My Mom And The Habit Of Thrift

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.... :)

Digital Natives

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:

1. types faster than he writes.
2. is more comfortable before the screen page than the printed page.
3. 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.
4. is never without a digital gadget in hand - his cell phone, MacBook or i-pod.
5. sources information almost completely on google and wikipedia.
6. eschews the TV (due to commercials) and watches TV programmes on YouTube.
7. watches movie DVDs on his MacBook.
8. adopts new technology and ideas like fish to water.
9. 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

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!

The Golden Maid Awards

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.

Love Story

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.

The Goh Clan And Us

Last Friday, my three sons, my husband and I, along with the maid, piled into the Odyssey and made our way down to Singapore for my niece's wedding over the weekend. It was a good time for an extended family get-together. Some relatives flew in from Perth, Melbourne and Hong Kong. Others arrived from various parts of Malaysia. We ate, laughed and updated one another. This lasted a few days :) As at today, the group officially disbanded.

It was while I was trying to explain the complicated family structure to my spouse and children that I thought it might be a good idea to document it for future descendants who might want to trace their ancestry. So here it is...

My niece, who got married, belongs to my mother's side of the family. She is not really a "niece" in the true sense of the word because she is the second child of my third cousin on my mother's side. [See how complex it can get for one who is not in the know!] I hardly know any relatives from my father's side at all. But that's alright. My mother's multi-branched family tree more than makes up for it.

My mother has only one sister (my aunt) who was older than her by 10 years and who passed away recently. I called my aunt Tai Yee. My mother tells us that both she and my grandmother helped to look after us when we were young. My Tai Yee has four surviving offsprings (my cousins). Briefly, here is the summary of my four cousins from the Goh clan:

1. The eldest is Sam who is now a merry widow. She has 4 sons and a daughter. Her first three sons were born only a year apart and the three boys were known for their high energy levels in their younger days. After the third son, it was a long time before Sam and her husband decided to have a fourth child. They yearned to have a daughter and they were blessed with a beautiful baby girl. The fifth child, a boy, was born soon thereafter.
2. The second child in my Tai Yee's family is her only son. David migrated to Perth in the 80's with his wife and their two children, a boy and a girl. The family maintained close ties with the rest of the family in Malaysia. David's wife is particularly close to my mom, probably because during her courtship days and early marriage, we were living close to each other and, at one point, we were even neighbours.
3. My Tai Yee's third child is Peggy, with whom we have close association, because my mother was the primary care-giver to her firstborn son, KY, ever since KY's full moon. KY has always been like a half-brother to my siblings and me because he spent his first 16 years of his life under the same roof as us. KY's sister, the bride of the said wedding, also spent her formative years with us in Singapore until she entered university. KY's younger brother is the only child who remained with Peggy and her husband when he was young.
4. My 4th cousin in the Goh clan is the youngest in the family and is fondly known as Ah Lui, don't ask me why - that's not her given name. She has a girl and a boy both of whom are in their twenties now.

When I was growing up in KL and PJ during my pre-adolescence days, my cousins have all lived with us at some point of their lives. Their hometown was in Telok Intan in the state of Perak. As young adults looking for jobs, my cousins headed for KL and PJ which offered more opportunities. Our home was always opened to them. In those days, our lives were simple. There were already seven of us in our household: my mother, my grandmother and five children with an age range of 12 years. Although we were only living in a single-storey terrace house, with three bedrooms, we could always find room to accommodate more persons when required.

I remember for a period of time, I was sleeping in a camp-bed which we opened up only at night for sleeping. The camp-bed was airy and comfortable - but I would never dream of voicing any opinion as to whether I liked to sleep there or not. Children then were seen, and not heard. When we travelled around in our medium-sized sedan car, we all squeezed into the backseat with nary a complaint.

Several decades ago, as a young child, I witnessed the courtship days of my cousins. My cousins added richness to my young life then as they occasionally provided human drama to my otherwise mundane student life! Ya, I was privy to courtship blues and lovers' quarrels and first-meeting-with-future-in-laws anxieties. Later, I attended their weddings.

Now, in the past 10 years or so, I have been attending the weddings of their children. Some of my cousins are now grandparents, which makes me a grandaunt! But all this doesn't really make me feel old. Time goes by in a flash and I scarcely notice the passage of time. I do not feel any wiser now, than before. Well, maybe just a little...

Growing up surrounded by such richness in extended family relations is something that my three sons are not privileged to. They have few cousins from either my side or my husband's side of the family. And they have no occasions to live under one roof, except during brief holidays. For my three sons, it is hoped that they may form a strong-knit brotherhood amongst themselves to provide them with the family anchor they may need in the future.

Books Forever - Son No 3

When Son No 3 was born, seven years after Son No 1, his reading diet has already been largely pre-determined. The children's library in our home was already pretty well-stocked with books that we have accumulated over the years. The upside was that since young, he could flip through books and take his pick as to which book to read. Books were naturally a part of his life. Nevertheless, there was a downside to the situation as his reading interests were somewhat influenced by his brothers who have 'been there, done that'.

As with the other two sons, Son No 3 enjoyed reading the Ladybird series, "Topsy and Tim" (above). They are my favourites too and I would highly recommend them for pre-school children. The books are anchored in real growing-up experiences of British children but Asian children should have no problem identifying with the universal themes. Some of the key events in my children's lives were preceded by reading these books, like "T&T Go To The Dentist", "T&T Start School" and "T&T Go On An Aeroplane". Just last week, I added two more books to the collection, "T&T Have Chicken Pox" and "T&T Learn To Swim". Son No 2 chose the books as he knew of friends getting chicken pox and he wanted to know what it was like. And yes, swimming lessons are on the cards.

So far, in his young life, the books that Son No 3 really desired are these Pokemon books (above). These are colourful picture books filled with puzzles and hundreds of Pokemons. All three boys love these pocket monsters - but lately, it's more Son No 3 who would spend long hours tirelessly searching for these Pokemons in the mazes and learning about each of their characteristics. What I can say is that though these books have little literary value, they are good for developing memory. It never ceases to amaze me that my children (and millions of Pokemon fans out there) could categorise each of these hundreds of Pokemons according to its type (fire, grass, water etc) and rattle off their different modes of attacks, how much HP they get, and the most effective defence mechanisms against which type of attack. As I often thought to myself, if students could remember all that, they should have no problem with the Periodic Table!

To me, what set Son No 3's reading programme apart from his two elder brothers is the exposure to Chinese story books. This is something that his brothers were not privileged to when they were younger because I was not able to read Chinese then. Thanks to the Chinese that I picked up while coaching Son No 2 this past year, I am now able to read children's Chinese story books confidently with the two younger boys. And by virtue of his young age, the chief beneficiary is Son No 3.

So our collection of children's books is likely to grow in that direction - more Chinese story books. In addition to Topsy and Tim, we will now follow the adventures of Ming Ming and Li Li (above) as they go about their daily lives!

Books Forever - Son No 2

Son No 2 loves his Animal books. Animals have been his enduring passion thus far and have outlasted Dinosaurs, Star Wars, Pokemon and other equally deep but transient interests.

Big Cats are his favourites and he has easily three books with that same title. As they are published under different publishers, they offer different perspectives and Son No 2 would plough through the books to find the little nuggets of information that may be present in one book and not the others. Besides that, he has numerous books on Predators, Wild Animals and the like.

The first Animal book that Son No 2 read was this edition called "Wild Animals" (see above) under the set of books "A Child's Library Of Learning". It is his firm favourite, as evidenced by its obvious state of use - it has scotch-taped spines and well-thumbed, dog-eared pages hanging loosely, in contrast to the well-kept, pristine state of some of the other books in the set, like "Music And Art". The topic which held his fascination the most was "Which Animal Is The Fastest?" which set out the different maximum speed achieved by different animals. Btw, the fastest land animal is the cheetah which can reach a blistering speed of 113 km/h.

Son No 2 went on to read many other children's books on animals that were available in the market. But there is this one book that became his definitive book. In my mind, when I imagined him with a book, it would be this book.

Son No 2 chanced upon this "Encyclopedia of Animals" (see below) at Borders@ The Curve sometime in early 2007. He really loved it but I hesitated to buy it as the book was not written for his age group and the contents might be too advanced for him - though paradoxically, at the back of my mind, I knew that was precisely the reason why he liked it so much - he wanted more advanced learning about animals. But as his mother, I was equally cautious not to kill his interest by getting him something that was beyond his years - he was only five years old then.

But subsequently, he frequently talked about this book and whenever we visited The Curve, he would want to go and see the book (he could not read that well yet). One day, when I was on my own at Borders, I saw that the book was on offer and it sort of gave me the impetus to make the purchase. I saved the book for his 6th birthday present.

And this book became his most cherished book ever. There was sufficient information for him to digest for the whole year and though he could not read very well what was written, I read to him. And sometimes he could not understand the formal English and I had to translate the meaning to his level. But he learnt a lot. And was proud of it. And I am proud of him.

So far, Son No 2 has demonstrated the ability for deep and self-directed learning. As an educationist, I know how important this is.

As he grows, I have no doubt that he will develop other interests. But whatever it is, if he continues to show the same learning attitude, he cannot go wrong. The challenge now, as always, is not to let the environment douse his flame of learning. And as his parent, I am aware that this heavy responsibility is mine.

Books Forever - Son No 1

Son No 1 is not an avid reader, but he is an intense reader. He reads periodically, but during those times when he read, he would read endlessly. In his first 12 years, I would say Son No 1 has had four phases of such great reading spells.

The first phase was when Son No 1 was 4 years old. He was in pre-school and we invested in a set of children's books called "A Child's First Library Of Learning". It was a most worthwhile investment. Every night, we read 2-4 pages and in that way, we read book by book until we finished almost the entire set of 24 books.

Most people might think that reading such encyclopediac books is dry, but my children (yes, subsequently the two younger boys followed the same path) would disagree. They light up when they discover new things and have a natural curiosity to always want to know more. It is not surprising therefore that people are normally impressed by their general knowledge. This is not to say that my children are exceptional in that way; I believe all children have the same curiosity about the world around them, it's just that some may not have the opportunities to have their questions answered.

The transition from being-read-to to reading-by-himself was difficult. For a while, I did not know where our informal reading programme was headed. Thank goodness the next big wave hit and that was when Son No 1 discovered Roald Dahl. He was about 8 years old then and I believe credit must be given to his class teacher that year for her role in encouraging her students to read. Son No 1 loved Roald Dahl's books and very often, would burst out laughing when reading his books. The characters and plots were zany and sometimes, irreverent. The books were about imagining the impossible and making the impossible a reality.

After that phase, I could not get Son No 1 interested in reading for a while. He did not like Enid Blyton. I could not get any other age-specific books that interested him. He had other distractions and pursuits.

It was when Son No 1 turned about 10 years old, that he started reading a series of books, Mr Midnight, which are essentially horror stories written in the local context. The writing was pedestrian but heeding Deng Xiaoping's theory that "it does not matter whether the cat is black or white, so long as it catches the mice", I bought every book in the series for him. So captured by the books was Son No 1 that he went for a book-signing session at Junction 8 by the author who wrote under the pen-name, Simon Lee, but is in fact a white Australian residing in Singapore. The author gave out a free signed poster of himself, which still hung in Son No 1's wardrobe. Up to when he was 12 years old, Son No 1 would be eagerly awaiting each new additional book to the series and would be among the first to purchase them.

At 12 years old now, Son No 1 tells me not to buy any more Mr Midnight books. His reading has matured to a new level - Harry Potter.

I myself have read Harry Potter and know that the books are page-turners but even I have failed to anticipate how Son No 1 could be so fully captivated by them. He has read the books umpteen times and laments to me that I should have got the hard cover version for him. I would have too, if I had known that he would love the books that much. As it is, it was only the last instalment that his Ping Yee got a hard cover edition for him.

So where do we go from here? I don't know. Recently, I bought the first two of Dave Pelzer's trilogy. I also bought the Diary of Anne Frank. They are my gifts for him for the upcoming holidays.

I have also thought of writing to JK Rowling. I would say, "Please, can you continue writing about Harry Potter? Here, I will give you an idea. Harry and Ginny got married and they had children who also went to Hogwarts. Why don't you write about this next generation? Ya, we can also have the Malfoy gang and a little Hermione brainiac. We ALL want to read more of Harry Potter and only you can do the magic. Kindly make more millions for all our sakes."

Books Forever - Firsts

Yesterday, I reminisced about the first two story books that I owned, both by Enid Blyton.

To my absolute delight, after reading the blog entry, my younger brother sent me a note, together with the images of the covers of the books (see above).

Yes, that's it - the exact edition and illustration! Thanks, brother.

I was wondering how did he manage to ferret out those covers from the archives and then it hit me - Google Image, of course, right?! So clever.

I remember, in those days, my mother would always accede to our requests to buy story books. My younger siblings and I were all book-lovers. At that time, each soft cover copy of an Enid Blyton book cost RM1.60 and we bought a lot of them from the Jaleel's Baby Centre at State (the shop is still there today but with a different mix of merchandise).

On my part, I devoured each of the books, reading them over and over again. The same can be said, I believe, for my sister and brother. My favourite was the Malory Towers series - see right for the exact edition. Vive le Google!

While I got my first story books when I was 8, it was quite different for my own children. I got my Son No 1 his first "book" when he was just a few months old. It was a soft plastic book with Disney characters and it would squeak when you press it in the middle. It is now lying somewhere around, I believe, just can't locate it now. As a baby, what Son No 1 liked to do when holding the book was to chew its edges. There were no words in the book - it's just one of those marketing successes designed to satisfy parents who wanted their children to get used to the structure of books! Ya, me a kiasu parent. But let's put on record that I never read to the boys when they were in the womb - so I do not fall under the category of a super-kiasu parent!

The first real paper book I got for Son No 1 was this Ladybird "Touch and Feel" book called "Shiny Car". It is made of hard cardboard so that the pages don't tear. As you can see (right), the book has survived rough handling by all three boys.

The rhyme in the book is familiar (see below) as I have used the same book for all three sons.

Unfortunately, I do not have any recollection of "first books" for my other two sons. The first book for Son No 1 should be the first books for them as well. Being the firstborn always has its privileges, but as I always remind Son No 1, such privileges come with responsibilities, which the firstborn cannot escape. But that's another story.

Well, I guess that's enough reminiscence for today. In my next post, I will write about my three sons' current interests in books.

Roots

Yesterday, in a burst of nostalgia, I visited my Primary School with Son No 2, who is already on holiday. This was something that I wanted to do for years, but I never got down to doing it. The primary school holidays have started and it was an opportune moment to visit the school without disturbing the students.

My first memory of the school was when my late father brought me here for the registration when I was 6. I had earlier been registered in the Bukit Bintang Girls' School in KL but since we were going to shift to PJ, my father had to pull strings to get me into Assunta Primary which was the best girls' school in PJ at that time. I don't have a lot of memories of my father and this was the only outing I ever remembered with my father, who died of a stroke in October that year.

The school building is much like how it was 30+ years ago. For such an old building, the maintenance is commendable. The most noticeable difference is that the driveway is now bumper-to-bumper packed with cars. These belonged to the teachers as I realised later that they were having a staff meeting during the school holidays.

As I stepped into the school compound, I realised that everything has shrunk in size. As a child, the surroundings looked much bigger. The school field, the canteen and the hall were actually much smaller than I remembered.

The first place I passed by was my Standard Two classroom. The door was opened and I walked in. During my time, this was the only classroom in the whole school with yellow-painted steel chairs and tables arranged in rows. It was a very cheerful classroom. Now, the furniture has been replaced with plastic chairs and wooden tables. But this classroom will always bring back memories of my best friend at that time, a girl whose name I can still remember vividly in my mind. She holds a special place in my heart because she is the one who introduced me to the world of books. She lent me an Enid Blyton story book and as I struggled through the pages (the only English I read up to then was the English Reader that we used during lessons), I was drawn into another world.
From then on, I remember the gifts I requested for when I did well in school were always books. Two of my first possessions were "The Boy Next Door" and "Hurrah For The Circus", both by Enid Blyton. The latter was a gift from my Cousin Peggy - it just goes to show that a book gift is a treasure that lasts forever (is that a slogan from MPH or Times?!)

As I toured the school with my son, I remembered all my teachers - Mrs Chew, Cik Rusiah, Cik Sayang, Cik Sharifah, Mrs Bala and Puan Hajjah Maisarah - who taught me from Standard One to Standard Six. It's funny, but ask me about my high school or JC teachers, and I can only give vague recollections - I would have forgotten many of their names, maybe I can recall some of their faces. Worse, my varsity lecturers hardly left any impression in my mind, I only remember those who were involved in scandals, like that lecturer who purportedly was having an affair with a student! But when I dream of teachers, it would be these primary school teachers that appear in my dreams.

And when I dream of school, it is this old primary school building that I dream of - the wide gently-sloping stairs (see left) where the Standard One students would gallop uninhibitedly to reach the canteen, the huge Standard Five classroom that overlooked the nurses' hostel next door and the doorways at the hall (below) where we sat and played Five Stones during recess.

Even the Prefects' notice board (below) was at the same place, though the notices are in Malay now.

Those were the days.

As I luxuriated in the past, I wondered whether there is any value to sentimentalism?

In Singapore, my high school has been upgraded and transformed beyond recognition. The varsity hostel, where I stayed for four years and where I met my husband, has been torn down to make way for a new highrise hostel-building that can cater to the needs of varsity students today. The tangible value-addedness of such actions is undeniable and obvious to all. Nevertheless, I have never felt the compulsion to visit any of these places. There is nothing there for me.

But here, the pull to visit the old primary school building is irresistable. I feel a sense of connectedness to the past and as I explained my memories to my Son No 2, it was like cementing the bond between generations. How important is this sense of history? I don't know. All I know is that while change is inevitable, it is good to have some balance. And as a mother, I am glad I can share my roots with my sons in a most tangible way.

Piano Class

"When you're a little kid... you're a little bit of everything. Artist, scientist, athlete, scholar. Sometimes it seems like growing up is the process of giving those things up, one by one. I guess we all have one thing we regret giving up. One thing we really miss... that we gave up because we were too lazy... or we couldn't stick it out..."

Diehard fans of the hit TV series, Wonder Years (1988-1993), will recognise this narration from the protagonist, Kevin Arnold, in one of the episodes. In this episode, Kevin recalled the arduous piano lessons that he had to take from his cantakerous piano teacher and how he desperately tried to prove himself in a concert. He subsequently gave up piano and twenty years later, reminisced about those days with regret.

Incidentally, Trivia No 1: It was from this episode that I first heard and fell in love with the classical piece by Johann Pachelbel, "Canon in D major". Trivia No 2: Son No 1 would have been named Kevin if we had wanted a Christian name for him - just shows that I really loved the series. [In fact, in his cohort, there are many boys named Kevin, and I am sure their parents were similarly influenced!]

Reminiscence aside, when I look at my boys now, the universal themes featured in the show still struck a resonance with me, like this one that I extracted above. As parents, we try to expose the children to many things, not because we want to pressure them to excel in all activities, but it's more like, to give them a chance to discover their talents or interest. Sometimes, however, interest takes time to develop and one needs to stick it out. That is the difficult part.

Son No 1 gave up piano when he was 6, after attending classes for two years - which is not bad, I guess. I allowed him to give up because he would be crying over the piano when practising, so what's the point? But sometimes, I do wonder, would he have learnt better discipline in life if we had insisted that he continued? A music education does instil discipline, if nothing else.

Son No 2 is now learning piano. This is his third attempt - or rather, my third attempt - at getting him going at it. The first attempt was in a class setting in a music school but the teacher was fierce and demoralising and the class was moving too fast. I then switched him to a private teacher who came to the house - but this teacher was uninspiring, to say the least. Now, I send Son No 2 to a music school for a one-to-one lesson every week and it is so far so good. Teacher Jennifer clicks with Son No 2 and I can see she is a good teacher - "good" as in she can relate to young children and adopts suitable teaching pedagogy. The only tough part is trying to get Son No 2 to practise at home. He is not enthusiastic, but luckily, not obstinate. I try not to pressurise him too much and so, I set the bar really low. But I do insist that he tinkles on the piano almost every day - 5 or 10 minutes will do.

I am now contemplating starting Son No 3 on piano next year. It will be interesting to see how things will work out with him... After all, one never knows and the mother can only hope!

In The Beginning

Do I say it often enough? That I consider my three sons a real blessing? This is particularly so because at one point in time, I thought my hubby and I were going to be childless.

Rewind to 1992. After one blissful year of marriage, my hubby and I thought it was time to try for a baby. Easier said than done. We tried for six months or so and nothing happened. We began consultations with my gynae and during the subsequent two years, we tried everything to conceive, well, almost everything, at our disposal, save IVF.

A battery of tests had revealed that all was fine with both our reproductive systems. Nevertheless, the gynae persuaded me to have a laporoscopy done to clean up my tubes, take ovulation pills and chart my basal body temperature (BMT) - that meant taking my body temperature every morning at the point of waking up and recording it on a piece of graph paper. And every month, my temperature chart would show that characteristic dip about 10 days after ovulation. That dip showed the failure of conception and mirrored our emotions. This meant we needed to go through the hope-and-dash cycle for another month.

We even took a “baby-making” holiday to the States because many of our colleagues then conceived their babies overseas when they were away from their stressful jobs. But all to no avail. At the verge of giving up, a mini miracle happened. One morning my temperature chart failed to show that hope-shattering dip. Our hopes soared and like they say, the rest was history. We were finally rewarded for our faith with our firstborn son.

We thought our second child would be smooth-sailing thereafter but we were wrong. The same agony and wait. Month after month, year after year. The same consultations with the gynae and the same BMT chart routine.

Then one day, my mom managed to get hold of a recipe for a traditional chinese medicine brew that was supposed to strengthen the chi or energy in the lower half of the female body. I took three brews of the chinese medicine and at the same time, watched my diet to avoid "cooling" food. Believe it or not, this proved to be a successful two-pronged formula that worked - Son No 2 was finally conceived. He is five years younger than his elder brother.

We were in a way nonchalant after the second child. Heck, we were older now and our fertility must be even lower. We were busy with two children, thus family planning was far from our minds. But there were unseen forces that worked in mysterious ways. Son No 3 was born a mere 22 months after my second son.

So that’s the story of my three sons. I hope it is a story of hope for those who are trying to have a baby. Children are really little miracles. They are worth waiting for.

My Gift - A Digital Archive

Now that I have been blogging for about 2 months, I can't help but feel kind of ...regretful.. that I did not start earlier. Like all parents, I really cherish the times that my children and I have together and I realise these times will not last forever. I always believe that our children do not really belong to us; we are here to guide them for the first 20 years or so before they become full-fledged adults.

Every minute I have with them is the "now" that will never come back again. We can't return, we can only look behind from where we came (sounds familiar?). That is why it is so important (to me, at least) to document their growing years. And that is also why I have decided to start a new label/tag called "Reminiscence" where I may occasionally write about those days before I started the blog. Hmm... like when they were babies!

Such documentation is not a new-fangled idea, of course. My mother used to bring us siblings to the photo studio on each of our birthdays to take a birthday photo. During those times, a camera was a luxury and not many households owned one. We would pose stiffly in a well-lit studio, wearing our sunday best - (please, not our birthday suits :)). My mother still keeps those black-and-white photos in a yellow-edged photo album. It's our personal archive.

With Son No 1, my significant other and I faithfully took photographs of him right from Day 1 and recorded every step of his growth. These were statics. Although we owned a video recorder, we did not find it as handy compared to snapping a photo. The photos, which I painstakingly labelled with printed captions, are arranged in albums and remain a source of enjoyment for all the children as they flip through the pages.

With Sons No 2 and 3, the photographs got fewer in number. With increasing childcare responsibility, taking photographs, developing them and arranging them in albums with printed captions - well, it just took too much effort.

When digital cameras became the norm, things got simpler. We would take the photos and upload them in files. Hallelujah! That was what we were doing until this blogging business began.

Now, in addition to taking digital photos, I have a platform to record thoughts and conversations as well as add comments to all things sundry. In time to come, I hope the boys would appreciate this gift to them - their own digital archive.

Now that's a good reason to buy Google shares (the owner of blogger) and help ensure they do not fold! Seriously, I wonder whether blogger and other blog hosts realise what an important function they play as custodians of people's thoughts, ramblings, hopes and digital treasures.

To Joni Mitchell fans, they would have recognised that in the second paragraph, I have made reference to the lyrics of one of her songs, a favourite of mine called The Circle Game. The song is touching in its simplicity and never fails to remind me the transience of time. Thought I will share it here for the younger generation!

08-08-08 and the Olympics

Today marks the start of the Beijing Olympics. It is also my younger sister's X2nd birthday. I told her with the rapid advancement of medical science, she may yet be celebrating another 08-08-08 birthday in a century's time!

Anyway, the Olympic Games has always held special memories for me since 12 years ago. Then, the 1996 Olympics Games was held at Atlanta and it was the only Games where I got to watch almost all the events, even those which were telecasted past midnight.

At that time, I was on maternity leave with my firstborn. Son No 1 had bouts of colic and to a newbie mom, it was distressing. To the uninitiated, colic is characterised by unexplained cries by infants at certain times of the day, normally night time. No one really knows the reason for it - though the Chinese tend to attribute it to "wind". It will go away after a period of time.

So, to pacify the crying child, I would cradle him to sleep close to my chest in the recliner chair. He seemed to be comforted by the warmth and maybe the mother's heartbeat and would then fall asleep. In the quiet of the night while he laid sleeping, I was glad to be entertained by the Games athletes - whose names have blurred in my memory now. It was a games about "The Power of the Dream" by Celine Dion and one where the legendary Mohammad Ali lit the Olympics torch.

Son No 1 knows this story well. He first heard it during the 2000 Sydney Olympics, again during the 2004 Athens Olympics and now in the 2008 Beijing Olympics. In time to come, I hope it becomes a story for him to tell to his children every four years.