“That” Beijing Hotel

So Kings came back over the weekend… And then 12 hours later his face got red and rashy… Which is when I think to ask – WHERE were you staying?

This is a view of his desk in the hotel:

RMB 300 a night, which according to my husband is Nuffnang China Corporate Rate (??!!??!!)  🙂

(Here’s a closeup of that selection on the right…)

It’s possible I will never get an excuse to post a picture of condoms again. (Does anyone know what “Vibrated & Condom” means?)

And here’s a nearby outdoor gym…

(At which point I send Kings off to the doc to check out that Weird Skin Rash…)

Kings comes back with a skin allergy diagnosis – “It was probably the hotel soap,” the GP pronounces knowledgeably…

But just when I think his Beijing trip was a total loss, he shows me this:

That’s Julia, newest hire for Nuffnang China, a joint venture Kings invests in… She just marched right up and belted out in the restaurant while they were having dinner.

[youtube http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=io7cOTIxmf8]

Way cool…

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Meet Ah Wo

Beautiful day for Sunday lunch at Peak Lookout this pm…

Meet Ah Wo (pronounced Whoa), 18 months old and slumming with the spoilt pooches who frequent the outdoor dog-friendly area, under close supervision from his helper who keeps picking him up when he crawls too far…

(How do you leash a turtle, anyway?)

He’s by no means the first turtle we’ve seen out for a weekend walk, though he’s the first we’ve seen at the restaurant…

There used to be an old couple we would see (pre Rockstar) up at one of the Peak parks, carrying 2 giant tupperware like the kind you buy from Japan Home with the handles on top… They would let their 3 big turtles paddle in the park stream, with straws attached with duct tape on (so you can pick them up by holding the straws rather than keep bending over)…

We would fall asleep on the grass watching the straws moving up and down the little stream in the distance… <blissful sigh>

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Priceless Pics #s 103, 4 and 5 a.k.a. Homecoming

(Daddy’s been gone most of the week…)

Baby Outdoor Playtent That Has Found Its Way Permanently Into The Living Room:

HKD 300-or something, your Mummy has forgotten the exact price. Your baby days are a big blur of work and wailing.

Antique-look Workdesk To Sit And Cut Paper At, That Daddy Sometimes Borrows To Do All His Work At Home (Also Passes For Mummy’s Gift To Daddy From Way Back When): About HKD 6,000 from Tequila Kola

Winnie-The-Pooh Pyjamas: Gift From Grandmum

Daddy Coming Home To Throw You Up And Down As Much As You Like Again:

PRICELESS

WELCOME HOME, DADDY


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To Sleep, Perchance To Dream

Rockstar hasn’t grown any taller. He’s been 89 cm tall for at least 2 months.

Most of the time now he doesn’t want his height measured. “No need. I didn’t grow.” (Yes, it’s a little heartbreaking)

He’s not really a lightweight, he consoles himself: “I’m getting heavier!” when I struggle to pick him up to push the elevator buttons with a bag of groceries in the other hand.

(Fortunately he’s not a foodie – he eats to satisfy hunger and the occasional craving for preferential treatment that manifests in marshmallow privileges because the dog doesn’t get any, but that’s about it.) But honestly a lot of the weight is in his head. No, seriously – his big, solid-skulled head.

So anyway after 2 bouts of coughing up his meals, we were at the pediatrician’s yesterday and I took the opportunity to ask. “His height chart was much worse a year ago,” Dr Wong shows us. “And anyway there are so many factors determining height, the main one being genetics.”

Ah, yes. At just under 5ft 7 inches, I’m the shortest in my family, earning me the nickname “Shorty.” Kings is 5ft 7, most his family shorter, but not significantly so.
It seems I may have to give up that very shallow aspiration of one day walking along the street next to my strapping young man of a son, who towers a head taller than me.

Then “There’s also his sleep pattern. What time does he get to bed?” Uh… I steel myself for a lecture. Rockstar is nocturnal. If we didn’t fight about it he’d probably conk out at midnight and sleep til mid morning. As is, we reach a shaky compromise somewhere around 11pm. Here it comes.

“Most parents put their children to bed at 8pm… 10 is the absolute latest you should aim for.” I hope my son is listening.

See Rockstar. You got Mummy in trouble with That Nice Lady Doctor You Insist On Seeing The Moment You Get The Slightest Cough.
Her reproachful look makes me want to point at Rockstar,

“He started it, he wouldn’t go to bed!”

“He wants to read ALL his Mr Men books before he’ll settle down!”

“HE HAS MORE THAN TWENTY MR MEN BOOKS!!”

What really comes out is “Uhh… can’t he sleep in in the morning?”

Yes, but she’d rather he go to bed early AND try to sleep in the next day. Fair enough, Rockstar has always slept the absolute minimum number of hours acceptable for a child his age. He just. Won’t. Sleep. Small consolation he sleeps thru the night except for the occasional bad dream or late night glass of water.

So we tried it last night:

8.30pm: I open with, “Oh, look at the time, we should be in the bedroom with our reading.” Rockstar looks up at me like I’m mad and doesn’t reply.

8.40pm: “Rockstar, can we take it into the room please?”

8.50pm: My son is in the bedroom. That’s what I asked for. He’s running in circles on our King-sized bed, to the tune of Incy Wincy Spider. It’s supposed to be a spider impersonation. Not what I asked for.

9.00pm: “I’m hungry.”
“What about more of your dinner?”
“Want something else, PLEEEEEEASSE”

9.15pm: “Want some milk, PLEEEEEEASSE”
“Want to come (to the kitchen), want to come! Want to make milk myself, PLEEEEEEASSE”

9.30pm: “Brush my teeth slowly, PLEEEEEEASSE”

9.35pm: “Want something else, PLEEEEEEASSE”
Will he take cereal?
“Want to come (to the kitchen), want to come, PLEEEEEEASSE”

9.50pm: “Brush my teeth slowly, PLEEEEEEASSE”

9.55pm: “Want to call Grandmum, PLEEEEEEASSE”

10.00pm: “Grandmum” and “Grandpop” triumphantly play this horrendously loud police car siren they got from Jusco over the phone.

WEEEEWOOOOWEEEEWOOOOWEEEEWOOOOWEEEEWOOOO

“Uhh, that sounds REALLY loud. Aren’t your neighbors going to mind?”

“Nooo! They’d mind if we played that at 12 o’clock. It’s not 12 o’clock now, is it?”

10.15pm: Grandmum decides to break out the big guns. While Grandpop runs distraction, she unwraps another police car she already packed in a box ready to mail over to Hong Kong from Penang.

This time the ensuing siren sound coming over the phone is interspersed with “PUT YOUR HANDS IN THE AIR! PUT YOUR HANDS IN THE AIR! PUT YOUR……..”

(In case you’re wondering why we let them do all the crazy shopping it’s because the grandparents seem to derive as big a kick as Rockstar out of all the toys they’re buying. Every toy fair, possibly every toy sale held in Penang or Seremban, they’re there. We give them shopping money, which is pretty much grandparent entertainment money.
Rockstar picks a few favorites and then we donate the rest.)

10.20pm: The dog has had enough. JD shakes herself, rattling her dog chains to get my attention, then stares at the door, waiting for me to open it and let her out of the bedroom.

10.30pm: Goodnight, grandparents. But the sirens have inspired Rockstar to party on like a……. well, you know. He starts running in circles to Incy Wincy again.

10.35pm: “ROCK-STAR!!”

10.36pm: Rockstar gets the hint. But now he’s clutching his more than 20 Mr Men books. Every night my voice gets gradually more monotonous, hoping the droning will inspire Rockstar to nod off by book 5 or 6. On bad nights we go thru every single one before he’ll finally turn over in satisfaction and say “No more books, thank you.”

10.45pm: Bedtime Prayer

10.50pm: “Want some water, PLEEEEEEASSE”

10.55pm: “I need the toilet”

11.00pm: “Want cereal, PLEEEEEEASSE”

“Rockstar– SLEEP!!”

11.05pm: “Gabble gabble gabble gabble” to himself

“ROCKSTAR!”

<silence>

11.20pm: “Gabble gabble gabble gabble”
I grit my teeth and pretend I don’t hear it.

11.30pm: zzzzzzz

Some nights Kings has come into the room to find me asleep, the Rockstar is still gabbling quietly to himself.

When his father comes in, he’ll look up and grin. “I win”.

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ESF School Fees And Controversy

*Updated on 13 November 2010*

A reader asked us how much fees we were paying for Rockstar to attend ESF Kindergarten sometime back… And then the school Halloween party took up most of my brain cells for awhile, since I don’t have that many…

(This is where readers should feel free to jump in with “What, you? No! Not at all! You are one of the Great Thinkers Of Your Time, Aileen!!” Anybody? Anyone other than my husband? Not even my husband?)

So anyway Dear Reader, this one’s for you…

Rockstar’s Kindergarten fees, on their website here, are currently HKD 5,360 per month for 10 months. (And if you wanted to know what their pri and sec fees are like, that’s here.) And there’s a HKD 300 non-refundable application fee (which is quite common).

Not that many schools in HK are government run, most are instead run by sponsoring bodies (many of which are Christian) who receive a government grant.

ESF (English Schools Foundation) gets a subsidy from the HK government to provide education for English speaking children who can’t access the local system. (But at press time, the ESF Kindergarten Rockstar is attending doesn’t receive a subsidy.)

(So Rockstar is a “Category 1” child, ie a child whose first language is English and needs to go to an English-medium school. Some locals have explained to me English-medium schools are quite desirable to them as well, but if their child’s first language is Cantonese, they would be classified as “non-Cat 1” when they apply for ESF. A lot of their interview, Rockstar’s future headmaster explained, was to ensure the child was sufficiently responsive in English.)

There’s currently a debate about whether ESF should continue to receive the ongoing subsidy from the HK government which needs to cut costs after the Asian Financial Crisis.

Wikipedia has more. But in a nutshell, ESF has been criticized for extravagance in their use of the public’s money especially when other international schools don’t get subsidies. On the other hand, local schools do receive a subsidy. ESF is kind of somewhere in between, and the result of one of the main talking points (by no means the only one) would depend on whether many parents whose children attend ESF could afford the higher fees if they take away the subsidy (making them more like “atas” international schools).

Now here’s why this makes a blog post:

Obviously no one wants to pay more money than they have to. But here’s where I open mouth insert Marc Jacobs-booted foot and say that, bearing in mind Rockstar is one of those kids whose parents are probably blessed enough to afford a fee hike from ESF going fully private, it’s less about the money than it is about staff attitudes, quality of education and simply whether our son is happy and doing well there.

I believe that whatever else parents here may try to save on, education is really not one of them. To me that’s like someone splurging on a limited edition Louis Vuitton bag and then filling their body with cheap, crappy fastfood instead of the fresh organic stuff from 360. Heck, you can buy the Louis Vuitton bag at Milan Station,  and there are all these websites selling vintage Chanel…. but you can’t skimp on nutrition.  I just think you don’t skimp on what goes into your body (or for that matter your child’s body) – and therefore also what enters their young minds. Those are long-term investments.

If something went wrong with your body from eating too much junk, it’d cost way more in doctor’s fees to fix. Or a therapist for your child.

Kindergarten teachers can apparently also end up getting paid some 30-40% less than primary school teachers. That kinda sucks. You don’t get potentially 80  bawling schoolkids on the first day of primary school do you?  And I’m guessing there are fewer “toilet accidents” too…

Not convinced? How about the fact that at the tender age of 2 years 9 months and up, your child might not be able to adequately tell you if they have been say, shamed for wetting their pants (and let me be clear this is hypothetical and in no way Rockstar-or-ESF-related) or develops some hangup from school staff that aren’t equipped to handle a particular situation correctly?

The basic law of demand and supply is when you pay peanuts you risk attracting monkeys. If we think about it, I don’t think any parent would want a monkey handling our child. We want the best. Maybe this is a banking thing Kings and I developed from our jobs, but to us, pay good staff lousy salary for long enough and they’re gonna look for something else to do that pays better. The good ones are the ones with the ability to look for a better-paying opportunity. Don’t want lousy staff? I think they’re only gonna get crowded out by the good staff if, well, enough good staff want the job.

Thing is, I also want happy staff. I want people handling my kid in school who can smile encouragingly and say “it was a good effort, you almost got that, try again,” not “oh this is a problem.” “Oh not again.” Not that I’m saying anyone said that to Rockstar, it’s what I feel like saying if I’m having a crappy day. And I’ve only got one child. And he’s my flesh and blood.

I don’t suppose we can dope the teachers up on Happy Smiling Juice before they handle our children so I guess we’ll have to try to keep them some reasonable measure of happy for real. I suppose. If we must.

Meeting Rockstar in his ESF uniform after school regularly attracts curiosity from other toddler parents – we live relatively far (at least a 20 minute drive) from the school so there are fewer turquoise-and-navy-uniformed pre-schoolers in our regular café hangouts.

Rockstar, a Babycinno (foamed milk) and a bad haircut

And a toothie tiger bean bag

We get asked often if we’re happy with the school, especially with the ongoing heat

ESF gets (most recently on 31 Oct in South China Morning Post:

1. “ESF parents have been warned they might jeopardize negotiations re government subsidies if they continue to voice concerns in the press.”

(Translation: bitch some more to the press and you could end up paying more fees.)

2. Then there was the HKD 25,000 refundable deposit introduction and ruling out of fee freezes.

WE ARE. You know, re the question are we happy at the school. (See, you got sidetracked too right, after all that noise about fees and misuse of funds.)

I blogged about why, when Rockstar first got in and we haven’t been given any reason to change that assessment. Yet, anyway.

(Rockstar probably likes it a little less than we do. He thinks there are too many “silly” girls in his class wearing pretty party dresses for Halloween Dress Up Day. Wait til I show him this in another 20 years.)

Thing is, I wouldn’t have thought many parents want to create fuss and bother simply to create fuss and bother, when their children are attending the school.

Show a parent WHY something that costs THAT much more is THAT much better for their child and I would think they’d be fine with it.

On the other hand, parent or no, no one likes feeling like they’re taken for a ride with their money.

Oh. So thaa-ats why ESF sent us the mail inviting us to talks where the school explains how their finances work <ding>

I’m not going. Too lazy. See how I forfeited my right to voice a legitimate opinion about fee hikes there?

Ah well. I’m content hanging out with the Rockstar. We’ll spend the time shopping for more Bob The Builder books and riding the Bubble Lift up and down at Times Square… I’ll get the notes from a classmate.

 

But if the school ever neglects a hair on my Rockstar’s head in the classroom watch me grow fangs and claws. Don’t mess with the Mummy monster. We had all those birthing hormones.

PS: I am one of the volunteering parents with ockstar’s Kindergarten, for organizing extra events for the kids, though… There is no funding for that – we pay for venue rentals, food etc with our own money, then look to recover our costs by splitting with the other parents who bring their kids to the events thereafter.

We run the very real risk of events flopping and our having to pay for it out of our own pockets. Oh, and then there are the hurriedly-typed last minute emails just before the event, sent from other parents at work before they rush out the door to bring their kids, “So where is the party again?” because they don’t have their child’s parent-teacher diary with them at work or are already so late leaving the office they can’t dig up the school emails.

This round I also uploaded all the pics from our camera (after taking lots for other families) onto one of those photosharing websites and encouraged the other participating parents in Rockstar’s year to do the same, thinking great shots of your children aren’t always easy to come by and a great shot of someone else’s child in my camera would probably be a lot more valuable to that someone…

The broader picture (sorry) is let’s work together and make it a super school. Your child goes here.

Why’m I volunteering?

1. To make sure a relatively more reserved, smaller and younger Rockstar gets on fine in school. And so he knows I care. (Same as some of the other mums).

2. I used to be That Working Parent. I’ve been blessed that I get to take the time off. It’s the least I can do. (Bearing in mind local friends once commented, “Some parents might get involved to have a louder voice and to push agendas.” But that was absolutely NOT related to ESF fees. It was a general comment that came with “Don’t you know, people in HK are known for complaining” – which was about taxi and bank queues.)

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Hong Kong Rudeness a.k.a. That Infamous Bus Uncle Video

Popular Youtube video in HK about rudeness on buses (hats off to the person who had the courage to film that on his cellphone while it was going on…)

Have we encountered such yelling? Yes, it’s not uncommon, but minus the expletives (thank goodness)

It gets REALLY bad after the 4th minute:

[youtube http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FYVUWso3YVc]

Moral of the story is, don’t tap an uncle on the shoulder in Hong Kong…

Otherwise that’s 6 minutes of your life you’ll never get back as he waffles back and forth at full volume about the rightness of it punctuated by very abusive expletives…

Local friends tell me this is especially common in older parts of Hong Kong where there are more uncles… I am so never admitting I can understand even rudimentary abuse when I’m down there… (Maybe then they’ll just shut up and go away…)

Then they interviewed Crazy Bus Uncle…

[youtube http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gZxSw6EF8B4]

Oh, and my friends wanted me to say NOT ALL HONGKIES AE LIKE THIIIISSSSS!!!!!

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“Kong Chee Peng” (literal translation: “Princess Sickness”)

Warning: Horrendously misspelled Cantonese and bizarre literal translations ahead…

I met a mum of 3 in her late 20s recently who seemed a little…. spoilt.

(I know, I know – “Meow”?)

She is one of the more attractive, dressed-up mums I’ve met in Hong Kong (“Double Meow”?) and is a self-professed local Hongkie with 3 young children. But it was from her manner of speech that I formed the impression of spoilt-ness – she had an idea that anything in her situation, be it problems, little every day achievements or any job she volunteered to take on was the biggest, the best, the most newsworthy.

(I imagined her to have constantly been in an environment that perpetuated such beliefs on her part.)

Oh, then there were also her long-taloned exquisitely manicured nails which occasionally sport a couple of crystal gems stuck on as well. (How does anyone swing that with babies?)

Yes, ever this preoccupation with nails – I, who Have Not in this department.

Yes Rockstar, your mother is a terrible person. The least she can do is be an honest terrible person. Oh wait, that’s because she is also lazy. It’s a lot more work remembering what you lied about so you can keep it up all the time. She is an honest terrible lazy person.

Anyway. In my broken, pidgin Cantonese punctuated by many hand gestures, I asked my very un-English-speaking friend: <quoting a few encounters> “Is she really spoilt?”

“Kung Chee Peng” or literally, Princess Sickness, is the Canton way of describing girls here who have grown up with everything done for them by their parents, only to marry into a family where everything is done for them by their husband.

Lucky hor? (I know, I know, “Triple Meow”)

Periodically, my (very unspoilt, paycheck-earning, housework-performing, dinner-cooking) girlfriends and I have observed women like this, and sighed, “Why can’t we be more like them?” “How come we don’t end up with men who spoil us like that?”

Don’t get us wrong. We’re all happily attached or married. We love our men just the way they are. But it is a weird fascination we entertain, with the kind of man who goes for that kind of woman.

It’s hard to imagine we are the same species.

My local friend goes on to elaborate: Hong Kong women, or Gong Lui (literally “’Kong Girls” and btw Singaporean men are Por Chye or “’Pore Boys” which I find really cute) are apparently stereotyped as having 3 goals. They are:

1) Yan Kong Kou (“Salary High”)

2) San Choi Kou (“Body High” – ie being physically tall)

3) Ngan Kok Kou (“Corner Of Eyes High” – ie being able to look down on more people)

(I’m soooo tickled by this. No wonder there’s a language barrier here when you try to speak in English to very local Hongkies – some of the literal translations are just insane. And apparently it’s the same with the written language – written Cantonese is very different from spoken Cantonese…)

But, seriously.

The “Kung Chee Peng” is not only for “Kung Chees”.

Example Number One: A close Malaysian friend – the kind who periodically reschedules lunch with me because of work commitments for countless weeks, then when she hears I have a minor crisis at my own job suddenly is wide open in an hour and won’t tell me what horrendous project I’ve caused her to bump in favor of hearing me agonize over my own – has a very different much older sister who at age 44 has never held down a stable job or lived within her own means. Or stopped smoking or gorging on very, VERY sweet things. Even when the risk of her developing serious health problems is skyrocketing.

I’ve known my friend a long time. She is one of the most faithful, reliable, nice people I have ever met. I can only imagine how much it took for her to one day snap and lash out at their mother, “Has it ever occurred to you what all your other children will have to deal with later in life as a result of you spoiling one child?”

Example Number Two: Years ago my husband had a close friend whose fiancé required at least a 2-carat engagement ring, plus a HKD 400,000 dowry/ down payment for a house in her hometown as a sign of his commitment to her.

It wasn’t just about the money. Kings’ friend had to give up heavy career prospects in order to get an internal transfer to his fiance’s home town, not exactly a banking and finance center, (but not in Malaysia either) for a minimum of 5 years.

Back then, I opened my big mouth: “No relationship can survive one-sided forever. You’ll be ok with it 5, maybe 10 years, but eventually you’re going to play ‘What Have You Done For Me Lately’ because we are all human. You have to broker a compromise.”

I will always remember how Kings’ friend looked at me. Like I was the biggest bitch in the world when he was in love. Staring me straight in the eye he said very deliberately “Well, that’s what I’m willing to do for my girl.”

I then went through moments of insecurity. What’s Wrong With Me, How Come I Don’t equire Kings Give Up More Stuff For Me?

That conversation took place about 7 years ago.

Kings’ friend uprooted to this town, immersing himself in his fiance’s culture, making her friends his friends, almost completely losing touch with his old friends. Then Kings bumped into him in affles Place, Singapore, recently on a business trip.

He just goes back to this town on weekends now, to see his son who is about Rockstar’s age.

This time I will not open my big mouth.

But watch my fingers fly.

All those things I truly believe in, that I sincerely believe to be the best advice I could give – and that have cost me friendships when I say them. Because at the end of the day it takes a very big person to accept what they really don’t want to hear. Very few of us are such people.

And Rockstar, read this while your heart isn’t ruling your head. Because ironically our heads do better jobs at decisions that should have been fueled by emotions – stuff that involves loved ones.

I hope never to see Kings’ friend again, because I don’t know how to look him in the eye without it looking like an “I told you so.”

He was one of my closest friends too, long ago.

He was my go-to guy when Kings and I had problems early on in our relationship. He once said to me, “As long as you’re good for Kings, I’ll be there for you.”  Now I never want to see him again. Don’t think I didn’t mourn the loss of a friendship. I just don’t think about it.

And as for the people around us whom we just let be horrible – we do them no favors by spoiling them.

If we let people around us get that bad, be they grouchy old parents, spouses, siblings who can’t support themselves – what happens when they get so unpleasant to live with no one wants to be around them, and so set in their ways, no one can change them anymore?

We did that to them. Now when they have no friends. When we can no longer stand being married to them. When everyone finds them repulsive to be around. When people find it a chore to spend time with them in their old age.

By letting them think it was ok to behave that way for so long, we’re the ones who did that to them.

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Why Rockstar Doesn’t Halloween In Causeway Bay

The Last Halloween Post For The Year, I Promise…

These are pictures of the police dogs on duty during Halloween in Causeway Bay (which is like Singapore Orchard oad), taken from Kings’ Berry around midnight…

 

HOW is the spider attaching so nicely to the dog??

(JD has red demon’s wings and horns, but she REALLY doesn’t like them so we haven’t been doing that to her for awhile… for a few years after, we then hung light sticks on her, which she seems to prefer…)

 

But this is why we don’t do this with Rockstar now… I don’t even want to put a bigger picture on my blog…

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So We Survive…

(This is Rockstar just before Dress Up Day in School and then the party… I desperately wanted him to nap because no way he survives the party without at least a short sleep. First, he couldn’t sleep because he was too excited. 5 minutes before it was time to go, he fell asleep. We dressed him asleep.)

We….. survived ockstar’s school Halloween. YYIIIIPPPPEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

No, not exuberance. That was my finger falling asleep at the keyboard. Kings said barely a word in the car and crawled straight into bed for a nap around 6.30pm. ockstar was wired and insisted on keeping to his normal bedtime schedule instead of crashing (but chattered in his sleep all night and had a couple nightmares.)
I thought I was too wired to sleep. I usually try to read Daily Bread before sleeping, so logged on. Kings came home from a late night basketball game to find me unconscious with the open laptop on me.

(Yes, this is a picture of a Daddy Cow helping his Baby Cow up while Buzz Lightyear (mind the wings) is simultaneously clambering to Infinity And Beyond)

Buzz Lightyear was a very popular choice. There were also 2 Iron Mans (complete with light-up circle things in their chests), 2 Lightning McQueen-themed racecar driver  jumpsuits, umpteen little skeletons and pumpkins, a knight in full “chainmail” who wanted his freebie Halloween sticker on his sword, and of course lots and lots of princesses, Snow Whites, policemen, firemen (ockstar briefly considered this option before deciding “No, I’ll be hot” so that’s him in the foreground in an oversized police jacket  rustled up at the last minute because the costumes I ordered online never came.)

Apologies for all the backs, but I didn’t want to post other people’s pics  unless they said it was ok and I will probably then wait til the cows come home (sorry) before I have pics for this entry. Lots of people came from work, as did the giant cow who found his costume in Central (business district). I’m almost sure he’s a banker by day.

You can just make out the little skeleton, a cowboy and indian (who brought a baby pumpkin), and Mario and Luigi (from Mario Bros) – complete with the curly moustaches in this tiny pic…

It was probably an unqualified success. I guess. If you look at the unexpected Giant Atomic Mushroom of a turnout. And ockstar’s teacher (dressed as Litte ed iding Hood) and the principal (dressed as – what else? A pirate chief) coming to congratulate us and ask us to get everyone in faster.

The line at the entrance snaked all the way into the street and based on the takings there were probably more than double the SVPs. We were hard pressed to collect the entrance fee, sell lucky draw tickets, make change.

And I really enjoyed the pressure. I miss that about my old dealing room job.

But then because of the giant profit from the takings (we were only budgeting to have a party and share all costs, with the volunteers footing the initial bill and risking any shortfall) we have to meet to decide. What To Do With All That Extra Money. Hm. This is hard. It probably means more events to spend it since I don’t think any of us are out to turn a profit on these things.

So… I’m wondering what to do. I find the meetings the hardest. Trying to be polite even when you get “Cut all the stickers in half before you show up at the party. No, you can’t bring a scissors and cut them when you’re there, you have to do them before you arrive.”

It’s not mummy behavior to say Scr*w You, is it?

I really tried to “do them before” – my most valiant and sincere attempt to get along  – – except I forgot. (Seriously. I swear. I really forgot.) I actually did try to do that idiot thing at home, at which point I realized I had left the bloody stickers in the school office.

But to be fair people really, REALLY pulled their weight. There’s no slacking, no pulling out. One mum even herded her 2 children, a 2 and a 4 yr old, onto a plane (for like, a 9 hour flight) straight after the event. So I will cut the stickers before the event next time. Can’t believe I’m saying it. IF I join another one, that is.

I count the event successful not due to the giant takings or turnout. A usually reserved Rockstar was sitting next to me importantly handing out stickers and folding lucky draw tickets after the initial crush of costumed kids had been cleared. He loves responsibility. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him greet other bigger, older kids in the school. But that day he waved and even threw in a “Hi” – and some boys even waved back. Praise the Lord.

Then he had one giant screamfest in the empty reception area because I wanted to give an early leaver an extra sticker and he was power-tripping about the sticker supply… Just One..

 

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I love you, you Rockstar

I love you, you Rockstar

And I’m going to be looking at this picture of you taken yesterday, whenever I get stressed or mad at you. You were jumping up and down and taking the pictures off the walls in the bedroom again (our bedroom walls are full of lines and scratches because of all your hanging-and-re-hangings of picture frames.

But then you stopped and we suddenly shared this cuddle. And I told you I loved you. I told you I would love you no matter how naughty you get – and that’s when you really looked happy. And I got this look from you. And for once you didn’t even yell NO!!! at Mummy for taking your picture.

(Which is one of the reasons you’re called Rockstar – you hate paparazzi)

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