The Middle Child loves writing and drawing. Her stories have very angmoh names though. Here's an excerpt from one of her stories.
-F, 7 years 11 months
Tuesday, January 31, 2017
Monday, January 30, 2017
Before January Ends...
Let's have some updates.
1. The Girls
Masya Allah. Sometimes, they surprise me.
During last year's Prize Giving Day, Farah got quite a few prizes - First in Class, First in Maths & English. Masya Allah. What a good achievement. And I am pleased that she is still somewhat clueless about how well she has done. Huda also was given the Best in Conduct prize. When Huda realised how much prize money Farah received from the school, she planned to work harder in P5 to get whatever that Farah got. Insya Allah. I'm grateful to the school for giving them all this money because us parents have never given and probably will never give them any monetary rewards for doing well in school.
And then, there's the Edusave Award. Huda has been getting the certificate every year for being among the top 25% in school. Unfortunately, we don't qualify for the bursary. It's ooookay. There are others who need it more than we do.
So, we were pleasantly surprised this year when we found out that those who didn't qualify for the bursary were given an $80 book voucher. Yipppeee! But when the letters came, Farah qualified for the book voucher but Huda was asked to attend another ceremony. Hmmm. I felt a bit sorry for Huda at that time.
We went for Huda's ceremony. Fwaaah. It turned out that Huda was given the Edusave Character Award which comes with a cheque worth $350! Masya Allah!
Children these days are so, so blessed! The government pumps in so much money into their education.
But of course, sometimes they really, really, really cause me much pain. The Tiger Mom makes her appearance not because I have docile children who willingly take out their books and do their much needed revision on their own free will. And there are still soooooooooo many areas we have to work on with each child. I hope by the time I die, my child will be ready to live their lives.
2. The Boy
I must write more about the boy. I've lost much of my interest in blogging as compared to my Multiply days - actually, not really. I blog quite a bit in my head but I no longer have that much time to sit down in front of the computer and spend 2 hours banging on the keyboard.
The Boy is now almost 2.5 years old. Come 8 Feb, he'll be 2 years and 6 months old.
i. We are in the process of weaning him off breastmilk.
The beginning was a nightmare. He's been having milk on demand and that means, he's been getting it whenever he wants. 1am, 2am, 2.30am. Whenever.
After gentle coaxing did not work, and he suddenly decided to reject the bottle completely (he'd been having bottled milk once or twice a day), and I was getting frequent headaches because of my prolonged lack of sleep, I thought, I'd take out the big guns.
Asam. Tamarind paste. Which I smeared liberally on the nipples.
One morning 2 weeks ago, he asked for milk. Susu badan, he called it (because we are way too polite to call it t*t*k).
I told him that he no longer could have it because there was asam on the milk. He didn't believe it. He had barely put his mouth on it when he recoiled in terror (okay, maybe too drama). I told him that the asam would only disappear twice a day - before his nap time and before he sleeps.
Since then, it's been quite smooth sailing. He has been asking for the bottle a lot these days. But at night, he still wakes up for breastmilk although he knows that he cannot have it. So, he just screams and thrashes about. Twice a night. I still have to go into his room and lie down beside him until he falls asleep again. As I am also a kind neighbour, I have to close the windows so that the neighbours don't call the police.
ii. And yes, this reminds me. The boy now has his own room. In our previous place, he used to be a squatter in my room, sleeping on a mattress on the floor. With his own room, each time he cries, I take a longer time to respond. I really fear that our neighbours will hate us (they may already hate us by now).
iii. He has started attending playgroup! The original idea was to get him to attend the childcare that the sisters used to attend. But TheHusband felt that he was a bit too young. The sisters' birthdays are in February and March, so when they joined the childcare in January of the year they turned 3, they were almost 3 years old. But this boy was just 2 years 5 months in January.
When the sisters went back to school in January, he was bored and listless. I had to play with him and read soooo many books together. I asked my sis-in-law if she had any programmes for bored little ones and was I in luck! So, he's now in school on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays from 11am to 1pm. These days are also known as my freedom days. Haha!
Unfortunately, in the first 2 weeks or so, he didn't take well to school. Having been used to being under my armpit (that's a literal translation of a Malay idiom), he cried so much. I have great respect and sympathy for his teachers. These days, he's still not too pleased about going to school, but the level of resistance is much reduced.
iv. He is talking a lot. A lot a lot a lot!
He can express himself in Malay pretty well now. I choose to keep it this way, expose him to mostly Malay for now.
There are some episodes which I have to write about here lest I forget.
Bontot - Bontot means buttocks in Malay. We teach the name of his body parts, bontot being one of them. Unfortunately, this good child loved the sound of bontot so much, he started saying it all the time. I stopped him and suddenly, he realised that bontot is a good way to express his anger.
When he fought with his sister, he would suddenly shout out, "BONTOT!" We stopped him many times and scolded him a number of times. When he got angry, we could see the 'B' forming on his lips and a stare stopped the rest of the word from coming out. A couple of times, he shouted "BON-!" And stopped. He knew he was not supposed to say that word when he was angry. I scolded him, "Ihsan tak boleh cakap bontot, kan?" (Ihsan cannot say the word bontot, right?")
That wasn't the end though.
"BON-TOL!" He responded. "Ihsan nak cakap BONTOL lah!" (BON-TOL! I wanted to say BON-TOL lah!) It doesnt matter that the word 'bontol' doesn't exist at all.
Anak Yang Soleh - A mother's word is a do'a (supplication). I try to call my children good names. (Still trying. When Tiger Mom is out, that trying part can be well, trying.)
I call the boy anak yang solih (pious child) quite often. I didn't realise how often this was until one day I called him anak yang baik (good child). His response was: Ini bukan anak yang baik lah. Ini anak yang solih. (This is not a good child. This is a pious child.)
Whatever rocks your boat, boy.
Nangis "(Cry) - The sisters were always very eager to know what he did in school. One of the first questions they asked him when they returned home from school was what Ihsan did in school. He often said, "Nangis."
While walking to his school, I asked him where we were going. You know, the usual silly mother talk. You ask your kids questions whose answer you already know.
Me: Ihsan nak pergi mana ni? (Where are you going?)
I: Nangis.
Me: Tak! Ihsan nak pergi sekolah! (No! You are going to school!) Ihsan nak pergi mana? (Where are you going?)
I: Sekolah, lepas tu, nangis. (School, and then cry)
Cannot win sometimes.
---
Will stop here. As always, I never start and finish writing in one sitting. This entry took 3 sittings to reeach this point so if there is no coherence it is because (a) I wrote it in three sittings; and (b) I'm hardly ever coherent anyway,
But of course, sometimes they really, really, really cause me much pain. The Tiger Mom makes her appearance not because I have docile children who willingly take out their books and do their much needed revision on their own free will. And there are still soooooooooo many areas we have to work on with each child. I hope by the time I die, my child will be ready to live their lives.
2. The Boy
I must write more about the boy. I've lost much of my interest in blogging as compared to my Multiply days - actually, not really. I blog quite a bit in my head but I no longer have that much time to sit down in front of the computer and spend 2 hours banging on the keyboard.
The Boy is now almost 2.5 years old. Come 8 Feb, he'll be 2 years and 6 months old.
i. We are in the process of weaning him off breastmilk.
The beginning was a nightmare. He's been having milk on demand and that means, he's been getting it whenever he wants. 1am, 2am, 2.30am. Whenever.
After gentle coaxing did not work, and he suddenly decided to reject the bottle completely (he'd been having bottled milk once or twice a day), and I was getting frequent headaches because of my prolonged lack of sleep, I thought, I'd take out the big guns.
Asam. Tamarind paste. Which I smeared liberally on the nipples.
One morning 2 weeks ago, he asked for milk. Susu badan, he called it (because we are way too polite to call it t*t*k).
I told him that he no longer could have it because there was asam on the milk. He didn't believe it. He had barely put his mouth on it when he recoiled in terror (okay, maybe too drama). I told him that the asam would only disappear twice a day - before his nap time and before he sleeps.
Since then, it's been quite smooth sailing. He has been asking for the bottle a lot these days. But at night, he still wakes up for breastmilk although he knows that he cannot have it. So, he just screams and thrashes about. Twice a night. I still have to go into his room and lie down beside him until he falls asleep again. As I am also a kind neighbour, I have to close the windows so that the neighbours don't call the police.
ii. And yes, this reminds me. The boy now has his own room. In our previous place, he used to be a squatter in my room, sleeping on a mattress on the floor. With his own room, each time he cries, I take a longer time to respond. I really fear that our neighbours will hate us (they may already hate us by now).
iii. He has started attending playgroup! The original idea was to get him to attend the childcare that the sisters used to attend. But TheHusband felt that he was a bit too young. The sisters' birthdays are in February and March, so when they joined the childcare in January of the year they turned 3, they were almost 3 years old. But this boy was just 2 years 5 months in January.
When the sisters went back to school in January, he was bored and listless. I had to play with him and read soooo many books together. I asked my sis-in-law if she had any programmes for bored little ones and was I in luck! So, he's now in school on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays from 11am to 1pm. These days are also known as my freedom days. Haha!
Unfortunately, in the first 2 weeks or so, he didn't take well to school. Having been used to being under my armpit (that's a literal translation of a Malay idiom), he cried so much. I have great respect and sympathy for his teachers. These days, he's still not too pleased about going to school, but the level of resistance is much reduced.
iv. He is talking a lot. A lot a lot a lot!
He can express himself in Malay pretty well now. I choose to keep it this way, expose him to mostly Malay for now.
There are some episodes which I have to write about here lest I forget.
Bontot - Bontot means buttocks in Malay. We teach the name of his body parts, bontot being one of them. Unfortunately, this good child loved the sound of bontot so much, he started saying it all the time. I stopped him and suddenly, he realised that bontot is a good way to express his anger.
When he fought with his sister, he would suddenly shout out, "BONTOT!" We stopped him many times and scolded him a number of times. When he got angry, we could see the 'B' forming on his lips and a stare stopped the rest of the word from coming out. A couple of times, he shouted "BON-!" And stopped. He knew he was not supposed to say that word when he was angry. I scolded him, "Ihsan tak boleh cakap bontot, kan?" (Ihsan cannot say the word bontot, right?")
That wasn't the end though.
"BON-TOL!" He responded. "Ihsan nak cakap BONTOL lah!" (BON-TOL! I wanted to say BON-TOL lah!) It doesnt matter that the word 'bontol' doesn't exist at all.
Anak Yang Soleh - A mother's word is a do'a (supplication). I try to call my children good names. (Still trying. When Tiger Mom is out, that trying part can be well, trying.)
I call the boy anak yang solih (pious child) quite often. I didn't realise how often this was until one day I called him anak yang baik (good child). His response was: Ini bukan anak yang baik lah. Ini anak yang solih. (This is not a good child. This is a pious child.)
Whatever rocks your boat, boy.
Nangis "(Cry) - The sisters were always very eager to know what he did in school. One of the first questions they asked him when they returned home from school was what Ihsan did in school. He often said, "Nangis."
While walking to his school, I asked him where we were going. You know, the usual silly mother talk. You ask your kids questions whose answer you already know.
Me: Ihsan nak pergi mana ni? (Where are you going?)
I: Nangis.
Me: Tak! Ihsan nak pergi sekolah! (No! You are going to school!) Ihsan nak pergi mana? (Where are you going?)
I: Sekolah, lepas tu, nangis. (School, and then cry)
Cannot win sometimes.
---
Will stop here. As always, I never start and finish writing in one sitting. This entry took 3 sittings to reeach this point so if there is no coherence it is because (a) I wrote it in three sittings; and (b) I'm hardly ever coherent anyway,
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