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.

Monday, September 30, 2013

Capturing Mischief

There is this cliche, about how boys are made out of 'snips and snails and puppy dog tails'. I'm not sure of its origins, but I can attest to it being true. Cliches have to come from some where. So, the stereotype that the boys are always up to some mischief? True. The fact that girls are supposed to be gentler and quieter? True, well, to a certain extent since mine does have two brothers to rile her up.

But anyway, I caught mischief in action today.

Muffin has a big container of hard rubber insects. It is amongst his most prized possessions. Today, he asked to sit in my work chair. Since I was busy doing something else, I said yes and didn't pay much attention to it. I caught snippets of conversation he was having with me.

"Where is Papa?"
"When is Papa coming home?"

To which I replied "Papa is at work. Papa will be home later today. Why?"
"I want Papa to sit in his chair."

Muffin is 3. I don't focus a lot on the logic behind his conversations because they take many tangential launches into irrelevant oblivion.

After the craziness and mad rush to get them onto the school bus, I returned home and started picking up the stuff they didn't clear up. And that was when the CSI Spidey-sense in me started to tingle.

1. There was the empty insect container on the floor and I hadn't seen the insects strewn any where in the house.
2. Packrat's towel on his chair looked suspiciously neat.
3. I suddenly recall Muffin sitting on the chair and pretending to vibrate as if electrocuted and then collapse into gales of laughter.
4. I suddenly recall Muffin asking me when Packrat was going to be home.
5. I suddenly recall Muffin asking me to sit in Packrat's chair only to be told by Evan that "Mommy only sits in Mommy's chair" (Evan is very much a by-the-book kind of boy)

So, I fling the towel off the chair and find his entire nest of insects on the seat under the towel.


The cheeky boy evidently thought that he could scare his father by making him sit on a nest of his insects. I think he was disappointed that he would have to wait till Packrat came home to 'jump out of his chair'. He would be further disappointed to know that I cleared the whole lot off the chair and dumped them back into the bottle. Or so I thought.

When I was leaving for work, I realised he had left me a small surprise in my hand bag too, strategically placed so that I would see it.




I dread the day he discovers how mortified I am of live lizards and stashes one in my bag to jump out at me.
But at the same time, I'm waiting to see what other harmless pranks he's going to come up thinking that it will scare us silly.

Friday, September 27, 2013

Capturing freedom

As a child I hated being in front of a crowd.

I always feared being embarrassed. I was always self-conscious.  I don't think I dared to speak in public. My voice would tremble and crack. And not until I went to uni and had to do a VIVA, did I dare to speak in front of an audience. After that, I haven't been all that fazed. I ended up choosing a career that required me to stand in front of people and speak or teach. Call the VIVA the baptism of fire.

I cannot remember whether or not there was a time, as a child, that I didn't fear being embarrassed.

Slowly, the twins are becoming old enough to understand what embarrassment means. So that means they have become a little bit more self-conscious.

But generally, they are a lot less fearful of being in front of a crowd than both Packrat and I were; though more so Jordan and Muffin.

Evan is the closest template to us. The other two just belt out tunes, ham it up for all and sundry to watch.


Muffin has no qualms being in front of his class, talking about what ever strange item he chose to bring to school that day. Jordan loves performing and she has a mega-watt smile for the crowd. Evan, if he has rehearsed enough pulls off a pretty good show even if he tells me later that he was actually very very scared.


Thankfully for pre-schooler performers, the critics are not as demanding and harsh. We've all had one of those critics in our lives (occasionally our teachers), who have told us that it was wrong to colour the ocean green, mocked us when we tried to speak up or plain laughed at us because it was such a ludicrous thought, whatever we were suggeting.  Hopefully, whatever freedom they've felt just singing, waving their arms and speaking in front of a crowd, will be the beginning of courage to stand in front of others and be heard, as they grow older.


Thursday, September 26, 2013

Bird Brain

In the last month, I have lost 2 water bottles and a pair of sunglasses.

For the record, it isn't the first pair of sunglasses that I have lost. The last time I lost sunglasses, I was in Disney World with the kids and as punishment (to me that is), I spent the rest of the vacation with a pair of Mickey Mouse sunglasses perched atop my head. And that doesn't include all the close shaves where I misplace my sunglasses, keys, phone and cannot find them and needing everyone to scurry around the house looking for them. It has become a common occurrence where I use the home phone to ring my mobile.

It drives me insane. I don't know why I keep losing my stuff, even though my sunglasses are often used as a hairband to keep my hair from my eyes and  my bottle is 1 litre huge. Granted, the first one I lost earlier this month, it was on the plane covered by blankets. But even then, it has been inexcusable.


JED obviously take after me and they leave their bottles on the school bus, in the classroom and I am constantly reminding them to remember. I have all these fun and cute stuff from JED Packs that I would love for them to use next year come Primary One but I worry they would lose them all within a day.

It's about teaching responsibility. And a sense of ownership. And at this moment, I feel I am not equipped to do so since I've lost a whole lot of stuff that are very dear to me.

I suspect it doesn't help that jet lag, the chronic sleep deprivation and the Mommy brain syndrome leaves me all over the place. But oh how I wish that I didn't lose my stuff! Not just because I find it hard to lord over JED knowing full well I am as bad as they are but because I was really attached to my sunnies and my bottle!

Packrat turned my threat to JED right around to me. He told me I should just bring a mineral water bottle out since I can't be trusted with the Nalgenes. And wear a hat to shade my eyes.

In response, I would probably lose my hat too.



SANses.com's Talkative Thursdays

Wednesday, September 25, 2013

Capturing Concentration

At 3 or at 6, even the simplest things are difficult. It's very easy to give up. It might be figuring out how to tie the laces on a sneaker (Evan), hold the stencil still enough so that the picture you draw isn't wobbly (Muffin) or trying not to fall off the balance beam even if it is 4 inches above the ground (Jordan).

We keep telling them to keep at it. So they do, albeit reluctantly at times. And when they do try, the look of concentration and focus on their faces makes me want to shush everything around them while silently waving pom poms for them.

I am glad I caught these three snapshots. I put it together into a  collage to remind them of how hard they worked and when they eventually got it right (and all 3 did eventually) how it made it all the more worthwhile.

I didn't include those pictures, the victory and immense satisfaction ones because those are memories easily remembered. These ones, they will forget, especially when it becomes second nature to them.

But it will probably do them good if, in an existential and contemplative mood one day, they wondered how was it that they had figured out all these supposedly simple things and recalled the sheer grit they had to have had to go from "I don't know how to do this" to "I can do this with my eyes closed". And the revelation that if they could do that at 3 or 6, where ever they would be in life at that point, they could probably summon up the same grit to overcome what ever they needed to.

Monday, September 23, 2013

Capturing Wonderment

When I was on vacation with my mom and my brother, we inadvertently started talking about our childhood memories. What struck me was that the memories that we had were mostly about things that weren't really meaningful to anyone else but us.

Anyway, since this blog is primarily for JED (for me too because my memory sucks), I'm going to endeavour to do a series of snapshots capturing some of the things that they might like to have memories and even photographs of.

Starting with things that made them go "WOW" in a hushed tone and be silent throughout the entire experience.

That was Muffin's reaction when we took him to an open field near where I work. Every evening and more so on Saturday mornings, there are these guys flying remote control planes. These planes were slightly under 3 feet long. The guys obviously had some part in building them, they tinker with them and the look on their faces when they manoeuvre the planes up into the sky is the same, unabashed look of wonderment that Muffin had on his face. They flew them as if the planes were part of the Red Arrows, flying inverted, doing barrel turns and twists in the air with shouts and whoops of glee.

Muffin was quiet and his face upturned the whole time. He asked no questions. He just watched. And slowly edged closer and closer to the nearest one of the guys tinkering with his plane. He didn't want to go. And when we did, he asked if he could bring Evan and Jordan back to see the planes. 


An old guy quipped to another as we were about to leave, 'Fly the plane low. Then you can see the beauty of it and enjoy it. Don't fly it too high, otherwise you might as well watch planes take off from Changi.'

Point taken.
Sense of wonderment? Check.

Thursday, September 19, 2013

10 Years on

10 years ago in May, we got married and to symbolize our unending love for one another, we slipped on these rings. In it, we had engraved 1 Corinthians 13 (4-8).

 

10 years later, in June, while in Penang on holiday with the family, Packrat's ring floats off in the sea into the Straits of Malacca somewhere. We could have mobilised the naval divers but the chances of finding it would have been akin to finding a needle in a haystack. 

The only alternative and 10 years seemed an apt time to do it, we made new rings. Even though I still had my wedding ring, we commissioned a new set. Not matching, just complementary. 


Something we had learnt, in the last ten years of marriage.  


On a more flippant note, I cannot help but also realise how our hands have aged in the last 10 years.




 

Wednesday, September 11, 2013

Lest we forget

Some people may think that the Americans being over-sentimental and over-dramatic make too big a deal about their tragedies. When I was in Epcot on December 7, the family wondered if some important American had died and that was why the flags were flown at half mast. I said it wasn't and it was to commemorate Pearl Harbour. The reaction to that was a great amount of eye-rolling about how the Americans were over-dramatic.

Perhaps.

But at the same time, I was very awed to see the flag flown at half mast. My mother was born on December 7 she was 2 that day. It was helluva 2nd birthday in Singapore because it also heralded the attack on Singapore.

I felt the same way when I was at the 9 11 Memorial.

I remember the cold autumn night when I was watching television and the news cut in to announce that a plane had flown into one of the World Trade Centre towers. The television show I was watching was cut short and for the rest of the night, we watched the news not knowing that we were watching what would be a defining moment in the world and our lives.

No immediate friends or family died. But we had had visiting faculty from the USA who had returned to the USA and one of them, together with her daughter was on the flight that hit the South Tower. No one could work the next day and television only resumed a semblance of normal programming the next evening.

It's been more than a decade on. And the horror that I felt that night, actually wondering whether the world would go to war and Packrat would be called back from reserves and whether we would actually have a Singapore to return to at year end as well as more comically, if war was declared, would I have to finish my dissertations?

There were many things that moved me about the 911 Memorial.

1. How big the memorial pools were. The memorial pools are in the exact footprints of where the towers were. And it made me think about how large the craters were on that day and how many people died and how much rubble and debris had filled the craters that size.


2. Every single victim was named. And some of them had, after their names who they were; the first responder policemen or firefighters who did not know that they were running into buildings that were about to collapse.

3. The thoughtfulness that went behind the memorial. Yes, light shoots out from the second crater in the fountain every night as an example of an electric eternal flame of sorts but what touched me was how every single name was hollowed out so that family members or the public who want to honour the dead by placing flowers could do so by placing the flowers in their names.

 

4. The new Freedom Towers are still being built. National memory and the economy are tightly interlinked.


5. There were two thousand over people who perished that day and 7 buildings collapsed not counting those who died elsewhere that day. The debris and the toxic gases remained over New York for months after. Amidst of that debris, a tree was found. And that tree was then taken to a botany clinic and actually revived. It now stands proudly in the middle of the 911 memorial and is known as the Survivor Tree.


I remarked to my brother that as a mark of respect and honour that the memorial should actually be closed on 911 itself so that families could visit it without the gawking eyes of visitors and onlookers. 

It is hard not to be overawed. But it is also easy to forget tragedy. When I was there, I remembered, it was September 11 2001 that I had decided that I needed to become a teacher. I had forgotten that, and much much more.
new button

Monday, September 09, 2013

Something old to something new

We have 3 playgrounds near where we live. JED have visited them so many times that they are bored of them and bug us to take them to new play spaces.

But on Thursday when it rained as if the gods were crying and the whales starting beaching at NUS, there was little for them to do to in the house except to drive us all insane. I decided to take them to the playground in the rain.

That was the one guaranteed to make sure that the old folk that sit at the void deck spaces tsk and hiss at me disapprovingly. Didn't I know that allowing them to play in the rain was a sure way to have them catch a bad cold?

In such a situation, it is always good to not be able to speak very much dialect. Then all that can be done is to smile and shrug your shoulders and walk on, guaranteeing that the whole block will know how bad a mom you are but at the same time also ensuring that JED get to do something they don't often get a chance to do.

Part of the fun for them was outfitting them; raincoats, wellies and even umbrellas.

There was more tsk-ing and hissing when the aforementioned folk realised that I had put Muffin in Jordan's old rain gear; a green rain coat with pink lining and pink wellies.

But just adding that extra novelty made it a whole lot more exciting with lots more squeals and chuckling. Swings, swinging on their bellies, climbing up and down slippery rock walls much to my terror. I feared that with every time that Muffin lost his step, he would slip, fall and break his teeth at the very least. But every time he slipped, it elicited a nervous chuckle and tried it again.


The ground was wet. The air was cool. And an added advantage There was also the added advantage of the playgrounds being empty on account of the rain. 

Evan was so happy he was both singing and dancing in the rain. He has the sodden, swimming pools in his boots to prove it. 

All this plus the long and hot bubble bath in their bath tubs meant that it took up the entire afternoon and by the time they were done, they were ready for dinner and very quickly ready for bed. 

It meant that I could shower myself, do my last minute packing and get them all to sleep before I had to head off to the airport.

So, if you are okay for your kids to play in the rain, rain doesn't mean they can't play outside. Unless there's lightning of course. I may be nuts but not that nuts.

Friday, September 06, 2013

I woke up over Afghanistan

I meant to post this yesterday. But I forgot. And this morning, I woke with a start over Afghanistan and realised that I had forgotten to post this.

So, here I am, doing it in Frankfurt while waiting to board en route to JFK in New York.

For the next ten days I'm on leave from being a mom to JED. I am however, not exactly scot free. I'm going to be my mother's tour guide over the East Coast of the USA. It's a tad early for the fall foliage but this is the only time that I can get off. JED are on vacation and Packrat can stand in.

I told Packrat a few nights back that I was nervous about going because I was leaving JED. He told me that they would be okay though my reply was that of course I would be nervous since I was in control of most of their lives. Even in the dark, I knew he was giving me a look. And obviously, I have control issues.

But I've planned as best as I can. Work's been sorted out and I've given him a Tiger Mom-esque list of work that the twins have to complete. There's also a schedule of all their activities next week, lest he forgets.



So all that is left for me to do is to pack my bags and go. The twins don't seem to care. They know they get to stay at Grandma's. Muffin knows to parrot that "Mommy is going to America on a aeroplane." But I doubt that he gets the full weight of what that means. The twins were fine right till the last moment when I got them to bed, then mega water works ensued as they imagined every single bad thing from coughs and cuts to leeches and crocodiles attacking Mommy. It made me cry too. But Packrat assured me that once they got it out of their systems (me too), we would all be fine.

I know I'm going to totally miss them and Packrat. But I think for a little while, it's time to be a daughter again instead of a mom! Goodness knows I haven't done enough of that in the last few years!



SANses.com's Talkative Thursdays

Wednesday, September 04, 2013

Spoil Market

I get very stressed with Teachers' Day because JED aren't old enough to fully take charge of Teachers' Day gifts. But Jordan and Evan can do some of the bits with minimal supervision. They can make cards.

Except, Jordan doesn't just make a card. She insists on writing a book for her teacher; fully illustrated and coloured. She even tells us very specifically where the 'conflict' is in her story.






Evan looks up at his effort, looks over at hers and while he doesn't say anything, it's written all over his face "Spoil market!" and possibly the formings of expletives that he doesn't yet know. I work with him and we come up with something passable but he doesn't allow me to photograph it. To his credit, he ties bows on their gifts to their teachers much more deftly than she does (his shoes have laces). And Jordan's reaction to his being able to do that was pretty much the same as his was earlier.




Killing two birds with one stone

It's Teachers' Day season and the twins are fully aware that it is a day meant to honour and celebrate their teachers. They've been made to make umpteenth cards, tie bows and select presents that they then covet for themselves but are not for them to have.

Every year, we also bless all the staff in their kindy. Not just their teachers but every single adult person who works at the school. We do this because we see the combined effort they make to get to know JED and to look out for them. They also know who I am even though I'm not one of those moms that does the pick up and drop off every day. So, once a year, we send something, before the actual Teachers' Day to thank all the staff. This year was no difference.

On the way to school to deliver this year's goodies in the form of yummilcious muffins, Evan and Jordan have this discussion in the car.

Jordan: I want to be a teacher when I grow up.
Evan: I don't want. I want to be a scientist.
Jordan: But being a teacher is good. You get to celebrate Teachers' Day and you get many presents from your students.
Evan: No, teachers are boring. I want to be a scientist.
Jordan: But there isn't a 'Happy Scientist Day' like 'Happy Teachers' Day'.
Silence.
Evan: Okay, I will be a teacher. But I will be a science teacher. Then I will be a scientist and I will get presents.

  

So the boy has decided how to get the best out of everything. I can't blame him. From where he sits, it must look very appealing.

Will we, as teachers dissuade them from becoming teachers? I think we'll be honest with them and see what comes out of it. And I think it will be very amusing if they actually said that, the reason they wanted to be teachers was so that they could get presents, during the interview.
 

Monday, September 02, 2013

Figuratively speaking

Occasionally, JED come home with book lists from Scholastic. It allows us to order cheap paper back versions of kid books. It's mostly shooting blind; the books are either a hit or a miss. But sometimes I order one that is a gem.

A Chocolate Moose for Dinner is definitely a gem.

It's filled with words that have homophones that mean something very different. It's all wordplay and figurative language. And it's from a child's perspective; the child who struggles to make sense of their increasingly complicated world with whatever tools he has at his disposal.

And the hilarious results that ensue.


The twins got these ones and were in stitches; especially the image of the daddy in the toaster.


The pictures are in a vintage style and tickle me to no end, especially the gorilla (guerilla) war one and the praying (prey) on animals one.


Muffin has tried to make sense of it. The gorillas are shooting. They're shooting at people who are taking their bananas. JED don't really understand it all fully yet but they think the pictures are hilarious, even Muffin. I've tried to explain it to them but as with all jokes that you explain, it takes the funny out of it.


I'm keeping the book around till they are older to really use it fully. It's important they learn play on words and figurative speech. After all, Packrat and Evan's godpa are king of corny humour. On top of that, it was written by Fred Gywnne who was the part of the Munsters and played Frankenstein. It's important for cultural capital even if it's very western-centric. But for now, it's for Packrat and I to chuckle at.

Arms race. Hee hee.

Sunday, September 01, 2013

Childhood wonderment

Occasionally, I hear the twins use phrases that sound far too old for their age. We're not talking about swear words or anything. Just words and phrases that run incongruous to their six year old voices, stature and worldviews.

So, we try very hard not to dampen any sort of belief or view that while is common for a child is deemed as rubbish and stuff fairy tales are made out of for adults.

One of those things is the Tooth Fairy. Both of them love the idea of the Tooth Fairy. Yet, on some level, they know that the Tooth Fairy isn't real. I neither deny or confirm that fact for them.  On their part, they don't really want to face up to the reality that she may not be real either.

Recently, both Jordan and Evan had their teeth come out. This isn't the first occasion so it was much less dramatic. But yet, they wanted their teeth under the pillow.

I think it was in Modern Family where the Tooth Fairy left a note when 'she' collected the tooth.

So that gave me an idea to do the same where I left personalised notes for them from the Tooth Fairy.


Predictably, I was rudely awoken the next morning by 2 six year olds brandishing the familiar orange Post It note at me. Evan demanded to know if I had written it. I turned the question back on him and asked if he thought I did and whether it looked like my handwriting. That made him doubt himself a bit before breaking out into the biggest of grins and announcing excitedly to his sister that it was indeed the Tooth Fairy that left the note and the money.

Once again, I did not deny or confirm it. I just pretended to go back to sleep.