A daily messy moment of pure indulgence.
The girls' current fave: Nobody by the Wonder Girls.
Post-dinner, post-washing up, if I still feel alive, I head to the piano and bang out Nobody.
(Actually Lu doesn't permit me to play anything else. She insists I play Nobody)
The girls' Pavlovian response is to tear around the sofa in circles, shrieking like banshees, trying to catch each others' tails, leaping up onto the sofa, jiggling and dancing madly.
KK tells me can hear them from the main road when he's walking home.
On another occasion a strange neighbour knocked on our door because her two-year-old heard the screams and insisted on coming up to witness the fracas (as in, want to join in sort of way).
Day thinks his sisters are nuts.
I fully encourage them. I love it when they go nuts in a good way.
Sunday, February 28, 2010
Friday, February 26, 2010
art
They haven’t drawn in a while, well, not with me.
Housework has taken its inevitable toll on such extra-curricular activities.
Here’s some recent stuff they did on their own.
DAY
He is still incredibly detailed and neat, only the level of detail has gone up a notch as he grows older.
His people are all smiling at the same angle, standing in the same positions. His aeroplanes all face the same direction. His birds all fly in a line right across the centre of the page. His windows are all very rectangular.
He has also completely grown out of trains (Thank God we didn’t try to do up a “train” bedroom for him) and he doesn’t draw trains at all nowadays.
It’s usually flying objects, aeroplanes / helicopters which are sometimes shooting missiles and bullets here and there.
Or he designs some sort of maze.
JO
She’s into houses.
It started after we moved house, she would insist I draw my folk’s place for her: The archetypal kid’s representation of a house with a roof and two storeys, a garden, a balcony with a light and a front gate.
Now she just draws her own houses.
There is usually a rainbow nearby and lots of heart-shaped balloons floating around.
She has loads and loads of stories to tell about her house and the people inside, whether they are sleeping, what they are doing. Stories which I listen to and go “OK! Oh! Wow!” and if I’m in the mood I ask her follow-up questions.
She’s still slightly “off” in that she draws women with three legs, sad suns (with downturned mouths), monsters at the window and the backs of people’s heads. (“Mummy the head is black because he turned around and his hair is black”)
In this particular drawing, she also attempts to write a mirror image of her name on the reverse side (top right corner). Because it’s the back side? I don’t know.
LU
She demands for paper – “I want door! I want door!” (door = draw) - seats herself at the table and pencils ferociously.
We ask her: What’s that, Lulu?
She says: Beehoon.
Housework has taken its inevitable toll on such extra-curricular activities.
Here’s some recent stuff they did on their own.
DAY
He is still incredibly detailed and neat, only the level of detail has gone up a notch as he grows older.
His people are all smiling at the same angle, standing in the same positions. His aeroplanes all face the same direction. His birds all fly in a line right across the centre of the page. His windows are all very rectangular.
He has also completely grown out of trains (Thank God we didn’t try to do up a “train” bedroom for him) and he doesn’t draw trains at all nowadays.
It’s usually flying objects, aeroplanes / helicopters which are sometimes shooting missiles and bullets here and there.
Or he designs some sort of maze.
JO
She’s into houses.
It started after we moved house, she would insist I draw my folk’s place for her: The archetypal kid’s representation of a house with a roof and two storeys, a garden, a balcony with a light and a front gate.
Now she just draws her own houses.
There is usually a rainbow nearby and lots of heart-shaped balloons floating around.
She has loads and loads of stories to tell about her house and the people inside, whether they are sleeping, what they are doing. Stories which I listen to and go “OK! Oh! Wow!” and if I’m in the mood I ask her follow-up questions.
She’s still slightly “off” in that she draws women with three legs, sad suns (with downturned mouths), monsters at the window and the backs of people’s heads. (“Mummy the head is black because he turned around and his hair is black”)
In this particular drawing, she also attempts to write a mirror image of her name on the reverse side (top right corner). Because it’s the back side? I don’t know.
LU
She demands for paper – “I want door! I want door!” (door = draw) - seats herself at the table and pencils ferociously.
We ask her: What’s that, Lulu?
She says: Beehoon.
Sunday, February 21, 2010
cny in school
* Day's drawing (he was in charge of the Year of the Rat) hanging in the breeze in the garden
What a difference a year makes.
The lion dance comes to school again, it seems to be a school tradition. (according to Alexis her Danish husband is more ching-chong than your average Chinaman and insists on this auspicious blessing every year)
This year Day was no wallflower, he joined the ranks of the lion molestors.
The K2 boys touched it all over, jumped in front of it, looked into its mouth, threw orange peels at it.
Very naughty.
Jo I had to carry. But she thoroughly enjoyed the dance and pronounced “I like it very much”.
And no wonder. The lion this year, unlike last year’s sluggish creature, was in top form.
There were lots of leaps, jumps, standing on the shoulders and pugilistics galore, accompanied by drums and cymbals which were actually in RHYTHM.
The entire bunch of bleached-hair, tattooed, body-piercing-sporting chaps playing the two lion’s various body parts were ON.
* Looking up to check if the lion can jump to the second storey to extract the lettuce. "You want it we can do it!" says the chap on the right
The lion even shat good shit.
It “ate” and expelled mandarin oranges in words which spelled: Happy Lunar New Year.
On man, on.
Thursday, February 18, 2010
paying his way
Day made his first purchase with his own money.
It was something for his sisters: Prawn crackers for Lu, a Push Pop sweet for Jo and Yakults all around, from the library mama shop.
He also got a Push Pop sweet for himself and a drink.
He had been beating himself up for the past few weeks, for forgetting to bring money out.
Today I said we were going to the library after school. He pried open his chicken bank and grabbed a handful of 20 and 50 cent coins which he dumped into a box.
He’s been promising Jo to buy sweets for her for ages.
At the mama shop, he hung on to his money box.
Jo, aware that her gor-gor is paying, took her own sweet time making her selection. (with me it’s always Mamee)
She chose the Push Pop. I tsked: “Jo, no sweets. Just biscuits or crackers.”
Day cut in: “But mum, it’s my money. I’m paying.”
I laughed very loudly. He was absolutely right.
He carefully counted all the coins for the various purchases. Wariness set in when he realized how much of his fortune would be gone, but I think he was chuffed.
Later on, I asked him very nicely if I could loan 60 cents from him for a drink.
See, I had left my entire bag with wallet and mobile phone at home. I had nothing but a car key on me.
It was something for his sisters: Prawn crackers for Lu, a Push Pop sweet for Jo and Yakults all around, from the library mama shop.
He also got a Push Pop sweet for himself and a drink.
He had been beating himself up for the past few weeks, for forgetting to bring money out.
Today I said we were going to the library after school. He pried open his chicken bank and grabbed a handful of 20 and 50 cent coins which he dumped into a box.
He’s been promising Jo to buy sweets for her for ages.
At the mama shop, he hung on to his money box.
Jo, aware that her gor-gor is paying, took her own sweet time making her selection. (with me it’s always Mamee)
She chose the Push Pop. I tsked: “Jo, no sweets. Just biscuits or crackers.”
Day cut in: “But mum, it’s my money. I’m paying.”
I laughed very loudly. He was absolutely right.
He carefully counted all the coins for the various purchases. Wariness set in when he realized how much of his fortune would be gone, but I think he was chuffed.
Later on, I asked him very nicely if I could loan 60 cents from him for a drink.
See, I had left my entire bag with wallet and mobile phone at home. I had nothing but a car key on me.
Wednesday, February 17, 2010
csi
Some mornings I wake up and it’s a crime scene. There are bodies sprawled all over the floors.
Lu has made her way from the bed to her favourite sleeping spot: The draftiest part of the house at the opening of the kitchen, where the cold draft from the front of the house is channeled through to the back.
I am not there to stop her because I was still sleeping.
On a normal night she sleeps with the fan on high speed because she’s always sweating. I suppose that’s why she shifts.
Jo has rolled her way off the mattress onto the parquet floor. This happens nearly every night.
I ask her why.
She says: “Because the floor is cool.”
KK’s eyes grow round: “She’s exactly like me. I remember doing that all the time when I was a kid because the floor was cooler.”
And that’s why I can never sleep with the girls.
Even when the fan is switched OFF at night, I need a blanket because I get cold.
Lu has made her way from the bed to her favourite sleeping spot: The draftiest part of the house at the opening of the kitchen, where the cold draft from the front of the house is channeled through to the back.
I am not there to stop her because I was still sleeping.
On a normal night she sleeps with the fan on high speed because she’s always sweating. I suppose that’s why she shifts.
Jo has rolled her way off the mattress onto the parquet floor. This happens nearly every night.
I ask her why.
She says: “Because the floor is cool.”
KK’s eyes grow round: “She’s exactly like me. I remember doing that all the time when I was a kid because the floor was cooler.”
And that’s why I can never sleep with the girls.
Even when the fan is switched OFF at night, I need a blanket because I get cold.
Tuesday, February 16, 2010
cny traditions
I suddenly feel the urge to document the CNY traditions which I found onerous before, but which I now adhere to with religious fanaticism.
I find myself dragging KK’s sorry ass through the mill – “We must clean up! We must go to uncle / auntie XXX’s place! We must give the kids angbao! We must make them say the right words! They must greet their elders! We must tell them the meaning of CNY! We must decorate the house!”
I find myself spouting all sorts of preachy nonsense – “Chinese New Year is about FAMILY” etc.
I find myself getting very pissed off with my husband who is really one of those who would rather take off overseas.
Dimly, from the recesses of my mind as I huff and puff, I feel sorry for KK and I am sorry I am so lame.
It’s age which makes me want to hang on. And motherhood which makes me want to impart meaning.
One day soon my kids will read this and my holier-than-thou facade will go POOF but in the meantime...
DAY ONE
One time a year we eat a rice and vegetable breakfast at my mum’s and this is it.
We go, I eat, KK and the kids decline. Without me they would probably have gone to Starbucks for bagels.
Then it’s temple time!
Lots of bowing and kowtowing and ancestor worship at the Red Swastika Society temple HQ.
Something I’ve done since I can remember (grandma was a member and now dad is too), KK has warmed up to this over the years and he’s quite the willing participant.
The girls are not up to staying still in one spot for 30 minutes. I bring them around the vintage temple. I would kill to have some of the furniture in there. Rounded frames!
Back to my folks for the onslaught of relatives from dad’s side.
Every year the numbers dwindle and the relatives leave earlier. Even more reason for me to document these things, in case the routine fizzles out.
I spend a few minutes with each aunt / uncle / cousin, catching up.
Day plays Wii with his cousins, that has been going on for two years (post-Sydney), and the funny thing is I think they remember each other from a year ago.
* Day, Valerie, Vaness, Qiying
Despite the photo, Lu and Felicia hit it off.
The rest play mahjong.
DAY TWO
Carrot cake auntie’s place at Mei Ling Street.
I have probably spoken fewer than 50 words to carrot cake auntie in my life. But we just HAVE to be at her place on Day Two of CNY.
The adults sit inside eating carrot cake. The kids play outside.
Exquisite Danielle
These are all immovable CNY traditions passed down from my parents and which I respect to a tee.
What happens when they are not around? Will any of these remain?
What kind of routines will our own little family develop as time passes?
Given that KK is really an anti-social sort, I wonder.
But he did enthusiastically help out with decking out our place (He put the ribbons and red packets on the pussy willows). Decoration is a good place to start I suppose.
I find myself dragging KK’s sorry ass through the mill – “We must clean up! We must go to uncle / auntie XXX’s place! We must give the kids angbao! We must make them say the right words! They must greet their elders! We must tell them the meaning of CNY! We must decorate the house!”
I find myself spouting all sorts of preachy nonsense – “Chinese New Year is about FAMILY” etc.
I find myself getting very pissed off with my husband who is really one of those who would rather take off overseas.
Dimly, from the recesses of my mind as I huff and puff, I feel sorry for KK and I am sorry I am so lame.
It’s age which makes me want to hang on. And motherhood which makes me want to impart meaning.
One day soon my kids will read this and my holier-than-thou facade will go POOF but in the meantime...
DAY ONE
One time a year we eat a rice and vegetable breakfast at my mum’s and this is it.
We go, I eat, KK and the kids decline. Without me they would probably have gone to Starbucks for bagels.
Then it’s temple time!
Lots of bowing and kowtowing and ancestor worship at the Red Swastika Society temple HQ.
Something I’ve done since I can remember (grandma was a member and now dad is too), KK has warmed up to this over the years and he’s quite the willing participant.
The girls are not up to staying still in one spot for 30 minutes. I bring them around the vintage temple. I would kill to have some of the furniture in there. Rounded frames!
Back to my folks for the onslaught of relatives from dad’s side.
Every year the numbers dwindle and the relatives leave earlier. Even more reason for me to document these things, in case the routine fizzles out.
I spend a few minutes with each aunt / uncle / cousin, catching up.
Day plays Wii with his cousins, that has been going on for two years (post-Sydney), and the funny thing is I think they remember each other from a year ago.
* Day, Valerie, Vaness, Qiying
Despite the photo, Lu and Felicia hit it off.
The rest play mahjong.
DAY TWO
Carrot cake auntie’s place at Mei Ling Street.
I have probably spoken fewer than 50 words to carrot cake auntie in my life. But we just HAVE to be at her place on Day Two of CNY.
The adults sit inside eating carrot cake. The kids play outside.
Exquisite Danielle
These are all immovable CNY traditions passed down from my parents and which I respect to a tee.
What happens when they are not around? Will any of these remain?
What kind of routines will our own little family develop as time passes?
Given that KK is really an anti-social sort, I wonder.
But he did enthusiastically help out with decking out our place (He put the ribbons and red packets on the pussy willows). Decoration is a good place to start I suppose.
Monday, February 15, 2010
with love
Happy CNY! And (uncelebrated) Valentine's Day!
A few points to note:
Dress - My sister-in-law's hand-me-down. How lucky I am. And how wonderful that no one made any "you're so skinny" comments this year because I PUT ON THREE KILOGRAMS over last year. Three more to gain and I'll be back to my 2004 days.
Jo - What a lot of hair she appears to have.
Day - "I HATE taking photos!" (actual quote).
Lu - She only agreed to stay still because of the kueh bangkit in her hand.
Jo smiling valiantly, Day tolerating the shoot, Lu with a whole load of pineapple tart stored in her cheeks.
A few points to note:
Dress - My sister-in-law's hand-me-down. How lucky I am. And how wonderful that no one made any "you're so skinny" comments this year because I PUT ON THREE KILOGRAMS over last year. Three more to gain and I'll be back to my 2004 days.
Jo - What a lot of hair she appears to have.
Day - "I HATE taking photos!" (actual quote).
Lu - She only agreed to stay still because of the kueh bangkit in her hand.
Jo smiling valiantly, Day tolerating the shoot, Lu with a whole load of pineapple tart stored in her cheeks.
Saturday, February 13, 2010
reunion dinner change
ONE
Dinner with my folks. We have it a week early.
The spread is sumptuous: Chicken, asparagus, prawns, pig’s stomach soup, stewed mushrooms, abalone, roast pork.
So far it’s all routine.
TWO
Dinner with KK’s folks.
That happens tonight, the night before the New Year.
Routine: We eat out at a restaurant.
That doesn’t happen this year.
This year, we host the dinner. Why? It’s cheaper, healthier and more home-y.
And what do you know? My folks come along as well. Why? Because their re-union dinner would have been a very quiet three-person affair.
That makes it a total of 10 adults and three kids we have to cook for.
Unlike Christmas practice, it’s different cooking for elders. Particularly my culinary aficionado parents.
Steamboat? KK doesn't like that.
Stressed? Hell, yeah.
The enormity of it does not even strike me. I keep thinking four adults, three adults, OK what.
Until I look into the rice bin to check the amount of rice and I realize what I’m in for. TEN!
I run the menu by my folks. Dad cuts in: Mushrooms and scallops? Wrong! It doesn’t go! It must be mushrooms and dried oysters!
I wing it anyway.
I plot, I plan, I fret.
This is the Menu:
* Lo-hei (Sister-in-law brings this)
*Chicken soup (First thing I wake up this morning, I grab my poultry from the fridge, chop off its head and feet and boil it with wolfberries and salt)
*Stewed mushrooms with scallops (as my dad would say, “salah”. Whatever.)
*Roast pork and a duck from Crystal Jade (No-fail but the bloody duck which wasn’t so hot cost $45. Lesson: No more duck.)
*Cabbage, mushrooms, vegetarian dish (Mum brings this)
*Fishballs (Mum brings this)
*Kueh pie tee (Mum brings this)
*Konnyaku jellies (No-fail)
*Red bean soup (Mum brings this)
Clearly I have a lot of support from mum. Thank goodness.
We end up with a lot more food than we can eat.
* KK and his brother
Enjoyable? Me and KK both liked the soup most. After eight hours of boiling it had better be good.
The kids, at their separate table (no space) stuck to duck and fish balls with their rice.
The logistics were another thing altogether.
My kitchen is equipped to cook for five: Two adults and three kids. Any more than that and it all collapses.
We use the dining table for the first time. There are not enough seats. Not enough bowls. Not enough chopsticks. Not one single soup spoon for the soup (we usually use the metallic type)
I drive to my folks and lug everything back.
On loan from my folks and what proves even more valuable is Gina the maid. She feeds Lu and washes up! What luxury!
Dinner with my folks. We have it a week early.
The spread is sumptuous: Chicken, asparagus, prawns, pig’s stomach soup, stewed mushrooms, abalone, roast pork.
So far it’s all routine.
TWO
Dinner with KK’s folks.
That happens tonight, the night before the New Year.
Routine: We eat out at a restaurant.
That doesn’t happen this year.
This year, we host the dinner. Why? It’s cheaper, healthier and more home-y.
And what do you know? My folks come along as well. Why? Because their re-union dinner would have been a very quiet three-person affair.
That makes it a total of 10 adults and three kids we have to cook for.
Unlike Christmas practice, it’s different cooking for elders. Particularly my culinary aficionado parents.
Steamboat? KK doesn't like that.
Stressed? Hell, yeah.
The enormity of it does not even strike me. I keep thinking four adults, three adults, OK what.
Until I look into the rice bin to check the amount of rice and I realize what I’m in for. TEN!
I run the menu by my folks. Dad cuts in: Mushrooms and scallops? Wrong! It doesn’t go! It must be mushrooms and dried oysters!
I wing it anyway.
I plot, I plan, I fret.
This is the Menu:
* Lo-hei (Sister-in-law brings this)
*Chicken soup (First thing I wake up this morning, I grab my poultry from the fridge, chop off its head and feet and boil it with wolfberries and salt)
*Stewed mushrooms with scallops (as my dad would say, “salah”. Whatever.)
*Roast pork and a duck from Crystal Jade (No-fail but the bloody duck which wasn’t so hot cost $45. Lesson: No more duck.)
*Cabbage, mushrooms, vegetarian dish (Mum brings this)
*Fishballs (Mum brings this)
*Kueh pie tee (Mum brings this)
*Konnyaku jellies (No-fail)
*Red bean soup (Mum brings this)
Clearly I have a lot of support from mum. Thank goodness.
We end up with a lot more food than we can eat.
* KK and his brother
Enjoyable? Me and KK both liked the soup most. After eight hours of boiling it had better be good.
The kids, at their separate table (no space) stuck to duck and fish balls with their rice.
The logistics were another thing altogether.
My kitchen is equipped to cook for five: Two adults and three kids. Any more than that and it all collapses.
We use the dining table for the first time. There are not enough seats. Not enough bowls. Not enough chopsticks. Not one single soup spoon for the soup (we usually use the metallic type)
I drive to my folks and lug everything back.
On loan from my folks and what proves even more valuable is Gina the maid. She feeds Lu and washes up! What luxury!
Wednesday, February 10, 2010
cheese
The worst kind of kid photo, in my opinion, is the kind when adults go: “Smile, XXX!”
Sometimes there’s no choice.
But kids do not smile naturally when asked to pose.
Their forced smiles, of course, are worth capturing for cringe value later on in life but the best smiles are the spontaneous ones.
Here’s another one of Jo in her CNY finery. I ask her to back up against the wall to pose and this is the cheese she gives me.
Then I take my eyes off the screen and I start talking to her, while holding the camera rock-steady so she hopefully remains within the viewfinder.
Straight away she relaxes and I get this, which I like a million times more.
Funny how adults are the other way round. They're almost always posed and when taken unexpectedly, they always say: “Oooh I look so awful!”
Sometimes there’s no choice.
But kids do not smile naturally when asked to pose.
Their forced smiles, of course, are worth capturing for cringe value later on in life but the best smiles are the spontaneous ones.
Here’s another one of Jo in her CNY finery. I ask her to back up against the wall to pose and this is the cheese she gives me.
Then I take my eyes off the screen and I start talking to her, while holding the camera rock-steady so she hopefully remains within the viewfinder.
Straight away she relaxes and I get this, which I like a million times more.
Funny how adults are the other way round. They're almost always posed and when taken unexpectedly, they always say: “Oooh I look so awful!”
Tuesday, February 09, 2010
a sick child
If anyone still remembers the cancer-stricken four-year-old who moved Singapore to donate half a million dollars for her shot at life in the US, she has relapsed.
The day before Charmaine Lim was to return to Singapore to celebrate Chinese New Year with her family, she was found to have cancer cells in her right leg and spine.
The US treatment, if I read the blog correctly, was ineffective. She had developed a resistance to the antibodies the US doctors were giving her.
The happy ending which everyone was hoping for may well remain fiction.
Her mother, who is single with an unsupportive ex-husband, is one of those people whom God seems to have forgotten.
What makes me want to curl up is how the little girl begged to go to school like her brother but could not. Instead she will have to undergo four days of high-dose chemotherapy.
Her mother writes: "My heart aches seeing how much she yearns to go to school like any other normal kid but something so simple and yet I cannot provide."
The day before Charmaine Lim was to return to Singapore to celebrate Chinese New Year with her family, she was found to have cancer cells in her right leg and spine.
The US treatment, if I read the blog correctly, was ineffective. She had developed a resistance to the antibodies the US doctors were giving her.
The happy ending which everyone was hoping for may well remain fiction.
Her mother, who is single with an unsupportive ex-husband, is one of those people whom God seems to have forgotten.
What makes me want to curl up is how the little girl begged to go to school like her brother but could not. Instead she will have to undergo four days of high-dose chemotherapy.
Her mother writes: "My heart aches seeing how much she yearns to go to school like any other normal kid but something so simple and yet I cannot provide."
Sunday, February 07, 2010
jo's work
She’s surprised me.
This year she started bringing back pieces of work, not colouring and arts and crafts, but simple academic work. Writing numbers, letters etc.
It’s all ticks and stars, which is heartening.
What surprises me, however, is her work attitude.
She is dead serious about it. And perfectionist to a fault. Far more so than Day.
Day just does the work and gets it over with. She takes it personally.
One day she cried till she was red in the face and refused to go to school because “I c-c-cannot write number t-t-two”.
She labours over her letters and drawings, breathing very heavily (it’s audible) in the process because she’s so concentrated, making sure everything is as perfect as can be.
Anything wrong and the tears start.
In this case...
* Yes she is writing with her right hand. She can write with her left hand but now shows a distinct preference for the right.
... it was because she got her brother's name wrong. The "V" was upside down.
Good is, well, she takes her work seriously!
Five workbooks from school and it’s all good. I look out for a cross to see if there’s anything I can help her with (until recently she was still mixing up b’s an d’s, and p’s and q’s) and I can’t find one, which made me smile.
Bad is, she won’t take risks.
What she suspects she will not be able to ace, she refuses to do.
“I don’t want a difficult one, mummy!” she typically whines, when I am in the process of picking out something for her to do. “I want an easy one.”
I suppose she is consistent: Perfectionist, control freakish, anal and cautious to a fault.
Not a bad thing, really. Reminds me of too many over-achieving women I know.
This year she started bringing back pieces of work, not colouring and arts and crafts, but simple academic work. Writing numbers, letters etc.
It’s all ticks and stars, which is heartening.
What surprises me, however, is her work attitude.
She is dead serious about it. And perfectionist to a fault. Far more so than Day.
Day just does the work and gets it over with. She takes it personally.
One day she cried till she was red in the face and refused to go to school because “I c-c-cannot write number t-t-two”.
She labours over her letters and drawings, breathing very heavily (it’s audible) in the process because she’s so concentrated, making sure everything is as perfect as can be.
Anything wrong and the tears start.
In this case...
* Yes she is writing with her right hand. She can write with her left hand but now shows a distinct preference for the right.
... it was because she got her brother's name wrong. The "V" was upside down.
Good is, well, she takes her work seriously!
Five workbooks from school and it’s all good. I look out for a cross to see if there’s anything I can help her with (until recently she was still mixing up b’s an d’s, and p’s and q’s) and I can’t find one, which made me smile.
Bad is, she won’t take risks.
What she suspects she will not be able to ace, she refuses to do.
“I don’t want a difficult one, mummy!” she typically whines, when I am in the process of picking out something for her to do. “I want an easy one.”
I suppose she is consistent: Perfectionist, control freakish, anal and cautious to a fault.
Not a bad thing, really. Reminds me of too many over-achieving women I know.
Thursday, February 04, 2010
Wednesday, February 03, 2010
rom
I have been telling Jo about brides.
I can’t quite remember what started it.
Could have been hearing Wagner’s Bridal Chorus somewhere and my humming the song and then pretend-marching across the living room for dramatic effect and her asking me what I’m doing.
I go into the whole long dreamy spiel about wearing a beautiful white dress and how she will one day marry someone and do the wedding march.
I swear. Her eyes light up and her dimple flashes becomingly: I want to get married, mama.
There and then, the neighbour’s boy Matthew, who is really waiting for Day to come home from school and who has never really liked Jo, becomes the unwilling subject of her affections.
His eyes get round when I ask him to pretend-marry Jo and he scoots off.
She gives chase.
After a few rounds – of course she doesn’t catch him but he gets fed up with having to take off every other minute – he puts on his slippers and beats a hasty retreat back home.
I am rolling by this time.
Jo is upset because her groom has run. She wants Day to be her groom.
I fetch Day from school, ask him to please just walk with Jo, he accedes. I hum the Bridal Chorus, they walk slowly down the length of the living room, Day pretend removes Jo’s imaginary veil and kisses her on her lips.
She is thrilled.
She wants to marry David. I tell her she can’t and she asks why. (Actually Day had asked me the same question before, why can’t he marry his sister.)
Little girls and their dreams.
I walked down the aisle on 2nd February, which makes our anniversary yesterday. It’s a fancy schmancy 020202 date. But it’s not a date we bother with because the other one is more significant.
My aisle was inside the Victoria Concert Hall, the one which concert-goers walk down when they are getting to their seats. When we were pronounced man and wife by the JP whose back was facing the stage, Lim Yau struck up the orchestra.
(Actually we got married during a youth orchestra rehearsal and yes, the entire youth orchestra witnessed our solemnization. They must have thought we were nuts.)
The buffet line was at the counter where the ushers usually give out programme booklets and tear tickets.We got the orchestra kids to mop up the food remainders during their break. They were useful to have around.
Was that only eight years ago? Feels like it was 20.
KK spots the photos I am taking photos of.
I remark: I really was quite chubby then.
He says: Yeah. So much prettier. Cuter.
I can’t quite remember what started it.
Could have been hearing Wagner’s Bridal Chorus somewhere and my humming the song and then pretend-marching across the living room for dramatic effect and her asking me what I’m doing.
I go into the whole long dreamy spiel about wearing a beautiful white dress and how she will one day marry someone and do the wedding march.
I swear. Her eyes light up and her dimple flashes becomingly: I want to get married, mama.
There and then, the neighbour’s boy Matthew, who is really waiting for Day to come home from school and who has never really liked Jo, becomes the unwilling subject of her affections.
His eyes get round when I ask him to pretend-marry Jo and he scoots off.
She gives chase.
After a few rounds – of course she doesn’t catch him but he gets fed up with having to take off every other minute – he puts on his slippers and beats a hasty retreat back home.
I am rolling by this time.
Jo is upset because her groom has run. She wants Day to be her groom.
I fetch Day from school, ask him to please just walk with Jo, he accedes. I hum the Bridal Chorus, they walk slowly down the length of the living room, Day pretend removes Jo’s imaginary veil and kisses her on her lips.
She is thrilled.
She wants to marry David. I tell her she can’t and she asks why. (Actually Day had asked me the same question before, why can’t he marry his sister.)
Little girls and their dreams.
I walked down the aisle on 2nd February, which makes our anniversary yesterday. It’s a fancy schmancy 020202 date. But it’s not a date we bother with because the other one is more significant.
My aisle was inside the Victoria Concert Hall, the one which concert-goers walk down when they are getting to their seats. When we were pronounced man and wife by the JP whose back was facing the stage, Lim Yau struck up the orchestra.
(Actually we got married during a youth orchestra rehearsal and yes, the entire youth orchestra witnessed our solemnization. They must have thought we were nuts.)
The buffet line was at the counter where the ushers usually give out programme booklets and tear tickets.We got the orchestra kids to mop up the food remainders during their break. They were useful to have around.
Was that only eight years ago? Feels like it was 20.
KK spots the photos I am taking photos of.
I remark: I really was quite chubby then.
He says: Yeah. So much prettier. Cuter.
Tuesday, February 02, 2010
how come?
She's popping questions all over these days.
"Erm, erm, why, why mummy?"
"Why what, Lulu?"
"Erm, why ah-kle (uncle), why ah-kle run?"
And so on and so forth.
Other incarnations: "Waddat, mummy?" And the latest one: How come. "Erm, mummy, how come, how come the tiger ROOAOR?"
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