2016 is a year of new beginnings.

The motherhood terrain is looking incredibly different. The landscape ahead is looking craggy and filled with highlands and alpines. For one, I’ve got a primary-school-goer this year, and that itself is changing the motherhood game completely. The academic pressure is building up, slowly but surely, and I’m beginning to get glimpses of angst, outbursts of annoyance and many occasions of arguing and bickering (the firstborn with me, his siblings, his father, and just about everyone he is familiar with). Not to mention the sporadic emo-ing complete with the sometimes pensive, otherwise sulking face looking out into nothingness which makes me DREAD the tween years which I imagine would draw nearer than I think.

And am I the only parent who is fighting a losing battle against technology? For the longest time I have kept Ben occupied with books, LEGO, crafts and sports but these days he’s been begging me for a mobile phone to play Minecraft because everyone plays Minecraft, he says.

Then there’s the other two preschoolers, one in K2 this year and the other in Nursery (and both almost at the same height now I get questions like ‘Are they twins?’ everywhere I go). They are plonked into a new kindergarten with an amazing accelerated curriculum I don’t even know if I should laugh or cry. The K2 is learning how to use Google at computer class and learning words about the rainforest I only picked up in Geog in Secondary 2. Her tingxie phrases are pegged at Primary 3 levels, and while her Primary 1 brother is being tested the spelling of pronouns like ‘she’, ‘he’, ‘they’, ‘we’, she needs to figure out how to blend and spell the different layers of the rainforest from forest floor and understory to the emergent and canopy layers. The good thing is, after a month of being in the new kindy, she’s so much more vocal and confident, and speaks Mandarin with more ease and poise than she did a month ago. Which is the reason why I am undecided if I should laugh or cry in her case because while it is such a pain taking her through her weekly spelling tests and homework, I am seeing a much more outspoken girl who enjoys going to school.

The littlest is 4 this year and he is so mature for his age, I don’t even recognise this baby anymore. He probably has 6000 words in his vocabulary now, and knows all the names of his favourite dinosaurs, Star Wars characters and just about every thing under the sun. He loves to read and write, and wishes to outdo his sister all the time (which is partly due to that super ‘on’ new kindergarten!). He argues his way out of trouble and is able to give a ton of reasons why things happen, and I find myself dealing with an even more intelligent version of my firstborn when he was 4 – which makes this motherhood gig more exhausting now than ever. Nat, oh Nat, where has my baby boy gone?

2016 also marks the year of embarking on yet another entrepreneurship journey. One chance meeting and almost a full year of incubating an idea from seed to fruition later, and I now have a 5th “baby”, one that I’ve always dreamt of having. As an educator, I have stood in almost every classroom in every possible setting – as a relief teacher in a primary school during undergrad days, an English and Literature teacher in my practicum days, as a JC lecturer and tutor for almost 7 years and as an adjunct lecturer in NIE just one year after leaving the civil service – but none was as rewarding as the “classroom” which I homeschooled the kids in where we practically explored everything we wanted to. That classroom was the most challenging yet most fulfilling, because little did I know this when I stayed home with my kids – that I was protecting their right to play; because in play, they learn the most. I was present for them in their growing years, and facilitated those precious learning hours through play as a present parent.

Which is why I’m replicating the experience I had with the kids at Trehaus.

Trehaus is the dream that my co-founders and I have always wished existed – to be present for our children and to create a place where work and play would never have to be mutually exclusive.

And so I’ve stepped onboard full time as a co-founder to direct the programmes we roll out at Trehaus, embracing the play philosophy for young children, and making work-life-balance less of a myth and more of a reality. And I am proud to declare ‘acheivement unlocked‘ for pressing on in this steep climb up the start-up route once again to bring what we’ve dreamed of to life. It didn’t come easy but we started. And I am treasuring this opportunity to educate and make a difference. I’ve stayed home for the kids and now, for a change, they will be coming to work with me.

To mark the changes for the year, the blog’s gone through a revamp too! As with life, nothing remains static. I’ve said my goodbyes (boo hoo!) to the days of diapering and breastfeeding. I no longer have toddlers with snoot to wipe off, boo-boos to kiss and toothless grins to play peek-a-boo with. This blogspace will now chronicle the new milestones I experience as a mother, the challenges I face going back to full-time work and my thoughts about topics close to my heart: of education, play, creativity and learning. And while I negotiate new terrains, I hope you will stick around and share this journey with me, as I would like to learn from you too. It’s going to be helluva ride, this year, I’m so sure of that!

Cheers to a better year ahead – one of dreams and discoveries!

It’s back to regular programming on this space and most of Singapore, but I am still mourning the loss.

I woke up today feeling a huge void.

Funny how I’ve never met the man, never shook his hand, never once saw him in person from afar, and yet I teared the last seven days reading about him. Every time a tribute, a note, a link or an article was shared on FB, I found myself crying while reading it.

And this is coming from someone who grew up quite resentful of the one-party rule in her country and desiring for more credible opposition to stand for elections.

It’s tremendous; the effect this one man had on me.

Over the past week I’ve pored over scores of articles sharing personal encounters with Lee Kuan Yew and insights of him. I’ve learned about the frugality of his lifestyle, the dedication and unwavering commitment to his “abiding passion” of building Singapore, the depth of love he has for his wife cemented in 63 years of marriage, and the softer side of him – how he would care and demonstrate concern for someone with that personal touch.

What struck me most – and what struck me hard – was that he lived and breathed Singapore, and cared about this country more than anything else.

I went through this whole week thinking: What about me? How can I live and breathe Singapore in my own little way, insignificant as I may be, here at my station of life, here in this country I call home?

And while life goes on, albeit a little sadder and emptier without the man that made the Singapore dream a reality, I’m starting this day, post-LKY, thinking hard about these questions. I’ll think about them and find answers along the way – as a mother, a wife, an educator, a daughter, a friend and neighbour.

A new era has begun.

I’ll go ride that rainbow, Sir. Thank you for leaving the LKY legacy, and for building this place I am proud to call home.

I’m a history buff, and a big one since young. My love for history is in part influenced by my History teacher who lost her life in the MI 185 crash on 19 December 1997. We were close, and would often chat before class. I remember her telling me that the pleasures, problems, victories and failures of the past summed up the tremendous value of studying history, and that it should extend beyond an academic endeavour to pass an examination. Because of her words, I developed an appetite for historical books, memoirs and autobiographies, and extended the pursuit of the subject beyond ‘O’ Levels.

A few of those books include the memoirs of Mr Lee Kuan Yew’s From Third World to First.

I remember being in awe at the foresight and wisdom of a man whom I can call the Founding Father of my country. I remember going, right, that’s how the Merlion came about, and feeling amused that our trees are planted equidistant because this man had wanted us to be shrubby enough to be called ‘Garden City’. I remember reading about the arduous process of nation building – and feeling thankful of how far we’ve come. As a young adult, I was sometimes anti-establishment and often thought about emigrating, but who was I kidding? I teared every time the National Anthem was sung at the National Day Parade at every National Day Parade. I would always watch the parade. And feel that tremendous surge of pride for being the Singaporean that I am. My family is here. My life is here. My heart is here.

And years later when I taught General Paper in a Junior College, I found myself sharing the insights I gleaned from this man whom my students would otherwise never know much about. The Singapore we know of can certainly be known more if you’ve read his writings, was what I told my students.

But the Singapore my students knew and the Singapore my children would come to know, would never be the one my generation and the one before knows. Someday, our children would pore over textbooks and supplementary readers and tutorial notes for history and social studies, or even be made to study his memoirs as compulsory text.

But he would be just a character. A man who was important. A name on their paper. They would never know a Singapore that had his presence and indomitable spirit. The one I had always known.

***

Today was the first day of Term 2 for the kids at kindergarten. We were a little late for school in the morning because we had spent some time watching the news on TV. I took the chance to share a little with Ben, Becks and Nat about what Singapore was like in the past – swamps and mud flats and fishing village – and asked them to look around us to see what we have now in contrast. Soon Ben and Becks quickly understood that an important man died, and this important man was the one who led our country and built it to where it is today. I am sure they would recall this day should it ever appear in their history textbook in the near future.

In the evening, Ben asked if we could watch the news together and it was apparent he enjoyed listening to me explain to him what was on TV. He watched in horror as sepia images of aggression, violence and riots flashed across the TV screen and asked what happened. He watched in wonderment at how dirty the Singapore River used to be and how it is now today, having just been to Clarke Quay last week. And then he asked,“Mr Lee Kuan Yew did all these?”

And so I explained that he came up with policies and a masterplan to help our society progress and probably got people who were willing to come onboard in this mission. Then I asked him, “Will you be a man like that someday, to help your country?”

“Yes, I will. I will help MY country.”

My family is here. My life is here. My heart is here. My children are now here. In a Singapore I am proud to be a part of.

***

“We wanted a Singapore that our children and those of our fellow citizens would be proud of, a Singapore that would offer all citizens equal and ample opportunities for a fulfilling future.” – Lee Kuan Yew

At the A & E eight hours after I slammed the car door on my own thumb

Porter (who’s assigned to escort me for the x-ray): Alamak, so serious ah, you… How you fall?

Me: I didn’t fall.

Porter: THEN WHAT HAPPENED?!?!

Me: I close car door didn’t see my thumb still there.

-silence-

At the A & E doctor’s room

Doctor: So, what happened to you?

Me: Car door slammed on my thumb.

Doctor: Door hinge or far end of door?

Me: Far end.

Doctor: Hard slam like a smash, or…?

Me: Not a hard slam. I closed it quite gently on myself.

Doctor: Looks very bad still.

–silence-

At the doctor’s room after the x-ray was done

Doctor: There’s a chip fracture, from what I see…

Me: WHAT??!!??

Doctor: Yes, the injury is quite bad. How did the door slam on you?

Me: I slow. I slam self.

Husband: (bursting out in hearty laughter) Yes, Doctor. No one did anything. She closed the door on her finger on her own.

Me: Thanks for explaining in so many words. I can’t believe that either.

At a birthday party about 18 hours after the accident

Friend 1: Hey! I saw on Facebook! What happened to your thumb?

Me: Huh, slow lor, what to do?

Friend 1: Ouch, must be painful.

Me: Tell me about it.

At the same party a while later…

Friend 2: How are you?! I heard about your finger. So what happened? The kids slammed the door on you or what? Kids are very fast these days.

Me: No, not the kids.

Friend 2: Huh, then who?

Me: It’s called “I SLOW”.

***

Thank you, everyone, for your love and concern. The thumb is better, the specialist has seen it and said it will get better (it can only be) and I will try my best to react quickly to car doors from now on to spare myself from more agony.

There was no fracture, by the way. Just a really hard slam and a bad bruise.

I hope these jokes make your day.

P/S: I am so happy I can now apply pressure to the injured thumb without much pain and will be back with regular programming in no time!

I’m going to be taking a break for a while from this space.

And it’s not because I need to catch up on kdrama or need a sanity break.

I’ve taken a lot more than I can handle this year and every day in 2014 feels like I’m doing an octopus dance, juggling the demands of a work-at-home-stay-at-home-do-everything-at-home mom. If you don’t already know, I’m trying to start and grow a business, and that in itself is consuming my brain matter. I am also running the day-to-day ops of the household and chauffeuring kids to school and from school daily, to and from Math and Chinese enrichment weekly, and taking up blog engagements that I feel will enrich my children. These, plus having to handle the mom guilt about not doing more homelearning with the kids and reading to them more than I should, and I end up finding myself needing to rethink about how to plan and discipline myself better to be more efficient and effective, and learning to identify distractions and get more focused.

Someone here needs to work out her priorities it seems.

And for now, I also need to rest my thumb because I’m functioning with 9 fingers.

I had stupidly slammed the car door on my right thumb during the weekend. Yes, no kidding.

Which resulted in a swollen thumb that throbbed incessantly to the point I felt light-headed and had to get an x-ray done only to remind myself of how s—–l—–o——w—— I was in my reflexes because it was revealed that I had inflicted upon myself a chip fracture.

Swollen and fractured: Which is worse than contractions at childbirth, by the way. At least contractions had a purpose. This pain just reminds me of how slow I am. That’s all.

There, I said it – the embarrassing reason why I won’t be writing for a while. Even typing this post is getting the thumb throbbing a little once every five hits.

Till then, when the thumb’s up.