life with a grade schooler: Thomas Edison

Yui: Mommy, you know, Thomas Edison was “99% perspiration and 1% inspiration”. So it’s really all about work.

Me (big smile): yes baby. That’s why, on your first hour of trying, you should not give up easily. And also that’s why you must never say you can’t do it when you never even tried at all.

Yui nods understandingly. My work here is done.

Life with a grade schooler: Mommy’s priorities

I was trying to finish off a task before leaving the office for the weekend when a senior colleague dropped by to ask me how I was. I have so many conflicting issues nowadays that I shook my head to say, no, not really fine. Then he asked how my daughter was. I snapped. But I know he is such a kind person so I had that very difficult feeling of trying to explain why I find it discriminating (he’s also a father, why is he still in the office?!?) while saying sorry.

I felt guilty for snapping at him when I know he had good intentions but I also am annoyed at him because now I also feel guilty with Yui.

And so this evening, while tucking Yui in the bed, I sat down by her bedside and looked at her in the eye:

Me: is it ok with you that I work late?

Yui: Yes!! I understand (with much enthusiasm)

I hugged her and said thank you and that I love her so much.

Yui: I understand Mommy have to take care of kodomo (children), work, cooking. Doing laundry, cleaning……

With how she arranged it, I am confident she knows she’s my top priority.

life with a grade schooler: homework blues

We had a row this evening. It was actually a culmination of an argument that started Saturday evening.

Saturday night. You did your homework with much gusto (no prodding from me at all). You finished all in no time. But as you looked at your reading card, you realised you forgot what needed to be read. And so you asked me to send a message to your teacher to ask her about the reading assignment. At 10pm on a Saturday. Of course I said no. Then you let go of it.

Sunday evening came and you prepared your bag for tomorrow’s class. And then panicky, you asked me to message your teacher to ask her what story needs to be read. And you asked me in a raised voice at that (on hindsight though, I think your voice was raised because you were panicking). The absurdity of the request and the raised voice pushed a wrong button in me and you definitely heard some strong scolding from me. Of course you were crying.

But after a few minutes of crying, you suddenly calmed down, said “I have a good idea”, and went to look for something. For a couple of minutes I just watched you look around for something. Intrigued, I finally asked. Unicorn memo book. You were looking for your unicorn memo book. And at almost the same instant you answered me, you found what you were looking for.

That definitely got me head scratching. Wiping a new wave of tears (you stopped crying while you were looking around), you said, “it’s not good now. But only now. So that next time I won’t forget, I’ll write it down. I’ll take notes so that I don’t forget what the homework is”.

And my jaw just dropped. I was already on the verge of getting worried how to calm you down. But what actually happened was that even as you were crying, you were already thinking of a solution on how to avoid the same problem next time. Wow baby, wow.

our first duet in public

We often sing together at home. We dance. We act. We make up stories. We imagine stuff together. But mostly we sing together.

Last Saturday, when I received our choir director’s email for the Sunday mass’ songs and saw “Once in Royal David’s City” was on the list, I asked you if you’d like to sing solo the first part. Surprisingly, you said yes. On the condition that I sing with you, and that you’ll be standing as far away from the crowd as possible so they wouldn’t see you. I promised you I’ll sing with you, but that I couldn’t on the latter part.

As if teasing you, when we arrived at Church the following morning, the choir chairs were rearranged such that everyone in the choir is facing the congregation. Tough luck. (For the record, this is that time when our masses are held at the basement because the church is under renovation) Thankfully, you forgot this “hidden away from the crowd” condition. While we were practicing another song, you went ahead and sang the first lines of Once in Royal David’s City, reminding me that you were determined to sing. Hence I informed our director. Hats off to him though. He still pushed with our idea even when the two times we practiced, you can barely be heard. He just told me to sing louder in case you still get shy.

But I needn’t sing louder though. Because as always, you are so much better during actual performance compared to practices. I’ve noticed this even when you were still in kindergarten. It’s quite tricky though, because the one who gives you the job needs to have faith in you first for you to have the job. But what a performer you are. You stood erect, looked really confident, and you even had the presence of mind to turn the page. You were marvellous. I couldn’t turn the page myself because half of me was performing and the other half was the “stage mom” looking at how you are doing; quite a feat I tell you.

Now you see, you’ve been quite notorious as the one who always sleeps at church during mass. So everyone was quite surprised to see you sing. People came to you to try and talk to you and compliment you. Unfortunately, we didn’t practice yet on how you should deal with “fame”. You clung unto me like jellyfish and hid your face from everyone else. Well, that would be another day’s lesson, dealing with “fame”.

For now, thank you for taking the leap, and for taking the leap with me. It made my heart full.

Life with a grade schooler: on abiding by the rules even when nobody sees you

So we tackled a critical life lesson this week.

There’s this school rule to never bring toys to school, beloved or otherwise, big or small. Then the other night, you tried your might to convince me to allow you to bring your latest favourite – a teeny weeny figure of Cinnamon that came free inside a bath ball (which, by the way, you were able to convince me to buy for you after a year of “NOs”).

Me: You know you’re not allowed to bring toys to school.

Yui: Why is it not allowed by the way?

Me: Because other kids could bring really good toys which are expensive and other kids could get jealous because they could not afford it. Or kids could fight over one toy. Or it could get broken. Or get lost.

Yui: K-chan (your friend at your after-school care) brings her toys.

Me: How come she’s able to bring it?

Yui: She puts it in her edou-pocket (a small clip-on pouch). I can do the same. I can put it in my edou-pocket and will not take it out at school and will not show Sensei and will hide it from other kids.

Me: Yui, now listen. You know there’s a rule to follow. The important thing with rules is to follow it even when no one is looking, even when no one sees you, even when no one knows. Because more importantly, you know. That’s character, that’s integrity, that’s honesty (now this last sentence I’m not totally sure you understood).

Yui: But how come K-chan brings her toys when nobody sees her?

Me: Well, you should ask her, and remind her that it’s not good to disobey rule even when nobody sees you.

Lo and behold you raised the topic again last night.

Yui: I asked K-chan why she disobeyed and brought her toys. She said she’s always in a hurry in the mornings “Shikoku da, shikoku da”, that she forgets to put back her toys out of her edou-pocket. It’s not intentional.

Me: oh, okay, thank you for reminding her.

And then you went off to play and left me to my kitchen chores.

But the suspicious adult in me didn’t buy K-chan’s alibi. Especially since the toys are different, every day. And of course I cannot tell you of my suspicions. That’ll be another lesson for the day. In the mean time however, I will have to ask more about your conversations with K-chan.