Parenting on Purpose

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...

About a month ago I had my first crawling experience in decades. We were then at a children's playground after a visit to a friend's home. Our son Z was excited to be on the move again, after being cooped up in a house for quite some time. He sprung to life, walking round and round the bottom of the play area, before finally deciding to climb up the ladder. When he got to the top, Z made his way through the maze of walking platforms, finally stopping just at the entrance of a small tunnel. It wasn't a particularly long tunnel; nor was it a particular scary tunnel. It was, however, the first tunnel that Z had ever encountered. And he was not prepared to face it. Looking at the look of uncertainty and doubt on my son's face, I knew I had to do something. So I grit my teeth and squeezed myself through the tunnel. Once through, I turned around and smiled at Z. "Baby," I called out to him. "Daddy's here! Come to Daddy!" The little boy hesitated, c...

It has been a long couple of weeks since the tantrums started. It all began on a Monday morning three weeks ago, when Mark dropped Z and I off at a nearby library to return some books. It had been an exhausting weekend with my cousin getting married, and family in town from overseas as a result of the wedding. Our son, being pretty much like his parents, does not like crowds, nor does he relish too much attention, which is often the ill-effect of being a cute baby and having hordes of people poking and cooing at you in a large gathering. We were all mostly hung-over from the previous few days, but the library books had to be returned. I was at the borrowing counter, about to scan in my books, when Z got grouchy because I did not want him pressing the buttons on the terminal. Soon, it escalated into a major tantrum, with my son rolling on the carpeted floor of the library next to the "Please Maintain Silence" sign, wailing at the top of his lungs and refusing to be consoled....

"I really can't wait to eat Claire's delicious dinner. She has always prepared a sumptious meal all these years... But this crazy rain seems to get heavier by the minute, and the traffic is really crazy... I wish we had arranged another day for our mentoring session..." That was my lament to Sue as we drove last Thursday to the home of Ben and Claire, the lovely couple who have been our relationship mentors even before we got married. The December monsoons had come a few weeks early, peak hour traffic was almost at a standstill, our son Z was getting a little cranky in his car seat, and we were very late - almost one hour to be precise. But the moment we entered the house, all strain and tiredness seemed to evaporate like the springtime mist. Ben was all smiles as he greeted us. "There's no need to apologise," he voiced, as we articulated the long story behind why we were so late. "What's most important is that you're here," echoed Cl...