Reading Peter Buffet’s Life Is What You Make It (And Then Digressing)

Posted on September 27, 2011 by admin

Read With A View (This is Angsana Bintan)

With sand and (clean!) sea to keep Rockstar occupied recently in Bintan, I got to read Peter Buffet’s Life Is What You Make It, and it occurred to me….. It doesn’t feel like we generally live an affluent life here, because Hong Kong is such an expensive town (blanket statement alert), but occasionally we….. have an idea.

Sorry ah... Yucky pic to illustrate my "clean!" emphasis above and why we let Rockstar go to town on Bintan beach but not so much here... This is taken while JD was swimming at Sai Kung - and yes, that's a battery and wayy not the only one... (Also, I get rashes)

1) Listening to a mum I met recently describe how applying to 6 primary schools in Hong Kong would cost more than HKD 10,000 (non-refundable) just for application and processing fees…….. (Quite easy to hit 10k btw… For eg if you simply apply to French International School and Singapore International School you would already run up about HKD 6,000… And I only know this from Birthday Party Conversation, one of the mums in the group added she was applying to her catchment area ESF primary school as well as the two private independent schools under the ESF umbrella – which are wayyy far from where we live on HK Island – at which point she also communicated a willingness to move out to Sha Tin or Discovery Bay (daily ferry) and commute back into Central for work… I just mention because more and more I start to understand why last we checked the apartment we bought (and eventually sold) as an investment years before we became parents commanded slightly better rent per sq foot than the much swankier digs we are now putting up in – it was in the area of a certain rabidly oversubscribed International School of the Chinese persuasion… :D)

2) Remembering a girlfriend’s advice, whose son could tell Maserati from Ferrari from Porsche at an early age (like many boys, her son loved cars, she thought it was good motivation to work on her toddler’s observation skills, pronunciation, counting when they drove around HK), never to respond to Rockstar with, “We can’t afford it,” but instead use “We don’t need it” – because they’d met kids who could get mean at the family’s perceived erm, lower economic status (they’re “just” regular investment bankers), when their son went, “my parents can’t afford -“…..

These things just continue to amaze me, which is why I think they’re entertaining enough to mention. Technically the child has nothing right, it’s the parents who are rich?

Oh btw while we were sitting here, the family just behind us had a boy about 4 inches taller than Rockstar in the care of a helper (2 little kids, 2 helpers)... At one point we realized the helper had left him standing pant-less not 3 feet away from us... When, still standing there, he also started peeing and the 2 helpers couldn't stop laughing, his poor newspaper-reading Caucasian dad who had been sitting further off looked up and got quite embarrassed... The family left soon after...

Hence I loved when Peter Buffet talked about the randomness of the family you are born in. How you did nothing to “deserve” being born in a slum in India, which is the exact same amount you would’ve done to “deserve” being born into one of the richest families in America. Most of the people around us might not be from one of the richest families in America, but I think they’re a little further away from being born in a slum in India.

“Good parenting, it seemed, could conquer at least some of the difficulties that attached to being poor. Bad parenting could easily squander the supposed advantages that accrued to affluence.” Mr Buffet Junior was describing how a friend who’d taught both Children’s Aid kids as well as those in an exclusive private school in Manhattan charging ~USD 30,000 annually drew similarities between the neglected, “fatherless” ones, the limit-testers, the needy and clingy ones – in both groups. In other words, some of the kids behaved the same.

(At which point it’s a little humbling to note kids might make less of a distinction between career-obsessed parents at work all day and those who are in jail.)

Mr Buffet points out it’s much easier to break out the plastic and buy something than to spend time on the floor with your young child figuring out how his/her mind works (and technically you can do that with a plain cardboard box, not the expensive stuff). Stuff, is not necessarily love. He described how his mum would come into his schools and watch quietly or try to understand more about how he was being taught, and how that level of interest in his well-being affected him. What I took away was to this day he remembers this about his childhood, when he’s grown and has had umpteen life experiences, umpteen fights with his parents.

As a former addicted-to-work-and-achievement person who placed her self worth in said things, I agree about the stuff. I remember buying expensive clothes to dress him in when I’d had a lousy day at work. Yeah I took a beating at work, but I’m dressing my baby in Jacadi. The Rockstar has been good for the addiction – the strong Mum-don’t-push personality is a constant reminder not to look to my child for an achievement-fix, Praise the Lord.

It occurred to me, in moments of anxiety of the What Will I Do With Myself When He’s Grown And I Have No Career sort, that I could only ever be a professional for several decades (if I was lucky), but I would be a parent for the rest of our lives. 

Mr Buffet defines true privilege as existence of real choice – his freedom in choosing to do what he loved (music) for a living. (As opposed to say, having the “choice” between doctor/ lawyer/ investment banker.) I like to define it also as parental love. It is not love if it comes with strings attached. But it is love to want the best for your child. (Not your ego, your child.)

The line between wanting a child to achieve for himself, as opposed to achieving for you, is not an easy one to navigate. So I’m kinda trying to avoid the more Stage Parent-ish conversations as much as I can – not just because it might be annoying, but because I’m human and it might provide a little too much self-doubt. What if I’m not doing it right, what if they’ve got it right? You need SOME drilling to get in the basics, I don’t want my kid to work for their kid someday, their kid’s a brat…..!

Phew, glad to get that off my chest there. Every time I get out of my self-imposed little bubble to check out the obsessive achievement-chasing parenting-of-young-child thing and talk to a few advocates, I remain unconvinced. BUT I feel more stressed (because they obviously believe it – and have you ever tried talking an obsessive parent into a less-obsessive standpoint? It’s like Yeah, Yeah, Uh-huh, Uh-huh……. <Obsess><Obsess><Obsess><Be Obnoxious><Obsess>.) I’d like to enjoy the parenting experience, thank you very much. I was blessed with a child, allow me to enjoy that remarkable blessing, please.

That always snaps me back. Perspective is a wonderful thing. Years ago before I got pregnant, two of my close friends had been trying for some time to have children. It becomes hard to get truly worked up over your child not say, being the Absolute Top Student in Kindy (uh, they don’t have that, right?), after you watch your friends trying for years to get pregnant. When, despite horrible complications, pain, and seemingly insurmountable odds, a friend chooses to keep trying rather than get back on the Pill. 

Life is what you make it. Oh, but don’t forget to add a little prayer to life. Who says He doesn’t answer prayers, He gives you what you need when you didn’t even know it was what you most needed.

That I can remember, every night after I discovered I was pregnant (and my friend was still trying despite bad complications – yet genuinely happy for me), I prayed for her. Their application to adopt came through and a beautiful baby girl went home with them around the time Rockstar was born. It was bizarrely fast – maybe just 2 months’ wait (after a standard year to complete the application for submission I think), astounding one of our confinement nannies who used to work the local orphanage circuit…   

My friend stopped putting herself at risk trying to conceive naturally after that. Then one day, she happened to see her and her husband’s medical history with new eyes. One of the last things I remember her telling me before she left Hong Kong was of the unexpected blessing that their daughter did not inherit their family medical history.

Who says He doesn’t answer prayers.

(Oh yeah – my other friend – she got pregnant after a few years).

Posted in Rockstar Thoughts, Talking To Rockstar | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 2 Comments

Show n Tell Rockstarism At Snoopy’s World in New Town Plaza, Sha Tin

Posted on September 25, 2011 by admin

#162

***Updated 4 days later far below:

For weeks, Rockstar’s been a) asking whether I know if it’s his turn at Show n Tell, and b) assuring me it never is.

This is my son who can pretend to be asleep at drop-off and “sleepwalk” into school with his eyes closed so he “can’t recognize people and can’t say ‘good afternoon’ to them.” (Wow. Why did I not try that with Compliance? But the ‘Good Afternoon’ Rockstar Defiance was because driving up to the school I kept trying to get him to wish school staff on his way in. Sheesh.) So you can understand when I get suspicious as to whether he’ll tell me when it’s his turn to bring something to school. Hence spare starfish with his name on it that’s been in his bag since Room Service left it in our room at Angsana Bintan.

Driving school bus (at Snoopy’s World) the Rockstar way

(Turns out, when it’s his turn he comes home with a sticker. It’s possible if his teacher did not point it out at pickup time in front of him he might still have tried claiming that is not his chest the sticker is stuck to. The Rockstar has strong feelings about his parents pushing him to do well, he has to decide it’s a good idea on his own.)

Kings: Oh, it’s your turn tomorrow! What are you going to say?

Rockstar: What I heard from you guys loh.

Me: Also what (8yr old friends’ son he likes) told you about starfish re-growing their arms right?

Rockstar: Sigh. Oh-kaaaay.

Kings: Can we hear what you’re going to say?

Rockstar: Haven’t thought about what to say.

Next day before school:

Me: You sure you don’t need to run thru what you’re going to say?

Rockstar: When it’s time, I’ll think about it.

Me: <thinking it was weeks ago when I told him about starfish and we have had no conversations after – there are apparently kids in school who practice their violin for at Show n Tell…Maybe I should at least make sure he can say something> Wanna watch YouTube videos of starfish eating and stuff?

Rockstar: Oh! Sure!

After a few minutes’ footage of starfish in people’s tanks drifting about occasionally waving limbs at each other, Rockstar discovers Finding Nemo clips and watches those for the rest of the morning. It’s possible if I nixed the Nemo, I would get serious ‘tude, but I will never know for sure. He has never demanded Nemo until today, Show n Tell day. Sometimes he just goes out of his way to make sure we are not pushing him into anything. Can you say anal.

Me: Uh… You still don’t want to tell me what you’re going to say?

Rockstar: I’ll tell you what I said after school.

I hesitate, then put a note in his teacher-communication diary that he has a starfish in his bag (because it’s his first Show n Tell in his new class and I still have no idea if he is going to say ANYTHING, but at the same time I don’t want the school to think I am just DYING for my child to do Show n Tell.)

At pickup:

Me: How was school darling?

Rockstar: It was great.

<expectant pause>

Me: What did you say at Show n tell?

Rockstar: I forgot.

Me: You FORGOT?

Rockstar: I think I talked about trains.

Me: What do you mean “trains”??

Rockstar: Trains, I have trains at home. And at Wisekids (Playroom).

Me: But you brought a STARFISH to school!!

Twinkle, Twinkle, That's His Starfish

Rockstar: <patiently> We have trains in school, Mum.

Me: Are you telling me you’ve been carrying that starfish around in your bag for ages and then you went to school, picked up a train and talked about THAT?

Rockstar: Oh. Yeah. (So I) talked about starfish and trains. <Change subject> Is that Japanese?

Me: What Japanese, you know those signs (in shop windows in Sheung Wan where we went to pick Kings) are all in Chinese…….. What could you possibly have to say about starfish AND trains?

Rockstar: <brightly> I ate all my snack today!

At which point it occurs to me to check the parent-teacher diary in his bag, where his teacher has left a note that he did quite well for the Show n Tell. I read the note out, and the Rockstar looks pleased. I decide not to pursue it. Except…

Me: Um… So did anyone play the violin in your group?

Rockstar: <like I’m nuts> Nooooo-OOooo. (Classmate) brought a fish. 

Anyway it was Friday, so after school Kings brought us out to New Town Plaza’s Snoopy’s World, which is a big outdoor Snoopy-themed playground full of 90% local kids (Canto-everywhere), and we also spy a few local school uniforms. We saw a grand total of one mixed-race child that day.

Tried to exclude as many kids as I could from this frame… It was starting to drizzle so that made it a little easier…

 It’s one of the most pleasant-though-crowded playgrounds we’ve been at, just little things like when a girl tinier than Rockstar (so I’m guessing younger too, Rockstar is in the lowest 3% in terms of height for boys his age <fret>) is a little slow going up the stairs in front of our son, her local dad asks her to speed up a bit or move aside to let Rockstar go first, in Cantonese.

Later, over Ramen in the mall, Rockstar starts chirping, “Starfish can push one of their stomachs out to eat and when they finish they slide it back in and if you cut one arm off it grows back or the arm becomes a whole new starfish – “ then abruptly remembers (I guess) that he wasn’t telling, and clams up despite our best efforts. He goes back to a running commentary of mixing the different sauces that came with the noodles.

New Town Plaza mall decor (it's a humongous mall btw)

We may never know what he said about trains. (Or whether he was just yanking our chains because he knew we were worried he wouldn’t say anything in his new class…)

Me: Think you want to be one of those kids playing a violin?

Rockstar: Nah… I like the trumpet.

Me: Where in the world did you ever come across anyone playing a trumpet, in school? On tv??

Rockstar: <ignoring question> I want to learn to play a trumpet, Mum, Daddy. <authoritatively> So you need to get me a trumpet.

Me: <thinking Is He Serious?>Well… your birthday’s coming up, and Christmas (because the two are so close together we’ve got him birthday stuff much earlier before) you want a trumpet and lessons for your birthday? (this is me calling his bluff)

Rockstar: Yes. Trumpet.

Me: And you know what that is.

Rockstar: Yeah. You blow in one end <makes halfway convincing trumpet-playing action>

Kings: WHERE are your parents going to get you a trumpet?!

Rockstar: <patiently> Trumpet shop, Daddy. You buy trumpets from a trumpet shop.

Y-eah, we’re shelving this one. Trains, trumpets… He’s probably just being funny because I asked about the violin. We’ll see how he feels after more ABC Music & Me at school…

***4 days later:

1) Rockstar: Mum. The other day I didn’t really talk about trains. I was just kidding you.

2) To date, the Rockstar has not asked to watch any more Nemo clips. But he asked for more starfish clips when we got home.

Posted in School For Rockstar, Talking To Rockstar | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 4 Comments

Rockstarism #161 – See No Evil

Posted on September 23, 2011 by admin

#161

Me: How was school, darling?
Rockstar: Ok, Mum. I tippy-toed behind people that annoy me so they didn’t know I was there. 

Me: Uh… Schoolmates?
Rockstar: <enthusiastically> Yeah! They didn’t even SEE me! So they don’t do anything to make me angry!

Zen Rockstar... With Cakepop

Me: <thinking> What am I supposed to say, I think that’s a brilliant idea for when I don’t want people I can’t stand to see me either… Especially with people who pretend to be nice to you one day when you tell them you’ll both be attending the same birthday party tomorrow and then are just awful at the actual party until the host mum also looks a little uncomfortable and you don’t know what the hell happened with that whole thing… People who can’t stand me should just not have to fake-stretch their face muscles at me either.

And uh, newsflash: If you’re really host mum’s best friend or whatever, you wouldn’t be making her uncomfortable about how you are with her other guests. Next time, just tell her not to invite me to begin with. Now, Let’s Just All Pretend We Never Knew Each Other And Save Each Other The Fake Smiles (Or Mean-ness). Get off my blog too, please. When you visit, you are  giving my blog a “hit” on the number-of-visits counter. You don’t want that, and we are obviously not like-minded anyway. Stop reading.

Rockstar: And I like (some boy in his class) now – he told me I’m crazy! <very happy>

Rockstar’s happy. And I…. could use the lesson. I came out of a birthday party weeks ago with my tail between my legs, just heavily regretting ever attending it (through no fault of the host) – which I attended to begin with (Rockstar’s much older and we don’t playdate-hang out) only because I sincerely thought being supportive of someone with a new baby who was also organizing her elder child’s birthday party (must be a lot of work and heavy adjustment at home) was a nice thing to do. 

But then…. shortly after, Rockstar had his own classmate’s birthday party – which was so great, I loved every single parent I met there, much to my surprise <sheepish>. I can now again say that I don’t absolutely loathe kiddie birthday parties… 

Rockstar: It wasn’t like —‘s party. We both had fun, Mum. 

Me: You knew I didn’t enjoy the other one?

Rockstar: Yeah. But then Daddy and I had fun. 

Of course they bloody did. They just disappeared into the giant climbing frames and slides. Total siam…. I want to siam too…

ps: Since I’m now doing the Rockstar Tippy-Toe, I hope someone else tells that lady apparently the expensive, in high-demand private school she was set on putting her child in is moving all the way out to New Territories in a couple years.

Posted in Rockstar Thoughts, Rockstarisms | 9 Comments

Of Food And Friends For Rockstars

Posted on September 21, 2011 by admin

One of the things I often think about is how I can’t protect Rockstar from the world. There’s junkfood, and tv, and a-holes out there. So I wanted him to start learning as soon as possible to do it himself.

Careful, the junk bites.

When I first had the thought however, it was to do with food. In Rockstar’s first year of life, I was strict. Breastmilk (pumped years ago around a full time job in a dealing room -friends/ ex-colleagues have joked that this is why Rockstar is very much not easygoing – during pregnancy and while breastfeeding, I was either sweating over lunchtime conference calls involving investment product termsheets, or battling stick-up-your-bum Compliance), rice, organic veggies, bread. I loosened up considerably when he got older and started going to school, but then faced with prospects of Halloween candy and birthday party loot bags filled junk food was when it occurred to me I couldn’t keep every candy bar and potato crisp out of his reach forever. He has to want the wholesome stuff even when I’m not looking. Sounds like a parenting mantra I could use for a lot of things in life.

So I began communicating what food was really for: Fuel, for a growing mind and body. Feed your growing body junk, and you will have less room for the good stuff. Less good stuff means a less well-functioning brain or body. It worked passably well – I don’t need to hide sugar from him, and he can “social junk-binge” freely – at parties, accepting handouts from salesgirls distracting him while I shop (he hates when I shop). A standard birthday loot bag of junk takes him couple weeks to get through.

If he takes in more sugar when we eat out, he doesn’t ask for more at home, for a few days or longer. Too many salty chips, drink more water. And no more for awhile. Conversely if he doesn’t feel like broccoli at dinner, he has more carrots – and makes up his broccoli intake the next day (this is partly my mildly obsessive compulsive fault, I talk to him about it as a reflex… But I do know friends who keep Food Diaries of everything that passes their child’s lips, including whether the foods are fried. And no, their child has never had a weight problem, they’ve just always done it as part of their regular parenting.)

Then I recently tried to do the playdate equivalent for the first time. With umm, a little less success…

Rockstar’s angry holler cuts through our apartment. Both us mums know our boys are strong-willed. We’d discussed letting them sort it out between them – there would be a lot of friction as they locked horns, but the boys have very different strengths and weaknesses. We thought it would be useful if they learned to live with each other. Uh, eventually. I pick furious, bawling Rockstar up and close the bedroom door for timeout.

15 minutes later, Rockstar rejoins the group on his own, leaving me in the room. When he also seems to be following our guest around before they have to go to school, I think Ah, He’s Learning To Work Things Out. Except hours later during car pool, another fight escalates into Rockstar practically foaming at the mouth before passing out cold (well he also had a late previous night and that morning scream-fest).

When he comes to, I ask if he’s ready to talk. “Yes,” solemnly. “Just now, that was me. I was the naughty one. But earlier was not me. <pause> I’m still angry.” 

Cast of Phua Chu Kang – from their Wiki page, linked below

If you’ve watched Singapore sitcom Phua Chu Kang, there was a scene in the opening credits from when the characters were all little kids playing in the neighborhood. Chu Kang and the other boys run ahead with the soccer ball, and younger, smaller, bespectacled Phua Chu Beng is calling after them, “That’s my ball!” (My turn to kick, I guess he means.)

I keep thinking That could be Rockstar. He’s little, and sometimes during play he creates a lot of rules in his little head: Each child should take a turn on each mum’s cellphone game (not say, play separately on their own mums’ phones). Taking turns on a scooter means going 3 rounds each. It is not yet his turn if the other child has done only 2 1/2 rounds. Any changes to The Rules should be proposed (not simply carried out) and he should have a few moments to decide to agree (he usually does, but WHO goes around verbalizing Changes To The Rules???). The Rockstar has a black belt in red tape. (And if you have a joke about me and Compliance during pregnancy, restrain yourself please. I can feel some of old friends/ ex-colleagues thinking it. Shutup.)

But that’s where the similarity to Chu Beng ends, because when he gets treated like Chu Beng, he turns into a pint-sized Incredible Hulk. Who also has ties with the Mafia (he doesn’t forget easy.) A girlfriend whose extremely easy-going boy gives in to everything has actually told me at least Rockstar doesn’t take everything lying down. Erm…………..but…………. Anyway doesn’t matter how you spin it, Rockstar’s not easygoing. So I can’t pretend in my raising of him that he is.

Maybe it’s also a chemistry thing. Even on things I think both boys are usually easygoing over, put them together and watch their competitive hackles rise. Still, for the rest of the evening, I feel lousy. (I later realize it’s partly because Rockstar has not had an all-out scream-fest, let alone two in a day, for more than 6 months. So my tolerance level for scream-fests has gotten a little low.) “You need to start learning how to deal with your anger. Shrieking at the top of your lungs is not a solution, if you can’t communicate what the problem is, how do you expect anyone respond?”

Rockstar is apologetic but adamant. “Ok, Mum. He makes me angry, so I’ll stay away from him.” Uh…….. Seriously unsure that was the response I was looking for. “Can you just make up for (your frothing at the mouth in the car at pickup time) by doing better in your own class please?” <Avoid commenting. Because while I really hoped he would learn to handle his emotion better, frankly I still avoid people I can’t stand if they make me angry. And how can you ever force kids to be friends, real friends?>

“<Heavy, theatrical sigh> Oh-kaaaaay.” 

Wow. No One Knows The Trouble He’s Seen.

Regretfully, I take out my cellphone and hold off the next playdate til I can get Rockstar to come round (and I’m not sure when that’ll be, the Rockstar is his own little man and I can only check his temperature and debate him through the week, he’s not a Let Me Try And Please My Mum boy, more Is Mum Making Any Sense Boy), even as he chatters on in the bath. Without impending school interviews, I would’ve been more inclined to push it. As is, I have to leave off for now. But this conversation isn’t over.

It wasn’t simply me liking Other Mum, therefore wanting Rockstar to get along with her child – it was our ability to have a frank discussion about our boys’ and our own (perceived parenting) weaknesses, not just strengths, that I really valued. Ever been on playdates where the other mum just goes on about how far ahead of everyone else her child is? Or what a good job she’s doing? How about the ones where the other child (or for that matter their own child) is always at fault? If you find someone who tries not to be all those things AND has a child the same age as yours AND a similar schedule, don’t let them get away. (And if you’re guilty of any of the above, as we all are from time to time, rethink.) It’s a jungle out there.

Me (to Kings, later that night): …….so it sucks, <indicating still-apologetic-but-adamant Rockstar hanging about listening in as usual> sometimes you’re just WHY do you have to be friends with him, his mum fake-numbered me/ is annoying/ on crack/ nuts. 

Kings: Get him a hamster. (To Rockstar) You can get along with a hamster, right?

Rockstar: I want a horse. Does JD (our Border Collie) herd horses?

Apparently these people think that’s funny.

For The Birds… Rockstar came home saying he’d picked that up in school and we thought it so really cute.. (And yes, that’s the Disney Cars Magnadoodle Tim gave us after bunking in Rockstar’s Cars-decked room)
Posted in Rockstar Shots, Rockstar Thoughts, Talking To Rockstar | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 2 Comments

Book, Music, and Superstar Rockstar

Posted on September 19, 2011 by admin

Waiting to board the ferry to Bintan from Singapore what seems eons ago, I spied this book at the convenience store in the Tanah Merah ferry terminal and out of guilt (Rockstar had ABC Music & Me at school last year and since then I have done nothing, nothing, I tell you – if you ask me now I can’t even remember what the instructions were for home learning – so obviously I was really happy they’re starting this up in school again next month – I hope to keep up better this time) I pick it up. Ok, that and:

1) The bit that said “Recommended by Royal Academy Of Music” on back. I was curious whether they advocated “drill & kill” because I was drilled til I nearly wanted to kill someone. I remember my first ever Grade 1 ABRSM Theory exam where I got a 99 (which back then was a full score) and being asked, “How come it wasn’t 100?” and I remember not enjoying some music lessons very much.

(Au contraire, the book’s full of fun songs and activities. It has ideas for pregnancy, babies, and all the way up to 9 year olds.)

2) The cool-looking long-haired boy with violin on the cover. (Didn’t care about violin, liked boy’s hairstyle. Tried that when Rockstar was about 2. Failed miserably – he has stick-straight hair. No one thought I meant the violin, right?)

What, you think this is the first time a mummy picked up a product because she liked the look of the child in the marketing? According to Rockstar’s old local pediatrician few years back this was why in HK you couldn’t sell formula for newborns with real pictures of babies on the tin, and that’s why you see all these crazy-cute baby cartoons and things. The “ban” was to encourage mums to breastfeed, not psychologically think you might get happier, healthier babies from feeding em formula…

3) Another mum on Hong Kong Island told me she went to check out some Suzuki Method class charging close to HKD 1,000 per lesson and it had a 100-strong waiting list. (Ok so then I don’t need to check it out haha)

4) NOT the Make Your Child Smarter thing. Because instead of me making my child smarter, my child will make me insane.

While I’m flicking the book, of course, Rockstar materializes under my elbow.

Rockstar: <suspiciously> What is that?

Me: Music Makes Your Child Smarter.

Rockstar: <seriously> But I don’t want to be smarter. Don’t make me, Mum.

Me: You don’t want to be smart, or you don’t want people to know you’re smart? There’s a difference. Smart gets you cool responsibilities and you get to do important things like the clever boys and girls you see on West Wing (I watched Nikita recently, Rockstar passing by living room has claimed it’s “boring” – he has never asked me to switch West Wing for Nikita, but he has asked me to give up Nikita for West Wing several times. Maybe it’s because Nikita has too many loud action scenes and the noise bothers him) and – Hey, is that why you deliberately give us wrong answers?

Rockstar: Yeah. 

Me: So you admit you answer your parents wrongly on purpose? (<thinking> Oh, the joys of parenting, especially during Primary School Interview Season).

Rockstar: Yeah.

Me: WHY?

Rockstar: Hee. So don’t ask so many things.

Don't let the nonchalance fool you...

You can imagine how relieved we were when he came home with this Superstar sticker for class participation one day… There’s also a very important-looking little certificate with their name on it signed by teacher and school principal, and Rockstar carried his reverently around (with two hands!) til I finally got him to put it down and eat something after school…

I think the school does that to encourage all the little kids, Rockstar explained you can only get one (so it’s not like one child will just keep getting everything), and admitted he’d “tried and tried to be good and then waited and waited to get one” in school. NOW he tells me. Usually I get “I ate the crackers” when I ask about school.

“I tickled someone. Now he’s not my friend.“

“I don’t like (Someone Else), he doesn’t do Butterfly Legs.” (sit cross-legged on floor during Circle Time, I suppose.)

“I only tickled him a bit, and he got SO ANGRY…..!” <suspicious>

He's actually real pleased and proud... With sweaty helmet head, but proud nonetheless...

Ps: Another mummy friend gets “Bye-bye, Mummy,” when she tries to ask about school… Our kids are just Don’t Ask, (We) Don’t (Want To) Tell… 

Posted in Rockstar Thoughts, Rockstarisms | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 2 Comments

His Own Little Man…

Posted on September 18, 2011 by admin

Among the crafts he does at school, Rockstar occasionally brings back paper bag puppets, usually animals… When Kings has been “away” (either traveling or coming home late) for a few days, Rockstar and I sometimes display his efforts on Kings’ desk so he’ll see it whatever time he gets back…

Who knew Kings would come home late one night, exhausted from grueling basketball game and supper with the buddies, see Rockstar’s Self-Portrait in School Uniform (below) we’d stuck on before going to bed, and that happy face in dim light would totally scare the living crap out of him?

<Cue scary music…!>

#160

After school recently, Rockstar and I went for a snack at Starbucks with another mum and her rockstar… (Well Thursdays and Fridays they have cake pops and j- Uh, fruit salad and blended berry drinks)

Except Rockstar and Other Rockstar must’ve got into 5 fights over seating, scooters, Mr Men books, seating, scooters….

RnOR: We are not friends. <And something along those lines in Korean>.

Me n Other Mum: Well your mums are friends <IGNORE protests>.

(What? It was like FIVE annoying little bickerings in the time it took us to get our bottled water, fruit salad, mushroom pocket sandwiches, cake pops and single iced coffee to the table. At some point you run out of wholesome things to say and feel more like Shut UP, go sit with other mums and pretend to be their children for awhile….. Except there weren’t that many people sitting around that day we could possibly annoy – or farm our offspring on… Or really, threaten our offspring with that…)

Rockstar: What you guys talking about?
Me: How we should’ve dumped you guys in school and gone for a nice lunch instead.

<pause>

Rockstar: <mild exasperation> Mum.  I think next time you and (Other Mum) want to play, you should just leave us at home. It’s fine.

Posted in Rockstarisms, Talking To Rockstar | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 2 Comments

Epilogue: Part 2 – The Best Post Ever Written On My blog Is By 723 People Who Are Not Me

Posted on September 15, 2011 by admin

It’s humbling, that so many strangers, particularly with the anonymity of the internet, would say a few kind words and in many cases pass on God’s love. That’s the incredible message Rockstar will grow up to read one day – that people can be nice, Just Because.

I could write til the cows come home and I would still never, ever be able to top what 723 people (and still growing) conveyed in the minute or two of their time together and a few simple, sincere words. For that, dear readers, THANK you. I’m so grateful and overwhelmed.

Oh, and dears – you will get a thank you email individually from me that is not some bcc-ed mass-emailed thing. Even if it takes me the rest of the year to get round to everyone, I don’t care, I’ll do it somehow.

Totally freaking out that something had gone horribly wrong with my beloved blog – rather than any belief in the kindness of 723 mostly-strangers – speaks loads about my faith in human nature. <shamefaced>

(But honestly, who sees hundreds and hundreds of email notifications and thinks, “Obviously, my husband, child and dog collaborated with 723 virtual strangers to wish me Happy Birthday. How nice. What else could it possibly be?”)

More like, ” My blog’s been stolen. B*stards.”

– – –

Back in Changi Airport Singapore…

Kings returns to our table in Kopitiam.
“WHERE’S my phone?”
“Oh yeah here.” He holds the screen up, rather than say, hands it to me.
My mailbox is already opened to a Disqus notification message.
It reads: Happy Birthday from….. Kings interrupts.
“Ok? I still need it -“

“Crap. This Nuffnang guy posted Happy Birthday on my blog? So now anyone who reads that comment will know my birthdate is today??”

<Silence>

“Hey… Don’t I barely know this guy, how come he knows my birthdate? Did I put him on my Facebook and forget?”

My husband is not listening. He’s already taken back my phone without even looking at me. Can he be more focused on Tim? Worse than someone waiting for Hot New Boyfriend to call back. And – Hang on. Did I just see….. 76 new emails? In 45 minutes? I prod at him –

“Muuu-uuuummm, I need help (with this iPad game) pleeeeeaaase.”

 Hey. Rockstar is NOT eating.

“You’re not eating.”
“I want Daddy.”
“He wants Daddy.“
“I did something to your blog.”

“Daaaaa-ddeeeeeeee………”

“He’s not eating.” (This drives me nuts, he’s a small kid)
“I think I better show you – “

“Can you put that in his mouth first?”

(Occasionally Rockstar pauses in his meal and demands one of us, usually Kings because he is the more spaced-out, Berry-fingering one, feed him a mouthful or two. Fight him head on, No Feed Yourself/ No Someone Else Is Already Trying To Feed You, and the meal is over. Unless you stick a needle attached to a glucose bag into his arm. With medicine, we tried forcefeeding him before because I was thinking Don’t Give Me This Rubbish and he fought so hard he emptied the entire contents of his stomach onto the sofa. Not the most effective way to go, if we were trying to get something in him.)

Rockstar and egg on plate. But fyi this is not Changi Airport.

WHY does Kings look so worried?

“Nono the egg first.”
“I’m done with the egg.”
“But you barely even finished one egg.”

Wordlessly Kings spoons almost an entire egg yolk into Rockstar’s mouth. Neither male comments. Well, one has his mouth full.

“Darling you look a bit worried”
“Uh, yeah….”
“Everything ok dear? Is that why you’re waiting for Tim to call?”
“Uh…… Ye-aaahhh…….”

Idly, unobtrusively, trailing off into the background airport noise, “Daaaaaaaaaaaa” – wow both of them can speak in slow motion – “dddeeeeeeeeee………”

Kings gulps his entire Wantan Mee and bolts to his feet. “I need you to see something before we board the plane, can you look for me at one of the Internet kiosks along the way to the (departure) gate?”

“He’s not eating.” (Seriously, drives me bonkers).
“Mum. I finished my game.” <ceremoniously picks spoon up>
In the second I turn to acknowledge the achievement, Kings is gone. Rockstar is now eating, but slowly. I’ll take it.

Where’s my phone?

HE’S STILL GOT MY FREAKING PHONE??? 

I am going to have 76 new emails when we land in HK. Grrrrrrrrrrrr! Oh, and there he is.

Kings waves me over to one of the airport computer terminals (with Flash, our iPads have no Flash) to view an adorable bobbing-head video. I’m delighted. “That’s actually on your blog now, so you’ll be getting some birthday wishes.”

Still can’t take my eyes off the video. That is sooooo cute. I am sooooo touched. And we have now told everyone I let our son shoot little green men in an arcade game (for the record, just 20 mins a week tops, I make sure we arrive 20 mins before they kick everyone out of the room for cleaning and we haven’t gone in a month). The only bobbing head I can imagine actually saying those speech bubbles to my face is the dog <tear>. I know Kings is really proud of getting into my blog but I don’t consider it a biggie – it’s not that difficult, we’re married. I think he should’ve been really proud of the video.

“That’s wonderful... And it would explain why I saw 76 new messages.”

“It might be a bit more……”

“Oh really?”

“Mum. I can write 76.”

Kings has to take a call. On his berry?

“First you write a 7. Then you do 6… I learned in school, you know. 6 is a bit tricky <nodding knowledgeably, wrinkling nose>, it also looks like a G…”

I thought his berry wasn’t working?

Still on the phone, Kings waves me on (obviously not the first time he’s disappeared on the phone in an airport) and I take Rockstar’s hand. The other little hand is still drawing 6s (or Gs?) in the air.

Kings catches up at the boarding gate security checkpoint, where I’m about to turn in my bottle of Evian. The guards spy Rockstar taking a final swig – and allow us to keep it. Hmm. Interesting. Kind of.

Throughout the flight, Kings checks his Berry. Well I suppose he must, he’s pretended it wasn’t working for maybe 18 hours now. (Honestly, he pretends stuff with me all the time. Fortunately I trust him to not cheat on me with Tim.) So I reconsider going all you-have-to-switch-that-off-on-board-the-flight. It’s gotta be a stretch you can flummox the navigational system of a giant Boeing charged with ferrying hundreds of people across oceans and mountains with something you bought at Fortress.

We land. Hello, iPhone, I missed you so. Let’s make mushy, right here in the Arrivals Hall.

What’s happened to my phone?

It won’t stop shuddering. (It goes on pretty much thru the night and into the next morning.) My phone is possessed. Like something out of Exorcist, but with email. Or that magician’s hat from which you try to pull out all the scarves so you can finally take a look inside and figure out how they do that trick. With a lot more scarves. As in, enough to cover China.

“WHAT DID YOU -“

“SHHH! Mum. Too loud. I can’t think.”

That thing about pictures saying a thousand words comes to mind... Note the owl.

Ps: Sorry everyone, that it took me this long to post a thank you…  Would’ve preferred right away, but I didn’t want to just anyhow put up some “Wah, wah, thank you thank you” comment, I really wanted to do it properly… Later that night, our helper arrived back from her brother’s wedding in Indonesia really sick so I’ve been tied up unpacking from our recent trip plus lotsa extra washing, because of not wanting anyone else to fall sick at home… AND it’s School Applications Season In Hong Kong now… So we’re a little swamped. Blessed, but swamped.

Posted in Rockstar Thoughts, Rockstarisms, Traveling With Rockstar | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 35 Comments

Epilogue: Part 1 – Capture The iPhone

Posted on September 14, 2011 by admin

It’s morning. The hub gives me a cuddle, then disappears back into his laptop. Rockstar is still asleep, and when he wakes he’s a little prickly: “Mum,” from whence Kings has taken him aside, “I sang Happy Birthday to you yesterday, remember?” (we were at family friends’ for mid-autumn dinner-and-tanglungs, complete with a little ice cream mooncake with a candle stuck in it served by their 10-year-old girl. Rockstar broke out in song immediately. Very un-Rockstar.)

In the absence of permission to put pictures of other people’s kids up, try to imagine, with appropriate music please, images of really good-looking tall Asian children (at 5ft 7inches I’m the shortest grownup, unless you count grandparents or helpers – of course these kids must be tall). These would be our friends’ gorgeous (and very well-mannered) children who served desert, showed Rockstar how to shoot hoops, listened indulgently to his explanation Why An Ace Is The Biggest Card, or gurgled good-naturedly and made us long for The Good Old Days When Rockstar Was A Toddler. (Wait. Wha’m I saying, Rockstar was never easygoing, good-natured toddler.)

Something Fishy About These Two...

Where’s my cellphone? Kings borrowed it last night, the battery on his Berry was faulty. Well of course it’s faulty, it never gets a moment’s rest. Smug.

Found my phone. Trust Kings to chuck it near the hotel room door. Did he even realize he left it behind the ice bucket above the bar? Why can’t he ever lose his berry like that? I glare at his ear-phoned form. Annoyed.

And it’s switched off? He flattened my battery?? Very annoyed.

Finally. On. …..Why isn’t my email loading? What’s happened to the hotel Wifi? “Internet’s down,” Kings back says to me.

And now we have to leave for the airport. Ah. There is just no way Changi Airport doesn’t have Wifi. I do not want like, fifty unread messages waiting for me when we land.

As we pull up, my iPhone dings reassuringly. Let’s see… Overnight I have….. I have…….. Hang on. This can’t be right.

“WHY do I have so many emails overnight?”

“I need your cellphone again. Tim is going to call, I gave him your number.” Crap. His berry is not even cold. Shouldn’t there be an appropriate mourning period?

“Hang on. At least lemme see what’s making my mailbox so full. Oh. Facebook…”

“Mum. I need to watch my videos now.”

I fork over my phone. I take videos of him in erm, “favorable” situations like when he’s playing nicely with other kids or speaking articulately, for him to watch later, as yet another way of encouraging good behavior. I never turn down a request for “video revision” if I can help it. Rockstar didn’t get to watch his most recent videos playing with our friends’ kids from last night because Kings kidnapped my phone.

When Rockstar’s done, Kings disappears to make his phone call.

“Stay here.” As Rockstar toys with breakfast 10 feet away I spy Kings messing with his iPad. So my cellphone must be free.

“Can I please have my phone.”

Kings starts at my voice, “I’m still waiting for the call.”

“Why can’t I just hand you the phone when it rings?”

“Okok go sit down first.” Still not forking it over. My husband is infuriating. Did he not hear a word I just said?? Probably not. This is not that unusual when he’s working. Briefly I consider taking it forcibly except he has a gadzillion pockets and is carrying his usual “Travel With Rockstar” Le Sportsac bag – which is really a lightweight diaper bag – yes, with umpteen compartments.

Singapore airport security would probably have a fit at the commotion. A few commandos just walked by, much to Rockstar’s delight. Big guns. (He knows never to go near the real stuff – lengthy explanations are the best prevention for serious little children.)

“Where’s…. my…… PHONE!!”

“Hmm?” I could kill him. Except he is the father of my child.

“Muuu-uuuummmmmmm……..!”

“I want to play Bingo Bugs.”

“You have not touched that in weeks.”

“I need it.”

“Ask your father. He still has my phone.”

<silence>

Rockstar starts playing Pirate Jack on his iPad.

(That should have made me a little more suspicious but by now I’m fidgety from thinking about the 47 untouched emails in my mailbox, I only glanced at the first 3 facebooks.)

“You don’t need to watch videos?” (Secretly I’m hoping to get a few minutes alone with my phone after he’s done.)

“I’m busy.”

To… Be… Continued…..!

 

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Happy Birthday Mummy

Posted on September 13, 2011 by admin

Dear loyal readers,

This is Kings (Aileen’s husband). Today is Aileen’s birthday and we decided to give her a surprise.  We cracked the password of this blog and posted this message – without her knowledge of course 🙂 ….  I will continue to distract her today so that she doesn’t get a chance to check her blog.  Can you all please help Rockstar and me to wish her happy birthday below?  We want her to have a shock when she finally gets a chance to check her blog tonight 🙂

Thanks Lionel for designing this flash pic for us.

Hi readers, thanks in advance for your support to leave your wishes in the comment box below.  Do help us to encourage your friends to do it as well.

Best Regards,

Rockstar, Kings and JD

Posted in aileensml | 801 Comments

Rockstarism #159: Failure To Conspire

Posted on September 12, 2011 by admin

One day on the beach in Bintan…

Kings: Rockstar and I got you something for your birthday (but it’s not yet my birthday), it’s at home. You’ll get it when we get back.

Rockstar: <looking suspicious and blinking>

Me: You have no idea what your father is talking about, have you?

Rockstar: Yeah.

Kings: <all manner of conspiratorial facial expressions at Rockstar> We talked about this, remember?

Rockstar: <unimpressed>

…..

Rockstar: …Mum. Did you know I’m getting older? Sometimes I can’t hear very well.

Senior Citizen On Beach Chair (in this shot he just woke up, not ready to move yet)

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