What’s red and green and puts a smile on your face?
No, not Santa, sorry. Even better:
The best part about living in the country – especially where we are – is that you never need to drive too far for berry-pickin’ in the summer.
We made sure not to be too greedy this season. Last summer we ended up with two full gallon bags that I froze for no apparent reason than to toss away in the winter. I’m not exactly the jam-making type.
Good grief. Can you imagine me?
Crisp red-and-white checkered apron, stirring strawberries stewing in a pot, lipsyncing to the Beatles’ “Strawberry Fields Forever“, sunlight streaming through the window pane and smells of scones baking in the oven wafting through the house, rosy-cheeked children playing quietly under the dinner table, waiting patiently for their treats?
Don’t know which part is more improbable – me wearing an apron or the children playing quietly.
Technorati Tags: strawberries, u-pick, summer, berry-picking
A whole new level of pointless
There’s GOT to be an award out there somewhere for parents who have to clean vomit and shit off carseats, carpet, bedsheets and cushions two days straight.
Lokes and I used up a whole bottle of Oxy Clean and Febreeze (Extra Strong) each, just cleaning up after our three-year old, who’s managed to contract a cough, a cold, some sort of flu and now finally a stomach bug in all of three weeks. To think she used to be the strong one, the one who never got sick when everyone else did. Now Raeven has emerged victorious, remaining stoically unscathed as the rest of us hacked, sneezed, groaned and moaned through the last three weeks.
Nothing like kindergarten to toughen that immune system right up.
Remember how I used to get carried away with the toilet cleaning? Well, while I was busy scrubbing a trail of soiled carpet yesterday morning, I decided, what the heck, to spring clean the girls’ entire play room.
Here’s the before:
And the after:
In the words of my wise friend Mathilda, here’s what we’ve been reduced to doing: Taking before and after shots of housework so we can blog about it.
Are you beaming with pride, mom?
Technorati Tags: parenting, good housekeeping
Sewing seats of love
Was messing around with the sewing machine, creating sleeves for our new notebooks when I got it in my head to use the leftover fabric to create cushion covers.
Don’t you just love the batik print?
Gosh, I’m such a 50s housewife…
Kaya, at long last!
For those of you who troll Facebook or Twitter, you may have glimpsed that a certain Malaysian mother living in a certain small town in Washington has been trying her hand at making kaya, Malay for coconut egg jam. This Malaysian delicacy has in recent weeks plagued my every waking moment, even as I sneezed and coughed my way through the last week or so, pink-eyed, diseased children in tow. All I could think about was green, sweet, sticky nyonya kaya slathered generously on a slice of crispy warm Texas toast (American-speak for kopi tiam equivalent thick-sliced bread).
So motivated was I that I actually went out and assembled the ingredients required to make some (no small feat since it is my daily endeavour not to stray into the kitchen).
The first time was a disaster. I’d used a “speedy kaya” recipe from some idiot who managed to convince a desperately homesick (and lazy) woman that a microwave and 30 mins was all it took. I’d also used powdered santan (coconut milk) – not good.
Today, I bought some frozen Masagana coconut milk (not the grated version) from Ranch 99
and my wonderful, handsome, extremely sexy husband managed to find me some essence of pandan in lieu of the real thing (such a turn on).
I followed the portioning of this recipe, but the method didn’t make much sense, so I pretty much felt through the whole cooking part of it myself, heating the sugar and the coconut milk until it thickened and then streaming the beaten egg in slowly, slow-cooking the mixture to perfection around 30 mins later over a 2-4 heat until it bubbled and thickened more to a paste. You add in the pandan essence about 10 mins after the egg.
And there it is!
Lokes taste-tested it and remarked, “Mmm! Can sell!”. That’s the Tan family equivalent of “this kicks ass!”.
So excited to “intro” kaya to the girls for breakfast tomorrow!
Another post about cleaning. This is a mommy blog after all.
One of my biggest Mommy challenges is keeping my temper in check.
My friends may be shocked by this since I’ve always been pegged as ‘easy-going’ or ‘cincai’, in Malay-Chinese speak. The truth is, I get pissed off just like everyone else. Perhaps even more frequently so since I’ve become a parent.
Perhaps the biggest pet peeve I have about being at home with the kiddos is cleaning. I hate to clean and any situation that results in me having to clean upsets me tremendously (and we all know how that is never an issue with having children). Although in recent times I’ve learnt to appreciate, even more, an impeccable house, I deplore no less the space and time between 1. a dirty house and 2. a clean house. In short, I hate having to get on my hands and knees to scrub tile or tub or toilet bowl, pry crumbs off the carpet, vacuum or scrape nasty caked stuff off the stove top.
Now if I were ‘easy-going’ about cleanliness, in that I just ignore the mess, it would obviously not be something I’d be so moved to write an entire blog post about. Or if I liked a clean house so much more than cleaning like my friend Sara does, that I look beyond the labour. As it turns out, I’m one who NEEDs things to be clean but do not want to do the work, and is too cheap to pay someone else to do it.
So yes, I am officially now a moron.
Really, how healthy is it for one to keep completely calm (”remember, gentle but firm”)when one’s three-year-old spills milk or yogurt onto the carpet? Or decides to empty every single box of toys just to look for her favourite Polly Pocket outfit? Or decides to water the one plant in our house with a full bucket of water? How is one to sit back and bask in the happy fulfillment that is parenthood when one is awaken at two in the morning to change out a mattress soaked with pee?
I am in perpetual cognitive dissonance over this, having to reconcile daily the natural (and therefore chaotic) development of young children and my need for tidiness and order. I was, after all, brought up to believe that no bad deed should ever go unpunished. We all live in this world together, and it would be unfair if some people got put away for, say, peeing in bed and some didn’t.
And yet, children rarely want to spill milk. Or pee in bed. Or stick marbles up their nostrils just to smell them a little better. Or roll play-do on the carpet because it’s more fun. Or get pregnant at 15.
Children rarely do these things JUST to piss us off. How self-absorbed are we to even think that? Do they have accidents, make mistakes to see if mommy will REALLY go off the edge and smoke that very last secret cigarette? Deep, deep, deep down, in that small little box called their subconscious, do they draw on walls with permanent marker just to fuck with us?
Of course not.
And yet, we wish it were so. When our kids misbehave, we wished the reasons were more sinister, so that we can feel better when we, say, bitch on our blogs about yet another day spent in pig sty hell.
Phew, that felt good.
Back to making sure all the markers are capped and every car is in the bin and every teeny tiny little Polly Pocket and their teeny tiny shoes are accounted for.
Don’t even get me started on those things.
It’s so good it’s ill
You know you’ve become an aunty when you’re actually starting to enjoy housework.
Remember when? Never thought I’d see the day. What the hell is happening to me? I spent all day yesterday washing the bathrooms, vacuuming the carpets, changing bedsheets, rearranging drawers and when it was all done, I retired to my couch with a hot cup of tea, swathed in a warm feeling of satisfaction that the world was all right again.
It’s *ill I tell ya, ill!
Random thoughts
The more I read, the more I’m convinced. Seung-Hui Cho, the Virginia Tech killer, might’ve suffered from a very severe, untreated, never-diagnosed case of Selective Mutism?
What would happen if enough of the troops in Iraq refuse to fight in the war? Lokes and I discussed this on the drive home yesterday. This morning, we heard this on NPR. Coincidence?
Breastfeeding doesn’t halt obesity. Damn.
We have not watched a single episode of American Idol this season. I wonder why.
Life of Pi is a surprisingly interesting read. I’d thought it would be dry (as all Man Booker Prize winners go, *snort*) but I am enthralled.
My scabbed knee still hurts like a bitch but I am still up for more netball this Saturday (the Seattle women’s netball team is competing in LA this weekend – wish them luck!).
I found a library book I thought I’d lost. Woohoo!
Raeven has two boys ‘fighting’ over her in school. They’d literally pushed each other today over who got to stand next to her. Mortified as I am, am also a little amused.
Skyler will NOT sleep in her own bed and has been coming over every night. It’s exhausting.
I bought some beef for stewing. Any suggestions?
Puke, snow and insomnia
Feeling a little out of sorts these last few days.
Sleep was, is fitful, as though I have unfinished business. Which is, of course, true. Laundry to iron/fold. Books to finish. Half-assed stories to correct.
Raeven spent the better part of yesterday throwing up. She’s fine now, just a stomach bug that made her tummy allergic to food. Poor thing had to starve all day following instructions from our company nurse (isn’t that cool? We have a company nurse!). And she was supposed to go for her first soccer lesson yesterday. Sigh.
Plus it has not stopped snowing the last three hours. And here we were thinking the weather was warming up. Skyler has her first playgroup tomorrow.
COME ON!
I need a break.
A quick poll
What are five kinds of house work you HATE to do most, in descending order?
Here’s mine:
- Changing the sheets: My mom and mother-in-law both agree that bedclothes should be changed once a month. Well, screw that. This has got to be The Most Annoying piece of housework on my list and should be relegated to when you have NOTHING left in the house to clean/change/fix. Don’t get me wrong. I love clean sheets as much as the next person and am the kind to bring my own sheets and pillowcases whenever we’re going to stay in a motel. I just don’t like changing them. HATE IT!
- Doing the laundry. This was on top yesterday, but because I had to change the sheets today, it got bumped down.
- Vacuuming. I have a love-hate relationship with vacuuming. I like to vacuum only when it’s REALLY dirty. But you can’t see dust, and so even though the house ‘looks’ clean, the fact that my carpet could be harbouring an inch of dust and fungus and mould just irks me that I will reluctantly vacuum, cursing ceaselessly as I do it because I am not receiving ANY visual gratification that it’s any cleaner than before. It’s just irritating!
- Doing the dishes. I don’t know how I’ll survive without the dishwasher.
- Scrubbing pots and pans. Asian cooking is messy and oily and often leaves pots and pans with stubborn residue at the bottom of our soups and stews and curries. For instance, steamed egg with minced pork residue is one SONAVAbitch to clean. You have to soak it in baking soda for a few days for everything to come out. What the fack is up with that?
There. You go.
Enable cookies!
Nothing says “I’m maternal” like baking cookies. Submitting to the cliché, I agreed to try my hand at making a few dozen for our town’s annual tree lighting tomorrow. Needless to say, they completely ruined my diet the last couple of days. It’s a conspiracy!
Raeven did the icing. Aren’t they perfect? The no-brainer recipe is at my cooking blog. These are simple sugar cookies (we call them butter cookies in Malaysia and elsewhere).
And nothing warms the heart more than a buttery-smelling house and the sight of one’s children tucking in happily.
And just for fun, I took a pic of some of my cinnamon-y pinecones. If I could eat them, I would.
Have a good weekend, all.
Copyright © 2006 The I’mperfect Mom. This blog is for non-commercial use only. If you’re reading the entirety of this entry on another website (excluding your RSS aggregator), please email me to report copyright infringement so legal action may be taken. Thank you.
A matter of focus
“Because, you see, I do have a job. It concentrates the mind.”
For some reason, this line in a dialogue in Claire Messud’s The Emperor’s Children, jumped out to me this morning as I was enjoying a little alone time in the can (a rarity. Lokes had the kids downstairs, breakfasting).
If I were to name one of the things that I miss most about giving up my career to become a stay-at-home mom, was the focus I used to have, to make sure I did my job well.
I may not have been an award-winning journalist, perhaps not even a winning one (how life-altering can a piece about the future of pro-gaming in Malaysia be, pray tell?), but at the very least, I had focus. If we truly use only ten per cent of our brains, then I had perhaps used 110 per cent of that ten per cent.
Not so easy when it comes to kids, is it?
While we women, experts believe, may be by and large better multitaskers than men, it is no less strenous an activity, one that scatters the focus like no tomorrow. The logic is there. The ‘job’ of raising children is really a million mini jobs (feed them, keep them warm, keep them from breaking their fingers on drawers, keep them from becoming losers).
More importantly, it also lacks one key factor in KEEPING that focus: motivation. You don’t get days off. There are no promotions. Very rarely do you get sufficient thanks for it (yea, try taking all the hugs and kisses and I love yous to the bank). And boy, does your world shrink quickly, to suddenly become just a series of The Little Mermaid, The Little Mermaid, the extended version, The Little Mermaid soundtrack. Making breakfast, making lunch, making dinner. Trips to school, trips from school, trips to the supermarket, trips to the park, trips to the bathroom. Your mind and body racing from one place to another just to get things DONE.
Focus? Yeaahhaa right. What’s in it FOR ME?
One of my New Year resolutions this year was to read more, and that at least, is giving me some focus these days. Blogging helps too, although that is turning out to be more of an obsession than a hobby. Having moved to the US, reading, which was back home, an expensive pastime because the library was too far away and I could never return the books I rented from those Rent a Book outfits so I’d end up buying them) is turning out very nicely. ‘Coz, you know, Barnes and Noble does not accept hugs or I love yous either, the bastards.
So my dear SAHMS, tell me. What are you doing these days, to concentrate the mind? Scrapbooking? Bakin’ muffins? Making wine charms? Blogging to save the world? Come share!
Copyright © 2006 The I’mperfect Mom. This blog is for non-commercial use only. If you’re reading the entirety of this entry on another website (excluding your RSS aggregator), please email me to report copyright infringement so legal action may be taken. Thank you.
Five things I hate about being a stay-at-home mom
I have officially run out of things to blog about. That or my mind is a little preoccupied these days with:
1. finishing that damn book. It is seriously slow moving. If not to see how Kate is going to end up and if Aron will really find out his mother is still alive and/or become a minister, I would’ve given it up a long time ago. But I AM FINISHING IT! Good books take effort, right?
2. Leveling my now Level 24 Hunter. Slowwww moving I know.
3. Thinking of new dinner-type dishes. Even though Lokes and the kids don’t really mind eating the same crap every now and then, I think I’m capable of coming up with more choices. Right? Right.
And so, in keeping to my one entry a day (or more) schedule, here are five things I don’t like about being a stay-at-home mom (they shouldn’t be surprising):
1. Cleaning, period. I have this thing about cleaning REALLY dirty stuff. In that I like only to clean when things get really dirty. Like when you can actually FEEL the grime on the soles of your feet when you walk around.
I used to take piano lessons from a neighbour whose mother was religious about cleanliness and hygiene, so much so they never seemed to have many visitors because people were afraid of dirtying the Mak residence. I mean, the woman (my piano teacher’s mother) was most probably suffering from OCD. Whenever my sis and I went over, she would literally be cleaning at our heels, mumbling under her breath about the things we inconsiderate kids drag into other people’s homes and how we, her daughter’s music students, should just stop visiting once and for all. After seven years of piano lessons (I never ‘graduated’), I told myself that I would NEVER clean my house like that because of how miserable she made us feel.
And now that I know how much work is really involved (esp. with two under-five kids), I don’t think I will ever be that clean.
2. Folding the laundry. I don’t mind loading and unloading or even ironing (which my husband can tell you I don’t really do as well, but only because I like to warm up the iron only when I have a lot to iron and get them all at one go) but I truly do hate folding the stuff and putting them back inside their respective little nooks. Which is why our closets and drawers are perpetually in a mess.
3. Doing the dishes. There’s only so much my dishwasher can take, and with two kids (and very few in-between washings), one goes through little bowls and little plates and sippy cups and regular cups and cutlery and sometimes even our ‘guest’ china, at light speed. Suffice to say, our water bill is quite low.
4. Reading the stories. After a full day, I find myself really despising storytimes because firstly, out of the 52 books we have in her room, Rae will only read two. We’ve read them so many times I can recite each one word for word in my sleep.
Secondly, she does so like to interrupt and imagine that she’s IN the story. Now Lokes does all the reading and I, the praying. That, I can handle.
5. Changing bedclothes. Hate it. Since I don’t mark my queens from my kings, I always end up putting the wrong ones on the wrong beds and then have to remove them again.
HATE IT!
I only do it once every two months. Sorry if it disgusts you but we often bathe twice a day so we’re not THAT dirty.
So there you go. Mamatulip and Cuddlymama and Atti2de - consider yourselves cordially TAGGED! Zel I know you’re not an SAHM but seeing you’re about to become one (and you guys don’t use a maid), consider this an essay assignment of things to come!
Trapped (meals, breaks and holes provided)
This month’s Self Portrait Challenge (reading Karli’s reminded me of it – thank God I have you on my feed, babe. I keep forgetting!) is about Enclosed Spaces.
Here’s mine:
Although I’ve been a mom for four years, I think I’ve only just discovered the verities of motherhood, and what it can do to someone who’s not ready, or might’ve had romantic or ambitious notions about the job.
Seven months into the role of a stay-at-home mom, it is not unlike the feeling of having walked into a trap. That sounds horrid, I know, but the truth is that much of it isn’t gratifying or liberating or warm and fuzzy. TOTALLY not what your mom or aunts or grandmothers want you to think it is, especially for those of you who are used to independence and travel and meeting people and long dim sum sessions and gaming into the wee hours of the night. Regiment and routine and housework and being mindful of what happens around the house and having always to set a good example for your children – all this feels oppressive and depressing. Most of the time, escape is all you think about.
But to equate full-time mothering to some claustrophobic confine is inaccurate. Unfair, even. Because there will be times that grateful relief for having been given the job will wash over. To be able to witness the priceless antics your kids get up to, moments you know can occur only once (which is why camcorders and digital cameras are a godsend). To be able to have those all-important conversations that can change so much. To rest, at the end of the day, in the loving embrace of a thankful husband for a job well done.
So using what is a bad (but functional) analogy for those who insist on one, motherhood isn’t a box. It’s a cage. You get meals, breaks and holes. For light. And laughter. For love. After a while, it even gets comfortable.
Give it another ten years and you might not even notice it anymore.
The Superwoman Syndrome Podcast, now up!
We had a really good show this morning where we talked about the dreaded Superwoman Syndrome, where a woman tries to do everything: be mom, career woman, wife and daughter.
We had Patsy and Topaz with us this morning and talked a little about how we are all control freaks to a degree and how the inability to let go can affect our lives.
Listen to the podcast here. Also available on the player in my blog (top right).
Our next topic will be about a largely Asian conundrum: How do women, who are mothers, juggle having to care for their immediate families and their parents? What does it mean to care for parents who are ill? What options do we have to help us out?
Please watch for the time and date at the SAHP Malaysia Yahoo group, and if you want to join the Skypecast, let me know. All you need is a Skype account and the software, a mike and speakers or headphones!
Information used during the podcast regarding medical symptoms of The Superwoman Syndrome and steps to recovery was sourced from the following websites:
Tell us what you think here or at the SAHP Malaysia usergroup. Thanks for listening!
Jeans and dreams
There are times in one’s life as a stay-at-home mother, where one is faced with sudden bouts of self reflection and worrisome contemplation about one’s future.
The experience is not unlike finding and trying an old pair of your favourite jeans you know may be too small.
You sit on your bed, jeans in hand, daring yourself to put them on. Sometimes, you’d chicken out, stuffing them hastily back into the closet. Sometimes, you’d actually do it, only to be stubbornly refused somewhere along the thighs area. Defeated, you return them to their rightful place, in the box marked “old clothes”, before going downstairs for a lunch of two tomatoes and a peanut.
Did I tell you that I was once a journalist?Â
I’d started my career writing about supermarkets and hotels and food. And then I began taking an interest in computers and technology and the Internet. Before I knew it, I was playing video games and writing about them.
It was a glorious time, which culminated in my helping to organise the first ever international game development conference in Malaysia in 2005. I got to meet my idol, Chris Avellone, the lead designer of Neverwinter Nights 2. And that was my swan song, before embarking on my journey to the US as a stay-at-home mom.
I would be lying if I said I didn’t miss that life. Sometimes, it hits like a punch to the stomache, to realise that that chapter is now over and that I may never be a journalist again. Not until my kids go off to college anyway. And as much as I console myself with blogging and my experiments with creative writing, and the fact that I am doing the most important job of my life today, I know that part of my life is closed. Greyed out. Dead.
It does NOT feel like a noble job, being an at-home mom. It is not fulfilling, not all of the time. And God knows it ain’t easy. Most moms who do it often ask themselves when the day would come where they’d go off the deep end. Most of the time, it isn’t even because your child is sick or that they’ve somehow found paint and poured it all over the TV. It can be as harmless as the prospect of facing another day of the same old shit.
Waking up and making breakfast. Bathing the kids. Breastfeeding. Going to the playground. Cooking dinner. Doing laundry. Cleaning up messes.
Every. Single. Day. No ifs. No buts. No breaks.
I often wonder if my husband understands what a big deal this is, and why he should worship the ground I walk on for the rest of my life and let me win every fight we will ever have. I wonder if the husbands of other stay-at-home moms who could’ve had huge careers of their own – husbands who will NEVER quit their jobs because they’re, well, men -understand what a HUGE fucking deal this is, and do the same.
Why?
It’s simple. Ask yourself: If the both of you have the same earning power, will you quit your job and be a stay-at-home dad?
No?
Then you must understand that what you do will never be the same as what we do.
Unless you clean pig sties or work in a daycare or fight fires.
Â
Yes, it’s another one of those days that I’ve tried on the jeans, knowing I will never be able to get into them again.
And wonder perhaps if it’s time to throw them out.
Kid cuisine
More than one person from home (one of which is my mother-in-law, who poses the question to me once everytime I call home to check on the old folks) has asked me this past week what my kids and I eat everyday here in the States.
It's as though the US is this big black hole where all manner of edible matter disappears. Or perhaps they don't think much of me as a cook, so keeping my kids and I from the verge of starvation without spending the family fortune on take-out can be quite real a possibility.
Whatever it is, relax guys. I can bang a skillet/wok and a spatula together when I set my mind to it. If you don't believe me, ask my hubby, although I must say his needs are pretty simple to fulfill, Thai Chicken Rice being his only request most of the time. And I don't see my kids complaining. Skyler is skinny not for lack of food, so don't go pinning that on me. She will eat pine chips and plastic tomatoes, so -…
*we interrupt this blog entry with a short message about how cute Jenn's kids are. Again.*
We'd gone to the beach and Rae, my four-year old (omg, she IS four years old!! sigh…) managed to wet her undies so she went up to change herself. Came down with her shorts on backwards.
Mommy: Babe, your panties are on backwards.
Rae: (looks down) Oh! (sheepish smile) Silly me!
Mommy: It's okay, we're at home. You can leave them like that if you want to.
Rae: (looks at me, and then outside through the glass doors, and then back at me again) Did you lock the doors?
*end message*
…she LOVES my cooking, although that doesn't really make me sound very good.
So what do I eat everyday? I call it kid cuisine.
For breakfast, they have some kind of fruit, usually bananas or oranges, and cheese and usually a sandwich. When Lokes is around, he makes breakfast so I can catch a few more Zs, and he makes eggs most of the time. I've managed to convince the girls cereal is yummy, so yay, since that involves not having to turn on the stove. As for me, I eat whatever is left over on their plates. And of course, coffee. Yes, you can EAT my coffee, yum yum.
For lunch, it's more sandwiches, more cheese, more fruit. Sometimes I'll make chicken nuggets or that egg snack they both love if I have leftover bacon from breakfast.
Dinner is the main event which I agonise over the night before. Usually we have one meat dish and peas/carrots and/or rice. I've discovered putting a four-cheese-blend on rice is yummy. I make them into little rice balls, sometimes with steamed chicken and veggies. Sometimes I make Chinese-style chicken and potatoes. These days, we have a lot of pasta, which is Rae's flavour of the month. So again, it's kid cuisine, so long as Lokes is travelling 'coz I can't be bothered to cook for me when the kids will no doubt have loads left over.
By the way, you do notice I have a recipes blog. Motivates me to be a bit more adventurous than just Thai-freakin'-Chicken rice.
Hmm. Wonder if I have some Napa cabbage in the fridge?
The I’mperfect Cook
For the first time in years, my dinner bombed this evening.
I wanted to make chicken chop (a Malaysian dish of chicken drumstick deboned and grilled/fried and then topped with gravy) but I had only breast meat, so it turned out hard and dry. The Betty Crocker gravy I bought was bland. I ended up eating most of it because Rae didn't want any of it either (she ended up eating a peanut butter sandwich, poor thing). The only person who liked it was Lokes, insisting it was good, the darling man.
I also tried to make soft-baked chocolate chunks but didn't put enough sugar so that fell flat as well.
As a child, I used to think my mom was such a good mother because she used to eat all the burnt, black or ruined parts of any meal she ever cooked.
She would give us all the best portions while she would cook as she eat, cleaning out all the bones, crispy ends and stuff she thought noone would eat so instead of wasting, she would clean it out before anyone could see them. By the time dinner was served, she would be full but she would sit at the table with her small bowl of rice, watching my dad, sis and me eat happily.
Now I know she was just eliminating evidence that she was ever a sucky cook.
Just as I did today.
I should put that as a tip in my cooking blog.
Excuse me, where can I buy some time?
Yesterday was one of my busiest days here in Redmond since my in-laws went home. Didn't help that I'm sleeping later everyday because I'm just so tired. Reminds me I need to get my fit up soon or I'm just going to collapse nicely in the middle of making dinner.
Because Rae's classmate has a birthday party today, we had to shop for a present yesterday, which needless to say, disrupts our nicely planned schedule. Just managing two kids while trying to browse is a nightmare. Scared Rae wanders off and is never to be seen againlah. Scared she goes and breaks something expensivelah. Scared someone will push Skyler off when I'm taking a closer look at things, and is never to be seen againlah.
Such is the life of a mother. Almost makes me never want to shop again.
Almost.
I'm SO tempted to get one of those double strollers just to keep the girls in order but the mere mention of it summons the evil eye from Lokes. So I have to contend with putting Sky in the old Graco (Lokes: which we paid like a thousand bucks for!) and Rae has to walk next to me, and you can guess that she doesn't always walk the way one wished all kids would walk: in a straight line right next to you and NOT look and go after the rides or toys and what not.
Anyway, we found a really nice CD for her friend and before I could even – ahem – drop by Old Navy again, the clock struck lunch and I had to pack 'em all home and make said lunch. And then before I could even sit down for MY lunch, Skyler was falling asleep on her crackers again and Rae was fussing because SHE needed her nap as well. And then it was time to prepare the ingredients needed to make dinner or else I'd never have the time. And just when I'd finished chopping up meat and veggies, the girls woke up and it was time to march them to the playground to wear them out again. I even vainly brought my New Yorker there to read but Skyler is still not over her "oooh, yummy pine chips" phase so I've had to keep my eye on her the whole 1.5 hours there.
Then came dinner and then bath time and then bedtime. I had one hour of somewhat solid gaming before my eyelids clammed stubbornly shut.
Note to self: Check eBay and Craigslist for used double strollers.
And buy the gooood coffee next grocery trip.
The Secret to Successful Stay-at-Home Parenting
There used to be a time when the roles of a housewife and her working husband were, more or less, defined.
The wife did all the housework and took care of the kids and her man. The man brought home the bacon, period.
Sometimes, they'd mow the lawn and fix the faucets, but that was it. It was deemed that spending eight to ten hours at the office was work enough. After all, the man earned the money, and money was the bloodline of the family. This, in unspoken terms, entitled the man to his after-work leisure time of watching the telly undisturbed or sharing a beer at the pub with friends.
And then came a time when we fought for our right to monetary gratification. Most of us opted to get ourselves educated and find a job so that we could also earn cold hard cash, if only to be considered true equals to our husbands. We discovered the pleasures of corporate ladders and fat bonuses, rewards we never received as plain old parents.
And we became addicted.
Today, education and changing times have brought our attitudes full circle. Many women have 'opted out'. And thanks to the Internet and fabulous little ideas like flexi hours, some parents are juggling being at home and working, thus coining the phrase 'work from home'. While in many cases, the husbands still did more of the earning, they were doing a little more than mow.
With all these 'perks', one wonders: Why become a full-time stay-at-home parent? What of the plain housewife who doesn't contribute monetarily? Where do we get our kicks from (other than those from feisty toddlers?)? Without a salary and opportunities for 'career advancement', where do we get our short-term gratification from, and the long-term motivation to keep at our job?
The answer? A generous, loving partner.
If the last week has taught me one thing, it's that a husband's role at home is more than just to help out with the housework and the kids.
Firstly, no matter what you say, sitting at the office, dealing with clients and bosses, will NEVER be as tiring as parenting. Men aren't exactly hunter-gatherers anymore, not in the physical sense, so unless you're working two jobs and one of them involves wrestling cows, you will NEVER be as exhausted as your supermom-wife at 6pm.
Secondly, fulltime parenting is a more than less, a thankless job. In today's world of key performance indexes and increasing emphasis on numbers and tracking and measuring, the worth of staying at home for one's kids is just so hard to fathom, much less embrace. We know being home for our children has SOME benefits and we can SEE it sometimes, but it is rare that we feel the fulfilment of a fat bonus or a promotion. In the end, there is little tangible, meaningful motivation to keep doing your job, and doing it well, unless you have a crystal ball to see into your kids' futures, and are ensured you ARE there for a good reason.
And this is where a good partner comes in.
I believe a husband's primary job today, above and beyond his professional call of duty, is to take extra good care of his supermom-wife, more so than ever.
And after all that's said and done, your husband will be the only thing between giving up on giving your kids the attention they deserve, and trudging on knee-deep in diapers and unwashed dishes.
Yes, you have to TRY and come home on time, work permitting, to eat the dinner she so carefully prepared no matter how burnt it is.
Yes, you have to hear her bitch about the kids and the clogged toilets because she is the one who took care of it so you can now use it for hours reading your sports magazines.
Yes, you have to, on her birthday and your anniversaries or for no obvious occasion at all, give her flowers or candy or at least a nice, snuggly spoon-hug regularly so she gets SOME short-term feedback for her efforts. Because as much as we love the kisses and hugs and messy fingerpaintings from the kids, nothing beats a little man love after a looong day.
It's not a three-month bonus, but we'll take it.
So before you go entertaining romantic notions of staying home for your kids, consider this: Is your husband going to look at you after a long day at work and say, without remorse,
"Yup, she's got it worse than me."
And then proceed to give you a kiss and a hug, and surrenders the remote control while he rounds up the kids.
Perhaps that's the only question worth asking.
Quarterly review of…my life
So it's been over three months that we've made The Big Move (which will be unceremoniously but very fashionably shortened to 'TBM' from this post onwards). It's a good time to take stock of the good and the bad.
I'll start with the bad.
1. I don't have my old friends. I feel blessed for my new ones but my friends, many of them, I've known for over ten years. Some go back to my kindy days. I feel naked without them, by the very virtue of them having seen me with gel-ed up 'wave' fringe in the 80s (and still love me) and will always remember me 100lbs thinner. I really, REALLY miss you guys.
2. I don't have REAL nasi lemak and SS2 chicken rice. There are substitutes and I can very well cook my own but I can't cook very well!
3. I don't have instant coffee (my Davidoff, to be exact). There's only one brand of instant coffee in Starbucks land and it costs two to three times as much as brewed coffee. Monopoly!
4. I don't have my parents, especially my mom. Having spent a year with her (she was helping me with Skyler – and I hadn't lived with my parents since like forever), I really miss our nonsensical talks. And she's come to really see me as an adult, which is a very new experience for someone who's more than shortchanged her parents the aspirations they had for her. Miss you, mom.
5. Help. I used to have a maid to clean for me. Washing dishes. Mopping the floor (now it's vacuuming the carpet). Cleaning the bathrooms. Now all these chores fall on me, being the Housewife. My hands are all chapped and dry from the cold weather and rough work, which no amount of lotion seems to be fixing. It costs like $100 PER CLEAN here. Hmm. Maybe I should start a cleaning service…
6. I am jobless. It still feels very insecure for me to have no income. Although we are in okay shape, being Asian, you always ask, "What if this isn't enough? More is better than less!". I've come to appreciate, though, that what I'm putting aside now is emotional investment with our kids. Still, kiasuness is built in, so…
Okay, enough of the bad. Now the good!
1. I've had much more quality time with the kids simply because I am jobless now. We have outside play hour and music hour and art hour and quiet time together reading (thank God!). Feel blessed to be able to really be home for the girls. They are growing up WAY too fast for me not to be here, documenting every single thing or move they make. Plus they are doing SO well (minus the E.coli incident) adapting to the weather, the strange new faces, the culture and language, school etc.
2. I've learnt to become a much better mom, understanding my kids better, learning from the wonderfully attentive, educated and well-informed American moms who are just amazing with their kids. Their methods for raising independent, emotionally-secure, mature children may take a little more work but it's worth it because I see how Rae's school friends are so much more these things than her. And the whole cooperative preschool experience is so enriching not just for Rae, but for me (maybe even more so!). Feel very, VERY blessed for that.
3. I've learnt to cook! Well, I used to be able to make two really good dishes. I've always suspected I had it in me but because I never really had the time, I never fully developed this 'talent' (waseh!). Let's see how far it goes…
4. I've lost weight! Yea, doing housework and raising children will do that to you…
5. There are clothes my size! You don't know the pleasure of being able to walk into stores again just knowing there is XXL (REAL XXL, not just a label when it's really just XL!). And sometimes, even XL can fit because I've lost a little weight.
6. Fresh food. The fresh produce here is just amazing. I'm eating strawberries at $4 per a really huge box and veggies and seafood.
7. More important than fresh food, is all the convenient household gadgetry and MICROWAVE delights! I love those MW subs and Hot Pockets and pizzas. Not exactly gourmet, healthy food but it's convenient that I can just pop them in for a quick snack when I'm out of time. I have both a microwave AND a traditional oven in our rental home and it's just great. Love it.
8. Cheap and fast Internet access. Blazing through webpages and games and downloads. There are still hiccups sometimes but unlike back home, there are REAL choices here so if our current provider does cock up one time too many, we know where else to take our business!
9. Plenty of really good thrift and second-hand book stores. And they are REALLY cheap.
10. And of course, the lovely weather. Sometimes, it gets really cold and there's the trouble of always having to dress up fully when going out, but I'm really getting to like the blistery climate, especially when Spring is already here. Beats sweltering, humid heat anytime!
There. In summary, things are looking up for TBM. Seattle isn't home just yet, but we're getting there.
Slowly, but surely.
Everymom wants to be hip
Do you remember when you were like 21, and you’re sitting on the couch with your girlfriends, or just your boyfriend, and when the topic veered to a distant time in the future when you would want to have kids, and you told your significant other(s) that you would NEVER be a MOM mom, but your kid’s best friend, and be keeping in fashion with the latest styles, stay in shape, play baseball or video games with your son, or go clubbing with your daughter and so on and so forth?
Never happened. Lies. All of it.
Because by the time the baby comes out, and you’re chin-deep in diapers, and you’ve not washed your face or combed your hair in places hair shouldn’t even be growing, the last thing you want to do is to par-tay.
You think you can get out when they’re older? Try 17 years older. And by the time THAT happens, the only clubs you’ll be going to start with a B and end with an O, or in Malaysia, we like swimming clubs, for some reason.
Being hip – and wanting to be hip – when you don’t have the kids, that’s just mass media putting ideas in your head. Wishful, and naive, and a little presumptous. Perhaps when you’re 21 AND already having kids, you can recover by the time you’re 31, and THEN do all the cool things you said you’d do as a hip mom.
But I got pregnant at 28 and now I’m 33 with two under-sixes.
So the hippest thing I can do now, is blog. Parenting in itself, is crazy enough.
And play video games (like 6 o’clock in the morning, I’d be levelling my rogue, just barely into my coffee but wary of the fact that I just need another 5K of XP before the kids wake up and I can’t go for that big instance this weekend if I don’t level – IF they even let me come since I WILL most certainly quit in the middle unless I wake up like 4am instead of the usual 5am).
So that’s what being a Crazy Hip Blog Mama is to me – to fulfill a small bit of that ambition to be a cool mommy!
There’s always tomorrow
Hey, isn’t that the name of a cheesy Hong Kong serial? Or was it that Chow Yuen Fatt, Cherie Chung, Leslie Cheung movie?
Anyway, things are much better. Rae is still under the weather thanks to the antibiotics but we took her to the park and I attempted to skate AND push her in her stroller at the same time. Fell down once in front of a couple of strangers but sokay.
There’s always tomorrow.
The second thing that the last week has taught me is that the support of your man is important. Lokes was strong and calm throughout, hugs and kisses, soothing words.
It was nice to know that SOMEone was on my side, even if it seems to be us against our own child. One in unison. That’s how you survive parenthood.
And as a reward, I made egg and bacon swiss roll this morning. Yes, swiss roll! Smells yummy already in the oven.
Have a good week ahead, y’all.
Update
Tada!
The unrolled product.
Rolled…
And ready to eat!
Want the recipe? Here it is:
1 cup of cheddar/cottage cheese, grated
3/4 cup of cream/milk mix (they call it half-and-half here, u can sub with just full cream milk)
1/4 tsp of salt
6oz of bacon, fried and crumbled (churning in blender works well) – substituting with Chinese ‘long yuk’/dried meat may also work!
Dijon Mustard
2 tbsp all purpose flour
9 eggs
Parchment/baking lining paper and baking pan (10-inch by 15-incher)
Method
- Blend half the cheese with milk in blender (leave half of the cheese for later)
- add eggs, salt and flour and process further
- line pan with paper and preheat oven to 375F
- pour mixture in and bake for 30 mins until puffy and golden brown
- once done, take out and immediately spread mustard and lay down the cheese and then lay down bacon on top
- roll up from short end like a swiss roll and wait five minutes before serving
It’s a bit of work but worth it. Yum-my!
Fragrant Steamed Rice, Chinese-Style
Finally, Google approved my first cooking production!
This recipe is great for singles and parents who need to whip something simple yet nutritious and delicious up in under 30 minutes.
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Need to run now, send Lokes to the airport. Will input ingredients and extra notes in text later. Enjoy!
Cont’d: So the ingredients for this delish dish are (in case the thing just zipped right by ya):
- 2.5 cups of rice, cooked
- 3-4 Chinese black mushrooms, cubed
- 1 cup of chicken, cubed
- 1/2 cup dried small shrimp
- 1 tbsp cooking oil
- 1 tbsp each of garlic and onions/shallots, chopped
- Oyster and soy sauces, salt/pepper to taste (you can use one chicken cube seasoning for added flavor)
Try it!
I promise to compromise
When I ended my career last November, it was after the culmination of many months of soul-searching, ‘research’, and seemingly endless noisy ‘discussions’ with the Hubby.
I dare say that it was the bravest, scariest thing I’ve ever had to do, despite people, including my mom, telling me that it would be great. That being there for my kids will be the best thing I’ll ever do for them. That some people “want also dun have”.
Those who TRULY know me, know that I can be quite the traditionalist. On the outside, I am fun-loving, crazy, apparently not quite over with my childhood, looking at what I’ve chosen to focus on in my career. Which is why the fact that I can be quite old-fashioned can be surprising to even those who spend a lot of time with me, be it at work or at home.
I believe couples should be prepared to raise their own kids at least HALF of the time when they choose to have them. I believe in filial piety and sopan-santun. I believe that women should respect their husbands if they want to be respected. It’s a crazy enough world out there without having to discard all your principles for seemingly more 21st-century ones. You have to hold on like crazy to some of the simplest things taught to us back in the day, while be open-minded enough to embrace new ones acquired through personal experience or even academic instruction.
Turning housewife wasn’t the only change I had to adapt to. At the same time, here we were, carting our whole family to a completely new country in a matter of months (I’d quit my job in November 05, and we moved to Seattle Jan ‘06). New ‘job’, new surroundings, new financial situation (as in for the first time in my life, I am without a cent of income) – sometimes I wonder if I’m just plain crazy to have been excited about this. Did I really think it over? Haven’t I already thought it over, all those months when Lokes was going for his insane amount of interviews, all those months worrying if Raeven was becoming more and more unmanageable because I was becoming less and less a stay-at-home mom than I was a magazine editor?
Is this too much?
The one thing that truly affects me now is that for some stupid reason, I feel that my voice in the family is now smaller because I don’t bring home some of the bacon anymore. I know, I know. I shouldn’t feel this way since I am doing all the crappy housework, dealing with noisy kids who just won’t nap or eat, but you know what? I kinda like it. Just like I used to enjoy my job at GameAxis, I also love what I’m doing now. So if you look at it, I am doing what I love already. I get to stay at home, read or surf or play games, which is something I will eventually get to do more of when I find a way to efficiently manage the kids, or when both of them go to school. Compare this to poor Lokes, who has to be stuck at the office all day, working. He loves his job too, make no mistake, but c’mon. You and I know that he can’t just decide to stick his duties to someone else for the day and hang out at the mall or play video games.
So when it comes down to roles, which is more important? The breadwinner, or the person who eventually makes the stew and make sure there are clean plates that go with the bread? And the most important question of all: Why does it even matter?
Because it does, when it comes down to making decisions like who needs more alone time, or who gets to spend more money on his or her hobbies. Because when you cross off all the important-ness of each other’s contributions, what is left over is what you use as currency to demand breaks for yourself, in your supposedly chosen lives as parents and partners.
Right now, most of us simply wing it. Go with the flow. Do what’s natural. Cross the bridge when we come to it.
Which is why most of us often end up in silent resentment – or noisy settlements.
Solution? Talk. Better solution? Listen. Because I believe that if I really want to make it work, I will find a way to make it work, and it won’t feel as though I’ve given up something.
Or just plain given up.