the bottomsup blog | parenting, living, and crafting in Singapore

What does “comfort” mean to you? Although we lead a fairly simple life, it’s also a comfortable life. Read on to find out why!

#1 COMFORT IS… enjoying a few more minutes under the covers. We have a funny little snooze routine going on at 5.20 in the morning: Our three alarm clocks go off in three different places at almost the same time. I’m responsible for shutting them off, turning on the lights, and making sure Alf and Layla are semi-awake. Layla gets 10 minutes to snuggle under her blanket while Alf keeps an eye on the time. Her blanket’s name, by the way, is Fluffy. She’s had it since she was two. Over the years Fluffy has become less tender to the touch, but lately we’ve started using Comfort Ultra Pure, a fabric conditioner, when we run the wash and now good ol’ Fluffy is back on form again. Once Layla’s up, she freshens up and gets dressed while Alf gets her a cup of warm milk. During this time, I’m back in bed stealing some shut-eye until Layla’s seated at the table, then I’m up again to brush her hair and tame it while Alf takes his 10 minutes. When her hair’s done, Layla feeds Sarah our pet hamster and Alf takes her down to wait for the bus. We’ve only missed the bus once this year due to oversleeping. Not too shabby!

#2 COMFORT IS… making a playground out of your bed. Start with pillow forts. Then run horizontally, be the tickle monster, read aloud from every single board book you own, throw a blanket over your head and make like a jellyfish, and dump your entire toy collection on your bed or give your undivided attention to one toy at a time. There’s plenty of kiddy fun to be had without leaving the bedroom, or the bed. It gets better if your sheets feel like silk against your skin; I’m impressed that our softener has made that much of a difference!

#3 COMFORT IS… having a wind-down routine. A long shower or bath does wonders to chase away bad feelings and black thoughts. It’s my one magical solution for any tantrum or argument. It works on my 20 month old and my six-and-a-half year old. It works on me too, and when I step out of the shower these days, I’m greeted by the smell of “clean” and it’s coming from our laundry. I can’t put my finger on the scent but it makes me think of my mother’s home. And my mom–she’s the boss of clean.

#4 COMFORT IS… knowing you can count on someone else. Layla has watched over her brother to keep him safe while I napped, showered, hung up the laundry, washed the dishes, took bathroom breaks, tidied rooms, checked my e-mails… the list goes on and on. Who’s the mom here again? We have our hard days with her, but my life would be so much harder without my little girl.

#5 COMFORT IS… choosing softness, every time. Comfort Ultra Pure is a fabric conditioner that is specially formulated for sensitive skin. It’s also recognised by the British Skin Foundation as a softener gentle enough for a baby’s delicate skin. Keeping your laundry conditioned is an easy way to introduce more comfort into your family’s life. Try it and feel the difference!

We’ve been having some trouble with Layla lately. Today she and Alf were yelling at each other while engaged in a tug of war over her chair. She threatened to throw her half-eaten salmon sushi at him. He gave her a gentle prod on her bum with his foot. She didn’t want to sit down or eat standing up. She was mad because five minutes before that fight, she’d dropped two pieces of perfectly good sushi on the floor and gotten an earful from Alf.

I watched, and tried not to smile. It’s a relief to see my husband lose it like how I’ve lost it countless times before this. Otherwise I’d do what everyone does and blame the mother, who obviously doesn’t know any better.

We’re currently living and reliving these tantrum cycles where Layla will first get upset over something, anything small, like not being served the right drink when she gets home from school. The person on the receiving end (usually me) gets annoyed, she gets annoyed, tensions escalate and there’s shouting and maybe a slap on the arm, followed by funereal wailing before she’s banished to her bedroom or the bathroom so she can calm down and I can be rid of her for a while. Somewhere in between she’ll want a hug, she’ll demand a hug, and these days I don’t give in.

A few days ago I decided to talk to her about the emptiness of forced affection. “You know when you make someone give you a hug when you’re angry and they’re angry, it’s a fake hug? A fake hug doesn’t mean anything. Hugs should be given during happy times, or when someone really wants to give a hug.” I know it goes against the conventional wisdom that parents should be an everlasting source of affection no matter the circumstance, but I don’t think it’s healthy in the long run. When I look back on my own life, I was at my weakest when I expected someone else to soothe me and “make it all better.” I hope Layla never gets there.

We had another serious talk earlier about her Chinese speech and drama play, which took place yesterday. She’d told us on Sunday (the day before the play), that she didn’t want to go to school on Monday. She didn’t like the speech and drama teacher. She didn’t like the role she’d been assigned–a dog. She claimed her classmates would say “woof woof” when they were supposed to bark in Chinese. (Not the case for the actual performance.)

I was there to watch the play. It was a collection of skits put up by the Primary 1 girls in Layla’s school. Everything seemed to go as planned and it was impressive how well coordinated some of the performances were. Alf had warned me not to comment on Layla’s performance, but today she mentioned that her form teacher Ms. E had praised the other group’s performance but not her group. The other group was really tight–everyone knew where to stand, what to do, and when to move. When Layla came on, I was mostly watching her and not the other girls, and she looked a bit like she’d wandered into her set by mistake. Anyway it took a number of questions on how she felt the play went before I was able to gather that a. She’d missed the cue to make her entrance on stage. (She knew the cue but would sometimes forget.) b. As a dog character she was supposed to incorporate actions, but she didn’t know what actions. She didn’t ask, and no one volunteered instructions. c. She didn’t enjoy herself during the play. d. She still wanted to hear that she was the best, in some way.

In talking to her, I said life isn’t about being the best, it’s about being better than what you are today and finding ways to improve. I pointed out that there were other areas where she was possibly the best, like she’s been picked to represent the class in the spelling bee. I asked her if the other girls should cry about not being picked and feel that they were not “the best.” She had some comments about the speech and drama teacher and the many changes that were made to their routine and roles, and I told her to let her form teacher know. I think it’s useful feedback but I won’t do it on her behalf. I told her plays involve team work, and everyone has to get their part right to make the cast look good as a whole.

I ended by adding that I would always be proud of her, but I also wanted to be honest. I’m not sure how much of it will stick, but at least she’s open about her feelings and recovers wonderfully quickly. I think she can take it.

Have you had any serious conversations with your kids lately?

How was your week? My blogging agent’s been in meetings for a while trying to get us some work, and it seems everyone’s said “yes” at about the same time. I’ve still been writing, working on sponsored pieces that won’t be published until all the approvals are given.

This week, I’m thinking about managing our own news. We all do it now, via every public channel we can get our hands on, and I’ve become increasingly guarded about airing negative sentiments in public. When I need to rant using all the cuss words in my vocabulary and a target isn’t right in front of me, I kick cupboard doors and ram my fist into tables, and the resulting bruises are enough to make me shut up and calm down. Is that being fake? I don’t think it is. I acknowledge my feelings. I unload on my husband, occasionally. That’s what people who love you unconditionally are for. I now actively unsubscribe from social media updates I find distasteful, in part to protect my impressions of people. Sometimes it works, sometimes the damage is done.

Then there’s wonderfully managed personal news, like the op-ed in the New York Times that got everyone talking. Thank you to the guy who claimed men all over the world were weeping for the loss of those two breasts. Alf and I had a good giggle over that. And to the lady who asked, “Would you board a plane if there was an 87% chance of it crashing?” I’m sure that silenced a few detractors.

I’m slightly disturbed that people would disregard someone’s right to feel (or not feel) “any less of a woman” because there was reconstruction surgery involved. The details of the operation are here, for those who haven’t made it this far. It’s not about going shopping to trade a set of breasts in for better or perfect ones–it’s about cutting off your real breasts and getting replacements that are merely decorative, with no guarantees that they won’t pose problems down the road and have to be replaced or removed anyway. Also they couldn’t build sensation into those replacement breasts, and I think if your sexuality matters to you at all, that could be enough to make you feel like less of a person.

Btw I’m not using names here because I don’t have to. That’s how big she is now, and how important to the world. There’s something to be said about that but I think she does good work to bring events and issues to light, and it’s because of her that I’ve come to read about people like Mariane Pearl and Malala Yousafzai. Sometimes ordinary people disappoint while celebrities inspire. Not always though, thank goodness for that!

A very long time ago, before I was a mother or married or even dating anyone seriously, I had a recurring daydream. In it, there was a little girl next to me, and I couldn’t see it in the dream, but I knew we were meant to discover the world together. How we met, what we did, and where we lived, those questions weren’t answered in my daydream.

There was only one thing I knew for sure–the little girl next to me, she didn’t grow in my belly.

Maybe it’s wrong of me to call this a dream. After all, I never lusted after motherhood even after it became socially acceptable for me to be a mother. Perhaps it’d be more accurate if I referred to this as a vision.

Confession: Sometimes when I get sick and tired of the middle-class motherhood life I’ve found myself sucked into and all the things we continually fret about–milestones, our parenting “mistakes,” what this or that expert said, to work or stay home, domestic helper woes, playground/playgroup politics, the best brands, the right toys, and, particularly for us here in Singapore, the worthiest schools–I take off and immerse myself in a different world, one inhabited by adoptive parents. I’ve wept over “birth” stories, followed long waits, and tried to understand what attachment issues are, how they manifest themselves, and how they can result in the worst adoption outcome of all, disruption. (More adoption stories here and almost 50 more attachment-related stories here, if you’d like to read them too.)

Another confession: This may sound ridiculous coming from someone who only steps into church once a year, at Christmas, but I believe in God. Or at least I want to. And I believe he puts signs in our way and people in our path for a reason.

Recently I got to know a mother who runs a home in China for abandoned children with birth defects or lifelong health problems. We haven’t talked much about the home or the kids, but she sent me a link to a blog by a mother who’s adopted not one, but two kids from her home. The mom blogger seems like a private person so I’m hesitant to share the link here, but you can leave a message for me if you’d like to read it too.

In the past couple of days I’ve been learning new words like “exstrophy” and “colostomy.” I’ve been reading about what life is like when you have one child who toilets through bags, and another who needs a wheelchair, but is making remarkable progress towards walking independently. I’m reading about how baths for two can take up to two hours. I’m reading about hospital visits every month and near-death experiences. I’m reading about how grandparents feel when you announce these will be their new grandkids. I’m reading about kids who’re afraid they won’t see you again after their fourth birthday because they’ve already experienced so much loss in their short lives, and kids who’re afraid to tell you when they hurt and are even more fearful of what you might do to them when you discover they’ve puked on their clothes or wet the bed.

I started to ask myself if I could parent–or more specifically, love–a kid that was less than perfect on the surface. My honest answer? Not at once, but over time. Exactly the same way as it was for both my biological kids.

So yesterday I broached the subject with my husband, who like me views parenthood as a responsibility, not a fantasy. This is the guy who has flinched whenever I’ve brought up the subject of adoption. “We didn’t even want to be parents in the first place! Let’s just raise these two kids well and get our lives back!” I casually told him about how, if he made good money off his real estate career, we could consider adopting a “waiting child.”

Shockingly, my husband said yes.

Later in the evening, I headed out for my daily park walk with Z and spotted the faintest rainbow. I haven’t seen a rainbow in years.

Right now, it’s an idea and nothing more. We barely have enough money for ourselves, so I’m going to let this idea simmer. But you know what? I’m more than a tiny bit excited about the possibility of expanding our family in this way. We can make room for one more. Alf and I are no dream couple and there’s no guarantee we’ll even pass a home study, but we want the same things deep down and we can get on the same team to make something happen. I know we’ll falter and wonder to ourselves why we got into this in the first place. And I know we can count on our community to support us when we most need it, because we’ve always been surrounded by love.

Now let me tell you this, I’m not noble and I’m not trying to fake it either. I’m not as strong as I’d like to be, physically or emotionally. I don’t think of myself as maternal and on some days I’m as good as rubbish with my two kids, who’re as healthy as can be. But what I think I am is a little bit crazy, because a voice in my head is starting to say, “You can do this.” This, meaning plunge into a world of parenting with no guarantees for a child’s health, her future, our finances, how she’ll fit into the family, if she can love us in the way we expect to be loved, if we can love her the way she deserves. So many uncertainties. It’s almost liberating, because I think we bog down typical (i.e. biological) parenthood with our expectations.

The only reason I’m posting this is so that if you’ve had a voice in your head about adoption too, you’ll have some links to click on today. Maybe it’ll be your “sign.”

Happy Mother’s Day. :)

p.s. I haven’t checked the paper yet, but a girlfriend told me there’s a major feature about adoption today!

Back when Layla was really little, one of my favourite local bloggers was a homeschooling mom who wrote mostly about books and how much her family loved them. At the time I thought perhaps one day I might walk down a similar path, but as the years went by that possibility dimmed, and before I knew it, it was time to register Layla for school.

With Layla in Primary One at last, I’ve turned my attention to parent bloggers who’re way ahead of us in the school journey, and who obviously know what they’re talking about. I won’t always agree with the views or methods, but hey, if you have an opinion and put across your points well, chances are I’ll enjoy reading what you have to say anyway.

In the spirit of sharing, I’ll be compiling lists of education-related posts–not necessarily the “best” posts, but ones I’ve found interesting or learned something from. Just for fun, I’ve included my comments and stray thoughts in brackets.

For today, I’m highlighting two blogs that have given me quite a bit to think about. I’ve known about them for a while but didn’t start following them till this year:

BLOG: Petunia Lee (petunialee.blogspot.com)
* Of What Use The Textbook? (Back in secondary school, I remember sitting down to read my textbooks with a sense of futility, knowing that the textbook alone was insufficient to prep me for the exams. These days it seems primary schoolkids–and their parents–feel the same way.)
* Learning Chinese: The Potato Way (A story of success, without assessment books!)
* Succumbing To The Enrichment Contagion (But not in the way you’d expect.)
* Stupid, And Loving It (Instead of fretting about absorbing all the required knowledge and passing it down to your kids for the PSLE, try accepting your learning limitations and empowering your kids to figure out concepts on their own–so they can explain them to you. I like the sound of that!)
* Getting Into The Mood For PSLE Math & Science (This is five years away for Layla and I hope things would’ve improved by then, and much more so by the time it’s Z’s turn. I often wonder about the parents and kids who’re facing this right here and now–how do they cope!?)
* Preparing For PSLE Oral (This is about how a primarily English-speaking kid was able to ace the Chinese orals. It’s impressive, and I think I would be seriously freaked if Layla didn’t already have a Chinese tutor.)

BLOG: Of Kids And Education (hedgehogcomms.blogspot.com)
* Oh, To Be Bored (You know what bothers me? That parents will probably read this, forward this, and say to one another, “Yes, this should be the way!” But they won’t change a thing about their kids’ packed-to-the-max schedules. Or maybe they can’t.)
* GEP Testing And Kiasu-ism At Its Ugliest (This post brings back memories of me, back in Primary 3, working on the IQ book my mom had given me before the GEP selections. It wasn’t torture–it was fun going through the exercises and I checked my own work. I mean, my mom wanted the questions done but she wasn’t breathing down my neck or being a slave driver. After the initial round of tests, some of us got a slip of paper telling us we’d been shortlisted for a second test. I clearly remember a friend looking mournfully at me, telling me I was “so lucky” to be holding the slip in my hands. I didn’t feel so lucky. My best friend at the time was a year older than me AND in the GEP programme, and from his description of a curriculum filled with projects and presentations, I didn’t want in. At all. My mom was quite mad about this and she said if I was serious, I shouldn’t even sit for the tests. And so I didn’t. When I think back about this, I’m impressed I stood my ground!)
* Why Villainising GEP Does No One Any Good (We need the GEP programme because the genuinely gifted among us are likely to flounder if they’re not schooled in the right environment. Btw, I’m reading this out of interest. I think Layla’s creative and smart, but I’m certainly not harbouring any fantasies about her getting into the GEP programme! In fact the regular classroom environment seems to suit her, for now.)
* English Composition (Oh yes, the dreaded “azure sky” as a choice phrase popping up in all of our kids’ compositions! And those awful “model” compositions that kids are made to read and memorise! I think I’d gag and tear up Layla’s essay if she ever used “azure sky.” Or maybe I’ll be made to eat my words someday. Sigh.)
* Piecing Together The PSLE Puzzle (Making sense of the t-score and the bell curve. Reading this, I remembered how it felt to be sitting for my O Levels. My results were mediocre considering the school I was in and I was shocked to have scored an A1 in English. That was the only A my dad cared about but I’d thought it was a lost cause because I’d spent too much time on my composition and neglected to write a proper letter for Paper 1, and again didn’t have enough time to write a summary for Paper 2. My point is, you can turn in a crappy paper and still score well. The reverse is true too!)

Have you been following these blogs too? Do you have a favourite post? Or is there another education blog you’d like to recommend? I’d love to hear from you!

These moments were captured by my sister-in-law Jac during a party shoot last week. The colour of the actual shots are different–am fooling around with some new photo filters that I’ve discovered!

This is probably the last party that we’re working on together. Jac’s moving with her family to New Zealand and if things go well, she won’t be coming back. Ironically these kids were also the first kids we shot when we decided to start our business together. The mom who hired us has been wonderfully supportive of our business all this time, and she gave us a chance when we most needed one. I hope I remember to do that more often for others.

Speaking of support, two weeks ago I was interviewed by my blogger friend Adeline, and I talked about the challenges of running a business for the first time. I’d like to thank Ade for helping spread the word about our photobooth business! (And for calling me “lady like”–it’s good to know I can fake it for a little while.) Please pop in to read the interview and check out the rest of her blog too. She’s warm, funny, and amazing with her hands–she makes the prettiest jewellery!

Hey it’s May Day, and this month’s DIY is a cross between a Finnish himmeli (which I first read about here) and a Polish pajaki chandelier.

According to this link, himmeli are traditional straw decorations that were originally made to promote a good harvest. I found a Pinterest board with even more pictures here!

As for pajaki (pronounced “pie-yonky,” who would’ve guessed!?), it apparently means “spiders of straw,” and these mobiles are used to brighten up homes especially during the winter. You can read more about pajaki chandeliers here.

I thought this would be a fun craft for Layla to attempt, so once again, I wanted to keep the steps relatively easy. To get started, all you’ll need are straws (I used the new batch of IKEA drinking straws, which are wider than regular straws) and twine, which you’ll be threading through the straws to join them together. To make it easier to thread your twine across the straws, tape the end of the twine to a wooden skewer, and use another skewer to give your twine a nudge when necessary. I didn’t measure how much twine I used for this project, but if you’re starting to run out, just cut another piece of twine and tape the ends together.

I chose a basic shape to start with, and here are the dimensions of my straws:

You probably won’t have trouble figuring out how to thread the straws together–and I think it’s a cool challenge for the kids–but here’s how I did mine:

I liked the simple look, but I also wanted to try (at least a little bit!) to replicate the look of a pajaki chandelier:

The pajaki chandeliers I’ve seen have all had coloured paper bits against wooden straw pieces (see here for an example), but this would take forever to do and it wouldn’t be easy for little hands. However, I still wanted a beaded look and I think these round sticker labels did the job!

But I guess what people really love about pajaki chandeliers are the flower embellishments, and I added mine after I’d stuck on all the labels.

The beauty of this craft is in its versatility–you can change the shape of your mobile, mix different colours, and experiment with different flower arrangements. Oh, and remember my ready-made mini tissue paper pompoms from Daiso? I cut them in half and fluffed them out for this mobile.

Just a note about the round labels, I didn’t press the edges down but if you should decide to do so, it gives a pretty patterned look as well:

Like I said, this is a versatile craft and I can’t wait to make another!

* This is part of the Make Your Own Thing series on my blog, where I’m challenging myself to craft without referring to a tutorial. Click here to see what else I’ve been making.

I feel like my foot’s been permanently camped in my mouth lately. Today a politically incorrect term ran out of my mouth before I could stop it. It was too weird to apologise so all I can do is kick myself repeatedly and hope the damage was minimal. Makes me wonder if it’s age coupled with a lack of sleep, or if it’s a sign to sit up and think about who I am right now and how I can improve on that. Do you have moments like this too?

Here’s what else I’ve been thinking about this week:

* I didn’t have high hopes for good news but it was still sad to read about the end for Sunil Tripathi. I spent much of my 20s sitting in my rental home by myself and crying till my eyelids were raw and blistered. I don’t know how I got there and I don’t know how I got out. I just know I’m lucky I did. I love this message from Sunil’s family: “This last month has changed our lives forever, and we hope it will change yours too. Take care of one another. Be gentle, be compassionate. Be open to letting someone in when it is you who is faltering. Lend your hand. We need it. The world needs it.”

* Reading this post made ME feel safe in a dangerous world.

* I’m a bit late but I just discovered Humans of New York! The site contains a bit of everything: humour, drama, quirkiness, and wisdom. And even more impressive is how the photos and succinct captions work together to create compelling stories.

* Two interesting links on prejudice: a piece by a Singaporean girl studying in the US, and a project by someone who turned the camera on those judging her.

* I follow Modern Love’s Facebook page not just for updates on new essays, but also for the writing tips. This week’s tip, I thought, was relevant for bloggers as well: “In the end, you have a piece of writing. You no longer think it’s the best thing ever written. You no longer think it’s the worst thing ever written. It would be nice if editors and readers admired it, but you’d understand if they didn’t.”

p.s. The photos above were taken by my friend Waye when I caught up with her last December. Thank you Waye!

In March last year, I joined a newly formed blogging network known as Singapore Mom Bloggers (or SMB for short). I can’t believe it’s over a year old already! Am happy to report that it’s still going strong, we’re still trading stories daily, and celebrations have been underway since last month.

But… it’s not officially a celebration unless there’s cake involved! So I got together with some of the SMB girls for a workshop where we learned to bake Hokkaido Chiffon Cakes. If you haven’t tasted one before, these mini cakes are deceptively light and fluffy on the outside, but bite into them and you’ll discover they’re filled to the max with fresh cream–I dare you to say no to them, because I couldn’t!

Yes I made these! With the help of my baking partner Donna, no doubt, but I’m still proud!

As you know, my kitchen and I, we’re not exactly best friends. In fact on most days we’re closer to strangers. Which is why workshops like these are great, because it’s where you’ll learn that all the ingredients have to be at room temperature, or that you should avoid using plastic bowls, or that you’ll need to knock on your baking tray to get the air bubbles out of the batter. You probably wouldn’t find these instructions in recipe books or web sites.

I’d like to thank Pauline and Louisa of Munch Ministry for bringing us this workshop. I’ve known Pauline for a few years and she’s a huge inspiration because she’s the one responsible for introducing me to playgroups, homeschooling, and kid lit. And now I’m hoping some of her cookery genius will rub off on me as well.

I have to say I’m a bit afraid to try baking these on my own at home, but my baking partner Donna’s already invited me over to her place to have another go at this cake. Baby steps, people!

We were talking about the Boston bombings today and my aunt chimed in with an “update” that the second bomber was dead. My mom and I both said to her, “That’s not what I read,” but she was so convinced that we thought well, maybe we’d missed the latest news. My aunt also remarked that these days, you couldn’t trust what you read on the Internet anymore.

Later my brother came along, heard the latest “news” that my aunt had to share, said the same thing as we did, and checked it out himself on the Internet. Not true. Dzhokar Tsarnaev is alive. I said to my aunt, “Looks like you can’t trust family either!” And she replied, “I guess I can’t even trust myself!”

Here’s what else I’ve been clicking on this week:

* Just read this article on why Boston’s hospitals were ready to treat the victims. It’s impressive (everyone who was alive when rescuers reached them will likely survive), sad (it’s called “post-9/11 sobriety”), and scary (are we similarly prepared for the seemingly inevitable?).

* One of the reasons I’m still logging into Vine is to watch videos by Pinot. He’s an Indonesian artist based in Kuwait and he has so many cool ideas for animating his videos. I love how he gets his kids and wife involved too. And I also loved his Boston tribute.

* Women everywhere are celebrating the new Dove ad and laughing at the parody. My one issue with the ad is that its message seemed to be “Others think you’re beautiful, so you should too.” Someone else had a lot more issues with the ad and blogged it here. Very good points made, especially this one: “Don’t let your happiness be dependent on something so fickle and cruel and trivial. You should feel beautiful, and Dove was right about one thing: you are more beautiful than you know. But please, please hear me: you are so, so much more than beautiful.”

* I learned about the Kevin Gosnell case from fellow mom blogger Justina. Whether you’re pro-choice or pro-life, you will have trouble making it through this story. It’s grisly and it’s heartbreaking. And here’s a related piece on the politics of abortion.

* When I read about apple cider vinegar as the main ingredient of a morning pick-me-up drink, I was intrigued. I’ve previously read about apple cider vinegar being used as a treatment for reflux, coughs, and a whole host of other things, so I went out and bought myself a bottle of Bragg vinegar, which Fairprice Finest now stocks. I’m still looking at options in treating my reflux and chronic cough, and will post an update on that soon.

p.s. The picture above is for Sunil Tripathi, the missing university student wrongly identified as the Boston bombing suspect. It’s also for everyone who needs this reminder.