Ok. Let's see. I have so much to say I don't know where to start and I don't know if it will end. Be FOREWARNED : This particular post is a bashing of sorts towards those who has issues with my kids. Or kids in general. Or just anything to do with kids. And be forewarned also that I will be using a lot of SUPERLATIVES (maybe even some expletives) and EXAGGERATION, as bringing up kids ARE A SUPERLATIVELY EXAGGERATING PROCESS!!!)
These are the people who would tell you that you are SPOILING your kids too much. Or that you shouldn't have too many kids, as the world economy is failing, the world is coming to an end, you are a bad parent, it's 'difficult to bring up kids these days'...... (do fill in the blanks. Nothing is too ridiculous for these child haters - ok maybe they are not child haters. They just don't think you in particular should have them). These are the people who would 'discipline' your kids right in front of your face without giving a second thought. These are the people who would WRITE ARTICLES and the people who SHARE THESE ARTICLES about how parents spoil their kids these days, and how babies shouldn't be picked up immediately when they cry because they would grow up to be monsteric adults, how we shouldn't allow our kids to watch youtube on our tablets during meals, and how we shouldn't find our dearest pet a new home because our new baby is allergic to cats and was suffering from serious bouts of asthma attacks.
I have noticed, over the years, that these people are more or less (I said 'more or less' because I AM GENERALISING, there are some rare exceptions, but they are RARE, but most of these BULLIES as I would call them throughout this blog, have these dispositions and tendencies) of the following dispositions and tendencies :
1) THEY DO NOT HAVE CHILDREN
Yes, because if they do, they wouldn't be child-haters. With maybe the few exceptions of the moms who had kids because 'it was an accident', or because of in law/spouse pressure, or HORRORS....PEER PRESSURE!!! (Yea, the 40 year old former beauty queen who needed a baby next to her as a fantastic accessory to her botox and boobjob.) I have had enough of people without kids trying to give me advice about kids. Recently, a post by a schoolteacher about not spoiling or 'servicing' our kids by not allowing them to be 'bored sometimes'. I mean, really? It's got nothing to do with spoiling or servicing. We just want to have a decent meal in a restaurant or shop in a public place without any major meltdowns, which, YOU THE VERY SAME PEOPLE WHO ARE WRITING AND SUPPORTING THIS KIND OF RUBBISH, would have a problem with. Yea, if we do not occupy them with tablets, puzzles, games and activities and they DO GET BORED, and they start to make noise, YOU, BULLIES would be the very same persons to give us the murderous stare!!!
Oh... this schoolteacher who wrote this article (which went viral, it seems), DOES NOT HAVE ANY CHILDREN!!! But when he does, '...sometime in the future...' AHhhhhhhh..... the IFS and the WHENS. Of course, everything is easier said than done. In foresight and in hindsight. If I were an astronaut, if I were a bird, when I become a billionaire.... oh come on, do you really think only kids 'these days' get bored easily? Kids get bored!!! Period. I don't need to do intensive science research to know this. I'm a mom. I have nieces and nephews. I was a kid. I had a baby brother. Kids are easily bored because they absorb information all the time and they have the basic human instinct to explore and discover. They need to learn. If they don't learn they are bored. Simple as that. I don't need 16 YEARS OF TEACHING EXPERIENCE to know this. I know this because I'm a mom. By the way, I do agree with your point no.2 and 3. Except that I don't know which planet you are coming from, but the kids I know and the kids I raise... they don't fall into that category. And parents are proud parents anyway, whether their kids burped or farted. Or had a blob of ink on the paper and call that art. We are parents. We are proud of our kids.
And I just have to mention this... some of my friends on my fb list actually shared this lame, thoughtless rubbish on their fb walls, and tada..... they all do not have kids!
2) THEY DO NOT HAVE CHILDREN
Oh, that was my No.1? Oops... But maybe that is all there is to it. They do not have children. Why else would they have a problem with me finding a new home for my cat when my baby had serious, numerous asthma attacks due to allergy to animal fur? I am very tempted to put no.2 as 'they tend to be animal lovers', but then I remembered many many of my friends (who, incidentally, are single and do not have children - but they are of course the wonderful exceptions) who love animals and love my kids too. And they understand the need for me to give away my beloved tabby (who has since passed on) because my no.2 was asthmatic and it was proven that the trigger was cat fur. We stayed up many many nights, wondering if the baby was breathing. We had many many incidents at the emergency room when baby had the attacks, and many many long duration in the hospitals, with the nebuliser constantly stuck to his small little face. So no, we are not cat haters. Nor animal haters. We love animals (in fact, most animal lovers are LOVERS.). But you see, my human child is a human child. And of course my baby's wellbeing and LIFE is more important than Miao Miao. Besides, it would be CRUEL to lock Miao Miao up in a room or in a cage just because we didn't want her fur to fly around the house. We found her a good home and she had a very very good life till the day she was put down at the grand old age of 19. My baby is now 4 and is still very sensitive to certain allergens.
And I need to add that one of my very bestfriends is a paediatrician, and she is single. She doesn't have any kids. But she has formal education and training and experience with kids. So she is allowed to tell me what to do with my kids. She is allowed to give her opinion. She doesn't force her opinions (medically trained ones, that is) on me. She loves my kids. And she told me I couldn't keep the cat. So unless you are a child doctor, don't try to tell me what to do with my kids. I didn't ask.
3) THEY HAVE THEIR OWN ISSUES AS PARENTS
Ok, at least no.3 isn't the same as no1 and 2. Now I'm talking about those with kids. I am also a parent, and I'm struggling as a parent. These babies did not come with manuals. Yes there are numerous books in the stores telling you how to deal with tantrums and toddlers... but the writers are not YOU. They DO NOT HAVE YOUR KIDS AS THEIR KIDS. Every child is different and every child is unique. So just because you are a parent, you have NO RIGHT WHATSOEVER to force your ideas and beliefs onto others!!!
You may have gotten it right with your own kids (or maybe not), but that doesn't mean that it will apply to my kids. I didn't ask for your advice anyway.
If you are insecure about whether your children are brought up right, and whether they are the cause of HAVOC AND CHAOS AT EVERY SINGLE PARTY THEY ATTEND, that is NOT MY PROBLEM and YOU DO NOT HAVE RIGHT TO console yourselves but telling the world (ok, maybe not the world, but publicly posting on your fb wall is an extremely childish thing to do) that it was MY CHILD who was the BAD one and your children were the ANGELS. Seriously, most of the time you just scream and shout and hit your kids, in public, and you can't control them at all. Or you can't be bothered. You are one of those parents who think buying them expensive toys every single weekend make up for bad parenting... so pleases do not try to tell me what to do with my kids!
I mean, ok, my kids aren't angels. They are boys. But hubby and I STRIVE to keep them under control all the time, and we are successful most times. Thing is, we try. And we do not try to discipline others' kids, especially when the parents are around (eventhough sometimes, we are so tempted to tell a child off because the parents who were there couldn't be bothered). I could keep our christmas tree up year after year with our kids. The first time it was destroyed, it was someone else's children. Why do parents allow their kids to mess up others homes?!!!!
I'm a parent. I don't let my kids go to others' homes and take out toys on their own, break things, tear up things, or touch anything at all without the permission of the host. And even with the permission of the host, if we knew our kids would be overexcited and would start messing up things, we would politely decline the invitation to take out those boxes and boxes of toys.
Ok, I need to conclude now. Enough of ranting and venting.
Basically, I love my kids and I would do anything to protect them from harm, be it physical harm or mental harm. And I would sacrifice anything, even friendships, for my kids. You are toxic if you do not have constructive criticisms towards my kids. You are allowed to criticise and share your opinions, but make sure you have the right to. Make sure you know what you are saying and make sure your intentions are good. Whenever I try to 'dish out' advice to other parents, I would politely tell them this is how I handle my kids, and I would tell them it doesn't mean it will work with their kids and it doesn't mean it works with my own kids all the time, but here it is.... YOU DO NOT SHOVE SOMETHING AS SENSITIVE AND AS PERSONAL AS CHILD UPBRINGING INTO OTHERS' THROATS.
The last time I did that, I almost lost a sister. She did not speak to me for 2 months. I learnt my lesson. I hope you learnt yours soon.
Monday, May 9, 2016
Monday, March 21, 2016
Revelations: The FIRST Step to EVERYTHING
Countdown : It's 5 more days before Lana turns 1. We are having a big birthday bash for her. She is thriving. She is daddy's girl. And her daddy is a stable, calm, steady rock who has to live forever to remain the rock for all 4 of us. Because mommy isn't much of a rock.
Mommy's an egg. The one that hasn't been cooked. The one which appears hard on the outside, but as soft as jelly inside. She cracks easily. She breaks even more easily. It doesn't take much for her to break into pieces never to be put together again. The thing is, I have been broken over and over again. Yet with each 'fixing', well... humpty dumpty will never be put together again.
The Initial Journey
For the 1st time in my life, I was taken back to my life starting to when I was 5. I mean yes, we talk about our childhood and stuff whenever there are family gatherings, right? And your sisters, your mom will tell you of what they remember. But are your memories the same as theirs? Or they have somehow created those memories for you? What do YOU remember? I was 5. My baby and only brother was born. The much awaited son to carry the family name. How typical of a Chinese family. My mom's entire life was dedicated to bearing a son for my father. She recounts to us over and over again about how papa kissed her over and over and over again when my brother was born. That must have been THE happiest day in her life and she holds on to that memory of sheer joy and happiness.
What about me, mommy? Well, you were a disappointment. Yes, those were her EXACT words. "YOU WERE A DISAPPOINTMENT. We even had you at a private hospital instead of the government hospital because we thought you were finally going to be a boy. And you were the only baby girl born that day when the rest were boys! It may even be a mistake! Perhaps we had a son! But we pacified ourselves that we hadn't had a baby for a long time. So at least there you are... a baby," So there you have it... a 5 year old girl with 3 elder sisters aged 14, 15 and 16, and a baby brother whom EVERYONE was doting on.
"Whose kid is this?" that was a very common question during Chinese New Year amongst relatives and friends. Nobody knew who I was. I was a non-entity. There were the 3 daughters, and the much awaited baby boy. This 5 year old? Not sure. Who is she? Don't know. Insignificant.
Has it always been like that?
NO. I remember the days when papa fed me milk. I don't know, I must have been a baby. But I remember I didn't want mommy to feed me. She can make the milk for me while papa held me, but papa had to feed me. I actually remembered the room, the bed, the milk, the scene....
And I didn't want papa to go to work. I cried and cried till he had to take me to work. He was a school teacher. I must have been 3 or 4. He actually gave in and took me to school! I was a wilful child even from then. I remember him singing in his out of tune voice, "It followed her to school one day, school one day, school one day..."
I was daddy's girl.
From childhood to adulthood
And it all changed. I was shouted at by papa for the 1st time when mom was pregnant with baby brother and we were on our way to Taiping Zoo. She had to go to the bathroom, but I wanted to arrive at the zoo soonest possible. It may appear insignificant to you, but that was the first time papa raised his voice to me.
He raised his voice all the time you know. He and mom got into fights all the time, sometimes it became physical. My 3 sisters feared him. I laughed at him. Until that day when I learnt it wasn't funny anymore. But I learnt quickly not to upset him. I was daddy's girl. He wasn't supposed to be angry at me. So I became a good girl. I actually begged mom to let me take piano lessons at the age of 5. Mom put me in the dark, rat infested storeroom whenever I refused to practise piano, because it was a waste of money and as school teachers we didn't have a lot of money. My sisters never gave such trouble to my parents.
I remember the year my brother was born. During the 9th day of Chinese New Year that very year, we had a whole pig instead of just a small portion like other previous years. Roasted pork. Yums. There was so much of it until we had to give away to friends and relatives. All because a baby boy was born into the family.
I did well in school. There was one year when I was in Primary 4 - I won ALL the book prizes, and I was top student of the entire Primary 4. With the exception of Malay Language prize. Papa was very proud of me and went to the school and took pictures of me receiving all the prizes. Mommy commented that I didn't win the Malay Language prize. I was a disappointment again.
I looked forward to receiving my report cards all year round. That was when papa would praise me and showed me off to all his friends and relatives. I was no longer the non-entity. I could play the piano, and I was "the Clever One". And I was 8 when I wrote my 1st book! Ok, it wasn't published, but while most kids were crazy about Barbie Dolls (it was about then when the Barbie Doll was introduced) I was compiling old unused exercise books to write stories in it. Yes, baby brother may be a BOY, but I was the CLEVER ONE!
But I wasn't a boy.
I was probably 8 or 9 when baby brother started to potty train. He HAD to use the toilet downstairs. But I needed to use the toilet. I was scared to go upstairs alone. I was 8 or 9. After I was done baby brother refused to potty train anymore. Suddenly someone yanked my hair and I was smacked repeatedly for refusing to use the toilet upstairs. I couldn't believe I would be hit for the very first time over such a trivial matter. But what I do remember was, that wouldn't be the last time.
But I did well in school. We moved to Penang because papa was transferred to teach in a school in Penang. I wasn't top of the top anymore because I attended one of the best convent schools in Penang. But I remained academically good, and comparably much better than my siblings. My musical endeavours continued, I was the school pianist. I could write well. And I was blossoming to become quite a pretty girl.
And then there were boys...
I was probably 12 when I first noticed them. And they noticed me. There was a lot of joy and satisfaction in that. Being the one to receive gifts and flowers during school fairs, love letters in the school bus, tuition centres. There was no such thing as social media then - not even mobile phone! They had to call my home. And they did. They wrote letters. They fought with each other. They played chess to win my phone number. The thing about boys is... they would do anything for you. You can scream and shout at them and throw tantrums but they would come crawling back. If they didn't, there would always be another dozen waiting to take their places.
And it was like that throughout pretty much of my teenage years.
I overheard a conversation between my father and his school teacher colleague once "Why do you allow your daughter to have a boyfriend at such young age?" Papa's reply was, "She is doing very well in studies. What can I do?"
Yes, I remained a good student with excellent results. I continued to thrive musically, leading the school choir and an active member of the state choir. I continued to write, and many of my articles were published in a local newsmagazine on a weekly basis, and many were published in the local daily too. I finished my Grade 8 piano by the time I was 14. But of course, while papa was proud of me, my mom didn't think it was great coz I didn't get a distinction. I only passed. Disappointment.
Before I finished high school, I have already learnt a few things :
1) Continue to make papa proud. That is NUMBER 1 PRIORITY IN LIFE. Otherwise, you are just another baby girl. A non entity. But now you are "the Clever One" with the 'photographic memory' and intelligence.
2) Continue to achieve good results academically. Otherwise you wouldn't be allowed to date. And boys are important. They make you feel like you are the most important thing in the world, as opposed to being a disappointment. They make good punching bags too. And they never fight back. They either continue being your punching bags until you get tired of them and asked them to fxxx off, or they walked off - which means hurray time for another batch of punching bags.
3) Sometimes you get disappointed too. Like when you were not chosen as lead character in that school play. Or when that particular boy you liked cheated on you. Or didn't like you back as much as you liked him. To avoid being hurt, "EXPECT THE WORST. And hope for the best." Make that your life motto. Expect the worst all the time. Because if you have plan B, C and D, you will not be disppointed nor hurt. Later on in life, I realised that made me the pessismist I am today. I don't know how to handle disappointment. I don't know how to SELF-SOOTHE.
The next chapter of my life would be the vulnerable years of stepping into adulthood. And boy were they screwed up. The baggage I carry would anchor the Titanic. It takes a real man like my husband to be able to stay afloat, and keep us all afloat. That would another story for another day.
I had a lot of dreams last night. I expect more tonight.
Mommy's an egg. The one that hasn't been cooked. The one which appears hard on the outside, but as soft as jelly inside. She cracks easily. She breaks even more easily. It doesn't take much for her to break into pieces never to be put together again. The thing is, I have been broken over and over again. Yet with each 'fixing', well... humpty dumpty will never be put together again.
The Initial Journey
For the 1st time in my life, I was taken back to my life starting to when I was 5. I mean yes, we talk about our childhood and stuff whenever there are family gatherings, right? And your sisters, your mom will tell you of what they remember. But are your memories the same as theirs? Or they have somehow created those memories for you? What do YOU remember? I was 5. My baby and only brother was born. The much awaited son to carry the family name. How typical of a Chinese family. My mom's entire life was dedicated to bearing a son for my father. She recounts to us over and over again about how papa kissed her over and over and over again when my brother was born. That must have been THE happiest day in her life and she holds on to that memory of sheer joy and happiness.
What about me, mommy? Well, you were a disappointment. Yes, those were her EXACT words. "YOU WERE A DISAPPOINTMENT. We even had you at a private hospital instead of the government hospital because we thought you were finally going to be a boy. And you were the only baby girl born that day when the rest were boys! It may even be a mistake! Perhaps we had a son! But we pacified ourselves that we hadn't had a baby for a long time. So at least there you are... a baby," So there you have it... a 5 year old girl with 3 elder sisters aged 14, 15 and 16, and a baby brother whom EVERYONE was doting on.
"Whose kid is this?" that was a very common question during Chinese New Year amongst relatives and friends. Nobody knew who I was. I was a non-entity. There were the 3 daughters, and the much awaited baby boy. This 5 year old? Not sure. Who is she? Don't know. Insignificant.
Has it always been like that?
NO. I remember the days when papa fed me milk. I don't know, I must have been a baby. But I remember I didn't want mommy to feed me. She can make the milk for me while papa held me, but papa had to feed me. I actually remembered the room, the bed, the milk, the scene....
And I didn't want papa to go to work. I cried and cried till he had to take me to work. He was a school teacher. I must have been 3 or 4. He actually gave in and took me to school! I was a wilful child even from then. I remember him singing in his out of tune voice, "It followed her to school one day, school one day, school one day..."
I was daddy's girl.
From childhood to adulthood
And it all changed. I was shouted at by papa for the 1st time when mom was pregnant with baby brother and we were on our way to Taiping Zoo. She had to go to the bathroom, but I wanted to arrive at the zoo soonest possible. It may appear insignificant to you, but that was the first time papa raised his voice to me.
He raised his voice all the time you know. He and mom got into fights all the time, sometimes it became physical. My 3 sisters feared him. I laughed at him. Until that day when I learnt it wasn't funny anymore. But I learnt quickly not to upset him. I was daddy's girl. He wasn't supposed to be angry at me. So I became a good girl. I actually begged mom to let me take piano lessons at the age of 5. Mom put me in the dark, rat infested storeroom whenever I refused to practise piano, because it was a waste of money and as school teachers we didn't have a lot of money. My sisters never gave such trouble to my parents.
I remember the year my brother was born. During the 9th day of Chinese New Year that very year, we had a whole pig instead of just a small portion like other previous years. Roasted pork. Yums. There was so much of it until we had to give away to friends and relatives. All because a baby boy was born into the family.
I did well in school. There was one year when I was in Primary 4 - I won ALL the book prizes, and I was top student of the entire Primary 4. With the exception of Malay Language prize. Papa was very proud of me and went to the school and took pictures of me receiving all the prizes. Mommy commented that I didn't win the Malay Language prize. I was a disappointment again.
I looked forward to receiving my report cards all year round. That was when papa would praise me and showed me off to all his friends and relatives. I was no longer the non-entity. I could play the piano, and I was "the Clever One". And I was 8 when I wrote my 1st book! Ok, it wasn't published, but while most kids were crazy about Barbie Dolls (it was about then when the Barbie Doll was introduced) I was compiling old unused exercise books to write stories in it. Yes, baby brother may be a BOY, but I was the CLEVER ONE!
But I wasn't a boy.
I was probably 8 or 9 when baby brother started to potty train. He HAD to use the toilet downstairs. But I needed to use the toilet. I was scared to go upstairs alone. I was 8 or 9. After I was done baby brother refused to potty train anymore. Suddenly someone yanked my hair and I was smacked repeatedly for refusing to use the toilet upstairs. I couldn't believe I would be hit for the very first time over such a trivial matter. But what I do remember was, that wouldn't be the last time.
But I did well in school. We moved to Penang because papa was transferred to teach in a school in Penang. I wasn't top of the top anymore because I attended one of the best convent schools in Penang. But I remained academically good, and comparably much better than my siblings. My musical endeavours continued, I was the school pianist. I could write well. And I was blossoming to become quite a pretty girl.
And then there were boys...
I was probably 12 when I first noticed them. And they noticed me. There was a lot of joy and satisfaction in that. Being the one to receive gifts and flowers during school fairs, love letters in the school bus, tuition centres. There was no such thing as social media then - not even mobile phone! They had to call my home. And they did. They wrote letters. They fought with each other. They played chess to win my phone number. The thing about boys is... they would do anything for you. You can scream and shout at them and throw tantrums but they would come crawling back. If they didn't, there would always be another dozen waiting to take their places.
And it was like that throughout pretty much of my teenage years.
I overheard a conversation between my father and his school teacher colleague once "Why do you allow your daughter to have a boyfriend at such young age?" Papa's reply was, "She is doing very well in studies. What can I do?"
Yes, I remained a good student with excellent results. I continued to thrive musically, leading the school choir and an active member of the state choir. I continued to write, and many of my articles were published in a local newsmagazine on a weekly basis, and many were published in the local daily too. I finished my Grade 8 piano by the time I was 14. But of course, while papa was proud of me, my mom didn't think it was great coz I didn't get a distinction. I only passed. Disappointment.
Before I finished high school, I have already learnt a few things :
1) Continue to make papa proud. That is NUMBER 1 PRIORITY IN LIFE. Otherwise, you are just another baby girl. A non entity. But now you are "the Clever One" with the 'photographic memory' and intelligence.
2) Continue to achieve good results academically. Otherwise you wouldn't be allowed to date. And boys are important. They make you feel like you are the most important thing in the world, as opposed to being a disappointment. They make good punching bags too. And they never fight back. They either continue being your punching bags until you get tired of them and asked them to fxxx off, or they walked off - which means hurray time for another batch of punching bags.
3) Sometimes you get disappointed too. Like when you were not chosen as lead character in that school play. Or when that particular boy you liked cheated on you. Or didn't like you back as much as you liked him. To avoid being hurt, "EXPECT THE WORST. And hope for the best." Make that your life motto. Expect the worst all the time. Because if you have plan B, C and D, you will not be disppointed nor hurt. Later on in life, I realised that made me the pessismist I am today. I don't know how to handle disappointment. I don't know how to SELF-SOOTHE.
The next chapter of my life would be the vulnerable years of stepping into adulthood. And boy were they screwed up. The baggage I carry would anchor the Titanic. It takes a real man like my husband to be able to stay afloat, and keep us all afloat. That would another story for another day.
I had a lot of dreams last night. I expect more tonight.
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