Home Is Where The Heart Is

Coming Home To Family

 

In 2016, I made a conscious effort to stick to my resolution of putting more time aside for family.  That meant that I learnt to prioritize my time, cut down on the number of social engagements and dedicated my weekends and spare time to the family.  It was a year where I spent hours deliberating over conflicting appointments, cancelling and filling entries in my diary just so I could be there for the family

 

Time For Mom

 

I spent a lot of time with Mom, and this was so because Dad had passed on only barely a year ago then.  I shared the pain of her bereavement and wanted to help her create an independent and active life particularly when all she had ever known was a life dedicated to taking care of Dad, my brother and I.  Every phone call we had, and time spent with her at our weekly visit to Mom’s were precious moments worth celebrating.  This culminated in a vacation with her in November when we went for a week-long cruise together, followed by a trip to Hanoi where we spent our time gallivanting along the small alleys looking for good bargains and street food.  We both had fun. 

 

Mom, throughout the year, had made an effort to keep herself busy and moved on with her life without Dad.   I enjoyed watching Mom as she kept herself busy with the things she loved to do.  She loved cooking.  So whenever we went out for a meal, she would come home to experiment in the kitchen, then whip up her own version of it.  My brother, sister-in-law, David, Joel and I became unwitting guinea pigs of her version of the Korean Army Pot, and Vietnamese Banh Mi and Vietnamese Pho.  I made a mental note to not take her to anywhere exotic for the year end vacation in case she whipped up Fish Balls Stewed In Yak’s Milk or something similar. 

 

I also noticed that she made it a point to not revolve her life around my brother and I.  Often, I found myself calling her at home, only to discover that she had been traipsing across town with friends, transporting containers of food that she had cooked to Granny’s, working her magic hands across the mahjong table and generally making friends and influencing people across Singapore.  I was glad because I realized that quality time, and being present had very little to do with being physically there beside her.  She certainly could hold her own.  What was most important was that she knew that I always had her in my heart and mind and would do anything to make her happy.  Even a 2 minute phone call to ask if she had eaten her lunch was enough to fill her with joy.  

 

I only see Mom for lunch every Sunday afternoon and I used to feel guilty about that very little time we had together.  However, coming home, for me, was remembering that the both of us as mother and daughter, had ridden the good times and bad enough to know that we had each other’s back no matter what happened.

 

Time For Joel

 

I also spent a lot of time with Joel, trying to rebuild a mother-son relationship that had been lost to 3 years of misunderstandings, miscommunication, my initial non-acceptance of his girlfriend and all the rough patches that came with a generational divide. In our separate ways, we both grew up together, learning to accept our differences and converging when and where we could to bring back peace and harmony into our home.  At this time, we have never been closer than we are now.

 

In the past year, Joel has been enjoying his national service stint.  I enjoyed listening to the stories he brandished about his time spent outfield and often annoyed him with the question, “So how many plasters and panadols have you dished out this week, medic?” He took his duties in the army very seriously and would get really annoyed when I poked fun at his efforts.  Just barely a year before, we would not even have a proper conversation because Joel would spend his time out of the house just to avoid having a conversation with me.  In the past, any mention of his girlfriend would have erupted into a huge quarrel. In the last 6 months, we even had meaningful discussions about his relationship.  This opened the doors to more opened communication between us.  And whether or not he was home, out on dates, or back in his army camp, it did not matter to me because I knew I was always in his heart. Our whatsapp messages which were once peppered with caustic remarks were now filled with messages from him like, “Have you had dinner?”, “Where is Pops, is he with you?”, and “What are you doing this weekend?”

 

I only see Joel for a few hours over the weekends and I used to feel guilty about using those few hours to nag him about his army fatigues left on the floor around the laundry basket, the unequal amount of time spent between our home and his girlfriend’s home, and his awful diet of biscuits and crisps.  However, coming home, for me, was the knowledge that Joel knew what family values meant, his proactive attempts to bring laughter and harmony into our home, and his awareness that this bond between mother and son was unbreakable.

 

Time For David

 

I spent a lot of time with David too, traveling with him whenever I could when he had a photography assignment overseas.  When we were not traveling, we took to spending our weekends on activities we found a lot of enjoyment doing together, instead of leading our separate lives like we had done before.

 

This was our version of separate lives – he would crash out on the sofa on weekends with the TV blasting and remote control gripped tightly in his hand, while he snored, and I would be playing with my Tarot cards in the room.   Recently, we found a lot of fun in painting together. They called it art-jamming, but the only jamming we were familiar with was either Robertson’s Lemon Curd or plucking the life out of his old guitar with his ex-band mates. This version of jamming did not involve calories, or noise, and was filled with so much more fun and laughter between us.  It was hilarious when I thought about how I used to fail at Art during my school days.  One of my paintings now sit proudly at Mom’s home while David prepares to make a case for a potential lawsuit against him from Kellogg’s for  stealing their brand image of a white chicken.

 

Making time for each other was a huge effort, given his travels, and my multiple commitments.  However, coming home, for me, was knowing that every now and then, when we had time to connect, David and I could always find fun and passion between us, no matter how busy we were and how different our interests could be.  We really need not be in each other’s faces every day.

 

Coming Home To Scotland

 

My 2016 resolution propelled my decision to make a trip back to the UK to visit with David’s family last November too.   We had not been back for almost 10 years, often citing the lack of time.  How could we have let 10 years pass by without setting foot in David’s hometown?  How could we have not found time to connect with his family?  Our conversations were reduced to Facebook comments, an annual phone call and a Christmas card. 

 

So, together with the family, we set out to create memorable moments with each other within the very short time we had together.

 

One of his sisters put together a collage of old family photos during dinner and it drew much laughter and banter as stories of days past were exchanged.  Time seemed to have stood still then. That collage of photos closed the gap of 10 years and that geographical barrier between Singapore and Scotland because the entire family had so much to share about the good old days.   These were memorable moments that David and I cherished.  They were more important than attempting to squeeze time for a quick phone call and a trip to visit the family.

 

On a Sunday morning, I took a walk with his sister around her estate in Dundee before having brunch with the family. We attempted to look for squirrels, and slid across the frosty pathways to much laughter between us.  About 17 years ago, before David and I got married, this was the sister I had a fight with over something silly and unimportant.  Over the years, I have not had time to talk to her apart from the day we got married, and during the couple of  times when David and I visited Scotland after.   That Sunday morning, I felt that my sister-in-law and I had closed that gap once and for all.  We had so much to chat about, and we had fun in each other’s company. It was special for me because we made an effort to make that morning a memorable moment for us as a family.

 

Also, David had the opportunity to rekindle childhood memories as we walked through the town park and attempted to climb Falkland Hill in -2 degrees temperature.  While I felt the wintry cold, my heart was warmed by the many stories that David had shared about his Mom and Dad, his school days, and his sisters. 

 

Another thing that made this trip to Scotland so special was because David secretly arranged for a Minister to preside over the renewal of our marriage vows at the Greyfriars Kirk in Edinburgh.  When the effort came from someone who could not even match his socks each morning, it was truly special.  Coming home for me, was the realization that my husband made efforts throughout our marriage to create memorable moments with me.  The much talked about “together time” which most people insisted, made a solid marriage, was really overrated. 

 

Throughout our 2-weeks spent in UK, we did not want to just play tourist and create photographs.  We wanted to create special moments that would be etched in our memories for a very long time, and we did.

 

Home Is Where The Heart Is

 

So yes, in 2016, I did make time for my family. I learnt to prioritize and was adept at juggling my commitments, feverishly filling in or cancelling appointments in my calendar so that I could “be present” to my loved ones.

 

As the year 2017 crept by furiously, and a month had already come and gone, I was reminded that coming home, was not about my physical presence at home with the family.  It was the commitment of knowing who and what mattered most. When I know who and what mattered most, my relationship with them would not be defined by my time or physical presence. 

 

My relationship with those who mattered most to me would be defined by :

 

·      My conscious effort to be kind to them instead of brushing their grief, anger, sadness, angst or frustrations off as their “having one of those moments”.

 

·      My needing to listen more with empathy, instead of with the intent to respond.

 

·      The energy I put into having meaningful conversations with them, instead of scrolling my Facebook feeds whilst chatting with them.

 

·      My attempts to strike a compromise and have opened discussions when we have conflicting opinions.

 

·      My effort to not just be present but to create memorable moments with my loved ones

 

This would be a great example to illustrate my point.  This Lunar New Year, my Uncle and Aunt as well as my cousin returned from Canada and Australia respectively to spend some time with Granny.  It was really not about the sacrifice of time and money made to make this trip home happen.  They did not inform anyone of their impending visit.  Instead, they delighted the entire family when they turned up at the annual reunion dinner at Mom’s, and took us by surprise.  Mom was literally in tears and Granny was extremely happy. 

 

Now, that was a memorable moment and definitely, the best way to Come Home.

 

About The Writer

The writer of this blog post is a Marketing and PR professional for over 20 years.  Due to her love for Mixed Martial Arts (MMA), she is also a freelance sports writer on the side, contributing MMA-related articles to several sports media.  She works in partnership with her husband, David Ash, who is an avid sports photographer from www.singaporemaven.com.  She is passionate about Boxing and nurtures a dream to fight competitively one day when her coach stops making fun of her.  She is also a psychic intuitive by birth and runs a consultancy that does tarot and numerology readings under her brand, Sun Goddess Tarot.  This blog is affectionately called "The Crazy AngMo" as she is married to one, although she has not yet explained to THE Ang Mo that when translated, he has been labeled  “the bloke with ginger hair”.  

Perfect Imperfection

 

I have not been blogging for a while.  I made the conscious choice to stay away from anything that involved investing too much time and energy analyzing the what and wherefore of every sordid detail of everything that I had observed about life to create some meaningless content on my blog.  Instead of playing spectator to a stage of external events, situations, and issues before me, I started to walk introspectively to play spectator to myself.

 

I spent the last few months wading through an emotional and mental transformation that involved my letting go of aspects of myself that I had come to dislike. Every effort that I had used to make towards being better than what I was yesterday, at work, at home, in my personal life, and at the gym were deemed as an incomprehensible display of inane vanity that served to support my ego.  Every expectation that I had placed on others to be better than they were yesterday, at work, at home, in their personal lives and at the gym were deemed as an intolerance to anything or anyone that could not compete with my ego and I.

 

I woke up one day to the fact that if I could not be everything to everyone, then I should not be expecting that of myself. Nothing needs to be that perfect.  Life is not a checklist of “things - I –need- to- do”.  I did not need to push for an achievement in every aspect of my life to feel complete.  And if I was not expecting that of myself, why should I be expecting that of others? 

 

The Perfect Marriage

 

David and I founded our marriage on the principle that we were Best Friends First.  There was zero romance, very little time spent together, and we might have possibly violated some acceptable norms of a traditional marriage. We did not feel compelled to be the perfect spouse, having to message each other ever so often to say something inane like “I love you babes.” Didn’t we already know that?   We did not feel compelled to set aside a specific time for date night.  For goodness sakes, when we sparred at the gym and I spent half that time dodging his jabs, that was a date night.  We did not feel compelled to plan an annual vacation together.  When he had a photography assignment overseas, he would ask if I would like to come along and extend a few days after his work to enjoy some “we time” exploring the sights and doing street photography.  

 

We are indeed Best Friends First.  So that would mean that even in the absence of romance, hair, obliques and one’s own teeth, everything about this marriage was perfect to us.  I chose to let go of societal norms of what a perfect marriage should be.  I refused to be defined by other people’s definitions of what romance was.  I disliked reading women’s magazines which spewed advice about what good communication, togetherness and romance in marriage should look like.    This would be an example of a romantic conversation that we might have. 

 

David, “I would like to nuzzle my beard in your neck.”

Me, “No need. Thanks.  By the way, where are my yellow handwraps?”

 
We do have the most perfectly imperfect marriage.

 

The Perfect Mother

 

Joel and I have the most unusual parent-child relationship founded on the fact that I had very little maternal instincts and plenty of respect for Joel as an individual.  When Joel was little, my friends would be carefully planning their children’s meals to provide them with balanced nutrition.  However, Joel and I would sometimes share a Snickers bar for breakfast, against the advice of friends who felt I was callous about nutrition for his growth. I remembered trekking hills and climbing mountains with a 1 year old strapped to my back, against the advice of friends who were worried that an accident might happen to the boy or he might catch dengue fever or malaria.  As he grew older, and went into national service, our idea of fun back home was challenging each other with diamond push-ups or chin-ups. I was not a traditional mother the way my Mom was to me.  Mom made sure I had hot food on the table every time I got home.  I just made sure Joel knew how to create his own meals every time he got home.  Mom made sure my clothes were always nicely washed and ironed. I just made sure Joel knew how to do his own laundry.  I did not feel compelled to turn up at every concert Joel was performing at when he was in school. However I was there every time he went through a hard time at school, or through a break up with some unimportant cow. 

 

He was never academically inclined and often did not do brilliantly in his exams.  While other parents would panic and throw tutors and enrichment classes at their children, I ignored the pressure and just walked with him through the several parent-teacher meetings, praying that one day, he would look back at this stressful academic system when he grew up and laugh because he had brilliantly created his own opportunities for success in a world that did not give a damn if you had won the egg and spoon race in secondary school. I chose to let go of any preconceptions of what a perfect mother should be.  When I was younger, I was often left out of mother-baby groups where the women got along very well because they followed the rules of what good mothering was all about, whatever they were. I sometimes felt guilty that I was not the mother to Joel the way Mom was to me.  However when I watched Joel grow up to be a strapping young man with values far older than he actually was, I thought I might have done a bloody good job, with no regrets.

 

I did not define my relationship with Joel with hugs, kisses and terms of endearment.  There was no need to.  This would be a typical conversation Joel and I might have.

 

Me, “Joel, you’re my favorite son.”

Joel, “But Mom, I am your only son.”

Me,  “Oh yes.”

 

In our world, Joel and I has the most perfectly imperfect mother-son relationship.

 

The Perfect Marketing Department

 

I used to push myself at work, with my brain switched on almost 24 hours a day 7 days a week, thinking through marketing plans, poking holes into every proposal that landed at my desk and dreaming up of marketing content and ideas at every chance I got. Everything that came out of my department had to be perfect.  With 20 years of Marketing experience amassed at some of the most prestigious blue chip companies, how can anything that I touched be less than perfect?  The reality is, those years back then meant nothing if I refused to grow alongside a world that had evolved with opportunities for others who might not have had the relevant experience, skills nor qualifications, yet had the balls to create brilliant marketing ideas that added value to the community.  They might not have been the most perfect plans but they worked to our business and marketing objectives.   

 

When I lifted this myopic veil of egoistic perceptions of what could be the perfect marketing plan, then I was able to uncover the passion, tenacity, and authenticity of creative souls who merely wanted a chance at making a difference through scope of work that I had initially claimed as my own out of sheer arrogance.  When I accepted that there was no such thing as the most perfect marketing plan, I was able to open my heart and mind to learn from others who did not have the same skills and experience as I did.

 

This made for a perfectly imperfect working environment at which I got excited about every day when I showed up for work.

 

The Perfect Home

 

My housekeeper Evelyn had been away for the past 3 weeks on vacation back to her hometown in the Philippines. Knowing that I was not exactly a Domestic Diva and would not have been able to tell the difference between the washing machine and the microwave oven, she set aside some time before she left, to teach me how to use the appliances at home, and pointed out where all the equipment and the washing liquids were kept.  Secretly, I was furious.  This was my home.  How could I not know how to upkeep my home, right?  My pride caused my nose to get dented out of bent when she wrote a timetable out for me to dictate when I should have my bed linen changed, when the dogs needed their bath and which capsule in the washing machine was for the laundry detergent and which one was for the fabric softener. 

 

When I recovered enough to tell my ego to go to hell, I sat down with David and Joel to map out a plan to divide and conquer the chores.  As the days went by without Evelyn at home, I became more comfortable with the routine of juggling all my priorities with the help of David and Joel. And I realized that over time, I accepted that it was okay to not have a home that was perfectly neat and tidy.  I valued quality time with the family over a sparkling clean kitchen. The pile of clean laundry that needed ironing kept growing.  However I was not pedantic about getting them all ironed and put away at a specific time.  It could wait.  I have better things to do, like spending some good quality time with the family.    I did, in the end, come back to a perfect home. It was a perfect home with a family that was not stressed about a little speck of dust on the shelf, or a white sock that had turned purple in the wash.

 

As I wrote this post, I began to love the imperfections within me and around me a lot more.    The best thing I did for myself in these few months, was to wake up celebrating just being the imperfect me, appreciating the imperfect people in this most imperfect world.


 

About The Writer

The writer of this blog post is a Marketing and PR professional for over 20 years.  Due to her love for Combat Sports, she is also a freelance sports writer on the side, contributing articles to several sports media.  She works in partnership with her husband, David Ash, who is an avid sports photographer from www.singaporemaven.com.  She is passionate about Boxing and nurtures a dream to fight competitively one day when her coach stops making fun of her.  She is also a psychic intuitive by birth and runs a consultancy that does tarot and numerology readings under her brand, Sun Goddess Tarot.  This blog is affectionately called "The Crazy AngMo" as she is married to one, although she has not yet explained to THE Ang Mo that when translated, he has been labeled  “the bloke with ginger hair”.  

 

 

Another Level Of Weird

Celebrated Our Wedding Anniversary In Sri Lanka

A few months ago, I suggested to David that we should celebrate  our 13th wedding anniversary  in Sri Lanka.  There were no other reasons for the choice of destination other than that I had never been to Sri Lanka and I wanted to book an accommodation that was set off the beaten track so that I could reconnect with myself amidst serene surroundings. I was very keen to use that time to work on my intuitive skills and practice channeling.  Then I remembered, it was our 13th anniversary.  It should be a vacation that included my husband, my best friend and soulmate all rolled into one.  We should also have time to focus on US.  I decided that maybe, that week in Sri Lanka could be used to let him get closer to my passion of doing intuitive readings while I got closer to his passion of photography by accompanying him to places off the beaten track like Yala National Park, the local temple, the local fruits and vegetable market and even secluded alleys within the village or in town, to search for subjects for his photography portfolio.  He even jokingly asked me to allow him to have some fun throughout the week, to demonstrate his unique skills of being a walking bible of useless information. No need for a travel guide then.

Roping In A Partner

Thich Nhat Hanh said, “The most precious gift we can offer anyone is our attention. When mindfulness embraces those we love, they will bloom like flowers.”  So, before I arrived in Sri Lanka, I had decided not to do any research about the island. Instead, David was roped into my channeling practice.  I worked with my hands,  my heart and my mind while he was my walking guide book who could validate my readings.

The Friar On A Mission

One example was just before our plane landed in Colombo, I started meditating and got into the zone enough to channel a couple of images.  One was of a Christian monk (Friar Tuck from Robin Hood came to mind).  He wore a dark robe and had a large cross worn in front of him.  When we arrived at the accommodation that we had booked, David whipped out his guidebook and said, "Oh that was very good.  The Franciscan Friars arrived on a ship together with the Porturgese in a bid to spread Christianity in Sri Lanka.  Let's do another one."

The Banyan Tree Told Me

Another example was a visit to a town square near the Galle Fort.  A couple of gigantic banyan trees stood in the middle of that square, so I had decided to put my hand on one of the tree trunks, closed my eyes and got into a meditative zone to channel any images or messages that came to mind.

  I saw prisoners or criminals being paraded around or near these trees. The image that I saw within my mind's eye were scraggly men, one was tied to a large pole and flogged and a couple of them had heir ams outstretched and bound to a plank each.  I was nervous about revealing this to David at first. I was worried that he would consider the image as a product of over-active imagination.  I could just hear him say, "Stop watching too many useless TV programs."   Instead, David asked, " So, what did you see?" Encouraged, I went ahead to reveal my visions that I got.  His face lighted up with a smile and he said, "Very good.  The guidebook here wrote that this square used to be where the magistrate courts stood during the Dutch and Portuguese colonial days.  Criminals were indeed paraded around the square and some were flogged or even hung. Let's do another one."  Wow! I was hit with a wave of exhilaration. My visions were getting clearer and the best thing was that David was so encouraging and proactively supported me all the way. There were no rude "where did you park your broom?" type of silly questions or comments from him.  I was so happy.  He acted as my coach in place of my intuitive coaches while we were on vacation!

Another Level Of Weird

When I reflected on our week together in Sri Lanka, one thing came through strongly for me.  This was really what a marriage was all about,  right?  We both encouraged and supported each other's passions no matter the level of understanding we had about these passions. I could not understand why he brought along with him huge bags of different camera equipment when in the past, I had no problems using my little compact camera.   He on the other hand could not understand why I went around touching trees and walls of old buildings while closing my eyes in meditation.  However, more than accepting each other's quirks, we encouraged and supported them too.  I was very grateful that I could practice channeling with David's help even though he clearly thought that I was on to "another level of weird".

About The Writer:

The writer of this blog post is a 44 year old mother of one, who spreads her time between her day job as a marketing professional at a financial institution, her hobby as a certified professional tarot reader and numerologist, and her family which includes a 20 year old son and 3 dogs with personality disorders.  She's married to a Scot who has been affectionately called "The Crazy AngMo" and prays that he does not find out that the term when translated, has labeled him as a "Ginger Head".   Together, we create a home made up with more nuts than a fruitcake but filled with plenty of love.  Her other blog can be found at http://sungoddesstarot.blogspot.com

Photo credit:  Photo taken by David Ash at Yala National Park, Sri Lanka

Reclaiming My Space

A few days ago, David posted this picture on Facebook that got me thinking about my constant desire to reclaim my personal space.  Do not get me wrong.  I enjoyed doing things with him.  In the last 13 years of our marriage, we did so many things together from playing rugby to planning yoga trips, to praying for the rescue-car to pick us up midway through the half marathon.  All these years, we often discovered new things about each other as "BFFs" should.  We seldom did anything without each other.  We were always "Team Ash".  We had never felt the need for space from each other too.  

Reclaiming My Space

Today, we are at a stage of our lives where we regarded ourselves as "pre-empty nesters" living with almost a figment of imagination of a son who only showed up in our room at wee hours of the morning to steal socks from David's drawer.   We were very thankful for the time and opportunity to re-discover new passions and hobbies. Some, were discovered with each other, and some on our own. Increasingly though, I felt the need to reclaim my personal space. I believe, in many ways, David felt the need to reclaim his as well.   The great thing about marrying my BFF was that besides finishing each other's sentences and pushing each other up the steep and rocky hills of life, we knew when to give each other space, and when to share our respective spaces from time to time.

In recent years, I  pursued a more spiritual lifestyle of practicing yoga and daily meditations whilst running a wee metaphysical business on the side called Sun Goddess Tarot.  David pursued his passion of rock music and photography more ardently than ever, whilst running a wee photography business on the side called Singapore Maven Photography.  For a while,  I felt that there was plenty of space within which we could indulge in  our individual creative self expression.  At the same time, when we were called by clients to "do our thing" at events together, we had so much fun.  This was truly bliss.

Sharing My Space

When I saw the photo posted by David on Facebook, I made an attempt to recollect the times we participated proactively in each other's passions without invading each other's personal space.  These thoughts slowly came back to me, and warmed my heart like a cup of hot chocolate with marshmallows on a rainy night.  I would like to share them here:

1) I often jokingly called David my "unicorn guardian", to which he would retort, " Shhh! You cannot go around calling me that. What if the rugby guys heard it?" You see, because I had been pursuing a spiritual life tapping into my intuitive abilities to help my clients, I had exposed myself to a lot of negative energy that drained me constantly.  David protected me from these by encouraging me to get out more to feel the grass beneath my feet so that I could ground myself better.  He sometimes even drove me, before sunrise, to the beach to meditate to the sounds of the wave as the sun was rising.  He knew I was often hardened by my ego and worried about what people thought of my "woo-woo" crazy ways.   So he might join me from time to time, to feel the grass beneath his feet too.   He was in my space.  And I needed him there for a purpose.

2) I sometimes joined him at his gigs when he jammed with friends.  During those moments, I could see that I was but the second wife.  His first wife was his guitar. He held and cradled it with so much love and played it like a teasing Don Juan. He often had that intense look about him when he was playing with the band.  However, I also caught him beaming from ear to ear when I was there, sharing his space.  This was because I had a purpose.  I clapped the loudest.  I whistled loudly when he played some of my favourite songs.  I hopped around the band like a rabid hare with my camera, taking lots of photographs, so that I could proudly post them up on Facebook and Twitter.  I enjoyed being in his space.

3) This afternoon when we visited Mum and Dad, and had lunch with them.  David gave me space to be that 12 year old again, chomping noisily on my favourite food that Mum had lovingly cooked.  Occasionally he would look at me in horror but dismissed it 5 minutes later when I exposed the Singaporean in me by talking and laughing loudly while my mouth was full of food just because I was happiest when Mum cooked my favourite food for me.  He gave me my space to enjoy that semblance of childhood while I was at Mum and Dad's.  

4) Funny enough, this afternoon while visiting Mum and Dad, I had given David space to do what he enjoyed doing - tinkering with Mum's laptop.  He helped her run the virus scan, cleared her email folders and updated her software.  At the same time to my delight, I overheard a conversation between them which went like this.

Mum: Quick.  You search internet. Please compare different washing machine brands that I wish to buy.

David: Ok, this brand here costs only $499. Very good. It has 1 tick against the list of features.

Mum: No, no. I need one with 3 ticks. Must have 3 ticks!

David: Ok, this other brand costs $505.  It has 3 ticks. I sent you link.

I loved that conversation because I gave my very Scottish husband time and space to bond with my very Chinese mother.  That was a special space.  I left them to it because I would not want to invade their space as they created a Mother-in-law-Son-in-law bond that transcended cultural, ethnic and racial barriers.

Do I need to reclaim my space? I think not.  I know when to share it and when to own it.

About the writer:

The writer of this blog post is a 44 year old mother of one, who spreads her time between her day job as a marketing professional at a financial institution, her hobby as a certified professional tarot reader and numerologist, and her family which includes a 20 year old son and 3 dogs with personality disorders.  She's married to a Scot who has been affectionately called "The Crazy AngMo" and prays that he does not find out that the term when translated, has labeled him as a "Ginger Head".   Together, we create a home made up with more nuts than a fruitcake but filled with plenty of love.

His vs Hers

David attempting to be at one with nature

Notice the intense look in David's face when the guitar is in his hands?

David in his element when he jams with the band

That's me doing one of my daily sun salutations in Bali

Acknowledging My Faults And Failings

Acknowledgement

Acknowledging my faults and failings does make me a better person.
In the last month, the most extraordinary things had happened to me because I had decided to “give a little” and acknowledge that some circumstances happened for a purpose.  Anyone who knew me well, would tell you that I would never back down from anything I did not believe in, without a fight.  However experience taught me that while I would like to have control over most things in my life, there are some things that are best left to allow “nature to take its course”.

A Better Manager

When I had a run-in with someone at work last month which threatened to rock my confidence and instilled doubts about my capabilities, I was prepared to march into the office of someone more senior who would hopefully take the time to listen to me griping about my frustrations.  Somehow, that did not happen when busy schedules, last minute meetings and other priorities got in the way of that appointment.

I was glad that meeting did not happen because I had the opportunity during that time span to rethink about the root cause of the issue, mull about the repercussions of any rash action on my part and form a plan to make things right  not only with the person whom I had the run in with, but also between myself and my ego.  The biggest lesson that came out of it, was about the complacency within me.  The incident was an opportunity to kick me out of my comfort zone to re-think about how I should be delivering better with the team, to our work objectives.  I saw it as a challenge to take on new projects, learn new skills and knowledge, and band with the team to work better with other cross-functional teams. 

I was rather glad that this new found calmness in me had allowed me to take a break in Bali with the issue simmering at the back of my head just immediately after the incident.  In the past, my vacation would have been ruined because I would be spending that week dreaming up of some evil plot to throw my shoe at the person who had caused me this much grief.  In fact, it was the break in Bali that gave me time to re-evaluate the issue and think of turning the challenge into an opportunity.

By acknowledging my faults and failings alongside others’ and my ability to move forward by proactively creating plans to make things right, I had possibly defined myself as a better leader in the company and a better manager to my team.


A Better Mother

I had always admitted difficulty of grappling this role as a mother of a boy who had just turned into an adult.  Joel’s main weakness was thought to be his soft and sentimental heart.  It took me awhile to see that weakness as strength.  I was particularly possessive of his time.  When he had to juggle school, industrial attachment stints at the local hospitals, his girlfriend and 2 families (his Dad’s and mine), I often had fights with him about not being able to spend quality time with him.  I lamented about David and I having pre-empty nesters’ syndrome on a weekly basis.  When his girlfriend visited, I would shut myself in the room and displayed my displeasure with a growl before shutting the room door, because I felt an invasion of my space and my time with him.  I often kicked up a fuss about his excessive spending on date nights, because I could not spend excessively to dote on my once little boy. 

My perspective changed a little when this relationship with her crossed the one year mark.  Yes, they spent one year dodging my caustic bullets and menacing grunts.  They came home one day with a cake and 1 candle and announced proudly that they wanted to celebrate their first year anniversary together with me.  I was very touched by that gesture.  So now, I have moved up the dial to tolerate her presence in my home.  She was not such a bad kid after all.

By acknowledging that my son had grown up and had to walk this journey through life by maneuvering the bends along the road by himself, I had possibly defined myself as a better mother.  I would always be there for him and nothing can change the fact that I am his mother.  I had to finally learn to let go.

A Better Wife

I had an epiphany just recently about how I had been managing my relationship with David.  You would be able to read more about it from my Tarot blog,http://sungoddesstarot.blogspot.sg/2013/11/a-conversation-with-my-father-in-law.html. 

I have always thought that being a great wife was to be able to juggle a high flying career that could contribute to a financially comfortable life for my family whilst nurturing the family with much love.  I thought I had been doing a fabulous job transposing myself from mother, to wife, to corporate careerist as a marketing head for an MNC, to a entrepreneur of a Tarot and Numerology consultancy.

If I had to explain my career ambitions better, it found its roots almost 15 years ago when I got divorced to my first husband and was told that I would never survive without a marriage, and that I would never be able to afford a home and that I would never be able to raise my son on my own.  So I spent the last 15 years proving otherwise developing a hard corporate exterior not only at work but also at home. 

I am very blessed that David is a patient man who gave me nothing but selfless love.  My surviving that divorce and such rock-bottom confidence was not because I did well in my career, but because I had a husband who gave me everything.

By acknowledging that life, including myself, could not always be story-book perfect and that all David needed was the assurance that he was doing the right thing to make me happy every day, through good times and bad, I had possibly defined myself as a better wife.  He knew last night, after reading my Tarot blog post that I was never taking him for granted again.


About the writer:

The writer of this blog post is a 44 year old mother of one, who spreads her time between her day job as a marketing professional at a financial institution, her hobby as a certified professional tarot reader and numerologist, and her family which includes a 20 year old son and 3 dogs with personality disorders.  She's married to a Scot who has been affectionately called "The Crazy AngMo" and prays that he does not find out that the term when translated, has labeled him as a "Ginger Head".   Together, we create a home made up with more nuts than a fruitcake but filled with plenty of love.

My man and me - I would be nothing without him.

The kids' first anniversary cake - they celebrated their first anniversary as a couple with me.

With my boys...

My looney team at work

Unconditional Love

In Good Times And In Bad

Today,  I learnt an important lesson about Unconditional Love from a little love-note Dad had written to Mom as a birthday gift for her this morning, with his fragile, stroke-strickened hand.  That note was scrawled with crooked letters that was barely legible but it was well-strung together to create such a meaningful impact that almost brought tears to my eyes.

This was what the note said - "Elaine, Happy Birthday.  Thank you for the unconditional love and care you've given me.  Bock Chuan"  Such a simple note, but it carried a lifetime of joy, sorrow, laughter, tears, pain and gratification.  This note underscored my parents' lifelong commitment to their marital vows to stick by each other in good times and in bad, for richer and for poorer, till death do they part.

A Commitment

Decades ago, when Dad was incarcerated for months, for "alternative"political views by the establishment, Mum spent those months in a daze, lost in the dark woods of despair, not having Dad beside her to  assure her that everything was going to be okay.  It was her will to keep the family together, that led her to march right up to Dad's boss at work to demand that he continued to pay Dad his salary and to keep Dad's job while we waited for his release from incarceration.   I thought Mum was bold then, but really, she was driven by her love and commitment for Dad.

Today, Mum cares for Dad as his mobility had been affected by what they called, a "silent" stroke.  Naturally, Dad's health deteriorated with age and  because of his condition.  Mum showers, changes and feeds him everyday.  She talks to him and urges him to walk, or rather shuffle, a little, just to get him to be active.  Undaunted by the heavy wheelchair, handicap-unfriendly public transport, staircases everywhere, the blazing sun or a heavy downpour, she made it a point to take him out regularly so that he could still enjoy the great outdoors, meet people, and eat his favourite foods at his favourite restaurants.

Dad's mind is still lucid although a little slow, and sometimes he might look a little dazed and confused because he needed more time to process information that he sees or hears.  However, it must be true love, that rendered it needless to process this.  Their housekeeper, Marites, on learning that my Aunt Shirley was returning to Singapore for a visit from Seattle, asked Dad what Aunt Shirley looked like.  Marites had never met Aunt Shirley and was curious to know if Mum and Aunt Shirley looked alike, as  sisters should.  So Marites asked Dad who was prettier, Aunt Shirley or my Mum.  Dad immediately retorted that Mum was prettiest!  Mum laughed so hard and one could see her face lighting up like a school girl having a crush when she heard that.

Guiding My Marriage With The Same Commitment

The commitment between Mum and Dad have truly inspired me to guide my own marriage that way.  I hope David and I will grow old together holding each others hands in good times and in bad, for richer or for poorer the way Mum and Dad did.  In fact, I don't hope, I know I will because David said the other day to me, " I don't always like being married, but I love being married to you."

About the writer:

The writer of this blog post is a 44 years old mother of one, who spreads her time between her day job as a marketeer at a financial institution, her hobby as a certified professional tarot reader and numerologist, and her family which includes a 20 year old son.  She's married to a Scot who has been affectionately called "The Crazy AngMo" and prays that he does not find out that the term when loosely translated, has labeled him as a "Ginger Head".

Dad and Mum on their wedding day on 27 Dec 1968...hmm...interesting..it doesn't add up...I was born on 1 Aug 1969!

Can't remember when this was taken, but clearly Dad was looking like "Da Boss!"

Dad and Mum at Gardens By The Bay when it first opened in 2012. Mum looked like "Da-Boss" now!

Dad and I enjoying a bit of father-daughter banter on 13 August 2013 after celebrating Mum's birthday with a scrumptious dinner

Dad's love-note to Mum, scribbled with his fragile hands that can't even feed himself with ease.
Now, that's  unconditional love.