I wish I could envelop you in my embrace
Kiss the fears away
Defeat the bad guys (even if the bad guy were me)
Make you smile again.
But I cannot enter the deep, dark crevices of your mind
The secret spaces
Your dreams are yours, and yours alone
I cannot stop the shivering
Ebb the flow of tears
Hold your threshing body as you shout "mummy you dropped me!"
All this with eyes closed, as you cling on desperately in that other world
But I can wrap you up with all of me
Hum your favourite lulluby
Kiss each little tear
As I gently awaken you,your eyes wild, fingers gripping mine tightly
You smile, confused
Your smile, comforting two rapidly beating hearts
You sign for milk, I watch the shadows in the dark
That I can do.
Tuesday, February 24, 2009
Monday, February 23, 2009
Why?
the mind of a 2 year old is one of life's great mysteries. sometimes
each thought reaches its eventual conclusion, but mostly, it just loops
about, sometimes orbiting in the grey spaces, sometimes splintering
into 3 separate threads.
A case in point. Morning. the little
one walks about the room, spies a dropped pine nut from her bread,
picks it up, inserts it into right nostril. Thankfully a) she told me
about it; b)it wasn't too deeplylodged, hence, a pressing on the left nostril with a big quick blow saw the pine nut lunge out and hit the wall.
Most
parents of toddlers know that asking a 2 year old "why did you do
that?" is an exercise in futility, but somehow we never seem to learn
and after yet another mysterious infringement, we (okay, I) will always
ask why. the answer is always the same. "Because." Existentialists can
have a field day with that one.
Another case in point. The same day. Afternoon.I brought the little one for lunch out at T3, Popeye's.
Sat her in a normal chair (not a high-chair anymore, she resents those
now) and we settled down to munch on our deep fried, highcholesterol chicken. A littler one walked past and our chicken muncher nonchalantly
sticks out a leg and almost succeeds in tripping the one year old. No
expression. No look of glee or mischief. No look of horror (That came
from me). It was almost a scientific experiment. What happens when I
stick out my leg when someone walks past? It was only when she saw my
face, that she realised the action was definitely NOT COOL. Before I
could start my lecture probably entitled "Evil", the dear one asked,
"that was naughty?"
Grunt.
"I should apologise".
Grunt.
the
little now contrite one climbs down from her chair, goes about 3 tables
away to the almost-tripped baby and, gasp! apologises to the whole
family for tripping their baby!! I watched this 3 tables away as she
pats the baby's hand, elicits forgiveness, then skips back to me, a
heart lightened by forgiveness.
As I said, the mind of a 2 year old is unfathomable.
each thought reaches its eventual conclusion, but mostly, it just loops
about, sometimes orbiting in the grey spaces, sometimes splintering
into 3 separate threads.
A case in point. Morning. the little
one walks about the room, spies a dropped pine nut from her bread,
picks it up, inserts it into right nostril. Thankfully a) she told me
about it; b)it wasn't too deeplylodged, hence, a pressing on the left nostril with a big quick blow saw the pine nut lunge out and hit the wall.
Most
parents of toddlers know that asking a 2 year old "why did you do
that?" is an exercise in futility, but somehow we never seem to learn
and after yet another mysterious infringement, we (okay, I) will always
ask why. the answer is always the same. "Because." Existentialists can
have a field day with that one.
Another case in point. The same day. Afternoon.I brought the little one for lunch out at T3, Popeye's.
Sat her in a normal chair (not a high-chair anymore, she resents those
now) and we settled down to munch on our deep fried, highcholesterol chicken. A littler one walked past and our chicken muncher nonchalantly
sticks out a leg and almost succeeds in tripping the one year old. No
expression. No look of glee or mischief. No look of horror (That came
from me). It was almost a scientific experiment. What happens when I
stick out my leg when someone walks past? It was only when she saw my
face, that she realised the action was definitely NOT COOL. Before I
could start my lecture probably entitled "Evil", the dear one asked,
"that was naughty?"
Grunt.
"I should apologise".
Grunt.
the
little now contrite one climbs down from her chair, goes about 3 tables
away to the almost-tripped baby and, gasp! apologises to the whole
family for tripping their baby!! I watched this 3 tables away as she
pats the baby's hand, elicits forgiveness, then skips back to me, a
heart lightened by forgiveness.
As I said, the mind of a 2 year old is unfathomable.
Tuesday, February 17, 2009
discerning the heart of God
Parenthood gives me a peek into the heart of God in a way that I've never seen before but probably hypothesised over a million times. Every time the little one chooses not to do as she's told, even after a few reminders,I see the stark reality of sin and feel the disappointment and knowledge of what is to come. When punishment is meted out and the little one stands alone in the corner, separated by a gulf so wide, filled with pain, hurt and the anxiety of separation on her part, and overwhelming sorrow on mine, i feel God's heart. The times i deliberately hurt and disobey God, i ignore Him when He calls, i choose apathy rather than passion, God has to put me in the corner so that i can reconcile myself with Him eventually. The reality of the cross also becomes starking as i see the little one run across the threshold, straight into my arms, weeping and apologising, reconciling herself to me.That cross on our floor, where Jesus streched Himself out on, so that we can run on, to reconcile ourselves to our Heavenly Father.
Yesterday was particularly trying, when i had to punish 3 times for non compliance, this coupled with an old gastric problem acting up after many years of remission. But there is always the sweetness after where the little one "massaged" my tummy, laid hands on it and prayed for "jesus to make mummy better", after which she planted many little kisses all over me. Like my daughter, I too need to learn how to be sweet and plant little kisses on God after making God sad.
Yesterday was particularly trying, when i had to punish 3 times for non compliance, this coupled with an old gastric problem acting up after many years of remission. But there is always the sweetness after where the little one "massaged" my tummy, laid hands on it and prayed for "jesus to make mummy better", after which she planted many little kisses all over me. Like my daughter, I too need to learn how to be sweet and plant little kisses on God after making God sad.
Tuesday, January 13, 2009
discipline
I've been thinking about discipline methods of late.
of course, coinciding with the REAL characteristics of a 2 year old emerging. the knee high little person, while ever more charming and irresistable, is also showing signs of open defiance, which of course, must be nipped in the bud. the tool of nipping though, is what forms the crux of hubby and my on-going discussion. so far, the "stand in the corner" method does work rather well as it involves us ignoring her for 2 mins and she cannot bear to be ignored. this always results in a tsunami of tears and promises that the naughty deed will not be repeated again. but of course, if it doesn't occur again in the next few hours, then surely the next day, by which time, I will be tempted to do the one-strike-and-you're-out. So I'm wondering if it is because the method of punishment is not memorable enough or if toddlers just have short memories and that i'm expecting too much too soon. If the little one can do the stomp-the-ground-with-one-foot-arms-akimbo-glare quite well, who knows what shannanigans she'll be up to when she's older! And I certainly don't even want to consider the possibility of a defiant teen in my home.
So, nip it in the bud. which brought our conversation to the reality of corporal punishment, which we both felt strongly about. hubby's take is, smacking her for hitting someone doesn't make sense. so she can't hit, but adults can?? such irony! I also envision having to smack myself a few times first to decide on the correct pressure. too hard, it will traumatise. too light, there will be no impact. and where to smack? hands? bum? legs? i guess our parents didn't think about this too much or wring their hands like what I'm doing now. they just bought a cane and whacked as hard as they could, as long as they could find the cane and grab us before we escaped! But we've both come to the sobering possibility that we might have to start smacking if the open defiance becomes, well, more open.
so today, i'm going to find my wooden mixing spoon and try for intensity. the warning in all books is, do not hit when you are angry. smack only when you are calm and can speak in a calm, collected manner, or else, risk hitting out of anger and becoming abusive. that is all wonderful, but the reality is, the anger, is what causes parents to pick up the cane,spoon, whatever, in the first place! so it looks like,
1. child misbehaves
2. parent gets angry.
3. parent goes somewhere else, counts to ten and breathes. stays zen.
4. parent tells misbehaved that she will be punished in calm voice.
5. parent meets out punishment.
6. child is contrite. hopefully. (although from experience, i believe child will be furious for being whacked and will stay angry at parent, at least for a while.until parent apologies for whacking child in the first place!)
so, really, i'm none the wiser. Will try immediate punishment (stand-in-the-corner) at naughty behaviour first, rather than provide warning, and if that doesn't reduce defiance, the spoon will make its debut.
of course, coinciding with the REAL characteristics of a 2 year old emerging. the knee high little person, while ever more charming and irresistable, is also showing signs of open defiance, which of course, must be nipped in the bud. the tool of nipping though, is what forms the crux of hubby and my on-going discussion. so far, the "stand in the corner" method does work rather well as it involves us ignoring her for 2 mins and she cannot bear to be ignored. this always results in a tsunami of tears and promises that the naughty deed will not be repeated again. but of course, if it doesn't occur again in the next few hours, then surely the next day, by which time, I will be tempted to do the one-strike-and-you're-out. So I'm wondering if it is because the method of punishment is not memorable enough or if toddlers just have short memories and that i'm expecting too much too soon. If the little one can do the stomp-the-ground-with-one-foot-arms-akimbo-glare quite well, who knows what shannanigans she'll be up to when she's older! And I certainly don't even want to consider the possibility of a defiant teen in my home.
So, nip it in the bud. which brought our conversation to the reality of corporal punishment, which we both felt strongly about. hubby's take is, smacking her for hitting someone doesn't make sense. so she can't hit, but adults can?? such irony! I also envision having to smack myself a few times first to decide on the correct pressure. too hard, it will traumatise. too light, there will be no impact. and where to smack? hands? bum? legs? i guess our parents didn't think about this too much or wring their hands like what I'm doing now. they just bought a cane and whacked as hard as they could, as long as they could find the cane and grab us before we escaped! But we've both come to the sobering possibility that we might have to start smacking if the open defiance becomes, well, more open.
so today, i'm going to find my wooden mixing spoon and try for intensity. the warning in all books is, do not hit when you are angry. smack only when you are calm and can speak in a calm, collected manner, or else, risk hitting out of anger and becoming abusive. that is all wonderful, but the reality is, the anger, is what causes parents to pick up the cane,spoon, whatever, in the first place! so it looks like,
1. child misbehaves
2. parent gets angry.
3. parent goes somewhere else, counts to ten and breathes. stays zen.
4. parent tells misbehaved that she will be punished in calm voice.
5. parent meets out punishment.
6. child is contrite. hopefully. (although from experience, i believe child will be furious for being whacked and will stay angry at parent, at least for a while.until parent apologies for whacking child in the first place!)
so, really, i'm none the wiser. Will try immediate punishment (stand-in-the-corner) at naughty behaviour first, rather than provide warning, and if that doesn't reduce defiance, the spoon will make its debut.
Tuesday, January 6, 2009
Of roles and characters
Just as method actors live their parts to get immersed in the role, the little actress in my house does too. Although she doesn't quite do the accent and all, she plays her role quite seriously. As little mermaid, she spent a copious amount of time slithering on the floor, asking us "grant me legs!" or "rescue me!" as she has no legs you see. as pochohontas, she implores us not to marry her off and badgers is to bring her on a ship to see "john smith". well, we did just that, in fact, 2 "ships"--the duck tour boat, and the hippo which runs along clark quay. While cruising past some dragon boaters along kallang river, our pochohontas shouted out to them, "hello brave warriors!". these brave warriors waved back but i'm sure they would have puffed up in pride, if they heard what they were called!
These few days, she answers to "Tim" (one of the 5 performers in hi-5) and of course, mum and dad have to take on the other characters accordingly. I'm called "kelly" and bern's called "nathan". What that means is, she won't brush her teeth unless you say "tim, come and brush your teeth", and she'll reply most sweetly "sure, kelly!" I'm not sure who I'll have to play next, but for now, I'm reading her lots of other stories that don't star some female with no legs and such.
Monday, November 24, 2008
Which is worse?
To be puked on or shat on? I should get some voting done on this as I believe most mums have been puked on AND shat on before, and often simultaneously....which is what happened to me recently. Of course, this is NOT to put off potential parents, just to put parenthood in persepective.
The little one woke up from her nap looking rather ill and started whining and complaining about a tummyache. And of course, all asian mums worth their salt would have RUYI oil or eucalyptus oil every ready and a suitable distraction. for us, you tube was it. And then it happened. halfway through little mermaid singing about being part of the human world, the projectile vommitting started. It rained on the ccomputer table (please let it not move near the the keyboard!), the chair (ok, got to pull out the cover), the nearby mattress (aargh!!!! let it not seep through the bedsheet. no no!!oh oh!), the floor (ok, this one can leave for a bit), her, me (eeww!!!ahh! vomit in my hair!!). Given that the little one has only thrown up once in her life when she was still a wee one, this experience of retching was new to her and she was naturally shocked and frightened...which meant she clung on to me, tight as a kuala to a eucalypt tree, awashed with puke and tears.While i pulled off the bedsheet as quickly as i could, opened the door with vommit-filled hands, walked as quickly to the bathroom to get us cleaned, it happened 3 more times, leaving a trail of destruction along the way.You do realise that doing all that with a 13 kg weight attached to your neck is no small feat. AND THEN the OTHER THING happened. off came the clothes to rinse off the little body (which was still firmly attached to the mothership) and then drip drip drip.....a puddle of poo gains momentum and gathers into a neat artistic shape while drizzling down my legs. AAARRRGGGHHHHHHHHHH!!!!
A desperate phone call to the grandparents had all 3 adults (gramps and helper) landing at my doorstep. 2 hrs later. Which by this time, we were all cleaned up and all feeling better. And cheerful. Which left the bewildered SOS team at the gate wondering what the fuss was about..and me feeling rather sheepish about the sharp tone of my SOS call. another day in the life of a mother.
The little one woke up from her nap looking rather ill and started whining and complaining about a tummyache. And of course, all asian mums worth their salt would have RUYI oil or eucalyptus oil every ready and a suitable distraction. for us, you tube was it. And then it happened. halfway through little mermaid singing about being part of the human world, the projectile vommitting started. It rained on the ccomputer table (please let it not move near the the keyboard!), the chair (ok, got to pull out the cover), the nearby mattress (aargh!!!! let it not seep through the bedsheet. no no!!oh oh!), the floor (ok, this one can leave for a bit), her, me (eeww!!!ahh! vomit in my hair!!). Given that the little one has only thrown up once in her life when she was still a wee one, this experience of retching was new to her and she was naturally shocked and frightened...which meant she clung on to me, tight as a kuala to a eucalypt tree, awashed with puke and tears.While i pulled off the bedsheet as quickly as i could, opened the door with vommit-filled hands, walked as quickly to the bathroom to get us cleaned, it happened 3 more times, leaving a trail of destruction along the way.You do realise that doing all that with a 13 kg weight attached to your neck is no small feat. AND THEN the OTHER THING happened. off came the clothes to rinse off the little body (which was still firmly attached to the mothership) and then drip drip drip.....a puddle of poo gains momentum and gathers into a neat artistic shape while drizzling down my legs. AAARRRGGGHHHHHHHHHH!!!!
A desperate phone call to the grandparents had all 3 adults (gramps and helper) landing at my doorstep. 2 hrs later. Which by this time, we were all cleaned up and all feeling better. And cheerful. Which left the bewildered SOS team at the gate wondering what the fuss was about..and me feeling rather sheepish about the sharp tone of my SOS call. another day in the life of a mother.
Tuesday, November 18, 2008
Of Santa Claus and other magical creatures
A casual remark to a friend that the little one is looking forward to receiving presents from Santa this Christmas earned me THE LOOK. Of course, THE LOOK is often nuanced and heavy in subtext, which in summary would say something like "You're teaching her about Santa?? you're a christian!!" I guess this is where hubby and I differ from half the christian population, and on purpose. On purpose because we actually had a deep discussion before we decided that she should be acquainted with Santa, flying reindeer, the tooth fairy, the unicorn, brownies, pixies and other such creatures. As a christian, it is easy to get caught up in the legalities of what you should teach one's child and what you shouldn't. In fact, as a young adult, I even wrote and directed a musical about the true meaning of Christmas where poor Santa got ostracised after the world understood what christmas meant. In fact, I was so righteous about it I got upset that shopping centres depicted Santas and other seemingly unrelated creatures. As I grew older, I've become less legalistic, more measured and I've learnt to see the positive in Santas. As I teach Maeve about baby Jesus and how God loves us so much He sent us His Son, I also allow her to be excited about getting presents from Santa. The St Nicholas story, is also an important one and depending on how one pitches it to their child, can be a wonderful lesson in love and giving.
The magical stories of Santa for me, fall in the category of fairy tales of wonder and adventure that the little one should know about. Without being able to imagine Santa in North Pole, the tooth fairy exchanging good quality baby teeth for tokens, magical fairies hiding in gardens, riding on a magic carpet, being a genie that can grant wishes, what would childhood be like? For us, there is no need to introduce too many realist concepts at this age, the world and gradual age will do it. Eventually, she'll be a appropriately cynical pre-teen and this world will disappear naturally.
I guess I believe sincerely that the ability to dream, to make-believe, to wonder, is the gift of childhood (that hopefully won't be killed by pragmatism). I remember wishing really hard when i was young (and even for a while believing) that I could climb up the magic far-away tree (enid Blyton)and do all the wonderful things like eat sweets that grow in your mouth.Sis and I will make a pact to meet each other "up the tree" and for a golden age, we did.
So while she thoughtfully chooses a gift to give baby Jesus for His birthday, she'll also get a gift under the tree from Santa on Christmas day. But first, she must remember to put out the milk and cookies for him!
The magical stories of Santa for me, fall in the category of fairy tales of wonder and adventure that the little one should know about. Without being able to imagine Santa in North Pole, the tooth fairy exchanging good quality baby teeth for tokens, magical fairies hiding in gardens, riding on a magic carpet, being a genie that can grant wishes, what would childhood be like? For us, there is no need to introduce too many realist concepts at this age, the world and gradual age will do it. Eventually, she'll be a appropriately cynical pre-teen and this world will disappear naturally.
I guess I believe sincerely that the ability to dream, to make-believe, to wonder, is the gift of childhood (that hopefully won't be killed by pragmatism). I remember wishing really hard when i was young (and even for a while believing) that I could climb up the magic far-away tree (enid Blyton)and do all the wonderful things like eat sweets that grow in your mouth.Sis and I will make a pact to meet each other "up the tree" and for a golden age, we did.
So while she thoughtfully chooses a gift to give baby Jesus for His birthday, she'll also get a gift under the tree from Santa on Christmas day. But first, she must remember to put out the milk and cookies for him!
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