Art & Craft

Came across this fabulous website/blog today called Skip to my Lou.

I followed a link from the Guardian website on a story on how to make a zippered pouch. I'm also inspired by Skip to my Lou's one hour bag.

I love pouches of all sorts of shapes and sizes. Actually I am one of those girls who love to sew. I used to make tissue covers, cushion covers, and I can't remember what else. I couldn't keep all of them so I gave them away as gifts.

I love shopping for bags and pouches. I like the Japanese ones, then I found that the ones in Finland are wonderful too. People spend so much effort sewing each piece of lace or felt ornament. But €10 or more (up to €25 sometimes) for a little pouch is too much.

It's been a while since I used the sewing machine. When we left Singapore, I decided to leave it at my aunt's. The sewing machine is over 50 years old and it belonged to my grandmother. It was a present from my grandfather who had either won money at the lottery or horses or got his annual bonus. The original receipt showed 1 Jan 1955 or something. Apparently this was one of those few times my grandfather showed love to his wife.

When I was a little girl, I'd watch my grandma turn the handle with one hand while holding to the fabric with the other. She would place the machine on a table next to the window. With that machine she sewed clothes, pillow cases and blankets for the family. I was often called to put the thread through the eye of the needle and like that, I learnt to set up the thread network and work the machine.

During my grandma's final days, I asked for the sewing machine which was kept at an aunt's home at the time. I figured it was easier then than after she passed and we had to "divide the assets". I didn't care for the money - I just wanted the sewing machine.

I haven't opened the machine since we left Singapore the first time. It's now at another aunt's place for safekeeping. She reminded me just a couple of weeks ago to go get it and work on it in case it got rusty.

So, after looking at the interesting crafts on Skip to my Lou, I think I might bring the sewing machine home soon.

If you receive a pouch sometime soon, you'll know why.

Speed reading

Met an old friend at Great World City for lunch today and was browsing at Harris bookshop.

I scanned the bookshelves quickly and didn't realise that I mis-read the title of this book until 5 seconds later.

I read The Idiot's Accent: American.

Oops

Toilet, loo, bathroom...

One of my favourite authors Bill Bryson has a new book out. This one is called At Home: A short history of private life.

I'm guessing it's a record of the evolution of modern home life as we know it. There is a short excerpt in The Guardian newspaper where he revealed a little about the history about toilets, stairs and the lawn. I especially like the part about Thomas Crapper.

Amazon lists this book for pre-order. It will be launched only in October. It probably won't be as hot as Harry Potter or the iPad, where one has to queue up overnight or even 48 hours in advance to get hold of the goods. As for me, I will probably wait until next year when some bookstore out there offers 20% off.

I've read two of Bill Bryson's books so far: A Brief History of Nearly Everything, then Shakespeare. The first book is like reading a science textbook, but also like a history text packed with trivia. Also, it's not brief at all. As someone who has spent more than a decade of my life studying science, the book was filled with familiar information yet I feel like I'm re-discovering science all over again.

Same for Shakespeare. It's a book about a famous figure and Bryson weaves in Shakespeare's life history with some little-known facts. Even the name Shakespeare is apparently a consensual name because the guy had signed off with different spellings on different occasions.

Bryson delved into libraries and history records, as well as visited the sites and conducted interviews with experts. The books are based on real research but they are also extremely funny because he has a really great sense of humour. He is subtle though so if you get his joke, it's really funny. I laughed and giggled when I read Brief History.*

Bryson also enjoyed travelling. He has written several books based on his travels. I'll buy one of them next time it goes on sale.

* HG has said it's a matter of perspective when it comes to humour. What's funny to me may not be funny to you. Hahaha

The end of an era

An empty shell, that's all there is left now.

This was Blessed Hope, a place where I spent many hours of my youth. This was a little shop at Coronation Plaza that sells Christian music and literature.

I used to work here during the school holidays during my late-teens. Initially I was roped in during November and December to help out during the months leading up to Christmas. The shop would be really busy and I became good at wrapping presents of all shapes and sizes.

One year, the proprietors asked me if I wanted to work there full-time during the school holidays. Vacation could last up to 3 months at the university and this was the time to top up my bank account. But pay was pretty miserable. Since it was a long time along, I can now reveal that I was paid a mere S$25 a day. I could have earned twice as much had I taken on a data entry job. In those days, data entry jobs were highly coveted; pay was good but one could get cross-eyed at the end of the day.

But the non-ambitious me decided this job was what I wanted. Work started at 10 am, there was no supervisor, there was a direct bus to work and I could invite friends over. I spent my days playing the racks of CDs (customers came in asking for the complete Praise 15 cassette collection), reading the shelves of books (like Stick a Geranium in your Hat and Laugh - about coping with grief) and crocheting little pouches (I stuck in M&S eclairs for my friends). There were interesting - sometimes strange - customers. At least it was an interactive job.

I can't remember exactly who came over to relieve my boredom. The shop was tiny so sometimes, I had to relieve my visitors' boredom by sending them to the supermarket downstairs.

The owners knew I wouldn't stay long. This was definitely not my career of choice. The lady in the picture is Auntie Maureen, who would succeed me and stayed on for the next 10 years or so. At that time, she had just been laid off from her factory job, anyway she was the aunt of one of the owners.

We spent one month together so that I could "show her the ropes". I couldn't see why she was chosen. She had no interest in music and didn't read very much. She wasn't even a Christian. Okay, she was Catholic. Then how do I reject her when she tried to invite me to send my petitions to Mary?

Auntie Maureen is nice. She bought me drinks in the afternoon. She liked to know who was coming to have lunch with me. I was safe if a girl turned up, but I would get probed if it was a boy. How many ways are there to ask about a friendship without mentioning the word "boyfriend"? I was often teased by the owners about my interrogations. But she was really harmless.

Over the years, business at the shop waned. Blame it on the location. Or blame it on the stock. One of the partners wanted to give up a long time ago. It wasn't profitable and was a hassle keeping it going. Business carried on because it was a form of ministry. They wanted to meet fellow Christians' spiritual needs.

29 April was Blessed Hope's last day. I came to witness the hacking and removal of shelves. The smell that was so familiar was gone on that day. There were stacks of magazines in boxes that I thought looked familiar. 1992 said the date. Gosh, those had been hiding under the counter all these years.

CDs are out of date; the internet is the main supplier of music nowadays. Christians apparently aren't reading so much now. Gone were the little cards of encouraging words and scriptures. SMS or Facebook fulfill this function now. The shop was filling up with stationary and knick-knacks.

Ultimately, Blessed Hope was bought out by a bank. I was told the bank, one of the largest in Singapore, sought out the landlords of 3 adjacent shops and offered twice the rental. a neighbour moved across the aisle and 2 others folded.

There goes another piece of memory. I don't really go there much anymore but just felt comfortable seeing it every time I pass by. It was selfish of me to want things unchanged.

Life has to go on.

As for Auntie Maureen, she is going on a long holiday and is choosing between a choice of jobs.

5 more hours

Five more hours before I have to wake up from sleepy stupor to start my trip to Shanghai. The cab has been booked for 6 am and hopefully with light traffic in the early morning, I can get to Changi Airport by 6.30 am.

I won't be able to access blogspot in China. So my friends living in China tell me. Thus before this blog lapses into obscurity again, I'd better update it before next week.

Although I've been to Shanghai many times, this is probably the first time I'll get (substantial) off time to do some sightseeing. My colleague and I will arrive in Shanghai around lunch time and we'll have the rest of the day to walk around. This weekend is free too because I can't fix any appointments on the weekend. I'd thought the Chinese work on Saturdays. Maybe the VIPs I am hoping to meet would rather take the time off. Being able to spend quality time matters to those striving in the Chinese economy too.

The last time I was in Shanghai was around 3 years ago but the itinerary was managed by the PR company who shuttled us around in a chartered bus. My hotel was next to Plaza 66, a swanking mall with big brands - a top shopping centre in Shanghai and I went there only 3 years ago. Such a frog in my little well, I thought.

The famous Bund has been renovated and recently reopened, just in time for the World Expo 2 weeks from now. The iconic Peace Hotel has also been refurbished. The pictures I will take this time will be different from the ones I took before.

Perhaps change, drastic change, is a necessity of the new Asia. Change signifies that the city is moving forward and willing to let go of the past.

Some trees along Bukit Timah Road (in Singapore) outside Chinese High and what-was Hwa Chong JC have been chopped off. The avenue is bare as the road, cars and passers-by are exposed to bright sunshine. It looks like a different road to me. The majestic trees are making way for a new MRT station which will bring convenience to the students and residents in the area. An improvement in the quality of life, the chopped trees will bring.

Good night. Going to zzz... Less than 5 hours til the alarm rings.

Busy at work

It has been a long time since I blogged. So long that I forgot my password and how to navigate my way around the settings.

In a way, nothing much has happened the last couple of months. Time passed while I watched TV, roamed the streets, run errands and took naps. With such little excitement, my interest to do anything dwindled.

That's me. When I am idle, my days just... idle... away.

As I am writing this, I'm actually crunched for time. I have less than 7 days to finish producing the magazine. Yes, I'm back to my old job and had just taken over an emergency, trying to squeeze 1 month's work in 1 week. 2 weeks later I'm off to Shanghai.

The multi-tasking mode is turned on as the Standby light goes out. Thus I blog.

HG is in Finland this week. It is still snowing even though it's April tomorrow. When it rains, I like to imagine the drops are lighter and whiter. Then the stickiness on my exposed arms and shoulders remind me that this is hot and humid Singapore.

Where is the camera? I've got photos to upload.

Getting ahead of the pack

After 7 days of formal schooling in Singapore, I'm getting a little worried.

Today, Estelle brought her English language worksheets home. She not only learnt about pronouns (like female = she, male = he) but had completed a cloze passage: this is when she had to read a short story and fill up the blanks with helping words. Looking through the list of new words she will be learning, one of them is 'exasperation'. I am exasperated she is learning this word at Grade 1.

I'm happy to say that she had all the answers right. At this point, she can quite easily cope with the English exercises. Many thanks to her teachers at ICEC who have helped her so much!

So what am I worried about?

Do all 6 or 7 year-olds in Grade 1 already know how to read? If they can't read - and I don't mean simple words like cat or dog but stories - they can't do their English worksheets at all. Pitching the level this high, it is little wonder Singaporean parents send their children to prep schools months before they start Grade 1.

How much flexibility are the school and teachers giving to students who are not up to mark to catch up with the syllabus? I'm furiously resisting tuition. But if Estelle can't cope in time to come, I may have to change my mind. I hope and pray I don't have to.

Since we came back to Singapore 2 months ago, we caught up with old friends and long-lost friends whom we have not seen for a decade (or more). For those with children, when they learnt the school Estelle is going to, their responses range from "Wow, congratulations, that school is really hard to get into" or "Well, good luck!" The school does not achieve glowing results through fun and games.

Our friends ask which school she is in and how we gain entry. For the record, we submitted the necessary forms online and were chosen in a balloting exercise. We learnt that our friends sacrificed to get their children into the school of choice. We heard real-life examples of parents who spent tens of hours "volunteering" to serve the school, some paid premium real estate prices to live near the school, and others paid (one told me he spent S$1,000) to join the school association. The highest "donation" I've heard of was... S$200k.

I am thankful we got things easy. If we were living in Singapore and didn't get in the school, we'd probably blame ourselves for not trying harder. I am grateful we didn't have to think about Plan B. Truly grateful.

In Finland, and in other Scandinavian countries, children are not expected to have learnt to read, count or write when they start Grade 1. Children play all day before 6 years old. Some children are obviously ahead of their peers, but the rest are given ample time and opportunities to catch up.

In Singapore, we pride ourselves as a meritocratic society where the ability and talent gets one ahead of the game. Egalitarian Finland, on the other hand, believes that everyone is equal regardless of economic, social or political status.

The Singaporean system exalts the educated and wealthy; the Finnish society helps the less abled, sometimes at the expense of the better-off.

People living in Singapore are urged to excel in the rat race; the incentives to move ahead are limited in Finland.

Merciless meritocracy vs forgiving egalitarianism.

The complete argument should be multi-faceted and would reveal that each society has its pros and cons.

I wish for my children to shine in their strengths and allowed to grow where there are weaknesses. Where is my perfect world?

I am a chicken

You probably won't know it but I am the worrisome type.

I am scared of heights. Living now in a 16th-floor apartment, I worry about accidentally slipping from the balcony while I'm hanging out the laundry. Or the windows giving way if I or either of my kids lean against them.

I imagine being involved in an air traffic accident. Free fall is a horrible way to die. Do you know vacuum pockets exist in the atmosphere and if an airplane flies into it, there is no air pressure to support the weight of the plane and it will simply drop? There is at least one documented example of this and many passengers suffered broken limps. So my kids and I are always buckled when we are seated.

When I was a teenager, I'm fearful of ghosts and all things paranormal. I blame multiple viewings of The Exorcist and Nightmare on Elm Street I, II, III; but I thought the Hong Kong-produced movies were more eerie. During late nights studying for exams, I waited for a green-faced zombie to fly across my window.

When I took up my first editorial job, I would wake up suddenly in the middle of the night, thinking: did i put a full-stop at the end of the sentence? Oh no, it's already gone to print!

I'm not a gambler because the likelihood of winning is near zero. I've tried blackjack, slot machines, poker, roulette, Toto... usually lost it all in the end, so seldom keen to try again.

I am a bystander of the stock market. My heart can't take the stress of the price of shares going down. Once, I watched the indices of my mom's shares and broke out in cold sweat as the numbers fell. I walked away, thanking my lucky stars it wasn't my money.

Low appetite for risk, that's what I have. No pain, no gain, my husband advises.

Am I an eagle thinking I'm a chicken?

I've taken hundreds of flights. There were some harrowing experiences that finished with a bag full of puke but I'm still here.

I've been to the top of the Petronas Towers. Not just the Skybridge on the 43th floor - yes, I clung on to the side railings in case the glass floor gave way - but a privileged ride all the way to the 86th. Just 2 floors away from Dr M's office, I'm told. The clouds were floating before my eyes and the tower was swaying in the wind. Motion sickness threatened my recent buffet lunch but thankfully the contents stayed in.

There hasn't been any sightings of headless horsemen or powdered Qing-dynasty zombies. I haven't had much trouble sleeping alone in a strange room for several years now. As long as the 24-hour news channel is on.

I'm in the midst of a transformation, I believe. There's more than meets the eye.

Bracing for change

I just read an interesting article in the New York Times about the increasing influence of Mandarin on the Chinese population in New York.

According to NYT, the first Chinese, who migrated to North America in the first half of the 1900s, can be traced to a region in the Pearl River Delta. Over there, the key languages are Cantonese and Taishanese. (To those who might know the history and geography better, do you think the author is referring to Tangshan?)

Over the turn of this century, Cantonese is increasingly being replaced by Mandarin as NY Chinatown's de-facto Chinese language, said the NYT story. With China rising as an economic power, more Chinese thought that their children would benefit more from learning the "official" language, which is Mandarin. In recent years, more Mandarin-speaking immigrants are arriving in NY and they would, most certainly, want their children to learn Mandarin rather than, say, Cantonese.

In fact, a new "Chinatown" is rising in another part of NY in Sunset Park, Brooklyn, and Flushing, Queens. I'm not familiar with NY at all, so I can't tell where the two areas are relative to each other.

As I read this story, I find cold comfort in the similarities faced by Singapore and NY.

G, who used to be a Chinese teacher in Singapore, was lamenting that the teachers Singapore's education ministry imported from the mainland tried to correct the terms used by Singaporean Chinese. They were apparently brought in to "raise the Chinese standard". Singapore, as a society has developed together with our Malay and Indian compatriots, an amalgamation of Chinese dialects as well as the strong influence of English. It shouldn't be surprising that we use Mandarin differently.

I've also read that Geylang is the new Chinatown in Singapore. If one is looking for "authentic" Chinese cuisine - food prepared like it would be done on the mainland - then Geylang is the place to go. Internet cafes, which had mostly died out in the late 1980s except for some gaming centres, are thriving in Geylang. Known affectionately as wangba 网吧 , they are a common sight in many Chinese cities.

For at least a generation now, many Singaporean Chinese are using less and less of their families' dialects. The likelihood that the children of my generation will learn to speak our dialects fluently is, sadly and realistically, not very high. From the academic point of view, we will be overjoyed if they can score As in English and Chinese taught in Mandarin.

The fault is not China's. It's not the immigrants' either.

China is the world's most populous nation. She is gaining strength and her people are easing away from its bursting seams to seek their fortunes elsewhere. For the same reason, we are seeing more and more Indians living overseas.

As we prepare ourselves for the move back to Singapore, I wonder what changes to expect in our home country. Now it seems that my concerns aren't so different from New Yorkers'. Looking at the comments left on this story, Chinese in Seattle, LA and other parts of the world are thinking the same thoughts.

PS I think it was last week when I read a story on NYT about Chinese in NY debating whether traditional or simplified Chinese should be taught in schools.

PPS This summer, a South American classmate D asked if Singapore is a part of China. I explained that Singapore is mid-way between China and Australia. That's how far away the two places are from each other.

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.

What???

And the 2009 Nobel Peace Prize goes to...

Barack Obama.

Unbelievable.

I think Obama is over-rated. I had thought so back in January and I hold on to this view now.

Ironically, Saturday Night Live made a skit of Obama last weekend and US news channels, like CNN and Fox, had been running commentaries on it. I came across this story on CNN yesterday although it was first published 5 October.

I guess the Nobel committee don't watch SNL or follow what's happening in the US.

Yes, we can. No, we haven't.

What do you think?

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.

Working for a living

Yesterday, I chanced upon this article on the Finnish broadcaster YLE's website. It features a fresh graduate Liu Tianyan in the tough job market.

I met Tianyan last autumn while covering a university-linked event. He was the President of International Student Organisation (Tsemppi) at the University of Helsinki and at that time, was pursuing a Masters degree in IT. He seemed like the sort who excels academically and busied himself with student activities and part-time work at a software company. He was good-looking and presented himself well.

Tianyan is Chinese. His family came to Finland some years ago. I remember his father was a diplomat and his family left when the posting came to an end. He chose to stay on in Finland partly for the free education and also because he wanted to be with his girlfriend, who was Finnish.

In Singapore, students with this kind of record seldom have trouble getting a job. Most times, they would have received offers even before graduation, sometimes even several to choose from.

Last autumn, Tsemppi arranged a get-together for students concerned about life after graduation. At that time, the economy had not plummeted so the students' anxiety seemed, to me, just normal for people preparing to enter a new phase of life. Things took a turn for the worse by Q4 and as time went by, joblessness of young people below the age of 25 became a social problem for governments worldwide.

Soon after that Tsemppi event, I dropped an e-mail to a professor from NUS who had helped me land my first job. Hearing those students made me realise I got things easy, so I'm grateful.

All these years, I have also kept in touch with my boss from my first job, who had been a great mentor, continually offering sound advice. As I come to the end of my summer course and we talked about intellectual property protection, I'm reminded that my ex-boss tried to persuade me to take up a second degree in law since the IP law is a lucrative, not to mention respected, profession. I turned down her best of intentions because I didn't really want to go back to school. Did I regret my decision? Not exactly because it wasn't what I want to do, but in view of job opportunities, I am probably more employable as a patent lawyer than as a writer.

At this point in my life, I am blessed that my family and I can lead a good life even though I am not contributing to our household income. I am happy I can spend time with the children and do things I like. Many other families out there can't have this luxury.

But I won't likely remain like this. My team mate from the summer course could tell that I won't be staying at home long, even though we've only known each other for 2 weeks.

I am in transition. The past 5 years feel like a long transition. Now that the summer course is coming to an end (tomorrow!), I wonder where life brings me next.

Goodbye, James Reynolds

James Reynolds is the BBC's Beijing correspondent. I've followed his blog on a fairly regular basis and kept up with his work in China.

Today, as I was reading BBC's coverage of the Xinjiang riots, I clicked on the link to his blog and found out that he is coming to the end of his posting in China.

James has many fans. From the comments left on his blog, his ardent followers can be categorised broadly into 1) China Chinese who are now living overseas, 2) China Chinese still living in China, 3) ethnic Chinese who are living or have lived in China, 4) non-Chinese who have spent time in China, and 5) non-Chinese who are interested in what's happening in China.

Poor James gets plenty of flak particularly from categories 1 and 2. Many accuse him of attacking China and the Chinese people. No matter what he was saying, these readers think he does not know China at all or is looking at events as a bigoted Westerner. I wonder how they will react to his departure.

Categories 3 and 4 are much more sympathetic. I belong to this group.

I got to know a friend from Beijing and whenever we discuss China, I think my friend can't help but put up a defense. "Why are you foreigners criticising China all the time?" she must be thinking. "Isn't there anything good to talk about?"

A number of Beijing taxi drivers had welcomed me back to Motherland but I had given up explaining Singapore is my home. Perhaps my Beijing friend viewed me as "Chinese" except my Mandarin is not as fluent. So she is still somewhat tolerant of my views, even though they may be quite different from hers. But if I had been of another colour, the same views and thoughts would have prevented us from becoming friends. The Chinese, in general, are wary of foreigners.

Since I myself have done some journalistic snooping around during my time in Beijing, I can empathise with the obstacles James faced.

It's almost impossible to interview someone from government agencies. I am consoled that even a BBC journalist is often rejected, let alone a freelancer like me. I didn't even have a fax machine. My e-mail requests for interviews - government and private companies alike - were often lost in cyberspace. The other party never seemed to receive my mails and I kept sending. Or the boss' schedule was so packed he was only available 30 February.

Even when I was standing right in front of the official, he couldn't answer my questions because his flight was about to take off.

I had felt really guilty towards the publication I was working for because I wasn't able to submit many stories. Although there were relevant reports in the local papers, I couldn't write my own story because none of the facts can be checked and substantiated. I didn't tell them I had actually made dozens of calls and sent loads of e-mails. Just lame excuses for incompetence, my employers might think.

My colleague N was pretty sympathetic. She's a Chinese who had spent many years in the US so she is well aware of the workings of her home country.

Aside from the frustrations of working in China, I am awfully touched my James' stories of the people he met.

Many times, we think of China as a economic powerhouse, we are wowed by the skyscrapers of Shanghai or the glitzy movie industry. The fact of the matter is that not all Chinese are benefiting from the economic progress. For every new car added to the road, there is someone out there who is still living poorly.

I am tearful when I came to the part about siblings Li Tangmo and Qingyi whose parents died during the Sichuan earthquake. What will happen to my kids when we pass on? At least they have grandparents who will love them and look after them, and they will be well-taken care of by insurance payouts.

Not the Lis. Their future is in peril, like numerous other children who have lost their families. But what can we do to help them? Or how about the families who have lost their children? How can we heal the hurt?

Nothing much, unfortunately, within our power. I hope, however, to live my own life differently knowing that we are in a much more privileged position than many others in this world.

So thank you, James Reynolds, for revealing the lives of real people in China. I wish I had a chance to meet you to draw from the depths of your experiences. All the best on your future endeavours.

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.

Where is your photo now?

Following my blog entry last week about the possible mis-use of personal information on the internet, I read a story on the BBC today that backs my claims.

The Smiths from the US were shocked to find that their family photo had been flashed across a billboard in Prague, the Czech Republic advertising delivery services offered by a grocery store. The Smiths had used that picture on their Christmas card and it was also on their family blog.

The owner of the store thought the picture was "computer generated". Somehow, it didn't matter to him/her that the people in the picture were unknown to him. It didn't matter if they were not Czechoslovakians. They were a good-looking family.

Being in the publishing business has taught me to be careful about copyright infringements. I remembered having to pay US$800 for a picture of a girl holding a brightly-coloured balloon for a cover picture. The picture library charge differently according to the use, like for a magazine cover or for a story in one of the pages, for instance.

Some people think that content on the Internet is free for all. Copyright protection is one thing; intrusion of privacy is another. 

So if anyone sees me or any member of my family on any newspaper, magazine, website or darn it, anywhere else other than here, please please, let me know.

Working those muscles

For a week now, I've been working out after putting the kids to bed. My little routine includes skipping, toning using free weights and some stretching.

I haven't worked out since winter. Okay, this may not be a good excuse because I see Finns jogging in the snow... Anyhow, a little exercise is better than none.

Just yesterday, Estelle announced happily that we are having another baby because her mummy's tummy is big. She's not convinced there isn't a baby inside. This just reinforces my will to work out more regularly. 

Tonight, we watched a second episode of Family Fat Surgeons on Discovery channel. This reality series follows the father-and-son team of bariatric surgeons and their patients. One of the main categories of bariatric surgery is the reduction of stomach size so that the patient eats less and feels full more quickly.

Our first time watching this series some days ago, patient Alan was so big he could not move. He laid in bed, couldn't go to the bathroom and his mom wiped him down if he needed a bath. Drs Davis hoped to reduce half his body weight (150 lbs!) after the surgery. 

While I was in the shower, HG told me they featured a patient who had undergone the surgery some time ago and had lost a lot of weight. So much so that as the fat receded, her skin began to sag. What used to be her tummy was now folded over and hanging around her knees. She needed cosmetics surgery because she had difficulty cleaning areas between the skin and infection set in. While her bariatric surgery was covered by insurance, the now much-needed cosmetics procedures would not be.

As for me, I just want to carry on wearing the clothes in my wardrobe. I am happy simply to fit in pre-pregnancy outfits. Well, only those that don't look like they are already 8 years old... I had to throw some clothes out since fashion has moved on.

This week, I feel less lethargic and skip my afternoon naps. The muffin top looks like it lacks baking soda. Summer is almost here - it's still spring in Finland - and I think it's a good idea to get ready to show some skin. 

But I love my food. I'm munching on strawberry filled chocolate as I type. I don't need to be thin. Fitting into my usual clothes is good enough. 

How safe is the Internet?

In one word: not.

You may recall that I made an entry some months ago about our sauna experience. That was the first time the kids tried out the hot and steamy sauna.

I have removed the pictures from that blog entry. Several days ago, I noticed a referral to my blog from a photo library website. The key word search was for "family" and "sauna". Pictures shown from these words ranged from posed pictures by tourist-related websites to portable saunas. There were also pictures of naked women. 

A couple of weeks ago, a search for the words "naked", "kids" and "sauna" ended at my blog. The IP address is one of those phantom ones where you can't tell which country or computer the user is at. I cringed.

Any and all information posted on the Internet is available for all to see. There is really little one can do to stop people getting to know you better without you knowing.

For instance, some time ago, I was reading a popular Singapore blogger's blog and saw a picture of a cute girl. I clicked on it, thinking it might be the blogger's daughter, or it might be someone from his family. The click led me to a Flickr account of someone I know, someone who is probably not related to the blogger. 

I'd basically clicked on a Flickr advertisement,  gave Flickr some hits, brought the blogger some income and viewed my friends' photo album. My friends probably don't know I had seen their pics, or for that matter, anyone else who had intruded into their privacy.

Maybe someone can let Adrian and Jasmine know I think Cherise is pretty cute...

The sanctity of my privacy is the main reason I am not on Facebook or MySpace or other social networking sites. Thus, I hesitated to blog, and now that I do, I find myself thinking through sensitive issues and content that are appropriate for broadcast.

I often worry about identity fraud. I am careful about where and how I throw paper trash, making an effort to shred bank statements or personal documents. A credit card statement, for example, contains my name, address, card number and how much I had spent. A thief with intent can easily gather information from my trash. Combine these with information available on, for example, Facebook, and birth dates, spouses, family or work add on to the profile.

You might think I am paranoid but there are already cases of people who have lost their ID cards or passport and subsequently found themselves with empty bank accounts or changes to security systems linked to their ID numbers. In this age where personal information is easily available on the Internet, building a personal profile from scratch is not difficult.

So please be careful about what you post on the internet. This is advice I give myself.