Note leaving

The whole family has taken to leaving notes for each other.

There are various functions for the note-leaving.

For me, it's a case of expediency.

It's convenient, it stops me from nagging till I turn blue in the face and the little reminders do in fact act as little triggers for them to do things. Sometimes we  do it because it's funny and it gets a rise out of them.

Sometimes, it's purely to remind me to do something. Regardless of how much we remind them to pass us stuff to sign the minute they get it, they often only remember just as they are going to bed or when I'm not home. I take comfort in the fact that Evan is very responsible and will remember things told to him so occasionally, I take advantage of it and ask him to leave a note to remind me to for instance, "pick his sister at 3 pm".

Tangentially, Evan needs better handwriting because he wouldn't really know if I 'sighed' on the form.

     

 

Other times, they do it because they've done something wrong and it's easier to confess it on paper than to face the music. Muffin has recently discovered the joys of procrastinating. So he'll read and sit and play even if he has work to do. A few days ago, despite the fact that he didn't do anything else and spent a good 4 hours just sitting at his desk (only to get up for the bathroom and have dinner) he hadn't finished his Chinese homework which included a five pages of exercises and two pages of writing. His siblings, having more experience with the wrath of mom 'orrhhed' at him to the point that he trembled with fear and then ominously warned him of imminent punishment i.e. (Mummy is going to kiiiiiilll you). In an attempt to pre-emptively placate a potentially angry mummy and avoid sudden 'death', he left a note on his board with multiple "very"s to highlight his recalcitrant behaviour. 

Procrastination at work

Unlike her brothers who leave notes for purely functional reasons, Jordan leaves me notes for everything. To tell me what happened in the day, to recount something bad that had happened, prayer requests, to apologise to me for sassing me, everything.

Funny how they don't leave Packrat notes.

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Cinderella Syndrome

Jordan suffers from the Cinderella Syndrome.

She keeps losing her shoes.

Unfortunately, there isn't a Prince Charming that comes knocking at the door to fit her shoe on her foot.

I don't think he would waste his time.

She keeps losing her school shoes. Those aren't couture enough for Prince Charming to bother with.

At Primary 1 orientation, we were told to label our children's belongings. We were told repeatedly. And it wasn't just to label their books and bottles but their uniforms and shoes.

Even better if we did their socks too.

To illustrate their point, they told us about how children would return home with only one shoe on and none the wiser. It sounded like an urban legend that spread from generation to generation and got wilder and more exaggerated with each re-telling.

Then one day after gym, Jordan climbs into the car and just before we drive off, she squeals for the car to stop and hops out, running back to the gym. Bewildered, we wait for her to reappear. Panting, she explains that she forgot her slippers and was about to go home barefoot.

Okay.

Perhaps, it's a gymnast thing. After all, they spend all their time bare feet and they get used to the feel of the ground under their very very very black feet. So it doesn't occur to them that anything is amiss when they leave without their original footwear.

Since then, she's lost 2 pairs of school shoes. We've figured that there is a higher possibility for her to lose her shoes because she takes them off. Which means, there's a higher possibility she leaves them somewhere and not take them with her. The agreement has been that her allowance will be docked, to help pay for new shoes. Especially since they were brand new, this last time round.

If only she did a sport where she could keep her shoes on. It would be cheaper for everyone involved. In so so so many ways!

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A $1.60 lesson

Muffin's turned 7.

How did that happen?

Anyway, he really is growing up and we're seeing signs of it everywhere.

1. He's become more shy with strangers though still extremely cheeky and rubber-faced with us.

2. At the same time, he's become more rambunctious. Rough playing with his friends and having a whale of a time.

3. He's learning to problem solve quite effectively.
When daunted, this small one finds a way around it. Faced with difficult words to spell, he doesn't give up taking down information as would have some of my other kids, he approximates. So his school diary is a hoot to read and it has to be read out loud so that we know what word he's phonologically spelled out.

4.  He's learning to be responsible.
He's also learning that whining and obsessing about a problem doesn't help him. His wallet strap broke as a result of rough-housing with his friends. I hear later that his friend is the one that broke it. But all Muffin did was to be matter-of-fact about it. He tells me his wallet strap broke and could he have $1.60 to buy a new one.

It did puzzle me how he knew it was $1.60.

His friend's mom filled in the blanks when she apologetically told me that her son broke it. Apparently, the strap broke during recess. All the boys were stunned and wondered if they were going to get into trouble or if Muffin would cry. Muffin didn't. He suggested going to the bookstore to see if he could buy another. They discovered it was $1.60. However,  this was post recess meal and all the boys, Muffin included, on emptying out their wallets discovered they didn't have $1.60 to pool together.

So Muffin decided he would break into his savings and buy one for himself. When the boy came to school with a replacement for Muffin, Muffin declined. He said he had his own money and he'd buy it for himself, otherwise his friend would be short of one for himself. Another of their friends was clamouring for it and Muffin suggested he give it to the other friend.

The story amused me but also made my day. Muffin is truly growing up and he's growing up great.

With this figured out, who really needs to learn how to spell neighbourhood?

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Flunking

One of the things that kids today are not allowed to do a lot of is to fail. We try our darndest to protect them against failing. Offering them pre-emptive help, berating them for failing and instilling the fear of failing in them because that leads to them not doing well and not doing well causes them to not be able to get into good schools and not getting into good schools causes them to not get good jobs and then they will be broke and homeless. Or so the cautionary tale goes.

It's hard not to get sucked into it. It's so much part of our vocabulary. It leaves our lips before we can stop ourselves.

One of JED came home with a badly done math paper and hides it from us. Another of JED calls from school to dejectedly inform me of failing Chinese. Another had an entire page of math streaked with angry red crosses.

How do we respond?

The immediate, instinctive reaction is the Tiger Mom one.
1. To be accusatory: WHY DID YOU FAIL?
2.  To be reactive: More with the tuition!
3. To be punitive: No more toys, no more TV.
4. To be self-flagellating: It's my fault. I haven't done enough work with them. I haven't been home enough.

But then, when those thoughts have been processed, the lingering question is "To what end?". Would more tuition help? Would punishment help? Would my sitting beside them all the time be of advantage to them?

Then the more reasonable Mom struggles to take control.
1. Failing is good. At least JED learn to fail. Learn to cope with failing. I did have a 'gua gua gua' moment when the math paper was discovered. Because that's something so rare in our lives.
2. Failing allows for introspection. Why did they fail? Lack of preparation? Lack of comprehension? Lack of motivation?
3. Failing allows for longer term solutions. How can it be fixed? Should WE fix it? Or should the child learn to fix it?

The latter is really hard to do. It isn't as solution-oriented. The outcomes take a long time to surface. And we really do struggle to not be reactive. It's so easy to panic. It's so easy to get sucked into the vortex of grade obsession.

So the important thing is for us to remember is that in the larger scheme of things, what's failing a test in primary school? What's failing a test full stop? Do we do more harm than good when we prevent them from failing when it isn't of great consequence? Conversely, would a perfect school record be indicative of anything else later on in life?

What are we going to do about the little fails that JED have encountered?
1. We've figured that the math fail was about being reluctant to go the distance. To read the question in its entirety. To slowly break it down. When we sit at the table and help deconstruct the question, everything works. Unfortunately, exam entry usually prohibits a parent sitting beside the child so said child just has to learn to do it without us there. How do we do that? Model the sum and set many others. As with sport, much of math is about repetitive memory. Hopefully.

2. Chinese- well, that's an uphill battle. When I've figured out that one, you'll be the first to know.

3. Fearing the fails- The constant reiteration that they have to tell us if they don't do well because we need to work with them to figure out why it happened. Hiding it from us does none of that. They also need to take responsibility for the fail. And also the undying promise to each of them that we love them for who they are and not what they can do. That while we may berate them when they don't do well, it doesn't take away from how much we love them.

To which, all 3 dissolved into puddles of grateful tears of relief.

For us, when JED fail, we have to learn to not take it personally and by 'we', I actually mean me because Packrat is more chill about it. And the most important question to ask is...

"So, what's next?"

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Unknown rewards

Jessica Lahey in her book, A Gift of Failure, tries to convince helicopter parents to wean off extrinsic rewards for behaviour. She asserts that this stunts the growth mindset in children where they do things because they are trying to figure things out rather than because they get rewarded for it. While I find it hard to adopt everything she says, I fully agree with her ideas.

She also talks about how, if it was necessary to reward, the rewards had to be inconsistent and rare enough not to form a pattern.

Fast forward to this upcoming weekend. Packrat and I are away this weekend. JED want to know if they can watch TV while we are away. As we are not around, we felt that it was only fair to put that decision into the ones who were caring for them in our absence. The twins were told that their TV privileges would only be made known to them during the weekend. How that decision was going to be made, was a secret. Not very democratic and transparent but child rearing rarely ever is.

These uncertainties brought about a sea change in their behaviour. Instead of the regular bickering and occasional-come-to-blows responses to each other, in the split second after the aforementioned pronouncement about television was made, they became helpful siblings who looked out for each other and were accommodating of each other.

When Muffin dropped his cup, Jordan scrambled to get it and Evan rushed to rinse it out as opposed to the usual "Muffin, why are you so clumsy?" accusation. The twins also wrote down a list of household duties that needed to be done and split it amongst themselves.


They even elected to read to Muffin before they fell asleep.

All this because they know that their TV privileges depended on their behaviour. But they weren't sure which aspects of their behaviour mattered the most. Being helpful, being caring and considerate, being nurturing, being neat... they didn't really know. So in face of the uncertainty, they did everything. We're not sure if it's sustainable but it's been interesting to see how they responded and we'll see what all the good intentions amount to by the time we get back.

At the same time, I'm leaving them a big series of books to hopefully distract themselves.

It's a lot less mess and less painful to clear up than leaving them Lego.

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A trio of turtles- Pet Version 2.2

Everyone around us has pets. As a result, JED want pets too. They can't see why they can't despite my pointing out to them that they still leave their clothes on the floor and their lunch boxes in their school bags on a regular basis. They don't see the connection.

Eventually, I told them we could have fish and borrowed a fish tank and fish pump from my brother. We went off to the fish shop to buy some guppies and came home with some mollies and a sucker fish. That was Pet Version 1.0.

The mollies committed suicide. They jumped out of the tank.

Then we bought some guppies and another sucker fish. That was Pet Version 1.1.

They died even more dramatically when the air pump fell into the water, cooked the water fish included. Packrat declared a moratorium on fish. He was upset. Muffin was upset. One of the cooked sucker fish was his.

The twins had opted for terrapins. They were not part of the carnage. They are Pet Version 2.1.

That wasn't without its own drama. Jordan couldn't decide on the name of the terrapin because she didn't know if it were a male or female one. Eventually she settled on Jess because it was an androgynous name.

Jess is calm and a little shy with some pigmentation on her/ his shell.

Evan named his terrapin Dribble after the terrapin in Judy Blume's Tales of a Fourth Grade Nothing. Dribble eats a lot, is very active and spends a great amount of its time 'bullying' Jess, stepping all over Jess. When we were away, JED plus pets spent the weekend at the grandparents where there was a big garden. That was when Dribble decided that its tank wasn't big enough and escaped one night leading to the flurry of texts bemoaning the lost terrapin. Eventually he was found happily exploring the shrubs.

After his sucker fish died, Muffin decided that his brother and sister got it right from the outset. Terrapins. No need for the air pump and therefore, not accidents involving electricity and electrocuting fish. 

He decided to name his terrapin the same name as he did his sucker fish. Jack. So we have Jack 2.0 as a terrapin. Muffin requested to the guy at the fish shop that his terrapin be calm and the guy gave him a more reserved one. He did give Muffin a bit of a lesson on terrapins; to only buy those that were alert and had hard shells. 

So, now, we're on Pet Version 2.2.

3 terrapins in one tank with no fish, no air pumps and filters. 

Hopefully, we won't need any more upgrades.

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Flying solo

I have a baby craving.

Some of my friends have recently had babies. And I miss babies. Plus my youngest baby is almost 6 and not so much of a baby anymore.

I was lamenting my plight to Packrat, a key player in any sort of baby making endeavour and he wryly commented that if that were the case, I would be having babies all the way into my 70s. And I was telling him this over a hot lunch where no kids were needing our attention because we were far away in another country without them. He did not fail to point that out to me either.

But that's just the part of me that misses the baby-smell talking. The part that feels sleep-deprived, exhausted and broke all the time makes it very clear it's a bad idea. Also, the fact that I have recently started to sprout whites on my head, possibly to do with both stress and age tell me that it's not a good idea.

But the most compelling reason to ignore the baby craving is actually the reason why I have the craving in the first place.

JED are all growed up now.

A case in point.

Packrat had to fly solo with them to Phuket. I was flying out on a later flight so he took them on his own. JED were warned to listen and to always stay close to Papa because the airport was crowded.

Evan took Muffin's hand and held it tight. He said to Muffin warningly, "You must always hold my hand. If you lose me and lose Papa, the plane will fly off without you." Muffin obediently followed.

Travelling in December is always a circus because half of Singapore leaves its shore. So Packrat had to distribute to each child their passport and give them instructions on how to go through Immigration by themselves, telling them to point to him if asked who they were travelling with. Each child sailed through, smiling at the Immigration Officer, answering their questions and being rewarded with sweets.

On top of that, flying budget and choosing not to pay the extra $5 per passenger to choose seats meant seats were allocated. They were allocated 3 seats in a row and a lone window seat two rows down. Packrat had no choice but to seat JED altogether and squish himself into the window seat. Because he was stuck, JED had to fend for themselves; entertaining themselves, going to toilet and battling the the, in their opinion, scary toilet flush. When Packrat was reunited with them upon landing, he found them each munching a bar of Kit Kat which the stewardess had given them because they had been so good through the flight.

By the time I got into Phuket, Packrat was a proud Papa with tales of how his afternoon hadn't been all that stressful because JED had been so cooperative and on the ball with stuff.

I saw it for myself the next morning when I was met with made up beds, clothes neatly folded onto shelves and all washed up and ready to go for breakfast. It wasn't perfect but it was decent enough. When we were preparing to go back, I told JED to pack everything on their shelf (where I had allocated space for each of them) into their bags. For the most part, their clothes went into the bags higgity-piggity but all was in and all were proud that they had packed their own luggage all by themselves.

It's great to be at the point where they can do most things on their own and look after themselves. And much as I would love to smell the top of a baby's head whenever I want to and be able to have a baby around, I think the fact that I'm getting more sleep every night and slowly gaining some aspect of me-space/ time back are very strong reasons to get a grip on this baby craving.

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Of tears and recriminations: a post mortem.

The end of the exams did not come fast enough for the twins. And they rejoiced, from the night before the last paper till the day they got the papers back. Then there was a bit of a pall in the house. One did better, one didn't do as well. The problem was that the one who didn't do so well, didn't do so well because of a lackadaisical attitude rather than general inability.

 

As with grief, there were different emotions that I encountered.

First it was denial.
Those scores couldn't be. The incredulity was greatest for English. After all, the twins are the products of two English teachers. How could it be that their English was so bad? I had to remind myself that my 8 year old self once spelt "other things" as "oether thinks". So, if my 8 year old self had crap English, why not the twins?

Then anger. 
When I saw the results and saw the mistakes that led to the results, it truly did make my blood boil. My emotional and irrational response was to wonder if I could get away with caning them. I had grown up listening to how my classmates got caned for bringing home less than perfect scores. Then I asked myself, to what end? How would my inflicting pain on them do anything beneficial? It might make me feel better especially since I would have an outlet for my frustration but I would not inflict pain on a child to make myself feel better. That would just be plain child abuse.

Then the big bad word came along. Guilt. 
I work. I'm out of the house 3 days a week till evening. By which time, I can manage a cursory glance at what they've done through the day. Most of the time, I leave them instructions as to what they need to do. Would it have been better if I had been home every afternoon and put a gun to their heads and made sure they did what they needed to? It was easy to blame myself for it. Could I have put in more effort? Could I have been more vigilant and drilled them a bit more? Then it occurred to me that I wasn't the one taking the exams and I wasn't the one who had to do the work. If it was only being done because I was there, then the work was done under duress. Admittedly, I think if I had drilled the twins more, they might have been in a better position for the exams. But what would they have learnt? That Mommy is their crutch? As they get older, it would get more and more ridiculous for me to be home just so that they would get their work done. So the uphill task that the rational part of me had was to convince the not-so-rational- penchant to be helicopter- tiger mom part of me that it wasn't my fault and my stopping work or staying at home more wasn't going to do the twins any favours. I haven't stopped feeling guilty but Packrat keeps reminding me that the twins have to take responsibility for their own learning and their own achievements.

So where am I now? At this point, while writing this, I think I'm still at  the bargaining phase, full of despair; trying to find reasons and solutions.
I ask myself "Why?" Why is it that the papers were so badly done?  I ask Packrat, what can we do? Of course, the million dollar instinct is to plough them headlong into tuition classes. After all, part of the problem comes from that fact that there is so little rigor in the school work that they aren't used to sitting and practicing for extended periods of time. They don't take, as seriously, the homework we set for them because they know that we aren't their teachers. But this is a path that I'm willing to explore but unwilling to take. The time, the cost and how it's still a short-term solution that breeds a certain amount of dependency and helplessness make it a less than desirable plan of action. We have sat and talked about it to death, coming up with reasons, justifications and recriminations. Eventually Packrat suggests a two-fold action. First we sit with them and ask them the following questions.

1. Do you think you could do better? (Rhetorical question that has to be asked)
2. What do you think you can do to make it better?
3. How can we help you to make it better?

With that, we devise a holiday work schedule (even though we promised no work during the holidays, the caveat had been that they had to earn it) where they stipulate how much work they are willing to do and stick to it. The pages would have to be done to the best of their ability. By the end of the holidays, we'll give them a 'supplementary exam'. If they still show that they aren't doing well, then we start thinking about additional help. The consequence of that, as told to the twins, would be that we will have less money to vacation and they will have less time to play.

I'm not sure if I've reached Acceptance yet though. I'm still annoyed with careless mistakes and and the low grades. I dread finding out what the consequences are. There is some calm albeit resigned acceptance; that these are the grades they were meant to get and the classes they get streamed into are the ones they were meant to get into for whatever reason. That and the fact that 15 years from now, no one will really care what they got in primary school and the ones who did well and the ones who didn't would have all levelled out onto the same playing field. Those thoughts need to become strong enough to block out the more negative, dark and twisty ones that convince me that with these grades at 8, come 12 at PSLE, we're going to be in trouble. Such dark and twisty thoughts have the potential to snowball into panicky, psychotic, crazy mother behaviour which benefits no one.

So have we returned to reality and the living of a normal life?
On the surface, yes. For now, We're giving them a bit of breathing space to go nuts and just play. But deep down inside, I'm still upset and angry. But I know that it's important to move forward and use this as an opportunity to fix what they are weak at. I also know that they need to take on the responsibility of getting the grades they are capable of getting. The latter is a bit harder to teach because it involves us watching them by the wayside and not reacting even if it is a train wreck in slow motion.

There have been counter suggestions. Migrate. Leave this less than ideal system. We would still like to, at some point, but if we did it for this reason then we wouldn't be any better than who pay to get their kids certified as special needs and we'd be running away. Now, that would truly be something to feel guilty about.

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No rescue for the forgetful, most of the time.

The last few weeks have been a record of sorts. The kids have been losing things left, right and centre. I usually keep a stock of ready water bottles for them to work their way through and there are none left. There's also the more than usual amount of random-leaving stuff in school- coming home with other people's shirts- rubbish happening. Evan has had to pay for a new school shirt because he came home with someone else's without checking that it was his (we label all his stuff for this very reason) and Jordan has had to break open her piggy bank to buy herself a new water bottle having lost two within the span of a fortnight.

This morning, there was a wallet left in the car. I toyed with the idea of bringing it to school and dropping it off at the office for the forgetful child. Then I remembered that there was a circular sent round requesting that we not do that. It inconveniences the office staff and it doesn't teach the child to be responsible. After all, why be responsible if Mom is going to break her neck, rushing down to school just to drop off the *insert forgotten item*?

And so, keeping in mind the the twins had been sent off to school with their water bottles and lunch bags, there wasn't a need to queue at the school, find parking just to walk in to the office and drop off the wallet. They weren't going to starve and die of thirst and even then, there were water coolers around and they had had breakfast. 

There has been a lot of talk about this. Or rather, rescuing the kid to the point that the kid has no clue how to rescue himself or herself. Much like the animal in captivity who is unable to hunt and has to wait to be fed. The helicopter approach to parenting. 

I'm pretty tough on JED but it's all an act. Left to my true neurotic nature, I want to be the mother who rescues them, who rushes to school to make sure that they have whatever they need. I want to check their bags and homework every day and make them correct mistakes in their work before they pack it back in their bags. But I don't allow myself to be. It's a very steep slippery slope and I don't want to raise helpless children. I learnt long ago that the helpless children I see at 18 are helpless because they've spent their lives being rescued. 

The other part of the reason I can be tough is because Packrat is a toughie. He'll say they need to learn. Forgot to tell us that they had a test the next day or to study for it, they can do badly in the test because there was no time to prepare. Forgot to have us sign something, incur the wrath of the teacher. Didn't live up to their end of the bargain, live up to the pre-stated consequences. 

We've recently negotiated contracts with them. On the days that I work, I often spend a lot of time missing them and looking forward to going home and seeing them. That illusion is usually shattered the minute I step into the house met by undone or badly done homework and a house where the floor cannot be seen. So, last week at the end of my tether, I called up Packrat one day in tears and threatened to go on strike. 

So, he stepped in, spoke to them, told them that they were old enough to live up to the consequences of their actions and proceeded to draw up a contract with them. 

In a nutshell, their signing it would mean that they were agreeing to be responsible for their homework and revision. They were also agreeing to put in effort (we've emphasising that it's about putting in effort to do things accurately, neatly and not leave half of it blank rather than scoring good grades). They're also agreeing to facing the consequences if they don't do what they've committed themselves to. 

Tall order. But he thinks they're ready. 

But at the same time, I still cut them slack. I like how this article puts it. I tell them that if there is homework, they do that first. And if they've been at their work for more than an hour, I send them off to play with their word that they'll come back to finish it up and I make sure they do. If they are really tired and it's been a long day, I tell them to finish up the next day and quietly on the side, set them less to do the next day. I compliment them when they've done their parts and they still go out of their way to help each other complete stuff. They've got a log, to keep their Good Effort stickers and it's dated. 5 stickers a week for a passport to weekend TV. They haven't decided how many stickers they have to get to go to Phuket but it'll be significant. And Packrat has already stated uncategorically that he'll cancel their plane ticket and take the rest of us.

I don't know how long it'll last but the bottom line is that they gotta learn how to swim on their own and we can't always be their crutch. We'll step in of course, if it gets too much, but the lesson still has to be that. 

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We killed a caterpillar; or why we can't have pets

JED found a caterpillar. A teeny tiny one. I don't have photographs of when they first brought it home because it just did.not.occur.to.me.

Anyway, they wanted to keep it and make sure if became a butterfly. So I figured why not. After all, Muffin's perennial favourite book is still The Very Hungry Caterpillar and it seemed like an apt, post test- end of term experiment for them. And it was as short time and as unintrusive as pets came.

They were amazed at how fast the caterpillar grew and how much it ate. Muffin was wondering worriedly when it would get its tummy ache as the Very Hungry Caterpillar did. I was just amazed at how much it pooped.

Then one day it stopped eating, inched up one of the twigs that I had put into the container (thereby reminding me once again that I was in charge of the pet) and stayed still.

And that's how it stayed. And stayed.

We think it's died. That it didn't manage to metamorphise. And that was as far as it got.

Evan feels sorry for it because he always feels bad for anything that suffers. The other two seem to vacillate between hoping that it will emerge and not caring that it's died.

It reinforces my long term mantra of no pets. If we can't even keep a caterpillar long enough to help it become a butterfly, what more the other higher maintenance pets like fish? And like I said, the onus was on me to check if it was okay and to feel the loss of it because it's died.

I'm not traumatised but really, NO. MORE. PETS.

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Building buckets of character

Some one recently commented that of all three, Jordan had the most serious disposition. If I think about it, I suppose it's true though Evan does come in a close second when he starts thinking about things a little too much. For Evan, it's part of him. He's the worrywart and he's me. For Jordan, it's because of circumstance.

I'm not saying it's a bad thing but it is painful to watch her have to grow up so quickly. Her seriousness comes from a strong and recently acquired of a sense of responsibility.

She was recently appointed Assistant Class Monitress and that sent her into a planning frenzy to get to school early. Packrat and I were suitably chastised when she asked if she could go to school on the school bus. When we asked her why, seeing that it meant she would need to get up earlier, she said she needed to be in school for her duties and the time we usually dropped her off was too late. When we promised her we would get her to school by 7 the next morning, she was by my bedside by 545 am shaking me awake.

To be told by our first born, in not so many words, that we couldn't be trusted to get her to school on time was a big metaphorical kick in the nuts.

Some weeks ago, she came down with the flu and had to stay home for 2 days. When she returned to school, she was given a whole stack of homework to catch up with. It was impossible for her to get it all done within the day and we didn't expect her to. But it evidently seemed that she expected herself to. 2 hours after she went to bed, she was up and out of bed pulling out her unfinished homework from her bag. Even though she kept dozing off, she kept at it till we forced her back to bed.

A lot of good that did because she spent the whole night sleeping fitfully and waking with a start and with worry because of her unfinished work. When I eventually woke her up in the morning, she burst into tears because she was so exhausted.

Our instinct was obviously to blame the school for giving her so much work but to be fair, it was work she would have completed had she gone to school. And when we spoke to her teachers to ask for the weekend to finish the work, they told us that she hadn't been given any deadlines. The expectations had been self-inflicted. Her teachers had noticed that about her as well and knew to reassure her that she wasn't being tardy with her work.

It's admirable that she took it upon herself to finish up her work and that she was tough on herself when she didn't. It's great that she's developed a great sense of accountability and it's difficult for us to watch her beat herself up about it because she's still our little girl. At the end of the day, she's only 7 and we've got to step in and temper it or she will end up being wound too tight.

That means, giving her the space to be silly and clown around and to chuckle and giggle like a 7 year old ought to.

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Surviving the Vacation

There is always a sense after a family vacation that we, the parents, actually need a vacation of our own to recover from the previous one. Thankfully, we've gotten more seasoned at travelling with JED and JED have become older, so it is a little bit easier. There is less of a compulsion to drop them off at an orphanage and jet off to the Maldives.

But we also do try to make it a point to make it easier on ourselves.

1. We rent self-service apartments or houses.
This meant we didn't have to bring enough clothes to last the duration of our vacation. Travelling light becomes important especially when flights land at odd hours and we have to wrestle sleeping children as well as luggage and car seats [thankfully, that (car seats) should stop being a problem soon!]

It also meant we were able to cook and not need to subject ourselves to ridiculously priced restaurant food. Plus the nutrition conscious nut in me felt better knowing what JED actually put away into their bodies. People find this troublesome and it could be. But it's was much cheaper, we didn't have to wrestle with cranky children back into the car and we didn't have to worry about them making a scene in a public place; all of which could have been even more stress inducing.

 

2. Not be ambitious.

We did not pack our itinerary at all. It was a ' one thing a day' type of vacation. If we were going to the beach, we would just go to the beach. The Kids being kids took a long time to move and there was always toileting, feeding and stopping for no reason to be done. Plus the kids got tired after a bit. Cranky kids meant difficult kids. So in the words of our travelling partners, where ever we went, however far we intended to travel, we would to take into consideration time back and most of the time, that meant the 'exercise cut' (using an NS term) time was usually about 3 pm so that we could get back in time to start dinner, get the kids bathed and ready for bed without too much hysterics. 

3. Keeping them occupied. 

By this, I don't mean gadgets though it did get inevitable at times. A 5 hour flight with no in flight entertainment meant pulling out entertainment stops of our own. By the 5th hour, I wanted to just sit and read a bit so we gave them the gadgets for the landing. This was also to distract them from the ear popping pressure of descent. 

Anyway, we used some of the luggage space we saved from bringing clothes to bring all sorts of distractions. Games, play dough, books, puzzles and Jordan's rainbow loom set. We set writing tasks for the twins to do in the mornings before the day started. So they would sit down and write about their day before and what they wanted to do in the day to come. By the middle of the vacation, they were used to doing that and that would be the time I would use to get breakfast for them ready.

The rest of the time, they just mucked about with each other and came up with their own games. So even though I had to be up when they were up, I could pretty much sit and read my book while they "parted the Red Sea" and kicked an odd shaped ball (a footie ball) around in the garden at the back.

4. Make them accountable for one another.
It wasn't just about making the older two look after Muffin. It was about everyone looking after everyone else. When they crossed the road, they had to be holding onto someone else's hand. If they ran off, they had to look back to see where everyone else was. If someone fell, they had to help pick the child up and someone needed to come and tell us. That meant, everyone had to keep an eye out on everyone else. Even Muffin knew to look out for his siblings and his friends and they were often a gaggle of wandering children, the operative term here being 'gaggle'. While not fool-proof, it meant that we didn't have to worry as much about where everyone was at any given time, even if we were in a supermarket.

 

5. Find the playgrounds.

At this age, the favourite things for JED to do were to go to the beach or the playground. So we found playgrounds for them. If in Perth and you are headed south, head to Donnybrook, the apple capital of Western Australia. It's home to the Donnybrook Apple Fun Park, the biggest free playground in Australia. All the kids loved it and we went back 3 days in a row and they never tired of it. Because we were on vacation and regular Aussie school terms were still in session, the playgrounds were empty. They had the run of the place and keeping an eye out for them was relatively easy.

I would have lain in the sun and taken a nap if I wasn't so fascinated by how much fun they were having and what they were doing on the apparatus. 

And even when we didn't feel like driving to the Fun Park, we were flanked by parks and playgrounds all over. So every day, all the kids went to a new playground. They relished the wood chip playgrounds and the open fields where they could tumble and roll around. 

By the end of it, they were wind-blown, hungry and ready to call it a day. For most days, this was how our days would end. 

No real big secrets but just the little things that made it a little bit easier for the kids and by extension us. It was by no means peaceful and it didn't mean that I didn't lose my cool with them or yell at them. But it did mean that the flashes of annoyances passed more quickly and there weren't periods of extreme and extended stress. And that meant, relatively speaking, we managed to have quite a bit of fun as well. 

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A contractual agreement

Evan signed his first contract today. Just before heading off to bed, he asked me very innocently if there was 听 写 (Chinese Spelling) tomorrow. To which my reply was "you tell me?". When he unearthed his Chinese list, it was evident that there was 听 写 tomorrow.

I had two options.

1. He sleeps late to study for it.

2. He doesn't learn it and faces the consequences of doing badly tomorrow. Both from us and from school.

I chose the latter.

I asked him if he thought I was mad, he said yes.

When I asked him why, he said because he lied.

I told him it wasn't about lying. It was about being responsible for his work. With both Jordan and him, I forget dates and what they have to do. It's impossible for the most Type A amongst us and I am by no stretch of the imagination, super Type A. So I tell him that I am upset because he was irresponsible. And that came with consequence.

Thereafter, I asked him what did he hope to get for 听 写. He said full marks. So we drew up an agreement that anything less than full marks would have consequences because he forgot to study for it.

A concept he is unfamiliar with.

We came up with a list of the 5 things he enjoyed doing most and ranked it.
1. Playing with our neighbour, Kate.
2. Going downstairs to play.
3. Going on a night walk.
4. Watching television on the weekend.
5. Reading his Star Wars books.

The agreement:
If Evan gets 100, nothing gets taken away.
If Evan gets 95, no Star Wars books for a day.
If Evan gets 90, no watching television on Saturday.
If Evan gets 85, no night walk for that week.
If Evan gets 80, no going downstairs to play for 3 days.
If Evan gets 75, no playing with Kate for 4 days.

Signed and agreed by him, witnessed by Jordan.

It's up on the fridge in the kitchen with everything else important, for everyone to see.
 
I'm not sure if he truly understands consequence yet but I sure hope this teaches him something because behind the 'zen' mommy was a one who was about blow a gasket and have an aneurysm, all the while still in work clothes.

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A Sort of Review: Tackling hard issues like adoption

Adoption.

An extremely loaded word these days. And because it's been the centre of some very heated debates, people forget that adoption is in fact an emotionally charged issue, for everyone involved.

When Packrat and I were trying to have kids, we had to face the distinct possibility that we couldn't have any of our own. That started us talking about adopting. For some reason, I got it into my head that I wanted to adopt a child from Vietnam. Over the course of our discussion about adoption, it came to light that if we went through with it, there would be people in our immediate circles that would have frowned upon what we would have done. And even though we hadn't even begun the process at that point, I was indignant on behalf of the child that we could have potentially adopted. At the same time, it made us very aware of the obstacles we were to face if we went through with it.

Packrat constantly tells me that I need to be more like Teflon. I need to let things roll off my back. But I haven't ever been able to and the more I thought about adoption, the more I wondered and got angry at the imaginary comments that would be either whispered or blatantly said to us. "Why are you adopting? Why don't you just try a little bit harder? Aren't you scared that the baby you adopt has some strange disease or worse, was the offspring of some axe murderers? " I realised that these weren't just voices in my head because the few people I did mention something to, about our considerations, their comments approximated the above.

We never had to go through with adopting but those months when we pondered gave me a glimpse into what parents who adopt must go through. Granted most people would be thrilled and supportive but oh! the tongues that could and would wag, especially with the older generation. Packrat's response to all this was to shrug and to say that the only thing we could do, as teachers, was to make sure the next generation wouldn't react in the same way.

Enter Darren and Melanie.

2 1/2 years ago, they adopted Christian when he was about 3 1/2 months old. Darren stunned Packrat one day by whipping out his phone and asking "Want to see my son?" with no preamble whatsoever. After Packrat picked his jaw off the ground and told me about it, we rushed over to visit and brought Muffin along. In fact, we brought a whole bunch of Muffin's clothes and toys for Christian because Darren and Mel were given about a week to prepare for bringing Christian home. Every one including Muffin was excited about the new baby. He kept trying to put toys on Baby Christian.

Over the course of the last two years, Mel and I have had conversations about the various reactions she's experienced with Christian and some of them were unsurprisingly small-minded and mean. And that's where my admiration for Mel lies. Mel has dealt with the comments in a more constructive way than many others, myself included, would have done. While I am certain she has ranted and raved about people who have said mean things about her kid, like most of us do, she also went on to write The Adventures of Squirky to introduce the idea of adoption to children. I am sure part of it was to prepare herself and Darren for the time where they would have to talk to Christian about it. But at the same time, for her to write it meant that it was out there in Singapore, for many Singaporeans to pick up and read. And that is what will help to slowly change things.

Mel sent us a signed copy of  Why Am I Blue? for Muffin recently and JED descended upon it. We read the book together so that I could explain certain things to Muffin and the twins read it on their own. It's still sitting on our dining table and that, in our family, is high praise. It means the book is still being read and flipped through at meal times so often it is futile to keep it on the shelf.

I asked JED what they thought about the book and the twins reply was that it was special. Muffin was still trying to understand why Squirky was blue.

Anyway, there are many reasons why they thought the book was special.
1. The Mommy and Daddy are like us. (Meaning they are Asian). They don't have very many Asian based books so it was novel to see the characters in the book drawn like them.

2. The book isn't just about being happy. Muffin was very fixated on the part where Squirky and Emma were both in tears. (Once again, while they have read books where someone is chucking a fit or there is little bit of sadness or gloominess in it, they've never experienced a book where the characters are genuinely upset and distraught.)

3. There was no ending to the book (It is a series of 6 books).

4. The book had questions and answers at the back. "Are we supposed to be able to answer these questions, Mommy?" (It is an FAQ to help parents deal with the questions that their young adopted children may ask; though the twins, newly introduced into the world of comprehension exercises worried that it was the longest comprehension passage in the world.)

This last point is what makes the book truly great. It is what makes it more than just a kid's picture book. The questions do not just help parents who are unable to answer difficult questions. It also gives other parents an idea of what might go through the mind of an adopted child or any other child wrestling with the concept for the first time and how to talk about different types of families to their own children.

Much of the resistance and taboo in society regarding this issue isn't going to go away even if we clubbed every single person over the head. (I have thought about that but there just aren't enough clubs out there). The way to actually do it is through little people like JED, who are still tiny enough that their prejudices haven't yet been formed. With stories like that, about people that look like them doing something so simply extraordinary, it becomes a slightly easier feat.

For Packrat and myself, it was an opportunity to talk to the twins about how there are different ways families are set up; that the children don't really have to be born of the parents for parents to love them. Both were fascinated by the idea though they couldn't fully wrap their heads round the idea.

Jordan couldn't really see the difference between adopting Squirky and Squirky being a pet. (We told her that Squirky was more than just a pet and Emma saw him as a brother. Evan chimed in that pets didn't need to go to school but Squirky did.)

Evan couldn't understand why Squirky needed to find his real parents if Mummy and Papa were there and loved him so much. (We asked Evan about the times he stayed at Grandma's house and was perfectly happy there and he still wanted to know where Mommy and Papa were.)

Muffin wasn't sure he liked Squirky being so blue and couldn't understand why Squirky was part of the family since he was so blue. (We asked him if Evan or Jordan were blue or red or purple, would they still be his brother and sister?)

I don't think we've fully made a dent in helping them understand the myriad of issues behind it but I do like that it gave us the opportunity to talk about some things that we don't generally talk about and at the end of it, they still wanted to go back to the book again.

That in my book, is what makes a good book.

Squirky's adventures will be available to the public from 23 August onwards and everyone is welcome to its launch. It promises to be great fun.

Melanie sent us a signed copy of the book as a gift. We reviewed it because we can never resist a good book and this is more than just a good book. So, there was no monetary compensation in any way and all views and opinions here are ours and JED's two cents worth. 

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