Time to make little changes

Dear Phoebe,

I've been reading a book I bought recently called Hands Free Mama. It's teaching me to evaluate the way I treat you, Papa and other people in my life. It's teaching me to re-prioritise so that I am focusing on what truly matters in life. You and Papa truly matter. Although I've only been taking it in a few pages at a time, I have been prompted each time to reflect on my attitude as your Mama and like the author says, "the truth hurts but the truth also heals". The truth of how I have been kind of stinks to be honest. 

I can't help but remember the times I have raised my voice out of stress, not knowing what to do, impatience and frustration due to selfishness. Every time I recall the way I have yelled at or smacked you, and your expression in response, I cry. I cried yesterday afternoon while reading as you napped beside me and I cried last night after you had gone to sleep and I lay in the dark thinking. I am so sorry for the times I have hurt you and it feels like I can never be sorry enough. I keep praying you will still grow up secure and whole and not be damaged by what I have said and done. I don't want you to think it's alright to speak and behave the way I have. I don't want you to think reacting out of emotions and carrying on is normal or even acceptable. I don't want you to become self absorbed, impatient and easily angered like me. 

You are such a sweet and loving little girl and I just love your cuddles and kisses. You have a tender heart and are sensitive to when I am not in a good state. I burst into tears and lost my temper at Papa in KMart some weekends back (which is a story for another time), and as I was ranting as to why I was so upset, you became really affected and repeatedly called out from the shopping trolley, "Mama, are you ok? Are you ok Mama?" I didn't respond immediately, which greatly elevated your concern. As soon as I started to calm down, I quickly lifted you out and you gave me the warmest embrace and kept checking if I was alright. I told you I was angry at Papa but that everything would be fine and carried you all the way to the car park, a feat in itself with my large pregnant belly and bad back. Papa stayed silent as we walked through the large mall and he kept quiet during the one-hour journey home. I began worrying about the example we were setting for you but by that evening you could see that all was well again. 

The book is challenging me to take small steps towards being more present and encouraging because the people I call my loved ones should know I love them. My words should not be empty but backed by action that reinforces truth. You and Papa need to hear and believe that I mean it when I say you both matter. One of the things I want to consciously work on is not hurrying you all the time. The author of the book I am reading made a life transforming decision that revolutionised her parenting methods and started the Hands Free phenomenon. She wrote about the turning point here. What could possibly be so important that I cannot let you be a child anyway? And if my excuse is that we are running late, well then it's my responsibility to ensure there is proper time management so you don't have to be rushed. It isn't right that I harrass you when I can be more organised and plan the morning better. 

It also isn't fun or inspiring if I keep harping on the mess I say you have created rather than letting you explore, fully enjoy an activity or just be a kid. Many "messes" have been made simply because I haven't put thought into managing the situation so you will succeed. You are still young and aren't as coordinated and developed to handle certain things so I need to cater to where you are at instead of expecting you to follow my perfectionist standards. And if it's a matter of you not listening, I need to approach discipline in a way that is loving and effective and not just rely on emotional tactics. 

My dear little darling, I promise I will endeavour to be the Mama you deserve and not just give in to how I feel or the circumstances. I'm going to work on my connectedness with Papa too as this will make a huge positive difference to our family. I don't want to let the precious moments pass us by especially while you are still little. I will make the time to give you undivided attention even when Micah is around and I know you will be such a great little helper because that's just who you are. 

I love you my sweet pumpkin,

your Mama

xHundredFold- Build a Bag

Beyond the Mountains set - image by One Mustard Seed

I'm so excited about what the talented and creative folk at One Mustard Seed (OMS) are doing to support AFJC, a non-for-profit organisation in the Philippines that reaches out to children and teens in less fortunate circumstances. I came across OMS's Build-a-Bag project yesterday and purchased a Beyond the Mountains set for myself. As they so aptly put it, it's all about "multiplying our giving". The purchase of one Build-a-Bag set means an identical set is gifted to a child who doesn't have the basic necessities for school life. The kit is just one of the wonderful products sold by OMS under their brand xHundredFold. A team from OMS will be travelling to Manila next week to deliver the first lot of 150 bags they have gained through sales. 

It's the everyday moments

Dear Phoebe,

You're going to be turning two and a half years old on the third of September, and in about three months, you will be a big sister to a baby we have named Micah John Then. I wonder how you will receive his arrival into our family. For now, you love kissing my belly and talking about the "baby" in yours. You said to me yesterday while lifting up your t-shirt as we sat on the couch eating homemade berry crumble, "My belly is moving, quick feel it!" It's funny how you imitate some of the things we say. I was asking you to place your hand on my belly the other evening as Micah seemed to be doing a jiggly dance and the movement could be seen quite clearly from the outside. 

These past two years have felt slow and fast at the same time. I have experienced many joys but seem to remember the anger and exhaustion more. I dwell on the times I flared up and found myself acting in an utterly selfish and unloving fashion. These failures play on my mind a great deal and I often wish I could have a do-over. I recently purchased the book "Hands Free Mama" and started reading it over the weekend. Although I am only a few pages in, the text is giving me much to consider in relation to the way I parent and carry out my life. It's silly to think how superficial some of my wishes are in relation to the changes I would make if I could turn back time. 

It's trivial but I wish I had painted your tiny newborn feet to make a simple print for framing. While this would have made a precious memento, it doesn't take precedence over being fully present and taking the time to kiss those beautiful feet and make sure they aren't too cold or too warm. I wish I had bought you prettier cot linen in better quality material. Who knows why I settled on inexpensive, uninspiring K-Mart sheets instead of investing in something better right from the start. The thing is you wouldn't have been able to tell the difference, especially since you were swaddled in soft wraps or blankets most of the time. I just think I shouldn't have been so stingy since you're my baby. Those cheap sheets didn't last long nor did they make for pretty photographs. Many of your infant shots feature mismatched colours and uncoordinated hand-me-down pieces. I know obsessing over whether my pictures are Instagram worthy and frame-perfect is something I need to let go of. Still, it bugs me.

I wish I had taken better photographs. Again, I am letting comparison weigh me down. It's completely unhealthy to be measuring my success according to what I see on social media. I am not a good photographer and that is okay. Papa and I took tons of candid snaps but so many are in poor lighting with unflattering composition. There are messes in some pictures, maybe even a toilet bowl in the distance. There are boring, ugly backgrounds or distracting props. Some photos are simply too blurry. At the end of the day I need to remind myself of this: Although capturing such moments in a beautiful way allows us to create more artistic keepsakes, our pictures represent life as it was then. They're real and they're raw. Nothing is staged, nothing is hidden. Besides, could a flawless picture speak louder than my words and actions to you on a daily basis? Would it tell you I love you if I failed to show you that in practical ways?

If I could turn the hands of time back, this is what I would do differently for sure. Instead of repeatedly snapping and smacking you for not listening when I said not to pull the books off the shelf in my room, I would swap out the books for toys or items safe and interesting for you to take hold of and engage with. I've lost count of the number of times I tried to teach you that the books were not for your entertainment, and the number of times the incident ended with me raising my voice and being rougher than I should have been and you crying. Would it have been so difficult to come up with a creative solution that contributed to your learning experience? No. All those unpleasant occurrences could have been turned into great memories but I squelched the opportunity and trampled on the open invitation to replace my poor response that possibly conveyed I valued neatly arranged books over you.

If I were to be given a second chance at my mothering journey with you, I would stop shouting and hard smacking altogether. I have lost my patience and temper more times than I care to admit (even if it was just once, it would have been one time too many). I should have sought help and found more appropriate and effective ways of teaching and disciplining you. I should have taken action to change certain habits so the same triggers didn't keep presenting themselves, like bringing you home for a bath instead of insisting on us showering at swim school after your class when you obviously hated the rushed ritual. In most cases you were too young to understand and yet I expected you to get where I was coming from. How many times did I see a pitiful sadness fill your eyes as you looked up to me for assurance after I rapped you too harshly on the hand or bottom? I shudder to recall the way I have yelled right into your little ears as well. You have never deserved to be treated in that manner. I lost my cool in a horrible way just the other night, which made you cry bitterly as Papa took you for a bath. When I ignored you afterwards and hurriedly busied myself in the kitchen, you softly said in a dejected voice, "You hurt me Mama, I don't like it." 

In reflecting over the times I have acted out of emotions and tiredness instead of thinking the situation through, I realise I could have been rubbing in the message that you are less important than things like a clean and tidy house or my time alone. I remember getting mad because you once opened our filing cabinet and pulled out a folder of unstapled articles. The sheets were strewn across the floor and I had to chase you down to grab some back before you tore through them. I cursed profusely (under my breath so you wouldn't hear me) as I tried to make sense of the heaped mess and arrange everything in order. 

I've never in my life used as much disgustingly foul profanity as in these past couple of years. Since gaining the new title of "Mama", I have been shocked at how enraged I can become over the tiniest of matters. It takes so little to trigger a reaction from me and it's disturbing that the response is totally uncalled for and perhaps even frightening for someone as impressionable as yourself. I've muttered the most terrible of thoughts and sentiments (which I dare not repeat here), and what's worse, over preposterously inconsequential events. The truth is, those articles are completely useless and I will most likely never bother reading them. In hindsight, much of what I have fretted over is downright insignificant just like those immaterial pieces of paper. 

Your tender heart deserves more care than the leather on our couches or the tiles beneath our feet or the counter tops in our kitchen. Your feelings and self-esteem are more important than the chinaware my parents carted over from Singapore that I was able to easily move to a higher shelf in the pantry. YOU matter more, full-stop. It shouldn't matter whether I am ill or drained or busy. It shouldn't matter whether the laundry is overflowing or our home is in dire need of a scrub. It shouldn't matter that I have weird obsessive compulsive tendencies and like certain things to be "just so". It shouldn't even matter if you're pushing the boundaries, testing my patience or throwing a tantrum. I should never be too occupied to turn to you when you're asking for my attention, or too distracted to really listen and respond thoughtfully, or too caught up in my own bubble that I become negligent, insensitive or curt. There is always a more mature approach to dealing with things and sometimes all it takes is a few extra seconds to breathe deeply and reassess the circumstances.

You, Phoebe Ruth Then En Qi, are important. You are precious and beautiful and significant. You are smart and funny and adorable. You are sweet and affectionate and sensitive. You are unique and gifted and special. You are the one I should be focusing on in my everyday moments. You and Papa and the people God has blessed me with. Family and friends matter. Each and every person matters. Their life story matters, their feelings and worries and dreams and opinions matter. 

I cannot undo the damage I have caused, to you or anyone else, but instead of constantly mulling over the past and complaining about being unwell and tired and frustrated, I am going to choose to be present. I am going to stop myself and realise that each moment only happens once and that my decision in that moment counts and can have an impact that carries over into your future and the person you turn out to be. I don't want you to be distracted and hurried. I don't want you to be a slave to technology. I don't want you to lose out on the everyday moments that are treasures to be savoured. I want you to look back and see me as one who cheered you on, comforted you, helped equip you and built you up. I want you to see that I was there and I truly cared. I want you to be secure in your relationship with me and enjoy time with me. 

Phoebe darling, you are irreplaceable. Thank you for loving me despite how frequently and badly I have messed up. Thank you for telling me stories and pointing out the things in life I have grown to overlook like a bird on the roof or the sound of rain. I hope you never ever lose your child-likeness and sense of awe and wonder. I hope you cherish even the days that seem mundane and always have something to look forward to. I hope you will never be afraid to dream big and believe in yourself. 

Love, Mama

Phoebe's Second Birthday

The party was a success with a ball pit and mini roller coaster Fab found at the last minute for the weekend from Toy Hire Gold Coast, which is run by a lovely work-from-home mum. There was a 20% discount for the month of February so we scored. We had seven mini people including Phoebe (not counting a gorgeous two-week fresh baby) and they all had a good time and were sent home with goodies I picked out specifically for their gender and age. Our house was in a mess after but not more than one would expect from a kid-friendly event, and we tidied everything up while P had a nap. The only collateral damage sustained was a broken drum arm. I have no idea how the little guy managed to break the bracket; he's got some muscles for sure!

I'm glad Phoebe liked the fruity garland and miniature kawaii-faced, fruit-shaped balloons I made for the tables. She saw the decorations on the Saturday morning and said, "Wow!" so I was pretty chuffed. She also enjoyed the self-decorating cupcake table I created for the smaller members of the party. Phoebe stuffed her face immensely on the day but mostly on fruit so that was okay. The only unhealthy options I offered were whipped-up thickened cream, tiny chocolate balls and chocolate sprinkles for the little cakes. The lemon cakes themselves were low on sugar and free of gluten to suit one guest. 

There was plenty of strawberries and melon balls in pretty cups along with pure fruit poppers and all natural fruit and veggie strips, which some of the kids (mine being the biggest culprit) devoured. We also served up chicken drumlets and wings that Fab specially marinated the night before, salmon and cream cheese bruschetta, bite-sized fritattas (I made two types - spinach and cheese, and bacon and onion), organic corn chips (regular and spicy) and salsa, and a large platter of assorted fruits for the adults. I also made a batch of non gluten-free chocolate cupcakes but wasn't pleased with the outcome as they weren't rich, gooey and decadent. I must remember that cupcakes made purely from cocoa without melted dark chocolate does not turn out as well. Another downfall with the recipe I used was the inclusion of bicarbonate soda instead of baking powder, which made the cupcakes rise too quickly and overflow. I reduced the sugar content but they still came out too sweet. The mini banana and cinnamon cupcakes I made for P to have at daycare with her classmates yesterday were a much better success. 

Phoebe received a good range of gifts, which she excitedly examined upon waking from a one-hour siesta. There was a collection of four small wooden Hungry Caterpillar jigsaw puzzles, a large erasable doodle-board, a tin tea set, a book about toilet training for girls (which we have already read about 15 times and prompted me to set up her potty), a set of books about teeth-brushing, manners and other good things, playdoh,  number magnets, a little wooden flute thing, a warp-around skirt and a t-shirt. Fab surprised her last night (on her actual birthday) with a rocking horse he found on Gumtree. I didn't know he had bought one and was equally pleased to see it. The only unexpected snag is P got onto the horse and insisted it was "too high, too high Papa!" I comforted him by saying she'll grow into it. We thought she would love it as she played with a similar one at a friend's house but she was younger then and perhaps less aware of the possibility of falling from such a height. 

I am happy to report in relation to the book about toilet training and me taking the opportunity to ask if she wanted to try out her potty we purchased some time back and have been keeping stored away, is that she was keen and actually used it! She has even asked to sit on it after bath time and has, true enough, produced something (thankfully just wee because I haven't quite worked up enough courage to deal with an explosion of poo that is not contained within a nappy I can easily wrap up and toss out). 

These past two years with our little miracle have gone quickly. She has grown significantly from the tiny infant placed in my arms on the 1st of March 2014, not only in weight and height but in beauty, intelligence, "adorability" and cheekiness. Our toddler is a fast learner. Fab was annoying her the other evening while we were all lying in bed, so she promptly sat up and said, "Stop, stop, stop Papa...timeout...five minutes." We had a good laugh and Fab pretended to reflect in a corner of the room as a consequence of his undesirable behaviour. I'm not certain where she heard the phrase about monetary terms but more recently she has been telling me things like, "Mama bra...sixty dollars." She also likes announcing the weather while I'm driving, "Raining. Oh, no more rain, sun, sun...too bright. Oh! Raining again, Mama." It's interesting to listen to the way she thinks when she's able to express herself, like the other day when she pointed to a set of short but fairly deep-looking scratches on her leg and said, "What happened, oh what happened? Mishka a cat." I had noticed the wound the morning before and was concerned as I couldn't work out how she got the marks. It could have been due to a tumble at creche in church or her scratching at an itch in her sleep though her nails had been trimmed. She definitely didn't have a run-in with the neighbourhood cat that visits the daycare centre occasionally but the poor feline was wrongly accused nevertheless. 

Phoebe's 2nd Birthday Party Prep

DIY Watermelon Pinata

Our baby is turning two and I've decided to celebrate this with a fruity-themed party. Phoebe loves fruit. It's one food that's generally easy to feed her. Below is a list of sources I've turned to when preparing for the party to be held at our place (so we're guaranteed no weather problems and the air-conditioning will be running to counter the summer heat that's still going strong).

The only idea I am not following is the watermelon pinata. Attractive as it is, I just don't have the patience to cut out one-inch wide strips of crepe paper, make close-set fringes in them and paste each piece carefully, forming row after sleep-inducing row. But who knows? Maybe if I revisit the fruit party idea in the future, I'll suddenly be filled with the required inspirational push. More likely if I want to make it badly enough, I'll recruit the husband's help. 

He's a clever one, that engineer of mine. There I was painstakingly cutting out the fruits for the garland one at a time when he came along to assist and stapled together the same fruit pages (some come with two or three different shapes on one sheet and we made 5 copies of each). He placed the staples roughly around each fruit to keep the papers tightly aligned so they didn't shift while cutting, which meant he got five strawberries done in the time it took me to trim out one. (Don't call me dumb...and stop laughing. I can hear you). Anyway, these fruit baskets are rather small when printed on an A4 sheet of paper and rather flimsy unless printed on card stock so I'm only using the one trial piece Fab constructed. The same site that has the fruit gift bags offers fruity invitations, gift labels, garland and cone wrappers too which are handy though. 

The plan was to find a funky fruity dress for Phoebe to wear but it was not to be so I ended up buying a $5 t-shirt that has a repeated pineapple print on the back and front pocket. I'm thinking to pair it with a tutu for a bit of flair but we'll see how things go. For $8, I found a matching t-shirt for myself from the teenage section. Thank you K Mart! Unfortunately there was nothing for Fab so I'm going to persuade him to let me stick a pineapple print (from the garland below) on one of his existing t-shirts. He won't agree but I will try to be very convincing that it's the right thing to do for the sake of family memory-making. To prove that all cool people have fruit-themed parties, I shall refer him to this blog post I just came across. On second thoughts, the husband did not dress up in a fruity shirt. Shucks. The baby's orange romper is seriously cute though!

Minieco Fruit Garland

Fruity Cards

Kawaii Fruit Cups

DIY Fruit Balloons

i ♥

Luna Light by Acorn Studio

Luna on Indiegogo

LED Cloud Lights

String Light Fire

[Currently on replay: I Was Made For Loving You by Tori Kelly & Ed Sheeran]

10 from my Favourite Listening List for this season: 

• See You Again - Cover by Boyce Avenue, featuring Beatrice Miller
• Heart Attack - Cover by Madilyn Bailey
• Wildest Dreams - Cover by Madilyn Bailey
• Human - Cover by Madilyn Bailey
• Chains - Cover by Sam Tsui & Kina Grannis
• Hello - Adele (Does anyone else think of the Lionel Richie song?)
• Stitches - Shawn Mendes
• Little Do You Know - Alex & Sierra
• Do You Remember - Jarryd James
• One Last Time - Ariana Grande

Little Miss Sunshine

Dear Phoebe,

Gosh, how time has passed! It's been remiss of me for not having written sooner. You've grown a fair amount since I last put down my thoughts. It is no secret you have been surprising family, friends of ours and even your teachers with your vocabulary and general development. One remarked you seem brighter than your contemporaries, a statement to which I quietly beamed with pride. Perhaps a good way to collect and have a record of prominent happenings would be to jot down the first ten things that come to mind. In this vein, here is my list:

1. You love to mimic words and do so well. You make an effort to follow when I recite the alphabet or count up to ten (you like 2 and 8). You are good at spotting and naming creatures. Your current repertoire contains the following, some of which are pronounced in your unique baby way - cat, dog or doggie, monkey, kangaroo, penguin, elephant, lion, tiger, giraffe (this is said "rah!" with emphasis), hippo, bird, owl, rabbit, pig, whale, bear, bug, ant, duck, chicken, lizard, frog, dragon-fly, bat, horse, sheep, butterfly, bee, cow (this used to be dow) and mosquito. I'm sure I've forgotten to include others. Lately, your favourite statement is "mosquito bite me, Mama" as you point to a mark on your leg. You also like the word fire engine. Your first sentence was, "I bang head".
2. You know the names of all your classmates and some of the teachers. I think you missed them over the holiday as you would occasionally run through their names - Ivy, Emmie, Maja, Dawn, Indie-Kai, Cullen, Jaxyn (whom you call Jacken) and Miss Monica (who is Moditah)
3. Recently, you've started rehearsing family names (spelt according to your pronunciation) - Ye Ye, Nai Nai, Shiao Gu, Da Gu, Shiao Shu, Kor Kor, Di Di, Aunty Banga.
4. You are very helpful at daycare and you voluntarily and enthusiastically assist me with unloading the dishwasher whenever you see me working on that task. You even attempt to do a bit of spot cleaning, which comprises of grabbing a dry sponge from one of the kitchen drawers and busily brushing it across a random patch on the floor often because you've just watched me wipe up a mess. 
5. You still kick Papa and I a good amount in your sleep. 
6. You are a great traveller and an entertaining companion. We were on a road trip through farmland from Robe to Melbourne on Boxing Day and you suddenly piped up completely unprompted, "bush fire!". No one had mentioned the word but you looked out towards the dry, golden fields and declared the phrase repeatedly. Victoria has endured bush fires since your accurate pronouncement of such disaster. 
7. When you start to fuss and get cranky in the car, I can usually calm you down by narrating books of yours that I have memorised and singing songs at request like Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star; Wheels on the Bus; Row, Row, Row Your Boat; Incy Wincy Spider; Humpty Dumpty and ABC.
8. You love fruits - Nana, peach, stowbewwy, boo-bewwy, apple...
9. You can spot a Minion and Dora (we picked up a bunch of educational Dora books for free one day) from a mile away and will yell, "Minion! Doorwa!"
10. You love to wear my bra as a necklace and you think it's funny to poke at my bum when I'm getting dressed in the bathroom and shout, "bum!"

You'll forever be my most favourite Phoebe.

Oh, I must mention that you've invented your own form of push-up and will randomly perform this exercise with accompanying sound effect, "ho-hee, ho-hee!" If ever I wish for you to demonstrate this display, I simply need to instruct you with that phrase. It's hilarious and adorable. I mustn't forget to record it on video. 

Love, Mama