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Your Daughter’s Mother

8 Aug

During her early years, M1 had interesting conversations with us. It was her way of expressing her knowledge of relationships. M2 was probably an incommunicado baby then.

A typical conversation would go along this line when I call home and she’d pick up the phone. “Can I speak to daddy?” I‘d ask.

“Ok” and I can hear the phone piece dropped to the floor and her yelling to her daddy, “Daddy! Your daughter’s mother wants to speak to you!”

Other times, it’s “My father’s wife is on the phone” or “My sister’s mother is calling you.” Roles change if it’s the hubby calling home asking for me.

Do note none of these were taught by us.

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Tough Being a Child

6 Aug

Nowadays I find it tough for my girls for being what they are, children. There is so much expected of them, especially when it comes to school and exams. So much pressure and so much at stake. Is this an Asian thing? I don’t recall, back in the dinosaur era, I was in this situation though.

I went by the school last Friday to meet the teachers and discuss M2’s progress in preparation for her upcoming big (UPSR) exam. Whilst there has been improvements in her capabilities, there is still room for improvement! My goodness. My parents never took to such concern over my welfare when I was in school. And look how I turned out; pretty darn fine I should say.

M1 is no less neglected by us or her teachers. She also has her fair share of Meet-the-Teacher/Parents sessions to discuss class progress. However, it is just the timing of the current school term that required us to meet with M2’s teachers for an update.

While I may enforce sitting at the dining table simply to have an optimum ambience for studying, I don’t sit next to them and breathe down their neck. I used to do it though— being a study police—but find it wasn’t the best approach for both parties; stressed us out instead. Anyway, they are still young and have many more years of schooling to do, they must learn to be independent and manage on their own. After all, we can’t be forever holding their hands, they will never learn.

How else can we help? For one, there’s always the moral support, in person and in spirit! Then there is the love and chocolate that I ply them. If anyone has any other ideas, do share with me. Suggestions are most welcomed!

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Mummy’s Coming, Quick… Hide!

2 Aug

The girls love a prank every now and then. It was a typical night when I walked into their room, ready for the nightly ritual before bedtime; M1 was just coming out of the bathroom as I looked at the beds and asked, “Where’s your sister?”

“She’s not there?” said M1. “Maybe she went outside.” I opened the door and called out to the TV room. No reply. Hmm.

I came back into the bedroom and scanned the place again. My first automatic reaction would have my hands reaching out to slide the slightly ajar closet door closed but before it could slide close, M2 popped out from the closet. Thank goodness she didn’t scare the daylights out of me! Phew.

Whatever prank involving the closet both were conspiring pales in comparison to what I did when I was a kid.

I was a mischievous little one. My brother and I were sharing a room then and there were many a night when we would create a ruckus in the room. From pillow fights to heated arguments, this one—done over several nights—tops it all.

Thud… Thud… Muffled giggles… Thud… Thud…

My mother would come and check on us but somehow, we always managed to fool her, pretending to be asleep by the time the room door creaked open. After a quick scan, she’d leave and we would continue. It was so fun!

We were both taking turns repeatedly, climbing onto the top of my closet and jumping off it to land onto my bed, padded with extra pillows to camouflage the thudding sound.

“Geronimo!!!” I would whisper fiercely and leap off horizontally, to land flat on my face (not feet first, mind you!) and then break out in fits of giggles. My brother was equally having a ball. We continued this three feet high Acapulco stunt for several nights until one night, it had to happen.

The landing was not too smooth and there was an unusually loud crack! Oh no. We scrambled for our lives but I think we were not caught.

Weeks passed and we stopped doing this. One day, I was in the room and wanted to open the drawers beneath my bed to take out some things. The drawer just wouldn’t budge. It turned out, a cross bar plank of the bed had snapped right in the middle and had angled into the drawer, preventing it (the drawer) from opening!

I had to feign a very innocent face when my mother wondered how on Earth this could have happened! Heheh…

Subliminally, what I did then could be the reason why the girls have a closet that is built from floor to ceiling and their beds, Tatami-style, so there is no room whatsoever for them to attempt any Acapulco act on me!

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Bargaining with Tooth Fairy

31 Jul

Last year, M2 had several baby teeth making way for the new ones. And in our home, we all know Tooth Fairy will come whenever there is a tooth for the taking. Somehow Tooth Fairy is always ‘She’ and while both M1 and M2 suspect it’s me, sometimes, some things are best left as it is.

Anyway, M2 got very innovative; with the impending “Great Adventure Road Trip to USA” happening in November (last year), she thought she could make a quick buck!

So she left this note for Tooth Fairy.

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I Am Not a Goat, Mummy

29 Jul

Sometimes when I talk to the girls, I tend to dramatize the conversation, “Come here, my child, ” I would holler with gusto or I’d say, “Hey kid! Whatcha doing?”

Whenever I do the “Hey kid” line, M2 would somberly remind me, “I am not a goat, mummy. Don’t call me a kid.”

Hrrmmph.

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Should I Be Worried?

24 Jul

I came home from my museum exploration to a barrage of messages from M2 on the iPad Mini. As today I was on the move a lot, there was hardly time to get connected at free wifi spots.

She messaged to tell me she is more sick than last week and requested permission to be excused from her tuition class this evening and would like to skip school tomorrow too. Hmm.

Should I be worried?

However, by the time I replied, she’d gone to bed already, with the 6 hours time difference. I suppose it’s serious and she’s frantic as her messages were typed in all caps and my name in caps three times. Even M1 texted me via Viber!

I better try to catch them when they are getting ready for school the next day to assess the situation. Maybe an SOS call is needed to Grandma… We shall see.

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Look How Tall You Are Now

9 Jul

We had a quirky way of measuring growth not too long ago. When M2 was younger and shorter, she would just tuck nicely under my boobs. M1, being older, was obviously taller and measured way above her.  Months passed as we were busy with life and all, we forgot about taking further milestone measurements.

One day, I summoned M2 to come stand next to me. And I commented, “My! My! You’ve grown! Look how tall you are now!”

M2 said matter-of-factly, “Yeah mummy, I grew one boob taller!” Obviously, she’s above my assets.

Since then, she’s measured at under my chin, under my nose and right at my eyebrows.

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She Talks Too Much

2 Jul

When M2 started talking, it was such a joy for us. Our little one is growing up fast and learning quick. But M1 thinks otherwise, “Quiet la. So noisy!”

“You keep quiet for 2 minutes, I will pay you 10 cents, ok?”

Such sisterly love.

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I Need a Plaster

1 Jul

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There must be something magical or addictive to having a plaster (band-aid) stuck on the body. Worn like a proud badge over a war wound, little children simply loves it for its sense of security and magical healing powers.

When M1 was young, she adored having plasters on her limbs. Whenever she discovers a mosquito bite, she’d ask for a plaster to cover it. But when there were several mosquito bites, it became ridiculous, I had to put a stop to it. So I decreed, “You put a plaster over it only if there is blood, ok? No blood, no plaster!”

So the next time, she had a mosquito bite, she cleverly scratched the spot until blood oozed out. “See? Got blood. I need a plaster.” Sigh.

The obsession with the plaster thankfully ended when M1 got older. Now it’s M2’s turn, plastering even a surface scratch. Let’s see how long this addiction will last.

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My Baby’s A Baby No More!

30 Jun

Today M2, my baby, officially turns 12 and is a baby no more. She reiterated the fact last night by stating, “Mummy, I now have to pay full price for everything!”

I know. My baby is all grown up.

(Tears swelling in my eyes)

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