Parenting on Purpose

The little boy stared in wide-eyed astonishment as the warm liquid gushed out from under the belly of the large creature. The two-year-old involuntarily twitched his eyebrows, as if to indicate a reaction of disbelief. All doubt was however completely dispelled when the action was repeated in front of him yet again. His eyes now registered a sense of amazement; although this was a look that also recorded some semblance of understanding. My older son Z had just witnessed his first cow-milking experience. And while he was not yet prepared to be personally engaged in the encounter itself, his actions were a far cry from his earlier response - which was to shy away from the herd of cows, and to cower away from the huge yet gentle creatures. This incident took place no more than two weeks ago in the lovely land of Taiwan, in a place uniquely called the Flying Cow Ranch . Nestled in the luscious countryside county of Miaoli, the ranch is home to numerous cows, sheep, goats, rabbits an

The little boy squealed in delight. Mirroring his Daddy and Mummy, he mouthed the words of a song so familar to him, all complete with corresponding hand actions. The 2-year-old then lifted his hands and launched a purposeful punch into the air. "Yeah!" he cried. It was Sunday evening. The day was almost done, and little Z was in his cosy room, having an enjoyable time singing songs. Daddy and Mummy had initiated this special time because they wanted to create a new family ritual. The singing was the penultimate activity before bed. It was just before the nightly prayer time that they had always been spending with him as far back as they could remember. But that night was only the third such song session, and the first with the animated hand gestures. And judging from Z's exuberant response, Daddy and Mummy knew that they were indeed doing the right thing, that they were creating a special time to teach their son how to honour the most important person in their live

2012 has been a year of numerous transitions; two of the most momentous being the arrival of our second son E as well as my new job in a different part of the education sector. The arrival of E just over three months ago threw our life back into a tempest just as we were beginning to learn how to negotiate the storms associated with a two-year-old and his tantrums. Back then, we had just returned from a restful trip with our first son Z to Phuket, and had resolved some of the issues of miscommunication and misunderstanding between us and him. Before the trip there were so many instances when we were frustrated with him because of his tantrums (and I'm sure he probably felt the same way about us). But all that changed after the two-week trip; Sue and I believe it was because we gave him undivided attention, and that we had become more sensitive to his needs, understanding more and more the non-verbal signals that he was sending. Then E came and life has never been the same a

Recently, our home has been filled with cries for "'Ummy! 'Ummy!" It's what I hear first thing in the morning from Z's room as he stirs, and one of the last things I hear before bedtime. Each time, it melts my heart.  He started out by calling me "Mine" - "Mummy" is harder to pronounce as it is two syllables long. I also thought it was kind of sweet, a sort of claiming and proclaiming that I belonged to him... he then moved on to "My Mee", an abbreviation of "My Mummy". I thought that was endearing too. Perhaps "'Ummy" will finally evolve to the proper word "Mummy", but till then, I shall enjoy this current phase. My beginnings as a mother were rocky. We waited a long time to become parents. It was something I always dreamed of and imagined, but when the day finally came, in truth, it felt rather strange - almost as if someone had come along and taken over my old identity. I remember th

My Uncle Ann passed away last week. He was 63. If you were a casual visitor to his wake, and listened to all the eulogies by his mother, siblings, children and friends, one word would echo about Joe Tan Kim Ann - "generous". A man of very few words, Uncle Ann went out of his way to help others, quite often at his own personal expense. Many a story was told of how Uncle Ann would take in a person on the street and invited him to work at his cleaning company - "just because". And there were the times when he loaned out money to those in need, sometimes without them ever returning him the cash. I was a recepient of this generosity as well - many a time I would ask him for help to move furniture from one location to another, and he would always comply, offering his men and his van to help me transport the items. And when I asked how much I should pay, all he said was, "Just give the men coffee money - that's enough." On the last occassion almost fiv

It's difficult not to contemplate the meaning of life when you're 47 years of age. You consider the birth pangs, the moment of anguish when you were expelled from the womb into a harsh and cruel world. Things were different then - no Facebook, no iPhone, not even the ubiquitous medium we now call the Internet. Listening to the voices of yesteryear, you were conditioned to recall a childhood fraught with difficulty - of how you were surrounded by a host of hostile foes eager to bully you and tear you down. Yet you were presented with numerous accounts of how you survived against all odds. And you smile as you look back at your personal accomplishments; still a little red dot in a sea of lines and curves, but a dot nonetheless in the big wide world. This National Day seemed to have gone by for me without much fanfare. The glitzy parade and all its military and societal exhibitions, the thrills and controversies surrounding Singapore's 3rd and 4th Olympic medals, even

The little boy appeared tentative. There were so many of them, and all of them seemed somewhat scary. Yet he detected a certain friendliness about them; as if they didn't really care about how he looked or how he behaved - only that he was a child just like them - a special and unique individual - just like each one of them.  Slightly hesitant at first, but with a gradual aura of confidence, he took his first step towards them - he had decided to join the community of grace. Just a few months back, my family decided to join a new small group community in our church. As newcomers in a strange environment, we were unsure of what the group would be like. This was especially since we did not know anyone in the group. There were naturally fears that we would not be able to "click" with this new group; or worse - that we would ease into a group which discussed superficial matters more than deep personal concerns. All our fears melted away on the day of the first meeting, w

I had been puzzled by this issue for the past few years. During this time, I frequently allowed the sequence of events to run through my mind. What did I do? How was it like for me? All questions drew a blank for me, as if my mind had blocked out that stage of my life. And it did not help when my wife shared her own experiences and asked if I had encountered a similar occurrence. I felt like a character from The Bourne Identity, one without a past, a man without a childhood. Things started about two years ago, when Z came into our lives. As new parents, we began asking questions about how we should parent our child. And we began to look into our past for the answers. My wife would start by sharing details about what her room looked like when she was a child, all the little toys that she had, and all the games she used to play - even when she was as young as 3 or 4. I remember listening to her, trying to recall what things were like for me when I was her age. And I could not remem

It started out  at first  as a sense of anticipation - I was busy packing for our upcoming trip to the Southern islands of Phuket and Krabi in Thailand last month, when it suddenly dawned on me how precious the time was going to be and just how much I was looking forward to spending two whole weeks with my husband and son, just the three of us, away from the hustle and bustle of everyday life.  I had been waiting for the break from housework and the everyday routines of life, but as I thought about all our previous trips, I realised that our holidays have been more than that. They have been times of building into one another's lives and having the luxury of space and personal moments to make invaluable deposits into one another's love tanks. Holidays have also been a time to work on areas of growth we have been wanting to see at a particular stage in time, in our marital and familial lives collectively. Moreover, we have noticed that our son seems to blossom the most dur

It has become a morning ritual. The little boy would run over to the huge toy chest and purposefully attempt to pry it open. Finally achieving his objective, he would excitedly select a piece from the colourful block set, and intentionally place it on the floor next to him. Reaching back into the chest, he would repeat the process with another block, and position it on top of the first piece. Suddenly, in the midst of his activity, he would look frantically around the room. Glancing to and fro, his eyes would fall on an older man, who at this moment, would either be having breakfast or preparing to go to work. In a dramatic display of affection, the boy would run to the man, and drag him to the pile of building blocks on the floor. He wanted his Daddy to join him in this special time of father-son bonding. We decided to buy the large chest of MEGA Bloks for Z ahead of his second birthday next month. Our son had been enjoying his building blocks while at his grandparents' place

Sunday was Mothers' Day. If one had walked around parts of Singapore, he or she would have seen women with their families in tow, carrying flowers and other cutesy items, evidently presented to them by their loving children. Restaurants across the country have also cashed in on this trend, many of them offering Mothers' Day menus at less than "motherly" prices, hoping to attract the filial children who choose to celebrate their mothers' love on this special day. However, when Fathers' Day comes around next month, I have doubts if the same phenomenon would be repeated. My musings arose from a seminar I attended last month at my church. The speaker, Dan Sneed, is a renown author whose works include The Power of a New Identity , a book which addresses issues of self rejection and addiction among other issues. Dan shared the story of how a certain card company in America had wanted to bless the prison community, and gave them free cards for them to write to t

The little boy shrieked at the top of his voice. Glancing around the room, he all but ignored the frustrated man trying in vain to comfort him. His eyes raced furiously to the boxes of toys arrayed around the room; he paused if only to give them a cursory glance, before dashing out of the room. Still in tears, the child wandered from room to room to no avail. Then suddenly he stopped - and sprinted into the waiting arms of a familiar figure - his mother. It has been a difficult couple of weeks. I'm not sure exactly when, but I think it all began not long after our recent trip to Vietnam. My wife and I have pinpointed our Vietnam trip as the time when our son Z's temper tantrums became more frequent and more acute. Upon reflection, I have also ascertained that the period immediately after the trip was the start of Z's "clingy" behaviour. I have been involved in the care of my son since his birth, participating in his night feeds, changing him, bathing him,