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Posts Tagged ‘Parenting’

Pengisytiharan Penting

Dengan ini dimaklumkan jadual baru Pusat Didikan Enida Supian-Johnson yang dihadiri khas oleh Kitreena dan Edrick Johnson:

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Sayugia diingatkan, bahawa kegagalan menepati jadual yang ditetapkan akan menyebabkan hukuman spanking mandatory menurut mood dan kestabilan penguatkuasa Pusat. Denda, hukuman dengan pengajaran yang setimpal adalah menurut budibicara Jawatankuasa Agung Pusat yang terdiri daripada Bibik Caskinih Kawi dan Duli Yang Maha Mulia pengasas dan penyimpan mohor Ma’am Besar Pusat Didikan Enida Supian-Johnson, iaitu Madam Enida Supian-Johnson sendiri. Tiada dua, tiada tiga hanyalah baginda Permaisuri sahaja. Ampun Tuanku!

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Stand By Me Monchies

It was early morning on Thursday, the first week of school. The kids were sitting in the back seat, the radio was not on. The sun was nowhere even near the horizon, prolonging the darkness much welcomed as it made it feel it was still very early.

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Just about 200 meters after leaving home, Kitreena started humming her ‘Yippee Yai Yai Yippee Yippee Yai’ song. A few seconds after, Edrick followed suit with his Mozart’s tune he played on the piano a week earlier. And the humming went on and on and on for almost halfway the drive to school.

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My heart was so light and easy, I thought I was flying! And I promised myself that I would never ever want to miss any day like that day – for anything in the world. Anything.

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The radio remained on standby for the rest of the ride to school.

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Siri Bercakap Dengan Edrick XVII

Since Edrick’s hands are still too small for guitar, I was advised to start him with piano instead. So off he went for a piano trial class with Miss Chui Yi on Friday with Daddy.

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Mommy: How was it Monch? Did you enjoy your piano class?

Edrick: Oh yes, Mommy! My piano teacher said, I did really well.

Daddy: Oh yeah! You couldn’t stop saying goodbye and giving your teacher flying kisses on the way out, could you?

Mommy: Ohhh? Edrick???

Edrick: I still love you Mom!

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.I should not have taken it to heart, but suddenly I felt like crying.

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Legs Like That

Monchies and I were waiting impatiently patiently in the CRaVy late Saturday afternoon for Bibik who ended up arriving five hours later, when we saw a man with one leg shorter than the other.

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Mommy: Do not stare please!

Kitreena: I’m not! I’m just… emmm… looking… secretly, Ma.

Mommy: That is soooo lah staring okay. He can see you looking at him like that!

Kitreena: But I’ll look away if he looks at me.

Mommy: Stop staring Monch! I mean it. It’s rude!

Kitreena: But… but…

Mommy: Okay you can look now. He’s walked past our car. Look and be thankful to God that you have a good body.

Kitreena: I am thankful. But it makes me sad. I’m sorry his legs are like that. It must be hard for him.

Mommy: Of course we feel sad. But don’t be sorry. He’s fine. He might not have good legs here in this life, Monch. But if he has a good heart, God will give him the most perfect legs in heaven.

Kitreena: But he won’t need perfect legs in heaven Ma.

Mommy: Hah? Why?

Kitreena: God will give him wings there.

Mommy: *is thankful to God that she already has a heaven in her car*

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The Way It Hurts

The car stereo was going a tad too loud, the traffic was going a hundred tads too slow, my mind was running a million tads too fast and Kitreena was speaking in a voice a thousand tads too soft. The moment I turned to look at her in the back seat she was already in tears.

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What did I forget, Monch?

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But my gentle-hearted Monchy was a tad too frustrated to repeat herself. I turned the Red FM off despite dying to finish listening to that depressingly negative “…but it’s alright because I like the way it hurts…” song.

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Come on baby, could you say that again please? Did I leave something at home? What did I forget? Come on sayang. I am listening now…

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My hugs, Maaaaa!

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Ohhhh tedahhh! Sayang Mommy. Mujhe maaff karte, Booty.

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My tears came rolling down a million tads faster than the traffic on Jalan Ampang.

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To beat the morning rush and stay ahead of time, Monchies and I have made an agreement to exchange our hugs at home, before taking off for school. And because dropping them off now is just a drive-by – they are escorted from the car to the gate – I don’t have to leave my steering wheel. Hence, no hugging smooching Iloveyou-ing seeyouattwoo’clocking scenes at school anymore. But today we missed our hugging session at home. (We hugged and kissed in the car, though.)

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That’s it! I am waking up earlier tomorrow.

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Siri Bercakap Dedek-Kaka III

Approaching the Jalan Duta toll plaza on our way to Rawang, I heard and then was dragged into this conversation between Monchies (that naturally turned into an argument and a commotion).

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Edrick: Kaka, I’m thirsty.

Kitreena: There’s your water bottle, there’s your water. Drink it then.

Edrick: But I already finished it.

Kitreena: You can have mine. *hands her water bottle to the brother*

Edrick: *drinks, chokes and coughs* Kitreena! Your water makes me choke!

Kitreena: No, it didn’t! You didn’t even say thank you! And now you’re saying my water makes you choke? Huhhh!

Edrick: Yes it did!

Kitreena: No it didn’t! You were drinking too fast. It went to the wrong pipe.

Edrick: But how many pipes do I have?

Kitreena: How many pipes do we have in our throat, Mom?

Mom: Two.

Kitreena: You mean, one for air and the other for water?

Mommy: Yes.

Kitreena: What about for solid food, Mom?

Mom: Goes to the same pipe where water goes, Monch.

Kitreena: There you go! Two pipes Edrick.

Edrick: But which pipe did the water go to?

Kitreena: It was ‘posed to go to your water and food pipe, but you were drinking too fast. It went to the air pipe.

Mommy’s GPS: “When possible, make a U-turn.”

Edrick: Mommy, can the water make a U-turn from my air pipe and go to the water pipe?

Mommy and Kitreena: Hahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha!

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…in my books, 11 years old girls are just too young to own a handphone…even if you have enough duit raya to buy one yourself…wait till you’re 21 ok…public phone got what?????…

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Nina, my dear Facebook Friend, put up a status that got me thinking today.

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My initial response was: “I told my Monchies, until they have a steady job to pay the monthly bill, they have no rights to ‘luxury’.”

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And then I got thinking, that as parents we always try to compensate for the very thing we cannot give our kids. Time. We buy them cellphones, for instance, with the excuse that in emergency situations they can call us easily. Or even in non-emergency situations, it enables us to communicate with our kids worry-free.

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But in any situation, do we really communicate with our children? Do we listen to them? The phone enables us to hear them, yes. But can they really talk to us, heart to heart, on the phone and off the phone? Do we take time to communicate with them?

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Also, as parents, every time we buy our kids something ‘big’, we justify the purchase with, “Oh when I was your age, my parents could not afford this. But now at YOUR age, I can. So I get it. So you get it.”

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But then again, I got thinking…what would our kids say to their kids? And the thought scared me as I realized that luxury can do a lot of damage to character building. How are we going to teach them to be humble when they are so used to having everything? And not just everything, but everything NICE.

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As cliche as it may sound, “If it is too easy, it never lasts.” my mother was right. And so I am sticking to my principle that, unless you earn it, you don’t deserve it.

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And that is also MY reason for not believing in this Duit Raya custom. I apologize if it offends those who take it as a charity. But I see it as a way of teaching our children to have unrealistic expectations. We do not give money for nothing, nor do we get money for ‘free’. Being a good person is not something that you get paid for. Well, not in this life anyway.

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Me Monchies have been asking why they are given money on Hari Raya. Other than saying that it is the culture of and custom for Hari Raya, I do tell them that it is a ‘donation’. Kitreena is happy to receive Duit Raya, but she has been asking, “Mom, I am not an orphan and I am not poor. But why do I get donation?” So I told her, that people just feel like ‘giving’. And like usual, she always has the last why.

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Anyway, the way I raise my Monchies, I want them to see that money is earned. That’s the reality for us adults, and that’s the way reality should be for children. Otherwise, I should expect Duit Raya from my family, friends, foes, and those Dunkin Donuts‘ cashiers at Ikano.

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Do It Raya Melangpow

Kitreena saw the ‘Duit Raya’ (Ang Pow) envelopes I got from Dunkin Donuts the other day. Thinking that there was already money in them, she started this whole debate:

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Kitreena: Mom, the money in these envelopes… is it yours or Dunkin Donut’s?

Mom: There’s no money in there.

Kitreena: Ohh? I thought Dunkin Donut’s already put money in them.

Mom: Ishhh bertuah!

Kitreena: What do you mean ‘bertua’?

Mom: If they put money in those envelopes and gave it to us, why did we have to pay for the mini donuts? The donuts should’ve been free.

Kitreena: So you are going to put your money in the envelopes Mom?

Mom: Nope! I don’t believe in giving money to just anyone for no reason.

Kitreena: But it’s Hari Raya Mom?

Mom: So what? Money is money, Raya or not.

Kitreena: You can give people money because they come to our house on Hari Raya.

Mom: They don’t have to be paid to come. The only people I pay for coming to my house are the pizza guys, Monch. If I really want to give away money, I go to people who need help. I don’t just give it to people who come begging or hoping for money.

Kitreena: But the money can be like a ‘thank you’.

Mom: But I can just say it with a smile.

Kitreena: Yeah, but… they can take the money and save it.

Mom: Yeah, if they save it. If they use it to buy silly toys?

Kitreena: Oh yeaaaah.You never give me money on Raya either.

Mom: Because I save it for your schooling. And instead of giving money on Hari Raya to kids who have enough of everything, I can save the money to buy food for the orphans, you know.

Kitreena: So what are you going to put in the envelopes Mom?

Mom: Uh… donuts?

Kitreena: Mommmmm! *giggles and roles her eyes to her mommy’s silliness*

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Cute Lah Bang!

Tonight I accidentally re-opened a picture of a child’s handwriting sent by a good friend of mine. It is of his six-year old son who made a checklist of what he did when the dad was away the one particular night. The boy calls  his dad ‘Baba’ and calls himself ‘Abang’ in his checklist.

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  1. Nengok cerita alia.
  2. Main game PS2 dengan main PSP.
  3. Main mainan.
  4. Bila Baba pergi mana-mana Abang nengok katun.
  5. Tidur pukul 10.
  6. Bangun sahur pukul 5.

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And at the end of every item, he drew a small checkbox. Only the first two items were checked, though. I wonder if Abang fell asleep at 9pm. But I actually have one important question to Baba… if he is reading:

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Bila Baba pergi mana-mana, Abang nengok katun kan? Tapi bila Abang pergi mana-mana, Baba nengok apa ek?

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Hehe hehe hehe hehe hehe.

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I think Abang’s checklist and checkboxes are super cute. Cute lah bang, Aunty Nid suka.

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Enida Berada

I must have been seven then and I remember specifically asking my dad what ‘class’ we belonged to. Whether we were Orang Kaya or Orang Miskin (The Rich or The Poor). You know how it was as a child, we had this funny urge to belong and to fit in, hoping that we were the hierarchical toppers. When I asked dad the question, I remember looking specifically at our bathroom door almost feeling sorry that it didn’t even look like a door.

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But perhaps it was that door that made dad think we were in a class of our own. He said we were neither kaya nor miskin. We were Orang Berada‡.  Because we had a house. We had a bathroom. And our bathroom did have a door no matter how unlike a door it looked like. We had money. It was barely enough but we had money when we had it. We had wheels. Riding on dad’s bicycle was definitely faster than walking. We had food on the table. Though we didn’t really have a dining table. We sat on the floor around our food at mealtimes. But we had a floor of the house. And we had a house.

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Most of all, said dad, we had the will to better ourselves so no one would call us The Poor. I learned it from my dad that we didn’t have to have all, to have it all. We had it all figured out and today we are okay. We are our all. Each other.

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Orang Berada‡ loosely translates to ‘people who have (everything)’

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