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

Things Worth Celebrating

Things Worth Celebrating

I came across The Petite Cadeau’s blog post calling for participation in their linky blog party themed “Things Worth Celebrating”.  I got really excited about it and started putting the word out to fellow blogging friends egging them on to participate in it too.

My enthusiasm stemmed from the numerous magical things that had happened to me in the last few months.  These were things worth celebrating:

• Dad recovered very quickly from his stroke, enough to get discharged on Christmas Eve.  I could never enjoy a Christmas party without him.  Having him there at my Christmas party was the best present I have ever had.

• My business, Sun Goddess Tarot saw a remarkable growth in reputation and clientele.  The breadth of work I have been doing with my business expanded to teaching Tarot and Numerology, and conducting corporate workshops on these subjects.  I had even delivered my first presentation to an international Tarot audience at a conference, sharing my experience on marketing strategies for Tarot businesses.

• Over and on top of running Sun Goddess Tarot, I have a full-time job doing what I  loved  to do  – Marketing and Public Relations.  The best thing about that job was my ability to guide the team at work to create a marketing and public relations machinery within the company that had been regarded by the management as a highly efficient team.  I loved mentoring.  My marketing and public relations experience has happily allowed both my day job and my business to co-exist synergistically.  What is even more amazing is that this evening, because of the sheer hard work of my team, the company won a Bronze award for the best product launch PR campaign at the inaugural Singapore PR Awards 2014.  It was the first time, the company garnered an award for PR in more than 80 years of history.  I was mighty chuffed.

• My son Joel finally accepted that going to nursing school might potentially have limitless possibilities for his future.  He need not have been worried that he would be labeled as Gaylord Focker.  Hence, he had been putting his whole heart and soul into his nursing course, and surprising me every now and then with excellent grades in some of his test papers or projects.

• My husband David turned his passion for photography into a little business as well, much like what I did with Tarot and Numerology.  Through sheer hard work, he had managed to establish a reputation for himself as an events photographer specializing in sports and rock concerts.

The list of things worth celebrating was by no means exhaustive.  These were just some of the key highlights of the last few months.  If I had a lot of time to table all things worth celebrating in detail, a single blog post would not have done it justice.

So, I reviewed once again the mental list of things worth celebrating in my head and realized that what was truly worth celebrating was really, my family.

Here’s What ‘s Truly Worth Celebrating

You see, for all the work and business achievements that were well within my control  because I steered the daily outcomes through team work and effort,  the quirky differences of each of my family members were another matter altogether.  

I found the annoying differences, and the idiosyncrasies  of each and every close family member quite endearing, and they did add even more color to my life.    I often looked to the bosses and colleagues at work, and even clients  for whom I did my Tarot and Numerology readings, for inspiration.  However, right before my eyes, my family members were my greatest inspiration.

• How many times have I called Mum crazy although all she wanted to do was, in her loopy ways, nurture and provide us with as much love as she could?  When she cooked our favorite food, often she modified them with no salt, no oil, no taste, just to help me manage my hypertension. When I was about to reach out for a pinch of salt, she growled at me like a cornered bear. – I celebrate Mum’s Love.

• How many times  I had thought Dad looked defeated by his stroke and dementia?  When I talked to him about his old friends, he could remember all their names.  When I reminded him about his old jokes, he would laugh heartily. He may be weaker from stroke and dementia, but certainly not defeated.  – I celebrate Dad’s indomitable spirit.

• How many times I had thought Joel lacked ambition and determination?  When Joel found joy in talking to his patients at the hospital,  or when he recounted how he helped processed the “last office” of an AIDs patient and felt gratified that the patient did not die alone as Joel was with him, I was pleasantly surprised. – I celebrate Joel’s determination.

• How many times I had thought David was an unromantic Scotsman who would rather club me on the head and haul me into the cave rather than take me out to a nice expensive candlelight dinner?  I was rampaging through my handbag today and found a crumpled little square corner of a serviette.  On it was a drawing of a cute teddy bear which he drew and it said “I love you”.  When I was clearing my camera roll in my Iphone, I came across a photograph of a cup of coffee taken one morning a long time ago.  On it was a heart shape drawn by him across the foam.  As I had been invited to do Tarot readings at the ELLE Singapore event last week, I wore a bracelet accessorized by charms that had Tarot images on it.   I remembered that David got that for me as a present, even when he was vocal with his skepticism about my metaphysical practice and often asked me where I had parked my broom. - I celebrate David's quiet romanticism.

Gratitude

Have you seen that animated movie "Brave" which detailed the adventures of a Scottish princess, Marida,  who  unintentionally  hired a witch to cast a spell on her mother to transform her into a bear just because her one wish was that her "mother would change"?  

I may have more nuts in my family than a fruitcake but I would not want them to change in any way.  Just a handful of people with their little idiosyncrasies could have a major impact on my life and me.

Wouldn’t you agree, they are truly worth celebrating?  To read about the things worth celebrating from the perspective of my fellow bloggers, please visit:  http://www.thepetitcadeau.com/p/things-worth-celebrating.html



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.

Things Worth Celebrating

The loony Ash Family

Whatever

Whatever

 I used this term often and it had become the “salve” that helped my team at work move on to focus on more important issues when they faced obstacles or came in contact with colleagues that were not willing to play within the  established rules of engagement.

At home, I used it when David and I had differing opinions about certain decisions, or when Joel turned into an  angsty monosyllabic creature after a tiff with his girlfriend.  I used it when the dogs had decided that together, there was a greater chance of opening a packet of crisps that fell off the dining table, when one held on to the edge of the packet and the other tore at it with his teeth.

 This term was not a reflection of an apathetic attitude nor was it a reflection of a lack of passion.  Rather, it was a reflection of knowing which battles were worth fighting for, and an acknowledgement that challenges will exist no matter how prepared we were.  So why not turn them into opportunities?   It was also a reflection of our appreciation for the differences in our highly interesting world filled with quirky people and bumpy roads.  Life would have been mundanely monochromatic without them.

Appreciating The Differences

David’s approach to the Chinese New Year celebrations underscored my point about appreciating the differences around him.  He was not new to the Chinese culture having spent half his life in this part of the world from Hong Kong to Singapore.  However, what I thought most remarkable was his appreciation of what was beyond the cultural celebrations but also the cultural expectations of his role as the son-in-law of the eldest child of the Ong family.  He took that role seriously, even when it meant ferrying my parents around when they needed his “ferrying service”, visiting my parents weekly, paying respect to my Granny and my parents on the first day of Chinese New Year, and eating whatever my Mum served at the table even when it looked like it was still moving.  David just went with the flow, embraced the whole family traditions and accepted the family quirks with this attitude – Whatever.

When we attended mass every Sunday as a family,  he went with the flow of the service and stood when he was required to, sat when he was required to and sang the hymns when he was required to, in between laughing at the old lady sitting next to him, who went off key.  When he was required to “offer a sign of peace”, he even politely bowed to that same old lady next to him, bowed to the other church-goers who sat  behind us, and gave me a kiss on my forehead.  For an atheist who had no concept of a divine being unless he could whip up an exquisite Banoffi pie, I truly appreciated the way he tagged along and just went with the flow of the service with the same attitude – Whatever.

Acknowledging That Challenges Exists No Matter What

At work, the same attitude - Whatever - governed the way we managed issues.  When big projects got unceremoniously dropped on our laps, we just took control and did what we could to launch them successfully.  These provided me with the opportunity to showcase the team’s strengths and highlighted their respective talents.  When the going got tough, the tough just kept going at it.  And the trick was to stay focused on the deliverables.  When obstacles got in the way, we would mutter “Whatever” under our breath and just got on with it.  We knew where best to invest our time and energy – on the projects – instead of mulling over obstacles, grieving over nay-sayers and nitpicking over the nitwitted ideas of marketers-want-to-be.

This morning, we encountered a colleague who snapped at us because she thought she was the only  one who had to deal with issues on a daily basis.   Funnily, my entire team has never snapped under pressure.  They were always composed, calmed and assured of their skills enough to get on with it.  To that colleague, we said, “Whatever.”  The opportunity presented itself for the rest of the company to see what a complete idiot she had made herself to be.

Picking The Right Battles

 Whenever my day did not turn out the way it should, I would just throw my hands up in the air and say, “Whatever,“  before taking a walk for a wee while.  Those precious few minutes should not be underrated because they gave me time to think about which battles were worth fighting for. 

 Lately, Joel had not been joining David and I, when we went out for dinner or a movie.  For one, he would do anything possible not to be seen with us two old fogies.  It was just “not cool”.  Secondly, he had his social life down to pat, what with a girlfriend and a busy schedule with his industrial attachment at the hospital.  I missed him tremendously but…oh well, whatever…If he needed me, he would know where to find me.
  
Whatever – The Magic Word

Whatever had become a magical word that swept the frustrations, grief, anxieties and anger away.  It kept us more focused, hence more productive.  It made life much easier because with that word, we all learnt to just get along with each other, even when we had differences of opinions.   We learnt to accept each others’ quirks and dismissed them as “WHATEVER”.  We opened our hearts and minds to new experiences, because we approached every challenge along the way with this attitude -  “WHATEVER”.  It turned differences in opinions into friendly banter when "WHATEVER" was used as a response to skeptics who thought my gifts as a Tarot reader and Numerologist was "wanky". 

When I posted the word "WHATEVER" as my Facebook status update, a friend asked, "Really, Jo? Whatever? Not like you at all."  I answered, "Yeah. Whatever. This is the year that I shall not sweat the small stuff, shall not bother with small-minded people, and shall not bear  grudges within me.  Whatever."

Try it from time to time.  It might save you from bursting a blood vessel just because some things did not go your way.   


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.

Photo credit: David Ash, www.singaporemaven.com

We Survived Three Weeks Without The Housekeeper

The Dustpan Fairy

We survived 3 weeks without Evelyn when she went on her vacation back to her hometown in Baguio, in the Philippines.  The 3 of us, David, Joel and I had established who was to be in charge of what chores.  I kept to my end of the bargain with the daily mopping of the entire home and cleaning of the toilets.    Without help, and already suffering from knee injury that never got healed properly, I injured my back in the process.  Yes, that was my opportunity to whip out my “sympathy-seeking” violin.

Joel and David took turns to walk the dogs.  Joel cleaned his room up and cleared it off old clothes, books and other old junk.  He also helped with the mopping when he saw me struggling with it.   David was supposed to be in charge of the laundry.  Yes,  he did do the laundry.  What he forgot was that LAUNDRY encompassed not only putting the clothes into the washing machine and the dryer thereafter, but also the IRONING.   

When Evelyn returned home last week, she almost fainted at the sight of 2 mountain load of un-ironed clothes left in her room.  Each pile was about 3meters high.  When I ran out of knickers and t-shirts, he waved his hand cursorily at me and said,” Go and buy some at Marks and Spencer’s!”  For most of those 8 years when Evelyn became part of our family, the men in my household assumed there was a dustpan fairy and ironing fairy that kept our home clean and spotless and their shirts ironed, folded or hung nicely in the wardrobes.

The Kitchen Fairy

Evelyn always took care of our diet.  For the 8 years that she had worked with us, she rode through my erratic diet fads from vegetarian, to vegan, to south beach and now, Paleo.  She took pains to do her research on what she could cook and what she could not, no matter which diet fad I was on at that particular moment.  With Joel, she was “nanny from hell” because she force-fed vegetables and anything green down his throat so that he could grow up strong and healthy.  He is 21 years old now, and is still being force-fed with vegetables and anything green.

David adopted all the diets that I went through apart from anything that contained alcohol.  So when our diet-du-jour was Paleo, he was happy to have steak and salad for dinner but washed them all down with a beer.  That was the only thing he would not compromise.  Evelyn supported his effort to get healthier by stocking the fridge and larder with fruits, salads, low-fat yoghurt, roast chicken breast and nuts.  This meant that when David felt the urge to snack in the middle of the night, he would not have the desire the open that larder door when all he could find in there was a musty tin of teabags and a pack of nuts.  When I asked for a vegetarian dinner, she would whip up a beautiful chicken pie for dinner without telling David and Joel that she had put broccoli and other forms of veggie goodness into the pie – and there was no chicken in it.

So Evelyn was also our nutritionist-cum-dietitican-cum-experimental chef in our home.  However when she was away,  we survived on M&Ms for breakfast, a chocolate bar gifted to us at Christmas for lunch, and a truck-load of egg mayo sandwiches for dinner.  We figured, that the egg was protein and the beetroot in the red velvet cake bought from the store was a vegetable.  And we got our fair amount of nutritious wheat from the beers.  

Needless to say, she was mortified when she heard about how the home became a mismanaged summer camp for errant kids.  The look of dismay registered on her face when she opened the fridge and saw pet bottles of diet coke, chocolate, half-eaten cake and biscuits of every variety lined up in the larder.

The Dog-Walking Fairy

The dogs missed Evelyn as much as we did.  In fact, Bailey had separation anxiety and slept in her room every night when she was away.  During the day, he sat by the door in anticipation that Evelyn would return to tickle his belly.  When we went out, Bailey threw tantrums by overturning his food bowl and creating a mess in the kitchen. 

When Evelyn got back and saw how unkempt the dogs were, as David did not put in the effort to give them their weekly bath, she was truly upset and considered it animal cruelty.  She very quickly bundled all 3  mutts under her arms and promptly had them bathed and brushed the very hour she stepped into the home right after arriving from the airport.

We Have Been Spoilt

Yes we have truly been spoilt by Evelyn.  She was like an elder sister to me,  an aunt to Joel, a  mum to the dogs….and…. nanny to David.   I have to admit it was a difficult 3 weeks without her because we had to juggle extremely busy schedules at work or school, my Dad’s health, the year-end festivities and the housework.  We often took her for granted because she was  the dustpan fairy and the kitchen fairy.  We always came home from work to a clean and neat home, happy dogs, and hot and healthy meals.

We are very grateful for Evelyn's presence in our lives.  She is like Mrs Doubtfire...big, burly and with hairy legs, but we love her all the same and cannot do without her.  


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.

I Believe In The Magic Of Christmas

I do believe in the magic of Christmas after all.  It was nothing short of a miracle that Dad could be discharged just in time to come home for Christmas.  

When he suffered that stroke last Thursday, he looked so frail and he could not lift his left arm and leg.  An MRI later revealed that he had quite a few blockages and the situation could have been disastrous if Mum had not taken him to the hospital in time.  From what the doctors and nurses had been telling us, it looked like he would be hospitalized for at least a week to two weeks, maybe more.   It did not help that from time to time, Dad's frustrations at being 'confined' had made him defiant and not willing to cooperate with the therapist when it came to his rehabilitative exercises.

However, Mum and I were at the hospital daily to comfort him, kept him company and persuaded him to focus on recovery.  I was determined that Dad did not give up,  So I spent that time talking about his days as a politically detainee and searched for photographs of his old friends who were fellow ex-detainees on my iPad so that it could trigger his memory.  I gave the other patients around him names too.  I named them after his old friends just because some of them resembled his old cronies, and that made him laugh a lot. To help bring back strength to his left hand, I persuaded him to "ring the door bell and run away". So, he rang the buzzer to call for the nurse, and when the nurse turned up by his bedside, he said "I don't need anything."  That annoyed the nurses, but both of us had such a good laugh.

Perhaps, the laughter, the old stories, the company, and just knowing that his family loved and supported him, was enough to motivate Dad to recover enough to get discharged earlier than expected.  

So while we cancelled every Christmas party, my parents' 45th wedding anniversary party and several other social engagements, I went ahead to host our annual family Christmas Eve dinner.  Dad gamely showed up at my home for that dinner, the day he got discharged.  Understandably, he still looked frail, but noticeably happy.  And he had a glass of wine too to celebrate Christmas with us.

When I looked at my entire extended family happily chatting around Dad, I was a-washed with bliss.  I felt so much gratitude for the prayers for Dad from my friends in Singapore and all over the world.  When mum and I were feeling so down because of Dad's hospitalization, the only reason we had hope was because of the prayers of everyone who supported us.  So from the bottom of my heart, thank you for helping me BELIEVE in the magic of Christmas.

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 and PR 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 colloquail 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.

I truly do

Dad  - Blending in with the sofa.  He looked tired but happy

Mum and I having a good laugh at
the antics Dad and I got up to at the hospital

The antics never cease.  Grandma did not realise that I clipped a wee Santa's hat on her head.  She went home looking like that.

Our roast turkey with figs and chestnut stuffing.
It was the best turkey yet.

David cooked these.  Roasted potatoes with rosemary,
roasted parsnips with honey, roasted carrots with orange juice and brussels sprouts with wasabi glaze

David, the exhausted chef

An Indomitable Spirit

"Strength does not come from physical capacity. It comes from indomitable will." ~ Mahatma Ghandi

A Change of Plans For Christmas 

We had big plans for the year-end merry-making.  Mum was preparing to whip up a big lunch the weekend before Christmas, to celebrate the Winter Solstice.   I was going to be hosting our annual family Christmas Eve dinner.  On 27th December, Mum organized a big dinner party to celebrate my parents' 45th wedding anniversary. Dotted in between these, we have got several invitations to join our friends in their Christmas celebrations.

However, these plans had to change.

Dad Is not Well

Dad was suddenly hit with a stroke and  taken to the hospital where he was also diagnosed for Parkinson's disease and dementia.  That meant he will need to be religious about his long term rehabilitative program after he got discharged.   In fact, Dad was diagnosed with a silent stroke a few years back and the neurosurgeon did advise that he should do his rehabilitative exercises regularly.  Of course, Dad was stubborn and would rather continue eating and living well in his own way than to spend time in and out of the rehabilitative cente. Even when his mobility deteriorated to the point where Mum had to assist him with basic activities like bathing, eating and walking, he would make an effort to shuffle from the bedroom to the living room, holding onto furniture for support along the way.  We were not thrilled by this because we were worried about him falling at some point but we could not stop him.

Well, this time round it certainly was not a silent one.  His left arm and leg got impacted, his speech slurred more, and he looked confused.  I had seen Dad become increasingly frail over the years, but I have never seen Dad looking completely lost and feeling helpless.  My heart broke when I saw him being wheeled through the doors to get to his MRI session.  His even frailer form looked so broken.  However, no matter how ill or weak he was, I detected fire in his eyes.

He Still Has Fire In His Belly

His frail frame disguised the fire in his belly.

When the therapist came along to ask how old he was, he slurred defiantly, "..as old as the hills...and older than you."  When the therapist asked him to point to his eye with his finger, and then to point to his tummy next, he slurred even more defiantly, "You are asking me to do such a simple thing?"   I had a good laugh as I thought, "That was not a question honey, my Dad wants you to stop insulting his intelligence."  He struggled to get out of his bed and told me as he pointed to the nurses, "Come on, let's go.  They are preparing for us to leave."    The nurse told him that he was not going to be able to go home just yet.  So he looked squarely at her and challenged, " That is what you say."   For once, I was thankful that he was not mobile enough to put himself in any danger.  I was however impressed that in spite of his frailty, that indomitable spirit never waned.

I grew up watching and learning from that indomitable spirit. Just before he was incarcerated without trial for his "off-center" political views in 1978,  I remembered the moments when the lackeys of the Establishment marched Dad, in handcuffs, into our home while I was having Mandarin lessons with the tutor.  I saw  how frail and helpless Dad looked then ( like he did just now as he was wheeled out of the ward for his MRI session)  surrounded by a bunch of burley men hiding behind dark glasses, walkie-talkies and cheap plastic name tags.   Yet, at that point, he tried to be stoic and promised Mum and I  that all was going to be fine.  I was however, mortified that these strangers could barge into my home to disturb the peace of a once happy family.  I was extremely angry that they handcuffed a man with alternative political views when that handcuff should be reserved for common criminals. I was even more aghast at the thought that Dad was going to be taken away from us, without trial, without any ability to defend himself.  I rushed towards Dad  shouting " Let him go, you bastards.  He is not a criminal."   Dad shot them a very angry look.  It took me years to realize the anger was not at what had happend to him, but at the terrible way in which they handled the issue in front of his family that included an 8 year old.   His indomitable spirit never waned even then, as he just wanted to protect his family.

Bringing Christmas To Dad

Dad's condition will not get better.  That is the fact about stroke.  It is a condition that should be managed, but it will never get better.  As the doctors put him through tests after tests here at the hospital, he said, " They are wasting my time."  I agree.  They are.  I felt his frustrations.  I am sure somewhere in these tests, they are doing something productive to help him get better but I am not seeing it just yet.  His lack of rest at the hospital is not helping.   I wished I could take him home with me now and we could all have a fabulous Christmas celebration together as a family.  But I know that is not possible.  So, like Dad, with his indomitable spirit, if he cannot join me for our annual family Christmas Eve dinner, I will bring the Christmas revelry to him at the hospital on Christmas Day. 

Joel, please chill the wine already.

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 and PR 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 colloquail 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.

This is Dad when he was younger.  Wasn't exactly David Hasselhoff..more like an Asian Che Guevera eh? This picture was taken during a family vacation at Desaru Beach in Malaysia. I remembered he lost his glasses in the waves.

The New Domestic Goddess

The Working Mother Without A Home Portfolio

I felt quite disturbed by the fact that while my sunny disposition had given me the moniker of Sun Goddess, my culinary and housekeeping skills had not framed me as a Domestic Goddess.  For years, I had been whipping up delectable dishes for my men  from an unrivalled roast leg of lamb, to a power-packed Peranakan chicken curry that was considered the best in Singapore, Johore and some say Batam too.  I had been picking up their laundry to put back into the laundry basket, instead of having dirty laundry decorate the floor around the basket.  I had even walked the dogs when the both of them pretended to snooze like the annoying  passengers  who occupied the seats for the disabled in a crowded train. 

Yet, I was not known  as  a Domestic Goddess!  I found myself unfairly dismissed as the “Working Mother Without A Home Portfolio”, much like a “Minister Without Portfolio” when the latter had been put on the roll-call of cabinet personnel bound for that invitation list of the next civil service retirement party.

The Housekeeper Is On Vacation


Okay, I should admit that my multi-talented  housekeeper Evelyn, with her cooking, baking, sewing, housekeeping skills and uncanny ability to burp while she brushes her teeth in the morning, had  rendered me rather useless for the last 8 years.  Evelyn is a key member of my family, and possibly the designated Chief Operations Officer of the Ash household.   David, Joel and I would be lost without Evelyn.  David would not know where he had kept his camera equipment, Joel could never find his shoes and I would not know how the kitchen appliances work without her. 

Evelyn is about to leave for a 3 week vacation back to her home country in the Philippines, and my men are frantic, treating her impending absence as a major disaster.  When I told them that I would be in charge of the kitchen for the next 3 weeks, I was dismayed to see horror registered on their faces.


The Domestic Goddess

For the next 3 weeks, I am determined to prove to my men that I am not only the Sun Goddess, but I am the Domestic Goddess too.  I have delegated the laundry, garbage and bathroom duties to David, and Joel will be official care-taker of the mutts.  The kitchen is of course, my domain. 

My biggest project is the annual traditional family Christmas Eve dinner when I will be expecting about 25 of my extended family members at my home to celebrate the yuletide season with us.  Yes, I will be cooking.  I was not too ambitious so I had the chef at one of my favourite restaurants prepare the roast turkey with figs and chestnut stuffing.  I did not know what a fig looks like you see.  However, I will be cooking the rest of the meal which will include a grilled salmon with lemon, mint and parsley, roast potatoes and parsnips with rosemary, a seafood salad  with raspberry vinaigrette and a shepherd’s pie.    Thank goodness Uncle Winston will be bringing a cake. 


Get Off The Speed-Dial

I cannot wait to prove to my men that I can actually cook and clean on top of managing the marketing and PR projects at work and reading Tarot cards for clients.  The world is filled with so many multi-talented working mothers.  I could be one too.  I just wished David and Joel had more faith in me.  As I was writing this blog post, I spotted them attaching  Pizza Hut’s and McDonald’s flyers on the refrigerator door and putting their numbers on speed-dial.


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.

Joel - attempting to get acquainted with the mop.

Bailey - getting acquainted with the toilet brush