THe stupidest thing I've heard Singapore radio isn't very good. Its music and DJs aren't very good. On occasion, we listen to Malaysian radio because it's got better songs although when the news comes round, it takes us a little while to realise why there's so much news on Klang and Kuala Lumpur.I've been hearing this 'inspirational, positive' thinking tale on the radio which makes me very annoyed. One, the DJ telling it speaks badly. And two, it's just a bad tale.It begins with the retelling of the tortoise and the hare. And how the tortoise won the race because the hare took a nap. And the question was posed, what if the hare didn't take a nap? Wouldn't the hare then win? Wouldn't it better if the hare could complete the race without stopping and at a faster pace?The DJ goes on to say that slow and steady is good, but don't we always prefer someone who can work at a steady and fast rate? And shouldn't we all aim to do that?Everyday, I've heard this tale and it makes me want to take a club and hit the DJ on the head just to make her stop.I must say, I absolutely hate the fact that a fable like this has gotten mangled to teach Singaporeans how to be more productive.I think it's very Singaporean to make everything an abject lesson no matter how contrived it is.Technorati Tags: Singapore, radio Behind Door Number 2 My best friend from my 4th year in uni just finished her PhD. It's led me to wonder whether had I taken up the offer at the same time as she had, would I now have extra acronyms behind my name as well?It really makes me wonder. Would I be married? Would I be back in Singapore? Would I have kids now? And more importantly, would I be a teacher?9 years ago, I had foolishly and somewhat naively thought that teaching was going to give me a leg up when I eventually did my PhD. Teaching was something I did to gain experience, to be within the education industry so that when I went back to grad school, I would have the lay of the land.9 years on, I am still teaching whereas my friend's done. She's also married. She's got a beautiful 3 story townhouse that faces the ocean and according to her husband's Facebook updates, was home to a pod of dolphins last week.Granted she doesn't have kids and I do. The selfish part of me, the non-Mommy part that is exhausted, broke and slightly resentful of my chosen lot in life doesn't really care that she doesn't have kids.I have an acute case of 'that could have been my life' right now. It's not fair to my children to feel this way, but I am human and this was a big dream of mine that slowly, surely and surreptitiously got chipped away by responsibilities, obligation and inertia. Some people tell me that I can still go back to it.Can I really? Can I really find my way to Door Number 2 and drag my whole family and life through it and hope to come out happy and unscathed on the other side?I don't think so.Technorati Tags: Grad School, teaching, Melbourne Sacrifice I haven't blogged here in ages. And when I looked at my old blog posts I felt remarkably sad. I don't have the time or the energy to form many coherent thoughts or opinions on matters. And what time I have to write, I write about my kids so that they have something to read next time.Everyone talks about sacrifices mothers make for their children. It's true. We sacrifice a whole lot. Sleep. Our bodies. Sanity. Money.But to me, those are not the greatest sacrifices. I'm fine (to some extent) without sleep, I could live with my baby belly, I usually have Packrat to help me regain some semblance of sanity and money, well, money is always a problem. With or without kids.The biggest sacrifices I feel are things like having the energy to think about the world that exists beyond my family and my 3 children. So, I miss blogging about silly things and having time to formulate snarky opinions about things happening out there.And then, Sher (a fellow mom) writes about this writing project- eatshopplaylove - that some female overseas Singaporean writers are doing where they write about their lives overseas. While I don't particularly want to be caught in a cross fire between the red shirts and the soldiers in Bangkok, the sheer idea of living overseas and seeing new things, living new experiences is one that I would love.A friend of mine is preparing to take No Pay Leave for most of next year to follow her husband to Japan while he does his masters there. Another friend of mine was in Ho Chi Minh City for most of last year with her husband as well. Sher quipped that I had already done my stint in Melbourne. But Melbourne as a student was different. We never meant for it to be our last sojourn. Returning to Singapore was supposed to be the sojourn. But as my brother said all those years ago and somewhat ominously at that, "Things happen. Life gets in the way." Indeed, it did.We would still like to move and still have some intention to but it has become harder logistically and financially to do so. And even if we did, our experiences will be markedly different because of the children we will have in tow.To me, that is the ultimate sacrifice. Because that would be the one thing I would love to do with Packrat and have given up because of the children. I don't begrudge them that. But I do feel a twinge of wistfulness when I read of the adventures of others. Some would tell me that I have adventures of my own with my children. Yes, that is true. But being out there, being in the world, seeing new things, doing new things and exploring a different way of life, I miss that. 11 years When Packrat asked me to marry him, I told him that I wanted to get married on Easter Sunday on the 4th of April. I didn't specify the year. I just wanted it to be Easter and it had to be the 4th of April. Of course, that didn't happen. Primarily because my mother pointed out that no church would marry us on an Easter Sunday, whatever the date was, however important the date was to us. And also, when I realised that the next Easter that would be April 4th was going to be in 2010 (this was in 2002), I decided there was no way I was waiting 8 years before we got married!And it's not just because I'm neurotic and crazy. There really is a reason to the craziness. Packrat asked me on the 4th of April 1999, which was incidentally Easter Sunday to be his girlfriend. And what led to it was a Ball on Good Friday where friends signed us up to be King and Queen of the Ball and we had to eat an apple off a string and kiss for a whole minute.Packrat was really into the kissing because he liked me. I thought it was funny and spent much time laughing. Apparently, that confused the boy. I agreed to let him kiss me but I laughed so what was I actually saying to him? Anyway, the rest is history and it is history that I very much like and am extremely nostalgic about.When I was looking for the photographs that immortalized the day, I found so many others of our time in Melbourne, with little notes faithfully recorded to remind me of our youth, our joy and the fun we had. The Melbourne album ended with the trip we made back for our engagement. And thinking back to those days when things were simpler and our faces weren't lined with worries and stresses about jobs, money and more recently our children, I sigh. Partially out of contentment but partially out of wistfulness that those were days we would never be able to revisit. This is one of my favourite photographs from our engagement trip. And when I look at it, I yearn for such alone time with Packrat and such peace. But at the same time, my life, while frenzied, uber-stressful and exhausting does have a great amount of joy and love I never thought I could feel. You see, then, our lives were just us. We didn't think much about anyone else, we didn't understand a lot of what was ahead of us and we rolled our eyes at married couples and more so at those with children. We still do some of the time, but in the eleven years, we've become a married couple, with kids to boot and while I do at times hate my life and whinge and mourn for the old days of freedom, it's amazing how far Packrat and I have come in this time.I think we had foresight too. Because on our wedding day programme, we had this verse.Marriage hath in it less of beauty but more of safety, than the single life; it hath more care, but less danger, it is more merry, and more sad; it is fuller of sorrows, and fuller of joys; it lies under more burdens, but it is supported by all the strengths of love and charity, and those burdens are delightful.Bishop Jeremy TaylorAnd 'tis true. Every single word of it. But today, to commemorate the first Easter 4th in eleven years, hopefully, we get to just be us, be silly and just be together.Technorati Tags: Easter, relationships, marriage Too much TV I know when I've been watching far too much television when I start thinking in terms of TV world and characters. I spend all the time I am breastfeeding watching television, mostly watching re-runs of Gilmore Girls and Grey's Anatomy.Then, this morning, I see a trailer on television for a new medical drama called Mercy. And it prompts me to text Packrat."There's a new hospital show called Mercy with Michelle Trachtenberg in it. No wonder Mercy had to merge with Seattle Grace".and when the Private Practice trailers aired"Private Practice sucks. LA doesn't suit Addison Montgomery. Maybe it'll shut down and Addison Montgomery and her beautiful stilettos will move back to Seattle".Yes, they are now all real people in my life.How sad is my life!Technorati Tags: Singapore, Television shows, Grey's Anatomy To the rescue I join most of the world in their horror and dismay at what is happening in Haiti. I cringe at photos of the mob lynching a looter and my heart breaks when I think of the children who have lost their parents or the parents who cannot find their children. I am also one of the Singaporeans who are not impressed with the Singapore government's donation of USD$50 000 to Haiti. A mere USD$950 000 less than what Sandra Bullock, Brad Pit and Angelina Jolie etc donated. Of course, Haiti is not in South East Asia and we don't trade very much with Haiti so it really doesn't matter. I think it's like my children digging into my coin compartment and putting whatever change I have in there into the offertory bag on Sundays. How lucky for the Singapore government that my 'soap box' is currently not available to me or there would be many classes of 18 year olds that would have their eyes opened to the 'oh-too-cool-since-they-are-on-FB' government that is trying desperately to court them.Anyway, this does remind me a little bit of what happened in 2004 with the tsunami and how everyone was scrambling to go over and help. Once again, because it's so faraway, there are fewer people from here going over to render medical and rescue aid. When the tsunami and even the Sichuan earthquake occurred, teams couldn't get out of here fast enough. And even then, I remember a conversation we had about people volunteering to go to the front line. We knew of people who wanted to be part of the relief effort but were held back because their families worried about their safety even though it is a noble thing to do. It led to this conversation about superheroes.Not only are superheroes not married, you never hear of their families. Their families were usually part of the plot and the impetus for them to take on the role of vigilante justice. In reality, even though sometimes tragedy befalls family triggering the need to do something, the role family plays is often a little bit of a hampering one.My brother became a doctor because he wanted to go to the war front (where ever that may be) and help. In his 4th year, his dreams were rudely thwarted by my father who told him in no uncertain terms, as the bursar who was allowing him to be in med school, that he was to come home and work in Singapore and not go traipsing around the world. You could see his heart shatter in his eyes but he obeyed because that's what we were taught to do.When the earthquakes in Indonesia hit a few years ago, post tsunami (he couldn't go for that one having already given my parents a heart attack by being out of touch and diving in East Malaysia when it hit), once again, he desperately wanted to be where he was needed. Once again, he was thwarted. This time, not by my dad but by his employer and in his words, he was sad. The opportunity has once again surfaced. This time in Haiti.I hope he gets to go because that's why he trained so hard all those years. And I would be very proud of him if he went. But at the same time, I would be petrified if he went. And I never thought of it that way. From 2004 till now, I'd always thought of rescue efforts in terms of how they would benefit those who were suffering. I still do. But at the same time, I love my brother dearly and reading about the mobs and violence in Port-au-Prince scare the beejeezus out of me.And then I thought about what if it weren't my brother but was Packrat. Would I be so quick to encourage him to go? Would I be even more hesitant than I am now with my brother? I think I would. After all, I depend on Packrat for a lot of things and he is the father to my children. But then again, should I be so selfish? If he wanted to go, to stop him? What sort of example would I be setting for my children if I stopped their father from helping humanity just so that he'd be safe and around for them? But at the same time, what would happen if anything did happen to him while he was there? It is boggling to the mind and the heart.But I think, and I hope that I would have enough guts to follow through with this thought, that at the end of the day, at the end of all that struggle and probably with tears in my eyes and a heavy heart, I would wish him and my brother Godspeed and send them on the way. Of course, I probably wouldn't sleep and eat for the time they were away and I think I would be imploring God every second of the day to keep them safe and bring them home.On a side note, one of the medical teams from Singapore that is in Haiti now got to meet Bill Clinton. Now, I know it's flighty, but how cool is that?Technorati Tags: Singapore, Haiti earthquake, volunteers Men cook in Mars A friend of ours got nervous because his 18 month old son was playing with our daughter's pink kitchen set. His only consolation was that most of the great cooks in the world were men so it wasn't a complete lost cause. And in truth, I know more guys my age who cook than girls do. And the girls who do cook, seem to be really be into baking and are remarkably meticulous and good at it.It rings true for myself as well. Packrat cooks more than I do. He enjoys it. When I cook, it's mostly local stuff, out of necessity and I bake with the twins. Packrat cooks, for the lack of a better phrase, like a man. Lots of meat, hearty and without frills.Last night, with our guests, he decided ribs and chicken was the way to go. Because he also had other errands to run, I ended up helping him with the slow-cooking ribs. He told me that I had to baste it and he'd bought this basting brush where you fill the marinade into the handle and you squeeze it as you brushed it. The result was a loud squelching sound as the sauce was forced onto the brush. I texted him and told him it was gross and it was a man's job. Ribs in itself, in my opinion, is man food. Messy and you eat it with your hands.Then there was the chicken. I like chicken. Chicken is my white meat. But once again, his choice of preparation involved a can of beer stuffed up the butt of the chicken. And when our guests arrived, all the husbands took delight in seeing the chicken grilling away, being forced to stand and having a beer can shoved up its ass.I didn't eat very much of the meats because I don't fancy ribs and the chicken smelt of beer which was weird to me. But I did concede that the beer made the chicken flesh extremely juicy and tender. I stuck to the pumpkin and pasta which I had to insist upon or I wouldn't have had anything to eat. Actually, come to think of it, even when he bakes, it is to make something that complements his meats. I once baked at the same time as he did. I baked muffins. He, on the other hand, baked cornbread to complement his ribs, as he did last night.Our guests enjoyed Packrat's selection and we all agreed, Packrat's cooking was hearty, yummy but not pretty. And I think essentially, that is the difference between his cooking and theoretically mine.Is it sexist to make such comparisons? Probably but I am more amused than anything and since I stand to gain from it, it's great.Technorati Tags: cooking, couples Supermodel Christmas We haven't had a Christmas tree since the birth of the twins. Come to think of it, we didn't have a tree before the twins were born. We had a wreath, some Christmas runners and a big candle (which was the candle from our wedding) put into the middle of the wreath. All that was divine but it was all very adult. The first two Christmases the twins had were at their grandparents' house. Their grandparents did a great job, decorating the house with a tree, wreaths, candles, presents and festive cheer. Now that we're on our own, we decided (or rather I decided) that we would make a big deal out of Christmas and everything to do with it.We've taken to playing Christmas carols in the car, reading them the Christmas story as well as decorating the house. Obviously, it's nothing like decorations that adorn some houses in the US but we had fun setting up everything, right from the get go. First we had to decide on whether we wanted a live tree or a fake one. The great thing about a live one would have been the scent of pine. Even when we were at the nursery, its scent was alluring and we were tempted.Just walking through there, down the rows of fir trees made me feel like I was in a different country. Maybe it was the smell or the wet and cool artificial climate that had been created to keep the trees looking pretty and green, but it made me feel Christmassy although a little bit of snow and cold would have been nice. I know Christmas trees are cruel and environmentally unfriendly but they sure are pretty. And if we were to believe Phoebe in Friends, they have souls and shouldn't be killed.What kept us from buying, apart from our consciences, was the knowledge that it would die and before it did, it would shed its needles like a cat shedding fur. So a fake tree it was and a relatively small one at that. We could have bought the 7 feet one that looked almost as real as the pine ones sans the shedding and the dying. But we had to remember that we had two young children whose fingers were extremely twitchy and destructive. Same thing went for the decorations. No point with pretty delicate ones that might shatter once Destructo and Destructee start bouncing them around.Anyway, the twins had a wonderful time decorating the tree although we needed to re-decorate it after they'd gone to bed. We were pleased with the fact that they knew how to hang the ornaments onto the branches even if their idea of hanging them up were to hang EVERY single ornament on the same branch. Packrat did the honours and put the lights on. The Barbie on top of the tree is mine; the Sugar Plum Fairy Barbie that I was given the year I was involved in the Nutcracker Ballet. Since it was no longer in pristine condition and was worth naught, I decided that it would sit pretty on the top of the tree and be my contribution to our Christmas decor stash. If you look very carefully, there are also reindeers at the base of the tree which I fell in love with and had to buy. Of course, the twins have tried to ride it, feed it and constantly talk to it as if they were alive and their pets.We didn't managed to totally avoid the siren song of the fir trees and ended up with a tiny table top one. Packrat really liked it and even though it was extremely pricey for that little tip of a tree, we bought it and I adorned it with apples and cinnamon sticks. It looks slightly pagan but sits pretty on our dining table and every morning, we walk into the dining area to the smell of pine and cinnamon. Divine.So we're ready, decor wise for Christmas. The children know their Christmas songs and know that it is Jesus's birthday. The only thing we haven't done is actually to do our Christmas shopping. It's a little bit of a bummer to do without a bonus this year and whatever paltry extra we were going to get in lieu of a bonus is pro-rated for me, owing to the time off I took. Like I say, bummer.But at least, I have a pretty home to come home to and it is very therapeutic to sit and watch the lights twinkle, although when the twins fiddle with the switches and it flashes really quickly, I think I'm going to have a seizure, which is usually my reaction to a lot of things they do, anyway.A friend commented looked at the photos of the decoration and commented that it was going to be a Supermodel Christmas. Lean, thin but very pretty. That indeed. And at least we have the pretty. Technorati Tags: Singapore, twins, Christmas, Recession Fast Food Nation Yet another sign of globalization, or rather Americanization in Singapore is the re-entry of Wendy's into Singapore. As a kid, I remember Wendy's being in town. There was also Hardee's and Denny's. They disappeared though. It just didn't work then. I suppose there wasn't enough wealth for Singaporeans at that point to support such a large fast food market. Anyway, Wendy's is back and apparently, there are 35 outlets in Singapore planned for the next 10 years.Packrat loves anything that reminds him of the USA. It isn't so much that he is a sucker for anything American although he does seem to have a soft spot for all things American. So, when we saw a double-decker bus that had the Wendy's ad on it, he was determined to hunt it down.Hunt it down we did. Last night.And as I stated on my Facebook, I suffered much aggro trying to order my burger.This is why. (I am going to compare it to Macs because Macs has the most consistent service around and generally they don't screw up your orders)It only had 2 counters. Thus the queues took forever, although there were other reasons why the queues took forever too. Read on.Unlike Macs, that takes your orders and it appears on a screen at the back for the staff to organise the order and the counter can get on with clearing the lines, at Wendy's, they take your order and it stays on the cashier's screen till it is serviced. This means, you and the counter staff spend some minutes staring blankly at one another trying to see who would flinch first. As a result of 2), I spent half an hour waiting in line with 5 people in front of me and the service staff staring blankly at us from behind the counter.I am so grateful to be the next up at the counter, I decide to try and help the counter staff. He asked the customer in front of me if he had 5 cents (all their meals end with 5 cents, so I suspect they were running out of 5 cent change). Since I had about 6 minutes on average to kill before it was my turn to order, I dug around in my wallet for a 5 cent coin. My order was $9.65. I gave the server $10.05. I was due to get 40 cents in change. Easy Peasy. But when I looked at my change, my brain could not compute. I got the right change. It was just a matter of the denominations the change came in. One 20 cent coin, One 10 cent coin and TWO 5 cent coins!The servers obviously did not pay attention when they were in kindergarten and were taught to fit the right size containers with the covers. I ordered a large drink. That should then mean that the cup should be capped by a large cover. But no, Mr Vapid, Blank Look Server had to go through the 2 smaller sizes before finding the shoe that fit.Repeating that I was taking away my order 3 times still led to my order being placed on a tray.Repeating that I wanted a Large sized combo with a Fanta Grape still led to my being asked if I wanted a Medium Coke 3 times.Each server, in a dark green shirt, was supervised by a guy in a light green shirt (assistant managers, I hear they are still hiring!), supervised by a guy in a black shirt who is supervised by ONE American dude who looks like he wants to fry up his whole staff because even though he announced loudly enough for me to hear, that there weren't any more baked spuds left, there were still orders being taken for them.With so many staff milling behind the counter, there were only two people preparing the burgers. Mr Vapid, Blank Look Counter Boy is told by Mr Black Shirt that he can take the next order while waiting for the previous order to be furnished. He proceeds to do so and puts all the food on the tray. Mr Black Shirt tells him he must collect payment before putting food on the tray. So he proceeds to take everything off the tray and put it back behind him on the warmers.So, 10 reasons why I grew increasingly agitated and while I don't want to appear racist, my half an hour in the queue made me feel extremely Aryan and feeling that a Final Solution is sometimes justified (however politically incorrect and violating of human rights it is).To make it worse, the large box of fries I ordered was only half filled, with fries that were over salted and smelt overwhelmingly of peanut oil. The burger, in all its square patty glory, was fair enough I guess and I can't quite comment on it because we ate it quite late.All in, I'm not sure how it would ever make it here big if it is so inefficient. I felt like I was in a fast food joint in some back water Malaysian townlet rather than in the CBD in Singapore. Obviously, the staff needs to be trained more, the kitchen facilities need to be larger and better organised and at least have free wireless so people standing in the queue for extended periods of time can Facebook and Twitter as they wait. Or perhaps, that's why they don't or it would be splashed all over cyber space how wonderful the waiting game is.Technorati Tags: Singapore, Wendy's in Singapore Role Reversal At some point, we all turn into our parents. I knew that would happen with regards to me having children. I had no idea that we would also turn into our parents and end up 'parenting' our parents and doing things for them that they did for us as children.My mother turns 70 next Monday. In honour of that, my siblings and I are throwing her a big bash on Sunday. This has entailed us finding a suitable venue, looking up my mother's friends surreptitiously in her phone book, ringing them and organising them to show up. This has also entailed us sending out invitations, ordering cake, speaking to the banqueting staff a million times a day to ensure that everything is as planned.We've also had to plan party entertainment. Videos, songs, all we're short of are party games.Now that's where the difference lies. Party games for my mother's guests might entail some broken hips. We've also had to arrange for wheelchair access and permission for nurses to escort some of the guests. That's something our parents didn't really need to take into consideration when they were planning our parties. I spent a better part of last night in correspondence with the banquet manager and my cousin trying to map out the easiest way we could get my uncle, who is wheel chair bound from the car to the function room without having to encounter any stairs.It was also meant to be a surprise party. But when the guests are somewhat geriatric, they tend to forget important facts that you tell them i.e. "DO NOT RING MY MOTHER AND ASK FOR DETAILS!", "PLEASE RING MY BROTHER OR MYSELF. DO NOT RING MY MOTHER!", "IT IS A SURPRISE PARTY, PLEASE DO NOT TELL MY MOTHER"Even despite these repeated pleas, an uncle (not the same one) rings my mother and apologises profusely for not being able to attend her surprise birthday party! We put it down to his being 78 years old and regardless of how disappointed we are that the cat out of the bag, we've just had to plod along and plan the rest of it.A friend of mine commented that she hates it now that she has to be a parent to her parents. Not because it's tiresome and a bother, which it can be, but because us needing to parent them reminds us of their fragility and the fact that they are indeed getting older. And anyone who is close to their parents, doesn't want to think about that because it leads to the inevitable which, in our minds is unthinkable. Technorati Tags: Parents Junkie Parts of me hate the fact that APEC is happening. I was stuck on a bus for the better part of an hour this morning, on a route that usually took 7 minutes. By the time I got off the bus (and this was after I'd decided to cut short the journey and switch modes of transport), I wanted to throw up and was dizzy.But another part of me loves watching the traffic cops stop traffic. Normally reckless, inconsiderate, annoying drivers quietly and obediently come to a halt when the traffic cop on the BMW bike weaves through the traffic with sirens whirling, stopping in the middle of a busy four-direction traffic junction and raises his gloved hand. And then there's the motorcade that comes through, usually black BMWs with Volvos as security cars trailing. It goes all the way back to when I was a teen and a cousin I am very close to lived houses down from the President of Singapore. We used to get such a thrill just walking down the road to see the security detail milling outside the compound. Then in 1992, I saw my first real motorcade when George Bush (Sr) was in town and I happened to be in Orchard Road gawking at the motorcade that rocked down.Maybe it was that or maybe it was the fact that I did international history and politics in college and uni that American politics and the presidency (save for 8 years in the recent past) fascinated me. Or perhaps it is because for a very long while, I spoke and thought in West-Wing verse and my dream job was either to be a staffer for the Bartlett Administration. Heck, Packrat and I contemplated naming our son after the fictitious president.Whatever it is, Packrat and I seriously thought about going groupie slash junkie slash stalker and try and find an opportunity this weekend to see Obama who is in town for like a couple of hours. We plotted and planned but decided we didn't have enough information (that comes from not having anyone we know involved in APEC this time round as opposed to the World Bank-IMF stuff previously) to actually be effective stalkers. We are extremely envious of the 500 people who are allegedly on his entourage and would give anything to be one of them, even if it meant carrying someone's bags.Technorati Tags: Singapore, APEC, Obama, The West Wing We've been MPV-ed The cars we've had over the years have defined who we are. The first car we drove was a manual 2 door Mistubishi Lancer. It was white and it had flames stuck on the side panels. We were students and we just needed to get us from Point A to Point B. Point A being home and Point B being uni. We didn't really care that it was uncomfortable for the people that had to be piled into the back.When we first moved back and got married, we couldn't afford a car but needed one because home to my first school was like well, home to uni in Melbourne and it took me 1 3/4 hours to get to work by public transport. Because we couldn't afford it, we took whatever was offered to us. It came in the shape of a 13 year old Mercedes that drove like a boat, flooded like one when it rained and guzzled fuel like one too. The great thing about it was no matter how many clowns or elephants you piled into it, there was still space. But that car seized on us when we hit the brakes too hard one day and it merrily careened into a taxi. That was when I decided it had to go. It was just too unsafe by my standards plus I really hated driving the boat.The next car we chose was the opposite of a boat. It was a Ford Focus 5 door hatch that was zippy and was like a small dog that was aggressive despite its size. We loved it and we drove it everywhere from Sembawang to Kuala Lumpur. The only problem was that it wasn't really a family car. And for the years that two of us constituted a family unit, it was a great drive. When we found out that we had two little muffins baking in the oven, we wondered if the boot was going to be sufficient space for them because the back seat sure as heck wasn't. So, even though it broke our hearts, she had to go.At that point, when we traded it in, we should have bought something big enough for a growing family. Unfortunately, we lacked foresight as well as the ability to see ourselves as 30 somethings who had no choice but to drive an MPV and we didn't see ourselves as MPV people. So we bought a Honda Civic. It wasn't a boat but it wasn't a dream either. It was just fully functional and came in a nice shade of blue. For the last 2 1/2 years, that's what we used to move our family around and the kids were comfortable in it. Whoever had to sit between them wasn't but our priority was the kids.Unfortunately, as someone very rudely said to us recently, we forgot that when people have sex, there are consequences. And the consequence for us was that we now had NO choice but to buy a bigger car because with 3 children and a helper, unless we strapped someone to the roof, there was no way a 5 seater family car was going to do. Even though we could ill afford it, we had to buy something as I discussed in a previously resigned post.So, we are now on to our 3rd car. An MPV.Thankfully, it doesn't look like one and doesn't drive like one. And it comes in the most impractical colour. Black. Black equals hot in Singapore. Hot equals sweaty kids who are already proned to eczema. Hot equals to the need to solar film the car. Hot equals spending more money trying to reduce the baking temperature in the car.But the good part of it, it's not a girl car. It is as testosteroney as a car can get, with its big turbo engine to boot. And I can't bring myself to name it anything girly. Anyway, just look at it.In my opinion, it looks like the Batmobile or the Dark Knight and even though it's an MPV meant for 3 kids. It handles like a BIG car rather than a Mommy School bus and I'm happy about that because it preserves the last vestiges of us that have to do with us being who we are rather than just parents.Technorati Tags: Singapore, Subaru Exiga GT, Having children Illogical math Over lunch, I grew increasingly panicky at the thought of sending my kids to school in Singapore. It's not a new fear but every now and again, I am reminded of how much I'll hate having to subject my kids to it and how I'll be stressed and inadvertently stress them out.This afternoon's topic of conversation was the recent but yearly and to-be-expected uproar over the PSLE Math paper (do not scroll to the bottom if you want to try the question because the answer is there) "Jim bought some chocolates and gave half of it to Ken. Ken bought some sweets and gave half of it to Jim. Jim ate 12 sweets and Ken ate 18 chocolates. The ratio of Jim’s sweets to chocolates became 1:7 and the ratio of Ken’s sweets to chocolates became 1:4. How many sweets did Ken buy?"My brain shut down after Ken bought some sweets. Anyway, 12 year-olds are expected to solve this. How? I don't know.Not bad enough, I was also duly informed that when what 6+8 is, 14 is incorrect.6+8 has to first, = 10+4 and then subsequently= 1411+11 has to first, = 10+1+10+1 = 20+ 2 before arriving at 22.If the child had the audacity to skip from 6+8 to 14, he would be marked wrong. Which is terrible because it's a) the CORRECT answer and how can they tell a kid that an answer that is right is wrong? b) insisting that the child can ONLY do it ONE way and that's why we're so screwed and complain that the graduates we produce can only think ONE way.What do they expect when their primary school math insists on teaching them there is only ONE way to derive the answer?It's annoying, it's worrying and that's why we're screwed as a nation.Technorati Tags: children, Singapore, primary school, education The cynical generation When I was in College, I relished in the discovery that our government was screwed up and parallels could be drawn to the Nazi regime in the 1940's. Why? I relished in being able to see things at a different level than they were presented.I still enjoy that now although I pepper it with reality and possibility a slightly more mature viewpoint of things. Maybe I am not the same hot-blooded anti-establishment, government spitting 17 year old anymore but much of how and what opened my eyes all those years ago has made me see the world the way I do today. And I know that they way I see the world today is somewhat different from a lot of the people around me, maybe not my friends because us like-minded people flock together... but compared to the general generation of peers, somewhat differing.Which is why I was impressed I received this photo, first thing this morning, with the accompanying text... "Didn't think students understood analogies this well".Well, yes. And the cynicism to provide such an observation, however colourfully expressed is something rare for a 17-18 year old who is caught up with the grade and rat race.I hope he/ she continues to see the world without the rose-tinted glasses. Maybe some of them do actually hear us in class.Technorati Tags: Singapore, students in Singapore, cynicism What is a moron? What is a moron?According to the dictionary of Me:A moron is someone who has gone through 12 years of education and still does not know to write his name on his exam script before submitting it. Once again, MORON. Technorati Tags: Singapore, exams, students Parlez vouz Francais We have a GPS in the car and it reset itself after we brought it back from Perth. So, instead of a maniacal Glados who occasionally did try to force me to drive down a one way street in the opposite direction, it was a boring female Brit voice.Rather than have that, Packrat decided to programme it to speak French.Me: But when the directions are in French, the GPS is of no help to me.Packrat: But you know how to get to most places in Singapore.Me: Then it's no use having a GPS receptionPackrat: I can relearn my French.GPS: Tourner à gauche (Turn left)Me: BUT THAT DOESN'T HELP ME! I DON'T KNOW WHERE TO GO!!!GPS: Perdu satelite réception (Lost satelite reception)Damn right, lost satelite reception.Technorati Tags: GPS, learning a language Can't help falling in love "Wise men say only fools rush in, but I can't help, falling in love with you"This more or less encapsulates how we feel about Perth this time. It isn't our first time. Our first time was 3 years ago where we had lots of fun but came away thinking about how the pace was too slow and how Melbourne was better. Melbourne would always have a place in our hearts because that's where Packrat and I met, went to school, fell in love and decided we would spend our lives together.When we talked about moving to Oz, it was always a given that we would move back to Melbourne. Moving back there would be easy, there was a certain routine that we would be able to fall into because we've lived there and we know the place and how things work.But something changed this time. We noticed how much it was like Vancouver, green grass, blue skies, water everywhere. All that was lacking was ranges in the distance and the neutral North American accent. Because we were on the coast and had rented an apartment on a cliff that overlooked the Indian Ocean, we were floored by the sound of the surf, the vast expanse ahead of us and the peace that came from looking out at such an expanse with no one or nothing else around us.All of a sudden, all we could think about was how we should move here, how our kids would benefit from the sun, sand, surf, green and the open space. All of a sudden, Melbourne became grotty, industrial and not as pretty. It's not an adventurous thing to do, as a Singaporean. Some suburbs in Perth are known as Singapore, Perth because of the large numbers of Singaporean migrants. But we're not setting out to do something different and setting a blazing trail here.We're wondering if this is where we and our family will be happy and content. No doubt there are higher taxes. No doubt things are more expensive here. No doubt we would be uprooting and there would be the fear of how to make things work here. But are these large enough considerations to stop us from moving?Something that was said to me resonates loudly though. This person told me he wasn't ready to quit Singapore and move overseas however tempting the prospects. Was I? I thought about the factors that would keep me from moving.Singapore is easy. I've lived in Singapore most of my life, I know how most of the systems work although the government never ceases to befuddle me.Our families and friends are here and by moving, we'd be apart from them.We have a support system and a life here. We have people to count on and help us if necessary. We have a life here. What quality is that life? That's another question altogether. But whatever it is, however unhappy we are or discontent, we have a life, we're used to it and it works. Sort of.Eating out is cheap. Public transport is cheap. Movies are cheap. Everything else might be costly but those aren't.Those are factors within Singapore that keep me from moving. There are also factors about where ever we move to, i.e. Perth or Melbourne that keep me from moving as well.Expensive healthcare. Singapore isn't all that cheap and I know we'd buy health insurance over there but the horrors of the public health system are enough to give anyone nightmares.Where ever we move to, I worry about having to look for a job. I look upon, with a little bit of envy, those who are posted overseas to work and are given help to relocate. If that was our situation, I would move in a little bit more than a heartbeat.I fear the loneliness which is linked to the idea that we have friends, family and a support system here. I am a people person. I would feel very lost without friends and people around me. High taxes.When I tell that to Packrat, he points out that most of what I see as flaws in the Australian system are not specific to the country but basically the fear and uncertainty of uprooting. And it doesn't make me feel that the kids would benefit from the experience any less so despite my reservations, I'm back where I started, right back at the beginning.Technorati Tags: Singapore, Perth, migration My mother's daughter When I was little, my mother owned a little business at home. It was called Soft Expressions. All I remember of it were the blue business cards with baby's breadth on it, my mother always taking orders to do flowers and Christmas being a busy time for her where she and her sister would be making ornaments and little arrangements where there were two turtledoves and a partridge in a pear tree. I remember the house smelling wonderful and there were always people over to help with the sewing. I'm guessing it was their version of a cottage industry.Needless to say, every bone in my mother's body is a creative one. My brothers and I are not like her. Well, I think we each got a little bone of it from her but we don't have oodles of it the way she does. She was livid when I failed my art exams in school and said I was an embarrassment.In the recent years however, I've come to realise that I appreciate craft and the beauty in things because of her influences. I am thankful she didn't try and bang it over my head because more likely than not, I would not have learned then. I constantly amaze myself when I find myself dipping my fingers into things that I used to just ask Mom whether she could do for me.Example 1.A cousin I am very close to just had a baby. Her family, unlike mine are all creative and have a penchant for all things pretty. Because of that, I thought she and her mother (my mother's sister than I mentioned above) would get a very big kick out of receiving a diapercake rather than packets of chicken and fish essence and mee swa which was what I got a lot of.To be honest, I did ask my mother for help. But rather than leave her to do it, I tried to build it with her around. It turned out to be a lot of fun and my mother admitted somewhat admiringly that it was something she'd never thought about and was impressed that I had and known how to imagine it. To hear that from her was a great compliment.Anyway, we have a picture of a half finished product here. Half finished because I wanted to buy fabric to cover the rest of the diapercake up but Mom decided that buying baby blankets to cover it up would be a more useful idea and had sent me out to buy some. I can't wait to see the end product but I was quite proud of what it looked like, half built.Example 2.We recently got our house blessed. And I got myself in a frenzy about making it presentable. Packrat could not understand what all the fuss was about. After all, we have had friends over before. My retort was that we never had 'adults' here before. Our families in full strength plus a church leader and his wife. One of the things I got myself into a tizzy over was to buy flowers. Again, Packrat was like "since when do we have flowers in the house?". My response "I am my mother's daughter and the house MUST have flowers!" At that point, he must have wondered when it was that the aliens had abducted his regularly practical and nonchalant about all things pretty wife and replaced her with a Martha Stewart in the making wife.The nursery near us that sold fresh flowers had a cold room problem and thus no fresh flowers in stock. The supermarket flowers were unexpensive and not very fresh. But not having a choice, I settled for what was the best.This was the eventual outcome. All I could do in 10 minutes before the guest arrived and without a flower sponge and all the other paraphenalia that my mother has around the house for emergencies like that.It isn't much. But for someone who has nary an artistic bone in her body, finding these little creative sparks are quite a big thrill to me and makes me proud that at least a miniscule bit of my mother's legacy will be left behind in me. The truth hurts One of the fantasies a teacher has is the ability to tell the truth. When it comes to writing recommendations, we outrightly lie because we're too chicken- hearted to let the kid go to a lesser university even if he or she deserves it. Most of the time, it's an attitude thing rather than an academic thing and that sits much more uneasily on my conscience.If only I could say "xxx is a pompous bastard who is too competitive for his/her own good, has no qualms about getting to the top by climbing over others and is absolutely unrepentant when told that his/her attitude stinks and it requires a full make over".Instead, I'll probably have to say "xxx was a good student who was very focussed in his/her academic pursuits. Single-minded determination has been shown and xxx has never allowed anything to stand in the way of achieving it. Xxx is also a strongly independent learner and can be counted on to do his/her best. "See, with the latter, the kid doesn't end up sounding so bad and the uni would probably look upon the recommendation quite favourably. Unfortunately, I am in the business of getting the students to university, I do after all work for a pre-university institution and the unwritten part of my job description includes plumping up recommendations that otherwise would cause the kid difficultt getting a job even at the local McDonald's.Technorati Tags: Singapore, applications to university The true Singaporean Shell Singapore had a one hour National Day offer today where between the hours of 4 and 5 pm, fuel was $0.44 less per litre. Which is alot.Since our tank was veering on empty, we decided to brave the crowds. And as with any sort of good deal, everyone and their cat was there and that included some people who shouldn't be allowed to exist.Obviously, a long queue had developed. Obviously, everyone was impatient. Some wanted to get home to the parade, some wanted to get on with their day, some just hated queuing. But for most, that impatience was reigned in by common courtesy where we obediently wanted our turn to get to the pumps. And it really wasn't that fuel was going to run out today.Which must have been what this stiletto totting, Lexus driving tai tai was thinking. So despite the queue, despite all the angry and loud insults hurled at her, despite being told off by the station attendants that she should have waited her turn rather than cut ahead of twenty cars, she insisted on having her tank filled up, without a stitch of remorse, embarrassment or acknowledgement that she had just done something jaw-droppingly stupid.Out whipped at least 100 mobile phone cameras, including Packrat's and still no sense of humility. It was a wonder the crowd did not get riotous and set her car on fire and turn it upside down. Perhaps they worried then, they wouldn't get fuel either way.But whatever it is, I hope she gets some sort of come-uppance because even I wanted to throw rocks at her car and the 20 cars she had cut in front of us didn't include ours and we were still, that incensed.What a nice true blue Singaporean she is.Technorati Tags: Singapore, National Day, Ugly Singaporeans College redux As with all bad situations, a silver lining is present if you look hard enough.This isn't as much a silver lining as looking at the situation as the cup being half full rather than half empty.I've moaned loud and miserably about missing my kids now that Packrat is ill and is suspected to have H1N1.And it's true. I miss them terribly.But I've realised something about the both of us, now that the kids are not in the house.Our house is a mess. Not in a 'we've emptied our drawers onto the floor' kind of mess but a more chaotic 'leave things as they are' mess. There are many reasons for this.Obviously, we are spoilt and now that we don't have our helper picking up after us, an empty box stays on the table for as long as we forget to throw it away.We are also, obviously, messy by nature and have defaulted into our original non-parent states. Because Packrat can't go out and I haven't been feeling up to going out, we've done one of four things. We are either eating, watching television (or doing both at the same time), on our computers online or asleep.After 3 days of doing this, it dawned on me that this was what we did all the time when we were in college/ uni, especially in our thesis years when we didn't have formal classes. The day began when we woke up, usually when the sun was high up in the sky and meals were had in front of the television on the coffee table. Crockery and cutlery would pile in the sink till the tape (then, it was video tapes) ran out and we had nothing else to watch apart from Aussie day time soaps. If our eyes were too goggled by all the television, a nap would follow and then sometime on the computer mostly chatting with friends on the then chat platform (ICQ) and possibly some work followed by preparing dinner and vegging out in front of the television for the rest of the evening till we fell asleep in front of the television. Occasionally, television was swapped out in favour for the Playstation and its games and the same vegetative state would ensue although there would be a little bit more talking in terms of yelling at one another for killing the other.This has been what we've been more or less doing the last few days to while away the time while we waited for Packrat to stop coughing (he hasn't yet and mine has gotten worse). If not for the fact that I worry about the twins and miss them and actually do leave the house to go see them, these days would seem like a strange and surreal gift of time to be able to live the lives we led when we were carefree, young unmarried and unencumbered students.Unfortunately, the reminders round the house of the twins act as the resounding foghorn at the back of my head that echoes louder than my conscience did all those years ago that reminded me to go back and do my work while I whiled away another afternoon/ night watching yet another 6 episodes of Friends/ Buffy/ The West Wing.Technorati Tags: College Life, Life before kids Mac Girl Although I'm married to a PC geek, I'm turning out to be a Mac Girl. Once I got tired of using Packrat's toss outs and decided to buy myself my own lap top, the one I got was the pretty, aluminium one with a half eaten apple on the top. Even though the learning curve was steep, I decided I liked it. Packrat tolerated the fact that I was using the the Mac even though it couldn't play DivX files on it and whatever other techno gargon rubbish he wanted to run on it. In a way, that was good. It meant he couldn't clutter my lap top the way his own desk top was cluttered. The one thing I did that appeased him was that I insisted on using a Razer mouse rather than a nanny-pussy Mac mouse that couldn't do very much. That gave me some street cred.And then a few days ago, I receive a package from Amazon. The small little neat package was ubiquitous enough. The size and colour made wonder why Packrat bought me a Nintendo DS for me as a birthday present. Did he seriously think he was going to get away with buying me a DS so that he could play with it? Upon closer inspection, I discovered that he'd bought me an Ipod Touch. Not the Iphone because he knows how much I hate touch typing messages and how badly typo-ed my friends' SMSes to me are. He knows me well enough to know that much as I like the stuff the Ipod can do, I'd fling the Iphone against the nearest wall in a heartbeat if I couldn't get my SMSes out in 30 seconds.So now I have an Ipod and a MacBook. I haven't had the frame of mind or inclination to load music onto the Ipod. He bought the Ipod so that about 6 months from now when I'm ensconed in hospital without much to do in between nursing a new born, I will have things to do and he's started making sure of that, loading e-books into the phone as well as addictive mindless games that I've spent hours playing. Add to that, the Ipod Touch does have wireless so I won't be that lost, if I could get a signal out.So even though my husband is a PC geek, he loves me enough to know that I'm a girl, I like pretty and I don't appreciate super powered machines that have no aesthetic value. And he puts up with that and weathers through the tedium that is the Mac interface to load stuff onto the Ipod for me, just because he knows I'd like to have it.Now, can any girl ask for anything more? I think not. :)Technorati Tags: Mac, Ipod Touch, husbands Orh-bee-good Thio Li- Ann Cancels Teaching Stint at NYUSo sayeth the Straits Times.As with all in her family, she takes the high horse and claims to be "deeply offended" by the NYU faculty which has called her views on homosexuality "intolerant" and "reprehensible".All I can say is that it is an embarrassment that she's had to travel half way across the world to get metaphorically egged for her views.Of course, there is also the paradox of free speech to take into consideration. Free speech means having the space to stand for particular views. Unfortunately the extreme liberalists would then claim that any view against free speech or expression should shouted down. But by doing that, free speech and expression is trampled upon and it then begins to resemble Singapore more than the USA. Because of that, I feel a little bit sorry for her.But that's all I feel. I can't be all that sympathetic because I cannot help but feel that at least someone's managed to force her into a corner and acknowledge that her come-uppance has come a collecting. That when I feel like a child and would like the stand, flapping my arms and yelling "orh-bee-good" (Serves you right!) .What would however been amusingly ideal would have been if she had the guts enough to tough it out and appear to class on the first day of the semester. And this was just to realise that her poorly subscribed course with only 6 students comprised of 3 gay students and 3 lesbian students all ready to give her hell on earth and chase her out of class. Of course, being out of her depth, she would rely on old tricks to get her through.Pulling rank: "Don't you know that I'm the Global Visiting Professor from the very famed National University of Singapore?"Pulling connections:" You have got to listen to me and respect me. I am the daughter Thio Su-Mein, the Feminist Mentor of Singapore"Pulling evidence: "If you don't believe me, you can take a look at pg 73!And it would be at this point where the mob of 6 look downright threatening that she loudly orders "Shut Up or Sit down!". That would be quite a sight. Why I would stay at the Four Seasons The Four Seasons is known for its service. We vouch for that. The Sydney Four Seasons was really great to us when we were there on our honeymoon all those years ago. When our friends got married at the Four Seasons here, we had nothing to complain about either. All was good.But yesterday, while walking past the back of it, I found another reason why I would like to stay at the Four Seasons if I could afford it. There was a big vegetable patch round the back where each department was growing something. Most of it were herbs or vegetables that could be used for cooking. And it reminded me a little bit about our school science gardens. It wasn't glammed up and spruced up by housekeeping or maintainence and that's what I liked about it. There was something real about it, right down to the marker pens they used to colour out the name of the plant they were growing.I just wish more people did more. Two days ago, the papers talked about how an Australian town banned bottle water followed by how much bottled water Singaporeans consumed and how much oil and plastic that wasted. That was followed by analysts and the public declaring that despite Singapore having drinkable tap water, not many were keen with drastically reducing the consumption of bottled water.How disappointing it is!Technorati Tags: Singapore, The Four Seasons, environmental consciousness 20 year hindsight I picked up copy of Time magazine today. It was a June summer issue and it was doing the year 1989 and how that one year has shaped how the world has changed. My initial thought was "Seriously?" I lived through 1989 and all I remember about it was being concerned about running track meets and trying to win them despite being injured.But being a self-absorbed teenager meant things happening to me were more important that what was going on in the world. Of course, I had vague impressions about some of the so called "life-altering" events. I stopped and thought about how my juvenile mind interpreted and coded those events.1. Tiananmen SquareThen: I remember the picture of the guy standing in front of the tank. I remember calling it Tai-nan-men Square and incurring the wrath of Olie who saw it her place to correct me. I remember my mother telling me that the guys in the tanks were death row murderers and therefore had no qualms running over student protesters.Now: I wonder where my mother got her facts from but she believed that of the Chinese, the invading Japanese force during the Occupation all those years ago and I suspect the Nazis. I also now know that it was a pro-democracy rally and it had started months earlier, culminating in the June crackdown and it lost China the opportunity to host the Olympics some eight years earlier. Actually I knew that last point about 10 years ago but putting two and two together took some time.2. The Fall of the Berlin Wall.Then: I was holidaying in Perth with my parents and my cousin. My boy crazy cousin and I were more interesting in picking up cute bell boys at the hotel than to pay attention to the fact that the Berlin Wall had come tumbling down. I recall a friend of my parents saying it was "a day for the history books" and I was like "yah yah, whatever. Let's go shopping please!"Later on: Having studied the Cold War as part of my history syllabus in college, the significance of it became very clear to me and it wasn't the beginning but the very end of a long row of political dominoes that began when Gorbachev realised the Soviet Union was too broke to maintain a Soviet empire.Now: My history tutor then remarked that I had an eye for the ridiculous and absurd and once again he was proved correct. Reading all these accounts of what were world shaping events, what stood out for me about the account of the fall of the Berlin Wall was that the writer got falling grit from the wall into his eye and it knocked out his contact lenses. My immediate thought was whether his cornea was scratched in the process. Not something to be deliberating when reading about the last bastion of communism turning into a pile of rock.There were others but I would be lying if I said I knew any of the rest in any sort of detail 20 years ago. I think I'd heard about Cambodia and the Khmer Rouge and Vietnam but possibly the latter because my brothers watched Tour of Duty, the television show and I liked the intro credits played to The Rolling Stones. And I think I wondered if Cambodia and Kampuchea (you'd know it if you played RISK) were the same countries.Today, I know a little bit more about Vietnam, primarily because I'm a fan of pho and summer rolls as well as because one of my best friends is shacking up in Saigon at the moment. Cambodia? I know that I shared a history class with Sihanouk's grand daughter in university, it is home to Ang Kor Watt and Tomb Raider was shot there. And before some starts making seriously disapproving noises, I do know about Pol Pot and the Killing Fields. But all this was recent knowledge acquisition and not something I'd learnt in school from a text book.So it leads me to question, how did I get from being what Packrat terms a "jockette" whose only focus in life was to break track records to someone who realised putting two and two together isn't that big a challenge when I decide to put all the absurdity out of focus? Someone once said I was smart. Erm, nope. I don't think so. Mix with some of the dudes I hang with and you'll feel dumb as a door post.Maybe it's just hindsight. That makes things fall into place. They say hindsight's 20/20. Well, 20 years does make some difference.Technorati Tags: 1989, Time Magazine More than meets the eye We went to see Transformers 2 a few days ago. Someone gave us Gold Class tickets a few months back and we needed to use it up. So on the last day of its validity, we decided to use it on the only movie in Gold Class- Transformers 2. Of course, I didn't have high hopes for the movie. On top of that, Packrat didn't have high hopes. At least we got plush arm chairs and relax in for 148 minutes, we consoled ourselves.But as with situations where there are zero or half star expectations, it shines through. Although it was not as good as the first, according to Packrat, I think I had a lot more fun with it. It probably had to do with 2 different factors. First, it had way more military stuff and growing up with 2 brothers and doing the Soviet-US arms race as part of my college history syllabus has made me a girl full of contradictions. Second, related to the first, is that I didn't have to bother about canon and about the fact that Optimus Prime was ruthless in the movie in a way he never was in the cartoon. When I just shrugged my shoulders at this comment, I received a loud 'tsk' from Packrat as well as a "why were you not paying attention as a child?" What really did me in was when I referred to the Constructicons as Constructobots.My defence to the dagger stares was that I did not watch Transformers growing up as I was busy with Barbie Dolls and all things girl. Neither did I watch Mask Crusaders and Robotech or whatever else. I know of them and to me, that's enough. When I ask Packrat to name Barbie Dolls from our time, he can't, so I guess I'm still one up on him.And all that allows me to be not so particular about movies because I have no frame of reference. Does it make me a ditz? Well, maybe. But a ditz who appreciates a movie because of the amount of military hardware is well, better than a ditz who swoons over Shia LeBeouf anytime. Well, in my book anyway.Technorati Tags: Transformers 2, childhood Coming of age My birthday and the twins' birthday are a day apart. I've been very focussed on what we're going to do for them and not so much myself. This morning, I get a text message from my brother asking what I want for my birthday and I really had no clue. I told him to either buy me a holiday or skin care products and between the two, skin care products were boring. My other brother is apparently getting me household appliances for my birthday. I really don't mind because I don't particularly care.Packrat asked why I was wistful today. Try as I may, I just couldn't really get into planning my birthday. Gone are the days when I wanted jackets, phones, PDAs, wallets, bags and goodness knows what else for my birthday. Gone are the days where I want parties. I'm more than happy to have a party for the twins. Like our anniversary, what was funnier was how the twins celebrated it with us. Does that mean, I've sold out and have turned into one of those women who are nothing more than a mom?I don't think so. I think it's more that I don't really feel the need to yell on top of my lungs from roof tops that I am a year older. I am well aware of that. Watching women jog down Holland Road this morning, I distinctly felt that my thighs had grown to the size of elephants. I might be exaggerating here but I am no longer as fit as I used to be and ten years ago, I think I could do a 1000 sit ups without very much problems. I haven't done a sit up since I got pregnant with the twins so that's how far down the trenches I've sunk to.Packrat promised to make it a big deal. But I told him it wasn't necessary. He thinks I'm unenthusiastic because I'm feeling under the weather. But I think it's got to do with ageing more than malaise although the malaise is a big pain in the ass. And now, he's fallen ill so not only are the thin dreams of tomorrow being special tossed by the way side, I'm in for serious baby sitting, the kids and the husband and have to pray very hard that he hasn't fallen prey to the dreaded flu bug that threatens to very dramatically throw a spanner into the works.So, what would I really want for my birthday? For my husband to be right as rain tomorrow. Everything else, really doesn't matter two pence.Technorati Tags: birthday, presents Seasons of a woman's life The first time I visited to Phuket, Phuket smelt of freedom. It was my first vacation without my parents. It was my first vacation with just friends. It was just after my 'A' Levels. Needless to say, the thought of the Phuket I went to then gives me a heady feeling. This is my third time in Phuket in the last 14 years. And each time, it has come to mean something entirely different. I am amazed how much my life has changed in the span of time it takes for an infant to become a rebellious teenager. And I think, in some ways, my life mirrors that analogy.The first time, like I said, was a birth of new experiences. We went to Club Med where we ate and drank like there was no tomorrow or no weighing machine. I had no curfew (except for some strange warning from my mom to stay away from gypsies). I think I had enough alcohol for the first time to feel high and have a headache the next morning. We stayed up and lounged around because we could. We spent all day at the beach because we could although that meant lobster red shoulders and cheeks. I bought a white shift dress that I wouldn't be caught dead in today because it was short, tight, white and well, short. But for an 18 year old with a tiny waist, legs that had just won her prom night's best legs and a tan that glowed from a mile away, it seemed like the best choice.The second time I went to Phuket, I was a fair bit older and somewhat older. I was married. I had my kids six months prior to the trip and it was my first vacation away from them. We chose luxury that time. Indulged as if on our honeymoon. The chauffeured driven Mercedes with reclining seats that took us from the airport to the resort. The villa that opened up to a pool where a chef would cook dinner for us and we dined by candlelight. It was a different type of freedom. For the first time in 6 months, Packrat and I were alone on our own, we had time for conversation, we had time to sleep and we had time to be like children carvoting in the waves, teenage surfer bums drinking mugs of cold beer (him) and coconuts (me) at the straw huts that peppered the beachline and adults dining with champagne. A divine break from reality.This is my third time and this time, I am back in Phuket not just with Packrat but with the twins, the grandparents and a grandaunt to boot. This time, I am the twins' shadow. I'm up when they're up, I'm asleep when they're asleep (except for now). I'm in the pool when they are and any spare time I have, I'm trying to cater for their meals or wash/prepare their bottles. It defines my existence now. It could be worse I know. At least there are other people around who are able to take the twins' off my hands when I need to use the bathroom or prepare their meals. But this is the first vacation I've spent more time in the hotel room than out (except for the time when we went to Bintan and it rained 3 days straight). I'm struggling to break out, to break free, to have a moment just by myself or to talk a walk with Packrat by the water at night. I feel like a frustrated teen that is dying to break out and just break curfew for once except all I'm hankering for is some time to do my nails. And I watch these kids outside our window as they fling, flip and swing their way in space during their Trapeze School lessons and I'm wishing I could be there, soaring through the air without a care in the world.The reality is that unlike a teenager, I am well aware of my responsibilities. And I have to carry them out. It is what propels me out of bed at the crack of dawn when the kids wake up because I cannot bring myself to fob them off or to leave others to tend to their morning needs. It is why I haven't chucked a fit about not seeing more of the resort than the children's pool and playground. I'm here for the twins and that's fine. Except, there's a little part of me, which has not sold out into Mommy mode who cries out for some air and space. That little part's not likely to get any air time soon. But I guess that's what it means to be all growed up. More than most 14 year olds would but I guess the difference is while 14 years have passed, I do not have the luxury of having the sensitivities of a 14 year old.Technorati Tags: Phuket, vacation, growing up, Seasons of a girl's life Travelling with the family I'm travelling for the first time with twins, the in-laws and the extended family. This will mark one of the first school vacations where Packrat and I aren't going off anywhere on our own. That thought in itself makes me NOT A HAPPY CAMPERWhat else doesn't make for a happy camper? Other people telling me what I NEED to pack for the twins and what I should do to try and make them comfortable. I think I generally hate that because it questions my authority as a Mom. So, it's not really about the travelling. It's just that this upcoming holiday seems to have everyone trampling on my delicate toes.Of course, Packrat will say I'm being uber-sensitive as I have a penchant to be these days. I pouted and sulked for half an hour because he allegedly snapped at me while we were trying to get the twins to sleep. I say allegedly because he claims he was just trying to make himself heard. Anyway, yes. There is much Mommy angst because I hate packing and I'm all over the place. Right now, I need to remember to go to the supermarket to buy the twins a loaf of bread, some floor cleaner for our helpers here, a small bottle of liquid detergent for the twins paraphenalia and I'm sure other things. As much as I am stressed, I loathe writing things down because inadvertently the scraps that I note things down on gets lost in the wind or by grubby little fingers deploying creative marker streaks all over it.Ok, this is just a ranting post. I don't really have time for this because I need to get ready and start my day that will end with us being in Phuket. Hopefully by then, my aggro levels would have plateaued and all the voices barking at me in my head would have quieted down or tired by then. Goodness, I sound like I should be swatting imaginary flies next and need to be committed. Or the Man will just have to swoop in and take me on another holiday sans family, twins and just good food, good shopping and a good hotel room.Technorati Tags: Singapore, travelling Hurdle A hurdle is something that needs to be overcome before you get to the end point. Hurdles, metaphorically and literally come in all heights.When I started hurdling (late in my track career), the hurdles were high, even for my relatively long legs. That and my inexperience meant many bruises on my knees and a lot of stumbles and scraps.Just when things had begun to ease up and I was beginning to get used to the demands of my race, I moved up one division and had no choice but to choose another event to compete in and what was open was the one with tall and what seemed like insurmountable hurdles. Why couldn't I go back to cruising and doing what I was doing? I didn't understand.Did I wish this on myself? Possibly. Did I know what I was getting myself into? Probably not? Was I ready to get used to more pain, more exhaustion and less time? I don't really know if I have a choice.Sufficed to say, tears brimmed, blood was shed occasionally, joints bruised, muscles pulled, strained and stretched all in the name of clearing those hurdles.I find myself in the same position now with hurdles. More metaphorical ones. But with the same demands, sacrifices and consequences. Am I ready for this new event? No. Do I have what it takes? I don't know till I try. Is it going to be hard? You bet it is. Is it going to be rewarding? Probably if the toll doesn't kill me first. Am I looking forward to it? Honestly? No. Do I have a choice? No.One word describes it all. And it rhymes pretty much with duck.