So I learned today that Yui conspired with her Ojiichan for her Mother’s Day gift to me. Secretly, she called her Ojiichan and shared her dilemma: that she wanted to give me carnation for Mother’s Day but that she doesn’t have money for it and so she asked her Ojiichan to help her.
So touched with the thoughtfulness, my baby.
We haven’t been anywhere other than the grocery, the schoolyard, your after-school daycare, the nearby park, for the last two months. The weather was nice, the sky ever so blue, and there weren’t people around so we decided to explore our neighbourhood and sightsee houses.
You kept on pointing which house would you like to have and kept on urging that we move out of the condo and have a stand-alone house. You said you want a garden. And I said I didn’t choose a stand alone house because I can’t take care of a garden.
Some silence. Then you said, something smells bad. I countered it’s the anti-insect bracelet that you’re wearing. Then you shouted before running off: answer is, Yui’s fart!!!!
We may be on lockdown but it has never been a boring two months.
Yui: Mommy, do you know how the universe began?
Me: The Big Bang?
Yui: That’s right!
Me: so tell me what you’ve read so far in your new books. Have you read yet about the dark hole?
The moment the last two words came out of my mouth, I felt queasy as I know something wasn’t quite right and that I know they weren’t correct.
Yui: Dark hole? Dark hole? It’s the Black hole, right?!?
Haha. And so we had our first bout of laughter for the day. I wouldn’t have had imagined I’d talk about the black hole with my 7 year old; and have her correct me for that matter.
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.
Was telling you last night how I’d be late in coming home because I had to attend an important party with our Clients and that in my Company, only the leaders in my project were invited.
With wide and proud eyes, you exclaimed, “Mommy, you are leader?”
Even at pre-school, you’ve always been proud whenever it was your turn to be the leader. And from the snippets that I’ve seen, you’ve been a fine leader so far. We’re gonna have lots of talks yet of what it takes to be a leader and the struggles and joys of being one (and for the record I’m still a work-in-progress myself). But for the mean time, I relished at the marvel in your face upon learning your Mom is a leader. I wanted to instil that in you. And I wanted you to think, even at a young age, that mothers can make their mark in conservative Japan corporate culture. There are a lot of struggles as the corporate culture is still changing to accommodate us Moms. But we’re getting there, baby. And I hope you’ll be encouraged too, and inspired, and be a trailblazer.
Late last night, I told you how I had a tough day and how my boss rudely scolded me in front of the whole project team because of a (minor) mistake done by one of my subordinates.
With an indignant huff, you said you cannot understand this. That I should tell my boss today that another person’s mistake is not my mistake.
My child, please do not loose that fire.