I envy mothers who are able to shape and mould their children exactly the way they want them to be. I have no one to blame really, I know I haven't put in the requisite time and effort it takes to be a good mother, and I don't possess the iron-handed diligence to pull it off.

Faced with the prospect of say, going through multiplication tables, or watching "Whose Line Is It Anyway" on StarWorld, I'd always choose the latter. What can I do? I hate multiplication tables.

Discipline? It would seem that I need that medicine more desperately than my children. If only I have the patience to discipline the children, myself included.

Yesterday evening, when I have just got back from work, Erin came to me with her homework, and I was too tired to even see what she was holding, instead I shooshed her and told her give me some time to put my feet up. So there goes my parenting skill down the drain.

It doesn't help much that Papa is seldom around and not here to provide the balancing factor. But he did as much as he could from the other end of the telephone line, and the occasional family conferences.

And so, the idiot box has been, on many occasions, the de-facto parent. Deep in my heart, I do thank the TV for its patience to teach my kids English, the way Sponge Bob Square Pants talks, or how Lizzie McGuire always daydreaming, in the form of her imaginary cartoon character. Especially Erin, who will memorize every line of every trailers of Lizzie McGuire or Its So Raven.

Every time I saw a baby in someone arms, especially Nadia Amira or Iffa Ilyana, I was wondering if I will ever be blessed with a new baby. But I am afraid that the TV will bring up the baby too. So am I a bad parent?

Well, what do I expect? My plan for raising kids is to live on a wing and a prayer : make-it-up-as-we-go-along and lots of faith in doa's..