Tania McCartney

With all the devastation surrounding Sichuan’s earthquake, once again people are reminded how fragile and precious life is.

While our families have been fortunate enough to escape this terrible tragedy, there are many who have not been so lucky. The despair and loss families are going through right now is hard to contemplate. Those of us safe in Beijing can certainly mourn, pray and help in whatever way we can, but what we can also do is prepare. Prepare ourselves for the possible event of tragedy in our own lives – in ways that can protect our families and ensure the best possible outcome should we face any kind of devastation – from earthquakes to simple accidents in the home.

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I know, I know – this blog is a little early, but if you have a house similar to our house, reminders need to start popping up like daisies NOW. It takes weeks before the pop-up reminders are even noticed, so here’s hoping this blog strikes even one wakeful dad on the noggin.

If you’re from Spain, Belarus or the UK, you’ve had your turn. Stand back and make way for the rest of us. Mothers from Australia, Belgium, Bolivia, Canada, Denmark, Dominican Republic, Finland, Georgia, Germany, Italy, Japan, Latvia, Lithuania, Malawi, Netherlands, New Zealand, Paraguay, Puerto Rico, Switzerland, Syria, Taiwan, Turkey and the United States – unite!

Pounce on the silk frocks, stake your baubles at the jeweller, peg your antique armoire at Panjiayuan. Leave surreptitious notes or luxury ads torn from magazines in easy-to-spot places (through the loops of beer can lids for Dad, in the ice cream section of the freezer for the kids). Flaunt your bare, diamond-less earlobes. Scatter business cards from the best hotels in Beijing, offering the most luscious high teas and overnight packages, and leave the ice bucket conspicuously empty on the kitchen counter. Dream big, girl – BIG!

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Hello sunshine!

Well. Sort of. It seems that the warmer days are not necessarily heralding the appearance of a large shiny ball in the sky (remember that thing?). Nonetheless, it is with daily exuberance that I cast open the curtains each morning, living in hope. Sure, more often than not, my heart sinks down to my slippers while the kids tug at my pyjamas, begging to go to the beach.

Hmmm. There is a sandpit full of goodness-know-what at the base of our building… not quite the same. How depressing. And my depression is probably due to my lack of sun-exposure and not the fact that I can no longer fit into my bikini.

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Wolong Giant Panda Breeding and Research Centre in Sichuan province has opened the world’s first kindergarten for baby pandas. The centre hopes to encourage the pandas to socialise and play, and eventually develop the skills needed to find a mate.

There are only 1000 giant pandas left in the wild and 138 in captivity. This is a frightening statistic, heightened by the fact that panda mothers can only conceive babies for a tiny 72-hour period each year.

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Easter is coming early this year. Unlike Christmas, where kids scramble to be Good in the lead up to 25 December, Easter sometimes sneaks up on us, due in part to its rotating calendar date. Santa Claus has it all pegged out – he has his high tech, computerized Naughty and Nice list churning out statistics on a daily basis, slotting kids world-wide into categories that ultimately determine their ranking on the Big Gift/Small Gift/Lump of Coal scale.

The Easter Bunny isn’t that sophisticated.

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Beware the pranksters on April 1!

April Fool’s Day can be traced back to the 16th Century when the Gregorian calendar first came into place. Before that time, the new year was celebrated at the end of March with a two week celebration ending on April first. Once the new calendar came in, those who still celebrated the old calendar were thought of as ignorant, uneducated fools, and so the April Fool was born.

Get into the spirit of this day of trickery by trying some of these pranks on your unsuspecting family, friends and children. Just make sure you get to it before the kids do. Happy tricking!

Tricks for the kids…

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Shopping is a relative concept.

To one person, a good shop can mean getting in and out of Xin Yuan Li wet market in less than 5 minutes with three crates of mangoes and a barrel of almonds for less than US$10. For others, it cannot involve anything less than the short but satisfying slip of a credit card through the cash register at Prada in Shin Kong Place.

For me, as I’m sure for many expats, it’s no more and nothing less than finding what I cannot buy in Beijing. This includes (among many more) – aerosol deodorant, Cadbury Caramelo Koalas (although they have made a miraculous appearance in the PCP basement supermarket – joy!) and more-exotic-than-cornflakes breakfast cereal that doesn’t cost the price of a small car.

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I will never forget the day both my children turned one.

More than any of the precious birthday anniversaries to ensue, there is something about turning one that changes everything. It is a morphing from infanthood to childhood. It is a milestone time of enormous leaps and bounds. It is a time to celebrate an emerging personality and individuality, slowly unfurling and spreading its lanky legs into the world.

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As I walked towards the surprisingly humble entryway to Anaheim Disney, clutching the wriggling hands of M7 (Miss 7) and M5 (Master 5), there was only one dream I hoped would come true (beside the requisite wishes for world peace, health, happiness and an inexhaustible supply of non-taxable funds). The dream? That my disturbingly high anxiety levels would plummet like the Matterhorn, and subside to a low-level buzz.

Why was I a bundle of nerves? In a Chip ‘n’ Dale nutshell? Queues. Crowds. Pushing. Shoving. People. Everywhere. (Please also add to this a hindsight entry – USD 18 for two grande lattes and two cookies.) Though never formally diagnosed, there is a teensy bit of agoraphobia nesting in this skull. My mother used to call it impatience. I say it’s either/and/or both*, with an added dash of Beijing-quick-get-in-there-while-you-can-itis.

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I tried. Lord knows, I really tried.

I crammed, I shoved, I rolled. I stuffed, I squeezed, I wedged. I begged and I prayed, but nothing was going to make those backpacks bigger. I defy anyone to travel overseas for two weeks and fit the clothing and basic necessities of two da ren and two xiao ha’r into a couple of medium-sized backpacks, whose main cabin-space tends to be so much padding and strapping, it leaves little room for knickers and socks let alone a pair of men’s size 12 running shoes.

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