汪太太 Wang Tai Tai

An eventful week

May 17, 2013

in FOOD, LIFE, PARENTING, PLACES, SHANGHAI, SINGAPORE

9 May, Thursday

11.15am: I did a little presentation at Mr Ang’s class today as part of his kindy’s curriculum, Children of Other Lands where the school invited parents of different nationalities to share their country with the children. In a class of sixteen little people, turns out we are the only Singaporean so I had to do us the honor, like it or not. As with all my past exam papers, my brain works best cramping everything last minute. At 2am the night before, I was still frantically putting a powerpoint presentation together and cracking my heads as to how to appear adorable yet convincing to these four year olds.

The great thing about being the only Singaporean in the class is that I can smoke my way and nobody would know. But by now you should know I’m a very responsible mom and my son’s reputation is at stake if his mom sucks. So for his sake, I pulled out all stops. I had in mind to sashay into his classroom in my SIA sarong kebaya but was worried my ghastly makeup will freak the kids out. Last thing I want is to be scarier than the Merlion.

So I painted a Singapore flag on my face as well as the Artlets and burst into class with exaggerated enthusiasm. I brought chewing gum (oh Singaporeans you know why!), five stones (remember??? Before Steve Jobs got famous??), pocket size tissue (to chope seats at hawker centres when they visit) and I made each of them a cup of Milo Dinosaur. Then I printed postcard-sized information about Singapore for the kids to show their parents the amount of hard work I put in.

10 May, Friday

6.30am: I turn 37 today which is a really tricky number if you think about it. Is it still ok to say mid-thirties or you’re now officially late-thirties? Regardless, I’m not one to be coy about my age since I still look hot.

9am: I had a lovely breakfast at Kommune with a bunch of close friends and we head to 纯K, my default KTV joint where I staged a personal concert for my reluctant friends. But I reckon it’s my birthday so they had no choice but to hear me sing.

8.30pm. My Ang and I popped over to Oyama. We’re so familiar with him and his crew its almost like dining at a friend’s place. We chatted with other guests at the sushi bar and the entire team surprised me with an impromptu mini birthday celebration. Everyone downed Sakae, took silly pictures and laughed. Sometimes the best parties are the unplanned ones.

11 May, Saturday

8am: I woke up in the morning with a huge panic attack. My dress from Taobao hasn’t arrived and tonight is my birthday party. I told everyone to come dressed to the theme: SEX

Fifteen gorgeous ladies have RSVP. We are going to have a nice dinner and boogie the night away at Bocado, a Tapas bar in French Concession that plays 80’s hits.

7.30pm: I took a deep breath and squeezed into my electric blue Herve Leger dress ~~from Taobao~~. I slicked on red lipstick, my matching stilettos and tousled my hair. I checked my reflection, ran to my Ang and screamed I look like a whore!!! He gave me a once over, smiled and replied Matches your theme.

My friends brought their cleavage, whips, feathers and corsets to the party and we danced to ABBA, Rick Ashley and Bananarama. Six tipple later, I could no longer walk in a straight line.

12 May, Sunday

8am: I stirred but could not make out what the kids were up to. My eyelids felt heavy. I went back to bed.

9am: The doorbell rang. My Ang and the Artlets burst through the door carrying fresh carnation and sunflowers screaming Happy Mother’s Day Mommy!

My heart glowed.

I struggled to get up and eventually made it to a kid’s birthday party where I spent half my time trying not to look drunk.

We had a Mother’s Day lunch at Grumpy Pig and trooped down to the flower market for more flowers. When we finally got home, I collapsed in bed.

13 May, Monday

12pm: I’ve been bedridden since last evening from vomiting and diarrhea. My stomach churns, my head spins and my legs are like jelly. I’ve not stomach any food since Grumpy Pig. I struggled to get up and take sips of water. My Ang prepped the kids this morning and sent them to school. My daughter was wearing a crooked ponytail as my Ang can’t plait. My son did not bring snacks for his field trip today. But I couldn’t get up. My body is battered and my stomach hurts.

14 May, Tuesday

9am: I ate my porridge with Cai Sim and scanned the dining table. There lying at the corner is a printed copy of Jamie Oliver’s recipe for Vongole with pencil scribbles on top. My Ang whose only culinary skill is BBQ had, together with the Artlets, made me my favourite pasta dish on Mother’s Day.

Although I didn’t get to taste it, I have never felt more blessed with my life.

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Gorillas and Global warming

May 2, 2013

in CULTURE, LIFE, SHANGHAI, SINGAPORE

I once read an English writer lamented about Singapore’s weather where he lived shortly, that there are two distinct seasons: Hot or Fucking hot. (His words, not mine)

Similarly in Shanghai, there are really only two seasons: &%# Hot or %#! Cold (please excuse the morse code, I’m mom). Forget about spring or autumn. You’ll be lucky if they lingered for a month. Otherwise, it’s bullet transition from freezer to oven faster than you say Nong Hao.

I don’t know about all you ladies living in temperate countries all your life. In hot and sticky Singapore, waxing is as normal as breathing. Heard of Strip? Born in Singapore. God forbid if any Singaporean females below 50 years of age would walk out of her apartment in overgrown shrubs.

My most incredulous culture shock in China wasn’t the spitting or that nobody gives way at zebra crossings. It was the first time I attended a yoga class. I was astounded when across the room, toned Chinese women in their Lululemons masterfully balanced their warrior positions- with hair blazing from their armpits. If you think this was gross, you should have seen the male yoga instructor going around correcting these ladies’ postures, professionally arching their bushy underarms with nary a look of disgust. It was as normal as breathing.

But having survived five winters in Shanghai, I finally get it. Unless you’re a stripper, most ladies regardless nationalities, do not prune during winter. Why bother when we are covered up 24/7? The girls at Strip here tells me business is sluggish during the winter months but nearing summer, gorillas flock to them.

Lately, Shanghai has been experiencing erratic weather change worse than a women’s PMS. Temperature fluctuate from a low of 9 degrees one day and high of 26 the next day. Just when you thought perhaps you can prolong the next gardening appointment, the unpredictable heat rudely engulfs you and leave you with no choice but to shed the layers.

But wait a minute…the state of your body hair now resembles a cactus and its suddenly bloody hot outside. What do you do?

Here’s my tips:

Wear a thin singlet underneath and a light jacket over. Even if you’re flushing red from the heat, never remove the jacket. If anyone asks, tell them you have some winter hairs sticking out from your armpits and you don’t think it’s polite they see them. Then change subject and blame Global Warming.

If you’re dying from overheat, swiftly remove your jacket when you were sure no one is watching. Very gently so as not to create too much arm movements, drape them over your shoulders. This way, cool air can circulate your armpits without exposing them.
If this is still too hot, remove your jacket altogether. But keep your arms pressed tightly towards your body at all times. If you need to wave or call for the bill, no need for arm gestures. Just shout like the locals.
For prickly legs, dark coloured tights under summer shorts is a saver.
For girls with long hair (I meant from your head), part your hair into two sections and let it cascade to the front as camouflage. Be sure they are the same shade as the hair on your underarms else this will backfire.

Have a lovely spring.

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Chinese painting 国画

April 21, 2013

in CULTURE, LIFE, PARENTING, SHANGHAI

One of the greatest privilege bringing the kids up in China is the opportunity to be immersed into the Chinese culture. My Ang and I firmly believe that whilst English remains the more important language in our household, our children must also be effectively bilingual in Chinese.

In addition to learning the language at school, they are also taught Chinese painting which I love as much as my Artlets do. Every week, I look forward to the masterpiece they bring home as I marvel how their art teacher has the superpower ability to make my kids (read: Mr Ang) sit still and paint objects that I can immediately make out.

Mr Ang just started his Chinese painting lesssons but these are already favourites of mine.

Mr Ang’s painting of tadpoles

Mr Ang’s pear

My daughter has been painting for awhile and she’s also taking additional elective Chinese painting lesson in school so compared to her bro, she’s quite the pro. Feast away…

Daughter's Tang Sunzang, the Buddhist monk from the Journey to the West.

Touching up Tang Sunzang, the Buddhist monk from Journey to the West.

Tang Sunzang

Chinese opera

Peking opera mask

This Laughing Buddha never fails to put a huge grin on my face.

Laughing Buddha

And the teacher made sure she added Buddha’s necessary bits….

Buddha's bits

I would love to frame and display every piece of artwork in my home but that’s just impractical. Those I particularly adore, I keep them as momento. The rest, I scan and save them in my laptop and turn them into gift wrappers. I see it as a way of passing on my children’s legacy.

At a friend’s housewarming tea recently, I wrapped daughter’s painting around a vase of fresh flowers and presented to her. She told me she loved the painting so much she kept it even though it was creased already. Her gesture warms my heart and made my daughter very proud.

When I present these gifts that are wrapped in my Artlets’ work, I like to include a handwritten card that lets the recipient knows the wrappers are painted by my children. Because if you happen to be the lucky ones, I think you’ll appreciate that there’s no wrapping paper in the world more precious than these.

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Strawberry picking

April 15, 2013

in FOOD, LIFE, PARENTING, PLACES, SHANGHAI

Spring is here and in Shanghai, that’s a precious window period of two weeks or one month max – if you’re lucky.

When the weather is glorious which in China, means pollution index under 150, and the sun is shining, we like to line up weekend field trips back to back. There are amazing road trips just off Shanghai that are perfect for families and this is what I love about living in a huge country – hop and a skip and you’re transported to another world.

Over the Easter holidays, we took the kids strawberry picking and egg hunting. The best time to go is actually January but that will mean braving the bitter cold so no thanks. During the warmer months like now, strawberries you picked today will need to be consumed within three days (include the day you picked).

We arrived at 小陈草莓园 Xiao Chen’s Strawberry Farm, about 90 minutes drive from central Shanghai. There are two flavours of strawberries grown here, milk and chocolate. The original seedlings were first brought in from Japan. According to owner Chen, milk strawberries have a creamier texture while chocolate strawberries have a faint hint of cocoa in them. We were offered two kinds to pick from.

The kids went wild with glee.

I would recommend dressing your little ones in Wellingtons like what a friend brilliantly did as the strawberries sometimes land on the soil into a squishy mash that can cause little feet to slip. You are welcome to gobble as you go but I feel safer giving them a good soak and rinse before giving the kids as they are after all non-organic.

Fruits of our labour were weighed and packed in a nice box. We paid 140 RMB (S$28) for two huge boxes that were bursting to the brim.

Xiao Chen recommended our lunch stop where we had a hearty Shanghainese cuisine.

Back home, I stared at the mountain of strawberries and imagined having them every meal over the next two days. Strawberry comatose!

The next day, I got the Artlets’ help and we worked together to turn them into delicious strawberry crumble and jam.

That evening as we sat down and enjoy our strawberry desserts, I felt extremely nobel and motherly. Like I deserve a Best Mom/Wife award from my Ang. A city mom goes to a farm, picked strawberries and lovingly turned them into homemade pastries for her family….how Enid Blyton-y sexy.

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Xiao Chen Strawberry Farm 小陈草莓园：白鹤镇响新村响板桥12号(近康乐杂货店) T: 15800578219

Lunch @ Teng Shi Nong Jia Da Yuan 滕氏农家大院：华夏东路3059号1楼 T: 68827179

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Overseas Singaporean Unit # 2

April 2, 2013

in CULTURE, FOOD, LIFE, PARENTING, SHANGHAI, SINGAPORE

I re-published a favorite article of mine “He ain’t heavy. He’s my son.” over at Overseas Singaporean Unit where I will be contributing articles for the next month.

I wrote this a year ago and freshen up abit just to make myself appear funnier before an international audience. But you know how government officials work, they snipped the juicy parts. Since you’re in my inner circle, I thought its only fair you read what I actually wrote.

Here goes:

He ain’t Heavy, He’s my Son.

It ain’t easy trying to raise a scrawny kid in China let me tell you.

In a culture so deeply ingrained that chubby kids = well-fed = prosperity, skinny kids are scornfully frowned upon.

Take Mr Ang, my malnourished-looking son.

His limbs are so thin they threaten to snap if you so much as tug at him. While Chinese kids have double chins that wobble when they toddle, my son’s jaws are sculpted and well-defined – like China’s heartthrob 黄晓明 Huang Xiao Ming if you will. Gather some houseflies to circle above his head and he will be the perfect poster boy for FEED Campaign.

Ever since he turned one, my son has always insisted on feeding himself. I’ve never really dangle the just one more mouth spoon. You’re full? Oh ok, go play. I’m just a cool mom like that.

But I never had to worry because if you’ve shared a meal with my little man, you’ll be surprised how much that guy can vacuum. I’m talking adult portions spread over four meals a day. No bullshit.

When I’m out with him, the Chinese will always comment how painfully thin he is. They take it up a notch by assuming I’m the primary caregiver. Because you see, if my son was looked after by an Ayi (helper in China), there will be no room for leftovers during mealtimes. Every single grain of rice will be chased and stuffed into their mouth, much like how foie gras are made.

My usual reply is a lengthy justification of how he eats a lot but has a high metabolism + hyperactive + genetics.

But no matter what I say, I can never wipe that judgmental look off their faces. That “how did you allow your son to get so thin” look.

So one day, I decided I’ve had enough.

An Ayi and her child were waiting for my son to get off the swing at the playground. Again, the dreaded comment of how skinny my son was, surfaced.

This time, I gathered all my energy and snapped, “Yeah, I never give my son food so I can eat everything myself!” “我不给儿子吃全都自己吃所以他才那么瘦!”

It worked. She shut her mouth and looked away for the rest of the time we were there.

By the way, wonder where did all the food go to in Mr Ang?

His humongous big toe.

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Click here for the sanitized version over at OSU.

Just in case you’re concern, my son is still bony but his rice bowl is now fatter than mine.

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汪太太 Wang Tai Tai

An eventful week

Gorillas and Global warming

Chinese painting 国画

Strawberry picking

Overseas Singaporean Unit # 2

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