Bento Fun!

I had, on a whim, signed us up for a Winnie the Pooh Bento making session, conducted by Little Miss Bento.

With much groaning this morning, we dragged ourselves out of bed, waved goodbye to Little Foot, and trotted off to take a bus to the class (our dear old car broke down and is in the workshop).

Along the way, we joked about how long it had been since we held hands and swinged them while we walked,  and how we couldn’t remember the last time we took a bus together. (Yeah yeah, I know, first world problems… we’re such spoilt pple…)

Anyway, we had fun learning how to colour the rice, making the shapes for the characters, and cutting the seaweed for the eyes and brows. At one point, Papa Long lost Winnie’s eyebrows… and I was trying to reduce the size of Piglet’s nose until I felt a little cross-eyed.

It was a refreshing kind of different Sunday for us…. more importantly, we got “we time” together.

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And then we made it up to Little Foot for going missing on Sunday Morning by presenting to her the bentos.  Of course, some parts were not suitable for her to consume (e.g fried chicken and ham), so we removed those.

Maybe one day when Little Foot is older and needs to bring lunchbox to school, Papa and I will find time to make such cute bentos for her, but I’m quite excited by the whole thing, so I hope to try making more when I find time.

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Mr logical…never let go

“The road ahead is long… you can walk fast, you can walk slow…. but more importantly, as husband and wife, we need to walk side by side at the same pace, helping each other along the way, never letting go.”

On Tuesday, we woke up to what we thought would be a usual work day.

Then our phones kept buzzing. Friends were sending us screenshots of the post “My imperfect husband” which kept appearing all over their Facebook feeds.

Yay, it had gone viral. Which blogger didn’t hope that their blog would go viral? Still, I was having a nagging feeling at the situation. It was a blogpost from April after all. Why did it suddenly spin off?

I guess it got shared so much to a point that it got into the wrong hands. A friend alerted me to a screenshot of a certain trashy news site in Singapore (let’s not drive more traffic to them, since that was their purpose in the first place, with ads plastered all over).

We’re talking bad headline, accompanied by  trashy photos (of a woman in some ridiculous skimpy dress sitting on a man. Sorry, those people don’t look half as good as us IMHO). And we started to see people scolding me and calling me names online both on that page and in comments posted to my blog.

I asked Papa Long, “How?”

Because we were at work, I turned off this blog. The amount of notifications were just too distracting. Friends were asking me if I was okay and rallying around me while concurrently, strangers were condemning me because they missed the whole point of “My imperfect husband”.

Too much buzz around me. I tuned out and concentrated on work.

After work, Papa Long went for dinner and drinks with his buddies. The boys posted a group shot of themselves having coffee together with the caption “Dinner with kakis. We are all imperfect 😛

They sure know how to spin a positive note to the whole situation. I laughed out loud to myself in the darkness of our bedroom while Little Foot was soundly sleeping when I saw the photo and the caption. And I’m sure all the wives at home were laughing too.

When he got home at night, we chatted about it. Logical as usual, Papa Long said “you shouldn’t have made the blog private. It just made people searching for the article go to the trashy site, and gave them more traffic! And they see the distorted version!”

I asked him how he felt. Was he sad? (Since that was the question people were throwing at me online, that I had shamed him and he would be sad that I badmouthed him publicly) He laughed and said “Those people missed your point. It is all about not staying angry and moving on so that you get a better outcome”. As usual, he was never one to make a big deal out of anything. He also happily showed me a photo of one of his buddies who took a photo with our car, as it was now the “celebrity car”.

In the end, he always reads me best, and he’s always the chill one. When I’m unsettled, he provides an anchoring point and clarity. He took the situation, removed the emotions, evaluated it, then presented it in plain simple terms. Then figure out the next steps.

Perhaps that’s all there is to it. Where I am lacking, you fill in those gaps. Where you can’t do well, I help you along. We are all imperfect, but we complement each other.

The road ahead is long… you can walk fast, you can walk slow…. but more importantly, as husband and wife, we need to walk side by side at the same pace, helping each other along the way, never letting go. Along the way we will continue to have debates and bickers e.g. whether we should have ice cubes in our freezer again, or whether organic foods are just a marketing ploy to cheat our money (I still buy organic veggies for Little Foot).

The important thing is to keep walking together, and be good role models for Little Foot.

And we hope that when we reach the sunset at the end of the journey, it would have been a meaningful walk together… then we could sit down, pat each other on the back and say “I guess we didn’t do too badly”.

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P.S. We won the battle in some way as the post of the offensive article was removed from the trashy site’s Facebook page on Tuesday afternoon (thanks to strength in numbers), and the article was removed last evening.

 

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Of working mothers and our unnecessary guilt

…don’t think of working mothers as people who just leave office on time and do less than you. Think of us as people who have to try to do 48 hours of work in 24 hours.

It’s been half a year since I returned to work. As I gear up at work (not really by choice, but one should always have an honourable sense of responsibility), I find that I’m stretched thin when I try to be my best at home and at work.

It’s not just the past two weeks, but it’s a nagging guilt that I suppose every working mother carries.

I think I give myself a hard time too much and too unnecessarily.

I feel bad when I am home later than usual.

I feel bad saying goodbye every morning when Little Foot would sputter and burst into tears, try to reach for me, try to stop me from leaving.

I feel bad when I go do ” me things” like get a haircut after work instead of running straight home.

Heck, I feel bad even about slowly sauntering home instead of brisk walking home from the train station!

Imagine how bad I felt when I had to pry myself from her on Sunday morning while she was kicking up an epic tantrum,  because I have to go be somewhere for work.

Some days I wonder if I’m the only mum in this world that beat myself over every second not given to my daughter.  Maybe not.

As I grapple with my feelings and try to continue to keep work and life separate, I sometimes pause to ask myself “why am I making things so hard for myself?”

And I would remind myself that it’s ok to have “me time” it is ok to still want to excel beyond motherhood. Otherwise,  there is no me left. I cannot simply be Little Foot’s mummy without also living for myself. My hopes, my aspirations,  my needs and wants, they still matter.

To the other folks out there… don’t think of working mothers as people who just leave office on time and do less than you. Think of us as people who have to try to do 48 hours of work in 24 hours. We juggle, we struggle…sometimes we look like we aren’t putting in as much as you.  I beg to differ if you think that way. We are just forced to become more effective and efficient. The work of a mother never ends. At 1am, we may be dealing with a kid awakened by nightmare. At 3am we could be dealing with a dirtied bed because baby puked… we have teething and fevers, flu and vaccinations to deal with. These things don’t make appointments with you. They happen whether a mother likes it or not.

AND we still reply the Whatsapp messages related to work at night, or boot up the laptop at odd hours to get some work done after the baby is asleep.

AND we still turn up for work the next morning (after dealing with a whole set of morning routine with the kid), grab a caffeine fix, and proceed to try to meet whatever deadlines we have, and look sharp at meetings. We would like to dream of our beds, but we don’t.  We tell ourselves not to waste time thinking about the bed. Because then the unnecessary guilt kicks in and we say “Hurry up,  get the work done. Baby’s waiting”.

We don’t bring our moods to work. Because moods and tantrums makes us less effective at work. And we know, we know there is always that one unmarried/childless colleague or boss who is lurking in the corner, waiting to see us trip up and think, “see, these mummies… they aren’t as committed, they aren’t as good….”. So we try harder than anyone else to be professional, because the odds are not in our favour.

Of course, there may be some working mothers who really don’t commit as much as the bare minimum,  those are not the ones I speak for… I speak for those who are like me, trying to be the best on all fronts and always guilt-tripping ourselves unnecessarily all the time because, really we wish we could do more on all fronts. We’ve given up gym and spas and “chill out after work” sessions with colleagues, all so that we can give more to work and home. Think of us while you chill. Have a beer in our honour.

The road ahead as a working mother is long… somehow, I know things will pan out fine. Because when in doubt, I come home to hug my baby and let her smiles wash all my worries and fears away.

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Every morning, Little Foot waves goodbye to me tearfully. A shot taken from the lift landing that peers into my balcony.

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