What mums want for Mother's Day

Mother's Day is pretty much a commercial thing but since it's around for us to honour and commemorate mothers, I'm going to use it to do just that.

I haven't been a mother all that long. I recently told Muffin when I was filling up a form for him that where it stated "Name of Parent", I once wrote down my own mother's name. Because in my mind, she's the mother. I'm just a kid, playing house.

But I guess, I am a mother, with 3 kids to care for, love and fiercely protect. But the most difficult part of this aspect of my life is not that. That comes naturally, as does the worry and stress about everything from their well-being to something as inconsequential as exams.

So what is the most difficult part? It's protecting myself as a mother. Not just physically and that in itself as tough. The eye bags, the shot memory and the late nights are testament of how I and probably we often forget to look after ourselves physically. But what's even harder is to protect myself emotionally. And I know I speak for more than myself.

Like I say, we love our children fiercely. And for good or for bad, we do everything we can to make sure things work out. But that means laying ourselves vulnerable to attack. The twins do science in school now and they learn about exo-skeletons. One thing they have been able to point out is that exo-skeletons are hard external coverings to protect the soft inner bodies of the animals or insects. Yes, mothers need that too.

We constantly worry whether we are doing right by our children and doing enough for them. We are paranoid enough to worry that we aren't doing enough despite all signs to the contrary. And because that's where we are most insecure, we are also most open to attack. It could be by another mom who is well-meaning, chiding us for not giving our child a particular opportunity to flourish. Then we feel that we are lousy mothers.

It could come in the form of an elder who defends our child when we try to discipline the child thereby eroding our authority or our conviction that we were right in disciplining our child; implying then that they know more about parenting than we do. That's when we feel that we're ineffective as the mother.

Or it could come from someone who, past their own years of parenting has forgotten what it feels like to be in the trenches, waxes lyrical about how easy it was for them to have parented their children and look back with rose tinted hindsight on how fun parenthood was; making us feel like incompetant frauds because we run furiously on the hamster wheel just so that we don't fall off. Then that voice in our head tells us how useless we are as a mother.

Or it could be someone who tells us that despite how established we are professionally and how we spend all our time struggling to keep all the balls up in the air that "No, you can't have everything" and we ought to chuck our life and our profession to stay home so that we could helicopter our children. Because, that's what true mothers do and when we are not home all the time, there are no two ways about it; as with every single jibe against us, we are made to feel that we have utterly failed as a mother. And that's what rips apart that soft inside within us.

So that, is what we have to immunize ourselves against; our confidence as mothers that people around us knowingly or unknowingly erode to make themselves feel better or look better. We always try to do right for our children and we do what we can within those limitations. And for most part, the children thrive when mothers do it that way despite these perceived imperfections.

So my rally call this Mother's Day is not just to honour mums by buying her flowers today and taking her out for a meal but to make it an effort to not judge mums; to encourage us every day as we battle both the outer challenges and inner strife that comes along with motherhood. That way, we help each other create that necessary exo-skeleton against all the world and their criticisms on what we are  obviously doing wrong. That way, we help each other be the best mums we can be. Because at the end of the day, it isn't a contest where only one of us can be the best mum. Just as we want the best for our children, we should also want the best for every mum out there. We are all in the same boat.

Not the Oscars.

Now, that would make a rockin' Mother's Day gift.

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Things to say if you want to be a bad mother.

Part of my reading diet consists of parenting blogs from the NY Times and Huffington Parents. It's a nice read when I'm in the mood because it inspires me to be a better parent and to be mindful of how some stuff I do could or say could impact JED.

But then there are days where everything I do and everything that comes out of my mouth goes against everything I read about positive parenting. I'm rude, I'm condescending, I'm mean and sometimes just plain bitchy.

Here are things that JED have said that made me snap (in every sense of the word).

1. "Mommy, Mommmy, Mommmmy, Mommmmmy! Where are you Mommmmmmmmmmmmy???"

Response: WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAATTTTTTTTT???????????

2. Me: So can you tell me one thing you are thankful for today?

JED's response: NOTHING. Today was a horrible day. Nothing was good. At all.

Me: Okay, fine. Then we'll switch off the air-conditioning, strip you of your clothes and you sleep on the floor without pillows.

3. One of JED: I don't want to wake up for school tomorrow. I hate school. I'm tired and I don't want to go to school.

Me: Fine, then don't go. And you can be illiterate for all I care.

4. One of JED: Why can't we play Minecraft? Everyone plays Minecraft. Why can't we?
Me: It'll make you stupid. Do you want to be stupid?

5. One of JED: Mommy, drop me here, NOW.
Me (Stops the car by the side of the road): Ok. Get out. NOW.

6. Me: Wake up. It's 6.15am. You're going to be late for school. (10 mins later) WAKE UP! It's 6.25 am. YOU'RE GOING TO BE LATE FOR SCHOOL!

One of JED: I'm still sleepy. I'm tired.

Me: Okay fine. We're leaving at 6.50AM, if you're not ready, we're leaving without you. You can walk to school. And if you're hot and sweaty, too bad. If your teacher scolds you, too bad. If you get lost because you don't know the way, too bad.  And don't think you can stay at home because you can't. You can jolly well find your own way to school.

7. JED, even the barely literate one, love reading at meals and it drags meal times past the hour. Despite nagging, no one hurries. So one of two things happen. Sometimes both. The meals get taken away from them and dumped in the trash. Their books get taken away and hidden.

8. Me: It's time to wash up. Please brush your teeth and get ready for bed.
One of JED: I don't care.
Me: Okay, then I won't care either. (Opens the front gate and walks out of the house).

9. Me: Go to bed. It's late.
One of JED: I can't sleep.
Me: Close your eyes and you'll fall asleep.
One of JED: I can't sleep. I'm restless. I don't want to sleep. Lalalalalalala!
Me: Get out of the room, NOW.
One of JED: no,
Physically hauls said child out of the room, slams the door and locks child outside.

A contrite child, knowing that she and her siblings had incurred the wrath of the mater.

When all these things happen, it's a surreal out of body experience. I see myself yell and I know I shouldn't. But it's like aliens have taken over and I have no rational control over the parts of my brain that does these things.

Sufficed to say, I am horrified at myself after said exchanges. Actually I'm mortified. And then I berate myself for being an awful mother.

It's been one of those days.

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Having babies

For some reason, we've been talking about having babies.

No, not along the lines of having another baby though Muffin and Jordan have declared they want a baby sister (fat hope of that happening).

We've been talking about how babies come into this world. The actual birth of the baby. And that has spawned a hilarious set of reactions.

Jordan:
In response to finding out that she and Evan were born through a C-section recoiled in horror at Mommy's belly being cut opened and stitched back. She worries about the pain and it didn't help when she saw pictures of me wincing through Muffin's birth. She is a confused one, that one; declaring that she doesn't ever want to have babies but also declaring she wants a family. I told her she could adopt and she looked like her brain was going to explode.

Evan:
"Thank God I'm not a girl!" I told him that if he got married, his wife would have to go through it. His response was "but it's not me!" When I told him that it was his job to be there and get sworn at, hit and hold the hand of his wife, he asked "Why would I want to give her my hand if she is going to hit me?" How male, this one is.
                  

Muffin:
He didn't understand how it happened so I somewhat flippantly told him "I sneezed and you fell out of me." He didn't question me about it. But a few days later, when I sneezed, he looked at the ground between my legs and asked "Did a baby fall out of you yet?"

Like I told Jordan, they have about 20 or more years to wrap their heads around the idea of child birth. Jordan broke it down into 7300 days give or take and then proceeded to freak out because that didn't seem that long to her either.

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Conversations in the dark

There are nights where I work late. That means I miss my favourite time with JED; I don't get to get them to sleep where we, read, we chat and we chuckle till we (myself included) fall off to sleep. They are used to it and willingly kiss my goodbye and goodnight when I leave the house. Sometimes I come home to surprises like this, hanging on my front door.

And sometimes, I am met with the sight of JED sleeping in hilarious pose worthy positions.

And it makes me smile but it makes me wistful for having missed bedtime.

What helps it is when my alarm goes off in the morning and I stumble out of bed to turn it off then amble over to JED's room and climb into bed with them for the next ten minutes. This morning, Evan was actually up when I lumbered over and we cuddled and started chatting about the day ahead. I found out that he had discovered 'chee cheong fun' from a friend and knew enough to ask him which stall it was from and how much it cost and went and got it. He declared he liked it, especially with the little sesame seeds on top. Little victories.

I'm glad for that little ten minute conversation in the dark this morning. It wasn't much but it helped me touch base with him and it didn't just put me in a good mood, it put him in one too.

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Sick or just pretending?

While I was in school, I had heard of friends who would go to all lengths to be able to skip school. It included drinking scalding Milo before heading into the doctor's office to simulate a fever to reading up symptoms of ailments so that they wouldn't get caught out. That, together with all the students I used to see ducking out of school with a myriad of excuses that sometimes bordered on the ridiculous have made me a suspicious teacher and an even more suspicious parent.

The twins, at P1, thankfully aren't that conniving yet; but they would occasionally try the vomiting, stomachache and headache way out of school. Usually if it is a single symptom without any others to corroborate it, I insist that they still go.

Two days ago, Jordan came home from school claiming she had a headache from sitting on the side of the bus where the sun came in. This came after declaring, the night before, that she didn't like Tuesdays because it was a long day. Put the two events together and it was a recipe for skepticism on my part, especially when her headache got significantly 'worse' as Grandma showed up.


That night, however, I ate my words because the headache had manifested into a high fever that would not break, regardless of what we threw at it. This followed into yesterday with Jordan becoming increasingly lethargic as the fevers grew increasingly hotter and increasingly resistant to any sort of fever relief medicine.

By then, there was obviously no doubt in our minds how ill she was and we worried about dengue or a more severe viral infection of sorts. And by then, I felt extremely guilty for having doubted that she was ill to begin with. I wouldn't have done anything different since I did pull down the blinds, let her have a lie-down and even a spoonful of paracetamol to make her comfortable. But I had done that with more than a modicum of disbelief and as I watched as whimper and writhe in her sleep battling fever dreams, I felt inordinately bad.

On the way to getting blood drawn.

Bruise site. She shed one tear.

I don't know what the moral of the story is because more often than not, JED will try to pull this again. I suppose I could use this as a cautionary tale, that if they complained too often, when they did indeed fall ill, it would take me a longer time to help them. But for me, the mommy radar really has to sieve out the malingering excuses with the true declarations of discomfort and if I get it wrong, it's not the situation report that will kill me, it's the guilt.

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An Apology Letter to My Husband

If you asked me for tips to 'survive' staying home with the kids, I would say I don't have anything new and practical to add to what's been already said. But the 'tip' that I do have, has to do more with helping the mind and heart survive the transition. And it's all about being aware of your own needs and being able to tell hubs about them, before they blow up in a bad way. I learnt that the hard way and here's how I learnt it, in a form of an apology letter, to my long-suffering husband.

 ---

Dear Packrat,
I know this happened many years ago, but it is something that till today and I am still utterly mortified that I had said to you and I have never stopped being sorry about. It's one of those things that I wish I could take back.

The twins were just 18 months at that time and after working through most of their first year, I felt too guilty and torn to work any more. And you made it happen. You helped me work out our finances so that I could stop work and be with them. I was ecstatic and I didn't think anything else would matter.

And I hung out with the twins all day. I was happy to do that. I was at my most creative. I would make stuff with them and play with them. But then, that's all I did most of the time and at the end of the day, I had done nothing much else. On a good day, I might have read the paper. On a bad day, I would be in the same clothes I was in when I kissed you goodbye in the morning.

Slowly, I realised that it niggled at me on many levels. I had 2 college degrees. I had been offered a PhD scholarship. At work, I had been on my way to positions that would have given me a private office rather than a cubicle. On top of that, I loved my colleagues and we spent on time having working lunches and teas. It was where I felt that I belonged. But I had given up all that. The most productive thing I would do in a day would be to make play dough with my kids and embark on finger painting projects. I also realised that I had nothing much to say to you when you got home from work. All I could talk about was what I did with the children because for most part of the day, that's all I did. In a flailing attempt to make conversation with you, I would ask you to tell me about your day. Your replies were always vague because you said there was nothing much to tell me.  And then crickets...

I had always cherished that connection that we had. That our relationship had grown from chats that lasted the whole night. I couldn't fathom how we had gone from that to not having 2 things to say to each other at the end of the day. It weighed down on me and that slowly bloomed into full-scaled panic. I am not sure if you remember the night I am talking about but I do, like it was yesterday.

You were at your computer. I was saying something to you and you gave me a dismissive response which was pretty much an echo of the last two words of my sentence and something in me snapped.
Out of no where, I flung something across the room and announced somewhat angrily "NOW I KNOW WHY SOME PEOPLE HAVE AFFAIRS!" It was a surreal moment. It was a strange out of body experience where I heard and watched myself say that and went "You really need a filter between your brain and your mouth". I regretted it the minute I said it.

The hurt look in your eyes grew into wild anger; where you took the car and floored the car right out of the house without looking back. My fear was that you would get into an accident and it would have been because of what I had said.

I spent the better part of the 2 hours you were out pacing the room going "What have I done? What have I done?". I remember being so thankful that you came home even if you refused to come into our bedroom that night.

We went to talk to someone after that because I was appalled at myself for hurting you like that and I think you found it hard to forgive me for saying that. I think it took us months for us to fix and realise that staying at home was much more complicated than just making sure our bank balances could afford it.

I had needed you to know how inadequate and inconsequential I felt because I was home all day and I had no way of communicating with you on any intellectual level. I had felt my brains, literally dribbling out of my ears as I watched a puppet panda teach our toddler children Chinese for the 10th time in a day. I had felt taken for granted, that I would be home all the time and everything in the house would be in good running order; my natural state has always been one where I am out actively doing something. Staying home felt counter intuitive to that. I missed being out at work. I missed being able to hang out with my colleagues and friends. I miss having spare change to buy something nice for myself if I wanted to.

By the end of the day, it would always feel like I had made a huge mistake by choosing to stay home. I had forgotten the guilt and it had been replaced by something even more hideous; panic and doubt. I needed to know that I had made the right decision by doing that and I needed to know, not from the kids but other adults, especially you, that they were thriving because I was home. I needed to know from you, that my time had been well-spent because I was beginning to not be able to justify it to myself. I needed to also feel that I was still equal to you. In short, I needed to be affirmed for what I was doing. Because when I reached out to you and I couldn't find you, I lashed out.

It doesn't explain away what I said but I guess after all these years, what I went through those early days of leaving my career has crystallized. The fact that my social circle shrunk down to just you, my ability to do things to pamper myself (like get my nails done and heading out to get a massage)  hamstrung by sticky toddlers and my world becoming so small that I had nothing to say to you were things that I hadn't counted on and was unable to deal with. It scared me more than not having an income did.

If I could do those days again, I would have talked to you first, long and hard about how much insecurity I felt at leaving my job and how for the first few months; singing nursery rhymes all day and eating kiddy food wasn't enough to feed my soul. I would tell you that my life up till that point had not prepared me for the dive I was going to take, socially, professionally and as your partner.  I would also not assume, at all, that you had a clue that any of this was churning round in my head and actually come right out and say it. Using the perfect 20/20 hindsight, I would have been more honest with you, about all these conflicting emotions in my head. But then again, only if you promise not to discourage me and only make it easier. I know, I am being demanding here. But it's my 20/20 and I can pretty much make it up as I go along!



But after 5 years of being home somewhat, thank you for slowly realising that even though I wanted to this, I badly needed outlets to just be myself and my own person. Thank you for creating the opportunities for that to happen. Things are by no means perfect and I still feel taken for granted occasionally, especially on days when I spend all my time in the car driving one kid or other around and I don't hear from you the whole time.

But for the times that you do remember and for the times that you take time to help me, I am grateful that you have heard me and I love you for always trying to place my needs first. And for that crown jewel of a hissy fit and the subsequent ones that have followed, I am eternally sorry and please forgive me.

With all my love,
Ondine.

 ---


This post is part of a blog train hosted by Gingerbreadmum where 31 stay-at-home mums share their survival tips. We hope that you'll find our tips useful and remember that you're not alone!

The next mum to blog is Ling Siew is mom to two adorable boys, Nathan (4.5 years old) and Noah (3 years old).  She blogs at 'The View from Mama's Desk' and she quit her full time job 2 years ago and is enjoying every moment as a SAHM. As much as she misses the corporate world, she can't imagine missing out on her boys' growing up years. She is thankful that she took the plunge to quit, and has no plans to return to full-time work in the near future.

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Triple the tantrums

I took this photograph yesterday at Sentosa. When I put it on FB, someone commented that it would be a photo to memorialize their chumminess as siblings. But as with every time someone says something good, the opposite happens. We call it tempting fate.



For the rest of the day, the trio were absolute horrors.

They fought with each other, they were mean to each other, they made each other cry. On top of that, they were whiny about their poor indulgent first world lives.

"Everyone is so noisy. Our house is so small. Can we move to a bigger house? I don't like this house anymore. "

"I hate it when you scold me about my homework."

"I hate my dinner. Why do I have to eat porridge. Why can't we have yummy fried food all the time?"

They were tired so that meant they were clumsy and uncoordinated. Each one took turns to fall in some way or other and burst into loud wails and sobs.

Irritation didn't begin to describe how I felt. I vacillated between wanting to run away and cane them till they really had something to howl about. It took all my effort not to haul them all into the car and drop them off at the nearest orphanage.

It was downright exhausting; so much so that I called an afternoon time-out today, came home while they were at gym, shut the door, darkened the room and just napped into oblivion. 

On days like that, why people are hesitant to have three kids is self-explanatory.

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Super power for mom

We are running a campaign on JED Packs to promote this new print that is called the Superheroes. It has got me thinking about how I'm in need of some super powers myself. Specifically, in Potterspeak, the ability to Apparate and Disapparate. I find myself having to be at various places at the same time or at the same place, various times of the day and it is not something I say to bolster my self-esteem. Even Calvin's failed attempt at the Duplicator , with all its flaws seems like a good idea. 

Either I zap myself from one place to another, while time stops or I duplicate myself. Not the ideal situations but I'll settle for anything that will give me some sort of breather.

Perhaps a magic cloak might help.

Waiting slightly forlornly for Super-Mom because she was stuck in the queue from hell entering the school. Next time, we park far away and walk.

I suppose much of it has got to do with me. I could say no to Evan when he asks for me to be in school with him at lunch time. We negotiated a one time thing; I will be there just that once to make sure he knows where to go for CCA. I could still stick Jordan on the school bus and pay for the one day a week I have to pick her up even though she hates it and I could leave Muffin with the helper before school despite his pleas for me to take him to the playground.

And throw in the occasional days when Packrat needs me to drop him off at work because of an early morning medical appointment and things get very exciting and F1 like.

How does one say no to such a face? And I have 3 of them!

But I can't find it in me to say no to any of them unless there is good reason to. But as a result, I'm on the road and stuck in queues to get into schools and pay tolls like I were throwing candy out the window.

By the end of it all, my eyes are glazed, I am mainlining iced lemon tea (because Ondine don't do caffeine) and wishing I had some super hero power that could help me do all this without feeling like the wind's been beaten out of me.

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Peer Pressure

The one very distinct way the twins' school differ from one another is the request for parent volunteers. One school mentioned it at orientation and hasn't really asked again. I am sure if I rang the school and offered to do something, they might get back to me. The other school runs an almost parallel programme for the kids purely on parent volunteers.

Before I go on, I do admit that the programmes the latter school offers are really good and they do make a great amount of difference to the kinds of learning the child gets. But it also drives home some more sobering truths; that access to opportunity does make education extremely unequal and that this opportunity that parent volunteers provide only can exist in a school where parents are middle-upper income, time is flexible or if one parent is not working.

I chose to volunteer; not in a big way but to be present in school half an hour, once a week. I thought the kid would get a big kick out of the fact that Mom was there. But that half an hour, once a week has opened myself and even Packrat up to requests and subtle pressure to do even more. There are ad-hoc committees to organise various special occasions in the school, there are other constant groups that create additional materials for and support academic teaching, there are also groups aimed at organising kids to take them through to out of school competitions.

As a teacher, I would have loved to teach in a school like that because it would mean that I could concentrate solely on the classroom teaching and offloaded from some of the other things.

As a parent, I am thankful that my kid is in a school that provides so many enriching opportunities for growth, exposure and experience.

But as a parent volunteer who works full time (albeit on a flexible schedule) with 3 kids in 3 different schools and is the principal tutor, driver and everything else for them, it is incredibly stressful. After listening to the briefing, I came to the conclusion that volunteering at this kid's school could easily amount to a full time job with zero pay. Yes, there is no price tag we can put on the satisfaction and all the potential bonding I will get to do with said kid and I would be helping out the school community. But where would I find the time in between work, my other primary school going child and Muffin? And all the volunteering that I would be doing, would my other school going child be upset that Mommy isn't there doing the same thing?

I advocate volunteering, I think it is a great way to serve. But when the message that emanates from this volunteer community is that 'you are only a good parent if you spend all your time volunteering at your kid's school,' it becomes stifling. It is difficult to not feel you are being judged when the first question you are asked when you meet fellow parents is 'what are you volunteering as?'. It is difficult not to feel guilty for saying no when you are told 'Your kid will be so thrilled to see you!'. It would be incomprehensible to even say somewhat flippantly that the reason why you are celebrating their being in school is just so that you could get away from those little pesks! I have fantasised about saying that, just to see their heads explode in front of me.

Then what of those parents who work regular hours, who cannot leave the office because the library needs them at 11 in the morning? Parents shouldn't be made to feel bad because they have to work and cannot be at their kids' school during school/ work hours.

Like I said earlier on, it is about opportunity and many of those who can volunteer have the opportunity and privilege of either not needing to work for that necessary income or being able to carve out time to do it. I have thought about that, moving things round and working round all the schedules to do this. But Packrat begs me to realise that I am already overstretched and an overstretched mom, like an overstretched rubber band, has a higher propensity of snapping. I am certain that there will be those who will say, 'but your kid benefits from the parents who do volunteer and you should help some other kid benefit too.' Yes, I am eternally grateful for those who can. But my point is that those who are unable to or perhaps do not wish to, should not be made to feel like they are less of a parent if they didn't do so.

I know of parents who react in the opposite way, that they are annoyed to be asked to help out in school. I'm not at that extreme either. I'll help in whatever capacity I can, when my schedule and my other kids' schedules permit me to do so. And while I do that, I will also attempt to grow a thicker hide because that is the only way I will survive another 6+ years.

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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.

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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!

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A life without kids

There is an article floating around from Time Magazine about the Childfree Life. It's what makes up the worst nightmare of policy makers in developed countries like Singapore. But it also truthfully talks about how women who choose not to have children are judged and are often labelled as selfish.

It got me thinking about what life would be without JED. In the last decade, I've gone from not wanting kids, to wanting kids and realising that it wasn't going to happen to having twins and realising how full my hands were to having a third as a surprise and being exhausted ever since. That isn't to say that I haven't been happy and fulfilled. But there are days, when I'm particularly exhausted, frustrated and have my nerves ground raw by fighting with them (the most traumatic fights are not amongst JED but between myself and either of the JEDs), that I wonder what would life have been like if I had taken up Packrat all those years ago on just accepting our childless status. He had told a heartbroken sobbing me (we had been told by an unsympathetic heartless obgyn-that combination should never ever exist- that we would never have kids naturally) that if we didn't have kids, we would be able to travel to the ends of the world.

Now, 3 children later, I constantly dream about long vacations. But if I really thought about it and were truthful to myself, there are reasons why a childfree life does sometimes seem appealing

I wondered if I felt the same way and I polled some of my mommy friends. I asked them to be honest,  not tell me what they felt they were expected to say about motherhood being perfectly fulfilling and them not wanting nothing more.

There were 3 categories of answers.

There were the flippant and short-term answers.
1. I could sleep in more.
2. I wouldn't have aged so quickly.
3. I could wake up late on the weekends and go out for brunch.
4. I could take naps in the afternoon.
5. I wouldn't need to go to the spa just so that I could get uninterrupted sleep.
6. I wouldn't have a flabby tummy/ thighs/ hips.

And many other illustrations that revolved heavily around the need for sleep. That in itself is telling.

Then there were more serious ones.
1. I wouldn't worry so much. Children exponentially increased the number of things we worry about. They get sick. They sometimes have difficulties that require diagnosis and therapy. We have to see them through school which can be especially hair wrenching in a system like Singapore's.
2. I would have more money.
3. It wouldn't take a year of planning go on a vacation. We could do it at a drop of a hat.
4. We could go trekking in Timbucktoo or the Patagonias.
5. We could go to grad school without having to worry about logistics and support.
6. We wouldn't be so short fused and frustrated all the time.
7. We would be nicer to our spouses and more tolerant of their sometime clueless nature that we found a little bit more endearing pre-kids.
8. Our spouses, whom we married because we loved them and wanted to spend our lives with them wouldn't be relegated to second place and to varying degrees neglected. On this note, even my phone's autocorrect has placed the children before the spouse or in this case, affection towards the spouse.

But the ones that sometimes make me shut my eyes really tight and wish I could go back to pre-kid days are
1. Never being able to see any type of conflict beyond how much a child suffers in it. I declared stupidly, at the beginning of the Syrian conflict that I would stop following the news till they stopped reporting the death and suffering of the children. That was 2 years ago. My profession requires me to keep up with the news, especially the human interest side of things. And hearing about children dying from Sarin gas poisoning or being forced into slavery, prostitution, behead people and the likes makes me ache and cry as if they were my children. And they all become my children. Every time I hear something happen, I imagine how I would feel if that happened to JED.

2. I have never been able to look at stem cell or genetic research in the same way again. Previously, I could think about it extremely academically; a bunch of cells extracted and grown in the name of science. But knowing that the twins were these little 8 cell balls that were grown in a petri dish and put back into me made me think of every single one of those stem cell research projects as taking cells that grew to become what Jordan and Evan are today.

3. Sometimes, my imagination gets the better of me and in a situation where something could have gone an inch the wrong way and there could have been great tragedy that would involve JED, I am paralysed with imagined horror.

4. Nightmares that used to involve only myself and or Packrat (and those were bad enough) now have taken on a new level of terror when they involve JED and the sense of helplessness in my dream is a million-fold. 

At the end of the day, I now take every single injustice, pain and suffering inflicted on children personally and it's hard to carry a load like that in a world like ours.

So, since it causes us so much grief, would we ever trade it?

Most moms are unanimous with me on that one. No, they wouldn't trade it for the world. Their lives would be a lot easier yes, but the nights would be darker and the silence would kill them. 

True.

But being fully aware of my own occasional ambivalence makes it a lot harder for me to judge those, who by choice, decide that they do not want kids. It's another way to go. It's different. But who am I to judge them for that? In many ways, they have a point too.

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I cannot be a mom if...

Occasionally, my schedule doesn't allow me to be at home all the time and sometimes requiring me to fly out of the house just as JED come home. At times like that, I  have to live on stolen moments with them. For the most part, I see them to the point that I want to dump them, take a book, head over to Starbucks and sit there, uninterrupted for an hour. 

But when it's crunch time, it's a totally different story. And I realised that no matter how busy and how much I'm in and out of the house, there are certain things that help me feel that I'm not ignoring or neglecting JED. In my mind, I know I am not. It's just that occasionally, my heart takes a bit more convincing. And if I can do the following, I'm good to go and last a day without seeing them. 

For Jordan, I can't be a mom if I can't tie up her hair. I don't know what it is, but with her, it's her hair. I have to find time to do it. And the more intricate I can do up her hair, the happier I am. I suspect that's a remnant of those by gone Barbie playing days. 

For Evan, I can't be a mom if I can't hang out with him and help him do things he otherwise worries he cannot do. Hang on the monkey bars, wheelbarrow walk around the house or handstands against the wall.

For Muffin, I can't be a mom if I can't take him out on my own at least once a week and just see the world through his eyes. It doesn't have to be a long outing. Half an hour at the park where he tosses bread at the fish, chases the birds or picks up leaves and seeds suffice.

And I can't be a mom if I have to go without seeing their ridiculously loopy grins or hear their chuckly ticklish laughter. It has gotten to the point that if I need to go out and I haven't had enough time with them, I descend upon them to tickle them. That always does the trick and I can always leave after that with a heart that feels slightly lighter.

Hooking up with...
 

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Why I Work

I read an article Dear Daughter, Here's Why I Work and I thought I would do the same. People give me guilt about working. Not being home all the time for JED. So here it is, why I still work, for posterity and hopefully, JED will read it one day and understand why there are nights that it is only Packrat that gets them to bed and why on the weekend afternoons, I am never home.

But before I start, I would like to first say that I have utmost respect for Stay At Home Mums for all that they do because I think it requires a very strong constitution to do so.

Anyway, here it goes. 

--

Dear JED,

First up, let me just say that the days that I have to leave the house to go to work and you are home, are the hardest for me. Yet, I do it. I go to work, despite Muffin wailing "Mommy, no go work.", Evan saying " I need you to spend time with me" and Jordan whispering "Mommy, I missed you just now." All 3 comments/ edicts  shatter my heart and make me want to drop everything and hug you tight and not let you go.

So here's 10 reasons why I don't.
1. I start with the most practical. The 3 of you are expensive. The amount of food you consume, your school fees, your gym/ tennis/ ballet/ swimming lessons aren't free. That's not to include the clothes, the toys, the books and the vacations that you want to take.

2. I spent a long time in school and uni and every time your Bob Ah Gong had to pay fees for it, he would say the same thing, "you're a girl, you know? I don't need to educate you so much." That followed with "Are you going to stop work and waste all your education when you have children?" when I got married. So, in a sense, I work because Bob Ah Gong stressed and worried about money for 18 years (I was in school/ uni for a total of 18 years!) and I don't want him to think that it was all for naught.

3. I work because I feel that need to know what is going on out there in the world. It's not just about reading the newspapers but actually being out there working with people, interacting and carving out something that is my own. It also helps me have something to say when Papa comes home. One thing that Papa and I used to do a lot of before you all came along was to talk and chat about our days and what we had read or seen out there. I want to still be able to do that. No doubt, all your shenanigans are the first things to be regaled when he comes back; but after that, it is important that we have other things to connect on as well. We were a couple before you came along and we will be long after you leave and move out. It would be great if we had things to say to one another then too and knew how to do so. 

4. I work because it makes me feel that I do something in my life other than take care of you. There are days when I want to keel over because I am exhausted from driving and picking you up from everywhere and then have to go to work after that; those are the days where I wish I didn't have so much on my plate. But I know that the day will come when you won't need me to drive you around so much. And when that day comes, I want to still be able to fill my days without going stir crazy, dying my hair blue and bugging the beejeezus out of you.

5. I work because it makes my brain feel alive. No offence meant to Splat the Cat, the Gruffalo or the Cranky Bear  but if that and playing My Little Pony with you were all I did all day, I would be very cranky and most possibly take it out on you. Working gives me a chance to be away from you for a while, miss you quite a bit and be happy to see you and happy to hear what you have to say or do when I get back.

6. At the same time, when I am not there with you, I know that you learn to be more independent. You have learnt to call me to ask for permission to do things. You are close to your grandma and grand aunt and have learnt things from them that I couldn't possibly teach you (like sing rhymes in Cantonese). You learn about boundaries and to code switch (You know there are things you can get away with when Grandma and Ee-Por are around and not with us). You can also do things without me if necessary and that makes me most proud.

7. I also know that I am setting an example for all of you by doing this. Mama worked while I was growing up and so did Auntie Threez. And I was always very proud of their accomplishments. Jordan, now that you've seen me go to work but still hang out with you and be there for you most of the time, hopefully, you will feel that you have a choice as well. Evan and Muffin, I hope that by doing this, you will understand why your future wives might want to make the same choice. If they choose not to work, I hope you will support them too though because that's what Papa would have done. Plus, I hope that you guys will be proud of me and of what I do.

8. I work also to teach you and show you that work and loving you are not exclusive things. All around you, in school, on television and even the adults in your presence, the message is that the moms who really love their kids don't go to work but it is okay for papas to do so. I want to teach you that I love you even if I work and actually more so because I do. Your Papa works and his love for you is never questioned, even when you don't see him for a day or for 3 weeks because he's had work overseas.

9. I work because I want to show you, especially Jordan, that motherhood is not the end of things. It's not about trying to get everything out of your system before you have kids and trading one life for another. It's about growing. I work in different ways than I did before you guys came along. I used to sleep early, wake up early, grade papers and go in for a full day's work. Now, I work after you leave for school and in the evenings when Papa is around. On top of that, I actually have JED Packs, something I didn't have before you came along. I want you to see that being a mommy doesn't preclude you from doing other things outside of raising children.

10. Most importantly, I work because I love it. I love the feeling of being in a classroom and opening the eyes of my students to the world. I love teaching them the same things I teach you three about empathy, compassion and integrity. And I love knowing that what I do for them, they carry on with them long after they've left my classroom; and in that way, I've made their lives just that little bit richer.

So here are the reasons why I work. And I am thankful that I have had the ability to decide if I wanted to work or stay home. And I am eternally grateful to have found a job that allows me to be home when you are and at work when you aren't. It wasn't about choosing between you and working. It never was about that. It was about choosing between being your mom at home or being your mom while being able to work.

I love you always.
Mommy

 Technorati Tags: JED, motherhood, FTWM

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Don't sweat the small things

The thing with always being home with JED is that there is ample opportunity for them to annoy me and get on my nerves.

They fight on a daily basis. Many times a day. In various combinations.

They are disobedient. I tell Jordan not to play with the box that is her brother's. She hears it as "Play with the box that is Evan's".

They are noisy and have no volume control. That I don't mind so much except I think the neighbours mind. Many a time, a grumpy grandma ambles over and mutters an entire string of dialect, much of it I don't get but what I get from it is that my kids are noisy and they wake up her son who works at night. (Hmm, actually, I do understand quite a bit of it)

And then, there is the worry.

I worry about their school. I worry about the fact that Jordan has a slight lisp. I worry that Muffin's words aren't all that clear. He still replaces the "tr" in truck and embarrasingly for me, replaces it with an "f". I worry that Evan's handwriting is slip shod and will cause his teachers aneuryms.

In the long run, I worry about how they will grow up, what kind of people they will be and whether or not they will grow up to be those little self-entitled brats I come across often enough.

But in the last two days, I've had a sobering epiphany of sorts. I've been praying for a relative of a good friend. I'd been talking to her quite a bit because she was expecting twins and I even went to see her so that I could talk to her face to face about what to expect when her twins were born. That night, she went into labour and the twins were delivered at 34 weeks. Both twins are in NICU and one twin is faring better than the other. The other hasn't fed in 5 days and has a gastric bleed. There is a litany of thing wrong with him and he needs specialised neo natal care that can only happen at the tertiary hospitals. I don't even want to imagine the prognosis.

Every time I think about her and her twins, I think about how easily that could have been me with Jordan and Evan. I am eternally thankful that they were born at full term and went home when I went home. I think about all the things I was telling her about feeling distant with the twins and them being more than two hands full and I know that she cannot help but wish that she had the opportunity to feel that instead of the intense panic and anxiety she must feel now.

So, in the last few days, I've shed tears spontaneously, taken longer to fall asleep feeling helpless and worrying about another mother and her babies. I catch myself in unconscious and mid supplication. I've always been the kind of person that can switch off things I don't want to see. But with motherhood, a little dink has been made in the kevlar. Anything to do with children, any suffering and any pain, I'm right there with them. And this time, even more so.

I don't think I'll ever stop being OCD about JED. It's in me to worry and to want them to grow up in a particular way, but I think it's time to complain less when they get itchy and swollen eyes, coughs, pee in their bed, fight with one another and drive me batshit crazy.


 

Technorati Tags: JED,Giving birth, twins

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Meme: 20 Questions

I used to do memes on my previous blog all the time and I miss doing them.

So, when I saw the one that Regina was doing, I thought... FUN.
Since I have had more than one pregnancy, I'll talk about the second one, for our third kid, Muffin.  The longer version is here.

 1. Was your pregnancy planned, and how old were you?
Nope, not at all. I was 34

2. What were your reaction?
Oh crap! We're going to be doing MORE sleepless nights? But I just stopped breastfeeding! But I hadn't got my period yet! But we had to have so much help to fall pregnant with the twins. I hadn't even sneezed and I was pregnant now? WHAT!!!!

3. How did you find out you were pregnant?
I was dizzy, I had no appetite and I wanted to go running. Before I put on my running shoes I thought "maybe I should check if I'm pregnant". I peed on a stick, it didn't turn colour. 2 days later, the exact same train of thought popped into my head. I was dizzy, I had no appetite and I still wanted to go running. This time, a teeny tiny pink/ purple line appeared (you had to stare very hard to see it. It was that early in the pregnancy). 

4. Who did you tell first?
Packrat. Actually, I threw the pee stick onto his table and went "LOOK!"

5. Did you find out the sex?
Yes. At 16 weeks. The image the doctor showed us was basically the image that would have been taken if Muffin had sat, butt naked on a photo copy machine and made a copy of himself. Butt cheeks and balls.

6. Did you have morning sickness?
Yes. For 16 weeks. Massive massive upchucking with 2 year old twins to chase. 

7.What did you crave?
French fries and salty stuff. But the weirdest combination was Oreos and prata, together.

8. Who / What irritated you the most?
The twins most probably.  They were in their Terrible Twos and I was sick for half of it.

9. Did you wish you had a different gender from what you obtained?
 Yes. Evan was maxing out the definition of the Terrible Twos and at that point, I couldn't imagine another Evan!

10. How many kilos did you gain during the entire pregnancy?
20 kgs. It was frightening!

 11. Where did you think the baby was conceived?
We don't really know. We didn't have any period math to depend on. But we do know that he wasn't conceived in a petri dish!

12. Did you have any complications during the pregnancy?
Pre-term labour triggered by climbing 4 floors of steps to my office. 

13. Where did you give birth?
Gleneagles. When I walked into the labour ward, the midwives all exclaimed "WHERE WERE YOU? WE WERE EXPECTING YOU AT 7AM" It was 11 am when I sauntered in.

14. How many hours were you in labour?
In hospital? 2 hours. But I think labour had started the day before but I thought it was just a backache from carrying 20 kg of baby weight.

15. Who watched you give birth?
Packrat, the Obgyn and the midwives.

16. Was it natural, or C-Sect?
It was natural. I had crazily decided to go VBAC without any pain relief.

17. Did you take medication to ease the pain?
I had a microwaved sock filled with rice and I paced the room like an impatient lioness.

18. When was your child born?
5 February 2010

19. What is his / her name?
Muffin. (Dylan Josiah Tan)

20. How old is he today?

3 years 2 months to the day.

  Technorati Tags: JED, motherhood

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My epic struggle

People ask me whether I have a preference for one of the JED kids over the other two. It's a hard question to answer. I once said, who I preferred at any given time, often had to do with who was behaving best at that moment. But if I thought about it, each child is special in their own way to me and they touch different parts of my heart.

Take for instance Jordan.

Jordan will always be special to me because she was my first born, along with Evan, and she is my only daughter. But more than that, Jordan is special because it took a long time to get to where our relationship is today.

When Jordan was born, I was very overwhelmed by the fact that I had to care for twins as my first children. I was nursing on average 20 times a day and wrestling with post-natal hormones. It caused me to feel very distant from the twins. I loved them because I was their mother but I truly did.not.know. what to do with them. As a result, our helper, Packrat, the nanny, the twins' grandparents hung a lot more with them than I did. I hid in the room, on pretext of needing to express milk. And when they did that, I was racked with guilt. What mother would want to distance herself away from her children? So naturally, the twins developed a preference for them over myself.

With Evan, it wasn't so bad. He was a smiley, cheery baby who laughed a lot, slept easily and even in my ambivalence, was easy to care for. It was Jordan who posed the challenge. She rejected my boob, went on a hunger strike and cried for hours straight if I even dared to try to get her to sleep. This didn't disappear till she was past one. And it made me think she hated me. In my mind, it was her revenge, exacted on me for letting other people care for her. And it made me doubt myself and withdraw from her even more.

Unfortunately, that perpetuated a vicious cycle. Because I was scared of making her cry, she would sense it and cry, causing me to tense up and the cycle would then rinse and repeat. It was then easier to just look after Evan and leave the helper or our aunt to look after Jordan. Practically, it was the right thing to do. We divided and conquered. But emotionally, it killed me.

We had tried so hard to have kids and we were blessed with the twins. So I should have been happy. I should have embraced motherhood, the very thing that I had been dying for. But when it was in front of me, I withdrew and often felt that I wanted to run far away from them. At the same time,  I felt that by feeling like that and having a daughter who cried every time I was within line of sight, I was an epic failure of a mother.

Part of me knew to not take it personally and that I would come to love and enjoy my children. After all, that is how all relationships begin. And she was after all an infant. But for an entire year, this continued and it had me constantly self-flagellating like I belonged to the Opus Dei.

Did it come to pass? That is part of the wisest advice I got as I embarked on this journey of motherhood; that everything shall pass. And it did. It was as if someone had flipped the switch in her after she turned one. And then it was Mommy this and Mommy that and Mommy became her best friend. She was the last to wean off the boob; her earlier reticence to the boob tossed out the window. Only Mommy could soothe her at 3 in the morning. Her favourite place to fall asleep is now in my arms and many a morning, I am woken by her clambering atop me to sleep on my chest. One would never have guessed that she had had any other kind of relationship with me.

I have told her, jokingly, that she didn't like Mommy very much when she was a baby. She said sorry and went off to explain her infant actions. In response to that, I tell her I love her and I hug her tight.

So, the reason why she is special to me, is because of the long journey filled with tears all around that was filled with dark and twisty thoughts about myself as a mother. The counsellor I was seeing assured me that despite the early conflicts and battles I was having with Jordan, that we had the makings of what would be a close connection. And he was right.

People have hinted that perhaps I had post natal depression after the twins were born. I have no doubt about that and I don't pretend to hide it. And I am certain it played a part in causing the somewhat schizophrenic relationship that I had with them. But I think it was also a lot of pressure and expectations that others as well as myself put on me. The idea that bonding and loving being a mother come instantly. The idea that I will miss the children the minute they are out of sight. And the idea that any time I wanted time away from the children, I was a bad mother.

It took a year of counselling for me to come to terms with motherhood and to understand that my need to get some air and be away from the children at times didn't necessarily translate into me not loving them or being a bad mother. I haven't learned to fully switch off the voices of the all powerful OTHERS in my head but I've had a lot more practice with motherhood now and that helps blunt the words of others. Plus, my 'thought-bubble' retorts are violently loud and aggressive at those who even imply that I am a bad mother.

It most definitely does not compare to what other mothers go through. I know moms whom I would give an arm and a leg to, if it would help lessen their pain and burden with their children. But for the time that I had to battle these dark doubts, it did feel like I was being tested.

Linking up with Rachel's

  Technorati Tags: twins, motherhood

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Giveaway Closed: Painting Castles in the Rain

There have been  quite a few mums talking blogging about being Full Time Working Moms and how they juggle their jobs, their kids and their lives. I'm not sure I qualify as a Full Time Working Mom because I don't clock regular 9-5 hours but my days are packed full and I have to actively carve out portions of time for the children.

Those portions of time are known as 'protected time' by my bosses and they know that should they hazard to call during those times, they are likely to get an Ondine who is frazzled, stand off-ish and makes no qualms about sounding like she needs to get off the phone. The nature of my job can end up with me working round the clock even if I don't head into the office; that is why the 'protected time' is necessary.

Unfortunately, there are times that this isn't enough. Accountants have tax seasons, businesses have the ends of the financial year and teachers have exam seasons. During the exam seasons, I teach two or three times more than I usually do. That means much less time with JED.  When they were much younger and my sense of obligation was much greater than my sense of affection for them, I felt more guilt than anything when the peak season hit. These days, it's different. In the last 5 1/2 years I have developed a serious love affair with JED and I am resentful when anything takes me away from them for an extended period of time.

At an outing to the beach with my aunt once, I lamented that these were the things I would miss when I went back to work. Her response was that I did these things because I did go to work and had I not been going to work, it would be unlikely that I would put in so much effort into taking them out.True that.

So, when it is crunch time like this, I feel more of a need to do something special with them; perhaps to compensate for the little time I have to spend with them. Last week, I took two hours out and went hunting for organic sausages to make our "Sausage Monsters". This week, I decided I was going to organise a play date. It wasn't going to be a play date where the kids just came together to play, although that would be fun too, but a painting play date. JED love mucking about with paint. We have a big stairway area that serves as their 'mucking about' place. I had also found online a craft store called CraftPlay; they sold castles made out of recycled box materials and I thought it would be fun for JED and their friends to paint them all. There would be enough to go around. On top of that, when I wrote to Craft Play telling them that I needed the castles for a play date, they sent me two additional towers. Evan took possession of those towers and declared them the guard posts (he doesn't know the word sentry yet).

Jordan, Chloe (our neighbour), Faith (Jordan's friend), Evan and Muffin were vibrating on the spot rearing to go as I got things ready. Excited little children make great helpers as we lay brown paper on the ground and got them to tape the pieces together. That way, they could sit on relatively clean floor, we protect the floor and they had additional surfaces to paint on.

There was little bickering as each busied themselves painting the various towers. Occasional bits of conversation involved discussing which part of the castle it was that they were busy with; the Queen's bedroom (Jordan), the dining room (Faith), the dungeon (Evan).

 

At the end of it, I asked each little one what they had most fun with.
Jordan: Painting with my friends and making every wall of my tower a different colour.
Evan: Painting under the umbrellas and mixing the water till it got yucky! (The rain was coming in and rather than move the entire exercise somewhere else, I put out big golf umbrellas so that they could hide under it.
Faith: The big bowls of paint and the cheese bunnies (Cheese bunnies were the snack of choice)
Chloe: Painting under the umbrella and painting big towers. Easy to paint.
Muffin: Paint on my feet!

By the end of it, there was paint on all the surfaces, faces, legs, arms, hands and feet. But the final product was bright and in happy colours. Each was proud of what they had done and told anyone who would listen what they had done.

The other mommies were all happy because the kids had been occupied for the previous two hours and they were hungry and cooperative when they went home. As for the JED kids, they were clamouring for another play date like that, with friends and with big pieces of stuff that they could pain.

For me, I had to go; had to take a shower, had no time for dinner and had to catch the train to work. But as I left the house, JED happily waved at me across their dinner bowls and I felt at peace, that I had had my fun with them and I could go to work in happy albeit exhausted peace.

So, what do I think of the Full Time Work Mom schtick? I don't love it but it is my lot in life now. I am thankful that my current job, while requiring me to work ridiculous hours, also gives me little time outs to plan and do things with JED. It is a lot about assuaging my own guilt and resentment. Packrat assures me that they don't mind that I am not around (in fact, they enjoy the fact that the Nazi task master disguised as their mom is occasionally absent and they get to run amok!). But when I know that they are happy and they know that Mommy loves them, I am okay to leave them and go to work.

Linking up with

Updated:
When we sent pictures of our craft date to Craft Play, they were most thrilled. As a thank you, they're sending us another set of castles.

Since we've had our fun with our castle painting, we're passing this on to a reader who promises to make some kid's / kids day by letting them muck about and throw some paint onto a castle.

We're going to pick a winner for this somewhat randomly, as long as;

1. You leave a comment below, answering the following question, that will most likely feed into our latent fantasies.

- If you could live in a castle and design a room or a suite or rooms, how would you do so?-

When I asked Jordan this, she said she wanted it rainbow coloured.

2. "Like" the CraftPlay page on Facebook here

3. Share the FB link you saw this post on!

We're going to let you channel the Duchess of Cambridge and Martha Stewart for a week and choose a reader to give the castle away to next Monday, the 25th of March 2013.

---
And we have a winner!
We've decided it to give it to the reader who thought about indulging herself instead of her kids. It's always good to dream for ourselves once in a while!

Anyway, Adora Tan, consider your dream heard. Now, if only we knew Santa!

So CraftPlay will have to do. They will be in touch with you soon!


Technorati Tags: JED, FTWM, play date, Craft Play

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