The Household COO

“When I have no time for me, I have no time for anyone.”

As a SAHM, finding a block of time that I can completely dedicate to myself with minimal interruptions is rather rare. In order to fulfil this need, I started to stay up after Gavin had gone to bed so I can spend some time writing, reading or just surfing the internet.

Although it means I usually get less sleep, I find filling this need for personal time just as important as getting sleep. On the nights when I am too tired to stay up or if I didn’t get a chance to go online for whatever reasons, I tend to veer off into two different modes during the day. I either feel more agitated and irritated easily, or I start to feel listless and a meaninglessness of my existence. And when I feel either of these emotions, I am unable to give the best of myself to the people I love.

Of course, to say that my existence is meaningless tends to diminish the importance of my son, but in no way do I mean that. If he weren’t so important to me, I would be off conquering the world and chasing after my career like the ambitious Type A personality that I am. Yet, at the same time, when I was on my own chasing careers and rock climbing grades, there was also a lack of meaning in my life.

I guess what I’m saying is that I need balance in order to feel fulfilled and to lead a meaningful life - at least one that is meaningful to me anyway. By balance, I’m referring to a need for personal time, personal achievements and of course family time. As a professional Mum, I don’t have any problems managing the latter, but it’s the first two aspects that I find difficult to fit into my life.

In an attempt to kill two birds with one stone, I try to combine my personal time with some sort of personal achievement. For instance, I spend my personal time blogging because I love to write and having something published online (no matter how trivial it might at sometimes) is about as big a personal achievement as I’m likely to get right about now. With the stigma on SAHMs being quite useless and brainless - at least that’s the impression that is conveyed to me whenever I write down “profession: homemaker” - I’ll relish whatever achievements I can pat myself on the back for and live up whatever past laurels I can hold on to just to stay sane.

It’s difficult to articulate how I feel about being a SAHM. When working Mum friends tell me how luck I am to be able to stay home with my son, I have to agree that I am blessed. But for those to think I get to stay home and do nothing, I seriously beg to differ. Raising a child is exhausting because you have to be a playmate, a companion, a teacher and a mother all at once. And when you have to do this all day and be on call all night, even the most dedicated mother needs a break from time to time just to stay sane.

Choosing to raise a high-needs toddler with a responsive parenting style, especially when he demands a lot of my time, creativity and patience, has been a very enriching experience and it has also taught me a lot about myself. However, it has also made me aware of how important “me” time is. “Me” time is a chance for me to reflect on my experiences, to think about more complex adult issues, and to dream. When I have “me” time, I find myself to be more energised, more willing to give and generally, a happier person.

My next car is going to be this:

Sweet, huh?

Ever since I was a teenager, I’ve always wanted to dye my hair.  My Dad, being the typical Chinese man, didn’t like the idea of me dying my hair.  He always thought that Chinese girls who dyed their hair another colour did so because they were ashamed of their heritage - which I think is totally ridiculous.

It appears to be a very typical “China-man” thinking to prefer undyed hair because the hubby wasn’t particularly impressed with my new red mop either. 

For me changing the colour of your hair (much like changing the colour of your eyes with coloured contact lenses) is like entering a world of “Let’s Pretend” - a game I loved to play when I was a kid. 

Just as you can change how you feel about yourself by the clothes you wear, changing the colour of your hair or your eyes achieves pretty much the same thing.  Or at least, that’s how I feel.  I think a lot of other women must think so, too, since so many women get caught up in dying their hair or at least giving it a drastic haircut as part of the “getting over the ex” ritual. 

In my case, it’s part of an attempt to feel like a young, hip Mum.  I think I’ve started to slide into that bad habit of “letting myself go” by wearing my “house clothes” to go out.  I mean, house clothes were the sort of clothes that I wouldn’t have been caught dead in when I was a teenager. 

The funny thing is that when I was in the height of my climbing, I didn’t mind wearing my torn climbing pants and grimy t-shirts out to the shopping malls to get dinner straight after leaving the crag.  But then, dressing like that, for me, was like making a statement - kind of like how some people pierce their eyebrows and get tattoos.  Wearing my “house clothes” out is like neither making a statement or looking good.

Anyway, I’ve always wanted to try being a redhead.  In fact, I was going to do this before I got pregnant with Gavin.  It turned out that I discovered I was pregnant just before I got around to dying my hair so I couldn’t use the hair dye until recently. 

Here’s what it looks like, although I don’t think the picture really does justice to just how red it really looks.  It was a bit of a shock even for me when I first saw the colour of my hair…

Recently when I was chatting with my SIL, I made a comment that was highly suggestive of someone with a distinct lack of mental capacity.  It prompted my SIL to respond with, “Are you blond?” 

I was mightily offended by her comment - although I might have dyed my hair red, I’m sure the dying process didn’t destroy that many of my brain cells.  My brain capacity has always been my pride and joy and the possibility that it might be declining from lack of use or advancing age has prompted me to pick up activities to stimulate mental activity.  One activity I have resumed is playing Sudoku.

When a large part of my day involves being in the company of a person grunts and babbles by way of conversation, I guess it’s not hard to see how my brain might be rusting from disuse…

It would also be interesting to note that some aging Chinese maintain their clarity of thought by engaging in the passtime of playing Mah Jong.  Although I’ve never been particularly fond of the gambling aspect of Mah Jong, I find the game thoroughly entertaining.  So much so that I took immediately to the computer game version of Mah Jong Solitaire.

Although I don’t really enjoy gambling, even around Chinese New Year, I do look forward to playing Mah Jong.  I’ve always thought it would be nice if they had a computer game version of Mah Jong that lets you play the 3 or 4 player game without having to gamble.  As they say, “ask and you shall receive”, so I did locate one version that lets you play online against other human players for free.  And if you think you’re a Mah Jong player to contend with, like the character from Kung Fu Mah Jong, you can enter tournaments and compete for cash prizes for a nominal entry fee of $1. 

Now gambling I don’t like, but competitions?  Aye, I can do that.

The other thing I’ve noticed, even despite the fact that I blog, is that my vocabulary is diminishing.  Sometimes when I’m talking or writing something, there will be a word on the tip of my tongue that can’t quite find its way out.  The most alarming thing is that this is happening more and more frequently.  One way to overcome this is to start writing again - not just blogging but really writing.  Well, at least that will have another benefit - A Writer’s Papyrus has been rather quiet of late so perhaps this will help bring it back to life.  Who knows, maybe I’ll finally get around to writing that novel I keep talking to much about…

With all these activities, I’m sure I’ll get the brain back into gear again.  That said, looking after a little caveman hasn’t been completely without development for me.  I do believe I have picked up a few more Hokkien words that I never would have learned otherwise.  Maybe, just maybe, it might be possible for me to pick up enough Hokkien in the course of raising my son that I might actually be able to hold a conversation in Hokkien. Well, we’ll see…

It was Mum’s birthday yesterday. Yup, Mum’s a Christmas baby. Despite her birthday falling on a public holiday, we often almost forget her birthday. So came Saturday night (bearing in mind that we are at three hours behind Melbourne time), I jumped online frantically looking for a florist that would deliver some flowers and chocolates to my mother on her birthday.

Even though it often gets left to the last minute, I usually always manage to get something in time for her birthday and to make the call on Christmas day to wish her “Happy Birthday” and not “Merry Christmas”. I only ever made that mistake once and it sent my usually aloof and nonchalant mother into tears for the whole day. My Mum’s like that. She often acts like these things don’t matter to her at all, but deep down inside, they mean a lot. She’ll pretend that she’s not moved by the gesture, but you can see how happy she is to get flowers.

Ordinarily, I would have done this a day or two earlier, but scatterbrained me (which I’m going to blame on the pregnancy - yet again!) only remembered while the hubby and I were in the car on the way home from dinner with the in laws. Luckily, I managed to find a local Melbourne florist that operated online called, “Floral Art“. I was especially delighted to read that they delivered “7-days a week” and prayed fervently that this included a public holiday like Christmas.

I selected the following box of orchids and chocolates and requested delivery on Christmas Day with a note wishing her “Happy Birthday” from the hubby, my brother and me. I figured my brother wouldn’t have remembered so I added his name in. The last time it was my birthday and I received a pot of flowers and a teddy bear signed by my brother and girlfriend, I was extremely surprised. When I dropped my brother a text message to say, “Thanks for the flowers,” I received a reply asking, “What flowers?” That’s when I realised the flowers and teddy were his gf’s handiwork…

Last night, I spoke to Mum on the phone and found out she received her flowers on Christmas Day. I could hear she was all smiles on the phone and about as bubbly as a bottle of champagne that had just been popped. After speaking to her, I texted a reminder message to my brother in Taiwan to wish her “Happy Birthday”.

The hubby asked whether it was really necessary to remind my brother. Well, I think the reply message from my brother spoke volumes on the necessity of such a reminder: “Oh s***! Thanks!”

The hubby couldn’t believe that anyone could forget their mother’s birthday, especially when it’s on Christmas Day. Well, he obviously never met anyone like my brother before… Although I feel a need to clarify that my brother’s not inconsiderate. He’s just absentminded.

So thanks Floral Art! You made my mother’s day!