Me, a kiasu parent?

I’m a kiasu parent. There. I’ve admitted it.

I always imagined myself to be a relaxed, what-ever-will-be type. The one who gives her child plenty of room to grow, explore and discover at his own pace. The one who wouldn’t sit through homework with him, pack his school bag and read up his curriculum before he does. No, I would be too cool for that.

But I’m not. My son is just 14 months and I’m already comparing him to his peers. “Joshua can count, you know,” I tell my husband. “And Pei Sze is doodling. How come our son isn’t doing these things yet?” I fret. Am I doing something wrong? Not giving him the right milk? Not spending enough time teaching him the finer things of toddlerhood?

Who is this crazy Mom-zilla? And when did I become her? Help!

To your hair stylist be true

For me, fidelity to my hair stylist is right up there with the Golden Rule. Admittedly, it is not always easy to find the one stylist you want to give your hair to forever. I’m one of the lucky ones. I have my Danny. We have such a secure relationship that I don’t even need to tell him

what I want done. I just sit, grab a magazine, sip on my cup of Chamomile tea and let him work his magic. I never know what to expect – Danny loves to experiment – but I always leave looking and feeling like a kabillion.

It wasn’t always like that though. I spent many years ‘dating’ all kinds of frogs in the hair world. My fault. I met my prince back when we were both free of greys and weighed quite a few pounds less. But the folly of youth led me to wander. I flirted with many but none knew my hair the way Danny did. After enduring yet another ghastly hair cut, I decided to go back to Danny with my roots showing. Danny, God bless his soul, took me back without fuss even though we both knew I had cheated.

My cheating days are behind me now. To my Danny I will be true because the right hair stylist is like the right man or a best friend – irreplaceable.

Mr. Right Now will do too

Sara called last night to tell me that things are off with what’s-his-face. Technically, they were not dating so it isn’t a break up per se. But functionally, it might as well have been a six-month relationship – the dates, the fights and make ups, the long conversations late into the night. But what’s-his-face claimed he only thought of her “as a very good friend.” Whatever.

There are definitely more misses than hits when you date in your 30s. The men are either commitment-phobic or bogged down with issues and baggage (that you don’t want to deal with). Or there’s just no chemistry even though he is an absolute sweetheart. Or there are sparks aplenty...but he only wants to be your ‘sister’ not your soul mate. (Ok, sometimes it’s the women’s fault too.)

Are all the good ones really taken? I am sometimes tempted to think so. But then a wedding invitation will come from someone who had found love later in life – and in a most unexpected, romantic way that it makes you want to believe in love again. So maybe there is hope yet, Sara.

I peep over at my slumbering husband. The shining armour has long been traded in for the most unsightly T-shirts. Instead of taking me out for dates, he offers to check in on our son at 3am so I don’t have to. The flowers and gifts? They stopped even before we got married. But I’m still glad we had the last 10 years together. And that we didn’t have to sift through the complexities of dating in our 30s to find each other.

Now, excuse me while I go wipe the drool before it stains the pillow cases, again.

New kid on the blog

“Eva, do you want to take over the magazine’s online mediums – blog, FB and website?” the boss asked a month back.

What? On top of my current work load?! How do I feign gratitude for this “tremendous opportunity” but really, no thanks? Mind reader that she is, the boss beats me to it. “It will be a new position. You’ll be the new Online Editor for Her World.”

Of course, I said yes! So here I am. Paid to trawl Facebook (and spy on others!), pass of idle Internet surfing time as ‘research’ and ramble, rant and rave. Don’t hate me because I’ve got a great job.

Love For Luxury

I can hardly deny that I myself have fallen victim to the obsession with designer goods, especially when it comes to bags and shoes. We can’t help it if our hearts skip a beat when we step into these luxury brands like Chanel, Fendi, Louis Vuitton, Gucci, or Ferragamo, just to name a few. You would think that even during these hard times and bad economy, brands like Hermes would be making losses. But instead, just last year, their sales moved up by almost nine percent! The power of a Birkin still lives on I say! What is it that still makes women cut back on groceries and other expenditures, just so they can save on designer goods? Are these ‘investment pieces’ women splurge on really for self satisfaction or to get noticed?

Doing things that make you happy

There are certain things about life that evoke happy childhood memories. How far would you go to relive these memories, even if it meant doing things like eating cotton candy in public at a bus stop, and you’re already 50?