another nice post quoted from someone.. heart warming.. its kinda long so be patient and read!
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Sibling LoveWhen I was born, everyone doted on me.
I was (and still am) my parents' first child.
I was my paternal grandparents' first grandchild.
I was a large, bubbly and gurgling baby (ok I made this up - how would I know?!), and although I was a handful, I also made my parents' day.
But.
Being a first child meant I was a guinea pig to my parents' parenting skills to.
Nonetheless, I was the gem of the family (very likely it was because there was no one else for the family to coo over).
I basked in the attention for 4 years.
When I learnt to walk, almost daily, my Ye Ye would go over to my place at Tampines and bring me kiddy-riding.
You know, those rides (
kok-kok-beh) that move forward and back while the irritating children songs played repetitively after you slotted in 20c (now is $1).
For those who know where Tampines Blk 201 is, you would know it's somehow a circular concept. My Ye Ye would let me sit on
each and every kiddy ride we went past, and after we complete the cycle (say clockwise), he would let me sit again, now anti-clockwise.
My mama would dressed me in the cutest dresses (yes I wore dresses back then) and parade me proudly.
My daddy would fly me up into the air and tickle me (irritatingly) with his stubble.
My aunts would coo over me and buy me toys.
Even strangers would ask to take photos with me.
When I was 4 years old, just started nursery, my mama would go with me on the school bus, giving me 濱濱米果, which I grew to love, even till now.
Yes. I was given THAT kind of attention.
So naturally, I grew into a little brat, and thought that such princessy treatment would last forever.
Good things don't last, do they?
When I was 4 years old, one stormy night, my Ah Ma and cousin came over to stay with me. I didn't know what happened, only that my mama (completed with her big tummy) and daddy went out, but I was quite contented because I was (surprisingly) allowed to play TV games all night long, when usually I wasn't supposed to.
Little did I know, what was to happen over the next few days would change my life forever.
My mama came home with a screaming bundle - my new didi.
I have recollections of going to this orangey-lit clinic with my parents, but for what I didn't know.
I was too young to understand anyway.
From then on, everything changed.
Although to be fair, my parents still treated me the same, but they were also very busy with the new baby.
Everyone who came over cooed at the baby.
I wouldn't say I was neglected, since I cannot really remember anyway, but I know, because of this new addition to the family, caused much anguish to me in the coming years.
While we both grew up, my immense dislike for Didi increased at an alarming rate. Even when I was 5 years old, I had plans to "flush him down the toilet".
I intentionally did things to divert attention to myself.
I poked him, I beat him, I pinched him, I made him cry, I did everything.
Only to have things backfire on me time and time again.
The more I did, the more people showered attention on poor innocent lil' Didi.
The more I did, the more I got scolded, the more Didi get cooed over.
The sibling rivalry grew more and more intensified when Didi started school.
Each time I made him cry, my mama would cane me. While I was howling away, Didi would stand in a corner, widen his teary super big eyes, and ask innocently, "Mama.. why you beat Jiejie?" *big angelic eyes*
Which only set out to make me feel even more hatred towards him, to the extent I started hatching little plans to hurt him.
I did so many things to him I cannot remember, but the one incident that really made me scared, was the time I shoved him intentionally against this rather short rosewood cabinet, about Didi's height.
Didi knocked against the corner of the cabinet, and his eye started bleeding.
Mama and Ah Ma rushed him to the doctor (not before scolding me, of course), and the doctor said if it was 1cm nearer, he would have gone blind.
I was so scared and guilty, I cannot even begin describe it now. (Even now, each time I see the scar on his eyelid, I feel immense guilt.)
I don't think I need to explain what happened to me after my parents came home, even though they were consoled by the doctor that everything was fine.
I was guilty, but I was also angry that Didi got more attention than ever, with my parents blatantly showing that they were protecting him from me.
There was also this time when Didi was about 6 years old I think, and he scolded me with a
chao cheebye. I duly shouted and complained to my mama, who didn't believe a word I said. (He learnt it earlier during the day, when my Ah Ma shouted that at my house.)
I got scolded again for "lying", because no one believed the angelic boy would do such a thing. Indignant, maligned, angry, I carried out my "revenge" again - whacking him till he cried, which served no purpose because I got caned, yet again.
Throughout the whole of primary school, I kept my distance from him, and I had a totally rocky relationship with my parents.
Each time I whacked him, he would go cry to my mama, who would in turn cane me, and she would start going hysterical and quarrel with my daddy 'cos of me, and the next day she would yell at me and said it was my fault that I caused them to quarrel, and if they were to divorce she would definitely bring Didi with her and go away. I would feel so scared and beg her to stay. The vicious cycle repeats.
I was constantly threatened by her, that she would bring Didi instead of me. That caused my paranoia and insecurity, which stayed on with me even till now, and it finally took its toll on my latest relationship.
My insecurity was largely caused by the mindset that, even my mother don't want me, who else is obliged to want me? And I managed to convince and brainwash myself that ultimately everyone would leave me because I was a bad girl and I was not good enough for anyone (thus succeeding in pushing my ex away from me too).
In a bid to get my parents' attention back again, I did things to get attention. Attention I did get - but all the wrong ones.
I stole. I let my school work slip. I kicked my friend in the stomach. I further beat up Didi at every chance I got.
All that angst in a primary school girl.
I was from EM1, and back then, it was a big thing to be in the EM1 stream.
But my PSLE was only 239. The second lowest in my class.
Because I had slacked, and in the end, I wasn't able to catch up.
I knew my parents were disappointed. I have failed them yet again.
On the other hand, Didi excelled in school every year.
He was in a respectable school. He was a school prefect. He was first in class every year. He was first in level every year. He was awarded all sorts of book prizes. His report book always reflected good comments from teachers. His results was always perfect.
All of which, all the more contrasted the "failure" I was.
Needless to say, I grew repulsive to him even more.
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It was until he started Sec 3, when somehow he changed.
By then, I had also started my Poly Year 3.
Somehow, we started to see eye to eye.
In the past, all the comments I gave him, he would retort that he thought my comments were useless.
But one fine day, I found a bottle of deodorant on his table, after years of telling him boys need deodorant 'cos they generally stink, and girls don't like stinky boys.
And slowly, I began to realise he really did take my opinions into consideration, though he did so quietly.
Which really touched me. Really.
If you are so patient as to have continued reading up till now, you must be wondering what sparked off such an entry.
Ironically, it was a very very small thing that unlocked the gate of emotions within me.
Just before dinner, Didi and I went to have our spectacles made.
He was choosing his frames, I was choosing mine.
The optician took out a few frames for him, and I kept throwing my opinions at him, while my mama kept telling me to shut up and let him choose.
Each time he chose a frame which he thought was OK, I told him what I didn't like about it.
Until I saw this pair of Levis frames and asked him to try it on.
Instantly, I told him it was the nicest, and it really suited him. I had expected him to say "SIAO. Branded leh!" and put it back.
Didi was never one to go crazy about brands (he is price conscious like an aunty).
He totally threw me off the orbit when he grinned loonily at himself in the mirror and said, "Yah. Nice. Ok lor. I take this one."
The optician gawked and said hesitatingly, "Erm.. this one really new arrival leh. Arrived last night only. Total would be $240 leh. You sure?"
He grinned again and said cheekily, "Yah. My mama will pay." and proceeded to check his eyes and all. (I chose a maroon frame from Levis too. Teehee.) And, I stress once again, is totally surprising because Didi was ALWAYS very anal about money, and he never fails to chastise me whenever I spent on things.
That's all. That's what made me so emotional. I was thinking about it in the shower and I burst into tears. It's like my brother actually (and finally) values my opinions.
I feel warm and fuzzy.
And I mentioned how he would always somehow cause me to be scolded or caned by my mama right? (One fine day he even learnt the fucked up way of causing me to be scolded - like when I knock into him purely accidentally, he burst into tears and say I beat him.)
Now we both gang up against our parents. Damn funny that boy.
Just now in the shower, when I thought of the fact that he would be enlisting soon, I burst into tears. (At this point Weili would say I 感情泛滥 again.)
I'm really really glad that now, we are finally on good terms.
(But I just hope he can stop being so fucking stingy - borrow $20 also kaobei me whole day and night.)
I love Didi =)
its ma creation!! my production!! hehe.. 
its cooking.. in the pot.. 
and the final product~!
first some rice
some meat
and tie it on the rafia! off it goes to the pot!
on our way there on the ferry! hehe.. aunt and cousin and nephew.. 
cousin and sister.. 
me and cousin..
batam ferry center!
..and we feast KFC in the hotel lobby.. haa~!
i can fit into my nephew's cot!! hahas!!!
the grand children and ah ma.
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