Poverty: the closed circle

I dashed into the taxi to the school this morning. 

I wore an old and faded red t-shirt, half jeans with a tear in the right knee and carried a ratty handbag.  That is my grocery shopping uniform.  Yes I take an hour during a weekday morning to shop for groceries as I detest weekend crowds, and I shop more efficiently without a 5yo and a 3yo in tow.  Truth be told, I am better dressed this morning than I normally would have been.  The Husband took a look at the (even more faded) top I had chosen when I came out of the room, and reminded me that I had better clothes than that to wear.  -sulk- My vanity was pricked enough that I went back to change into a slightly less worn, slightly less faded top.

The call from school came when I was paying for groceries.  Medium Boy had small ulcers in his mouth, and he had just recovered from a fever from Tuesday night / Wednesday morning.  His teacher asked me to please come and bring him for a checkup at the doctor’s to see if it was Hand Foot Mouth Disease “HFMD”.   Hence the dash into the taxi after sending my helper home with the groceries.

I caught a glimpse of the taxi driver looking askew at me when I climbed into the taxi.  Perspiring with sweat stains – yes.  Wallet falling apart at the seams – yes. (I was clutching my wallet to see if I had enough cash on hand when I finally managed to hail a taxi).  The kind of look that wondered “Does this passenger have enough to pay?”.  I saw the look.  THEN I opened my mouth and said in my best Standard English “Boss, please take me to xxx.  I need to get my child from school.”  After that, we exchanged pleasantries… talked briefly about the weather, how wet it has been in the afternoons this week.

The nurses at the PD had seen me in all states before.  No raised eyebrows there or meaningful looks.

Why do I share this little story?  Because Perception is Reality.  From a local blogger’s website, I came across this thought provoking entry written by a black in the USA.  How her presentation of self matters.  I reflected for a second… how many times have I passed by such persons right in my neighbourhood… persons who are different, are obviously poor (yes, poverty exists in SG!) and made snap judgements of what they are wearing and how they speak.  And how naïve I am in thinking that a person living in a 2-room HBD flat cannot, and should not, buy and carry a branded handbag, or buy and wear Ferragamo shoes.   It is a human need to belong, to crack open the closed circles (closed to the poor) of the middle class.  That I have been so blind, I who have never had to worry for food or shelter in my life, to judge the buying behavior of another.

The blog entry has taught me to see the deeper reality of poverty.  Those who are born into it, raised in it, worry over the next meal or the next night’s shelter.

growingupwithless.sg. 

Poverty exists.  I am pondering what I can do to help just one child.  Because that child could have been my Medium Boy or Small Boy.

Lean in

I struggle with the concept of having it all.  Fuzzily defined for the modern woman as having (1) a personally fulfilling and financially rewarding career, (2) at least one healthy socially well-adjusted child who is a genius in art/music/math/whatever, preferably all of the above and (3) a stable monogamous relationship with a partner who actively enables (1) and (2).  Now I do not know about you, dear reader, but to do all of that, I would need to double… possibly triple… the waking hours of my day.

Along comes Sheryl Sandberg, COO and later CEO of Facebook, successful corporate woman worth pots of money, mother to 2 children, and now author of a book “Lean In: Women, Work and the Will to lead”.  From Wikipedia:  Lean In is a book for professional women to help them achieve their career goals and for men who want to contribute to a more equitable society. The book looks at the barriers preventing women from taking leadership roles in the workplace, barriers such as discrimination, blatant and subtle sexism and sexual harassment. She also examines societal barriers such as the fact that women still work the double day and the devaluing of work inside the home as opposed to work outside the home. Along with the latter there are the barriers that women create for themselves through internalizing systematic discrimination and societal gender roles. Sandberg argues that in order for change to happen women need to break down these societal and personal barriers by striving for and achieving leadership roles. The ultimate goal is to encourage women to lean in to positions of leadership because she asserts that by having more female voices in positions of power there will be more equitable opportunities created for everyone.

Oh…… my first reaction is visceral, I tell you.  I want to retch at how perfect she is!

Then I stopped and thought for a bit about her concepts.  All good in theory… how can I put those into practice? Her book is aimed at the professional woman who presumably is able to choose how much, when and where to work.  Hey, that’s me!

How much to work?  I hardly know anyone who works in a corporate setting in Singapore at an executive / manager / C-suite level who works the “normal” 8 hour work day.  Far more than 8 hours is the norm.  At peak period levels, I have put in 14-16 hours of work per day… couldn’t sustain that level for anything more than a week after I had Medium Boy and Small Boy. 

When to work?  The company is very enlightened in that most managers allow their staff to work to deliver tasks, not put in face time in the office from 9am to 6pm, spending the last hour watching the clock… or social networking… or plain old coffee / hallway networking.  All my bosses in this company have also pushed me to take time off (to make up for 14 hour work days) during lull periods.  Travel is done during normal office hours from Monday to Friday… I am not expected to be on the plane during Saturday or Sunday.  MOST companies in SG are not like this.

Where to work? For the past 5 years, I was in a virtual role with a boss based in the UK.   I spent 75% of my week in the office after Medium Boy’s birth and reduced that to 10% after Small Boy’s birth.  Yes, I could and did choose to work from home.  This is only possible because the people I collaborate with are not in SG anyway, and my work is not a high-touch job (like a teacher or a doctor).  I changed department from 1 Mar 2013 and have to be in the office everyday now.  The transition made me more visible.  I am now back in circulation, listening to the grapevine news, determining which way the wind is blowing.  Leaning in MORE at work.

As long as women are still expected to work the double day…. Putting in time at home managing the house, being the primary decision maker (and implementer) when it comes to educating the children… there is practically zero time or brain space for a woman to lean in at work.   When I look critically at my own home….The Husband does his share.  Is it a 50-50 share? Not when I sit down and tabulate what he does vs what I do at home.  [Note: yes, I do more than 50%]  Is he refusing to lean in at home, or am I reluctant to lean out at home?  I do not know.  A mixture of both, I reckon.  Hence am I bowing to societal and personal barriers of what a woman should be?

Postscript: I finished this post in the middle of my night.  Just had to get this off my mind!

Opening the Closed Circles

Now that I have 2 young ones to educate, I keep a close watch on any shift in Singapore education policies.  PM Lee’s National Day Rally on 18 August promised 40 places in EVERY primary school will be set aside for children without any affiliation.  To recap, primary school registration is in 3 phases with the number of (fixed) places filled first by Phase 1, then Phase 2, and finally Phase 3.

Phase 1 is for children who have a sibling currently studying in the school of choice.  Most parents have no quibble with this phase.  After all, it makes sense logistically for parents to ferry 2 or 3 children to one school rather than run around Singapore to fetch them to different places.

Phase 2 is where the situation starts getting more interesting.  Phase 2A1is for children whose parents are former students of the school, and the parent has joined the alumni association, or the parent is a member of the school advisory committee.  Phase 2A2 is for children whose parents or sibling had studied in the school of choice, or whose parent is a staff member of the school.  The link back to one’s alma mater is supposed to build the alumni community (fuzzy concept!).  A free pass for selected people… if you the parent do not belong in this category by birth or career choice, aha, there is Phase 2B where the angst starts….

Phase 2B is for children whose parent (1) volunteers who have provided at least 40 hours of service to the school, or (2) is a member endorsed by a clan/church directly connected with the primary school, or (3) is an endorsed community leader.  (1) advantages the stay at home parent with time to carry out the community service…. (2) brings up questions of race/ethnicity/heritage and religion into a secular, supposedly race-blind process and (3)…. Well, anedocatal evidence points to category (3) parents who volunteer with Singapore’s ruling party…. Only these people are endorsed.  

Then comes that distance factor.  Phase 2C is for all Singaporean and PR children who are not yet registered in a primary school, according to the Ministry of Education website.  However, schools divide this phase into 2.  2C1 is for children whose registered address is within a 1km radius of the school; 2C2 is for children whose registered address is within a 2km radius of the school.  After all distance makes sense correct?  Which parent wants a sleepy 7 year old to have a 1 and a half hour commute to school?

Over time, applicants to the ‘good’ schools increasingly become more homogeneous in their family profiles.  More than the national average living in private property (proxy for wealth), more than the national average with graduate parents.  

Now, if you ask any parent, they will tell you they want the best for their children.  Best education, which in the Singapore context, is narrowly defined as the best grades.  I disagree with this definition, and hence I am heartened by PM Lee’s policy tweak.  My country, my society will be more cohesive because of equal access to education opportunities.

Words to live by

Once in a while, a piece of prose takes my breath away.  The first was Desiderata (and what a story behind those words originally thought to be 1692 wisdom).  Then a friend posted the Holstee Manifesto on her blog....

This is your life. Do what you want and do it often.
If you don't like something, change it.
If you don't like your job, quit.
If you don't have enough time, stop watching TV.
If you are looking for the love of your life, stop; they will be waiting for you when you start doing things you love.
Stop over-analysing, life is simple.
All emotions are beautiful.
When you eat, appreciate every last bite.
Life is simple.
Open your heart, mind and arms to new things and people, we are united in our differences.
Ask the next person you see what their passion is and share your inspiring dream with them.
Travel often; getting lost will help you find yourself.
Some opportunities only come once, seize them.
Life is about the people you meet and the things you create with them, so go out and start creating.
Life is short, live your dream and wear your passion.

And prior to thousands of primary school pupils writing evocative compositions.... the opening sentence of "Jonathan Livingstone Seagull" moved me

It was morning, and the new sun sparkled gold across the ripples of a gentle sea.

and this one.... so fierce that the words leap off the page into the throat to jolt one awake

Self-Pity
By D.H. Lawrence

I never saw a wild thing
sorry for itself.
A small bird will drop frozen dead from a bough
without ever having felt sorry for itself.

At breakfast

I am normally the earliest to wake on weekdays, followed by the Husband.  Then both of us will wake the boys up... Medium Boy drags his furry toy friends to the daybed and plops there for a while.  Small Boy staggers like a drunk to the other daybed and lies horizontal until his milk is warmed up.

The Husband tells me this story in the car after the boys alight at their school.  I was probably in the shower at that time.

(Silence at the breakfast table)

Then Medium Boy pipes up..... "Everybody is sleepy right?"

The Husband looks at him..... he continues "The table is so quiet!"  then giggles at his own observation.

Indeed, Medium Boy, indeed.....

Songs in the car

- courtesy warning.  this post contains references to bodily secretions.-

Starting sometime in June, when we were on a long drive to Sengkang in the middle of the night, and the 2 boys were sitting at the back by themselves.

Medium Boy started the fireworks song. Medium Boy and Small Boy made hexi-don-te shapes (helix with one bend) with the mesh window shades, and sang

"We are making hexi-don-tes
And FIREWORKS
and we like this place
and we like to sing"

accompanied by tossing the mesh up in the air on the word fireworks.  Small Boy giggled as he followed his brother's actions.

This Monday, Medium Boy started the toilet humour song.  "Papa," he started to tell the Husband..... "I am driving, talk to Mama" was the response... then "Mama..." to me.

MB: listen Mama, I am having a tea party with poo-poo and pee-pee.  *mimes drinking from a teacup*
*giggles madly*

Tuesday.  The tea party expanded to include boo-boo (MB's term for boogers that come out of his nose) and pass gas.

Having grown up in a mostly-female household, I am grossed out.  The Husband thinks MB is just being a boy though....  The 5yo is getting cheekier!

Reorganisation

The announcements of the reorganisation came out last evening.
3 announcements from CEO downwards, then one functional announcement from the finance lead.

Uncertain times are coming.  Till the end of this year.

Medium Boy and Small Boy, I write this down to let you know that I am also an employee and have my unique contribution to the world, other than being your mommy.

And I want to tell you: Being your mommy is the most important job in the world to me.  There are never enough hours in the day to be with you.  When you grow older and read Virginia Woolf, I hope you give your wives space too to have a room of their own.  It is very important for a woman to have a space where she is solely herself.

Inspiring woman

My GM is a 44 year old bundle of positive energy.  Whenever she is faced with a difficult situation (and there are many through the course of a work day), she reacts to it with an attitude of "how can we collectively as a team, make lemonade out of lemons?".  She uses her words to inspire... "how to square this off.... what can we do now.... let's look for ways to figure out how to (meet a business objective)".  Excellent at managing her team, as well as communicating.  In good news, she credits her team, and in so doing, credits herself.  In bad news, she manages the message.

She is such a larger-than-life figure to me that I was surprised that she is such a petite lady.... I noticed her physical height with a jolt only when I walked next to her (and talked to her) on the way to a meeting on Tuesday, and hey, I had to look down to meet her eyes when speaking.  Sitting across a table from her, or being in a townhall with her, one would never notice her smallness of frame.

During lunch on Monday, we were talking about children.  She is a mother who believes in keeping her 2 sons aged 16 and 10, close to her.  In fact, she is in Kidzania, KL with both of them over this long weekend.  Another colleague was sharing over lunch how her 10 year old nephew is acting up.  My GM offered sage advice on how she would handle the situation.... Wow. 

And... she is beautiful with sharp cheekbones and clear glowing skin, and she dresses well too.

Oh, I want to be my GM when I grow up! :)

Away from me

It had to happen one day... Medium Boy is slowly asserting his independence away from me and away from the Husband.

First it started with his insistence that he is big enough to take the lift to our 11th storey apartment by himself.  "Can mama be with you?" I asked him.  "No!" he replied, emphasising his point by giving me a slight shove.  "Didi likes to use the other life, you go with him."
I stood by the lift for the entire minute it took to ascend to the 11th storey, with my eyes glued on the screen.  Must have breathed only when he exited the lift.
Raced to the other lift with Small Boy, took it all the way up to the 14th storey (where the common corridor is), and tapped my foot impatiently as 'our' lift [I think of the lift outside my apartment as ours] descended from 14 to 11.  Opened the main door striding the 3 steps from lift to door, and yes, there he was, my Medium Boy.  All flush with the rush that came from taking the lift up by himself, and telling the Husband he is a BIIIIIIGGGG boy now.

Then it happened again at the public toilets.  He announced he needed to go to the toilet, I brought him there and just as we were about to turn to the ladies', he asked me plaintively "Mama, I am a boy, I should go to the boys' toilet, can I?" then adding "please please please" for good measure as I internally calculated the probability that something (lightning storm? sick perverts? foot jammed into toilet? eating his booger after peeing [and not wiping himself]?), anything would happen during the 5 minutes that he is in the toilet.
I allowed him to go.  Paced outside like a crazed woman.  Resisted the urge to grab any passing male going into the toilet and ask him to check on my nearly-not-quite-5-year-old son as he did his business by himself.  Those 3 minutes felt like 3 hours.

He strolled nonchalently out of the men's toilet with a big grin.... the grin of a boy who has accomplished something, all by himself.

His limbs are lanky now, and he is more agile.  The baby fats have melted away as I forgot to watch him.  He is growing up away from me.  Fly, little one, fly away from me.... Remember to look back and wave at your mama, I pray as I silently let him go.

Chope Food for the Needy

What is Chope?
According to the Singlish definition in talkingcock.com, http://www.talkingcock.com/html/lexec.php, it means To reserve or hold something for somebody. Sometimes used in games to denote having attained a ‘safe' position.
"If we're not at the theatre by 8, can you chope some seats for us?"

Then I read this which my sister posted.
http://www.dailygood.org/story/439/miserable-and-magical-a-graduation-speech-for-paradoxical-times-nipun-mehta/ .... Hey, it made me tear up a little and as usual when I am moved, I write (or blog, in this instance).

There has been a movement going around in Facebook to chope food for the needy, that is, pay the hawker upfront for your own food plus another portion.  I have been chope-ing another bowl of noodles when I eat lunch at the hawker centre near my home... sometimes up to 3 bowls.  One day Mr Lim the hawker had time to talk to me as I was early for lunch (went at 11am)... there are 4 other people who have been paying forward for food too.  Mr Lim looks out for retirees above 70 years old, and tells them that their food has already been paid for.

Restores my faith in humanity, it does.

Birthdays!

2 weeks has flashed by with 2 birthdays!

The Husband’s birthday was on 19 Jul.  Celebrated with his parents during the day by watching Pacific Rim in JB.  Then out for dinner with the boys + my parents + my aunt at Chui Huay Lim Teochew Cuisine.  Celebrated again with a date on 22 Jul at Au Petit Salut.  The service is impeccable.

Medium Boy turned 5 on 24 Jul!  I had a private joke with myself that he is a 24/7 baby, and therefore did not sleep much.  He celebrated with a Mickey Mouse chocolate birthday cake in school.  The Husband brought him to watch Despicable Me 2 in the afternoon, headed to Jamie Oliver’s Italian at Vivocity for tea, and we went to Chin Lee (Teochew food again! :)) for dinner.

Need to loosen my belt and really start exercising earnestly after so many good meals.

Not a race

http://www.mindbodygreen.com/0-10250/11-things-i-wish-every-parent-knew.html

Point 3 speaks loudest to me today.  That we grow in cycles.

Chilling that Medium Boy is not reading yet... he is blending 3 letter words together, sometimes even 4 letters.  Think of the bamboo, Mama.... period of slow growth in the ground before growth spurts.

One for me, one for him

Medium Boy plonked himself down on my lap while I was reading the newspapers.

Patted my left boob.  Told me that milk comes from there, and if I drink milk, well that is where it comes out from.

[I am slightly bemused, which seems to me a mixture of bewilderment and amusement.]

He patted my right boob.  "You have 2, Mama" (gesturing around my chest area) he continued."One is for me, and one is for didi."

!!!

I have been divided and allocated out.  Now I know what it feels like to be a piece of meat..... Grin.
Very heartwarming that Medium Boy remembers latching though.  He stopped latching on me at 14 months, approximately the time that Small Boy was conceived.  The milk taste must have changed!

Labels

The best advice I ever received as a 20something establishing a foothold in my career is from my 4th aunt.  I had received a not-stellar performance appraisal in my first year... and was moping about it.  4th aunt told me that labels are like Post-Its, if you like them, keep them around longer to remind you... and if you do not like them, why, just throw them away!
I learnt this lesson only as an adult.

I am thinking about this lesson in the context of the Singapore education system.
9 year olds take a national exam to determine if they are "Gifted", and hence to be put into special classes where they spend LESS time on the curriculum (the assumption is that these very smart children already have it down pat) and more time exploring outside the curriculum.

"Gifted" and Not-"Gifted" is a label bestowed onto the child at NINE years old.  Resources are then allocated disproportionately more to the Gifted.  Teachers with advanced degrees and diplomas.  Smaller class sizes.  More spruced up school facilities....

Nine years old.  I only have 4 more years to protect Medium Boy's childhood.  Sigh.

New Skills

Work has consumed my life, so much that 80% of my waking hours is spent on work.  The only comfort is that a small portion of that 80% is still spent at home where I am physically with the boys.

This week,  Medium Boy has learnt how to blow up a balloon by himself, and blend sounds together to form words.    I am extraordinarily proud of his phonetic ability… so proud that wow, when he eventually learns to read, I might throw a party!  Heh.

Small Boy scores high on mimicry.  He went to the bowling alley once in May, and since then, has been imitating the bowler’s posture when playing with his toy bowling set.  Well, he thinks he is correctly imitating…. What he actually does is to raise his buttocks, then lift a leg up, and his head is down looking backwards at his other leg.  Obviously he cannot see in front… so I tried to correct him, but he was adamant in telling me that he can do it himself, thank you very much.  Yesterday, I caught him sneaking a peek in front before he let go of his toy bowling ball.  Haha.

The mimicry goes so far as he instructing me to put my thumb, third and fourth finger properly into his toy bowling ball, the “correct” finger position, when I bowl with him.  *grin  

Pssst.... I cannot keep a secret yet....

At nearly 5, Medium Boy is absolutely full of surprises.  He has no filters, no censorship, whatever he thinks... he says aloud.  I love this age!

Act 1, Scene 1
In the car.  On the way to school this morning.  Medium Boy announces he has a secret.  On my probing regarding what it was, he said smugly, tis a secret Mama, I am not telling you, teeheehee.

Act 1, Scene 2
The Husband and I chat about our upcoming day.  We are not delibrately ignoring Medium Boy.

Act 2, Scene 1
Medium Boy pipes up "When you go to sleep, I will tip toe quietly to the fridge, take away all the sweets and EAT all of them!"

Oh, his nefarious plan has been revealed!  Grin.
The Mama will take pre-emptive measures now to clear out the sweets.  He has been coughing on and off at night for the past 3 weeks. 

Energy is renewable, not Time

I recently received a HBR article titled “Manage Your Energy, not your Time”.  The authors opine that longer days at the office do not work because time is a limited resource, however personal energy is renewable. There are 4 dimensions of personal energy that the authors recommend we notice… physical, emotional , mental and spiritual.  The tips for rejuvenating physically are

• Enhance sleep by setting an earlier bedtime and reducing alcohol use…. I do not drink alcohol regularly so that’s a plus for me.  Bedtimes are determined by the boys… I am thinking seriously about putting them in their own room now.  But but but some part of me wants them close!  I spend many hours away from them in the day, night time togetherness is to make up for it…
• Reduce stress by engaging in cardiovascular activity at least 3 times a week and strength training at least once…. THREE times a week!?  If running after the boys counts, then I have cardio everyday.  Haha.  Not enough to get my heart rate up to 70% of maximum though.  Never mind strength training.  The heaviest things I haul around are my boys.  Oh and weekly grocery shopping.  I walk back from the supermarket.
• Eat small meals and light snacks every 3 hours…. YES, a tick for me in this area.
• Learn to notice signs of imminent energy flagging, including restlessness, yawning, hunger and difficulty concentrating…. Yep, I notice… Too often ignore these signs though.
• Take brief but regular breaks, away from the desk, at 90-to 120-minute intervals throughout the day.

Things are heating up at work with the business plan 2014 kicking off this week.  I turn to brewing this yummy confinement tea.  I use a Thermos Shuttle Chef 1.5L to prepare and drink one cup in the morning, sipping throughout the day.

To boost blood circulation – 3-4 pieces of bei qi (astralagus) and a handful of black beans.

Sweet tasting herbs – 12-15 red dates, a pinch of wolfberries, a bigger pinch of dried longan, 3-4 pieces of finger-sized dang shen (a type of ginseng, I think).

Enjoy!

First day of school

We touched down from Malaysia on Sunday at 11am, rushed to unpack, put the boys down to nap at 230pm [they gave into fatigue only at 345pm], woke them up at 645pm for a family dinner…. And today is the first day of school after a month.

Medium Boy got up bright and early by himself as his diaper had leaked.

Small Boy woke up grudgingly. 

The Husband walked them up to the school entrance at 7.53am.  Small Boy cries and clings to me when I send them up.  It is a far gentler start to the day when the Husband sends them up.

Back to work after a week long holiday.  Taking a deep breath and plunging straight in.  Sure feels like the first day of school for me too.

OH!  Today is the first day of the second half of the year.  I haven’t even got my 2013 work deliverables agreed with my boss yet. 

Holidays bleah

Mommies like routine.  Ok this mommy likes Medium Boy and Small Boy to have a routine.  I really believe that little ones behave better when they know what to expect next.

Holidays are a time of relaxing the routine, hence it wrecks havoc with my own routine.

The Husband on the other hand thinks nothing of disrupting the routine to go off on adventures..... Swimming.  Beach combing.  Watching a centipede make its way across the pavement.  Aargh.  Drives me crazy. 

Things get even crazier when these adventurous activities eat into nap time.  For then, I have 2 half-sleepy boys on my hands who are prone to sudden bursts of energy in between their general lethargy.

I have put my foot down and insist that their adventures tomorrow are confined to the morning.  3 days without naps is messing up my own routine!  I miss the time to potter around the house, do my own things without having to act as a referee every 10 minutes, or thinking up activities to keep both Medium Boy and Small Boy occupied.

Having the other set of grandparents watching like hawks over our everyday activities (since when did my life become a soccer match for your commentary.....) is also not fun.

I miss Singapore, my own home, even though the weather is still hazy.

Reckon I am having an AARGH moment.
Breathe Celine breathe.....

Glad to escape the haze

The boys, the Husband and I are escaping from hazy Singapore tomorrow.  We had planned to visit the in laws in June, coinciding with the boys’ school holidays, not to run away from the haze.  I cannot wait to go.  I can only hope and pray that the wind direction does not blow the smog [let’s call a spade a spade, shall we? Haze sounds too benign for the smoke that gets into the building even when the windows are close] into Kuching too.