I Am A Pre-Empty Nester

Empty Nesters Syndrome

In the last few months, David and I had been experiencing odd moments of solitude at home as Joel increasingly spent time at campus, with his friends, on industrial attachment at the hospital or with his girlfriend – just fill in the blanks because one never gets  a straight answer from him to a simple question of “Where are you going?”

The environment seemed so quiet and peaceful, sans the occasional barking of the dogs when the newspaper delivery guy appeared at our door.  Instead of cooking a feast for the family, we both would be munching on salad leaves and left-over’s for lunch or dinner during weekends.  In the past when the dogs were automatically walked 4 times a day by magic, we now have to roster the dog-walking duties between the 2 of us.  While I used to have a car-door opener and shopping bag carrier during our window-shopping trips, I now have to carry my own bags.  As there is only 1 other tea aficionado at home, I now have to brew my own cup of tea.

I reckoned this is what they famously called, the “Empty Nesters Syndrome”

Pre-Empty Nesters


When I searched Wikipedia, it defined “Empty Nest Syndrome” as a feeling of grief and loneliness parents may feel when their children leave home for the first time, such as to live on their own or to attend a college or university. This can result in depression and a loss of purpose for parents, since the departure of their children from "the nest" leads to adjustments in parents' lives. Empty nest syndrome is especially common in full-time mothers.

Let me qualify here that I am not a full-time mother and I am certainly not depressed.  While it took some time for me to get used to the quiet surroundings at home without the boy, it definitely gave me a lot of time to pursue my own interests like taking on more Tarot reading appointments and Tarot coaching sessions on weekends.  I know David felt the same because he too started taking on more photography assignments and had even used his spare time to help a friend manage her pub.

Seeing that we should be more accurately termed as “Pre-Empty Nesters”, I then  started searching on the internet for ways to “prepare for his move to the next phase of his life – out of my house”.  Don’t get me wrong.  It’s not that I can’t contain my excitement.  It’s just that whatever I could do to make productive use of time when we had it, I wanted to ensure I was doing just that.

Preparing For The Chick To Leave The Coop


I found  the following information on WikiHow:

1) “Prepare for the departure. If you're expecting your children to be leaving within the next year, take this time to check that they are aware of how to do the basic essentials for caring for themselves alone. Make sure they know how to wash their clothes, cook for themselves, balance a checkbook, …”

Houston, I think we may have a problem.  The boy needs a map to get himself to the bathroom for a shower, his room currently looks like the aftermath of Hurricane Sandy and by the weekend, his allowance is down to a mere 20cents, enough for him to call me from prison should he stupidly land himself there.  While he is adept at making tea, he can’t do much else like wash his own clothes, cook a decent meal  and balance a checkbook.

 
Improving Communication

2)  ”Explore the ways that you intend to keep in touch with your children. You'll feel a sense of loneliness and emptiness when they're gone because you can't just turn around and tell them things as you always used to do. Keeping up constant communications is vital for maintaining a sense of family togetherness..”

Honestly, I think it is better that communication is kept to a minimal.  If there is communication at all, someone needs to develop a dictionary to go with it.  You see, communicating with someone from teenage to early adulthood is quite frustrating.  Can someone please explain to me what “ROFL”, “LMAO”, and less than 3 mean?  Less than 3 was picked up when he sent me this text that said “<3”.

Recognize The Symptoms

3)  “Understand what empty nest syndrome is, so that you can recognize the symptoms in your own situation. Empty nest syndrome is a psychological condition that affects principally women, producing grief when one or more of the children leave home..”

I haven’t experienced that grief yet.  Perhaps I am still experiencing Pre-Empty Nest syndrome which is more accurately described as feelings of being in love with spouse again, feelings of glee because I now have the entire house to myself, feelings of satisfaction because I now have more time to accept more Tarot appointments, feelings of exhaustion because I now have to carry my own shopping bags, and feelings of thirst because no one is there to make tea for me.

Looking After Our Own Needs

4)  “Start looking to your own needs. Once you're satisfied that you've set your child on the right path, you'll start noticing the big change in your life. The way in which you choose to perceive this change will color your feelings and approach to it – if you see it as a gaping hole, you'll feel much more miserable than if you choose to see it as an opportunity to revive some of your own interests and pursuits. Avoid creating a shrine out of your child's bedroom...”

Now, this is possibly the only piece of advice that I resonate with.  David and I have started looking after ourselves better.  i)  We started creating a salad bar at home, upon the suggestion of a friend.  At dinner time, we would just fill our plates with different types of vegetables, nuts, fruits, some roast chicken or smoked salmon, and whatever is available in the fridge.  It’s a simple dinner but it had transformed our eating habits and hopefully will contribute to better health for us. We couldn’t quite do that in the past because Joel had an aversion for anything green in colour. ii) We started spending more time on our passions.  David had been taking on more photography assignments and I had been accepting more Tarot reading appointments and Tarot coaching engagements.  In  the past, we were conscious that time spent with Joel was very limited during weekdays due to school.  However, now that he had been spending more time with friends, girlfriend, and school projects both on weekdays and weekends, we had decided to keep ourselves busy with our respective activities.

Rediscovering My Husband

5)  “Rediscover the love of your life…”

This is the best advice ever.  In the last 12 years of marriage, David and I had been so busy juggling our respective careers, family commitments and other projects.  For the first time in 12 years, we started walking on this journey of rediscovery.  Age is a wonderful thing. One’s perspectives, interests and passions evolved with age.  I thought David’s evolved for the better.  He had become more interesting a person to talk to than he ever was 12 years ago when we first got married because of his varied interests and his very bold “dare-to-do”/ “no-harm-trying” attitude to life.  I saw this in the way he passionately rehearsed his guitar for his gigs, I saw this in the hard work he put into his photography assignments and photo-editing that he would  do through the night in order to get the photos to the client the next day. I saw how gamed he was in agreeing to help a friend run her pub. 

Even our weekends now are never pre-planned.  In the past, we had every activity scheduled like a school timetable.  Now, we might just take the car out on weekends saying “ Let’s see where the yellow brick road takes us.”

I like being a Pre-Empty Nester.  It’s somewhat like dating a new guy, only somehow, I know him and like him even better.  As for the boy, I am hopeful that this Pre-Empty Nester period is teaching him new skills to hone his independence for the day I become an Empty Nester.

About the writer:

The writer of this blog post is a 43 year 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 19 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 translated, has labeled him as a "Ginger Head".

Reliving Youth At Happy Daze

Reliving Youth

One evening, while chatting over dinner and drinks at a pub owned by my friend, she spoke to us about some of her challenges faced running the pub.  The lack of trained and experienced staff was always an issue.  In the F&B industry good service staff is difficult to find and even harder to hold on to.  She was also in the throes of a major renovation then which left her with little time managing the constant stream of customers coming in. 

The pub’s crowded every evening, and the crowd was a good mix of regular customers who lived in the area as well as customers who came straight from work as their offices were located nearby.  I liked the fact that the pub was a cosy hangout, and I could walk in without make-up, dressed in a t-shirt, shorts and flip-flops, propped myself at the bar and used it as my cosy “office space” to complete my Tarot readings via email, while I enjoyed a glass of red wine.

My friend asked if Joel could help out at the pub in the evenings after school.  I wasn’t too keen on that idea particularly when a) Joel needed to put his head down to get through this course and graduate without any drama and b) I didn’t want him to work for free by spending his hard-earned money at the pub on glass and tableware that I foresee he would be breaking throughout his stint serving at the pub,.

So Joel didn’t get past his interview with me for the job as head bartender.  However, out of concern for my dear friend who had grown up with me since school days, and partly because I thought it was a good idea to temporarily get the hubby out of my hair in the evenings so that I could take on more Tarot reading appointments, I decided to “pimp” David out to my friend to take on the role proudly as the new head bartender.

Now, David has a full time job.  He runs a business which sees him meeting clients, managing interviews and working on new business pitches and client presentations on a daily basis. So time is a scarcity for him apart from week nights.  When I was persuading him to help my friend out, I was half expecting him to dismiss the idea as one of my looney attempts to get him out of my hair.  It was not very far from the truth.

In actual fact, David had no say in the idea apart from a slight grunt. When he was studying at Napier University, he used to spend his evenings after lectures working at his local.  I convinced him that this was no different. The pub was down the road from our home, I was there often to do my Tarot readings anyway, I even used the pub as my base to do creative agency briefings and I am there for dinner at least once a week.  So I persuaded David to do my friend a favor and work the “Gordon Ramsay” magic on the operational issues at her pub.  After all, it was just for a bit of fun in the evenings from Monday to Friday.  He was making best use of his time helping someone, while getting a bit of fitness in his life too as he walks to the pub from home and back. 

Thankfully, David agreed to it because like his time spent on being the lead guitarist at his band, or his time spent doing photography work at rugby and soccer games, he felt this stint at the pub was Reliving His Youth.


Happy Days At Happy Daze

My friend’s pub is called Happy Daze. This was quite aptly named because she always looked like she was in a daze.  In fact, most of us looked like we were always in a daze then, stumbling through school quite haphazardly.  However the best decision she had ever made, was to turn this little corner of our neighborhood which was previously a second-hand book store called NIB, into a lucrative pub. 

We had so many wonderful memories of NIB.  I used to rent books from there with stories about the Famous Five, Nancy Drew and the Hardy Boys.  When I was slightly older and fancied a handsome prince coming to sweep me off my feet and into the sunset, I rented stacks of Barbara Cartland books.  Then, Barbara Cartland was porn to me.  I felt that I had grown up whenever I read about how the main character in the book would get her hair caressed and how she would feel her nipples hardened just by a single kiss.  Wow!  That was explosive for an 11 year old.  Sadly, 33 years later, I confronted the reality that there was no such thing as a mind-blowing, nipple-hardening kiss, particularly when Law and Order, CSI Miami and NCIS were on the list of must-watch programs every night.

So that second-hand book store was the hallmark of my Happy Days as a child.  My friend did well to preserve that memory somewhat by opening a pub in its place.  Well, at least she maintained the grumpiness and eccentric character of the second hand bookstore owner.  Every time one complained about being served soggy chips or cold baked beans on toast, she would growl at the person and bark, “It’s edible in’it?”  It was comforting to know that nothing has changed too much.

The New Angmo Bar Supervisor

I am glad to report that David’s stint at Happy Daze for the past few weeks had been filled with plenty of laughter. His presence at the pub drew a lot of buzz.  One customer asked “Who’s that new Angmo (a commonly used slang for a Caucasian in Singapore) bartender?. Another customer quipped,” I did not realize Happy Daze had a new boss.”  Yet another said, “Perhaps he was  hired to cater  to the  growing population of fellow Angmos living in the area.”    So he was met with these reactions from customers which really made him laugh.  He recounted how he had helped retrain the bar staff, taught them how to make proper mojito fresh from scratch and not use the pre-mixed mojito. He taught them how to do a proper Tequila Sunrise. He also taught them how to make basic Irish coffee.  The staff there were amazed by his skills behind the bar.  Like I mentioned before, he was reliving his youth.   He also reorganized the layout of the bar such that the bar staff had better access to the variety of drinks and even did a review of the kitchen. 

He became fast friends with a bar staff who was a Chinese national.  It was quite fun to watch them attempt to converse meaningfully because one spoke little English and the other had a broad Scottish accent. He became fast friends with some of the customers who lived around the neighborhood and was sorely missed when he couldn’t help out at the pub on weekends.

Happy Dave

David  is still having fun nightly at the pub.  I am there about twice a week to do my Tarot readings there. Often our friends come around to meet us there for drinks too.  My friend had such a weird sense of humour too and decided to hang a parrot mobile up at the bar counter to signify that Sun Goddess Tarot was in the house, every time I showed up.  Moreover, the bar and service staff were often thrilled every time I shuffled my Tarot cards or did a numerological assessment for them.

I am conscious though that David maintains his focus on his day job as a headhunter.  Reliving his youth as a photographer, guitarist and head bartender is okay if it helped him take away the stress of his day job and added a bit of excitement in his life.  We often joked that Happy Daze should rebrand itself into Happy Dave because that is that little bit of light he had brought to the place.

My friend should feel blessed. Do visit this quaint little pub, Happy Daze, if you want to try one of David's to-die-for Oreo milkshakes. It is located in Singapore at a small residential area called Serangoon Gardens.

About the writer:

The writer of this blog post is a 43 year 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 19 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 translated, has labeled him as a "Ginger Head".

Am So Afraid Of Hospitals

The Universe Must Be Making Fun Of Me

A visit to the hospital in the last 2 weeks threw me into another spate of frenzy. I was in and out of the hospital for a battery of medical tests from an ultrasound, CT scan and blood tests, when the doctor was trying to investigate the cause of my resistant hypertensive condition. In spite of an increased dosage in the hypertension drugs, my blood pressure reading was still high.

My time at the hospital was déjà vu. I remembered going through the same emotional roller coaster just a few months ago when the doctors found excessive calcification in my breast which could be caused by the presence of precancerous cells. I got a clean bill of health after the removal of that affected area of the beast. And then this happened.

Yesterday, the doctor finally gave me a run-down of the test results, uncovering that I actually had a congenital condition, a myocardial bridge in my lower descending artery, made worse by excessive calcification found in a lesion just above that bridge.

Angry And Worried

Of course, I was so angry and worried at the same time. I reacted with a little prayer to the Universe. "What's bloody wrong with you? Didn't I say I want a hospital-free year in 2013? After the knee and breast surgeries last year, I took great care of myself. Really." I was too angry with myself for not watching my diet and fitness when I was younger, I was angry with mom and dad for not knowing, I was angry with David for not being with me at the hospital. And these intermingled with a sense of panic when the doctor started telling me that he may do an angiogram to uncover the cause of the calcification and perhaps put a stent in the affected area. I was not having it. No way. I don't want to see a surgical theatre again. So I asked him to allow me to try some anti-platelet medication, change my hypertension medication and give me 2-3 weeks to manage my diet, then we can decide what the next steps should be then.
I am taking back control of my health.

Taking Control

So the first step of taking control, is to understand my underlying condition. The myocardial bridge in me occurred when my left descending artery tunneled through the heart muscle rather than rested on top of it. As the heart muscle grew around the artery, the myocardial bridge was formed. As the heart squeezes to pump blood, the muscle exerts pressure across the bridge and constricts the artery. This defect is present from birth and often left undetected. It can lead to powerful heartbeats and angina.

The excessive calcification above it is caused by injury to the vessel walls. Because of where that's located just before the bridge, it adds even more pressure to the area.

The second step to taking control, is taking things easy. The doctor and I got talking about my hectic lifestyle, juggling multiple roles, tremendous amount of stress, poor diet, erratic fitness regime and all on 4 hours of sleep. He cautioned me that naturally with age, we needed to be mindful of our health and particularly with my condition, he advised me to take it easy. 

So I got two weeks of ultimatum before I return to the hospital to get the doctor's assessment on next steps. I am taking the next two weeks easy starting from today. I will be watching what I eat and drink ( I believed I heard him say red wine was good), I won't be plying my personal trainer with excuses to skip his training sessions at the gym , I will endeavor to get less worked up about every small issue ( this is slightly more difficult for me ), I will be going to bed by 10pm every night ( no more Tweeting at 1am in the morning and I am putting a stop to wee-hour Tarot readings) and most of all, I am going to enjoy every moment with my family and my good friends.

What You Can Do To Help

So this is what you can do to help me: 1) Please get this message out to everyone to get a thorough medical test at least once a year.  If I could help someone younger to understand that good health is within one's control,  it would be my way of helping save a life.  2) Stop me if I attempted to drag you out to Cold Stone Creamery or Marble Slab for an ice-cream just to relief my stress on a bad day. A glass of red wine at the end of the day is medically proven to be more beneficial.  3) Give me a little push in the right direction if I decide to skip my personal training sessions in favour of that newly-opened steak house across the office. 4) When you catch me on Facebook  and Twitter past 10pm, please tell me to piss-off.

I will be keeping my close friends and family updated on the doctor's decisions in 2 weeks time.  Meanwhile, please pray for me.

About The Writer:

The writer of this blog post is a 43 year 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 19 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 translated, has labeled him as a "Ginger Head".

A Boy Lost

A Daughter For Life!

When I was a child, my parents were my world.    I grew up in fear that one day they would grow old, fly up into the clouds and become angels.  I want them to stay by my side, cook and clean for me, fetch me from school,  sit beside me as I practiced on my piano, buy new accessories for my doll’s house, and repair my baby dolly so that she can pee without my having to squeeze her little tummy.

As an adult, my parents are still my world.  I live in fear that one day they would grow old, fly up into the clouds and become angels.  I want them to stay by my side to cook my favorite food, be arbitrator when I fight with my son, walk the dogs when I am on vacation, feed the hubby when I travel on business ( or was it the other way around, walk the hubby and feed the dogs…can’t remember) and tell me stories about my younger days when I grew up in fear of their growing old, flying into the clouds and becoming angels.

Before I married David, I told him that he had to accept the notion that in my life, Joel was number 1, Mum and Dad were number 2, and he would be number 3 after the dogs in my list of priorities.  He was new to Singapore, a waif and stray, so he agreed and we got married.  He spent the last 14 years of our lives together, being there for Mum and Dad, fetching and sending and running errands for them, like a good son-in-law should.  It made me extremely happy when he did all that.

Mum had always told me before I had Joel, that if I had a son, I would actually be bringing up a man who would  one day  be taking care of another man’s daughter.  If I had a daughter, I would have a daughter for life who would love me forever, and would live in fear of my growing old, flying up into the sky and becoming an angel.

A Son For Life?

When Joel entered nursing school last year, he had put his heart and soul into the course after his initial misgivings about being “Gaylord Focker”.  David and I made every effort to ensure he stayed on track, encouraging him all the way, and appointed him our personal private nurse at home.  On days when I didn’t cut my finger while peeling an apple, he gladly volunteered to be the personal private nurse to our dogs.  They didn’t seem to mind the exercise of running around the house, away from his stethoscope and blood pressure monitor.

Not too fond of examinations, Joel struggled through the stress of burning the midnight oil during the nursing examinations.  He was not particularly fond of pharmaceuticals – frankly how difficult was  it to spell Aspirin?

So like a good mother, I made sure I stayed up with him, blogging into the night, like I am doing now, while he practiced how to spell the word Aspirin.  I even made tea for him, made late night sandwiches and prepared other snacks for him, made sure he was well fed and watered while he studied.  David even did the dog-walking and garbage-throwing duties during Joel’s examinations.

Our display of parental love and commitment surely must be exemplary.

And what did the boy do?

A Boy Lost

This afternoon, Joel texted me with this cursory note, “Passed Exams.”  I was ecstatic!  I told him how proud I was and how wonderful that his hard work paid off, and promised him a wonderful weekend of treats. 

Then as I was checking my FaceBook newsfeeds, I spotted Joel’s post on his status update. A proud declaration rung seemingly loudly across his FaceBook status “Passed all my modules for year 1, semester 2.  Got my girl to thank for pulling up my Human Bioscience grades…if it wasn’t for her constant nagging and dragging me out to study on weekends knowing that I’ll most probably be slacking away at home, I think I’ll be seeing myself re-sitting the year 1 exams again.  Bravo.”

Bravo indeed.  My own son forgot for that moment, how much effort, prayers, hope and sweat his Pops and Mum had put into ensuring his success.

We were gutted.

But We Are Still Here

Like a good mother, and like my mother before me, and her mother before her, I will still walk beside my child throughout his journey through life, unscathed by such lack of consideration for our commitment and love as parents.  Parental love is unconditional, I was told. However, from time to time, I wished he would tell me he lived in fear that I would grow old one day, fly up into the sky and become an angel.

About the writer:

The writer of this blog post is a 43 year 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 19 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 translated, has labeled him as a "Ginger Head".

I Love My Imperfect Family

Mum Brought The Party To Us Through Food

In the last 2 weeks, as we celebrated Lunar New Year as a family, I had given much thought to what family is about.  With just my weekly visits, I don’t see Mum and Dad often enough, though David begs to differ unless something delicious is brewing on Mum’s stove.  What he sees as lunch, I saw as love.

Mum and Dad know that I am never far away.  I often dig out the treasures of past childhood memories from within my heart as a means to help me ride the rough of adulthood.  In the Tarot language, we call this the “6 of Cups” moment.  In the marketing language, I call it “Mum’s Exquisite Culinary Delights Prepared With Love” ( I have to be 'marketing-savvy' about how I term this with Mum so that she'll do more of it).

Over the last 2 weeks, we had been bonding over Mum’s home-cooked lunches.  We have been eating our way to a comatose state whilst catching up with the extended family on everything from babies, to weddings, to work, right down to the recent hot topic about facing an over-crowded Singapore.

The more we had to eat, the livelier the discussions were, across the dining table.  It’s not just merely food.  It’s Mum’s cooking.  There’s a magic dust she sprinkles over her cooking that creates all the animated chatter and the loud laughter.

We Brought The Party To Dad With The Feasting

Even Dad had a lot of fun.  Ever since Dad’s health deteriorated over the years, given that he had suffered a “silent” stroke, Mum tried to bring any form of celebrations at home so that he could enjoy them without having to move about too much. He definitely enjoyed the array of dishes Mum cooked to celebrate the Lunar New Year.  He didn’t even mind tottering gingerly across the kitchen for half an hour to take his place at the kitchen table so that Mum could serve him some of his favorite dishes.  It was the only exercise he did for that month I think…tottering across the kitchen.

Although Dad just sat there in his favorite chair  most of the time to enjoy the family around him, and he didn’t talk much because his speech was a wee bit slower than usual, his mind is still lucid as ever.   From time to time, he would interject about a topic closest to his heart – his dislike for “The Establishment”.  For me, that was wonderful to see because it’s a sign of his unwavering fighting spirit within him.  Also, while I noticed that he might be physically slower and got quite tired often, I saw him reach out a hand to grab my nephew, pulling him closer so that he could play with the little boy.  I thought that was amazing for someone who took half an hour just to shuffle across a tiny kitchen.

When Dad couldn’t peel a fruit with his weak hands yesterday, I happily did it for him and remembered how he did the same for me when I was very young and didn’t know how to fiddle with a rambutan.   Knowing that Dad has an appetite for junk food, I watched  him look intently in anticipation at me as I removed the wrapper around a chocolate for him.  I did the same when I was very young as he opened a box of chocolates for me.  Dad had fond memories of our family dog Blooie when I was a child.  Blooie was a white toy poodle given to me as a birthday gift.  He died long ago in a road accident and that was the first time I saw my stoic father cry.  My current family dog Bailey, bears a close resemblance to Blooie.  It was heartwarming for me to see Dad laughing at Bailey and annoying the daylights out of the poor mutt who patiently allowed Dad to prod him, blow in his ear and pull his tail.   

I Love My Family

I love my family.  We aren’t perfect.  Half the extended family’s either living abroad or about to live abroad.  My immediate family looks like ambassadors for the United Nations Council For Cultural Diversity given our different last names and different nationalities.  Dad’s not in perfect health, Mum’s sometimes not in the perfect mood, David’s not a perfect shape, but hell, sometimes I am not in perfect mind!  It really doesn’t matter.  All the more I love my rather imperfect family.   However we bitch at each other, no matter how much we get on each other’s nerves and however little doses we can take of each other, at least once a year, particularly every Lunar New Year, Christmas and Easter, I would remember why I love my imperfect family.  In every way, they are perfect to me.

I can’t wait for Easter now.


About the writer:

The writer of this blog post is a 43 year 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 19 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 translated, has labeled him as a "Ginger Head".

Dad and Mum visited the newly opened Gardens By The Bay recently.  Thanks to my cousin, they enjoyed the visit very much and it gave Dad a wonderful tan.

Dad's so happy when Bailey visits.  Bailey reminds him of Blooie, a white toy poodle Dad had given me as a birthday gift when I was a kid. Dad truly loved Blooie like a son.  Today he loves Bailey like a grandson.

Sighhhh....why can't I have a normal family.  The boy uses Bailey as a cushion from time to time.

Don't underestimate Dad...he's lucid enough to remember the past

My United Nations Family - We look like Ambassadors for Cultural Diversity.

Mum is attempting to clown about with fashion glasses. 

Chinese New Year Is A Family Thing

Chinese New Year

Indeed Chinese New Year is all about family.  It’s the longest and most important event in a Chinese festive calendar.  The purpose of which, is to welcome the wonderful season of  Spring.   This year, we celebrate the Lunar New Year of the Chinese Zodiacal sign of the Snake.  It reminded me of the stories my friends told me about how snakes, a symbol of fertility, would appear  out of their hidey holes to test the weather, some time just after Imbolc, which celebrates the midway mark between the Winter Solstice and Spring Equinox. 

As I have been blessed with so many friends from all over the world, I thought to take this opportunity to share a bit of my culture with everyone in this blog post dedicated to my family's celebration of the Lunar New Year of the Snake.

There is a folklore that surrounded Chinese New Year.  When I was very young, I was told stories about this beast called “Nian” who would come out of the Winter hibernation to visit the villages with the intent to hunt for food.  It would  eat crops, livestock and the villagers, causing much fear.  So the villagers would put food out at their front door in the hope that “Nian”’s hunger will be satiated by the food and would leave the crops, livestock and their fellow villagers alone.  “Nian” was afraid of the colour red too, so the villagers would hang red lanterns above their doorways and everyone would wear red during Spring.  “Nian” was also afraid of loud noises hence the villagers would be lighting firecrackers throughout the village in an attempt to frighten “Nian” away.

This week, we celebrate Chinese New Year similarly by hanging red-colored decorations around the home.  I’ve got pretty calligraphy of Chinese couplets printed on red-colored paper hung all over my home and pasted on my front door….much like a Christmas wreath. 

It’s All About Family

We’d spent the week before the festivities spring cleaning and shopping for festive goodies and new clothes.  While my family and I had done all that together, the nicest thing this year was that I did the same with my team at work who are very much family to me too.  My team and I spent our lunch hour one afternoon, shopping along Chinatown and we even rolled up our sleeves to spring clean the office!  One of my more nutty staff suggested that we should be spring cleaning our office, using water with pomelo leaves soaked in it.  Pomelo is seen as a symbol of luck and success, so I hope our projects at work will be launched successfully after breaking my back wiping down my entire office using pomelo leaves.  It was hilarious really, when I started sprinkling my office space and my nameplate with the pomelo leaves in the hope of bringing abundance to my work area!

What’s most important for us during this festive holiday is the “reunion dinner” on the eve of the first day of Chinese New Year.  In China, the villages and town centres are spread far and wide so the younger generation in the family who were working all over, would make a trip home to their villages in time for the Chinese New Year celebrations which would be kicked off with the reunion dinner.  Honestly, it happens here in Singapore too, where some of my Malaysian Chinese, Australian Chinese, British Chinese, American Chinese, Indonesian Chinese, Thai Chinese and Vietnamese Chinese friends had already taken the week off to fly back home to join their extended families for the celebrations.

As today is the eve of Chinese New Year, we celebrated it with a reunion dinner at Mum and Dad’s (much like Thanksgiving), and all my uncles and aunties, my cousins, my brother, my sister-in-law, Granny, David and Joel congregated there for the scrumptious meal.  Mum laid out a smorgasbord of food themed to the festival, for example, the “Prosperity Roasted Duck”, “Longevity Noodles” and “Abundance Hot Pot”.  Okay, slightly cheesy, but you get the message.  My favorite dish at the table was the “Prosperity Raw Fish Salad” which was a dish made of slivers of freshly sliced salmon ( to represent wealth) and a colorful assortment of vegetables. The dish tasted wonderful and tossing the salad  together as a family was fun. As we tossed the salad, we had to utter words of prosperity to “seal the spell”…know what I mean?

Tomorrow, on the first day of Chinese New Year, we will visit Granny, as well as Mum and Dad – the older generation. This year, I wouldn’t visit my uncles because I wanted to dedicate more time during this holiday to David and Joel, just relaxing at home and watching movies together.  What we'd be missing would be the little “pop-up” black jack tables at my uncle’s home.  It’s always filled with much fun and laughter.   During our visits, we would give each other mandarin oranges and red packets filled with money to the children as well as to Granny, Mum and Dad. Giving out mandarin oranges and red packets is seen as a token gesture wishing our relatives, and friends a blessed Lunar New Year full of good health and prosperity. 


It’s Significance To Me

I loved Chinese New Year because of the cultural significance of familial piety.  My Granny, Dad and Mom came from a highly conventional background where they held dearly the Confucian values of respect, piety, and loyalty.  Modern day career demands and fast paced lifestyle have eroded bits of my culture and rendering it excusable  to “not observe the full practice” of the Chinese New Year celebrations.  For example,  today, we don’t wear  traditional Chinese garb (except Joel, who often become the butt of jokes when friends pointed to his Chinese traditional shirt and pants, and asked him why he was still in his pyjamas in the middle of the afternoon) and although  a married daughter was not allowed to go back to her mother’s home for the reunion dinner ( this was culturally forbidden because it was thought that once the daughter is married, she belonged to her husband's family.  A visit back to her own parents' home indicated issues with the marriage), I did.   

My generation and indeed the generation after will see  our culture eroding bit by bit but what still remains strong is our Confucian values of respect, piety and loyalty. 


About the writer:

The writer of this blog post is a 43 year 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 19 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 translated, has labeled him as a "Ginger Head".

    My table decked with mandarin oranges, a symbol of gold and abundance, plenty of candy and chocs, and a red packet filled with money.

This is the Chinese word for Prosperity.  It's created out of paper-cutting.  I got this from Chinatown and thought it was such a creative piece of craft.

 

 

 

I have to admit, I haven't the faintest idea what the words in this couplet mean.  I was just told by the bloke at the shop that this was good for David's business.  Whatever helps eh?

The ubiquitous Salmon "Yu Sheng" Salad.  The higher we toss the dish with our chopsticks, the more prosperity will come our way....so they say.

My advertising agencies very kindly visited the office bearing these gifts. 

Pomelo leaves soaked in the water meant to be used for spring cleaning the office.  This is a new custom to me.  Haven't heard that one before.  Not sure if that nutter of a staff is being funny.

The girls captured a pic of me trying to "smudge" my nameplate at the office with the darn pomelo leaves.  On looking back, I think that nutter of a staff was indeed trying to be funny.


And below, is a pic of me with Mr Bean, an albino python.  I think he is albino.  I loved Mr Bean. He is a very gentle python and was brought in by his trainer seen beside me, to usher in the Lunar New Year of the Snake with plenty of photo opportunities for the guests at the event.   He was such a poser and would be peering unabashedly at the photographer.  I never had snakes around my body before and thought he was going to be slimey and icky.  But he was warm, comfy and oh so friendly!

Older And Wiser

Older And Wiser

Now that I am older and wiser, I’ve become more tolerant and accepting and even appreciative of differences.

I pinned this new Jo down to age.  Age and experience have mellowed me, and made me a better and more open-minded  person while still maintaining that fight within me.  You’d think that the older, more experienced and better trained or educated people around me would be the same.  However, in the last month, I felt so disappointed when I encountered a couple of people who disgusted me with their prejudicial views and insincerity. 

Assaulted By Insincerity

A few months ago, there were a few fabulous initiatives launched at work with the aim to increase engagement between colleagues.  I thought that was a wonderful intent. We took that opportunity to share our hobbies, create common interest groups, share tips about family life, health and fitness.  I loved blogging, so I shared my blog.  However, through my blogs, a colleague picked up about my love for Tarot and told me that it was “spiritual” and the “mambo jambo” was “personally offensive”.   I spent a week feeling upset about this personal assault based on someone’s lack of understanding, intolerance and complete disregard for diversity of interests and experiences.  I confronted him to find out what then we should be engaging colleagues about.  He promptly replied, “Hobbies.  You know, like movies, books and food.”  So I retorted back, “That’s great, but my hobbies aren’t movies books and food.  It is Tarot.”  He couldn’t provide me a better justification thereafter, for his prejudicial views.  What’s even worse is that I had initially respected that colleague for his progressiveness, strategic thought leadership and experience.  How could I be so wrong in my judgment?  I can only be thankful that in my role, I don’t have to work too closely with him.

I was keen to move on from that incident because I didn’t want a “fuddy-duddy” and unauthentic person affect the individuality and creativity that I had come to respect in each of my team members at work.  I wanted them to know that in a world full of such unauthentic people, we still need to be true to ourselves, and be proud of our respective gifts.  Oh, I am not supposed to use the word “gifts”.  It has potentially offensive “spiritual”cannotations.

Assaulted By Prejudice

Another incident happened just last week within the Tarot community.  I had been working very hard for awhile now, building my knowledge and skills around Tarot.  Having obtained my Certified Professional Tarot Reader’s qualification from the Tarot Certification Board of America (TCBA) was one of the most fulfilling experiences for me.  I am continuing my esoteric studies only because I have a personal ambition to always learn more and be better. 

However, a very experienced Tarot reader whom I had been communicating with via social media slapped me with a personal assault that took me awhile to regain composure from, more so because she was a fellow Tarot reader.  When she found out about my qualifications, she said “Who are the TCBA to decide whether I am a proficient Tarot reader or not?  I have been reading for more than 30 years and am perhaps a better reader than one armed with a certification.”  I was appalled at that arrogance because I don’t believe there are such things as better readers or worse readers.  As lightworkers, we exist for the purpose of bringing clarity and assurance to our clients.  Bad readers and good readers don’t exist.  We are just Tarot readers trying to hold the hands of our clients.  I wrote a lengthy blog post about this on http://sungoddesstarot.blogspot.sg/2013/01/being-true-to-myself.html?m=1

Still Older But Wiser

25 years ago, I would have removed a shoe to throw it at people like that, and plied the corridors of my office with loud rantings. At my age, I have learnt to accept that such people do exist and we just need to manage them well, not giving them the opportunity to shake our confidence.  In fact, I used these examples to better educate my team at work about the importance of being genuine and appreciative of diversity.  I also spoke to my Tarot protégés about not being arrogant about their experience with Tarot as they get better in their reading skills.   I’d like to think that age and experience did not just make me more appreciative of differences.  I’ve also learnt to manage negative situations better too.

In fact, I shared this outlook with David when he was royally "stiffed" by someone who asked him to take some nice corporate photographs of her as she was starting a new business, for a very paltry sum of money. When she got her photos, she said she liked them. Then after sitting on them for ages, David reminded her that he had yet to be paid. She then suddenly said she didn't like them after all but couldn't explain why. David was very angry because it was a matter of principle which she had clearly violated. David was quite outraged as he had been doing fantastic photography work for years and had an amazing portfolio of photography work under his belt as a testament to his skills. He's never had an issue with his clients all this while. This particular one proved to be that odd ball who was just out to get a free ride from someone so dedicated to his craft. I too, would be mad, if it had happened to me.

Having carried my new "older, wiser, more mellowed" outlook for awhile, I tried to be positive and told him," That's ok. It's only a small sum of money. It had nothing to do with your photography and everything to do with the fact that she couldn't accept her lack of er....grace and beauty. In fact, good photography aside, the best photo-editing equipment and an army of make-up artistes couldn't even help that." I was just being completely honest but that got David laughing so hard and perhaps less mad. So you see, whether you are a doctor, a lawyer, an engineer, a strategist or a psychotherapist, it's not your education, profession, experience, and seniority that makes you. My older and wiser self tells me, it's actually your self-belief that does.

About the writer:

The writer of this blog post is a 43 year 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 19 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 translated, has labeled him as a "Ginger Head".