally focused on my studies. However, when I was done studying one point, I would be able to hear the music again.

So to all the multi-taskers out there, it is time to examine if there is a better way to distribute tasks that need to be completed. People who, say, only answer emails during designated times like twice a day, understand this concept already. To be constantly distracted, in the name of being a super-multi-tasker, is actually counter-productive.

Encounter With A True Penangite

2009-02-24T07:34:00.011+08:00

The University, where I am working part-time, is based in Penang. In fact, my recruitment interview was conducted over Skype between KL and Penang. So I've never actually met any of my Penang colleagues face-to-face until a few months after I have joined the KL Office.

Penang is not really a small town (its industrial parks count Dell and Samsung among those which have chosen to set up assembly plants there) but it has managed to maintain that quaint small-town charm. Just last year, the Georgetown area was officially designated a World Heritage Site.

But it is its people that I am most amazed with. Penangites are some of the most personable people I have ever met. My best friend while I was in high school in Singapore hailed from Penang, as did many of my wonderful colleagues in Singapore. And after all these years, Penangites continue to win me over with their warmth and sincerity.

At my present workplace, I have many opportunities to come into contact with Penangites again. My first course coordinator is a graduate from USM, one of the top two local universities. She is now working for her PhD. Her surname is "Teoh", a dead giveaway that she is a Penangite (in other places, the surname is translated to "Teo" without the letter h at the end).

The first time she visited the KL Office, she greeted me like a long-lost friend and brought a box of tau-seah-peah for me and my family from Penang. Tau-seah-peah? It was totally unexpected and I was touched. Note that until that first meeting, we only shared a professional relationship over the e-mail. In the corporate world where I came from, I would never have thought of bringing gifts for my business acquaintances. If I did, it would be one of those really boring type of office momentoes. Not something as personal as tau-seah-peah, that delicious bean-paste pastry from Penang.

I would add that this course coordinator of mine is NOT your typical local graduate. She truly knows her job, is fluent in English and has one of the best working attitude I have ever seen on both sides of the Causeway. How I wish we can see more of her kind in the working world.

At the end of that first visit, it suffices to say that I know more about her hubby and one-year-old daughter, than she knows about my family. Before she left, she issued me an open invitation, saying that any time, I am in Penang, drop by at her office and she promises to show me around. The way she said it, it did not sound like lip service at all.

I don't deserve this. I am born and bred in the city (as if that gives me an excuse) and in my working relationships, I have always been direct and professional. I have had no reason to examine any other mode of interaction. Where I came from, we always strived to behave professionally (read: in a task-oriented, objective-focussed manner, without being personal). That's how one gains respect in the workplace.

Later, when my course coordinator moved on to another assignment, she sent me a thank-you card, not the electronic type, but a paper-based, signed-with-ink, and inserted-into-an-envelope type. Now, why shouldn't I be surprised? That gesture is totally in keeping with her character.

It's not that she's not internet-savvy - after all, the university runs on-line university courses - but she took the trouble to be personable. We all could learn a lesson or two from her.

Why Grades Matter

2009-02-21T18:53:00.009+08:00

Some people believe that all I care about my sons is their academic achievement. Some people do not know me at all.

I practise what I preach - when I say that there are 5 aspects of development that is important in a child: Cognitive, Emotional, Physical, Social and Moral. And I do all I can to make sure that they develop into well-rounded and well-adjusted adults. Of course, sometimes my best is not enough - I recognise my own limitations - though any failing is not through lack of effort on my part.

Enough said. At the end of the day, how much we want to make out of parenting is an individual choice. It can be the simplest thing in the world (clothe and feed them) or it can be an all-consuming effort.

But I would like to share my thoughts on why grades are important. Let's be clear, I am not saying that it is all-important - but it is important, nevertheless. It may sound like a motherhood statement, especially within the context of our Asian culture, to even think otherwise, but increasingly there are so-called "liberals" in the world who think that doing well in school is not a big deal. And they go on to quote successful people who have not done well in school and yet have done very well in life.

Of course there are very talented people in non-academic areas who have gone on to achieve phenomenal success, and I am not belittling their achievements in any way. Some may be extraordinarily gifted in EQ and some may have some cultural or material advantage. Some are at the right place at the right time. Good for all of them.

But statistically, we have seen that people who have done well in school have a higher chance of leading a successful life. People used to say that education is the key to escaping the poverty trap and it still holds true today. A good education is still the best insurance that a parent can subscribe to for the child.

Whatever liberals may think, academic achievement is important for a child to build self-esteem which is undoubtedly a pre-requisite to success. Especially in our society. In some schools, teachers actually punish students for scoring low marks. Think what that will do to a child's self- esteem. And in family gatherings, people do ask, how is the child doing in school? These are things that we cannot change. That's why I spend considerable amount of time and effort to help my children in their school work. I do not believe that I pressurize them too much; I just want to make sure, as a responsible parent, that they have done their best.

We also have to look at our children from a strategic point of view. In business, we do the SWOT analysis, that is, we look at the organization's Strengths, Weaknesses, Opportunities and Threats, to come up with a competitive strategy. The same can be applied to our children.

If we understand their strengths and weaknesses, we will have an idea how to guide them through life. They need to leverage on their strengths in light of the opportunities that are availed to them. And that's why there is really no broad-brush approach to guiding a child. For example, if a child is going to take over the father's business, then arguably academic qualifications may be less important.

What if the child cannot get good grades in school, even if he has tried his best? Yes, that's the difficult part and there are parents who face this very real dilemma. It may not be that their children are lacking in cognitive ability. It could be just that the system is working against their children. I have seen this in both Singapore and Malaysia. And I can understand why parents are very concerned and would even go to the extent of migration for their children's future. [Foreign education systems have their flaws too but that's besides the point for now.]

The point is, before we need to take any drastic steps, first, we need to help the children cope in school and if possible, excel. Then, if they can't cope, we see if we can continue to nurture their spirit in other ways. If that also fails, only then may parents want to consider other options.

These are all realities of living in this part of the world. Our education systems, on both sides of the Causeway, are not the best, nor are they the worst.

Bottom-line is this: children want to do well in school. It makes them feel good. It is when they keep failing, that their self-esteem goes south and then it becomes a downward spiral. This is the path that we do not want our children to take.

25 Random Things About Me

2009-02-20T23:51:00.007+08:00

I've been tagged! Thanks, sweet niece.

I've been dying to get tagged since reading many blogs written by those who were tagged. So now I am supposed to write 25 random things about myself? Well, here goes...

1 I love my family insanely. Though sometimes I do wish I can love them less and love myself more...

2 I'd always wish I have soft hair. My hair is thick and stiff, and even bonding doesn't help to soften its texture, so styling is very limited. Ah, for some blow-in-your-face type of wispy hair...

3 My 3 favourite ice-cream flavours are rum and raisin, mint chocolate chip and macadamia nut from Haagen Daz.

4 If I could do only one piece of plastic surgery, I would do a liposuction on my tummy.

5 My dream travel destination - the Silk Road/Tibet.

6 I am a thinker. And proud to be one.

7 I am passionate about issues of the day. It's like I've missed out on the revolutionary youth phase or something and am now making up for it.

8 I like to read... a lot... novels, biographies, newspapers, blogs, and even textbooks. Seriously.

9 I also like to write a lot. My writing skills served me well when I was holding a paid job, and now I am writing for myself....which is nice. And sometimes, I write to the press or on on-line forums to let off steam.

9 My favourite character from Grey's Anatomy is Dr Izzie Stevens. I imagine if I were a doctor, I would be like her.

10 My good friends from varsity are surprisingly like me, a stay-at-home mom to a brood of kids. One has 5 children, another has 4 children. Hmm... in a world where two-kid families and working moms are the norm, we must have shared many common values, even in our younger days. No wonder we clicked.

11 I am a good driver. I practise driving on the road like 4-5 hours a day.

12 I can't imagine a life without responsibilities. Kind of sad, isn't it?

13 I love playing the piano. Always have and always will. What I play depends on my mood. Remember Clair de Lune from Twilight? The piece that Edward put on in his bedroom? I can play that too :)

14 I hate Malaysian politics. Really, really hate it.

15 Sometimes, I wish I have a daughter. I love my sons, but to have a girl to balance the yang... that would have been so-awesome. Well, sometimes the boys wish they have a sister too.... so I shouldn't feel bad about it. Just natural instinct.

16 When I watch shows that portray the close mother-daughter bond, like in Joy Luck Club, my eyes would be filled with tears. I am thinking of my own complex relationship with my mother. No wonder Amy Tan is one of my favourite authors.

17 Mosquitoes love me.

18 I am not a people-person. Most people think I am aloof, since young. Others are wary about the intensity of my emotions, especially on things that I feel strongly about. I don't do small talk.

19 I am still using the handphone that I bought in 2003. The last watch that I owned lasted me more than 15 years. I generally do not discard things until they are non-functional.

20 I still have the blouse that I wore for my Varsity interview, and that's like donkey years ago.

21 I do not understand why God made us such that we need to exercise in order to be healthy. The only exercise I do daily is walking up and down the stairs leading to my carpark and stretching my right arm when I need to pay toll using my Touch-And-Go card.

22 I have zilch cooking skills. The other day, my second son paid me a compliment when he said that even when mummy cooked the steamed pork, it still tasted good.

23 Hoop earrings in white gold are my signature accessories. I have like 5 pairs of them now, in different sizes and thickness.

24 I love Andrew Lloyd Webber's musicals, though my all-time favourite is Les Miserables.

25 I just want everyone to be happy. Why is it so difficult?

The Pet Society Champ

2009-02-20T11:04:00.008+08:00

Son No 3 is the biggest fan of Pet Society, the computer game on Facebook.

Those who are Friends with Son No 3, and have been playing the game, will realise that over the past two weeks, Son No 3 has soared in his rankings. It may appear that he has been spending an excessive amount of time playing the game... but I can vouch that he has not played more than usual, which is about an hour daily. He has also maintained the same number of Friends because I do not allow him to anyhow add on Friends.

What happened was that he has found the .... secret, if you like.... to the game and has managed to level up very, very quickly. I know the "secret" but am not about to disclose it here :)

I do keep a close watch on how my boys play the game (or any game, in fact) and I must say I am quite impressed with how Son No 3 plays Pet Society. He analyses the game, sets a goal, is single-minded about achieving this goal and understands the concept of trade-off..... (wow). Ya, wow. But really... let me explain.

Two weeks ago, Son No 3's pet, Name, was ranked third in the game among his Friends. He decided to set an immediate goal to beat Copper, then at second place. And to do that he knew that he had to accumulate paw points so that he could level up.

So, Son No 3 tried this and that and finally, voila, he stumbled upon a strategy! He was visibly excited and I must admit that I was excited for him too. It was a simple strategy. But now I understand why he sold off everything that he owned - it was not due to any whim - but really, to get coins which he could convert via some indirect means to points. That's why his pet's house was bare and the pet was not clothed. To him, it was no sacrifice - he just did what he needed to do.

Meanwhile, the rest of the family shared in his excitement as he would update us daily how close he was to achieving his goal.

After he has beaten Copper, I thought that was it. But no, Son No 3 has set his sights higher. His next goal was to beat Snuffles. Snuffles was way above him in terms of points at that time but bit by bit, he chipped off the difference until one day, he emerged top in the rankings. He was on top of the world!

Even then, he continued to play until he estimated that he was 3 days ahead of Snuffles. Only then did he relax. Now, he plays more leisurely and has finally spent some of his coins buying clothes and furniture.

I have learnt a lot about my son from this episode. But I am not going to go all-heavy and do an on-line analysis of him here (I shall do it in the private recesses of my mind :)) When I see my children, each with very distinct set of characteristics, I am more convinced than ever that, as the Chinese saying goes, it is easier to shift a mountain than to change a person's basic character. Some traits are truly inborn.

1,2,3...and Go!

2009-02-16T07:36:00.004+08:00

This year, we were unable to celebrate the children's grandma's birthday with her and so we decided to create a short video and post it on Facebook. It would be the children's birthday gift for their popo.

Easier said than done.

The final product was 42 seconds, but the production took days in the making! OK, we had other things to do and could only talk about it at night. But we had a glimpse of what directors of films have to go through to get a movie done :)

First, we had to decide on the concept. Initially, Son No 1 wanted to mix a birthday song using the GarageBand software which he has been using in his Music Technology class in school. Son No 3 would play the tune on the piano and it would be a collaborated effort. But after a few attempts, the sound that came out was just not .... right. So we had to abandon the idea.

Then, we thought of having each son performing an item. Son No 3 was ab-so-lute-ly game, he was excited and practised diligently the "Happy Birthday" solo on the piano and I duly recorded it. Son No 2 did not practise a lot but managed to play another solo piece on the piano. But Son No 1 was stuck. Hmm... maybe not... somehow, the whole thing was turning out to look like a piano recital.

On the day before the actual day, I finally provided the story-board and the direction for our grand effort. I would play on the piano and the children would sing the "Happy Birthday" song, first in English and then in Mandarin. Hubby would be the cinematographer. We had to agree on how and where the children would stand, the type of lighting and the effects. I wanted to pan the children's faces close-up, but hubby said our camera would not be able to do a decent job. So we settled for what our equipment could do... which was not a lot.

Anyway, then the actual recording started. The children were nervous on the first take. They sang softly and kept looking uncertainly on the floor or at me. The next take, Son No 2 acted up a bit and moved from his position so that he was half-hidden behind Son No 1. And so on and so forth. Mid-way, I amended the script to have them cheer and greet popo at the end, but after a certain point, it was difficult even to coax smiles from the boys. OK, I think we just had to make do.

Then the post-production began (cheh!). We played the various videos and chose what we thought was the best. But we had a setback when we tried to upload the video - we were told that it would take something like 20 hours! That would cut it really fine to meet our deadline. So, as Plan B, we took a backup video with a poorer resolution and smaller filesize, just in case. But thank goodness, somehow, the uploading speed accelerated a bit and we got our original video up after a few hours.

The feedback from everyone was good - especially popo, she was really happy with her three grandsons. Well, all I can say is that it was definitely worth the effort!

Don't Just Follow Law!

2009-02-14T14:03:00.027+08:00

Singaporean drivers..... ah, they're a lovely lot.... really. They Just Follow Law.

I was amused to read the deluge of forum letters to the Straits Times recently, following a complaint by a lady driver that nobody gave way to her when she wanted to change lane during a Causeway jam. She claimed she got into the wrong lane and signalled her intention to change lane but all she got were dirty looks and a concerted effort by drivers on the next lane to inch their cars even closer so that she could not slot in. Some forumers accused her of trying to cut queue while others blamed a whole range of factors ranging from social ills to Mas Selamat.

Wa, what a big discussion on what is a daily occurrence here! Now, if they were driving in KL, they would know that, alamak, that was nothing-la. A skilful Malaysian driver will always manage to slot in, no matter what.

When Singaporean drivers come to KL, they are bent on observing the rules. Like me when I first returned here to live. (Pause) I soon learnt the hard way. Let me share some of my learnings:

1 When In Doubt, Always Do As The Locals Do

At Sri Hartamas, there is a one-way street in which everyone drives one-way... the other way. If you are new to the area and you want to follow the directional sign correctly, you will land yourself in trouble. At SS2, there is a traffic junction where you can turn left even when the traffic light is red. And everywhere, nobody follows lane markings. Of course, Singaporean drivers are not expected to know all these local norms. That's why the rule is: when in doubt, just follow what the locals do.

2 Don't Be Geh-Kiang (think you know best)

There was once I parked at a proper roadside parking lot and I wondered why so many cars shunned those lots and preferred to park further away. Two hours later, I found the answer. Unknown to me, that street at Subang Jaya had pasar malam that night. When I returned to collect my car, I found it surrounded by pasar malam stalls and there was no way that I could remove my car. I had to wait until 11pm.

Parking is one of the motorist's major woes (see picture below) - cars trying to pack like sardines.

3 Amber Light Means Please Accelerate

Do not slow down when you see the traffic light turning amber. This is because all the other cars behind you are actually accelerating to beat the red light. Heaven forbid if you should attempt to stop your car at amber light - your back may very well be kissed.

4 Red Light Does Not Always Mean Stop

Listen, when traffic is heavy and the average speed of cars is below 20 km/h, some traffic rules do not apply. For example, when the traffic light turns red, at least 3 cars can still go through. I promise you, that's the norm and you will not be fined. As for safety, remember what I said that this is only applicable when the traffic is slow...

5 Be STREETsmart

I know this is a tall order for some Singaporeans (can't resist the dig!) but I will offer some practical examples:

Empty your bladder before you commence a journey, even if it is 5-minute drive - a traffic jam can strike anytime (see below). Guys, have those airline doggie bags handy for quick relief.

Always give way to those really old cars - they have nothing to lose if they hit you.

Remember the Motorcycle is the King of the Road here. Motorcyclists whizz and weave, tempting fate day in, day out. They are the most defiant of traffic rules too....

One bin too many...

Helmet is not enough... rubber tyre for extra protection

All in the family.. a common sight

Shifting house...local style

But don't be daunted. Amazingly, most Malaysian drivers are very seasoned (they spend a lot of time on the road) and will know how to keep safe. They may honk you but it's ok, you will learn.... as I did.

Photos courtesy of The Star On-Line.

Celebrating Love

2009-02-13T15:02:00.008+08:00

Tomorrow will be another busy day for us. Besides the usual Chinese and taekwando classes for the boys, we need to fit in two more items on the agenda: Son No 2 has a full school day (as replacement for the CNY holidays) and Son No 1 needs a haircut - badly.

So this morning, after breakfast, I started discussing with hubby how to organize the day - whether we need to split up our driving duties and so forth. Then hubby reminded me gently - that it's Valentine's Day tomorrow.

OMG, I could literally feel my mind re-booting itself to process that bit of information!

It's not like I have been living in a vacuum. Despite the gloom on the economic front, the media and the shops have been advertising V-Day, as has Pet Society :) I have even bought champagne and roses for my pet, lol! But still it had not registered.

And now suddenly, the pieces started to fit together. My newly-wedded niece in Singapore has told all her Friends on Facebook that she could not wait for Saturday because her hubby had planned something - and believe it or not, before this, I couldn't connect it - I thought it was just another special weekend for the couple.

Just goes to show how having a family and parenting responsibilities can take the wind out of romance. It's not that we have always celebrated V-Day in a big way - I don't like the feeling that I am being extorted by the shops on V-Day. As we all know, the prices of roses and dinners shoot through the roof due to high demand. Courting couples have no choice, I guess... But for us, we have always preferred to celebrate our birthdays or wedding anniversary.

But still... on this special day, we should think of something that we can do as a family. After all, V-Day is not only for lovers, but for all those who want to celebrate love.

My Mom And The Habit Of Thrift

2009-02-12T09:18:00.009+08:00

Last night, my mother called me long-distance for the third consecutive night. It is unusual because ... um, sometimes, we do not talk for weeks - which happens when we get too caught up in our own worlds. Well, the reason she called me could be because my younger sis is vacationing in Hanoi and she needed some female affirmation which she may not be able to get from my brother :)

My mother's Chuan Park apartment is vacant now and on the phone, she was discussing the various prospective tenants with me. As our conversation drifted, she starting talking about how bad the economy in Singapore is. Like me, she uses everyday observations to prove it. She told me that she just came back from the NTUC supermarket and there was no queue that night at the check-out lanes. In fact, the cashiers were sitting around, digging their noses!

My mother has been very concerned about the economic crisis - not for herself, but for us, the younger folks. At the end of the phone call, she reminded me to be thrifty, telling me what I have been reading in the papers and listening on the news everyday... that the depressing economic spell could be a prolonged one. And my children are still young... I noted that during other recent economic bad times (Asian financial crisis, SARS fall-out), she did not ring such an ominous bell.

I have a lot of respect for older folks and I appreciate her concerns. The Chinese saying goes that they have eaten more salt than we have eaten rice. And I know where she is coming from because her generation has gone through a lot in the past.

My mother does not talk a lot about her past but from bits and pieces gathered over the years, I know my grandfather was a tailor and the family headed to wherever the economic opportunities were - so they had lived in Kampar, Telok Intan, Penang, Singapore and Kuala Lumpur. Times were tough and my mother only went to school when they had the money to pay school fees. During the Second World War, my mother was around 10-12 years old and her head was shaved bald by my grandmother so that she could pretend to be a boy to avoid the unwanted attention of the Japanese soldiers. Her elder sister by ten years disguised herself as an old woman.

Things might have got a bit better much later when she married my dad, but she was widowed when I was 6 years old. I can imagine how daunting it must have been for an uneducated young woman (she was 35 at that time) to think of a future without the support of a husband. Remember this was the early 70's and women's lib was still in its infancy in Asia.

Anyway, to cut a long story short, we survived - through wit, grit and thrift. Thanks to my mother.

Knowing her background, it is not surprising that even today, although most people know my mother as being financially comfortable, she continues to haggle over every single transaction, big or small. I like to go to the wet market with her because she can bring down the prices to shocking levels! She goes to the hairstylist and haggles over the price of a hairperm. She would do the same while shopping for a car or an apartment with my brother.

I'd like to think that I have inherited the habit of thrift from her. Not the haggling, I am hopeless at that. But I do not crave for material possessions of the non-functional kind. My needs are simple: it is already considered a luxury if I buy a full-priced book from a bookshop. My reading materials are normally sourced from 1) discount bookfairs 2) those 3-for-the-price-of-2 promotions and 3) what is available on my brother's bookshelves!

I have one weakness, though. Travelling. If I have to choose between a 1-carat bling-bling and an overseas holiday, the latter would win hands-down. What if I have enough money for both? Then I would choose to go for two holidays. You get what I mean?

So, in the spirit of belt-tightening in anticipation of the deepening recession, overseas holidays will have to go for the time being. I declare that we are grounded. But there is still Cuti-cuti Malaysia (the tagline from the local tourism promotion board). Now I can't wait to explore the rainforests and some of the beaches and mountain resorts in Malaysia.... :)

Make You Feel My Love

2009-02-11T17:07:00.007+08:00

Adele's cover version of this Bob Dylan's song is simply the best yet. It has the power to move one to tears (it did to me).

Watch this live performance and listen to the song in a dark room, with just you and the music. Magic!

When the rain is blowing in your face,
and the whole world is on your case,
I could offer you a warm embrace
to make you feel my love.

When the evening shadows and the stars appear,
and there is no one there to dry your tears,
I could hold you for a million years
to make you feel my love.

I know you haven't made your mind up yet,
but I would never do you wrong.
I've known it from the moment that we met,
no doubt in my mind where you belong.

I'd go hungry; I'd go black and blue,
I'd go crawling down the avenue.
No, there's nothing that I wouldn't do
to make you feel my love.

The storms are raging on the rolling sea
and on the highway of regret.
Though winds of change are throwing wild and free,
you ain't seen nothing like me yet.

I could make you happy, make your dreams come true.
Nothing that I wouldn't do.
Go to the ends of the Earth for you,
To make you feel my love.

Footnote: I dedicate this song to my three sons.
All of them are too young to appreciate this, but in time to come (like in 30 years), maybe they will.

Digital Natives

2009-02-09T07:36:00.012+08:00

Son No 1 (above, 2 years old, 1998) is the first "digital native" of our family. He grew up in a wired world and learnt to control the mouse before he could hold the pencil properly.

A few months before his second birthday, he had his first interaction with the computer. He started playing a free sample CD-Rom called Living Books (pic) that was packed in a cereal box. He spent hours clicking here and there on the screen, seeing cartoon images pop out at his command. He was hooked. For his second birthday, we got him the Winnie-the-Pooh Interactive Animated StoryBook. And as they say, the rest is history.

Today, Son No 1 exhibits all the traits of a digital native. He:

types faster than he writes.
is more comfortable before the screen page than the printed page.
multi-tasks like crazy - he may be playing a computer game, messaging, chatting on more than one channel (eg msn and facebook), and even reading a real book in-between or doing his school homework - which is largely posted on his school web portal - all while listening to music on his i-pod.
is never without a digital gadget in hand - his cell phone, MacBook or i-pod.
sources information almost completely on google and wikipedia.
eschews the TV (due to commercials) and watches TV programmes on YouTube.
watches movie DVDs on his MacBook.
adopts new technology and ideas like fish to water.
wants everything instantly, or yesterday.

Lately, Son No 1 achieved a new feat. I saw him playing two computer games at the same time! He explains - it's like he sets up the battle in one game, and while waiting for his on-line opponent to respond, he can toggle to another game. Oh my.

I know Son No 1 is not the exception. He belongs to the 29% of the Malaysian population who are digital natives. In a recent survey (Synovate Young Asians, 2007), it was found that this group, aged 8-24, multitask so intensely that they are able to fit a total of 43.8 hours of media activities into a 24-hour day! This is the highest regionally, even beating Hong Kong (42.6 hours) and Singapore (39.1 hours). A dubious honour, indeed. But good information for marketeers, I am sure!

My hubby and I, on the other hand, are digital migrants. We adopted technology at a later stage of our lives, but still, we did (vis-a-vis digital outcasts who are lost in the digital age). We are comfortable enough with the computer and the internet. It helps that we are willing to learn from our digital native son.

The two younger boys are following their brother's digital footsteps.

Much literature has been written about raising children in the digital world but so far, I think, there is no firm authority on the subject. We parents are learning as we go. Fact is, the world is undergoing a digital revolution and it is changing the way we think, interact and do things.

That's why I am not a hardliner against the use of computers. I just try to guide them in this brave new world as best as I could.

Project Memory Lane

2009-02-07T06:03:00.009+08:00

My hubby and I have embarked on a new project - Project Memory Lane.

It all began when my brother posted 3 Chinese New Year photos, taken over the last 3 years, on his Facebook account. This gave me the idea to do the same and so I attempted to trace back over the years all the CNY photos that we have taken. I started looking at the recent years and only found 3 years' worth of photos on my present laptop. My hubby's old and new laptops each stored some pictures - the earliest was taken in 2003.

In our enthusiasm, we took it one step further and began looking at photos taken before we had a digital camera. We carted out our old photo albums and guess what? We found CNY photos for every year, all the way back to 1993! I was jubilant!

The next step was to digitize those printed photos. Using a scanner, we patiently converted each photo into the digital format. It was time-consuming, but worth the effort.

I shall be uploading these photos into our Facebook account after some minimal touch-up so that Friends can share our trip down memory lane. Below is one of such CNY photos. Anyone can guess which year this was taken?

But that's not all.

Project Memory Lane will enter its second phase as we begin to compile digital photo albums for each of the three sons, from birth to present day.

Son No 1 (left - a digitised photo of his kindergarten graduation) had tonnes of photos in print, all arranged and labelled conscientiously in albums. In time to come - just don't ask me when - most of these photos will be digitised. That ought to keep us busy for a long while.

For Son No 3 (below), it would be easier as he was born into the digital era. We just need to find those digital photos! Look at the photo below - one can almost hear the gurgling laughter!

Along the way, we also re-discovered some old - and forgotten - videos of the children. It brought smiles and laughter to us all as we viewed their childhood antics. The children enjoyed them very much. Our Friends on Facebook would have seen some of those videos and hopefully, shared in the merriment.

I shall so-look forward to many, many hours living in the past!

Blogging Is Here To Stay

2009-02-06T07:25:00.006+08:00

Yesterday, a Singapore Straits Times journalist wrote that "Blogging is so dated... now you twitter".

I am not sure if the above link works for non-subscribers to the Straits Times, so I am reproducing part of his article here.

"BLOGGING is so last year.

Now, the latest rage among netizens is the Internet form of SMS, using tools such as Twitter or Plurk to give friends an instant update on their lives, on subjects ranging from good makan places to news events.

According to research firm Hitwise, blogging traffic slowed last year, while the usage of Twitter and Plurk has exploded.

The number of Singaporean users visiting and using Twitter's site jumped 602 per cent between January last year and last month, said Hitwise, which does not reveal absolute figures."

The reporter went on to interview 2 undergraduates who went on and on about how great Twitter was.

There are two points I want to make here.

One is that the purposes of blogging and twittering are not the same. Those who blog for the purpose of keeping friends and family updated (I call them social bloggers) may want to switch to twittering or social networking sites. I agree that these could be more effective channels, especially for those who are finger-tied (as opposed to tongue-tied) when fingers come into contact with the keyboard. Twittering is also very suitable for those who are always in a rush, and I know a lot of young people who are like that.

But there are many others who blog for other reasons - for example, there are the serious bloggers who want to share their thoughts with the general public - in this case, the growing community of netizens - and have nowhere to publish them, save the internet, via a blog. Many of these succeeded in influencing opinions, as politicians in many countries can attest to. If blogging is dead, I think the politicians will be the first to cheer.

So, no, I do not think that blogging is dead or dated. But for the casual blogger, like me, it does take considerable motivation and time. But a twitter will not do the trick for me. I have problems keeping my posts short!

The other point I want to highlight is how statistics can pull the wool over one's eyes. First of all, I would like to ask what is the volume of blogging traffic compared to twittering traffic today. We all know a low base will distort numbers when we talk about percentage rise, so a phenomenal rise of 600+% is nothing to shout about if the base is low, and I believe it is. Without announcing absolute numbers, the researcher loses credibility. Is it deliberately trying to create a story - that might be true - but not unexpected?

I would also like to ask who commissioned the research firm, Hitwise, to conduct the research. Research firms know on which side their bread is buttered.

By the way, I am not against twittering... in fact, I have a dormant twitter account. It just does not serve my needs.

What Does Mummy Do?

2009-02-02T23:06:00.004+08:00

Yesterday, Son No 3 was discussing one of his favourite topics again - what he was going to be when he grew up.

"I want to be like Mummy when I grow up," he declared earnestly.

My face lit up. I was flattered. But I was not exactly sure what he meant. Which aspect of my life was he talking about? So I asked him, "What is it that Mummy does that you like?"

"Do nothing," he grinned.

Wait a minute. He likes it that being a Mummy means doing nothing? Oh, I geddit. Mummy does not go to work and so she does nothing.

In my mind, I can just imagine, if his class teacher were to ask the class, "Children, what does your mother do?", you will hear a dozen voices shouting - my mummy is a nurse, a manager, a lawyer, an accountant, a whatever... and when it is Son No 3's turn, he has nothing to say. His mother does nothing?

It's ok, he's probably too young to understand. But then, even Son No 1 tells his teachers that his mother is a lecturer - which is not factually incorrect - but it does show that being a stay-at-home mother is not something that is worth mentioning. And Hubby, who is generally supportive, occasionally slips and says things like, "So what type of stress do you have?" Millions of people think that being a stay-at-home mum means doing nothing. So don't blame the poor 5-year-old.

But it's really ok. Like what my dear sister said recently, I do not need to justify myself to anyone, I only need to justify myself to myself. If I tell people how my life revolve around the children, and how I arrange my life around the children's needs, I will only sound pa-the-tic.

Nevertheless, I make a mental note that when I start my new semester at the University this Sunday, and go to work, I will make a big deal out of it - just so Son No 3 will remember and have something to say if his teacher or anyone were to ask him what his mother does.

Recession Is...

2009-02-01T19:23:00.003+08:00

... finding 483 vacant carpark lots at noon in Mid-Valley on a Sunday.

Initially, we thought the digital signboard might have malfunctioned (I always wondered how they got the numbers since the carpark lots are not tagged, unlike in Singapore), but the truth bore out when we entered the basement carpark. We got a lot next to the carpark lobby.

Lol, we do not need the economists to give us leading or lagging indicators. Like what my former boss from OCBC used to say, just look out over the Keppel Shipyard from one of the highrise buildings at Shenton Way in Singapore and view the stacks of containers there. During the good times, the place will be stacked high with containers. No prize for guessing how it is nowadays.

Bleak, bleak, bleak....

Ah, the White House...

2009-01-23T08:52:00.020+08:00

Yesterday, I wrote that Michelle wore a "mustard/yellow" outfit for the inauguration. I was wrong. Apparently, the Cuban designer of the dress has cleared the confusion among all of us as to the actual colour of the attire and called the colour "lemon grass". What an inspiration. I bet 99% of Americans have never heard of, lest, seen lemon grass.

And dear George Bush Jr tells us how he is going to spend his post-presidential days. He's going to be reading newspapers and books. A bit too late, don't ya think?

But y'know, poor Bush Jr. All he got was a 3 second thanks from Obama for "his service to the nation" and then a 20-minute thinly-veiled chastisement from Obama on how America has been mishandled - from the economy to the wars, from education and healthcare to the environment and the sciences. Obama never gave face-la.

Wonder why there wasn't a Farewell Concert for Bush Jr amidst all the merry-making? Tut,tut... somebody should have thought of organizing such a concert for the outgoing president. I would have invited the following pop stars to perform:

1 Lead Me On: Maxine Nightingale
2 Toxic: Britney Spears
3 Clumsy: Fergie
4 Take A Bow: Rihanna
5 Rehab: Amy Winehouse (Standby: Rihanna)
6 Desperado: The Eagles
7 The Hungry Years: Neil Sedaka
8 If I Never See Your Face Again: Maroon 5

As an interlude, I'd have Julian Lennon perform his father's song, "...War Is Over" on the cello. Julian is an accomplished cellist, though he is no Yo-Yo Ma. But then, Bush Jr is no Oba-Ma.

Bush Jr is also going to tell his side of the story by writing a memoir. This is after all the natural career path for US Presidents. Then the lecture circuit will begin.... followed by the setting up of a foundation or two. He should seek advice from the Clintons who have been there, done that.

I would suggest to the Clintons to try something new. What about selling the film rights of their life story to Hollywood? The female lead should be given to Emma Thompson - I always thought she and Hillary bear an uncanny resemblance.
And who but Hugh Grant should play Bill Clinton, someone who is handsome with a goofy appeal. Guaranteed to draw the crowds.

It would be great if the show is a musical. There is one scene that they must have in this movie - Hillary singing "Womaniser" to Bill, while prancing around the bedroom, like what Meryl Streep did in Mamma Mia.

Hmm... I can already form the mental images from the show. Taking the New York senatorship, she sings "I Am Woman". And towards the end, in the Presidential Inauguration, not hers, she moves around Capitol Hill, with the wind blowing against her face, singing "The Winner Takes It All".

US Presidential Inauguration

2009-01-22T13:41:00.021+08:00

Well, I might as well add my 2 cents worth...
The newspapers, as some of us would have noticed, have gone into overdrive talking about the 44th US President Inaugural Ceremony. Ya, as an active citizen of the global community (ahem), I stayed up til 1 am and watched the inauguration speech live.

The whole thing was pretty interesting, not much different from watching the Academy Awards. They would announce the former US presidents who are still around and they would troop out with their wives, smiling and waving to the gallery... 4 pairs of them - Jimmy and Rosalynn Carter (they're still around - peanuts must be good for the health), Bush Sr and wife, Bill and Hillary Clinton and finally, Bush Jr and wife.

I must say, Hillary looked gorgeous - for a woman hitting 62 this year. But I wondered, as millions must have wondered too, what was she thinking behind that megawatt smile?

I have forgiven Barack Hussein Obama for winning the Democratic nomination since 1) he has given the Secretary Of State post to Hillary Clinton and 2) he is an intellectual - I always have a weakness for this rare male species. I realised how much this species is to be treasured since George Walker Bush mumbled, fumbled and bumbled his way over this past 8 years.

And then, they announced the Winner of Elections 2008. BO swaggered to the podium and I just couldn't take my eyes off ... his ears ... sorry.

Now, I don't follow the news of the latest pop stars as much as I follow the tabloid news surrounding the First Family. Mark my words, mustard/yellow will be the fashion colour of 2009 since Michelle wore it for the inauguration. And for guys, single button jackets with single-pleat pants, as worn by the President.

One thing struck me - all the recent US presidents have daughters only, no sons.
- Malia and Sasha Obama
- Barbara and Jenna Bush
- Chelsea Clinton

I tend to notice these things :)

What did I like most about the ceremony? Yo-yo Ma playing in a classical quartet with some of world's most gifted musicians. I thought that was a really nice touch.

Count My Blessings

2009-01-20T07:19:00.009+08:00

... that hair can grow - so we know the effect of a bad haircut is ONLY temporary. (Thank the Creator for that.)

... that I STILL have hair. (Although ALL the Nintendo Wii characters seem to have better hairdos.)

... that I managed to buy new shoes for everyone for CNY. As some of us may know, it is notoriously difficult to get Son No 1 to buy shoes. And I also found a pair of shoes for myself before CNY Eve. Amazing. (If only I'd had better luck with my hair...)

... that good customer service, that rare commodity, can still be found here - go look for the tudung girl at Focus Point Optical at Ikano Power Center. She speaks proper English too. (Maybe I should wear the tudung too.)

... that there are motorists in KL who are still civilised. Would ya believe it - 3, yes, that's spelt THREE, motorists actually waved their thanks at me when I gave way to them yesterday. It's unbelievable - it made me wanna cry. (No, I promise I am NOT emo because of my hair.)

Second Piano Lesson

2009-01-19T13:14:00.008+08:00

I don't mean to blog about every piano lesson that Son No 3 attends BUT what a discovery - Son No 3 loves playing the piano!

It's like a dream coming true - for me!

You see the picture above - that's Son No 3 coming home from school and heading straight for the piano. Nope, it's not staged, lol, though subsequently, I did ask him to smile for the camera. And guess what, he has not even taken his lunch at that time!

Son No 3 has been practising on the piano at his own initiation everyday and he does not need me to sit next to him. He is eager and flips to the more advance pages to learn more. He asks me questions on notations that look strange to him and promptly tries all the pieces in the book, sight-reading as he goes along.

In fact, his progress has been remarkable. He can play practically the whole elementary book after his second lesson. His favourite tune of all is Beethoven's "Ode To Joy" (or some call it "Song Of Joy") which, I might add, is one of the pieces that he learnt on his own.

Before his second piano lesson, Son No 3 asked me if he would miss any piano lesson over the Chinese New Year break. When he learnt that there will be a 2-week break from piano lessons, he groaned. How unexpected! Usually I would be greeted by cheers if this announcement was made to his brothers.

This is a novel experience for me - a son who gives me hope that he will master the piano for the sheer joy of music. I know it's only the second lesson and I am not holding my breath. Don't mind the gushing mum, but as I have been saying, it is a promising beginning :)

Right Or Wrong? Part 3

2009-01-18T06:16:00.007+08:00

Most teachers need to teach Moral Education in school besides their regular specialty subjects. There is a pitiful lack of guidance as to how to teach this subject. It is not easy. Son No 1 just confessed to me that they are normally given a free period.

When I was assigned to teach Moral Ed to a Sec 4 (Normal) class not too long ago, I decided that my students should be challenged to do some thinking. I gave them some scenarios and asked them what they would do and why. It is easy to answer I don't know, but that's not an option - and don't let that be an option for you! Think about it. Here are some examples:

1 The Value of a Friend You recently got to know that one of your best friends is taking drugs/getting involved in gangs. Nobody else knows about it. What would you do?

2 The Value of a Promise A close friend confides in you that he has stolen some money from a classmate and he made you promise not to tell. When the teacher accuses another student (who is not a friend) of stealing the money, do you keep your promise? This innocent student will be severely punished. If the person who is being unfairly accused is also a good friend, would it make any difference to your decision?

3 The Value of Trust You have a close relationship with your parents and they trust you that you will not lie to them. One of your friends is planning a party when her parents are out of town and you dearly want to go to the party because you want to be in the "in" crowd. But you know your parents will not let you go to a party without adult supervision. All your other friends are not telling their parents the truth and they urge you to do the same. What would you do?

The above are typical moral dilemmas faced by teenage students, in various guises. Moral dilemmas usually arise when there is a conflict between doing what is RIGHT (our duty) versus what is GOOD (as in morally acceptable) and when the RIGHT action may lead to BAD (undesirable) consequences.

In the first scenario, The Value of a Friend, we recognise that the dilemma arises because teens hold this strong value of peer loyalty - which ordinarily is something GOOD because we don't want friends who snitch or tell on us. But in such a situation, they may want to think about what is the meaning of true friendship. They know that taking drugs or joining gangs will eventually lead their friend to doom, thus they know that the RIGHT thing to do is to tell - to save the friend. But it takes an awful lot of courage to tell - they will almost certainly lose the friendship, a BAD consequence, from their point of view.

This is what is called the courage of conviction - when one knows what is the RIGHT thing to do and will do it, however tough the action is, or undesirable the consequence may be. This theme was expounded in the book, "To Kill A Mockingbird" when Atticus Finch took on the case to defend a black man in a conservative town despite knowing the undesirable consequences that he and his children would inevitably encounter.

The second scenario, The Value of a Promise, explores again the conflict between what is GOOD - to keep your promise - and what is RIGHT - to save the innocent. Many students will make the distinction between saving the accused - if the accused is a friend - and not doing anything - if the accused is not a friend. This again illustrates to me the strong bonds of friendship that exist among teens. This dilemma of "saving the innocent" versus "personal detriment" reminds me of the lead character, Jean Valjean, in "Les Miserables". Jean was an escaped convict - and when another person, a vagabond, was mistakenly arrested and identified as him, he was in a dilemma whether to confess of not.

The third scenario, The Value of Trust, requires the students to weigh the consequence of lying to their parents which, if discovered, will lead to the loss of trust between the parents and the child. The students need to ask themselves, "Is it worth it?" This is a dilemma created when a GOOD action - telling the truth - will lead to a BAD (undesirable) outcome, as far as the student is concerned, because he risks not going to the party, unless he manages to persuade his parents otherwise.

I normally tell my students to trust their parents to do the right thing. Parents do not make rules to make their children miserable. They make rules to make their children safe. And parents want their children to be happy - in fact, they want them to have a lifetime of happiness, not a moment of temporary happiness which may lead to a lifetime of misery. A recent Liam Neeson show, "Taken", actually dramatised this learning point to make an interesting movie.

Now that we all have got the hang of moral reasoning, lol, we can try out this more complex but interesting case. This is a true story, so the internet tells me, and happened in 1842.

The Overcrowded Lifeboat A ship struck an iceberg and more than 30 survivors were crowded into a lifeboat intended to hold 7. The lifeboat was giving way. It soon became obvious that the lifeboat would have to be lightened if anybody were to survive. You are the captain. What would you do?

I will reveal what actually happened in due course :) See Comments

Right Or Wrong? Part 2

2009-01-16T07:40:00.011+08:00

Moral reasoning develops through different stages, so say the experts. I tend to forget this and make the mistake of applying more advanced reasoning to a young child which of course leaves little impact on the child. Luckily, Son No 3's school teacher knows better.

One day, Son No 3 came home and told me this: "You know, the teacher told us we cannot fight in school. If somebody punch you, we still cannot punch back. You know why?"

I asked obligingly, "Why?" And waited for some good moral reasoning, like an eye for an eye, makes the whole world blind, or something in that vein.

He answered, "Because the teacher will scold and punish both of us."

Kudos to the teacher - simple, effective and logical reasoning to a young child. And she has reached her objective of keeping an orderly classroom.

Son No 2 is at a more advanced stage of reasoning and it is to his school teacher's credit that he has begun to explore moral issues in society. Recently he asked me whether I have seen any beggars in the pasar malam.

"These beggars have their legs and arms broken by the bad people. They are always hungry because the bad people take away all their money. So we should not give them any money. My teacher says we should give them food."

The next time I visited the pasar malam, he remembered to ask me whether I gave the beggars any food. I told him, honestly, that I did not see any beggar. Lol, my son has become the keeper of my conscience! But it is good to see my son developing compassion for the less-fortunate.

But as we all know, the world is not black and white. As the children grow, they will need to learn to distinguish and think for themselves the various shades of grey.

During the school assembly this week, the Chairperson of Son No 1's school told them that the maxim "do not judge a book by its cover" is not true. She gave the example of a violinist busker who played beautiful music in a subway and earned maybe $32 a day. If the same violinist were to hold a performance in a concert hall, smartly dressed in a tuxedo, the same violinist can probably charge $100 per head per concert. In other words, the violinist is judged by all the trappings.

I am not sure whether I agree with what the Chairperson was saying or the message that she was delivering to her students. I can turn it around and say that if another violinist has no substance - that is, not talented - then nobody will pay to see him despite all the concert hall ra-ra. Substance always comes first. People will judge the violinist on how well he plays, not by his appearance. People may be taken in by appearance the first time round, but they will soon feel cheated and grow wiser. So it is good advice to us not to be taken in by appearance.

The story was told to me by Son No 1 who seemed impressed by the Chairperson's piece of logic. I was worried that my son may have got the one-sided message - maybe unintended - that appearance is all-important, which is something I cannot agree on. But to be fair, I asked my son in what context was the violinist story told. Son No 1 did not understand my question and I re-phrased it, how come the Chairperson suddenly brought up the story? What was she trying to say?

Apparently, her message was to remind the students to take care of their image through good grooming and not dress scruffily in school. Why? Visitors to the school might be impressed by the school building and physical environment, but when they see the scruffy students, they will leave with a less favourable impression. And to her, a good impression is important because a book is judged by its cover. It is interesting to me that her main concern was how visitors viewed the school, and not how her charges developed under her care - but I know that's besides the point here.

Now I have no argument against the importance of good grooming, but I hope she also emphasised to the students that whatever good grooming that they cultivated would be useless if in the end, the students did not become well-educated, useful members of the society. It is so important that the right message gets filtered to young adolescent minds.

Right Or Wrong? Part 1

2009-01-15T05:56:00.011+08:00

My children have been trained - intentionally or otherwise - to ask "Why?". It's not a bad thing, but sometimes it does get you scratching your head for answers. This arises particularly when questions on morality arise. How do we know what is right and what is wrong? As all-knowing Adults, we are guided by our internal compass which we have developed over time and we claim that by instinct, we know what is right or wrong - or so we think. But to a child, this demarkation between right and wrong can be very confusing.

A simple illustration goes like this: Son No 3, playing in the living room, calls loudly for Siti, our maid, who is in the kitchen. Siti comes running hurriedly, wondering what's the emergency - and Son No 3 asks her to scratch his leg. The mosquito bite is really, very itchy.

Our instinctive reaction is to scold him - this reeks the bringing up of a spoilt child. But then, when Son No 3 asks, "Why (is this not right)?", it throws us off-balance because to us, it is just so obvious that calling the maid to scratch the itch is ... well, decadent. But it is not obvious to the child at all why this behaviour is "not good". At 5 years old, he does not comprehend why Siti can help him clean his backside but Siti cannot help him scratch his leg - he is not being deliberately spoilt - he just doesn't know better. So it's good that he asks, "Why?" so that we at least know what is confusing to him and not take things for granted. In this case, the answer is simple - if he can do the things himself, he should not call Siti to help him, he should do it himself.

There are some other "truisms" that are more difficult to explain but nevertheless, it's always worth a try. Son No 3 sometimes goes round asking people to give him things. This may happen in Pet Society, a make-believe world, or it may also happen in the real world. Believe me, what he does in the make-believe world is exactly the same as what he would do in the real world. He sees his friend in school possessing a Ben 10 pencil that he likes very much. He already knows that he cannot take it without permission (it's called stealing and the police will catch him). But what if he asks his friend to give it to him? AND the friend willingly agrees? Nothing wrong in asking, right? Willing asker, willing giver.

"You cannot ask other people to give you or buy you things. Only mummy and daddy can buy things for you".

"Why?"

(Not directly answering the question) "Others like popo (grandma) can buy things for you but you cannot ask them to buy things for you".

"Why cannot-uh?"

Err... "We don't want them to spend their money..." (Not the best answer but still....)

"OK, what if the friend WANTS to give me things?"

"No, even if the friend wants to give you things, you cannot take them".

"Why? Not even a sweet?"

"OK, maybe a sweet is okay. But not if it's from a stranger."

"If popo gives me a sweet, I can eat?"

"Yes."

"What if Faidu wants to give me a pineapple?"

"You mean, like in Pet Society? Then it's okay."

"What if Faidu wants to give me ALL the things in his house? Hahaha!" (For some reason, he is tickled by the thought:))

There is no end to the queries... the rules that we set up that day will not cover every eventuality. Can he take a sticker that his friend gives him? Is Ping Yee acceptable as a giver? Can he give other people things?

So, in the end, as in all good advice, the rule became... "When in doubt, ask...."

"Ask who?"

There we go again...

Rubik's Cube

2009-01-14T10:21:00.004+08:00

Son No 1 managed to complete the Rubik's Cube yesterday. To me, the proud mom, it is a significant achievement *beaming*. It certainly deserved a Walk Of Fame posting on the blog :)

Son No 1 has been toying with the Cube since he was 8 years old. He could complete one side but when no further breakthrough was achieved, he tossed it aside, only to tinker with it on and off over the years. Once, I got him some literature on how to solve the puzzle, but it failed to get him interested.

Then, on his own, he got some tutelage from the internet and surprised all of us last night - brouhaha, there it is!

Well done, Son!

2:56am

2009-01-13T13:04:00.008+08:00

The Mother was deep in slumber, happily ensconced in a sweet dream when she heard a familiar voice from afar whispering, "Mummy..."

Oh no, the pattern was familiar, she knew how the script would continue. But still, she tried to avoid the inevitable. Dragging herself back from faraway dreamland, the Mother murmured to the little boy at her bedside, "Yes, son, what is it?"

"My shirt is wet," came the rejoinder. It was a euphemism. The Son had been trying to tackle bedwetting for some time but still - accidents happened. He was 5 years old and was not proud about it and would rather acknowledge his shirt getting wet, rather than his pants.

The Mother opened her bleary eyes and peered at the digital clock at the bedside table. 2:56am. Oh, man...

"Did you wet-wet in bed? OK, just give me a minute, ya?" The Mother moved languidly, needing the time to gather her strength and coordinate her body parts which still seemed to be floating in space. She was not angry but obviously not very pleased. Nobody liked to be disturbed in their sleep. Not at 2:56am. But she accepted that it went with the territory of being a Mother.

Guided by the nightlight, she led the little boy to the toilet and stripped him out of his diaper and wet clothes. "You know, you are so big now that even the diaper could not hold your urine," she scolded, not unkindly but matter-of-factly. The boy said nothing. He must have sensed her annoyance.

But that's not all. Changing out of the wet clothes was the easy part. Next in the script was the changing of the wet bedsheet. This was made a bit more challenging when one had to grope in the dim bedroom that was illuminated only by a small night light. The Mother did not want to switch on the main light as the other son who was sharing the bedroom was a light sleeper and the last thing she wanted was to have a grumpy child in the middle of the night.

The Mother used her fingers to gingerly explore the surface of the mattress in order to ascertain the extent of the dampness. If the mattress was just a little damp, then just a towel over it might do the trick. But no, the wet patch was unmistakable. The Son's bladder must have been really full before he went to bed. There was no way that he could sleep over it. Luckily, the mattress could be turned over so that the wet patch faced the floor. This had been done many times before. Then, rummaging through the closet, the Mother managed to find a clean bedsheet and haphazardly laid it on the bed. This was no time to be fussy about housekeeping.

Throwing the pillow back onto the bed, the Mother urged the boy to go back to sleep. She couldn't wait to go back to sleep herself.

"I want my bolster," the boy whined softly.

Ah, the Mother had forgotten about that. She reached for the bolster on the floor and then realised regretfully that the boy's bolster was also wet. She told the boy in a let-me-get-back-to-sleep voice, "You can't have your bolster, it's wet."

"But I want... I can't sleep without my bolster..."

Now what? A flash of brainwave. The Mother got the Son a spare bolster and shoved it to him. Although the spare adult-sized bolster was larger than his own, the Son hugged it gratefully. The Mother pulled the blanket over the Son and tucked him to bed. "Good night," she said as she walked towards the bedroom door.

"Good night," the Son replied.

Then, with his eyes half-closed, the Son continued softly, "I love you, mummy."

The Mother's heart melted. She was suddenly wide awake. She walked back to the Son's bedside and planted a kiss on his forehead. Her love tank was overflowing. She replied, "I love you too, Son."

Weekend Tennis

2009-01-13T07:25:00.006+08:00

On Sunday, we launched our new activity for 2009 - TENNIS! I think it's called a resolution or something :)

There is this luxurious condominium near KLCC where hubby's company owns a unit and it is a fabulous place for weekend recreation. We will probably come here more often to enjoy the club-like facilities.

We were all working up a good sweat, including Son No 3 who was very helpful in picking up our balls. Whatever, on the very next day, I re-discovered muscles that I have long forgotten ever existed!

First Piano Lesson

2009-01-08T23:04:00.005+08:00

Things went pretty well this afternoon. Son No 3 is taking his piano lessons under the same teacher as Son No 2. At the end of the half-hour session, he asked me when was his next lesson and expressed dismay that he had to wait another 7 days. "Why so long?" he asked. I take this as a good sign.

Son No 3 is a fast and eager learner. He has learnt to play Mary Had A Little Lamb, his first song.

The Golden Maid Awards

2009-01-07T23:05:00.006+08:00

Can't live with them, can't live without them.... maids.

Maids have been part of our family since my firstborn was on the way back in 1996. I am, what you could call, an experienced employer but no way can I claim that I know how to select or manage them. What I have developed over the years is a certain philosophy about maids that keep me (and them, hopefully) happy in a workable relationship.

Going down memory lane, I shall now remember my past maids as follows:

Lifetime Achievement Award: Sutinah (1998-2006)

Tinah served us with a heart of gold. All our close family and friends remember her as an integral part of our household. Although she had her faults (who didn't?), we knew she always looked out for us and had our best interests at heart. We knew that she wouldn't do things to spite us or to deliberately make trouble for us. Son No 2 was especially close to her. I remember one occasion when Son No 2 was hospitalised and it seemed so natural that she would be the one to stay and look after him in the hospital at night. She was the best cook that we had, probably because she learnt her skills directly from my mom. We still miss her fried crabs and double-boiled chicken soup. I gave her a sterling recommendation when she left us.

The Best Performer Award: Henny (2006-2007)

Henny was a quiet, efficient and self-motivated worker. Unlike many maids, she knew what she was required to do and carried out her duties the best she could, without supervision or external motivation. This pride in her work is something that made me appreciate her a great deal. One day, I was pleasantly surprised to discover that she had classified and arranged the children's toys neatly on the shelves, with used plastic ice-cream containers. I was impressed. She was the only maid I had that had an educational qualification equivalent to pre-university. I often wonder if there is a correlation between performance/attitude with educational qualification.

The Worst Performer Award: Purwati (2007-2008)

There was a dearth of maids coming to Malaysia at that time due to the low wages here and choices of maids were limited. Wati was a nightmare. She had worked in Saudi Arabia before (or so she claimed) and she liked to do things her own way. She was calculative and loved to talk back to her employers. Boy, how she talked back - especially after she was reprimanded. I have counselled her on numerous occasions but what's the point? In the end, I was glad to send her home, even though I did not have a replacement maid for another 6 weeks.

The Great Escape Artist: Haryati (1996)

She was my first maid whom we have employed to take care of Son No 1. She arrived when I was heavily pregnant with Son No 1. The idea was to train her to take care of the infant before the infant was born. Who knows, within one week of her arrival, she had disappeared. Luckily, with help from friends, we managed to locate her many days later at a food court in Geylang. She was with an unknown man. We quickly sent her home on the next available flight. She was our baptism of fire as an employer of maids.

The Drama Queen: Yanti (1997)

Yanti was homesick after being with us for about 6 months and wanted to go home. We agreed but tried to persuade her to stay on until the next maid arrived. I was working full-time at that time and it would be a burden to my mom to look after Son No 1 without a maid. But Yanti would have none of it. She wanted to go home immediately and held us ransom by hiding in her room and going on a hunger strike. She won and got her way. We sent her off immediately.

The Best Babysitter: Nyonim (2005-2006)

I will always remember Nyonim as the maid who really loved children. On the first day of work, she had already engaged Son No 3 with her ready smile and a willingness to play. She was not an exemplary maid - she was an incorrigible liar - but she was cheerful and was good with the children. For that, bless her.

These are not all the maids that I have employed - just some that stood out. All of us have heard plenty of maid stories, some good and some not so good. But I would say that on the whole, my draw has not been too bad.

10 Favourite Eating Places

2009-01-06T22:34:00.019+08:00

This is not a food review, simply because we are not food connoiseurs and we are not qualified to be food critics. This is simply a list of our favourite eating places in KL/PJ. As I am not a good cook, eating out is sometimes a necessity. We have some eateries that we visit repeatedly. When we eat out, we look chiefly at a few criteria:

Convenience (a short drive, minimal traffic jam, lots of parking and fairly safe)
Tasty food
Good value for money

1 Kim San Kinchi Japanese Restaurant

There is no better place for fresh sashimi at reasonable prices. The best deal on the menu is the sashimi set which costs just RM22. If one only wants to eat fresh salmon sashimi, a plate of 10 succulent pieces costs RM35. Other favourites are the ebiko sushi and the beef sukiyaki. We bring friends and relatives from Singapore here and they invariably go home satisfied and happy. It is not surprising that the restaurant is a firm favourite of ours. We know of people who travel from afar to this eatery at Desa Sri Hartamas for its good value-for-money Japanese fare.

2 Wok Hei

The eatery at the Hartamas Shopping Centre serves local cooked-to-order dishes that are home-styled. We each have our own favourites but collectively our familiar favourites are the kum-heong la-la (legendary!), sambal belacan kangkung, deer meat with ginger and onion, teo-chew steamed fish and the salted vegetable soup. This is normally where we head for when we come back from a long journey, like driving back from Singapore - it's comfort food at affordable prices.

3 Hartamas Square

This is a food court that caters to the cosmopolitan crowd from the nearby Mont Kiara residential area. Many of the customers are expatriates or the young trendsetting in-crowd that have migrated over from Bangsar. There is free wi-fi access and large projection screens that show live EPL football matches. But we are here mainly for the food. The lamb chops are to-die-for. So are the wood-fire pizzas and creamy pastas. Other recommendations are the Thai food outlet and the char kuay teow.

4 Nam Heong Chicken Rice

To tell the truth, the chicken rice here is not as good as those that we get from Singapore. But it is good enough and the children love it all the same. This is the place that they think of for their chicken rice fix.

5 Modestos Pizza

For a quick meal in air-conditioned comfort, the boys would choose to come here where ready-made pizzas are sold by the slice. It is fast and delicious. Just right for these impatient youngsters.

6 Little Penang Cafe

This remains our favourite place for Penang food. When we are in Mid-Valley, this will be the top pick. Each of us has a firm favourite: Son No 1 - Char Kuay Teow, Son No 2 - Chicken Nasi Lemak, Son No 3 - Har Mee, Spouse - Assam Laksa. As for yours truly, I love them all.

7 Ho Weng Kee

This eatery in SS2 has received excellent reviews from food critics. The noodles are just the right consistency and springy-ness. We love the dry noodles with mushrooms, char siew or chicken.

8 Cheow Yang

The coffee shop has been re-named but we still call it fondly by its old name, Cheow Yang, which in its heyday was a famous landmark for SS2. Stalls come and go but there are a few stalls that have been around. When we come here for dinner, we go for the black-sauced Hokkien mee and loh mee, the belacan grilled fish, the deer meat rice and char kuay teow. Guarantees a satisfying meal.

9 Pantai Seafood Damansara

Our whole family loves crabs. But nowhere in KL serves the black pepper crab the way it's done in Singapore. We have yet to get used to the tastes that are considered the specialty here, such as crab with salted egg yolk or marmite crab. So, over here, we tend to go for the steamed crab with egg white. Other favourites are the poached prawns and the steamed fish. Downside to this place is the slow service and waiters who tend to forget your requests. But lots of parking space. Oh well...

10 Monte's

When we feel like a good juicy steak, we like to come to Monte's at the Bangsar Shopping Center. The ambience is pleasant and relaxing - a great place for conversation - and the service excellent. It does not cost us an arm and a leg to enjoy the dining experience. Very good value for money.

There you are, our top 10 favourite eating places. Note that I have deliberately left out the ubiquitous McDonald's and KFCs which are no-brainers - kids love them no matter what.

Well, bon apetit!

Random Ramblings

2009-01-05T19:25:00.008+08:00

- Son No 2 flipped through my wedding album and commented that he did not recognize his daddy. But mummy looked the same. I couldn't resist asking him, "Did mummy look like a princess?" He answered, "Yes!" Such a sweetie. BTW, he also did not recognize a lot of other people, but for diplomatic reasons, these names shall not be revealed here. Son No 3 asked me, "Who made you look that way?" My dear, mummy DOES look like that, what do you mean?!!

- I just love the way Son No 3 play Pet Society - so unbridled by convention. His pet can walk around without clothes and he does not think twice about changing the pet's name. He is absolutely tickled pink that his pet is now called, "Name" - so he could say, "My name is Name!" Before this, he plagiarised the name of his aunt's pet, but in caps, COPPER. He loved it when we got confused about which Copper we were referring to when we played the game. How did he earn his trophies? By buying and selling clothing items immediately. Son No 2 shook his head and said such a waste of money. But to Son No 3, money is but a means towards getting what he wants. *grin*

- Today, I found myself asking, if I have one wish, would it be for "safe driving" or "good health"? Hmm... tough one. Now that I am back behind the wheels, my fellow road users are getting on my nerves again. Patience, patience.

- Is it just in my house or are mosquitoes generally getting larger in size? Dunno if it's a different species or what, but we are seeing giant mosquitoes here, easily >1cm in length. These lumbering giants are not difficult to catch as they are pretty conspicuous. We all participate in this sport in our house - mosquitoes-slapping - and even Son No 3 is getting quite adept at it. Whatever it is, mosquitoes remain a bane in our lives.

- Chinese New Year is approaching like a speeding train. The malls have switched from playing christmas carols to guo xin nian in the blink of an eye. Santa Claus is giving way to the God Of Prosperity. Christmas trees to pussy willows. Turkeys to waxed ducks. I am scrambling to do my CNY shopping. Son No 1 has already put in a request to buy lots of waxed ducks, his all-time favourite CNY delicacy. My mom has requested for nga-ku chips and love letters. The festive spirit here, in the Chinese-dominated part of town, will only get more and more .... festive. Better be prepared for the throngs of crowds.

- Did anyone notice the redundancy in the title? Ramblings are by nature random, so there is no need to say random ramblings... but it just sounds nice!

Love Story

2009-01-04T06:29:00.012+08:00

Son No 2 has taken an interest in his daddy's and mummy's past. He has asked to see our photos when we were children and was keen to know how we got married. From his questions, it would seem that it never occurred to him before that daddy and mummy grew up separately *smile* - he probably thought that right from day one, mummy and daddy have been together - exactly like how it was in his world. That's why when I told him I was from KL and hubby grew up in JB, he seemed incredulous!

Time to dig up the archives. Unfortunately, most of my photos when I was a child are still in my mother's safekeeping - these will have to wait until another suitable time.

Then I remembered something. Years ago, before the advent of the blog and the omnipresence of the internet and the word processor, I have attempted to diarise my wedding day. I wrote a short piece, in the style of a newspaper report or a society magazine feature, in which I was the star (see below). It was carefully written in my best handwriting, blue ink on a piece of A4 paper, a photograph pasted at the side, and get this - it was written in 2 columns and the subheadings were in bold (I wrote many times over the words to create the effect - lol)!

This piece of memory was tucked safely between the pages of my wedding photo album. My name was there at the top, but I cropped that out, together with the heading. As I re-read what I have written, I am immensely glad that I did what I did. Memories can so-easily slip through the fingers. And when the children grow up, they too will be able to share this moment of our lives.

Here I will now transcribe what I have written:

A Once-In-A-Lifetime Day
Corporate banker wedded EW, 29, a property consultant on October 27 1991

How they met: When I entered Varsity in 1985, he was in his final year. We were staying in the same hostel and there were many opportunities for group interaction. There was once, however, just the two of us had dinner at Pizza Hut, Bukit Timah Plaza. It was a Saturday night and the hostel did not cater for dinner. All our other hostel-mates had plans and so, it was left the two of us. He was an easy person to talk to and we talked until 2am on that occasion. We remained friends when he started working while I stayed on in the Varsity. It was not until two years later that we went on our first date. We went to the movies. The show we watched was An American Tail.

The Proposal: There wasn't one specific occasion. In the early days, he seemed more ready than I was. Perhaps it was because he was already working. I used to evade the subject when it was brought up. Gradually, things just fell into place. We finally set a date for the wedding when we realised that we didn't want to say goodnight after a day together. Our family members were also complaining that we hogged the phone too much!

The gown: We saw some wonderful designs from this bridal shop during a Wedding Fair and promptly placed a deposit. However, when we visited the shop, we learnt that those designs have been reserved and there was little choice left. I was livid! Not wanting to forfeit my deposit (and it was kind of late to try another shop), we managed to have a gown tailor-made for me from the shop. E was very understanding. I recall changing my mind on the pattern (of the gown) overnight and was so afraid that the tailor has already commenced work on the gown that he rushed me down to the shop in Hougang during our lunch hour.

The wedding day: The weekend before our wedding, we had the tea ceremony and a dinner reception in KL for relatives from my side of the family. We drove to KL and back - it was hectic. He caught the flu bug but recovered sufficiently for our wedding day. I slept well the night before and had to be woken up to do my make-up and hair at 6:30am. My mom and I shared a touching moment alone just before he arrived with his entourage. The rest of the day passed by in a haze. We took some outdoor pictures at the Botanical Gardens and were even asked by some Japanese tourists to favour them with a pose. We proudly obliged. While I savoured the limelight, the day seemed unreal. We managed to catch forty winks before our dinner reception at the Marina Mandarin Hotel. I wore a slim-fitting dark green gown which received many compliments.

The wedding night: It had been a long day and everyone was considerate, leaving us to rest at 11:30pm. I was somewhat reluctant to remove my make-up and wash my hair as it signified the end of this once-in-a-lifetime day. The hotel suite was very luxurious. The next morning, we had breakfast served in the room and felt like The Rich And Famous.

The honeymoon: Four days in Bali at the exclusive Nusa Dua resort. After the excitement of the wedding, it was good to relax and enjoy the gentle serenity of the tropical island. On our first night there, we were serenaded by a group of Filipino guitarists with Love Me Tender.

Home: A four-room Bukit Batok flat. Every piece of furniture and decoration has been chosen with love and care. After all, home is where the heart is and when the wedding ends, a lifetime together begins.

Holiday's End

2009-01-03T08:18:00.012+08:00

Learning a new skill needs persistence, grit and determination. Son No 2 shows that he has plenty of these qualities as he practises swimming almost everyday now this past week under his very patient but demanding brother coach.

As the designated swim coach of the family, Son No 1 has done an excellent job. He succeeded where I would not have because he demanded more and got more. Initially, I kept a close watch on their swimming sessions, but soon began to relax as Son No 1 earned my trust as a responsible brother coach.

Son No 3 has been understandably peeved that he has had nobody to play with in the "baby pool" - which we now call the "children's pool" - with due consideration for his feelings. He is not ready to learn swimming as he still dares not submerge his head fully into the water. I tell him when he is seven years old, like Son No 2, then it will be his turn to learn swimming. That does little to pacify him.

We have had a peaceful week, this last week of the school holidays - watching TV/DVDs, resting, completing homework assignments (in the case of Son No 1) and generally getting mentally prepared for the start of the new school year. I would say for all of us that this long holiday - starting from our trip to Singapore in early December to the Gold Coast to this do-nothing week at home - has been particularly rejuvenative.

Ya, we are all charged up and ready to run... bring it on!

A Lesson On Economics

2009-01-02T06:13:00.006+08:00

Son No 1 groaned when he read in my AirAsia blog post that I would not hesitate to book AirAsia again when our family next goes on holiday. He'd much prefer Cathay Pacific or Singapore Airlines, which we took when we went to Hong Kong the year before. But... of course. Who wouldn't?

Hmm... a lesson on economics seems to be order. Economics is, simply put, how one manages limited resources to fulfil unlimited wants. In other words, we want a lot of things, but our resources, be it money or time or manpower, are limited. Here, I would focus on money as the limited resource - we are far from the calibre of Daddy Warbucks.

So I asked Son No 1 to think about it: Would he prefer that we go on an overseas holiday once every two years, flying AirAsia, or once every three years, flying a full-serviced airline? The cost of flying AirAsia is roughly two-thirds the cost of flying a full-serviced airline and airfare is by far the single largest expenditure for an overseas holiday for our family of five. This is a question of trade-off.

The next lesson is a bit more complex - the question of notional incremental benefit. If we pay 30% more for the full-serviced airline, do we get 30% more enjoyment? Not forgetting that this questionable 30% more enjoyment is only limited to the duration of the flight, which is a small fraction of time for the total trip. For our recent Gold Coast adventure, total flight time was 16 hours versus 168 hours (7 days) that we spent at the Gold Coast.

Good thing Son No 1 is mathematical and is logical in thinking. I think he can grasp the arguments that are posed. Let him mull over it. My objective is to raise awareness, not to dictate his thinking. We all recognise that there is no right or wrong answer. How we allocate our resources, or in this case, money, depends on many factors, such as one's value system, objective and personal preferences.

If I were travelling alone, I do not even need to think about it. Flying a budget airline is not a problem for me. I do not need the frills. I'd sit there on the plane with a good book and some good tidbits and that would keep me quite happy for hours on end. So long as the airline has a good safety record, I might add.

Now that I am travelling with hubby and children, sigh, it is a different ball-game altogether. They are all individuals in their own rights with different wants. There are more decision criteria that need to be assessed.

I always feel that as the children grow, it would be good to have them understand how we make decisions. It is a lifeskill. In our household, we always apply principles of economics, whether we know it or not. We do not always go for the cheapest that is available in the market. We go for value for money.

And to determine value for money, we always look at alternatives available and the incremental benefit. The 160GB i-pod may seem "cheaper" when compared to the 80GB based on cost per GB, but if we do not even use more than 30GB, then it would not make sense to buy the 160GB. The other useful measurement is cost per use. If the item would be used frequently, then we wouldn't mind paying more for one that is of better quality.

Even when I go to the market, I apply some sort of economic principles, lol! It is really quite simple when it becomes a habit and a way of thinking. Cod fish or mackerel?

Click - Not Another Review

2009-01-01T10:03:00.009+08:00

Today is the first day of 2009. It is probably cheesy to write a review of 2008 and/or a list of resolutions for 2009. So I am not going to do it.

Instead, I am going to write about the Adam Sandler movie that we watched on DVD last night, Click. Briefly, this 2006 comedy is about a busy, up-and-coming architect who constantly needed to balance work under a demanding boss and a charming family consisting of a pretty stay-at-home wife and two children aged 7 and 5. One day, he landed a universal remote control that allowed him to control his life, like a TV box. He could fast forward his life when he hits rough patches, pause his life to give him time to do things that suited him, or rewind his life to specific past moments in his life.

Ya, it is another time travel show - and it was appropriate for us to watch as a family (minus Son No 3 who is still very selective about the type of shows that he could sit through) on New Year's Eve. Of course, when we began watching the show, at the recommendation of Son No 1, who had watched the show alone when we were in the Gold Coast, we were just looking forward to it as another comedy. But there is good food for thought from this show...

As I reflected on the show on New Year's Eve, I find myself asking what would I have done if I have this gadget with me. Fast forward my life? Pause my life? Rewind? I am not about to reveal in this public blog what my action or actions might be, or to which point I would like to rewind or fast forward, if indeed that was desirable. Private thoughts are sometimes better reserved in the remote recesses of the mind. And I have already been more than honest in this blog of mine.

But I would like to invite you, my dear readers, to pause for a moment and think about your life too.

Oh no, I hear you say, is she going to be moralistic and highbrow about things? Well, the answer is no, obviously *twinkle*

What I am saying is this: it's the start of a brand new year, I know the tills are ringing in the shops with fabulous post-Christmas sale, but it's timely that we take stock of our personal lives. In the mad whirlwind of these modern times, I know how easily it is to lose track of time and find that oops, yet another year has passed.

Going with the flow could mean precious years lost. Think about it.

10 Tips For Flying AirAsia

2008-12-30T00:51:00.018+08:00

Whoopee! We finally got to sit on the brand new A330 for our return flight from the Gold Coast to Kuala Lumpur by AirAsia. If we can survive the 8-hour flight on Asia's best budget airline, so can you. Here are some really useful tips:

1 Stick to your guns, do not buy the XL seats. Come to think of it, AirAsia never said what "XL" stands for. Clever, clever. If you think that XL stands for Extra Large, well, that's your problem. As far as I can see, the so-called XL seats - whatever its stands for - are normal seats for adults. Not worth the extra dough.

2 Slim down before taking the flight. The normal seats, in the economy section, are really XS seats. Go figure what "XS" stands for. These seats are perfect for children under 120cm and those with Kate Moss-like physique. Since we cannot grow young unlike Benjamin Button, our only recourse is to slim down - failing which you can pray for a half-filled flight so that both the left and right seats next to you are vacant and you can stretch out. Good thing the handrests can be raised - see, AirAsia does think of everything.

3 Practise sitting upright. I took my first aeroplane back in 1979 and I swear ALL the aeroplanes that I have taken since then had seats that can recline backwards at the touch of a button. (Pause) Not so on this plane. The seats are fixed. There is still a button but it is a dummy button, lol! Well, at least the good seating posture will make sure we do not get backache. Think positive.

4 Think the romance of travel. Most people do not understand the term "romance" - tut, tut. When applied to travel, it simply means anything rustic, simple, old-fashioned, natural - get the idea? Example: Boarding the plane via the air-conditioned, carpeted aerobridge is NOT romantic. Strolling down the tarmac, getting real close to the plane, listening to the engine whirring softly in the background, walking up the stairs with the sunlight kissing your face and the breeze ruffling your hair - ah, that's the romance of travel. Appreciate it. If there is gentle rain, all the better. Forgo the umbrella (courtesy of the airline) unless it is a thunderstorm.

5 Forget about eye candies. No offence to the AirAsia gals, but they are simply not SQ material. How can passengers expect them to be? Not fair-la... Common cents will tell you that if they were, they would have joined SQ for the big bucks. Another point, imo, Tony stinged too much on cloth for the girls' uniform. Their uniform always seems a wee bit too tight and the skirt a wee bit too short. Not very graceful or elegant - that's my humble opinion.

6 Travel with children. AirAsia is a very child-friendly airline. Those with children get to board first and they always get the best seats. If you don't have children, borrow mine.

7 Have fun on night flights. I really mean it. Don't try to go to sleep - you may end up feeling frustrated. What for? Instead, saturate your sleep quota the day before, fill up the night hours with activities - and have fun!

8 Remember to bring your USB-port cables. You can actually charge your i-pod or blackberry on board. Awesome. USB ports are available in front of the seat but cables are not. So don't kick yourself when your battery runs out and you sit staring at the USB port the whole journey (like what happened to some people I know).

9 Do not wear heels. Now where did that come from? Oh yes, this tip is probably only applicable when travelling out of Australian airports. If you are wearing anything other than 1-inch heels or flats, you will be required to remove your shoes and put them through the x-ray machine. It happpened to me. Give it to the Aussie customs controllers for being tops in vigilance - James Bond movies have shown that heels are the best hidden compartments for all types of gadgets.

10 Enjoy your flight. This is the most useful tip of all - and it can be done. Clueless? Take some pointers from these young fellas here:

- take camera shots of yourself

- eat

- play computer games on the laptop

- watch downloaded shows on the laptop

- read

- play Game-Boy or similar portable games while varying sitting position

- play Uno or similar card games

- watch the clouds and dream....

Finally, the REAL test - would I take AirAsia flights again with my family? ABSOLUTELY YES!

Okay, so I admit I am a cheapo. But that's alright. The budget airline takes me from Point A to Point B safely and it makes air travel affordable. That's what matters in the end :)

Day 7: Christmas Day

2008-12-29T05:50:00.018+08:00

"And so this is Christmas..."

Christmas Day in Australia. The sky was overcast as we walked to the beach on Christmas morning. We were lucky to have caught the good weather the past one week. The overcast sky was somewhat a blessing in disguise as it meant that the children could spend a longer time at the beach. We were at the beach for three hours from 10am.

The children had, what teens would say, MEGASUPERDUPERFABULOUSAWESOME fun! They waited patiently for the strongest waves and as the waves rushed to shore - jump! It's splish, splash FUN!

[Fourth picture down is one of my favourite pictures - Three against the World :)]

[Picture story above, clockwise: Mummy enjoying some solitude at the beach, Son No 3 came to complain about something to do with his brothers, wanted some sympathy and action, no action forthcoming but still walked away smugly, satisfied at last ....!]

The boys were most reluctant to leave, but eventually they had to say farewell to the beach. Son No 3 had revised his timeline for the next visit to the Gold Coast. Instead of of 5 years, he was saying that we should return in 3 years' time instead :D

For lunch, we had our own home-cooked HarMee instant noodles from home. Slurp, slurp!

As all the attractions and shops were closed that day, we just stayed in and enjoyed the in-house facilities. It had been Son No 3’s constant grumble that the facilities here did not include a children’s pool. There was an outdoor lap pool and jacuzzi and an indoor heated swimming pool with a jacuzzi. The depth for both the pools was a minimum 1.1m. Not much fun for a non-swimmer like him.

Due to the wind factor, we only went to the indoor heated pool (below). I loved the warm water - if only we had a heated pool in KL, I promise I would go swimming everyday - nghahaha!

The first time we went for a dip in the pool, both hubby and I were in the pool to hold on to the two younger boys. But I guess it was not much fun to be clinging on to parents all the time. So, Son No 2 eagerly learnt to swim with the help of his daddy and elder brother and coupled with his own determination and guts, he SUCCEEDED. Hurray!

Son No 2's achievement spurred him on to practise and practise… These holidays must be very special and memorable for him.

Son No 1 showed maturity and responsibility in taking care of his younger brothers. Son No 2 literally trusted him with his life.

Below is a another favourite picture of mine.

This was our last night at the Gold Coast - we would be flying off early the next morning. In the best "tour group" tradition, we decided the last meal should be the best meal to erase previous bad memories of food. And so for dinner, we went to a proper Chinese restaurant. Why Chinese food? Actually, there was not much choice because, as far as we know, only the Chinese restaurants remained opened on Christmas Day. The hardworking restaurant owners added a 10% public holiday surcharge to the bill and the workers got triple pay. Why not?

The Mandarin Court Restaurant was obviously done up with westerners in mind. In our part of the world, its interior decoration, with dragons, red and gold arches, would be totally out of place. The restaurant deco was probably more suitable for a Jackie Chan movie in Hollywood! The food was a-oh-kay. I had not had plain stir-fried chye sim with ginger and onion for a week and I realised how much I missed the greens. The kung-po chicken, however, was a disappointment - done western-style with a sweet red sauce. Oh well, you win some, you lose some.

After dinner, we took a short drive to Broadbeach Central to get breakfast. To our surprise, there were a few shops that were opened, including Starbucks and 7-11.

That night, we tackled the astronomical task of packing to go home.