It’s been noisy in the house lately. The Kaos are officially living in an animal farm.
He led the others with his “quack quack quack”.
She’s the little monkey jumping on the bed.
One little monkey jumping on the bed.
She fell off and bumped her head.
Mama called the doctor and the doctor said,
“No more monkeys jumping on the bed!”
I love my mother tongue. I really do. I grew up in a Mandarin-speaking environment. My parents were Chinese-educated folks who trained me well in the Chinese language. I could read and write in Chinese by four. I recited Tang poetry. I understood the history, folklore and myths behind Chinese idioms, sayings and proverbs and their metaphorical nuances. I took part in Chinese essay writing competitions in school and even once at a national level. And I’ve a few trophies in my parents’ place to boast of that. All through school, I’ve always excelled in the subject. I aced my Chinese oral and written examinations in primary and secondary school every year.
I can see some raised eyebrows now.
I also happen to be the proud owner of a certificate that qualifies me as an effectively billingual translator, written and spoken. I went to night school to study translation with the Singapore Chinese Chamber of Commerce while at my first job a few years back.
That said, my kids can’t speak proper Mandarin for nuts. Even when they do try, their pronounciation is so off you’d be laughing on your belly. I already knew I was in serious trouble the day their teachers said they demonstrated no interest during Chinese lessons. So much for me doing well in Chinese. What happened to my offsprings?
Given the sorry state we are in, no thanks to motherkao and fatherkao not speaking much Mandarin at home (*hangs head in shame*), I’d grab any opportunity for them to be exposed to the language. So when Regina (mummymoo.com) did a giveaway for trial lessons at PerchingKids, I grabbed the opportunity. This new Chinese enrichment centre (the first in Singapore and since 2003 in Shanghai) in the new I12 Katong boasts of its success in teaching children Mandarin in a fun and rewarding way. Its programme promises to make the language come alive and to engage each child. The children learn though play and experiential learning. At PerchingKids, there are no classroom settings – no whiteboards and markers, no teacher-talk, no assessment books. Just lots of play, interaction and theme-based learning, all done in Mandarin.
Becks and Ben attended the music class and creative learning class for their age group. They were the only students in the class and the teacher, Xiao Mei, took them through hand and finger actions, sing-along, running in circles and jumping up and down for the music class. I was encouraged to accompany them and participate; which explains why I could only start snapping pictures of them learning when they were seated. One of the songs they learned in the class was the names of each finger of our hand. But I doubt they remember them. I’m embarrassed to say, I forgot too.
The creative class was the more engaging of the two. Teacher Xiao Mei helped them understand the concept of weather changes and colours during the lesson. She switched the lights on and off to show them “lighning”, got them to slap their hands on the wall for the “roaring of thunder”, had them paint the colours of the sky using their hands and fingers in a variety of shades, and got them to make clouds by flinging wet, bunched-up toilet paper onto the walls. She also had them create “rain” with a wet paintbrush and taught them to describe the “drizzling” they see on the paper and floor. And this was all done in Mandarin.
Needless to say, the kids had fun. They didn’t feel so awkward to be using Mandarin and they learned new words to add to their vocabulary. I’d be expecting them to show their vocab off the next time it rains.
The little girl has officially turned two. Most of you know I’ve been having quite a challenging time with her. Ever since she was born, she was this screamy bundle that wouldn’t give a hoot about the time and place to let her wails out. When she was a baby, at least I had a pacifier. Now that she’s 24 months, it’s hard to stop her from her crying crescendos. At 24 months, she still doesn’t give a hoot about the time and place. Just this week alone, she threw hissy fits in the lift, at the lift lobby at our flat and in the carpark. She also tortured me and the baby at night by crying and kicking hourly, and into the wee hours of the morning. It would have been perfectly fine by me if she whimpered like a baby; but unfortunately she usually yells her lungs out and we end up having to shut the windows to save ourselves from being stoned by the neighbours. Oh yes, she also bit me on my left leg when she got angry with me for trying to put her to bed.
Her turning two has left me feeling a sense of anticipation and dread. I’m hoping things with her will get better soon enough. Or will it?
We had a celebration for her in school on Friday. We got her excited way before this day came and asked her what she wanted for her cake about three weeks before her birthday. She was into penguins then, so she quickly said “Penguin!” and I got Debbie (sweetyendings.blogspot.sg) to customise a healthy, pretty Penguin cake for her celebration (read how she made the cake). We arrived at the school early hoping to surprise the little girl with this gorgeous creation, and pretty colouring-book-and-pencils party packs we had painstakingly packed the week before.
But when she came to the dining area, her royal highness was looking like the grumps. She obviously threw a fit before coming in. Her teachers said she didn’t want to wake up from her nap. She saw me and started sobbing.
Despite the clowning around by her father and brother and cuddles from me, Little Miss Grumpy still wasn’t excited, or even look it. We went ahead with the celebration anyway. A hundred marks for the loveliest big brother of the century who tried to twit around her to make her laugh. Needless to say, our birthday star couldn’t care for it.
Finally, after some time, it suddenly hit her that it was her birthday. And that she was gonna have cake! That was when she finally smiled.
The cake was the best part of the party. It was uber yummy and wholesome. Chunks of banana and cinnamon and generous toppings of cream cheese. Not too sugary. Not too heavy. The children all ate with a smile on their faces. Becks’ bestie, KM, had three helpings! The birthday girl and her brother licked off the penguin’s eyes, nose and pink ribbon.
Finally. At last, my darling was happy.
She also got a party pack for her dainty self that reads “Thank you for being a part of my 2nd birthday celebration“. Thank you, my dear girl, for being a part of your own birthday celebration. I was so afraid you were gonna sulk throughout!
My daughter has officially entered the Terrible Two one month shy of her second birthday, and not a day goes by without fighting epic battles of wills with her. She’s learning to assert her independence and testing the boundaries so much so that bathing / feeding / changing / sleeping has become struggles between me and her on a daily basis. She would choose what to wear and the colour of spoon to eat with. And if she decides to sit on her diaper-filled poop today, she is so going to. She would not have you shampoo her hair if she doesn’t feel like getting it wet, and trust me, she will.give.you.hell if you so decide to get her out of bed to go out. She will lie in bed for as long as she wants, and any attempt to pry her away from her bolster and carrying her from the bed will result in a fit so hissy you’d rather go find a hole and bury yourself. When she has her tantrums, she can wail non-stop for more than half an hour and no amount of talking sense and cajoling can make her stop. I have videos to prove that she can cry and scream at the top of her lungs for that long.
And to make matters worse, she has night terrors. They started when she was about 14 months old. She has been sitting up and crying inconsolably at regular intervals nightly for a while now, usually about three to four times between 11pm and 5am. And the past week has been hell. She yelled the house down while in her semi-conscious state at least five times in the night. She had a viral fever the week before and I’m pretty sure it could have been the reason for the excessive partial night wakings.
So I have no respite, day and night.
This is Becks after three tantrums today. She refused to wear the pretty jumper I prepared for her and when I attempted to put it on, she kicked and fussed and shrieked. That was the first. When I finally decided that I was not willing to die on this hill in this battle and allowed her to choose what she wanted to wear, she chose her brother’s t-shirt. I said no, and wailing started all over again. That was the second. When she finally stopped, there were mucous and tears all over her face. I cleaned her up and made her drink some water. She refused to drink, and that started her third outburst. She was promptly sent to the naughty corner. When she finally calmed down, I allowed her to choose what she wanted to wear, with the exception of her brother’s clothes.
She wanted to be pink from head to toe.
I almost fainted.
Last week the husband told me he wanted to go to the PC Show. IT Show, PC Show, Comex, Sitex… I can never figure out what’s the difference, and why men would love to be found in crazy fairs like these. He said he would zip in to get something real quick, and I could go walk about Suntec City with the kids.
I decided not to walk about because there is no way any walking will happen with two toddlers. They run. And touch things. And do funny things. Like sit on the floor in the middle of nowhere when they are tired.
So I whisked them to the new indoor playground at Level 3 which I’ve read about in some mommy blogs.
Hokey Pokey was a little different from the indoor playgrounds my kids have been to. Unlike the usual helter-skelter, gym-like play structures that involve plenty of climbing, sliding, rolling and running, kids can actually sit still to play at Hokey Pokey. In my opinion, they’ve cheated a fair bit – the only bit that qualifies the place as an indoor playground was the soft structured slide – the rest were all masak masak, Little Tikes rides and educational toys. Hokey Pokey divides the area into the Pretend Play section, Discovery Corner, Interactive Play area and Music Corner. I wasn’t too impressed, to be honest; twenty-five bucks per kid for something my kids would get Mondays to Fridays at their daycare, and weekends at home, plus having to share all the masak masak with a lot more other children than those in their playgroup at daycare. At least in school, they play with children their age. Because this place admits kids six months to six years, my daughter had to put up with two older girls bossing her around and telling her she wasn’t allowed to touch this and that when she was trying to bake me a chicken / pour me some ketchup / serve me a pizza at the little cooking corner. She was constantly terrorised by other kids who would snatch her donuts and pots and plates. In school, if this ever happened, I’m sure it would have been a teachable moment. Unfortunately, most kids there were accompanied by their domestic helpers, so you can imagine that they themselves were also busy making new friends all around.
Nonetheless, Ben and Becks enjoyed themselves. I made fatherkao wear the baby to the PC Show, which got many heads a-turning, and so he claimed, so I was free to have pretend tea with my daughter and watch my son stack colourful birthday cakes. I also watched my daughter cook and my son explore wooden trains and musical instruments.
I did feel a little silly to be paying money to do so though. We do this all the time at home. But at least the husband got his shopping fix.
To my precious ones,
You are all growing up too quickly for Mama to handle.
Ben, wasn’t it a while ago you were asking questions furiously? Now you speak like a little man; I miss the cheeky, curious you.
Becks, didn’t you just start walking and talking? Now you rattle non-stop to anyone and everyone, and your two little penguins have become your imaginary friends. I thought I heard you ask them to hold hands and hug each other yesterday. I miss your babblings and high-pitched giggles.
Nat, wasn’t it like yesterday I held you in the delivery room? I just heard you chuckle this morning. You’ve grown from the small helpless baby to one enthusiastic trooper doing mini push-ups every waking moment. I will miss holding the little baby that was you.
Not so soon, darlings, not so soon. I still want to baby all three of you.
With all my love, and more,
Mama
Ben and Becks are 17 months apart in terms of age gap. That’s like knowing each other forever. From the time he became aware of himself and his emotions, he’s already had a sister. And Becks has never lived a day without her brother. They’ve shared many wonderful memories together and I hope they will always be the best of friends.
Because I know you do. Even when..
1. you say you don’t want Mama
2. you say you want Dada when Mama is just right next to you and smothering you (with kisses)
3. you refuse to kiss me
4. you refuse to say sorry
5. you look away when I talk to you
6. you put the food you’re supposed to share with me in your mouth and run away
I love you, precious, and I always will.
Becks at Day 20
Becks at eight months
My kids have started to fight. I don’t know when it started but I guess it’s inevitable because feisty-with-fearsome-temper Becks is growing up. But after all that snitching and snatching (we never really interfered till we see blood because, well, sibling rivalry, it’s part and parcel of life), they always kissed and made up and told each other they were sorry and still love each other.
Still, I’m missing this – what they used to do when they were a little younger:
Rowing a boat together…
Kissing…
Rocking on a rocking horse…
Hugging each other ALL THE TIME!
When there was only one kid in the house, life was a breeze. A dear friend (bless her soul) came by a month after Ben’s birth with a book on how to turn my baby into a CLB (a Contented Little Baby). This woman (the author, not my friend) knew exactly how babies worked – she told mothers what time to feed, what time to put baby to bed, what time to have lunch, how much milk to express. If you followed her routines to the letter, you’d be guaranteed a CLB. We tried the routines on Ben religiously, and wala, what did we know, we had a CLB in our arms! Naptime, bedtime, feedtime, me-time – bring ’em on! Easy as pie! This was why we decided since we were the privileged few who knew the secret to having contented babies, let’s have one more.
So when I knew I was pregnant with Becks, I headed to Borders to buy The Contented Baby with Toddler book. I thought I had it all figured out. I would follow the routines to the letter and I would have two contented babies and a blissful life. Awesome.
Awesome. NOT. Becks was a baby who disliked routines and she very much wanted to do what she liked when she liked however she liked and you’re not stopping her because she is a strong-willed girl with a mind of her own and a fearsome temper. She’d shriek the house down if you woke her up at 7am if she wanted to sleep and she’d scream her lungs out if she wanted to guzzle more milk beyond the stipulated time for feeding. She sent the message loud and clear – I will be contented when you give me, my royal highness, what I want, so buzz off and just let me be the baby I want to be. ‘Nuff said.
So there were no more CLBs in the house because Ben’s routines were disrupted by the sister who called out to Mama at her whims. I turned to other baby-led routines and tried other ways to fit Becks in. There was no way to CLB, Ferberize or Baby-wise this girl. It was a tough year, because Ben and Becks were like chalk and cheese – one needed routines to follow, and in turn, feel secure; the other was a free-spirit. I don’t know what we did but we somehow survived by just keeping naptime, bedtime and mealtime consistent for the two of them. And it helped that they started to attend the same preschool and the routines are very much fixed at school, and so life just got better and better.
In a few months, Nat is going to spend more time waking than sleeping and start solids. I practically threw all routine-advice out of the window and did what I felt I should when I should, for Nat. Perhaps it’s experience, or perhaps, it’s instinct. Although because I didn’t follow some form of a routine, he is refusing the bottle now, I am swallowing my lunch and dinner (not much chewing involved) and can go constipated for days because everyday springs new surprises. You don’t know when baby would wake or sleep or want milk – you think you know but you actually don’t – yesterday is not the same as today and tomorrow will be a different day altogether. Some days you think, ah, it’s almost time for a feed so let me get ready, and baby sleeps an hour more and you’d be like, dang, I should have taken a bath and cooked some lunch; and some days you put baby down and you know for a fact that he has just spent the last hour feeding so it’s time to drift off to slumberland with a full tummy but no, he’s all gurgles and smiles and you badly need to brush your teeth, move your bowels, scrub and double-scrub your-smelly-leaking-milk-dirty-self and cut your dirt-and-poop-trapped-nails.
So this is what having three kids taught me, apart from learning to groom myself, eat my food and move my bowels in record time of 4:36 minutes (all together), that each kid is different and with each kid I am different, and have to be. It’s impossible to tell a first-time (neurotic) mum to go with the flow but with three kids, you can and may sometimes even feel guilty that you’re hecking it. I’ve come a long way since my CLB days and am doing what I do best like a fish in water – mothering – and being a CLM, Contented Little Mother.
