A Parisian Easter

We are finally aboard the two hour delayed Eurostar heading backwards to London after five days of soaking in the cultural history and decadent delicacies.

It seems surreal to be able to provide for my family in these times, to make memories whilst others are suffering through terrible times. I pushed out the anxieties threatening to overtake my mind and tried hard to focus on my family. 

The bright blue skies and pastries helped the course. We had troopers walking an average of fifteen thousand steps per day the past week. Taking in Paris without complaint of meltdowns until we were back at our Airbnb. We steered the children away from paid playgrounds and introduced them to new pleasures such as sailing wooden boats, finding la Jaconde, climbing into maze hedges at Jardin Tuileries, jumping and climbing Palais Royale’s columns, walking up the Eiffel Tower, watching a flash mob dance-off at Trocadero gardens, lighting candles and praying together at the Sacre Cour, street art appreciation in the streets of Montmarte, Easter egg hunting on the walls of Macdonalds, playing on the interactive wall in Galeries Lafayette, freezing water in plastic bottles to take to the amusement park for a particularly hot day.

Two little girls, as different as they came, learnt to walk along the streets of Paris playing non-digital games, using their imagination and observing how French children behaved ( sadly none of their delightful habits rubbed off). They still managed to make me proud of them in their own ways despite me realising they are likely not as well behaved as the meek Asian children are raised to be. My family back home may struggle with accepting them, but I love their courage and curiosity. I love their positivity and adventurous spirits. Overall my fears of losing them in Paris went unfounded as they exercised caution mostly and always stuck by. 

This holiday was different and I know why. My wonderful 19 year old cousin definitely helped by entertaining them, teaching them games and songs that distracted them in long queues. I felt more relaxed than I usually was. Plus not cooking during the holiday helped me relax too. I don’t think I fought once with my husband either although unfortunately  one evening I did bark my cousin’s head off when we were tired, hungry and he was being politely indecisive about what to eat.

Other than that, I certainly do not regret the holiday one bit.

Making memories and spending time to understand my children is a luxury I take for granted. I know how frustrating everyday life can be but am grateful I took a breather this Easter to celebrate the important things in life, happy families, praying together, forgiving and seeing each other’s perspective together.

May 2022 will bring with it a poignant trip home for the first time without my dad, to try to pick up pieces and address any delayed grief if there is any. I hope it will be peaceful and bond building like this Easter break, but will approach it like my daughters did, brave and open minded come what May.

It was the worst of times; it was the worst of times

2021 was way worse than 2020.

I suppose I didn’t see it coming. Sure we are still standing and yes we had been resilient. There are still loads to be thankful for like good health to overcome a new wave of covid infection that is tearing through the city/ world at the moment and friends that are willing to spend Christmas with us despite us having caught the virus, enough vaccines to go around the adults getting them boosted to fight another bout, a NHS that’s still fighting and not overwhelmed by this wave, a lovely warm home and the ability to put food on the table and presents under the tree because mummy and daddy work hard in this household to make the income that pays taxes and buys nice things.

That’s an easy half a dozen of things to be glad about already, but this year, my values were shattered to its very core as I reviewed what I thought it meant to be a mother and a partner. I admit, I used to view myself as weak if I didn’t keep a clean house and only pursued my own happiness rather than the others in my household. I thought that if I didn’t perform mum duties as well as earn my own keep then I wasn’t a worthy woman. I thought I could handle the juggle and keep it real and raise great kids and take on the world. But noooooo, January’s lockdown called all of that to question. 

I broke on week 1 of homeschooling. Not this shite again, this time with a sassy almost six year old who plainly told me to quit bossing her around. I was tired of the mental juggling with no list of things to look forward to( usually I made a whole load of travel plans in Jan). My husband was unhappy with his work which made getting out of bed so much harder for him too. Gloomy days, locked in with energetic children and unhappy parents. 

Then came the unhappy conversations we had of our friends leaving London, and his unfruitful yet all-consuming pursuit of the perfect job. The juggle didn’t get better. Mentally, we were so burdened that no one conceded to take on anymore. We couldn’t bear to, it would break what little we still had. Loads of laundry, life admin, children raising shitpile, meal after meal after meal. You get the idea of the chugging along that we endured. Everyday a Groundhog Day, every week a new fight about the same old shit about how neither of us were getting any happier, and nothing was making a difference. At this point, perhaps a divorce could have been remedial. 

But then the steps to come out of lockdown were announced, with Easter on the way, and outdoor classes resumed, schools reopened, the Husband being offered two jobs after his dark months, us getting British Citizenship, I booked us multiple UK staycations throughout May and summer, it felt like we could make it through. 

Delta had other plans however, it took from me the one person that I had ever felt had authority over me. Without my father’s guidance in this world, I no longer knew who to share my career or children’s milestones with. Who would I video call to talk me through how to fix a plumbing issue or an electricity fault? The husband knew zilch life skills and never found it particularly an emasculating skill set to possess, happy to let me sort those out with my dad.

That was my May, plan after plan cancelled as I, wrecked with grief, barely survived through the pain. 

It wasn’t until October that our sunshine came back. Ten years recapped at a Michelin starred fine dining restaurant, where we recalled the several years where we were warriors side by side and shared the same views. True the world is a far more fluid place these days than it used to be. I feel inclined to be more flexible given I now realise how naive I used to be, but he doesn’t agree and is less willing to take on board the new world. Which is why we were at the impasse we were at. We are still together however. And after half a life spent together, building and supporting each other, I realised that I didn’t hate him despite how angry and worthless he could make me feel, (which by the way, he’d always done from the beginning), in fact I would be lost without him by my side to be the opposing view that diversifies my life. I could be a very one dimensional bland being, but together we could make a spicy combo.

So here’s the other half dozen of blessings to be grateful for this 2021, Travels to Europe, friendships rekindled, promotions and bonuses at a job I feel appreciated at, two fabulously witty girls who both are unlocking achievements each day (my eldest mastered the rubix cube and was published in a book this year!), a country that is still able to handle the pandemic without shutting down (although this might be writing too soon), a love that has endured the bad as well as the good now and is still not dead. 

I know the way I complain about my marriage sometimes makes my friends alarmed and really wonder if I am better off without him in my life. However, we are both not giving up on each other just yet. I know that I am still anxious of I have no news from him when he is away, or if he is taken with Illness so I do still care. For now, it is about not expecting change or that your partner can bring you happiness. It is about not expecting someone else to owe you or give you anything good in this world but counting on yourself. Because when your walls crumble and your vulnerable self was as exposed as mine were this year, you take one brick at a time and kintsugi style rebuild the wall. Mine is more opaque now. It lets the light shine through, in and out. I don’t hide my struggles and I don’t promote lies. I only aim to build up others with my learnings from 2021 and apologise to those that I had unknowingly shunned in my past.

Did you know time stopped?

The time stopped on the Saturday morning.

That’s when we were told to go in the next morning to talk to the doctors. I thought we’d be given the stats, percentages, the lowdown of where you are at and how much survival rate you’d have.

The time on our clock stopped and I didn’t change the battery.

I was furiously researching post Covid recovery and imagining what your life would entail if we got you home safely. I was planning out various scenarios of how I could safely make my way home to spend more time with you. I was not watching the clock.

Wednesday 26th we made you the meal you demanded and you said it was delicious. Mum and I made plans for your aftercare believing that the soup was actually your first meal to regaining strength on the path of recovery.

Thursday 27th I spoke with you in the morning as soon as Lucy got into my bed but you said you felt tired and wanted to rest. One hour later Mum rang and texted Urgent! Call me! I rang you dad and my girls and I encouraged you to stay strong and fight the collapsed lung. We were hopeful, and I think you too, as you promised you would and then you abruptly cut us off maybe so that you can get the aid you need quicker or maybe because you didn’t want the girls to see them put you into your coma.

Saturday, the time stopped ticking. Mum said we had to think about what final words we should say to you. Some of us still thought there was hope. We recorded words of encouragement. Sarah wrote you a poem, 

“Dear 公公, I love you, I love you the whole way through. Dear 公公, I know you and I hope that you know me too. Dear 公公, I’ve been praying for you. I hope that you’ll get better too.

Dear 公公, I love you, that’s why I wrote this poem for you. 

Dear 公公, I also thank you for being so kind and bringing me to the Malaysian zoo. 

I love you forever and ever”

but said as an afterthought: “and even if you die, I will remember you forever and ever like I said,”

Lucy said, “Dear 公公, I Love you. Be strong, be brave, be free of the Coronavirus. I Love you forever 公公.”

Sunday morning, the doctor said she didn’t think it would be kind to revive you because you would be in so much pain. We said our final goodbyes and mum said you teared up when you realised it was farewell and not well wishes anymore.

The time stopped that weekend and I was frozen in time, my final screenshot of my final moment with you, I didn’t want to leave, but I had no choice.

I never changed that battery but Steve found one that you had bought. It’s like you wanted to give us the power to carry on and that you were willing us to move forward with time. And so Monday came and the clock was ticking again.

But time stopped that weekend, perhaps it had suspended all month. May 2021, my very last month with you. Talking everyday that we could, praying and hoping and missing you. Thank you for being my father and being in our lives.

Wake me up when May 2021 ends

I feel like this day shouldn’t be happening but yet I know it is. Somehow it feels like you are still there and I will hear your voice and you bouncing back again a third time爸爸. But it is painful to see you hide your pain, I really listened to everything you said but perhaps I didn’t listen to the words you didn’t say. Your last words to me to tell me not to worry, I flooded you in my farewell with the same. But maybe I should have worried more, perhaps we should have been more proactive, but then we may not have had this opportunity to properly say farewell. 

Thank you so much for loving me and teaching me to be a noble person in life. Thank you for teaching me to have dreams and achieving those dreams. Thank you for loving my children and teaching me to enjoy life everyday. You are someone I always want to share my hopes, achievements and rants with. I enjoy eating and drinking with you, for you enjoy to the fullest. This sort of life is your celebration of all things that matter to you and you don’t sweat the unimportant issues.

I remember being in a pub with you and realising that you are willing to give all things in life a go. Try new things and deciding if you like it or not. But the love of life brought about with it challenges during lockdown. We couldn’t predict it. Contact tracing was poor and you hid your worst fears from us. I spoke with you everyday and yet I only picked up on the fatigue, not the virus that was busy ravaging your lungs before it took away your last breath. If I knew someone had been to blame for your sufferings, I would make them pay, but God asked me to forgive and I prayed The Lord’s Prayer for you, for myself and for us all to find amd make peace. You have peace and I believe Mum has found peace too. 

It was hard to say Goodbye today Daddy, so I won’t. I will let you live on forever in my heart, in my life, for every animal I hear or see, every plant I nurture into fruition, I will see your passion for nature and your love in them. For every drink I have from now on, I will drink the last drop for you in your honour and memory. In every laugh that comes after this, I shall fondly remember your rolling belly laughter. Your cheekiness, your generosity, your last gift to my children which I will stretch for years of Christmases to come.

Happy Father’s Day and Happy birthday Daddy for next month and the month after next. I thought I’d have a chance to say those words to you; but sadly no. Wake me up when May 2021 ends.

What a Reception!

It wasn’t many posts ago when I wrote about my firstborn’s first day at school. In reality it has now been a year and we have begun another school year. 2020 has been a crazy year just to put it mildly.

COVID-19 changed everything and halted most plans. Gratefully, we remain unscathed. If anything, some form of resilience kicked in and my husband rather enjoyed the lockdown way of life, sharing childcare duties with me, cooking barbecues midweek and getting to know our children better. My children won’t eat dinner without him these days and it has been nice for me to not parent alone in the evenings. 

We also have managed to begin enjoying outdoor activities together more. Going for a walk or a bike ride as a family has become a fun thing that this family can now do together. 

Not too long ago we were on a wonderful Roadtrip to the Black Forest and Lyon which ended on a very very high note. The children have enjoyed activities like bike riding, swimming, table tennis, hiking, seen all sorts of birds and animals on this trip, learnt about some history, and eaten decadent foods. My two year old even surprised me by liking olives at one of our alfresco lunches. They both also didn’t seem squeamish when we fed them frog’s legs in France.

Best of all, the one year goal I had set to change my daughters’ schooling education came true and this week, my firstborn changes school for Y1! I am so elated about it all that I have not stopped praying and cannot seem to sleep very well ever since finding out the news. 

Of course there is the anxiety of my little one having to leave her friends from the previous year. She has grown fond of her mates that she was in preschool with that also went into school with her this past year. She already didn’t like the  fact that they leave Reception, now she is changing schools! I trust that she will adjust quickly but still I feel sad that I didn’t consider her feelings very much when I burst out in joy upon reading the offer email in the car on the roadtrip. She seemed so confused and upset by the news which I didn’t convey to her in the best circumstances. I am still bad mum it would seem. Although she will still see her best mate after school in wraparound care, very cruelly for them, they are separated because of the bubbles of different schools. 

It isn’t new, the first year of school had been fraught with anxieties from me, albeit her steadfast progress which constantly amazed me. Undeterred by having to learn how to write cursive after just mastering her letters in preschool, and ditching Spanish lessons for French, she learnt voraciously through her passion for reading and trying new things. She took up tennis, chess, swimming, cycling and a little bit of table tennis and engaged in the learning. This past week, her teachers have observed how bright she is and moved her up a reading level. All very good points to affirm what I always knew in her. It did break my heart when on the first day, a little girl we already knew rolled her eyes when her mummy asked her to escort my LO into school. And again when upon pickup my firstborn says she played all by herself in school. I never expected her to be popular but had always been glad (perhaps took for granted) that she at least had her one true friend in the past year. 

Still, one week in, she seems settled, and happy to be learning again. I am again humbled by God’s plan for me, how He has chosen a far better path than I knew for myself. Given me a daughter who teaches me more than I knew I had to learn about humanity. She bears my outbursts when lockdown motherhood gets a bit tough, she stifles her silent tears and puts on a brave face when I have lost mine. She holds my hand in her little one fiercely, just to calm me down. It is all a bit Vanity Fair. She is Emmy and I am George, not the best Mother she deserves. 

My littlest one, the Becky Sharp who is wily and mean on the other hand gets all my fawning because she flashes her cute smiles and exerts herself in all aspects demanding my attention. Some days I realise I spend too much time playing to her whims and not asserting my authority to make her do the right thing. I have tried to flip this recently and be stricter. We possibly need to try harder with her academics too. She is slow to follow her sister’s footsteps in letters and numbers but her imagination is coming to live, ignited by following her sister in play. She kneads dough very deftly and intuitively to my surprise and loves helping me make food although she doesn’t eat very much of it. 

My life can be complete now. I can keep this story going on this wonderful trajectory. Or we could tempt fate and try one more time to tip the balance. Not a decision to be made today, but watch this space, the lockdown has made us yearn for social things, learn new skills and compromises, Miss our families back home. But it hasn’t broken our spirit or our faith in God and humanity. So, until the next time I have something meaningful to write about again, I bid adieu to this chapter and hope I never have to homeschool again.