The little boy's thoughts again

I unashamedly love to see my little boy grows. In fact I enjoy every second of it. He'll be 8 comes 12.12.2011, and very soon will be transforming into a teenager (hopefully a cheerful one).

Yesterday he said that "adults overthink things, that's why they are forgetful". His message came loud and clear to me- pay attention to the things that matter. Like family.

Last week he did something unexpected. He handed me some 50 cents coins. "Belated birthday present", he said. My birthday was on 14.10. Apparently he wished to continue a tradition he started last year. He gave me twelve 50 cents coins that he had dilligently saved, wrapped in a piece of paper torn from his school exercise book. For some reason I found that so sweet. Now I have sixteen 50 cents coins from him, that I know I will keep as my lucky coins.

My little boy is certainly growing. Gone had the time when he gave me his robot for my birthday and asked me to return it at night because "your birthday is over". He now knows the concept 'belated birthday gifts', and that it's the thought, rather than the amount or number of gifts that count.

Well, my boy might have failed his Maths in his year 2 final exam recently, but at least he is a thinking little boy. At least for now he is my little boy...

of pink bra and school demerit

It's first school report pick-up-time for eldest daughter today. Since she's the first in high school for me, I wasn't quite sure what to expect. Turned out to be a normal session of class teacher explaining her strengths and weaknesses, lavishing her with praises for the good things she does...but, giving me a shock by saying that she has a demerit of 10 marks because of wearing a pink bra! Class Teacher quickly said "not to worry, it's only 10 marks" before dismissing us, and of course, before I digested the info, although alarm bells have started ringing in my head then. As I am a bit slow in responding to shocking things, I didn't get to respond appropriately to Class Teacher on the spot.

Later, when we were at the car and about to leave the parking spot, I asked Daughter "what was that pink bra all about again?". So she explained that one day in May, there was a disciplinary check-up at her class, during which, the prefect on duty checked to see her bra colour and decided that, since it was pink, she had to get a demerit of 10 marks. "So how did you feel about it?", I asked as casually as I could. "It feels weird, as if I'm being violated", she responded. "That's the thing, didn't you see that that's one form of unfairness? Why didn't you tell anyone then?", I couldn't hold it anymore. "I did feel that it's unfair! But I didn't want to get into more trouble!", she defended herself hotly. "Well you should have told me. I would have complained to your teacher", I told her.

Daughter and I discussed the matter, and I explained to her that checking somebody's bra is indeed a violation of privacy. Firstly, it is basic human right to wear whatever colour underwears they want. Secondly, that particular color might be the only one in which they can find their size. Thirdly, it could be the only one available to wear at that time. I reminded her to fight for her rights, although being an aspiring prefect herself at her age, I know she would rather dismiss the thing as unimportant rather than jeopardize her chance of being selected as a permanent prefect. (That is how successful the system is in brainwashing the young ones to compromise their basic rights in exchange of power. It is so disturbing.)

We checked the school's discipline booklet, and to my horror there's a clause that states "Hanya baju dalam (bra) yang mirip warna kulit (skin ccolour) dibenarkan" (Only skin-coloured bras are allowed). What the heck?!!! Why do people make such a big fuss about bra colours? It's not as if she is going to strip and show it off to others! Phew, I still feel angry so I'm going to have to postpone writing the letter of complain I was going to write to the principal...

January Misery

Much that I love welcoming every new year, I always dread one thing. Year after year, January has always been the time when everyone at home comes down with the flu. The cycle normally starts with one of the kids getting it first, which results in the kid having to rest at home for at least two days. Soon, the other kids get it, and there'll be more home-rest, which means the parents have to take turn taking a few days off work. And finally the parents get it, after about two weeks of enduring the kids' misery, sleeping in snatches for a few nights.

It's not the physical pain and fatigue that are unbearable. It's the pain at heart to see the young ones suffer. To see them struggling with the high temperature, and to hear them cough incessantly, straining their little chests every time they do. It's a torture.

I've come to believe that when January is over, everyone will be well again. It always does, year after year. A few more days till January is over now. I can't wait.

Memory

The in topic in my life this week seems to be 'memory'. Last thursday, our reading class discussion was on memory. I think the students found it stimulating too. Even though this is a general topic, one would hardly think of learning the terms like explicit memory, implicit memory, and such. Everyone suddenly started analysing if they encode memory visually, acoustically or semantically more. Or if they use implicit or explicit memory more.

It occured to me that my implicit memory might be more prominent than my explicit one. I remember things that happened when I was very young, like 2 or 3 years old, but only the 'feeling' of what they were. Once, I got hurt by a nail when my grandfather's house was under construction. I somewhat remember that it was at night, and that I felt the pain, and I remember seeing blood. But I can't recall who were there, what was the occasion and what I was doing. At other time, I remember feeling happy to watch my grandfather's buffalo grazing on a deserted rice-field. And I was wearing a pretty orange dress made of chiffon. LOL. Weird. But that's the nature of memory.

The little one, forced to do his Bahasa Melayu home edition school work this morning got really excited when he 'listened to his brain' and got everything correct. He proudly held his book to me and said, "my brain says if there are two things, the 'penjodoh bilangan' is 'sepasang', if it is animal, it is 'ekor' and if it is something long, it is 'batang'!" And he went on and on on how his brain is always telling him correct things. Well, I said to myself, it's good that the little one has discovered the way his brain works. And most especially, that he's beginning to make sense of the 'penjodoh bilangan(s)'. Way improved from his last attempt :-). Memory is amazing.

shocking 6 year old

My little one has never ceased to give me heart attacks. Maybe a 6+ boy is meant to do that anyway. Just last week he got punched in school and came home with bloody lips. Then this week he tried his 'power' on a classmate, and got himself in trouble with the boy's mother (serves him right). When I asked him what he did, he said he jentik the boy on the hand :-). In return, he got a jentik from me, plus a ban to go to anyone's house for two days.

Yesterday he threw tantrum at his cousins' house, resulting in him breaking something, which, naturally gets more punishment from me. This time, it's a week's ban from visiting the cousins.

Of course when he feels like it, he'd be an angel. He'd offer to dry the dishes when I wash, or arrange his books neatly on the table. He'd speak sweetly to me and use all the magic words of 'please', 'thanks', 'good' etc. That, when he's fishing for compliments and rewards, or maybe to test whether he is still loved after being a naughty boy.

Today another shock awaited me at home. Since I wasn't the one who picked him up after school, I only found out when I went home. He excitedly announced "mom, I've lost my shoes at school!". I froze on the doorway, unable to believe my hearing. "What, how could anyone lose their shoes at school?" I said. He explained to me that during one of the lessons, they had to go to another room and were required to take off their shoes. When he went out of the room, his shoes were gone. Suddenly an image of a little boy walking barefoot in school gave me the giggle and I decided not to give him a long lecture of taking care of one's belongings . "I still have a sock though", he said, as if a sock would be of any use now.

Sekuntum kemeja, sehelai bunga ros

Finally the semester is over. Done marking students' papers. Done grading them. Spent a little time nursing my heartache over the failures. It always hurts to fail your students but it just has to be done sometimes. Especially when the students left a few pages of the exam script blank *sigh*.

And my own kiddies did their first Malaysian school exam last week. I've told myself to expect the worst. They've only been 5 months into their schooling and after the 4 years spent learning in a different environment, what could you expect but the worst?

So home came the littlest one today, bringing some of his marked exam papers from school. Ignoring the fact that he has failed some of the subjects, he proudly told me he has scored an 80 for his Bahasa Melayu paper. I congratulated him for having done so well. I looked at his paper; first to fourth pages-perfect. But on the fifth page, I had to hold myself from laughing out loud. Apparently my little one has no idea what penjodoh bilangan(s) are . One day I'll tease him about how in his first BM exam, he wrote ... sekuntum kemeja and ...sehelai bunga ros. Oh boy...:-)

"Luckily you are plain-looking"

My girls sometimes remember things they eavesdropped on and pester me for clarification. The other day we were talking about how our society is becoming less and less helpful. I told them a story of a friend of mine who was robbed by a motorbiker in broad daylight, dragged a few meters on the road and people simply stared at her without attempting to help. Worse, she had to borrow ten cents to make a phone call to her housemate. No one would volunteer to help.

Prompted by the story, they suddenly remembered one of their aunties whom, they heard, had been robbed thrice; twice at a bus stop when she wasn't driving to work, and the other time, just outside of her office building. They asked me what could the reasons be. Caught off guard, I said "maybe she looks "expensive"". What I meant was she is the type of person who likes to wear jewellery and fine looking clothes.

One of my girls said "luckily you are plain-looking, mom". I looked at her, pretended to be hurt and said "O....K...", to which she quickly said "it's meant to be a compliment!". Right, thankfully I am plain-looking. I only wear a ring on my finger and a necklace and I wear a baju kurung most of the time. If that wards off robbers, I'd be happy to be plain-looking forever :-)

His First Step to Independence

Little N had a bus ride without Mom or Dad for the first time today. His class started their school swimming lesson and being in pre-primary, the kids get to participate. I know that each and everyone of the PP kids' moms was worried (slightly or worried sick, depending on how independent one perceives her kid is) this morning, yours truly included. We were all wondering if our own 5-year olds would be able to undressed/dress themselves successfully. Well, at home they do it, when they don't purposely want Mom to do it for them of course. But this is in public, under a different, somewhat 'stressful' situation.

'The Dad' said to let him be, but this Mom felt so uneasy she had to go to the pool to make sure the little one was fine. Not surprisingly, moms were hanging around in the pool for this first lesson. "Just to make sure he/she's ok", we kept reassuring one another.

The schoolbus arrived with this bunch of kids, all ready in their swimming costumes and bags. Thumbs up, darlings. You all didn't even need moms to undress you. Contrary to the moms' anxiety, the kids were excited. Came end of lesson, moms were redundant, esp the little boys' moms, as moms were not allowed in the men's changeroom anyway. The teachers efficiently took control of them.

Anxiously I waited outside of the change room. I kept wondering if N would remember our little rehearsal of how to dry yourself properly, and how to put on each item of clothing correctly the night before. Other moms were in the same predicament. We kept glancing at the door, hoping that the next kid out was hers, ready to fix collar, and pants.

Little N was among the last to come out. He looked clean and neat and he managed to put his wet things in a plastic bag successfully! Later I learned that he actually showered himself, although the teacher said they didn't have to if they didn't want to. Phew, now I can breathe easy, knowing that in the remaining 9 days of swimming lesson he is quite capable of taking care of himself. Well done, little man :-) Proud of you.

of adolescence and nail polish

Another sigh. My girl is all grown up. Today she spent the gift card received on her birthday on books (as usual) and nail polish. Nail polish? Yup, nail polish. We had a bit of disagreement on the color. The sweetie wanted black and I was horrified! (No way!) She demanded one good reason why she can't use a black nail polish. And I blurted "because it's so like cult!".

My, my...I wonder why I am so set against her choosing that color. I'm not really that negative when others apply black nail polish, but I just can't take it when it comes to my own 'little girl'. In the end, she compromised by choosing blue...after much mutterings and complainings.

I wonder if I am just old fashion. Or whether it is normal for a mom to be against certain things like a black nail polish. After all she's only an adolescent who needs guidance...Gosh, much that I want to be a liberal mom who lets her kids think and decide on their own, I know that there are just certain boundaries that I won't let them cross. Despite believing this though, I still get confused by a lot of parenting-related stuffs. Whoever did say parenting is a piece of cake?