Daydreaming
If kids daydreamed more, moms would get a lot more done.
Technorati Tags: cute kids, daydreaming, lazy afternoons
Nature or nurture: Do parenting styles really factor?
A few days ago, at our preschool’s Parent Ed night, we were taught the four styles of parenting, something I’d gone through two previous times when my older daughter was at a co-op.
You know, the whole Helicopter/indulgent parent, the Drill Sergeant/Authoritarian (Asian) parent, the Skeleton/Indifferent parent and the nirvana of good parenting, the Authoritative parent who’s loving but firm, who knows how to set boundaries but also allow the slow, transfer of power from parent to child, and so on.
As we went through our notes, I could not help but notice the so-called negative results of the other three styles in my first child. Self-centeredness, because sometimes Lokes can be too indulgent. An inability to deal with failure, because sometimes I can be too hard on her with the rules. Insecurity, because perhaps I don’t pay enough attention to her feelings.
However, she was also a confident child, top of her class and has many friends, my Raeven. These were the results of good parenting – an Authoritative parent.
And then it dawned on me.
This class is for my parenting of Skyler, my second child – not Raeven. Not that it matters but I was surprised I was actually thinking more of Rae than I was of Sky when it came to “behavioral challenges”.
Skyler really has nothing in the first three columns mainly because perhaps it’s still too early to tell. She IS confident, because she’s never cried a day in class, even from the first day I’d dropped her off. She is very trusting of her teacher, the other co-op parents, her friends. She is easy-going and secure.
I began thinking about my parenting styles with both my kids. And the parenting styles of my parents.
As the older sibling, I’d always been subjected to unrealistic standards by my own parents and even though I knew they meant well, it was hard to take as a kid. Luckily for me, I have a great younger sister and with time, the value of my tough upbringing gave me the tools I needed to deal with life and love. Still, I have my flaws. I can be self centered. I don’t like to fail and sometimes don’t admit to my mistakes. I am insecure.
I was also top of my class in school (I have a 4.0 GPA in my two semesters of college last winter and spring) and popular.
Raeven and I are so much alike, although Lokes’ and my parenting style and my parents’, are so different.
This makes me wonder how much really is genetic and how much of it can we change and nurture as parents, these traits and flaws. And why are both my kids so different since my parenting style is the same with both of them.
Or am I just seeing what I want to see?
In any case, I know I am doing some things right, and there are some things I need to correct before it’s too late (like when she’s 12 and will call me on my dorkiness – “Why are you acting all weird, Mom? Oh, don’t tell me. It’s a parenting class thing.” *roll eyes*).
Technorati Tags: parenting, parenting styles
This is what we get up to when the power’s out
We celebrated Halloween a tad early this year when the wind, once again, blew our power out. The girls put on their brand new fairy wings and tutus and danced up a (or should I say another) storm. And brought our power back after 20 mins.
Hubby has a surprise for me tonight, taking me somewhere mysterious and, hopefully, very expensive.
ps. Did you notice the new muted green walls? We painted them a few weeks ago. The gaudy-awful orange got a bit much after two years.
The girls watch Star Wars!
So Lokes and I decided it was high time the girls watched Star Wars.
And with all good things, we started from the very beginning. And the beginning was A New Hope.
We popped some corn and actually sat through the entire movie. There were a few run-and-hide moments; when the Jawas zapped R2D2 (Sky: Mommy, is the robot dead?).
When the sand people knocked Luke unconsicous (Sky: Mommy, is the boy dead?)
When Obi-Wan fought Darth Vader.
When the trash compactor’s walls closed in.
But at the end of it, both Rae and Sky sat riveted as Luke paid attention to the Force and slipped the photon torpedoes into the exhaust and blew the Death Star up.
When the credits started rolling, Skycried, asking for more.
Here are more quotable quotes from the girls.
Skyler, on Darth Vader: He’s so very black, mommy.
Raeven, on Obi-wan: Why is that grandpa fighting Darth Vader?
Raeven, on TIE-fighters: Do they eat Thai food?
Raeven, on Chewbacca: Why did Princess Leia call him a walking carpet?
Can’t wait for next Friday when we watch The Empire Strikes Back!
Technorati Tags: Star Wars
The tribulations of First Grade
What a fascinating first three weeks.
After Raeven’s first day of school, she told me she did not eat any hot lunch save three bread sticks because she thought she had to pay for it and had no money. I’d forgotten to tell her school lunch was already paid for. And she lost her classmates at second recess and cried for me.
And then I went and checked on her two days later, and found out that lunch money was the least of her problems because my six-year-old, who’s so used to being waited on hand and foot (not my doing, I assure you) does not even know how to carry a tray and walk faster than two steps per minute, and because everyone else was faster than her, she got all teary-eyed and upset.
Last week, she came home with her bag zipper wide open and her school folder was missing. Turned out she hadn’t taken it home in the first place.
Yesterday, Raeven came home without her lunch box and her school folder. The moment I asked her where they were, she exploded into a fit. That’s my girl for you. Embarrassment is something she doesn’t deal well with and I for one, am not a person who deals very well with ego.
“STOP TALKING ABOUT IT!” she yelled at me. We hadn’t even begun.
For one minute, all she did was run away from me, refusing to answer my questions about where she’d last seen her things, worried that her school folder might contain something important (this is the second time she’s misplaced it and it’s Week 3 of school!).
“I forgot okay? I am forgetful!!!” she screamed. It broke my heart.
Finally, I sat her down and in a loud, firm voice to get above her yelling, told her to calm the heck down and that I was only asking her so that we could think of what to do next. She finally did, telling me she thought she’d left her lunch box on the bus because she remembered putting it next to her, and that her folder might still be in the classroom because her bag was all zipped up so it could not have fallen out.
“See? Once you calm down, you can figure out stuff,” I told her. To this, she grunted indignantly.
This morning, I asked Tanya, the bus lady, if she’d seen her lunch box and she promptly handed it over. You should’ve seen the grin on Rae’s face.
I can’t wait for what’s next.
Technorati Tags: parenting, first grade, first-graders
This was NOT in the handbook.
I am pretty sure there are Impatience and Easily Bored genes. If one of you Human Genome scientists could just find them, I need someone to do some sort of a splice on my daughter because man, I am running out of ideas on how to make her more patient and extend her attention span beyond two minutes.
We are trying to get through her summer homework and I’ve been telling myself to go easy, but man, we still have an inch more of all that paper to go through. Everyday, right before lunch, we sit down for two pages of beginning math (which I supplement with a Nintendo DS game called Professor Kayegama’s Cell Math – I think) and two pages of writing (all from the big pile her kindergarten teacher gave us right before summer hols) and at bedtime, we usually read a chapter from a chapter book (Roald Dahl’s Charlie and the Great Glass Elevator is on now) which she has no problems with since reading is her favorite of the lot. But man, the math and writing is driving me up the wall because my daughter is, to put it nicely, spirited.
For example, she likes to “do things her way” – her exact words – rather than do things the right way, such as writing along the guide lines or counting with her fingers when counting in her head does not work. It’s all great but then she gets frustrated when the words don’t fit onto the page because she didn’t follow the lines and can’t get her math answers right because she counted it wrong in her head. And then she throws a fit and begins to sob over the fact she’s frustrated and refuses to finish.
And YET, the very next day, she STILL decides NOT to follow the lines or use an abacus or her fingers.
Now a lot of people will say, “hey she is spirited, not wanting to be limited by lines!” or “she’s spirited, doing subtraction in her head!” and pretty soon, some will even say, “hey, getting it right is overrated!” but I am pretty sure simple subtraction and writing in straight lines are relatively standard expectations of a six-year old who could discern that five minutes is not as long as half an hour when she was four, especially when I gave her the warning to turn the TV off.
I am someone who values methodology and process. Not everyone does but I think at the very least these things should be respected. You may be a genius but the laws of the universe, and sometimes, the laws of man, still apply to you, whatever you may think.
Now I am proud to have a daughter who WANTS to be creative and spirited and wants to add a little challenge or fun into mundane things like homework but I believe there’s a time for everything (especially when you’re a SAHM!). And I think that it’s high time someone told my six-year old that her first grade teacher may not find it very funny when she decides to do things her way, writing vertically instead of horizontally, or takes all day to subtract three from ten because she insists on using her head, a head that is probably filled with, “If I buy THREE Barbies from the store which has TEN Barbies …hmm, how would life be with THREE more Barbies?”
And that was exactly what I told her this morning.
“Now you have to do what Miss A says. You can’t just do it the way you like, that’s not how it works,” I’d said, a little pissed off by then.
My six-year old thought about it for a while and went, “I’ll do what my teacher says.”
“Good. So do it the way I told you to do it. Use the abacus.”
“But you’re not my teacher.” she’d answered crisply.
And then there are days when you want to drive to the gas station and buy a pack of cigarettes and pay a visit to the liquor store next door.
Technorati Tags: parenting, SAHM, children, motherhood, kids, family
There are days when it all becomes worth it
As I sit here blogging this, I am waiting for my curry foam shapes, beads rice and cup of air.
The cook is busy cleaning because I said the restaurant is too dirty for me to eat comfortably. The waiter, in the meantime, is insisting I let her paint my nails.
After a while, the waiter brings over a bag. In it is a Polly Pocket and Shrek’s Donkey. Out of curiosity, I ask.
“Why is the waiter serving me toys?”
Not missing a beat, the cook says, “Because she is trying to distract you from the dirty restaurant.”
Courage
Everyday, a little further
a little deeper
a little more.
If I take one more step
I may make it
I may get there
I may fall.
I may even get a little wet
but I will try
A new twist to an old joke
Today, I went with Rae to get her school supplies. I decided it would be nice to just be me and her so I left Skyler with my in-laws.
Disappointed and about ready to cry, Sky asked where I was going.
“Mommy is taking che che out to get her school supplies.”
She looked at me, thought about it for one second, and then twisted her face into shocked indignation.
“What about MY surprise?!”
I had to get her an ice cream cone after.
Just HAD to.
Overheard and discovered
My 3.5-year old, newly potty-trained, heading for the loo, in a sing-song voice:
“I need to go POoOttY. I am already NaAaAaaAked!”
Today’s discovery: Skyler snorts when she laughs hard.
I shall attempt to clandestinely record it tomorrow.
The only good reason for homework
So Rae’s kindergarten teacher gave us (because yea, like Rae is going to go, “I think I’m going to sit down quietly now and do some subtraction,” all by herself in this fishing-fine sunny weather) a pile of work to do this summer.
Homework that’s supposed to help her not lose four months of education because of two months of summer vacation.
This is how I feel about homework:
While I can be imperfect as a mom , I’ve always been a little kiasu (not a lot, just a little). Sadly, you can’t slack off and be kiasu. Which may be why I’m so unhappy sometimes.
And so, Rae spends 15 minutes of each of her summer vacation days on homework:
Honestly, she loves it, but not for reasons you and I would think.
(”…so that I can have some alone time without Skyler.”)
Shutter Sunday: Precious moments (as in, you won’t likely see another one like this anytime soon)
A moment to treasure, for sure. Perhaps I should bring them here more often!
Photos: Waterplay series
Thank goodness for the beautiful late afternoon weather we’ve been having. The kids have had waterplay three times this week!
Photos: Daydreamer series
Have been practising with light – and my kids.
Technorati Tags: photography, portraiture, portraits
My six-year-old has plans for us
We’re going camping next month and here’s what Rae has for us in the way of accommodations and recreation:
Translation:
Raeven + Hayden (her best friend) = Big Tent
Raeven + Hayden = Big Pool
Skyler + Maya + Josh + Jasmine = Big Tent
Skyler + Maya = Big Pool & Big Tent
Mommy + Daddy + Mama (her grandma) + Yehyeh (her grandpa) = Small Tent
Daddy + Mommy = Small Tent
Ante (she means Aunty) Mat and Ante Fara (mommies of some of the names above) = Small Tent
The expression on her face says it all.
Technorati Tags: camping, funny kids, funny children
Baby’s growing up
Dear Skyler,
I am so so proud of you.
After almost a year of trying (since to say Mommy had been seriously potty-training you would’ve been a blatant lie and embarrassing – who the hell takes a year?), you’ve finally grasped the gist of going to the potty to wee and not just to do a Number 2 and/or admire your half-naked self in the mirror and/or to turn the bathroom into a swimming pool.
For a few days now, you’ve walked around diaperless, and even partied in only your undies all of yesterday at Aunty Farrah’s barbeque. Bravo, my little trooper!
And what’s even more impressive is that you braved a totally unchartered toilet and survived your first unfamiliar, alien flush all by yourself!!! Without going bonkers!!
I’d choked with tearful pride because the noise of gushing water followed by the traumatic gurgling of preschooler-waste mixed with water draining into the Deep Blue Vortex of No-Return has undoubtedly been your biggest hurdle in our year’s journey of trying to ditch the pull-up, your preferred mode of plumbing the last 1.5 years.
But that is history! Gone! Forgotten! And hopefully never to be recycled!
Although, if I may ask one small favour of you. Tiny really.
You deserve a medal for having come so far in such a short time but please, if you don’t mind, refrain from going up to complete strangers and telling them you have no diapers on, and as if that isn’t clear enough, up-ending, skirt-a-flouncing, to drive the point home?
Thank you so much, baby.
Again, so very proud.
Love you lots,
Mommy
Technorati Tags: potty training, parenting
For the love of shlocklate
On the drive home after a looooong day in the city today:
Me (pensively): Skyler said “chocolate” today.
Lokes (dazed): Huh?
Me: She said “chocolate” when I gave her chocolate. Usually she says “shlocklate”, remember?
Lokes: Oh…
Me: And the other day she said “watermelon.”
Lokes nods, smiling a little sadly.
Me: Right? She used to say “waterlemon”.
Lokes: Yea…
Me: Sigh…
(Pregnant pause)
Lokes: No, we’re not having another kid so you can hear “shlocklate” again.
Technorati Tags: parenting
Earning my blog title
Two pages out of Raeven’s kindergarten memory book:
“I want 100 toys.”
“I want 100 boys.”
“I want 100 Barbies.”
“I don’t want 100 moms or crazy dads.”
“Raeven is worried
(picture of something resembling a green sand-person in the middle of swampy muddy crayon scribbles underneath).”
“Sometimes, I get worried when Mommy scolds me.”
I’m not sure what concerns me more; the damage I’ve irreparably done with my (occasional) screaming or the fact that she wants 100 boys.
There she is, my six-year old going on sixteen. Congratulations, baby doll!
Technorati Tags: parenting
Progress
I’ve been so busy with my school work and photography that I almost forgot tomorrow is Rae’s graduation from kindergarten to first grade.
I remember my kindy graduation:
Have not graduated from anything since then.
I swear the cute outfit jinxed it.
The perfect reason to lose weight
A few of my friends from way back when have asked me since I posted the two photos of myself in my recent posts, “Wow. Why the change?”
No, they’re not being rude. They know me, these guys. They know I’ve never been a vain person, because I believe that there’s only so much time and resources one has, and as such, image has never been one of my priorities. I prefer to go after other more, shall we say, meaningful pursuits, like how to enrich my mind or my writing, to be a better parent.
Don’t be mistaken. I like looking at beautiful people. Who doesn’t? I totally grasp the concept that appearances matter and the slightly narcissistic but totally primal desire to be admired, but I’ve been one of those fortunate ones who’ve always been able to slip through the cracks of this societal pressure, managing to get by without needing to constantly watch what I eat, spend a lot of money on product or fashion. An example of my good luck is that I married a man who was 150lbs overweight (”was” as in not anymore – no, I’m not divorced, he’s just lost over 130lbs so far). He fell in love with me even when I was a good 50lbs overweight.
So, I figured I could continue to get by.
And then I had a six-year old.
Living in a country where extremes like obesity and bulimia can co-exist so comfortably within a square mile of fast-food chains, yoga studios and everything in between telling you one moment to love the shape you’re in and the next that those 10lbs can come right off if you just drink some Oolong, is a little like being Alice. You don’t know the next moment if you should get bigger or smaller, or stay the same size. If it’s confusing for a grown-up, what more a child?
A month ago, Raeven told me she didn’t want to eat because she didn’t want to be as big as me. I know, brutal but cute at the same time. I told her that it was okay to eat, as long as we eat the right foods and exercise to keep us healthy.
“Do you exercise?” she’d asked.
“Of course,” I’d managed, without even blinking. The next day, I started walking three to four miles each day and went on the South Beach diet.
That was four weeks – and 6lbs – ago.
What I’m saying is that I am losing weight and trying to look good to set an example for my kids, because like it or not, we’re the sun and the moon to them. Like it or not, at this young age, they look to us for guidance and we’re the be all and end all of all standards in their world. If Daddy swears and hits, then it’s okay for me to swear and hit. If Mommy is fat and lazy, that’s good enough for me.
Those who’ve followed my weight-loss journeys (emphasis on the plural) have known that staying motivated is my biggest challenge. I’ve always told Lokes I fail because I just don’t care enough about how I look and put no stock into what total strangers think of me when they see me lumbering by, particularly when my health is still tip-top (I go for annuals and my doc reluctantly tells me it’s a miracle). So preaching to me that I have to be healthy for kids so I can get old enough to see them get married and give me grandkids, doesn’t really hack it either.
But what my children think of me, in the midst of all the noise about health and a healthy body image? Now that matters. It really does, because what they think of me shapes – pun intended – who they are.
That’s more power than I’m willing to screw with.
Technorati Tags: weight loss, parenting, self image
The mind of an almost-six-year old, five days before she turns
“Mommy? Why do bad people go to hell?”
I was struggling to make sense of my Chinese homework when she popped this big one.
I spun around, half-shocked, half-amused. Raeven looked at me, poised over her Legos, apparently not just playing with her toys anymore, but also contemplating religious concepts and perhaps even viable solutions for the fuel crisis and who the 5th cylon is.
“What?!” I asked, trying to keep the shriek in my voice under control.
“Why do bad people go to hell?” Rae repeated.
“Who told you that?” I questioned the question.
“Daddy.”
Now that’s even more bizarre. My atheist husband talking about sin and hell? Where’s the hidden camera?
“What? When?!” The shriek bubbled precariously.
“When we were watching All Dogs Go To Heaven? I asked him what heaven was. And then he said bad people go to hell,” she resumed assembling her blocks.
So much for screening before buying. How the heck did I not see that coming?
Stalling her with questions about the movie, I’d racked my brains frantically for a good five minutes before coming up with this answer: Maybe Daddy was just talking about the movie?
“No, he wasn’t,” was her curt reply, eyeing me suspiciously, the way cops eye you when you’re going at 15mph in a 25mph zone.
In the end, I fell back on science. I talked about the tea roses that had rotted and fallen off the branches outside our house, how they’d turned brown and become part of the ground. I recalled, not very fondly, a book we’d gotten from the library (which I’d ALSO not screened very well) about a pet dog passing on and getting buried in the backyard. And I’d saved the best for the last – dinosaurs, one of Rae’s three great loves thanks to her best friend Hayden’s influence, next to computers and Barbies.
“What happens after dinosaurs die?” I asked her. “Even T-Rexes (which are considered “bad” in her book because they eat other dinosaurs). Do they go to hell?”
“Nahhh,” she’d answered as though I was an idiot. “They become dinosaur bones!”
Of course, I had to attach a closing argument to all of this.
“You’ll find different people believe in different things. What’s important is all of you believe in the Golden Rule,” I’d summarised triumphantly, feeling a little proud of my quick thinking while reminding myself to clock my hubby one on the head the moment we reached Orlando.
It is a good thing Lokes left this morning. He would’ve had hell to pay.
Note to self: Do not leave smart children unattended with idiotic husband.