Breakfast for Andre

Before school closed for the holidays last week, Lesley-Anne's Civics and Moral Education teacher gave the class an assignment - the students had to perform five different household chores during the week.

This was Lesley-Anne's list:

1. Hang laundry
2. Fold clothes
3. Sweep floor
4. Dust furniture
5. Make breakfast for Andre

As you can imagine, it was the last item that elicited the most excitement from Andre. At last, his sister was going to wait on him and his stomach was the beneficiary. A double bonus!

The menu: scrambled eggs and cheese toast. Andre went crazy with the digital camera (I think he felt he had to record the momentous event).

The final product was pretty credible, so much so that Lesley-Anne gamely obliged with scrambled eggs breakfast for the whole family yesterday.

And here's the happy gourmand!

Turning 40 - milestone or millstone?

Sometime this month (I'm not revealing exactly when), I will be turning the Big Four-O. Unlike most milestones, this was one that I was not looking forward to. I'd always associated 40 with the start of ageing, when everything goes downhill. Afterall, 40 is middle aged, right?

Even as I'm creeping up to my birthday (despite my attempts to apply the brakes), I already feel all the signs. I turn bottles towards the light to read the faint lettering (muttering at the inconsideration of probably 20-year-olds who designed the bottles). When I miss a few sessions of exercise, it gets harder to return to the regime as my back aches in protest. And of course, where there used to be muscle, now it's flab.

It doesn't help that in Singapore, you're considered over the hill prematurely. Weeks before your 40th birthday, you'll receive an envelope from the government marked "Eldershield". Employers in Singapore notoriously favour the young. In most other parts of the world, 40 symbolises experience. Here, more often than not, 40 is associated with being outdated and irrelevant. Having spoken to many friends and ex-colleagues, it seems like the single biggest fear among workers in Singapore is to be retrenched at 40.

I know there are many sentiments out there which try to paint 40 as a coming of age. Quotes such as "Life begins at 40" and "40 is the new 30" are such examples. But I've always scoffed those as feeble attempts at self-consolation. I know the truth! You can't fool me!

Then a few weeks ago, my sister called to inform me that one of our friends from NUS had passed away from breast cancer. We weren't particularly close but she had stayed in the room opposite mine in the hostel. When I saw her laughing demeanor on the obituary photo, I felt a pang of regret. She was 39.

Every now and then, we are reminded of our mortality through incidents like these. Throughout history, people have tried in vain to look for the elixir of youth, to prolong what they feel is the prime of their life. But gradually, I'm beginning to realise that to dread growing old is to scorn life because ageing is an integral part of life.

My friend never saw her 40th birthday. It's sad not because she was struck down in her youth, it's sad because there was still so much more life to be lived. And that's what turning 40 should be - to have lived the first part of your life, and to embark on Part 2. That in itself should be a celebration.

So I'm not going to moan anymore about turning 40 because being able to hit this milestone is a gift. My eyes may not be as sharp and my body less sprightly but by golly, there's still a lot of life to be lived. And (with the help of a few jars of anti-ageing cream), I will try to live it as gracefully as I can.

Can't live with 'em, can't live without 'em

It's the start of the new school year and I think I hear the collective sigh of relief from parents across Singapore.

Every opening of the academic year, I feel a sudden release of freedom, especially if the kids have been bouncing off walls due to an accumulation of festive starch and sugars in their metabolism-enhanced, hyper little bodies. By the last week of the school holidays, I'll usually be counting down the number of days until they're out of my hair again.

But you know, even before I can enjoy the peace, I'll notice something else... the silence. No sounds of bickering, of toys crashing against hard floors, of tears and childish giggles. And in a perverse way, I actually miss it all.

Therein lies the contradiction - I can't wait to get the kids out of the house and the minute they do, I find myself waiting for them to come home. Especially this year since Lesley-Anne is starting secondary school, I have been warned by other more experienced parents:

"I have to make an appointment with my son if I want to talk to him!"
"Her school hours will be worse than that of a work day."
"I think I've forgotten what my kid looks like, I never see him in daylight anymore."

I've long realised that my child will come to spend an increasing proportion of her precious growing years in school, out of my reach. My selfish desire to monopolise her time is nowhere as important as the fact that her teachers, peers and friends will have a far greater influence on her from now than me, simply due to frequency of contact.

It is no coincidence that the teenage years are often the ones where many parents complain of being distanced from their kids or despair over their kids going astray. An iron fist may be tough but it's no use if the child is far away. We may spout words of wisdom but they will have limited effectiveness against the constant chatter of friends, ten hours a day.

What's a parent to do? For me, I feel that the panacea is to ensure that the foundation is built during the primary school years. I've often shared this view with my friends that steadfast character traits need to be constructed and fortified during the tween ages, to form the basic building block that will hold the child steady and guide her steps in the future.

This is not to say that the child can't still wander off the straight and narrow later on - it's free will afterall - but the chances of this happening are less. It's risky to wait until the child is a teenager to try and instil values, when parental influence is greatly reduced (not to mention the distasteful condition characterised by teenage angst and anti-establishment tendencies *shudder*).

We've always been rather strict when it comes to ethical lessons for our kids, sometimes to the point of being naggy, as our kids will testify ("Yeeeeeess mummeeeeee"). With Lesley-Anne hitting secondary school, I recognise that these opportunities will taper off.

But it's ok because that's the way it should be. As she matures, she should be allowed to chart her own path and make more decisions on her own. She knows I will always be there if she needs me, but it's too much to hope that she will share every detail with me. In such instances, I can only hope and trust that her moral compass will direct her steps, and help her back onto the path when she takes a misstep.

The quiet beckons. Maybe it's not so bad afterall. I'll just have that cup of coffee and finish some work... only a few more hours till they're let out from school.

Good tidings for 2010

Here we are on 31 December, at the turn of yet another year. Every year, I marvel at how quickly time has flown by and this year is no exception. If you're like me, this is probably the day you do some reflection over what you have achieved, cringe a little over the mistakes you've made and hope that the clean slate for the following year brings something better.

As we ring in 2010, I pondered over what I would wish my readers and I came up with two.

For parents, I wish you wisdom. Wisdom to:

• know when to reign in and when to let go
• discern the difference between sufficient and excess
• know that the measure of a child is character, not exam scores
• realise that perfection is as bland (and fake) as a Stepford wife
• differentiate between your child's glory and your own glory
• see all things in perspective, and if not, friends who can show you the light

For children, I wish you a genuine heart. A heart that:

• is compassionate towards others and kind to self
• understands the value of diligence
• is upright without being uptight
• covets little and is grateful for much
• values the wisdom of parents... and overlooks the slips

A very happy New Year to all of you and may your cup of blessings runneth over in 2010!