unqualified parenting tips

We’ve recently had to start teaching the kids about the importance of keeping their special private areas special. You’d think that this was one of those easier lessons to teach because it’s so straightforward, like just don’t wave your penis around in public and that’s all there is to it. Not exactly rocket science.

In reality, it’s a little more complicated than that. I think this is largely due to the fact that kids have nudist tendencies. Maybe it’s the freedom not wearing clothes symbolizes or just how nice and airy it is to let everything all hang out. Mostly the second one. Especially with the kind of humid weather we have, there’s no real need to wear any clothes if modesty wasn’t an issue.

For a long time, we had to play catch-the-naked-baby game before and after every shower. Ok, who am I kidding? We still do it all the time. When it’s shower time, they will start stripping down and the moment the last article of clothing comes off, they take off and start streaking around the living room. They do it after the shower too, which makes the game even more difficult because then they’re all wet and slippery. And throughout the day, they think it’s funny to randomly strip and run around.

At this point, we’re still fine with them being naked for extended periods at home but I realize that people aren’t quite as fine with them being naked in public. One time, Kirsten got bored when we were out shopping and started to take off her clothes. Obviously, a lot of scrambling ensued.

So anyway, we’re teaching them that certain body parts can’t be exposed in public and to really drill home the message, we hold quizzes for them regularly.

Me: Kids, can you show people your backside?

Kids: No, cannot.

Me: How about your ears?

Kids: Yes, ears can.

Me: Armpits?

Kids: Yes.

Me: Penis?

Tru: Cannot show people my penis.

Me: Very good. Kirsten, same goes for your vagina – cannot show ok. How about nipples?

Kids: No.

Me: Ok, technically, Truett, yours can but Kirsten’s nipples cannot.

Tru: But Truett and mei mei’s nipples same. Same nipples.

Me: Excellent observation. Yeah, I know it’s confusing but you’re a boy and nobody wants to see your nipples. At some point, mei mei’s nipples are going to look very different and lots of people are going to want to see that so it’s better to keep the mystery intact.

Tru: People want to see mei mei’s nipples?

Kel: Um babe, you should really stop explaining. You’re making it worse.

Me: OH LOOK KIDS, FLOWERS! You guys want to pick a flower for grandma?

Well, let’s just say that I’m not looking forward to giving the sex education talk or the where-do-babies-come-from talk. That’s going to be fun.

As a parent in Singapore, it’s hard not to get caught up with the whole education frenzy. It seems like every parent wants to get their kids into the best schools and they go to great lengths to do so. Some buy a place within 2km of their desired school, some diligently offer their services as parent volunteers and some make significant donations to build a spanking new school gym.

I have very little intention of doing any of the above.

Not that I’m not interested in giving them the best education money can buy. But all this seems a bit excessive and I’m not even sure if them getting into the Ivy League equivalent of a primary school will set them on a fast track into an actual Ivy League college.

Now that they’re in school, I do feel a bit of pressure making sure that the kids are keeping up with their supposed learning curriculum. Truett came home the other day telling me his name is T-R-U-E-T-T and I had no idea he even knew what spelling was. Then Kirsten was all “my name is E-E-T-R-U-E-S”, which totally does not spell Kirsten at all. So I spent the next 15 minutes in the car trying to teach my 2-year-old how to spell her name.

By the time we reached, it had gotten worse, like “I-S-S-T-E-N-R”. Which is the point that I realized hey, the girl’s 2, just cut her some slack already. When I was 2, I didn’t even know what the alphabets were, much less string a bunch together competently. And honestly, I’m not particularly concerned that they can’t color inside the lines or draw a banana or count to a gazillion.

I’d be mightily impressed if they could name all the planets in the milky way and knew the difference between igneous and sedimentary rocks but if they weren’t big on those topics, I’m not sweating over it.

We do try to encourage creativity though, because it’s fascinating how they view the world and we’re constantly amazed by all the stuff they come up with. When they show me a blob that they’ve drawn, I try real hard to see the 5-legged dinosaur eating a fish. Just several days ago, we were having breakfast when Tru showed us the caterpillar he made using a bunch of coins.

Then rearranged it and made Mickey’s head.

And this afternoon, they found a 2 rolls of tape and used it to make a kite. It looked nothing like a kite but they had lots of fun running around the house with it.

They’ll do the math and the science thing soon enough. Now we’re just trying to get them to express themselves creatively before it gets educated out of them.

Consistency. One of those buzzwords that get thrown around in parenting circles.

As parents, we’re told to be consistent in the way we teach our kids lest their little brains implode from the weight of sheer confusion.

While I understand the need for a clearly defined set of guidelines from which we never deviate, implementing them is a whole other ball game. Mostly because kids are persistent little creatures and they will test your resolve 800 times a day.

Truett knows full well that he’s not allowed to hose my toilet with the spray, or flick his boogers at his sister, or charge into my ankles with his scooter at full speed, but he does them anyway. Multiple times. Just to see if there’s that one teensy weensy chance I’ll let it slide and he’ll get away with it.

Early on in the parenting game, I’ve discovered that even though I wholeheartedly agree with the consistency principle in theory, I’m incapable of actually putting it into practice.

Me: Tru, no snatching toys from Kirsten.

Tru: I’m trying to exchange with mei mei.

Me: Exchange requires you to give her something as a trade. Taking her stuff is not exchanging. Give it back.

*2 minutes later*

Kirsten: I DON’T WANT KOR KOR TO TAKE MY TOYS!!! *hypersonic banshee screeching*

Me: Tru, are you snatching from her again?

Tru: I just want to share toys with mei mei.

Me: Sharing means you give her some of your toys, not snatch hers. Give it back.

5 minutes later, he’s at it again but this time Kirsten didn’t protest. So I pretended not to have seen it. Yes, I know a more consistent parent would have swooped in to stop him because it’s about teaching the principle, not simply reacting to shrieks.

But in my parenting manual, this falls into the category of battles I don’t want to fight. If I had to police every single misdemeanor, I’d pull a Mrs Trunchbull and fling them by the hair like a sledgehammer.

Instead, I rely on this chart to help me determine the need for parental intervention.

I say forget consistency, I’m gunning for survival. And sanity.