by Mamawearpapashirt (Singapore) | Sep 26, 2013 | Discipline, Parenting, Singapore, World Motherhood
I’ve made many mistakes as a parent.
I’ve yelled, spanked out of anger, accused and spoken hurtful words out of frustration.
Only to realise that there’s no way to undo the deed…well, except to say “I’m sorry” to my children.
We had a recent episode where I came home from work to find out that Vera had in a moment of fury, grabbed a cane and hit her god-grandmother. I, in a moment of outrage, swiftly used the same method of punishment on her.
I was shocked to hear of her actions, as we’ve never heard of her using force or violence on anyone in our home.
That evening, I cried. Because I felt like I had failed as a mother.
I wondered if it was because of my own disciplinary actions on her, that had taught her the example of using the cane to lash out when she was angry.
After we were calm, I sat her down and taught her some ways of expressing anger, ways that are more socially acceptable such as shouting into a pillow or hugging her favourite soft toy.
I also apologised for having been so angry, and for spanking her when I was at the peak of that anger.
After discussing with my husband in private, I realised that I’d made the mistake of not allowing her to give her side of the story, not seeking to understand what was in her heart and mind when she made that grave mistake, before disciplining her, not giving her any benefit of doubt. In my fit, it did not dawn on me that I wasn’t there to witness the incident, and therefore cannot be fully aware of the circumstances that had provoked her to such behaviour. (more…)
June, born and bred on the sunny and sometimes rainy shores of Singapore, is a mother of two - a chatty 4 y.o. girl and a toddler boy who babbles. She works part-time as a communication consultant, and she is deeply passionate about family, writing, faith, and good old-fashioned love. She can be found on her blog, Mamawearpapashirt.
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by World Moms Blog | Sep 16, 2013 | 2013, Adoption, Adoptive Parents, Africa, Being Thankful, Cultural Differences, Discipline, Ethiopia, Family, Guest Post, Health, Humanity, Humor, Inspirational, International, Kids, Motherhood, Multicultural, Netherlands, Parenting, Special Needs, Uncategorized, World Motherhood, Younger Children
Sometimes I’m really weary of explaining. To grannies in the supermarket. To teenage girls at the playground. To fellow mums at school.
My daughter is clearly adopted, yes. She’s from Ethiopia, yes. She’s had a rough start, yes. She’s lost part of her eyesight, yes. And she’s got some countless more issues, yes.
But she’s still a four year old. And I’m her mother. I’m raising her my way. Just like I’m raising her big brother, who is blond and looks a bit too much like me.
The big difference between raising my daughter and raising my son, is that people seem to feel a kind of responsibility towards my girl. It feels like adopted children are in a way public.
I do understand how we stand out, in our not so worldly little town. We are getting used to the extra attention she brings with her, although I admit I have been thinking to teach her to growl when a stranger touches her hair and skin unasked.
We were prepared for all this. We knew we were going to feel like we have arrows flashing around our heads when taking her out. Now that she’s been with us for two years, we’ve all grown a thick skin, filled with humor. We have a series of catchy replies to go with all the ridiculous questions. The next one who dares to ask me what we feed her, will be answered ‘grass’, without even a blink.
But I still can’t really cope with all the unwanted ‘advice’ we get about raising her. When my son was little, I never ever had some stranger giving him candy or cookies. I never had to explain myself in the supermarket when I refused to let him take everything he wished for. And I certainly didn’t have to listen to people telling me how neglectful I was for letting him cry out a tantrum.
With my daughter, I do have those encounters. This one time in the supermarket, I was truly abashed. I had just taken away some nasty sugar bombs from my daughter’s hands and put them back, much against the little miss’s wishes. An elderly lady came over, took the candy and handed them over to my girl again. I was confused, believing she misunderstood. So I explained I didn’t want to buy that rubbish for her. At that moment she cursed me for being so horrible towards that poor little black girl that has been hungry all her life. She put the candy in my cart, ordered me to buy it, and took off while nodding her head.
At such encounters – yes, plural – I have the urge to scream.
For one thing. She’s NOT a poor little girl. She’s in most ways an ordinary four year old preschooler. She can throw the worst tantrums I ever witnessed, just because I can’t peel an apple while driving my car or because I can’t make the Easter bunny magically appear in August. The last one was about having only six colors of nail polish to choose from. Poor girl indeed.
But most importantly, I’M THE ONE raising that ‘poor little girl’. Of course we are aware of her issues, mostly the ones regarding attachment and anxieties. We try to give her everything she needs, truck loads of patience and care which unfortunately aren’t always replenished in time. But she doesn’t need everything she wants. Just like any other child doesn’t. Unless you plan to end up with a spoiled brat that demands a yellow sports car at age eighteen.
Spoiling her will not make right all the things she missed out in the first two years of her life. Maybe that sounds harsh and loveless, but I can assure you it isn’t meant that way. I cry with her when she mourns her lost heritage, when she is homesick. I’ve swallowed away rivers of tears all those times I had to explain her history to medical doctors and hospital professors.
But I can’t raise my daughter based on pity alone.
This is a first-time, guest contribution to World Moms Blog from our friend and mother of The Penguin and the Panther in Belgium, Katinka. Her Flemish blog is in transition over to an English-only blog. Stay posted to World Moms Blog for more from Katinka.
The photograph of the author’s daughter used in this post is credited to the author.
World Moms Blog is an award winning website which writes from over 30 countries on the topics of motherhood, culture, human rights and social good. Over 70 international contributors share their stories from around the globe, bonded by the common thread of motherhood and wanting a better world for their children.
World Moms Blog was listed by Forbes Woman as one of the "Best 100 Websites for Women 2012 & 2013" and also called a "must read" by the NY Times Motherlode in 2013. Our Senior Editor in India, Purnima Ramakrishnan, was awarded the BlogHer International Activist Award in 2013.
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by Patricia Cuyugan (Philippines) | Jul 25, 2013 | Discipline, Health, Me-Time, Parent Care, Philippines, Stress, World Moms Blog, World Motherhood
I’ve been on supermom mode over the last few months. School has started for us here in the Philippines, and for the first time my son is spending the whole day in class. Because of this I’ve been on 5am kitchen duty preparing breakfast and packing snacks and lunch. I’ve been spending most of my days at home, working. I try to take on as many projects as I can these days because at present, mine is the primary source of income for our family. Afternoons are spent studying and doing homework with the kid after school. In between everything else, there are errands to run, meetings and events to attend, and countless other things to do. Thankfully, my husband has taken over driving duties. He also helps with the homework. He brings me ice cream when he knows I’m extra stressed out. I am glad that I’m not alone in this, but it has honestly begun to take its toll.
I know that a lot of moms are guilty of concentrating too much on taking care of their kids, their husbands and their households that they forget to take care of themselves. I just never thought that I would one day become that sort of mommy. Truth be told I’ve gained so much weight from stress-eating. I’ve completely given up on the exercise routine I promised myself that I would stick to. I’ve been sleeping late and I waking up before dawn. I know that I’ve been extra tired because some nights I just pass out after dinner and wake up when my alarm goes off the following morning. The funny thing is, even though my body has been telling me to slow down, I’ve been choosing to listen to that little nagging voice in my head telling me that other moms have so much more to do than I do, and that I should just keep on keeping on.
And so I did.
And then I got sick. (more…)
Patricia Cuyugan is a wife, mom, cat momma, and a hands-on homemaker from Manila, whose greatest achievement is her pork adobo. She has been writing about parenting for about as long as she’s been a parent, which is just a little over a decade. When she’s not writing, you can usually find her reading a book, binge-watching a K-drama series, or folding laundry. She really should be writing, though! Follow her homemaking adventures on Instagram at @patriciacuyugs.
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by Dee Harlow (Laos) | Feb 28, 2013 | Culture, Discipline, Family, Kids, Living Abroad, Motherhood, Multicultural, Parenting, World Moms Blog, World Motherhood
What are the rules for parenting other children or giving parenting advice or just plain parenting interference? And what is the appropriate response?
I imagine it differs by country and culture, by personality and preference. I’ve been scolded in both Mexico — and now, in Laos — about not dressing my children “warmly” enough during the “cool” season: (Here, what is considered “cold” to the locals is perfect and refreshing for us to enjoy, say, in jeans and a t-shirt without wrapping ourselves in sweaters and down jackets like everyone else around us.) With an understanding nod and smile, I always reply with a cheerful yet emphatic, “To us, this isn’t cold. It’s perfect!”
For all the concern in other countries about my children being cold, there is a surprising lack of concern for their over-consumption of sweets. One time while waiting to board our plane, a troupe of Korean men and women each gave my kids a piece of candy, repeatedly. After one or two, I asked my kids to politely say, “Thank you.” After the fourth, fifth, sixth piece, I made them do the same while I motion a polite, “Thank you, but please, no more.” Then, when they cojoled my kids to take even more, I resorted to a stern-faced, “NO thank you,” and prohibited my kids from escaping my firm grasp. Enough is enough no matter how kind the gesture.
(Another candy incident that elicited an immediate “No” from me without even a “Thank you” was returning to our hotel in Vietnam late at night with two obviously over-tired kids and having the doorman hand them a bowl (yes, a bowl!) full of candy to grab!)
(more…)
One of Dee’s earliest memories was flying on a trans-Pacific flight from her birthplace in Bangkok, Thailand, to the United States when she was six years old. Ever since then, it has always felt natural for her to criss-cross the globe. So after growing up in the northeast of the US, her life, her work and her curiosity have taken her to over 32 countries. And it was in the 30th country while serving in the Peace Corps in Uzbekistan that she met her husband. Together they embarked on a career in international humanitarian aid working in refugee camps in Darfur, Sudan, and the tsunami torn coast of Aceh, Indonesia.
Dee is now a full-time mother of three-year old twins and continues to criss-cross the globe every two years with her husband who is in the US Foreign Service. They currently live in Vientiane, Laos, and are loving it! You can read about their adventures at Wanderlustress.
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by Sophie Walker (UK) | Jan 11, 2013 | Autism, Babies, Being Thankful, Childhood, Discipline, Domesticity, Education, Family, France, Girls, Hobby, Holiday, Home, Humor, Inspirational, Kids, Life Balance, Life Lesson, Me-Time, Motherhood, Parenting, Running, Sophie Walker, Special Needs, Spirituality, Working Mother, World Motherhood, Younger Children
My mum used to say to me: “Don’t wish your life away.”
Nowadays I sometimes feel as though that’s all I do. To be more specific, I’m organizing my life away.
With four kids, my job, my husband’s job, and the diaries of both our ex-partners to co-ordinate, there are often times when I look up from the calendar and realise I’ve scheduled myself right out of the current school term and into the next-but-one.
This can be particularly painful when I have to re-adapt to not being in warm late summer and that campsite in France but instead in bleak mid-winter suburbia. January is a bad month for making wishes and looking away from the here and now. “I want to be thinner/fitter/better employed/better loved by X month,” we tell ourselves, shading our eyes as we scan the horizon for that magical time when everything will be perfect.
The temptation to hurry past moments of disappointment or frustration is immense, and only human. I feel this keenly as the mother of a child with autism. School is a big issue for us, and the day-to-day of persuading my child to go and, once there, to participate, is exhausting. (more…)
Writer, mother, runner: Sophie works for an international news agency and has written about economics, politics, trade, war, diplomacy and finance from datelines as diverse as Paris, Washington, Hong Kong, Kabul, Baghdad and Islamabad. She now lives in London with her husband, two daughters and two step-sons.
Sophie's elder daughter Grace was diagnosed with Asperger Syndrome several years ago. Grace is a bright, artistic girl who nonetheless struggles to fit into a world she often finds hard to understand. Sophie and Grace have come across great kindness but more often been shocked by how little people know and understand about autism and by how difficult it is to get Grace the help she needs.
Sophie writes about Grace’s daily challenges, and those of the grueling training regimes she sets herself to run long-distance events in order to raise awareness and funds for Britain’s National Autistic Society so that Grace and children like her can blossom. Her book "Grace Under Pressure: Going The Distance as an Asperger's Mum" was published by Little, Brown (Piatkus) in 2012. Her blog is called Grace Under Pressure.
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by Mama Mzungu (Kenya) | Sep 6, 2012 | Childhood, Culture, Discipline, Kenya, Living Abroad, Motherhood, Multicultural, Parenting, Sleep, World Motherhood, Younger Children
I hunched my back to fit through the doorway of the mud and thatch hut, my baby in my arms. The woman inside welcomed me with a “karibu,” her own baby suckling at her breast. The hut was dark with only light spilling in from two small windows but my eyes adjusted quickly. It was decorated with free calendars and unsmiling photos of family members hung high on the mud walls, like so many other homes I’d entered in my two years in Kenya. As we spoke, through a translator who knew the local Luyha dialect, chickens wandered in the hut and were shushed away without a thought.
I had spent the past two days living with a family in a rural village with my baby and 3 year old son talking with local woman about their experiences as mothers. My son was outside playing easily with the children in the compound despite the language barrier.
The conversation was going well. Her 2 small children had entered the hut and sat quietly during our discussion. But at some point my son came rushing in, insisting emphatically, in only the way a 3 year old can, that he was ready to go. His whining was incessant. “Mama mama mama. Can we go? Can we go? can we go?!” The conversation stopped and everyone turned to view the spectacle. Summoning my best “parenting in public” skills, I lovingly (with an undercurrent of “you are going to get it when we get home”) told him to stop and that we’d leave shortly. This was met only with louder and more insistent, back arching whining.
I was embarrassed. I had done all that I could to avoid this scenario. Before we left for this particular visit, I got down on Caleb’s level, looked him in the eye and made him promise to behave if he wanted to join me (he had begged to come along). We agreed that if he couldn’t behave he would not be coming with me again. All of this to no apparent effect. (more…)
Originally from Chicago, Kim has dabbled in world travel through her 20s and is finally realizing her dream of living and working in Western Kenya with her husband and two small boys, Caleb and Emmet. She writes about tension of looking at what the family left in the US and feeling like they live a relatively simple life, and then looking at their neighbors and feeling embarrassed by their riches. She writes about clumsily navigating the inevitable cultural differences and learning every day that we share more than we don’t. Come visit her at Mama Mzungu.
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