Mischievous Kid

I used to be a very naughty kid. Naughty and mischievous. The whole family have had their hands full with me. Of course when my brother moved in with us, the amount of mischief doubled.

You see, my younger brother did not stay with us for the first 4 years of his life. After he was born, the family moved from Ipoh to Kuala Lumpur. Dad got a job there. Business prospect is definitely better in the city. My parents wanted to settle down in the city before bringing my brother with us. I was only 2 years old when I came to the city. I never knew I had a younger brother then.

When my brother first arrived, he cried and cried and cried. I didn’t like him then. What a weird kid! Always crying. Because my parents were stranger to him, my brother needed a lot of adjustment time. The only parents he knew was my grandparents and great-grandmother. When he finally adjusted and settled down with us, I found a partner in crime.

My brother and I were always coming up with stupid crazy stuff to do. Once our parents were out for the night. Since 4th uncle’s family were staying with us we did not need any babysitter. (4th uncle is my mother’s forth brother).  After putting us to bed, my aunt went to sleep. My brother and I could not sleep. We were anxious for our parents to return home. We hate it when they leave us at home.

Now consider this equation. Two mischievous kids. In their parents bedroom. With no adult supervision. Lots of grown up stuff lying around to explore. All that equals one big headache. The first thing we went through was our mum’s dressing table. We discovered lots of facinating stuff. One thing that puzzled me was why mum keeps so many different shades of brown colour pencils and some funny looking crayons in her drawer.

Not being any wiser, my brother and I proceeded to try out the new colouring tools. Since we don’t have papers to colour on, we started with the bedsheets. The colour of the flowers on the bedsheet were a bit too dull for our taste. We really enjoyed ourselves. My brother and I have never sat still for this long before. It was a great time together. Until mum came home.

Mum was still talking to dad when they walked in. They saw us and froze. Then they saw the bedsheets. Mum’s eyes widen. Dad was gaping. Then and only then did we realised we did something really bad. All hell broke loose.

Mum was screaming. Dad was scolding. Then mum disappeared and returned with the dreaded cane in her hands. With the expertise of a swashbulking musketeer, mum wielded her cane and dealt those dreaded blows. My brother and I were running screaming all over the room. Dad guarded the door so that we could not escape. Thinking back now, it must have looked like a cook trying to catch an escaped chicken for slaughter.

Uncle and aunt woke from the commotion. Unfortunately they did not side with us after seeing the damage. I thought it was a masterpiece. The bedsheet do look better with the vibrant colours. Oh well, everyone’s a critic.

The next day mum sent the bedsheets to the laundromat. When she came back, she told us that even the lady at the laundromat said we were extremely naughty. My brother and I was only half paying attention. We were already schemeing our next mischief.

Ah… the good old days of innocence.

Where is God?

Dad was never around. He’ll be at school to collect my report card but not for PTA meetings. He’ll be back to sleep when I’m asleep and off to work before I wake. Is he avoiding me?

I can’t remember when it all started but mum and dad just started arguing a lot. Then they drifted apart. Mum being a housewife is always around. Dad, on the other hand, became a stranger. Then dad stopped giving mum money for the household expenditure. The car got repossessed by the bank. I guess business was bad.

To keep food on the table, mum started pawning off her jewelleries. Then she started babysitting for additional income. I had to help out with additional household chores like buying groceries, going to the wet market, doing laundry and helping out at the kitchen. I hated it. It was affecting my studies and I have less time for homework. Forget about the idiot box. That’s a luxury I’m not allowed. Little did I know, many years later, all this household work/chores actually prepared me to live on my own.

Then the day came when mum and dad slept in different rooms. My brother and I had to give up our rooms for mum and dad. My brother and I took the master bedroom. Pretty big for two young kids. To cheer ourselves up, we would play pretending the room is our kingdom. Our beds our castle. And we waged war at one another with hilarious results. Blankets became our cape. We made cardboard crowns or masks. Dad’s kendo sword or bokken became our weapon. Before I go on further, let me assure you that no one was hurt during and after our play pretend. Can’t say the same for some of the furniture though.

It was during this time that my uncle’s family, mum’s brother, visited us a lot. They took us out together with their only son to family outings, circuses, shopping malls, movies, etc. It felt like a family. Except they’re not mum and dad. My brother and I enjoyed ourselves but the moment we reached home, reality dawned on us. Things was still the same. Nothing changed.

It was that time that aunt taught me to sing ‘Sing hallelujah to the Lord‘ in the car one day while we were on our way to someplace. The seed of Christianity was planted. However, it took quite a while to grow. We started to join them for Christmas mass, Easter Sunday, fund raising events organised by the church etc. It was fun. At the same time, it took us out of the house.

I started to question the existence of God. Mum always knelt in front of the altar and chant for hours. I know what she’s praying for. She always asked us to pray for the same thing. Many times, my knees hurt from the hours of kneeling. Sometime I get cramps on my legs. Other time they got sore. There’s only 1 thing we prayed for. To be a happy family again.

Why isn’t God answering our prayers? Did we pray to the wrong God? I was too young too understand but I can see the desperation in mum’s eyes. Secretly, I started to talk to the walls in my room. I just picked a wall, stared at it and talked. I guess you can call it praying. I don’t know. I just know I had to plead and beg. My brother was scared and worried. Mum and dad had issues they have to settle. My brother is in my care now. I had to be strong. I had to be confident. I had to protect him.

I will never forget that day. Mum was kneeling in front of the altar praying gibberish. At least that’s what it sounded like. Then I saw it. There were pills on the altar. There were pills on the floor. There was a big mug of beer in front of her. Mum was overdosed on sleeping pills and she washed it down with beer. She was already swaying on her knees. Brother and I were crying holding on to her. I didn’t know what to do then. Never had I been so scared in my life.

When I heard the outside gates opened, I cried with relieve. It was uncle and aunt. They dropped by to visit. When they saw what happened, they quickly rushed mum to the hospital. They purged her stomach. Not a pleasant sight. Then mum fell asleep.

Brother and I stayed at uncle’s that night. While in bed, the entire incident played over my mind again and again. It was then I realised. I almost lost my mum that day. I cried myself to sleep.

Uncle’s family were there for us. But where is God?

Some Background

Ok. I’m going to try to stuff my past 16 years into a short paragraph. No mean feat I tell you. So I now opt to do it via the ever useful bullets method.

• Grew up in the city.
• Parents divorced while still in junior high.
• Neither parents got custody of both my brother and I. Don’t ask why. I don’t know.
• Moved up north to stay with my grandparents.
• Grandparents had the time of their life trying to raise 2 city kids who have nothing but complains about how horrible ‘hometown’ is.
• Graduated from college and got a job in a bank.
• Lost 5 grand overpaying some customer. Had to foot the losses. Poor me. Literally.
• A month later lost another 1 grand. Got fed up. Asked dad for help to settle the $$. Resigned.
• Moved back to the city and worked as a systems engineer. Yes, I graduated with a diploma in computer science. How I end up in the bank, I’ll never know.
• 2 years later, with the help of mommy dearest and some support from dad, saw myself through college again to get a degree.
• Mom getting old. Has this need to be with her sons in her old age. Decided to move in with me. I didn’t want to but felt pressured.
• 1st 3 months was ok. Then all hell broke loose.
• Had on and off cold war with each other. Finally, one fine day, she had a minor stroke.
• Forced to retire, the whole household expenditure fell on me. Again, poor me. Literally.
• Today: mum still retired. Me still poor but managing. And sadly, still very much single.

There you go. That basically sums up my life. I’ll elaborate in future posts. But now I need to sleep.

Quick Intro

I’m a guy who is pretty lousy with words. Spoken words that is. I have no problem writing down what I’m thinking or how I feel but to express them in words is like asking me to walk a tightrope. Hence the blog.

I’m an average middle-income single guy whose mother just moved in with him. Ok, maybe not just, it’s been 3 years now. I’ve been living the bachelor life for the past 10 years right after high school when my parents separated. I moved to the city and became a city boy.

3 years ago, my aging mother who has been living all alone decided to move in with me. Being the filial elder son (I have a younger brother) who is brought up in a traditional asian culture, I welcomed her. Little did I know that that was the last time I ever known freedom.

Here’s a journal of the journey from that time moment on.