My appointment isn't for another two weeks yet.
But my heart plummeted when my dietitian bro brought back a very professional "super-accurate" weighing scale used for by the national athletes, and I weighed myself to see how fat I had gotten.
Good God how can I be 46.3 kg??? That's even LESS than when I started out at 46.7 kg.
This same time when I was pregnant with Day, I was 48.1 kg.
It's not unusual for women to lose weight in the first three months but that's if they lose their appetite and are generally throwing up a lot. I've been eating like a dog.
Well, OK, that's not true because there isn't ANYTHING to eat at home and while I open the fridge every hour for my raid, food choices are horribly boring. Usually fruits. Tomatoes.
Lunch is just as sterile, plain beehoon soup or porridge or something equally bland. All healthy but not very fattening. And I still don't fancy meat very much. I probably eat one tiny little serving of meat every day.
With Day, I was at work. And at work, when eating out at the canteen or hawker centre, it's always meat isn't it.
But hey, I'm eating alright. I eat a lot and healthily. So why am I shrinking?!?!
Wednesday, August 31, 2005
Monday, August 29, 2005
bintan... again
Bintan is now our favourite getaway because of KK's golf, though in many ways it isn't much of a getaway for me because I sometimes sweat blood trying to run after Day.
People sometimes wonder why we go. For one, they can't believe KK goes all the way to play golf ALONE and they can't believe that pregnant me would want to lug a baby and luggage around the whole day. But there it is, it is going OVERSEAS, something I haven't done since Dec 2003.
Last weekend Sunday and Monday (21 and 22 and I know this post is long overdue but the Internet connection keeps dying on me) we did the Bintan thing again. Only there was a difference....
Day was way sick
He's never had a flu, cold or cough and this was his first. Yellow and green phlegm dripping out of his nose, breathing with a rattle, coughing till his face turned red, no fever though. We were going to let him ride it out on his own but the morning we went to Bintan we thought better not. Two days on Bintan and no medicine or doctors, what if?
The clinic was an adult's clinic which gave him an arsenal of adult medicine, only we were told to give him half the usual dose.
The good thing: It made him very very sleepy indeed.
The bad: We gave up giving it to him pretty soon because he hated it. It took too much energy to pin him him down, hold his arms, lock his face, force his jaw open and push the medicine past his tongue.
It also made him vomit not once, but three times because the meds made him cough even harder. For the record, he has NEVER once vomited in his life apart from colostrum once when he was newborn. So I didn't like that he was vomiting.
The blessed room
The good thing was, instead of just a day trip, we got a room this time for an overnighter. Makes a hell of a difference because I can leave the luggage there and retreat whenever I need a break.
The two best things about the room were the bathtub and the bed.
Day for some reason slept very well and very long, two full naps a day, even when we stopped giving him the meds.
He didn't even sleep on the bed at night. We chucked him on the platform at the side of the room on two cushions, where he didn't stir until 8 the next morning.
As for the bathtub, we must have filled it to the brim with water three times within the two days for Day to soak and play or bath with his papa. It's easier than the swimming pool, at least I don't have to chase him.
Other than that, we ordered a lot of room service: So we can eat while Day runs around the room. This was our breakfast, it looks a lot better than it tastes.
OK I'm getting bored of this very humdrum entry, think it's been too long since the trip. Anyhow, here are some more pics of Day.
Looking completely knackered after a swim. He was dead sleepy and just lay there by the pool for five minutes. I hoped he would fall asleep on his own but true to form, he soon got up and started scurrying around.
We just found it so incredibly funny how agonised he was when his ice kacang was taken away.
A nice happy picture of him looking his best by the beach, before we stripped off his clothes and diaper.
Thursday, August 25, 2005
breastfeeding withdrawal symptoms
Poor poor Day. He routinely goes to our cupboard, flings open the doors and zooms straight in for this particular piece of my clothing. Cradling it in hands, he nibbles on the cups and mumbles "mum-mum nan-nan" in a forlorn manner.
He misses breastfeeding. I have effectively cut out nocturnal middle-of-the-night breast feeds (it used to happen once a night) by not sleeping with him for the past week. Whenever he wakes up wailing for me, his father pats him back to sleep. Nowadays he does not even bother to wake up.
Today, I cut out his morning feed as well. It is not my intention to wean him so drastically, all within a matter of weeks.
But the last few times he fed, there was absolutely nothing. Nada. Zilch. Though I think I can probably bump up supply by feeding him more often, I'm not pushing the breastfeeding agenda anymore.
Not when I think my body is trying to tell me something by stopping milk supply.
It's just been a little hard on Day, and frankly hard on me as well. To nip our breastfeeding relationship in the bud, though I'm trying my best to do it gradually. We still have our night feed, which I will try to keep up for another month or so.
Still, isn't it hilarious!?! Whenever I see the bra within his line of vision, I run in front of him and fling it somewhere where he cannot see it, under the bed or some place else so he won't start demanding for milk.
I've also been telling him it's a BRA instead of a mum-mum nan-nan. He dutifully repeats after me: "bwah".
Wednesday, August 24, 2005
#2 at 8 weeks
Such a stupid title for a non-event of a post but heck. What sexy headlines can I think of for routine monthly examinations? I shall precede all posts about #2 with ... #2.
Since the last time we went to the gynae, when #2 was just 5mm long, she has grown four times. She's now 2.1cm. She's got a discernible head and the heart no longer seems to be the length of her whole body.
Now how do I know #2 is a she? I don't. But the default gender for foetuses is always female, until the penis shows up. In an interesting way, every boy started out as a girl for a couple of months. Of course, I want a girly girl. Whinier but less sam seng.
So does my mom. She asked me today: Boy or girl? She didn't get her answer. No one can find a 1mm weenie on a 2cm peanut.
Even then, KK has been warning me not to think anything, not to dream of a girl or try to imagine what she would look like. (In Day's case, I actually wanted him to look exactly like his father and he did. Of course it's coincidence...)
He's afraid that the maybe-boy would end up with gender confusion.
The doc also compared #2 with Day, when Day was 2 months in the womb, to see if #2 would get to be as big as Day. She said: "Hmmm. On par."
The expected due date: 30 March. Which makes everybody's birthdays all around the same two months.
I wouldn't mind the new babe being a little smaller. Day's 3.8kg was big and excruciating.
Since the last time we went to the gynae, when #2 was just 5mm long, she has grown four times. She's now 2.1cm. She's got a discernible head and the heart no longer seems to be the length of her whole body.
Now how do I know #2 is a she? I don't. But the default gender for foetuses is always female, until the penis shows up. In an interesting way, every boy started out as a girl for a couple of months. Of course, I want a girly girl. Whinier but less sam seng.
So does my mom. She asked me today: Boy or girl? She didn't get her answer. No one can find a 1mm weenie on a 2cm peanut.
Even then, KK has been warning me not to think anything, not to dream of a girl or try to imagine what she would look like. (In Day's case, I actually wanted him to look exactly like his father and he did. Of course it's coincidence...)
He's afraid that the maybe-boy would end up with gender confusion.
The doc also compared #2 with Day, when Day was 2 months in the womb, to see if #2 would get to be as big as Day. She said: "Hmmm. On par."
The expected due date: 30 March. Which makes everybody's birthdays all around the same two months.
I wouldn't mind the new babe being a little smaller. Day's 3.8kg was big and excruciating.
Tuesday, August 23, 2005
day free
On Saturday, I felt liberated, emancipated, free.
For the record, I was away from Day for the entire day from 8+ am, the time his papa carted him off to his grandparents', till about 7+ when he arrived home.
Nearly 12 wonderful hours. It's the longest I have been away from Day doing my own things since he was born and how I enjoyed it!
For the record, in the morning I cycled over to JJ's and had a swim before popping by to say hi.
I rushed home and had a quick bath before meeting up with ex-colleagues, including Tracy with her buffed up Beijing-polished Chinese (but she refused to give a demo), Shah and the indomitable and always-hilarious Ms AA. Over sushi, I laughed till I cried.
After the journalists meet, was time for the music fraternity. The string group I'm with, Striiiings (that's four i's) decided to have a BBQ to welcome JJ back from the US and to say farewell to Chun, who is going to Yale to do more music. Six years not enough!
Day came back at the start of the BBQ but KK and my folks were great. They took over at every point and I didn't have to fret. Lucky, for when musicians get together, musicians play!
I somehow managed to rustle not one or two, but three violins for everyone. So between the five of us we had a piano, two guitars and 3 violins. We, some with alcohol in our veins, had a rip-roaring good time as we played through jazz, Suzukis, Mozart, Tchaikovsky, heaps of concertos, Bruch, Mendelssohn, Paganini.
Here's JJ with bow flying over her strings:
From left, JJ. Luke, the Dr chiropractor who runs a clinic in Tanglin but whose fingers are just as good over the fingerboard. And Chun, the soulful artist.
The man who brought us altogether, whose fingers fly over the keyboard (he does a mean "Bumblebee") the young Dr Liew.
We ended up sitting on the ground with scores propped up on the wall but it was glorious. We only stopped at midnight, afraid that we were getting too loud for the neighbours.
I really really miss jamming. Musicians need to play to relieve that itch in their souls, and I don't mean play as in play for gigs. Play as in have fun with other people (not alone!), with no regard for whether people are listening, not caring if we make mistakes, if we are out of tune. Somehow when it all works out, it's orgasmic.
Day, by the way, insisted on sitting on my lap at one point before he went to bed. He was scared by the music. Didn't want to get off. Did I say he doesn't appear to be too musical?
For the record, I was away from Day for the entire day from 8+ am, the time his papa carted him off to his grandparents', till about 7+ when he arrived home.
Nearly 12 wonderful hours. It's the longest I have been away from Day doing my own things since he was born and how I enjoyed it!
For the record, in the morning I cycled over to JJ's and had a swim before popping by to say hi.
I rushed home and had a quick bath before meeting up with ex-colleagues, including Tracy with her buffed up Beijing-polished Chinese (but she refused to give a demo), Shah and the indomitable and always-hilarious Ms AA. Over sushi, I laughed till I cried.
After the journalists meet, was time for the music fraternity. The string group I'm with, Striiiings (that's four i's) decided to have a BBQ to welcome JJ back from the US and to say farewell to Chun, who is going to Yale to do more music. Six years not enough!
Day came back at the start of the BBQ but KK and my folks were great. They took over at every point and I didn't have to fret. Lucky, for when musicians get together, musicians play!
I somehow managed to rustle not one or two, but three violins for everyone. So between the five of us we had a piano, two guitars and 3 violins. We, some with alcohol in our veins, had a rip-roaring good time as we played through jazz, Suzukis, Mozart, Tchaikovsky, heaps of concertos, Bruch, Mendelssohn, Paganini.
Here's JJ with bow flying over her strings:
From left, JJ. Luke, the Dr chiropractor who runs a clinic in Tanglin but whose fingers are just as good over the fingerboard. And Chun, the soulful artist.
The man who brought us altogether, whose fingers fly over the keyboard (he does a mean "Bumblebee") the young Dr Liew.
We ended up sitting on the ground with scores propped up on the wall but it was glorious. We only stopped at midnight, afraid that we were getting too loud for the neighbours.
I really really miss jamming. Musicians need to play to relieve that itch in their souls, and I don't mean play as in play for gigs. Play as in have fun with other people (not alone!), with no regard for whether people are listening, not caring if we make mistakes, if we are out of tune. Somehow when it all works out, it's orgasmic.
Day, by the way, insisted on sitting on my lap at one point before he went to bed. He was scared by the music. Didn't want to get off. Did I say he doesn't appear to be too musical?
Friday, August 19, 2005
evening sickness
They say every pregnancy is different. This time, I find myself wanting to throw up consistently at the same time every day.
With Day, I remember I only had one serious episode of wanting to vomit, after lunch at work in the toilet. I didn't, and I never did for the rest of the 9 months. After that, as far I as can recall, all my bouts of "morning sickness" were on and off, and mild.
And I usually wanted to sleep after lunch. This, I did. I'd go to the toilet, close the seat cover, sit on it and rest my head on the toilet roll holder for a good 20 minutes.
With #2, for the past two weeks, I find myself very happy and perky in the morning and afternoon. Around 6pm, on the dot, all the wind goes out of my sails.
I need to sleep so nowadays I have an evening nap. Dinnertime is also a miserable affair, because I get queasy. Every time. I reckon that between 6pm and 9pm, there is some major construction work going on in the womb, so the rush of hormones makes me super tired and sick.
Even then, I still haven't ever vomited and the worst I've ever felt is burp-ish. Which makes me lucky second time round. May my luck hold out!
With Day, I remember I only had one serious episode of wanting to vomit, after lunch at work in the toilet. I didn't, and I never did for the rest of the 9 months. After that, as far I as can recall, all my bouts of "morning sickness" were on and off, and mild.
And I usually wanted to sleep after lunch. This, I did. I'd go to the toilet, close the seat cover, sit on it and rest my head on the toilet roll holder for a good 20 minutes.
With #2, for the past two weeks, I find myself very happy and perky in the morning and afternoon. Around 6pm, on the dot, all the wind goes out of my sails.
I need to sleep so nowadays I have an evening nap. Dinnertime is also a miserable affair, because I get queasy. Every time. I reckon that between 6pm and 9pm, there is some major construction work going on in the womb, so the rush of hormones makes me super tired and sick.
Even then, I still haven't ever vomited and the worst I've ever felt is burp-ish. Which makes me lucky second time round. May my luck hold out!
Wednesday, August 17, 2005
free haircuts
Even though Day's hair grows rather slowly - approximately 5mm in 2 months I reckon - bringing him to the barber still costs. $7 or so at the Siglap Indian barber.
Well, we're saying goodbye to paying for anymore haircuts for him. Because of this:
It's a snazzy Remington haircutting and hairstyling set which my bro carted all the way from Sydney, costing $50. You can start a barber shop with this, I swear.
It's got loads of scissors, combs, and the centrepiece: A power-packed shaver with a whole series of shaving heads for different lengths of hair.
When we sat Day down in his high chair on Sunday and cuffed the very authentic-looking black salon towel arond his neck, he didn't really need a haircut. But our fingers were just itchy.
KK and bro took turns, changing heads to vary the length of the cut. We fed Day (hair-riddled) biscuits at the same time so he wouldn't squirm. It worked quite well.
Below's a pix of my bro with the Lethal Weapon, he looks like he's about the dig in (he's sitting at my side complaining to me that he doesn't like himself topless - probably because he's too skinny - and could I please remove the picture. Uh-uh.. Anyhow, I just noticed that he is smiling throughout the haircut)
Day ended up with shorn sides but a tufty top - at my insistence because I realized too late that it was far too short for my liking and I wanted him to keep his fringe.
It's great value for money. Six or seven cuts and we make back the cost. In fact it wouldn't even take that many cuts for bro to recoup his investment, because all the men in the house are seriously considering giving it a go.
If I still had short hair, I would use it too. Cheapskate that I am.
Well, we're saying goodbye to paying for anymore haircuts for him. Because of this:
It's a snazzy Remington haircutting and hairstyling set which my bro carted all the way from Sydney, costing $50. You can start a barber shop with this, I swear.
It's got loads of scissors, combs, and the centrepiece: A power-packed shaver with a whole series of shaving heads for different lengths of hair.
When we sat Day down in his high chair on Sunday and cuffed the very authentic-looking black salon towel arond his neck, he didn't really need a haircut. But our fingers were just itchy.
KK and bro took turns, changing heads to vary the length of the cut. We fed Day (hair-riddled) biscuits at the same time so he wouldn't squirm. It worked quite well.
Below's a pix of my bro with the Lethal Weapon, he looks like he's about the dig in (he's sitting at my side complaining to me that he doesn't like himself topless - probably because he's too skinny - and could I please remove the picture. Uh-uh.. Anyhow, I just noticed that he is smiling throughout the haircut)
Day ended up with shorn sides but a tufty top - at my insistence because I realized too late that it was far too short for my liking and I wanted him to keep his fringe.
It's great value for money. Six or seven cuts and we make back the cost. In fact it wouldn't even take that many cuts for bro to recoup his investment, because all the men in the house are seriously considering giving it a go.
If I still had short hair, I would use it too. Cheapskate that I am.
Monday, August 15, 2005
bye bye breastfeeding
It was heart wrenching. The other day, I breastfed Day, his 10am morning feed. After several minutes, he realized there was nothing to be had. He peeled himself off and cried a bit. His eyes got a little teary, stared at nothing in particular and while he was lying on the bed mumbled "Mum-mum nan-nan. No more." in a very woebegone way.
I don't know if I'm imagining drama and doom and gloom where there is none. But my milk supply has literally dried up. Was it only two weeks ago that I decided to cut out his afternoon feed?
It's all gone downhill from there. I don't think it's just the cutting out of that one feed. It could be the hormone pills – progesterone is opposed to the milk-making hormone – and more likely, it's my body preparing for pregnancy. When a woman doesn't feel like eating much, it's hard to crank up enough to feed three. (ie. me, Day and #2) Yes, three.
It is my ultimate intention to stop breastfeeding Day. To cut down to two, then to one night-time feed maybe a few months down the line then none altogether. (I have no intention of tandem feeding – breastfeeding a newborn and a toddler, I think I will die) The gynae also advised me to stop, as breastfeeding may cause contractions. She also looked me up and down and said, "You're so thin!" probably implying that I can't make it.
But it really breaks my heart to have to give up breastfeeding Day when he is obviously so hung up on it. I still feed him twice a day, or I try to (OK most of the time, there's still milk). It's still the only thing that he will drop whatever he is doing for, no matter how interesting. And the way he asks for it now, with so much hope in his voice and eyes, I can hardly bring myself to look him in the eye and say "No more. Mummy has no more nan-nan."
Anyhow, a Breastfeeding Mother's Support Group counselor who was breastfeeding her 3-year-old while 37 weeks pregnant, told me that breastfeeding while pregnant is rather a "subjective" issue because of the fear of miscarriage. She obviously has no problem. She also said the lack of milk may cause baby to lose interest, which may be what is happening to me.
Never mind. If everything goes well, I will be imprisoned to #2's breastfeeding demands for months and months and then I will look back at this and think: What an idiot I was. Actually MISSING breastfeeding.
Sunday, August 14, 2005
pregnant
OK so I'm pregnant again.
For those who have never bought a pregnancy test kit in their lives, that's what the thing in the last post was. One line = not pregnant. Two lines = yes. It's sort of a hidden message only for the informed.... hehe.
Interesting eh. Those test kits are getting cheaper and cheaper. Probably the most credible, Clear Blue, costs more but the one I got was Watsons brand, unbelievable. And it cost just $8.90.
Anyway back to more important things. This time, the discovery was quite different from the last:
* No panic. I saw the result, went "Oh" with a raised eyebrow before resuming chasing Day around the house.
* It wasn't accidental. I want number 2 and this is not the first time I've tested in the last few months. Which is probably why I didn't panic.
* I didn't go around telling everyone because I'm not desperate for advice anymore. It's just a nice little secret I kept between hubby and Day (yes of course I told Day) for weeks.
So how far gone am I? Probably two months? Or maybe less, I have no idea because for the life of me I cannot recall when my last period was.
When I went to the gynae, however, we saw the water bag, yolk sac (stupid thought but I wonder if my yolk is yellow, you know like chicken egg yolk) and the little 5mm embryo. It just looked like one big pumping heart. Yes, the heart was beating away and it seemed to comprise the entire thing. We couldn't see anything else.
Hubby was quite amazed. Now why would he be. We're old hands, aren't we?
Oh one more difference. I bled this time. Not much, just a little for 2 days, but enough to fill my panicky head with thoughts of miscarriage. I was given oral progesterone, though I really don't think the gynae could have done much if it was really a threatened miscarriage.
I took it for a while but stopped because I stopped bleeding and I don't want to be popping hormones. Now I'm on antibiotics, for a bacterial infection. How lucky am I.
For those who have never bought a pregnancy test kit in their lives, that's what the thing in the last post was. One line = not pregnant. Two lines = yes. It's sort of a hidden message only for the informed.... hehe.
Interesting eh. Those test kits are getting cheaper and cheaper. Probably the most credible, Clear Blue, costs more but the one I got was Watsons brand, unbelievable. And it cost just $8.90.
Anyway back to more important things. This time, the discovery was quite different from the last:
* No panic. I saw the result, went "Oh" with a raised eyebrow before resuming chasing Day around the house.
* It wasn't accidental. I want number 2 and this is not the first time I've tested in the last few months. Which is probably why I didn't panic.
* I didn't go around telling everyone because I'm not desperate for advice anymore. It's just a nice little secret I kept between hubby and Day (yes of course I told Day) for weeks.
So how far gone am I? Probably two months? Or maybe less, I have no idea because for the life of me I cannot recall when my last period was.
When I went to the gynae, however, we saw the water bag, yolk sac (stupid thought but I wonder if my yolk is yellow, you know like chicken egg yolk) and the little 5mm embryo. It just looked like one big pumping heart. Yes, the heart was beating away and it seemed to comprise the entire thing. We couldn't see anything else.
Hubby was quite amazed. Now why would he be. We're old hands, aren't we?
Oh one more difference. I bled this time. Not much, just a little for 2 days, but enough to fill my panicky head with thoughts of miscarriage. I was given oral progesterone, though I really don't think the gynae could have done much if it was really a threatened miscarriage.
I took it for a while but stopped because I stopped bleeding and I don't want to be popping hormones. Now I'm on antibiotics, for a bacterial infection. How lucky am I.
Saturday, August 13, 2005
Thursday, August 11, 2005
first mucus
We have been so very, very lucky. Despite me having a perpetually drippy nose and perpetually inflamed sinuses, Day has never had a cold. Takes after his father that way. I have never seen the faintest drip of mucus from his nose, not once. Well, yes, when he cries but even then it's not much.
Our luck didn't hold out! Two days ago, Day came down with his First Cold. Such a stupid trivial thing, but it's one of those First things and is probably just as important as the First Step because it means whatever is inside his nose has succumbed to his environment.
He woke up and heavens, I couldn't believe it when I saw the shimmery silver trail running from his nose into his lip. It went from clear to yellow and green in a day. As I knew exactly what that feels like (shit) I expected him to become a crank, as I do when my nose drips incessantly. But he didn't. He just carried up with his usual nonsense and obligingly let me wipe his nose, even learning how to blow the snot out through his nostrils.
The cold seems to have cleared up. When my snot turns green, it's a sign that everything is coagulating and I can breath easier.
OK this picture isn't so good, the snot was there BEFORE he started crying...
Our luck didn't hold out! Two days ago, Day came down with his First Cold. Such a stupid trivial thing, but it's one of those First things and is probably just as important as the First Step because it means whatever is inside his nose has succumbed to his environment.
He woke up and heavens, I couldn't believe it when I saw the shimmery silver trail running from his nose into his lip. It went from clear to yellow and green in a day. As I knew exactly what that feels like (shit) I expected him to become a crank, as I do when my nose drips incessantly. But he didn't. He just carried up with his usual nonsense and obligingly let me wipe his nose, even learning how to blow the snot out through his nostrils.
The cold seems to have cleared up. When my snot turns green, it's a sign that everything is coagulating and I can breath easier.
OK this picture isn't so good, the snot was there BEFORE he started crying...
Wednesday, August 10, 2005
fireworks
Today Singapore turns 40 and I wanted Day to see the fireworks. I love fireworks, they are one of the few thing that make me go “wow, wow, wow” aloud without second thought.
Before Day was born, we would cycle a long way, make our way to the National Stadium and perch just outside the Indoor Stadium so we can watch the fireworks. Missed it in 2003 because of the honeymoon and 2004 because Day was just four months old then.
This year, we wanted to go see. Day’s papa actually wanted to cycle again, this time to the Esplanade since the parade is at the Padang. With Day in the bicycle seat. Not a good idea at all, especially since I think the Esplanade area is going to be one big mess: Tons of people and road closures everywhere.
Then Day’s papa redeemed himself by coming up with a seemingly harebrained idea which turned out stellar. He thought we should go to Marine Parade, trek up one of the blocks and watch the fireworks from there.
I thought the idea sucked, didn’t think we would be able to see a thing. We tried anyway. With day in tow, we went up to the 18th floor of a block of flats, specially selected by KK as he remembered checking out the block when we were looking for a home, and he recalled that it was inclined in such a way that he could see the Marina Bay area.
We struck gold! We had a perfect view. What’s best was that there was no one else, we had the entire corridor, which was wonderfully windy, to ourselves and we had plenty of walking space. Here he is, the voyeur.
Yes, the fireworks looked a little small but hey, sure beats sweating it out with armpits in my face, battling car and human jams, queues and the muggy heat from thousands of bodies.
Day, silent throughout the entire display, emitted a “wow” at the end.
Before Day was born, we would cycle a long way, make our way to the National Stadium and perch just outside the Indoor Stadium so we can watch the fireworks. Missed it in 2003 because of the honeymoon and 2004 because Day was just four months old then.
This year, we wanted to go see. Day’s papa actually wanted to cycle again, this time to the Esplanade since the parade is at the Padang. With Day in the bicycle seat. Not a good idea at all, especially since I think the Esplanade area is going to be one big mess: Tons of people and road closures everywhere.
Then Day’s papa redeemed himself by coming up with a seemingly harebrained idea which turned out stellar. He thought we should go to Marine Parade, trek up one of the blocks and watch the fireworks from there.
I thought the idea sucked, didn’t think we would be able to see a thing. We tried anyway. With day in tow, we went up to the 18th floor of a block of flats, specially selected by KK as he remembered checking out the block when we were looking for a home, and he recalled that it was inclined in such a way that he could see the Marina Bay area.
We struck gold! We had a perfect view. What’s best was that there was no one else, we had the entire corridor, which was wonderfully windy, to ourselves and we had plenty of walking space. Here he is, the voyeur.
Yes, the fireworks looked a little small but hey, sure beats sweating it out with armpits in my face, battling car and human jams, queues and the muggy heat from thousands of bodies.
Day, silent throughout the entire display, emitted a “wow” at the end.
Tuesday, August 09, 2005
singapore blogging mummies
There are heaps and heaps and heaps of love-struck parents blogging about their kids here. Heaps.
I started mine because I used to visit a blog and one day the signpost in the top right hand corner "Get Your Own Blog" hit me in the face. I really wanted to read about other kids (hard to imagine, but yes I did and I still do), but at the time, I really didn't know how to go about searching for local mummy blogs. Google searches, unless you are damn good at it, don't really turn up anything.
So I think it's a real blessing that a mummy has decided to compile a list of Singapore mummy blogs.
It's wonderful, delicious, fantabulous.
After a while, I realize most of us blog about the same things. Things which make us panic, like fevers, refusing to eat, major accidents; things which make us proud, like first steps, first words, first song sung; family highlights like celebrating festivals, outings, playgroup sessions.
There is a sameness and predictability to it, which is why I think baby blogs appeal to a limited audience. Moreover, most of it tends to be soooo positive and feel-good. There is nothing controversial or sexy about a baby's life.
Which, I am actually thankful for.
I started mine because I used to visit a blog and one day the signpost in the top right hand corner "Get Your Own Blog" hit me in the face. I really wanted to read about other kids (hard to imagine, but yes I did and I still do), but at the time, I really didn't know how to go about searching for local mummy blogs. Google searches, unless you are damn good at it, don't really turn up anything.
So I think it's a real blessing that a mummy has decided to compile a list of Singapore mummy blogs.
It's wonderful, delicious, fantabulous.
After a while, I realize most of us blog about the same things. Things which make us panic, like fevers, refusing to eat, major accidents; things which make us proud, like first steps, first words, first song sung; family highlights like celebrating festivals, outings, playgroup sessions.
There is a sameness and predictability to it, which is why I think baby blogs appeal to a limited audience. Moreover, most of it tends to be soooo positive and feel-good. There is nothing controversial or sexy about a baby's life.
Which, I am actually thankful for.
Monday, August 08, 2005
jj jie jie
After five years of America, my other-worldly friend JJ is back. She came by this afternoon, riding her rusty old Montana Sport with her sunglasses hanging from her mouth like a cig, looking way cool but with sweat pouring down her back.
Cycling in Singapore, despite her living only 15 minutes ride away, is a hell-raising experience compared to Michigan (she said) because the vehicles really don't give chance.
Which makes me appreciate all the more her coming by to see Day. That's her on the left.
She wanted Day to call her jie jie (Chinese for sister) instead of auntie, so Jie Jie jie jie she is. He's the first baby she's hung out with and though they didn't exactly communicate, I'd like to think she got enough of his smiles.
JJ once wrote on her blog, something which I remembered: "What really makes it poignant is the smile of absolute contentment on her baby's face. He does not need to think about happiness, or how to be happy, but he just feels awesome. I supposed that's very natural of babies."
Since she's going to be visiting rather often, she'll probably get to see a lot more of him.
Cycling in Singapore, despite her living only 15 minutes ride away, is a hell-raising experience compared to Michigan (she said) because the vehicles really don't give chance.
Which makes me appreciate all the more her coming by to see Day. That's her on the left.
She wanted Day to call her jie jie (Chinese for sister) instead of auntie, so Jie Jie jie jie she is. He's the first baby she's hung out with and though they didn't exactly communicate, I'd like to think she got enough of his smiles.
JJ once wrote on her blog, something which I remembered: "What really makes it poignant is the smile of absolute contentment on her baby's face. He does not need to think about happiness, or how to be happy, but he just feels awesome. I supposed that's very natural of babies."
Since she's going to be visiting rather often, she'll probably get to see a lot more of him.
Tuesday, August 02, 2005
bloody gash
My heart nearly stopped beating today when Day hurtled down the porch slope, slipped and his head landed on an edge.
When I rushed there, picked my bawling baby up and flipped him over, I could see the cut above his left eyebrow that was beginning to fill up with blood. (thank God it wasn't his eye)
By the time I ran into the house shouting for my dad for help - I was panic-stricken, didn't know what to do - the blood had smeared all over his left eye but amazingly, the tears stopped very quickly.
There was so much blood. Well, for a first-timer like me, it was a lot.
Dad applied some gentian lotion and when I worriedly wondered aloud if he needed stitches, Dad said I was being ridiculous. Said it was nothing. I'm told that there will be many more such acccidents because he's a boy and every boy is a samseng. Argh.
Monday, August 01, 2005
got milk!
Something happened to Day today. It may be a coincidence, but his personality switch occurred after I gave him a drink of cow’s milk. Here’s his very first milk moustache.
Today was the day I officially cut out his afternoon breastmilk feed. He usually gets fed at 10am, 3pm and 8pm, I wanted to replace 3pm (forever) with cow’s milk. My dietitian brother says there is absolutely no need to substitute with powdered formula milk, cow’s milk is more than good enough. And I didn’t want to risk him not liking the taste of whatever formula I get: What if I have to throw out the whole $20 tin?
So I gave him half a cup of Meiji milk, cold straight from the fridge, and he lapped it all up. Sat down quietly and went glug-glug-glug for several minutes.
For the rest of the day, he was HELL.
When Matthew came over to play a short while later after the milk, he acted like a big bully. He did the usual choking hug and bite, refused to share his toys with Matthew and grabbed Matthew’s toys. Doesn’t he look belligerent?
That wasn’t the worst of it. Suffice to say I got so worked up I gave him a hard smack on the hand (my second one so far) which warranted an Oscar-worthy performance of abysmal grief as he writhed on the ground. It continued throughout the day, he smacked his father, hit his mother, bit his uncle.
When we forcibly carried him home when he threatened during his evening walk (flinging away our guiding hands) to run across the main road, he cried himself hoarse for 10 minutes as he went round searching for someone to give him a little sympathy, but as I was ahead of him commanding everyone to ignore him, he got louder and louder.
I can only hope that this is what they call the Terrible Twos, but frankly, I think it will get a lot worse. Day is such a stubborn mule.
I'll still give him the milk anyhow, though it all went downhill from that cup of milk, I really doubt it's the milk. Unless it happens again tomorrow.
* I remember myself being a veritable brat who screamed until my voice was hoarse and needed to damage furniture to feel good. And I actually REMEMBER, meaning I was probably 4 or 5. So maybe Day inherited my temper. For my sanity, I really hope not…
Today was the day I officially cut out his afternoon breastmilk feed. He usually gets fed at 10am, 3pm and 8pm, I wanted to replace 3pm (forever) with cow’s milk. My dietitian brother says there is absolutely no need to substitute with powdered formula milk, cow’s milk is more than good enough. And I didn’t want to risk him not liking the taste of whatever formula I get: What if I have to throw out the whole $20 tin?
So I gave him half a cup of Meiji milk, cold straight from the fridge, and he lapped it all up. Sat down quietly and went glug-glug-glug for several minutes.
For the rest of the day, he was HELL.
When Matthew came over to play a short while later after the milk, he acted like a big bully. He did the usual choking hug and bite, refused to share his toys with Matthew and grabbed Matthew’s toys. Doesn’t he look belligerent?
That wasn’t the worst of it. Suffice to say I got so worked up I gave him a hard smack on the hand (my second one so far) which warranted an Oscar-worthy performance of abysmal grief as he writhed on the ground. It continued throughout the day, he smacked his father, hit his mother, bit his uncle.
When we forcibly carried him home when he threatened during his evening walk (flinging away our guiding hands) to run across the main road, he cried himself hoarse for 10 minutes as he went round searching for someone to give him a little sympathy, but as I was ahead of him commanding everyone to ignore him, he got louder and louder.
I can only hope that this is what they call the Terrible Twos, but frankly, I think it will get a lot worse. Day is such a stubborn mule.
I'll still give him the milk anyhow, though it all went downhill from that cup of milk, I really doubt it's the milk. Unless it happens again tomorrow.
* I remember myself being a veritable brat who screamed until my voice was hoarse and needed to damage furniture to feel good. And I actually REMEMBER, meaning I was probably 4 or 5. So maybe Day inherited my temper. For my sanity, I really hope not…
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