My mind is a continuous traffic of untamed thoughts, uncensored even.  Never quiet long enough for me to take a breath.  And yet, sitting down to pen, in this case, keyboard these gems, my fingers freeze mid-air, awaiting inspiration to strike.  I could blame it on “writer’s block”, maybe “writer’s fuzz” or maybe even my typing speed.  Nope.  I just took a typing test 2 minute ago that tells me that I can type 73 words per minute.  I used to be able to type 90 words per minute.  I was a typing champion (arms flexed) back in the High School day.  I come from the ERA of electronic typewriters.  Maybe age has slowed my fingers down.  But I digress.  I do that a lot.  A symptom of an undiagnosed deficiency of attention.  Where was I?  Ah yes, I was beating myself up for not writing more than I should be.  If I am being truthful, then it really is just a case of brain sloth also known as IBS, Irritable Brain Syndrome, a constipation of the brain.  And now that I have an acceptable excuse…….

I write today about employment.  I have been attempting to jump back into the World of the Working Dead for the past few months, a decision that has been long time coming (more about this in another post).  As I submitted a couple of applications this morning, I fell reminiscent to the first job I ever had.  New Zealand was my home.  13 was my age.  Money was my aim.  Now, I can’t even remember my real motivation for getting a job.  Maybe it was because I had friends who had jobs.  Mostly, babysitting or paper routes.  Having a very traditional and strict father, I was surprised that I was even allowed to pursue this venture.  I am not sure even till this day why he agreed.  Perhaps my mother could fill in this gap __________________________.  I checked the papers diligently, daily.  Called potential employers and finally was called up for an interview for a babysitting job.  My father drove me to the interview.  It was exactly what I wanted!  Back then, I loved little kids.  I have become a teacher and parent since (if I knew how to insert emoticons in a blog post, there’d be one with my teeth showing here).  The mother of the little baby liked 2 candidates.  I was one of them.  So the agreement was that the other babysitter and I would take alternate days after school to go over and play with the baby for a couple of hours.  It turned out eventually that Kieran, the little boy, preferred my engaging company, never mind that he was 10 months old and subject to my endless chatter and confessions of my latest crush knowing that he wasn’t able to repeat them yet.  I only found out much later that he was very intelligent and was probably sharing my deepest secrets when I left for home.

This was the beginning of a 5 year friendship with little Kieran and his wonderful parents.  They were like family to me.  I would go over 3 times a week after school and I even graduated to babysitting in the evening on weekends when his parents had an evening engagement.  However, being the Singaporean Indian girl that I was and having conservative parents fighting to stay conservative, Kieran’s father would pick me up and drop me home for evening babysitting stints.  Yes!  I was a baby, babysitting a baby.

It never occurred to me but that was my first peek into the world of mothering.  I changed nappies (yes, cloth!), gave toddler baths, put him to bed, fed him meals, read him stories, took him for walks around the neighborhood, to the nearby beach, played games, shared in his firsts, worried when he was sick and rejoiced in his accomplishments.

The day came when I was to return to Singapore with my family and leaving Kieran was one of my greatest sadness.  I always wondered how he was and was curious about what he was doing in life.  Fast forward about 15 years.  SOCIAL MEDIA!  Yes!  I found him on Facebook and I now silently follow the progress of his life, happy to see him following his dreams.

So there you go……….a piece of me, contentment at the release of a long overdue brain fart.  I am writing again.