What makes a Happy Chinese New Year?

The last week has been exhaustingly mundane. No instagrammable activities to get excited over, just a load of ticking timebomb tantrums from the toddler and me willing time to go faster because I wish for the indulgent and friendly Chinese New Year celebrations to be upon us.

This year I've planned for four gatherings over two weekends. Two outside and two hosted in our humble flat. Mr HEA grumbles at the enormity of it all. He would be perfectly happy cuddled up on the couch in slippers and his flannel pyjamas proudly relishing in his role of Asian Dad. Christmas is after all just one day or one long weekend if you were like us. But CNY is fifteen days. Most years he swears I make things up as I go along. He thinks the seventh day people's birthday, the Chinese Valentine's Day and the reunion dinner on the eve are just my gimmicks to get more presents or excuses to eat more Chinese foods that he isn't interested in. How Banana (yellow on the outside, white on the inside in case you hadn't heard the term before) is my man!

I roll up my sleeves as I roll flat the meat for my Ba Kwa determined that my LO will be educated on the right things about our heritage. I am pleased to see her nursery embracing the holiday. She comes home daily with red glitter all over as they collage roosters and make paper dragon lanterns for CNY celebrations. I dropped her off today with a lion dance puppet for Circle time hoping that the children will benefit from the authentic prop whilst singing their Chinese New Year songs ( to the tune of Mary had a little lamb though??!!?)

I think when she is older I'll rope her into the preparations but for now, I am keeping it simple and opting for store bought alternatives where possible.

Gathering 1: opted for Hotpot so it's BYO things that my guests love to eat but all I'd have to do would be to make the stock, get the dipping sauces, drinks, as well as stuff I'd like to eat ( prep prawns of course as that's my fav), and prepare the Yee Sang salad and desserts (sugee cookies, fruit platter).









Gathering 2: Planning a sit down dinner but I'll likely buy the following:
Peking Duck (M&S does a really good pop into the oven version)
Spring rolls (Frozen ones from freezer section of Asian shop)
Make:
Noodles
Radish cake
Yee Sang
Siew mai
Ba Kwa
CNY cookies









It is important that my little girl learns about the things we celebrate as Chinese. I feel my grandma in me as I think this but unlike my teenage self, I am proud to feel that. I no longer abhor my Malaysian Chinese heritage as I now have come to embrace the unique ways this melting pot London society come together. Everyone is celebrated here. So I smile to myself as the staff in our local Asian shop is inundated by questions from the Causasian folk trying to interpret the Chinese instructions for how to steam frozen dumplings for CNY, once more whilst I lovingly wrap each Siew Mai at home trying to swat away the curious toddler's fingers from the raw mince filling. Chinese Spring is in the air. That's all that matters.


















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New year New me

This is something I hardly ever do, but I will try to keep the resolve. It is a wonderful time of my life as a mother as the toddler becomes more understanding and helpful. I find myself looking towards the next stage of life more readily now. This time I will be more prepared, less stressed and hopefully happier with everything to go as they will.

It feels as though the first steps of motherhood really took me by surprise and my child seems to have developed her personality and understanding of the world entirely by herself. I am merely a bystander observing in fraught wonder.

She has figured out descriptive words, the concept of possession, imaginary play all by herself. Each day I spend with her she surprises me with what she's managed to understand. I caught her trying to count backwards before she launched off the mat, her imaginary rocket launchpad. Her dad called her baby cakes yesterday and she said, mummy's the baby cakes. She is a cupcake. She asks Why at everything we want her to do that she refuses to. She sings happy albeit tunelessly. She also said yesterday at dinner that Daddy's the man. Ok fine we were trying to get her to say Superman, but perhaps she's figured it out, she doesn't need a fictional superhero when she's got Daddyman in her life, a real life superhero.

Sometimes I find myself forgetting to view him as that anymore. Focusing only on the things he isn't or hasn't done. It's detrimental to our relationship. So this year, I will change. I will focus on the positive. See the good and funny once more and choosing the view that laughs at life's more challenging moments.

Like this one where she is still in her NYE party dress the day after because she refused to take it off. I can't help it, instead of getting frustrated, I let her twirl about in her pink tulle, knowing she won't be little forever and there will be a time when this is no longer cute. So dance on my little one. I will just be here capturing the moments.





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Is life enough?

Somehow I find myself sulking at the lack of parties and events to head to this Christmas. There seems no point going with a toddler that is hell bent on wanting to touch/break every Christmas decoration, climbing stairs that she's not good at coming down on and walking straight into dangerous paths. The stress of it all is just too great. Plus I have been the sole care giver the past few weeks as her dad has been getting slammed at work. I don't mind the whole not having to make dinner part so I can just focus on playing with and educating her, but it still gets a bit much you know? I crave the companionship of good girlfriends. A laugh, a drink, a good girly bonding activity.

I miss my girlfriends. I miss my old life. Motherhood is not what the world cut it out to be. Yes it is rewarding seeing the world from her eyes and seeing her explore this world for her own and make up her own mind, but it is a life of sacrifice of everything you'd ever found precious or dear: the good food, the travel to exotic places, the shopping for luxury items, sleep. They rob you of your youth, vitality and sanity truly. And when you have nothing left to give, she still yells "Mummy!" in the dead of night and you are expected to be at her beck and call again whilst she insists on kicking you fervently to make sure you are still there in bed with her.

I see longingly a friend's wedding back home in KL. It's a beautiful affair with designer suits and gowns and bespoke Jimmy Choos. And I am envious. Envious that I can't go back to that carefree moment when I truly believed my best years with my best friend was still ahead of me. I watch Grand designs present a modern mews that was built for a young new family in East London and how they married their family life to their living space in London and I am envious again. Envious that I do not even live in a space where I truly believed I loved and can make dreams in. The heavy scent of discontent has not been something I had ever been familiar with and I don't know how it all started. I really don't know how I got here.

Despite all the whinging though, I still burst with pride as my determined daughter edges her way into this world, one small leg trying to take two steps at a time. She puts strings of words together now and actively tries to communicate. I feel like she loves me most because I am the only one in this world that listens to her and affirms my understanding of what she has just said. I am the only one in her world that understands her language. And life with the man? Well let's just say, being single in this world of Tinder and other social crazies terrify me. We live in a heavily populated earth and yet I'd feel alone if he wasn't by my side watching a TV show, criticising our dreams together with me.

So I ask myself, is life enough? Perhaps we will slowly forget how good it was to live for ourselves as we accept our parental roles. I know the tantrums will fade but I will be pulled in other ways. There will be homework and packed lunches and extracurricular activities to keep up with. There will be her social life too to manage on top of her education and instilling values and faith. I suppose the good memories we have with our children will also build up in time and we will eventually stop lamenting the loss of the glamorous adult parties we used to throw, the dream house will become a family home and before we know it, we will have to worry about our own health and not being a burden to our children.

Perhaps then, hopefully then, we will still be together and happily say we pulled through and yes, life was enough. It was more than enough. It was the best it could have ever been.




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How is Motherhood?

This is the question everyone has asked me this first trip back presenting my baby to everyone in Syd and Hong Kong. I have portrayed a very relaxed and flexible mom on holidays. Baby sleeping at midnight so that we can stay up late and she's been so compliant, not a tantrum from lack of sleep and even willing to sleep in in the mornings to make up for it. Such a dream!

If only I knew it was always going to have been this way. Or perhaps it would have been if I didn't stress so much last year. I wonder about what life could have been if I raised her here in Sydney with her doting grandparents and cousins galore. We had a barbecue the other night with family and in the midst of eight other children she'd just met running around playing cheerfully, she stood on the sidelines every so often trying to catch the attention of another child to play with her. I worried so much then that that could be her in nursery, that she had no idea how to gain the attention of her peers. What if she didn't have the social skills to make friends because I didn't teach her the right way? I don't remember any bosom buddies from when I was that little. Also, what if it was my fault because I didn't have regular play dates for her with familiar kids so that she knew what it was like to have a friend?

It's hard not knowing what to do because it is your first child. But despite all the longings of how much better the Motherhood and her childhood experience could have been in Syd because of the people we know here, we kept longing for London's culture, the European travels and the routine of our quiet lives back in Putney whilst we were here. I surprisingly did not go crazy shopping this trip. Something to do with having a shoebox flat perhaps.

Seeing her love her grandparents' home so much has been endearing. Everyday she knows to play in the lounge by herself and to come to the kitchen to be fed. She has been so content living here the past ten days. Not a day has she really pestered me for 'Gai gai' our word for going out. But she would pester her grandma for more food and give a massive cheeky smile when presented with her own bowl of noodles even if she was really tired. And the parroting on this trip has been fun. I have heard her discover so many words and even stringing two word sentences together. Amazing! Her grandparents have even asked us to leave her here for a year, which I shall take as compliment on how well behaved they have found her this trip.

I think we got lucky because she hasn't quite reached the terrible twos just yet. She is so quietly determined to achieve the things she set out to such as climbing her cousins' bunk bed in HK that I have no doubt the year ahead will be a struggle for me. Will I discipline her? Will she respond? Will I be up to the task of teaching her the right etiquette, cultural references, language and attitude?

It's hard to tell. Even as I type this post, WhatsApp notifications pop up with my bestie telling me she is such a good kid. I hope I don't ruin her with my bad habits and won't let laziness and forgetfulness sneak in with bad parenting styles.

That's all I can hope for I suppose. I need to tirelessly dedicate the next twenty years of my life guiding and nurturing her and not try to smother her or crowd her judgement or confidence. Heres hoping that I'd remember that.





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When you no longer want to listen to me

A Young woman and her mum presumably visiting her in London are having the same conversation I can picture me having with my mum. The weight of patience from the daughter toward a nagging mum who is unsure of the life the daughter is about to embark upon. Coming from completely different cultural backgrounds, with different values towards ambition and life, both trying their best to meet in the middle somewhere and not land in a fight over touchy topics too early on in the visit. Inevitably I wonder if I'd ever get there with you, my firstborn.

I'll be more understanding and not make you live my life, I say. But the world seems rather scary these days. Without a set of rules and values to help guide you, I feel very insecure. I sit in conferences that tout Artificial Intelligence doing a job I did for the first three years of my career. And I wonder what jobs you'd have as options when it's your turn. What skills do I need to equip you with to get you to where you'd want to be?

At fifteen months you're already developing a rich imagination. You found some cartons of ready formula over the weekend in the lower shelves of the pantry. After unsuccessfully trying to open one to feed yourself, you decided they'd make good planes and 'flew' them over your head for a while until you noticed me watching. You hand me one of them. I mimic you, 'flying the plane', but you protest and push the carton closer to my ear whilst raising yours to the same. We are on the phone now mummy, babble babble. It amazed me that you are so expressive and your ability to gamify what was initially a disappointing scenario for you is encouraging. I love that imagination. To me it means you could never be bored. That you'd always have the tools within yourself to pick yourself up and believe in the achievement of the impossible. It is such a precious gift to have.

That's not the only skill set fueling your child's play. I never thought it but those soft rolls in your legs are now supporting your rotund belly as you charge around the flat at full speed and giggles abound at our guesses as to where you're headed. Usually you'd run right into us for a big warm hug wrapping your little hands around our necks if we are low enough, or our waist if we have our backs to you or if we're standing around our knees. You may be small but you hug with all your might (and big heart) and it is as strong a hold as a half hearted adult cuddle.

You chat. You want me to listen. You try to chuck my phone if I am on it and not paying full attention to you. You know the words, cheese, banana, book, bird, baba, cheers and animal sounds for fish, cow, snakes and that kangaroos and bunnies hop. You can point to so much more to identify them when I am asking you to.

You are just so clever that I feel myself overflowing with pride. I couldn't have planned you better. And I continue this post three months on from starting it, not wanting to change a word from the previous post because I can never return to that moment now, you have more of a vocabulary now and your pretend play skills have expanded. The day I posted a picture of you delightfully playing with your toy kitchen for the first time I was overjoyed but the dark day quickly turned for the worse before I knew it.



Your beautiful cyan dress that I've always loved you in is cut up now, possibly in landfill. Every time you tense your joints or curl your left hand my heart flutters out of control and nears panic mode as I struggle to push the memories of you convulsing on the floor of the shopping centre out of my mind. I try to not blame myself but I shouldn't have put you on the slide, I shouldn't have clapped stockings on you when we went out to the shops. Sometimes this is precisely when I cannot reconcile the east and west in me to decide what I need to do for you to care for you. I let you overheat that day. I held back on the paracetamol hoping you would cure naturally. I caused your body unbelievable grief that day and I paid for it a thousand times fold as I held your stiff soundless self as your wild confused eyes searched the surroundings and recognised nothing not even me or my cries. Even though you've quickly forgiven me and adore me still.

My darling girl, mummy was never qualified to do this job and being strict on you is tough for me too. But I have to try my best to not fail you and part of that is to make you listen as much as you can now because one day you won't listen to me anymore and you won't forgive me for the mistakes I made. You might not even acknowledge the sacrifices we made. However, despite the tough week just past where you fought me every day through your antibiotics, where you were impossibly spoiled because we slept with you every night, where I ended up in the ambulance myself in Luxembourg cause I had tried to fight the infection you gave me but failed embarsssingly. Despite all that my dear, I will keep trying to be strong for you and to give you my best without failing you again the way I did. I hope you'll listen to me.








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