Rockstar: WHY did I use these stickers and draw that car on this box, Mum? How come?
Me: Are you fishing for a compliment?
Rockstar: Hee yes.
Me: Let’s see – because you have the artistic prowess to use several different mediums in one art piece?
Rockstar: <satisfied> Ok. That’s a good one.
All Puffed Up...
Cova Pacific Place where we stopped for a snack. Yes it looks swanky and so
If you knew enough about my husband, you would know this is news. Getting Kings to shop is like getting Rockstar to dress up nicely and perform Mozart’s Magic Flute in concert <snort>
So Kings is flying Mon-Fri for couple weeks, and per prior agreement he is to inform me before he takes off/ lands (because he has changed flights and forgotten to mention before and then hours after he was originally supposed to land I’d literally be Where In The World Is My Husband?), only this time it’s “Ok-so-I’m-coming-home-now-and-we-have-to-go-shopping-ok.” (At which point I’m not sure that is my husband on the other line, maybe he’s someone else’s.)
<snort> Sorry. Still thinking about Rockstar all dressed up in something I like and performing nicely somewhere. Just a real ludicrous image to me. So not my son. He be not a mummy-pleaser in the packaging.
Kings is another one. At one point in his old place it was a little joke that he occasionally wore the only watch he owns, a limited edition severely simple (chosen by Kings) Omega my dad gave him for our wedding, and there was a guy whom he then hired who wore a watch that cost easily 10 times more. And as it turns out, he then went to his new place where everyone is umm, dressed real sharp and someone kinda went Dude, you gotta dump that shirt. At which point I am extremely appreciative he had the decency to claim all credit: “Yeah my wife did say, but I don’t listen…”
So yay, shopping. No more loud(ish) shirts or even the semi-casual Ralph Lauren ones he bought on a whim. I ask another banker wife/ mummy label lover what’s a must-have tie. (Used to love Paul Smith ties and cufflinks, all my gay (and some of my straight) friends and colleagues from way back like their awesome colors and designs. Also love lotsa Hugo Boss – men’s and women’s wear.) My girlfriend highly recommends Hermes. Sigh. It’s kind of one of “the” banker tie labels, I know. Except like she used to, I assumed everything by the label was horribly expensive and Kings is very rough on his stuff.
As it turns out I score a simple navy tie with a tiny snowboarder emblazoned front and center for just HKD 1,600 thereabouts. That’s “just” several hundred HKD more than the Ferragamo ties we used to get in the airport.
We can get a fair amount of Hugo Boss (which is kind of our staple) at the branded goods warehouses in Ap Lei Chau, especially at Joyce. Except Kings wants severely simple (ie rarely gets very marked down) shirts so we go to the actual store, where we pick up 3 blue ones. (I know! THIS is shopping??) Kings attempts a white, but has really never worn white white, and I worry about the quantum shift in his comfort level so I discourage him. This is a guy who claims the feel and width of that exquisite Paul Smith tie I once got him can spoil his morning when he’s tying it because it “doesn’t feel good” (and his ratty old Prada Warehouse find with the loose threads sticking out apparently always feels good). But well hello, Hermes. <smug>
I remember my mummy friend, also Asian, giggling “I bet your hub has to get the sleeves shortened, like mine does.” Especially with the European brands it seems like we are forever getting sleeves shortened unless we close an eye to the slightly longer drop of the cuff. This is also partly why Kings often doesn’t bother with a watch – he’s Oh My Shirts Are Mangled. Need New Ones. No, Can’t Wait To Alter Sleeves, Have No More Good Shirts, Need To Wear New One Now. And then the ill-fitting cuff messing with his watch irritates the hell out of him so he ends up chucking it back in the safe for the next few months. The watch, not the shirt. If he thought he could get away with the shirt though, he would probably do that too. Come to think of it, shopping in an HB store in Kowloon once, I remember a skinny, pale Putonghua-speaking shopper walking out of the changing room and standing completely shirtless in the middle of the store leafing thru his selection of shirts.
No, he did not have a good body. Yes, the salesgirls looked embarrassed. Yes, he was probably the biggest spender in the store that day – HB shirts are ~ HKD 1,600 – HKD 2,600 thereabouts, when I glanced at him before leaving, bare-chested and still standing in the middle of the store, he’d already selected 5 like they were pasar malam bazaar shirts.
Anyway, without our requesting it, the young man attending Kings deftly measures out the perfect sleeve and cuff, finds time to slip bored Rockstar gamboling in front of the mirrors 2 Sugus sweets, and informs us the shirts will be ready for pickup within 24 hours.
(Btw there are actual blogs supposedly by “i-bankers” that bemoan how you especially have to wear blue shirts most of the time, but apparently it’s a girl magnet right after hours in the bar where you can’t exactly hand out business cards. Serious ok, I actually found someone saying that on the web. Clicked it closed before checking when it was written, but I don’t suppose it’s really in vogue to date “i-bankers” anymore is it, maybe nowadays girls wanna date pilots or vets. I mean, thinking about it, I probably wouldn’t have minded dating a vet, though that ship has sailed and I’m no spring chicken anymore. No actually I wanted to be the vet…)
Then Kings’ eyes fall on a briefcase. I take this as how out of touch I am (darn!) – it’s supposedly the toughest all-over textured-leather boxy briefcase in the store, and I guess the price at around HKD 15,000 because it’s HB. Belatedly I remember HB isn’t really that much of a bag brand (it’s not Louis Vuitton or Chanel) as Kings looks at HKD 5,800-thereabouts tag and buys immediately. For that price I like it too. (He had good briefcases before, but most recently he was using a HKD 400-ish warehouse find – he bought a few because he’s so rough on them he figured he’d just keep replacing them – “Disposable Briefcase”.)
But I drag him out of Ermenegildo Zegna and a couple other HKD 6,000-ish shoe stores because I want him to take an oath to be kinder to his things before he starts dropping serious money. As in, there was once he actually donated his new work shoes instead of the old ones to the Salvation Army, this is his level of usual bo-chapness about packaging ok… And well I have just never paid that much for shoes, not even close – because I scoped out sales and warehouses so much. And then I put an extra sole on them (cobbler in alley somewhere in Central near Shanghai Tang) while they’re still brand new. Kings on the other hand buys when he suddenly realizes he really needs to buy, thereby paying full price and is so rough on them even if he resoled anything the rest would still look like kiam chye (boiled salted vegetables – it’s an expression) <sniff>.
Rockstar of course hates all shopping (except maybe for groceries at Wellcome) and has been moaning about how he’s had enough from his perch on Kings’ shoulders right when we were getting the Hermes tie. So he has a lobster bisque with heavily buttered bread and a taste of my seared scallop linguine while Kings ventures into Lane Crawford’s luggage department armed with my Lane Crawford Discount Card. And returns lugging a giant Tumi shopping bag.
Can you believe it’s taken him 12 years to buy a garment bag for his suits/shirts, when he travels like, all the time? This is because every time he gets to the (usually pretty swanky) business hotel he’s staying at, one of the first things he does is call housekeeping for an ironing board.
My husband’s ironing puts every single one of our helpers’ to shame. (Mine too. My shirts all have a bit of stretch in them, I find they don’t seem to need as much hard core ironing.) <hangs head>
My i-banking househusband. Maybe just a little cooler than a vet.
Out of the blue…
Rockstar: Mum. Superheroes aren’t really real are they?
Me: Yes they are. They don’t dress the way you expect from tv except maybe at Halloween, but everyone can be a superhero. Just help someone.
Rockstar: You mean by trying to fix problems? (He likes “fixing problems”)
Me: How do people usually feel when a superhero helps them? You just did Box of Hope for school right, do you think the underprivileged child (overheard his teacher explaining it that way, made mental note to repeat) you packed the box for would feel the same way? Then you just became that someone’s Superhero. It feels good to be able to help someone doesn’t it?
Rockstar:Y-eah.
I always felt charity is a simple, yet powerful message that every child can achieve – by being kind, by helping others less fortunate. Kindness should also be rewarded as an achievement. (Well they get stickers and awards for sharing in school). Still want to throw in the book-learning-type achievement thing? Think how many more underprivileged you could be Superhero to, if you worked hard/ got good job/ bla bla. I call it my West Wing Pitch because West Wing is one of the things I watch the most often and Rockstar will often ask What Great Deed The Nice Smart People At The White House Are Working On To Make The World A Better Place. (Sigh it’s just too bad we are not American and someday I’ll have to look at transposing said exchanges into workable conversations outside The White House.)
If you asked the child receiving the Box of Hope your child put together, they wouldn’t care if your child could pull off the most complicated music piece in class, or whatever the equivalent is in sports. But your child’s kindness to another in a less privileged position and the chance to make your child feel on top of the world for that achievement is a blessing unto itself. It’s like the chance for a whole different world of “education” opens up.
Putting together Christmas stockings and gifts for kids in orphanages was one of my favorite things to do even before Rockstar was born. It’s because shopping for friends and colleagues’ kids does not give me as much of a “rush” of the warm and fuzzies, so to speak. Friends and colleagues’ kids, charming and well-mannered as they are, will receive many presents at Christmas and on their birthdays. But when I pick hair ribbons or a plush toy to put in one of the charity stockings or boxes, I’m reminded for some of these kids, it’s all they’ll get – I get a rush thinking about the tiny details that I think only the child who receives it will notice.
Two stories that first affected me:
1) One of our pastors has 4 adopted children, 2 of whom were from Chinese orphanages. Over the years we’ve heard him describe how one child used to literally eat and eat until she threw up, born of the instinct to stuff herself quickly in case there wasn’t enough food to go around. The other wouldn’t let them throw out any of the cardboard/plastic packaging that came with his Christmas or birthday gifts. Because he remembered a time when he received nothing, he was constantly amazed he got gifts – packaging included.
2) A high-schooler coming back from a mission trip in Africa described how they had to take turns guarding their water supply. Not because of the lack of clean water, but because of the clear plastic bottles the water came in. The local children would avidly watch when the teenaged visitors took a swig – and fights would ensue over the empty water bottles. They had no toys.
For me it’s a reminder of the true spirit of gift giving; not because you look good in the selection of a cool gift (though that is fun), not because someone gave your child something and you feel obliged to reciprocate out of politeness, not because you could ever expect anything back. And yet what you will get back, the lesson you get to teach your child, will be far more.
Blessed is the giver, far more than the receiver
We live in a society that rewards performance excellence, not kindness, as a general rule. Good grades. Nice paycheck. Achievement. It’s not something you need to drum in that much more, we’re so surrounded by it I bet kids pick it up just from drinking the water or something. But that was how our generation messed things up with the various crises, stuffing each other in the markets, holding off on unpopular calls like regulation on unfunded derivatives when everyone was just making too much money from it…
It’s like when a bank vault bursts open from being too full and paper money is just flying about and you’re the only one going, “Wait! Who’s going to tell the bank their vault broke?” when everyone else is just stuffing their pockets. It’s not easy.
“Selfishness” and a lack of care for the “public good” were not as publicly reviled as character traits til so many things went wrong from said traits in professionals, and it’s still gonna take a generation or two or three to change.
But Mr Armstrong said one small step…
Ps: Yes we are aware it’s election day in HK. Driving around there are all these flags, banners and supporters holding up placards, and then
Kings: <One district we pass> the candidates not sincere one. Both also never show up. Bet they’re both bankers (we know one is). Must have pakat to not show together. So insincere. <Passing another district where the candidate is seen chatting and shaking hands with supporters> You see? This one lah sincere. He even brought his dog.
Me: You finished (Lego hovercraft)!
Rockstar: <frowning critically> No Mum. It’s missing the (approximately 1 inch-long piece of plastic) gun. (It actually passes for exhaust apparatus but Rockstar thinks it looks like a gun). We need to find it <makes beeline for toy drawer>.
JD looking for a "present" among Rockstar's toys - she ultimately takes over all his ball toys with her persistence
(I’m thinking Oh No that’s just code for Let’s Excavate The Bowels Of Our Toy Chests And Sift Thru The Entrails On The Living Room Floor While The Dog Delightedly Roots About For Anything That Can Pass For A Hand-Me-Down Chew Toy, Because She Loves Bumming “Presents” For Herself By Capturing Treats Out Of Rockstar’s Bins Into Her Basket. Don’t think our dog doesn’t keep score of stuff Rockstar gets, Border Collies only look like a dogs. She once relieved Kings of his tv remote and got spanked – the Rockstar is a better sharer of his toys.)
Rockstar: I put it in here (goes to 2 bottom drawers I use for dumping all his matchbox cars/ wooden train track parts so he can rummage at will. Also very useful for scooping up clutter just before his father comes home and flips)
(I’m thinking How can he possibly remember he put that tiny piece of plastic in there, the Lego kit is hundreds of little bits, not to mention he knows I nag everyone in the house to put mysterious looking bits of plastic into the Ziploc bags I have available for just such a purpose because otherwise when we assemble things and are missing some of the bits Rockstar will refuse to proceed because of a missing item which then drives me nuts.)
Rockstar, JD, Lego
5 minutes pass…
“Oh! Lofty!” (His toy crane)
10 minutes…
“What’s in this egg?” (Those little plastic capsules holding tiny surprises that local friends told me are called “eggs” in Cantonese – Rockstar recently got hooked on them, they’re HKD 5-10 a try and there are often vending machines outside supermarkets and 7-11s, whereby you insert a coin and “twist for an egg…” I don’t throw all the little plastic “eggs” away, sometimes I put some other little thing in them almost as a reflex – because Rockstar always derives pleasure from finding something else in an “egg”, and it doesn’t always have to be a new egg…)
Another 15 minutes of playing with something or other from the matchbox car drawers…
“See? Told you I put it in here” Hmm? Told Me What? I’d already forgotten about the little Lego black plastic thingamajig he was looking for and I wasn’t the one playing with eggs and Lofty and various capalang.
“If you knew you put that little thing into that drawer instead of the bag with all your other Lego bits, then why didn’t you just put it in the bag with everything else?”
“Because I wanted to put it in here.”
Rockstar returns with the plastic bit, completes his Lego hovercraft, and then immediately takes it apart to build something else.
I was just thinking about the amazing capacity little kids have for remembering where they put the most obscure little bits of plastic – because those bits are important to them. If the Greek debt problem or CDO disclosure policies had been communicated as equally important, little kids might save the world. (Ok but seriously, just think – if we found a way to make them look at books or music the same way as they looked at their little bits of plastic, we would never have to push them…)
This one brings back memories of playing in fields all over Malaysia in early childhood…
You have your toy, I have my toy… So says the dog… Her glow-in-the-dark ball so much more atas than the Rockstar Amusement (btw if you visit some of the parks at night, you will find owners deck their dogs in lights or are toting battery-powered lighted ball toys and things)…
OK. No way the Southeast Asians at least didn’t know this right from the second pic. (According to Wikipedia it’s native to Central America but it was a real weed all over Malaysia when I was growing up… Quite “malu,” I think, if you didn’t catch this immediately 😉
Yup, those are Touch-Me-Nots, Semalu/ Malu-malu, Mimosa. Rockstar calls em Shy Plants. The leaves “hide” right before your eyes if you touch them, the rapid movement while apparently meant to deter predators is just great Rockstar entertainment. (And yes I remembered to tell him to keep away from the thorny stems.)
7 years in Hong Kong, walking JD through various parks and shrubbery, I’d only noticed these fairly recently – either they don’t grow that abundantly in HK, or else the big-*ss hairy caterpillars and spiders in summer distract me every time.
Anyway Rockstar had been asking about the different defense mechanisms animals and plants employ… Then he brought home a library book from school yesterday about Trap-door Spiders which was just gross…
As Christmas decorations start going up in the malls and lobbies, I get all fuzzy at the consumerism. I love the lights. I love Christmas carols. Of course I love the shopping. But what with Rockstar’s birthday ie I Get Gifts And Cake And People Sing To Me Day very near Christmas day, I was delighted to find Rockstar’s school participating in Box of Hope – Children Helping Children.
In the weekly email to help our children’s learning at home (and in a later follow-up), we are instructed to send in some gift, educational and hygiene items in a box about the size of a medium shoe-box which the kids can decorate in school. (Though Rockstar states a preference for decorating it at home when we’re ready because he apparently “ha(s) other painting to do in school”. Have no idea what that is but he has been coming home saying he enjoys doing art – which is interesting because he didn’t used to like it that much before. Hmm. Anyway I read the instructions about wrapping lid and box separately, balk, and grab a few more strips of stickers.) Well it’s a great opportunity for conversations, what to pack, why to pack it, regardless I suck at the packaging…
It’s one of those times when perspective is really humbling. There we are worrying about impending primary school interviews and such – I recently heard at one class birthday party a parent apparently recognized feeder primary school interviewers being brought in by Kindy school staff and suddenly everyone’s talking about it. The incongruity is startling.
So here we go. First – rummage for a box. Isn’t it just a little sick irony I’m looking for a Box Of Hope box for my son’s school’s collection drive and my choices are…. Stella McCartney. Prada. Nebuloni Flavio Zanasca. (Sure I rarely buy full-priced branded items but heavily discounted Prada is still Prada. And I have no unbranded boxes not because I don’t buy unbranded shoes but because Kings throws out as many boxes as he can get away with to make room for crap like his big clunky basketball boots. And – hell, I feel a little like Marie Antoinette.)
Next – explain to Rockstar we are going shopping to fill the box.
Then – go shopping!
We bought almost everything at International Park n Shop and Wellcome. In our box (for those of you who like that kind of thing):
1 miniature box set of 6 Little Miss books (because Rockstar’s concept of a starter book collection begins with the Mr Men/ Little Miss series)
2 scrunchies with little gold dots (thought some little girl would like the little gold dots. Rockstar doesn’t care.)
2 red Siku matchbox cars (made sure one had doors that could open. Because when I was a little kid it was really important to me. But the other was pretty. Am amazed Rockstar doesn’t ask give them a second look, just says cars are always a good idea.)
1 bright yellow Deuter lightweight waist pouch, convertible into small backpack (yes really! I was so impressed I bought it at HK Wetlands Park and then had no idea when I would ever use it :P)
1 beanie turtle dressed as a pirate (loves! But I made a point of getting a turtle beanie toy in particular because Rockstar is sentimental about a turtle he was given recently so his reaction was kind of, “Yes, I was given a turtle too! It’s a great gift!”)
1 Spiderman toothbrush (to drive home how important brushing teeth is)
4 strips of stickers (which kid ever has enough of stickers?)
Actually dem fun.
Rockstar’s verdict: Again!
Yeah we want to do another one.
Off the Box Of Hope website:
Box of Hope was started by Nicole Woolhouse and Harriet Cleverly in 2008 from a desire to teach their own 6 children the gift of giving.
One of the aims of the project is to encourage children ranging from 3 to 18 years to be aware of their environment/community and show them how they can help make a difference. In addition to providing educational and fun gifts for children in need throughout Asia.
Ps: At some point I realized you’re supposed to use a shoe-box sized box, not a shoe-box. D-uh. Except Rockstar had stuck a whole bunch of stickers on my nice black box. Which I don’t really keep shoes in anyways. And then I thought I should say that last in case someone got offended I used an actual shoebox, albeit I don’t actually use it to hold shoes and…. Ok this whole post is just turning out to be all perspectives.
Just because he’s my child doesn’t mean I always know when he’s messing with me… In the interests of encouraging discussion any time, anywhere, I try to hang in there as long as I can… But… I honestly can’t tell you how it’s going.
#169
Rockstar: Mummy. How do crocodiles and alligators talk to each other?
Me: Well, do you think they use words or movements to communicate?
Rockstar: I think they do this – <maniacally windmills arms about>
Me: <after we look it up; as it turns out they do use body language – aggressive actions like slapping the water, vs submissive ones like sinking lower in – as well as bellows and growls especially during mating season> Well, you don’t just communicate with words yourself right, you use body language too – for eg when you don’t like someone they usually figure it out even if you don’t tell them outright yourself. You probably turn away and keep busy with your toys or something if you don’t feel like talking to someone…
Rockstar: <nodding>
<pause>
Rockstar: Mummy. How do palm trees talk to each other?
Me: ??Erm…… Ok, let me google it… Do you think plants can communicate with each other?
Rockstar: Yes, but I didn’t want just any tree, I want to know about palm trees. With those leaves….. <windmills arms about again>
Me: <a bit suspicious, but do dig up something online half-heartedly that says there was once a study that illustrated certain trees of the same species might somehow have been able to warn each other to ward off herbivore attacks – so I just keep reading this dry article and think Hang On, he’s gotta be putting me on, he cannot be interested in this – and I sneak a look at Rockstar who has on a poker-faced attentiveness (rather than say, downright glazed-over eyes)> Are you really listening to all that?
Rockstar: <straight-faced> Yeah
Me: <suspicious> What did we just find out?
Rockstar: Trees can talk to each other. <reproachfully> But you didn’t find out about palm trees, Mummy.
<pause>
Rockstar: Mummy, how many legs do sharks have?
Me: <thinking OK he’s just got to be being funny with all this> Oh come on. Nonsense.
Rockstar: <dead pan> No, really. How many legs do sharks have – Zero, mummy. Sharks have zero legs.
I never did figure if he was just messing with me the whole time or…
JD's going as The Mutant Demon Dog...
Rockstar was curious about the big night event our apartment development, well the clubhouse really, holds (which is free, pretty sure there are always lotsa crashers, they have to add extra shuttle buses and all to the swanky clubhouse)… We didn’t make it last year because we got tired too early so this time we slept in the day… We’re here til late, tonight…
Except this rare pic of Rockstar pausing long enough in his Mummy Hunting With Balloon Gun for me to snap something recognizable…
The… other kind of mummies, please.
A lot of the kids are dressed quite gruesome with the fake blood and all, and brandishing axes and scythes at each other and there are sleeping pumpkins in prams being wheeled about. You’d’ve thought there’d be an insane amount of junk and sugar flowing about but it seems to mostly be what the residents brought on their own, I have to bum a few jelly eyeballs so Rockstar’ll agree to break for dinner (yes, at 10pm as I type this) because he wanted token freebie candy. (He did not like the lychee-and-cherry eyeballs and bloodied finger sandwiches the clubhouse had outside in cups, it was either that or sit in the cafe/restaurant a few feet away…) But it’s a lot of face painting/ tattoos, various artsy stuff and shows – aiya I’m sure it’s like most of the good Halloween parties going on this weekend…
Anyway HAVE A GREAT ONE EVERYONE, whatever party you’re at!!! Will try to update the greeting if I find any interesting pics of the action this weekend
Note: No Border Collies were injured in the making of this greeting. Except maybe if you count their dignity.
Ay, scarier than you think ok.
THIS was what I was hoping he’d wear:
Guitar circa last birthday/ Christmas (I forget) that plays actual funky tunes
Very soft cotton plain – as in no annoying act-cute cartoon logo things – tee from Adelaide (I forget the label but at around AUD 30 was more expensive than all the logo-ed things they were selling)
Punky ski hat from Thredbo that was AUD 80-something
I was standing by to snip the fingers off a pair of his old gloves and add his new sunnies but that was when we got into a huge fight because he refused to let me take any more pics.
Me: You are wearing whatever you want to wear to school today (though Mummy really wished you would wear the other outfit), WHY can’t you let me have ONE LOUSY PICTURE of the other outfit???!!!
Rockstar: <takes everything off pronto and also refuses to eat – we don’t speak to each other again for an hour – then…..> Mum. I’m going to be late for school.
Me: No you’re not, I’m really angry with you and you’re going to be hungry but I’m still not going to let you be late for your School Halloween Dress-up Day.
<pause>
Rockstar: <gravely> I’m sorry, Mum.
And so my son is in school today as The Boy Who Got Swallowed By The Cheap Fireman’s Costume We Got In Sai Kung On A Whim. Not scary enough? How bout this – It’s freaking phototaking day in school today!!!
Lotsa other mums are going to see that ill-fitting costume ok 🙁 I am in costume too – as Mum Who Let My Child Go To School Today As The Walking Cheap Oversized Costume. It was more my fault than you know because it completely slipped my mind til this morning that it was Dress-up Day – despite a note in his diary I somehow thought it was next Friday (my brain cells have been somewhere else I know), so I hadn’t gone looking for a better-fitting costume or tried to make that one fit. I thought I had one more week <sad> and now it shall be recorded on camera for all to see for years to come that I forgot. sobs.
We bought the costume he’s wearing in Sai Kung because he wanted to play with the toys that came with and the whole thing was like HKD 149 or something – inclusive of plastic walkie-talkie, fire extinguisher (refused to let him fill the spritz-bottle with water), plastic axe (couldn’t include in costume after he put it on or he would not be able to walk), waterhose, official badge (velcro-ed it to him).
It’s like when Kings used to insist on wearing this ugly not-real Batik shirt every Casual Friday at his last place of work and people were all calling him whatever Cantonese for “Datuk” is for ages. (Not that he liked it, but that he didn’t care, it was just his Regular Casual Friday Shirt, and I used to just leave him be but then at some point when you start looking into having children with this guy you need to worry if it’s hereditary.)
Sure enough, we pull up outside school today and everyone is in seriously cool gear.
A child dressed head-to-toe as a furry tiger is just getting out of the car. I glance at his mum behind the wheel and then grin and give her a thumbs up – she’s driven her child to school today wearing a matching tiger hat and mask – she winds down the window and calls out, “That’s a cute boy.” I actually hadn’t seen her before and assume she’s one of the fairly new K1 parents. Sigh who probably thinks Rockstar is one of the younger K1s or something – he looks especially tiny because of his oversized costume. But he’s so proud and happy that way. He would not be proud and happy wearing what I think is the cool stuff. (And then someday he’s going to look back at these pics and go, “Crap!!! How could you let me go to school like that Mum!!!” Uh, we talked about that, remember? <smug>)
Rockstar’s principal is a swashbuckling cowboy out front, his teacher is a bunch of grapes (idly I wonder if at the end she’ll hand out the purple balloons attached to her costume) assisted by a pumpkin and… Cleopatra? Looks Egyptian, but I don’t get a good look because a pint-sized Batman pulls her away. Speaking of which, at a quick glance there are at least 2 princesses and 2 stethoscope-d doctors in his class. Rockstar says, “I know there’s another fireman today, but I forgot who it was.” I just barely bite back a “I bet there aren’t any rockstars.” He wants to be one of two firemen today. Shut up, Aileen. Witches’ capes swirl by, as Spiderman tugs his mum’s hand and marches by to his own class. As I leave the class area, out of reflex another mum and I salute a smart policeman who pauses, then gravely returns the salute.
Lots of parents are taking pictures as I pass and I overhear, “We did not have any of this at our previous school last year.” And there are going to be lotsa Halloween parties this weekend too, Halloween is huge and fun in Hong Kong. There are parties in the neighboring primary school and our large development complex, Ocean Park usually has massive ones over the weekend that Kings and I used to go to sans Rockstar but this year we eyed the traffic going in with trepidation, Lan Kwai Fong and Causeway Bay will be crawling with ghouls…..
But this "Howloween" one is my favorite!
Still can’t get the horrible-fitting costume out of my head. It’s going to be preserved in pictures <shiver>
35.
I am now officially for more than a month 3-and-a-half-decades old.
In Rockstar’s words, “Can you remember things Mum? You’re even older than Daddy.”
“Uh, yeah, by like, a month and 3 days. Why does that even count? Oh, but when you’re ‘3-and-3-quarters’ (in his words – the extra quarter’s really important to the Rockstar) I guess a month is a long time.”
Surly silence. The Rockstar is mildly annoyed.
Before I turned 30...
When I turned 30, as a kind of milestone, I wanted…….. a tattoo. For me, that’s a huge thing. Because when I first started work in Singapore after graduation, someone told me if I got a tattoo it might show up on record somewhere when I did job applications, if HR was annoying enough to dig it up. You have to understand that back then I had just discovered that after changing dorm rooms 3 times in Uni til my Mum couldn’t remember what room I was in, Singapore Immigration still efficiently sent my PR application forms to the right dorm room.
So not that much of a stretch to me back then if they had a record of erm, “identifiable marks” a.k.a. tattoos somewhere on file with immigration too, that could be accessed in the same way your credit record might suffer if you miss credit card payments. Also, a friend once drove across the JB-Singapore border only to be immediately pulled aside because of a parking offence on file that, being away when the letter was sent to his apartment in Singapore, he hadn’t settled. It was unfortunate at the time he had his new inlaws in the car.
Not wanting to further nix my chances (graduating from NTU in what I guess was a “preferable” course, I had also gotten one of those letters from Singapore Immigration that assures you a PR as long as you find a job, and a suggestion to include said letter in job applications – but it was still not easy to get a job in Singapore initially so I could get the PR to begin with, and no I didn’t apply to Mc Donald’s), I thought I’d wait a couple years when uh, my “career” was less tied to the presence or not of a tattoo. If it ever was, I mean.
(I was young ok… I’d lived an adolescence filled with tuition classes, max number of SPM subjects and extra-curricular activities, then straight on to Singapore dorms and lotsa studying and a point system on top of that in Uni to secure a fairly good dorm room (never been a good sleeper, needed to get a quiet room) on campus at the height of “ECA Point Inflation” in NTU before they fixed it – I had like, 188 ECA points in Hall 6 back when they barely had 11 Halls and I’m aware only the Singaporeans who attended local uni have any idea what I’m blathering on about sorry… Basically when I first came out to work I was probably the widest-eyed eagerest beaver of a gofer.)
At my 30th however, I was in Hong Kong. I remember mentioning to one of my RMs’ really cool assistants in Taiwan that I was thinking of celebrating with a tattoo, and getting an email, “Oh, my (senior RM) boss thinks you should get —–.” (Uh, your boss is now in on our tattoo discussion? Huh. What does he know.)
Haircuts were easier. Competing for trades with other private banks, I remember distracting nervous RMs, “If I lose you this deal, I will chop (what’s left of) my hair off into a crew cut. If you get the deal, you will chop what’s left of your hair off into a crew cut.” They laughed. I didn’t let my (has been in Taiwan army, wayyy older than me long, wavy-haired RM) live it down that he never got the crew cut he owed me. (A drink is not fair trade for the crewcut. Not even when it’s an unopened bottle of Rioja I have til today. Speaking of alcohol, one IA team gave me Baileys and a fondue boat as a goodbye gift. Except I didn’t know what it was til I started receiving emailed fondue recipes.)
Darn, sometimes I miss my RMs and IAs. I did love my job so.
But anyway, tattoo. I remember Johnny Two Thumbs in Far East Plaza (not sure if it’s still there), which as a Catholic JC student in Singapore I have been guiltily scoping out for like, forever, and think Ah, Finally I Can Get This Done. But then the inexorable happens. Kings tells me he has a problem with needles so I have to stay tattoo-free because it is a major turnoff.
You know, they should really tell you these things before they ask you to marry them.
Yup This Old Pic of our Vegas wedding when Elvis walked me down the aisle (He is not dead, he is touring in Taiwan)
That was my turning-30 post, lite. Because that was when I didn’t have a blog or a child. Just a husband who didn’t think it was important enough information to share with me, that he doesn’t like ink. I mean if you can get down on one knee somewhere along the highway between Singapore and KL and go, “Will-you-marry-me-btw-this-isn’t-the-real-ring” you can surely fit it in, how you feel about tattoos. But we’ll call it even. It’s possible I forgot to tell him I had a black belt. He is also squeamish non-violence person except for what’s on tv. Then he can watch all kinds of blood and gore and crap.
So here we are at 35.
I thought I would’ve gotten any child-bearing out of the way and be firmly back on the Pill by then. I was prescribed the Pill maybe a decade ago for reasons-other-than-contraception, and have been in and out of gynea clinics since I was about 14.
See how I lightly led you up to here? There is method to the blathering on.
(Oh yeah to play catch up – I was extremely run-down from over work between jobs, had gotten off the Pill to “detox” after maybe 5 years on it consistently. I was waiting to complete a cycle so I could resume my Pill regimen… Except I waited… and waited… but would not restart for 2 years – because I had gotten pregnant with Rockstar.)
The reason I can talk openly about this is because it forms a large part of how we feel about a second child. And our belief that it is up to the Lord, a belief that it was up to Him from the start, it’s just that we don’t know what His will is yet. But that prayer and reflection help us learn, grow and arrive at the places He wants us to be before we are ready for the next step in His plan. Children. Career. Anything. I still fear. But then prayer makes fear of the unknown more bearable.
It is when things come too easy, that we don’t learn to appreciate the wonder of our blessings. Or I believe, enjoy them as much.
Very Young Baby Rockstar Meeting Dog - Note Dog's Slightly Freaked Out Expression, she just wants to scoot away from the noise but we made her stay for a pic
And then sometimes when what you wanted was your next due promotion and to impress at work (seriously, there was a time when my early prayers were things like “Lord, please let me kick butt at work”) and instead He answers your prayers with what you need, not what you want because you thought that was what you needed.
Well 35 was one of the benchmarks I set years ago. Idly, I figured I would (conveniently) have twins or triplets like, when I was 34, and that would be that. Then back to work. Been there, done that. Well m-aybe a little help from a fertility clinic, just to make sure I have more than one at a time, since I hadn’t budgeted downtime from work for a second maternity period. And since neither Kings nor I have a history of twins or triplets in the family. Oh stopit, I said IDLE thought. I thought very little about family back then. Work plans consumed me. Can you imagine what a giant detour from my “plan” it’s been, to have Rockstar and in the way that I did.
I got pregnant at 30. (You see why it wasn’t in The Plan? 4 years early. As a kind of “coming of age in my career” thing, I was supposed to be having the tattoo at 30. Not the child.)
It’s like you have all these plans and ideas about what you really need for your life, please God, and then as you reach various stages in your life, learn what He wants you to learn/ arrive where He intended, He reveals the weaving little by little.
Next on the list: By 35 – Finish With Any Baby Plans. _________ (Insert check box here.) Except when I actually hit 35, after the unexpected journey of the past few years, I couldn’t bring myself to actively close the door on having another. Because the first has been such a joy.
“Mu-um!!! JD is so fickle! Every time she changes balls! She wants the Tennis Ball. She wants the Yellow Smiley Ball. She wants the Ball For (our friends’) Dogs. It’s – Not- Her – Ball! JD! No, JD! This… Ball!!”
<sound of (I don’t know which) ball bouncing off living room floor and walls>
<sound of dog nails clattering across the floor and occasional exasperated growl>
“JD! Jay….. DEE!!!”
Repeat after me: A joy.
