The other Mom

I have had my fair share of insecurities as a mother so I shall not start the waffling about how I stumble through 18 years of motherhood like a bumbling fool in search of a Motherhood for Idiots guide at the bookstore.

However, I am going to dedicate this blog post to the person who have actually helped support me as a mother and perhaps been my "4 poles" when I tried very hard to be a good mother, the way I parallel parked my car.

Since I was expecting Joel, I had always wanted to be an unconventional mother. I wanted to be able to raise Joel like an adult on equal footing with me. I wanted to be able to have "adult" conversations with him. I wanted to raise him as a strong, independent and self-assured young man with an ambitious streak, and a go-getter attitude who is not afraid of any challenges life may throw at him.

In other words, I wanted him to be like me.

Now here's the joke. He's not like me.
Thank goodness. That's because, I am not that embodiment of strength I thought I was. And I certainly am not an independent and self-confident person who is not afraid of challenges life throws at me regularly. I am the exact opposite.

Unlike me, Joel grew up to be a self-assured young man full of love for life and absolutely no fear for the bumps along the road of life. Unlike me, he does not over-plan his day to day in a bid to preempt issues that may unexpectedly crop up. Unlike me, he doesn't bear grudges and look back in anger, unforgiving of tribulations.

And the person who contributed to this, was definitely not his crazy, erratic, temperamental, melodramatic and highly emotional mother. It was because of the man who took on the mantle as a father figure and his best friend for the last 11 years.

When Joel was merely 7 years old and just started to go to school, I meandered through the dark and frightening forest of divorce often with my head buried in the pillow and my spirit quashed by the strong grip of depression. David was standing beside me, holding not just my hand but Joel's too. He made it a point to take the both of us out to the beach or the parks, bent on getting the 3 of us to spend quality time together as a normal family and not a dysfunctional one.

He was aware that Joel's friends had moms and dads picking them up at the school gates, so we did too. He was aware that Joel will be seeing a lot of kids playing normally with their moms and dads, and we made it a point to do the same every Sunday.

He bought Joel his first bicycle. And like a great dad, he taught Joel to ride his shiny new bike, first with training wheels, then unscrewing the training wheels months later and confidently pushing him down the slope. Never mind that he landed in a mangled heap by the bin at the end of that slope because Pops was there to pick him up, brush the bits of grass, leaves and twigs off his backside, soothed the bruise on his knee with his finger moistened with that "cure-all" saliva and propped him back on that bike.

As Joel grew into a strapping teenager, David bought the both of them mountain bikes so that they could take to the roads together pretending to be Lance Armstrong.

When Joel grew up with the usual pubescent issues of a voice change, girlfriends and his first shave, David was the one who did that dreaded discussion about sex and taught him how to shave.

David was the father and the mother when I was busy chasing a high-flying career, trying to shake off any residual perceptions of myself as "the housewife from Brunei".

Today, they both still have the frequent "man to man" talks and Joel knows that even when his loopy mother flew into her melodramatic display of hormonal fits, there was always Pops he could retreat to, to have a sensible conversation with.

I am successful in juggling career and family because of David. Joel has grown up to be a well-balanced, level-headed gentleman that any mother would be proud of because of David.

I remembered teasing David for picking us up as waifs and strays more than 11 years ago. However, I could never fathom how Joel and my life would be like without the one man who is the best Dad, Mom and best friend all rolled into 1. I can only be the mother that I can be only because of David.

I am grateful for not just living, but living well

Every evening when I arrive home after a hard day's work, there is a cacophony of happy noises ranging from Joel talking about the girls at school, David grumbling about an obnoxious client, Evelyn recounting her culinary adventures or misadventures in the kitchen and the dogs barking. I always find it comforting to hear these happy noises as I eat my dinner in front of a tv program, often emanating even more noises of its own. These noises are comforting to me. It's like coming home to the familiarity and warmth of barnyard activity at a cottage farmhouse. And it helps drown out the stress from the usual work day.

Every morning when I go to work, I hear the incessant chatter and comical bantering amongst the girls, in between countless meetings and numerous phone calls. It is very comforting to me to know that the day to day work is managed by a wonderfully tight team of staff who keep their heads above the heavy workload and embrace daily work challenges with enthusiasm and the spirit of great team work.

I look forward to our daily lunches when we saunter around Raffles Place looking for a lunch venue that allows us to tuck into food that fit whatever diet I am on at that particular time.... never mind the girls. And I absolutely love my daily coffee with the girls especially when they get the barista to personalize my coffee cup by drawing something pretty on it and signing it off with my name.

Every time a friend or stranger contacts me to discuss a personal issue he or she is facing and requests for a tarot card reading, I am happy for the opportunity to be of help and even more thankful for that trust placed on me. Whatever the outcome I had read from the cards I picked, at the end of the day, if I could provide some comfort with a listening ear, I know I have done something right for someone.

Every weekend when I visit Mom and Dad, I enjoy being doted on like a 10 year old again. I get fed with whatever Mom whips out from her fridge, I get to amuse Dad with stories of Joel's antics at school, he gets to amuse me with his old jokes re-told 117 times and I do enjoy ploughing through old photographs with them. I am thankful Mom and Dad are always there for me albeit, one snapping at me from the mahjong table, and the other barking orders at me from his wheelchair.

So when I received a letter last night from National Health Group after my mammogram, requesting that I make an appointment with the hospital to do another series of tests due to an anomaly found in the previous test results, I went into a panic. I was gripped with fear and my mind was completely filled with negativity.

I was consoled by a tiny fine print on the letter which said that the re-test was needed to ascertain cause of the anomaly and may be nothing to worry about. I couldn't help it though and I spent a sleepless night thinking about everything and everyone around me.

I was so angry with how the letter was written and the unnecessary stress it caused me last night and possibly will be causing me for the next two weeks.

I am praying the tests outcome will come up negative. However, if I am looking for any outcome at all, that letter had certainly done its job of making me feel grateful for not just living, but living very well.

The Special K Diet vs The Paleo Diet

1 month had come and gone since I had embarked on my commitment to lose some weight. Years of see-saw dieting and subsequent weight loss and weight gains in equal measure obviously hadn't caused my enthusiasm to attempt even more diet fads, to wane.

I chose to go on the Special K diet for the first 2 weeks. The diet was quite simple. I had a cup of Special K cereal for breakfast and a cup of Special K cereal for lunch. Dinner was a normal sensible meal and didn't require much culinary fanfare. I lost 1.5kg after 1 week, and my weight hit a plateau on the 2nd week. More importantly, I was extremely miserable for the 2 weeks that required my replacing 2 meals a day with what tasted like the shavings at the bottom of a gerbil's cage. I was irritable most of the time, became anti-social at the otherwise highly enjoyable lunches with the girls at the office everyday and by 3.30pm each day, the witching hour hit me. By witching hour, I meant the hour at which I start to display a semblance of "bimbotic" behavior. My colleagues' questions at meetings would be met with either taciturn replies or a blank stare from me.

After the 2 weeks of that Special K challenge were up, my personal trainer rejoiced, and secretly, so did I. He then put me on the Paleo diet. A Paleolithic diet is apparently the world’s healthiest diet, based on the simple understanding that the best human diet is the one to which we are best genetically adapted. It consists of balancing an active life of exercise with a diet of fresh fruits, vegetables, seafood and grain-fed meat. I could eat as much as I wanted too for 3 meals a day as long as I didn't have bad carbohydrates like white rice, pasta, bread and noodles. I could have sweet potatoes though. They were apparently good for me and helped to break down protein.

Now, I could do this diet. It was simple, I need not have to be anti-social and I need not give up on my favorite foods, other than breads which I loved. After 2 weeks, I lost a paltry 300grams. However, the percentage of fat loss was quite high, and the percentage of muscle gained was high as well. Most importantly, I am no longer irritable and I feel fabulous each day. I realized this diet was one that required a long-term change of lifestyle and not a 2 week commitment to what was written on a cereal box.

Perhaps, my personal trainer was right after all, but I was too stubborn to admit it and let's face it, I do enjoy giving that Hitler of a trainer a hard time.

So I am encouraged by the results of the Paleo diet to continue with it for another few months. I had after all, made a pledge through my company's social pledge campaign, to lose 8kg by end July.

I do miss my Marble Slab ice cream though. A walk to the Marble Slab ice cream parlour was always a moment of joy for me. However, a very meaningful chat with my CEO at the office one day, changed my entire outlook about my trip to Marble Slab. He said it's not about the ice cream and it's more about my need to take a break from the office and have a walk to clear my mind from the daily stress. He said that next time when I am highly stressed and am short of hitting someone in the office with my shoe, I should just head out for a walk and back again without stopping by Marble Slab. He was right. I don't know when that actuary turned into a shrink but he was so right! Bless him. I have not had ice cream for a month now.

David is not falling by the wayside too. He had signed up for the Sundown race and the Jurong Lake Run, hell-bent on beating his best timing for the 10km category. He had started training twice a week too. I will just need to convince him now that beer, jelly babies and licorice all-sorts are not part of the approved list of foods in the Paleo diet.

Honestly I think the best thing I can do for my body is 1) get as much exercise as I can, 2) get as much rest as I can, 3) ensure my meals are healthy and balanced, and 4) add healthy doses of positivity and plenty of laughter into my life each day.

Oh, I forgot to add that as of last month, the doctor has lowered the dosage for my high blood pressure pills, congratulating me on having gradually put that high blood pressure under control.

Joel survived his first week at the polytechnic

One week at Nanyang Polytechnic and I am glad to report that Joel hasn't been expelled for accidentally taking someone's temperature through his nostril. He attended lectures and hungrily devoured notes on human bio-science and foundation of nursing. Nursing school has so far been an exciting journey of learning whilst making new friends. Coincidentally, the list of new friends is heavily weighted in favor of the female sex. He dismissed it as a function of the nursing practice which tend to attract more females to the profession. I, however, suspected that he had a systematic plan to collect as many girls' phone numbers as he could, in a bid to put his Casanova charms to practice.

Joel was also appointed class representative. He assumed the responsibility with much enthusiasm, and amusingly, some gravitas. He had formed a little clique amongst the handful of guys who stood out like a sore thumb amongst a sea of girls at nursing school. There were 3 of them. A tall, geeky one he nicknamed Simon, a stocky, well-built one, he nicknamed Theodore and then there was Joel himself, the looney one whom he nicknamed Alvin. He branded this clique Alvin and the Chipmunks, and talked incessantly about the quirks of this clique. A few days ago, Joel, wearing his class representative hat, reprimanded a very quiet, and disengaged Simon, " if you don't get out of your anti-social mode and be more involved, you're in the wrong profession, mate". Good on you, Joel.

With Joel talking enthusiastically about the polytechnic, I was transported back into my university days. I remembered, like Joel, I banded with a clique of close girlfriends, attended lectures and tutorials together, chose course subjects that ensured we were in the same classes together, shared lecture notes and cried over cheating boyfriends.

I also remembered the joys of hostel life, embroiled in childish pranks like stealing the footwear outside the rooms of a neighboring hostel and dumping them all into their washing machines at the laundry room.

Funnily, I met Joel's dad during my first year at university. I could have never imagined even remotely that the youthful days of dating him, attending lectures with him, mugging for examinations with him, would have led to marriage and our having Joel years later. While the marriage didn't survive my growing up, I am so thankful for Joel in my life. And I am especially thankful for the opportunity to maneuver through Joel's journey of growing up into a man.

Dad used to tell me that my university days would be the best 3 years of my life. They certainly were. Equally, I hope that these 3 years will also be the best 3 years of Joel's life.

Fast track to a healthier lifestyle

I've spent a considerable number of years cruising in and out of various see-saw diets. Atkins diet? Yes. Vegan diet? Yes. Liquid diet? Yes... of the raw fruits and vegetables kind, of course, not the alcoholic kind which is a diet I might be more predisposed to only when I feel depressed about being put on a diet.

As a child, I grew up with a weight issue which rightly or wrongly I blamed Mom for. For years, she had fed me with food that provided the best nutrition meant to nourish a child who was born premature. She must have overlooked the fact that I did grow out of my premature and sickly phase and into a stocky child who was active, healthy and seldom ill. Over the years and even today, Mom still nourishes me with her superb home-cooked dishes filled with love. Her excuse when I was younger, used to be that I was a premature baby prone to illness. Her excuse now, is that the lunches I had been having while at work, lacked the necessary nutrients to get me through the stressful work day. While Mom was just trying to be the wonderful mother that she is, I just wished she wasn't that short-sighted about the fact that I am now pretty much "over-nourished".

Managing a weight issue alone is never fun. I am blessed with a husband who miraculously makes me appear to be a size "M" every time I walked beside him. Having met him as my rugby coach, meant that we were often into fitness activities together since then. I swear, no diet plans can beat the body's natural response to a sound exercise program. It became just so much more fun, to be training together for everything from rugby tournaments when we were younger, to the 10km races we signed up for regularly today.

At 42, my body reacts a little slower to physical activity than when I was younger. The knee surgery I had a few months ago hasn't helped me in my plans to step up on my fitness plans. So, I discovered the Special K Two-Week Challenge.

It's simple enough. Just have a bowl of Special K cereal for breakfast and lunch. I can have a normal balanced meal for dinner. Not difficult at all.

However, 2 days into it, and I am craving for an ice cream. Walking past the Marble Slab ice cream counter and not being able to get one today was a completely distressing experience.

David is also on the same 2-week diet. His nickname used to be " DASH". I used to think it's because of his lightning speed as a prop forward at rugby games. After marriage, I realized it described the lightning speed at which he strolled to and from the refrigerator. I have been watching him peer into the refrigerator these couple of days, sighing with depression. He sometimes look at the dogs hungrily and barked " Ozzie and Zakk look tasty tonight.".

We are determined to complete the 2-week challenge then get back on a fast track to a healthier lifestyle. I am so glad one of my staff has also joined me on the Special K diet. I feel less lonely when she jumped on the bandwagon in spite of being advised by the Special K web advisory that she need not have to be on a diet.

If you see me chewing a pencil at my desk, or you feel that I am grumpier than usual, at least you now know the reason why.

A more meaningful Easter

It's the start of the long Easter weekend. Typically, it'll be a long weekend of time-wasting siestas, senseless boozing, long lazy lunches followed by decadent dinners.

Over the years, I had forgotten the true meaning of Easter. Easter became that beautiful Sunday when we ate chocolate bunnies and painted eggs. Years later, I am still looking for that rabbit in the stories within the bible.

Brought up as a roman catholic by very strict parents beamed down by the Pope himself, I thought, as a child, that they were sent down to earth to make my life miserable particularly on Sundays when I was forced to go for catechism classes. You know that trick Joel pulled by skipping Catechism classes for weeks and was caught whiling his time away at the church canteen instead? I did that too.

As a young adult, I have graduated from my childish antics of attempting to escape going to mass and catechism class. Instead, I had resorted to calling every church on the Friday before Easter, to find out how many candidates were going to be baptized at the Easter Virgil mass. Then I would attend mass at the church with the least number of baptismal candidates - hence, a shorter and less agonizing duration at mass before I headed out to the clubs.

So I had decided to revisit my spiritual side tomorrow on Good Friday. I am going to fast. Yes, I remembered Mom and Dad teaching me the importance of fasting and abstinence during Lent. I have to admit I had never quite understood its significance. And I don't think I can ever fully appreciate the meaning behind it. But I thought I'd give fasting a try. I can't lie. The need to get on the fast track of my diet plans was also a compelling imperative for me to attempt a fast.

Life will get back to normal on Easter Sunday when a smorgasbord of exquisite food and champagne greets me at the annual family Easter champagne brunch. I will be looking forward to the ubiquitous chocolate bunnies at the buffet table followed by an afternoon of egg painting. I can't wait.

However, for now, I have plans to start my Good Friday by making the family miserable when I drag them out of bed at 5.30am to join me as I meditate at the beach to the gentle sounds of the slowly rising tide and the glorious sight of breaking dawn - the start of my fast.

Rebel with a cause

I have been keeping my own counsel with a couple of issues burning in my heart lately. Issues are never issues, are they? They are often symptomatic of something else deeper. In my case, what remained buried deep was that I viewed the establishment with utter disgust.

I grew up a rebel, harboring a complete contempt for the establishment borne from the months of incarceration Dad had unfairly been through just because he had an opinion. As a child, I struggled with questions from classmates about Dad having to confess publicly on TV for the supposed crime of dissension and the humiliation of having mum and I featured in the newspapers as the "dissident's family". I grew up fast as an 8 year old learning to tell the difference between lies, truths, fluff and packaged truths. Hence, I am in Public Relations.

So what I had experienced recently, had come back to haunt me, and filled me with immense disappointment at the thought that the same blokes, inflicted with the same narrow-minded and myopic disposition now helm the establishment. 34 years on, nothing has changed.

Last month, I launched a consumer insights-driven campaign that drew a lot of positive feedback for cutting through competitive clutter. I was very proud of that campaign as it had responded to consumer perceptions by educating them on the need to close a gap.

After a week of running the campaign, we were told to pull the plug on it by a newspaper executive because somebody senior within the establishment possibly couldn't read English enough to understand the copy and fully appreciate the intent behind it. The establishment thought that I had "sullied it's efforts to build a viable financing system". And this was verbally related to us through a very frightened executive of that newspaper whom, when pressed, would not reveal who the clown behind the wheel was. And funnily, that clown was too busy pretending to be the circus ring-master that he or she declined to provide a written explanation of why the establishment was arbitrarily interfering with the commercial decisions of a company with a responsibility to educate the public about the inherent need to close the gap. I had to contain myself from going out to apply a license to use the Speaker's Corner as I worked with the team to alter the copy with the aim of toning it down.

Thankfully, the campaign continued with new ads that had copy which "sullied my intent to do what's right to educate consumers on their needs".

Till today, I am flabbergasted that there is still no explanation for that ridiculous episode . I felt gratified that my bosses had some sense of humor and thought that it was great that the campaign had "gotten the right folks talking".

Another incident a few months ago had also gotten me snarling at people who wore a badge and brandished a clipboard while working for the establishment.

David had been in executive search for the last 21 years. Yet recently, he was told that he needed to obtain a new license for his practice. "A new regulation," the clipboard-toting, wind-cheater wearing civil servant said, " and you need to complete an examination too."

David saw the humor in it, but I didn't because it only meant that they had effectively "handicapped" him for a few months while he sorted his paperwork.

We found out over the months that these blokes didn't know a regulation from the instructions manual of their Transformers toy. They even made David sit through a course meant for Maid Agency owners and he sat and passed the examinations for it too. So if anyone of you is interested in hiring a maid, David knows everything about it.
Several wasted months later, he is now brandishing a new license for his practice and a clipboard too.

Today, one of my staff wrote on her Facebook wall " If you can't fight and you can't flee, ... flow." - Robert Elliot.

I disagree. If you can't fight and you can't flee, ... Force. One has to force a stand. I refused to pull out my ads at the arbitrary command of someone who had no courage to come out to explain his point of view but hid behind the skirt of a newspaper executive and his establishment badge. I did what I can to tweak the ad message and continued to run with the campaign that I knew was doing the right and responsible thing for consumers.

I want those who read this blog post to know that great marketing is not about putting the fluff around a product or a service. It's about communicating a single-minded truth to consumers to get them thinking about erasing the blur between the lines of what they need and what they want.