Growing seeds

It's been a while (yet again) since my last post. I could put up a image to enhance this story but you will see that it won't be appropriate.

As Estelle was getting ready for her shower today, she picked at her chest and asked, "What are these?"

"They are called nipples," I answered.

"I know, they are seeds," she offered.

"Because they will grow big. And for boys, they will grow hair. Lots of long hair."

Then she went on to name several members of the family as evidence.

So you see, I have no such pictures.

Money problem

Now that Estelle is in primary school, she has access to the school canteen where she can buy food.

Estelle feels grown-up when she can buy something for herself without an adult's help. She prefers buying to bringing food from home. Her pocket money was withdrawn for one day last week when I found that she had been buying sweet drinks and jelly instead of food. By the time she was dismissed from class, she was famished. We have come to an understanding that she has to spend the money on food and she can decide what to do with the balance.

She has done pretty well this couple of weeks. For days she had fishball noodle during recess. Finally, on Tuesday, she ventured to a new territory called chicken rice and yesterday (Wednesday), she conquered another frontier, duck rice.

I suspect she is still not sure how much her food cost. For days she told me her food cost $1.00 but she got money back. Nevertheless, she has come up with a clever way to pay.

Apparently, she gives the stall owner $1.00 and waits for change.

She is figuring her way around the economics of buying and selling.

I have used this trick myself during my travels. Whether in Bangkok, Tokyo or Finland, I will try to speak the local language to assume the role of a local expatriate. In other words, I'm faking familiarity with the market place. Usually in the first couple of days, my ears are still not tuned and I can't make out the price quoted, so I'll give a sufficiently large note and wait for change. Throw in a smile and a word of thanks in their language always makes the shopping trip a pleasant one.

The patriot

Third week into Primary 1, Estelle still thinks school is fun.

Tomorrow will be her first spelling test. She has never had spelling tests before so when she got the list of words to be tested, she told me those were for a "spelling contest". There is a programme on Singapore TV called Spell Cast, which is basically like the Spelling Bee in the US. She thinks she is like one of the contestants on TV.

She has learnt a favourite song at school. It's called Majulah Singapura, which is our National Anthem. For 2 weeks now, this is the only song she's been humming. Last week, she thought she was learning a Malay song - our national anthem is in the Malay language, not English. Today, she sang it at the top of her voice, much to her parents' amusement. She was a little shy so she closed the door and sang passionately. She didn't realise the walls have ears.

We call her our little patriot.

At Estelle's school, each class has a class blog where the teachers update parents on the topics covered in class or inform us of administrative matters.

In today's entry, her form teacher wrote: "The children sang the national anthem loudly and with pride at the end of the lesson, which I thought was great."

That explains the loud singing we got at home today.

When Jules came home later in the afternoon, she tried to teach him the song and bring him through the procedures during morning assembly, when the children start the day with the singing of the national anthem, the school song and reciting the pledge.

So far, Estelle seems to be fitting in well into the new system. School continues to be a fun experience.

A new start

I'm back!

Sweeping aside layers of electronic cobwebs, I realised that only one miserable entry was posted for the month of December.

Here is a brief account of what I accomplished - a word that makes me feel good about how I used the time that has passed me by - in the last one month.

Renovations of our home is almost complete. Almost every morning last month, we visited furniture stores and shops for kitchen equipment, bathroom fittings, lighting, tiles... Sometimes we would meet with our designer to discuss colours and progress of the project.

I'm happy to announce that we are nearing the end of this project. Just in time since the lease of our temporary accommodation expires next week. The movers will come middle of next week and we will move ourselves in by the end of the week.

Next week, we bid farewell to regular housekeeping service, the swimming pool and the convenience of a shopping mall under our feet. We will then say hello to our "new" home and stability as we finally settle into normal life in Singapore.

Estelle started primary school last Monday. I've been meaning to post her progress since Monday but the routine has been pretty tiring.

For the past week, we woke up at 6 am so as to get ready to leave for school before 7 pm. We noticed the kids move in slow motion in the mornings. Nevertheless, time proceeds at its regular speed. Thus one whole hour just to wash up, change and have breakfast.

As for me, what I had been feeling this week is somewhat close to jet lag. My time zone shifted 3 hours ahead since Monday. I much prefer the old schedule of waking up at 9 am.

Estelle seems to be taking to Primary 1 (Grade 1) pretty well... better than we had expected. She has made new friends, found her way around the school and learning new cultures, like singing the national anthem, school song, putting on the school uniform or bowing to greet teachers.

On day 1, Estelle conscientiously finished the bread I packed for her during recess.

By the second day, she bought food herself in the school canteen. She bought a bun and a bottle of Yakult - the latter a treat for herself since it is restricted goods at home.

How much money do you have left? I asked her when I picked her up after school.

Three coins, she replied.

So how much is that, like 10 cents or 20 cents, I queried.

Oh, 30 cents, I think, she said.

On the third day, she bought a bowl of fishball noodles and a bottle of flavoured water.

The noodles cost $1 and the drinks $1,20, she proudly announced.

Where did you get the money from? I asked. Her daily allowance is $1.50.

A teacher had "lent" her money, apparently. I don't know who this good Samaritan is or if she is keeping track of her "loans".

By the fourth day, my little girl lost her purse.

Thus is Chapter 1 of the chronicles of Estelle's adventures at school.

Spot on

Every evening, my kids would have a selection of yoghurt, fruit and some biscuits for dessert. I think they have as much fun trying out different foods as I have buying them.

Tonight, I bought a new Paula yoghurt (as shown above). Two new flavours are introduced this week: strawberry or peach in milk yoghurt. The kids were really excited.

Jules: Mummy, do you know why the yoghurt has a picture of a cow?

Me (thinking): Because yoghurt is made from milk which comes from cows?

Jules (answering anyway): Because cows have spots.

By the way, Estelle loves the strawberry Paula but Jules had some trouble finishing it. He prefers the chocolate flavoured ones... What colour do you think are the cows?

Conking those conkers

Yesterday, after I've taken out the cleaned laundry from the washing machine, I can still hear noisy clonking against the metal wheel. I looked in and found two brown seeds.

They looked like chestnuts. I wonder if they are edible.

In many parts of Asia, including Singapore, Japan, Taiwan and China, one can find street vendors roasting large cauldrons of chestnuts. The smell of warm chestnuts swimming in, apparently, coal pebbles is heavenly. The coal may explain why my fingers turn brown as I peel open the shell to get at the sweet fruit inside. During my time in Beijing, the warmth of the chestnut in late autumn was very comforting.

I left the two chestnuts on the washing machine and Jules spotted them as he was taking his shower.

Mummy, those are mine, he laid his claim.

What are they? I asked.

They are conkers, he replied.

Ah, yes. My "Westernised" son knows these things as conkers. He explained they are the seeds of horse chestnuts.

I'm not sure what he does with them but I found another one in his pocket today.

That's my conker, he said as he added it to his stash.

Meanwhile, his old man is thinking: kao lat.

3 years old and smoking

I just read this crazy story on The Guardian of a man who was sentenced to 18 months jail for allowing a 3-year-old girl to smoke. Here is a report by the BBC.

This irresponsible act is absolutely appalling.

According to the report, the man thought it was funny that the 3-year-old girl left under his care smoked. The video showed the little girl inhale, then exhale, and asked for more. The girl, apparently, already knew how to smoke by the time she was filmed. She had had three sticks that day already!

Both stories did not mention the relationship between the man and the child. Who is he? Where are the parents?

My father is a smoker; he has been since he was a teenager so he says he can't quit. He says he had tried but thought it is better for his overall health if he doesn't. Everyone in the family, and now his grandchildren too, chides him for smoking. I don't like the smell of tobacco smoke. I pray for his good health and long life because he's a beloved member of my family.

I can't remember what he did when I was young but I recall ash trays in our home. But in the last few years, he would step outside to take his smoke. He doesn't share his smoking habit with his family, so to speak. I've noticed that when my kids go outdoors to chat with him, he would wave them off.

It's bad enough to subject children to second-hand smoke. Some time ago, I read that the Finnish government is mulling a law to ban smoking in cars (and maybe at residences too) if a child is present.

The choice to smoke belongs to the individual. Please don't read this and think that I dislike you because you smoke.

Two years ago, I met an old friend from college and we chatted about our families. His wife had just delivered their second child and I asked if they were having any more. He replied they would consider this if his wife would stop smoking. She'd probably stopped when she was pregnant but she could start again after she had given birth.

I hope more people can be like my father or my friend and his wife. Smoking is their prerogative but caring for their loved ones is also a top priority.

In and out of control

Two summers ago in Helsinki, I found my Estelle biting her nails. In the quietness of her bed, she would nibble at her fingers.

Over two years later, my Estelle is still an incessant nail-biter. She's had her nails (fingers AND toes) trimmed less than 10 times during this period.

We talked about it many times. I tried to appeal to her physical self, mental faculties, vain alter ego - yelling, encouraging, affirming, bribing, caning, rewarding, explaining, praying... I am exasperated. My emotions swing from anger to helplessness and back.

Estelle's fingers started to bleed because she had been getting at the skin on her finger tips now that nails are pretty short. You HAVE to stop this, I warned her.

"Why don't you let me do what I want, Mummy?" my little girl pleaded, tears streaming down her face. "Why don't you let me be?"

"Because I love you."

I am now having a discussion about nail-biting with my 5-year-old. In a few years time, we might be talking about boys, tattoos, smoking, ear rings, navel rings, nose rings... and goodness knows what else.

Earlier this week, I caught up with the school manager Nannu and asked for her help. Perhaps the teachers could look out for Estelle and remind her not to bite her nails.

Nannu confessed that she is a nail-biter herself and she had only recently stopped because her older son Joonas has started the habit. She hadn't been able to prevent herself from continuing this habit and she couldn't stop Joonas either. And mind you, Joonas is in Estelle's class and right under his mother's nose all day long.

Estelle joined us as we talked and she listened intently. Joonas and Estelle can remind each other to stop, Nannu suggested.

At least I can be consoled that in this aspect, the school manager, the supposed child expert, is as out of control as I am. This is also about letting go and loving Estelle more than ever.

I hope she will overcome this habit soon. Estelle's struggles to curb her urges are as difficult as my efforts to leave her alone.

It is important we can talk and bare our emotions to each other. I still want to do this when she is a teenager.

As we finished our conversation with Nannu and getting ready to go home, Jules hopped to his locker to show me a treat his friend had given the class. It was Julia's birthday and she gave her classmates a little chocolate bar each.

One of Jules' friend H had also come into the cloak room to show his dad the treat. Half a minute later, H was howling and raising a ruckus. According to my kids who witnessed the incident, H's little brother had snatched the treat away and refused to give it back.

H's father was persuading him to let his little brother have it. If H was as excited as Jules was, he was not giving in without a fight. H somehow knew he could not get it back by force so he begged his father to "get it back for him". The father then asked the younger boy to give it back until the older one put on his clothes to go home. The father went between the two boys like a headless chicken.

The little one may be the smarter one: he held on to his treasure and stood quietly in a corner while his older brother wailed and stormed.

Nannu came out for a look and pacified the commotion by offering the younger boy a lollipop.

While I tried not to gawk, my kids watched the events unfold and seemed to take in every detail.

This incident reminded me of my not-so-distant past. I was often told to give in to my brother because he was younger. You should love your brother because you only have one, they kept saying. My brother was a harmless chap (still is!) but perhaps my mother especially, felt that he needed help to get more in life. She may not be thinking about favouritism but it sure came across as being terribly unfair for me.

My heart went out to H that day but I was in no position to interfere.

I try my best to be fair with my kids. They know their entitlements are not affected by age or gender. They also know that some things can't be helped: like Jules can't put on a dress or skirt. Otherwise, they get equal portions of dessert or they get a new T-shirt each when I go shopping. Because they have been given 'freedom of speech', they can speak up for themselves if they think they are being 'discriminated against'.

Sometimes I wish I can simply reply "because I say so" when they ask a question. But I am also constantly kept on my toes because I know that my kids don't accept ambiguity.

Live to eat

Estelle and Mommy at dinner

People have varied ideas about whether children should be seen or heard, or both or neither.

We bring our kids wherever we go. This is especially so in Finland where we live by ourselves and don't have any babysitters. Domestic helpers are not common in Finland, and even if families have nannies, they usually work during office hours or they will call it a day soon after their wards have had their dinners.

Perhaps this is why there are many children-friendly restaurants in Finland. People have to bring their children along if they want to go out. High chairs are readily available as well as microwave ovens to warm up ready-to-eat foods.

Besides places that serve Asian food where we could order some dishes to go with rice or noodles, we patronise family restaurants like La Famiglia in Helsinki or Rosso. They have children's menus, offer options like spaghetti bolognese or pizzas in smaller portions as well as a children's corner where the kids could play. Since eating out in Finland is quite expensive, we go out less often than in Singapore or Beijing. So our kids appreciate the times we give them a treat.

Thus, I found this story on "The restaurant-friendly child" on The Guardian pretty interesting.

I agree with the author that it is the parents' responsibility to teach their children to behave at restaurants. I'll extend this responsibility to include other settings, like shopping malls or parks. Children, and adults too, need to respect other people's personal space.

On the other hand, it is frustrating when public places are not accommodating towards children. I'm not referring to fine-dining restaurants where even the slightest chink from cutlery is thought of as causing a ruckus.

Which way should it be: a restaurant-friendly child or a child-friendly restaurant?

How about tackling the question in another context: a child-friendly home or a home-friendly child?

HG and I are of the opinion that instead of child-proofing our home, like installing locks on the fridge or cupboards, it's better to teach the child boundaries and not to step over them. Nevertheless, wisdom has to prevail over principles. When our kids were younger we covered our power sockets with plastics covers but we stopped when we moved to a new city. Over time, they learn to play with their own stuff, not to touch things that do not belong to them, and to ask for permission if unsure.

Note: they don't follow protocol ALL the time, in case you are thinking I have a pair of angels.

Tomorrow we leave for a short holiday to Paris. Although HG and I were just there last year, we didn't notice if Parisian restaurants are child-friendly. This time, we go as a family of four. So I hope our kids are restaurant-friendly so we will be welcomed every where we go.

When you wish upon a star

Estelle had just finished her shower and I was drying her up when I heard a noise.

Poot... poot... poot...

Me: (covering my nose with the towel) Estelle! What's that sound?

Estelle: (laughing) What sound, mummy?

Me: (nose still covered) Oh my goodness, what was that?

Estelle: It's just a shooting star, mummy.

The kids are really happy these couple of days because their grandparents are here to visit. HG and I were initially worried about putting them up in the living room. It turned out that the kids moved downstairs to join them. Our living room has become a camp site. A very happy one.

I am mother, hear me roar

I think it's a mother's natural instinct to care and protect her cubs. Other family members included.

I have reached the age where friends around me 1) have children, 2) are adding children, 3) are planning to have/add children, or 4) made up their minds not to have any.

This time back in Singapore, I met an old friend at Bukit Timah Plaza on a Sunday afternoon. The elder of his two girls was taking ballet lessons. We went there with our friends whose boys were taking music lessons. Being out of Singapore for several years now, HG and I didn't know that Bukit Timah Plaza is actually a popular site for children's enrichment classes.

Pulled along by the tides of time, we bump into friends these days at places like Bukit Timah Plaza, and no longer at yuppie coffee joints or pubs at Holland V or Mohamed Sultan.

I don't know about other moms out there but I often think about what kind of mother I want to be.

Is staying at home full time the best decision a mother can make?

I enjoy the autonomy to decide how I want to bring up our kids. It's also fun planning the menu and whipping up delicious and nutritious meals for the family. I am thankful I am there whenever my kids need me, like when they fall ill and need to stay at home, or when the teacher calls that they'd run into trouble at school.

However, I think this routine is dulling my senses. I miss meeting deadlines, socialising with colleagues, dressing up for work, traveling and most of all, the satisfaction of a job well done. I don't wish to be enslaved to my family, not now or in the future. I want to live my own life!

I was rather pleased to strike a balance in Singapore and Beijing, where I could work from home and still travel occasionally for press events and conferences. Work has dwindled since I come to Finland. I'd bet the cashiers at the local supermarket recognise this Asian woman who comes in nearly every day, sometimes to buy something, sometimes nothing.

Besides personal satisfaction, a full-time job would certainly boost our family income. More money is helpful, not to mention, gives me the power to pamper myself with material things. I'm far from noble so I must confess that I wish I can splurge liberally on designer clothes, jewellery, shoes, holidays... the list grows the more I mull over it.

These days, I can't help but feel resigned to my state of affairs. Then last night, I read an article by NYT columnist, Judith Warner. Warner is a stay-at-home mom and an author. This week, she wrote about her run-in with working moms.

On the other end of the spectrum is Lucy Kellaway of the FT. Back in February, she wrote about her guilt as a selfish working mother.

I can identify with both women. At some point, I was one or the other, and my status may change again when we move to a new country where career opportunities and childcare arrangements are more readily available.

"I am woman, hear me roar." Do you know this feminist anthem by Helen Reddy?

Stay at home versus full time work. I'm still searching for the point of equilibrium.

If we didn't have kids

If we didn't have kids

We'd be DINKs with lots of chink

What can we buy with double the income

Lots of stuff for ourselves

And plenty other events to go to

Then we had kids

One of us bade our job goodbye

Four fellows now share the spoils

Still we saved more

Than when there were only two

If we didn't have kids

My wardrobe gets new additions

Every time I hit the shops

Suits, bags and shoes

Money buys some satisfaction

Then we had kids

Their wardrobe gets new additions

Every time I hit the shops

Pink dresses or Spidey Ts

Giggles brings instant gratification

If we didn't have kids

We'd live in the city

In a cosy apartment by the sea

Fiddling with fancy gadgets

Lounging on the balcony

Then we had kids

Chose a house in the country

Flanked by flowers and trees

Cycling on gravel tracks

Running in the forestry

If we didn't have kids

We'd choose a fancy restaurant

Every evening, a new menu

We'll hang out late into the night

Maybe some friends over for a chat

Then we had kids

I whip up yummy-licious stews

Every day, a fresh menu

We exchange hugs and kisses before bed

They get more when sound asleep

If we didn't have kids

We'd take off for hols this week

Get on a plane with some clothes

Shopping, coffee and dinners

In Barcelona, Paris or Rome

Then we had kids

Packing for hols take a week

Extra large suitcase with more on board

Shopping, food and rides

Disneyland, the beach or the zoo

If we didn't have kids

We'd have more time

And money too

We can go wherever we want

And eat whatever we want

Then we had kids

We share all that we have

Time and money too

Love and joy multiplied

There's nothing else we want

Why we don't need a lot of money

"Because if our wallet has lots of money, it will break and have many holes."

This is the logic of Estelle, my five-year-old little girl. Her deduction is not incorrect, although receipts, vouchers and cards (credit, discount, membership, etc) may be the actual contributors to a bloated wallet.

She came to her conclusion as we sat down for a snack at the petrol station after a car wash. HG and I were discussing how expensive car washes are in Finland: we paid €17.50 for a full wash (comes with soap compared to €14.50 for just water) and another €2 to use the vacuum cleaner (our interiors probably yielded a cup worth of gravel). Estelle was confirming the meaning of the word "expensive".

We try to teach our kids the value of money. They can't buy everything they see or want. They can't visit the pay-per-entry playground every day, or even every week. At €9 per hour per child, I bring them only when I really need to let off some steam.

My aunt thought it's shameful that we don't buy toys for our kids. How could they walk out of a toy store or department store empty-handed? We were heartless to deny them their childhood joys. Since it's not a matter of affordability, are we being stingy?

But we think our kids have many toys already. And we do buy them new toys, just not ALL the time.

We also want to teach our kids patience and decision-making. Since our holiday in Lapland last year, we established this practice where our kids could buy one item at the end of the trip. They would look wherever we went (aka window shopping) and make their final decision the day before we leave.

This means that if our holiday lasts 5 days, the kids have to wait for 3 days to make the actual purchase. Besides patience, they also learn to prioritise their wants. We think they will ultimately be happier with their buy than we having to argue about why we aren't buying a second (or third, fourth...) item or having them regret their initial choice if they buy the first thing they see.

Like other kids, they periodically receive gifts from friends and relatives, which all add up to their trove.

I didn't grow up having everything we wanted. I remember going out with parents and leaving the shopping centre empty-handed most of the time. Sometimes, I could buy a bottle of teddy bear-shaped juice, which left me rather satisfied.

Fast-forward to present day, I'd say that I don't crave for an IT bag or shoes. It's ok not to carry a branded bag or be spotted in red-soled Christian Louboutin heels.

Would I like to have them? Sure. Can I live without them? Sure. And not feel like I'm missing out? Most of the time.

Another Fun Sunday

After that great outing last week, we decided to find another place we haven't been to, to do something we haven't done before.

Scouring the internet, we found Paloheinän maki. The website says it's a good place for outdoor activities. So again, find the address, program the GPS and off we go.

Paloheinän maki was crowded. The car park was full and the hills were alive with the sound of sleds.

Are you dizzy after watching the movie? Some of the slopes were really steep and slippery so we went rather fast. Some parts are so icy and slippery that you can't help yourself but slide downhill.

We saw kids as young as a few months old sledding. Their parents chose gentle slopes and they either go down with them or put them in baby sleds - kind of like a potty, except with ski bottoms.

Sledding is a great work-out. We climbed up-slope numerous times and sometimes, we slipped a few steps and crawled upwards. And every time we go down-slope, there's the rush of adrenaline. This went on for over an hour.

The outdoor temperature this afternoon was around -3ºC. We felt a little cold when we arrived but some rounds of sledding later, we warmed up. Throughout the outing, we didn't perspire nor felt hot and sticky. 

As much as the kids look forward to sunny Singapore and putting on shorts and sundresses again, I suspect humidity might be an issue.

Getting all hot and steamy

Today, we had our first family sauna.

Earlier this week, we watched a children's TV programme where a little girl tried the sauna with her grandfather. So we decided it's time to introduce our kids to this wonderful Finnish tradition.

The sauna is attached to the bathroom but our kids aren't allowed to go into the darkened room by themselves. They were really excited when we opened the door today and they could go in.

The sauna is the most under-utilised room in our home. Yes, we have our very own sauna. We've not used it since we moved in in June last year and it was tempting to use it as a store room. But this would mean that we will never ever use the sauna the way it should be - moving all that junk out, then in again, would be too much of a hassle.

This evening, our sauna fulfilled its purpose. 

We got the kids to strip down to their underwear while I had a towel wrapped around me. Finnish tradition would have had everyone stark naked because they view the sauna as a gender-free zone. We thought it might be better to keep some level of modesty.

The kids started off sitting happily on the wooden seats and watching Daddy pour water onto the hot stones. Then the steam came and it got a little uncomfortable. Jules enjoyed the experience and had fun drying himself (and others) with the little hanky I gave him. Estelle found the steam suffocating and wanted out quickly. Mommy and Daddy hadn't had enough so we chatted with them until we finished the pail of water.

Traditionally, the Finns would jump into icy waters (either lake or river) or roll in the snow after about 30 minutes of sauna. We just took a cool shower and dried off. It's a simple introduction for the kids.

My first sauna experience was some 8 years ago at a hotel in Helsinki. Another guest, a Finnish lady who had lived abroad for many years, taught me the correct way to enjoy Finnish sauna. It should be very hot and very steamy. I followed with a cold shower and was jumping and squealing. This hot-then-cold treatment combined with aerobic activity really got my heart pumping.

Spending some time in the sauna is beneficial to health. Pores on the skin are opened, toxins are excreted though perspiration and skin is moisturised. Our cheeks were flushed like we had just worked out at the gym. I also felt warmer, which is a great feeling because we are almost always in long sleeves the last 3 months, sometimes more than one layer.

Wikipedia seems to have a balanced description of the Finnish sauna and its benefits. Health claims on some of the other websites seem a little far-fetched.

The sauna is an important aspect of Finnish life. Many homes, except maybe apartments, have their own saunas. Ours is powered by electricity. The Finns go to the sauna together as a social activity and is as common as, for example, having a meal together.

HG has a T-shirt that reads: "Where's the sauna? I have a meeting."

Even Finnish offices have saunas. According to HG, there are saunas at the Nokia office in Singapore, mid-level in one of the blocks at Alexandra Technopark. The Finns sometimes hold casual corporate meetings in saunas. I can't imagine what serious issues a bunch of naked and sweaty men (not sure if women attend, not withstanding the gender-neutral stance) can be discussing. But I'm told that the relaxing and open setting is a breeding ground for innovative ideas. The secret of Nokia's success, perhaps?

So PS, you can now tell Ethan that Estelle is indeed having a good time at the sauna in Finland.

Rabbit update:  Our wild rabbit didn't come home one night. It might have been hampered by a heavy snowfall and stayed over at a friend's place. This morning, we had two rabbits in our patch. I wonder if we'll have a brood by spring...

A bunny on the left and another under the tree.

Sick and tired

The flu bug bit me on Christmas Day and til today, I'm still coughing and sniffing, especially at night.

The little bug found a new host in my little Estelle yesterday. She came down with a high fever in the early hours and had been coughing and sniffing just like her mom. While I'm nursing my own illness, I have to take care Estelle too. I need a break!

As we discussed whether to take our first step out of Singapore, a major concern was the kids' health. In Beijing, we chose an apartment near an international clinic. Chinese hospitals are almost always crowded and we weren't sure about the quality of care and medication they disburse. Although we speak Mandarin, the terms we and the Beijing doctors use might be different and we didn't want to risk communicating the symptoms incorrectly.

Before we left, we visited our GP and discussed the list of medications we should take with us. We stocked bottles of paracetamol (for fevers), cough mixtures, smecta (for diarrhoea), rehydration salts, among others. When we left for Beijing early 2006, Estelle was 3 and Jules 8 months old. Hey, we have already had a combined total of 4 years of experience.

Estelle tends to develop very high fevers whenever she is ill. Perhaps her immune system is fighting extremely hard but it's very scary when she peaks at 39ºC. During these times, no amount of paracetamol or sponging seems to work. If her temperature only falls down to 38ºC, it's time for me to take a break. For other kids, 38 is when parents panic. 

Nevertheless, it is helpful to always have familiar medications at hand and I like to bring some basic ones even when we are just taking a short holiday. Pharmacies in other countries may not have the same medicines we have at home: they may come in different brands or different dosage or a completely different formula altogether. 

In Singapore, paracetamol is often prescribed for fevers. Although ibuprofen seems to work better, it is more caustic and should be taken after food. In Finland, I was prescribed ibuprofen to bring down my fever and also for my inflamed throat. Today, Estelle was prescribed Naproxen for fever and inflammation.

Paracetamol (or other analgesics) is good to have to temporarily lower the temperature or relieve pain. Fevers usually mean that the patient is fighting an infection so if the fever persists for more than 2 days, it's time to see a doctor.

I find it complicated to self-medicate coughs, especially for children. There are some medications our GP wouldn't recommend for children under 3 years old, like codeine. Then we have to see if it comes with running nose, or phlegm, or wheezing, or how long it has gone on for... During these times, it is best to leave them in the hands of professionals.

Good and affordable healthcare is an aspect Singaporeans take for granted. Fees at government polyclinics is around S$10 or less and private GPs start at S$20 or so for consultation. In Beijing, consultation at the international clinics typically start at around S$80. When Estelle needed antibiotics and other medications, the bill came up to S$200. This was when we realised the importance of health insurance. During our first year in Beijing, we could only claim up to 30% of total bill. Now, our total expenditure is reimbursed. It makes a great difference to how we approach healthcare concerns.

We are thankful that our health insurance now covers all that we are charged. In Finland, consultations start at around €30 at private clinics and practically free at public clinics and hospitals, I'm told. The welfare system here takes good care of every one although some medications are still expensive. Like Jules' cough mixture which comes at around €30 per bottle, furthermore it is not subsidised by KELA, the social welfare department. Today, we spent €14 on two types of medicines.

In terms of healthcare - comparing the level of service and quality of medicines - Finland is actually more affordable than China.

The cost of a medicine is largely tied to its branding. A generic drug costs just a fraction of a similar one from a big-name pharmaceutical company. In Singapore and Finland, the quality of generic drugs can be trusted and generic drugs are commonly used by public healthcare services. 

International clinics in China only use medicines made by branded pharma companies. I think this is to allay foreigners' fears about the authenticity and quality of the medicines. Not only do patients pay more for the brand, the clinics further mark up the prices since foreigners thought them to be "trustworthy" sources. They also know that expatriates are usually insured by their companies and cost is not an issue. My friends and I complain about the prices and competence of some doctors but where else can we go?

At Beijing's Vista Clinic (Kerry Centre), I find Dr Pauline the most attentive paediatrician. She tries to connect with the child and find out all symptoms. I think she's from the Philippines so it's easy to communicate with her in English. 

When Jules had hand-foot-and-mouth and I showed similar symptoms, another doctor told me I was "heaty" and should take some Chinese medicines to "cool down". Adults don't get this disease, he laughed. It turned out that adults CAN be infected and I WAS ill. I've never had so many ulcers in my mouth all at once and it was really painful to eat or drink. I could fully empathise with my son, whose usual hearty appetite was curbed for over a week. 

Many Finnish people speak English and the doctors I've seen so far were happy to discuss the condition of the patient and discuss the medicines they prescribe. Their open attitude is certainly very assuring for patients and parents like me.

Estelle took the medications before she slept and she has not coughed since. She is perspiring as she sleeps, which is a good sign because this means her fever is subsiding.

Hopefully, I can have a good rest tonight.

 

Run, run, as fast as you can

You can't catch me, cos I'm the Gingerbread Man.

On the second day of my illness, I mustered enough energy to let the kids do some baking.

We got these pre-prepared gingerbread dough from the supermarket. At €1.09 per pack, it comes in 2 slabs. All we had to do was roll out the dough and let the kids cut them with cookie-cutters.

The cookies go into the oven and are ready in merely 5 minutes. In another 5 minutes, we can eat them!

I used to love baking. My aunt's home has lots of baking equipment and an oven so I'm over there often to try out new recipes. I remembered baking a cake for a good friend's birthday and since I was at it, I'd thought I'd bake chocolate chocolate-chip cookies too.

That experience left me thoroughly tired out. The utensils needed to be cleaned and dried for the next batch, so that's double cleaning within 2 hours. Then the cake and cookies need to be decorated and/or wrapped.

That was the last time I did any major baking. Any thoughts about "starting my own bakery when I grow up" were banished henceforth. I enjoy baking and I think I'm pretty good at it but I won't do it as a hobby anymore.

I might bake again when any of my children develops an interest. It may be Jules, you know, because he is the one who loves eating and looking at me cook.