Raising a man

I completely identify with Renee Zellweger's character in Jerry McGuire, when she told her sister that while her friends ar trying to find a man, keep a man, she was trying to raise a man. I feel you, sista.

I don't know how to find the right motivation button to press that will turn Hanan into the responsible, conscientious and hardworking man that I know he can be. Until then, I am left with the stubborn, careless pre-teen with a major chip on his shoulder.

I don't know how much of this is hormones. My colleague tried to convince me that boys are naturally lazy, but they will find a way to turn out alright later. I am hard-pressed to buy that. I am sure there are boys who are well-adjusted human beings who are also good with everyday tasks like schoolwork.

Maybe I should just rear fish.


If any of you lacks wisdom, he should ask God, who gives generously to all without finding fault, and it will be given to him James 1:5

I guess I need to seek wisdom in this matter. Obviously, I don't know what I am doing or I will do it better.

10 years

This day, ten years ago, at 9:27 am, my life changed.

I now had another person to take care of. Of me and yet independant of me. Mine and yet, not quite. Of more worth than silver of gold, and yet just a bundle of wrinkly flesh. And good lungs.

What people said:
- He is so perfect
- You are so blessed
- He is going to be a wonderful being
- He will bring you joys you didn't know about

What they didn't say
- You will never sleep again
- Your body will never get over it
- You will find out the most wonderful and most evil things about yourself
- You will feel sorrow about things that didn't matter before

They were right. But so were the unspoken words.

One thing I do know. I wouldn't change it for the world. He is my only arrow in my quiver, but he would be the one I want next to me, come what may.

He is my baby, my son, my kid, my joy, my trial and my greatest blessing.

Happy birthday son!

parenting

I need a manual. Really. The personality changes and emotional rollercoasters that my kid has been on lately, I have no idea how to deal with it. Are you supposed to hit puberty when you are 10?

I realise that while the mature kid in him listens to me reason it out, the petulant child whines and carries on. Over the weekend, we had a battle of wills a few times, until out of sheer exhasution, I did the unforgivable. I hit the kid.

He didn't cry, but the look of intense pain, fury and hurt he gave me was horrible and terrifying. Immediately, "What have you done?" razed through my brain.

I came clean, told my brother about it, and he took Hanan aside for some mano a mano counselling. And I am glad i could draw on his support for this.

But what if it happens again? And again? What if in frustration, Hanan says something to hurt me?

I need a manual.

***

I have a manual.
The bible is full of wisdom on how to raise a child.

Spare the rod, and spoil the child.

Do not provoke your child to anger.

Train a child in the way he should go.

Teach him God's commandments.


I haven't exactly been following the manual. It's time for a refresher. From the Refresher.

Hanan in America - a blurry photo journey

3 months after the fact, I am finally getting around to some of the wierd pics of Hanan that he took while on holiday in the States. These will give you insight into the boy's soul rather than tell you anything about his trip.

He is kinda special, this kid.



I love this shot. I think it reflects alot about his personality. And that he looks so cute, of course.



Introduced to the joys of a bathrobe for the first time, Hanan immediately grasps the jedi role-play possibilities.



Ah, the classic orange slice in the mouth smile. Which of us didn't at least attempt this as a child?



Why is it that boys can't wait to grow a beard, and men shave everyday to get rid of one? And I want to stress that bubble beards come off much easier than bristly hair ones.



Hello, Grandpa! I ask you, what do you do with that expression?



This is a picture of Hanan speaking to me early Christmas morning. Note the umkempt afro. Note the delicious sleepy face. Note the slightly confused look in the eyes. (Wait, its Christmas evening for you and i just woke up?)

I love this kid.

I feel pretty and witty and gay

Yes, I do. I think somehow talking to grouchy people and ungrouching them energises me. Am I really made for front line work? I dunno.

But I also realised that my pants are looser and my bra feels more spacious? Am I losing weight *GASP*? Quick, bring out the ice cream and cake! lol

I met a friend, S, on the bus today, who in the midst of all our bitching about work, said something real sweet to me. She said I inspired her to start blogging. How cool is that, huh?

Oh, and I finally had a chance to have a normal personal conversation with M today. She is actually quite nice leh. Maybe its just the company she keeps that I can't stand. Hmmm.

So I am gonna full on busy for the next month or so, what with 3 events at work, One Christmas musical, one little boy's room renovation to undertake.

Hey, maybe I should post pictures of Hanan's room as it looks now and you all can give me tips on what I can do to transform it. All on a shoe string budget of course.

13 days

It hit me last night, or maybe this morning, that I have Hanan for a mere 13 days more before he goes to the States with his dad for 6 long weeks.

6 weeks. Thats 42 days. Slightly more than 1000 hours.

This is the longest I will ever be separated from him. The last time was when I went to Sydney for 7 days. But that was different. That was me going away, leaving Hanan at home, not just with his Dad, but with my mum and aunts and people I trust to keep him safe. He was in a familiar environment, confident and secure.

But this! He leaves the safety of home and travels thousands of miles away, with only dad for company. He will be living with people he hardly knows, with habits he is not used to, a climate he knows nothing about. Granted, they are his dad's folks but still...

It especially bothers me that he will be under the charge of an absent-minded adult, who is not known for his attention to detail. I am afraid that Hanan will not brush his teeth, drink enough water or run a comb through his hair the whole time he is away.

13 days to instil good hourseguest habits, proper hygeine and the "don't talk to strangers" drill.

AAArgh!!!

Hanan's Halloween HorrorMask

This was Hanan's Halloween look this year. It is a werewolf, in case you don't see it. This look was brought to you by Hanan's dad, Otrie Barrett, who I think did a bang up job.

The two buckets, incidentally, were filled with toys which kept Hanan amused for about 24 hours and candies, which had him on a sugar rush all weekend.

We peeled him off the walls for school on Monday.

Random friendship photos

There was quite alot of friendship moments in October, although I never got round to blogging about them. But isn't friendship meant to be experienced and not documented?

It was the Joshua's birthday and the goondu asked me to take him to a champagne brunch, only to realise after we got there, that champagne gives him a headache. !!! But we had a really good brunch at Oscar's. And the three boys really bonded.
(NB: Elgin, despite the way he looks, did not have a drop of alcohol)


This is Hanan and Remy living it up at the Explorer Kids thingy at Downtown East. Those two boys look so alike its scary, and they both have great easy going personalities, making them absolutely fun to hang out with.

Or the funny thing is, on our way back, they were both protesting about how un-tired they were and how I was a meanie for making them stop. And then, 5 mins later, they were like this:


And finally, our department has a dinner outing paid for by the company. We went to Ellensbrough Market Cafe where most of us ate our body weight in Durian paste. It was good!

Happy Birthday Hanan

My baby is nine.

Has it really been almost 10 years since I was in the first flush of motherhood, throwing my guts up after drinking even water?

Has it been 8 years since he took his halting steps, and made us jump up and rush to his side everytime he fell?

Has it been five whole years since his first day of school, where his teacher had to pry his little hands of mine, and I walked away crying more than he was?

Was it only 3 years ago that that I decided I wouldn't do the kiasu parent thing and not put my boy in 400 enrichment classes, but let him find his passion and follow in on his own?

Wow.

Happy birthday son! I hope you become the man God intends for you to be.

Say What?

Hanan and I were playing a fun game: Think of words that have more than one meaning when used in different contexts. (Ok, this may not seem like fun to most people, but we are strange that way.)

Anyway, we were happily playing along.

Park (as in trees). Park (as in park your car).
Light (illumination). Light (not heavy).
Mouse (rodent). Mouse (computer device)

And suddenly Hanan, my sweet innocent 8 year old goes, "Ice!!!"

"Ice?", I quiz.

"Yeah, ice. As in frozen water or the slang name for the drug, " he announces triumphantly.

I freeze (no pun intended). My baby just alluded to knowledge of crystal methamphetamine,something that, in my perfect utopian world, no kid should know about. Or adults for that matter.
Who has been trying to push ice to my kid?
Where is this monster? Should I call the police?
Should I move?
Should I turn myself in for being a negligent parent, who has inadvertently exposed her kid to drugs?

My voice shaking, my heart pounding, I collect my nerves, steady my voice and ask, "That's good, darling. Now where did you hear about ice?"

"Oh, these guys from CBS, or CNN or something, came to our school during assembly and told us about it. And how drugs can destroy your life."

My mind raced. CBS, CNN.... "CNB? Was it CNB, son?" I ask.

"Yeah, CNB. Came with policemen and all", he informs me nonchalantly.

Ah. The penny drops. Looks like the Central Narcotics Bureau is still doing its rounds at schools, telling kids more about drug abuse and drug varities than any kid has any business knowing.

Good on them. I think.

Hanging with Hanan

There is nothing like eating large ice cream sundaes, looking at the one you love, and giggling over smears of fudge on each other's noses.

That's what I got to do yesterday. We went to Swensen's at Park Hotel and had a wonderful afternoon eating, talking and laughing over the strange things that happened to us during the week.

His classmate who had an "accident" in his pants.
My colleague's unfortunate heel caught in grate story.
His extremely pregnant teacher's propensity to drop her load at any time.

Later, as we walked hand in hand towards the train station, bellies full and hearts conjoined, we enjoyed a rousing game of "I spy". I like that I can be as serious, as silly, as young or as matured as I wanted to be with this young man I was walking next to.

It was good.

Oral examinations

For those of you who thought this post was about something else, shame on you.

This is, in fact, about that componenent of all exams in Singapore, which test your language skills by making you, read, converse and describe a picture. Students in Singapore do this in both English and their Mother tongue.

You see where I am going with this.

Hanan is taking his first oral exam this semester. In Primary One, they got away with a "Show and Tell" type deal, where parents had a chance to coach and train and practise with the kid. But in Primary Two, it's the real thing - sight unseen passage for reading, and a picture of some kiddie scene, like a playground or a zoo, to describe and talk about.

The English one should be a breeze. The Tamil one has us all nervous. I am kicking myself for totally wasting the last 5 months by not doing ANY reading with him. He is wondering why his parents are making him undergo this torture.

The oral segment of the exam is 20% of the final grade. I hope he at least clears 10%. Will keep you posted.

Mega Sunday

Yesterday was one of those Sundays where you cannot believe you squeeze so many things into one day.

After a long, long time, too long than I care to admit, we made it for Sunday Service yesterday. It felt a little strange making that familiar, yet long-lost trek down to Suntec and mingling with the ever-present crowds.

And of course no trip to Suntec is complete without a mind blowing lunch in one of the gazillion restaurants they have there. Our pick this week was Swensen’s, purveyor of fine ice creams and barely passable food. But this time, they really did a good job. Note Exhibit 1, the Mega Burger.


For a measly $12.90, you get a large tasty meat patty, bacon, ham, tomatoes, lettuce, onions, grilled veggies, all topped of with a fried egg! Otrie with his relatively large chompers could hardly get his lips around it. It was an amazing burger and super value for money, man!

Something weird about wait staff in this Swensen’s, though. Or maybe it’s just the insufficient training they received. The guy came over and asked us how our food was. Which was all well and good. So, we told him the burger was great, but the fries were stale, recooked and nasty. At which he SMILED and said “OK, THANK YOU!” and WALKED AWAY!!!

*looks outraged and incredulous*

If you were sincere about the question, why didn’t you do something about the fries?
If you didn’t care, why bother to ask?
If you didn’t understand what we were saying, why didn’t you ask again?

Please people, if the customer complains about something, try to fix it. Do the right thing! Be a man! (Ok, channeling a little Russell Peters there.) It’s customer service 101. It’s also common sense 101.

Fortunately my chicken salad was perfect, as was Hanan’s mini burger, so we left more satisfied then unhappy. By the way, check out the mega fork they gave me to eat my salad with.


After an amazing sermon by Pastor Lian, we went to pick Hanan up from Sunday School. He always looks as if he had been a participating in a triathlon after Sunday school. It must be the influx of the spiritual feeding. And the adrenalin rush of all those like minded 7 year olds tearing around. So while we are waiting for the bus the child is jumping all over the place. But the minute we get on the bus, and he finds a warm body to curl up to, the boy is out like a light.


It’s a good 45 min journey up north to where we live, so that’s a pretty good nap. Of course this also means that Otrie and I get home tired and Hanan is ready to start new, involved activities.


Last night, it was Monopoly. We just bought Monopoly- Star Wars Edition, and he was excited about playing it.

Ok lah, we all were.

And it was really fun too, because it somehow became a Star Wars Trivia cum role play session. And Hanan beat us both, man! He was collecting rent on starships (utilities), building hotels and what not. He played with the reckless abandon of a child and totally owned us.

And so ended Mega-Sunday. I hope we have another one next week. Have to break the finding-excuses-to-skip-church cycle.

Blast from the past

Ok, how many people feel nostalgic now? I totally forgot about this song until I heard Hanan singing it.

Swimmingly

It was a busy and event filled weekend at the Barrett household. Hanan had his first ever swimming test - Survival (Bronze Award).
7 year old babies are expected to do the following:-
- swim 50 metres in pyjamas (obviously in case you are asleep on a cruise ship and it hits an iceberg.)
- Tread water for 4 minutes (because evidently your cruise ship goes down in a main shipping line and a ship passes ever so often)
- take off their pyjamas, throw the shirt onto a near-by beach (simulated by edge of pool) and make a floatation device out of their trousers, all while treading water.
- swim 400m, first executing the elegant Sophie's Dive, 'cos even when you are diving off a sinking ship, style mesti ada.

I am proud to say that my son, along with the rest of his cohort passed with flying colours. Despite being tested at 1 pm under the burning noonday tropical sun.

He is none the worse for wear, except for some red cheeks and two toned legs.


Getting last minutes instructions for swimming coach, Uncle Prakash. This man has coached at least 4 kids in my family, the oldest, Naga, is 21.


Hanan looking confidently out at the water.


Taking the first plunge (the little head in the water is Hanan)


The aftermath - Hanan's 2 toned legs