The Diaperbag family.

We are the Diaperbag family. There are Jordan, Evan and Dylan (also known as Muffin) and they are fondly known as JED. We are their parents. Ondine and Packrat.

This is JED

Always playing or planning and plotting to take over the world. Always up to shenanigans.

This is Jordan, our first born

Actually she's part of a twin set. She was known as Twin 1 in-utero. She loves to draw what she dreams, dances what she draws.

This is Evan, reluctantly the younger twin

He's Twin 2 by two minutes because it took the doctor that long to find him. We don't think he'll ever forgive the doctor!

This is our youngest, Dylan (also known as Muffin)

He fancies himself the Lion King. His favourite activities are to climb, jump, pounce and roar at the world. The world is his Pride Rock.

Thursday, April 30, 2009

Dads are from Mars and Moms from Venus

A child is supposed to have a father and a mother figure. So sayeth the new Ex-co of AWARE and hence all their mambo-jambo about homosexuality and all that jazz. I agree that kids need a father and a mother because they can offer different things. That said, it doesn't mean that a father-mother combination is always best. If the dad-mom combi are at each other's throats all the time and are abusive or negligent, it doesn't trump a stable single-parent. But when the dad-mom combination does work, it's great for many reasons.


One reason I discovered had to do with our fears and concerns.


I, the mother worry about practical, real things. I worry about their health and their safety. I fear both the real and imaginary things that could hurt my children. Germs, Swine flu, sexual predators. And thanks to the great imagination I have, I have the ability to work myself up into a real tizzy about who and what might harm them.


Packrat is different. He acknowledges that the things I worry about are real but he's realistic about them. He knows they are dangerous, he knows they might happen but he also knows that all we can do is try our best to protect them and the rest of it, we have to pray and trust God because the only way we can FULLY prevent any of my nightmares from coming true is to keep them in a bubble and that's just ridiculous. He worries, however, about their development. About what kind of people they will become. About how they might become mean, selfish individuals if we don't bring them up right. He worries that they are put in an environment where they are taught to be bigots. To pick on the weaker among them. He worries that they grow bad souls. And that, we won't see till properly formed. It is for this very reason why the AWARE thing incenses him. His fear is that come new ex-co, the kids might in some way, be subliminally taught to judge those who are different and ridicule those who are different. And that to him, and also to me, is unacceptable.


And I respect that about Packrat. And think it is a good thing that he worries about those things. He puts into perspective the things I worry about. They are real worries but in some ways more easily preventable than the intangible things he worries about for them. And also that he sees the larger perspective. I see the kids all the time. I am responsible and involved in their daily activities and hence my concerns are more immediate. He has the benefit of seeing what is more important in the longer term. It is a good balance. It would be ridiculous and bubble forming if both he and I worried only about their health and safety. It would cause them to grow up to be very shallow, myopic individuals. Many of whom, we see in society. If we only worried about their ideals and the type of people they became, we'd might as well have joined a hippie, free-love commune.


I like it this way even though it makes us sometimes argue about which is more important. In my book, both are. In different ways. And in this way, I'm thankful that we are a two-parent family because then, each of us can focus on one aspect and hopefully our kids grow up right.

Wednesday, April 29, 2009

It has begun

Someone said my kids were bright and way ahead of the bunch in terms of development. I don't really know about that but I must admit that they do have a head start on the Terrible Twos and every time I hear a whine or a cry, I feel something in me bubble.

I'm supposed to be equipped to deal with it because I understand that discipline is about teaching and correcting rather than punishing. I also know that the way around a tantrum is to distract. So, I'm set. Supposedly.

But in reality, when Baby J insists on whining instead of asking, it drives me crazy. She has developed a whine, even at a young age of 22 months. She uses it for everything. Wrong pair of shoes. Garter on her pants constricting her. She is gesturing at something but we give her something else in mistake. At the same time, she snatches and grabs things from her brother. And this at the risk of getting her hair yanked out from the roots.

And yanked out they will because the Terrible Twos have also descended upon Evan. It affects him differently though. Not so proned to whining, more proned to aggressive outburts, barely concealed rage and occasional displays of violence which manifest in the hair pulling incidents, balled up fists and feet stamping as well as angry hurling of cups, blocks, spoons and anything else within his reach while in a rage.

What do I do?

I put J in a corner till she stops her incessant weeping. When she realises no one is paying attention to her. It works. But only when no one else interferes. That's the problem with disciplining and living with grandparents and great-grandparents. Some one very nicely told me that their role in a child's life was to bless them. Yes, bless them not spoil them but that line is blurry at best and faced with a weepy grand-daughter with big fat tears running down her face, their soft hearts go out to her and they pick her up or worse yet, they give in to her.

With Evan, I do the same thing. I leave him to yell out and chuck his fit because I believe he needs to get it out and I'm not about to teach him to suppress it and suffer the consequences next time. Occasionally, if he works himself into too big a fit, I hold on to him and hug him tight and for some reason, that seems to calm him down. But usually, once he gets it out of his system, he will come looking for some sort of comfort. The only problem is when he takes his anger out on his sister.

Often she deserves what he dishes out to her because she started it. The problem is what the outsider sees is a boy yanking a girl's hair and the boy automatically gets yelled at and punished and the girl gets comforted. The first time that happened, even though he is only 22 months, Evan had, what I swear was a "HEY, NOT FAIR!" look and was plainly indignant. He seems to accept his punishment if Jordan is reprimanded too for taking whatever it is from him. He is even more mollified if she returns offending item but that usually doesn't happen.

All this takes a lot of deep breaths and a lot of restraint and patience. On my part. By the end of the day, it takes all of me and some of Packrat, to not yell at them and tell them to shut up and lose it. On the occasion that I have, I have felt guilty and bad for taking it out on children who are barely rational and do not really understand the implications of their actions. Right now, to them, their brand of barely established logic runs a long the lines of "want-make it happen (action)-get".

And it is exhausting. I sometimes try to hide from it. But I know, I need to intervene because they need me more than ever to draw the boundaries for them and that is a responsibility I'm not willing to cede to anyone else.



Happier times, when they're not in or out to get each other's hair.

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Monday, April 27, 2009

Plant a tree, save the earth

I'm very big on the environment thing. I think it comes from great empathy that leads me to constantly feel guilty, for everything. So, when I see pictures of destruction, fin-less sharks, seals drowning because of beer rings, read about how many trees we kill and how our coffee cups (or in my case, iced tea cups) and plastic bags contribute to the waste on earth, I feel that I need to do more.

So, I try. I boycott sharks' fin, much to the chagrin of the very Chinese family I married into. I boycott cod because it is over-fished. I try to bring my own bags to the supermarket and I try and switch off lights after myself. I also try to take the bus and leave the car at home in order to save fuel and not add to the noxious-ness of our air. But all this that I do is often met with bemused tolerance in my family. No one really cares. To them, the environment is something you read about in the paper and watch on Nat Geo. It is a cause that frustrates me because I can come home to the entire house shut up on a bright day with all the lights blazing. It frustrates me when wooden chopsticks and plastic spoons are accepted at take-out when we are buying it to eat at home where there are metal forks and spoons.

As a result, when I was told by my father-in-law that we were going to plant trees, albeit at someone else's bidding (they were at a non-sharkfin serving wedding where the bride and groom told them to plant trees rather than give them monetary gifts), I was much pleased. And I looked forward to it with much glee.

It was to be a family effort. We would plant 3 trees as we are now 3 families. It was a hot Sunday morning and the tree-planting took place in a very young park where the tree-lings offered no shade from the merciless sun. It was a no-brainer really, this tree-planting effort. We envisioned needing to get our hands dirty and labour on the soil. But actually all the labouring had been done for us by some very helpful Bangladeshi workers who had a little bit more skill than we had at wielding the spade and the hoe.

The twins had much fun as well but I suspect that had more to do with the fact that they were out in the open and we were in the vicinity of an MRT station which caused Evan to squeal at regular intervals, point, gesture, hop around and yell "train" as the trains pulled into the station and as the trains left the station, wave and say "bye-bye" in a sad falsetto voice.

















Walking along for an early morning adventure with 3 pre-schoolers in tow.

















The Tan cousins, with an excited Evan pointing out to his sister and uninterested cousin a passing train.


















Doing their part for the environment. Watering the Tan family tree-ling after Mommy and Papa did the backbreaking task of covering the tree-ling with soil and making sure the soil held up the still-limp tree stem (I'd like to call it a trunk but that implies sturdiness and strength which these flailing tree-lets lacked). Baby J thought it would also be helpful to give her Grandpa a hand at planting his tree.

















Of course, once that was all out of the way, it was just running around and generally having fun being tossed around and enjoying the expanse of the great outdoors.
























Not surprisingly, with all the sun and running around and being tossed around, the twins had a good nap afterwards. Of course, there were nightmares as well which I suspect had to do with being flung almost into orbit by Mommy.

Anyway, for more information about the tree-planting programme, one can easily contact NParks. The people who met us were very nice, knowledgeable and helpful and it felt good, however cushy this brand of environmentalism was, to plant some trees and to know that we were doing something good for the earth.


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Sunday, April 26, 2009

Box of tricks

Plentyfish commented that the way my twins mucked about reminded him of his cats. They climb in and out of things, play with things they are not supposed to and the toys you get them, often get cast aside, unless they are very interesting and can be played with in an unorthodox manner.

So, when the neighbour bought a new 42 inch flat screen, I asked them to give us the box. The twins of course, fell onto it, like a cat with a plastic bag. The first few things they did, I couldn't photograph because it involved paint and my hands were mucky too. What I did was to use the sides of the box as a canvas and gave the kids small paint rollers and trays of paints. Of course, as with any organized activity, it held their attention for 5 minutes before they re-invented it and started painting the cars and drive way. Evan got quite a kick when I striped him down and hosed him because he had paint all over himself.

Then there was playing in the box, jack-in-a-box style, playing peekaboo with us.






























Then there was lying around in the box and kicking around, which I photographed but chose not to put up because it looked too morbid. That's the problem with photographs being stills.

Continuing the liken them to cats, the box got overturned very quickly and made into a slide. First the right way up and then, climbing up and sliding on the belly. Hours of fun.









































The only problem is we don't really have anywhere to put it and the grandparents don't like the house looking like a rag-a-bone collection depot. I think I'll need to dump it soon. But I do have another box for them to play with. I can't wait to furnish our new house. I think then, I'll have enough boxes to build them an entire house to play with.

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Thursday, April 23, 2009

Wordsmiths

They say kids say the darndest things.

Tis true.

Context: Everyday, the twins go for a walk. Round the back of our house is a monstrosity of a house also known as McMansion. McMansion has beautiful wrought iron gate that frames a fountain. The twins are fascinated by it. They have learnt to say "fountain" albeit pronoucing the "f" as a "p". As with all these water features, it broke down. As a result, the twins having gone to visit it and discovered it not to be spouting water as any good fountain should, learnt the term "spoilt".

Question to Evan: Evan, what happened to the fountain?
Evan: Spoilt.
Question to Evan: Who spoilt the fountain?
Evan: Mommy!
Mommy: Really?
Evan: Papa!
Mommy: Is it?
Evan: Ah Ma!
Mommy: But Ah Ma is away. Are you sure?
Evan: No! Ah Tik and Ning Ning! (His uncle and cousin who live far away from us)

Such accusations.

Context: School. Teacher is guiding Evan through some colouring. Evan drops his colour pencils to go do something else.

Teacher: Evan, you haven't finished your colouring.
Evan: No. Tired.
Teacher (wondering if she'd heard correctly): What?
Evan: No. Tired.

Slacker even at such a young age.

Now... Jordan. Jordan doesn't have as many words as Evan. But she has her moments.

Context: Aforementioned fountain.

Mommy: Jordan, what happened to the fountain?
Jordan: Spoilt!
Mommy: Who spoilt the fountain?
Jordan: Sparrow.

Bizarre.

Context: Immediately after the sparrow spoiling the fountain conversation. And Baby J has a runny nose. Again.

Mommy: Jordan, what happened to your nose? It's so drippy.
Jordan: Spoilt!

Context: Jordan likes combing the hair of others. At the dining table one night, holding her comb. Don't ask why she is holding a comb at the dining table. She was holding an empty drink carton while getting ready for bed just now.

Mommy: What do you use the comb for?
Jordan: Hair
Mommy: Whose hair?
Jordan (Going round the table): Ah Ma. Ah Gong. Mommy. Papa.
She stops, looks at her great grandfather who has no hair. Reaches over, rubs his head and pronouces: Tai-Kong...No More.

So, it's a barrel of laughs every day now when they're not driving me crazy.

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Tuesday, April 21, 2009

Runway model

From a young age, Jordan has had a penchant for the shoes of others. She has remarkable balance as she totters around in the slippers and shoes of the adults in the house. She particularly loves mine, probably because they are not black and they have heels.

She obviously doesn't care here that it's bad for her back, that she's not walking straight or that she is tottering on something about 4 inches high.


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Her father also calls her Baby Gandalph because as much as she loves shoes, she also loves sticks and will stamp it around as if a staff.

So, a wise wizard/ wizardess or model in the making? Only time will tell.


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Sunday, April 19, 2009

Yank and Pull

She wanted his jeans. Just like she wants his shoes.

He was tired of giving in to her.

They played tug-of-war for a while.

He wasn't getting anyway. So he decided to try a different tactic.

She was caught unawares.

He reached over and gave her full head of hair a good yank.



















She cried.

He was satisfied.

She still didn't let go of his jeans. In fact, she's wearing them round the house now.

He got scolded by Mommy for yanking out a handful of his sister's hair.

They're playing together now.

Such is the dynamics of twins approaching the Terrible Twos.

Mommy throws her hands up in the air in resignation. She is sure there is more to come.


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Wednesday, April 15, 2009

Soccer mom

People say motherhood changes you. I guess it is true. There are things that I gamely accept now that I wouldn't have been able to Pre-Twins. Some say it's a matter of priorities changing, some say you just grow up, whatever it is, things change, people change. Now that I've been on leave a couple of months, I've had time to reflect on them.

1. Staying Home.

For one, taking leave for these past months. As a uni undergrad, it was unthinkable for me to even conceive of staying at home to be with the kids. I wanted a high flying job. I wanted to be successful. No doubt, I wanted kids but I found it offensive for it to have been suggested that I stayed home with the kids. Now, I would still like to be successful and a high flyer; I think that's the ambitious and driven part of me talking, but I'm happy to be with the kids. I'm happy to happily relegate the job to the second or third position. No doubt, my days are occasionally filled with the desire for adult conversation and doing girly things like nails, tea or shopping- things that I feel are social rather than solitary. But it is great fun to do silly things with the twins and be there to tickle them when they wake up.

2. Puke.

My clothes are dirty. I don't mean for them to be, but I have shoe prints on my pants most of the day and paint staining my t-shirts, my face and my limbs. Packrat knows if I've let the twins loose into their paints because there's paint everywhere on me, including my hair. Pre-Twins, I would have shrieked my clothes were dirty or if mud spattered on my white pants. Same with spit/drool/ puke. It's become a blase thing to have drool on me, or ejectile vomiting right into my face. It's happened before, it'll happen again. I never realised how much having been spit up or drooled on has caused me to look on such blase-ness. Case in point. I sit here smelly of puked milk. Evan's cough is back and he just upchucked a whole lot of phlegm very unglamourously on me. I need a bath but I also need to express. Express first. Then bathe. All the while, reeking of sour milk.

3. Couple and Mommy Time.

I used to roll my eyes at all-consuming moms. Moms who do nothing but revolve their lives around their kids. Husbands and their own lives take a very distant second and third place. I still strive not to be like that but I am aware of how increasingly difficult it is. It's a cycle of sorts. I hang out so much with the twins now, they're part of my daily routine. Because they are imbued in my daily routine, I find it difficult to extricate myself for some alone time. And so I hang with them so more, facing an increased challenge. All the while, feeling like I'm drowning and suffocating and needing some time out to do a facial, do my nails, go shopping or god-forbid, take a vacation. That's been the topic of discussion lately as well. A vacation. I'm exhausted by the constant caring and ferrying and mommy-ing that I'm doing, I feel like I'm running on fumes. I think my relationship with Packrat is headed in the same direction not because there's anything wrong but because there's plenty of exhaustion going around. So, he's decided that we need to take a vacation for a couple of days just to regain our bearings. I know, this must sound quite indulgent to some moms so I apologise before hand. It's something we've always had to do. Even Pre-Twins, we always needed to just leave during vacation times. Something about the local air that bugs us. Post-Twins, it has become all the more essential and increasingly difficult. Our first vacation when they were 6 months old, we didn't bat an eyelid. When they were a year old, it was a bit tougher. And when they were 18 months, it was close to excruciating. So, now, nearing their 2nd birthday, I suspect it will be like tearing a fly of fly paper. And every where Packrat suggests, I find reasons to turn it down. I am however aware that it is necessary and I will this. Pre-Twins and even sometime Post-Twins, I couldn't imagine NOT wanting to leave the kids. Now, I know.

4. Soccer-mom/ Mommy Taxi-mobile

Pre-Twins, we used to zip around in a hatchback. When we found out the twins were on the way, the first thing we thought was how we were going to stuff them into the back. The car was a couple-car. Even when we had passengers in the back, it was a tight squeeze, especially if said passenger had looooong super-model or daddy long-leg legs. What more, two infant/ child seats and someone in between. Everyone told us we needed an MPV. I outrightly resisted. I couldn't wrap my head around driving a Mommy Taxi. I wanted something that still looked like a car and did not shout "I HAVE 2 KIDS!". So we bought a nice, in my opinion, big and roomy saloon with an equally roomy boot. It was only roomy until we added another person into the fray who wasn't small enough to sit between the two child seats, unless we shaved off some of the hip. And when we brought out both our helper and my in-laws' helpers, we were violating many traffic laws.

And then, this week, we've been car sitting my brother's MPV and all of a sudden, I'm a convert. It doesn't matter that it brands me as a soccer mom, I like it. I like that I'm higher up. I like that my kids can look out the windows and see things that they like, like garbage trucks, cranes, trains (you sort of know what their latest obsession is) and I like that everyone is not squeezed! The only thing is it is like driving a whale. Not at all zippy. And the kids love the car too.


































Of course, to them it is "Bec-Bec"'s car. Bec Bec is their cousin and they lurve making associations. So, yes, I have changed. I think I am becoming a soccer mom of sorts. My day does revolve around picking them up and sending them to school. It used to also revolve around sending and picking Packrat up but this week, I am spared as he rocks up to work in his parents' car.


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Sunday, April 12, 2009

To sleep, perchance to grow

A parenting expert said once, at a workshop that there were three things we couldn't force kids to do. Eat. Sleep. Poop. We could create the conditions in which it became easier and more conducive for them to eat, sleep and poop. But that's about all we can do.

We have occasionally epic battles with Baby J about eating. Part of me is telling me to lay off because I don't want this whole eating thing to become an even larger issue when she is a teenager. I did spend a better part of my research year reading and writing about eating disorders. Anyway, proper food is not a necessity to her. If she had her way, she'd snack on biscuits all the time. Why eat fish and meat and vegetables when there're biscuits to be got from their Great Grandpa? But since I'm home most of the time, this is under ok control. Evan, being a boy, wolfs down most things in sight, including foul TCM concoctions. I'm thankful for at least one who is easy to feed. Make it conducive for them. Occasionally, I let them muck about with their food, but generally they have to eat what is put in front of them at the table. We think that is good training.

Poop is something we haven't got to apart from sitting them on the potty everytime we strip them and or shower them. Evan has learnt to yell "POTTY!" if he's done a poop in his diaper and both of them know how to sit on it but most of the time, nothing happens. He also uses it as a "get out of jail" card from being strapped into his high chair for meals or cloistered in his room for a nap. Unfortunately for him, his caregivers weren't born yesterday and wisened up to it after the first round of false "potty" alarms. On the occasion that they do what we tell them to, on command, they get a great amount of cheers, but I suspect, it's still a long ways more before we can go diaper free with conviction.

Now, sleep. Our kids don't have the best sleep patterns. They still wake up twice at night. Once about 3 am and once about 6. Both times, needing milk though the 3 am one, I'm rapidly dialling down in a bid to get them to skip it. I think that one will slowly sort itself out and I might help it along by ignoring their 3 am demands for milk once we move out and I am no longer in danger being accussed of 'ignoring' my children's plea for food. But we see this area as an area of some success. On the clock, the twins, take an 'at least' 2 hour nap in the afternoon after lunch. This is without fail. I have stuck to it, fighting resolutely to keep them from being out after lunch even if it is a wedding or something equally important. I am similarly unbending about their bed time. If the kids are home, they are in their room by half 7 and they are asleep by half 8 or so. If they are at my parents, their only excuse for breaking schedules, they are bundled into the car before half 8 so that they can fall asleep on the way home. On the occasions that they weren't able to, their sleep that night would be disturbed, filled with subsconscious thrashing and screaming and that would make me grumpy because by extension of their sleep being disturbed, mine is too. This is where we are most Nazi. It doesn't matter that they still wake up but it is of utmost importance to us that they are down in bed when they are supposed to.

Why? Why not let the child lead the way and sleep when he feels sleepy? Why inconvenience others because you demand early dinner appointments or have no children in attendance? Well, because kids don't know better and if left up to them, play is obviously more important than sleep. But the problem with that is late sleepers equate late risers. Kids also need sleep to grow. That's when they grow, while sleeping. So if there's little sleep to be had, there's little growing being done. And from a parent's point of view, when the kids are asleep, there is peace in the house and things can get done. So, reasons for them to sleep early.

But I realise, I am in the minority here. I was at the airport late last night to send my brother off. There was much amazement at the fact that the airport at 11 pm at night was teeming with kids, running amok, totally hopped up on Coke and sugar I am certain. Not only were there kids, there were toddlers and babies in prams. Shouldn't all these below 1 m in height little humans be in bed? I understand that it is somewhat a privilege for me to be able to go out once my kids are asleep because we have people at home with them. Not everyone has that so sometimes, there is no choice but to take the kids along.

True, but I suspect that would not account for ALL the vibrating-on-the-spot, screaming and running amok kids I saw at the airport. And what is worse than a kid up at 11 pm at night? A kid, up at 11 pm at night eating at MacDonald's and having a sundae for dessert. Packrat, irritated by the Energizer bunnies gone wild the night before Easter, snarkily comments that the more of them that are not asleep and not getting enough sleep, the easier it will be for our children to get ahead next time. These will be the kids who will have problems getting up at 6 in the morning and will spend half the morning before recess trying to wade through the sludge that is their brain. And these will be the parents who will get told off in no uncertain terms by principals when they beg for later assembly times for their sleep-deprived darlings. I love principals who take parents to task and turn it back on them. "If you got your kids to sleep earlier, assembly times would not be an issue, would it?" was the sarcastic rhetorical response to the whiny request.

It's a thorny issue, this sleep. Kids are smart. They use sleep or the lack of it as a weapon against their weary parents. A couple I came to know recently were at wits end with their four-year-old because he could keep on going till midnight without blinking an eye the entire day. A few pointed questions unearthed the reason. The parents were not often home early. The kid only saw his parents if he was up when they got in. And the parents thought it would be wiser to stay out later till he was asleep to slip in. That vicious cycle led to the kid only falling asleep at midnight and the parents being very exhausted and exasperated. There is also the fact that once kids discover that during the hours of sleep, fun exciting things can happen, like trips out to supper and MacDonalds, why sleep? If they slept, they'd be losing out on the fun.

We make bedtime boring for our kids. The room is dark. We're in there with them and most of the time, we pass out from sheer exhaustion. Left with nothing to do in a dark room, they figure they might as well fall asleep or the quiet and dark lulls them to that point where they don't put up a fight and just doze off.

I was brought up to be in bed at 8 pm. I suspect that allowed my parents time to do stuff with my older brothers and well, whatever stuff parents do when you are asleep. It meant that I didn't survive slumber parties very well but the good thing is even now, when I need to get up in the mornings, my mind goes from zero to a hundred by the time I hit the shower. It's helpful with the twins because they're most active when they first get up and a sluggish mommy could at the very least be un-fun for them and the other end, be a danger to them. So I am a great advocate of sleep.

It took all my fear of being beat up and being yelled at to not go up to the parents who were blissfully filling their kids up with Coke and ice cream and ask if they thought what they were doing was wise. It also took all my sense of self-preservation to not ask them why their kids weren't in bed? Some parents purposely keep their kids up. They claim it's the only way they get to see their kids after work. They also claim that if they get their kids to sleep early then they will wake up their parents before the parents want to be up. I'll hazard a guess to say that these parents also got taken to the airport late at night for kaya toast. We think it's an Asian thing. Our friends in Australia and other Caucasians we know get their kids down by 7. That way, they have their dinner in peace and actual have decent adult conversation.

Ironically, I need to go back to bed now after writing this. But I have a good reason at least. Sick, congested kids don't sleep well through the night. That means, Mommy hasn't had much sleep and needs to take the opportunity while the kids are racing up and down the living room to try and get some shut eye or the brain is never going to leave zero today, let alone reach 100.


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Tuesday, April 07, 2009

Easter art

In the spirit of Easter, I decided that the twins should, as an after nap activity, paint Easter eggs. They are quite well-versed as to what to do with paint and how it goes on objects but not in the mouth. Of course, there were moments of confusion where Jordan tried to eat her painted Easter egg but I suspect that had more to do with the adults reminding her NOT to eat the egg. And in typical toddler style, only heard the command "EAT".




























































As with all planned activities, they do what they are supposed to do for about ten minutes and then re-invent the activity. So, after they were done painting the eggs, they got to painting their hands and the hands of all of us around. I needed one hand paint free for fear that Packrat would not be amused that there were paint marks over his precious camera.
























Then there was the great science/ art experiment where all the colours in the palette became a tie-dye mish-mash of colours. They figured out that they could change the colour in the palette segment by adding another colour into it so it was squishy fun for them. Of course, it also meant a larger mess and that hands needed to be washed.

Evan, however was not pleased that his very colourful hands got washed out and the water got taken away. I think more importantly was that the water got taken away because the basin of water was also turning a strange grey green blue shade that seemed to fascinate him.

His pout here is priceless. Obviously, Packrat says it's my pout but whatever it is, he displays his displeasure so clearly and for all to see.


























The eventual eggs seemed strangely to imply a bright and a dour disposition in our twins. Baby J's all bright pink and red and Evan's dark army green and solemn. It may be a manifestation of what colours they are more inclined to or it may just have been that these were colours closest to them. We had to throw out the eggs after though because Jordan dropped them and the shell cracked, colouring the hard egg white into a myriad of inedible colours.

















How to make Easter eggs?

What you need:
- Hard boiled eggs. VERY hard boiled preferably. If kids are older, the egg can be drained out of the egg shell but with my little Godzillas who don't know their stregnth, that would have shattered within seconds. Another suggestion was to use ping-pong balls so that they could play with it later and we didn't have to waste good food.

- An egg carton cut up. This way, there is somewhere to place the egg while painting and for it to dry.

- Paint ( I only have 3 primary colours but I mixed a palette of 6 colours for them to muck about with. Red, yellow, blue, orange, green and pink)

- Paint brushes- bigger ones are better especially for the younger kids whose motor control are not so refined yet.

- Newspaper for the floor and water to wash the hands, brushes and palette.

It can be as simple or as complicated as you want. I opted for what I thought the 21 month olds could handle. And this, they just about could.



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Sanctuary House

The Sanctuary House is welfare organisation that offers help to women or girls who have babies and are too overwhelmed to know what to do. It offers these women a life line so that they don't feel that their only option is to dump the baby on the streets or in the rubbish chute or worse yet in a locker somewhere. It's run by volunteers and they don't turn anyone away or charge anyone for looking after their baby.

I read about them soon after I had my twins and I'd always felt that it was an organisation that I ought to help. Recently, I heard that they were looking for donations. And that's where I felt I could help. With the twins and the amount of stuff the twins accumulate, I found that I was constantly looking to give away things. And what better place to give away things to. I just spoke to a volunteer and she sounded absolutely thrilled that I could give her clothes and nursery equipment. Afterall, many of the babies that come to them have nothing but the clothes on their backs and some of them, don't even have that.

So, I thought, rather than just send them what I have put aside, I would spread the word and see if anyone else had anything they could give to these babies.

According to the volunteer, they are in need of

1. Diapers. (most sizes are welcome but right now, they're short of the mediums)
2. Baby wipes.
3. Powder ( I don't know if she meant formula or talcum powder but I'm guessing it's the former)
4. Clothes from 0 to 2 years of age.
5. Diaper bags.
6. A car seat or 2.
7. Milk bottles (all sorts are good but I think they use the Avent system)
8. Toys in good condition

No bulky items like strollers and bath tubs because they have limited space at the moment.

So, I'm appealing to the moms out there who might feel moved to buy some of the perishables and donate them or are moved to clear out their baby's wardrobes of these to send over. At the same time, I must add that we shouldn't use them as a dumping ground for spoilt toys or expired milk because that is just inconsiderate.

I will make a trip down to drop off what I have. If you have stuff and want to drop it off with me, please email me at ondineng[at]gmail[dot]com. and let me know or contact them directly (+65 6221 0588). They'll be happy to get whatever you can give.

Siblings

As with all the older generation, our aunt that helps looks after our twins sneaks in little comments about us giving the twins a sibling. It doesn't cross their minds that we have more on our plates than we can manage. Anyway, today, she raised the issue again while she and I were getting the twins down for their nap.

I dismissed it and turned to Evan and asked him if he wanted a sibling.

Me: Evan, do you want a 'di di' or 'mei mei'? (Not really knowing if he understood the concept of a 'di di' or a 'mei mei')

Evan (with gusto): 'Mei mei'!

Me: Really? You don't want a 'di di'?

Evan: No 'di di'. 'Mei Mei'.

Me: Well, we'll see what we can do about that. But you must ask Papa.

Evan (leaping up onto his feet) : PA PA! PA PA! 'MEI MEI'!

Me: Papa's not home. You tell him tonight when he comes home.

Evan: NO! PA PA! 'MEI MEI'!

Me: Sure you don't want a 'di di'? You'll have someone to play with.

Evan: No 'di di'. 'Mei Mei'.

So it's settled. He wants a little sister. When I asked Jordan, she staunchly refused to answer. I think she thinks, one pesky brother is enough. Where as her brother wants someone to lord over.

Our aunt thinks it's because, as the sole Tan boy, he will stand to inherit everything and be forever Ah Ma's Darling Grandson.

Olie thinks it's because Baby J keeps taking his shoes so he wants a Mei Mei so that he can teach her to steal Baby J's shoes.

Me? I don't know if he knows what he's talking about but it sure is amusing.

He could also tell him his head "pain pain". I don't know whether he bumped it or had a headache. Hee.

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Monday, April 06, 2009

Registration the Fan Boy way.

When I regaled to Packrat my experiences today, he made the expected sympathy noises about what I had to go through. But through the course of my whining, it soon became clear that he wasn't all that surprised. His explanation- he's seen it all before even though he's never gone near a school to register our kids for kindy or anything of that sort.

Apparently, similar behaviour is exhibited with fan boys and their toys. His example to prove his point was how when the iPhone was launched in New Zealand, far out, boon-docks NZ, people queued for three days. And that was just for a gadget. What more something for your own kid? That led me to ask how he would have done today differently.

He said
1. He'd evaluate the location and premises.
2. Conclusion would be, queuing would take place on a property so overnight queuing was unnecessary.
3. But that meant being there when the gates opened. Apparently, he wouldn't even have bothered with sleep the night before.
4. Bring entertainment. PSP, Zen, Mobile Phone and a Super Big Gulp from 7-11. Choice drink for fan boys.
5. Plug everything in and just sit in the queue, if he wasn't already at the top of it.
6. With everything plugged in, he could ignore all the mothers and their incessant need to compete and compare with the thinly veiled sense of humility and conspirational cammaraderie.

He said, he may not have been so efficient as I was, printing and signing all the forms, gathering all the relevant documents together in a file but he would have been there, at the beginning of the queue and ready for action. Just like he was when new first edition comics were released or when the Lord of the Rings movie marathon tickets had just gone on sale.

Anyway, I've told him he is welcome to handle this aspect of their education while I sit at the nearest cafe, count the number of parents and kids and enjoy the quiet.


School

Some readers have emailed me to ask what the twins look like in uniform. Strange question but ok. Anyway, I only recently started sending them to school in uniform because their uniform (in the most petite of sizes) took forever to be in stock. So here is a photo essay of them before we leave for school and their regular antics. More of Jordan here because Evan chucked a fit about bathing and took longer than she did to get ready.

























































Baby J has learnt to take enough instructions to stand by her grandpa's car and pose. That's her "pretty face" by the way. The run-towards-mommy shot is well, her in her element. Clowning around.She's also playing with her brother's shoe while he's not around because she's got a thing about wearing his shoes. Demanded to wear his shoes home from school one day and traded her pink crocs for his sandals. It took a lot of explaining before she relented to go home in her own shoes.

Ok, I guess it's photos like these that cause people to say "Oooh twins! So nice, I wish I had a pair". Well, yes. But there is the Big BUT... which I have elucidated to many times so shall not repeat here.


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Rabid mobs

Last year, round about this time, I blogged about being told off for not registering my not-yet-one year old kids for kindergarten. So, I've spent the year looking around for a school that HASN'T started their registration and doesn't have a wait list that's 2000 deep. I thought I found one. It didn't open registration till the year before the kid is to be admitted and registration to the public only opens on a particular date and didn't have a wait list.

I'd also heard good things about it. It's a Methodist kindy. It's near enough to us and there is a straight bus home if we were brave enough to try that with two kids. It's got a nice premises and a seemingly good programme. So I thought, 'cool, my search is over.' Little did I know. Registration was today so I rang on Friday to find out what time it was and what I needed to bring along with me. And since I was on the phone with the office, I asked about the number of vacancies there were for the twins' nursery class next year. Very matter a factly, the lady told me 10!

There was a stunned silence on my end because I was led to believe that the registration hadn't opened. Where had all the other places gone to? Siblings etc I was told. That got me a little bit stressed because despite the consolation that each child will be able to find a kinder spot according to the press (who usually speaks on behalf of the government), I needed to find a kindy that suited our and the kids' needs. That meant, near enough to us, Christian if possible, with teachers who spoke their principal language with fluency and grammatical a necessity. That last one was the hardest to find. Even where they are now, the English is not fantastic and my consolation is, the twins are still pre-verbal and are learning words. The grammar bit is not paramount now so it is ok for now. Plus I try to do damage control at home. Anyway, that's my impetus for wanting to move them.

Of course, Packrat's consolation when I moaned to him about the 10 spots left was that we could just leave them where they are which is true though not ideal. After speaking to a friend who has her son at our kindy of choice, the only option was to fight for the 10 spots if I really wanted the twins there. That meant, getting there at the break of dawn. Well, as close to that as possible. The plan for the day had to be

1. Get up earlier to shower and express.
2. Go kiss twins good bye before they were up because I wouldn't be home by the time they were.
3. Send Packrat to school.
4. Mosey over to the kindy and queue.

That was supposed to give me about an hour before registration opened to sit and twiddle my thumbs. What I didn't count on was

1. Choked up roads and congestion causing me to take 40 minutes on a route that would take 10 minutes off peak.
2. Have all the car park lots taken and then having to look for street parking further away from the school.
3. Parents who were there at 6 in the morning, who obviously had more tenacity than I did.

Olie had suggested that I count up to ten people and then leave since there was no chance. But it occurred to me that these parents were all queuing for different things. There were 4 levels and 2 sessions up for grabs so I decided to just stake my ground and pray for the best. Also according to Olie, the tiny chairs we were sitting on and my ass was spilling over were made that way because, any more comfortable, parents would not leave. Clever girl, that Olie. I think anyone who would voluntarily sit on those chairs for a long period of time was just asking to get bum problems and to me, once every few years, was more than enough. (I'm forseeing having to do it when they go for orientation)

I settled down for my long wait ( I was 20 something in line at 0800hrs) with a sandwich, a drink and a book. But soon became distracted and sociologically tuned in to the conversations that were happening. I felt very removed from it and refused to be party to the nervous chatter. It reminded me far too much of the nervous chatter that was always present outside exam halls before the paper started. It was never healthy, it always made one more nervous than necessary as well as inadequate. And the conversations flying round, really did make me more nervous than I needed to be.

Topics discussed.
1. How there were no vacancies left in the kindy. (Ondine's thought bubble: why then are there so many of them here?)
2. How good Eton, Chiltern and Julia Gabriel was. How their yet-to-be-3-year-old could string grammatically right sentences together. (Thought bubble: Then why are you registering your kid/kids here if Eton/Chiltern/ Julia Gabriel is so great?)
3. The teacher-student ratio and the number of classes in the kindy (Thought bubble: Ooops, was I supposed to find that out? And obviously I was because I got asked by someone else later on and I got an extremely incredulous look when I professed my ignorance).
4. Primary schools and their rankings. (Thought bubble: One step at a time.)
5. Enrichment classes that their 18 month olds are going to. (At this point, one turned to me and asked if I knew of good enrichment classes. I wonder if I'd said "my kids can juggle chain saws and read Aramaic, can yours?" Would that have stunned them? Or would they have asked in all seriousness where they could sign up for those classes)
6. Discussing the various wait lists of kindys. These are all popular kindys by the way. St James (known for its Odyssey of the Mind programme and swimming pool), Nanyang (known for its Chinese), Newton Life (also known for its Chinese and connections that the child will make *cue rolling of eyes here*) and Marymount (I don't know... big playground?)

So, I steered clear of participating or reacting to it. Of course, as always the case, I'm sure I got branded and labelled very quickly as the snooty one who deigned it below her to participate. When in actual fact, I would have had nothing to contribute because I did not have a kid in any of the schools mentioned and did not bother enough to find out about ratios, trusting that it was a good enough kindy not to fleece us and cannot imagine why those were the only conversation topics sailing across my head.

The only person I actually spoke to was the office staff who came round to give out numbers for the classes we were queuing to get into. And I just said the necessary. Nursery 1 ( I had to double check this on the form because the numbering system confuses the heck out of me!), morning session, 2 please. And Praise God! I got 2 numbers which I unblinkingly refused to believe meant I got 2 places until the lady next to me who'd been telling everyone she was writing on the application that her husband was an alumni of the college that is under the same Methodist umbrella, got one too and was told she was the last one. Which meant, I got the 2nd last 2 vacancies! Yay me! Yay the twins!

That's when ruckus erupted around me because there were no more spots and a father demanded to know why he couldn't put his kid on wait list and wanted to know why I could get 2 of the precious numbers and he got none. If I hadn't been so cowed or stunned that I actually got places for my kids, I would have snarkily asked him if he thought it was good enough that my twins went to school on alternate days. But I didn't lest I get beaten up. Headlines- Mom gets beaten up for being smart to father in kindy registration queue!

So prodigious I felt my luck, as did Olie who'd been giving me support over SMS, that I had to photograph it. Of course Olie had a better reason. Lest the father wrestle the numbers from me and made a dash for it, at least I'd have proof that I had them first. Of course, with these new-fangled phone cameras that are by law required to make noise when they photograph, everyone would know that I was trying to photograph my numbers and it might be mis-read as gloating.

Hence the surreptitious and very blurred looking photo of my ticket numbers. Apparently, there were 13 places, 3 more than I was told. And thankfully for that too! Otherwise I'd be out looking for another kindy for the twins.

















My message to Packrat was "I emerge victorious but a little bit scathed". Scathed because I'd never seen this scary breed of mothers so close up. I'd heard about them and read their posts on forums but never quite had such close contact. And I can imagine why they are like that. They feed off one another. They feed of the anxiety, the competition and the stress. They talk about their kids and their achievements like that card game we played as kids, Top Trumps, where you compared the make of your car/ plane etc and compare wing spans and maximum speeds.

I don't want to be like that. Of course, I show some signs of it already, by buying into it and actually queuing for spots and finding out where I could possibly send the twins to rather than leave it to chance. Apparently, if I am a Stay-at-Home-Mom, there is a danger that I become much more like that because for many of them, their lives only revolve around extra lessons for the kids and the kids' achievement. And as is, I am already judged because I do not participate in many of such pursuits. Am I being punished because what I do and how I behave makes a mockery of how other moms have chosen to define their lives? Perhaps. Is it healthy? Probably not. Is it obsessive? I should say so. Is it contagious? I'd say most probably. Is it scary? Most definitely.

I dread doing this again with even higher stakes when the kids need to go to primary school. I think this is the point where, once again, moving, is a good idea.

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Saturday, April 04, 2009

Pasta Mania

New plaything. Yet another thing I learnt from the parenting course I attended some weeks back. After their naps in the afternoon, I try to let them have something fun to play with or to do. So we either make milk shakes, do art or garden related stuff. I like giving them things to do to occupy themselves independently of us. I think it's important for them to play on their own without adding us into the fray.

So, previously, it was beans. Beans rather than sand because they are colourful and clean up isn't quite as painful as if it were sand. Plus, the beans that we miss, 2 days later, we re-visit and I show them how it's become a plant, not that they care. To them, it's all the better to stomp on.

But one thing I've learnt about kids. You can't give them the same thing to play with all the time because they get bored. So I decided to mix it up a little and give them beans but add on to it. This took a bit more work than the beans which I just bought and mixed together. This required me to buy some raw materials, weird obscure ones at that and put it together.

I needed
- a bag of pasta
- some food colouring
- some rubbing alcohol
- a ziploc bag (I used clean transparent plastic bags and they worked as well)
- a roll of paper towel
- a pair of disposable chopsticks.
- a large metal tray

What I was going to do was rather than just give them plain wheat coloured pasta to play with, I would colour the pasta.

Step 1:
- Put pasta into the plastic bag/ ziploc bag, add some rubbing alcohol in and then add food colouring.
- The amount of colour to be added in depends on the intensity you want the colour to turn out.

























Step 2:
- After you've put your pasta in and poured your colouring out, you shake it all about.
- Line a tray with paper towels, a few times over so that the colour doesn't seep through.
- Pour out the coloured pasta and spread them out so that they dry out evenly.
- Leave to dry.
- The alcohol on it causes the pasta to dry relatively quickly.
- You can tell it's dry when the colour dulls down a little and is no longer glossy.

The good thing about colouring the shells this way and letting the kids use the shells as play things is that even if they swallowed it, everything is edible. Pasta, colouring and the teensy bit of rubbing alcohol that would have vapourised by that point.




















Step 3
- Time to play!

I inflated the pool so that we could contain the mess and gave them a couple of scoops, containers and spatulas to play with. Because they fight over everything, I made sure there were enough similar containers to go round so neither could justify snatching. So there was much pouring, throwing and inadvertently stomping.




















































The thing about pasta shells is that it doesn't take well to being stomped. It breaks up. Jordan looks like a Mini Godzilla in mid growl because she got some stuck to her foot. So, I put shoes on them after that and they were quite happy playing Godzilla and stomping on everything.

This kept them busy for a good 45 minutes while I got to get some rest. After the gastric flu debacle, I was warned that with a virus in my body, I'd more likely than not manifest another virus led ailment. And true enough, my nose and throat have added themselves into the ill mix and requiring me to lie down a lot. Something that is hard to do with 21-month-old Energizer bunnies. So whatever reprieve the pasta/ bean combination allowed me, was much welcomed.

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Spirits

In a Christian context, we talk sometimes about various spirits. Not as in the haunt-you-and-scare-the-beejeezus-out-of-you spirits or evil spirits but spirits of virtues. Basically, we believe in a Holy Spirit that can imbue us with good traits. And in secular speak, we also hear about spirits of generosity and kindness etc.

I blogged about wanting my twins to grow up with the spirit of humility and to have a sense of gratefulness in them. And I'm certain most parents want the same thing for their children. Today, I discovered yet another virtue that I think it's important. We all pay lip service to it. We all tell our kids and claim to live by this virtue. And that is of generosity.

I am blessed to know some very generous people. People who have gone out of their way to help me and now, my children. Little things, like explaining to me how to get my kids registered in kindy or passing me a bag of old clothes for the twins because they know it is expensive to raise 2 children on one salary. Or even just giving time and taking the kids off my hands because sometimes, a mom can only be a mom that long before she goes stir crazy and loses all her marbles. And I am eternally grateful. Sometimes, I feel like I need to repay the kindness and occasionally stress about how to do it. But usually those who give of themselves just like to be acknowledged.

My mother is the most generous person in the world. I am ashamed to admit that I am not half as generous as she is with her time or resource. But she is a great example and I have learnt from her. Where ever possible, I try to help those around me and try to make their lives that little bit easier. And because people give clothes and toys to my kids, I do the same. I give to those who have younger children than I do. All is fine and good until you meet someone who takes and takes and takes but never gives. And then you wonder.

Do you still give? Is it wrong to expect that because you've helped her and gone out of your way for her to expect her to do the same? Am I being calculative by expecting her to think about others for a change? I know I'm not perfect and I should be able to give and not expect anything in return. But there is a tank that one gives from. It needs to be replenished and if it isn't, there's really nothing to give.

I need to teach my kids that. Because there are two of them, their first abject lesson is to be generous to one another. We do it by example. My mother did it for me. I didn't learn from her flawlessly but I did learn. And I would like the twins to learn too. To share and to give. What will bug me will be when they ask the same thing I'm wondering now. Do they still give if they are being taken advantage of and made use of?

I haven't figured that one out yet. But I suspect for myself, I will still help the selfish-self-centred person who thinks only about herself and her kid because by not doing so, I'm an even worse person than she is. But that tank is rapidly running on fumes and I harbour no illusions that she will ever be different.

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