Mixed Heritage

Last year, ASid expressed an interest in learning a third language. Apparently, he thought about it a lot and chose to learn his father's heritage language. It was a surprising choice as Craigley does not speak his heritage language. It would have made sense to choose one of the 2 languages I speak other than English! However, ASid gently reminded me that where I came from, he could manage with English; where his dad's ancestors came from, they would respect his efforts to learn their language! I never argue with logic and I almost always support my children's choices. So, started the language lessons...

Craigley decided to take heritage language lessons as well. Secretly, I think he was pleased. First time, in his life, he wanted to connect with his child on a level that is deep and personal, and exclusive! ASid has been soaking it all in for the last 10-11 months. It has been great for the father-son pair to do homework together and to attend classes together. My brother, who has always been an involved uncle, also took the classes with them. His wife joined them for a while as well! I hope ASid realizes how lucky he is to be surrounded by such support.

I am also reminded of how lucky all of us are to live in Toronto and have the opportunity to experience our world this way.

Chucky Update

It seems like I almost abandoned Chucky the last time I wrote about him. I report with mixed feelings (once again) that it ain’t so! I have to remind myself that this was a then 4 year old boy I was writing about…things haven’t changed much; he is now only 5 years old. Some days I feel like I have been very harsh in how I portrayed him; even this moniker I have given him! Yet, I was just writing about incidents as they happened and as they affected my child and me. At that time, I felt helpless. Even now, I try to help this child and feel like a failure. For someone so young, he continues to be a force to reckon with!

Since I believe that it does take a village to raise a child, I have included Chucky in Hans’ life…whether it is walking together from school or having play dates. Chucky has been invited to our home to play with Hans and Hans has been over at Chucky’s as well. Of course, all visits have been supervised by adults…mostly me, me and Chucky’s nanny and once, it was me and Chucky’s mom! Chucky was perhaps the best behaved with his mom and other than that one time, he hasn’t made much progress. This bothers me. This child shows neither fear nor respect for authority or for the adults in his life. He actually believes he is very cool and the strangest reality is that all the kids in his class believe it too. In fact, my child, who barely reads or writes, took the time to type a note to Chucky. The note reads as follows:

I like Chucky he is cool

Obviously, Chucky is not his real name and Hans actually had his real name in the note and Hans could actually spell Chucky’s real name! Hans wants to print this note and present it to Chucky. I was perplexed. But then, I went on a field trip with their class and I was even more perplexed as most of the girls literally fawned over Chucky and insisted on holding his hand and walking. These are 4 and 5 year old children and yet, they were demonstrating their attraction to a child who was completely ignoring his teacher and doing his own thing! The field trip was about discovering little critters outdoors and I discovered a lot more…

Is it really true as the book says that everything we learn we learn in Kindergarten? If so, I am a little concerned for my child. I have told him that he could be friends with Chucky, however he shouldn’t copy everything Chucky does. Hans always assures me that he will not copy Chucky and then I see shades of “chuckiness” in him sometimes…it is scary and still, I can’t bring myself to share my concerns with Chucky’s parents and I do not want to be the “Tattle Tale Mom”! What can I do then? Continue to communicate with my child about right and wrong, and continue to remind him that he can be friends with someone without copying them!

Trick or Treat

On Halloween Day, my little fella fell for the meanest trick a parent can pull on a child. Yours truly is not exactly proud of that moment; however, a parent has to do what a parent needs to do!

A couple of weeks ago Hans started his skating lessons. ASid started early at the age of 3 in a parent-tot skating program. I cannot skate and Craigley, by default, filled in for the parent! Craigley is not exactly patient and ASid was not exactly complacent; a couple of sessions later, ASid knew he didn't care for skating :( With Hans, I got an opportunity to approach skating differently. I waited till he was 5 and put him in a program where a parent is not required on the ice!

Still, there are always growing pains. The first lesson, Hans was crying; however, every time he fell on the ice, he tried to get up! Second lesson as well, he cried! The third lesson fell on the Halloween Day. Hans started protesting right from home itself. When we got to the skating rink, he refused to enter the building. He kept taking off his skates and crying profusely. Out of frustration, I gave him a choice: if he skates, he can go trick or treating; if not, no trick or treating! He chose not to skate. I reiterated the options again. He chose not to skate once again. So, we packed up and left.

After dinner, he realized the gravity of the situation. ASid got ready to go and Hans bawled his eyes out! I did not budge. I reminded him that he made the choice and it doesn't matter how much he cried! I felt terrible inside, but I had to stand by my words as well!

The next morning, the first words to come out of Hans' mouth were, "Next Thursday, I will make the right choice!” After that declaration, he started eating his breakfast. I looked at him and was so proud; and then felt terrible again as he asked, "Can I go trick or treating today?" I had to tell him that Halloween happens only once a year :(

The rest of the day went into reflection and introspection! Does a kid really need to learn skating? May be I should let it go? Should I let a 5 year old make decisions? Who is the parent here? Was I too rough on the little guy? But then it is so easy to quit! It is so much more challenging to keep going...

I believe Hans reflected as well; when he got back from school, he wanted to know why moms and dads are so mean. As much as I was feeling badly about “being mean”, I told him that kids are mean as well! Sometimes kids don’t listen to their parents and it makes their parents sad. Hans seemed to have listened and understood as he didn’t make any other statements or ask any questions!

A couple of days later, Hans needed help with something; even though I can’t recall what it was he needed help with, I can clearly restate part of the conversation that took place. Hans asked for help and I said, “Anything for my superhero!” Hans immediately responded, “Actually Momley, you are my superhero because you do so much for me!”

This was just 2 days after the Halloween incident. My 5 year old made me feel much better with his kind words. This is a child who loves candy and he was deprived of a chance to collect a lot of candy! For one evening, he didn’t have to choose the small bag of candy he is allowed to add to the weekly grocery shopping list. He could keep it all! And he couldn’t! It is great that Hans could get past that incident: Momley 1 Candy 0

Writing

For someone who has wanted to write for a long time, I believe I have found my calling! I know I did mention that I would never never ever be on a School Council again; what can I say, I am no oracle! Now I am a Co-Secretary on Hans' School Council and responsible for the minutes. There are about 210 students, and that means I have a "reader" base of about 400 parents...potentially! The reality could be only 4 readers. It does not matter as some CEOs have started in the mail room...must always dream big :)

The first time, I was really nervous. Would I be able to capture everything said in the meeting? I took notes so intently like I was being evaluated! I managed to type them up within a day and share with the other members of the School Council for feedback. My Co-Secretary remarked that they were the best minutes she ever read! Ofcourse she would say that as she does not want to do the minutes ever and she needs to encourage me so I keep doing them till whenever :)

Talking about "till whenever", I recently noticed that I have only 2 readers for my blog! One of them is KPF (since I compel him to read the posts by sending him reminder email periodically) and the other, it turns out, is my brother (who probably does so out of a sense of some sibling honour code)! Whatever the reasons are from their end, I am glad they keep me going.

Sudden Death

I know it appears like I retired from blogging; I am still alive and well. I just want to take a couple of minutes to express my joy on our Canadian girl, Alice Munro, winning the Nobel Prize for Literature. After about 3 weeks, it may be old news for some; for me, it is an unforgettable moment. Way to go Alice - “master of the contemporary short story”! (note: I am reusing the quotation from the official web site of the Nobel Prize)

And I will be back. I refuse to die the sudden death that many a blogger does!

Growth and Death

Hans started speaking when he was 3 and half years old. Last year, when he started school in JK, his teacher was concerned about his learning abilities. I was very emotional during that period...it was as if I had failed him in some way. A resource teacher was brought in who spent time with Hans and concluded that there is nothing to be concerned about!

This kid has barely been talking for 2 years and he can’t seem to stop talking…even when someone is talking, he jumps in like time is running out and he has the most urgent message to deliver! On one hand, I remind him that he needs to wait his turn to speak or at least interrupt appropriately; and on the other hand, I am so grateful for his enthusiasm to communicate.

About a year and half ago, Craigley’s brother suddenly died from a heart attack. He was only 46 at that time and since it was so unexpected, it came as a shock to the family. We communicated this sad news to ASid; however we decided that Hans who was not quite 4 at that time was too young to understand death and its implications. In spite of it, a few days later, Hans asked me about the attack!

“Momley! Who attacked Uncle Oobie?”

“No one attacked him!”

“Yes, I know. I do. His heart attacked him!”

Even as I was trying to understand what was happening…

“Why did his heart attack him?”

I was trying to come up with some explanation and make some sense.

“Yes! His heart attacked him. He ate too much junk food I think!”

I was hoping that should be enough.

“So he passed away? Where?”

“I don’t know”

“I think I won’t eat junk food…maybe a little bit. OK Momley?”

“Yes! You can eat a little bit of junk food. That’s OK!”

Even though I did not use the word “die”, I am sure Hans knew the word at that point in time. He may not have known what it entailed. Later on, he actually used the word in a couple of conversations. Even then, he may not have understood what it meant.

This is a child who goes around declaring: “I am never going to grow up! I want to grow down!”

What does he really understand since he asks several contradictory questions as well!

“When I grow up and have a wife and I am living in this house…will you still live with us Momley?”

“Well…that depends on your wife! She may not want Momley to live with you…”

“Then I don’t want the wife!”

“It is OK. See, how Momley and Daddy don’t live with their parents! You can still have a wife!”

“No!”

Most recently, Hans woke up crying profusely.

“Momley, I don’t want you to die!”

“I am not dying. I am right here!”

“But you will. I know.”

“Who told you?”

“I know.”

“You know what? Momley has a very special job of taking care of you. So, she can’t die!”

“What about ASid and Daddy?”

“They won’t die as well. Now, you stop crying!”

My friend Smoggy told me to never lie to my children. He told me to be honest about everything except for Santa Claus and the Tooth Fairy…perhaps I can add Death to the list…

 

Forty and F*rty

Seriously, there is no correlation between turning 40 and the gas we let go on a daily basis! Having said that, I would first like to wish my friend, KPF, a happy birthday. He is 40 tomorrow. Every birthday of his makes me happy and hopeful. This special birthday, I wish to give him the gift of laughter…even if he gets one laugh out of this post, mission accomplished! If not, ASid and Hans will definitely have fun reading it someday. So, here goes…

I used to live in a country where the culture is to definitely ignore any gases people pass. No one draws attention to the fact by saying “Excuse Me”! If one didn’t mention it, chances are…it didn’t happen! Even the most sensitive ears and noses would support this notion by ignoring the sound effects or bearing with the discomfort of an unwanted invasion of the senses. Hmmm, life was so simple!

F*rt was like the other 4 letter F word; I never heard it mentioned except by a couple of frustrated mothers who would reprimand their tattle tale telling children to “not report every f*rt and cough they hear”! Even then, it was shocking to hear such language from a mother’s mouth. Perhaps it was around that time, I made a subconscious pact with myself to never ever swear. My only indulgence is “damn it Jim!” and I have said that on many an occasion. Thank you Star Trek for little earthly indiscretions!

So, why bring up the topic of f*rting on my friend’s birthday? Because KPF was the first one (in my life) to ever discuss it in a conversation much to my distress at that time. He talked about it very casually. If I remember correctly, it was an elderly gentleman (perhaps a grandfather) who would let go of a f*rt and then exclaim loudly that he did not hear it! It got a lot of laughs from our other friends and I was just in awe of this strange freedom to talk about an uncontrollable human urge in such a casual manner.

A few years later, I was helping a Grade 3 teacher in her classroom and had my second encounter with that strange freedom. A boy in the class suddenly exclaimed that someone f*rted and a bunch of boys exploded in laughter. There were a few minutes of chaos before the teacher got them to quiet down. I took it upon myself to investigate this phenomenon (of f*rts generating all sorts of amusement for various age groups) … what’s so funny? In my quest, I stumbled upon a book called The Gas We Pass. It is a brilliant little book that demystifies a f*rt in a logical manner. I bought that book for ASid. He was 3 at that time and I couldn’t imagine him disrupting a classroom that way ever!

Between those 2 episodes, I got married. Craigley and I had mostly a long distance relationship and really did not spend a lot of time together. I guess he held on to his gas till we were safely married and I made the commitment to move to the west coast to be with him. The moment we got off the plane, collected our baggage and got outside…it was (in my 39 years of experience) the single most powerful gas attack with spectacular sound effects that lasted a few seconds. Even as I stood shocked and speechless, Craigley cheerfully declared, “That felt good!”

Since that moment, there has been no dearth of such special sound effects. We have discussed it a few times and I did let Craigley know that it bothers me that when I am so considerate and delicate about this gaseous matter, he is so out there! The first few times, he was genuinely shocked. He reminded me that I grew up with a brother and I should not be so bothered by it. Perhaps my brother who grew up with a sister is more sensitive than Craigley who is the youngest of 3 brothers! Discussions turned into arguments and then, I gave up. For better or for worse…that’s what it’s all about!

Craigley does not give up so easily. One fine day, he declared that he heard me f*rt in my sleep. It was his “A-Ha-I-Gotcha” moment. Seriously? I was sleeping!! Seriously? How childish!! After that gleeful accusation from my husband, I guess I stopped complaining and eventually started ignoring any related or unrelated sounds. However, the discussions and arguments came back a few years later. Apparently, ASid lets go off these soundless and yet potent gases while we are in the car. For whatever reason, I am oblivious to these episodes. I can’t hear anything or smell anything. It is Craigley’s theory that this is ASid’s way of taking revenge on his father; it is almost a conspiracy as ASid meticulously plans these moments when we are on the highway and his dad can’t escape from his wrath?! Seriously?

The gassy saga continued as Hans started JK last year. His teacher brought to my notice that he took immense delight in uttering “washroom words” in the classroom. They ranged from p** (both varieties), b*m, to the dreaded f*rt! I couldn’t believe that it was my own son who was disrupting the classroom on a daily basis. He thought it was funny and I guess he loved the attention it got him. In fact, he got his older brother on the bandwagon as well. It was as if ASid missed out on these landmark moments in his own life and enjoyed the laughter with Hans. Craigley thought it was quite harmless till he realized that Hans is turning into a regular class clown…sometimes parents are haunted by their own childhood exploits and would never want their children to follow in their footsteps! Together, we got Hans to understand that there is an appropriate time and place to use “washroom words” and any inappropriate usage is unacceptable. We got through to him…

Still, there are days when I hear a forbidden word whispered followed by a muffled giggle and see twinkling eyes full of mischief. Did she hear it? Did I get away with it? Usually, I feign ignorance and let it go. This walk down memory lane should end here; however, I have just one more incident to share. It happened one afternoon during the summer holidays. I was on the couch with Hans. He was watching some LEGO Ninjago episode on the PlayBook and I was reading some magazine. All of a sudden, I felt this intense urge to let go of some gas; usually, I would hold on to it till an appropriate time. I looked around and there was only Hans and he was very absorbed. I figured I could take a chance and I did. Barely a second later, my 5 year old solemnly says, “Momley, you f*rted!” There was no giggling; he didn’t even look up from his PlayBook…it was just a matter-of-fact statement. I immediately hastened to say, “Excuse me!”

Note: Dear K, this was perhaps the most challenging post I ever wrote. I seriously consider myself one of the most boring people in the world with absolutely NO sense of humour! Even now, I cannot say the word f*rt; I have to spell it out! Given that, this has truly been a difficult trek through untrodden territory. I must say I got to finally enjoy that strange freedom. Thank you. You have a wonderful day.