How to draw a heart?

Came home today with a headache made worse by Shane's loud complaints that I

• didn't put a present in his bag for teacher's day.
• didn't help him make a card for his teacher.

Was also guilted.

All my friends gave a present and card. Chocolate! flowers! EXCEPT me!

Of course I felt bad. Instead of helping him make a card the night before, I made Gary go with me to Timbre to watch a sassy lady with spiky hair play with her band. Basically, everything I wanted to be to be in my teens, she is channeling in her real life. One jug of strawberry margaritas, a late night out and I was paying for it with a headache.

Most parents, the good ones especially, make the effort.

Shane, its just a day. We'll give her a present next Monday ok?

No no I want to make a card. You help me. How to spell Happy Teachers Day?

He started sticking stickers onto a patch of paper kitchen towel folded into fours (to make a card). I gave him a ball point pen. I had never seen him write his letters so neatly and quickly.

"H-A-P-P-Y"
"D-A-Y"
How to spell Teacher Eileen?

My head was spinning as I watched him try.

T! is it T?
How to draw a heart?

By this time, my brain was haemorraging so I walked out to my room for some quiet only to hear him wailing at the top of his lungs. He punctured a hole in the card with the ball point pen and had torn up the entire card in his frustration. He was inconsolable. He had to make a card. Like right now. The time was 1045 pm. Way past bed time.

I remembered there was chocolate in the fridge. One pack of kinder buenos.

D'you want to give chocolate to Teacher Eileen?

But I want to eat chocolate!
Well, if you want to eat it, then you can't give it to her.
I won't eat it. Can I sleep with it?
Don't crush it.

Happy Teacher's Day Eileen from the one whose behaviours and feelings you know so well. I'm writing this post as he sleeps sucking his lower lip dreaming of kinder bueno...kinder bueno....and giving it to you. I can't in three words capture just how much you mean to Shane and us. When you called me to prevent him from climbing, I knew you really cared. Thank you for the past two years and truly, the love you give is the love you're getting back.

V for potty time

When you're mom to two whose butt washing functions you are responsible for, its best to consolidate tasks.

Want to go to potty?
Both of you go to potty!

And then you wait and wait for the moment that they're done; then you get down and dirty only once.

I don't know when I will pass a day without washing a butt. But right now, the little people sitting on their thrones have the victory.

by the way...

Once you get your own myspace band page, there is no end to the limits of whoring in order to get friends on your profile.

Today I resorted to calling my baby bro, Herbert.

Me: I haven't talked to you for some time.

Herb: I've got a girlfriend now you know.

Me: Yah, Sherbert! hehe

Herb: Her name is Luwyn. She's really intelligent. There is a lot of chemistry. I can really talk to her.

Me: Is she a Kling-on?

Herb: No, we don't see each other everday."

Me: Cool. "By the way" I have a myspace band page now you know.

Herb: I'll check it out.

Me: I'm making FRIENDS in there too. Dyou have a myspace?

Herb: No. Tell you what, I'll make you a profile then I'll friend you ok?


Mission accomplished :)

Loving it

At 9.30 pm, I got a text mesage from Tony.

"U must be 'loving' the getai next to ur home."

"I can hear it from my bedroom. Grooving to it."

Every year, I get Getai 10 metres away from my home. The stage area gets erected on a corner of state land. The electric generator comes in. The shiny happy performers arrive.

For those who don't get Getai right outside your house, you don't know what you're missing.

Its time to sleep, but I can't.

lost and found

Shane, we were supposed to see the National Day parade. We had two tickets! Not just preview tickets but actual day tickets. Someone won in a ballot and gave them to me. I couldn’t believe his generosity but I accepted the tickets gleefully. Fireworks. Goodie bags. Helicopter fly past. Just like Disneyland only free!

I brought the tickets home, kept them somewhere for safekeeping then completely forgot where I left them.

From excitement (getting the tickets), to desperation (losing them), I realized after several days of searching and scouring the entire house that there was really no sight of the tickets.

As the days to the NDP approached closer, the resignation set in. I stopped talking about the NDP so as not to raise your hopes and mine. I even convinced myself that it was too much trouble to go. So crowded. What if it rains. So torturous to sit for so many hours. Who wants to see fireworks?

The sour puss in me, so completely convinced myself that it was not worth watching the NDP that I avoided watching the telecast of the parade with you.

The 9th of August rolled by. The newspaper reports the next day screamed “first NDP at Marina Bay!” For every photo of a kid that I saw waving the tiny national flag on the ST, I actually felt a stab of regret and remorse that I had failed you as a mother. But well, I lost the tickets. I should just write it off.

The thing is, these things have its way to come back to bite you on your arse.

2 days ago, I found the tickets. I found them in all places, in my Bible. I had placed the tickets in there for safekeeping because I was shifting offices and my papers and files were everywhere. I would have found them, if I had just read my Bible! That was how long I had not opened my Bible.

=============

I’ve left the tickets in there. 2 pristine perfect tickets to the NDP. Unused. Not just to remind myself of the NDP that I missed watching with you, but a physical reminder of what happens, when I don’t open the Bible to find the goodness in there. When I put other things, like fretting about the NDP and shifting offices, before my search for God. This was the bittersweet lesson.

my girly girl

One of the biggest nightmares I had attached to having a daughter is having to tie her hair. I am crap at tying hair. Absolutely hopeless.

Turns out that Alix is a girly girl who likes nothing more than wearing dresses, the colour pink in all her clothes and having her hair tied up and decorated with little clips. All this is very alien to me. When I pick up little girl fashions for her, I have to think about not what my 3 year old self would want to wear (dungarees and tshirts) but what Alix (the dress and skirt loving) would want to wear. When she wants her hair tied up, I call out for GRACE!!

su the bandit

Between jobs, I had a midlife crisis of sorts contemplating things I did, things I never did. Lost loves. Yoof. First love. Time. How quickly it passes.

I came up with a list of things that I wanted to do before I conk off and decided that I would just do them without thinking of the consequences or feeling malu about it. Just about this time, I discovered myspace band pages and the desire, deeessiiiire, deeeesiiirre (U2)to have my own band page took over. I booked an appointment at a record studio near my home, took my guitar, electronic tuner and just turned up at 9 in the morning.

The sound engineer was a guy called Chia. I asked him for his first name, but he established the distance repeating again his surname "Chia". He was bot-like and emotionless as I spilt my guts singing those songs. He said nothing positive and nothing negative. It was probably the most intimate act I had ever been in with a stranger and robot/engineer to boot. Still we marched on. In 4 hours, the songs were recorded. I nearly died with embarassment when Chia replayed my warbly voice over the speakers but that was besides the point, if I should conk off, the songs will still live!

When I met Chia to pick up the recording a week later, he went through the tracks one by one to see that they were ok. I vigorously nodded my head to ok them, wanting to get away very quickly when Chia said something out of the ordinary "I liked fused to you". Even more ackward than recording the songs with Chia, for a split second right there, I had fallen madly in love with a robot.

This is for G who inspired the songs and for the crayolas who gave me the courage to archive them. Thanks for listening goofiest midlife project evar