There’s a boy I see every morning when I send David to school.
He always comes alone, late. He’s pretty lanky and tall, with floppy hair, and he always looks down, never at us. The bell has rung, but he’s slowly shuffling along the pavement towards the other gate – the “late” gate.
The night before Christmas, we watched The Chronicles of Narnia: The Lion, The Witch And The Wardrobe. It’s been some years since I watched the movie, and there were a few moments in the story that gripped me afresh. But I just never got around to penning a post in the end-of-year daze. Come NYE, I listened to a sermon that reminded me to write it all down. So here’s my first post of 2018, on journeying through the wardrobe of life, wherever it may lead…
The other day, I was reminiscing to a friend how much I miss the Christmases of my youth, filled with weekend caroling practices, too many mini candy canes and potato chips, writing stacks of cards in sparkly pen, and staying up overnight in church playing Bridge or Dai Dee. Gone are the days when I could stay up all night and still get through another day on adrenalin, Coke and good cheer. After 36 Christmases, I’m no spring chicken 😉
Anyone who’s ever known a toddler probably knows what a “meltdown” is – you know, when that sweet and adorable little sweetie pie morphs instantaneously into a red-in-the-face, screaming and kicking ball of fury? Psychologists will tell you that this is considered quite normal behaviour for most 2yo kids – but what about when the meltdown isn’t your child’s but yours? Mummy meltdowns are real, and I’m speaking from personal experience.
During the September holidays (which now seems like half a lifetime ago – time gets really fluid when you have kids), the boys had their first taste of basic carpentry at the very charming and cosy Touchwood Workshop, the craft arm of Ground-Up Initiative (GUI).
A few months ago, David’s first words to me when I picked him up from school was “Mummy! Ms Seet (music teacher) says that there’s going to be a show called The Sound Of Music that’s very, very good, and we must ask our daddy and mummy to bring us!” And that was how I knew that one of the world’s best loved musicals THE SOUND OF MUSIC was coming to us in Singapore this year end.
A few months back, the kind folks at Gaston Luga gifted me with a beautiful black Pråper backpack, and I was smitten with its classic and minimalistic design. Since then, I’ve been carrying my beloved “Black Beauty” out and about on all occasions, and recommended this brand to various ones. Last week, they very generously delivered this “Snow White” dream-of-a-bag to my doorstep – isn’t she lovely?
There’s a song I love which begins with these words:
Make my heart tender and pure, Make me strong, help me endure.
Recently I’ve been thinking about that – the cultivation of a tender heart.
You know, so many parenting articles these days focus on building grit and resilience in our kids – hey, even I have blogged about that in the past! We want our children to be able to stand strong amidst the storms of life that will come their way; we want them to learn the value of hard work and never giving up, on getting up from failure and trying again.
It’s been a few weeks since our Ergoworks desk and chair arrived, and the boy has settled down nicely in his new workspace. Nowadays, he certainly has a better posture when he’s doing his work, and sitting properly also seems to be helping him to focus better on his work. I’m pleasantly surprised that he’s also managed to keep his desk fairly clean and neat for these few weeks, and it’s far less cluttered than his previous table was – thanks to the shelves on the wall-end. Thank you Ergoworks!
The other day, I was walking behind the boys as they trotted hand in hand down the corridor to the lift, and it dawned on me that they have grown quite a fair bit this year. To be sure, they are both still on the (very) small side, but I distinctly remember those too-long school shorts reaching below David’s knees on that first day of Primary 1 that now seems like such a distant memory. Those same shorts are a clear 2 cm above his knee now. And I marvel at Daryl’s newfound swagger and style of walking that he only picked up sometime this year too. How my heart ached in that moment of realisation that my boys are growing up right before my eyes…