When two become five – A family of five

A journalist friend, Mrs Shell, got me thinking about how it’s not only the two years we thought we would spend in Singapore that have become five. Our family of two has now expanded to a family of five. I know! It’s because of the lack of gainful employment I suspect.

This weekend we celebrated the first Birthday of #3. A momentous occasion in the life calendar of all parents. With your first child it’s a celebration that you all made it through in one piece and applauding easier times ahead. With subsequent children, you know that once the initial sleep deprived nights pass, the rest of the year flies by and whilst things do get easier, they also become different. New challenges are at every turn and looking back, a baby is much easier to look after than a child that has selective hearing, no sense of urgency and a wonderful ability to answer back to everything. A baby only stays tiny and kitten like as depicted in that Athena poster with the bare chested buff male model, for a very short space of time and before you know it, you are wrestling with a lion cub. I am holding #3 upright seemingly in control and then without warning, she almost leaps out of my arms because she has spotted something she wants to eat off the floor.

When I expressed sadness over how fast #3 was growing up, a few people said “It’s time for another baby then’ but that of course is not the answer. On her Birthday, I thought I would be more upset that #3 has reached the end of the baby journey but I wasn’t because I can see that she’s ready to explore a bigger world. Instead, I am filled with pride and excitement over what will come next. For a long while it has felt like #1 and 2 plus the baby but the baby is growing up and playing less of a passive role with the older two and she wants us to get to know the little person she is becoming.

I won’t go into glorious technicolour detail over pregnancy, labour and birth but I will tell you a few things that will have marked my experience in Singapore so very different to my counterparts in the UK. With #1, I spent the first 21 weeks of care under the NHS with my notes all kept together in one folder (this is how I identified Mad Cat Woman as a fellow Brit as she too had one of these folders), switching between GP and hospital trainee midwife. In Singapore, all the pregnancy stuff, delivery and aftercare is led by one Obstetrician (so no personal notes for #2 and 3). An advantage is that you know and ought to feel relaxed with the person who is handling your ungainly position for the end result. If you should choose all the pain relief in the world that too is at your request and not restricted by NHS budgets or the availability of an anaesthetist. You can stay in a single room, or at most share with three other women, after delivery for two or three nights before returning home with your new addition. #1 and 2 were induced because I had pre-eclampsia (high blood pressure) and we actually checked into the private hospital the night before, like booking into a hotel with a porter to carry your bags to your room. #3 decided to arrive on her own which was very exciting to feel what going into labour was like and have a middle of the night taxi ride to the hospital.

There seems to be a fairly low pain threshold in Singapore, or a stronger belief that if you don’t need to suffer pain then why bother. A lot of Obstetricians and midwives advocate some form of pain relief and I know my Ob would have suggested a c-section if things did not progress as they should within a reasonable time frame. The focus is the safe arrival of the baby. #1 was delivered by forceps due to the unfortunate timing of taking pethidine (not to be repeated) and the course of nature suddenly gearing up a notch. It may not have been an ideal start and to this day I still don’t know what forceps look like but as Mrs BA said, after day 10 you’ll feel like a whole new person.

Whilst this may sound all rather good, there is little by way of alternative deliveries such as water births. It exists but at select hospitals. The biggest disadvantage I have found though, is that whilst your physical needs are met with meticulous attention, your emotional well being is not. There is no health care visitor to check that you are coping well. There are private centres where you can go and get your baby checked over by former midwives and attend New Mother’s Support Groups to meet other women which is what I did and met a wonderful group of new mums going through what I was. But you have to seek out these places yourself. Do you see why I place so much store with the women who helped me out so much at the start? You need people to look out for you because who else would know whether you were struggling a bit more than just the normal level of baby blues? Without family and an established support network around me, I was so afraid I would develop Post Natal Depression and nobody would be there that I worried about it a lot until Mrs BA told me ‘Do you think I’m not looking out for you? I would have told you if I thought it’. With that, my fear melted away because whilst I had this new baby to look after, someone else (besides Husband) was also looking out for me.

It cost us around $9,000 (£4,500) in all the medical fees for each child and that was the cheaper end of the scale. There’s a different price for an emergency c-section and an elective one is cheaper. I’m telling you this more out of interest than anything. I do feel very lucky though to have had consistent and good quality care. I rather like our Obstetrician, a very kindly, calm gentleman with salt and pepper hair who has a passion for bird watching. I think that’s what you want in a man who is delivering your baby. Bird watching requires patience and you don’t want to be told to hurry yourself along. I’ll never forget the moment #3 was about to pop out and I’m trying hard not to shout expletives and I see the Obstetrician stood in front of me in his checked shirt and tie with his pens sticking out of his top pocket going ‘Good, good, all looks well, I think it’s time’. You think? So then he gets his white coat on and his white wellies, pulls up a stool and brings along a bucket like he’s about to milk a cow.

There are no plans for #4, I am blessed with three and that is a privilege. I have met many people whose path to becoming parents has been long and stressful.

But just when I thought I would never see a brand new, freshly popped out baby again, you would never believe what fate had in store. Having only every stayed at the top end, I found myself in the middle just two months ago. I had arranged to meet an old neighbour for coffee before she was due to give birth soon and that morning she went into labour. It wasn’t a dramatic mad rush to the hospital that day but a rather leisurely one. Her Obstetrician said the baby wouldn’t arrive until late the next day or the day after. Even so I was full of nerves and anticipation because her husband was out of the country and not due back until the next morning. There was no back up and I became it! Morning arrived and the baby was obviously waiting for her Dad so I went back to normal business.

But things change. There was a rush to the hospital. I had #3 in the car with me and had to call Husband to come to the hospital in a taxi to take her home so I could go into the Delivery Room. If I had had any romantic notion of what being in labour was like (the mother in law once said to me it was a nice kind of pain), I soon didn’t. I watched her face grimacing with pain, gripping the sheets as the contractions grew stronger and more frequent; I felt her sucking in the gas and air for divine relief and I thought to myself, ‘I don’t think I’ll do this again’. Her husband did make it back in time, he arrived two hours before the baby did. I thought this would be my chance to exit but it wasn’t. She asked me to stay. I couldn’t say No. Of course I would help her in any way she needed. This was my own unplanned, unexpected adventure.

Have you ever tried to make yourself scarce in a small room with a woman in the throes of labour and just reunited with her husband she hasn’t seen for a few days? Talk about playing gooseberry. I tried to give them some space without seeming to give off the impression I’d rather be elsewhere. I wasn’t sure if I would throw up or faint, I’ve heard some men do. The atmosphere of expectation swelled. Then suddenly, it was time. The baby was on the way. The midwife asks my friend ‘Do you feel like passing motion?’. Why do they do that? Just at the critical stage where the pushing ought to start, you ask someone if they need to poo. If that isn’t going to hinder one’s ability to push for fear of shitting oneself in front of husband and strangers then I don’t know what will. There was a lot of commotion, a lot of yelling and shouting (I don’t know how Scientologists do it) and I could see she was so close at one end but ready to give up at the other with exhaustion and pain etched on her face. I really willed her on, encouraging her to give it some more power and she pulled on all her reserves and did it. She was such a trooper. The baby popped out landing surprisingly far from the exit, and everything was calm and peaceful. I never thought I would hold a minutes old brand new, freshly popped out baby again, hours old maybe but not minutes. It was such a special moment to hold this tiny purple faced bundle of gorgeous baby. Quite a memory to behold don’t you think?

I want to finish by telling you about my friend’s Obstetrician who came waltzing in all perfect make up and immaculate hair, dressed more for Afternoon Tea than to deliver a baby. She looks over and says in her softly spoken way, ‘How are we all doing?’, seemingly oblivious to my odd presence there and places her posh handbag over by the monitor to pop on her white coat but no wellies. Afterwards she beams a ‘Congratulations and well done’, picks up her posh handbag and exits the room with not a hair out of place, leaving me a gooseberry again. Needless to say I made a swift exit shortly afterwards to let this family get better acquainted. Was it weird to be with someone during their most vulnerable and emotionally raw time? It was beforehand, especially when I don’t know her that well but perhaps it was because of this which made it all ok. Would I do it again? I’m quite sure I would, you wouldn’t turn down someone when they needed you.

I never thought this mini series of posts would go on so long but I think I’ll be done by the next one. In the meantime, thanks for stopping by. I’ve reached over 1,200 total views on my blog now. I know some blogs have that kind of traffic (get me and my technical terms) every day but I’m only sharing this blog through Facebook with you so I’m rather pleased. I’m happy for you to share it further if you thought a post was sort of good. I also want you to start thinking of a story of your own that you are willing to share with me at some point. It’s not all about me you know.

When two become five – The beginning of this Expat Life

I think I should start off with sharing this photo with you.

Yep, it’s a clear sign that traveling Business Class is not something I do all the time. Or have done before or since. Otherwise there would be no need for photographic evidence of the occasion. I’m sure the Frequent Flyer man dressed in his suit and tie for the whole trip often gets asked to photograph the once in a lifetime Freebie Flyers.

In my defence, I was flying out on one of the new Singapore Airlines A380 double deckers. Such a waste though. I really, really wish I could have said to Husband’s work, ‘Would you mind putting me in Economy for now and let me travel Business Class when I can fully appreciate the whole thing?’.

Husband had already returned to Singapore for work so Nana Moon bade me a teary farewell (me teary, not her, she too is quite stoical) at Heathrow Airport. Off I wandered in search of the Singapore Airlines Business Class lounge but as it was a late night flight, not much was going on and I was too busy talking to my Mum and Mr Li for last minute Goodbyes. I could hear that Mr Li was getting upset before I rung off so now I know his stoicism is all false bravado. So I get on the plane and immediately change into comfortable jogger bottoms in the toilet that actually allows you room to stick your elbows out without touching the walls. Now, where is this extra elbow room when you’re flying Economy and need to change small people’s nappies?

Being five months preggers I had to decline the complimentary champagne, Singapore Slings and wine with dinner that came with real wine glass and cutlery but I did get extra packs of the A380 commemorative playing cards though. A waste of an experience I tell you because it’s no fun traveling high brow if you’re on your own and have no one to marvel with at how wide the seats are or how they recline into beds with nice pillows and blankets.

Having never been to Singapore before, you’d think I’d have a big file of research telling me everything I ought to know before landing. I know people who compile a big file of research for a week’s holiday in France. Somehow I never got round to it. I actually knew nothing about Singapore and figured I’d been to Hong Kong a few times so how different could it be? Well, it’s a good job I wasn’t relocating to somewhere that doesn’t carry the title Easy Asia. In between wrapping up things in the UK and the fact that Husband was already out in Singapore, I just thought it would all be ok.

Singapore is definitely ‘Easy Asia’. Majority speak a form of English, signs are written in English, toilets come with both sitting or squatting options, television is mostly US imports and food is easily identifiable. That was a close call then. I also thought, ‘We’re moving to Asia, everything is going to be much cheaper. How misguided I was and I still lament the fact I should have bought all the baby paraphernalia and a futon mattress in the UK plus a Waitrose and Tescos Extra and have it all shipped over for free!

To suddenly find yourself in a new country in your mid thirties inbetween identities is not an easy position. There’s nothing like having the rug pulled from under your feet to give yourself a good wake up call. I was in a comfortable set up before all this and now I wasn’t. Add in some additional hormones and you have quite a mix. We lived in a serviced apartment just five minutes walk from where we live now actually. Not far from the river and very central. Besides looking for an apartment to live in and going to see an Obstetrician, I wasn’t really sure what to do with myself with all this free time. There would be some days when I would have spoken to no one whilst Husband was at work, not even the cashier in the supermarket who would just point to the total owed.

So how do you find new friends from scratch at a time in your life when you thought you already had all the friends you would ever need? Well, you just have to get out there and talk to everyone and hope they are kind enough to talk to you back. And I was lucky. At my second visit to the Obstetricians I came upon Mad Cat Woman (if she didn’t identify herself when I first alluded to her in ‘Live the life you have always dreamed of’ then she will now), who was an experienced Expat having spent five years in Dubai so she had obviously done her research because within days she had a home, car and school for her #1 all sorted out (Happy Birthday to her #1 today too). When I next move countries that’s going to be me. Mad Cat Woman has boundless energy, is very British and is exactly the type of person you want to meet when you are new to the Expat game. You need someone you can identify with who can chivvy you along.

The next woman I met, Mrs BA, is truly one of the loveliest people I could chance upon on a Sunday afternoon having lunch at Dempsey and admiring her chubby cheeked baby. She didn’t have to say more than a few polite pleasantries but she gave me her number, invited me to her Baby Group and she came to see me in hospital after #1 arrived and she gave unwavering support when Husband and I needed it the most. If you have had children then you know how important the presence of family is when a new baby arrives. We didn’t have family around us but we had the kindness of people we had only just met. They came to see us, they kept in touch, they helped us unravel the mystery of a newborn baby when we were just clueless.

Mrs BA has moved on to other countries since then but each time establishes a strong supportive network of friends with ease and that is something worth emulating no matter where you are. In July, she, along with a few other wonderful women I met through her, came back to Singapore to celebrate their own Five Year Re-Union, it was so good to see them all. I may be Mum to three children now but I’ll never forget the huge helping hand I got to start me off. Looking after your first brand new baby is a terrifying experience, you are suddenly left in charge of this tiny, crying, vulnerable new life. It really helps when you have people telling you that you’re doing a great job no matter what your parenting style is. You need people to be supportive and not judgemental and I was fortunate enough to happen upon such a group of women.

I’m not going to list all the people I have met in chronological order but these two in particular, set the ball rolling for me. The list would never end anyway. They say Singapore is a hub for people moving on to other places. Life is very transient, I’ve said Goodbye to so many people and I feel like I always have to replenish my networks. It’s easier these days with #1 and 2 at school, our calendar is always full but I’ll always remember the empty months when I first arrived and so if I come across someone new to Singapore, I will always give them a warm welcome. Sometimes it doesn’t go beyond a couple of meetings but then you can’t hit it off with everyone. Friendships can develop at an alarming rate because you are moving in a smaller circle with a lot more free time but equally such intensity can highlight your own shortcomings that perhaps your friends back home don’t notice or forgive you more easily for.

I’m telling you this because I’m actually amazed at how little preparation I did for After the Big Move. I was too busy doing the Before the Big Move stuff to think about what it would be like and perhaps that’s been a good thing to have no expectations. I’m lucky that we’ve landed on our feet and have met the people we have, that has enabled us to enjoy a happy five years here and makes the sacrifice of distance from family and a life familiar much easier to bear.

I was advised that the first six months would always be the hardest of any international move, coupled with the arrival of #1, I think we gave ourselves a lot to work on but you know what, you just get on with it.

So I think I’ll finish this part for now and I’ll tell you more about this Expat life I’m living another time. I’ve got Book Club tomorrow night (I have always wanted to be part of a Book Club! So grown up), we are reviewing Room by Emma Donoghue and Summer in February by someone else.

When two become five – How it all began

On the one hand I wonder how quickly it seems we are marking our fifth year in Singapore but on the other hand, I’ve cumulatively spent nearly two out of the five years incubating our three children. So that hasn’t really given us a lot of time to wake up from sleep deprived nights and properly take in what’s all around us.

It all started at the beginning of 2008 when Husband’s department was rumoured to be shutting shop and the murmurings of an impending economic crash started circulating. We had not long been married and our thoughts were turning towards starting a family. The furthest we were planning on moving to was just a few miles away in Winchmore Hill, London; somewhere slightly more affordable for a bigger space, close to good friends and also not far from the A1/M1 access routes back up north to see our respective families. With the threat of redundancy looming even greater, Husband decided to widen his search area. Globally. The opportunities didn’t appear overnight, more like a couple of months and still it wasn’t a real possibility. Interviews in the financial sector can stretch to five even six rounds and still nothing comes of it. But suddenly, a change in tempo indicated that something would occur. It came down to this offer in Singapore or one with Lehman Brothers in Hong Kong. You can imagine which one we are thankful for taking now.

The week after Husband accepted the offer, I found out #1 was on the way. Hugely exciting of course to be expecting your first child and full of naivety too about how utterly life changing it would be. Did we reconsider? A little but then what would be the alternative? The redundancy happened and nothing in London looked promising. We decided to take the chance because we figured it would only be for a couple of years and we would come back home. Famous last words.

Back then we had a comfortable, steady life going on like most people. Newly married with an exciting future to plan for, an established network of friends with a busy social calendar that was full weeks in advance and I was working for Cancer Research UK in a role I had been wanting to break into for some time. But the terrain was going to change no matter what we ourselves chose to do. One of our Best Men went through a separation which we never saw coming and so that changed our regular Sunday lunch gatherings. Children are not the only casualties of divorce and I miss her still. Then he too moved across the globe.

Husband moved out to Singapore three months before I did when I was 10 weeks preggers. I had a three month notice period to work through and I also wanted to use this time to get used to the idea and catch up with family and friends before the Big Move. It was a bit strange living on my own for the first time in nine years and doing everything for myself but actually you get used to it pretty quickly. There’s no one else to think of at mealtimes, less laundry, less mess and you get to watch anything you like. Of course I knew it was only temporary but I was glad I enjoyed my own company as that was something I would endure more of over the next few months.

I didn’t think too much about being on my own preggers either, I was nearing the end of the first trimester and I had a whole group of friends on hand for anything I needed. I was well looked after and my sister in law lived only a short walk away too. Mrs Steamer came with me for the twelve week scan and it was a bit sad that Husband missed out on this very first time but the reassurance that all was going well was most important. He made it to the next one though and we’ve had many more since.

I’m really glad I took the time to go and visit friends I hadn’t seen for a while. Friends who had moved out of London and live in Croydon, Cardiff, Chatham and Thame. It’s really good to know what you’re leaving in order to make coming back something to look forward to. I will never ever forget the stories about labour that Mrs Calamari shared with me, I never understood the significance at the time but all I can say is you can eat far too many prunes to encourage that first bowel movement.

Then there’s family. I miss my Mum and Dad all the time but they are very stoical. Mr Li in particular is that very old fashioned Chinese man who, despite living in the UK for nearly 50 years, still holds some very strong Chinese principles. He really does believe I ‘belong’ to the clan of Pontefract and therefore must do Husband’s bidding. Does he know his daughter at all? I find it hard to be this far away and I feel terribly guilty that he has five grandchildren in total but has never spent their early years with them. With the help of Nephew #1, he has only in the last few months discovered the magic of Skype and the first thing he said when he saw all three was ‘Why are they not wearing any clothes, they’ll catch a cold’. Well it’s 31 degrees indoors.

So that’s how I came to be in Singapore and tomorrow I’ll tell you how it’s been.

So begins a Brilliant New Adventure

Tomorrow marks the start of a Brilliant New Adventure for my friend
formerly known as Unexpected Adventure. You already know how I feel
about her leaving Singapore when I first mentioned this was going to
happen in my post ‘Live the life you have always dreamed of’ and so I
will try my hardest not to go back along that path.

Brilliant New Adventure has made it quite clear that there is to be no
long, drawn out teary Goodbyes because it’s not like she’s never
coming back to Singapore to see, not just myself, but all her other
wonderful friends who have been a pillar of support for her these last
few months.

It’s this brave, fresh attitude that makes me admire and love Brilliant New
Adventure and for this reason I think the least I can do is continue
to cheer her along the way rather than mope over the fact she’s not just down
the road, free for that impromptu coffee or play date with the kids.

Another lesson Brilliant New Adventure has taught me is how to conduct
myself with dignity. She has held herself together with such good
grace and decorum given the circumstances under which she has found
herself in. You won’t be seeing her any time soon on the Jeremy Kyle
Show advocating the cutting up of designer menswear or posting cryptic
tweets and photos on Instagram as the ‘victim’. Call her crazy, in
fact I believe some undesirable people are, but I think it’s something to applaud
when our hearts have been hurt we can avoid that first instinct
of lashing out to make ourselves feel better even when humiliating
things happen beyond our control. It doesn’t make her a pushover
either. It’s just that despite everything she recognises her own self
worth and has decided quite simply, more fool you for being so blind
not to see it and I think double fool you for thinking you could play
her for a fool.

This afternoon as we enjoyed our first solo drinking outing together
(ironic really on her last day in Singapore when we had talked about
such an outing for years), and tucking into some excellent sushi at
Shinji, Raffles Hotel. I tried to enjoy the experience for the
exquisite, gourmet extravaganza it was meant to be and the sushi
really was quite something. But there’s a Chinese saying that goes
like this ‘when your heart and mind is troubled then the most amazing
feast is tasteless’. I wasn’t feeling quite as low as that but I
avoided one teary outburst in full view of our sushi chef and other
diners by making a quick exit to the washroom. So they probably
thought something hadn’t agreed with my constitution instead. The
second time I wasn’t so lucky after again failing miserably to retain
any level of dignity and sobbing into my yuzu sorbet at the thought of
no impromptu coffee or play dates with the kids next week or the week
after. To top it all off, I nearly snotted on my special occasion posh
bag too.

Brilliant New Adventure said she didn’t want to cry and get puffy eyes in case she bumped into her favourite Korean ‘hottie’ at Hong Kong International Airport. She had also thought better of plying me with too much sake as she suddenly had me sussed for being a ‘I love you’ type of drunk. How did she guess?

Whether you know her or not; or whether you are making any kind of
change yourself that takes courage and a leap of faith, let’s give a
big cheer because the tears are done. I’m ready to be the friend
waving the cheerleading pompoms high in the air and give it some ‘You
go girl’ high fives because actually, I’m only the one sitting here
tapping away to you and not the one about to embark on an unplanned,
unexpected but Brilliant New Adventure.

I know Kung fu

I don’t really know kung fu but imagine if you could download all kinds of information without having to find the time to read, or decipher the meaning of long words and above all else, retain all the information you once knew.

Although I don’t know kung fu, you would be surprised how many people assume that being Chinese you automatically ought to know kung fu. Perhaps that’s why I have never been involved in a proper scrap on (fight). I’m just too intimidating. When I was at junior school there was many a time when some boy would ask if Bruce Lee was my Dad and I would answer “No, my Dad is Mr Li”.

So how do we know the things we know?

I don’t mean the things we learn about what is happening in the Big Wide World via the Economist, the Guardian newspaper or dailymailonline.com. Apparently the most up to date information comes in the form of ‘tweets’ and right now I have no idea what the purpose of Twitter is. I have sort of dipped a toe in and had a look at a twitter feed and there appears to be lots of @ involved and a mental challenge to get across what you want to say in 140 characters but I still don’t get it. There’s some really inane, dull stuff going on.

Although if I want to engage in gainful employment again it’s something which I’m going to have to gen (read) up on. (I have no idea why a few Geordie words have popped out so far, I’m not drunk and neither am I angry which allegedly is when my northerness rises to the surface.) Though perhaps the most frightening reveal of all will be when #1, 2 and 3 suss me out for knowing very little about the Big Wide World. Or worse still, being exposed for some semi plausible answer given to one of the myriad of questions that get asked every hour of every day. Now, I know the Generic Parenting Guide advises we should confess to the young people that we in fact don’t know the answer to the question posed and how about we go and find out the answer together. That is an excellent plan. Except sometimes it’s just not possible to do that and when you’re in the car with a 4 year old asking the same question on loop, any words you can form will have to do to make the noise stop to avert hazardous driving conditions inside the car.

But, if #1, 2 or 3 are anything like me then I need to be very, very careful with what I say. I tend to take things literally and I will on the whole believe whatever you tell me. I mean, it’s such a waste of time doubting what you have to say and most of the time you do get the most life enriching knowledge from people around you. That’s why you catch up with friends, chat with family and network in professional circles.

I’m not talking about the really big whoppers that can change lives and damage relationships but the small innocuous bits of fact (or fiction). Like the time when an old boyfriend (yes they do exist) told me at the age of 22, that a hornet doesn’t sting until I found out years later that they do in fact sting and it bloody well hurts too!

Husband has also equipped me with many a false fact ranging from a friend’s new girlfriend being Swedish when she was in fact Australian (though I genuinely believe he really thought she was Swedish) and thankfully someone cleared this up before I started asking whether she was a big ABBA fan. He has also denied watching the film Showgirls before when we came across it on terrestrial television. Then somehow years later, Uncle Monkey managed to out him on this fact and to be honest, it’s such an appalling film I think it’s best to deny having ever seen it.

A few years ago, I was told that the stray cats in Singapore have stumps for tails because they are cut off to stop them from jumping up into the upper level apartments. Just moved here, no reason to think otherwise and left it at that. Have I mentioned this fact to other people? Yes. What happened last year? I saw a cat with no tail happily jumping from low rise roof top to pillar to balcony.

I may seem gullible to you but I don’t think it’s that. I’m never going to know much left to my own means in the grand scheme of things (although I frequently tell #1 that I do and that’s how I knew he didn’t eat all of his dinner and had instead scooped it into #2’s bowl instead), so if by information sharing I find out that what I know is actually wrong then that’s still ok.

Otherwise I would still be answering this pleasantry “It was so nice to meet you”, with this reply “Thank you”. Which I only found out was the incorrect response when Husband and my good friend Ms Moonface (Nana Moon to her godchildren), fell about in hysterics! She said how could I not know that the right thing to say was “It was so nice to meet you too”. Well, before this I was of the understanding that if someone paid you a compliment and to me “It was nice to meet you”, sounded very much like a compliment then the polite thing to do was to accept it graciously! Years had been spent with this thought. Years after have been spent inwardly cringing.

It’s not just in English I’ve been getting it wrong as well because apparently when someone greets you in Chinese with “Have you eaten yet?”, they in fact are not asking you to dine with them and equally are disinterested in what you have eaten if you have! Who would have thought.

So it seems I know neither kung fu nor how to grasp the English and Chinese languages properly and now having told you this, I’m probably going to learn even more non facts from you all.

Occupation what?

Not so long ago I asked my friend Mrs Steamer who had just started maternity leave whether I could say I was still on maternity leave too. After all #3 was just 10 months old. She said No. Oh.

It’s been exactly five years since I got my P45. Half a decade of maternity leave? Apparently not. Unemployment? But I haven’t been seeking gainful employment. Career break? Career change?Formerly I was a Major Gifts Fundraising Manager, Individual Relationships, for Cancer Research UK, the last job title on my now outdated CV. You may have no idea what that means but it is more of a conversation opener than if I said my ‘job’ is Housewife/ Homemaker/ Mother of three children.

In my opinion, it doesn’t matter whether you choose to work full time, part time or not at all, it’s not something you should have to justify and you should do whatever makes you happy. There are pros and cons to either side and it is not worth my while to even begin opening up a discussion in this area. It falls in the Politics and Religion category. Suffice to say, happy you, happy home.

If Husband never got this job in Singapore then I wouldn’t be recognising this P45 Anniversary. I’m guessing I would have worked up until a few weeks before due date and taken at least nine months, possibly a year at most, maternity leave and headed back to work with #1 in nursery and so begin the juggle of managing work, home life, finances, childcare and everything else. So I’m very grateful that fate took us in a different direction.

However, those first few months without a job title took some getting used to. I felt guilty. Guilty for seemingly having it easy instead of joining the masses doing something useful. I felt embarrassed too, like I was suddenly sponging off someone else doing something useful whilst I went out and lunched and watched crap TV or whatever none working people are perceived to do. Then there’s the stigma of the none working female. Moving to a new country with lots of forms to fill in did nothing to help me adapt to my new none working status.

Occupation. Housewife.

I can still feel my heckles rising when confronted with this new label. I DID NOT WANT TO BE KNOWN AS A HOUSEWIFE. Where’s the Girl Power in that? There’s definitely no zig in that sentence. I had been earning my own money since I was 11, peeling the shells off king prawns and skinning onions in our family takeaway for £3 a weekend. Plus it’s highly misogynistic, my next door neighbour is a none working Dad and I bet he doesn’t have to fill in any forms declaring he is a Househusband, though perhaps he gets asked if he’s a Homemaker instead which I have noticed appearing on a lot more forms these days.

Five years later, I don’t get as incensed by this question as much because as I adapted to my new role as parent to #1, I got over any feelings of inadequacy I had placed upon myself. What also helped is that living in an expat environment, I was surrounded by women in the same situation and there’s always safety in numbers. It enabled me to enjoy my new found status as new parent with less guilt but as the years go by, this group of women has gradually diminished and about 70% are working either full or part time. Most will confess to feelings of guilt over not having enough time for one thing or another, especially where the children are concerned, but that’s all part of living. Is it guilt or love that is all around us?

I still can’t say that I’m a Housewife and I won’t say I’m a full time Mum either because anyone who has children, whether they work or not, are always full time Mums and Dads. I clearly remember saying at one of the very first Mother and Baby Group meet ups that I struggled with being ‘just a Mum’, this had nothing to do with my feelings for #1. I had no problems forming a bond there at all but the responsibility and the overwhelming change becoming a new parent brings combined with sleep deprivation made me momentarily forget just how multi faceted we are.

The need and desire to return to paid employment is calling but having enjoyed so much time with #1 and 2, I want to be there for #3 as well. So the quest to find my own personal employment Holy Grail begins.

At this point I really, really wish I had a useful skill. If I could teach a musical instrument like my other neighbour, or a language, I could set myself up as a home tutor. Or if I could use my two and a half year old sewing machine properly then I could be designing my own children’s clothing range like Sewing Bee friend who has an adorable line of children’s wear that can be found at https://www.facebook.com/oscarevie, delivery worldwide I should add.

I can bake a cake but there’s always going to be someone better like my Great Singapore Bake Off friend who also has her own homegrown business going at https://www.facebook.com/pages/My-cakes/165934673561576, delivery not worldwide.

Then there’s the very talented artist friend who started her small business in Singapore, moved it to New York City and has now settled in South Africa and is so successful that she can give up all her former professional job titles to solely concentrate on expanding her business at http://littleprintswilliam.com.

In another five years time, I’ll definitely be in full time gainful employment to help our family flourish. Maybe I’ll have a lead up to it of part time gainful employment as I redefine my career path and whilst the children are still young. Truth be told though, I have loved this unexpected, unplanned opportunity of spending time with #1, 2 and 3 so perhaps next time I get asked Occupation what? I may just be gracious enough to say “I’m collecting loyalty points, mind your own business”.

A solemn day

We have all been told before that amongst friends (and strangers) we should never debate politics and religion. I can claim no authority on either matter and so it’s not something I am likely to say much about. Besides on a blog it’s just a one sided opinion.

I know that September 11 will hold it’s own significance for you and I don’t wish to talk about the events that led to the loss of nearly 3,000 lives that day in New York and Washington but in my mind I will be quietly paying my own respects.

Before the tragic events of that day unfolded, it was already going to be an important date for me as I was flying to Hong Kong after an 11 year absence. It was meant to be a day of anticipation; a 13 hour long haul flight lay ahead of me with the thrill of flying Virgin Airways (very good in those days) and going all that way by myself to see family I hadn’t seen for years and best of all, to meet my eight year old nephew #1 for the first time.

When news broke that day of what was happening, shock and disbelief reverberated around the office, like it did everywhere else I imagine. Nobody was able to concentrate on work and speculation and fear was rife that the same would happen to Canary Wharf. With a flight to catch myself that night, I was naturally scared but I don’t recall thinking I ought to cancel. Just before I finished work to go to the airport and some colleagues were wishing me a safe flight and good holiday, I remember one colleague helpfully reassuring me that with a bit of luck nothing would happen to my flight because I was going the other way.

That evening at Heathrow airport, security was fierce as it ought to be but the atmosphere was very solemn unlike how an airport should be. #1 and 2 love going to the airport because we are either going somewhere exciting or picking up someone special. I am fairly nervous of flying as it is, a trait inherited from Mr Li, and it was hard boarding that flight after all that had happened on that day. Two years later, I again boarded another flight on September 11 and again it was a very solemn flight for the reason I told you about in my last post.

If I’m going to wander down this ‘where were you when’ path, I think of the day the Manchester city centre bombing happened on 15 June 1996 ( I actually didn’t remember the exact date and looked it up). I was still at University and it was just before summer break and the Graduation of many friends. At the time I was working part time for Ath-Leisure, a designer men’s clothing shop that played Oasis and Stone Roses on loop all day. The store was located right in the centre, just metre’s from the Arndale Shopping Centre and very near to the location of the bombing. By chance, I had decided to quit that job the Saturday before because I wanted to spend more time with my friends. The company policy was that you leave the same day otherwise I would have been working that day but I wasn’t. I was in the communal bathroom in our halls. Looking back, I can pinpoint the exact moment the shockwaves reached us and it felt like being inside a balloon when the air is suddenly let out and blown back in again.

We were unaware of the devastation until the photos appeared in the newspapers the next day. Then gradually as life resumed, we heard of friends who had been in town when it happened. I remember a boy telling me that he was walking past a shop window when the explosion happened and he saw the glass shatter just as he was passed it and had never felt so lucky. Perhaps being so much younger then, the impact of this event has left less of a mark. Perhaps it was because there were thankfully no fatalities.

Then there are the July 7 2005 London bombings. Whilst I was on my way to work and ought to have been on the Underground travelling from north to south London, the bombings had already taken place and I was evacuated from the train about five or six stops into my journey. There was a lot of confusion going on and no one seemed to know what had happened. Many people were attempting to get into work still. Mobile phone lines were jammed so it took a while to contact some at work and my colleague just said, don’t try to come in and go home. So that’s what I did.

I don’t have much else I want to say on this matter, you can probably hear the reluctance as you read but I did say that this blog is to remind me of what has come before and these sad events are significant in my history and this is what I remember of those very solemn days. On the other hand, whilst we won’t forget, there are and will be lots of other years that share part of these same dates bringing lots of good things and happier events like Birthdays and anniversaries and that is something to be thankful for.

My Dad’s Mum

Today’s post has me rather torn, I want to write it but then again I don’t because I don’t know how it’s going to make me feel. It’s been ten years since the passing of my Grandma, my Por Por. I consider myself lucky that at this age the loss of someone close to me has only crossed my path a few times. I often think of my Grandma, more so since she has been gone than before. I suspect living in Singapore and seeing lots of elderly Chinese women and the Buddhist temples reminds me of her. She was 92 at the time, a long life by any means and nothing to be sad about.

I received the news at work one morning, it wasn’t entirely unexpected because her health had gradually deteriorated following a stroke three years earlier. Plans were already in place to fly out to Hong Kong with my Dad, Mr Li, to see her but it seems she couldn’t hold on.

In Chinese culture, the men inherit the land and the hierarchy of birth position is observed, though perhaps not as strictly these days. My Dad being the eldest of four is Head of the Li family, in name only. People are not simply an aunt or uncle, brother or sister, we all are ranked within the family by paternal or maternal relations and age. Everyone knows their place and their responsibility. This is no bad thing for the younger ones who are always protected by the older ones. I am protected by my older brother until the end of my days, a role he takes very seriously. Too seriously at times I might add.

It was a three day event held in a memorial hall with two anterooms, one to burn paper offerings for the afterlife and in the other my Grandma lay behind a glass wall so everyone could come and pay their respects. I thought I would feel nervous and I was but my brother said there was nothing to be scared of because she was family but I didn’t have to go in. I had to do it in my own time and when I went into the room, there she was; dressed in an Empress style traditional outift, her face made up in quiet repose. I had nothing to fear but I could now see that she really was gone.

Monks chanted; bells rang; people came and went whilst we, the direct descendants, dressed in traditional white mourning clothes, knelt on mats to one side. The following day was the burial and we arrived at the memorial hall to find my Grandma looking peaceful, ready for this final journey. In line with tradition, my Grandma’s younger brother would come to close the casket. I don’t know how many years it had been since my Dad saw my Great Uncle but something broke inside of him. I was mid conversation with someone when I heard the sound of heartbreak. I looked around but wasn’t expecting it to be coming from my Dad. I had never seen him cry before, always the one to be telling us to accept things as they are. Then it dawned on me, my Dad had lost his Mum. It didn’t matter that he was 66 years old himself. My Great Uncle, the elder protective figure had unleashed the grief in my Dad, the younger nephew.

I regret not knowing more about my Grandma. Since when does it occur to the young who are so excited about getting on with their own lives to notice the older people have already done as much. My Grandma may have lived a long life but at times it definitely wasn’t an easy one. She was widowed very early, my Grandfather was involved in an accident with an army vehicle I think it was. My Dad was 11 and my uncle being the youngest was only one. My Dad has known some really tough days where food was scarce, this much he has mentioned before. But in those days, the village was a community; neighbours who are family looking out for each other. Of course there are bound to be people willing to take advantage of a widow with four young children to raise and land worth much more was exchanged for far less because there was no one who could rightfully argue otherwise. My Grandma raised all four children by herself, you can imagine how much admiration and love my Dad had for her. He once told me that how difficult it was to live in Kowloon, barely half an hour cab ride away, when he had to start work. So you can imagine how terribly homesick he must have been when he had to leave Hong Kong for England in 1960 to find a better living to support his family because he was the eldest.

My Dad, my uncle and my two aunts in 2003.

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My brother knows our Grandma far better as he was raised by her and as a young man starting out in his married life he returned to Hong Kong and lived with our Grandma so she saw the arrival of her great grandson. I know she must have been a strong, marvellous woman and my brother adored her and talks about her still. The wealth of history that she had experienced living through two World Wars, the advancement in technology (not that she really cared, a telephone and electricity were probably her greatest extravagances) and the wisdom of age.

Here we are back in 1990 with our Grandma. Is it ok to point out my particularly frizzy hair? I look like Rowlf from the Muppets! Of course I never realised it at the time. Humidity.

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Where I come from begins in part with my Por Por and Gung Gung and in part with my maternal Grandparents, both who also passed away when I was very young and I know very little about them. If I could meet anyone from any time, it would be them. The people who shaped my parents, who in turn shaped me.

My Grandma currently rests in the hillside of our village. As part of the ceremony, coins were thrown and the ones we caught are saved to bring good luck to the new generation. This isn’t the end though, because in Chinese culture my Grandma’s final resting place will be with my Gung Gung and my Great Grandparents in the ancestral temple. The move won’t happen for a few more years yet and it will be an occasion I hope I will be there for. (Even though I’m not supposed to be part of the clan now I’m married off to the town of Pontefract). When it does happen I hope I will have a lot more to tell #1, 2 and 3 about the lucky coins I have saved for them.

In the company of women

Last night I was out for dinner with a group of School Mum friends at Don Quijote, a Spanish restaurant doing tapas with an Asian twist. It seems a lot of restaurants have some sort of Asian fusion going on to explain away the lack of authenticity. Whilst I’m not really up on my tapas having only been to Spain twice (does Tenerife count?), I know that a patatas bravas is a little bit more than some potato wedges splodged with half a tin of chopped tomatoes on top, shame on you Wine Connection of Robertson Quay. I spent over a decade, care of Uncle Monkey, believing the components of sangria to be red wine, cheap brandy, fizzy Fanta and some chunks of apple and orange. He, on the other hand, ought to know better having spent his formative years running around semi nude on many a Spanish beach. An old habit he’s yet to shake off, which concerns me slightly living in Singapore now as #1, 2 and 3 rather enjoy living free of clothing.

It’s only the second time I have socialised with School Mum friends since #1 and now #2 started at school so I had no real expectations attached to the evening. You have a brief chat at school drop off or pick up and at school events but there is never enough time to really get to know one another. The other thing is that when you have only your children in common then you tend to start off on your best behaviour, almost like my behaviour is a reflection on my children (Good luck them). So it was a huge surprise to find myself laughing to the point of not being able to breathe with this group of women last night, one is so funny I almost regret spending $200 on Al Murray tickets for a comedy fix. When I left London, I left a whole network of friends accumulated over some 30 odd years, of course it was difficult to find yourself friendless but with everyone else carrying on their gatherings without you. Equally I shouldn’t be surprised that there are new friends to be discovered who can be real friends even though you met through Baby Groups or School. It’s what brings you together like going off to school, University or work but it’s time, personality and a willingness to make the effort that form friendships. At the moment in my head they are still my School Mum friends but soon I’m sure some of them will just be friends.

Exactly six years ago today, I was also sitting down with a group of women but this time at a genuine authentic tapas bar in Madrid, this was the moment I discovered there was in fact no fizzy Fanta in sangria. The occasion was my Hen Do and the entire weekend was a complete surprise left in the capable hands of three Bridesmaids (the forth was only 14 at the time but I wonder where she would have suggested, must ask her, Alton Towers I bet), who organised my travel, hotel, entertainment and everyone else. I am hugely appreciative of the effort that was involved because although I made perfectly clear (I think) that it didn’t matter where we went or what we did I would be happy with anything so long as the listed group of women were invited along. It’s a huge job though, working without a remit and trying to please another 10 women also part of the party. I love a Hen Do because you meet all the other women involved with the Bride and there’s a level of curiosity too in meeting the person from back home you’ve heard so much about or the ones from University with many shared experiences or the work colleague who is involved with all things current. They all mean something very special don’t they but it is a daunting experience gathering them altogether because they may have you in common but perhaps not much with each other. Perhaps the other scary thought is that collectively, the things these women know about you would be enough to document your whole life history.

One thing I do remember thinking at the time, is that I had rarely been on holiday with my female friends and it was such a shame that this great gathering was happening before I was getting married and would probably never have the opportunity to again. (This actually isn’t true because two years later I went to Bangkok for two days with a group of 11 women from #1’s Mum’s Group!). It’s an overwhelming feeling having all your closest female friends around you, especially at a time of high emotion too but it’s flattering that they care enough to be there, because a Hen Do these days is not often a budget affair. My Cousin Jenn is nine years older than me and we lived together from when I was three until she got married when I was 14, practically my sister. She was my surprise guest at my Hen Do, I was sat outside the genuine, authentic tapas bar waiting for all arrivals when suddenly there she was! I think I screamed, she’s highly excitable so I think I must have done. My Cousin Jenn loves surprises, not always when they happen to her but she loves organising a good surprise. I love this memory, of seeing her there in Spain at a big occasion in my life when often before I had left her behind whilst I set off into my twenties. This rapidly turned to feelings of mortification when the obligatory cringe inducing photos of my various youthful guises made an appearance. You can’t escape photographic evidence, digital or otherwise and they were LAMINATED no less, in case I tried to destroy them by vomit I imagine.

I ended up with a lot of phallic goods that weekend. I’ve been looking at the photos tonight and was reminded of a ‘task’ that involved obtaining a pair of men’s boxer shorts. Why was that a good idea? I didn’t go home with them I’ll tell you now but you ought to ask Ms Beefy that question. To me, it was a glorious weekend of being amongst women I love being with, who know me well enough to share confidences with and who make me belly laugh. Perhaps not by telling the same joke but each has a joke inside of them that I find hilariously funny. If you can renew your wedding vows, you may as well renew your Hen Do too. Would I still have these same women at my Hen Do? Absolutely, with a few more to throw in the mix too.

Fall for Autumn

On the first day of every month after March, I can guarantee you at some point in the day I will say (No, not nip, punch, first day of the month and no returns), ‘I can’t believe it’s April, May, June, July. August, September already.’

Spring is the season most associated with new beginnings but I think autumn is the season of new beginnings for me. Don’t be sad to wave Goodbye to summer because autumn brings a sense of calm after the headiness of late summer nights and before the mad whirlwind of Christmas partying descends upon us. Perhaps it stems from having an August birthday or perhaps it’s because I still think in school years. Whatever the reason, I love autumn. Autumn brings the end of sweaty journeys home on the London Underground and a reason to embrace a long sleeve and boots. I can never rock an effortless summer dress and I much prefer the safety of autumn/winter clothing. Hence living in Singapore where it is sweaty or much sweatier all year round does nothing for me and I often say, I dress much better in colder climates.

In my younger years, September brought the start of lots of new things and the beginning of each school year signified I was another year older and nearer to that magical age where ‘everything would be much better’ which I think all youths in their early teens aspire to. Then you reach that magical age and suddenly you start to regress a bit and it’s ok to openly admit to liking things formerly branded ‘uncool’ when you’re 14 to 17 and you had to be into random quirky things to be ‘cool’. Suffice to say I never was in the ‘cool’ category, especially when I had home haircuts and perms until the age of 13 and even when allowed to go to a hairdressers on my own giving exact instructions on what to do with said hair, the outcome still went awry! A few days before school started, Mr Li would ask me to go and try on my school uniform to make sure everything fitted. Of course it was going to fit! Every year, I got a brand new uniform that was HUGE so that I could ‘grow’ into it as the year went on. It never crossed anyone’s mind that perhaps I could get a new shirt halfway through the year. Considering my school uniform got the most wear out of anything I owned, I only ever got two new shirts, two skirts, a jumper and a pair of long trousers to last the whole year. The blazer was to see me through my whole school career so it was just as well I had to change Comprehensive schools midway. I see the point of making sure you get enough wear out of things now, which is why when we went back to the UK in November 2011 and #2 was 15 months old, I bought her warm fleecy trousers for a two to three year old and had to tack the hem length up to her thighs because it seemed a waste to buy clothes that actually fitted just for a few weeks wear. Thankfully she hadn’t yet commanded the use of language to complain. If we head back to the UK in cold weather next time, my new dilemma would be should #3 wear the same trousers pinned up to her thigh or should #2 wear them cropped, formerly known as half masts?

In September 2005, I started a new job with the National Deaf Children’s Society (www.ndcs.org.uk) in Major Gifts Fundraising. I had just left a really great organisation in the Muscular Dystrophy Campaign (www.muscular-dystrophy.org.uk), I loved the cause and worked with some extremely passionate people both in fundraising and on the service provision side, I also made some wonderful friends there too. After three and a half years though, it was time for a new chllenge and I really wanted to move into Major Gifts Fundraising so I was very excited at the opportunity to gain some experience in this area and work for a new cause that needed wider exposure. Moving on from the Muscular Dystrophy Campaign to the National Deaf Children’s Society in a new role made me feel out of my comfort zone a bit and being the new kid again is quite daunting. At the age of 31, I was working alongside young graduates fresh out of University and full of confidence and exuberance. Suddenly though, I was seen as having ‘experience’ myself and expected to contribute with opinions to be considered as good ideas. It is a strange but interesting revelation to find yourself guiding others when you still have a lot to learn yourself but it felt good to be making a real contribution. It’s been a long while since I have had to think about work but now that I have, I do miss it.

I hope you have a job that you enjoy and has elements that you are passionate about and if you find colleagues who become friends then that’s an added bonus. When I started work at the National Deaf Children’s Society, I certainly wasn’t expecting to find new friendships that would be as strong as the ones I had formed already but you do. In fact, every time you start something new and you think you’re never going to find something as good as the last time, you always do. I really like this bunch of people in the photograph below which was taken in November 2011, I would have liked another friend to have been in it too but at the time she was doing good work in Ethiopia. Please note the autumn/winter clothing which contributes to the extra happy look, I’m wearing jeggings, an item of clothing I mocked the idea of before I had the need for them, they are oh so comfy but you can keep your leather ones. I stay in regular contact with two of the people in the photograph and the others can always catch up with a snapshot of what’s happening in my life by taking a Facebook tour. I like how most of these people have moved on to do important work for other organisations but will congregate for an AA (Artillery Arms) reunion every now and then. I like how this night out reminded me of so much that is great about London and of my life before I moved to Singapore. I like how it showed me that my friends will still be there when I return and that there will even be friends for #1,2 and 3.

One final note before I finish for today, I’m not sure what is the correct blogging etiquette but I wanted to say thank you for your interest in my last post about Unexpected Adventure friend. She is touched by your interest and kind words. Sometimes we can’t change what is but autumn is all about shrugging off the old and making way for New Beginnings.