The *Something* Shoot at Hollywood Road

Posted on May 13, 2011 by admin
I arrive early…

“Call before leaving home, if the weather forecast isn’t right we’ll reschedule.” That’s happened several times already, I get spoiled by the speed at which these things move, I usually get a call/ text back within 2 minutes (or sometimes before I even think to check) if they don’t want me to leave home and waste time for a shoot that’s not gonna happen.

I was texted to show up in a suit, white shirt, black heels, nude hose… I don’t own nude hose. Nude hose be against my principles. Only the sheer black french stuff with the line running down the back of my legs ever. Otherwise no hose, just Johnsons’ baby oil.

Backseams! (But never with short skirts… Knee length or longer with back slit only…) Oh, and when it got really busy in the dealing room I didn’t wear shoes <sheepish> When tired I believe every inch of heel counts… (I know, I’m so un-model-ly :P)

<Looking up> Ah Prince Building. Wolford’s. And then on the morning of the shoot discover I can’t keep my summer Ferragamo mules on with the hose (knee-high boots with skirtsuits in cooler weather). I have no other black heels. Fingers crossed, I slip on dark green snakeskin peep-toe pumps. And a white Hugo Boss shirt with pin-tucking detail. (The shoes would get me compliments at the shoot thank goodness)

It were a good rush hour day in Sheung Wan, you see…

I arrive a good half hour early and wander about, surprised at the housewives, uncles and aunties reading newspapers or just sitting quietly. Work rarely took me to this part of Sheung Wan. My sheepish booker is late with apologies (just glad it wasn’t me) and we make our way to the media company’s office where I’m handed a grey G2000 suit and seriously fierce black plastic frames (after the shoot I enquire where to buy them and the photog explains he got them on location in New York.) While my hair is blown out and eyebrows touched up (I have glasses! No need for eye makeup! Yay!), my partner arrives.

“Hi, I’m Nigel,” and he offers me his hand. Canadian, he arrived in HK just 2 weeks ago; his agency has him on a 6 month tour of HK and Shanghai. In navy tank top, jeans and fashionably distressed black boots he changes out of into black-and-white patterned trousers, hot pink sheer shirt and sparkly red bowtie right where he’s standing without batting an eyelid and I quickly think Model! As in, Professional!

When I balk, our photographer who is also the one deciding what we wear blinks, then not unkindly indicates the bathroom. On the way, I pass shelves and shelves of portfolio shots of erm, real models. <Hang head in shame>

There’s actually fierce sunlight glinting off the buildings; I used a different setting on my cell cos otherwise the glare is bad enough you can’t see most of the buildings on the left… But I find it glorious (I’m Southeast Asian! Sunlight!)

I’m with our hair stylist for the shoot (who is exhausted from a previous late night assignment I think he said in Cantonese), and makeup artist (who is guffawing loudly at the giant turd image on hair stylist’s cellphone, something about how he drew inspiration from “all the young gals with the cutesy Facebook cupcake pictures”.. Uh, is this code?)

Boiling between buildings (which I still find built close together and rather haphazardly even after I've seen them for years)

It’s boiling and I’m in a full suit complete with nude auntie hose… (Btw I wouldn’t normally have put up that many shoot pics but I don’t expect to be able to find the pics when they come out, this was for a media company and frankly I don’t really know what they’re for other than there’s a magic taxi in the script… They even commissioned the taxi driver whose cab you see in some of the pics to park there and occasionally sit inside and “drive”)

Setting up for the shoot

This tour bus got to experience what took me almost 7 years to get to see...

Me getting instructed to walk down the street and then “start” in surprise (also, I wanted to show off my new Ralph Lauren bag which they decide to use for the shoot – genuine snakeskin and I paid only about 20% of the original price – wah, hit immediately man…)

We have to occasionally stop for passing traffic to ease past… Nigel had to pose directly under the scorching sun… And he generated a lot of attention – passersby snuck cellphone pics… Some – mostly uncles expat and local hang around for a bit to watch… Several aunties surprisingly don’t linger – they must have better things to do, like queueing at Fortress outlets for iPhones (as mentioned by Apple Daily sometime ago – HK aunties made a killing reselling them…)

As we cool off in the shade, I discover Nigel is just 18 and has only been doing this maybe 3 months. I forget to ask which agency (just in case someone might want to book him for a job I thought I could put it here), and my booker who was talking with mild awe to me about his modelling agency earlier later claims she’s forgotten, when I ask her to repeat the name. (I’m peevy about the fake, how am I supposed to trust her when she says “don’t worry I am not booking you on dodgy psycho assignments” after this? Sigh but to be fair she helped me take those action shots with me in them, which I do appreciate…)

Nigel... Watch those fingers, you might be seeing them at HK or Shanghai Fashion Week! (And I just took off the glasses I was sweating under during the maybe couple hour shoot, so.....)

Talking to Nigel, I learn something…. He’s just 18 and here more or less on his own (maybe an uncle here), which I find interesting… When I mention how determined I am not to Tiger Mother because of my own experiences, he tells me his grandparents were from Hong Kong and Shanghai and when they moved to Canada and had his dad, he’d grown up with similar. It was why his dad had now decided he could do what interested him (as long as he “didn’t, like, get himself killed”): “The second generation always gets it.”

And proof of the fact gives me a hug, before changing back into his own clothes in the street and disappearing down it. I can’t quite put my finger on our photographer’s not-unpleasant expression as he points me to the nearest public toilet. Mild amusement?

Past a little barber shop run by a little old man, up the staircase into the public toilet to change... This is also my first time in a HK street public toilet, I seriously hate dirty toilets. But this is surprisingly clean and completely odorless. And the floor is *gasp* dry!

Our parents for the most part believed in their day they were doing the best job they knew how to. Then their offspring grew up determined to do better.

Wonder what Rockstar’s parenting style will be…….

Posted in aileensml | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 4 Comments

Disposable T-Shirts at Stanley Market

Posted on May 12, 2011 by admin
Stanley Market

I love cheap, “disposable” clothes as much as the Jacadi stuff. Each serve very different purposes. The Vilebrequin and Jacadi make me feel like Uber Put-together Mum (my child looks just like in the glossy catalogues!) even if I am very langgar that day (ie look like crap), they inspire me to smile just as indulgently and patiently as the model mums, when my child knocks his entire mango smoothie across the table when we are entertaining at a nice restaurant (obviously in such situations you sweep the child and oh yes, the outfit, out of harms’ way with little regard for the bright yellow drink. It is after all just a mango smoothie. But your child is wearing Jacadi.)

(And yes I am aware I am a total victim of advertising but I say if it helps me not yell at my child and gets my game on as mum-who-never-berates-her-child-but-just-smiles-encouragingly-while-gently-chiding-just-the-right-amount-like-the-exquisite-woman-in-the-brochure-who-has-probably-never-pushed-out-a-screaming-baby-or-cleaned-poop-off-her-fingers-or-face WHY THE HELL NOT? Oh, Shutup.

HKD 45 Disposable Tee from Stanley last year…

The cheap stuff serves an equally important role. I don’t flinch when Rockstar dribbles bolognaise sauce down his front while slurping his spaghetti. Can’t get the stains off that white shirt? Bin it. HKD 45 still too painful? What are the odds Rockstar is going to order something like spaghetti bolognaise the first time he’s wearing that shirt? (And yes if he’s wearing something expensive and light-colored I conveniently overhear the next table with the big boys being very unhappy with their spaghetti because it was too spicy/salty/whatever). He usually wants a salmon steak anyway.

More Tees (Yes that’s President Obama in some PRC uniform. HKD 69. No I don’t know what the chinese words say. Yes Bruce Lee is a slightly more popular t-shirt image than the President. No I did’t buy  either.)

HKD 45 adjusted for several wears and my child getting serious utensil practice in plus being in charge of feeding himself enough healthy and nutritious food = worth more than the occasional binned Stanley Market tee to me. Also cheaper than hiring a child psychologist to undo any neurosis I incur from doing a nutty about his shirt/ his feeding himself/ any potentially unhealthy relationship with food and eating even. The Rockstar shall feed himself and make mostly the right food choices to stave off hunger and sufficiently nourish his growing body and brain, no more, no less.

(This comes from knowing someone who had a terrible emotional relationship with food; as a child she had bordered on obesity and her Tiger Mum  instilled such a regimen of healthy eating and exercise that her struggles with meals were heartbreaking. When we were tweens she would do things like squirrel away 2 dozen chicken wings from the school canteen and I remember what went thru my head – I was a steak, burgers and pizza girl who burned a massive number of calories, I just had so many activities going – I thought Why Do That, You Don’t NEED To Eat Like I Do, It’s Such A Nuisance To Have To Look For Food All Time… And I remember her flat reply along the lines of It Makes Me Feel Loved. She got punished a lot for binge-ing, it never stopped her, she just found better ways of hiding it. I fear the concept of my child being untruthful to me so he can do what he wants. We should want the same things.)

We also lunched at Rocksalt, which is Aussie seafood... See the hanging rock salt?

Yum. Too bad about the label on some of them. I shall avert my eyes.

Anyway, my haul was 5 tees, 2 pairs of khakis. Kaa-chinggg: HKD 430. Would’ve got more but my friend dragged me away. Everyone should have a shopping buddy who stops her from buying too many T-shirts (or really, anything).

Bring on the Bolognaise.

Posted in Rockstar Shopping | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 5 Comments

One Little Rockstar Step (feat: Vilebrequin)

Posted on May 11, 2011 by admin
THAT’S how far you swam, Rockstar! View from our balcony…

First visit to one of the Bel-Air pools for the summer… Rockstar is NOT a water person other than his bathtub, I got him to agree to a “swim” because we already had brunch at his favorite “Smoothie Restaurant” (his words) where he habitually scarfs a large chunk of Kings’ grilled salmon steak with black pepper (yes really and loads of it) sauce and saffron rice, working it off with not one but two bike rides.

I note with mixed feelings that his Vilebrequin trunks from last year still fit (fine they did used to hang on him a bit)… Vilebrequin did a mean marketing of mini-me trunks, if you buy the grownup pair (which is like HKD 1,800 – I got them for Kings’ birthday or Father’s Day or something) then the matching kiddie version is available for (I think it was) between HKD 400-550. The salesgirl explained, unnecessarily, that after they started highlighting the kiddie ones (which are just so cute) sales of the grownup ones really took off because of all the mums who went nuts like yours truly.

See their Father-Son marketing…

Kings… Doesn’t wear his. One day at the same pool last year, we heard “Twins!”

So cute right…

A handsome, very buff, tanned European man saunters over. He’s wearing the exact same Vilebrequins and comes over to show Rockstar, who is sitting at the edge of the pool watching his dad do laps. As he proceeds to pose and preen for my stone-faced son I detect a vaguely effeminate air which I initially chalk down to say, Latin dancing class his girlfriend wanted to take, until his partner joins us. Equally tanned and buff and with an indulgent smile on his face at his other half’s antics.

When the couple moves on after complimenting my taste in outfitting my child, I sneak a glance at both my men. Their expressions are identical.

Which Mummy can resist? <Swoon>

Apparently this passes for a valid reason why my husband doesn’t wear his. My guffawing (male, British – Vilebrequin is French) ex-colleagues would pronounce, “Sounds about right!” but I am peeved. Wasn’t that quite an indication I have good taste? Humph!

But at least Rockstar still wears his.

So anyway. “Achievement.” Rockstar hated swimming lessons, we dropped out (from the lessons the Bel-Air club provides in our development pool) last year. After the second lesson he decided he loathed the heated indoor pools and everything in them including the swim coach. It was like towing about a speaking stone statue perpetually stuck on ‘no’, “nononoNONOnonoNONONOnononononoNOOOOOOOOoooooNO!NO!NO!!!” Zero cooperation from the Rockstar. “Mum. It’s time to go.” “Mum, look at the clock.” “Ten o’clock. Class is over.” “Why isn’t everybody leaving?”

Sigh. Except I don’t think I can let this one slide. My mum taught me to swim (well I don’t know anyone from Penang who can’t swim at least fairly well ) when I learned to walk. I never did it competitively, it was about safety. I don’t know about Hong Kong (though I did hear a local radio station government public service message reminding parents not to take too many children at a time swimming this summer – the cabbie translated it for me), but I did read about child drownings massively outnumbering say, gun deaths in the States sometime back. We get neurotic about candy and additives and their veggies (or maybe locking up a firearm) – but it takes just 5 unattended minutes, head submerged in a body of water, to be deadly. That’s like your average phone or text message or how long it takes to read all your Twitter and post a few replies.

Last year, same trunks

So here we go little lap pool. (And “Teach your child to swim” book purchase through the summer book club in his school.) With my hands under his arms (and lots of Ra-Ras) Rockstar kicks his way to laps. 3, 4… He gets compliments from two separate passing dads… 6 laps. Time to go. “2 more,” Rockstar insists.

Then “DADDY!!! I SWAM EIGHT LAPS!!” He comes running back into the apartment. We go out on the balcony to erm, better appreciate just how far he swam.

“Can we go tomorrow?”

One small step. I feel like Mr Armstrong.

*This Is A Body Double*

So I bought an OndadeMar bikini from Shopbop.com.

Heee 15% extra off for another day with offer code! My friends have been going nuts! This is what you have virtual shopping apps and the What’sApp for!

 

 

Posted in aileensml | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 7 Comments

Pride goes before a fall. Or something like that.

Posted on May 9, 2011 by admin

Where’s Everybody? I must be so LATE! I tried to drop my child off at school when there’s no school today (teachers on training, I forgot to check the school calendar in his diary.. d-uh how come it takes me 5 minutes tops to explain a CDO (or really most investment products I dabbled in) in simple language to RMs but managing the Rockstar continues to confound me?)

“But it’s Monday!” Dismayed, disappointed Rockstar. So I offer him a few arcade games as compensation Because Mum Forgot To Prepare The Rockstar For No School.

(Am I the only person who finds arcade games as runner up to school for my son just a little bizarre? Craziest headgame I’m working on with strong-willed-Mr-has-to-forge-his-own-way is:

1. School Good. School Make You Plenty Smart. Plenty Smart Give You Good Job. Good Job Give You Important Responsibility. Like What The Important People on West Wing Have (yes it’s possible my child will at some point develop an understanding for US politics and well possibly also the stock and currency markets and whatever the hell else CNBC reports before he masters the penmanship to write a decent A-Z or sketch something other than monsters and the Problem Blob on Cbeebies’ Numberjacks – I’m really not fussed about penmanship honestly, and he keeps going Why, Why, WHY at the home background noise).

2. Arcade Games And Mindless TV Watching Bad. If Done Too Much. Make You Plenty Birdbrain  – Opinion by Rockstar, Formed All On His Own. Ahem.)

“Mum. Come help me.” I hit Player No. 2 on some mindless shooting soldier game that not even the most creative games software sales exec can possibly pronounce “educational” or even a vague “good for honing kids’ finger coordination.” It is a bad game. They should not have it, and free of charge, anywhere there are kids, teens or youth, 20-minute Rule be damned. I start shooting a bunch of innocent virtual soldiers who never did me any harm. I blow up a tank. Bring down a giant helicopter to Rockstar’s delight. Boom.  Kapow. Budda budda budda.

5 minutes… 10… “I’m getting bored, Rockstar. They (the tanks, soldiers, planes) all look the same after this.” “I’m not bored yet.” Rockstar considers. “Can I go drive some cars after this?”

“Well…  You’re giving up already?” Reverse psychology has to be the oldest trick in in the book. Gradually I get stuck on the same scene for longer. “I want something else.” Total time on the soldier machine: maybe 15 mins. Rockstar wanders off, leaving me at the game. Messes with a couple machines and then stops at the pool table. (Yippee. So rather he be rolling the full-sized cue balls about perched on a chair or playing Air Hockey or the football table game than staring at a screen blowing things up killing virtual people.)

Even as arcade games beckon... (Taken on separate occasion)

So that’s where he is when another boy who looks to be under 5 runs in unaccompanied. The new boy grabs one of the full sized cue sticks and starts competing with Rockstar to push the cue balls into the pockets. I quickly come over. Those sticks are like, 5 feet long and both boys are brandishing them about precariously. I scan the clubhouse. There is a helper busily selecting magazines to read outside the room, her back turned.

My blood starts to boil. The way in which some (I concede not all) helpers enjoy facilities while blatantly neglecting the children under their care is a pet peeve. I get to say that because I had a previous helper who took extra time off to swim in the Bel-Air indoor pool (I daresay she had way more time to use it than I did when I worked – I was fine with it because she was caring for Rockstar and I wanted her to be happy) and then cooked nothing from the carefully written-out menus she was given with which to prepare Rockstar’s food, “He don’t eat so I don’t cook.”

New boy’s helper finally saunters in with her chosen reading – by which time I’ve already overseen a full game between the two cue-swinging boys. I frown at her, she is of course impervious, she sits for 2 minutes before sauntering back out to use the toilet and find something else to read. All the while I’m doing her job for her, minding both boys (because mine is the smaller and they are armed with sticks) and she has not said a single word – not even to the boy under her care – before walking in and out like she owns the place.

 

With the gym and magazines in background

New boy moves off to soldier game, but doesn’t know how to work it. His questions and pleas, louder and louder, echo in the room and fall on deaf ears. Well, almost all deaf ears. “Mum. He’s not playing.” “Mum. Can you help?” I note with satisfaction that Rockstar himself has no interest in the game anymore, even when the older boy is trying valiantly to play it. I note with less satisfaction he has no problem lending the older boy his mum.

Sigh. The only reason I didn’t respond (I find questions very hard to ignore, I answer almost as a reflex because I’m mildly obsessive compulsive) was because I thought maybe his mum left instructions he was not supposed to play the soldier game and that’s why his helper is ignoring him (though she was ignoring him before too.) Half-heartedly I explain, wondering if the helper is now going home to report, “Not me Mam. This other Mam she taught him!” She also taught him to eat candy! Not eat veggies! Turn to a life of crime!

I get deployed by my Rent-A-Mum Offspring to answer a couple more times before his helper finishes the second periodical she’s reading and throws a very unconvincing do you need help on the soldier machine from across the room. Hell. So he’s not actually prohibited from playing (I was thinking if he was she shouldn’t even bring him anywhere near it, I don’t know any little boys – even older babies – who don’t somehow get fascinated with it, it’s the most popular machine in the room by a long shot.)

She slowly walks over then proceeds to not answer any of his questions, instead using the mirror right next to the soldier machine to squeeze her pimples. And occasionally watch me scowl in the reflection. F*** F*** F**************!!!!

“Mum.” Rockstar whispers. He messed up something. Not badly, but carelessly (warned him several times he still did it) and now I have to report it.

I’m mortified. And furious at Rockstar. More furious than if we had been in the room alone. (But not by a lot more.) So much for my self-righteousness about minding kids.

And so I can’t even look at the idiot helper for the idiot mum who didn’t manage to keep her child out of trouble. We leave immediately, my being unable to look anyone in the eye aggravated by a very dense club house receptionist who cannot understand my heartfelt apology, thereby making me repeat it and Rockstar’s misdemeanor several more times for all to hear.

What a crap day.

But if you have a helper who has zits and might be bringing your 5-or-under boy to the arcade room in the Bel-Air Clubhouse sometime after lunch, email me. I will tell you the exact time to request a play back of the CCTV tape (they are usually very helpful about this, they have even offered to play back tapes without residents’ asking, some other residents have told me) and you can decide if you want to keep the zit-popping helper after you watch it.

Caught on tape also, of course, will be Rockstar’s mess up and my mortification. But I’m not kidding about believing kids really should not be left alone with negligent helpers. The other day, also in the clubhouse, I barely kept another small child from toppling off a tall stool – he’d been calling for help and his helper was too busy playing the sound-mixing game. She had the unmitigated gall to scowl when, while keeping him from falling, I asked her to come help him off. Bloody lazy, stupid –

So I’ll bite the bullet about my own child’s misdemeanor/ my mortification getting watched over and over. Don’t leave your child with a helper like that. Hey. All those cameras – it’s a good way to check on your helpers, all you working mums who install cameras at home like I used to. The helper’s probably more careful near your home camera.

 

Posted in aileensml | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 1 Comment

Found: Mother’s Day Ad For Sing Yin At W Hotel In Kowloon

Posted on May 8, 2011 by admin

Remember that thing I did for a Mother’s Day Ad before heading off to Singapore for Easter? It was in the Economic Times…

Told ya they weren’t “pretty” shots… But I like the expression on my “son’s” face…

Not that you have to break the bank or anything, but just saying “Thank You Mum” is SO appropriate – and if they can declare a national holiday when some people get married, they can have a day to remind everyone to acknowledge their mums. Not… That that’s the only day people should do that…

But seriously… All that stress mums have to go thru today… It’s a jungle out there!

And with that,

HAPPY MOTHER’S DAY TO ONE AND ALL!!!!!

Posted in aileensml | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , | 2 Comments

Second Mother’s Day Gift

Posted on May 8, 2011 by admin

It’s Mother’s Day and the hub is on business trip (spent his last morning on Friday hanging out with Rockstar because it’s especially weird for him to miss Rockstar Quality Time on weekends) so he did something he doesn’t usually do – nod to consumerism.

So it was totally unexpected when I come back from walking the dog and the Rockstar is waving a Georg Jensen shopping bag about. Especially since I thought I already got my Mother’s Day gift.

Oh, Baby
Oh, You Shouldn’t Have
Oh! I’m Undone!
Flirt A Little…
Flirt A Bit More…
Take It Off! Take It All Off!
Rockstar: OpenItOpenItOpenIt
Mystery Revealed: Georg Jensen Bangle Watch
There was a card too…

Georg Jensen Bangle Watch was one of the biggest things I lusted after fresh out of university… I always thought they make the coolest “work accessories” because they have the whole “liquid metal” thing going, so sleek…

When I felt I could afford to buy it about 3 years later however, serious watch-collecting colleagues snorted, “If you wanted a real watch for your budget you should get a Tag (Heuer). Bulgari, Chopard, Georg Jensen, these are all jewelry names.“

(Not that that stopped makers of said remarks from buying them, just they also bought the “real” watches and considered watch purchases of jewelry labels more frivolous…)

I went with a Tag. It’s still my everyday watch. They really do make good watches. But label be damned, I happen to like the watches by the jewelry brands. And bangle watch… a real trip down memory lane. I never bought it, it was too guilty a pleasure…

Other than that It's Old Tee Day for us... Which is just what we like to lounge around in when Kings isn't home...

Posted in aileensml | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 2 Comments

Tiffany Mum, Tiger Mum, Hippie Mum, Just Mum: Which Mum Are You?

Posted on May 6, 2011 by admin

The New York Times ran a story mid-March about a Manhattan mum who was suing her daughter’s USD 19,000 a year preschool for failing to adequately prepare her child for an IQ test required for private elementary school admission. The suit claims her 4 year old was still being taught shapes and colors, “a two-year old’s learning environment.” Also in the suit apparently, it’s “no secret that getting a child into the Ivy League starts in nursery school.”

Molly Jong-Fast then published a story in this month’s US edition of Harper’s Bazaar that mentioned among others a family friend was filing a lawsuit against her daughter’s Manhattan private school for not accepting her younger son. In it she described the rise of the Tiffany Mum, and how one of the nannies of 3 boys under-5 showed her color-coded schedules with no fewer than two after-school activities per day. Squash, basketball, chess, piano, robotics, math, speech and occupational therapy (as a precautionary measure) and Mandarin. (I noted that last with interest, as well as the preoccupation with Mandarin-speaking nannies, since this was an article about parenting on the Upper East Side in New York.)

But anyway wow. I’m like Total Hippie Mum by comparison. I, who was erm, not exactly raised hippie (which could make Understatement Of The Year.) Thing is, for reasons some of which I will not disclose here I still spent years training in less-than-ideal/well-equipped gyms and practicing on a broken down piano. Then I had other kids around me who made me feel “uncool” because they had exquisite pianos (or shoes) so I smugly type that I was the only one in that bunch who finished my grade 8 and it was on the cheapest 3rd hand piano with some keys that didn’t work. (Though I only scraped thru on much less practice time than you really are supposed to be putting in.)

That was for all you kids with the stuff who make other kids feel lousy – you’re doing them a favor because you piss em off so much they get even more determined to kick your butt. Scheduling and expensive schools et al are a parenting choice, I’m not judging… Some kids take to it, others don’t, each parent knows their child best.

But the rubbing it in someone else’s face to feel good about yourself is uncool (now I’m judging). There is a mummy equivalent of “Hi, I’m from Harvard.””Hi, I’m a Managing Director at Goldman Sachs.” (If you’re really that smart how come you’re going about life (or the playground) just asking to get your butt kicked? Think you won’t need friends, or else you want to be friends with people who will only be your friend when you’re the mummy equivalent of Nice To Meet You I’m Harvard-Goldman Sachs? I mean get real friends right, doesn’t everyone need them, they’re great for sharing notes and tips and a beer after you all kick Nice To Meet You I’m dot-dot-dot’s butt with relish together..)

But back to Tiffany Mum – oh wait, I already made my points.

But I don’t think everyone is doing that to keep up with the Joneses. Ms Jong-Fast also talks about Type A Tiger Mums who just have to win at everything, parenting included (check!), but there are also the working mums who feel real guilt. I can understand the I Can’t Always Be There, But At Least With That Comes The Stuff I Can Spring For. Dyed-pink real-live ponies and hay bales at birthday parties. (Ok that’s just a little scary.)

But… Mums Who Downgraded – Think you’re not “spending” right by not dropping the several million HKD for a private school corporate debenture that’s within your budget and that your peers are all running after? By not filling every hour of your child’s free time with extra-curricular activities? What about the salary you gave up in order to spend more time at home?

Truth is, once I got pregnant, my work choices changed. I had to learn that it really didn’t matter how kickass I was at the job – if I wanted children, I was going to have to be the one who had them. And then I was going to have to be my child’s mum…

So I woke 90 minutes earlier for a year to express breastmilk before starting my dealing room day and the year-and-more after I don’t really know what I ate at home because it was all in a mix in a bowl while I bathed Rockstar (none of our maids have ever bathed him though very occasionally Kings did) and then “read” in front of him – product termsheets, economic reports, Harper’s Bazaar just so he would see me reading while he played on the bed and oh, if he wanted to try it there just happened to be a whole bunch of baby books or my magazines within his reach.

Then I remember telling my new boss when I got back from maternity that I was fine with the P/L target (and I met it, even during the financial crisis) BUT I wished to be in as few management meetings (ie the politicking kind) as possible. I did not want to bring that home to Rockstar.

But that said I didn’t like when people at work (ironically, mums themselves -I tell you mums are the ones who judge other mums the hardest) would describe pregnant co-workers, “She’s pregnant, she’s going to be giving up half her braincells for the next 6 months then.” (When I heard that I wasn’t even pregnant in Singapore – though if anyone thought it during my own pregnancy in Hong Kong I wasn’t aware.

My point is, I did not become a birdbrain once I had a child. But my choices at work change And it’s not easy to be a working mum, there are mums who struggle with real guilt about it.

Anyway. I just remembered something that another mum told me, about how those who dropped a lot of cash for the more expensive schools were also the ones who tended to organize many other extra-curriculars. (She should know, she hangs out with a lot of em). As a teen (not even a Kindergartner), I was once enrolled in what I felt was too many, and found my productiveness and what I took away from each different lesson diminished.

I’m not in the least bit trained in the education field, and somehow from banking I picked up this habit – we would have analysts who did nothing but look at say, the Turkish market, the Indian market etc etc. We would have structurers who did nothing but look at the interest rate curves and how the probability of rate hikes was already/not yet priced in, say. And as “generalists” or “product specialists” who looked at them all, we would be humbled by the fact we didn’t spend our entire careers researching those markets – why not make full use of the work someone else had done on that?

So after I’d decided on a good fit for Rockstar, I just followed most of the stuff I could from his school – the weekly emails, the home-reading tips (complete with briefing notes and a one hour preso). I actually find if you followed it all you do have quite a lot of stuff to do for your child, so sometimes I wonder if you’re really supposed to follow all the advice from the school and still multi-enroll… Schools play a part. Parents play a part. They are very different parts and expecting the one to play the other doesn’t work, leads to disappointment and Just a Loada Bad Stuff

In her article, Ms Jong-Fast quoted one of said multi-scheduling nannies-for-the-5-year-old boys (including eye-rolling), “All these children lack empathy and compassion because those are the things you can’t buy.”

Regardless of your financial situation you can give the best thing to your child. Let your child achieve for him or herself, not for you.

Just be Mum. It’s both amazingly simple and incredibly hard.

 

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

It’s What You Make Of It

Posted on May 5, 2011 by admin

 

For my story, keep reading...

Rockstar: Mum. Are you helping me out in school today?

Me: <satisfactorily> Yes. (First day of school after the Easter hols, who knew I really did have a volunteer session coming up and could say that. Rockstar asks quite often, and usually he gets a No, Mums take turns and it’s not my day today.)

Rockstar: <solemnly> Then I’ll be on my best behavior. (Because I told him if my presence appears to bring out the worst in him I might not be allowed back, or else I might get sent to help out on the Year 2 floor. Blasphemy! How come Mum gets to the Kindergarten 2 floor before he does! The Rockstar will have none of it! He shall BEHAVE.)

So I’m back at the cutting station today and we have various straight or patterned child-friendly scissors, a basket of different kinds of paper scraps, tape and glue, and then also a stack of paper flags printed on paper flyers. Lifesaver.

I am solemnly advised my forehead is not an attractive place for the Swedish flag. One little girl suggests my sleeve. But the general consensus is flags go on scrap paper. And then the fun starts.

“—‘s not sharing.”

Crap. Not again. <Casually> “Well that’s because she hasn’t finished. She’ll hand it over when she’s done with it because this is the cool table and us cool people all share.”

Moments later the little stick of glue is forked over. “See? Told you she’ll hand it over when she’s done with it because she’s cool.” (But inside I’m OMG. That Really Worked? Yippee! Dance a little jig! Don’t forget to pretend you expected that!)

Everyone’s cutting little flags and there aren’t enough straight scissors to go around. Hmm. “You can have mine. Oh hey – you guys have scissors that cut jagged edges and wavy lines? I never had these at my school.”

“I want one.” Ta-ra Ta-raa.

(My cellphone’s ringing on silent. Hah! I remembered to switch to silent! No cellphones on the kiddie floors! A-star for attentiveness on our first day back! I am a good motherrr!)

Rockstar pipes up, “Me too!” Really?

(Cellphone stops. Probably a booker for SNL. Move over Seth Meyers, Rockstar’s mummy wants your job.)

And then the first batch of kids start showing off their handiwork. Flags stuck haphazardly on pieces of scrap paper. “These could be armbands.” “Totally this season’s headband.” “And, this one. <authoritatively> I think there’s a piece of art in a United Nations office somewhere that looks just like that. They might be calling you to buy that.”

Am I on drugs?

 

Art at Ritz Carlton, Singapore - Does this not look like a bunch of colorful cut and pasted flags a Kindergartner could make?

“How come the United Nations office has flags?”

“Because United Nations offices have visitors from many different countries. Different countries have different flags. Putting different flags up like this <indicating her art piece> makes the visitors feel welcome.”

(Please, please tell me I didn’t just fill someone’s child’s head with bull. But that really is the kind of answer I would’ve given the Rockstar <crossed fingers>)

 

MCQ by Alexander Mcqueen t-shirt

 

And boots

And Alexander McQueen clutch

And then we discover a stack of paper at the bottom of the basket with shirts and trousers printed on them. Some of the kids have started coloring the clothes and decorating them with flags. “That looks like something Alexander McQueen might come up with. He’s a famous fashion designer.”

PLEASE don’t let anyone pursue that further in case I somehow blurt out, “He famously had a collection titled ‘Highland Rape,’ recreated the dance adaptation of ‘They Shoot Horses, Don’t They?’ for his 2004 ready-to-wear collection and then hung himself 9 days after his mummy died.”

“I’m really good at coloring.”

“So am I.”

PHEEEEWWwwww.

And so it goes, til the end of playtime and some of us volunteers beat a laughing retreat off the floor, exchanging relieved chatter, agreeing the sessions are so enjoyable, but so exhausting. We really need to stash candy bars in our bags for next time. (Oh the joys, before our kids can read this. “Mum. I thought you don’t eat candy.”)

And so, more flags you can wear…

 

Thank you Lady In Marine Flag Dress

Thank you Katy Perry

Thank you Ginger Spice

Thank you Guy Who Looks Like Serial Killer In Latest Bomb Slasher Flick

Thank you Chihuahua

Because only the boring are bored.

Posted in School For Rockstar, Talking To Rockstar | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 2 Comments

Crazy Like A Fox; starring President Obama and Donald Trump

Posted on May 4, 2011 by admin

Dear Rockstar,

This isn’t really a blog post. Mum’s just putting down a bunch of videos about the first African American President of The United States, and another guy who’s rich and funny… Though he may not have intended to be…

At the risk of totally coming to the party late and stating the blindingly obvious, Mum is dubbing this collection of copied and pasted videos the Crazy Like A Fox Skit.

The U.S. is currently facing their worst crisis – their debt is reaching the ceiling of US$14.29 trillion and the Treasury is trying to convince policy makers to increase the debt ceiling.  The risks of not doing so in the next 2 weeks will be to have the U.S. default on their debt obligations. (Mum might write more about investments if she can think of something vaguely interesting and original to say.)

Anyway, during this time, the rich guy whose name is Donald Trump wants to run for the US presidency in 2012.  And he was adamant to do his own research over President Obama having not been born in the States.

[youtube http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=i8uy_3ITh4g]

So then President Obama released his longform birth cert, proving if you create a whole lotta fuss and annoy people, you might still get what you want… If what you wanted was to not have to do any further work and have someone hand you what you wanted. Maybe.

[youtube http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qJY5DOengy0]

But as Mum always tells you, if you behave like a baby you will be treated like a baby. Maybe not quite the same thing here, but still if you fuss and what-not to get your way, don’t expect to not be treated exactly like that.

[youtube http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=k8TwRmX6zs4]

😀 Who knew the President of the United States could be that funny?

But Mum was just thinking – The Donald must’ve kinda known that was gonna happen, he’s a rich dude with his own tv program and well, high rise. Why bother? So either he really doesn’t care or he just likes getting his Disney videos at stately dinners for kicks.

….. so anyway Seth Myers gets pissy because obviously the President of the United States is after his day job:

[youtube http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Mv4MzaGk2VI]

Except for the Republican beauty queen Vice President one however, Mum thinks the President’s material was funnier. He even invoked the gods of Disney. His own mum must be so proud.

Love,

Mum

 

Posted in aileensml | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 2 Comments

The “Crazy Guy” on the Peak

Posted on May 2, 2011 by admin

At the halfway point on one of the hiking trails up at the Peak, a middle-aged bespectacled guy sings Jackie Cheung songs into his tape recorder. I don’t even remember anymore when I first started seeing him there, he’s as much a part of the trail as JD is (and she gets a lot more attention, this is a very common image in umpteen tourists’ and locals’ cameras)

 

"Crazy Singing Guy"

Amid workout gear, occasional walking stick, umpteen trotting canines, his white work shirt/ leather shoes/ dark pants and occasional tie stand out as he walks briskly round and round on the trail. And yes, the singing.

He’s never made eye contact with me, or for that matter anyone I know, but it’s just (very) mildly interesting to see how various passersby react to him.

Exasperated uncles attempt to shush him, calling after him in varying degrees of politeness to shut it.

A couple of acquiantances I know (she’s local Hongkie, he’s Swiss, they have a Shih Tzu mix) groan “Oh, not the crazy guy again.””Deluded is just a a degree of crazy.”

Passing locals mutter to each other in Cantonese “Humph. Don’t you know Hong Kong has all kinds of people”

And so he carries on. Today he had accompaniment in the form of a woman’s voice singing chinese opera style. Further up on occasion I hear a flute playing a vaguely oriental tune. (Seriously. WHY would I make this up?)

But woman’s voice and flute playing don’t usually get much attention, “crazy guy” does. Maybe because he’s the one everyone can see marching about. I’m yet to see him actually engage with anyone, all these years I’ve seen him up there. He doesn’t even blink on days he gets heckled. And so instead I imagine…

He lives alone. Or with his mother. He works what most people would think is a boring job. Like accounting.

(I get to say that because I was accounting/ auditing- trained in Singapore. Seriously, which little girl ever says “When I grow up I want to be an auditor?” Yet the basic training helped me stay error-free and allowed me to trace old trades. That might not sound very useful but during the crisis in particular it was, because new clients would come in with nothing more than a badly photocopied termsheet or say they’d lost the originals when their RMs in the other houses left/ they decided to transfer their assets, “and if you want that money to roll over into your new products, or if you want me to lock that money in with you, make sense of that blurred up termsheet. Find me an unwind price.” Who knew?

I even likened it to forensics on occasion, because issuing entities were obviously not necessarily arranging entities when they packaged the products and then there was the fact many entities weren’t quite what they used to be because of that many mergers, acquisitions, a bankruptcy or two…

Mangled Blurry Scanned Termsheet was like the white chalkline of where the body had fallen and now you had to figure how it had wound up here and what organs were recoverable. I loved the job, I loved the puzzle. Especially when we weren’t the ones who pushed the guy off the high rise, we were the ones trying to recover the remains. Figure out what could be taken apart and perhaps still retain value on its own. Which pieces might be worth zero now, yet still have a chance at being worth something in future.

Want a bond? How about zero-coupon paper? Why buy just the zero, get a deeply discounted structured note. Find someone who doesn’t want to sit on their badly-valued investment because they need the cash today or no longer trust the credit of the note issuer. Sell that to someone who simply wants plain paper from the note issuer. Because the embedded options come free, at that bad valuation. They might be worth close to zero today, in which case you’ve bought what you wanted, a simple paper. But what if the market moves and those worthless options are now worth something?

Truth is, you’re the only one who can decide how useful you make every shred of information, of knowledge you get. I realized that the day I heard a civil engineer by training recommend a kind of reinforcement for an Asset Backed Commercial Paper Program portfolio management spreadsheet based on how he had been trained to reinforce the foundations of building ceilings)

And if “crazy guy” is proud of his singing, what’s the harm, really? He doesn’t stink. He’s not rude to anyone, heck he doesn’t even look at anyone. Isn’t it better that he’s happy and proud of his singing than one day he realizes no one likes him him or his singing and then takes out a gun and kills us all?

Common Sight In Many Passersby's Cameras (JD throwing stick down the side of the hill so someone throws it back up for her to catch... she can do this for hours... I should rent her out to other parents)

I haven’t seen any dogs pay him heed, even when he steps around or over some of the little ones in his ever-purposeful stride. Sometimes animals really are smarter than people.

But mostly “crazy guy” was good for a trip down memory lane today. It’s one of those days when I remember I loved my job so and it had nothing to do with my own ego.

Thank you, Crazy Guy.

 

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