Filed under: Azuki
Playing with trains at the library
I am especially proud of Ian today. He lasted 45 minutes in Sunday preschool! This may not seem like a lot, but it is a big deal if you are a two-year-old toddler grappling with identity issues, and vacillating between wanting out and craving the security of family. As on some days, I greeted him this morning by asking him what day of the week it was. Once he heard it was Sunday, he started to cry. He dreads being left behind with the other little boys and girls when CW and I have to leave for service at church. And he knew that was coming.
When we arrived at church, Ian was a little more cheerful but wary and teary-eyed. We brought him to the toddler’s room, and let him play by himself for a bit, all the while trying to blend into the wallpaper. Ian is not stupid; he kept close to us, knowing we might disappear at any moment. So it was inevitable having to bid goodbye to him. Thankfully, the teachers at Sunday preschool are super understanding and encouraging. They swooped in and tried to play with him when they saw the tears at gush-point. Ms T, Ian’s favorite teacher, carried him to the clock and started pointing out the numbers on the clockface. That took his attention while we slipped off.
We got a pager from across the room, and waited to be paged. Ian barely lasted ten minutes last week, so we kept expecting the pager to buzz. I prayed for him to have courage and to know Jesus was near all through the praise session at service. Minutes passed. Then half-an-hour. CW checked to see if the pager was working. He also slipped out to see if our little boy was okay (CW is a real softie lah). He came back reporting that he seemed to be fine. We got Ms T’s page 15 minutes later, and I trotted out to meet Ian.
Ian was sobbing a little, trying to control himself. He was obviously halfway through snack-time as I could see goldfish crumbs on his lips. Ms T was talking to him, reassuring him that Mommy would come soon. He reached out for me when he saw me and immediately calmed down. The teacher said he did very well, that he tried to control himself although he would cry now and then. We both praised him for trying to be brave.
I went into the room with him and tried to be as inconspicuous as possible. I did my best to engage myself in an art-and-craft book on Bible stories, as Ian merrily pasted stickers, colored activity pages with crayons (everything was blue, his favorite color), and played with cars and shopping carts. He did glance from time to time to see if I was there. Other than that, he seemed perfectly happy to be left alone.
I know of kids who separate easily from their parents, and I do sometimes worry if Ian would have trouble going to preschool this year. But I will have to stop myself from wishing that he is something he is not. He is an individual who thinks and feels apart from me, and I have to respect his situation, even if (and because) I cannot understand it totally. By the grace of God, he will someday find friends and the joy of learning in school, and happily say bye-bye to us–and 45 minutes is as good a start as any.
Filed under: Life in Illini
Goodbye snowsuits!
The weather here is really something you can talk about. It changes in the blink of an eye. Two days ago, it was too cold to walk outdoors without our full winter gear, and now, there’s hardly any snow left on the ground. I would like to say spring is finally here, but dare I?
In Singapore, what sun, rain, and daylight hours we get are not something you think about or plan around. But here, it makes all the difference. We’ve experienced sleet pelting on our faces, watched the sun set at 4 pm, shivered through a snowstorm, slipped on ice. Winter is not an easy season to be happy in, especially if you’re used to a lot of sunshine (albeit under a shade). Yet, being confined to our little flat has forced me to be creative with entertaining Ian. On the mornings when we’ve had to cancel our trips out because of the weather, we bake cookies that look like snowflakes and snowmen, play hide-and-seek around the house, sing silly songs, and do art-and-craft.
Thanks in part to boredom, I’ve realised that I truly enjoy teaching Ian. To his credit, he is a good student. He loves to show off his knowledge, and his beam of pleasure at the right answer is my reward. It’s interesting to discover the boundaries of his grasp on concepts. Some things are still too abstract for him. I tried to teach him about the days of the week, but every day is Wednesday to him (because that’s the day I bring him to the library). I also tried to teach him how to tell the time, but every hour is 8.45 (because that’s the time we prepare him for bed). He says the funniest things. Once, we asked him, Ian what does the clock say? And he replied, Tock tock tock. That cracked us up. Another time, he heard a clock chime and he told me very seriously that there was a bell tower living in the clock. And it is amazing (and scary) when we realise he remembers things we have forgotten. He remembers songs I used to sing to him when he was less than a year old. I was singing to myself while washing the dishes one day, and I noticed he was very quiet. Then he asked me, Do you remember?, which is his way of telling me that he remembers. That will always be a precious moment to me.
I am glad to see the flowers blooming on the trees outside our apartment, but I must say spring brings with it its own set of discomforts. For one, what shall I wear? I was prepared to be big in winter, but I don’t have any plus-sized clothing suitable for the still-chilly spring weather. And the changing temperature comes with dust released from the melting snow, and pollen from the flowers, which are all bad for little boys with tropical constitutions. You also see a lot more drivers, joggers, and cyclists on the roads, which scares me when I am out learning how to drive.
There is one thing we cling to dearly here as a family. We’ve seen how God has provided for us from the day we landed in Urbana, and He has brought us what is arguably the hardest thing to find: friends. Friendships are befuddling things. Many are a hit-or-miss, and the slowburners need time to develop into really strong relationships. Yet miraculously, we’ve never had a lonely moment here.
So, we will continue to remember our God who lovingly provides. And to praise and rejoice in Him each and every day. I’m looking forward to summer, but I am even more excited to see what God will teach us this coming spring.
Filed under: Azuki
I am a good boy. Really!
I think Ian has officially entered his terrible twos. His favorite word now is “NO (!!!),” and you can see that spark of mischief in his eyes when he pretends he hasn’t heard you. A couple of nights ago, we spent an hour trying to get him to clear up his toys before dinner. We reasoned with him, threatened him, spanked him on his butt, but he just wouldn’t obey. That ordeal finally ended when I got angry. Now I seldom get angry, but boy, was I angry that night–I could feel the blood rushing to my ears! I said to him, If you won’t keep your toys, fine, I’ll keep them. He dissolved into tears at my furious face, and kept repeating, Don’t want Mama angry. When I reassured him that I would not stay angry for long if he kept his toys, he proceeded to put them away, big, fat tears rolling down his round little face. Once the place was cleaned up, we hugged and prayed and he amiably went to the table for his (very cold) dinner.
Later that night, he said to me, Mama not angry anymore. Mama smiling. As much as it was heartwrenching to see my son rebel against me, it was heartwarming to know he valued our relationship.
We’re still navigating our way around disciplining Ian. Although the Bible does warn against sparing the rod, we don’t really spank Ian. He’s got quite a high threshold to pain, and the few times we spanked him didn’t seem to leave any lasting impact. We do have a “naughty bottle” in which we keep his toys as a form of punishment; his bouts of mischief usually come when we ask him to keep his toys, so whatever he doesn’t keep goes into the bottle, and stays there until he shows us he can obey us. We reason with him a lot, and most times, it works. We give him two choices: to obey and be hugged, or to disobey and be punished (after we’ve made him do what we want him to do). Sometimes, I tell him the consequences his action will have on the people around him, and that seems to help as well. When we do have to punish him, we try to show him after that what it was we wanted him to do–sometimes by walking through the act together–and pray for our hearts.
Much of parenting is worked out on a day-to-day basis, and we’re still learning, praying, and seeking advice on how to be godly carers of our child(ren). If there’s anything I want Ian to learn with the practice of discipline, it is to know that obedience to God leads to the path of joy and life. That, I guess, only God can do.
Filed under: Life in Illini
Everybody says fan qie jiang!
Chinese New Year: You love it, you hate it. But when you’re a million miles away from bak kwa, pineapple tarts, and Fanta orange pop, you miss it a lot! I miss most the reunion dinners, and the conversations with my cousins, many of whom I still remember as little brats–I still cannot believe how fast they grew up (or how old I am!). Chinese New Year in Urbana left me missing home.
I guess we were not alone. Our family group consists mainly of Chinese internationals, and when CW and I suggested a steamboat dinner, we soon found out we had a bit of a squeeze on our hands. Our dining table, even with the extensions, could just barely fit everyone. It was good fun, though. One person brought tang hoon, a couple brought vegetables and tofu, someone brought sliced beef. We supplied the balls (pork, chicken, and beef balls). The person who came with the hotpot hails from Chong Qing, and he brought ma la tang stock (it was very ma!). We ate, talked about the different Chinese New Year customs in our various countries, and shared stories. One friend said people in his hometown had to eat at least two eggs each time they visited someone’s home. Another said he had to down a bowl of Chinese wine; the better the relations, the bigger the bowl. We clinked our glasses of red wine and Bud Lights (Ian and I had water) as we kan-pei‘ed to marriages, good grades, and life.
I love my family group. I don’t know why I do. Under ordinary circumstances, I most probably would not have crossed paths with many of our family group members. I think part of the affections lies in the fact that we’re all trying to make a home away from home, and in some way or another, lonely. And to give our group credit, I must say the individuals are interesting people in themselves. It also helps that they are kind toward Ian, and accept the disruptions we bring with our two-year-old. Many in our group are not Christians, and I am always encouraged that they would choose to spend every Friday evening studying the Bible and hanging out with a bunch of Christians.
We do not have hongbaos to give out this Chinese New Year, but I will pray for each one of our friends. I pray that Jesus will shine His light and joy and love into their lives, and they will find in Him peace, and a place their hearts will call home.
