“Hurry up!”
“We’re so late!”
“Get into the car. Now!”
My neighbours used to hear me giving these commands. Right at the doorstep, I was still giving threats using the useless ‘or else’. I apologise to my children and neighbours for the unnecessary stress. I realised that children are more cooperative if we use a little bit more of our brai… well, creativity.
Now at 7am sharp, I start the car engine. The kids scamper to get ready. Once they get inside, I launch the rocket ship. Yes, we ride on a rocket to school! Lolly gets to push the ‘start’ button, which really is the hazard light button (which I turn off after a while.) Without raising my voice, I play the role as the chief who gets everybody moving to beat the school bell. “Move it, move it” is often followed by big giggles and fast motions. Funny that they listen to you more when you strip off the “mummy” badge. As the car comes to a halt at the school gate, we give each other high-fives for making it in time, dramatising a little with a breathless “phew, that was close.” And they leave for school, with a sense of adventure and happiness. Likewise, my day starts way better when I don’t need to fully utilise my voice box.
When my son was four, he told me that he had an in-built voice turn-off system that drowns out any noise made by mothers (or just about anybody) if it goes higher than a certain decibel. It was then that I realised that shouting or screaming wouldn’t work. I also discovered that he had an “anti-nagging” button somewhere. Not taking chances with Lolly, whom I’m sure is like her brother, I have since resorted to a “no shouting or screaming” rule in my household.
When things get tough or testy with the children, I press my own creativity button. I turn chores into games. I give instructions like an umpire. I make up stories so mundane activities become exciting.
Here are some examples of how I get Lolly to do things, which she wouldn’t do if given the choice:
Going to the dentist
How can we not imagine that the dentist chair is a space shuttle with so many buttons around? The dentist is on a mission to get rid of all the germs in the mouth. It works the few times we were there. Of course, stickers and balloons at the end is an added bonus considering that it was a high-risk mission, which only the bravest can succeed in completing.
Shopping at the mall
Lolly used to be a loose canon, going in every direction at any opportunity. Hence we played the Green Light Red Light game. Red light – stop. Green light – go. If I needed to look at something, red light is instructed and she stops running, moving even when she is really in the mood to play.
Likewise, when I need her to move fast, I say, “Green Light!” but I tweak the story each time. Sometimes we have to walk on coloured tiles because they are the planks to avoid the sharks in the sea. We’ve dashed in the car in record-breaking speed because we imagined the pirates were chasing after us. When we play, the rants of “I am too tired to walk” do not surface.
Eating healthily
For the longest time, Lolly refused to eat her greens. One day I showed her a video of how plants grow. The images of flowers emerging were appealing to her. Oh, how she squeaked with delight as she saw how the flowers reach for the sky as the sunbeams down to earth. “I want to grow like the flowers so I can touch the stars, ” she finally announced. Bingo! I knew I found the right chord to strike.
“Eat more vegetables and fruits, Lolly, so you can bring a star back for Mummy.” And she obliged.
Cleaning up toys
“Clean up, clean up, every body everywhere.”
Every child would know this song by age two. It is the clean up anthem. Sing it fast, sing it slow. It should do the trick until the novelty wears off. Then it’s time to bring out the “Garbage Toy Truck” – the mean machine that gobbles up any toys left on the floor. The sight of it usually sends her packing up her toys frantically with an exaggerated and dramatic scream.
Going to sleep
We have a Sleep Warden in the house. She comes in the room with a water spray. She sprays every corner of the room, giving extra drizzles under the bed to ward off bed bugs and such. That Sleep Warden is me. The ritual gives Lolly a sense of comfort.
It is true. I am not just a mother. I play so many roles. That I do not mind. Sew me some costumes even, and I will don them on, just as long as my kids are co-operative and I do not risk losing my voice.
Or sanity.
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Kiki Quah is a mother of two. ‘Thinking aloud allowed’ is invisibly tattooed on her forehead. Goolypop and Lollypop are her spleen, heart, headache and thus will be mentioned as such sporadically throughout her writing getaways.
