MIL's secret weapon against germs.

My mom-in-law (MIL) has many old stories to share and often when I say something that jogs her memory, she'll remember something from the past when money was tight and hard to come by. Despite all the financial limitations, she did her best. She repeats this often, "we were so poor but we were really happy!". Usually this would be followed by a wistful smile and a faraway look in her eyes.

As most mothers, one of her main concerns was that the kids were always clean and healthy.  Stephen remembers that they used this soap when they were still small children running around the neighbourhood.  They played in the mud, in the sand, in the grass and even in the nearby cemetery. When they reached home with all the sweat, dust and dirt, the first thing to do was shower with this soap.  They never had rashes or sores or any skin problem and they always smelt like they stepped out of the hospital. 

In those days, a bar cost S$0.20 and today it is S$0.80.  My mom-in-law still asks for this every once in a while and we buy it for her. I think that when she showers in the morning, the smell of the soap takes her back to those days in Rosyth Road.  

She said that the neighbours called it 'dog' soap because people bought it for their dogs.  She laughs when she remembers this anecdote.

These days, I am seeing my mom-in-law with new eyes.  I admit that I hadn't always felt this way about her but this last year has opened my heart, just that little bit more, with each sharing of her life story.

All of us have an interesting story to tell. All it takes is someone willing to listen and to write about it before it is lost forever.

The pursuit of perfection...

Pic from Facebook

For a long time, I was led to believe that being perfect was the ultimate goal.  I can't trace how or why this became part of what I thought was correct.

In any case, it was the pursuit of perfection that has probably caused many people unnecessary stress.  Even when I thought it was right, I don't think that I consciously sought for perfection.  I always felt that doing my best was what mattered.

When I was in primary school, I remember not feeling confident after an examination. My whole demeanour was affected.  Someone, I don't remember who, noticed and asked me why.  When I explained the gloom, the person said this, "If you had done your best at that moment, then that is all you need to know". I found those words comforting.

Today, I saw this image with Paulo Coelho's words and it triggered this memory.  

Now I understand why people want that perfect bag or shoe or dress. They long for the perfect partner, with a perfect garden and a perfect house.  They dream of a perfect life.  It's a perfect plan.

Now I get it.  It's a disguise for insecurity.  This suddenly makes complete sense to me.

I may not be perfection but I'm normal.  There isn't that need to make everything perfect.  I'm secure that my imperfection is what makes me unique.  

To spank or not to spank!

Pic from FB

There's a short but healthy debate about discipline after I shared this picture on Facebook.  I respect that everyone has an opinion and it's always good to read and know how others think.  Either it adds to our thought patterns or it changes how we look at things.

I believe that discipline is good in whatever form you think is right for your family.  It is not something you choose to do but more likely that you need to do.

I've seen parents being emotionally blackmailed by their children.  

I've seen parents sitting helplessly at dinners while their children misbehave.

I've seen parents allowing their children to throw fruits at guests.

How did it get to this?

On Facebook, I mentioned that I was never spanked.  Actually, the more accurate thing would have been to say that I was never spanked by my Dad.  

My parents played the good cop/bad cop game with us.  Hahahaha

BUT nearly an hour later, I suddenly remembered that my Mom did spank me. I must have been 8 or 9 years old.  I vaguely recall that it was for not cleaning a room.  Mom allowed us to make a mess provided we clean it up.  We made the mess and then ran off to play outside.  When we got home, she smacked us.  

Truthfully, I can barely remember being smacked.  But the shame of being punished for not doing something I was supposed to do stayed with me.  It taught me that I should never make a promise and not keep it. 

It wasn't the spanking that hurt.  It was that I had let my Mom down.  She had trusted us to play until the room was a complete mess.  She had trusted us to clean up after that.  We didn't.

I learnt from that.  Maybe I could also have learnt if she had 'talked' to us instead of spanking us.  I don't know.  I only know that the spanking didn't hurt me.  Not in the way that people say they are scarred for life when their parents hit them.

I believe in spanking, when it is necessary.  I think that a little spanking is good for the child's growth.

"To each his own", I believe.

In loving memory of Grandpa Tomas

Pic from FB

It's my maternal grandfather's birthday today.  He would have been 103 if he hadn't died on 12 August 2003.  I was always his pet.  I remember growing up with everyone telling me this.

His last years had not been good but he was always a jovial and happy man.  He thought me to play checkers and I had never won any game with him.  Even when he was old and frail, his mind was still sharp.  It gave him great pleasure to play and win.  

When he died, I didn't feel much sadness.  He was so old and already bedridden.  His only pleasure was watching TV and visits from the family.  I think the inactivity hurt him more than the physical disability.

He lived through two world wars and he had a life filled with love and laughter.  That's how I will always remember him.

Today I'm thinking of him and I'm missing him, especially.

Pic from FB

Horatio Tomas Sr

Birth: 19 December 1909
Death: 12 August 2003

Chestnuts roasting on an open fire....

Pic from here

When we were little, chestnuts were a rare treat for us.  Not only were they pretty expensive, they weren't sold all year round.

If the man came cycling by, my Mom would buy a packet and divide it among the four of us.  I clearly remember a time when my brother and I had 5 chestnuts each.  We sat across each other and looked at it and waited to see who would give in and eat the first one.  We literally considered it a form of entertainment, prying the  nut out and eating it.  We felt devastated if one turned out to be rock hard or burnt.  

Often I see these selling in the Toa Payoh Hub.  I have bought a packet and eaten everything by myself.  It isn't the same when you can have it all.  There is no thrill when you eat these alone.  Tasty or not, the whole idea of truly enjoying chestnuts is when it's shared.

Nice memory this brings today.  :)