Most preschool performances have several things in common – mediocre stage direction, abysmal choreography, average lighting and a very distracted cast. For the most part, it doesn’t even look much like a performance.

But then they usually also have the most enthusiastic audience.

Because there’s a universal rule of parenting that we all adhere to: “When your kid puts up a performance, you scream and cheer like it’s the best thing you’ve ever seen.”

Which is what we did last Friday when the kids had their year-end school performance. I’ve watched it 20 times and it still cracks me up.

And here’s a dose of Hipstamatic Happiness to kick start your Monday.

On another note, the awesome TaoShu iPad app is out and you can download it here. The kids really love TaoShu - till this day, these are the only Chinese books they will allow me to read.

Also, it’s good to have Petrina Kow back on air every Monday with Joe Augustin. Tune in to Lush 99.5 to check it out.

Remember when you were a kid and you loved to do the Freeze Dance because it was so badass to freeze with your tongue sticking and your eyes rolled back into your head? Or like right now, you still do it when you’re driving alone in the car? And in the shower?

You don’t? Just me then.

We had to impart this tradition of freeze dancing to the kids because every kid needs to know how to freeze dance. I mean, hip hop? Meh, that’s so 2007. Freeze dancing is what all the cool kids are doing these days.

I made a video of the kids dancing to Move Like Jagger (I know, if I hear that song one more time my ears are going to bleed) and the husband was all “that’s a psychedelic video”. I think by psychedelic he means awesome because I’ve seen the man dance and let’s just say there’s a reason why neither of us goes dancing much at all.

Right, have a great weekend. I’m off to the doctor’s for Tru’s stitches removal. He’s the only kid I know who enjoys this sort of thing. He’s been looking forward to it all week and the first thing he said this morning was “Today I can go doctor to take out my stitches? YAYY!”

Now that’s psychedelic.

The kids taught me a hilarious chinese rhyme recently, a popular one called Sally Sally Lom Chiam Pass. Some people know it as Cherry Cherry Lom Chiam Pass, or even Chelly Chelly Lom Chiam Pass. The husband says people didn’t have fancy names like Sally back when the rhyme started but I honestly do not know a single person called Chelly so I’m sticking with Sally.

Anyway, they learnt it from my mom-in-law, who’s been doing a fabulous job teaching them Chinese. Unfortunately, I had no idea what they were saying because it sounds nothing like the Chinese I know and I had to wait for the husband to come home to translate.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Wgu_pYuax4U

If you need a translation, here’s what it means in English:

Sally Sally Lom Chiam Pass
Pee Por Pee Por
Left Kiss, Right Kiss
High High, Low Low
Front Front, Back Back
Sally Sally Lom Chiam Pass

It seems surreal that in about 12 hours, I’ll be on a plane to Florida for the Disney Social Media Moms Celebration. We’re not bringing the kids along this time so it’ll be the first time since they were born that we’ll be apart for 10 days. That’s 240 hours of not being able to snuggle in bed or smell the faint strawberry scent their freshly-washed hair or nibble on their cheeks. Something tells me that I’m not going to make it.

In short, I’m going into severe baby separation anxiety mode. 10 bucks says that I’ll bawl like a baby when I board the plane.

Also, I’m pretty sure these are the symptoms of extreme separation anxiety.

1. I’m becoming schizophrenic. I spent the last 24 hours alternating between “WHOOOO I’M LEAVING!” and “I CAN’T GO I MISS MY BABIES”, sometimes within the span of 5 seconds.

2. I have been squeezing the life out of both my kids. I’m trying to hug them extra to make up for the next 10 days, so they’ve practically been stuck to my hips all day. So much so that Truett is all “ENOUGH MOMMY” and Kirsten joins in with “don’t want mommy to hugggggg.”

3. Which is the point I sigh dramatically and say, “you guys will miss me when I’m gone.”

4. I’m considering stealing their precious duck and blankie for my trip so I can breathe in their smell and imagine they’re there with me. The only thing stopping me is the knowledge that my mom and in-laws will kill me for the 10 sleepless nights ahead of them.

5. I’m making soppy videos of my kids so I can watch them over and over again when I’m there. Like these.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=D4jdjsB6Rwg

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VEAChqdXWC0

PS. I’ll post pictures when I’m there. Stay tuned.

When I found out I was having a boy, I knew I was in for the whole “look mom, I’m a secret agent” ride. There’s something about having testosterone that makes you want to hold a gun and skulk around corners with a half pout. If I didn’t know better, I’d try to pin the blame on Playhouse Disney’s Special Agent Oso, which is basically a story about another useless secret agent but you and I both know that tv only exacerbates a condition that was already there in the first place.

What I didn’t expect was how fun it would be to watch.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rWhxeDYTRwg

PS. I know some parents don’t allow their kids to play with guns, even water guns because it promotes violence. I don’t have a defense to that except that squirting water at someone else square in the face is strangely therapeutic. He’s got tons of squirties in the shape of smiley faces but it’s like he knows it’s way more macho to hold a magnum. I’m just glad we believe in gun control.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PGStTXsAbwg

I’ve already established that my boy has an astounding vocabulary including words like “hepatitis” and “coincidentally“. Admittedly, they sound like “I like this” and “go see telly” but hey, close enough.

Just for kicks, I make him repeat ridiculously long words and he nails them every time. But there’s one word that is his archilles’ heel. That’s “grandma”.

Broken down, he has no problem with the syllables but joined together, his brain has an override mechanism that makes him say “mommy” instead.

I have no idea why that is so but suffice to say, there is a fair bit of confusion every time he calls mommy.

My momma turned 50 yesterday, which makes her as old as my country but in the grand scheme of things, that’s really young considering she’s already got 2 grandkids. Besides, if you looked at her, you probably wouldn’t think she’s a day past 35. (cha-ching, 1000 points for me)

Since the big 5-0 is pretty huge, we decided to throw her a surprise birthday bash and invited all her bosom buddies. Our only aim was to make her cry so we pulled out all the stops to put it all together. She was invited to a friend’s place thinking that it would be a small dinner and we all hid in the bedroom while she was made to watch a cheesy video which we made. After which, we all rushed out with the cake and presents yelling SURPRISE!

Good thing was, we did manage to make her cry but on the downside, she is now going to kill me for posting the video with all her old photos on my blog for the world to see.

Here are my final words so I better make it count.

Mom, you only turn 50 once, and that means people get to go on a journey of all your fashion disasters. It’s all part of the package. Plus, it makes you look so much more stunning now in comparison.

When I used to drive you up the wall, you used to say “wait till you have your own kids and you will understand”. Then I used to say, “when I have my own kids, I’ll be the coolest mom in the universe. They will eat ice-cream all day and party till midnight”. Now all I can say is I was a moron and you were absolutely right. Now I do understand.

I used to wish that I had a cooler mom like Madonna or Barbara Bush because then I’d be famous and I could brag about having a superstar/first lady as my mom. Then I realized that I already do have the best mom in the world and I’m glad I don’t have to deal with explaining why my mother is dating a guy my age. Also, skirt suits with silk blouses give me the creeps.

You’ve always taught me to love God and love people. To give my best in everything that I do. To be a person with integrity and character. To have a spine in the face of adversity. To give honor where it’s due. To be generous and kind. To be faithful till the end.

Most of these lessons I learnt just watching you live your life.

Thank you for always believing the best in us and praying for us. Everything I know about being a mom I learnt from you. So HAPPY BIRTHDAY. I’m really, really glad you’re my mom.

With lots of love as always.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zBL6SesAlXk

The first time you watch this, you’ll think it’s probably some lame spoof of Batman fighting the Joker or Riddler or some other nefarious circus act. Then it starts and it sounds like it’s taken off the soundtrack of Kill Bill where Uma Thurman takes on Lucy Liu.  2 minutes in, you’ll be wondering if the video actually has a point.

Just wait for it, because it does and you’ll be all like WTH?!! No, no, no, no, no.

Right after that, you’ll watch it again and again and again and really listen to the lyrics and be blown away by the sheer ingenuity of it because it is that awesome. You will wake up in the morning and involuntarily go Hot dusty day, nothing’s going down…

Or you might probably hate it.

All mothers love to compare stuff. It’s just in their DNA. It could be something the pregnancy does to your brain during the nine months that makes you go all competitive and crazy, even before the baby is out.

When it comes to finding new stuff to compare, mothers are very creative. It can range from the size of the stomach, the heartbeat of the baby, the weight of the baby and the pregnancy symptoms they get, as if having it worse means you’re somehow a better mother because of the immense sacrifice you’re making.

Some do it subtly.

Mother 1: So which school will you be sending your child to? It’s such a dilemma. I’m considering between Julia Gabriel and Montessori.”

Me (with an obliging smile): I haven’t decided yet, but the public playschool down the road don’t seem so bad.

Mother 1 (affected laughter): Oh, public education! It’s just that some of the kids are a little rowdy, if you know what I mean.

Me: I suppose so.

Methinks: Yes, I know exactly what you mean. And I hope your little brat grows up to be every bit as shallow, self-obsessed and arrogant as you are.

It’s exasperating. I bring my boy for a walk at the mall and I can see mothers eyeing the kind of stroller I have, the clothes Tru’s wearing, the diaper bag I’ve got. And it’s the worst when a whole bunch of competitive mothers gather for a chat. It gets increasingly ludicrous as they go along. Kinda like these mothers on Goodness Gracious Me!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3N7F-5zNVFI

I get that it’s a mother’s instinct to be unabashedly proud of their child, and I can’t help glowing when other people fuss over my kid. But there’s a line to be drawn as far as competition goes and it drives me insane when mothers go on and on about how brilliant their little geniuses are. (You know my 3-year-old boy just learnt to operate on his pet dog).

Get a life, woman! I’m sure there’s some kind of medication to curb those illusions you’re having. Or might I suggest a lobotomy.

I’m not usually into youtube videos, but this one I just couldn’t resist.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4Hhdr1IPOGs

Seriously, it’s the funniest thing I’ve ever seen. I mean, props to the parents for getting it down on tape. They probably waited for hours with the video cam on standby. Sure, the poor kid’s disproportionately-capacious noggin helps to propel it in all directions, but for this masterpiece to take place, all the stars have to align.

But the real stroke of genius has to be the brother/sister’s (see, androgynous is all the rage) complete nonchalance. Then again, if it was my kid, I’d have given him a good and proper smack to the head, before making a quick getaway to the bathroom to roll on the floor laughing.

I’ve been trying to get Tru to reenact the scene for my own viewing pleasure. Which involves tiring him out past the point of exhaustion but I’ve got a fighter on my hands. If I don’t restrain him in a straightjacket and pin him down in his cot, he’d play all the time and never sleep.

And he obviously didn’t get that from me. As far as I’m concerned, sleep is a luxury. The more, the better. I haven’t had decent sleep for 10 months now, and sometimes, I just want to shoot him with a tranquilizer dart so I can catch my forty winks.

More than once, I’ve dozed off in the living room only to wake up with a start and find him systematically ingesting all the stuff in the house. I’m willing to wager that a goat would do less damage than him.

One day, I’m just gonna go all Clockwork Orange on him and make him watch the clip on loop till it sinks in.

Go to sleep… Go to sleep… Go to sleep…