Parenting on Purpose

We have had a messy week. A small taste of what it must have been like to be Israelites in the wilderness, wandering around with our two kids in tow. Yet so grateful for our families and how they have opened up their homes for us and the boys to stay in these few nights, when the unbearable hum of electric drills and constant banging on concrete above and below have become something we had to flee from. The home upgrading scheme, this we could plan ahead for, schedule; and yet, when we finally had to execute our plans, life happened.  Though a man may plan his steps,  it is the Lord who governs them... Seeking an oasis in the deserts of life. And so it was, on Tuesday, at the end of a fulfilling session of work, that I received a call from my mother-in-law. A terrible accident with the boys,  she said. A mother's heart can get buried in an instant. It can fall from heights so high into abysses previously unknown.  Which is I suppose a good thing, as e...

Motherhood is a perplexing thing. In the pure exhaustion of the daily business of handling two young boys I find myself looking forward to my two work days each week when the boys go to their grandparents' homes and I have a few precious hours of time away, not necessarily time to myself as there are chores to do and other children to teach, but sufficient for regrouping and a little rest and reflection. And yet, in that moment of parting when I see their little solemn faces through the car window as Nai Nai drives them off, it is somehow still hard to let them go. I confuse myself sometimes! Reflecting on our parenting are an important part of the process. Yesterday morning was no different.  We had had a gruelling weekend of three family gatherings in a row which had left a rather grouchy older boy and a clingy toddler.  The older one was sensing the impending separation and acting up the whole morning. Finally bundled up in their grandma's car, I waved goodbye to t...

Recently, our home has been filled with cries for "'Ummy! 'Ummy!" It's what I hear first thing in the morning from Z's room as he stirs, and one of the last things I hear before bedtime. Each time, it melts my heart.  He started out by calling me "Mine" - "Mummy" is harder to pronounce as it is two syllables long. I also thought it was kind of sweet, a sort of claiming and proclaiming that I belonged to him... he then moved on to "My Mee", an abbreviation of "My Mummy". I thought that was endearing too. Perhaps "'Ummy" will finally evolve to the proper word "Mummy", but till then, I shall enjoy this current phase. My beginnings as a mother were rocky. We waited a long time to become parents. It was something I always dreamed of and imagined, but when the day finally came, in truth, it felt rather strange - almost as if someone had come along and taken over my old identity. I remember th...

The little boy shrieked at the top of his voice. Glancing around the room, he all but ignored the frustrated man trying in vain to comfort him. His eyes raced furiously to the boxes of toys arrayed around the room; he paused if only to give them a cursory glance, before dashing out of the room. Still in tears, the child wandered from room to room to no avail. Then suddenly he stopped - and sprinted into the waiting arms of a familiar figure - his mother. It has been a difficult couple of weeks. I'm not sure exactly when, but I think it all began not long after our recent trip to Vietnam. My wife and I have pinpointed our Vietnam trip as the time when our son Z's temper tantrums became more frequent and more acute. Upon reflection, I have also ascertained that the period immediately after the trip was the start of Z's "clingy" behaviour. I have been involved in the care of my son since his birth, participating in his night feeds, changing him, bathing him,...