Happy New Year!

Long time no blog. With Chinese New Year barely a few days away, I have my hands full of unfinished tasks. Food stuff to stock up, shelves to clean, windows to wipe, bathrooms to scrub, & ~gasp~, I haven't bought my husband any new shirts yet! This is supposed to be something William does for himself, I know, but preening was never him, he would only ask, "Is there any need to buy another shirt?"

Anyway, I finally bought a box of mandarin oranges today, a must-have during this festive season. Spring-cleaning can still be left till the eve of CNY, as is the custom of my late mother. I remember my childhood days, when every sibling got on their hands and knees to scrub the floor (my old home in Malaysia had rough cement flooring). My favourite part was skidding along the soapy floor in my kneeling position. Woosh! Then all too soon, my mother got out the long rubber hose to rinse off the suds. Yes, I can still ambulate myself on the wet & semi-flooded floor but surely sudsy foam win hands down.

Okay, can't write too much this time, really, there are chores to catch up on. The best thing for me to do is to put everything down on paper, so that I don't miss a thing. Don't want to have mini panics in the middle of the night. Righto, better go write that list now.

Time To Grow Up

Did I not just previously wrote in such resolute manner of my plan to send Joseph to half-day childcare next month?

This morning when I looked at his cherubic face, asleep peacefully in his cot, I felt a sudden, you know... sentimental rush. He still looks so "baby", it seemed a heartless thing to do, putting him out of the house for a whole half-day..!

Later when I gave Joseph his morning bath, in my mind's eye played the imaginary scene of him at the care centre, being bathed by the Staff (aka A Stranger!). Gosh, I was awashed with emotions again..!

Don't be silly, I told myself. It's time to let the boy out of his bubble, expose him to the real world, get acquainted with other children and adults. Learn simple facts of life, appropriate for his age of course, e.g. don't hog the toys, share them with others.

I guess having cared for Joseph since his birth inadvertently caused me to have a certain amount of separation anxiety, ha ha..! So it's as much an ordeal for me as it might be for him. I have a sneaky suspicion that Joseph may even get into the groove of things sooner than me.

Okay, so it's time to grow up and detach. By that, I don't mean Joseph.

Maybe Baby

My son Joseph is the source of my pride and joy (the highest form of joy originates from my Lord, of course). I simply love it when his face brightens up with a smile, exposing rows of neat, little white teeth. He's currently 19 months old, but he hasn't started speaking yet. I was told a baby should start calling "papa, mama" as young as 15 months.

I don't really care, he'll speak when he's ready. In the chinese culture, many elderly folks attest to the fact that boys do begin speaking later in life, some uttered their first words only when they turned 3 years old.

I am more bothered by the fact that he appears bored at times. He is showing signs of loneliness, which sets me thinking. Thinking of what? Why, of having another baby, of course!

You see, I had always thought that having one child is enough (just so I could resume my freedom, plus other conveniences, I'm shamed to admit). Won't he get real lonely, some friends asked. Oh no, I confidently replied. I'll keep him occupied, I'll teach him simple chores, he won't have an idle moment at home.

In reality, there's a time gap between babyhood and young childhood (the stage of being able to help out with chores). So now, he mopes about the house after tiring of his toys.

I began to understand the need for children to interact among themselves. When I pushed him in the pram for a walk around the neighbourhood, he always beams happily and babbles excitedly when other children comes in sight. Even better if they get within reach, his little chubby hands would reach out to touch or hold his new friends!

The doctor who saw Joseph also mentioned that the "only child" often grasp speech a little later than his peers, as children pick up from each other better than from adults.

Next month, Joseph is going to half-day childcare. Time for him to attend classes with other little friends. While he's settling down in school, I shall allow myself time to be mentally-ready for "big belly time" again, wahahaha...!

Yeah, I had discussed this matter with my significant other. We can plan for the second child once Joseph adjusts to his new environment.

Maybe baby... soon?

The Ogre Wife

Don't be mistaken, the above title does not refer to Princess Fiona from the animation movie, Shrek. In fact, it is sadly, a real-life drama.

My brother-in-law "James", was suddenly thrown Into A Situation. He is currently, sort of, counselling a troubled marriage. So troubled is the marriage that even a divorce, a means of sure escape, doesn't promise any light at the end of the tunnel.

Let me start my narration, somewhere from the middle of the whole mess. The husband, whom for the sake of convenience and anonymity, I shall call "Desmond", did ever file for a divorce. When I first heard that, endless questions swam in my head. Had he a change of heart? He found someone prettier, younger? He misses the life of a swinging bachelor with unbridled freedom?

Due to my family background, i.e. the failed marriage of my own parents, I will always assume that the man is at fault. I will immediately picture an ingrate who is forsaking his wife of many years in pursuit of a new "interest".

In this particular case though, nothing could be further from the truth. "Desmond's" wife, "Emily" was truly a handful. A handful of bitter temper, brutal tyranny, selfish tantrums, self-inflated pride, and totally convinced that she's justified to behave the way she pleases (read: she can NEVER be in the wrong). She's as unpredictable as the weather, as volatile as a life-volcano.

"Desmond" revealed to "James" that they had a stormy courtship, "Emily" was very difficult to please. They broke off twice, but eventually decided to marry. "Desmond" thought that "Emily's" wilfulness would vanish as she matures with age, and especially after becoming a mother herself. They have a sweet, sensible 6 year-old girl, "Shanice".

Anyway, "Emily's" behaviour did not change, she got worse and worse instead. Always wants things her way, she would not even give in to her own daughter. An example: if there was a TV programme she wants to watch, she'll just switch channels without caring that her little girl had been happily immersed in her kiddy programme at that very moment. Being a child, "Shanice" naturally started to cry. What did "Emily" do? She immediately whipped out a cane and treated Shanice to a sound beating.

I really pity the daughter. So does her father, "Desmond". The only reason till now he did not proceed with divorce proceedings was for his daughter's sake. He himself suffered enough of "Emily's" nonsense, there were tales so bizarre, I thought I was listening to some drama script at first.

Sometimes, in the middle of the night, "Emily" would suddenly kick "Desmond" awake and scold him for snoring and disturbing her precious sleep. So for the rest of the night "Desmond" sits awake, afraid to fall into sound sleep, lest his snores awaken Emily in a rage.

One Christmas, he bought her an expensive watch. When she opened the present, she took one look, with disgust asked "What's this?", and tossed it away. Apparently, even an expensive watch failed to impress her. The following year, "Desmond" decided to ask her what she wants so he doesn't end up getting something she dislikes. Instead of plainly making her wishes known, she replied, "I want to be surprised." Man, oh man! What's a husband to do? What's a man who's desperately trying to save his marriage do?

"Desmond" wondered aloud to "James", whether "Emily" has ever been warded in a mental institute. With a psychopath wife from hell, "Desmond" dreads going home from work as he can't tell when is "Emily" going to have an Anger Attack and starts yelling at everyone.

She would not eat at a food centre. She wants "Desmond" to bring her to dine in restaurants, where she will be waited on by waiters and waitresses. She likes to be regarded as rich and accomplished in her career. A person of status and bearing.

When they first got married, "Emily" would not lift a finger to do any house chores. In fact, she demanded that "Desmond" irons her clothes. He was also the one who puts the laundry in the wash. By the 2nd week, "Desmond" refused to be her "man-servant" anymore. They subsequently hired a live-in maid, because "Emily" thought so highly of herself that she would not wash even a teaspoon!

I remember reading in the newspaper about a year ago, that there exist the little-known "abused husband" in our society. Surely, "Desmond" qualifies to be grouped in this category. He may not have physical scars to show for it, but he had been mentally tortured in every manner imaginable (the instances mentioned above are but the tip of the iceberg), and divorce is not an immediate option as he doesn't want to traumatise "Shanice". Does seem like he's up against a wall, going on a dead-end road.

However there is hope in God. There is a solution because God is powerful, He is both able and willing to save us in any situations, if we invite Him to.

So my dear sis & bro-in-law, I'll support you in prayer as requested. Our Lord Jesus shall equip you with wisdom from on high. May "Desmond" & family come to the Lord's salvation & see His beautiful Hands at work, creating miracles in their lives. The Lord be glorified.

At Times...

At times I wished I was prettier, slimmer, taller, richer, cleverer, stronger, braver... and the list goes on. Why?

Well, why ever not? Why can't I be the envy of other gals for a change? Why must I always be as a prop in the background no one notices or gives a second look to? If only I didn't have this button nose, or such oriental eyes, and teeth that badly need braces.

Why did I stop growing at 5-ft? I regularly ran, skipped, hopped when I turned twelve. I played netball, softball, volleyball (never was a spiker, though) in school. I learnt taekwondo and could execute the various kicks, practised to almost perfection (~ahem~ well, that's more than 10 years ago...now I can't... can't do the same).

Why do I have a voice most suited to reciting nursery rhymes? I sound slightly high-pitched, in a peculiar sing-song way. I don't grip people's immediate attention, and even when I do I'm almost always not taken seriously.

The truth of the matter is, even if I did have drop-dead gorgeous looks, I may find something else to pick on, like moaning about my eyelashes or something. Even if my height grew to 5-ft 6-in, I may say why not just another inch more, for that extra elegance and poise? Even if I had the authoritative voice of a supercareer woman in power suit, I may wish that I was more affable, and won popularity votes.

Want to hear a pretty, obvious fact? "No one is ever satisfied with where they are, or what they have".

So I just remind myself of the many blessings I should be thankful to the Lord for. Don't I have a responsible husband who works hard to bring the dough home, and an adorable son who's full of lovable antics? Don't I enjoy good health and have energy leftover to indulge in my personal interests? Don't I have understanding parents-in-law who never tries to drive a wedge within my home? Don't I have longtime loyal friends who likes me for who I am? So I can just continue being myself, with some imperfections here and there. As long as my loved ones around me aren't complaining, why should I?

Anyway, God's not finished with me yet. Remember that.

Spousegrouse

"Husbands, love your wife. Wives, respect your husband." That's the admonition from the Word of God. To the religious, this is purely a command from the Holy Bible. To me, it's a sound principle worth adhering to.

When I used to be single, I had seen bickering couples displaying raw emotions and rare talents. From the neighbours I never made acquaintance of, to my own circle of family and friends. Complaints about husbands who don't listen and wives who would nag. In the aforementioned rare talents, I need to clarify, I wasn't referring to hidden abilities as in, "playing the violin" or "balancing teacups on the nose" type. While living in my previous neighbourhood in Ghim Moh Estate, I happened to witness how, in the midst of a physical fight, the (I assume) wife managed to flip the (yes, I assume) husband's t-shirt off his body with a flick, slick motion. I was like, wow! If there wasn't in actuality a ferocious fight going on, I would certainly have applauded real loud. I mean, how did she do that?

Raw emotions are something very intense, and you don't usually get to see it before you hear it first. Ever been on an innocent outing to the shopping centre or somewhere, and suddenly you hear a loud commotion? You start turning your neck every which direction, in search of the source, with scenes from the latest Hong Kong police drama playing in your mind. Alas, it wasn't some gang-heavy thugs settling scores with each other, or an officer of law accosting a robber, it was only a domestic quarrel between husband/wife, boy/girlfriend or fiance/fiancee.

Only a domestic quarrel, oh dear (~eyes rolling~), I need to correct myself. In my two and a-half years of married life, none of our quarrels can be termed as "only a quarrel"; at least not the real ones. Minor disagreements here and there those can be ignored. When a real quarrel happens, I am horrified to see myself morph into this being who rattles off angry words, ranting and raving at the man whom I love and chose to marry. I became the incessant nag I was determined not to become. Past wrongs were all brought up (again!), and I could go on and on (and on and on...) about how upset I am by what he did then and now.

As I ponder upon these unpleasant incidents, I began to better understand the Lord's instruction and His wisdom in it. Husbands are to love the wife, but the wives are to respect the husband.

You see, when the men desire a woman and longs to own her, he hasn't seen any of her fangs yet. After marriage, at any stage when the fangs show itself, the husbands have to choose to still love the wife.

For the women, they expect the man to be the head of the house, a competent leader. After exchanging vows, they live under the same roof, and with the natural passage of time, she began to see more and more of his (grrr..!) faults and various short-comings. That's why the wives need to choose to still respect the husband.

When the wife exposes her ugly side, the husband may start losing the lovin' feelin'. When a husband doesn't live up to a wife's expectations, she may gradually lose respect for him. All of these, our Lord God who created us, already knows. Thus, His gentle urging for the husbands to love the wife, and the wives to respect the husband.

On my part, I admit I still lose my cool here and there, in varying degrees. I don't expect to change my spots overnight, but I do acknowledge that I want to.

There had been some moments of extreme anger that makes me feel like strangling my husband, figuratively speaking. I won't do it, of course. If you doubt my words, feel free to scan the daily papers on news of a Husband Strangler.

What should I do to improve things? The answer is too simple to accept for some people. Just pray. Only the Lord can transform us, and in our upward struggles He eases the burden. The journey to maturity will be less tumultous if we allow Jesus to take the lead.

Jesus, be the Head of our marriage, our home.

Newbie On The Blog

Wow, all this buzz about blogging and I'm finally doing it. Monkey see monkey do? Maybe, but it's not a crime. Hey, so what do I do, besides boring others with details of my life? Oh, I can write details of my family members' lives too? Cool! That's for whoever who cares to read, if you're not already too busy blogging yr own life out.

Okie, the reason why I'm here at my pc at 2.20 in the am hours is bcos I was juz back from a visit to the hospital. My one and a half year old toddler Joseph, suffered a partial dislocation of his left elbow, so we scooted off to the good ol' ER, with guilty daddy in tow (how William injured our son is another story, another day). I envisioned a long wait, so I had packed his hot water flask, cool water tumbler, milk powder container, baby biscuits, milk bottle, water bottle, diapers, blanket and a change of warm clothings. Why does all these preparation strangely sound as though we're going on a picnic in the park, rather than a trip to see the doctor?

Anyway, we got to see the paediatrician Dr Chew Su Yah, after a short wait (yippee!), and boy, was she good, she manoeuvred the elbow back in place, while still speaking to us, sparing us any apprehension had we known beforehand that she was going to do the "crick-crick" trick with her bare hands on my yelling son. All's well that ends well, praise the Lord, if it had been a young inexperienced doctor who saw my toddler, I'm sure Joseph would have at least been sent for an x-ray, resulting in a longer wait at the hospital, whereby then my picnic bag would come in real handy.

So that's the story, though it's rightfully an actual event. Okie, I had my fix, think I'll sleep soundly after this. Thanks blogspot, you rock big time!