iPhone rules

When I got my precioussss iPhone 5, I passed my iPhone 4 to my daughter. Yesterday I handed my kid an A4 size paper on which the following words were printed:

Hand phone rules

1. It is my phone. I bought it. I pay for it. I am loaning it to you. Aren’t I the greatest?

2. I will always know the password.

3. If it rings, answer it. It is a phone. Say hello, use your manners. Do not ever ignore a phone call if the screen reads “Mom” or “Dad”. Not ever.

4. Hand the phone to one of your parents promptly at 10 pm every school night & every weekend night at 11 pm. It will be shut off for the night and turned on again at 7:30am. If you would not make a call to someone’s land line, wherein their parents may answer first, then do not call or text. Listen to those instincts and respect other families like we would like to be respected.

5. It does not go to school with you. Have a conversation with the people you text in person. It’s a life skill. *Half days, field trips and after school activities will require special consideration.

6. If it falls into the toilet, smashes on the ground, or vanishes into thin air, you are responsible for the replacement costs or repairs. Mow a lawn, babysit, stash some birthday money. It will happen, you should be prepared.

7. Do not use this technology to lie, fool, or deceive another human being. Do not involve yourself in conversations that are hurtful to others. Be a good friend first or stay the hell out of the crossfire.

8. Do not text, email, or say anything through this device you would not say in person.

9. Do not text, email, or say anything to someone that you would not say out loud with their parents in the room. Censor yourself.

10. No porn. Search the web for information you would openly share with me. If you have a question about anything, ask a person? preferably me or your mother.

11. Turn it off, silence it, put it away in public. Especially in a restaurant, at the movies, or while speaking with another human being. You are not a rude person; do not allow the iPhone to change that.

12. Do not send or receive pictures of your private parts or anyone else’s private parts. Don’t laugh. Someday you will be tempted to do this despite your high intelligence. It is risky and could ruin your teenage/college/adult life. It is always a bad idea. Cyberspace is vast and more powerful than you. And it is hard to make anything of this magnitude disappear — including a bad reputation.

13. Don’t take a zillion pictures and videos. There is no need to document everything. Live your experiences. They will be stored in your memory for eternity.

14. Leave your phone home sometimes and feel safe and secure in that decision. It is not alive or an extension of you. Learn to live without it. Be bigger and more powerful than FOMO — fear of missing out.

15. Download music that is new or classic or different than the millions of your peers that listen to the same exact stuff. Your generation has access to music like never before in history. Take advantage of that gift. Expand your horizons.

16. Play a game with words or puzzles or brain teasers every now and then.

17. Keep your eyes up. See the world happening around you. Stare out a window. Listen to the birds. Take a walk. Talk to a stranger. Wonder without googling.

18. You will mess up. I will take away your phone. We will sit down and talk about it. We will start over again. You & I, we are always learning. I am on your team. We are in this together.

Love ya!

Daddy

They are not my original words, rather I modified it from another parent who just gave her son an iPhone.

I think they are pretty sensible and reasonable rules, don’t you think?

Christmas 2012

Santa didn’t gift me an iPad mini….

Ok, so I didn’t get the iPad mini. Maybe Santa forgot (and this was despite multiple reminders sent to him via whatsapp, Line, WeChat, twitter, Facebook messenger, SMS, MMS, iMessage, Skype messages and Tango!). Maybe he doesn’t have a smart phone!

Or maybe Santa thought I was being bad boy this year. God knows I haven’t exactly been a saint! Or maybe, just maybe, he knows I don’t really need the gadget! Honestly speaking, I cannot offer a credible excuse for wanting the iPad mini other than its larger capacity (I wished for the 64GB model you see) compared to my current iPad 2 which has half the capacity. It’s really a struggle trying to work with limited memory on the iPad. Three main things occupy most the memory on my iPad – photos (almost 6GB), medical apps and Ryan’s games (the Avengers Initiative, for instance, takes up a whopping 2GB of memory!).

So, I thought wishing for the iPad mini was a good idea. Obviously Santa didn’t think the same.

No matter. This Christmas was special in so many ways. We (3 siblings and our families) celebrated it at my parents’ home. It’s a little out of the ordinary because usually we hold it either at my place or my brother’s place, mainly because we are the only Christians in the family. But this year, my brother thought it might be best to hold it at mum and dad’s home – for the sake of my mum who had, in recent months, lapsed into deep depression – so deep that she no longer cares to eat nor take any interest in her surroundings or herself.

A role reversal has taken place in my parents relationship. Dad, who used to be the receiver of care from mum now has to play ‘mum’ to mum – catering to her every need 24/7. I know it’s really hard for him.

The Christmas dinner was very ordinary. Angel hair cooked in mushroom and ham soup (it was supposed to be spaghetti but my bro bought the wrong type of pasta!). No matter because it tasted great all the same. The fried chicken drummet was stale and cold. The vegetables were over-cooked. The satay (from Kajang) was uninspiring.

But we had great wine! (A bottle of Mescato Sweet Lips white wine from South Eastern Australia – a gift from a student). And we had a great time singing carols (first time I touched and played a guitar in years!) and we had a grand time opening our presents (a miracle happened because for the first time, my sis bought me a T-shirt that I could actually wear! Usually she buys me tees that are 2 sizes larger!). And we had an awesome time playing various board games.

But the most special thing was to see mum eating some food (she actually asked for some pasta!) and making the effort to come out from her room, which has in recent months become her ‘cage’, and join us in the hall. She didn’t join in the merry-making of course but it was gratifying just to have her there with us. Dad sang the carols with the kids while mum lie quietly on the couch with her eyes closed.

And just before the night ended, another special thing happened. My sis suddenly asked if she could join us in the Christmas service in church the next day along with her two kids! As far as I can recall she has never shown any interest in the faith that my brother and I hold on to. And so the next day we brought her and her two kids to church. The message was on John 3:16 – the famous verse which any Christians worth his/her salt would know- For God so loved the world that he gave His only begotten son, Jesus, that whoever believes in him shall not perish but have everlasting life.

It was indeed a very special Christmas miracle for us this year.

Personally , I think it was one of the best Christmas I’ve ever had.

And oh, Santa, if you are reading this, I still want the iPad mini. .

Rich dad poor dad

Ryan (my 9-year-old son) and I were watching TV the other day when the advertisement for The Apprentice Asia came on. This time round, the local billionaire entrepreneur, Tony Fernandez, gets to say the three dreaded words to potential candidates: YOU ARE FIRED!

My son was visibly impressed with Tony. He turned to me and said, “Daddy, do you know that this man owns Air Asia, a hotel chain and a football club?”

“Yes, I do”, I replied, feeling rather deflated.

I only fly in airplanes occasionally (and ironically, most times it’s Air Asia that I fly in), stays in hotels once in a while and doesn’t even like football!

For love or for money?

Apparently Ryan, my 9-year-old son, has the perfect solution to the age-old question:

Would you marry for love or for money?

Here’s a conversation between him and my wife this morning:

Ryan: No, I won’t marry for money.
Wife: So you will marry for love?
Ryan: Errr don’t know. I am too young to get married.
After awhile, Ryan said excitedly, “I know! I know! I will marry for money , then after awhile (no sense of time), I will divorce her and take the money and run!”
Wife: Ryan that’s even more terrible!!!

I swear he did not get that from my side of the family.

Remembering My Grand Uncle

My grand-uncle passed away yesterday after suffering a stroke several weeks ago. I didn’t make the trip to KL to see him when he had the stroke – the family didn’t want any visitors. I only received news of his demise yesterday through my dad who was informed by my uncle in KL. My brother in KL told me that the wake and procession was held this morning.

Beyond that, I had no further news.

We visit him once a year during the Chinese New Year. Other than my grandma’s house (my granny is 101 years old!), my grand-uncle’s house was the next meeting point for the entire clan – there we would be assured of a proper lunch – usually satay and other simple (but halal) meals. You see, my grand-uncle was once an ambassador, so naturally he would have many visitors of all races on Chinese New Year. He would be standing at the front door welcoming all of us with a broad smile.

I must confess that I do not know my grand-uncle well.Even so, I’ve always looked up to him. To me, he was the epitome of the kind of person I want to be – kind, gentle, confident, dignified and very knowledgable. Despite his illustrious career, he led a simple life after retirement.

The one thing that I treasure most about my grand-uncle is the pride I see in his face and eyes every time I visited him. He offered me a beer when I was 16 – he told me I was old enough to drink. I didn’t of course (I didn’t think I was ready at the time) but many years later, I finally did when he again offered it. Just one can. To satisfy him.

When he knew I was going to pursue medicine as a career, he beamed with pride. He constantly asked my dad about my welfare during the years when I was overseas doing undergraduate medicine. When I graduated and next saw him, he welcomed me warmly with a good man-to-man handshake, again eyes beaming with pride. I was the first in the clan to be a medical doctor. It’s as if his very own son became a doctor!

And since then, every year, on Chinese New Year, he looked at me with that same pride – as I progressed with my life-calling, from the Masters to eventually subspecializing in infectious diseases.

Just before the last Chinese New Year, he had a fall. When we visited him on CNY, he looked frail. His wife took his place at the front door welcoming all the guests. When I stepped into his home, his face lit up when we made eye contact and he immediately beckoned me to his side on the settee so we could have a little chit-chat. He asked about me, my work, my family, my kids – I felt like a little boy all over again sitting next to him. He made me feel special.

Soon other guests came and we had to leave.

We never saw him again.

I think my grand-uncle has lived a full life. I’m going to miss him. I will miss his warm welcome and seeing the pride in his eyes. He had, in his own way, affirmed my life-calling and magnanimously approved.

And I’m going to miss having a can a beer with him.

Sports Day

Today I did what any self-respecting 21st century dads would do – skip church (and Communion Sunday!) and instead, attend my son’s sports day. I missed the event last year as I was in Melbourne, so this year’s event was kinda compulsory (something about long term psychological damage to the the kid if I don’t go).

Ryan’s school color was red (the others were yellow, blue and green – some things do not change even after decades) and the teams were named after mythical Malay warriors, namely Hang Tuah, Hang Jebat, Hang Lekir and Hang Lekiu. The assumed ethnicity of these warriors are now a subject of heated debates as some people now claim that these four fellas were in fact of Chinese descent! So much so that the adventures of these four characters (which I loved as a kid – I really didn’t care if they were Malays or Chinese or chimpanzees back then) have, I heard, been conveniently removed from the text of history books these days. Perhaps Ryan’s school may want to consider changing the sports teams to other names – maybe Ah-Jib, Ah-Lah, Ah-Thir and Ah-Man in order to be politically correct.

Ryan’s event was rope skipping where he has to skipped across maybe 50 meters, grab a ball and throw it at another kid who’s supposed to catch the ball with an inverted cone and if he is successful, then Ryan will then skip all the way back to his teammates and pass over the ropes, so to speak.

Pretty pointless exercise if you ask me.

While waiting for Ryan’s event to begin, I had a flashback to the my own sports event when I was about Ryan’s age (9 years old). My parents, as far as I could I recall never came for any of my sports day event (which might possibly explain my disturbed psyche). I remember I once participated in a team event where we had to fetch items of clothing from one end and run with the item to the a fellow team mate at the other end and put the items onto the poor guy. In the end, the poor guy looked like a cross-dressing-fashion disaster. Another time I participated in a gunny-sack race. I didn’t get very far that day and I remember I did a lot more crawling in the darn sack than actual running.

Needless to say, you can conclude I wasn’t very good at athletics – never was.

Ryan’s event eventually took off and it was over within minutes. Some of his team mates were hopeless with the skipping rope. When Ryan’s turn came, he skipped and ran with all his might! That was a proud moment for me watching him try so hard to make up for lost time.

His team didn’t win anything that day.

As we walked back to the car after the prize giving ceremony, I asked, as I placed my arm over his shoulders, what he felt about not winning anything.

“it doesn’t matter, daddy. I know I was the fastest in my team!”, he replied.

Yes he was. And I’m an even prouder dad.

One little heart beat at a time

I’m sharing with you a beautiful song sung by one of my favourite gospel singers.

The song got me all teary-eyed.

Mum, I hope that what I am today have made all the your sacrifices all worth while. And I hope my kids would grow up to be people who will make a difference, and make their mum proud.

Excuse me while I go wash my face.

John Carter

We went to watch John Carter at the theatre the other day. The film is Disney’s latest summer release and carried a PG12 rating (children below 12 had to be accompanied by a parent).

I’m not going to spoil it for you by revealing the plot, although you can read it here. Suffice to say that, while my 9-year-old son thoroughly enjoyed the movie (he laughed so loud, we were almost embarrassed), the rest of us thought the movie was only “so-so”. Sitting through 120 minutes of the movie was quite a torture and truth be told, I was almost overjoyed when it finally ended. Thankfully I did not develop pressure sores.

Not that the movie was bad in any particular way. It just lacks the ‘WOW!!’ factor. You know, the feeling one gets when one sees a scene like perhaps the light-saber duel in Star Wars or the first glimpse of Pandora in Avatar.

I think I would have enjoyed the movie more if:

1. Dejah Thoris, the warrior princess of Helium (her city on Mars) did not look like a man in wigs on anabolic steroids. (If I were John Carter, I’d rather not go back to Mars).

2. Helium wasn’t called ‘Helium’. I’ve always equated ‘helium’ with funny voices after inhalation of the gas.

3. John Carter had more testosterone than Dejah Thoris, or perhaps less estrogen.

4. The space crafts did not look like they were stolen from the set of Avatar and fitted with cropped grasshopper wings.

5. Tars Tarkas, the leader of the Tharks, did not look like an ectopic character who wandered off the set of Star Wars.

6. Those cute little green creatures which hatched on Mars did not look like they were offsprings of Shrek.

7. The hyperactive-super fast Mar’s version of a dog that became John Carter’s pet did not look like a juvenile version of Jabba-the-Hutt in Return of the Jedi.

8. The music score wasn’t so uninspiring or cheesy.

9. Shang, the busy-body celestial-but-mortal Thern, did not looked like he overdosed on SKII and Fair & Lovely facial cream.

10. The plot in parts, did not make me feel like I was watching Cowboys vs Aliens.

11. The people in the cinema did not include infants who whined and yelled intermittently throughout the film, idiots who did not know how to mute their blardy hand phones, imbeciles who had the need to check their FB updates every 3.5 seconds or the lovey-dovey couple behind me who giggled incessantly while whispering sweet nothings in Chinese loud enough to be heard in the next cinema hall. I almost wished I had a real light saber.

It was very annoying to watch John Cater romancing his testosterone-laden love interest accompanied by the unappreciated background noise of mobile phones, whiny babies and loud oriental foreplay.

I read it’s going to be a trilogy. Frankly I’m not holding my breath in anticipation.

Ol’ Naggy Dad

My dear kids,

I believe that when God created fathers, he conveniently made them deficient in a number of special abilities which are only found in mothers. For instance, fathers are unable to take the continual presence of kids for more than 2 hours at a stretch.

So, imagine the horror of horrors when I went on a 10-day break from work recently on account of the Chinese New Year and had to endure your presence 24/7. It was enough to drive any dad insane.

By the end of the week, I remarked to your mum that the only verbal conversation that I have with you guys usually starts with this phrase:

“(Insert name of child)!, please put your (insert offending object*) away!!!!”

*the offending object may be anything from books left on the kitchen table/toilet floor/my lounge chair over the last 2 weeks/living room sofa/the swing outside; pieces of Lego toys (left in all those areas mentioned including the tiny spaces between/behind/under the sofa); 3 days of uncollected dog-poo; mountains of folded laundry; socks/bags/shoes/jackets/water-bottles conveniently left all over the living room floor; unwashed plates and cups left on the kitchen table to everything else that are not in their proper place.

Consequently, some days were downright crappy as I moped around in the foulest of moods while you guys tried to keep a safe distance in the small space we call home.

Not easy and not pleasant.

There were days I go to bed feeling angry and sorry for myself thinking a better dad would have made the day much better for his kids – you know, yell less, smile a bit more, engage and interact – stuff that Hollywood-ideal-dads are supposed to do as portrayed in the movies. In the movies, the house would be spic-and-span, the dishes auto wash themselves, toys are miraculously kept away automatically, laundry fly themselves from the clothes line to the cupboard all folded and smelling like summer rose, the dog never ever poops and bathes itself, mums and dads are forever smiling, kissing and hugging and need not worry over mounting bills and an expanding waistlines and sagging appendages and kids are euphorically happy with their electronic gadgets and the latest in fashion wear. Oh, and in the movies, dads also fend off the bad guys and handle a bazooka with ease – saving the world while keeping the family happy.

But I’m no Hollywood dad and I’d quite likely shoot myself with a bazooka.

There were days that I worry I would not wake up in the morning, having breathed my last some time in the wee hours of the morning and fearing that all you kids will remember me by are the negative nagging I dish out like an old broken record day in and day out. I dread passing on without hugging and kissing you guys enough and telling you that you matter instead of constantly yelling over things that don’t really matter.

I do not want to be remembered that way.

So, kids, can you help me be a better dad to you by doing the bits that need doing? That way, I won’t have to yell at you and we would be a lot happier.

But really, at the end of the day, even if you refuse to do those bits I expect of you, know this:

That despite all the yelling and nagging, I love you guys to bits and I’d like to be remembered that way.

And then, one day, when you find yourself yelling at your own kids, do think back and remember your ol’ naggy dad fondly.

Supplanted!!

Over the course of a few weeks of school holiday, my role as a ‘Dad’ has been supplanted! Things changed from this:

To this:

Now, if I could get Mark Zuckenberg to pay for their education and upkeep, I’m more than happy to be supplanted.