(a little note: about the part on the rattlesnake, coincidentally, an episode of The Pink Panther was shown after we’d read this a few times together, where the panther accidentally stole a basket containing a baby instead of food during a picnic scene and in an effort to pacify the said baby, now crying, he’d removed the end of the rattlesnake’s tail to give to the baby as a rattle, and i guess this left such an impression with the kids that they associate it with this particular rattlesnake every time.)

(also, another note: they will inevitably ask the same question in every story with illustrations – “where’s the daddy/mummy/baby?” not sure why but there’s always a concern for the whereabouts of a missing family member in the story.)

made me wonder how much my parent forked out for mine, coz i have NO idea. they’d split costs – mom paid for my brother’s overseas education, dad paid for my local one. and i was fortunate enough to not have to repay any student loans whatsoever either. (dear dad, thank you for giving me my education. and while i’m at it, thank you too for paying for my driving lessons. and basically, for everything you spent on me. as my brother would constantly remind me, i was a spoilt princess – still am, yeah i know. :S)

so anyway, we’d settled on a whole life and term policy thing, same as her brother’s. i don’t know, i’m generally not very good with money (seeing how i’ve not been made to handle much of it in my life growing up), and just hope that things will work out for them in the future…

meanwhile, in the present, was updated of the girl’s progress in child care (she’s in a half-day programme for now). all good things so far. she especially likes the home corner and dress up corner (oh the gurly gurl she is turning out to be), storytelling and art, conversing with friends and teachers, discovering things, always the one to help distribute others’ water bottles… and i’ll spare you of the superlative adjectives her enthusiastic teachers had for her. :p

one thing the teacher DID ask me to work on with her was fine motor skill, in particular threading work, which she, for some reason, did not like doing. i’m guessing she doesn’t have the patience yet for it, but since it seemed like another activity we could do together at home, what the heck…

and the last thing we talked about was toilet training, which we all agreed she was pretty ready for. the past few weeks, she’d cooperated on the potty before bedtime, and the previous weekend she’d woken up, walked straight to our bed and asked to pee in the toilet, so i think all that reading of Princess Polly’s Potty came to fruition after all. well, that and the fact she has her older brother to model upon, and me, whom she follows to the toilet all the time to observe. (yes, that open-door policy still stands here at izadnhana’s abode, sigh.)

and so, am happy to report that this was her third day in preschool undiapered, and doing pretty okay (minor mishaps, ie. half-accidents, notwithstanding).

so yey to less diaper wastage! (and to mother earth, sorry we didn’t get started sooner).

we went for a ‘thematic approach’.

we spelled, counted, measured, talked about what the ingredients did, passed around the vanilla essence for everyone to smell….

we scooped, stirred, broke eggs, took turns, resolved conflicts…

we rolled dough, created shapes, sprinkled rainbow sprinkles and chocolate chips…

and with the smell of cookies baking in the oven, we did some storytelling… bilingually, too.

and of course, we tasted the fresh, warm, home-baked cookies, nevermind the dubious hygiene level of the cookie-makers, lol. they tasted pretty good, actually, despite the fact that we didn’t follow the ingredients too closely (seeing how things kept spilling).

we balanced tea time with fruits and nuts and then it was free play…

and we got hungry again at dinnertime, so we made some pizza. the little chefs were actually more interested in piling stuff on the dough than eating the final product, though they did collectively run to the oven every few seconds to peep through the oven door. so the ones who eventually ate were the adults, who also got creative and designed their own satay pizza (izad’s family are in the satay business, so it’s a staple at every function – the satay and peanut sauce are awesome.)

inspired by the success of this playgroup session, we’ve assigned the daddies to take over the next one. something less domestic and more outdoorsy… though it’d be interesting if they could conduct, oh i don’t know… origami or scrapbooking, maybe?? :p

had the mid-year parent-teacher-conference with aniq’s teachers last saturday. nothing much we don’t already know, really. basically that he CAN’T KEEP STILL (his hands and mouth are always moving!), very expressive, not shy, and gets along with everyone… and no, he still doesn’t read, like 75% of his class (i asked!) but recognises most alphabets (though still gets some of them mixed up). and i suppose there IS improvement in those slightly legible chicken scrawls… lol. i know i’m not supposed to worry TOO much, and shouldn’t be comparing, and he IS a december baby, so tendency to have to catch up with his cohort… but he likes schooling and learning enough to not complain or whine about it at this point, and loves getting us to read to him, so i guess that’s good enough for now. (but dammit, off to phonics class you go to, little boy…)

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we kinda overlooked that part, really. back then, we only had the short-term view of ensuring that our location of residence would be in close proximity to my parents, for many reasons (other than the $40k grant) – the convenience of checking in on each other, the supply of home-cooked food, the default caregiver to our kids… in short, we chose our house solely for the family support factor, and nothing else. (well, we DO like this particular area a lot for the aesthetics too.)

only in later years did we realise, there were in fact many parents who chose/moved/rented houses for the sole purpose of being in close proximity to good, reputable schools, thereby increasing their chances of placing their young child/ren in them. it was a radical jolt to my system, this piece of info. i mean, we seriously never thought about it. “like, really? people would go to such lengths?” well that just goes to show how, err, ill-prepared we were with the realities of being parents of school-going children in singapore.

so then i heard about this whole fantastical system called the Primary One Registration that had these things called phases, and it was again, another rude shock to my shelled oyster. “what? there are priorities given to register kids in school OTHER than proximity?!” my mom never told me thaaaaat. (ok maybe she did but i wasn’t listening, and besides, times have changed since she retired… i think.)

all the horror stories began to fill my ears, of parents who lived across the road from a particular school but did not succeed in obtaining a place for their kid, of parents who performed volunteer work religiously yet did not get through the balloting, of HOW HARD it is to get into that particular school because it’s so reputable, neighbourhood status notwithstanding, that it’s oversubscribed every year.

i’m sure there are just as many, if not more, parents who don’t think much of primary schools, and are just boggled over the fuss in the first place. “it’s just PRIMARY school, many kids come out of normal, nondescript ones doing well too, big deal.” they’re right, of course. i admire that kind of brave confidence, actually – that their kids CAN do well no matter where they go to, that it’s only in secondary school where they’ll ‘bloom’.

my parents, for some reason, had sent me to a particular girls’ school in the east, which was, in that era, a somewhat popular one. i remember going to school together with her on the bus and watching her by the school gate as she leaves – that particular image of her still stirs in me that same sad feeling to this very day. (separation anxiety, you may call it.) and if anything, that’s testament to how powerful your emotions and experiences are in the primary years, that it stays with you throughout your life. and i guess that’s the point i’m making; i had such deep, long-lasting impressions in my formative years in primary school – of friends and teachers, and importantly, of learning (i had such excellent language teachers, and i have them to thank for planting the seed that eventually became my strength) – that those six years were the most memorable ones for me. they weren’t all necessarily good ones, but i think, important ones. (though, ironically, the one thing i still can’t fully grasp, despite ten freaking years in a girls’ school, is dealing with the dynamics in a group of girls, ha haha.)

in any case, i wouldn’t be able to put aniq in a girls’ school, so the parents-as-alumni priority phase is out.

i looked around and realised, while there were a few neighbourhood schools that weren’t too bad, on account of the accolades they proudly blaze on banners outside their school gates, i sorta wish for my kid to go to nicer-sounding ones, with established history and long track record, and i don’t know, knowing actual people who came out of there and had promising/successful paths, you know? i guess all that sounds superficial and unreliable as basis for my choice, because i’ve NO idea what would work for my kid, whether he’ll thrive or survive regardless of the environment, what kind of teachers he’ll get, what kind of friends he’ll be surrounded with. then of course, there’s still the matter of convenience and proximity and sheer logistics… (by now, you’d have me for the typical overthinking, worrywart of a first-time parent, and you’d be right – bah!)

for all the uncertainties, i figure, the least i could do is try to get him into a school which he could one day thank me for, one that will hopefully leave a positive influence on him, and who knows, i could create a legacy for him, some day make it easier for him when the time comes to register for his kids’ when they reach the ripe schooling age of seven. (forward thinking lah, right.)

and because i need some sense of being in control, i chose to do the beaten path of parent volunteering, a concept i never imagined i’d embrace (just like exercising – 2010 seems to be a year of new discoveries, it would seem).

we were duly warned that there were no guarantees despite clocking in that 40 hours of PV (or more, as some have done). i’m not even sure if it’s worth doing it, really. it’s not say, the top school (if anything, i’m easily intimidated by competition), it’s not affiliated to any secondary schools, and it’s technically a neighbourhood school which is out of our 2km range… but i have my reasons for choosing it.

i’m going in with no high hopes, in case this is all a futile exercise. heck, i don’t even know if i’ll be able to complete the 40 hours! i’ll just take it as… experience? experiment? yeah, just go with it.

anyway, clocked in my first four hours at their annual funfair on friday. that’s me, in a badge that says ‘parent volunteer’, sweating under a hot tent, touting and doling out food which the other parents contributed. the REAL, hardcore parent volunteers, the NON-40-hour ones, mothers AND fathers who’ve been at this for years! omg i’ve never known such a thing as their enthusiasm and devotion to a parent volunteering network, i’m a little.. overwhelmed.

so, dear aniq, this better be worth my 40 hours….

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and i sorta had an epiphany – maaaaybe the reason why i never warmed up to this whole active lifestyle was because my parents didn’t really bring me out to do sporty activities as a kid, or supported my school sports’ events? i don’t know, just a theory. (so what DID we do then? i think i was indoors a lot. my childhood’s a little hazy – and apparently, lazy.)

anyway, the kids’ school had a sports league thingy, in line with their theme and i suppose, the upcoming youth olympic games, and i thought, what the heck, it’s one saturday morning that’s already thought-out for us. (we’re always racking our brains thinking up of things to make them tired on weekends, so they’d turn in early at the end of the day – not that it ever works.)

hey do you remember your school sports days?? the only thing i remember is the ICE COLD MILO they used to give out in small plastic cups! it tasted SO delicious back then, for some reason. of course, the rest of my memory is of hiding in corners of the bleachers with other anti-sports friends. heh.

speaking of friends, each school had displays of what they did to tie in with the theme, and guess who aniq introduced us to…

… the mysterious girfriend he’s always talking about. she IS real.

i liked that they highlighted little anecdotes and photos as evidence of what they did or talked about in class, coz i think most times, we parents have little idea what they do in there, five days a week. my daily question of “what did you do in school today?” has them invariably answering in the standard “i eat” / “i play toys” / “i donno”, or if i’m lucky, random ramblings of who pushed who, or who was naughty.

and importantly, we also got to see who they hang out with, five days a week.

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one of those things i’ve been meaning to do but never got around to, due to my… erm, non-sahm status. bad excuse, i know, but weekends always seem to whiz by with little time to execute such activities at leisure. and it’s not much, but oh well, at least we were inspired, if only for one afternoon.

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what do you think?

clearly, she has waaaay too many boys’ toys at her disposal. from power rangers to ben 10 merchandise to cars to trucks to dinosaurs to (i’m ashamed to say this) guns (none of which i’m responsible for, i stress) – she’s been sharing them all with her brother.

which is not such a bad thing, actually. i think it’s kinda cute. (this is her favourite set of pajamas, by the way. i kid you not. “eh-men! i want eh-men!”) ha ha.

sure, there’s a cooking stove, which both of them congregate at every day to concoct imaginary dishes/drinks for me or the daddy. there’s a little pram with a freaky blonde doll, which they both take turns to chase each other around the house with. there’s a shopping trolley, which they equally find pleasure in scattering its contents all over the floor with.

i’ve not discussed with her yet about princesses (except that one book about a Princess Polly and her potty, and even that, it’s just a girl with a crown wearing panties, not your standard Disney-type womanly princesses with coiffed hair and frilly gowns who go around kissing frogs or supposedly rich, handsome, young, single, charming men), but somehow, either from the incessant advertisements on tv or from observations of older girls and peers, a kind of, hmm, ’social osmosis’ happened, and she can identify with the concept.

“(pr)een-cess!”, she’d exclaim, her head tilting, her voice extra high-pitched and in such a sing-song manner that you can practically hear glitters and pink sparkles coming out of her. O-o

“princess?”, i’d ask, giving her a sceptical grimace. “dowan lah.”

as you can see, i’m still trying my best to resist the idea of over-gender-conditioning and hyper-femininity. i’m fighting against creating a ‘gu niang’ girl. just as i’d lost the battle with the boy and his penchant for toy guns, i may be losing it with the colour pink.

and, admittedly, mummy isn’t being a great example herself, what with her girly makeup and lipglosses and dresses and high heels, eh? LOL.

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early on in the movie, his 15-year-old daughter declared her love for a boy after knowing him for 3 days, and as the rightful protecting father that he is, proceeds to ground her – for life.

Dan: And by the way, you’re grounded.
Cara: Oh yeah? For how long?
Dan: For life.
Jane: Dad, come on.
Cara: Yeah, this is humiliating!
Dan: Alright, you’re grounded for a month.
Cara: A month?! But… that’s worse than forever!

but he had to eat his words when he met marie (the beautiful juliette binoche), and fell in love with her after a morning of conversation – only to find out later that she’s his brother’s girlfriend. and so ensued an excruciating 3 days for him, stuck with her at his family gathering, repressing his feelings like a lovestruck 15-year-old. till the turning point in the movie where she breaks up with his brother, unable to repress her own growing feelings for him, and the entire family, including his daughters, discovered them kissing, resulting in a whirlwind of chaos.

Dan: I know I messed up.
Cara: Yup.
Jane: Yes you did.
Dan: So here is what I’m going to do. I am grounding myself for life. And so I will be with you–
Jane: You’re with us every day.
Dan: I’m not going anywhere. See, I got a little confused with Marie. That is over, okay? I kind of lost my head. I got a little stupid, because I love her. No, that’s not…I don’t love her. and that’s not what I meant. I mean, how could I love her? I’ve only known her..
Lily: Three days.
Dan: Yeah. And how can you know in three days? Well, no. Yes I do. I love her. I love her, I love her, I love her. I love her.

that part about grounding himself for life, man, that did it for me. there’s something heartbreaking in his attempts to be the übermensch single father – the self-sacrifice, the unconditional love, the rules and decisions that make him, as his 9-yr-old daughter says, “a great father but a bad dad” – but eventually succumbing to human fallibility.

i guess a single mother could make an equally compelling story – with more martyr-like panache for dramatic measure – but because he’s a single father, it brings out… a different kind of aww-factor fuzziness. yeah, i’m a sucker like that. coz for some strange – biological? evolutionary? – reason, we women have a soft spot for the nurturing male of the species, so much so that we even want to nurture the nurturing male. we can’t help it. just look as far back as the bedtime fairytales of yore, you’ll find more instances of stepmothers than stepfathers (refer to: snow white, cinderella, hansel & gretel, et al). from kings to woodcutters, they all seem to have these women (nevermind that they’re usually evil, vain, material and non-maternal) taking them into their open bosoms.

and, yes, in true fairytale fashion, dan did end up marrying marie. (except she’s not evil and they all love her, and i REALLY MUST STOP reading too much into those darn fairytales i read to aniq at night coz they’re screwing up with my brains).

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speaking of grounding, we’d ‘grounded’ the boy on sunday on account of his adamant refusal to partake in a weekend activity we’d subscribed him to for one hour. his excuse: he wanted to play with his toys. so fine, we told him, play with your toys all you want at home, but NO TV and NO following us out AT ALL. (we were going to shop for a birthday present before proceeding to the said birthday, where his cousin dadam was anticipating his arrival, so he’d be missing out on all the action.) he cried at the penalty. “too bad,” we told him. “that’s called Punishment, aniq.”

i mean, he has to learn that he simply can’t have his way all the time without some kind of repercussion, in this case, at the expense of fun time with his favourite cousin and the goodies that come with birthday parties. right?

sometimes i ask the husband, “is he spoilt? is he a spoilt brat?” i have my suspicions, but how exactly we’ve ’spoilt’ him, i’m not too sure. it’s not like we give in to his whines or demands, we teach him to mind his Ps & Qs, we scold him whenever he does something wrong, praise him when he’s right… so what happened in between the acquiescent, eager-to-please baby he was and now? have we been too soft? could corporal punishment have its merits, after all?

in any case, when we came home, he was all kisses and hugs and, the cold, unforgiving mother that i am, i told him i was still angry. (i’m cruel, i know.) remnants of his remorse lingers the next day, smothering me all over with affection when i returned. “do you want go to the [subscribed weekend activity] on sunday?” “yes,” was his immediate response. “good boy,” i said.

I AM AN EMOTIONAL-BLACKMAIL FIEND, is what i am. if this were a fairytale, i’d be the stepmother.

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since we’re on the topic of fairytales, and i clearly have a fascination at demystifying them, i leave you with this rhyme, an english translation at the end of a Perrault story to warn young girls with a propensity for attracting sexual predators (i’m sure you can easily guess which one).

Little girls, this seems to say,
Never stop upon your way,
Never trust a stranger-friend;
No one knows how it will end.
As you’re pretty so be wise;
Wolves may lurk in every guise.
Handsome they may be, and kind,
Gay, and charming—nevermind!
Now, as then, ’tis simple truth—
Sweetest tongue has sharpest tooth!

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am missing her today, coz it’s the first day back at work after the long CNY holiday and she’d usually be the first feet to pitter-patter over to our room and lay her head on my side of the bed, followed by her brother, but today i was out before either of them woke up, so something felt… amiss.

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