The Urban Lily

Bored... bored... bored

2012-01-13T09:46:00.001+10:00

I should be studying. Yeah, I've got to slog through this Cert IV course for my new job. It's hard because my brain is resisting the tedium and the ridiculous amount of gobbledegook it has to process.
Instead I'm scouring the internet and spending time on the Sherlock and Sherlock Holmes message boards engaging in Holmesian disputes.

Aaaaaargh.. but it's gotta be done. The study, that is... not the Holmesian minutiae.
I'm feeling like Sherlock at the beginning of "The Great Game". Fortunately I haven't got a gun or the walls might need redocorating.

Sherlock Holmes: The Game of Shadows (2012)

2012-01-07T11:59:00.002+10:00

I'll be the first to admit that the Robert Downey Jr version of the British supersleuth is almost nothing like the Sherlock Holmes of the Conan Doyle oeuvre. I say "almost" because there are aspects of the characterization that still retains a couple of Holmesian fundamentals: The observational, deductive flair and the superhuman meticulous attention to detail. Downey's incarnation is also a benevolent mad professor scientist and the running gag from this and the first film is that he's constantly experimenting on Watson's pet dog.

Where this iteration largely parts company with canon is how Holmes is written and portrayed. Downey's Holmes is an arrogant Peter Pan of genius proportions. A prodigy who revels in adventure but refuses to grow up. Perhaps a commentary on a pervading malaise of our time.

In short, the film is insanely noisy, grubby and rocket-paced which could work against or in its favour.
However, for some reason, it doesn't diminish this long-time Holmesian fan's enjoyment of the latest rambunctious installment of the franchise. Maybe I'm not the purist I thought I was.

Well, in truth, I'm not.

If there's a word that sums up the film, it's "funny". The new Sherlock Holmes film is exceedingly funny... and fun. Well, at least it appeals largely to my sense of humour. Downey has great comic timing and well, his chemistry with Jude Law is palpable. And the dialogue sparkles.

The main storyline is actually fairly straightforward. Sherlock takes on his arch adversary, the formidable Prof Moriarty and a trail of killing and destruction ensues. In fact I suspect the director takes a fiendish glee in gun fights and blowing stuff up. But it wouldn't be Sherlock Holmes without the stupefying leaps of logic and the furious sparring with the villain.

The Professor is played by Jarred Harris, who is very good in the role. He's no James Bond villain but he has the ambitions of a Bond villain nonetheless. Definitely a foe worthy of our favourite Baker Street residents.

I adore Jude Law's Watson. He is so equally at home with a firearm and a scalpel that you almost believe he was born to play the role. His Watson is trying his hardest to get married and embark on a honeymoon but the relationship shy Holmes does his most to deter his longtime comrade and friend before grudgingly accepting the inevitable.

There's been a lot of criticism about the overabundance of kungfooey antics in these updates but it hasn't bothered me. Even Sherlock Holmes must succumb to the onslaught of postmodern pastiche it seems.What I especially appreciate about the fight scenes here are how much they feel like a chess game. It's more cerebral than your usual punch ups. The audience is given glimpses into the inner workings of Holmes' mind as he manages to keep two steps ahead of his adversaries.

I speak as a truly happy fangirl. In the last couple of years we've had a veritable feast with the BBC's Sherlock and Guy Ritchie's Sherlock Holmes franchise. Nobody can have too much Sherlock Holmes even if it's not kosher Conan Doyle.

I don't make resolutions as a rule

2012-01-07T08:46:00.000+10:00

As a matter of habit, I don't make resolutions. Since I've had the girls, I've more or less tried to take one day at a time. It has worked for me because it has tempered that innate restlessness that lurks in my personality.
When one has children, changing the world seems a useless, abstract goal when one can't even have mastery over oneself.
The events of last year has made the case to me (if life in general hasn't already) that life is fairly unpredictable.

But if there is one resolution (if we can use that term) that I should have, it is that of faithfulness. Faithfulness in the larger matters and in the microscopic mundane things.
Faithfulness is less of resolution than it is an attitude and perhaps even an ability.

Over and over again, the Bible tells us that God is faithful mainly to reassure us in dark times. But I don't doubt that it is also a reminder to us that faithfulness is a quality that his people need to inculcate, cultivate, nurture... etc.

My calling is to be a wife, a mother and a teacher. Sometimes I'm rather bad at it but I think God knows it and doesn't leave me to me own resources.

Reality is hard work... very hard work and it requires plodding quite often. There are no short cuts really. Perseverance and grace to just keep plodding.

Troy (2004)

2011-12-21T08:57:00.000+10:00

I will start by saying that I didn't pick the DVD. I had heard mixed things about this film from various sources which put me off bothering with it when it came out. Plus the fact I'm no fan of the Illiad (threw the book on the floor a few times), whose dramatis personae seems to be cluttered up with unlikeable characters.
However, the husband brought it home and thought it might be something worth watching. Okay... I says... how bad can it be...

Whoever thought that putting Brad Pitt in a classical Greek tale was a good idea had rocks in their head.
Not that I think Pitt is a bad actor but in this particular setting, he appears to me, at least. to be totally out of his depth. While I didn't find Archilles all that appealing in the Illiad, in Pitt's hands, Archilles is as dull as dishwater. Pitt fails to convey the eloquence or the charisma of the intransigent Greek hero.
This is why, on a normal day, films about classical characters are generally populated by British actors who are able to convey that larger than life quality possibly from spending time doing Shakespeare at some point in their careers.
Brad Pitt's Archilles is, in short, an expressionless whiny brat.
I had the same allergic reaction to Sam Worthington in the Clash of the Titans remake.

The film is not all bad. There are good actors in it who do their best with the material they've been given. But it's no Cecile B. DeMilne epic. DeMilne was at least energetic in his direction. This one felt rather limp, cheesy and cheap.
The feel is one of a B-movie with a surprising number of A-list actors.

Park Theme

2011-12-20T23:02:00.000+10:00

Our excursion to Dreamworld today was cut short when 10 year old complained of feeling weak and queasy. We have season passes and since we didn't use them most of the year (one thing after another), I felt obliged to maximise our investment before those things expired. So it's a frantic effort to get it all done in a week.
After downing half a bottle of water and half a sandwich, she said she felt better. But I thought it best that we leave as soon as possible, at least before the sandwich made a second appearance accompanied by stomach acids.
We happen to walk past the animal enclosures... 10 year old then said she wanted to see the animals. So we looked at the animals.
Because of this diversion, we discovered a new ride -- driving vintage car round a designated circuit. It was, in my opinion, quite fun actually. Compared to the stroke inducing attractions that make up the place, this was very tame. Almost like having a quiet drive in the countryside. Except this one lasted about 3 minutes.

It occurred to me then that Dreamworld is an all encompassing sort of place. It tries to cater to all sorts while fulfilling the fantasies of bored adrenalin junkies. A combination of kitschy reconstruction of nostalgia and temporary visceral illusion of high excitement and adventure.
A place of escape... a place that doesn't really exist. One can pay for the privilege of gaining access.
And now one can prolong the privilege with unlimited passes.

New Things

2011-12-18T22:38:00.000+10:00

Quite a lot happened to me the past year and I suppose it's customary to take stock at this time of the year.
But I won't. Not today at least.
You know me, I can naval gaze with the best of them.

I'm venturing into new things next year which means my online life must diminish.
A mother of two school kids... yes, 4 year old turns 5 next year and joins the ranks of the school aged -- I must be moving on.
To bigger and better things... Bigger perhaps, better... well, that remains to be seen.
Not that being a stay-at-home mother was not an important phase in my life. It was necessary and while I can't truthfully say I enjoyed every moment of it, I'm deeply thankful that I saw 4 year old grow up into an endearing, articulate preschooler.

The short version is that I've taken up an English teaching job and it starts in January. I've wanted to for a whole year and was rather disillusioned for a while there when there were no doors ajar much less open ones.
Now that it has come to me... I dunno... I'm not as ecstatic as I think I should be.

I am thrilled to be going back into the classroom, working with migrants and refugees. It's what I've always loved about TESOL.
The downside is that the new job comes packaged with responsibilities that I'm not accustomed to. It's not just about being in the classroom but being part of a "system". That aspect of it intimidates me.

But I won't complain too much... I can't. My friend thinks it's a "God thing" and I can't say I disagree. The timing is right and the opportunity is too good to pass up.
If God has led me to this new situation, I can be confident that he will give me the strength and the grace to carry out my responsibilities.

Already I sense new things ahead for our family.

Back Problems

2011-11-26T09:06:00.000+10:00

Haven't been blogging much lately because the back's been playing up. Can't sit too long, can't stand too long, can't walk too long and can't squat too long. It's exercises and muscle stretches in between
Seems like the more I'm trying to get back into LIFE, the more aggravated the situation becomes. Lying flat on the back asleep is the only way to keep this at bay.

I'm off to the physio in about half an hour...

Pity They Don't Come with Manuals

2011-11-18T07:52:00.000+10:00

Remember The Matrix?
For those of us who know and love it well, it was pure Geekfest on adrenaline. In a rollercoaster.

One of the highlights of that scifi, special effects extravaganza was the ease in which unplugged rebels were able to assimilate information and skills to survive the menacing dangers of the Matrix.
Reclining uncomfortably on a dentist chair, one only needs to be plugged in and the human brain becomes a hard drive for a big information dump.
Several hours later, the eyelids flutter involuntarily and you hear yourself say, "I know kung fu."

Just like that... Not a drop of sweat spilled and the storehouses of knowledge at one's fingertips.

After the little drama that transpired at our place today, an information brain dump has become a very attractive option devoutly to be wished. A once for all permanent info dump that prepares children for the Matrix that is real life.

It is oft said that kids are sponges... which is true on a certain level. They soak everything up and then promptly lose it all. Apart from that, they are afflicted with bouts of selective amnesia and develop hearing problems when the conversation doesn't go their way.

Some days I feel like a broken record.
Unfortunately they don't come with manuals... and there's no one size fits all approach to dealing with children.

As the kiddies get older, the responsibility that is parenting becomes even more intimidating. It's a powerless feeling that one has because the amount of bad stuff that can happen to them increases exponentially with age.
At various times and in varying degrees they live by the dictum that "rules are meant to be broken".

All the best communication techniques in the world aren't going to help two sinners who are adamant to do things their own way. The big sinner, me and the little sinner, my child.
Do I really want the best for them or is it just about my needs, my wants and my fears? Do their mistakes reflect my own vulnerabilities?

Ouch...

At the risk of being too introspective, these are questions I should be putting to myself EVERY. SINGLE. DAY. At least while I'm in the position to do something about it.

Baby Hands No More

2011-11-16T22:15:00.002+10:00

Woke up at 4:30 this morning and stayed awake. Something to do with chickens outside my window. Not exactly a great start to the day. But 4:30 is more or less the crack of dawn in these parts at this time of the year.
Spent the rest of the day in a kind of semi-lucid stupor which hung around all day like a bad smell.

"Tired", "cranky" and "shouty" characterised the last 16 hours of my existence. Not exactly the model of motherliness I had hoped to convey. I've been so spoilt these past months having been so well-looked after. It's as if I've had to relearn the process of coping with children on my own.

I am so ready to jump into bed... Sleep's pretty glorious when you've been robbed of it.

4 year old and I toddled along to Prep orientation. She is off to school next year which is, if you think about it, only really a couple of months away. I had this wonderful notion that we would walk to school this morning. A wonderful notion except that I had conveniently forgotten about the almighty book pack to take home. Walking, I had thought, would save me from having to find a park and do battle with the multitude of Prep parents to get through the local streets. So lucky me... I had to lug the book pack home on foot. Hence, I got a bit more exercise than I had originally planned to.

Yeah, it's a milestone for us. Once upon a time 4 year old was a baby... and then exploded into a toddler... quickly morphed into a preschooler and in no time at all, she's taking on school. Mentally she's been ready for the idea of school for a while (although I suspect it's the uniform that's driving the interest)... the question now being... is school ready for her?

4 year old's nails really needed clipping. So I clipped them. Scrutinizing her fingers today, it really hit home that she has left those early years of childhood behind her. The baby hands have morphed. Regretfully they were surreptitiously transformed into the next phase without my realizing it.
Obviously a part of me is keen for her to be at school because of that incredible energy that is rooted in the DNA of her personality. And yet all that time we spend wishing they'd grow up quickly, I now realize, could have been better spent enjoying them.

Afterall, they're only young once.

Movie Talk: Courageous (2011)

2011-11-15T23:08:00.001+10:00

Several weeks ago, I was listening to a podcast in which Charles Colson (founder of Prison Fellowship) was conversing with political and cultural commentator, Mark Steyn about his new book, America Alone. During the course of their dialogue, Steyn mentioned that during the last several decades, the importance of fathers has come under severe attack in our culture. As a case in point, Colson noted that in his work with prisons that a large number of (can't recall the exact stats here) young men end up incaracerated because of the absence of fathers in their lives.

Courageous, the new film by the Kendrick brothers who brought us Fireproof a couple of years ago, feels like a clarion call for men to take up their role as fathers with gravity and fervour.
The story centres around the lives of five men, four of whom are local law enforcement officers. These men are familiar to us... they are fathers, they live, they work in our neighbourhoods and they struggle with all kinds of decisions daily, trying to find their moral compass.

Despite its overt intentions, Courageous is not just a sermon with pictures. It also manages to be highly entertaining and like its predecessor, successfully pushes all the right emotional buttons. Throughout much of the film, I had to rummage around my bag for tissues.

Overall, I liked it a lot and was generally impressed with the production values. However, I did cringe and scratch my head a few times at the clunky dialogue. Yeah, well... I'm a writer and it's the kind of stuff that jumps out at me even when I'm half asleep. Not that I was falling asleep, of course.

That said, it is good drama and the performances were credible -- a huge step forward from Fireproof. I found myself caring about the main characters and their families. And I laughed a lot. Non-Christians may find it a tad preachy but at least they will hear something of what Christians believe.

Audiobook: The House of Silk

2011-11-15T13:09:00.000+10:00

Anthony Horowitz is the brains behind the brilliant WW2 police drama, Foyle's War, so I was eager to get stuck into his latest offering, The House of Silk.
That and because it's the first officially sanctioned Sherlock Holmes novel in a hundred and forty plus years.
Horowitz is a fantastic writer on different levels. His elegant prose, ability to create suspense, attention to detail, love of history, love of Victorian England and love of the Holmes canon shines through in this book. For the most part, I was riveted. Horowitz's Watson is more prone to introspection about the social conditions of his era than we're accustomed to in Conan-Doyle but that didn't really bother me all that much.

That said, I was deeply disappointed with the resolution... not because it was improbable but because it felt like I had been thrown into an Anne Perry novel, which I had been fearing would be the case three quarters of the way through.
It seems the fashion to portray pre WW2 England as a bleak morass of decadent horrors these days and this was no different. There must be some kind of unspoken competition among crime writers to ramp up the "yuck" factor in a number of historical fics that I've been reading lately.

I appreciated Derek Jacobi's dramatic narration overall but didn't really care for the way he voiced Holmes generally. The voice he used for Holmes seemed all over the place from sober to high pitched... not really how I envisaged a dominating, charismatic personality to sound.

All in all, it's a good yarn. My copy was downloaded from Audible but I'm sure you can pick up a dead tree edition in your usual haunts. Not a bad one to pick up at your local library if you don't mind a good crime novel that's fairly gloomy.

Geeking Out: Doctor Who Series 6

2011-11-15T11:51:00.001+10:00

As it turns out, I took a leave of absence from blogging last week to catch up on everything Doctor Who that I've missed these past months. Did a bit of a marathon last week and watched all 13 eps from Series 6 plus bits and bobs from DW Confidential. Yeah, I've been a rather naughty girl. But I did catch up on all the sleep I lost last night.

It's been a while since I've been remotely enthused about DW but, by golly, S6 was, with a couple of notable exceptions, a thrill to watch. S6 has easily become my favourite, exceeding anything even in the Pertwee and Tom Baker era.
My esteem for head writer, Steven Moffat (which was already very high) has increased ten-fold. For the first time since watching Tom Baker romp around the Louvre, I am blown away by the writing for the show. I've always enjoyed individual episodes of Doctor Who to varying degrees but this is the first time, I've really cared about how a season hangs together.

Moffat, in my opinion, is a wonderfully thoughtful and genuinely serious writer of suspense/scifi and I am thrilled to bits about where he has taken DW. Sadly, it seems he has plenty of detractors and so apparently he's going to downplay the use of large arcs in the next series.

Babylon 5, I think, was where it all began for me, in terms of continuity between episodes and seasons. I don't think there's much doubt that it was one of the best (if not the best) science fiction shows ever written. Despite the budgetary constraints, one grew to care about the characters and the underlying threads that held it all together. The show was almost entirely arc driven and came together in such a mindstretching fashion.

Matt Smith... I'm beginning to really love. Last year I wasn't too sure about him. I liked him but I didn't love him. Those sad and soulful eyes are working their magic methinks and his chemistry with Alex Kingston has been unexpectedly good. No one is more surprised than I am to look upon their flirtations with grudging approval. As a rule I don't care for Doctor/Companion being very up close and very personal but I'm willing to make an exception in this instance because Kingston is awesome. Didn't care for her in ER but in DW she's a great choice as the older-younger femme fatale foil for the younger-older Doctor.

Apparently love for S6 correlates to some degree with love for the character of River Song so it's fortuitous that that part has worked out for me. But seriously it's a lot more than that. The longish arcs and the integration of monster of the week stories have been constructed and laid out with a great deal of thought. Even, for instance, in the episode where Hitler (who is in it for about 5 minutes) is the monster in the cupboard. A lovely sort of "hint, hint, nudge, nudge" especially when the next episode turns out to be a run-of-the-mill monster-in-the-cupboard story. Quite often the jokes and dialogue have hints and foreshadowing of what is to come. Also the reuse of technology throughout the series right up to the series finale is just gold.

I am absolutely loving the use of continuity in this era.

Monday with Books

2011-11-07T22:09:00.000+10:00

Big weekend. Phew. Was exhausted by the end of it. But it was all good stuff and we managed to snatch naps in between things.
The wedding ceremony was short and sweet, which was fine by everyone probably. Not the shortest I've ever been to but a lot shorter than a previous wedding I went to where the groom basically jumped from aisle to the stage to the piano and back onto the stage. As my memory isn't terribly reliable, it's likely not in that order. But he is probably the busiest groom I've ever seen.

Today was a lazy sort of day aside from a visit to the physio. No chastisement today... in fact he was impressed that I managed to squeeze in the prescribed exercises in spite of my busy schedule.

Spent a big part of the morning watching clips from Britain's Got Talent 2011 which sort of happened from me watching Michael Buble belt out "Feeling Good" in a James Bond homage which in turn came about because I heard a really odd rendition elsewhere. So odd that I almost didn't recognize it until the refrain. Buble sings it with a jazzy swagger which is how I like it. To me, it's one of those deceptively simple songs that really shouldn't be overdone.

After lunch, I taught 4 year old to read from the Ladybird Keywords "Peter and Jane" series while lying in bed. I really needed to be flat on my back and 4 year old needed to be kept out of trouble. So we started with fairytale type Ladybird books and then tackled Peter and Jane, who seem to be very busy kiddies.
Why Peter and Jane? I'm a traditionalist about how kids learn how to read and I like the old stuff. For me, it's all about repetition and drilling in those early years. Plus the series is graded, which gives you a good idea of where the children are at. And there's also the fact that I'm rather allergic to merchandised books.

Made dinner tonight -- Japanese curry out of a packet and then did most of the dishes. By the end of that I was leg weary. Husband took 10 year old to one of her regular Monday night extra-curricular activities so I offered to do them because, for some reason he hasn't been sleeping all that well and sounds it.

Like the spoonful of sugar which makes the medicine go down, I put on a new audio book, The House of Silk to get me through the dishes. It's a boon for Sherlock Holmes fans to have Anthony Horowitz write the first officially sanctioned SH novel in a hundred and forty something years. As expected, it is very well-written, he nails Watson and Holmes and the attention to detail warms the cockles of my heart. I'm loving it.

Delivery from my favourite online book store arrived today. Quite surprised that they all came together in one hit. Usually they come in drips and drabs... Can't complain really... free shipping and all that. In and amongst the order was The Story of Doctor Dolittle and The Voyages of Doctor Dolittle.
To my delight, I found reprints of the Doctor Dolittle series on the aforementioned site. Hadn't touched anything Dolittle since I was a whippersnapper but had no idea that there were that many -- 12 in all. I still have memories of a technicolour picture book with the pullme-pushyou as the featured animal on the cover. These days most of which are probably out of print or unavailable at bookshops. Anyway I procured a couple for 10 year old, in preparation for the upcoming festive season but I'm doing my parental duty by inspecting the contents of the book before placing it her impressionable hands.

I could talk about books all day long but I really need to get out of this chair. Apparently too much sitting can be a health hazard.

Forty Winks

2011-11-04T19:57:00.000+10:00

Dozed off briefly while 4 year old was watching Barbie and the Twelve Dancing Princesses. Generally, I despise most things Barbie but some of the movies are actually quite decent. It's the only way I can catch naps during the day when she's around, if I feel the need. Today, I felt the need. Had the ear phones firmly attached to the ears while listening to an audio book and soon I was off to lala land. It also helped that the husband was home early to cook up some dinner for which I am grateful.

This year, our playgroup has been invited to do a Christmas skit at the host church. I volunteered 4 year old to be Mary last week. Not bad actually. She assumed the role with uncharacteristic dignity, doing a good job of sitting still during rehearsal, holding plastic baby Jesus with an experience arm and then awkwardly placing him in the "manger". All to the tune of "Mary Had a Little Lamb" which in the case has been appropriated for "Mary Had a Baby Boy".

We're now certain that one of the chooks is a rooster... 2 out of 3 ain't bad. Goldie... he... not she... has been trying to do rooster things. He'll have to go, of course... unfortuntely... but shouldn't complain as he enjoyed free food and lodging for as along as he did. I've been told that there are places outside of suburbia that wouldn't mind taking in roosters. No, we weren't thinking of giving him the chop.

The weekend is looking to be horrendous. How do these things happen... I am looking forward to the wedding, of course. I adore weddings... as long as I don't have to do anything like sing for my supper. But I will be singing at church on Sunday... I won't say unfortunately because it is a privilege to serve. I am thankful, however, that it is communion Sunday and it means the amount of time I have to spend in front is shortened.

Anyhow, it's time for me to get off the chair and stimulate recovery to my lower back region and leg.

Hot and Bothered

2011-11-04T08:14:00.000+10:00

Today was veg out day. Aside from going to the physio, I did almost nothing except listen to a couple of podcasts and finished the Bonhoeffer audio book. Finally. After months of starting and stopping. A very good book by the way, definitely well-written but more on that another time.
'Twas a hot day... not the January kind of hot day but enough to make a difference. In fact, I'm still feeling the heat in spite of having the fan on. The heat I don't mind so much but this yo-yo weather makes it hard to dress or cover properly.

Physio... my second visit in 7 days. I developed what I thought were foot and leg troubles about a week and a half ago (as if I didn't have enough to think about). As it turns out, after a little more poking and prodding, it's lower back issues squashing a crucial nerve that's the culprit. Dear man... he was trying his best to chastise me as kindly as possible to "listen to your body".

This is turning into a bad comedy. Too much sitting is bad, slumping in bed is terrible and too much walking is also bad for post-surgical healing.

I'm feeling all kinds of guilty having had to pull back. I know it's necessary yadda yadda but it goes against the grain to have a two month do-nothing holiday.

Time for bed, methinks.

Tired

2011-11-02T21:29:00.000+10:00

I am tired. Really tired. It's been a long day punctuated by a couple of hours online watching You Tube videos. Once I got home, I became immobile. My legs just didn't want to move.

Two days in, trying to dip my toes into normality and my body tells me that I'm not ready for normal just yet. Not ready to don the busy suburban housewife hat or the church volunteer cape.

Went to MOPS today thinking I would take things easy but I went straight into autopilot. Old habits die hard. I had to remember to sit down more than once.
In the afternoon, I drove the kiddies to swimming. Saw an old friend there and started chatting. Not a bad way to while away an hour and a bit.

On top of all that, I'm not drinking as much as I should. I really miss the alkaline water. Don't know how much good that did me but it made me drink lots. I'm catching up big time as I write this up.

Aside from a visit to the physio, tomorrow is strictly a stay at home and veg out day.

Gyoza

2011-11-01T12:26:00.000+10:00

I've been experimenting with dumplings for a while now. The marvel of living in Brisbane in 2011 is that you can. I've lost track of the number of Asian supermarkets that have sprung up within a 4-5 km radius in our area. Haven't done the sums but the total number would easily be in the double digits beginning with two. The myriad of sauces, condiments and ingredients that are now available to the dumpling connoisseur edges on the heavenly.

So I made gyoza last night. At least I think I did. Generic meat and chives dumpling turned into gyoza when I added mirin. Still, I'm not sure that chives is strictly a gyoza standard.
10 year old's school friend wanted her to go trick-a-treating and dropped by. We said "no" to 10 year old trick-a-treating, well, because we don't do Halloween at our place. I'm rabidly anti-Halloween on principle... almost made a sign to that effect because we had a few visitors last year.
But we didn't mind school friend dropping in and she stayed for almost an hour.

The phrase "imitation is the highest form of flattery" is kinda passe. But my take on that one is, "The highest form of flattery is when they come back for more."
And so they did... for the gyoza. School friend came first. "Please can I have some more... it's really yummy..."
Well, my heart did flip flops. It's better than a confession scene from a romcom.
Then our girls came for more, so I said to the husband, "You should probably come and get some before they all run out."

Husband tells me I should start selling them. But he almost always says that I when I make them. Selling, however, would take the fun out of making them.
10 year old comes back for more and she says I should sell them too.

Well, if I don't get a teaching job next year, I might consider it.

What My Children Teach Me About Prayer

2011-10-31T12:46:00.001+10:00

Prayer is a sticky area for the Christian. Theoretically and theologically we know its importance in our lives but practically we seem to have all kinds of issues getting our hands dirty.

One of our elders preached on the subject yesterday and I appreciated his approach. I learnt something from it and it provoked a series of afterthoughts.

It seems to me that our problem with prayer is not that we don't know what it is or that it is, well... commanded of us. Just like keeping up with a daily bible reading, we don't have the stomach for it.

Prayer is hard work... it takes time... it's a discipline. Jesus prayed so it's obvious we should. A no brainer. The best sermon I ever heard on prayer argued that prayer is about relationship which made a lot of sense to me at the time. It should logically be an overflower of my love for God and people. Okay. But still I don't prayer consistently or fervently.

Perhaps I'm not desperate enough. Quite possibly true.
Perhaps there's a part of me that's afraid that God will actually answer my prayer. That could be dangerous. Very craven of me.
Perhaps I just don't think prayer really makes all that much of a difference. Ouch.
And... let's try this on for size... Maybe we think we deserve the good life. God will give us everything we need anyway, right? Life is good, why bother with prayer? (An entitlelist view of things)
And perhaps... we ain't got the stamina to go the distance.

This is an area I think, I can learn from my kids.

I don't mind saying that the thing that annoys me most about children is the way they keep at you when they want something. It is highly annoying. Especially when you really don't want them to have the thing they really want to have. They scheme, they plot and they even try to play mum off against dad.
Depnding on their age, they ask and beg and nag and plead and negotiate and weep piteously. They are oblivious to the concept of "no".

They are, in short, persistent.

For 2 years, 10 year old begged us for a Nintendo DS Lite. She turned the conversation at every opportunity to the subject. Finally we agreed that if a certain thing happened, she could get one but of course, that didn't pan out in the long run because effort from her was required.

I don't think I'm saying that prayer is a presenting a Christmas list in childish fashion. But isn't it interesting that Jesus tells us to "ask", "seek" and to "knock". Obviously he knew we would have a problem doing all of the above. So much so that he used the earthy analogy of a father's relationship with his children, which is pretty telling.

Persistence in prayer is a good thing... in fact, it is so good it is commanded. But because it is hard work and because there are a million other things we do instead of prayer, persistence is a lost art as well as an oft forgotten command.

There are areas in scripture which we are called to pray about -- missions, evangelism, protection, sickness, our Lord's return, and generally for God's will to be done. Etc etc etc...

Our God wants us to pray...
So why don't we?

The next time the kiddies beg and plead and throw themselves at your feet because they want something...
be reminded of how much more we are to plead for the things that bring glory to the name of Jesus.
Things of eternal consequences.

Have a good one!

Purple Flowers

2011-10-29T14:11:00.000+10:00

It's a lovely time of year on our suburban streets with the Jacarandas in full bloom. Although not native to this country, our neck of the concrete jungle does play host to a multitude of them.

A friend, originally from Japan, tells me that it reminds her of the sakura blooms (cherry blossoms) during spring. My experience of sakura is limited to j-dramas but they do look pretty spectacular especially if they're lined up in an avenue.

4 year old knows I'm on a look out for them for photography purposes so she's yelling "Mummy, purple flowers" every minute or so while we're in the car.

We've had quite a number of overcast days so some of these pics don't quite do the "purple flowers" much justice.

There's something very calming about gazing upon these magnificent specimens of God's creation. Not just the ones with purple flowers. Even when they're bare, they're awe inspiring. Spending time behind a good lens can really change one's perspective for the better.

The Printer Goes to Hospital (Finally!)

2011-10-28T22:49:00.000+10:00

While I'm normally rabidly anti-superstitious, I'm not sure what it is about me and printers the last couple of years. It's been Dudsville for me. The Epson I got the year before last was a nice machine though violently noisy. The results were good but the printing action was terrifying to watch. 4 year old got it into her head at the time that it would be fun to add pieces of chalk to the paper feeder which was unsurprisingly, its death knell. It led to, in short, a quick, painful death. And well, it was also out of warranty...

Printer #2 was a basic wireless black only laser that we procured from a certain supermarket chain. It was adequate for our needs during the life of the first toner cartridge. When I went to get it refilled... it was all downhill from then on. These days each printed sheet looks like a particularly bad case of chicken pox. Because I am cheap, I will continue using it until the toner runs dry and get the drum replaced.

Printer #3 was colour laser that I purchased from a large stationery chain which shall remain nameless. Although working terrifically well for a time, I soon discovered that it was suffering printer xenophobia, adamantly refusing to print black. Which in effect rendered the thing useless. Rang the manufacturer, had tech support take me through a series of tests and was asked to go to a service centre 25 minutes from where I live. Thing was, I... er... misplaced the proof of purchase... and well... so much for taking it in. I tried ringing the stationery chain on the off chance they kept records but no... apparently they didn't keep records for more than six months which I thought was bizarre.
As it was my own stupid fault, I didn't press the issue and so Printer #3 sat in the living area like a white elephant collecting dead human skin and other misc particles.

While convalescing the last couple of months, I chanced upon the receipt in an old wallet while going through a drawer filled with junk. I rejoiced noisily, relieved that I hadn't been as moronic as I thought I had been.
Today we finally got our act together and took off to the 25-minute-away-from-home service centre. When we got to where we thought we were supposed to be, er... there was no service centre for XYZ international electronics company just an engineering firm. Hmmm... interesting...
So I ask the guy working next door. He doesn't know anything -- only been working there for 2 weeks. Later (probably after talking to his boss) he tells us that there was a service centre there 4 months ago but they moved.
By this time 4 year old is clamouring loudly to go to playgroup. Can't entirely blame her. The whole excursion seems to be taking a complicated turn.
So we ring the manufacturer... we wait for 7 plus minutes before talking to a customer service officer, definitely not locally based. I get pushed to another department and then another. After talking a few minutes, we lose connection. Sigh... So we ring again... this time we get speedy service.
CSO tells me that there are 3 service centres in my area... (really... why didn't someone tell me that before?) and the nearest one is actually about 15 minutes away. Before hanging up, I tell the CSO as kindly as I can muster that they really need to update their database because well... they're 4 months behind.

This afternoon we took ourselves off to the nearest service centre after picking up 10 year old from school. It was a relief... I tell ya... a relief. We might actually have a COLOUR printer to use for MOPS and school next year.

Chicken Coop

2011-10-28T16:54:00.001+10:00

Our verandah has become a serious embarrassment to any notion of civilization. Not that it was great before but since we brought in the chickens, it's given us new notions of "OCCUPY".
Their ability to perform ablutions with rapidity and without discretion never ceases to amaze me. Please somebody invent a chook nappy... please...
Hence I'm chuffed that we finally have ourselves a chicken coop custom made by my incredibly talented father-in-law.

Front View

Nesting Box

Interior with perches

Gangway...

Checking it out...

The Headless Chook Exits

Entry to the nesting box

Whether all three are hens... is still in doubt.

NAPLAN

2011-10-27T11:11:00.000+10:00

NAPLAN (National Assessment Program -- Literacy and Numeracy) results came out a few weeks ago and I was, in all honesty, both surprised and relieved. "Surprised" that 10 year old did as well as she did and "relieved" that there was signifcant progress in the numeracy side of things.

This post isn't about the NAPLAN testing system or what I think of it. I'm broadly supportive of it's aims but that's a post for another time.

To make a long story short, I've spent the whole year worrying (I don't mind saying) about 10 year old's academic record even to the point of considering homeschooling. Talking with the teacher on the odd occasion, it was the same o'l same o'l: inability to concentrate... not able to keep up with her maths and avoiding assignments. Mid-year results showed that she had gone backwards in a few significant areas.
I'm far from being Tiger Mum (more Pig Mum actually, in nature and in name) but I well know how much I struggled with maths in secondary school even though my fundamentals were fairly good.

I've come to the conclusion that no matter how good the school or the teacher, if I, as the parent, am not on board with my child's education wholeheartedly, it just doesn't happen at all. I know for myself and the 10 year old at least, that if I'm not hands on about it, she's going to fall through the cracks. In the last couple of years, I've had renewed respect for my own parents and what they went through for my sake.

I have battled much with this issue for the last few years. 10 year old is a great kid in so many ways but her lack of drive I find disheartening. On the positive side, I think that the God of grace has really used this situation to teach (and is still teaching) me patience... nay, endurance... to go the distance with her.

Another thing I've learnt is that our children's development is so tied up with our emotional well-being that sometimes... no, often... it's really hard to know if we're doing it for them or for us. Am I projecting? Am I living vicariously through their achievements? Do I feel disappointed because it reflects on me or because I'm genuinely concerned about their future? Those sorts of questions need to be asked from time to time. Human nature being what it is, I expect, overlaps are inevitable.

For me, it's an ongoing issue. I feel we (husband and I) must persist. It's a marathon from start to finish.

I'm Baaaaaaack... in Bloggersphere

2011-10-27T09:18:00.001+10:00

Yeah... I'm back blogging again... after taking a seven week hiatus with the odd post here and there just to update people on my condition. I should have probably written something about that before indulging in a post dumping binge yesterday.
Frankly speaking, I didn't much feel like blogging during this time and focused my efforts mainly on recovery. Even when I did feel better, blogging seemed like too much effort.

Innumerable thanks for your prayers and messages of care and concern. They were much appreciated.

The Ideal Man

2011-10-26T21:49:00.001+10:00

Speaking of fantasy vs reality, I am reminded of a Japanese drama I watched a couple of weeks ago about an office temp, quite desperate and dateless, in search of the perfect boyfriend. She tumbles onto a mysterious corporation that claims to provide women with their ideal boyfriend, most likely thinking it's some kind of dating service. As it turns out, the company manufactures androids and one of their leading scientists has created the first of what is to become a series of artificial boyfriends.
It's a great premise... reminded me of the Jeff Bridges classic, Starman. Starts off being rather light-hearted but ends up being a melodrama.

While I enjoyed the show for what it was, I never for one moment seriously entertained the idea that an artificial life form and a human being could end up having a life together. Okay, so he's evolved, he's now developed an ego and he utters "I love you" at least once every episode. He was, afterall programmed to be her ideal boyfriend.

Because I watched this online, it was fascinating to actually see the viewer feedback. I was surprised and not a little disturbed to see that the overwhelming majority of commenters so thoroughly immersed in the fantasy that they bought the viability of the relationship completely. Someone even suggested that the couple of in question could adopt. And here was I thinking that the story was some kind of parable about where sentient life began and ended.
I scratched my head rather befuddled. It was a moment of cognitive dissonance for me.

Later I was reminded of persons who were wallowing in the doldrums after watching James Cameron's Avatar because (surprise, surprise) the paradise he created didn't actually exist. Apparently they were hankering for a trip to Navi Land.

Everyone, I suppose, goes through phases in life where a bit escapism is probably fairly harmless.

But the perfect man? Purlease... Haven't met him yet. Unless we mean Jesus... and that's another story altogether.

In the end, I don't even think robot boyfriend from our drama in question was really that perfect. He ran on batteries and was overheating faster than my previous laptop.

The female protagonist gradually falls in love with a fantasy who seems able to meet all her needs except what she craves the most -- permanence.
As with these things, there's "another" guy. He's not perfect but he is human and in his own fashion, he's devoted to her welfare and future. Many would deem him highly eligible. She likes him too at first but as the fantasy gradually takes over her life, the reality is pushed to the periphery.

In the end the fantasty must die before reality can be restored.

Magpies

2011-10-26T08:49:00.001+10:00

I suppose it's that time of the year when magpies get terriorial and protective because while taking a stroll along my street yesterday, I received the feather end of one mighty nasty magpie parent.
I can't get too upset about it even if it hurt for about a minute as, well, magpie parent was acting instinctively.

Before I went into the business of reproducing, I used to think that I didn't have a shred of what is commonly called "maternal instinct". I can't confirm if such a thing exist or whether our present society with the influence of feminism has beaten it out of many of us that we're no longer comfortable with the notion of motherhood as normative.

Still having offspring is supposed to be normative even if our feelings don't always line up. It was God's idea for us to be "fruitful and multiply" even if we are so brainwashed to think otherwise. Raising children is hard but I think our present difficulties are compounded because we are encouraged in our world to be selfish with the notion of "choice" and the myriad of choices that offered to us.

The solution? The sacrificial love of our Lord Jesus Christ. The only antidote to our battles within. To fall before the cross and acknowledge our inability to be the parents we should be. But we have his grace to become the parents we were called to be... everyday... just a little... one step at a time.

We love... because He first loved us...

Back to Real Life

2011-10-26T07:35:00.000+10:00

I'm having a little trouble getting back into routine after convalescing for several weeks.
It's a lot like going on holidays for an extended period of time and having not such a bad time and then trying to get back into the grind of everyday stuff.

It's a bit like how I used to wonder about the companions on classic Who. For the uninitiated, Classic Who generally refers to the Doctor Who universe before Christopher Ecclestone.
Classic Who seldom... almost never really... revisited former companions. Watching the show transitioning from one companion to the next, I often wondered what happened to Barbara, Ian, Susan, Tegan, Romana, Sarah Jane, Alyssa, Leela etc etc

Susan and SJ came back in The Five Doctors but with no or litle reference to their current reality. Time travel can be confusing with all the time streams and odd planets but still...
How did these people cope with living in the humdrum of earth reality while having memories of travelling the galaxy and back in time with an eccentric Time Lord? And you couldn't tell anyone about it unless you wanted a one way ticket to Bedlam or its equivalent.

When we have kids, we are obliged to deal with reality head on a daily basis so that they have clean clothes to wear and food on the table. And in the case of the 10 year old, a bit of "encouragement" with homework. Contrary to what a physio once told me, they can't be left to their own devices. I shudder to think what would happen if they were.

4 year old came in this morning clockwork to remind me of her existence as she does every morning. It's a ritual she calls: "Mummy-I-Want-To-Say-Good-Morning".
That's after she's wandered into the kitchen looking for something to eat. She has a priorities all worked out, you see. After all, you can't say "good morning" on an empty stomach.
Despite all their propensity for make belief, children are fundamentally realists... when they're hungry, they're hungry. There's no fantasy that's going to convince them otherwise.

Good to Be Alive

2011-10-13T11:58:00.001+10:00

It's been almost 2 weeks since I underwent a hysterectomy and I'm deeply grateful to God that recovery has been on track. I am well aware that things can be a lot worse.
I am paranoid by inclination and was prepared for the eventuality that things can go south, especially when I've been stupidly watching Japanese medical dramas to kill time where most of the highwire action takes place in the operating theatre.

So what I have learnt from the last six weeks? Quite a lot actually. Some of which I already knew but there's nothing like the sledgehammer effect to carry a point across.

1) I learnt for the 100000000th time that God is good. Not just because I'm alive, not just because I didn't bleed to death and not just because I'm getting an unexpected holiday from housework.
God is good because He is. Because he works all things for the good of those who are called according to his purpose. Because when I went to hospital, I thought a lot more about Jesus... I thought a lot more about his grace and I thought a lot more about how he died for me so that I can live with him in heaven.

2) I learnt that I haven't really been taking care of myself healthwise. I haven't doing the little things like drinking water regularly and taking walks so as to be a more effective mum and child of God. And the big things too... like prioritizing and saying "no" when I need to.

3) I learnt that my Christianity community is my lifeline and I've come to depend so much on the people there these past weeks. For the first time in a very long time, I really felt LOVED.

4) I learnt that I have an amazing husband. Of course, I knew that already. But when the man in your life, the father of your children can find the same relief as you when one's own "internal plumbing" is functioning normally, I think it adds a new dimension to one's marriage. And really he's worked so hard to ensure that my general comfort levels have been of room service quality.

I am so blessed... I have never felt so blessed in my whole life.
All because of a single fibroid... that was a nuisance... that became a health hazard.

To God be the glory.

Appointment with Life

2011-09-23T20:40:00.000+10:00

This past week has turned out to be Appointment Week. And that has been both tiring and overwhelming.
Generally speaking I don't agree that ignorance is bliss but after a couple of sessions on pain relief, pre-op prep,and post-op recovery process, I'm beginning to wonder if there aren't some areas in life that the saying might just be applicable to.

Frankly, it's not that I want to be kept in the dark but there's so much to remember. Hence, I'm suffering from information overload stress. If you're thinking that I've got the nerves... you betcha I do...

Then there were the dental visits, which were needed obviously but I came away from them, a tad weary. Jaw stretching is strangely tiring and that somehow turned into a headache.

I daresay my body is in urgent need of repair and I'm glad that it's going to happen soon but having to bum around for 4-6 weeks is a tough call. Obviously I won't just be watching videos or reading... but will be doing plenty of post-op exercises and walking.

I'd be lying if I didn't say that I'm nervous but the Psalms have been a great comfort to me these past weeks. I didn't choose to read the Psalms... I follow a reading plan fairly loosely and this was the time allocated for the Psalms. Not everything that I read applied directly to my situation BUT everything I read spoke about a great sovereign Lord well-acquainted with the affairs of men.

I can't count the number of times that truth has sustained my soul.

Sounds from a Suburban Shopping Centre

2011-09-23T11:31:00.001+10:00

What do you do when you eat out and the result is not entirely to your satisfaction? Do you:

1) Spit the dummy and pontificate about your rights as a consumer within hearing of all the customers
2) Approach the staff and/or management and ask politely for a refund or another serving
3) Go quietly and swear never to come back again. And tell all your friends and rellies never to step foot in that place if they can help it.
4) Provide constructive criticism
5) Other

Depending on how dreadful the service or product was, I'm usually a 3 person. I may do 4 if asked. Occasionally 2.
Personally eating anywhere for the first time has some degree of risk... like watching movies you don't know anything about. Unless you get food poisoning or are paying $30 a head, I don't see the point of kicking up too much of a stink about it.

There's this insanely popular ramen place near our place and the queuing starts pretty early. Yesterday was my first visit there and we planned to do take away due to time constraints. So we sat around and waited for our order.
It's really odd when you think about it... quite likely because my standard of quality control is pretty low... that someone would create such a big fuss about the soup not being hot enough to threaten to call the cops. In all my years of eating out with frugal relatives, that was new even for me.
Talk about persistent... plenty of back and forth and microwave heating was a big "no, no..." apparently.
The waiter who was dealing with the loud, belligerent patron had this perpetually confused look on his face, unsure of what rock this customer had just emerged out of.

I was frankly quite embarrassed for everyone... I mean, really, a $14 bowl of noodle soup? Is it really necessary invoke the Australian constitution over it?

Expectations are a funny thing.

Cleaning

2011-09-17T08:27:00.000+10:00

My dirt and untidy tolerance levels have been sorely tested the last couple of weeks.
Not that I'm a cleaning Nazi by any stretch of the imagination. Far from it.
Still, looked pretty bad there for about a week.
Having to restrain oneself from doing housework during the period of recovery has been hard especially when the husband was in agony over a bad foot for about a week. Gout was probably the first thing on most people's minds but fortunately it hasn't come to that... yet. Two courses of anti-biotics later, the inflammation seems to have eased considerably.

The 10 year old has been sporadically helpful with the vacuuming when she's not demanding payment or quietly hinting at accumulated wages owed to her. She says she's saving up for those here-today-and-gone-tomorrow Smiggle stationery packs. Sigh.

Well, at least she's motivated by something.

Little by little, the place is looking a lot more civilized.
Guess what... I cleaned the sinktops on Thursday!

Our job would be made A LOT easier if the the 4 year old would stop dumping unwanted food on the floor in that sneaky Gollum-like manner. The chooks are pretty handy in that regarding, now acting as her new rubbish disposal unit. Anything organic that doesn't meet with her approval goes to the birds.

I have been mighty thankful at the kindness of people at my church and from my MOPS group. Our family's been very blessed by the home cooked meals that we've been receiving from that quarter. It's been so immensely helpful... incalculable, really. I am so grateful to God and his people for this outpouring of grace and kindness during our time of need.

And thanks also to those who have been praying. I feels so much fortified knowing that you're standing shoulder to shoulder with me.

Cucina of Italy

2011-09-16T09:48:00.000+10:00

The husband took me out to a really lovely Italian place for lunch yesterday and I'm still salivating at the thought of how good the bruschetta was. The restaurant, named Cucina of Italy, boasts an authentic Italian menu. Whether it is authentic, is beyond my level of expertise but the dishes were delicious and substantial.

The interior, I also found warm and endearing... reminded me of those cafe scenes from Roman Holiday.

The husband ordered a veal ravioli, while I had a beef lasagne. But the pierce de resistance was the garlic bruschetta pizza. Oh golly... bread and tomatoes never tasted so good together.

By the end of the meal we were stuffed porkers. Really stuffed. The waiter, who recommended the bruschetta offered us some lemon tart imported directly from Italy. I looked at him and thought... you gotta be kidding...
But the tart did look good.
Maybe next time... when I haven't hoed through 4 slices of bruschetta as appetizer and struggle to finish a large helping of lasagne.

Cucina of Italy is located at Sunny Park Shopping Centre, McCullough Rd, Sunnybank.

And no... nobody paid me to write this review... *sob*

Spectacles

2011-09-11T19:48:00.000+10:00

I woke up this morning unable to find my glasses in the usual places. I don't remember if it's because I fell asleep with them on or whether I took them off and put them on top of my princess-and-the-pea type arrangement of blankets and doonas.
Groping around is a good interim measure but not for more detailed activities. I can read (more or less) without them but I couldn't do much else without them. In a few years I expect I will be graduating to graduated lenses, going the way of my parents.

Not wanting to turn this into a mid-life lament, I will say that aging is not normally something that occupies my headspace despite health issues. When lethargy grips, I blame it on stress, a lack of exercise or lack of sleep, though not necessarily in that order. Who thinks about aging when the kiddies are still so young?

But when one hits 40, it seems that the moving parts start to break down. Espeically those bits and pieces that's tucked away under the skin and we're happy to have them that way.
The husband, who was diagnosed with an infected food, was half joking the other day that we've both hit the magic number. Such a sorry pair we were.

In a few weeks, all being well, I will be having surgery. It'll be my first.
How do I feel? I'm not sure. A part of me wishes it was all over, a part of me knows I have to do this and a tiny part of me is a tad jittery when I look at all the pre-admission paperwork.

We are such frail creatures.

Ten Minute Tales: Perfect Day

2011-09-05T20:46:00.000+10:00

A friend put me on to the Ten Minute Tales series and I stumbled onto this one first.
I found it humorous and deeply moving. Pass it on to your friends. It's not quite ten minutes...

Waiting... waiting...

2011-09-04T21:26:00.000+10:00

A lot of people have asked me how I feel... how I'm coping... Hence, the update.
I slept. A LOT. During the first two days back home, that is.
My head feels a lot better and after a good night's sleep, it feels quite normal. But from time to time, when reality hits, I feel that I'm living on knife's edge with only the medication acting as a dam and keeping the nasty stuff at bay. When I feel a twinge here and a smiddgen of a cramp there, the heart beats just a little faster. Not in romantic fashion unfortunataely.

All that happened to me last weekend feels like a series of bad scenes from ER. No where nearly as frenetic obviously. But messy. Very messy.
Now that that part of it is over, I feel like the outsider looking in, glad that hospitals are there when you need them but not somewhere one hangs out for the fun of it. I was tired the entire I was there that I mostly see flashes of images and people I met at the hospital, remembering snippets of conversation here and there.

I've been spending a lot of time in bed, not sure what to do with myself. DVDs, books fill up my days.
Occasionally, I feel like I'm living through an intermezzo just waiting for the month to go by and so I can get to the surgery so life can be normal again.

Now when I think about things, I wonder why I wasn't more afraid at the time. True, there was a single moment I was afraid... when the headaches and dizziness got really bad and I finally decided I HAD to go to the hospital. But since then I've been generally at peace with the universe.
That quote from C.S. Lewis, has been unexpectedly helpful. And yet I know that there is nothing unexpected in the omniscience of divine providence. There are no interruptions to life because what happens is the reality of life.

I've been reading Randy Alcorn's collaborative effort with the late, great Charles Spurgeon on heaven, We Shall See God and it's given me new thoughts on the future. In one particular chapter, Spurgeon observes that:

Those in Heaven are blessed, but they have not had their public entrance. They are waiting till their Lord shall descend from Heaven with a shout, with the trump of the archangel and the voice of God. Then their bodies shall rise; then the world shall be judged; [...]

For this fulfillment the believing heart is panting, groaning, and sighing.

A Christian's experience is like a rainbow made up of drops of the griefs of Earth and beams of the happiness of Heaven. It is a checkered scene, a garment of many colours. He is sometimes in the light and sometimes in the dark.

The text says, "We groan." [Romans 8:22-23] It is not the hypocrite's groan, when he goes mourning everywhere, wanting to make people believe he is a saint because he is wretched. We groan within ourselves. Our sighs are sacred things these griefs and sighs are too hallowed for us to tell abroad in the streets. We keep our longings to our Lord, and to our Lord alone.

IT appears from the text that this groaning is universal among the saints: there are no exceptions. To a greater or lesser extent we all feel it. [...] (Alcorn and Spurgeon, 2011, We Shall See God, Illinois: Tyndale House, Day 3)

In and Out of Hospital

2011-08-31T10:32:00.000+10:00

Dear Friend and Blog Reader

If you've been on Facebook or talking to someone in the know, you'll be aware that I've been in and out of hospital this past weekend.

Frankly I'm glad to be back home where I'll be catching up on sleep. Hospitals are noisy, brightly-lit places, not conducive to having proper rest. Aside from that, one gets poked, prodded and jabbed at regular intervals which isn't my idea of a good time. I spent the entire weekend attached to a drip pole, with which I tangoed and tangled.

Nonetheless, on hindsight, I am glad that I did present myself at the Emergency ward at the QE 2 hospital on Saturday evening. By that time I was badly anaemic and was feeling dizzy and nauseous. I had been bleeding profusely (private women's business) and had apparently lost more blood than was good for me.

At about 3 on Sunday morning, the decision was made that I should have a blood transfusion as my red blood cell count was around 54 which was considered dangerously low by the medicos.

The first lot of transfusion given took to me to a RBC of about 65 which was better than it had been but not good enough to go home with.

Last evening I was meant to have another 2 units but stopped after the first bag, as I started, oddly enough, to have an allergic, hay-fever like, reaction. Fortunately, in spite of the drama, I managed to attain a better than pass mark of 81.

To cut through all the scientific mumbo jumbo, the bottom line is that I will need surgery (hysterectomy) in a month's time. Ordinarily that kind of surgery isn't a big deal but because my red blood cell count has been so low I will need to build it up between now and the surgery.

I'm currently on iron supplements and bleeding suppressing drugs. My hysterectomy is scheduled for the 30 September which is about month's time.

I am asking for prayer because the blood count thing is crucial for this to happen.

Last Thursday, a goodly number from my church went to hear John Piper preach about the unwasted life. Ironically, the bleeding took a turn for the worst on that evening. But even more amazing was how relevant Piper's words became to my situation. I thought a lot about them as I heard the medicos speaking in low tones in triage in rhythm with the beeping of the heart monitor. Utterly weary that night, I thanked God for his mercy... that I got to hospital at just the right time.

Piper reminded us with characteristic sobriety and passion that night about how fragile life is... I was reminded of it all too poignantly in a real life situation. More importantly Piper reminded us that the unwasted life, in the good times and the bad, is the life that brings glory to God.

I am writing this to ask for prayer in the following areas:

That the bleeding will stop without the need for such a high dosage of drugs
I will be going in for a blood test next week and hopefully that will show a good result
The red blood cell count will reach the hundred mark or more
That my health will be good generally between now and the surgery.
That the surgery will progress smoothly with no long term dramas.

Thanks for taking the time to read... I'm counting on you to back me up...

God bless

Lilian

Geeking Out: Captain America

2011-08-24T21:36:00.000+10:00

I suppose everyone takes away something from a movie that they watch and for someone like me, who has been trained to do textual analysis, it's second nature to plough around for ideology, politics or philosophy. While that's usually fun for me, at the end of the day, I, like most people, go to the movies to be entertained.
When I look at something that's conventional like Captain America, it makes me happy. It relieves me that things like friendship, loyalty, determination, service to one's country... universal values... are still celebrated in certain quarters. Especially when we consider what's been happening in places like London and Norway.
It's comforting to know that ordinary people can make a difference by the simple values that they hold. The case in point: Capt. America aka Steve Rogers becomes a superhero not because he is talented or skilled or even strong. But the values that he holds dear and true are what makes him rise to the occasion. His resilience and courage, not his newfound strength, is what drives him to acts of bravery. That line at the end, "I'm just a boy from Brooklyn" said it all.

It's fashionable among our intellectual elites to pooh pooh such notions which they've done for decades. But they are part of the fundamentals that have held societies together. Another thing that's become unfashionable to talk about in our time is the idea of evil.

Someone asked me recently why I follow the superhero genre. (On screen, at least) Well, it's pretty simple. There are good guys and there are bad guys... and justice is brought to bear. Sure, the good guys are flawed but at the end of the day, they know there's something called "right and wrong" and they do what needs to be done. No one seems more certain of it than Capt. America.

And the satisfaction of seeing baddies trammelled, blown up or getting their just desserts in a myriad of creative ways cannot be uttered in words.

I pop my head up and take a quick look around...

2011-08-24T20:39:00.000+10:00

The past two-three weeks have been rough... physically... I've been lying horizontally more than I would like.
Fatigue mostly... punctuated by days where I've had the distinct impression that my body is fighting something. Like yesterday...
Frequent sleeplessness and interrupted sleep hasn't helped.
To add to that... 2 sick kids in the same weekend... contracting two different types of bugs. Odd, wouldn't you say?

It started off looking like a busy month... and yet I think, God in his providence has been slowing me down. I've focused all my energy on being well for 3 things -- the annual MOPS conference, Worship Leading and the John Piper Brisbane visit.

Thinking about this has reminded me of something I read in a chatty time management type book called Shopping for Time. It's alright as far as these things go but hasn't got a whole lot that I haven't already read elsewhere. BUT, BUT, BUT... there's a C.S. Lewis quote in there that is just gold... It has to do with what we normally think of as "interruptions" to life.

The great thing, if one can, is to stop regarding all the unpleasant things as interruptions of one's "own" or "real" life. The truth is of course that what one calls the interruptions are precisely one's real life -- the life God is sending one day by day: what one calls one's "real life" is a phantom of one's own imagination. This at least is what I see at moments of insight;;but it's hard to remember it all the same. ("The Letters of C.S. Lewis to Arthur Greeves, 20 December, 1943," in The Quotable Lewis, [Wheaton: Tyndale, 1989], 355.

This piece of searing insight has really changed me. It has made me rethink about what I've called my hopes and dreams and the minor disappointments of having to put them on hold. As a mum, I've needed to come to grips with interruptions as a reality of my life now.
Interruptions, I'm also beginning to see, have their purpose... and they're not as purposeless as one might imagine.

But I'd be lying if I didn't say that seeing the world with Mummy Eyes is challenging. For me, at least, it goes against the grain.

Home

2011-08-15T14:17:00.000+10:00

I'm completely whacked. Arrived home from the MOPS conference mid afternoon feeling the effects from a bad night. Friends invited us out to dinner which was lovely. Don't think I could have got dinner together even though I had enjoyed a weekend of non-cooking.
A friend from MOPS drove us home. It was tremendous fun to be with cheery companions yakking about children, husbands, bad driving, cane toads. In short, life. What is it about men and tailgating, we wondered as we exchanged horror stories of sitting in front with our other halves in the driver's seat.
With such scintillating conversation to be had, the journey home seemed like no time at all.

Best part about coming home is seeing the kiddies run up and screaming "Mum... you're home! We missed you!"
Hugs all round.
A mummy perk only mummies get.
Really thought they would be relieved at not having me around for a weekend nagging at them.
I reckon I should go away more often on my own.

Perspective

2011-08-12T13:03:00.001+10:00

It hit me the other day that that those of us who are parents need to stand back a bit and gain some perspective on our children from time to time. Often when one is so close to the action, there's a tendency to dwell on the negatives. Maybe that's just moi.

A couple of nights ago, the husband and I went out to the movies, which is rarer than you might think. We were blessed to have a babysitter who seemed to be amused by the children's antics. When we got home after a fine night's entertainment, I thanked our babysitter who responded that the girls were "good" and she had genuinely enjoyed her time with them.
My first thought was... well, she's probably just being polite... but when she said it again with pointed sobriety, I was more inclined to believe her.

When I thought about it later it occurred to me that while I'm not exactly raising sugar and spice and everything nice, the girls really aren't all that bad.

Often parenting feels like a war. We battle with the strong willed child, we battle with the placid child and then we battle with our own desires. If you have sleep issues like I do, half the time you feel wearied by the whole parenting shtick and somedays you're barely surviving.
It's tough to keep things in perspective. Sure, the kids do have a bent toward doing their own thing and at various times they conveniently become hearing impaired, speech challenged and sight impaired.

During such times it is so easy to take things personally. I mean, how dare they, right?

During such times, one must take a few gulpfuls of breath, take a few steps back and repeat mantra like: They're only children, they're only children, they're only children...
It's not as bad as it looks, it's not as bad as it looks, it's not as bad as it looks...

Better still quote 2 Corinthians 4:17
"For our light and momentary troubles are achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs them all."

It's Official... We're a Pet Owning Family

2011-08-10T06:59:00.001+10:00

Speaking of keeping chimps as house pets, it sort of occurred to me that I haven't talked about this latest development in our mundane suburban life.
Yup, we have now joined the ranks of hundreds and thousands of households across the land to become pet owners.
No, we haven't adopted chimpanzees... can't imagine that's legal in any country or practical. Unless, of course you're Michael Jackson. And then you're above the law... apparently.

So we have ourselves some chicks which we brought home from kindy. I've managed to resist the clamour for years but now that the young 'uns look like they might be able to take some responsibility in this department, the husband and I thought, well, why not? And the thought of getting fresh eggs daily is very attractive...
Well, there's no guarantee as yet that we will.
It will be a day of weeping here when one or more them turn out to be roosters. If all three turn out to be roosters, ah... chickies... it's been nice knowing you. (Yeah, it will be a tragedy quite possibly of Shakespearean proportions)

Meanwhile, we wait... and watch with baited breath.
They're becoming bigger everyday. Soon the box they're pecking around in will become too small. If it isn't all ready.

Everyday the 10 year old comes home from school and ask, "Are they still alive?"

The black one's Silky, the yellow one's Goldie and the brownish one I named Foghorn. 10 year old now wants to call the black one Midnight.
Children... sigh...
Ah well, we'll see.

Rise of the Planet of the Apes (2011)

2011-08-05T22:40:00.002+10:00

I'm back from watching the new Planet of Da Apes prequel. Before I go on I will say that I watched it with four other women from my church representing different demographic groups and... surprise, surprise... they all said they enjoyed it, despite thinking that it might turn out to be a horror flick.

Now, you might think that yours truly here is a sci-fi fan so yeah, duh... you'd like that kind of stuff... But while yes, it is a science fiction piece there's a lot of heart in this and dare I say it, there's also a little something that touches the mother in me.

Going in, I half expected the film to be a kind of Terminator meets King Kong type of film. While there is that whole "man should not play God" aspect to it, it's not preachy. The story, instead, chooses to focus on notions of family and individual freedom.

Will Rodmanis a highly driven scientist who is working on a radical cure for Alzheimer's and potentially other neurological conditions. His need to succeed lies close to home... his own father. Charles,has fallen victim to Alzheimer's and is deteriorating fast. The cure is an experimental virus. After a mishap at the laboratory, Will is forced to stop his research and the star "guinea pig", a female chimpanzee runs amok. When the star "guinea pig", female chimpanzee runs amok causing a mishap at the lab, Will is forced to stop his research. Unbeknownst to all, she had given birth to an adorable young chimp who is later named Caesar for Julius Caesar by Charles, a Shakespearean quoting piano teacher.

Will and Charles become a surrogate family to the winsome childlike chimp. Still, adorable little chimps grow up into apes... and if you know where The Planet of the Ape stories end up... you'll have an inkling of where this all goes.

While I won't call it scary, there are several jump-out-of-my-seat moments. There's a fair bit of growling, snarling (teeth showing), chest-thumping, several species of primates swinging and jumping from great heights... which boils down to apes doing ape stuff.

It's not a perfect film but what film is. Pacing feels a bit off at times but it doesn't take away from the overall strength of the film. The apes are terrific though, so incredibly lifelike.
I hear that the ape rendering was done by the talented people at Weta Digital -- the NZ mob who did the CGI for Lord of the Rings. They've done an amazing job and the human being behind Caesar is da incredibly versatile, Andy Serkis, who was the body and voice behind the jumping and hissing Gollum in LOTR.

Credit: Newsarama

And yes, I'm pretty sure there will be a sequel.

Especially if they make pots of money.

I Sit, Drink Tea and Watch Them Play

2011-08-05T17:46:00.000+10:00

Those indoor play centres must be one of the business world's great gifts to mothers. I won't name names... no one's paying me for endorsements or giving me freebies to say this. Therefore, I'm saying it with undeniable conviction. Very heartfelt, I assure you.
Sure it's not free... (I did say "business") but at the end of the two or three hours, I always feel that it is money well-spent. Especially with coupons.
I'm not saying that I would go to one everyday... although if I were married to a fellow pulling an income in the realm of six or seven figures I might be tempted to do so. It's gotta be cheaper than hiring a nanny.
But really, I don't need to do this everyday.

I think of it as a mummy perk.
As a stay-at-home mum, the labour I contribute as a domestic engineer to Husband and Kids Inc., according to the feminist eggheads, is unpaid.
Yeah, but they're missing the point though. What other job in the world would allow a woman to sip tea and read at a cafe in safe environment for children to run riot in?
Not too many, I would imagine. And yes, it was a rhetorical question.

Mothering is undoubtedly a labour of love but even I will admit that with some planning and thought, there are benefits to be had.

I love the free market.... while we still have it.

Dr Zhivago

2011-07-27T21:00:00.000+10:00

I was hoping to write this up a few days ago but life, you know, gets in the way. Mostly... I'm just knackered at the end of the day.

Last Friday evening, the husband and I caught a bus into town and went to see a live performance of Dr Zhivago at the Lyric Theatre here in Brisbane. It was a belated anniversary outing. We almost didn't make it... long story... but we got there, huffing and puffing, with 5 measley minutes to spare. Admittedly, it was my bright idea to catch a bus into town because the last time we tried to get out of Southbank parking (Star Wars Ep 3, I think it was), we were trapped for 30 minutes in an underground car park because a multitude of cars all had the same notion. Unfortunately, buses being what they are here... completely unreliable... So I was relieved beyond words that I didn't have to miss the first act.

If you've never read the book or seen the film, Dr Zhivago is set during pre-revolutionary and Bolshevik Russia. It's a tragic tale about a doctor-poet and his ill-fated love affair with a passionate woman.

Before I go on any further, I have to say that I've never found Pasternak's novel my cup of tea. I've tried to read it a couple of times... but for some reason, I've never been able to get into it. Youthful ignorance perhaps. Hence, I went to the show purely on the strength of Anthony Warlow's singing talents. (The last time I saw him on stage was for Annie and that was 10 years ago)

I've decided after Friday that I still don't like the story but it doesn't mean that Dr Zhivago, the stage production is to be avoided like the plague. Artistically, the production values were high and the talent was something to behold. Music was likeable but nothing especially memorable. At the end of the day, it seemed to us, that it wasn't about the music but the story and characters. And the history. Now, for that alone the show rose several notches in my estimation .

After thinking it through and wondering about my reaction to the show, I came to the conclusion that I didn't really care about Yurii Zhivago or Lara. I gather that you're supposed to be all weepy that theirs is a love that cannot be. By now, all of us sophisticated, jaded modern types know that "tragic love affair" is really code for adultery. Okay... they have an adulterous relationship and it's okay because... well... she's his muse. Without her, Yurii would never be the great poet that he becomes. Even his poor, long-suffering wife admits it.
Ho hum...
But it isn't just the adultery itself that irks me, it's Yurii too. Despite regurgitating the mantra, that the strength of a man is in his mind or some such thing... he comes across as being rather wishy washy. Or tortured... code word for indecisive. No... I didn't connect emotionally with the character.. code phrase for... I didn't like him much.

Lara... I dunno. I didn't dislike her but she felt unidimensional, code word for flat. There's this great symbolic scene where 3 of the men who have loved her grace the stage together and croon about love. It summed up her role in the narrative to perfection. She was the catalyst to some major event in their lives... they loved her passion and she inadvertently changed their lives.

Ironically, the person I found most compelling was Pasha, the working class revolutionary idealist that Lara marries. Make no mistake, I despise his politics but as a person, he was the least hypocritical. He took his ideas to their logical conclusion and turned into a monster. Clearly the revolution was his big revenge on the "middle class" and their dissolute existence. In other words, he did it all... for her because she was the victim of bourgeois greed and lust.

That, I thought was interesting. Apparently sin is a class issue. (Don't remember reading that in the Bible.) At least in the mind of the revolutionary seeking a righteous mandate for his cause, it's an attractive way to frame the argument. He wanted to rid the world of sin and failed to grasp that he himself was the problem. Well, his intentions were good, right? That should be enough, right?
Hooray for the blindness of an idealist.

Here was I thinking that sin is rebellion against God which is the root cause for all our sins. But then it has always been easier to see the speck in another's eye than the log in our own.

The Importance of Reading to Your Child

2011-07-23T11:24:00.001+10:00

In a previous post, I mentioned that I've been doing a bit of private tutoring and it's triggered a few thoughts about literacy.
I want to plead with those of you who are parents, especially if you have younger children, to expend every effort on broadening their literacy skills through reading even if it isn't one of their great passions in life. Perhaps, it's becoming something of a cliche and you've become weary of hearing it but as someone with teaching background, I can emphatically say that it really is one of the most important skills you can impart to your children. Especially in this so-called "information age".

The lady that I'm helping right now will be attempting an international English exam for a second time and desperately needs to boost her reading results in a major way. Listening to her lifestory of how she's sidestepped the entire process in her reading development has brought home to me again how important it is that children have a good headstart with their literacy skills whatever their first language might be.

Reading isn't just a school skill... it's a life skill. Even if it's just for 10 minutes a day in our hectic lives. A good foundation will give them something to build on even if they don't end up in tertiary education.
It isn't just about recognizing words, it's also about processing knowledge and ideas.
It's also about training the brain "muscles" to learn in a particular fashion.
It can also help stimulate the imagination and encourage creativity.

Find something... anything appropriate... that your child will read. I know it's hard. Some children seem to be naturally repulsed by books or be indifferent to them. However, I've noticed that the range of graphic novels have expanded over the last decade. 10 year old was reading a Nancy Drew graphic novel yesterday (I didn't even know there was such a thing) but 10 year old is like her mum and dad... she reads almost anything.

More importantly, however, (even if it's a magazine or the local rag) you need to read and be seen to read because that says to them that reading is an activity worth engaging in.

Self Esteem Gone Astern

2011-07-21T21:53:00.001+10:00

I've never really bought into the self-esteem movement especially as it relates to parenting and children. Perhaps it's my upbringing showing forth its stripes but it always seemed to me that self-esteem as pop psychology was more about massaging egos rather than a properly conceived philosophy in teaching children resilience against the stark realities of life. More importantly, there doesn't seem to be any biblical basis for it. I imagine that it came about primarily as a reaction to authoritarian forms of parenting, paired with the notion that "being happy" is the ultimate goal in life.

Lori Gottlieb, a psychotherpist has written an engaging article questioning some cherished notions of happiness-based parenting published in The Atlantic recently. As this goes to the core of culture and conventional wisdom, I expect that it will and has raised hackles. Here's an extract:

A few months ago, I called up Jean Twenge, a co-author of The Narcissism Epidemic and professor of psychology at San Diego State University, who has written extensively about narcissism and self-esteem. She told me she wasn’t surprised that some of my patients reported having very happy childhoods but felt dissatisfied and lost as adults. When ego-boosting parents exclaim “Great job!” not just the first time a young child puts on his shoes but every single morning he does this, the child learns to feel that everything he does is special. Likewise, if the kid participates in activities where he gets stickers for “good tries,” he never gets negative feedback on his performance. (All failures are reframed as “good tries.”) According to Twenge, indicators of self-esteem have risen consistently since the 1980s among middle-school, high-school, and college students. But, she says, what starts off as healthy self-esteem can quickly morph into an inflated view of oneself—a self-absorption and sense of entitlement that looks a lot like narcissism. In fact, rates of narcissism among college students have increased right along with self-esteem.

Meanwhile, rates of anxiety and depression have also risen in tandem with self-esteem. Why is this? “Narcissists are happy when they’re younger, because they’re the center of the universe,” Twenge explains. “Their parents act like their servants, shuttling them to any activity they choose and catering to their every desire. Parents are constantly telling their children how special and talented they are. This gives them an inflated view of their specialness compared to other human beings. Instead of feeling good about themselves, they feel better than everyone else.”(p.3)

Definitely worth reading.

God Talk: Striving After the Wind 2

2011-07-21T15:43:00.000+10:00

As someone who has been wondering for the past 5 months where God is leading me to, Ecclesiastes has been a Godsend.
On the surface, it's an odd sort of book to be included in the canon of Scripture... pessimisstic rantings and ravings of a philosopher-king disillusioned with his wealth, achievements and relationships. How low can you sink without sinking into the "depths of despair"?
It's a rhetorical question, of course but as someone who has wallowed and groped around in the "depths of despair", I can speak to the dark places that the human mind can find itself in.

Ecclesiastes is, in short, a pride buster or killer or exterminator -- which ever word takes your fancy. Life's too short to waste on bragging.

I don't see how else one can read it. I'm no Que Sera Sera fatalist but there is a sense whereby we are piddly little beings and not always in control of our circumstances. There are things that happen to us that we just have not a lot of control over. Many things happen around us that defy belief or common sense. But they happen, nonetheless.
That's just one aspect.
And then there's our achievements, our talents, our skills. The world around us tells us we have something to be proud of when we gain worldly success. I remember going through a phase in my life when I landed my first real teaching job after being a perennial student. I was excited and not a little fearful to be gainfully employed. During that initial idealistic phase I believed that if I could prove myself in that job, I would have attained something of importance in my short life.
Of course, that's the sort of thinking that ends in tears. I was pretty disillusioned after about a year. While I liked what I was doing, buoyed by the trickle of compliments that I got for doing it, the build-up wasn't all it was cracked up to be.
I learnt quickly that we aren't supposed to find meaning in our jobs -- it's something we do and not what we are. Jobs keep us in breakfast cereals, dead animals and help pay the bills. Occasionally we meet people we really like and build friendships in those situations. God may at his pleasure, grant us opportunities to share the good news of Jesus Christ to our workmates.

But they're not to be our raison d'etre.

Ecclesiastes 3 reminds us also that there are seasons in life. There are times when something may be right/ripe but not at other times. That is for me, I think, one of the hardest lessons in life to embrace.

I'll be honest and say that I've been wanting desperately to go back to work. I felt ready earlier in the year to do so but the doors haven't open for me. The industry in which I worked previously is at a low point and not much recruiting seems to be going on.
However, in the last couple of months I feel like I'm coming out of some kind of semi-depressed state. I'm doing some volunteer English teaching. I've taken on a couple of private tutoring jobs which I had previously resisted doing and I see more and more that I'm meant to be at home for the children and the husband.
There is a sense of freedom for me in that realization. To be busy in what I knew in my heart was necessary and really I didn't need a zap of lightning from heaven to know that the welfare of my family should be a priority especially when 4 year old is still a 4 year old.

I don't know what the next year will bring. Perhaps more of the same.While I'm open to any new opportunities I'll continue to do what I need to do because keeping busy in my case is better than wondering what might have been.

A Typical Day

2011-07-19T21:32:00.001+10:00

Last week I came up with the bright idea of breaking down my week. As a stay-at-home mother, it's often frustrating how quickly the day goes by and one is left wondering where all the minutes and hours went to. I'd been thinking too that I wasn't on top of things like housework and wondered how much time I actually spent on it. It's so easy to procrastinate when there's no one to be accountable to. So I did it the old fashioned way... it's almost as if I haven't left school sometimes... made up a time table and saw the spaces fill up far too readily.

I found this exercise immensely helpful as it exposed to me my actual priorities and my stewardship (or lack) of time. Kind of galling to see it in technicolour (that was deliberate) but the results were not entirely surprising. Stuff like time spent on internet or watching videos etc etc.

I've made a few changes and am still tweaking things. Problem is... my weeks vary quite a fair bit and I've taken on a bit of tutoring. How to fit it all in...

A Typical Week: Before

Monday	Tuesday	Wednesday	Thursday	Friday	Saturday	Sunday
QT: 30 mins	QT: 30 mins	QT: 30 mins	QT: 30 mins	QT: 30 mins	QT: 30 mins	QT: 30 mins
English Convo Class : 3 hours	Housework: 1 hour	MOPS/Susannah: 4 hours	Housework: 1 hour	Playgroup: 3 hours	Housework: 2 hours	Church: 4 hours
Housework: 1 hour	Media	Media	Media	Lunch: 30 mins	Media
Lunch: 30 mins	Lunch: 30 mins	Lunch: 30 mins	Lunch: 30 mins	Media	Lunch: 30 mins	Lunch: 1 hour
		Housework: 1 hour
Media	Media	Swimming 2 hours	Media		Media	In-Laws: 3 hours
Homework: 1 hour	Homework: 1 hour	Homework: 1 hour	Homework: 1 hour	Homework: 1 hour
Meal Prep: 2 hours	Meal Prep: 2 hours	Meal Prep: 2 hours	Meal Prep: 2 hours	Meal Prep: 2 hours	Meal Prep: 2 hours	Meal Prep: 2 hours
Media	Preparation for MOPS: 2 hours	Bible Study: 2 hours	Media	Home Group: 2.5 hours	Media	Media
Blogging	Blogging	Blogging	Blogging		Blogging

Children, They Ask

2011-07-17T21:28:00.001+10:00

Just the other day, we were on our way to playgroup and the 4 year old at the back of the car noticed a bicycle atop a little hatchback. She asked, "Why is there a bicycle on the car, mum?"
I wondered... Is she asking me an epistemological question? Or an ontological question? An aesthetic question?
Does she really want to know why? Does she find it aesthetically displeasing -- the oddity of the bicycle on another vehicle jarring? Or perhaps she's looking for a scientific explanation... of how the bicycle can physically stay on top of a car without falling off...
So I give the shortcut mummy answer, "The person driving the car wants to take their bicycle somewhere far away so this is the best way. So they don't have to ride their bicycle a long, long way."
She seemed satisfied with the answer.
Or maybe she was delighted to get any answer.

Earlier in the evening, the husband tells the 4 year old that it's time for a shower and so she asks,
"Why do I have to go first?"
I wonder to myself... Is she:
a) trying to stall for time
b) protesting injustice
c) thinking that her status in the family has been elevated

So I give the shortcut mummy answer, "Because Daddy asked you to."

Oddly enough she seemed happy with the answer.

God Talk: Striving After the Wind

2011-07-14T22:05:00.000+10:00

(This is first in a series of posts about the book of Ecclesiastes, which is currently part of my Bible reading plan)

During my high school days, I stumbled onto this wonderful classic in the great canon of Chinese literature:

Or maybe it was this one...

Or this...

Pictures helped... A LOT. Hey, there are over 600 names and hundreds of military engagements mentioned in this work. Me with my below average high school Chinese... Well... there was no way at the time or even now, that I could've have read this monumental work of historical fiction in its orignal form. And the tribute poems would have slain me. In terms of its dramatis personae, it's far lengthier than Lord of the Rings but despite the weighy aims of the project it still manages to effectively capture the reader's imagination. I noticed elsewhere that it's been hailed the Illiad of Chinese literature. That's no comparison, the Three Kingdoms is better.

Maybe it was just the pictures that brough it alive to me. Besides, in those dim dark days of my misspent youth I was more interested in American television than I was in Chinese lit. Anything to lure me into reading the good stuff (albeit second hand) was probably worth its weight in gold. It's a bit of a mystery now as to how I tumbled onto it... through a classmate perhaps... but the engrossing exploits of some of China's greatest military strategists have stayed with me.

Especially this one: Zhuge Liang (I've had a lifelong infatuation with him).

Apparently half of his exploits in the book were "grossly exaggerated" which was a bit of a let down because they should have happened.

And his various television incarnations:

I've been mulling over the Three Kingdoms mythos of late because I've been following the most recent television adaptation. It's such a slow moving piece of television and yet I find myself drawn to the testosterone charged environment -- the political wheeling and dealing, the battlefield strategms, the power grabs and the oneupmanship. It isn't just about connivance... there's death defying courage, comaraderie, unwavering loyalty and exemplary leadership to admire also.
For about a hundred years, men battled for hegemony at the end of a waning dynasty, torn apart by corruption at the highest levels and internal power struggles. Consequently, the country was carved into 3 kingdoms by warlords and held tentatively by brilliant and in large measure, capable men. However, as soon as they shuffled off their mortal coil, the powerbases that they had painstakingly built gave way. Their vision for reunification never took hold. Lesser men followed and the last of the great men standing became the ancestor to a new dynastic regime.
In light of history, all the carnage and connivances came to naught. All their efforts were in vain. These characters achieved greatness in their own right but as far as the ultimate goal of reunification was concerned, they had failed. Ironically, because there were so many smart guys around at the time vying for equal honours, the goal for reunification became unattainable.

Vanity of vanities, says the Preacher,
vanity of vanities! All is vanity.

Coincidentally (or perhaps not), I've been reading the book of Ecclesiates this past week and the parallels between the two narratives are compelling. The Three Kingdoms works as a perfect analogy of the that kind of existential crisis which the author of Ecclesiastes bemoans.

What has been is what will be,
and what has been done is what will be done,
and there is nothing new under the sun. (Ecclesiastes 1:9 ESV)

One can't help reading Ecclesiastes... on the surface level at least... without feeling a tad depressed. What is the point in anything if everything ends up in dust?

I have seen everything that is done under the sun, and behold, all is vanity and a striving after wind. (Ecclesiastes 1:14 ESV)
I read Ecclesiastes in two ways. Firstly, as a philosophical treatise on the futility of life. Secondly, reading it in light of the gospel, I see it as a reminder that the good news of Jesus Christ, the Creator gives eternal meaning to our endeavours. The impulse in men is to build, to conquer and to leave a legacy but given the shortness of our time on earth, can we achieve anything of lasting value?

Qoheleth (title of our disillusioned philosopher), translated Preacher in our Bibles, was not too different to one of those smart guys mentioned earlier:

So I became great and surpassed all who were before me in Jerusalem. Also my wisdom remained with me. And whatever my eyes desired I did not keep from them. I kept my heart from no pleasure, for my heart found pleasure in all my toil, and this was my reward for all my toil. Then I considered all that my hands had done and the toil I had expended in doing it, and behold, all was vanity and a striving after wind, and there was nothing to be gained under the sun. (Ecclesiastes 2:9-11 ESV)

Despite his public achievements, his wealth and his personal gains, there's a lurking dissatisfaction in the Preacher's soul. It is depressing... to possess everything that is humanly possible to do so and then to realize later that in reality, one has nothing.

So being talented, rich, wise, successful and attractive is transcient? Why bother with anything?

So where to from here?

This Mum Needs Grace

2011-07-14T19:23:00.000+10:00

Gasp... wheeze... puff...
This mum is need of grace... and exercise, no doubt. A little exertion and I'm undone.
It's back to swimming next week methinks.

Sadly, there is no end to housework... and by golly, I miss my childhood every time I look at my "To Do" list, reminiscing over a time when we lived in a multigenerational household with grandma, cousins and aunty where labour was lightened and divided through job sharing.

Yesterday, I unofficially designated Wednesday as "Clean-Up with 4 year old" Day. Since there's no chance of any rest for either of us in the afternoons after MOPS, I decided that it's a good opportunity to get some cleaning done in the children's bedroom. I tried unsuccessfully to turn it into a game as the entire activity progressed at snail's pace. Kids, perhaps universally, demonstrate their disapproval for housework by dragging their feet. Yeah, so there was plenty of feet dragging. But at least we made some noticeable difference under the bed and on the floor.,

I was super tired yesterday, yawning incessantly on my way home from MOPS. Don't know why though when I slept unusually well. Got up... felt reasonably energetic, roused the troops and started making dumplings for MOPS. I think that's when things began to unravel and go a bit haywire because I underestimated the time I needed to boil the dumplings, get the children out of the door and pick our new volunteer carer up before whizzing to church. It slipped my overcrowded mind that I had to plod through some bad peak hour traffic. And as it turned out, I had to stop at every single traffic light on my way to MOPS. Gah... and in some cases for two light changes.
While I was waiting at the train crossing for the light to change, I remembered to my chagrin that I had forgotten to pick up the Term Schedules on my way out.
Not happy.

The yawning was merciless in the afternoon. Did the school pick up, took 4 year old to swimming and then did a pretty meagre dinner of bangers and mash. Really had no idea if I could get the Bible Study... I was so tired.

But I did get there... and was glad I did. Still tired though but came home really enthused about life and studying God's word.

Our Bible Study leader wants us to start journalling as we do our daily readings. Not sure if I'm going to be able to journal and blog. I had a bit of chuckle today when reading Ecclesiastes 7 and Solomon whines about only finding one good man in a thousand and not finding any decent woman at all. My first thought was: That's what happens when you have a harem of a thousand, brother!
Okay... I'm being facetious... but only a little. Sucha hard life, Solomon! You poor, poor man.
: D

I'm past the half way mark now on the Bonhoeffer biography. Been listening to it while doing the housework. The husband, who read it before I did, said that Bonhoeffer had an upbringing not unlike the von Trapp family.

Bio is well-written, engaging, full of facts that I hadn't heard hitherto about Germany in the 1930s. Didn't realize there had been so many internal plots to do away with Hitler. It's been quite an education. In many ways, Bonhoeffer was a big picture man and was way ahead of everyone in how he saw the Nazis, the Jewish Question and where the German church was headed. It's a great read.

My beautiful glistening floor... sob... that I just cleaned earlier today. I just spotted a couple of black streaks. Sob.
Cleaning is so depressing.

Contentment-Driven Life

2011-07-13T13:57:00.002+10:00

About a decade ago, Christians got on board the whole "Purpose Driven Life" fad. At the time I embraced the notion with a certain degree of enthusiasm because I was sick to death of the self-centred motivational titles floating around in bookshops.
A book that begins with the sentence, "It's not about you" seemed to me to have the right idea.

Ironically a book that begins with "it's not about you" does end up sounding like it is about me.

At the end of the day, it was a motivational book intending to get Christians off their rear ends and out there doing good.
Whether it did that, I can't say. But doing good works isn't the mission of the church. Helping people find their purpose in life isn't the mission of the church either.
Okay, I'm being provocative.
(Not really)

And while I'm in a provocative frame of mind... I want to start a new fad... I want to start the Contentment-Driven Life.

Contentment... how hard a concept is that?
Contentment as antidote to materialism, not an excuse for mediocrity. Contentment with simplicity, to embrace the ordinary vistas of life. To be content is to master oneself, one's appetites.

In this consumerist age... the distractions and temptations are many. But when I fill up my life with stuff, I seem to feel emptier.

But godliness with contentment is great gain, for we brought nothing into the world, and we cannot take anything out of the world. (1 Tim 6:6)

It's impossible to be content without God though. But if He is your treasure, then all else pales in significance. If we find joy and pleasure in him, then we won't need stuff to make us happy. Stuff will just be stuff... useful, fun and convenient.

Now, how do we instill that in our kids?

I am a Broken Record

2011-07-11T21:45:00.000+10:00

Q: What does a suburban mum spend most of her time doing around the house (aside from cooking)?
A: Chasing the kiddies to clean up after themselves.
Q: What does a suburban mum do when she is really, really looking for something to do?

A: She insists the 10 year old remove the growing clutter from her bed so we can get to the sheets.

Well, it's amazing how much stuff can fit into a bed. I had no idea. Very Tardis-like, this bed.
Well... it could be worse... it she could be growing penicillin.
So we went out and got ourselves plastic storage boxes. To find a new home for the plush toys, rubbers, art supplies, all manner of useless knick knacks and general junk.
This suburban mum is imposing a temporary ban on Gomu rubbers. The bed is now strictly a junk-free zone. Squirrelling is forbidden.
It'll be another few years before I'll feel safe about respecting her privacy.

Let's see how long this lasts.
People... people who have older children and more experience than me in this... tell me that the penny drops eventually.
I'm wondering when "eventually" is.
Can't come soon enough.

Lunch and Other Ways to Digest the Planet's Problems

2011-07-09T20:22:00.002+10:00

Met up with an old student today for lunch. It's been 13 years since I last saw him. Happily enough about two years ago, he found me on Facebook.
During that time he's been to the States, back to Japan, changed his occupation a few times and now he's feeling restless. Japan doesn't seem to be where he wants to be right now and if I understood him correctly, there's a widespread feeling of pessimism in the country. He spent several minutes at the table working out his country's national debt which he reckoned was worse than either Greece or the US. There's also a general mistrust of the government and the media. He had no doubt that Toyota would do a better job running the country than the ragtag bunch that heads their particular brand of parliament which seem to go through Prime Ministers more rapidly than most people change cars.
Pretty bleak stuff. All too big for me.
In a couple of generations, a country known for its well-oiled industrial complex is at the mercy of a disenchanted young generation and incompetent governance.

One of the things I enjoyed about my old job is meeting people from different countries and getting the inside story on what's really happening about the everyday issues that touch them. For most, it's really that simple -- (un)employment, family, their children's education, and to generally stay ahead of the pack.
But there are things that divide people too. Sharp differences and there's no use pretending otherwise. Unfortunately there's a false tolerance that pervades our world... a corrupting faux tolerance, that is imposed on us by the political class. A new kind of morality that has no patience for absolutes except its own.

I look around at the country that I call home and I see similar predicaments. It's amazing how much good can be undone in a matter of two or three years. Undoubtedly, one of the downsides of the democratic process.
Still it's a brutal but timely reminder that one should never put one's trust in chariots or horses or the intentions of men.

A Bitsy Sort of Life (and some God Talk)

2011-07-08T17:01:00.001+10:00

Do you feel as a stay-at-home mother that your life is a montage of tasks and roles? Bits and pieces that, on the surface, don't seem to have much of a relationship with each other apart from you being the centre of it all. The trouble with trying to hold the mosiac together is that one can't properly focus on any one thing for any length of time without some kind of self-imposed interruption.

You know the drill. One moment I'm making sandwiches, the next I'm taxiing the children to this place and that, next thing I know I'm mopping the floor, standing in line at Coles, jumping on the computer doing the MOPS newsletter, on the phone to Samsung because the printer isn't printing black for some reason and then I'm making cupcakes.
Cliche alert! Although these tasks don't define who I am, they become a part of how I live. How I balance all of it say a lot about who I am and the kind of choices I make.

So I'm a mother. My life is a little bit of this and a little bit that. But does that have anything to do with me being a mother?

As a word, is "mother" is meant to represent all these different roles that I play? But wouldn't that merely reduce it to a shortform for the tasks I manage? "Mother" is more than that... it's a word expressing relationship as opposed to something like "housewife", "domestic engineer" or "homemaker" which suggests am unpaid family P.A.

I don't think a jigsaw puzzle is quite the right analogy regarding this conundrum because the pieces don't always fit. More often than not, these pieces clash. They don't lead to the completion of a single project and with some jobs there's never any end to them.

It's easy to feel a tad unaccomplished in such a situation... or maybe it's just me. There doesn't ever feel to be enough hours in a day to do it all. Us modern types with all these conveniences at our finger tips often fall into the trap of thinking that we can do more because we can do them more quickly.

For some one like me that verse in the Bible that says, "Be still and know that I am God." (Psalm 46:10) is pure torture. I read shamefacedly and yet with great comfort that in times of great tumult and disaster, this psalmist can be at rest and peace because his focus is not circumstantial but heavenward.

It is often the case when someone is worried, we tell them that they're thinking too much. That's not right. When we worry, we're probably not thinking enough... in fact, we're likely not thinking rightly.
Christians can have inner peace not through any effort of their own but because they have a God who is above everyone or everything. If I had conjure up "inner peace" a la Kung Fu Panda, it'll never happen because it means it's up to me to make everything right.

The higgledy piggledy hodge podge that I call "life" can only make sense in light of God. He is sovereign over all things. He holds the power of life and death in his hands. To know him is to see life in terms of eternity. And eternity is a very, very, very long time. Certainly longer than my "mothering" days. Definitely longer than any of us can conceive in our feeble little minds.

Edited: 8 July 2011, 9:46pm

Kung Fu Panda 2 (2011)

2011-07-05T21:32:00.000+10:00

Kung Fu Panda 2 is bucketloads of fun and it swings. Boy, does it swing... and at times quite literally. The fight sequences are a zinger and as a long time fan of the genre I found the experience... exhilarating and rather impressive.
It's a terrific (albeit tongue-in-cheek) homage to the martial arts genre while retaining universal themes of friendship, family and courage. I'm not a huge fan of the Jack Black school of comedy but restrained by the limitations of animation all his usual over-the-top antics are kept to a bare minimum. We can all be grateful for small mercies.

Po, the eponymous panda, was designated the "Dragon Warrior" in the previous installment but the great mystery still remains: How in the world did a panda become to be fathered by a goose that ekes a living out of selling noodles? Well, the sequel gives the backstory in flashbacks complete with a rather dark tale of panda genocide -- ailuropoda melanolucacide. (Had to look that one up... added the -cide there myself) Po is no longer the panda he once was -- still spotting a paunch, played to the hilt for humour but looking trimmer now that he's become a formidable martial arts exponent and a guardian of his district along with the Furious Five.

KFP 2 can't really work unless it plays on the edges stereotypes and so it does with such good natured mischievous abandon that it's hard for anyone to take offence. I didn't and I can't imagine too many doing so.
I sat in a cinema... not full of but with a healthy number of children giggling and cackling at all the right places. 4 year old had her eyes glued to the screen when she wasn't... erm... prowling around for marshmallows or prawn crackers.
10 year old ooed and aahed over the cuteness of baby Po... yes, he really was a baby once... and this mum even a shed a tear or two during a couple of surprisingly moving scenes.

Watching this reminded me once again of the sad reality that the best things coming out of Hollywood in recent days are animated features.

4 year old sums up Kung-Fu Panda 2

2011-07-02T22:02:00.000+10:00

"Did you like the movie?"
Nods her head... "Yes."
"What was it about?"
Gives a blank look... "I don't know."
Mummy thinks... Okay, that question was probably a little abstract. Start again. "What animals did you see in the movie?"
"I saw a bird... "
"What kind of bird?"
The 10 year old pipes in. "She means the peacock."
"Don't interrupt. Any other animals?"
"Another bird (crane)... a panda,"
"What else did you see?"
"A snake... and a tiger... And a baby panda."
"There was a baby panda?"
"He was in a basket because his mummy put him into the basket."
"Why did his mummy put him in the basket?"
"She put him in the basket and ran away..."

There you have it... Kung-Fu Panda 2 in less than 50 words. Pretty revealing stuff.

Madame Chauffeur

2011-07-02T21:21:00.000+10:00

This past week I earned my chauffeur and outdoor Mummy badges the hard way. Pity there's no organization that hands these out.
When these holidays are over, I will heave a loud sigh of relief and know that I will have earned some extra "me" time when the 10 year goes back to school.
A quiet holiday after all that would be ideal but methinks that'll fall under the category of "fantasy" at this stage.

Let me see... there was Kids Club on Monday, Tuesday, Thursday and Friday. Dreamworld on Monday and Wednesday. Shopping on Thursday and Kung-Fu Panda on Thursday night. Park visit on Friday and swimming on Friday. Today it was another 30 minute drop-off to Nana's.
But who's counting, right?...

I've been rewarding myself each evening with a nice cup of ginger drink and my favourite scenes from "Three Kingdoms", the latest tv adaptation of the Chinese classic The Romance of the Three Kingdoms. No doubt, it's slow going but am loving the performances.

X-Men: First Class (2011)

2011-07-02T20:16:00.000+10:00

The latest installment of the X-Men movies is quite likely the best one. Not that I consider myself an X-Men aficionado but I've seen all the films including the mildly interesting Wolverine origins story. When I say it's the best one, I'm referring mainly to the laser-like focus of the story and the captivating performances of the two leads.

The biggest difficulty with most of the X-Men films is the hoardes of characters that take up room in the narrative. Peter Jackson did a generally commendable job in the Lord of the Rings with the myriad of characters that graced the screen. What he did have, was time. In previous X-Men movies, mutants A, B, C, D, E, F, G all competing for screen time could potentially sink the story and turn the show into a parade of supers. X3, which was soundly panned, suffered from a bad case of bloat. I suppose the script is the partially the problem... the two hour format can't have helped and direction must be another factor. While I enjoyed the earlier films (even the much derided X3) and it seemed to me that the characters (apart from a few exceptions) were more or less showcased like chess pieces rather than real people.

This prequel avoids many of those pitfalls by focusing on the origins story of Charles Xavier and Eric Lensherr, who later become Professor X and Magneto respectively. They are both charismatic and powerful mutants drawing an increasing number of followers but what drives them is their rabidly opposing views of mutant evolution. Xavier wants desperately to co-exist with "normals" while Lensherr, coloured by a bitter brush with anti-semitism, holds a vehement "them or us" philosophy. They exemplify two sides of the evolution coin in constant tension.

(Credit: IGN AU)

For me, evolution is a deeply problematic theory of origins, and as a philosophy of life it often comes across as being overly optimistic or horrendously brutal. Either humanity is evolving to a higher state of being or it's a case of survival of the fittest. Neither of which fits comfortably with the biblical worldview that I hold. After several thousand years of recorded human history, it behooves us to face the reality that man is deeply flawed and no amount of window dressing is going to make him better.

As a morality tale, X-Men feels uneasy because of its biological determinism. A world without fear of God looks for alternatives. Biology may answer some questions but it cannot meet humanity's deepest spiritual concerns. Biology, as we see depicted here, certainly cannot be the arbiter of what's right or wrong.

Xavier believes, naively perhaps, that humans and mutants can live together without fear of one another. Given enough education and time, this could happen. Eric, on the other hand, thinks that "normals" and mutants can't co-exist. Self-interest always rules. Since mutants are a superior form of humanity, it doesn't matter anyway because at the end of the day "might is right".

Both positions are extremes and therefore, untenable. The rule of law must still serve to restrain the appetities and flawed nature of all men. At the end of the day, mutant evolution as depicted in these films only serve to remind us that a man may gain mastery over the elements and even over the minds of others. But at the end of the day, if he cannot master his fallen nature, he is not much more than a weapon for the destruction of himself and others.

Shockwave

2011-06-30T10:52:00.000+10:00

Took the kiddies to Dreaworld yesterday and by half past 3, I was ready to fall into a heap and hit the sack. No such luck obviously when there was the 30 minute car ride back home to stay lucid for.

The day started off wet and chilly so I bought us overpriced, conspicuously merchandised ponchos to keep the elements at bay. Rubbish bags would have done as well. Too bad I didn't think about it before we went on the log ride and splashed down into water from a height of couple of metres.
Theme parks are by nature a queue fest so one spends more time waiting in line than on the rides themselves. Not that I would want to be on a rollercoaster for more than 2 minutes, mind you... my inner control freak can only put so much faith in the wonders of technology without screaming "murder".

The 10 year old and I went on the new Shockwave ride. My first thought (after having my spine brutally corsetted into a narrow space) was: Do we actually pay money for this kind of abuse?
My second was: The ridiculous things we do to have fun!
And my third, as we started to swing frenetically in different directions was: Are there people who sit in a room some where thinking up ways to build contraptions like these so that city slickers can have a bit excitement in their lives?
All rhetorical questions, of course.

From time to time I ask myself how an introverted, slothful individual like myself can end up being a mum considering that my idea of fun is time out with a good book.
The last couple of times at Dreamworld I've really felt my age. On Monday, I came off the Ocean Reef thingamy ride with a pounding headache. Those things that go round and round and round and round are a killer these days.

I loved the bumper cars though... had tons of fun watching the 10 year old and other kids oversteering and jamming up the works while I whizzed past gleefully chuckling at their helplessness. Driving experience while not mandatory definitely helps. :D

The things we put ourselves through when we have children.

5 Books That Changed Who I Am

2011-06-18T21:10:00.000+10:00

I've been invited to participate in a meme about books that have changed my life and well, I can't resist. Afterall, it's about books, right?
Oddly enough, it's been hard to come up with 5. If it had been about my 5 favourite books that would've been super easy... too easy but "5 books that changed me" is a different kettle of fish. Had to really think hard about that one.

Pride and Prejudice is hands down my favourite novel of all time and Jane Austen has been the biggest influence on my writing. I read it once a year in the same way a student returns to the feet of the master if only to savour the delicious wit and sly humour wafting through the pages. Although I am of the opinion that Sense and Sensibility and Emma are probably her best written books, there's something about the humour inside the chaos of the Bennett household that keeps drawing me back year after year.

C.S. Lewis' Mere Christianity is a book I recommend to all my friends when they ask me about good reference material for their skeptical friends. Above all, I love Lewis' writing style, his ability to explain spiritual truths with everyday analogies.
Like most, I discovered Lewis first as the author of the Narnia chronicles and then as a witty and insightful Christian apologist. Mere Christianity was a lifeline for me at university in the middle of an ideologically hostile environment to everything I had been taught previously. This book, first among many, gave me confidence all throughout my undergrad years that my Christian faith was a reasonable faith standing on robust philosophical legs.

Desiring God by John Piper has been an influential part of my Christian walk especially in the past 2 years. I read Desiring God originally at the end of my undergrad studies but rediscovered it in recent times. I think the "shocking" part of the book was Piper's use of the term Christian Hedonism but really when one delves deeply into it, it is ultimately a clarion call to be passionate about God himself, to treasure Him above all others.
The premise of Christian Hedonism, as Piper calls it is that rather than rejecting pleasure, God worshippers should seek the ultimate pleasure which is God himself. Often God worshippers are distracted by shallow pleasures rather than pursue true pleasure in the God who created them. To quote C.S. Lewis:

If we consider the unblushing promises of reward and the staggering nature of the rewards promised in the Gospels, it would seem that Our Lord finds our desire not too strong, but too weak. We are half-hearted creatures, fooling about with drink and sex and ambition when infinite joy is offered us, we are like ignorant children who want to continue making mud pies in a slum because we cannot imagine what is meant by the offer of a vacation at the sea. We are far too easily pleased.

On Becoming Babywise was probably the biggest shock to the system I had ever received as a first-time pregnant mother. The notion that I had to feed the baby anything from 6-10 times a day just about destroyed me on the spot! Laugh if you will but I really had no idea... I was a complete dill about such matters.

Nevertheless, I found the book very helpful in preparing me for the early days of having a baby except, of course, that no book can completely prepare anyone for anything in real life. I liked the idea of routines which I used and I really stuck to my guns on that front (probably to the point of tyranny). In all likelihood, I went a bit too far -- too rigid -- (first time mummy fears) and got my knickers in a twist far too many times.

The Bible... both the Old and New Testaments... has impacted my life on so many different levels that it's difficult to know where even to begin. I have come to see more and more the Bible as God's revelation of his redemptive plan throughout human history. At various points in our history, God the Creator intervenes and uses deeply flawed and wicked people to achieve his purpose. He is building his kingdom and I'm always... always amazed that he chose me to be part of this great enterprise. The Bible is fundamentally about God although I daresay, we often like to think that it's about us. I don't know if reading the Bible has made me a better person... but it has made me humbler one. Even that, I expect, will be a lifelong journey.

And now, I tag... Ling's List, Ky, Sandy J., Debbie ,

If you ladies want to have a go, the rules are below. As for the rest of you, what book or books would be on your list?

Tag between three and five people
link back to this post
call the post “five books that changed who I am”
enjoy!

Hey, It's My Kitchen

2011-06-16T22:36:00.001+10:00

Some of us are control freaks... and we know it. It's not all bad because generally we organize everyone else whether they want us to or whether we even realize that we're doing it. Really, we're automotons. We see a logistical problem and our inner freak compels us to solve it.

I don't know what your inner freak is like... but mine freaks out when ankle biters loiter around the kitchen, raids the pantry or want to adjust the recipe for the fun for it.

Control freaks should probably avoid having baking days with the kiddies but I thought as part of my rehabilitation/therapy, I would try and ease up somewhat. Loads of my friends and acquaintances do cooking with their little ones and live to tell the tale so how bad can it be, right?
Well, that answer varies... depending on the age and personality of the child.

I really, really didn't feel much like going to the park yesterday morning. The wind... the chill and the restless child. Outdoors... yeeech... I've just recovered from a headcold! So I thought... "baking, yeah... haven't done that for a while... Good way to keep the 4 year old occupied."
Sort of.
(Incidentally, as a bonus I've discovered it's a productive way to keep warm)

4 year old was totally on board with the whole thing. Except of course, she wants to do everything I do. Taking charge of the rolling pin wasn't enough for her. At one stage, I think we had a tug-of-war over the mixing bowl.
Yeah, she's a control freak in the making. However did that happen?

Plus 4 year old is the type that doesn't care to observe and wait for instructions. She's brimming with initiative and she has to do something... anything... even if it means opening the oven while the biscuits are cooking when mum's back is turned for a millisecond, rummaging the pantry .
So mum's inner freak... freaks... aaaaaaaargh...
"Do you want to get burnt?"
"No..."
"It's hot."
"I want to see."
"There's nothing to see. Anyway, it's not good to open the oven door before it's ready."

So she was shooed out of the kitchen and then sent to her room for further contemplation.
At this point, I totally embraced my inner freak.

Last night at my fortnightly Bible Study, a member of th group asked for prayer, concerned about her motherly forgetfulness. Our study leader said that something that's pertinent here... and that is, we all live by the grace of God. There are a myriad of things that can happen and some times they do. It directed me once again to remember the importance of prayer at the start of each day for the protection of my children.

In my feeble attempts to control my environment, I must come to the conclusion that I can take every precaution but at the end of the day I cannot make bad stuff go away at will . All I do is cast all my cares on He who knows all things and is truly in control over all things. The inner freak must give way to the inner promptings of the indwelling Spirit.

Library Fines/Finds

2011-06-14T11:05:00.000+10:00

There's something cathartic about paying up one's library fines. Perhaps it's like finally paying off the mortgage except on a miniature scale. Debts... owing people money... often does feel like a form of bondage.

I had sworn to impose an embargo on library borrowing at our place after having to do a hunt for an elusive book and a DVD over the weekend. I blame the 10 year old, of course. She takes the books everywhere and then leaves them here, there and everywhere. Like the toilet, for instance. Not that I have a problem with her reading in the toilet per se. But I can't see why she has to leave them there and cause the door to get jammed so nobody else can get to the toilet or the book without doing some kind of acrobatic maneouvre.

But yours truly lost all resolve when I started browsing. Bad idea to be browsing when trying to impose a household borrowing embargo. Had a quick squiz at a couple of pages of Sense and Sensibility and Sea Monsters and chuckled out loud. And then I spotted L.A. Confidential sitting forlornly in the perspex slot at the end of the first aisle. Aaargh... I have been so wanting to read L.A. Confidential for years, since seeing the movie. Thought the husband might like to read it even if I never get to it. What a great film that was... Not recommended for kiddies, mind you. Strictly adults only fare. Police corruption, violence, prostitution... you get my drift. But Russell Crowe and Guy Pearce were really good in it. Guy Pearce, I have to say, really surprised me... I had only seen him in the odd episode of Neighbours previous to this.

At least I don't think I'll have to dig through the toy boxes, laundry basket or under the 4 year old's bed to find these books when due date comes around.

Trial of a Different Kind

2011-06-08T22:01:00.001+10:00

I haven't been blogging much of late and it isn't because I've had a lot on my plate. Obviously I've seen busy periods the last few weeks but it's mostly been about moi wallowing in a state of a depression about the future.
I've been wanting to return to work since 4 year old is now in kindy 3 days but then I'm not sure if I really do. I've applied for several jobs but so far nothing's on offer. So I've been stradling in a state of limbo... some of it, of my own making.

After thinking about things, I've come to the conclusion that unbeknownst to me during this time, I've been going through a trial. Often we think of trials as things we go though because of the bad stuff around us or when the going gets tough. So when circumstances don't seem particularly bad, it doesn't feel like one is being tested.

As I've been re-reading the book of James in the NT (our pastor's preaching through it presently), I've come to the conclusion that trials are fundamentally times of testing rather than times of suffering. Although they often go together. They test the quality of our faith (that can happen in okay times too) and our resolve for the things of God's kingdom. Or more importantly of God, himself.
My problem has been that I haven't had too many God-related thoughts of late. Not enough God and far too much anger and frustration than I should harbouring.

I mentioned anger management issues a couple of weeks ago and we who are parents are only too aware that 90% of our anger problems begin with us rather than the kids. Children often test and try but we are responsible for how we respond to them.
The gospel of Jesus Christ reminds me that I'm a sinner... I'm a rebel. My instincts are to do what comes naturally. Times of testing show me the quality of my Christian life, shows me that I often fall short and where I fall short. Times of testing also sends me back to the cross, with the knowledge that I can't parent or do anything else on my own because I lack the wisdom and the capacity. But as James reminds us, that if we lack wisdom, we should ask God, "who gives generously to all without reproach, and it will be given him." (James 1:5, ESV)

It has perhaps become passe to say that I have become more in awe of God since having the kids. Nonetheless, it's true. In their rebellion, they help me perceive how gracious and merciful our Lord is. I find it intriguing that it is in the OT we often read about God's compassion and that he is "slow to anger". A quick internet search yielded 9 references throughout the OT pertaining to this reference:

Exodus 34:6
And he passed in front of Moses, proclaiming, “The LORD, the LORD, the compassionate and gracious God, slow to anger, abounding in love and faithfulness,
Exodus 34:5-7 (in Context) Exodus 34 (Whole Chapter)
Numbers 14:18
‘The LORD is slow to anger, abounding in love and forgiving sin and rebellion. Yet he does not leave the guilty unpunished; he punishes the children for the sin of the parents to the third and fourth generation.’
Numbers 14:17-19 (in Context) Numbers 14 (Whole Chapter)
Nehemiah 9:17
They refused to listen and failed to remember the miracles you performed among them. They became stiff-necked and in their rebellion appointed a leader in order to return to their slavery. But you are a forgiving God, gracious and compassionate, slow to anger and abounding in love. Therefore you did not desert them,
Nehemiah 9:16-18 (in Context) Nehemiah 9 (Whole Chapter)
Psalm 86:15
But you, Lord, are a compassionate and gracious God, slow to anger, abounding in love and faithfulness.
Psalm 86:14-16 (in Context) Psalm 86 (Whole Chapter)
Psalm 103:8
The LORD is compassionate and gracious, slow to anger, abounding in love.
Psalm 103:7-9 (in Context) Psalm 103 (Whole Chapter)
Psalm 145:8
The LORD is gracious and compassionate, slow to anger and rich in love.
Psalm 145:7-9 (in Context) Psalm 145 (Whole Chapter)
Joel 2:13
Rend your heart and not your garments. Return to the LORD your God, for he is gracious and compassionate, slow to anger and abounding in love, and he relents from sending calamity.
Joel 2:12-14 (in Context) Joel 2 (Whole Chapter)
Jonah 4:2
He prayed to the LORD, “Isn’t this what I said, LORD, when I was still at home? That is what I tried to forestall by fleeing to Tarshish. I knew that you are a gracious and compassionate God, slow to anger and abounding in love, a God who relents from sending calamity.
Jonah 4:1-3 (in Context) Jonah 4 (Whole Chapter)
Nahum 1:3
The LORD is slow to anger but great in power; the LORD will not leave the guilty unpunished. His way is in the whirlwind and the storm, and clouds are the dust of his feet.

God is gracious and compassionate... and even if we don't always know what is good for us, I'm grateful that he does.

A Tribute to the Iron Lady

2011-06-03T19:40:00.001+10:00

I've finally started reading Claire Berlinski's biography of Margaret Thatcher (been sitting beside my bed for a couple of months) and came across this wonderful tribute from the author regarding her subject here.

I was meditating upon that and thinking of my beloved Margaret Thatcher. She was, famously, tenderly devoted to her husband, to whom she was very happily married. She insisted upon cooking him his breakfast every morning, no matter what the demands of her day as Prime Minister of Britain. His death devastated her.

Don't know why... but of all the impressive things Mrs Thatcher did in her life, that one is the one that impresses me most. It tells me more about the woman than anything else, I think.

Thor (2011): Every Mum and Dad's Fantasy

2011-05-29T21:18:00.001+10:00

I'm not sure why the superhero genre puts people off. It's oodles of fun and mums should be the first people to embrace their geeky side especially when you consider how much children love the genre. Harry Potter was pretty popular even among parents and really, when you get to the guts of it he's really a kind of superhero.
I've been told it's the brightly coloured, tight-fitting costumes? I don't know... they've never really bothered me.

Thor, the mythical Scandanavian god of thunder, found his way into comic book history in the early 1960s and has now become the subject of a major motion picture. I believe the intention by Marvel is to release an Avengers movie in couple of years which is why we're getting a whole spate of Marvel comic adaptations such as Thor.

Never read the comic books but I remember watching Thor cartoons as a child. They were fairly ordinary stuff... especially compared to the good stuff coming out of Disney and Hannah-Barbera. I remember stills... lots of stills and speech balloons containing "Pow", "Bam", "Wham". Potently cheesy stuff. But that hammer. I loved that hammer.

The hammer is second the best thing in the new Thor film. It is pure cool. And I've discovered after 30 something years that it has a name -- Mjolnir. Cool. I suppose if swords have names, why can't hammers, right? After giving it some thought, I reckon it's the real protagonist of the film.
Why? Well, because without it, Thor's a mightily tall, blonde Chippendale clone that kicks rear ends. But not like when he kicks rear ends in Asgard because that is when he has his trusty Mjolnir.

The best thing about the Thor film is the Brent Spiner lookalike (reference for Trekkies) Loki. He's the second son of Odin (Anthony Hopkins) and whaddya know, even gods have family problems like the rest of us. With all the CGI and amazing effects, the thing that makes the film work is because it is about family... rebellious kiddies, sibling rivalry and why kids should ALWAYS listen to mum and dad. Daddy really does know best. Thor is a hothead and suffering from an overdeveloped sense of boredom. Peace time, admittedly, is rather ho hum for superheroes which is why there's Loki to make mischief and stir things up.

Thor gets banished to earth for wrecking a tentative peace deal with the Ice Giants and in the process learns humility a la Excalibur fashion. And yah... he bumps into the pretty Natalie Portman which makes his brief sojourn to earth less tiresome. And surprise, surprise, they even kiss.

Those of us parents know that Thor, despite his tendencies to leap before looking, is really not a bad kid. We know the type... daredevil, showman and doesn't really take "no" for an answer. In fact, "no" is usually red rag to a bull. Unlike Odin, however, we don't have the power to banish them to another planet and take away their ability to do further damage so they can learn the hard lessons of responsibility and humility.
Us plebs, on the other hand, are stuck with ours on Planet Earth and have to exercise discipline the arduous, no short-cuts way.
But it's obvious that time-out works.

So when we peel away all the layers of movie magic, it's obvious that Thor is really a parental fantasy for battle weary mums and dads: How to discipline your kids without having to discipline them yourself.

Just another day in Asgard... don't you know...

Published Elsewhere

2011-05-29T19:20:00.000+10:00

It may interest you to know that I was recently published on the MOPS Australia blog.
The post, entitled "Appreciating the Differences" may be found here.

I also had a short piece published in Footprints magazine, a faith-based Aussie mag for women available only in hard copy from this place.
Contact Janet the editor if you'd like to subscribe. It's only $12 a year.

Can I Please Have A Toy-Free Zone in My House?

2011-05-28T09:50:00.000+10:00

You know what they say about cleaning... it's like the ocean... never turn your back on it. It has a way of getting out of hand.

I have a confession to make.
I hate toys... I know, I know... it's a necessary evil. Keeps the kiddies occupied except that it often ends up being the root of other evils.
Earlier on I was under the misguided impression that children are territorial. But toys appear to be exempt from such meaningless boundaries such as rooms and designated play areas.
Which goes some way in explaining why a toy hair dryer keeps popping up in my kitchen.

We have coloured wooden blocks of varying shapes but they're never used as building blocks. They end up being scattered all over the house and occasionally make an appearance in purses and handbags.
Privacy is evidently an adult concept... and not sacrosanct where children are concerned.

Our study... supposedly mum and dad's final refuge... the master bedroom has been a lost cause a long time ago... is home to a litter of toys that hangs around like a bad smell.

You know... those cheap, fairly useless plastic toys from the fast food places are at the end of the day... clutter. They seem to show up everywhere like Gremlins who take a bath. After a while, when the kiddies forget about them, they get the flick. I doubt even the op-shops would have any use for those.

10 year old has taken to collecting Gomu... If you haven't already been an unwitting partaker of this mania, they are rubbers that resemble iPods, mobile phones, lava lamps, lipsticks, thongs and other misc representations of cuteness . Since I've threatened to start my own collection with her strays, she's kept them pretty much to herself. You realise, of course, nobody actually uses these things... it's entirely a bragfest and for "trading purposes".
The Smiggle phase lasted about a year and a bit... wonder how long this particular one will go for.

Better go now and inspect the damage that's been done since I've been sitting here.

Our Mummy is a Volcano

2011-05-23T19:44:00.000+10:00

Lately I find myself erupting all-too-frequently like a parenting volcano.
You know the signs... Shouting, yelling... melodramatic threats... big blow ups. Plenty of anger leakage.
It's like I've turned into a paper version of Bruce Banner aka The Incredible Hulk.
Haven't turned green.
Sadly I can't blame it on some kind of dastardly science experiment gone wrong either.

Sure the kiddies test ya and try ya... Of course they do... it comes pre-packaged with the umbilical cord. It's in their DNA.
The head knows this full well. The heart, on the other hand, is constantly frustrated.
And yet... we can't, for the sake of the human race, understand why they don't get it after being chastised for the tenth time over the same o'l same o'l.

Anger management is hard labour for life compared to that bit of pain I endured to bring life into the world.

Post-Mother's Day Ramblings

2011-05-19T22:29:00.000+10:00

Do you find Mother's Day a non-event?
Not that it matters, of course. But with a lot of these celebratory events, it's rather dependent on mum to organize everyone else. And with small children thrown into the mix, who haven't the sense that this is a day set aside to give mum a break... there's no rest for mum with small kiddies.

Even with big kids... they need a bit of prodding. But I ain't doin' it.
The trick is, I imagine, to keep expectations pretty low. Ground level low.

It's one day in 365 days... If I'm going to be really calculating... honestly, I'd rather have well-behaved kids 364 days a year than have one day where I'm treated like a Queen of a constitutional monarchy.

I know... tell me I'm dreamin'...

Kids and Parties

2011-05-05T22:10:00.000+10:00

Last Saturday, we threw a party for the 10 year old at the local pool. Yeah... she's officially 10! Frightening prospect for her poor parents to have to think about when those young 'uns reach the double digits.

Anyway, we don't do parties every year... and we've decided to confine ourselves to milestones. Otherwise it gets a bit much.
Organizing a party is okay. It's hard work, not exactly fun for mum and dad but the logistical side of things is the least of our problems.
The hardest thing about a birthday party can be about keeping the peace between different factions. There's the friends from school contingency, friends from church, and then there are the cousins. Everyone wants a piece of the birthday girl on her special day. The take-charge types wants her to do this, that and the other thing.... NOW.
Kids... well... are kids... and not terribly considerate. 10 year old is the soft-hearted type and would rather everybody hold hands and sing kumbaya.

Sitting in the car on the way home, we ask the 10 year old what happened that caused her to dissolve into tears at one point. A few of the others had had their say. Apparently somebody wanted to do this, and then somebody else wanted to do another thing. She was a bit torn, I think.

So I said:
"Next time, you should say... We'll take it in turns. For the first 10 minutes we'll do such and such and then afterwards we will do this."
10 year old lets off a big sigh. "Why didn't I think of that? Parents know everything. Mum you have such good ideas."

So I grinned but modestly said... "Well, not everything... But more."
The husband piped in, "The operative word is 'mum'."

Can't wait till she reaches her teens and then she'll think that we know nothing.

I'm glad her next party isn't until she's sixteen. ;-) Or eighteen... Better still, when she's twenty-one.

Royal Weaving: The First Institution

2011-05-05T10:34:00.000+10:00

Jokes regarding tawdry fashion aside, the Royal Wedding as a cultural event touches something in those of us who believe in traditions and institutions.

Hardly a monarchist in any meaningful way, even I can appreciate the elements of the Wedding of the Year that once made Britain great. It isn't the monarchy per se... but the institutions on which the nation was built.

That wedding on Friday night exemplified all too well the loss of a bygone era in light of cultural relativism and political correctness. Nothing affirms age the importance of institutions more, in my opinion, than a wedding.
Certainly, grand weddings are no guarantee of marital success but when a society celebrates publicly the coming together of a man and a woman to form a family unit, it declares that marriage and family has value and priority in a culture. Children are also valued in such a culture because we insist that mum and dad firm up their commitment to one another to protect their children's long-term interests.

Sadly though, in a day and age, where many are deliberate about flouting convention, a wedding complete with frills, pomp and ceremony is fast becoming a quaint gesture.

Marriage should be celebrated, not just because so many are opting out or that we want to glorify marriage for marriage sake. Marriage is God's idea for humanity so it's universal and it functions, like it or not, as a thermostat for the health of a society.

Humour: Royal Weaving

2011-04-30T22:32:00.000+10:00

Like millions of others, I got suckered into the hype of watching the royal wedding last night. I have no particular fondness for the British royals (the Queen excepted) or aversion but I have a perverse pleasure in seeing what a no-expenses-spared clothing budget can bring forth on these glitzy occasions. As usual, there's plenty to mock.

Princess Beatrice's hat was a standout... oh golly... was that antler-look really such a great idea? She's such a pretty girl too to waste her face on a hat like that. Can it even be considered a hat? Seems to sort of stick on her forehead like an over-sized rattle.

Victoria Beckham's blue number was another odd looking head slapper. Was that a vine in search of a trellis hanging off it? I am getting a Morticia Addams vibe from the entire look. The dress looks like a badly cut choir robe.

(Credit: Globe and Mail)

I'd never heard of Tara Palmer until today. But by George, she definitely looked like she stepped out of The Fifth Element. Chris Tucker... eat ya heart out man! And that hat... eeuw...looks like an origami boat misapplied.

(Credit: Fashion Style )

And Camilla... Duchess of Cornwall... Her hat... gives new meaning to shrunken heads.

What's with the travelling lampshade, your highness?

(Credit: UK Telegraph )

Cockadoodle doo... my dame has lost her shoe... and something else too.

(Credit: UK Telegraph )

I love my TV conspiracies

2011-04-30T20:52:00.000+10:00

Spooks is one of those guilty pleasures of mine that I indulge in irregular doses. I can't take it seriously but it does get the old ticker going at sonic speed. It's a mishmash of James Bond, 24 and Days of Our Lives on steroids.
I have a love-hate relationship with the show mainly because it seems to take inordinate pleasure in killing main characters off in spectacular fashion. Or they disappear into the volatile world of espionage. Apparently that makes the show more realistic... but honestly... "realistic" is the last adjective one would use about that show. And then seemingly smart people end up doing the most stupid things... well... okay, that's probably fairly realistic.
Golly, the number of conspiracies that the showrunners have hatched over the years... and then there's the characters -- good guys turning into bad guys, for love, ideals and money. They must be doing something right, creatively anyway, to keep it going after almost a decade.
Conspiracies are fun... but what's more fun is to see how long they can keep it up. Yeah, I've been watching Spooks... loving the mysteries and hating the way Richard Armitage's character has been turned into a double-crossing, traitorous, lovesick moron. Ugh...

I don't generally believe in large-scale Dan Brown type conspiracies. It takes far too many people, far too many resources to make it work for any decent period of time. Besides, sooner or later, somebody will talk.
The only reasons people like the idea of conspiracies is because it touches something pretty deep within human nature... to find an all-embracing reason for the inexplicable.
No doubt collusion occurs on some level where common interests intersect ie. Global warming concensus but that it's now falling apart bit by bit goes to show that these sorts of things go through fashions.

Sleeping In

2011-04-16T22:31:00.000+10:00

Gollleee... I slept in this morning and I almost never sleep in. Husband came into the room and woke me up. It was a quarter to 10. Aaaaaaaaaargh... I was supposed to take the children to missionary morning.
In the end the husband took them while I wandered around the house in a semi-conscious state.
When I felt lucid enough, I decided to work on tomorrow's order of service.

So why did I sleep in? A simple case of listening to my body.
Last night I dragged myself to home group... barely holding myself together. People asked me what I was doing there. Well, I had obligations I needed to fulfill. But the grace of God got me through the bible study. Food helped a little. My thorn in the side was a mouth ulcer... which was throbbing most of the day. When I tried to have an afternoon nap, the telephone rang. Well, that was the end of that idea.
Why didn't I take the phone off the hook? Seems like a no brainer. It's been a while since I've had to do anything like that. I don't get calls in the afternoon as a rule and I haven't felt any desperate need for naps for a while. I wasn't expecting any phone calls. Since we changed how we do telecommunications, we've managed to keep telemarketers at bay.

Decided that I really needed to take it easy today. Tried for another nap in the arvo. Dozed off and then got up to make some dumplings for a birthday party.

Fencing Her In

2011-04-13T22:41:00.000+10:00

Our front fence is finished and is waiting idly for a fresh coat of paint. While I have fences on my mind, my thoughts gravitate toward the 4 year old.

I once read/heard someone say that a strong-willed child needs strong boundaries. Quite likely it's conventional wisdom, formed through observation over time. But it's very helpful to think along those lines. Strong-willed children are hard work, no doubt. However, as they get older I'm convinced that they can become very productive individuals. I frequently console myself that there's a payoff coming for this momentary hardship.

My strong-willed child needs to know if something is hers, if she doesn't, she will assume that it's hers for the taking. Pretty much anything that's not nailed down is fair game in her book. Even then I'm sure she'll find a way to pry the nail off the wall or floor.
My strong-willed child doesn't take "no" for an answer the first time. Or the fifth or sixth time. Or the tenth. Not even when she's taken a tumble. She'll whine and look forlorn and then she back up and running again in 30 secs flat.

My strong-willed child is a fussy eater. Covertly chucks food she doesn't like on the floor or on the booster seat. So she doesn't get fruit or dessert (on the rare occasion) if she doesn't eat veggies or finish her dinner. Logically, I reckon, she can't be that hungry if she's chucking stuff.
My strong-willed child is a fussy eater. It may take us between 5 to 10 attempts before she will actually eat something new without... er... fussing.
My strong-willed child needs to be fully engaged. A slight wiff of boredom and she think's she hungry or that it's time to transgress the boundaries.
My strong-willed child has not napped in the afternoons for almost 2 years. Seems to have boundless energy until about 6:30pm and then she crashes. I'm grateful for small mercies.
My strong-willed child has moods when it comes to having someone hold her hand while walking on the pavement or in car parks... which is very dicey stuff at times. One second... that's all it takes and she's off like a rabbit.

The upside of having one in the house is that she's independent and resourceful ie. full of initiative but the downside is that she doesn't really (understandably) grasp her own limitations by putting herself in harm's way with alarming regularity. Whether she's climbing a stack of chairs, racing around the room, breaking my stuff or waving her hands over the sizzling wok... she's a pint size daredevil... an accident waiting to happen.

Maybe it's all about being the second child. Wanting to be like big sister and doing what big sister does. And in our case, big sister is a lot older, with a better developed sense of danger. If anything, big sister errs on the side of timidity.

There's light at the end of the tunnel. As she matures, her ability to reason or to be reasoned with grows. But what a bumpy ride it has been. (At least the restraints keep the really crazy stuff from happening)

Second Thoughts

2011-04-11T21:37:00.000+10:00

For a while now, I've been thinking about changing course. Kiddies are growing up and I'm kinda itching to go back to work. Something called "mortgage" is nudging me out the door.
But the industry I used to work in, happens (sob) to be in a depressed state at the moment for a host of reasons and as a mum I'm trying to find something that fits in with the children's schedule without losing my eye on the 9 year old's progress.
So I've been floundering a bit.

Through a friend of a friend, I went along today to have a look an English Conversation Club at the University of Qld to see if I want to become involved as a volunteer tutor. Quite frankly, it has made me rethink the whole thing. I only went to have a look, see... to get a feel of the place... and stay out of the way as much as possible. However, due to the size of the group etc etc, I volunteered to join the conversation and in no time, I got back "that o'l feeling". It was a buzz. I really, really miss being in a classroom full of adults talking adult stuff.
As I was driving back home, I started to think out loud. "I am too experienced and too good at this to give it up entirely." So I started to "birth" a few ideas while zipping across the Riverside Expressway.

The timing of all of this, however, is terrible. I have such a busy week lined up. My week is full with meetings, Bible study and really important church stuff. And yet these ideas are floating around inside my head wanting to be pinned down.
I foresee that I'm going to have plenty of middle-of-the-night, 3 am meditations.

I don't know if I'm supposed to do the Gideon-I-need-a-sign thing... put out fleeces and hope God will do his "thing" with flashing neon lights. Gideon was a nervous wreck... not that I blame him, going up a hard bitten enemy with zero experience... In the end, it wasn't Gideon who defeated the Midianites, it was God... all God. Gideon got in on the action purely by the grace of God. His only qualification was that he had no qualification. We generally humans aren't very good with new experiences that take us out of our comfort zone and sometimes we need a Bilbo Baggins type kick to get us out of our comfy hobbit hole. Sometimes we just need to make a decision and get over our dithering. Sometimes it's about embarking on new experiments and hoping that one hasn't been too presumptuous.

I've been yawning almost non-stop for the last 5 minutes. I suppose it's my cue to hit the sack. Interesting day... gotta sleep on it.
And pray about it.

(Credit: FreeFoto )

Overpopulation is a Myth

2011-04-10T20:33:00.001+10:00

Australian entrepreneur and happy aviator, Dick Smith, triggered a firestorm a couple of weeks ago from certain quarters for advocating small families. According to him, every family should limit themselves to 2 children to stem the tide of population explosion.
I have a smallish family because... well... I know my limitations in the parenting department and biology is against me. So that's that. But a population explosion? C'mon...
I've looked at various news sources and I haven't seen Mr Smith give any statistics regarding current birth rates to support his position so I expect there's a bit of bandwaggoning on his part.

It doesn't take much to be an overpopulation skeptic when you see stats like these. If you don't believe it, dig around at the UN website. Whatever else you may think of the UN, it does at least keep decent statistical records. Wikipedia, your friendly one-stop shop, has quite an extensive list taken from both the CIA Handbook and the UN.

I'm no maths ace but it's clear as daylight that birthrates among wealthier nation states are in decline and in a great majority of cases, they are way under the replacement rate.
Population explosion? Not so much. But what we do have are aging populations.

Political commentator, Mark Steyn, in his demographically driven book, America Alone, argues this:

The single most important fact about the early twenty-first century is the rapid aging of almost every developed nation other than the United States: Canada, Europe, and Japan are getting old fast, older than any functioning society has ever been and faster than any has ever aged. A society ages when its birth rate falls and it finds itself with fewer children and more grandparents. For a stable population -- ie., no growth, no decline, just a million folks in 1950, a million in 1980, a million in 2010 -- you need a total fertility rate of 2.1 live births per woman. That's what America has: 2.1, give or take. Canada has 1.48, an all time low...
Europe as a whole has 1.38; Japan, 1.32; Russia, 1.14. These countries --, or more precisely, these people -- are going out of business. (Steyn 2008, 2)

The problem with the thinking that drove Smith to make his comments is that they forget that people are (to put it crudely) the most important resource... not fossil fuels or land or crops. For instance, a welfare state in any form requires repopulation. People aka taxpayers are needed to sustain other people on welfare, pensions and subsidized health care. People are the future of a civilization. People think, innovate, build and solve.

The myth of overpopulation is predicated on the following assumptions:

That we know precisely what's going to happen in the future.
That growth occurs uniformly over time throughout the world.
That the resources that we rely on now are the resources that we will depend on in the future. What's to say that there won't be advances in the future that allow us to use land and energy differently.

Overpopulation prophets forget, however, that

Populations tend concentrate in specific areas and given the right incentives can be encouraged to move away from large population centres.
Poor infrastructure planning can be more of a problem than unbridled growth
Unexpected innovations can and do emerge from necessity or creativity. Consider the internet. Forty or fifty years ago, I doubt that many were predicting that we would experience such a massive change in the way we do business, communicate and receive information.

Aside from that, I'm not a fan of social engineering. I grew up in Singapore during the "Two is Enough" campaign. Apparently that worked so well because when I was in secondary school there was a change in policy in that they were encouraging people (especially the ethnic Chinese) to have more than two. Years after we left, the Singapore government started to encourage the immigration of skilled workers from mainland China.

Dick Smith appears to think that China's "One Child" policy is a successful way to deal with population growth. I beg to differ, unless of course one thinks that reducing population is the be all and end all. There's always the law of unintended consequences which has a tendency to rear its ugly head uninvited. See here, here , here and here for more good/dubious intentions that go to pot.

Credit: FreeFoto

Update: Website that breaks down the issues into very simple terms with cute little videos.

Two Sick Kids

2011-04-09T22:21:00.001+10:00

Remember Wilfred Owen's Dulce et decorum est ? Everybody (in the English speaking world at least) had to had to run their eyes past it in high school at some point. Marvellous poetry... wonderful use of stark imagery:

Bent double, like old beggars under sacks,
Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge,

I have two girls semi-ill, knees upright but coughing like hags. Dreadful phelgmy throat hacking. Painful to hear especially in the dead of night. Cantankerous 4 year old's getting better but 9 year old is just starting on her viral journey... which is yet to run its course. Hmph....

You'd think that they'd stay in their room all day and lie in bed some of the time so that the lady-in-charge can have a breather. But no, they're not that considerate. Life goes on as usual. No apparent loss of appetite, the demand for food is clockwork. They create the same kind of mind numbing mess as they would on a good day, while rudely expunging diseased spittle on one's germ free face when least expected. Spectacles can only do so much.
The lady-in-charge is not impressed. She's not wearing a dust mask.

"I'm bored..." says the 9 year old.
"You can do some maths."
"Whaaaa..."
"You're not on holidays... and you're well enough to be bored." The lady-in-charge is snappish.
The 9 year old wails, whines and throws her arms in the air for dramatic effect.
"But I don't want to."
"It's not a request."
More obligatory wailing and then she settles into doing the designated pages.

The lady-in-charge ducks into the kitchen to make a start with the chicken soup.
4 year old follows and begs for food.
The lady-in-charge shoos her out.
4 year old skulks back in and wants to know what's cooking. She hears the magic word "pasta" and leaps for joy. (What can I say, she's a cheap date.)
The lady-in-charge shoos her out again.
4 year old comes back in and opens the pantry doors, surveying its contents with the keen eye of the foodologist.
The lady-in-charge is really not impressed. Temperatures rise and it's not from the pot of water.
More shooing and then the lady-in-charge remembers the gate.
Yeah... there's a gate to keep nosy, avaricious preschoolers out.

The lady-in-charge remembers to use it. Finally.

But somehow the 4 year old manages to get in again. Gah.

The First Week of April Each Year

2011-04-09T07:46:00.000+10:00

For the last three years, this has been the oddest week of the calendar year.
During the week, the husband and I celebrate our wedding anniversary and remember my mother's passing.

Celebrating our anniversary is the easier part... a child-free evening, nice dinner at a nice restaurant... a movie even. But no weekends away so far. We haven't dared to leave both children with anyone yet. The 9 year old is okay but I don't know if we should inflict 4 year old on anyone... for a whole weekend... just yet. One day perhaps.
On our twentieth, we hope. Five years to go.

Remembering mum's move to heaven, on the other hand, is a mixed bag. Bittersweet is the word I was scratching around for last night...

A friend from church sends me an email each year saying how much she misses mum. I appreciate her candor, her thoughtfulness and for taking time out of her day to remember and honour a woman she cared about. Not that I expect everyone else I know to do the same... but it's really special when someone does. I, for one, am moved by this little gesture of friendship.

Mum was my right arm and when she left for heaven... I really did feel as if someone had severed my arm. I had never lived more than 20 km away from her at any time and it was tougher than I had thought to lose her... even to such a a worthy cause. My job, the children kept me going for a time but it became increasingly difficult to juggle a job in the CBD with a child struggling with homework and maths. I was loathed to leave my job but my list of options were growing thin.

On the 6 April each year, I remember and grieve... Not as much as I did on that day. Like everything else in life, every cloud has a silver lining. I've had to negotiate my own way through the last three years learning to ride through those parenting bumps and pulling myself from off the floor when I fall flat on my face. Oh the bruises that I've received over time... ouch...

Over the years I've known many women who live thousands of miles away from their familial home so I sometimes chide myself for being ridiculously weepy about not having parental support as I raise kids. It's easy to tell oneself that it builds character, makes one a stronger child of God etc etc... but when character is being built there's a lot of pain involved.

I suppose it's self-centred to think only of what one has lost in such a situation. Perhaps one day I will have the maturity and hindsight to see in toto what I have gained.

It's Time to Play the Music, It's Time to Light the Lights...

2011-04-05T23:01:00.001+10:00

My nieces and nephews came over tonight to celebrate G-Pa (Grandpa)'s homecoming. What is it about the younger generation and abbreviations? Is life one long text message now...

It's always a little (just a leedle) noisy but the funny thing about growing up as a parent is that you get used to it. Not completely but enough to know when the noise transforms from gleeful play to WW3.
Noise is an inevitable part of childhood when there's more than one child playing in a single confined space.

So as usual my 7 year old niece decides she wants to put on a show. A puppet show... apparently. Spur of the moment. Doesn't believe in rehearsals apparently. Very impromptu.
A plot is hatched (no surprises there), someone raids my printer for clean sheets and then there's pen and paper scratches, followed by frenzied cutting and gluing.
The adults are yabbering away somewhere else... well, as long as they're not setting the place on fire or bashing each other to a pulp... nobody seems to mind.

So we eat... we talk...
Children eat, talk, play, run... and bang on the piano.They multi-task frenetically much to mum and dad's chagrin.

Then they sell tickets to the puppet show. I look at the word "pupet" and I'm tempted to say something about the spelling but I don't. Old habits die hard. Well, it's part of my limited skill set and I'm always tempted to brag.

The rabble announce the "pupet" show and take refuge behind the couch. Miniscule images drawn a bit of scrap paper emerge and jiggle around. They're hard to see. One of them is called Yoshi, another Kooper Trooper and another Mario.
Detect a pattern yet?
Ok... so we like our Nintendo characters.

There's shouting and theatrics. Not quite Broadway, mind you but what is lacking in script development is made up for in enthusiasm. Oh yeah... the room quakes with enthusiasm.

They take a bow. The adults, partly relieved, partly amused... applaud... also enthusiastically.

Until the next visit...
Maybe they'll sew their own puppets next time.

A Modern Marvel

2011-04-05T21:19:00.000+10:00

While I'm not advocating washing machine idolatry here, I can appreciate the way white goods in particular... and technology in general have revolutionized how women spend their time.
I'm no climate change catastrophist and I celebrate industrialization wholeheartedly.

"Even the hardcore in the Green movement... use a washing machine." LOL.
Who wouldn't, really? It's more time spent doing something else.

Humour: Spa-Lami (The Latest in Skin Therapy)

2011-04-03T08:48:00.002+10:00

OK... where I do sign...

<p>&amp;amp;amp;lt;p&amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;p&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;br&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;br&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;Yu&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;/p&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;lt;/p&amp;amp;amp;gt;</p>

HT: Dan Phillips

Humour: Twin Baby Boys Conversing

2011-04-02T19:55:00.002+10:00

God Talk: The Adjustment Bureau (2011)

2011-04-02T18:31:00.001+10:00

As I was sitting poolside yesterday, I found myself chatting with a friendly lass (twenty years my junior as it turns out) about this, that and the other. Mostly she talked about her ambitions and interest in music and books, topics in which I was eager to engage in. Later, she noticed that I had an open book on my bag and asked me about it.

As it so happened, I was reading a theology book and made a comment about reading a book that she was unlikely to read... a book about God.
Immediately she agreed with me. A book about God was something she wouldn't be reading. She quickly qualified her remarks by saying that she wasn't an atheist... just that she had her own idea of what God was like.

I don't think she's alone. All faith systems, as diverse as they are from one another, claim that they have the answers that lead adherents to God. No wonder so many are confused. Throw Hollywood into the mix and golly where do we start...
It's unfortunate really that instead of seeking clarity, individuals look to themselves for answers. A man beginning with himself will never really know God. They may have an inkling or two, if the circumstances are right. But for man to know God sufficiently, God must first reveal himself to man.

At the periphery of the recent flick, The Adjustment Bureau is an enigmatic,awe-inspiring figure called "The Chairman" -- a thinly veiled, no-brainer reference to "God". This god, however, is scarcely the Judeo-Christian God of the Bible. Instead, he lurks in the background composing complicated mathematical maps of what should or what shouldn't happen in the lives of individuals while sending his minions of angelic errand boys to do the heavy lifting... ie. make the necessary adjustments.

His is the kind of God that secular types envisage. Someone who keeps his distance... a cosmic puppeteer who pulls strings in the background, instigates conspiracies, and has an annoying habit of policing human desires. He is a god that is largely ignored until something bad happens... and then gets reprimanded by disbelieving objectors for not intervening.

The Chairman, however, isn't the heart of the story... which is a pity as it might've made for far more interesting film. Instead we follow the ups and downs of a pair lovebirds who apparently aren't meant to be. According to his stylishly hatted minions, Chairman/God has set a course that must be followed no matter what, which in our humanistic age sounds egotistically mean-spirited. So, of course, we're meant to feel sympathetic when the Matt Damon character yells out, "What about free will?"

It would make for a fascinating philosophical inquiry except that the execution of this semi-serious chick flick feels uneasy. It isn't always sure what it wants to be. The story is entertaining enough, on a certain level but it shouldn't fool anyone into thinking that it says anything original or interesting about theology, predestination or free will.

Scootering

2011-03-30T22:42:00.001+10:00

You can learn a lot about your kids just from watching them play.

We're at the pool (I'm poolside really but the girls are in it) and I've got my nose stuck between the pages of P.D. James' Talking About Detective Fiction, chuckling to myself. Interrupting my reverie is the 4 year old, who has stumbled out of the water sobbing incoherently that some a certain dastardly sister of hers had done something to her.
So I reach for the towel and she recoils instantly.
"I don't want to stop swimming yet..." She declares through tears and runs back toward the shallow end of the pool.
Ah... I see... She doesn't really want me to do anything. It's an appeal... to "a higher authority" but mostly she just wants... sympathy.

They're playing a shoestring version of "Here Comes the Bride". Very shoestring. It revolves around Nana's lacey, crochet thingamygig and a flannel blanket for the dollies.
Yeah, it's dress-up with music. But only one of them has pretend clothes on. The other one is dressing her up.

Kids are creative... duh... who doesn't know that. Innumerable books have been written on the subject. But sometimes creativity is the means and not the end.

We're scootering up the "hill". For a child under the age of 5, a suburban "hill" is almost like a mountain. Older sister whizzes all the way up.
But the 4 year old, with her smaller frame, is struggling to keep up. She's annoyed that older sister has not shown her proper consideration to wait for her. What she doesn't know is that we've been waiting for big sister to scooter without bribery and extortion for over 2 years.

Cajoling her... making threats about selling the scooter all that time... and in the end, she had to own it. Timing, dealing with the stuff between the ears had to be hers to do.
4 year old almost always wants to do whatever her big sister does.
But big sister needs the self-confidence to get on with the job.

Cruisin' the Brisbane River

2011-03-28T21:47:00.003+10:00

It's Friday night. We're in Brisbane CBD. Kids in tow. No romantic candlelit dinner planned.

So we're standing at Eagle St Pier waaaaaaaaaiting for our church buddies to arrive. Very pretty to look at but after 10 minutes, the kiddies get a bit restless. "I'm bored, mum..." says the 9 year old.

The Kookaburra Queen looks very pretty with the lights. We're sharing the ride. Wedding on the upper deck and a party below. We get the bit in the middle.

Had dinner in the car before we got there. McDees drive thru'. Don't hold it against us plebs. Kookaburra Queen maybe a luxurious lady but we're economy class ticket holders.

Night time scenery by the river is also vvewy pweety.

Girl lookin' at you is Keiko from Nagasaki. She hopped on a plane a day after the tsunami. Returned to Japan last Saturday.

Finally we board. On tenterhooks for the merest second. Have visions that they're going to put us in the hold.

Ah... things are looking up. Hi ho, hi ho it's up the stairs we go

Not bad. Loads of room for 40 something people

May we have this dance?

Enjoying a cool evening with a gentle breeze sweeping through the vessel. I had an attack of hayfever earlier in the day. Lasted all weekend.

It's good to see the city come back to life after the floods. Businesses like the Kookaburra Queen are probably getting back on their feet after temporary closures along the river.

The little one fell asleep on my lap (waaaaaaaaay past her bedtime) and there was something comforting about looking out at the Brisbane River, wind in my face, with a child in my arms at peace with her surroundings.

A gentle reminder that life goes on... life keeps chugging along...

Parents in a Hurry

2011-03-27T22:14:00.000+10:00

Drove past a local Anglican church earlier in the week. On their signboard were the words (or something along those lines):
"Dear God, help me to be patient. But please hurry!"

I burst out laughing immediately. Wish I had stopped the car and taken a picture.
How true... I thought as I drove on... pondering the wisdom of those words.

Patience must be one of the most elusive virtues in modernity. We're constantly in a hurry. I'm constantly hurrying the kids

There are days I just want them to hurry up and grow faster.

But the irony is, when they do, I wish they'd slow down. I'm chewing my nails thinking about the 9 year old heading into puberty.

I'm time obsessed. Every minute... every second. Without a watch, I'm feel... lost.
I've lived by the clock and I daresay, I'll die by the clock.

I tried in vain to breastfeed by the clock. Didn't work.
I tried to get children to nap by the clock. Worked for the first but the second, well, defies textbooks and rules... in nature and in nous.

Clock obsession is a hard habit to break. But little by little the old ways are being chipped away. It's what happens when you have kids.
You learn to wait because you have to.

Reflections on Tiger Mother Part 2

2011-03-26T17:09:00.001+10:00

Jonathan Swift, reknowned for his fantastical, satirical scifi fantasy epic, Gulliver's Travels, also wrote a farcical essay, "A Modest Proposal" -- a rich, ironic hyperbolic piece counselling the impoverished Irish of his day to sell their children to the wealthy class as food. In it he writes:

It is a melancholy object to those who walk through this great town or travel in the country, when they see the streets, the roads, and cabin doors, crowded with beggars of the female sex, followed by three, four, or six children, all in rags and importuning every passenger for an alms. These mothers, instead of being able to work for their honest livelihood, are forced to employ all their time in strolling to beg sustenance for their helpless infants: who as they grow up either turn thieves for want of work, or leave their dear native country to fight for the Pretender in Spain, or sell themselves to the Barbadoes.[...]

I have been assured by a very knowing American of my acquaintance in London, that a young healthy child well nursed is at a year old a most delicious, nourishing, and wholesome food, whether stewed, roasted, baked, or boiled; and I make no doubt that it will equally serve in a fricassee or a ragout.

Swift's object in this was to ridicule attitudes to the poor and protest British hegemony over Ireland.

While reading the WSJ article, "Why Chinese Mothers Are Superior", I thought that I had crossed over into a Swiftian universe. All the extracts from Tiger Mother that were published on that occasion gave me pause... and the strong impression that somebody was doing a Swiftian turn. Quite bizarre, I thought.
Call me intolerant or what you will, but I was astonished that anybody in the 21st century with the ability to reason could seriously hold such radical views about authoritarian parenting based on such egregious stereotyping. And pontificate about it with so much relish. In chapter 10 of the book, she claims for instance that:

Chinese parents can get away with things that Western parents can't. Once when I was young -- maybe more than once -- when I was extremely disrespectful to my mother, my father angrily called me "garbage" in our native Hokkien dialect. [...]

As an adult, I once did the same to Sophia, calling her garbage in Englsh... When I mentioned that I had done this at a dinner party, I was immediately ostracized.

The fact is that Chinese parents can do things that would seem unimaginable -- even legally actionable -- to Westerners. Chinese mothers can say to their daughters, "Hey fatty, lose some weight."

Chinese parents can order their kids to get straight As. Western parents can only ask their kids to try their best. Chinese parents can say, "You're lazy. All your classmates are getting ahead of you."

There's a part of me that's still waiting for Chua to announce that she had penned a Swiftian diatribe against aspects of modern parenting , the self-esteem movement and reasons behind the decline in American education.

*crickets chirping* *toads croaking*

In another universe perhaps.

Make no mistake, I'm no fan of the nobody-loses-and-everybody-wins-so-we-don't-damage-self-esteem type of nonsense that's been propagated in certain circles the last couple of decades.
But I draw the line at verbal abuse... there's nothing superior about that.

I'm the last person to decry a traditional conservative upbringing. Old fashioned things like:

1) A strong work ethic
2) Respect for one's elders
3) Thinking for oneself

Virtues that have been adopted by different cultures at one point or another in history.

But manipulating and bullying children into doing what you want them to may yield short-term benefits but at what cost to character and relationships? It's also odd to me that a woman of such intellectual calibre can't see that children don't come out of a factory production line from the same mould. Perhaps it is that self-certainty that blinds her to the realities of raising a family.

I found Chua's definition of success narrow... and troubling. It is materially driven and leaves no place for failure. Still one has to admire her tenacity to go to the ends of the earth for her children. Amy Chua paints herself as a woman with a mission. Even then, one wonders (despite her protestations to the contrary) what's really in it for Amy Chua.

Chua's children are still young... there's no way there won't be another book especially because this one's been such an undisputed publishing success.
Portions of it are entertaining but one doesn't have to look to hard to see it's a puff piece. (Frankly, it reads like a series of blog posts) This is not say that there aren't any good things about the book, such as sister Katrin's battle with leukemia or "Popo" (mother-in-law) Florence's relationship with the family. My favourite bits in the book are of younger daughter, Lulu, the central character in an old fashion family melodrama, rebelling against her villainous Tiger Mother. After suffering vicariously through all the bald manipulation and pigheaded parenting, my sympathies were with Lulu entirely.

Fun stuff aside, the self-justification and preachiness does sour one's appreciation of the entire project. In the end, after having to battle it out with a strong-willed child, Amy Chua does acknowledge some of the short-comings of "the Chinese Way":

This was supposed to be a story of how Chinese parents are better at raising kids than Western ones.
But instead, it's about a clash of cultures, a fleeting taste of glory, and how I was humbled by a thirteen year old.

(I apologize for not providing page numbers but the book was read on my iPhone Kindle app.)

Reflections on Tiger Mother Part 1

2011-03-24T21:13:00.003+10:00

Earlier in the week, I happened to mention on Facebook that I was tackling Battle Hymn of the Tiger Mother. My friend, T, wondered why I was reading that book. She thought, perhaps, half seriously, that I was scraping the bottom of the barrel for parenting tips.
My reason is really a lot less utilitarian. Like everyone who has read it, I was suckered by the controversial but successful publicity campaign that began in the Wall Street Journal article. The firestorm that ensued guaranteed that the book would be an international marketing success. And so it is.

When I began reading Tiger Mother, the question of why the book was written was a recurring thought. Even though I've finished the book, that question continues to linger. Tiger Mother is not your usual self-help parenting book (I would dispute that label entirely), rather it is a candid and some times humorous memoir of one woman's highly driven parenting of two remarkably accomplished children. Prior to the bruhaha that surrounded the book's release Amy Chua was known mainly as a law professor and author of a couple of political books.

So who is Amy Chua and why has she written this book? Why now?But more importantly, why should we care?

For me the key to understanding the book, is to position Amy Chua within her immigrant narrative. In that narrative, immigrants encounter a kind of displacement by choice. Often, they may embrace much of their adoptive country and yet there are vestiges of the old country that remain, as it were, in the soul. It's telling that Chua admits early on that she had wanted to write an inter-generational immigrant epic in the tradition of Joy Luck Club and Wild Swans.

On the surface, Chua and I have a lot in common. We are both immigrants and overseas-born Chinese, hailing from the same region. We now live in anglophone countries, western educated and are married to non-Asians. We are also, as it happens, mothers of two girls. But that's where the similiarities end. No doubt, Amy Chua's CV is far, far more impressive.

So why in the world did she write this book?

If one were to break the book down to its brass tacks, it appears that her claim to parental expertise is derived from her genetic/cultural upbringing. Being a Chinese... whatever that word conjurs up to the user... is at the core of her identity which seems to be the impetus for adopting the "Chinese way" to parent.

I scratch my head at that one. I'm rather a sceptic of the "Chinese way" because, well, I don't believe that a single "Chinese way" exists. Chua assumes that her brand of "the Chinese way" works because it has worked for her... more or less... Still, I don't find her personal experience definitive or compelling evidence that the Chinese way is superior. It's ahistorical, anecdotal, too narrow and extreme... largely dependent on the parent's ability to manipulate their child. And really, the world is globalizing so quickly that is becomes meaningless for anyone to reduce this kind of authoritarian parenting to some kind of parochial grandstanding.

When I was growing up in Singapore, it was "the Singapore way". Living in a competitive, cramped island with thousands competing for piddly numbers of university places, everyone had to pull their weight to get anywhere. A university education was the ticket to a good job. And everyone was after a good job.

During my university years and beyond I worked casually as a private English tutor to migrant children, ie. Chinese children. It was a job that had it's perks and drawbacks requiring a great deal of driving around to students' homes.
The most fascinating aspect of it was being able to go inside the homes and see how "Chinese" people parent, which was almost as diverse as how Australians parent. Some children I tutored didn't have any parenting at all because mum and dad were back in their country of origin "doing business", while an older sibling or a relative nearby took charge of household affairs.

My experience of course, like Chua's, is purely anecdotal. It isn't proof of anything in general terms. Some parents are always going to be more hands-on than others.

This kind of peppery talk reminds me of the kind of harmless gossipy stuff I used to hear from relatives and acquaintances as a child: How foreigners are lax and liberal with their children... blah, blah, blah... that sort of stuff. It's a gross generalization and probably based on watching "The Cosby Show" or "Family Ties" than any real notion of how people in the west actually lived.

Back then it was just talk. But for an academic who should know better to turn this into a premise of a book without any substance, is absurd.

What it demonstrates is that parenting... like culture is a deeply emotional issue because it goes to the core of our individual identity.

Ironically of course, whatever superior parenting techniques that Chinese parent Amy Chua may lay claim to, Chua is herself the product of a western education and her children the beneficiaries of western culture. University education, scientific advancements, classical music are all the result of developments made by individuals of western parents.

Tiger Mother irritates and amuses. I daresay it's meant to. Political incorrectness is one thing but there's an over-the-top bravado on display in the book that rubs me the wrong way.

To be continued.

Bubbles

2011-03-23T21:38:00.000+10:00

A gentle blow
Breathes the little glassy orb to life
Sparkling in the sunlight's glow
Bobbing, dancing down so low

Hands and feet, no match it seems
For the jolly orb that gleams

So fleeting is its frangible life
Here one moment and gone the next.

They come... they come..
Then they grow
And then too soon... they will go

Playful sounds fill the air
Little eyes search and stare
Happy thoughts fill eager minds
Hands and feet a song will find

© Lilian Read 2011

I am changing too

2011-03-22T13:56:00.000+10:00

Children are God's gifts to us.

Little by little, I am convinced we need them more than they need us.

Not a clingy, possessive sort of need. But we need their eyes (to see the world from their perspective)... their hands (to watch them play and make sense of the world)... their mouths (to hear their sounds of laughter) and most of all, their hearts (to feel their love).

Without them our notion of "giving" would be feeble, without them "sacrifice" would be an ideal rather than an everyday reality.

Without children, what "love" we claim to have for our fellow humans may never really be tested.

Without them we would struggle to comprehend the depth of the Father's love for us. How he must grieve when we ignore him and how he, the hound of heaven, calls rebels to be children.

Without our children, our world would be flatter, narrower and smaller.