Author: alittlefootprint

My little merlion… and the mother who is not in control

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We had an eventful weekend… plenty of activities lined up for Little Foot. And four puke sessions. 

Unfortunately for our poor baby pie, she was bloated since Friday and ended up vomiting 3 times on Saturday and once on Sunday. 

Somehow beyond the projectile sessions, she seemed completely fine and was her usual active and inquisitive self.  

Merlion #1 – 7early8early

First thing in the morning, she asked for milk when she woke up late ( Yay! It’s public holiday so we get to sleep late!!). Shortly after finishing her 120ml, half of that came out onto the mattress.  

After bath, she was fine…and restless. So we went to view the slide a neighbour put up for sale and brought it home.  She had about 20 rounds on it immediately. 


Merlion #2 – most memorable award

After an outing to Punggol settlement and a play session at BFF’s  place, we headed out in 2 cars to Ikea Tampines. Little Foot had been drinking green tea from the Hello Kitty Bottle, when the car was reversing… she suddenly made that oh-so-familar  face. Next thing we knew… she created a projectile inside the car….complete mayhem! Papa hurriedly got to us and carried her out where she vomited more. The seat and carpet inside our swanky new car…and my pants were the collateral damage. So we managed to clean our crying toddler up first. And parked her in the car boot while we waited for my bro and family to swing back to his house to get me spare pants. And waited for Papa to get some water  to try to clean the car. Luckily she was happily self-entertained by the 2 plastic bottles. 


Merlion #3 – silent in her sleep

We gave her very light dinner at Ikea. And when she got home she went to sleep after a bath. In her sleep near midnight… she suddenly turned to her side and puked. Without warning! 

This time I’m so worried… really wondering what’s wrong with her tummy. Nevermind…  we went to sleep after washing her up. Its not like going to KKH to queue up would make her feel better.  Let her sleep. 

Merlion #4 – and we thought it was over

Sunday. Bright and early we went for a birthday party…  cheerful baby was all ready to play! I pretty much put Saturday’s vomit sessions behind me. 

The party  was good…she won herself a sticker tattoo at one of the party games, played a lot in Cool de sac and then ended with a nice stars body painting done.  


Went to my mum’s place with a balloon in her hand…. she had milk lying down on the bed together with Kylie. Done, got up and out to look for Papa… next thing I knew, I heard the shout that she’s puked again. 

Didn’t dare feed her dinner…. gave her a few mouthful of oats. And then I nursed her to sleep.  

What a weekend…. 

What didn’t help was all the “wise words”…

The Papa had to guilt trip me about her diet. Ya… my fault that no one cooked her lunch on Saturday before we went out. He had all these “don’t give her this…. don’t give her that”… but she had to eat something right??

My fault that we go to some eating place and there’s no healthy kids meal (name me a place that does). And she ends up eating the ice cream when I didn’t ask for a float. 

As to why even her daily home food is too flavourful and like adult food…  also my fault? Maybe I’ve left it too free rein? I don’t know when it started, but her food became like our food…. I didn’t say retire the blender. I didn’t say add salt or soy sauce….c’mon, I was the crazy OCD mama who didn’t want her to touch any sugar in her first year! Of course the food in school doesn’t really help too, since it’s quite tasty. Foodie Little Foot is starting to be fussy now about tastes…it has disturbed me a little but I’ve kept quiet after my “suggestions” don’t seem to register in anyone’s head. And frankly I’m too tired with work and giving her all my free time to be a hawk. Some days I give her the ice cream so it buys me time to eat my dinner, since no one wanna help me there.

I’m the mother…I think I’m entitled to offer her an ice cream or a pack of chocolate milk. Maybe that gave everyone else around me the wrong signals that they can do it freely too. I can’t control what I’m not around to control. Or maybe I’ve closed one eye for too long. 

And sometimes I wonder why nag at me only… he keeps quiet and not tell our helper himself if he’s not happy about how she handles certain things. 

So Little Foot will now need to go into “rehab” back to healthy baby food…. Oh yah, I say only lor… Will anyone listen?  He say lor…will he do the disciplining and get her to follow his dream regime? Or I’m just the person who gets drenched in puke, pat her back to sleep throughout fitful nights and still get to hear the incessant chants of “you let her eat this eat that….”, and the person who has to sort everything out.  Oh yah… me. Just me. 

Why? Because I’m the mother. And anything happens, it’s my fault by default. Nevermind that I feel the most heartache when I have to watch her in her fitful sleep the whole weekend and I didn’t even sleep well. That’s the way the world works. 

Sad that I feel like I’m not in control and yet I get to bear the brunt. 
I guess when the little one is sick… tempers fly and fingers are quick to point at each other. You judge me, I have many things to say about your behaviour too. And we can start this crazy war…but I’m tired and I really just want to sort this out. I want to sort out many things, yet I am a lone ranger here. Obviously when I have a toddler trying to get a go at me and yanking at my top while I try to eat some dinner tonight and the father just sits back and half-heartedly act like he’s even stopping her, I don’t feel like I’m getting much help here. And everyday it is the same….every meal of mine is spent fending off the little one. While everyone pretends they are temporarily deaf and blinded. Some days I want to smash my dinner plate really. Some days I wish I could just eat outside so my food can actually go down the right tunnels and not cause me to also want to throw up from gastric pain. 
Just for once, I wonder what really went wrong. Maybe my general uselessness domestically is the problem. Or maybe I don’t make myself clear enough. 

Times like this, I  try to find strength by focusing on my Little Foot. 

I can do better.  I must do better.  

Or at least die trying to do better.

What space?

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A personal take on this unfortunate small spaces remark taken out of context. All sparked by the headline on ST’s article “You don’t need much space to have sex”. 
Granted, Mrs Teo had bravely soldiered on to clarify that her words were taken out of context (according to CNA article), but it has sparked a conversation, and a very important one, that is needed between the government and Singaporeans.
What Space? 
It was never about space for making the babies. It has always about the space to raise that baby. It is about providing a safe haven, a suitable environment for raising children the way we want it. Singaporeans have expectations, hopes and dreams. And we expect to be given that freewill to plan how they want life to pan out, what kind of standard of living and environment they would like to provide for our children. That’s what we studied hard, slogged hard for. We didn’t ask for matchbox size flats, but we have adapted to the reality that living spaces will shrink. So, even if matchbox size, we take it, because we want that space to start our own family and have a roof over our heads. Our own roof. Not our parents’.  We are Asians. Culturally, that roof over the head has always been very important to us, at least that’s what my parents have always said. As long as we have a roof over our heads, everything else can fall in place. 
 
In other countries, it is normal to have kids first (sometimes accidentally), then marry (or not). Do we want to go down that route to up the fertility rate? I think our society is not yet ready for the Brangelina arrangements (that is, prior to their marriage and now dramatic divorce). Pragmatic Singaporeans are not ready to live on love alone – not when a giving birth can cost nearly 10K or even more when things don’t go quite as planned, and that’s just the “start-up cost” to parenthood. Childcare, medical care, everything costs money. Singaporeans plan and plan, perhaps over-plan. I’d take this attitude over reckless one-night stands any day where you get knocked up, then you go home and ask your parents “How lidat? You can help me raise my child?” and expect to continue to lean on that support from our parents who have slogged half their lives away and burst their bubble of retiring and going backpacking around the world. 
 
Personally, we only started thinking if we should have a child after we have finally settled down in our own flat. We had lived apart for a year after marriage for a myriad of reasons. And it was only when things stabilised mentally, emotionally, financially, then we finally felt ready and confident that we can provide a good home for our child, then I started to even entertain the idea of being a parent. 
“Home” not “House”.  
Home is that place where make memories, where we get to decide how the sleeping arrangements will be, have our own cosy corners, babyproof it, and ensure it is a feasible place emotionally for the child. Our way. At our parents’ place, we wouldn’t be able to decide many things. Space is limited, you can’t tell the smoker not to smoke, can’t decide on whim to redecorate the spare room (what spare room?) etc. Living three generations together adds a layer of complexity in the family dynamics, sometimes adding stress, which may rub off on the kids.
Sure, there are pros to living with parents too… extra pair of hands and eyes, but we also need to understand that not all parents want to be that pair of hands and eyes. My mother quickly swatted off the idea of quitting her job to help any of us look after our children. Fair enough. Why should she? She too wants to look after her career, and not all grandparents are the “coochie coochie!” kind. She’s happy being a weekend grandmother.
I ramble, but put simply, living separately from my parents made relationship better and healthier. We see them every weekend, we call and Whatsapp regularly, share photos and nuggets of information. It’s all good. Let’s face it, they too deserve a break from us.
One can say “you can just make the baby first”, then everything else will fall in place. True, Mrs Teo’s got a point. Perhaps there lies in our society a growing population of people who want to do first think later, live the YOLO life. Not me. If you are, then good for you. Being responsible for another human life is a huge huge responsibility, and I’m not going to just say YOLO and do it. 
Yes, the clock continues to tick when we wait for the flat. For many like me who will lose sleep over this unstable/uncertain arrangement, we will say, “so be it”.
In the end, you can nudge, you can bait, you can try to influence, but it will always be a personal choice, how early/how late, how many kids to have, between the couple.
************
The arduous journey for a flat….
We balloted for flats since I was 27. From Blangah Heights to Senja in Bukit Panjang, to Punggol… even various sale of balance flats. Each time we would put the $10.70 and later be informed that we were unsuccessful, sometimes with a 4-digit queue number. I still remember how I cried in frustration when even Senja, so near my in-laws, was not successful (while 2 other friends of his balloted successfully). By the time we finally got to choose our flat through the DBSS route, it would be ready in our early 30s. Little Foot was born when I was 33, a year after we moved in.
It wasn’t even about the $10.70 each time… it was about the painful disappointment because you wonder why, you supposedly accumulated more chance with each unsuccessful attempt, and yet, you keep getting your hopes dashed. Eventually, we did think, we should go for resale or something else. Finally we got queue number 899 for the estate where we live now. That day of selection, was sweaty palms moment when we were waiting for those before us to select their units, holding hands and fervently going , “don’t choose that, don’t choose that!”
A long long journey to finally getting the key to our own home. Can you understand? That’s all we want really.
 

My little rainbow

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“Lemme be your baby just a while longer, 

Let me be your rainbow at the end of a shower,

Just a little cuddle, 

Just another snuggle…

How I hope our lives will always be intertwined together.” 
Inspired by the Tula blanket I got customised by a nice work-at-home mum in Malaysia. 

Do support mummies who are juggling having a second career and taking care of their children. 

I wanna hold your hand…

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Oh… we woke up on a bad note this morning.

Little Foot didn’t wanna wake,

she’d much rather sleep in instead.

We roused her from her morning slumber,

“Oh mummy, what a bummer!”

Yet as we sat in solitude strapped up in the car,

Our little lady held my hands as she gazed afar.

I looked at our fingers curled around each other’s,

I think, “yes this is what it means to be a mother”.

I wanna hold your hands, it read,

This feeling, it melts my heart,

I know I would forever and ever reciprocate.

 

“Foon” -Little Foot’s new word

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​Little Foot is expanding her vocabulary  very fast these days and getting better at trying to pronounce words which I would tell her whenever she asks me “Ah Kis?” (What’s this). 

Her new vocabulary of the day – “foon”. 

Actual word – “phone”. 

Afternoon when she woke up from nap, she was extra sticky to me. She hadn’t seen me since Friday morning as I was caught up with working late Friday night and then left early Saturday morning for a work event.  

She wanted to watch YouTube while she lazed awhile more, so I indulged her as we chilled around the mattress beside the bed watching her favourite Muffins Song clip. 

Then the app hung on the Samsung Tablet… I passed it to Papa who was on the bed to fix. 

“E’s foon! E’s foon!”…. referring to herself.  And her face started to screw up into a epic sad face and tears welled up. 

So I said “ok ok… use mummy’s phone”. And she said lightened up and said “mummy’s foon… mummy’s foon…” but still wanted the Tab back. So I said ok ” trade with Papa.  You take papa’s phone” (buying us time while YouTube was updating). 

“Papa’s foon….Papa’s foon!”

It’s so cute the way she pronounces the word. I try to say it the right way to her although I’m also tempted to call it a foon now. Lolz 

Oh baby, you really are growing up so fast! Now you even identify things that are yours and stake your claim on them! 

The Wakersaur – A play & imagine kind of book 

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I really have to share about this lovely evening I spent with Little Foot, we did many fun things, a rare chance these days ever since she’s started school.

One of the memorable part was reading this book – The Wakersaur.

I pulled this book out from the bottom of a huge stack of baby and toddlers books.

Half expecting her to ignore me, I sat down and read to her anyway.

As I started to read, I got more animated. When I got  to this part “first he’ll tickle the soles of your feet, then the back of your neck…” I tickled Little Foot.

We rolled around giggling!

Then I got to this part when the Wakersaur was expected to rawrrr cos he was angry…no he went “Clock-a-doodle-doo!”

Little Foot loved it! She was chuckling whenever I made the “Clock-a-doodle-doo!”

We finished the book without a hitch. No means feat for a toddler who prefers to order me to play YouTube videos for her nowadays.

Now, at 21 months old, she’s starting to appreciate drama, starting to understand when I describe things and starting to love pretend-play types of activities.

This book fitted the bill completely.

For me, I loved how this book tried to break stereotypes. I guess the Wakersaur is supposed to be some kind of dinosaur, and some young kids are mightily afraid of dinosaurs (okay, The Good Dinosaur not counted). The Wakersaur was the juxtaposition of scary.

I also like how it actually uses the things we as parents would do to wake our kids up.

2 thumbs up for this book. I think it’d be great for parents who struggle with getting their kids out of bed in time for school each morning… maybe a “Clock-a-doodle-doo!” might work after you read this book to them.

Only thing I wish was it came in cardboard version. I am always worried about the books being torn!

Our friend is hungry after reading….we actually went for a stroll and ice cream after the reading session!

*********

A little bit of how I came to be in possession of this book…

Some months ago, an old classmate of mine sent it to us. He wrote the book.

I told him I’d go buy it in the shops, but he was so kind as to mail me one.

I can’t tell you how proud I am whenever I see my friends publish. After all, we all did write too much back in University!

So anyway, back then, I thought this book was too advanced for Little Foot. It required you to imagine… to guess… to speculate who or what a Wakersaur is. So I shelved it together with our enormous book collection.

Yet at the back of my mind, something kept nagging me to give it a try. Glad I did this evening. Else I would have missed that bonding session when we rolled around the playmat in our living room giggling and squealing in delight. And so I take back my premature judgement that this book was too advanced for her, and again remind myself that with kids, the sky can be the limits sometimes.

Thanks for the gift, Shervin.

Do look out for this book in stores. I heard it’s not easy to hunt down, but trust me, when you do, it’s gonna be quite fun (and a riot!) to read it out loud to your little one.

Why I let my child lie down and roll around screaming on the floor in public

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Picture this.

I’m walking in a mall with my Little Foot who’s loudly declaring “Walk! Walk!”.

I hold her hand and she screams and giggles in glee, dragging me headlong into the crowds. Quite cute. She finds a shop with things that attract her interest. She lets go of my hand, giggles and cheekily starts posing around, tentatively walks backwards, checking my reaction. I laugh.

(My inner self: “Die lah… I shouldn’t have laughed…)


And so she thinks its acceptable, and she continues her funny antics. I can feel Papa Long judging me for laughing. Thankfully, she hasn’t quite gotten so bold as to dash away without me, and she’s not quite as mobile as to run on her own, unless she’s running towards me into my arms. But still… I was telling her, is ok to drag your mummy through the crowds, while the rest of the world can’t quite see this 83cm todd.

The nightmare then starts when I said “let’s go!”.

“NO!” She’s still not yet done with the Tsum Tsyum feature wall in Bossini.

(My inner self: uh-oh…..)

And so I found myself carrying the kicking, wriggling loudly protesting toddler out of the shop. She broke free and wanted to go back. Then decided to throw herself flat on the floor in protest….

“No!!!! Ahhhhhhh!”

Yup, Terrible Two alright.

We let her lie down there as she started to kick up a fuss, and said “Come along now”… She ignored us. “Bye Bye!” we walked a slight distance away…to the horror of some passersby. She screamed and cried louder.

After a moment, I walked back, picked her up, and said “Let’s go”… and then try to distract her with something else. A food offer usually works… or comfort latch (ok, some people rolling eyes now I know).

The crying stops.

There is no repeat of this scenario (to date).

***********************

As we inch closer to the Terrific (some say Terrible) Two mark, there are some things that we felt we needed to do for Little Foot.

Helping her understand that there are real dangers out there. I let her into the store to explore, but within boundaries. There are racks and furniture with sharp corners. we point it out to her. There was a socket she tried to put her finger into. We almost freaked out and raised our voices. She also has to understand that Mummy and Daddy are not going to be able to find her everytime and there are bad guys out there. So I try to enforce the hand-holding and no running.

 

Letting her understand what is acceptable behaviour without stifling her curiosity. It is cute to giggle and scream in glee and dash through the crowd when you are a 2-year-old with a coconut hairstyle. Try doing that at 10 years old. Chances are some deranged short-tempered person would come up and scold you, worse, slap you. The world is not so forgiving. Sure, who doesn’t want to explore the mall? All the lights, all the displays, all the new things that triggers her senses… so many things to see, to touch. Exploring is good, but it has to be within a safe and acceptable situation.

 

 

So that day at Suntec, I let her lie down on the floor and make a scene. Everyone who knows me knows it’s very hard for me to walk away from her, but I really tried to harden my heart and do it, while watching her through the side of my eyes, and Papa Long standing nearby. She had to learn that it wasn’t something that was funny. At home if she does that, Papa would pretend to be stepping on her, showing her what it could be, if she did that in public – People will walk past and step the crap outta you. She had to understand that the world will not notice us short folks, and more importantly, kicking up a fuss does not mean she will get her way. Simply put, the world doesn’t owe you a thing.

At 21 months, she’s also trying to grasp her feelings. There will be some crazy evenings when everything is just wrong…. playing with a toy and then she suddenly slams it in frustration (My inner self: Simi daiji?!). She can’t quite tell me why, so those are trying days too, but we still set the limit. If she’s going to get angry and throw herself on the floor, my best offer is to help her lie down there by lowering her slowly so she doesn’t knock her head to bits. And then I leave her there. After awhile, I ask her a question, to signal if she wants to call a truce and then we move on to find something else to do.

Seems to work.


Little Foot has always been, as what we say in dialect, a “Mangzang” (loosely translated to irritable) baby.

We’ve taken awhile, but we’ve sort of gotten the hang of handling her tantrums.

Thankfully, most days, she’s a polite and cheery toddler… and she’s got a thing for music and children’s songs, so those are useful in keeping her happy. YouTube is a lifesaver too (cues anti-YouTube policing mamas!)


Our parenting styles are not perfect, and I make mistakes like sending her wrong signals by laughing at something she shouldn’t be doing. As first-time parents, we also apply some trial and error, and often we just let loose and say “ok, let’s cave in to he demands for that chocolate muffin” or  close and eye when she decides to drag a plastic bag on the floor as she walks, so sometimes she gets confused by me too.

At times, I remind myself that she’s a kid, and kids are entitled to having fun, and I am human. Some days, I too am exhausted and feel like saying “OK lah, you wanna roll on the floor, roll lah!”.

We are all humans after all.

P.S: If you see us letting our kid roll around kicking and screaming in public, don’t judge us. We aren’t doing nothing. We are doing what we need to do, to teach a life lesson on the spot. So bear with us!

Another one for the memory vault – A Frozen Sticker 

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This morning I was walking in my office building and suddenly felt like there was this odd feeling on my sole… thinking to myself “what in the world got into my shoe??”
When I took off my shoes I saw this sticker (from the Frozen Sticker book that Little Foot received from a classmate’s birthday goodie bag) there on my sole.

There I stood in the canteen. Staring at my sole.

I wanted to LOL at the sight of the sticker there.

One day years later, I  want to look back at all these seemingly mundane yet hilarious situations and feel a warm fuzzy feeling in my heart.

A baby leaves all sorts of footprints in our lives… and they have all these innocent ways of invading our thoughts, making us think of them and miss them. They have a way of making us pause in our path and smile. Smile at an action, a memory, even a sticker.

I’m looking forward to more of these little surprises… just hope the next one won’t be something messy like tomato sauce!

A note on that darn Zika

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I read with great worry about the news of the cases of Zika found in SG, and this latest news of a mummy-to-be testing positive for the virus is like a mummy’s worst nightmare come true.

To the mummy-to-be, I can only imagine how much the news must have come as an earth shattering one. The uncertainty, and the agonising wait ahead is going to be a tough one. We are praying for you and your baby. Hopefully all the mummies-to-be will stay safe too.

In the meantime, I hope that the news people will leave the family alone. It is already very stressful for the lady and her family, please do allow them the space to sort out their thoughts and think of their next steps. Don’t try to find her, and definitely please don’t you go camp outside the hospital when it is time for her to deliver her baby. Let the family have their privacy.

My mummy friends having been sharing photos of empty shelves in Watsons’ and Guardian pharmacies..  all the insect repellents have been wiped out. That’s not surprising, considering how it was like during the 2013 Haze, where even Amazon’s stocks of N95 masks were wiped out by us.
To those who are panic-buying insect repellents, think of the pregnant women who need it more than you. It is human to want to buy all for your family. It would be humane to leave some behind on the shelves for those who need a bottle too.  Hopefully the ugly horns of kiasu-ness will not rear among us. We neee to take care of one another, and help to prevent the breeding of the damn mosquitoes.

And a note on fear-mongering…

The symptoms of Zika is very much like Dengue… and in fact any viral infection. I was a little horrified to hear a mummy friend tell us in a chatgroup  how the childcare had called to tell her that her child may have Zika, and asked her to bring the toddler to the doctor.

While we want to practice vigilance, choice of words is critical. How can a school staff be so irresponsible as to jump to the conclusion that the kid has Zika and articulate that to the parent over the phone? Oh… a mozzie bite… that makes about almost all of us then. Little Foot is still recovering from a spate of insect attack and has 5 bite scars on her legs. Should I be running with her to KKH now? Obviously not.. since she’s all fine and dandy and not showing other symptoms. That staff obviously just made the parent panic there. Unnecessarily. How about you just say the child is unwell (what symptoms other than the Mozzie bite), and ask that the child get checked, just to make sure it’s not Dengue or Zika? C’mon… most parents will be headed to the PD anyway once our child is under the weather. Why the need to anyhow “name drop” Zika for dramatic effect? Not funny ok? Let the doctors make the diagnosis.

How we deal with such situations as a nation, really shows what Singaporeans are truly made of. Hopefully we will arm ourselves with the right information, practice civility, don’t waste time fingerpointing, doomsday-prepping. Instead, and spend time helping each other out or clearing the potential mosquito breeding spots in our homes. If your friend really needs help getting the repellents, grab one for her if you see it available in shops.

Here’s more facts  on the virus from The Straits Times.

Mummies-to-be out there, take care and stay safe.

A Gold Medal of dreams and conviction 

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​13 August 2016. The day that will forever be remembered as the day Singapore finally bagged the first Olympics Gold Medal. 

And what a win by Joseph Schooling… this is what everyone here hoped for. That one of our own, with true roots here would score that special first for us. This is something money can’t buy.  

My friend, A pancake princess penned a rather good piece on what the 50.39 secs that captured our attention and imagination meant. I couldn’t have said it better. 

Sporadically throughout the day, I had thought about the significance of Joseph Schooling’s win, and the fact that we as parents sometimes only pay lip service to helping our kid reach for the stars. In reality, our actions pull us in the other direction. When we choose tuition over music and art classes, when we choose to say “I’m too busy” or choose to sleep in rather than go for something that our child badly wants to pursue. Worse, when we decide to sign them up for things that WE want them to be good at because of our unfulfilled dreams. 

I questioned myself, whether we were helping Little Foot blossom into the person that God meant her to be. Maybe it is too early to tell, but surely we must continue to carry that attitude that we will give her time and space to find her footing, while at the same time dare her to dream and have a never say die attitude. 

In teens, I had at one point wanted to chase the sporting dream too, but lacked the talent to complement all the hours in  TKD training (I tried but failed at the Nationals). 

In my teens, I had wanted to continue my love for music, but I shelved that, because I told myself, people from poor families don’t have the luxury of such lofty dreams. 

In his army days, Papa Long was offered a chance to stay on and train as a shooter. He declined the offer,but yet over the years, his eyes would shine and you would see him come alive whenever he talked about going back for reservist, when he told me he got to try new equipment during reservist… and eventually, the sadness when he completed his cycle and reached Military Release status, which meant he couldn’t shoot anymore. (Nowadays, it’s mostly just nerf guns…)

The brakes were jammed by us. Yes, ourselves. Because we didn’t dare to dream, and because no one came and said “it’s not a silly dream. Do chase it!” Because we questioned if our lofty dreams meant that our parents would not finally get to lighten their load. Because we thought, perhaps we were not good enough.  

Surely we are not unique. 

There are dreamers and there are dreamers who make their dreams come true. It take a village to take that dream to the next level. I read with much respect about the faith, love and support that the Schoolings gave to their son. 

And I remind myself, let’s be that kind of parents. Our child will look to us for affirmation, so let’s send the right signals, take on the right attitude. 

I would like to believe that in my life, at least I have tried to inspire my younger siblings to go for their dreams, to let go of their own doubts like I had… to ignore the dissenting views that our parents sometimes could have whenever we so much as sound out if it was ok to take the road less travelled. Today I still try to be that kind of sister, providing an alternative view to the conservative one of my parents (nothing wrong with them really…. that’s just how most baby boomers are). And I want to continue to be that kind of guiding light for my Little Foot.  

To Joseph Schooling, thank you for being that kind of inspiration for many of us, and for generations to come. 50.39 seconds. You gripped our attention and united this little nation. 

The best is yet to be. 

Indeed, you did it like a true ACSian.