Raising Teens

Raising teens is HARD HARD HARD. Don't look at me. I'm not here to give you answers. I don't know how to do it either because, hey, I'm here for the first time too and I'm still learning. Surprisingly, or not, the only thing I've learned so far is that these teens could surprise me, humble me even, if only I ... listen.
Seriously. It’s that simple.
If they feel comfortable confiding in you, that's a big fat bonus. Use that trust well.

Raising teen means we need to put on our coaching jersey. You don't get to play the game with them every time, but you can still watch them play and yell out a few pointers from the side field every now and then.

We need to be more their friend and less their dictator. Putting an arm around their shoulders works much better than putting chains around their ankles.

I remember a saying from Buddha. It goes like this : If you hold them too tight, they'll choke. You hold them too loose, they'll run wild without direction.

A good wisdom 😊

Do Fun Like A Boss

My seven-year-old daughter just finished making a full diorama based on a short story she previously wrote and read on YouTube called "Sweaty Yeti". 

http://youtu.be/6wGUzeU2XZ0

http://youtu.be/eWm4rQSAB2I 

My daughter has been 'famous' for her love for creating knick-knacks from junks. Anything she can get her hands on, she would turn them into some craft.

Some of my friends asked whether this diorama was a part of Nina's school project. The answer is no, it's not. She's doing it purely for fun. 

As expected, they didn't believe me. "But whyyyy?"

"Because she loves doing it and she's doing it without any burden."

Pause. 

"Yeah... but why?"

It makes me think.

How often do we, adults, do something we love for fun? Most of the time we only do something because we're under an obligation to do it, or there's monetary reward behind it. Definitely not for fun.

Well. Maybe we should all learn to be more like our children. 

Let our wonder takes our breath away and let our curiosity whispers life into our soul.

Maybe we should nurture our talent once in a while, even if it’s only for temporary.

Maybe we should all do what we're good at doing and have fun while doing it. You know, do it like a boss.

Yeah?

Rough Day

My teen had a rough day at school today. This time, it was a situation I couldn't fix for him.

Later on he found peace reading this "365 Days of Wonder", a book that never left his bedside table, and listening to his favorite music.

Sometimes we forget that kids need some alone-time too, just like us, to unwind. No need to hover, no need to push, no need to worry excessively.
They will find a way to settle their own problems without us interfering...

Luv ya, Kiddo 😙

Mommy's Journal: Get Well Soon, Princess

My little girl is sick with bad cold. It's the combo of fever, dry cough, sore throat, and runny nose. It's very uncomfortable, poor girl, but she's trying to be brave by not complaining. She stacks tissue next to her bed, she got herself a damp cloth everytime she feels her eyes are burning, and she doesn't whine everytime she swallows the medicine.
Love you, little Princess 😙.
Get well soon...

Do It Like A Boss

Nina (7 year-old) : Mom. You think I’m awesome?

Me (answers truthfully and passionately) : Of course, honey.

Nina : Yeah, I thought so too. I am pretty awesome.

Fact : Self-confidence has never been an issue with her.

Moral : If you want to do something, be something, feel something, don't hesitate. Just go out there and do it like a boss!

2014 Summary

My seven-year-old daughter made this for me using an app she found on my Android.
She calls her creation 'My Mommy's books'.

Best Christmas present EVAH!

What do you think? Like it?

Big, High, and Almighty

My six year old daughter told me yesterday, "I want to change my last name."

Me (rolled eyes dramatically): Yeah? To what?

Daughter : Obama. My name would be Nina Obama.

Me (laughed, and then stayed speechless)

Moral of the conversation :
"If you have a dream, aim it high, big, and almighty. Don't settle for a second best."

Here's the Thing

Here’s the thing.

This is a lovely box. My friends used this box to put my birthday present inside. I remembered that the gift was lovely, just as lovely as the box. That’s why I keep them both all these years.

Last night, my six year old daughter pulled the box out from under piles of boxes in our storage and brought it to me and asked if she could use it for her art. My daughter is known for her growing talent in transforming junks into creative, beautiful arts, and last night, holding the box in her tiny hands, looking at me with creative fire in her eyes, she told me she wanted to use that box to make some Lion King’s masks. It means she would cut the box, splash paints and God knows what all over it, shred some of it, all in the name of making her art.

I said no. When she whined, I snapped, “Don’t ruin the box. If you want to make something, find yourself some other ugly junks.”

Translation : My box is prettier than your upcoming art.

I think I broke her heart a little last night.

I found her a nice shoebox after that and she quietly retreated back into her room and created her arts. She cut, she tore, she painted, she glued, and she created. She’s done it all with a slight gloom on her face, and I know why. She thinks I thought her arts were junks.

Don’t do what I did.


Here’s the thing.
It’s just a goddamn box in a storage full of junks.
Next to it is my kid’s creative heart.

I should have known which one was more important.

Lebaran Holiday

This past Idul Fitri holiday marked the first Eid holiday that we spent outside our hometown. Usually, in the past few years, every Eid holiday was spent meditating at home, with me being a faithful nanny/maid 24/7. Enough said, we planned this holiday thoughtfully and decided to visit a-not-too-far place for our destination. Tickets, hotel vouchers and passports checked, we finally landed at our destination, only to realize that we weren’t exactly flying away from our hometown despite the passport and the different currency. We still vacationed in a place we called home, complete with its culture, its language, its food and most importantly, its people. This place, which we thought so carefully in the beginning of our trip, was called Singapore “Welcome (back) to the (2nd) Indonesia”.

Singapore was swarmed with Indonesians everywhere. This holiday particularly, the Indonesians went vacationing with their big families, stretching out to 3 generations mostly, plus uncles, aunties, cousins and many more. Everywhere we went, stress-faced Indonesian mommies taking care of their babies and toddlers were to be seen. Some were lucky enough to have a nanny or maid trailing behind them. The bittersweet of Lebaran holiday only true Indonesians can understand.

As hard as we tried to avoid Orchard and the hotels there, we ended up surrounded by all Indonesian guests in our hotel, the brand new spectacular MBS. The check-in process was also spectacular, in both lines and times. It took average 20 minutes waiting time to reach the check-in counter. This iconic hotel was definitely not just an ordinary hotel, mind you, so they tried very hard to compensate the counter’s waiting time by offering many fringe benefits such as circulating welcome drinks, fruits, roses, having clowns/mimes performing, and organizing a live musical symphony in their lobby. Seriously, who wanted to listen to them playing classical music when we were so tired and upset from queuing in lines? But, aside from the classical symphony, the rest of the benefits were appreciated.
For those of you who had spent time in MBS before, you know what I am describing here. This hotel was not just a hotel. It was a new icon for Singapore and its presence has lifted the bar for this industry. This was our second time in MBS, so, unlike other new comers, we skipped the lobby photo taking sessions and the “wows” and “ahhs”. Also, my feet were too sore from standing up too long in the lobby.

Kid Bully

We all hate bullies. We watch too many American TVs that show how bullies behaving badly in high school. Beware, my fellow parents. Bullies had hit home, and it comes much much sooner than high school. We are talking elementary soon.

When my 8 year old boy went home and complained to me about some of his classmates, I closed one of my eyes and thought that this was a phase in his school life that he has to go through, even when he told me that one of the boys had physically assaulted him twice. Then, the day came when he asked me the meaning of some words. The bad ones! The harsh ones! Believe me; you don’t want to be caught off guard trying to comprehend where the hell these kids learned the foul language. When I asked my boy why he wanted to know, he answered because some of those boys called him those things.

My motherly primate instinct kicked in right away. WHO DARED TO CALL MY KID THOSE NAMES? WHO DARED TO ATTACK MY INNOCENT SON? WHO ARE THESE KIDS?
With my emotion boiling up to 100C, my first instinct was to tell my son to fight back. To retaliate. To make those kids suffer. Yell back, shove them, will ya? I think I scared my son even more during this not-so-proud counseling moment. He must think that his mom suffered from acute multiple personality disorder.
Things were not better at home when my maid advised my son to punch those kids like a man. No, no, wrong advice!
When my husband heard the story in the evening, his exaggerate fatherly hormone kicked in even harder. He told me to enroll our son in any martial art classes and to show him more fighting/war movies. He was barely breathing air when he jolted down instructions at me, then moved on to preparing our son for battle. You have no idea how confuse our son was. He was such an innocent kid, definitely not ready yet to stand up against his bullies, and here we were – his parents – telling him to fight an eye for an eye kind of thing.

But.. You are Old!

The Journey of the Clown Kids

1.

After watching Rapunzel for the 10th times this week, my husband and I casually chatted with our 3 yeard old Nina about the meaning and the importance of love. To enhance her understanding, we inserted ourselves into the illustration.
“So, Nin, Mama is like Rapunzel, and Papa is like the Handsome Prince,” my husband began describing.
Nina’s eyes looked puzzled. “But.., you are not. You are OLD,” came her final verdict.

2.

I usually showed the pictures which I took at family/friend’s gatherings to my kids. Vanity questions usually followed, such as,” Did we all look pretty, Mike, in this picture?” My 8 year old boy would glance quickly at my phone screen and shrugged,” Your friends are all aunties.” “Yeah, so? Aren’t we pretty?” I insisted. He then answered, boredom was clear in his tone, “You and your friends are all old, Ma.” OK, time to do my math. Old = …… ?

3.

Mike was head over heels playing beyblade. He has been teaching his sister how to do it. Looking at how cute they were, mumbling questions and instructions to each other, I teased them, “Teach me too, Mike. I want to learn too.” Without even looking at me, he answered,” This is for kids, Ma. You are too old to play.”

Woohoo! Holiday!

Things that only the Clown Kids did

Bali 2010

1. Ate Sushi Tei 3x in Bali, as if they’ve never ever tasted it anywhere else before. In Jakarta, for example.

2. Fell into the fish pond while feeding the fish. Not once. But twice. Granted to entertain the hotel guests and staff.

3. Took fresh bread from the buffet table to be fed to the fish. They got scolded by the waiters. We pretended that these Clown kids were not ours.

4. Scratched by a squirrel while feeding it with peanuts. That was 1-0 for the squirrel.

5. Blew out the candles that lit the pathway to a romantic restaurant in Karma Kandara. “Wait, they are not birthday candles, kids,” said the concierge lady with a smile.

6. Messed out the art stuff in every art shops from Ubud to Seminyak. As if looking and admiring was not enough for these kids. They had to touch, rearrange, break and criticize some of the stuff in every shops. Oh, the horror in the shopkeepers’ faces. We had to buy something from the stores as our way to apologize.

Baby! It's Karaoke Time

The Journey of the Clown Kids

The first time going to a karaoke place with my kids was like the first time taking them to school. Excited and nervous. They were a bit hesitant at first because the place was dark and small. After a while, they relaxed a bit and began surveying the equipments and the food menu. My Clown Prince must’ve thought that this place was a junk-food restaurant, because his face brightened seeing pages of his favorite-but-off-the-limit-food offered. “Wow, Ma, I want French fries and Oreo. Then if I am still hungry, I want spaghetti and ice cream.” They each got a bottle of water instead.

Since this was my first time too (after 20 years) in a karaoke, I didn’t want to embarrass myself in front of my snappy judgmental kids. My husband was out of town that time so it was just the three of us. I asked the helper to find me children songs. The helper – a friendly young boy - stayed with us for a while, helping me tune up the sound and teaching me how to use the computer. I saw a great selection of the children songs. I immediately selected a long list of familiar songs, like Twinkle Twinkle, Row Row Row, ABC song, Five Little Ducks, Humpty Dumpty, Jack and Jill, You are My Sunshine and many more. My kids weren’t that thrilled. Even Nina – who was age appropriate for those songs - looked bored. Mike sighed and started asking me about the junk food again. Boy, singing karaoke back in my high school time was a lot simpler than this.

I panicky browsed through the selection again. Accidentally I clicked the best song category instead of children’s. Michael quickly caught the title on the top. Justin Beiber’s Baby. Voila! They kicked off the session with the Baby song. Both of them were at their feet, singing, dancing, feeling the beat. Without further ado, came along Kelly Clarkson’s My Life Would Suck without You. Then followed closely by Jason Mraz’s Lucky, Michael Buble’s Haven’t Met You Yet, Taylor Swift’s Love Story, Rolling Stone’s You Can’t Always Get What You Want, Rihanna’s Take a Bow, Michael Jackson’s Man in the Mirror, Lionel Richie’s Endless Love, and Lady Gaga’s Bad Romance. In between this line-up, Justin Beiber’s Baby got a few repeat orders. And everytime I sang along Baby, Nina frowned at me and said, ”Mama, don’t sing! This is my song, not your song.” What ???

Hmm..It's Mama's blackberry!

The Journey of the Clown Kids

1.
Mike : Why do you like playing blackberry so much, Ma?
Me : Why do you like playing NDS so much, Mike?
Mike : (grinning) Oh..

The conversation ended and never resurfaced again. Total understanding is the best conversation of all. If only some of the tough negotiations in the world could be accomplished like the one we just did, the world peace is coming nearer to us than ever.


2.
Nina asked me some questions. My hands and my mind were (still) glued to my blackberry and my longest-most creative answers were “uh-huh” , “hmm” , “err”

Nina : MAMA! TALK! DON'T SAY uh-huh! TALK LONGER! PUT BLACKBERRY DOWN!!


3.
On my desperate attempt to threaten Mike

Me : Mike, if you don’t study now, I‘ll take away your game and your toys.
Mike : Mama, if you don’t listen to me now, I’ll take away your blackberry.


4.
Mike drew me a nice picture on this recent Mother’s Day. It was the drawing of my laptop and my blackberry. And he wrote : To Mama. Your hobbies are reading book, playing computer, and playing blackberry. I love you.

Wow! It's toys!

The Journey of the Clown Kids





My family and I live in a modern toy museum, thanks to my husband’s growing toy collection. Men find toys fascinating. The older they get, the more expensive and complicated their stuff are. You see, all men have the Peter Pan syndrome – a syndrome so powerful that adulthood has to move aside. The toys which fall under the Peter Pan syndrome are ranging from superhero figures to electronic, gadgets, and automobiles. This syndrome is so complex that it’s best for us to set aside a different time to discuss and mock it properly. Today, we will look at the toys and their impact on my Clown Kids.

My husband (or my eldest son, I call him) started his toy collecting hobby when he was in high school. Not too much, not too crazy at that time. Till last year, I asked him to help out in my son’s school performance and I asked him if he didn’t mind appearing on the stage as Darth Vader. Little did I know, that this innocent request has connected him with his Peter Pan soul. It’s like Peter Pan meets Darth Vader in the most comical way. It was the missing link!
My husband collects collectible movie memorabilia, a hobby that quickly covers the whole house, from our bedroom to living rooms, to guest rooms, to kitchen cabinets, to walls and to library. His “vision” is to use his toys as the house’s interior design.

Look! It's food!

The Journey of the Clown Kids

On Nina’s 3rd birthday, we invited our families to a small party in a restaurant. This was a cafe-based restaurant, so everybody ordered their own food, not ‘makan tengah’ ala Chinese food. Mike was seated next to his Uncle and opposite his Grandpa. These men ordered steaks. When the steaks arrived, the Uncle deliberately separated the fat from the meat. Mike found this fascinating yet confusing, but he was polite enough not to ask. On the way home, he finally asked me “Ma, why did Uncle Rudy cut off the fat from the steak and throw it away?” Oh I so got this, I thought. “Yes Mike, because eating fat is bad for our body. It can cause us bla bla bla...” Mike must’ve heard only the bla bla bla part since he interupted me, sounding impatient “B-b-but, Mama, THAT IS THE BEST PART of the whole meat! Why do you old people always hate yummy food?”

First - apparently for Mike, who is 7 - anyone who is taller than him is called ‘old people’. Second, he has made a super brilliant point here - do we, the old people, hate yummy food? Why does the yummy food bad for us? My doctor friends would probably type all the answers right now, but we are not discussing cholesterol, uric acid, cardiac arrest, or obesity. I am seeing things from my kids’ innocent point of view. Perhaps we should all listen to our kids more (wink)