By now you must have read Amy Chua’s controversial Why Chinese Mothers Are Superior article in Wall Street Journal. You know, the one in which the Yale Law School professor proudly boasts about calling one daughter garbage for being disrespectful and forcing another to master a piano piece by means that bother on child abuse.
Chua has reportedly received death threats for her extreme views! To be honest though, I found her hilarious and somewhat inspiring. In fact, I’m becoming a bit of a groupie.
Sure the article was a stereotypical piece exaggerated to get a response. But I think we can all see shades of our own mothers in Chua – and we turned out fine.
My mom was a milder version of Chua but nonetheless, a formidable Chinese mother who had her brood well under her control. The cane was wielded not as an empty threat but to make an impression and teach a lesson. Any challenge to her authority was neither appreciated nor acknowledged. Hurtful, so-called self-esteem damaging words were not spared. And yes, she thinks we owe her everything and she knows best.
Was any damage done? Maybe. Do I think it was a good way to raise a child? Not then since I was said child! But now that I’m a parent, I’m not so sure anymore.
It’s a flawed system, I’ll give you that, but underlying this so-called tyranny is love, really. The fact is our parents did right by us when they taught us that life is unfair, that things don’t always go your work, and if you want something bad enough, you should work for it.
I think today’s young parents could learn a thing or two from Chua about getting our balls back and showing our kids who’s the boss!
Crazy Asian moms rock!
Welcome to sucker-dom!
Parenthood is really spelt s-u-c-k-e-r. Because we want the best for our kids, we are easier targets than a bull’s eye on a hippo’s side.
Do you have a stroller Bugaboo, McLaren or Peg Perego? Did you buy a Baby Bjorn or similar type branded baby carrier instead of a sarong? Were you listening to Mozart during your pregnancy so as to stimulate your child’s development in-vitro and unleash the genius in her?
How many ‘developmental toys’ are in your nursery? Do you own at least one set of flash cards? Are Baby IQ, Baby Einstein, Word’s World or such educational programmes in your DVD drawer? Did you read books on teaching your child how to read or mind map?
I’m not mocking you. I’m just as guilty of most of the above. In E’s first year, I racked up a sizeable credit card bill buying things I thought were essential to his health including an obscenely expensive air-cum-mattress-cum-vacuum cleaner (but I totally love it; no regrets there), an air filter and humidifier.
I could have bought the latest Gucci bag and some with what I spent on these three. But I sacrificially ‘invested’ the money into ensuring E would sleep comfortably in a room with clean air, was sufficiently cooled by the air conditioner but not too drying thanks to the humidifier. Yes, seriously!
At the time, these purchases together with a lot more others all made so much sense! Now, of course, they are my dirty little secrets.
I’d like to think I’m a smarter cookie now; that they won’t be able to get to me so easily because I know their tricks.
But, erm, I’m holding onto an art and craft set that’s supposed to help stimulate E’s creativity and imagination, and improve his motor skills – which he absolutely needs if he’s to invent the next Facebook, right?
Auld Lang Syne
I used to spend weeks agonising about New Year’s Eve plans. This was of course back in the day...much, much younger days. Perhaps it was because I wasn’t particularly happening all year round that’s why I needed to be found doing something happening on the most happening party night of the year!
Clubbing and private parties gradually morphed into BBQ pool parties and then sit-down dinner parties. Much like the slow appearance of wrinkles and southward pull of everything else, this is a sure sign of the ageing process.
Eventually nobody wanted to be cleaning at 2am on the first day of a New Year so it was fuss-free, low-frills tapau meals (even McDonald’s and pizza some years, tsk tsk) and just friends chilling out together – for want of being able to say, “Yeah, I did something on New Year’s Eve.”
But as of 2009, all New Year’s Eve plans had to be canned because just how fun is it to lug a cranky, sleepy baby and a baby bag stuffed with all manners of ‘just in case’ stuff to a party? And spend the whole time either patting said baby to sleep, wondering if he had fallen off the guest room bed or worrying the sound will awaken the slumbering monster who will then become even crankier?
So the last two New Year’s Eve passed as uneventfully as every other night. My state of un-happening-ness (and no, there is no such word) has reached its all-time high with no hope of ever making a U-turn.
But wait! I did do something this New Year’s Eve. My husband and I watched Social Network on DVD, stuffed our face with junk food and then fell asleep before the first strains of Auld Lang Syne started.
Wow wee...not. But hey, at least I can say “I did something on New Year’s Eve.”
