I Wanna Grow Up...

There's been a lot of talk about puberty lately.

For Jordan at least.

It came about because they had a talk in school recently about when it was necessary for girls to wear undergarments. The bits of information she came home with were hilarious and sometimes bordering on misinformation rather than information.


She read the Judy Blume books that deal with it; her favourite being Margaret who wants and NEEDS a bra and talks about getting periods. After the talks in school, she's gone back to reading them again. And I re-read it too because all I remembered from it was the chant, "I must, I must, I must increase my bust!" The charming thing about the book is that even though it's more than 40 years old, the anxieties mirror so clearly what goes on in the mind of a tween today.

Last week, Jordan got into the car and was very, very giggly. Her teacher had passed around a bra for the girls to look at and fiddle with. She went into great detail. One would have thought she had never seen one before!

Two days after, a growth spurt miraculously occurred in class and spread like wildfire across all 40 girls. All of a sudden, she was reporting that every other person in class had started wearing a bra too. I think it had to do very little to do with hormones and very much to do with all the discussion in class. Words are indeed powerful. So naturally, Jordan asked if she could have one too.

                                  

I gave her the same spiel my mother gave me. She'd have her whole life ahead of her to wear a bra. It would be hot to wear one under two layers of uniform as is. She didn't need to be in such a hurry. But there was no stopping her.

I guess if I thought hard enough about it, it was like that for me too, dying to be all growed up and wanting to have all the trappings of being a grown up. Envious of those taller and more mature than I was at that age. And like Jordan, I didn't listen to my mother when she tried to caution haste.

So, here we are. I have a Margaret at home now and I'm pretty sure she's asking God the same questions that Margaret did and promising to be good in exchange for some growth in that area.

And to counter all the misinformation she seems to be getting at school, I have ordered her some books to set the facts straight. The American Girl series for puberty is aptly titled The Care and Keeping of You which I really like because it really does normalise the entire process and answers questions in ways that make sense to these tweens.

While we wait for the books to arrive, I shall just sit back and watch this unfold, quietly lamenting the loss of my baby girl and the appearance of a full-fledged tween. 

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The One Where Evan Hits Balls

Both Evan and Jordan do sport. Actually Muffin as well though the twins spend a lot more time on it.

But their narratives could not be any different.

Evan is not a natural athlete. As a baby, the doctors worried because his head lolled to one side for the longest time. As a toddler, he would fall over a lot and bump his head repeatedly on the same spot. Even as a tennis player, he is no where as good as many of the kids in his age group.

And that makes it hard for him.

It means that he has to work doubly hard to do what comes naturally to some and sometimes, it gets very disheartening. 

It means that there are some coaches that don't like that he isn't a ready made player, who has natural ability. They would yell at him because his footwork isn't what is to be expected of a 10 year old who plays x number of days a week. These were the coaches who would make him cry in frustration.

It means that in a team, he might not be seeded very high and might not get picked to play because he might weigh the team down.

But does he try. Try very hard, he does.

He works till rivets of sweat run down his face and he can't lift his feet anymore. He's learnt to be consistent while he works on power. On the days he doesn't play, he goes running with Packrat and is attempting the jump rope.

We do our part by putting him with coaches who will affirm his effort and encourage him along. We stay away from the coaches who only see him for what he is not. That isn't helpful, to anyone.

In his first ever league tournament, he knew he wasn't seeded very high and every time he played, he tried very hard and tried to make it count. When he couldn't kill the shot, he rallied till the opponent made a mistake and he always took stock of the players he played with. He learnt very quickly to place his shots out of reach of his opponents. And in that way, he won more points and in some of the matches, ended up carrying the 'higher' seeded partner he was playing with because his parter, while stronger was more inconsistent with his shots.

The day of the finals, when he helped the team place well, was a vindication for him; against the managers who would leave him out of line ups, against the coaches who thought him crap and even, to some extent, against us, for the times that we rolled our eyes at his seemingly uncoordinated ways.

I told Evan, the one thing I truly admired about him, is the fact that he's a cool cucumber. He looks cool on court. He doesn't let the stress get to him and he just goes on placing the shots where he needs to. When we commended him on being cool, he exclaimed that he was nervous as heck. That, I told him was excellent, that he doesn't let the nerves get to him. I told him the analogy was to be duck like; gliding along the water as if nothing gazed him  but actually paddling furiously underneath, away.

Someone said to us that Evan is probably learning more because he's isn't naturally gifted and things don't come easy to him. And like pediatricians used to tell us, as long as the milestones are achieved, it isn't about who gets there first.  It'll come in good time and he really is getting there. 

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First week of school? No tears, no fuss, no big deal

Our youngest is no longer a pre-schooler. On the 3rd of January, he joined the ranks of a primary school going child. And unlike the twins, he seems to have taken to it like a fish to water. I suspect, that has got to do with him having seen his older siblings go through it. He couldn't quite understand what the fuss was about and why he had to wait so long to do things.

When asked what he did the first week, he told us that there were a lot of lines and a lot of waiting.
1. Waiting to line up.
2. Waiting for the class to quiet before anything happens
3. Lining up to buy food.
4. Lining up to put the plates back.
5. Lining up for the bathrooms after putting the plates back because evidently, everyone needs to pee after returning their dishes.
6. Waiting to go back to class after going to recess.
7. Lining up for the right bus.
8. Waiting to get on the right bus.

Has he learnt anything substantial in the last two weeks of school? Learning to queue, obviously. And also learning how join the shortest line at recess to maximise time in the playground. He also learnt how to make change.

Outside of school, he learnt how to cook a meal from scratch. Slicing, dicing, sauteing, the works. And he learnt that a little kindness goes a long way. He cooked the meal from start to finish for his brother and that won him the choice of television programmes for the entire day.

 

What he learnt in the first two week of school wouldn't have helped him survive if he were marooned on a desert island but those are good survival skills to learn. Did he learn any reading, 'riting and 'rithmetic? I'm not certain of that bit but that'll come because Singapore. 

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Listen to Mommy

She wanted to get her ears pierced.

We've been hedging. We told her that she had to do decently well for the exams. We told her it had to be during the holidays.

It's the holidays now. And she did respectably in the exams. Not fantastic or up to her usual standard but respectable.

So she started her campaign. She is nothing if not insistent.

Eventually, we told her she could and she chose Thursday to do it. A friend of ours told us to use a numbing cream on the lobes so that it wouldn't hurt and she had the cream. But she couldn't pass it to us in time.

I asked her to consider doing it another day, after we could get the numbing cream.

She refused.

Against my better judgement, I allowed her to go ahead with it.

Despite wanting to do it, she was very nervous and was breathing very deeply before even stepping into the shop. She took a long while to gather courage to allow the lady to do the first ear. Lesson number 1: Find a place that does it simultaneously.

After the first ear was pierced, there was a delayed reaction of shocked pain and then the very reaction where her eyes rolled to the back of her head, she turned rigid and collapsed into her Papa's arms. Her lips were white and so was her face. Apparently, she had worked herself into such a state that she was hyperventilating and then subsequently, passed out.

Of course, after that, with full knowledge of how painful it was, she covered her ears with her hands or tipped it into her shoulder, refusing to let the lady do the other ear. It took another half an hour of coaxing (and almost coercing on my part) before she allowed the lady to pierce the other side.

Eyes all puffy from crying

It took all of me to stop from saying "I TOLD YOU SO!" There was so much annoyance that I had to swallow because she was already so upset.

But in the end, I figured she'd learnt lessons.

1. If she's impatient and makes impetuous decisions, she has to suffer the consequences of it, especially when we tell her that waiting would result in a better experience.

2. She has to follow through once she makes the decision. She wanted to do just the one ear and come back another day. I told her that would mean the other earring would not be sterile and that she would then need to pay for a new pack and it would cost twice as much. Plus, it was still going to hurt. The same amount, if not more because she would have had time to exaggerate the experience in her head.

Then she wanted to just keep the one earring and we told her that wasn't possible either.; that would just look plain weird. She had to get the second one done and she had to do it straightaway.

3. Despite the fact that it sounds too much like the evil mother from Rapunzel, Mother KNOWS best.

That one, she had better not forget.

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Journey to the gym

Jordan's been putting in a lot of hours at the gym. She had a club meet last weekend. And despite the fact that it wasn't a big competition and it wasn't exactly high stakes, there had to be full-hearted commitment of time and effort.

So over the last months, it's been 10.5 hours at the gym full on. And for now, we're done.

What came out of it?

1. Tempering expectations.
This was more me than her. She had no problems getting top grades last year despite hours at the gym. This year, it's been more exhausting and there's a lot more work. Some things don't come as easily and there's a lot more struggling. But I also knew that this was going to be more important than keeping her nose in the books all the time just so that her grades kept up with last year. So, we made the conscious decision to let go a bit, close an eye and let her use this to learn something that no amount of studying was going to teach her.


2. Oodles of discipline.
Even then, what came out of it was then a juggling act we all had to perform. To make sure that we could get what was necessary done, everyone had to be on a schedule. It went against giving her time to be creative and time to play but it had to be done. There was value to that as well, laying all her cards on the table, training, homework, sleep (which was very necessary seeing the number of hours she spent training) and having her see what she needed to do and giving her the space to process how to do it.

3. Moving beyond the complaining.
There was whining and there was complaining and there was comparing. But I had learnt that as long as I gave her complaints air time, she would go on to do what was necessary. And that in itself was something admirable. She would do it. Despite the exhaustion and sometimes, even tears, she would get it done. She would express her feeling of being overwhelmed, we would acknowledge it, comfort her and let her go on and that she would.

4. Grace under pressure.
One of the reasons why the girls trained so hard was so that the moves they had to make became part of them. That was essential because nerves tended to hit big time during competition. And when they were going to be jumping and twirling on a beam 4 inches wide, nerves would be what would cause them to fall. So, at training, they went through the routines over and over again. They got yelled at about everything, right up to the twirl of their fingertips.

And we saw how that paid off. At warm up, with all the distraction and noise, there was a lot of falling off the beams and tripping about. As spectators, that worried us; what if the same thing happened during the routine? But the girls took it in the stride, with eyes forward. And for each and every one of them, during their actual routine, where it counted most, they did not fumble or fall. The training and the mental wind-up got them through the pressure of performing. And all looked cool as cucumbers despite the fact that Jordan had told me her heart was going to explode out of her chest. None of them looked it.

5. Cheerleaders
I asked Jordan if she wanted her friends around for her competition and she said yes. She brought some paper to school and wrote some invitations to some of her closest friends to ask them to come watch her. And they came, armed with banners, flowers and gifts. When she saw them, her grin threatened to split her face. It helped dissipate her nerves and made it all the more enjoyable for her. She is also so much more in love with her friends because they came when she needed them and she couldn't help gushing about it. I think she also felt that she had her own audience she wanted to perform for. I was very wowed by the fact that her friends and their parents made the effort to come Sunday morning to watch her and thank God that she has friends like them!

And then, it was over.

And she had done really well. In all the ways that mattered.
She had enjoyed herself.
She had given her best in every routine she performed.
She had remembered everything the coaches had drilled into her.
And she looked like she owned the routines.

The medals were just the icing on the cake.

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Listening when our kids say NO.

We did wrong by Evan. And we apologised to him for it. That was after being angry with him when we were actually angry at ourselves for making that mistake.

Star Wars: The Force Awakens opened a few weeks ago. Packrat was part of the millions of fans breathlessly waiting for it, watching and re-watching the trailers and more importantly, showing it to JED. When it did open, he brought Muffin to the first show. Both he and Muffin dressed up and he was so proud of the fact that Muffin loved the entire experience.

But what he really wanted to do was to share it with Evan, his geek-buddy. Unfortunately, Evan wasn't all that keen. He gave us a long list of reasons.

1. He didn't like shows that weren't cartoons.

2. He didn't like going to the movies because it was loud.

3. He didn't want to go because it might be scary.

4. He didn't want to go because it would be too long.

We didn't give up though and we kept trying to organise an outing to see it. Eventually, Evan caved. This was after choosing to go to Gardens By the Bay, going ice skating with the neighbours and playdates over Star Wars. That should have given us a clue but as thick headed parents who thought we knew better, we ignored it.

45 minutes into it, I get a message from Packrat that it had been a waste of money and they were on the way home. When I got home, there were 3 teary-eyed children and a thin lipped Packrat. Jordan and Muffin were upset because they had been dragged out of the movie half way. Evan was teary-eyed because he felt that he had disappointed his father and had wasted his dad's money. He was seen trying to pry open his piggy bank to pay his father back the money for the movie tickets.

Packrat was upset because he felt that it was his fault. I'm with him on it. Not so much that it was his fault but that it was ours.

We hadn't trusted our son when he said he wouldn't like the show. Packrat couldn't accept it because it. was. Star Wars. I couldn't accept that because he loves watching stuff at home on television. It's his favourite past time. So how could it be that he wouldn't like watching Star Wars on the big screen? We had forgotten that it was dark and it was loud and he couldn't run out when it got scary or intense.

We hadn't respected him when he said he didn't want to go and bullied him into it. We had forgotten that we had a serious upper hand in this and could pretty much use the force to bend his will and make him go to the movie just because.

And we were both deeply ashamed of what we had done. Packrat apologised to him for not trusting his judgement and I hugged him tight and told him that we ought to believe him the next time he tells us he doesn't want to do something because he's eight and he's old enough to know himself. I don't know if he will remember this incident when he grows up but whatever it is, we hope he forgives us.

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Something had to give

Our first born is an overachiever. Packrat claims that she takes after me. I guess. At one point, Jordan was doing ballet twice a week, gym twice a week, art once a week, swimming once a week. And at that point, she was doing extra Chinese twice a week and Math once a week. It was a scheduling night mare and it just did not sit right with us because there was too much on her plate and she needed time to play. Some told us we were doing the right thing and comforted us by telling us that since most of her extra stuff was not school related, it was play. Unfortunately, that wasn't our definition of play. So we kept asking her quit something. In response, she asked for piano lessons.

Eventually, she had to choose under duress but not really from us.

At the end of May, Jordan competed in another gym competition and did not fare as well as she did previously. This was about the same time that we were hearing that actually, the gym she was at wasn't all that great for building foundation and skills properly and we were shopping around for another gym. Jordan became taken with this other gym that was run by China coaches and insisted on switching there despite our reservations of it being too great a leap from a 'play' gym to a gym run by China coaches. She dug in her heels and they insisted that if she wanted to join them, she had to put in a minimum of 6 hours a week.

That was the gun to her head.

She chose to give up everything; ballet, art and swimming. We had decided on giving up Math without consultation with her anyway.

That was when you could hear two hearts shatter in unison, from a mile away. Both Packrat and I were extremely saddened at her decision to give up ballet and art.

For me, part of it was vicarious. Because I had danced, I had wanted her to. I am not ashamed to admit that. But it was also because when she danced, there was pure joy and musicality and I would miss watching her move with the music.

For Packrat, there wasn't the vicarious reason but he loved watching her dance and how she immersed herself in it. With the art, her eye for detail and how she drew every time she found a piece of paper made us feel wistful that she chose to give it up.

Putting these away was difficult.

Our consolation was that with the numerous hours of gym she was going to put in, if she wanted to go back to ballet, it would not be all that difficult.

And art was something that she could do on her own and there would always be opportunity. A case in point was when she went off for a day with a friend from church and when I picked her up, she had a canvas painting of the both of us for my birthday.

At the same time, we had to remind ourselves that it was what she wanted to commit her time to and that we had to respect the decision she was making. So, she now spends an inordinate amount of her time upside down and has core strength and abs that put us to shame and she's happy. 

So while we mourn for what she could have done with the ballet or the art, the sparkle in her eye after gym despite 3 hour long classes makes us realise that she knows herself best.

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Girl Justice Jordan

My daughter literally gave a boy an ass kicking two days ago.

Part of me was horrified. Using violence is something we do not endorse. My initial reaction was "SHE DID WHAT??!!"

She tried to defend her actions.

The boy in question was eleven. He's been pretty mean to his sister. His sister and Jordan are very close friends. So she tells Jordan about it. Jordan has told me quite indignantly that he's mean to her friend. She begged me to tell her mother. I guess she decided enough was enough and she took matters into her own hands.

So two days ago, said boy was in our house. He was bending over to pack his bag when Jordan walked in with his sister. She saw that he was bent over, walked over to him and delivered a swift kick to his behind. Literally, a kick in the ass.

Pissed off he was and yelled at her. She yelled back. He hurled names at her.
"DON'T CALL ME STUPID FRIED EGG!" She bellowed.

They had to be physically separated. Almost garden hose style.

She was upset after that. She cried.

We haven't made a big deal out of it for two reasons. One, we don't really know where we stand on the whole thing. Don't hit, yes. But protecting your friend, also yes. Two, we figured she felt bad enough. And when I did mention it, she was still indignant about how the big brother was being mean to his little sister and we could stand by and help. I've promised to talk to the siblings' mother. The only thing I've said to her regarding the issue, very clearly, is that she should never, ever, hit anyone. Well, there may be exceptions but for now, we're going for black and white.

That's our Jordan. Girl Justice Jordan packs quite a punch and looks out for the underdog. This is coming through very clearly; that she has a very strong sense of morality and justice. Both of them do but she's more proactive in responding to it. Sometimes, it comes across as tattling though Evan does that quite well too. But the other part of it is that she wants to act as the mediator and the one that smooths things over (of course, they are on her terms) and she wants to right every wrong (both perceived and real).

Another conversation I had with her was about helping others. I was trying to explain to her that sometimes, telling people how to act or behave isn't very welcomed. In fact, sometimes people might not take it well. It can come across as imposing and judgemental; in kid terms, downright bossy.

Jordan: But what if they are fighting? I can stop them and help them make friendship. My power is to make friendships.
Me: But they may not really want you to. You can go up to them and ask them if they need help. But when you ask them if they need help and they say no, what do you do?
Jordan: Walk away?
Me: Yes.
Jordan: But what if they don't know they need help?

Good point. But also the beginnings of a superhero complex.

Superhero training

So what do we do? We haven't quite figured it out. Vigilante superhero justice isn't as clear cut in real life. Whatever it is, she's got to learn that with great power does come great responsibility.

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Conversations with the ballet student

I never had very much luck with ballet exams. I would get sick, my toes would get infected and my toe nails would fall out. Thankfully, Jordan seems to have better luck. She took her Grade 2 exams today. Unlike the previous time she took it, she understood the gravity of the situation and the stress that went along with it.

She's been nervous for the last week and it showed with short tempers, being rougher with her brothers and tantrums and fits about stuff unrelated. But at the same time, she was very amenable to all the extra sessions that the ballet school lined up for them to fine tune the little things.

After she was done and the look of relief had fully flooded her face, I thought to ask her, over lunch, what she thought about the whole experience. After all, she is almost eight year old and extremely astute so she would have lots to say.

What did you dislike most about the whole experience of preparing for the ballet exam?

The hairspray. (The hairspray is something part of any ballet dancer/ school's arsenal. It's industrial strength and the very reason why ballet dancers can be drenched in sweat and on stage for hours nary a hair out of place).

Was there anything that upset you while practising for the exams? 

The teachers yelling at me. It made me want to cry sometimes. Sometimes, it made me want to give up.

Do you think the teachers helped you by yelling at you? 

I guess so. I can remember all my steps and I can do them very well now. But I don't like yelling teachers.

What do you think if the teachers didn't yell so much? 

- with a big grin- I won't be so deaf. 

- becoming serious- I wouldn't be so good. 

What were your favourite steps in the exam? Why?

I liked the dances, especially the character dance with the skirt and flowers. You can look cheeky and proud at the audience when you do it. 

What was the one reminder that everyone kept saying to you that helped you through the exam?  

To smile and to let the music flow to the tips of my fingers and my toes.

What did you do just before you started the exam? 

I looked at my toes then I took a deep breath and tried to smile. It was quite hard because my heart was beating very fast.

What was the most important thing you learnt from taking this exam?

It is very important to have courage.

And what was my take away from this?

1. Kids understand stress, even at this age. They fear performing, making mistakes and failing. They really don't need us to add on any sort of stress onto them. They pretty much do that all by themselves.

2. There is a fine line between keeping the child eating healthy and keeping the child happy. With the many hours at ballet and the amount of time she spent away from home while her brothers vegged out in front of the television, it was about plying her with nice cookies and allowing her to eat the Easter eggs she got to keep her her spirits and mood.

3. While my eyes were fixed and they work pretty well on a day to day basis, the technique wasn't aimed at allowing someone to sew silver buckles that reflect light and black press studs with black thread onto a black waist band at night in yellow lighting.

4. My daughter's a pretty tough cookie.

So while we hope that she does well, just going through it was all worth it.

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Sailing, sailing home

Evan didn't have much of a March break. He spent 4 out of 5 days of the break in Sembawang. Boondocks, Singapore style.

He was there sailing. After the fiasco with his CCA selection and not getting into the sailing CCA, we promised that he could try out sailing for himself during the holidays.

So we went the distance, literally, and signed him up for a kiddy sailing camp that the SAF Yacht Club offered.

We barely saw him those 4 days. He left after breakfast and came home for dinner and being inebriated by the sea air and sun, he would fall asleep soon after.

But he had fun.

Highlights for him:
1. Being thrown into the sea and made to swim 50 m to shore. He imagined sharks and swamp things lurking in the water.

2. Playing with sand while he waited for his friends to return.

3. Actually being on the water and sailing.

4. Learning all the different parts of the boat. The easiest way to piss him off was to go "the left side of the boat" or the "front of the boat". That would elicit an irritated hiss, "It's the PORT side, MOMMY!" or "It's the BOW of the BOAT!"

5. Being able to master the knots he was taught.

Things he didn't like but we thought built character:

1. Theory lessons about the weather, clouds, reading the current from the waves and knot tying.

2. Being hit one too many times on the head by the boom. He learned pretty quick that he had to duck.We console him and tell him at least he didn't get hit by the boom and end up in the water like another of his course mates.

3. Sailing around in circles, literally. He got annoyed at the wind getting in the way of the direction he was meant to head. (There's a life lesson in that somewhere)

4. Getting sea sick because the patrolling power boats rocked the bath tubs they were in.

5. Having to eat chicken every day for lunch or going hungry. (He has a strange aversion toward chicken right now)

By the end of it, he was browned to a crisp and definitely had more than the FDA recommended amount of Vitamin D.

 Can he sail? According to the coaches, he sailed decently and could get the boat going the direction they were supposed to head. Will he do the next course? We don't know yet. We're hedging because it's really far. He'd hedging because he worries about being sea sick (telling him that upchucking in the sea was ok and a great way to see fish up close and personal didn't seem to appeal much to him).

We'll revisit it before the next course begins.

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Coming into their own- Jordan

Evan's character building moment for the year was having gone away to camp with Packrat. Jordan's came in the form of the inter-club gymnastic competition that she chose to take part in. She wanted to take part in it because she wanted to win some medals.

A week before the meet, she realises that taking part wasn't really going to be enough to win the medals, she actually had to do well enough to get placed.

On her own accord, she ramped up her training sessions. The two weeks before the meet saw her practically live at the gym, going every other day and towards the end. every day. 3 days before the meet, she had a freak out melt down about not being able to turn herself on the uneven bars. She was convinced that if she didn't, she would not win. It took us an hour to talk her down from that.

But whatever she put herself through, it paid off. Her coaches told us about the focus and glint in her eye when she was on the floor and even though she didn't get a gold medal for any of the events, she was placed in every single event and managed to come in 2nd overall.

 

Going through the motions

My mother tells me that when I was eleven, something clicked in my head and I realised that if I put in effort into my work, it would pay off. She tells me that it was the same year that I entered and won my first competitive sporting event; I took part in a swim meet and won in the events that I swam in. She thinks that it made me realise that there was a correlation between working hard and succeeding. 

I think Jordan's figured that out. 4 years before I did. 

So pleased, she is. 

The challenge for us is to manage her. Well, me specifically. Packrat says that Jordan is a clone of me. That perfectionist, high strung, achievement oriented and competitive streak got passed down to her by the buckets. And through this entire experience, we learnt that

1. Like me, she drives herself into a frenzy because of her own extremely high expectations. Hence, the melt down. Thankfully, I've gone through enough of them in my life time to know that the melt down is necessary as an outlet for the build up of stress. And after that, it'll be okay. But at 7, she needs someone around to talk her down from it.

2. Remind her that no matter how high the stakes are, she has to have fun and enjoy doing it. Before her rotations began, I took her aside and we prayed and then I told her that the most important thing was to enjoy herself out there. And if she could do that, the medals would be easier to come by. So when she ended up every routine with a face splitting grin, I knew that regardless the previous freak outs, she was doing okay.

3. We cannot belittle her expectations. Telling her that it's okay if she doesn't win might be our way of telling her we won't be angry or upset with her if she doesn't win. To us, it's a good thing. But to her, telling her it's okay that she doesn't win when she badly wants to, it is that we aren't supportive of goals and we don't think highly of it.

4. We have to teach her to take instruction. Jordan's got an athlete's personality. Their perception of their abilities is sometimes over inflated, especially when they think they've already got it. Jordan's a little bit like that. She knows she's good but because of that, she thinks she no longer needs to listen. This is something that extends into her academic work as well.

5. We have to teach her about failure. As far as possible, I don't ever want her to fear failure. Inevitably, she will. It is one of the pillars of why Singapore is so successful. But I also know this fear is crippling and is what kept me from achieving greater athletic success. So I sit with her and talk to her about how falling off the beam isn't because she is lousy at it but because she didn't hold in her muscles enough to stay up; that her slightly weaker placings on the floor and the vault weren't condemning her but where she had to listen to her coaches more about how to make it better.


But none of them really take anything away from her victory of last weekend. She deserved every medal she got. We told her how proud  we were of how hard she worked and what she achieved because of it. It's a mouthful of praise but worth a lot more to her than telling her how good she was.

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Courtside

Evan and Packrat went on a daddy-son date today. Jordan and I were pretty envious and wished we could have gone along too.

Alas, we only had two tickets.

Two tickets to the WTA Championships in Singapore.

And since Evan was the one in the family who played tennis and since Packrat was the parent who was free, they got to go.

6 rows from the court. And they got to see Maria Sharapova warm up before watching Monica Puig and Zhang Sai Sai (most unfortunate name!) slug it out.

Photos by Packrat

Evan's review:
"The players were cool because their backhands, forehands and volleys were so good. "

"I wished I could throw the ball that high when I serve."

"How come they can use two hands when they do a backhand?"

"I liked the one with the pink shoes."

When I asked him if he thought he could play as well as they could, he replied in affirmative.


All I could think about from the 400+ photos that Packrat shot was how nice Sharapova's legs were.

Yup, the tickets would have been wasted on me.

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Trumping the parents

On the way home with Evan one day, he sighed as he looked out the window.

I asked him why.

He told me that he wished he could sit on the back of a truck.

I asked him why again.

He said it looked like good fun.

True that.

The next day was a school holiday. Jordan and he went with our neighbour on a hike. The thing with taking kids on walks is that we always have to factor in energy for the walk back. By the time the twins and their friends made it to the half way mark of the Tree Top Walk, they were winded and whined about having to double back.

One of the mums with them enterprisingly stopped a truck and asked if he could give the 5 kids and 3 adults a lift back out to the carpark.

The driver agreed

And the scrambling aboard the truck, sitting on the bed of the truck and the wind matting their hair rapidly became the highlight of their morning adventure.

Evan could not stop talking about it. He hitchhiked, he said. He sat in the back of the truck. And it was windy. They even had chairs with legs sawn off so that you didn't have to sit on the ground of the truck. On and on he went.

Was it safe? Probably not. After all, the guy could have been an axe murderer or a serial killer. The kids had no restraints, someone could have fallen out the back of the truck.

But the point is they didn't and Evan can now cross this off his bucket list. He can also revel in the fact that he's done something Mommy hasn't ever done and Papa possibly only did in the army.

So, in short, he's trumped us in terms of coolness here.

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Something old and something new

Most of our JED holidays are to places that aren't all that exotic or exciting. We tend to play it safe and simple with them because it's just easier that way.

But even then, there are always new things for them to experience.

1. Bang around a piano in the middle of a market

and have people toss coins at them. (Perhaps, begging them to stop)

2. Play in a fruit warehouse

and play hide and seek around a trailer truck. (Yes, this was under parental supervision and the truck was stationary)


3. Sleep in a basement 

where you could hear people walk over the ceiling. (Ghosts, they insisted.)

4.  Feed the fowl that they eat

and the ones that could eat them.

5.  Play in a huge open field

 

flanked by electric fencing to keep the cows in (the fences weren't on.)

6.  Go nuts at a mega playground

3 days in a row and not fully cover the whole playground

7. Have sheep just outside your window grazing

 

and fall so hopelessly in love with them that you are loathe to leave them. (Harry and Harriet are their names)

8. Take a photograph in the exact same spot

 

they did, 4 years ago, almost to the day. 

9. Play footie in the yard

despite 120km/h gale force winds bending the trees behind them.

10. Rough and tumble on grass

 that is 'oh so soft!'

11. Have a dog walk

all four of them at the same time.

And for us, it was just great fun just watching them have so much fun.

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A parent, a pack mule, not.

Every morning when we drop the twins off at school and on the occasion that I am in school at lunch time with Evan, I feel like I am abusing my children. I am surrounded by parents, grandparents, helpers who carry everything for their child while the kid saunters ahead. The only kids that don't have anyone carrying their bags are those who are walking up to school on their own.

Since I am walking with either Jordan or Evan to the school gate from the car (we park a mile's away rather than do the queue-and-wait routine to drop the kid at the door step of the school), I ought to be the pack mule. But I am the one sauntering or rushing them along with their back packs, lunch bags and water bottles in hand. 

Sometimes I half expect to be told off for it, especially within the school grounds because my poor kid has got to carry so many things, in an ocean of swirling kids with their whoevers carrying their stuff.

Anyway, I haven't caved and the reason is a deep seated one which I often call an occupational hazard. We teach kids at the other end of the spectrum, the ones that have spent 12 years in our formal academic system and are just about to graduate and are almost adults. While I have met some very nice students and made friends and kept in touch with many of them, there are also those that, pre-kids, made me want to have my tubes tied and never reproduce for fear of producing such brats. The latter group are prolific. Everyone I know, knows at least someone spoilt, entitled and often privileged. Many friends of mine who have taught in similar schools have the very same fear, that we inadvertently raise the next generation of monsters. This article got it right; no one sets out wanting to do it. But it starts with the little things. And then, the slippery slope into entitlement. The next thing we know, we're calling our kids' potential employer and demanding to know why our kid didn't get the job or the helper at home has to book into camp with the boy because he needs her to carry his full pack for him!

Our greatest fear!

A psychiatrist told someone I know that we shouldn't be so harsh on our 6 year olds because they are just kids and are not necessarily Mogwais waiting to turn into Gremlins at the stroke of midnight. True that but the fear is very real to us and both Packrat and I are constantly worried that we won't be able to prevent it, especially since the twins are in schools that are somewhat populated with privileged children.

So, as a result, I don't carry their bags for them and despite how late we are in the mornings and Evan has to tie his own shoelaces. Even on the days that Evan has asked me to be in school with him because he's had to stay back and get his own lunch, I don't lift a finger to help. I let him queue, let him re-queue because he jumped out of queue to come and tell me something and do everything for himself. Evan asked me once why I never wiped his mouth after he ate and distractedly I told him that God gave him two hands that could reach for tissue paper and wipe his own mouth. When it sank in a little bit more, I asked him why he asked me that, seeing that I haven't really wiped his mouth since he was about 2; his response was "XXX's mom does it for him at school. He makes baby bird sounds and his Mommy will wipe his mouth." To which I asked if he was a baby bird and that was the end of that discussion.

I don't know if our efforts will work. Our parents would accuse us of already spoiling them, they having gone on nice vacations and have nice things at such a young age. But where we can catch ourselves, we try and it always starts with the small things, regardless of weight of bag and oh, being able to say NO emphatically and meaning it.

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