gratitude

TTT – The Boy, The Girl, The Dirt

There’s a meme going around my Facebook feeds lately, where friends tag others to publicly post 3 things they are grateful for every day for 5 consecutive days. Kinda like the 365 project lite, or 1-day cricket.

It’s made me remember that I used to dedicate Thursdays to Thankfulness.

I’d very recently purchased the Gratitude 365 Journal App – partly because it had the prettiest user interface out of the all the gratitude apps I’ve seen, but mostly because I want to fine-tune my perspectacles. I don’t have to tell you that there can be a lot of negativity on the internet; gone are the days of one-way mass media where a small group of elites opined. These days, an opinion piece could invite instant feedback and with it, hot judgement, cold trolling and many times, downright nastiness.

Politics and religion aside, parenting is one of those things that can press everyone’s crazy button – whether you’re a parent or not. Lately, I’ve grown so weary of reading comments that quickly deteriorate to name-calling and judgement. I’m also quickly losing what little patience I already have with manipulative scaremongers who prey on the insecurities of others to inflate their own misplaced sense of superiority and saintliness. As if parents don’t have enough secret oodles of self-doubt to deal with.

You know what I’m talking about, because we are surrounded by it daily.

It is hard not to be sucked in the game, and especially with the Facebook posting and the retweeting. I’m very opinionated on a raft of topics (read: most things). It’s probably why I started blogging, although I’ve made more of an effort with this blog to reflect and refine my words and deeds.

It also means I’m so much more susceptible to the hot judgements and the cold cynicism.

It may seem like disparate topics – gratitude and unrighteous judgement – and yet they can be two sides of the same coin. Self-righteousness is narcissistic because it assumes from the very start that my values and life experiences should determine everyone else’s True North. Yet, Gratitude is another kind of self-absorption, in that it requires discipline, and continual self-awareness and reflection.

Simply put, I find that focusing on things I’m thankful for helps slay the part of me that wants to think the worst of others. It’s not a coincidence that people who feel grateful are more likely to feel loved – and to want to love in return.

(I just want to put in a quick disclaimer that I’m not talking about Positive Thinking here. There is a difference between being perky and being thankful.)

Anyhoo – back to today’s Thursday’s Three Thank-yous…

1) This active, growing boy

I am incubating a human being that is now strong enough to kick me awake. He’s starting to settle into a 3-hour pattern – which includes an 11pm Snoopy Dance (happening right now), a 2am plié, and a 5am Ninja-stealth wallop. He responds very positively to chocolate. I am also contemplating a life with an Even More Active Kid. (Remember that Arddun was crawling and standing by 6½ months, and walking by 10½ months.) I miss him when he’s zoning out, and there is a slow smile that breaks across my face when he starts up again because I know he’s still alive. I am so thankful for the privilege of carrying 2 babies in my lifetime. Having someone move independently of you while within you is a bizarre, delightful thing.

2) This loving, (mostly) obedient girl

Didn’t mean for this round of TTT to turn out to be so general — but I’ve really enjoyed Arddun’s company this week. Sure she wants to strike out now and then – refuses to hold my hand sometimes, bursts into tears when I say “not yet” or “no”… but her manners can be so beautiful, her gratitude can be so transparent, and her concern for my welfare, so guileless and genuine. I love how she has learnt contentment with her own company, something adults can struggle with still. I love how she mostly understands when I need space to accomplish other things; that she doesn’t need to be the centre of my universe all the time.

3) The ability to own a plot of dirt

We officially became landowners yesterday. Not such a big deal to many Australians, but it’s surreal for a Singaporean like me. To own land and build your own house in Singapore (no matter how tiny) is the reserve and privilege of the fabulously, obscenely wealthy. We are not multi-millionaires, but we have been given enough to own a plot of dirt. (Weeeell, “own” is a strong word considering all land in Canberra is crown lease. But it’s still a great feeling.)

15 August 2014

To everything – turn turn turn – There is a season

Since I last wrote 147 days ago, our family has gone through stuff – some big, some small, but all significant in their own way. I realise that the longer I put off writing it all down, the further away the reality of catching up will seem, and then Arddun will grow up one day, learn about this blog, and wonder why I stopped bothering to chronicle our lives when we all know how shocking my memory has become.

So in no particular order, here are the salient points.

My mother’s first death anniversary

I think the anticipation of it being a big hairy emotional day became bigger than the actual event. Our family here in Australia took it real slow. I had Arddun for the day, and we did things together – went to an indoor playground, pottered around the neighbourhood, did some grocery shopping.

I spent a lot of time thinking about the everyday things I remember doing with my mum when I was a kid – the travelling to and from her students’ homes, wheeling the TV into my parents’ room to watch Cinderalla and half of Snow White while she was teaching at home, a LOT of window shopping, that time in the elevator when my mother unconsciously put on an Italian accent to explain directions to a couple of tourists…

Part of me still wonders if I should have made more of an effort memorialising the first anniversary, except I still haven’t shaken off the feeling that we are parted only for a little while and that she is just a Skype call away. That is, until I actually log on to Skype and realise that she’s not there.

As long as she is in my everyday, she stays immortal. Beloved.

Got Tupperwared out

Bizarrely, February and March became really successful Tupperware months for me – to the extent that I got second-level Star Demonstrator for both months. (Which just means I got a shiny gold two-star pin, because I sold a crazy lot of quality plastic.) Could have gotten Star demonstrator in April too, except I had an equally bizarre spate of party cancellations in the last week, which stuffed up my targets and rewards. But that is how the cookie crumbles.

Went to a Tupperware conference at the Four Seasons in Sydney, got to cross stage to receive lots of goodies for hitting targets, and ended up forgetting one of my reward bags when I returned to Canberra so I’m rather miffed with myself for that. The conference itself felt like a rock concert that went on for 7 hours. Lots of pom-poms, lots of piccies, lost my voice.

More than anything, it was just lovely to dine out with a gaggle of women sans child, and to dust off my high-heels again.

Got surprise part-time contract

Not much would get me out of the bliss of mothering full-time during the day, so when a particular job with an international Christian NPO floated into view, I sent in my résumé thinking nothing of it but half hoping, and got tickled pink when the national director called to have a chat.

Long story short, I’m now doing a web project until August, and work twice a week with a couple of hours snatched in between my full work days. And even though I had been doing some freelance editing work since Arddun was a year old, this part-time job has really awoken me to the fact that women who work part-time are insanely organised. Or schizophrenic. Probably both.

Before Child (BC), I worked full-time – and I worked long hours. I’m not averse to hard work. But until I started doing, effectively, THREE jobs (all-day mother and housewife 5 days a week, part-time web project manager, Tupperware evenings and weekends), I hadn’t realised how much discipline I had lacked as a full-time worker.

It’s one thing to be completely immersed in the one job and do plenty of overtime. It’s quite another to not have that luxury of one job leaking into all other areas of your life.

Because every time I’m at any particular task, I now have to be completely present – heart, body, mind. Because that’s all the time I am allowed to dedicate to that task. Miss that window, and I have no pockets of time left to make up for it because another job is owed my time. I speak for myself, of course, but my work ethic BC involved sacrificing my personal time (and sometimes, time with the husband) to finish work in the office. I can – and will – no longer do that.

Do you know how blinking hard it is to switch from one completely different job to another? That is probably the most exhausting part of my current work-life balance, but I’m also loving it. I have three completely different jobs that require very different soft and hard skills from me, and I’m loving the challenge. I also like to think I’m growing from it.

Got job change

Tony also had a job change a couple months ago – a real God’s timing moment, because things are very tight in the public service. For a little while there, it meant that on my work days, Arddun, Tony and I would be in different suburbs but in another great chess move, Tony got additional duties which meant he could be back in the same business park as Arddun’s childcare, on the days he needs to do the school drop off.

Got visitors

Tony’s mum came down for a visit, and got to spend some quality time with all of us – especially Arddun. Always a blessing to have her around; it just brings such a deep-sigh-aaaahhhh comfort to be with family, where it’s all about the companionship and the catching up, and you can lean on one another.

Adrian, Audrey and Sophie just came and left too… my family in spirit, if not in blood. Again, just deeply satisfying to be with them. The joy and glee of being in the same continent again – and this time in my home – was already something I had been looking forward to for months.

So… when are the rest of you coming over to my turf, hmm?

Got knocked up

A hundred and sixty-three of you stopped by one of my Facebook posts to scream about the fact that I’m now with child again. Second Bub is 17 weeks old today, and this pregnancy has sailed by. I forget a lot of the time that I’m pregnant – until I have to find something big and warm enough to wear.

All that they say about second pregnancies are true. My body had inflated in 2.5 seconds flat, like a pop-up tent. The baby, my phone app tells me, is now the size of a turnip but I look like I swallowed a rock melon whole. This baby is also a savoury baby – Tom Yum Soup is probably the one thing that strikes all the happy notes because it’s sweet, sour, salty, hot. So unlike Arddun, who made me down tubs of mango yoghurt and who now eats cheddar cheese in 1cm-thick slabs just like her father.

We’re happy that our family is expanding along with my waistline, but the timing is rather tricky because

We’re building a house

Or rather, we’ve been planning to since September last year and we’ve only managed to sign everything that actually says we are this week.

So think about it: we have to de-clutter the current house we’re living in to prepare it for sale (hah!), possibly pack and move to another place before our new house is finished (hah hah!), and then move into the new house after Second Bub greets the world (sob.)

Yes, there is a lot to do. But after the logistics of 2013, I’m all “Bring It On!” Might just be the second trimester talking. I suspect I’ll be less enamoured by it all come September, when I approach Waddle Station and have to face the prospect of packing or unpacking boxes.

Arddun turned three

On the 15th, we celebrated Arddun’s third birthday with a low-key backyard BBQ and a Peppa Pig cake. And then we celebrated some more by spending the actual day bouncing around at Flip Out with her friends, and having the yummiest ham and brioche toastie in homemade bread at Dream Cuisine with her BFF Leila.

Pictures to come. Have not synced technology appendages to the Mothership in a while.

Our little girl can now officially play with toys that have small pieces. Actually, our little girl can already do that – and so much more. I want to dedicate a completely separate post to the individual she has become, so I’ll leave you with some photos that befits the title of this post. Being all poetic and all.

Arddun twirling in falling autumn leaves — To everything, there is a season. And I loved spending the season with you. xx

25 June 2014

Grateful for…

A beautiful, windy, cloudy late morning beckoned us to leave the house behind and take a cycle around the neighborhood. I also played postman with my old Tupperware catalogues, so I managed to tick something off my To-do list! Arddun was very impressed by 2 smooth rocks she managed to find. The simple things.

2 January 2014

Sparkly nail polish

I’ve always found false optimism in the workplace grating. I consider myself a fairly upbeat, energetic person but there’s something about faking the rainbows that gets under my skin like nails on a chalkboard. I get highly suspicious when everyone rushes to embrace the upside of an idea, without taking the time to poke holes in the approach first and see if it still holds water after a few inevitable trials.

Yet, I’m not wholly convinced my attitude is a result of a whole-brained approach to problem solving. I think a part of me also wonders if I’ve grown more cynical over the years. And then I watch an episode of TED Conversations, and wonder if I’ve somehow lost my innocence.

My Thursday’s Three Thank-Yous have fallen by the wayside. Partly because I haven’t been blogging much at all… but mostly because I’m not feeling overly blessed or happy of late. Cerebrally, I know I have plenty to be thankful for. The fact I’m able to stay home with Arddun. The fact that I have most of my health, apart from this dastardly cough and cold that won’t go away. The fact that Arddun’s one year old and still alive. The fact that Tony has a job and is well-respected where he is.

The fact that we see double rainbows on Flemington Road when the rains hit the sun. The fact that Canberra has real Winters and Summers and the most gorgeous Autumns. (I don’t really care much for its Springs. Too windy and ridden with hayfever hazards.) The fact that the sun, the moon, the stars, the planet are still working. The fact that we haven’t completely destroyed our eco-system. Yet. All that.

But I’m wondering if the cynic in me just cannot bring myself to be thankful for the seemingly mundane and natural. That summoning gratitude for ten fingers and ten toes is bordering on the desperate and false. And most of all, how CAN I profess to such gratitude when my own mother is suffering still from toxic, worrisome, potentially fatal cancer, and I cannot, CANNOT feel happy about that?

It feels like I’m pretending I’m happy for sparkly nail polish when I’ve lost my whole foot. Anything before the bit about the foot just seems ludicrous and hollow.

And yet, I know I must press on. And I know I still have things to be hugely grateful for. And I know I have a little girl in my life who makes me laugh every day. And a loving husband who rushes home at day’s end and makes sure I take my medicine. All that.

I just wish the attainment of happiness was as easy as Shawn Achor makes it out to be.

29 June 2012

TTT – Like a prayer, like a pampering, like a pair of pants

1. People who pray with technology
This week, I got two text messages filled with love and practicality. It said I was prayed for, it told me what the prayer was about, and it had a pretty handy piece of scripture attached to it. Short, to the point, powerful. You know how you read a chunk of scripture over and over, and nothing quite sinks in? Not deep-and-meaningful like? And then you get sent one verse at just the right time in your life and – ka blam! Impact.

This was the verse:

“Therefore I tell you, whatever you ask for in prayer, believe that you have received it, and it will be yours.”

Somewhere in my spiritual life, it got trendy to ONLY ask for strength to handle the come-what-may. Somehow, somewhere, it became the done thing to NOT plead with God. To not beg Him for a specific outcome. Not ask that it be A, and not B. Pretty please. Somehow, somewhere, the idea that we submit to God’s will mutually excluded the bit where I run to Him like a child and pester Him. To take what’s nearest and dearest to my heart and go… “Dad, this is my heart’s desire. Could I please have it?” Rinse, repeat.

I don’t know where I learnt not to ask for healing, but only for endurance. Not to ask for the removal of the impediment, but only to beg for fortitude.

So thanks for the reminder. And for finding the words, when my own brain lies still and rather useless at the mo.

2. Pretty vouchers
Arddun’s Christmas present to me: a very generous get-pretty voucher at a spa in the city. This, on top of another pedicure and facial voucher. Which is on top of my hair appointment this Saturday.

Well!

After feeling all mumsy and like a dag for months on end, it’s lovely to finally book in these pretty-me-up dates. The impetus is a wedding in late March and my trips to Brisbane and Singapore. Oh who am I kidding. I don’t really need a reason to book in afternoons of massages and pampering!

3. Hand-me-down Happies
Now that my weight and body shape have stabilised, I’ve had to take a deep breath and start throwing out things I can’t wear anymore. Which is about half my wardrobe, easily. And while I’ve been putting off the putting-aside because of laziness, the bigger reason has been my reluctance to pass on my clothes to complete strangers.

I donate regularly to Salvos and Vinnies… but these clothes spell history for me. And because most of these pieces have been with me since I was a teen, it’s been even harder to give away remnants of my past life in Singapore. These clothes aren’t just clothes – they’re memories of dates and break-ups and Sunday services and tertiary life and first jobs… They are one of the very few things in my house that came with me from Singapore. That were part of what I brought to our marriage home.

But then the Kirky girls have suddenly all grown up – and so I’ve found new clothes horses! It’s been happiness on both sides, because they get a new wardrobe while I see my clothes get a new lease of life every Sunday morning. Now complemented with gorgeous chestnut brown and strawberry blonde hair.

23 February 2012

Finding The Happy

Looking for joy in all the right places

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