Parenting on Purpose

"Do you think B has trauma?" The 11/1/2-year-old chose the long ride home from the Lunar New Year Reunion Dinner to ask this important and quintessential question, which was made in relation to the older foster child.  "Definitely," came the reply from Daddy, as he drove the car. One for the road. Our foster kids for the season as they join us on a ride of a lifetime. "What exactly is trauma?" came the follow up question; and Daddy all but took a deep breath, before he launched into the following reply. "Trauma is when the body remembers something painful that happened in the past; when it responds in a way similar to how it did in the past, even though the event is no longer happening. So take for example someone in the past used a knife to threaten you and you responded in fear. And because you were young, your brain blocked out this painful memory in a bid to protect you. So even now when you see a knife, your body starts to tremble in a similar wa...

The little boy turned his head in astonishment; everyone was calling his name and singing in great joy. These were the uncles and aunties he had met on a regular basis, and all of them looked so happy as they raised their voices in merriment. In addition, there were his Daddy and Mummy, and his two Kor Kors, all beaming in wide smiles, as they sang his birthday song and enjoyed the delectable cake that Mummy had baked. Our dear foster son B turned 2 last week. This was the first birthday he was celebrating with us and the friends who love him. That day, as we headed home after all the festivities, we asked little B if he was happy, and the little boy answered resolutely in a gentle voice, “Happy.” This 2-year-old is surrounded by so much love. He is loved by the uncles and aunties and the Kor Kors and Jie Jies who see him on a regular basis. And he brings much joy to others wherever he goes. B first came to live in our home in May 2022. We first met him in a fast-food outlet, after bei...

It's been a total of 5 weeks since Covid left its imprint on our family. For more than 2/1/2 years, our family had been Covid-free, likely due to our semi-geographical isolation in our little corner of Singapore, as well as our general dislike for shopping malls and all things crowded. But on the 2 July, the dotted "T-line" was finally crossed, and I was the first in the family to come down with the virus. I wrote the following words in my Facebook announcement: "Thankful that it's so far been mild; fever over the past two days and an incessant dry cough. And so when I realised it was Day 1 yesterday, I just took it as a matter of fact. What's been hard has been the non-stop work. Teaching continues with or without Covid. Zoom workshops continue. More laboured as I seem to consume a bucket of water for every two hour session. Admin work continues. Still preparing for a major 11-trainer, 55-workshop session next week, with all the client meetings and trainer b...

It is said that time heals all wounds. Well, what's not said is that much of what we remember is so closely associated with our emotions; after all, our emotions are strongly etched in our memories when there is an intensive firing of the neurons in the brain; and all of this leaves a deep imprint of the intense feelings associated with an event. In fostering, there are so many emotions involved, and as such we remember so many of the incidents. And these memories will stay with us long after the children are gone. What triggered the current surge in emotions is the end of what I have termed as the "Noah's Ark" Covid restrictions, the rules that stipulate that we need to dine out only in groups of two. It has almost been two months since the start of this round of restrictions, and I remember that the start of the lockdown almost coincided with the departure of our last foster child K. I remember that we had to cancel most of his farewell plans because at that time, a...

The almost 4-year-old stamped his feet and pouted; his face scrunched up in deep agony. And it seemed that nothing we said would do. K was headed towards a full-blown tantrum and we dreaded to think how long it would take to calm him down. It was at that moment that our almost 9-year-old chose to ask the question, "K, a re you crying because you don't want to leave us?" The little boy stopped his pouting, as he nodded and sobbed. It was a heart-wrenching flow of tears as he clung onto Mummy with koala-like tenacity. Sue later described it as a "desperate pleading look". K would repeat his sobbing and his hugging over the next few days. And as he articulated to us after he was calm, it was a desperate plea for help.  "I don't want to leave Mummy and Daddy.  I want to stay here.   " Taken at the River Safari on one of the last days before K's departure. "Take a photo of me with the turtles, Mummy!" he kept asking, at each turtle exhibit...