Mother, Inc

Uncategorized

My kids might just turn out to have awesome sporting genes

September 14, 2010

Of all the YOG-related campaigns I’ve seen in recent weeks, I think this TV commercial by P&G was probably one of the most brilliant. It was a nice touch on their part to pay homage to all the mothers who believed in the potential they saw in their kids right from the very start.

Maybe I’m biased because I’m a mom but now more than ever, I’ve come to realize that mothers really do play a huge role in shaping the way our kids turn out. Sure, there are some who go overboard in trying to cultivate talents by sending their kids to 10 different enrichment classes every week, hoping that they will become the next Leonardo (I meant the actor, not the old painter dude) or Michael (Jordan or Phelps or Jackson). But on the other end of the spectrum, plenty of raw talent goes unnoticed because moms were too busy to see that their kid could run laps faster than Dash from The Incredibles.

The husband and I, we’re both passionate sports fans. The kind that stays up all night for Champions League matches in full gear, trash-talking the competition and getting all worked up over bad refereeing decisions. Yeah, that kind of passionate. I used to play a bit of basketball back in the day and he was a soccer boy so from time to time, we dream about how awesome it would be if Tru could play for Arsenal or Manchester United someday. Or maybe Kirsten would turn out to be the next Sharapova, except hotter. Heck, I’ll even take Ping Pong, as soon as they burn those frumpy jerseys and come up with some prettier ones. With frills.

The only thing about being in Singapore is that we’ve still got some way to go before parents start taking sports that seriously. I used to think that few of us go pro because of the genes. We’re just not tall or fast or muscular enough to compete at the highest level so parents don’t see sports as a viable career for their kids. But then again, we’d never know if parents don’t give their kids a chance to develop their talents. So it becomes a vicious cycle, really.

I mean, when I was playing ball, none of us ever wanted to play pro ball. The best of us got to the National Team, only to get their asses whipped by Thailand or Cambodia. And don’t even get me started on China. We once went on an exchange trip to visit a sports school in China let’s just say that their 8-year-olds terrified 15-year-old me on the court. If I had any dreams of choosing basketball as a career, they got squashed good and proper during that trip. So far, we have 1 sports school, which is a start, but I know many moms still balk at the thought of having their kid turn out to be a struggling athlete.

If you ask me, I’m not sure it’s the genes though. Lots of Chinese dudes do spectacularly well in various sports so it’s not like we don’t have the physique to excel. Which boils it down to exposure. And having someone to recognize the talent, believe in it and put in the time and effort to cultivate it even if nobody else thinks they can succeed.

That’s where moms come in. They look past the obvious shortcomings and see the potential. They motivate, encourage and believe. I mean, who would have thought that a kid with ADHD could turn out to be the fastest swimmer in the world? Well, his momma did, that’s who.

For now, Tru has already taken a fancy to soccer so the husband kicks a ball around with him at home, which is so cute to watch because every time he kicks the ball he goes “GOALLLLLLL” whether or not it is actually one. I bet that’s how Rooney started out.

by Daphne

Kidspeak

Excuse my french

September 13, 2010

There was a time when I was whining about how I got nobody to talk to all day because I’m stuck with 2 babies who communicate in a series of high-pitched shrieks in various frequencies. Then when I finally managed to crack the baby code to figure out about 80% of what they were saying, they had to go ahead and learn words. Like actual English words the Queen would approve of.

By the way, I am also trying to impart whatever little Mandarin I have to him these days. I started teaching Tru his Chinese name (which I have to admit I can’t write, and he’s so going to hate me when he has to take his Chinese exams and spend half that time writing his name) and he goes “Don’t like Kai Xuan, I’m Tru baby”.

But see, that’s just the thing, I’m enjoying talking to him way more than I expected to. I love that he knows exactly what he wants and he’s able to hold his own in a conversation. I used to think that I have to talk baby talk to kids because they’re not smart enough to understand what we’re saying but I’ve come to realize that they are that smart. Sometimes they don’t have the vocabulary to express themselves adequately yet but it’s not for a lack of understanding. Just a lack of words. For now. Because they pick up words faster than we can make up new ones and one day they’ll catch up. At some point, I’ll have to pretend to know some of the words he’ll use on me when we play Words With Friends but till that day comes, I’m going to hang on to my linguistic superiority.

Which brings me to all the fun I’ve been having talking to Tru. He’s at the age where he’s picking up phrases and learning how to use them in suitable contexts. He’s also still having difficulty with certain consonants so it sometimes comes out all wrong and I’m like “I get what you’re saying, kiddo, but you really need to work on that F sound because if you say that to some people when you grow up, they’ll punch you in the face.”

How about a few examples then.

1. You’re killing me.

Which is french for you’re kidding me. I say that to the husband when he tells me something incredulous and Tru has picked it up. Except that he’s changed it to you’re killing me, which may or may not be appropriate in some of the instances he uses it. I’m not saying.

2. Food for thought.

I’ve been teaching him the It’s Raining, It’s Pouring song every time it rains. So when he sees raindrops, he goes “It’s Raining THE PORRIDGE” with wild abandon. Maybe all that porridge is getting to his head. I’m thinking I should introduce fettuccine and ciabatta into his diet to see what else he comes up with.

3. Somebody, I don’t know who.

I sometimes refer to him in the third person like “Somebody’s hungry now” or “Somebody is going to get into trouble” to add that dramatic effect for emphasis. Now every time I yawn, he says “SOMEBODY is very tired”. That somebody is your mother, young man.