Where Pigs Fly

Posted on November 17, 2010 by admin

Kings has a work desk in our living room. It is a black hole into which the consciousness of the man of our household often gets sucked, leaving behind for his family a warm body that grunts at the Rockstar and occasionally also swallows the produce of the Nespresso machine sitting next to the tv.

On it sits the Pierce Brosnan James Bond Laptop.

Beside it is a book case that contains a book with flying pigs on the cover below a dubious title and so many internet startup books and China books that Kings keeps giving and lending them out in shopping bags.

All these personify my husband and his dream.

(Haha. You thought i-banking was his dream? Kings likes to say, “If making chicken rice is what pays the bills, I will go get really good at making chicken rice.” But when he is not making chicken rice, he does not Golf. He does not Sail. He Basketballs, but mostly he Internet Startup Books.)

Flying Pig Book has never been read. I try to show it to as many visitors passing thru Rockstar’s bedroom-cum-guest-room as I can. Kings constantly tries to run distraction. We’ve been playing this game ever since I found out about FPB, shortly after we became a couple, almost 9 years ago. We’ll never get rid of FPB, but Kings keeps rehiding it among the shelves and shelves of startup tomes.

When we first met, we were two banking newbies – he fresh from a relatively glamorous (to me) position on the options desk of a large British bank in London, I looking at a banking career by way of compromise after the unpalatable (again, to me) degree in accounting my parents wanted for me. (It took us a few years to make up and I got hooked to dealing rooms but that’s another story.)

Back then I still had “what-if” dreams of having studied literature and economics. Kings figured that meant I liked story books. So after our first meeting and long phone call, he marched off to a bookstore, and bought a bunch of story books, thinking then we would have more in common. (Seriously. That earnest. <swoon>)

That’s how Flying Pig Book came about

Last weekend Kings left for the Web 2.0 Summit in San Fran. At ~HKD 30,000 a ticket, some manner of queue-ing to wait for a place to become available, and the opportunity to rub shoulders with Internet Billionaires From The West, The Founder of Baidu and The Kid Who Dropped Out Of School, Bought A Laptop (yes, really, that’s what he wrote) to name a few, my husband is living his dream. (And I have new respect for the Stay At Home Mum I met who used to organize these.)

If there’s anything I learned from previous church Date Nights with the relationship counselor speakers on occasion, it’s to be supportive. I’ll always remember the picture painted by a speaker couple years back, of the old-ish couple where the husband talks enthusiastically about all these dreams, and the wife is standing there rolling her eyes. <Flinch>

I don’t want to grow old with someone who’s fine with me talking him out of a big dream today, and then 15, 20 years down the road he looks back and regrets not having taken the shot and gets bitter. No one wants to grow old with a grouchy old goat. But then if you helped make him one, it might be kinda hard not to stick around…. No, no cannot dig this hole.

I on the other hand always wanted to write. Except I don’t have a book in me at the mom, all I really want to write about for now is Rockstar-related. I missed so much when I was working. So I figured could kill two stones with one bird – be supportive by letting this be their guinea pig blog and well, still write. Content gets sliced, diced, once all the upper case “R”s went missing (which I still find really bizarre) so yeah I do get sad when after another period of the site being down when it comes back it looks like a spin-off from the Poltergeist series. Every time it goes down, I wonder what I’m gonna lose when it’s back up again.

But I offered and I’m fine with it.

Cows Can Sing.

On Word, of course.

Thinking of you while you’re 16 hours away darling. Ha Ha Ha.

Well. Surely Supportive can have a little fun.

Ps: Yeah, Kings is still an investment banker. He’s doing this on 3 months’ Gardening Leave. And writing on Word can be a silver lining…

Stay tuned for pictures from Silicon Valley…

Posted in aileensml | Tagged , , , , | Leave a comment

Dear Rockstar, So Life’s Not Fair. Do Well Anyway.

Posted on November 16, 2010 by admin

Dear Rockstar,

Mummy recently received feedback from a reader who’d had a lot of experience in the field of education internationally for a long time, and it was a real eye-opener. There was a little “Oh Wow”, but there was a lot more “And parents do what??”

The reader had seen your ESF Kindergarten school report (which your father had reminded Mummy several times to post so we would always have a soft copy and our thoughts when we first got it) and was thoughtful enough to mention it to Mummy in case she didn’t know she had just “waived (her) right” to not let other mummies see your report.

(And btw she’s under no illusion that you have some super-duper sterling school report – you are possibly the absolute youngest in class and she’s met some of your school mates. But it’s one of the first reports she has and she cherishes it. It’s part of her parenting experience. We read it to you, you scanned it with Daddy, you know it’s online and people see it, you’re proud it’s your very own report, you’re just 33 months old and we’ll ask you again when you’re older.

Mummy really appreciated the feedback because she had never imagined there are parents (probably none of whose children are your classmates or anything) who ask for their child’s ranking in a Kindergarten. So if it helps, Mummy would like to say Thank You, Dear Reader. And she’s leaving your report up there (even after better understanding the competitiveness that surrounds these things) by way of saying that if she has something to say, she’ll always sign her name to it. No anonymous calls or emails. She hopes it constantly forces her to check her conscience as she says things.

Here’s the thing – Mummy writes so one day if you turn into an angry teenager who doesn’t want to talk to his parents or thinks it’s uncool to hang too much with us, you’ll still know what your parents are like.

Your mother is far from perfect, but she doesn’t take cheap shots. Mummy is not on a pseudonym and yeah, sometimes it’s scary. But accountability makes us better people (at least when it comes to shots or criticisms…) Not that any of her readers are like that, praise the Lord, Mummy’s just saying…. In fact she continually appreciates the sincere parenting advice she gets – she is after all a first time parent.

Anyway. Back to Mummy’s thoughts about the conversation. For the first time, Mummy heard about how parents might volunteer in schools hoping for their kids to get picked for school sports teams, and a whole bunch of scary grey areas like that.

(For the record, and Mummy has told other mums this before, she volunteers because you’re currently tiny and she was worried about whether you’re making friends alright. And no matter how much work she has to put in, it’s still probably not as hard as looking for another school if you develop a dislike for the building or teacher or some other inexplicable thing and decide you’ll accept any punishment your parents can dish out  rather than participate in lessons – and YES YOU HAVE DONE THIS BEFORE.)

But it made Mummy remember something else she wanted to tell you: GrandMum was once a teacher in Mummy’s secondary school. She’s now 65 and has turned down all engagements for some time because she wants to focus on her gardening, but she was once a popular English teacher who insisted on remaining in the public sector all her working life (despite periodically being sought by private schools.)

During the SPM trial exam when Mummy was 17, GrandMum called your mother to her. “This is the score I wanted to give your essay. But I’m going to mark it down by 5 marks because you’re my daughter and people will talk. That also means Stephanie is going to beat you. I’m sorry, you deserved a better score. I always tried to get out of grading your class papers, but couldn’t avoid this one. I hope you know that to me, you really did win that prize.” Mummy did know that. But she really appreciated the explanation and she loves Grandmum.

Mummy’s point is that, she’s sorry for the cliché, things in life are never fair – you’re supposed to do well regardless.

Mummy believes that parents (especially those who strive for their kids to be on the school team) hope their children will excel and every parent loves their child. Some really believe any advantage, even of that sort, helps their child.

But your parents believe that trying to create an unfair advantage today could make you less likely to do well when you no longer have that advantage – and we don’t own the whole world so it’s not like we can create an unfair advantage for you forever. Mummy just hopes when it comes to her turn, she’s actually strong enough to practice what she preaches. She desperately wants to see you happy.

So yeah, life isn’t fair – you’re stuck with us as parents.

But look at it as the reverse of when you train most sports with additional weights strapped on – when you take them off, you really fly. Mummy once trained on an all-boys taekwondo team never realizing how much easier that would make tournaments, where she fought girls. She was often a sickly child who at one point had a permanent exemption from Phys Ed. But with all the boys training around her, it hadn’t occurred to her she might not be able to do 20 knuckle pushups.

Daddy started school like, when he was 7 or something, at some rural school – but that was because Kong-Kong hadn’t gone to school. It didn’t keep your father from entering London School of Economics at the same age as his peers there – but it wasn’t easy for him. It was at the rural school however where he learnt to share his school notes. And the sharing didn’t stop him graduating from LSE with a first. But it was the school mates he shared his notes with who lent him money to do his second year, before he managed to get a grant in his final year there. Otherwise he would have had to drop out.

And the funniest thing is if you asked him where he went to school, he usually has to stop and think for a second before he remembers. He thinks education is really important, but then your personality (which affects your job performance) is what makes the difference after schooll. Mummy agrees. It’s your attitude as much as anything, that will help you survive at work.

But every time you fall short even after trying your very best, your parents’ hearts will break to see you so sad. So we’ll try to be right there helping you train – until you decide it’s uncool to have us along. And that will be fine. We’ll see how it goes as you get older. But you’ll have the blog. Mummy writes it on Word in case the platform your father messes with goes down.

Love,

Mummy

Ps: Mummy did win the English prize that year final year, actually – there were 3 essays and the 2 teachers grading the other 2 essays gave Mummy top marks. GrandMum was the teacher who gave Mummy the lowest score. Stephanie was the first to make that observation.

Pps: Yes your father continued to let people photocopy his notes after he got the grant. It’s one of the reasons Mummy married him.

Posted in aileensml | Tagged , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Tree For Lunch

Posted on November 15, 2010 by admin

After dropping off Rockstar, I’m waiting for C and her cherubic 5 month old to arrive for a sandwich lunch at Tree. On the top floor of a furniture and branded goods warehouse with a baby-friendly café tucked away amidst a sprawling (for Hong Kong) furniture showroom that specializes in pieces made from recycled old railways and driftwood and things, Tree attracts lots of errand-running, pre-schooler-picking, warehouse shopping mums.

You can even see them making the stuff thru a large picture window in the café…

And that bench next to the knife/ fork/spoon used to be part of an old bridge…

Walking our dogs with Rockstar having his dinner and tv fix <mild guilt> at home and Cherub occasionally chewing on her baby harness, I haven’t enjoyed or been able to share so much with someone since G and I first discovered how much we had in common over umpteen transcripted Bloomberg conversations.

(See how my life has changed? Instead of long soul-baring conversations over the dealing systems surrounded by the noise and action of the markets, I’m making friends during a dog walk amid the gabble of our young children. We pause not for “mom please, hitting the market.” We get momentarily distracted retrieving a wayward dog or two, or Rockstar on the rare occasion he’s along, as we communicate in mono-syllabic sentences to any of the aforementioned.)

Rockstar would trill at me, “I’m making friends. I’m making FRIENDS, mum!” I know just how he feels. Like Wendy and Michael flitting about the room after Peter shakes the fairy dust on them, “We can fly, we can fly, WE CAN FLYYYYYY!”

I liked C from the outset but with G moving to Singapore I was even more scared my new friend might also be heading back to the States soon. Good friendships are so hard to come by, especially from just bumping into someone with their dog, amid the natural cynicism that is Hong Kong. Even the people who aren’t naturally weird soak it up when so many other people around them get weird. Sure, you can move the ole’ face muscles in a socially accepted manner and open-can-apply-more-or-less-scripted-polite responses, but –

A….Friend. The Real Deal. The kind with whom you can confide what a terrible person you really are. Someone to whom you can admit you have occasional guilt-ridden attacks of Schadenfreude. Not an easy find, this. When most of the time you’re stuck with just pretending – a little or a lot – because your son is going to go to school with the other mum’s child 5 days a week or well, just to be polite. But after umpteen “just to be polite”s I’m aching for a walk with C, Cherub and the dogs.

(At which point I feel the need to justify the angst-y-ness that has got me making up words has to do with me speaking Busy Working Mum. Dealer. I’m still learning Mummyspeak which I worry is not fluent or natural enough, I worry I speak with the tell-tale accent of someone who once found gratification and (misplaced) self-worth in breaking up the hedge on a USD 10mil illiquid stock option so as not to move the market unfavorably for the client almost as much as in her toddler finishing everything on his plate. I still – wait for it – order mini cupcakes at the Tree café for Rockstar’s school events, rather than make my own. <mild put-up guilt>

There, I confessed. My comfort zone had always been horrendously busy working mums/ women because that was a language I could understand – except I’m n-ot exactly there myself right now. No one has time for me.

Then I learn C’s refused a live-in helper and far from home and family is single-handedly raising a young baby she breastfeeds in the night while caring for a tick-fever-stricken dog (tick fever being rampant here, and potentially fatal) often without her husband who travels a lot. Which is when I think – I could do the USD 10mil trade, no problem – but could I do that? How come it never occurred to this working woman staying at home to care for a young child or three is helluva work? Oh, and did I mention C studied literature at Yale?)

This is our first “date” and I bump Kings’ last minute summons to lunch with “some people (he) would like (me) to meet” without a second thought. When I mention lunch with C, I imagine a raised eyebrow punctuating the frantic Blackberry scrolling. Ah. Maybe I Won’t Have To Drag The Occasionally Angst-y Wife to Singapore With Me To Catch Up With Her Old Friends After All.

So here I go making a new friend.

And if C then gets to go home to the States with Cherub in the near future, The Real Deal would be happy for her.

Posted in aileensml | Tagged , , | 4 Comments

Significant Conversation #89

Posted on November 13, 2010 by admin

(Backdated, because I only just found a picture of the same facial expression)

Kings: Rockstar, let Daddy show you something. See this hidden button on Daddy’s safe? Do NOT touch this button. If you touch this button, Daddy will not be able to open the safe. It will cost Daddy A LOT OF MONEY to get a key mailed over from the States. Do you understand Rockstar?

Rockstar: <Nods>

Kings: I repeat, Rockstar, can you see this button? Do not touch this button.

Rockstar: <Beep> (followed by wide-eyed guilty expression)

Kings: ROCK-STARRR!!! I TOLD YOU NOT TO TOUCH THAT BUTTON!!!

Rockstar: <Loud Gasp> (theatrical horrified expression)

That day, my husband learned a rather important parenting lesson.

Posted in aileensml | Tagged , | Leave a comment

Significant Conversation #100

Posted on November 13, 2010 by admin

Rockstar: Mahmee, Mahmee

Me: Hmm? NOOOOOO!!!! DON’T STAND ON MY LAPTOP!!! NO!!!

(Then thinking) Oh dear. I don’t suppose he saw the laptop on the sofa seat when he slid off the armrest. He was looking at me trying to get my attention. I really shouldn’t yell at him like that. Yelling bad.

Me: Mummy’s sorry darling. That was an accident, wasn’t it? Mummy’s sorry about the yelling. You should never stand on the laptop but Mummy also shouldn’t have yelled like that.

Rockstar: Yes. Sorry. Next time Mummy, you don’t scream. You just eat your dinner – okay?

Posted in aileensml | Tagged , , , , , | Leave a comment

Meet McDull, Possibly Hong Kong’s Version of SouthPark

Posted on November 12, 2010 by admin

[youtube http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EyJJ8EyzVpY]

One typhoon season years ago, while flicking local channels in search of the “T8 icon” (aka Free Holiday In Hong Kong), I stumbled upon a conversation between two  cartoon pigs in Cantonese:

Mummy Pig to Little Boy Pig by way of bedtime story:
“Once upon a time, there was a little boy pig. He told lies. He died.”

I was impressed. The little boy pig was one Mc Dull, he of the Prince De La Bun movie (but when I said that in English the way it probably sounds based on the spelling, a local friend corrected me: “Pineapple Bun” in Cantonese, “Por Lor Pow.”)

(On an aside, wonder if they decided to make McDull a pig because that’s one of the more desirable years in the chinese zodiac to have a baby here – have a pig, and he will never go hungry. (Rockstar’s a pig by fluke and being born near the end of the pig year equalled really crowded maternity ward full of other squalling “pigs” which is how we belatedly realized people want to give birth to little pigs here.))

“Dull” roughly sounds like “basin” in Cantonese – his mum saw a basin overhead (I’m guessing thanks to the crowded high rise flats typical of Hong Kong, like in this random pic we took while coursing down the highway flyover directly in front of those flats – and yes, people usually live in them even with the green netting up, when they finish construction in another 6 months or something they’ll just take it back down again) and took that as a sign to name her piglet.

But he’s also dull for real because he’s painfully “average”. In this competitive city, being “totally average” can sometimes almost be like you’re a lame duck.

Why is McDull dull?

He had the misfortune to be placed in the “control group” rather than the one where they play the Real McCoy when they tested the Mozart Effect in Hong Kong. (Is it just me or is that hilarious? Hongkies making fun of their push to excel, the relationship between Hongkie single mum and son where mum pressures son to do well in school.)

Oh, oh, and there’s another character – Mc Dull’s dung/ poop, named – wait for it – Excre Man. Except Mc Dull dresses him up like a snowman – and it’s based very loosely on Raymond Briggs’ The Snowman (thank you Wikipedia – I had no idea what the brown lump was about before you came along)

When I gush and quote the little I know of the cartoon, my Hongkie friends sniff, “They came up with better stuff in the early days.”

I love this pig. It’s such an example of Hongkie witticism. Like when the middle-aged guy I used to work with occasionally signs his name “Ball” on emails, as short for “Boris” (“Ah Bor,” get it?)

I used to sniff at the drawings back when I completely didn’t get how witty this cartoon is (think South Park in Cantonese and no F-words.) He makes an appearance at Hong Kong Wetland Park on occasion, with a duck and a turtle, delivering conservation messages.

McDull should try for world domination. He’s already doing weddings – don’t play play. Except he needs to bring along a translator. Can’t rule the world if no one knows what you’re saying.

Oh wait, if you get really big you get to make people learn Putonghua. Rockstar should be just about finishing his class today, so I can walk home now (God forbid he gets wind of me hiding in the bedroom while he’s in the living room with his tutor)

Posted in aileensml | Tagged , , | Leave a comment

How It’s A Small World And Everything Works Out In It

Posted on November 11, 2010 by admin

Not infrequently I worry about my ability to be erm, “vocal enough” in Rockstar’s school. There always seems to be some concerned mum or other who’s pulled the teacher or principal aside for what looks like a serious discussion about their child’s Development And Overall Wellbeing And Happiness In The Educational Program.

And then there’s me.

(Rockstar seems to be the only child who insists on being carried all the way to his class (even as all the other mere mortal toddlers are schlepping it up the stairs on their own), but then after he gets his way on the carrying, he happily forgets I exist and he busies himself with his school routine the moment I let him down in class so I’ve been “Aileen, pick your fights” about it.)

I do the Rockstar Stairs Schlep to a background of, “Have you seen the quality of art work our kids are bringing home from school?” and “I wish they were doing a different book since it’s almost like they’ve already done a story with those themes,” and all the while I’m thinking I don’t give a flying f— about what they’re discussing, what juice have they been drinking and do I need to get some.

Bearing in mind Kings and I went to public school in Malaysia (and later Singapore for Junior College – go CJ!) and turned out just fine, I count parental involvement, support and Other Factors as equally important in determining a child’s success (though Kings is forever looking at atas school brochures <scoff>)…

Besides, my mum taught in some scary schools overrun by gangs, offering additional free English classes to any kids who wanted to learn more, and has some inspiring stories of kids who turned out wayyy better than say, an ex boyfriend of mine’s top-scoring top-school-attending younger sister who decided a string of academic As was a license to treat the rest of her family like they didn’t matter.

But. When I hear all these other Mums With Issues, I worry whether the teacher and principal will be all “Oh, we better make sure that kid is happy, he/she of the Anal Mum Who Will Make Our Life Hell Otherwise.” What if they’re all Oh, that kid’s mum is really easy going, she’s probably not even going to say anything if we let Anal Mum’s kids take all his raisins at snack time <shudder>.

(No. Cannot, cannot. Must do something. How about killing a few brain cells as a volunteer at school functions, does that count?)

Then I worry about my accent. (Yeah I can feel all the ??!!??!! now). I have watered down Manglish accent. Decidedly not ABC or BBC. Outside work, I’ve encountered unenlightened Caucasian mums (mostly who haven’t been in Asia long – when I said I did Uni in Singapore, one asked “is that like, in Japan?”) who Uppity Sniff at my Malaysian-ness. (Not to be confused with the many more Caucasian mums I’ve met who are really cool and nice.)

Before you think I’ve gone all Psychomum, I had a bad experience with the school admin staff (who are all Asian btw) and was a little wary of the principal and also Rockstar’s class teacher (both absolutely professional and having done nothing to warrant such concern). I hate dealing with the school’s more junior admin staff, and am not the only mum who feels that way.

(I met a mum from Bombay who really hates talking to them . They’re all “But you should know this, it was in your child’s diary 2 months ago. Yes you went on a vacation but we stuck it in the diary when he first started school 2 months ago what,” and “I received no instruction to forward the email to your new address after your old address bounced and you updated us with the new one.” Really think some  admin staff at relatively desirable schools have a tendency to power trip when no one’s looking – and they behave very differently when the more senior staff are about.)

So last week it was pouring, and our Friend Who Drives Us To School By Way Of Cushy Odd-Job Til His Business Takes Off decides to wait for me with an umbrella on the doorstep right after I do the Rockstar School Run Schlep. The principal is right there.

That afternoon, the principal’s weekly email to parents includes a note, “If you have a driver, please have him make a turn rather than wait outside the already congested area,” because some other stick-up-your-butt parent has complained about traffic congestion in front of the school when they try to drop their children off. And they didn’t just complain to the principal, the poor guy gets a visit by two pleasant, polite, understanding police officers who kindly explain they’re obligated to make a house call to the school when someone complains to them.

(For pete’s sake it was freaking pouring. Can’t Stick-Up-Their-Butt-Parent count til 10 before opening their mouth when on any other day it really isn’t that bad?)

Therefore I have this impression that in Hong Kong if you don’t open your mouth and voice something, anything, you’re gonna get bullied. Cos so many other people just open their mouth and complain about so many other things that everyone then gets hard-pressed taking care of them and then might forget about you and your kid.

And today I bump into the principal again. I’ve wanted to ask him for some time why he always seems to be rushing to the airport (pure curiosity) and because he’s closing the school gate (and therefore sans issue-raising parents for once), I do.

“My family lives in Malaysia,” this principal (whom I thought was British) says. (Now I’m ??!!??!! It’s a real shocker.)

“I have a house in KL. It’s where I’ll ultimately retire. My son has one more year of schooling there.”

Suddenly I’m bursting to tell him I’M MALAYSIANNNN!!!

“My mother taught high school in Sandakan, Petaling Jaya and Penang all her life.”

He gives me a conspiratorial smile, “I’ve been to Sandakan. Love the town.”
Un-freaking-believable.

And suddenly I look at all the issue-raising Hong Kong residing parents thru his eyes. His Malaysian-living, teenaged-son-in-KL-raising eyes.

Thank you, God. You really think of everything.

Thank you!!!

Posted in aileensml | Tagged , , , | Leave a comment

Friendships at Domani

Posted on November 10, 2010 by admin

Dear Rockstar,

G, one of Mummy’s best friends here, will be relocating to Singapore in a month (because of her husband’s job). Mummy was really sad about that for awhile. G and Mummy spent many soul-sharing hours on the Bloomberg chat dissecting boyfriends that were bad for us and family problems.

So we keep trying to do a few more swanky Hong Kong lunches before she goes and Skype replaces black truffle-and-foie-gras ravioli lunches.

This is what Mummy wanted to wear. Nyonya Kebaya blouses are unusual in Hong Kong and Domani is a swanky business lunch place (to which Mummy refuses to wear recycled workclothes – the cargo pants take care of that. Mummy can’t remember why she’s not in her usual strappy gold snakeskin Prada heels which she usually pairs this particular Kebaya blouse with though. In this pic she’s wearing dark green snakeskin peeptoes – customized because they’re cheaper than branded shoes.)

But you had other ideas – after getting you ready for school Mummy was so short of time she ended up throwing on Unknown Factory studded and ripped jeans, an old Marc Jacobs sweater bought heavily marked down years ago and still crumply from the back of her wardrobe, and the Marc Jacobs booties she usually wears if it’s a bit chilly for open toes. All to a background of bawling because you got mad at being rushed to finish your Incy Wincy Spider video and put on your socks and shoes.

This is her trying to salvage the look as much as possible in the Domani bathroom. She grabbed the 3 big inexpensive turquoise-and-silver rings to brighten up the dull taupe of the sweater literally as she was flying out the door with you.

(In fact, this captures the mood of the moment prior to swanky restaurant more, when she was scrambling to do school run with you bawling into her neck.)

Mummy has only been to Domani once before. It was the end of another friendship. (So you can see how Mummy would be totally weirded out by one of a string of goodbye lunches with G here (her suggestion and treat). And why is Mummy not really surprised we somehow get seated at the exact same table where she had that fight more than a year ago?)

M was someone Mummy confided in at her work cell group. She didn’t want to risk someone giving her advice she didn’t want to hear, so she sought him out. From an old moneyed family and newly reformed after a youth around womanizing and excess, M, Mummy figured, would give the least “holier-than-thou” advice when she sought affirmation she had made the right choice to not visit Grandpop whom she was (then) estranged from. That was how a budding friendship was formed. Mummy thought.

There was a separate tiny dealing room for the team Mummy was on, back then, and she was the only female in that room. She was also the ranking equity derivatives dealer. 11 years in many different dealing rooms, that was the only one with a very prolific use of the four-letter c- word, among others.

(Mummy would be lying if she claimed it hadn’t made her feel inwardly uncomfortable, but it did eventually die down when, after being heckled to “cuss like a man” for the umpteenth time as she was trying to close a trade, she managed to turn a good profit and calmly respond “And I did the job just fine the way I am.” (ie without the cussing)

It’s why Mummy has told you people can respect you even if they dislike you for not fitting in – for eg with the cussing.)

Anyway. Sometime during our swanky lunch, M mentioned how he condoned the c-word cussing, and “Do you realize the risk I’m taking by going out to lunch with you? I drink with those mates.”

It was the last conversation Mummy ever had with him. She doesn’t feel that badly about it, actually – her thinking was, there are so many people who might need a friend, she needed to prioritize her limited resources of time and emotional energy.

M made it very easy for her to do so.

Mummy asked for it, because in the first place she picked M just in case someone with more grounded gave her advice she might find difficult following.

Sometimes we really do get what we wish for, what we look for. It’s not necessarily the best scenario.

So look for the right things right from the outset, Rockstar. Then you don’t have to be sorry when you find them.

Love,

Mummy

(who loves the incongruity of “floating dim sum” from one of the restaurant windows in the middle of all the high rise offices)

PS: Mummy’s not sure those cussing equity cash traders ever saw M as their “mate,” they made really mean jokes about him all the time. He just thought they were so cool, is all. Some people just look for different things in “mates”

PPS: Mummy didn’t want Grandpop to yell profanity in front of you when he got mad about other unrelated stuff, was why she initially distanced us. She hadn’t trusted that even a wiser, more mature Christian counsel than M would probably have given the same advice if it warranted. After almost 2 years of estrangement however, Grandpop is now great with you and the 2 of you now talk on the phone couple times a week.

Posted in aileensml | Tagged , , , , | Leave a comment

Happy Diwali New Year

Posted on November 10, 2010 by admin

Rockstar’s Rangoli…

(And that’s him konked out on the sofa)

It’s been Diwali week last week in his school and parents were encouraged to talk about their own customs as well in order to facilitate the learning… I was waiting for his craft to arrive back this week so I could take a pic…

[youtube http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1Kn5K7dzrMs]

Posted in aileensml | Tagged , , , | Leave a comment

Police Officer Sergeant Rockstar

Posted on November 9, 2010 by admin

Meet Police Officer Sergeant Rockstar, born on 29 October 2010 as a result of his alter ego Rockstar’s school Halloween Dress Up Day.

1. The Rockstar hates paparazzi. Sergeant Rockstar however would not hesitate to serve The Public (a.k.a. Mummy, Daddy or JD), even if it means gracing various family albums and blogs with his fine features.

2. The Rockstar might throw a hissy fit if we’re out of bananas. Sergeant Rockstar however would work with the public to find an alternative solution in the form of a peach. Maybe even an apple. Police Officers are after all resourceful, and not lacking in imagination.

3. The Rockstar leaves cupboard doors and kitchen cabinets open, much to The Public’s dismay. Sergeant Rockstar however is responsible, even going so far as to close errant book cases left open by such perpetrators as Distracted Daddies On Blackberries, in a constant bid to serve The Public.

4. The Rockstar sometimes pretends not to hear, when The Public call out to him. Sergeant Rockstar however is always available on his Police Officer’s walkie-talkie. In fact, he encourages The Public to call him for assignments. Any assignments. Just so he gets to walkie-talkie.

Did you laugh? But we grownups aren’t that different.

How many of us dressed /behaved better with our boyfriends/ girlfriends/ spouses at the start of a relationship? Cleaned up after our dog when there wasn’t anyone else in the park late at night? Actually pushed the “door open” button (not just pretended to push it) on workdays or well, really anytime other than say, in church?

(Hong Kong residents may have more of an excuse re that last one – push “door open” in a crowded lift full of grouchy office people and feel the hatred emanate from every other human being around you in that tiny space as you count the floors until you reach your office.

Has anyone thought about how uneager most people are to go to work on a Monday here, yet how mad they get at someone delaying them like, 20 extra seconds so some other unwilling work warrior can get on the lift?)

We all play Sergeant Rockstar now and again. Isn’t it wonderful when Toys ‘R Us police costumes put us on our best behavior?

Posted in aileensml | Tagged , , | Leave a comment