First Loaf

Posted on March 4, 2011 by admin

Was soooo happy to find this in Rockstar’s school bag yesterday… He’d been talking about reading Little Red Hen and how he’d made his own bread and after they baked it he would get some at snack time… But then he skips a day a week for Putonghua and I was feeling bad thinking he’d missed the chance to eat his bread…

Needless to say he wanted me to post this pic (he watched me upload it while munching on the bigger loaf)

That’s my Shanghai Tang teapot in the background under an Ikea clock /key cupboard and “false books” (little red corner) where we hide away some clutter (baby foam sanitiser, insect repellant and bite medication etc).

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The Lost Bike

Posted on March 3, 2011 by admin

ACT I SCENE I

The Bel Air Club House indoor play area.

Rockstar’s Mother: Everyone else has gone home, it’s time for lunch.

Rockstar: No! Go away!

Rockstar’s Mother: Speak that way to me again and I really will.

Rockstar: GO. AWAY!

Exit RM, who moves to sit at the only exit to the secure play area, unbeknownst to the Rockstar.

5 minutes later, the Rockstar bursts into tears.

Rockstar: Mahmeeeee! Mahmeeeee!

RM: <rather too smugly> But you told me to go away. And I said if you spoke that way, I really would, what.

Rockstar: Mahmeeeee! Mahmeeeee!

RM: Now are we going home?

Rockstar: Yeeesss…..

Exit R being carried by RM. R clings all the way home and refuses to get on his bike parked outside the club house.

 

ACT I SCENE II

Outside their apartment after RM carries R all the way home.

RM: Ok we’re home now. Please take of your shoes while I run your bath.

Rockstar: <sulkily> Don’t want to.

RM: Fine if you need a moment. Come find me when you’ve taken your shoes and socks off for your bath.

The Rockstar proceeds to lie face down at entrance of apartment without another word. 10 minutes later, Rockstar enters the bathroom.

Rockstar: <conversationally, smiling> Mum. The floor is wet.

RM: Yes, because (our new helper) is cleaning it. Ready for your bath?

Rockstar: Yes.

RM: Good job. Just in time.

Rockstar splashes happily.

 

ACT I SCENE III

Bedroom in preparation for a nap and Putonghua lesson post bath.

RM: Rockstar. You left your bike back there. Now what?

Rockstar: I’ll get it tomorrow.

RM: <curious because he’s never had this situation before> What if it’s gone by tomorrow?

Rockstar: Then I lost it.

RM: ??!! But it’s your bike. I thought you loved that bike. You really didn’t want to bring it back just now?

Rockstar: I was crying just now.

(And of course, he knows he’s back for a rest and then one-on-one Putonghua, which is probably why he doesn’t ask to go right back which frankly I’m lazy to do)

The Rockstar naps for an hour, then has a 2 hour Putonghua lesson.


ACT II SCENE I

At Tree Café

RM: (On the phone with Rockstar’s dad) …. And then he actually left the bike there. He’s never done that before. I almost want it to be gone, to teach him a lesson. He said he’ll go back and get it tomorrow. I don’t think he believes he might lose it.

RD: I can swing by with the car to pick it up on the way home. What should I do with it?

RM: Leave it in the boot. I don’t want him to get it back so easily.

 

ACT III SCENE I:

At Home

Enter RM, coming home from the café.

RM: Hi darling, how was your Putonghua lesson?

Rockstar starts chirpily singing one Putonghua song after another. 3 songs altogether.

Shortly after, the phone rings.

RD: Where did you say the bike was? The new guard doesn’t know and we don’t see any bike here.

RM: At the entrance. Some of the other kids may have ridden it around for a bit so it might not be right where we left it, though. It’s been the whole day. I did tell the guard to keep an eye and he said no problem… They all saw me walking out toting Rockstar.

Rockstar: I want to talk I want to talk I want to talk!!!

RM: Wait darling, we’re trying to find your bike.

Rockstar: I want to talk I want!!!

RM: Stop it. Firstly, don’t interrupt and secondly, Daddy is trying to find your bike, which you left at the club house this morning.

RM exits, closing bedroom door because she needs to give RD some identifying feature about the bike (like the dog tags with our numbers attached) so he can show the guard and is allowed to leave with the bike.

Rockstar bursts into tears.

 

ACT III SCENE II

At Home

Enter Rockstar’s dad thru front door.

RD: (In Bahasa to RM because Rockstar doesn’t know Bahasa) It’s in the boot. (To Rockstar in English) You lost your bike, Rockstar. We told you not to leave your things lying around.

Rockstar: Ok.

RD: Why did you leave it there?

Rockstar: I was crying.

RD: Why were you crying?

Rockstar: Before that I……

RM: He started crying after not wanting to go home and telling me to go away; when I actually went away.

Rockstar: (After listening carefully to RM’s narration) Yeah.

RM: You agree that’s what happened?

Rockstar: Yeah.

 

ACT IV SCENE I:

The following morning

Rockstar: I want to go (back to the Club house to get his bike)

RM: You can’t today because you have school. Anyway Daddy already went back yesterday and had a hard time finding it.

 

ACT IV SCENE II:

Several hours later, Rockstar is dressed for school.

Rockstar: (After taking out his old scooter) Can I scoot down? And then after school today where are you meeting me so I can scoot?

RM: Uh, why do you want to scoot today?

Rockstar: I lost my bike. I only have my scooter left.

Note: At this point I can barely play along – he hasn’t asked for a new bike, and he hasn’t demanded to go back and look for his old one after I told him he has school. He just went and dug up his old scooter stored away in his room and which he hasn’t touched in awhile.

RM: So..… you’re….. just gonna give up biking?

Rockstar: Yeah.

RM: Because you left it there and lost it??

Rockstar: Yeah. I was crying yesterday.

RM: ??!! <slowly> Be….cause you were naughty.

Rockstar: Yeah.

RM: Well, you were good today, you tidied up all your toys by yourself and put on your school uniform, maybe Mummy and Daddy could try again to see if we can ask the guards to look for it?

Rockstar: <not much reaction, he’s too busy scooting about> Yeah.

 

ACT V SCENE I:

Rockstar scoots through the lobby to the car for school

RM: OMG Rockstar! Your bike in the boot! See? Sometimes when you’re nice it makes people try harder to be nice to you too, or help you out. Daddy tried to really hard to get the guards to search the area for the bike again after I told him what a good boy you were this morning!

Rockstar: <Grins> We didn’t really lose (the bike).

RM: What do you mean, yes it was lost yesterday.

Rockstar: <Reproachfully> No it wasn’t.


ACT V SCENE II:

In the car on the way to school

Driver: So what happened?

RM: We left Rockstar’s bike at the club house yesterday. And some kids probably rode it around for a bit and didn’t put it back so we lost it. Didn’t we, Rockstar?

Rockstar: <silence>

RM: We left the bike at the playground why, Rockstar?

Rockstar: Because I was crying.

RM: Why were you crying?

Rockstar: Because you left me there.

RM: Why did I leave you there?

Rockstar: Because I told you to go away.

Driver: He doesn’t lie or make excuses, does he?

RM: Not really, no. It’s one thing about him I’m really proud of. He faces the music.

THE END.

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Rockstarisms #105 & #106

Posted on March 3, 2011 by admin

#105:

While messing with a jigsaw

Rockstar: I need to finish fixing this fast. I need to finish this before somebody says, “Go and sleep, go and sleep.”

Somebody is always saying “Go and sleep, go and sleep.”

Me: Is that somebody me?

Rockstar: <pause> Yes.

#106

Rockstar: Mum. Can I trade for a marshmallow?

Me: What do you want to trade for it?

Rockstar: I want a marshmallow.

Me: Yes, darling. but you said you wanted to trade. What do you want to exchange for it?

Rockstar: <Thinks for a moment> My saxophone.

Me: You don’t own a saxophone, do you mean your xylophone?

Rockstar: Same thing.

<Brings over xylophone and proceeds to demonstrate how it works>

It can go ‘Do Re Me Fa So La Ti’ and ‘Do’ again. See? I told you!

Me: Ok interesting trade. You got yourself a deal.

Rockstar: Never mind. I want honey dew.

Me: So I don’t get your xylophone?

Rockstar: No.

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SPCA’s Bloggers Against Animal Cruelty

Posted on March 1, 2011 by admin

** Updated re transport – please contact Nuffnang HK for details, I understand the free transport is now from Stanford Hotel**

Barbecue & Pet gathering

Event date : 6th March 2011
Time : 11.30am – 4pm
Participants : Open to the public

(contact Nuffnang HK  at francky.cheung@nuffnang.com to sign up)

Venue : Hong Kong Canine Working and Agility Club
Main Activities : Talk by SPCA
Mini Games
Various booths (fun and educational)

– Years ago pre-Rockstar at Victoria Peak Garden, Kings, JD and I were approached by an elderly Caucasian woman who wanted to warn us about a “Bowen Road Dog Poisoner”. That would be the first time we heard about the Bowen Road Dog Murderer who has by now been at large around 2 decades. This lady had recently lost her Labrador to rat poison-infused meat along the trail and had then spent 3 weeks – some of it in rainy bad weather – with her friends trying to catch the bastard.

The SPCA offered a HKD 30,000 reward for information.

There is a Bowen Road dog killer, we’ll get you you c**t! Facebook group.

– More than 5 million people over the internet have watched a young woman abuse and finally kill a rabbit by crushing it under her body weight and a piece of glass. This was purportedly designed and executed by the online group “crushfetish” for financial gain.

Where was it again that I read that before he started on people, some guy practiced drowning and strangling live rats to get up the nerve?

Fine, I might not have articulated that very well in making the connect between prevention of cruelty to animals and what it has to do with our children, but well it should never be alright to treat any living thing like it doesn’t matter. Cruelty should be unacceptable in human behavior. And aren’t we raising another human being (or two or three) as parents?

I just think caring for other living things is an important part of childhood education in being a person. Heck, I also just love animals – my childhood was enriched by 9 dogs, 1 rabbit, 1 albino rat (my mum saved Pinky from a high school science class dissection, I had to bathe him wearing thick leather gloves), 16 hamsters and umpteen fish and turtles.

I had a catfish that sucked on my finger if I put it in the tank. I believe I am quite good at breeding hamsters (was upset after Heidi ate her first litter. Vowed to read up and do better. I was about 10 then. We were unprepared because the dumbbb pet shop guy we bought the first 2 hamsters from assured us they were both female).

Need advice on hamster breeding for your kids, can email me.

Anyway, I’m going for this thing on Sunday. If you have a pet who likes to swim or BBQ, come join the SPCA event. If it’s warm, you may want to bring insect repellant.

HKCWAC is fitted with showers and dryers for the dogs but are BYOS (Bring Your Own Shampoo). I heard the actual talk by the SPCA speaker is in Cantonese, I’m not sure if they are going to mention the rabbit torturing, so I’m glad Rockstar’s Cantonese is still very, very rudimentary – he’ll probably be busy chasing JD around on the Agility training pitch or watching her swim back and forth in the pool.

So by next week I should have figured out an even better way to speak up against animal cruelty on a mummy blog – or at least post loadsa cute animal and Rockstar pictures. Stay tuned…

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Boy Friends And Girl Friends

Posted on February 28, 2011 by admin

Rockstar doesn’t like girls. Apparently they get “much angry,” whereas boys don’t. At School Halloween Dress Up Day, all the little girls in the poufy “princess dresses” were pronounced “silly”.

Rockstar particularly doesn’t like this one girl. The feeling is mutual. She’s one of the oldest children in his year, whereas he’s one of the youngest. She’s observed, “He’s younger,” and he… absolutely can’t stand her because he gets really angry at anyone who doesn’t take him seriously. At school events months back I’ve actually caught the two of them glowering at each other when they thought no one was looking.

Rockstar is a little mafia. Normally he takes awhile to warm to someone but can really hold a grudge – ask his former (very respected in Hong Kong) pediatrician who didn’t believe baby Rockstar could possibly remember the nurses (sometimes in facemasks) who were um, more brisk with him – only to realize checkups were far less painful (no tears even for shots) if they switched nurses and well, the attending ped too.

So given his penchant for strong likes/ dislikes, one of the things I watched to make sure he doesn’t develop a hatred for school, was whether he was making friends – my carefully casual FAQs are “Who did you play with today?” Or “Who’s your best friend?”

And btw I don’t ask “What did you do in school today?” very often because he’s 3, but when I do, I get things like:

“I ate crackers. I drank water.”

Upon more prompting, “They were out of raisins.”

(Rockstar will however volunteer information about jigsaws or songs, just when he answers me it’s usually something like the above. I’m unsure if it’s deliberate; he’s not much of a foodie, he just eats when he’s hungry and has been known to turn down a second or third piece of candy offered by salesgirls when we go shopping. So it beats me why his answers to my questions about school are about the food, of all things.)

Anyway. “Who’s your best friend?”

The usual suspects always cropped up – no surprises, all boys’ names.

After satisfactorily noting he’d developed a strong liking to school about a month ago, I’d stopped paying as close attention to his friends. Then I kind of noticed he’d stopped telling me <insert 2 Indian boys’ names> were his best friends, and he’d stopped complaining about mean and angry girls, but didn’t’ think much of it.

Until late last week.

I start. “SHE’s your best friend??”

Rockstar nods distractedly, still examining the tires on his truck (we’ve been having conversations about why wheels need tires).

That’s the little girl he absolutely can’t stand.

She’s also Little Girl With The Stuck Zipper.

“Also ———“

I recognize the name. That’s a little girl who says hi to me on the stairs during school runs. Both girls look much older and taller than my son. Rockstar’s never mentioned the second girl before, the only reason I know her name is because her helper introduced us after a few “Hi’s” on the stairs.

I start up on the boys’ names Rockstar used to rattle off. There don’t seem to have been any fights, nothing unusual that I glean from him. He generally likes them all, except for one who pushes, that hasn’t changed.

Well the caveat is it’s a young child’s account – but it would seem that after I started playtime volunteer slots, while more boys can recognize me, they don’t modify their behavior with Rockstar. Little Boy Whom Rockstar Complains Pushes (this is my thin-skinned son requiring proper apologies from people who push past him) was one of the kids who went looking for Rockstar in the toilets for me when I showed up. Rockstar complains he still pushes.

But as for some of the little girls…..

“I thought you and <Girl With Cardigan> didn’t like each other? When – Why did you change your mind?”

Rockstar considers.

“Because now she’s nice.”

“She’s really nice to me, mum.”

Wow. Who would’ve thought. I never stop learning all the ways givers are blessed.

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Trip To Mid Levels Veterinary Centre

Posted on February 27, 2011 by admin

The canine version of “well-baby” checkups is I guess, the annnual “well-dog” for which the vet sends reminders…

We’ve been going to this vet on Mosque Road for like, forever…One of the docs has had quite some experience with Border Collies… N-ot that good for us, actually – we constantly get earfuls about the human food tidbits JD bums off us, “Dogs are pack animals. You send a message when you feed them while you eat, and Border Collies are very smart.”

Yeah, we know. JD’s hidden the remote control in her basket on occasion – without chewing it up – when she wants us to throw a ball around for a bit. It’s why she gets tidbits – she’s part of the pack too.

(This vet btw is almost right next to this famous “Mid-levels Escalator,” the giant escalator you can ride to work in Central from quite a few mid-levels apartment developments…)

And speaking of family…

It’s hard to tell which one is more keen to get out…

(Rockstar’s peeve is we won’t let him stomp about or in general make too much noise because it upsets the already nervous and miserable animals all waiting their turn…

And did anyone notice the hot over-the-knee boots with sheer black tights and mini in the back of the shot that someone wore to bring her two shelter mutts (adopting rescued animals is quite big, especially among the expat population here) to the vet’s?

(One dog had a tummy bug, the other was there for moral support… And yes their owner was a very pretty Caucasian woman who looks to be in her early-to-mid 20s)

Dogs have flu vaccines too… Or at least Kennel Cough… Wasn’t recommended to us; btw we essentially follow all the recommendations this vet ever gives…

When JD had Babeosis tick fever (potentially fatal) just after Rockstar was born, her medication was over HKD 5,000… We were also offered a cheaper option which the vet wasn’t as sure would work, and we didn’t take… When we went with the HKD 5k one, he then suggested we get a second opinion and showed us the price list on the medication (essentially the medicine was expensive, their consultation fee was not), but we’d already gone with the HKD 5k before he did all that… They measured out the neon-yellow gunk we had to syringe JD with, gave us a little extra in case we couldn’t get it all in the dog and wasted some, offered a refund on the unused extra (we used it all though – it wasn’t that much more and JD doesn’t like being syringed)

Freaked out face…

Unimpressed face… Though he did watch the vet draw a little blood for a blood test and give JD two shots…

(And YES Kings caught on the berry again!!)

At least he was entertained with JD’s weighing scale though…

At 18.3kgs, JD needs to lose just 0.5kg thereabouts to reach her ideal weight… 2 years back she was 20+kilos, probably from baby food treats… Rockstar’s feeding/ treating responsibly now – you know your child is growing up when your dog sheds her babyweight <tiny tear>

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3 Days

Posted on February 25, 2011 by admin

(With updates at bottom)

Tuesday.

Running late for school run, I turn on BBC’s CBeebies for the 15 minutes before it’s time to leave, while I get dressed.

Me: Ok, time to put on your school uniform, we have to leave now.

Rockstar: No! My. Show. Is. Not. Finished!

Me: (Not too fussed, it’s like, a 5 minute show tops) Fine……….. OK now get dressed.

Rockstar: No! My. (Next) Show. Is. Not. Finished!

I switch off the tv.

Rockstar bursts into tears of rage.

After he sobs for like, a minute

Me: Ok, you ready now? No? Mummy’s going to pack her bag and put on her shoes. If you can’t calm down by the time I’m ready to leave, I’m leaving anyway because you have school, I have an appointment – in fact, in your school. It’s mummy’s volunteer slot today. You miss the ride to school you can sit in front of the tv alone all you want, I still have stuff to do at school today so I’ll go without you.”

(Because I know he prefers school to tv, he’s fighting getting dressed, not going to school).

As I open the door to leave, Rockstar walks over and we get him in his school uniform.

Rockstar: Can I skate down?

Me: Sorry darling, but no, you used the time up on your tantrum so we won’t have time to put on your skates before the car leaves. You can skate all you want tomorrow.

Wednesday.

(Kings comes into bedroom after coming home from work, having passed Rockstar in living room)

Kings: How come when I asked him if he napped today Rockstar said he slept “from 3.30-5.30pm”? Does he usually do that?

Me (To Rockstar): Did you just tell Daddy you were sleeping from 3.30-5.30?

Rockstar: Yes.

Me: Why did you tell daddy that??

Rockstar (patiently): Be-cause, Ms C comes to teach me Chinese at 3.30-5.30.

(Uh, yeah. I know. Also, Kings was on the receiving end for that one, not me, because Kings is the one who pays a lot more attention to his Putonghua, since mine is almost non-existent)

Thursday:

Running late for school run again, I consider switching on Cbeebies.

Me: If I switch on the tv for a few minutes, do you promise to let me switch it off when it’s time for you to get dressed?

Rockstar: Yes.

When I emerge after changing for school run and lunch, Rockstar is nowhere near the tv. He’s helping himself to cereal. When I switch it off he doesn’t even look up.

Rockstar: I’m hungry. I think I want cereal.

He just ate almost an entire bowl of fried noodles, with a side of scrambled eggs and cheese. And had a full glass of chocolate milk to go with all that. How the hell can he be hungry??

But there he is, crunching cereal and looking up at me with wide, innocent eyes. Watching me.

I try to get him dressed.

Rockstar: No! My. Cereal. Is. Not. Finished!

I dress him anyway. It’s like pushing a flaming rag in a bottle of kerosene. He fights every step of the way, bawling in rage. Nor does he stop in the car. I usually “reason” with him when he pauses for breath, but this time it’s like trying to debate someone who is just GABBLING to drown you out.

I seriously consider turning the car around. Because it kinda looks (to me, not anyone else) like I got him started and then farmed him off, frothing at the mouth, onto a school and bunch of other unsuspecting kids who showed up to learn and well, not go nuts. (Different, in my eyes, from say, him not wanting to go to school. In which case yeah, he’s gotta go. But the fights are because he’s mad about being interrupted to change his clothes when he’s “busy”.)

To the background of indignant, angrified gabbling, I start going over the morning. There is a clock on the wall right in front of where Rockstar sits (one of my erm, subtle efforts to start him telling time, there is one in the bathroom too – not just 5 o’clock, 6 o’clock, but quarter past, quarter to, half past and so on.) I don’t think all the positions of the minute hand have stuck, it’s not like he can tell me it’s “5 past noon” but he can probably recognize the different positions. I’ve been pointing out the absolute latest time we can leave home, before we end up “late for school.” They close the front door if we’re late, so if we’re cutting it close, Rockstar will go, “Did they close the door yet?” as we pull up.

Both Tuesday and today, despite the drama, we’re just barely cutting it. ie WAY not as late as I assumed, after getting bawled at on school run. Each time, I was too hassled to look at the clock in front of him as I rushed him out the door. Each time when we got there, the front door of the school was still open.

Could he…? Nooo. He can’t possibly be pushing my buttons for some measure of entertainment just to see what I’m going to do, can he? Or else I haven’t been around enough 3 year olds and this is common behavior and yes, he’s doing it without actually ending up late for school (which he loves).

Anyway. Next school run I’ll put him in his uniform gradually and when he’s not “busy”. We are not having another fight about whether we’re actually late, or whether he’s being bossed into a uniform.

But I guess that means he might end up attending school in a shirt with brunch spills. Ah well. Can’t have everything in this world.

“Rockstar….. Rock-star! If you’re in no condition to be left in school by the time we get there, we’re going home. I’ll drop you off and then mummy has a lunch appointment.”

He doesn’t stop.

Almost 20 long minutes in the car. I’m wondering if we should give up and turn back yet.  But just in case, I keep going. Figure we’ll pull up at the school, and if he’s still going then we’ll leave. (Because if he can at all pull himself together, it’s going to be so he can get to go to school).

As we make that last turn up the hill, he’s abruptly quiet. Has a cuddle. Then bloody gets out like nothing happened, walks up the hill and 2 flights of stairs, even greeting school staff at the door with a “Hello” along the way.

!!! BLOODY HELLL !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

The other two days weren’t too bad, but this last is like something out of Exorcist.

Thank God It’s Friday.

Without engaging in a fight over whether we’re really late and gradually getting him dressed over the course of the morning as he finishes jigsaws, brunch and so on, Rockstar attended school on Friday in high spirits.

And thank you to the mum who wrote in to remind me Rockstar can be late on occasion, he can walk in thru the back door if the front door is closed, the bus children probably come in later than that – and her son sometimes fights getting dressed too.

<Hugs> Thanks.

I also got another emailed suggestion about making dressing a game – using a timer or even mobile phone. This might be especially helpful since Rockstar likes numbers and we can have more conversations about telling time! Thanks again!!

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One Little Hour…

Posted on February 24, 2011 by admin

Up to Rockstar’s class and play areas I go, for my next volunteer slot… 2 or 3 of his classmates look at me and go, “Oh. Where’s Rockstar?”, then go looking about, including in the boys’ toilets, before coming back and announcing they don’t know where he is. (Which I thought was so nice and helpful, I’m surprised they did that. And then Rockstar appears later, turns out he went to change out of wet clothes.)

I’m assigned the jigsaw puzzle station (which is either a stroke of luck or serious perceptiveness on the part of the school since Rockstar is jigsaw-crazy and came home talking about a “new butterfly jigsaw” a day or two ago – which means he’d probably been hanging around there quite a bit, and sure enough I see a butterfly jigsaw on the table).

And – maybe it’s my imagination, but some of the kids seem to be talking a lot more to me than the last time… Surely they can’t remember me, I only did this school playtime gig once before, umpteen weeks ago? Maybe it’s the jigsaw station… A little boy I don’t recognize puts his arms around me a few times as he talks. Must’ve not got the memo about personal space… (that’s a joke lar…)

“I need a chair.” Sure, have mine.

“I want to play too!” Great, let’s all do that together.

“—‘s not sharing.” Uh, she’ll have to put the pieces on the table and share them or she won’t be able to finish the jigsaw herself anyway (a moment later she puts it down). See? The team with more people working together totally got there first!

“I want to try that one!” Good choice, there you go.

“I win!” You guys are brilliant! I didn’t even know how to fit some of those pieces. (Uh, I really didn’t.)

Yay! Great! Good job! EXcellent! More Bubbly Encouraging Stuff!

“Rockstar took my seat.”

Crap. Now what? Oops. I didn’t say that out loud, did I? Phew, no.
Like, 3 or 4 of them are now looking at me. Little, expectant hamster faces waiting for my reaction. Wait, hang on – one of those hamsters is mine.

Did he really?
His classmate got up off that chair to get something. Rockstar kinda moved in thinking the space was free. I was a little worried about Rockstar asking to be carried or getting into a fight about toys and me being put in a spot – so before school I told Rockstar that if it looked like his behavior worsened with me around, I might get assigned to a different floor, so he had to watch his behavior.
We shook on it.

“Hang on…. What’s that? Whoa that’s a tough one! We totally need help over here. Rockstar, do you have a minute?” Rockstar says “Sure.”

PPHEEEEW.

“You’re back. Again.” A little girl comes over. The zipper on her outer cardigan is stuck and it takes a good few minutes to fix it. She looks me straight in the eye and says quietly, “My mum never comes.”

I’m completely unprepared. Her mum must be swamped – little girl mentioned she had an older sibling last time I saw her. By the time I can stutter, “I used to work and I bet I was away a lot more than your mum, so technically I’m just making up for it now,” I’m not sure how much she caught, before it got swallowed up by more Jigsaw Conversation. Damn. If I ever get another chance I better respond faster.

After school, Rockstar wants to visit his favorite fountain. Kings has a few minutes before his next meeting so he watches for the first time and in horror as his only child runs screaming in delight round and round inside a giant fountain and comes out sopping wet (which is why he’s in the school water resistant windbreaker even though it’s not a wet day).

Both Rockstar and I get an earful from the fussier parent in the family. Haha too late, we’ve been doing this for ages now. Rockstar, dripping wet, stands there and demands his dad – who is in full work gear – carry him for a bit. Hah! Brilliant! why didn’t I think of that?

Rockstar didn’t really stick to me all the time in school, in fact I think some of his classmates spent longer at the jigsaw station than he did. At one point he says he’s bored and wanders off to try something else, “Why are you staying at the jigsaws?” Because that was the responsibility mummy was given. “Oh,” he nods sagely. (Having responsibilities are currently important. Hope it lasts). But later he says he enjoyed us both being at school – and – get this, I got spontaneous I love yous! Yippee. Score.

Thank God I stopped working like a nut before Rockstar was older and I totally missed this chance… If unfortunately you still have to work long hours, hopefully your child’s school has something like ESF’s volunteer program. It’s popular, at most you’ll probably get allocated twice a month, I bet you could even just ask for a slot a month. Best bit if you’re working is it’s very easily kept to a one hour commitment (no running over time etc) because before and after that one hour is serious learning/ circle time – you have to “officially” not be there for longer anyway – Rockstar never expects me to linger, in fact he dismissed me on my first run 5 minutes early because he was “busy”.

One slot = an hour a month. Like a regular doctor’s appointment or some other errand you have to step out of the office for. But with benefits.

Totally worth it and then some, for all the lurve I’m getting from Rockstar <bliss>

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A is for A Bee

Posted on February 23, 2011 by admin

Excerpt from sticker in Rockstar’s school diary: “…..…. Weekly we will make a display of objects that start with (the letter of the week). If you would like to send one thing in for this display please label item…….”

Me: Rockstar, mummy’s looking for things that begin with the letter A because you’ll be learning that in school this week. What begins with the letter A?

Rockstar: (enthusiastically) A Bee.

Me: No, that begins with a B. <Thinking pleeease don’t let him ask about that one when I have just an hour before school to find something for him to bring>

Rockstar (disappointed and picking up a little plastic animal): A… wolf?

Me: No darling, more like Apple, or Airplane… Which do you want to bring to school? (I have this idea everyone is going to bring apples or airplanes but at least I will have one that Rockstar definitely knows begins with an A)

Rockstar: Don’t like… <brightens> What about ‘Elicopter?

Me: That begins with the letter H… You’ll have to wait till they do H…

Rockstar: I want to bring a bug. <holds up dried cricket my mum gave him in little plastic box>

Me: That’s a Cricket. You can save that for when they do the letter C. You have at least 2 or 3 other bugs you can bring when they do B. (It’s that “help a farmer” thing in Malaysia where they sell real bugs preserved in resin as paperweights or keychains… Rockstar has quite a few, including a scorpion and a few weird beetles)

I put the Ace of diamonds from a card deck, an airplane bath toy (because all his other airplanes and automobiles either have sharp edges or might be considered choking hazards with lotsa small parts) and a plastic math toy he got out of my mum’s handbag – she keeps all kinds of things to amuse her neighborhood kids in there (for “Arithmetic” in case the others are too obvious and lots of other mums also send the same ones in…)

Rockstar says “no” to all the items I put in a Ziploc… So I don’t hold much hope for “A” week…

And “B” is going to be risky… Please dear Lord, don’t let him fixate on BMX…..!

Rockstar comes home after the first day and says reproachfully, “A is also for ‘ambulance’..” Darn. How did I miss that, we’ve been arguing the difference between Hong Kong’s ambulance and police vans for like, forever…

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My First, Possibly My Last DIY Hair Mask

Posted on February 22, 2011 by admin

OK.

2 table spoons of extra virgin olive oil……………………..check.
Half a cup of honey………………………..check
2 Avocados…………………………check check (fingering little hard fruit for courage)
1 Egg yolk………………………………………….check.

Okokok. Here goes. My first ever DIY Hair Mask For Added Body.

After finding so many blogs and youtube videos about makeup, hair color and bla de bla I am about to try putting this noxious concoction on my head (though this particular recipe was from a magazine). At age 34-and-an-almost-half, I’m nearly a decade older than the big eyed, bouncey haired beauties who experiment and endorse, but rather than get bummed about arriving to the party spectacularly late, why not embrace that I showed up at all?

I haven’t had long hair in… really almost a decade. Was too busy chopping it all off like clockwork every 6 weeks when I worked. Lunchtime Tony and Guy and a berry. Sometimes I didn’t even look up til the guy said he was done. I always told him I liked it. What wasn’t to like? Who cared? That attitude allowed me to also walk into some local salons and experience stylists with names like “Wind” wielding sharp instruments near my head. (Ok maybe not such a good idea, reading that back to myself)

Once, the woman in the chair next to miine called her boyfriend/ husband. She’d wanted “1 1/2 inches” taken off, but concluded the stylist had taken off “4 inches”.  (In my esteemed opinion it was neither.) When she started crying, I remember the tender, most sympathetic look on her partner’s face as he put a comforting hand on her knee. Then they asked to see the manager.

SO NOT MEEEEEE! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAA

Not even when I had long hair – it lived perpetually in a bun on weekdays, retiring to a scrunchied ponytail at weekends. When I first moved to Singapore (aged 17 and still with hair), Catholic Junior College (Go CJ!) Hostel famously outlawed hair dryers (and had no hot water) because with the old wiring you could trip the entire building. So while fellow CJ-ians might be putting mayo on their hair and taking hour long baths with a leisurely shave (true stories both), I… didn’t. Maybe that was how I started not caring very much, it just wasn’t very easy to do those things in the hostel.

Anyway.

Dump everything in a bowl. How long is this going to take? That’s not the same glass of wine as the earlier picture btw… I’ve already hit my two-drink limit (because I read more than 2 drinks especially if you are female really messes with your liver) and the stuff is nowhere near my head.

Ok let’s change that. <dump the first spoonful on my crown>

OMG IT STINKS.

Must be the raw egg. How come no one says anything in the recipe about the smell? Chunks of oily, egg-y avocado start sliding down my head. I fish avocado chunks out of the sink and off the counter, conscious of the raw egg and worrying about bacteria on surfaces Rockstar picks food off of. Should I have used pasteurized eggs? I know Landmark 360’s got ‘em. Ironically, they’re Malaysian produce that I just find sick for spending so much on at Hong Kong’s biggest organic upscale grocery store (being also Malaysian, I mean).

Rockstar finishes his slice of thin n crispy Pizza Hut Hawaiian Supreme with the extra pineapple (he doesn’t usually like meat but he’ll eat the ham on the pizza), hops off the sofa and peers in – only to go HAR HAR HAR while pointing at his mother’s head.

Sigh. I can be almost too stupid to live. Take out blender like I should probably have done in the first place.

<Blend Blend Blend Blend>

Rockstar appears again at the doorway. “Too LOUD! Don’t like the sound!”

“Now you know how mummy feels when you’re noisy and she’s on her laptop.”

“Stop it. I can’t think.”

“You sound just like mummy.”

<Blend Blend Blend Blend smugly>

Exit Rockstar – huffily pulling the kitchen door firmly shut behind him.

Spread – scratch that – dump stuff on hair. Miss parts of my head. Don’t care. The only reason I haven’t given up already is because I would waste olive oil, egg, honey and two avocados. There are people starving in Africa and I don’t even want to put this on my head?

Shampoo off one hour later, the absolute minimum I was supposed to leave it on for. I have a sensitive nose. The smell makes me almost gag. How did my mum swallow 6 eggs a day when she was preggers with me? And they most definitely were not pasteurized former kampong eggs bought at organic grocery store strategically located right in the heart of Central where working mums can make themselves feel better about leaving their kids at home by popping down on their lunch hour and buying expensive organic produce to bring home after work (you can tell I had some experience with this).

Rockstar watches, mildly amused. Then he wanders off again in search of a piece of fruit.

Even after shampooing and conditioning as usual, I catch a faint whiff. (But no one else can). Proceed to blow dry.

What do you think, could I tell the difference?
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<Gasp>

Ok sorry, so obviously fake with the gold gown…

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Yes. I have big hair. Just not in a good way. Looks like I’m wearing a Halloween wig. Or like I live in an 80s soap. Crap. Smooth it down with my hands and a wee bit of mustella (I have no hair stuff and I regularly smooth flyaways with whatever I’m using to moisturize my very dry hands) before digging into pizza. It’s now 9.15pm and I’m starving.

Devour 3 large slices. In my defense Rockstar had the pineapple and JD the ham out of my third slice. Both are demanding some love because mummy has been unavailable with crap on her hair for the last 2 hours.

Next morning….

Either I’m on a good hair day, or that crazy gross mask works.

Which just sucks because now I might have to do it again.

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