Archive for the ‘Siu Jeun’ Category

Siu Jeun is my freshly-minted 4 year old. He is the most stereotypical “boy” I have ever met, and yet…he is so completely him.

He crawls into bed with me nearly every morning, before dawn. This morning I didn’t even wake up when he wriggled under the covers. Around 7:45, when we both agreed it was time to get up, I started talking to him about his new little sister (coming soon!) and how he’d have to be careful after she was born. “She might already be in the bed…and you’d squish her!” He sat up, put one finger up in the air, and solemnly said, “Well….’den…..I dec’ware she should sleep in her c’wib!” (Yes, dude. And you should sleep in your bed. But life doesn’t always work like that, now does it??)

After breakfast, he was playing on the floor with a toy. “Mommy? Does the baby have a name yet?” “Nope, buddy. We haven’t picked one yet.” “Oh, well…then we should call her Norman Price, ok??!”

Last night, his sister got her nails trimmed, and then asked for some sparkly purple polish for New Years. I put it on her, and then turned to SJ – it was his turn for a trim. As I finished up, he said, “Mommy? I want some nail po’wish on my toes!!” Well, dude….sure. It’s winter, you’ll be wearing socks…nobody will see them to make comments. (I’m not so much worried about the polish as I am about…well, it’s almost always dark colors, and it looks like someone slammed all his fingers and toes in a door! It’s even worse if I only do one nail, so I have to do all 10 to make it at least look intentional.) As I finished up, he held his foot out appreciatively and gasped. “Mommy! My toes ‘wook ‘wike…….DARKNESSSSSSS!!!!” Yup – that’s my dude.

A few weeks ago, he was upstairs playing with his sister. She must have started a game of dress up, because he came to the top of the stairs in the absolute frilliest, fluffiest petticoat she had in her stash. It was lemon yellow, with hot pink trim. “Daddy! ‘Wook at me!!” Before daddy could even protest, he started spinning around as fast as he could. As the skirt spun away from him, forming a perfect circle around his whirling body, he shouted, “‘Wook!! I’m a BEYBLADE!!”

Little Siu Jeun has the uncanny ability to find almost ANYTHING “feminine”, appropriate it…and turn it into something so “masculine”, destructive and/or just pure awesome, you can’t believe you never thought of it before! I have no idea what he’s going to grow up to be…but I know it’s going to be spectacular, whatever it is.


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This Little Man



This is Siu Jeun.


This dude is the reason I’m as grey as I am. He’s also the reason I get up in the morning.

I mean that literally. He’s more punctual than any alarm clock. The day he learned how to turn on cartoons for himself was a happy, happy day.


This dude touches everything. EVERYTHING. He will bend it, tap it, study it. He’s the one who will stare at a simple machine for a few minutes while you chat with a friend, and then suddenly pull on your sleeve and tell you how it works.


He gives the best hugs, but you’d better take them when he offers…because it might be hours (or days) until he feels like sitting still long enough to give you another one.

He’ll sit still for stories, though. For a little while. Just until he figures out that whatever issue has arisen in the book IS, in fact, going to be resolved. Until then, he’s on the edge of his seat, brow furrowed, mouth agape, waiting for the Happy Ending. Because life always must have a Happy Ending.

He can watch an entire movie (like, oh, Brave, for example) and learn nothing but how to moon someone. “Feast yer eyes!!” Fantastic.

He dances with abandon, until he notices you watching him. Then he’s as stiff as stone. But give him some space, and he just can’t help it. His little hiney twitches from side to side. His mouth curls up into a smirk. His arms are passing back and forth in what look like perfect mimicry of Ninja Moves. Suddenly, he strikes a pose…and the song in his head is done. He continues on his way, like nothing ever happened.


He is my Booger. My Prince. My Dude.

(And he can rock a Dora tricycle like nobody’s business.)

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I’m not very good at playing with kids. I’m just not. I always feel like there’s something else I should be doing, and the kids always seem a lot more irritable when I’m in the room with them. (There’s a lot more squabbling and whining when they think they can get me on their side against their sibling. If it’s just the two of them, they fall into a kind of Lord of the Flies hierarchy, winner takes all.)

Lately, though, my youngest has started leaning towards games that require little interaction from me, only my presence. Like driving trains around and around and around and around. Or endlessly crashing cars into each other. Or chasing a ball. This leaves me free to snap pictures. And store up little nuggets of the weird things three year old boys say.

“Siu Jeun, did you put on your socks yet?”

I already’ed!”

Because everybody knows that the past tense of already is…already’ed.

“Siu Jeun, you are fantastic.”

*crying* Nooooooooo…..I Siu Jeun!!!!!!!!!”

And when he accomplishes something difficult? Like buckling his own seatbelt in the car?

I…am…. a… ROCKSTAR!!!!!” Said to no one in particular. Because he’s talking to himself.

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Yes, really. Guys, I’m sorry I’ve been so absent. Blogging excuses come off trite, as a general rule, but I’ll give it my best. First off, I started as a contributor over at Motherhood Reflections. We write about whatever we think other mothers might be interested in, which is pretty easy when all of the contributors are mothers. Basically, we write whatever we want, and we get paid a few dollars to do it. It’s a pretty sweet deal!

I also love it because it’s a space where I can talk about some more serious issues that probably resonate with a lot of moms, when I don’t always feel like killing the party over here. As a result, I’ve spent a bit more time there than here lately, and I apologize. See, first we decided we wanted to have a baby. Then I got a positive pregnancy test. Then there was a miscarriage. THEN, there was a cyst, (which I’ll talk about a bit more in another post, because I think it’s important). A really big, totally benign, cyst.  (All that? It happened within about a two week period. January was a crappy month. Let’s just leave it at that.) February was sort of a mental break from January. That brings us up to March.

(I don’t mean to say I only complain over there. There have been fun posts, too! I reviewed my wheat grinder. I dished on my first experience getting waxed. I explained a new game I have been using to help my kids practice their Chinese.)

So. My invisible friends…I’m back. I’m going to try to be better. In February all I could think about was what happened in January…and then I got so behind, I didn’t know where to start.

So I’m going to start with today. Today, Friday, was a rather lovely day. Ming Wai got to go to Grandma’s house to hang out with her cousins, unmolested by little brothers. Lo Gung worked from home as a treat to himself for enduring a week-long business trip in one of the most boring cities he’s ever been to. (Sorry, Reno. If anyone can prove otherwise, we’re all ears! Maybe he just didn’t know where to look?) The afternoon was gorgeous and sunny, a small miracle after a week of torrential rain, and snow. Siu Jeun and I took advantage of the sunshine by playing trains, timing the walk to the school Ming Wai will attend next year, and playing at the park. Afternoons alone with my little man are one of the perks of Big Sister’s weekly visits to Grandma. He’s at the age where he just doesn’t want to be alone, ever. These visits also make me appreciate the brilliance that is Siblings. Because Siblings are WAY more fun to play with than Mom.

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Every Monday, our family holds something called Family Home Evening. It’s a program encouraged by our church, and it goes like this – on Monday evenings, the family is at home. Pretty simple, right? We have an opening prayer, a song, a little lesson, and we’re done. (You can throw an activity and a treat into that formula, if you want your gold star for the day. I have a three year old – I’m lucky if I can keep him in the same room for two minutes at night.) A few weeks ago, I decided to teach a lesson on talents. We all gathered around, and talked about what talents we have, and how we gained them. I think I talked about how I learned to whistle when I was a kid, and then spent the next 10 minutes teaching the rest of the family how to whistle. (If you run into Lo Gung, you should ask him to whistle for you. He’s getting pretty good!) Lo Gung taught us all a new phrase in Chinese, Ming Wai taught us how to do the splits, and I think Siu Jeun taught us how to make a gun with our fingers and say POW!

I never said our meetings were particularly reverent!

The next day, Siu Jeun had run into the bathroom, and when he had finished his business, I could hear him yelling for me. “Mom! Mom! MOM! MOOOOOOOOOOM!!!!!!” I didn’t feel like jumping right up, so I yelled back, “What do you need???” (As if I didn’t already know.) “Mom, I need you to wipe my buuuuuum!” “But, why, Siu Jeun??!” “Because it’s your talent, Mom!!

Well, at least I knew he was listening during the lesson!

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(Quick disclaimer before we start. The story in this post has been told a few people. I got the reaction…I was afraid of. Please read this as a warning, not as fodder to attack mamas of little boys. kthnxbai.)

What is so miraculous about a man, exactly? That he is alive. The perpetuation of our species, quite honestly, astounds me.

Yesterday, I found both of my precious children playing happily in the playroom. On the windowsill. Poised to jump onto the “jumping bed”, an ancient mattress and box spring that we put into the playroom for them to jump on.

I’ll give you a moment for that to sink in. Did I mention that the playroom is on the second story? And they were standing on the windowsill? I’ve been working on reigning in my anger lately, so I calmly told that that under NO circumstances were they EVER to stand in a WINDOWSILL and jump onto ANYTHING. Or EVER stand in a WINDOWSILL. EVER.


Today, my sweet oldest child came to me and asked me NOT to be mad and to PLEASE come upstairs, and to PLEASE know it was an accident. I put on my most Zen-est face, and went upstairs. I found one of the blinds in the playroom looking…well, rather worse for the wear. I will give you the facts, as I gathered them over the course of the rest of the day.

1. One of the strings on the blind is snapped.

2. My daughter stated that it was absolutely her that broke it.

3. There was some nebulous mentioning of my son jumping off of the bed, and there were tears on his part after that jump.

4. There is a huge red welt on my son’s neck that spans from just under one ear, across the front of his neck, and ends just below the other ear, with some red rope-burn marks on one side.

Here’s how I think it went down.

Siu Jeun stuck his head through a loop in the blind cord, then jumped off the bed, or off the window sill and on to the bed. The cord snapped, burning his neck in the process. His sister later grabbed the cord, to try and lower the blinds, and the broken string slipped out of the blinds, landing at her feet.

Which brings me back to my original point. How little boys survive to adulthood is absolutely beyond me. (And please, no snarky comments about my bad parenting. I’ve already thrown everything you can come up with at myself, plus some. My son’s ability to find ways to injure himself, or my home, is absolutely beyond me. I thought blind cords were only a danger to infants, or toddlers just learning how to walk? It never occurred to me that my son would put a string around his neck…and jump. *facepalm*)

So. Don’t attack me, I’ve learned my lesson. And please, Moms, if you have dare devils at home…go duct tape your blind cords to the wall. And then wrap your kid in bubble wrap.

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….was several days after he drew on them when Mommy wasn’t looking. Miraculously, when I found the artwork, he had used a pencil. He had actually taken several pens and markers (!!) out of the little bucket on Daddy’s desk to find the pencil he wanted. Little miracles, people. Little miracles.

I was pretty proud of myself – I didn’t get angry. I didn’t scream, or flail my arms around. I just pulled out my Magic Eraser (LOVE that thing), and put him to work. He did the crime, he gets the time, and all that jazz.

At first it was fun. I’m wiping this wet thing on the wall! Awesome!


Then, it was boring.  You mean I have to actually wipe it just on these pencil marks?


Then it was “too hard.” I’m supposed to make those marks go away?!


And then? It was done. 15 minutes later. Dude’s never worked so long in his life. But he also hasn’t written on the walls since then, either. (His doctor would be proud – they weren’t random scribbles. They were two perfect “eggs.” I’m so proud of my little graffiti artist.)

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