$5900

That is the stupendous amount KK will have to fork out for repairing the Harley after his freak accident.

A HUGE dent considering that we are not exactly well-off right now. It amounts to a third the cost of the Harley itself, when it was brand new.

What makes it even worse is that the dumb insurance KK has been paying for years does not cover accidents like these. It only covers, like, if the bike were damaged by others, theft or fire. But not if the rider falls into a drain on the bike. (but seriously, how often do accidents like that happen?)

It’s at times like these that I really wish I had my (previous) bonus and a nice fixed salary to look forward to.

I said why not sell the bike. Problem is, we still have to pay to have it fixed first.

Oh well. The best thing about all this is that it’s just money, not life or limb. Money is honestly the easiest thing to give up!

december holiday

Everyone's off gallivanting in December.

We had to do it too. In.... BINTAN!

For the Nth time. OK so it's not so much a holiday as another golf trip for Day's papa but heck.

Two days, over Sunday and Monday.

Did we enjoy it? Not so much me. I came back more tired than I left, the result of a constant stream of activity with Day while KK was driving it out on the golf course. In fact, I was so tired when I returned (more mental drainage than physical) I actually felt nauseous. Especially after I checked my email and realized the amount of bloody work I had to do. (on account of full-timers all taking leave, there is loads of free-lance work)

Did KK enjoy it? Not really. He discovered that he had actually sprained his neck during his tumble into the drain (delayed effect), and it didn't help that all that golfing rubbed raw the burn on his wrist which he got from the exhaust pipe during the accident. So it looks yellow. Yeeew.

But Day certainly did! For his bedtime story tonight, I narrated all the great things that he did while he was there, and he was gleefully clapping his hands very loudly in the dark.

FOOD

For one, he preferred the food. This time, instead of spending loads on crappy food, we decided to bring everything. For $25, we lugged our load of instant noodles, cans of peas, corn, peanuts and sausage, instant soups, bread, biscuits, persimmons, orange juice and powdered milo to Bintan. Bearing in mind that we only have a kettle to boil water and nothing else to cook with in our hotel room.


It kept us all fed throughout, apart from a chicken rice meal KK ordered. And funny thing is, Day wolfed down a lot more of the instant food than the restaurant food we used to order.

He was a real sucker for the corn, especially. The noodles too, only I cooked it for him without the very unhealthy seasoning.

TELEVISION

Since Day has been enjoying TV recently, he watched a fair bit of it on Bintan. Animals on National Geographic, cartoons, golf, soccer... most of the times with his papa.



PLAY PLAY

For once, the outdoor play area was open. So Day spent a fair bit of time there.




BEACH

And of course, there will always be the beach. Weather was wonderful and the sand was particularly fine, so fine it squeaked as we ran our feet through it.

freak accident II

Day's papa got involved in an accident AGAIN.

Only this time, I was involved, grief.

We were driving along in his sister's car on a rainy expressway.

Traffic was slow because of the rain.

When we drove under a flyover, the traffic came to a sudden standstill in our lane for some strange reason.

The cab in front stopped, KK stopped. Then suddenly he exclaimed "SHIT" while looking in the rearview mirror and at that moment, our car was rammed from behind. By a probably-daydreaming taxi driver who did not stop. And the taxi pushed our car forward so we knocked into the stationary taxi in front.

Caught between two taxis. How unfortunate is that.

I must say, considering that it was a minor jolt, it hurt. The breath was knocked out of me. Oooosh.

For a moment, I was afraid my tummy had been squashed by the tug of the safety belt and right after the car stopped, I looked down to make sure the bump was still there.

Anyhow, thank God (AGAIN) nothing happened to anyone. Just a lot of accusations hurling to and fro. Clearly, the taxi driver behind was at fault because he knocked into two stationary vehicles, blind ass.

He refused to give me his name and I had to poke my head into his cab to read it off his name plate.

And thank GOD Day was not in the car. Because he would have been hurled someplace.

freak accident

The unbelievable happened just now: Day's papa tipped over and fell into a drain - while he was on his Harley.


He isn't in the picture. But he was still sitting on the bike when the bike landed, UNDER it, with his head skimming the drain water.

Usually, he parks his bike on the kerb outside the house, which is just beside the drain, which is about 3 metres deep.

Tonight, he rode up on the kerb as usual. Problem was, the bike started tipping over on the left even before he had turned off the engine and it is a colossal-ly heavy bike. That wouldn't even have mattered if he had a leg to stand up, but as it was only the drain on his left, everything started tipping over.

Things turned upside down, KK crashed into the drain and some part of the bike smashed into his head but thank God the helmet was still on his head.

Next thing he knew, he got a searing pain on his wrist when he burned it on the exhaust. The Harley was still growling, the engine was still on. He also scratched his back, sprained his ankle and got a bloody gash on his elbow.

Then my bro comes walking up the street, fully expecting to see the Harley parked on the kerb as KK had just vroomed past him. He sees nothing. His jaw drops when he sees KK crawl out of the drain - sans bike.

They call the BIKEBULANCE (sort of an ambulance service for bikes) and when the guy comes, he does a double take. He thought we were joking when we said the bike was in the drain.

After a lot of scraping and heaving - during which KK hid in the house because he could not bear to hear his beloved Harley being dragged against the sides of the drain - they finally get the monster out.



Day doesn't really seem to get it, though his papa rattles off a whole long story about pain and blood and motorbikes.


Then KK gets right back to the business of bathing Day, reading to him and putting him to sleep.


It's only when he's finished all this that he sends me the freaky SMS: "U done? I got into a freak accident." Grrr! You tell me NOW!!!

As he so rightly puts himself, though it seems rather a silly accident, he could have got into some serious trouble. He could have sprained his neck, broken something (it's not funny having a Harley land on you), the kids could have ended up father-less.

And as he so earnestly pointed out himself, if the drain were not the type that narrows as it goes down, his injuries could have been far more serious as he would not even have that little bit of space for his head and upper body to dangle.

He doesn't seem to think very much of the whole thing, apart from fretting about the financial dent repairing the Harley is going to make.

But honestly, I think we - Day and I and baby - have a lot to be thankful for.

tv lullaby

I have to record this as a first.

It's always a Long and Hard road putting Day to sleep.

Last night, he actually fell asleep while watching TV.

Ordinarily, that would never happen because ordinarily, I am at home. I was out.

So his papa, having exhausted the normal sleep avenue of reading books earlier, chucked Day in front of the TV on the mattress with a pillow tucked under his head.

The programme: Channel 5's Tiramisu, a "13-part drama about passion, talent, love and food" according to the official website.

His papa tells me Day lay there echoing words from the TV script which he knew. Like Hi. Wow.

Day apparently enjoyed it so much he lulled himself to sleep pretty fast. His echoes got fainter and fainter until, unbelievably, he slept.

I have to say that Day's papa literally falls asleep in front of the TV every night and I have the shitty task of having to turn everything off before I read myself to sleep.

I have made it clear that I do not want Day to develop his papa's habit. Not that mine is much better but hey, at least no one has to turn off a book.

dimply day

If I had to pinpoint one physical characteristic I am really happy Day inherited from either of us, it would be his papa's dimples!

Papa doesn't call them dimples, he says he's got long wrinkles down his jaw. To me, they are dimples, short and simple.

Anyway, here's pictures of Day smiling away, dimples in full view alongside his papa's wrinkles.

What made them both so happy? The sight of a crane atop a building. Papa's in construction, Day seems to have inherited the same love of cranes and everything to do with buildings.

Trying to spot the crane, dimples not out yet:


Ah, the crane is going up and down!


Just Day and his right dimple.

Mummy ah-boo

Mummy ah-boo.

(OK Deb, this doesn’t have anything to do with your Ah Boo Boo!)

Of all the things Day says, “Mummy ah-boo” is a truly beguiling phrase and the only one which I can honestly label as Baby Talk because it doesn’t sound like anything in English or Chinese or Cantonese or Hakka.

Day’s been using it for months now, but it’s become such a part of our vocabulary it never struck me as odd. Until now.

In the various contexts he has used it in, I can only gather that it means something along the lines of: “Mummy I want you! I crave for you! I’ll die without you!” (Mummy ah-boo seems a reasonably short and sweet way of saying all that, doesn’t it?)

I’m obviously horribly important to him.

He whines / screams it out whenever:

* I say goodbye to him, when I have to leave him for work or fun (on occasion, yes, I do have fun)

* He sees my back (that is, when I turn my back to go upstairs or somewhere else without him. It’s gotten to the point where my heart beats a little faster whenever I turn my back on him because I wonder if I can make a successful getaway)

* I go to the toilet to bath (he stands outside and whines until I finish)

* I go to the toilet to pee (sometimes I let him in so I can pee in peace)

* That singular whine can strike terror into my heart. Whenever I hear these words, even when I am 80, I will always think of the time when my baby stuck to me like a leech and when I had to follow him around like a dog’s tail.

And seriously, I am like his dog in some ways. When he expects me to follow him, he walks ahead, looks behind and imperiously issues the command “Come” before going on. He turns around to check if I am there and if I am not, there goes “Mummy ah-boo!”

When he sits down to play, I can’t be doing anything else but watch him. If I were on the piano seat, or doing something on the computer, he will drag me down, issue the command “Sit” and expect me to do as he says.

But I honestly don’t mind (most of the time).

For one, he could be whining for someone else. And who else better to whine for but mummy?

For another, I always bear in mind the day when he will push me away and go to his friends rather than to his mother.

So in all honesty, there are just as many times in a day when I hug him close and whisper “Mummy ah-boo” just so he knows he is horribly important to me too.

seat!

I got offered a seat!

While I was on the bus today and expecting to stand throughout a long bus ride to town, the woman standing next to me gestured to her son (probably about 8 years old) to come over.

She called him thrice, each time he refused to move. But finally he did after she told him rather loudly that the pregnant lady needs to sit because she has a baby in her tummy.

I was overflowing with gratitude.

Then 10 seconds later, she pressed the bell and they got off the bus. Oh well it's the thought that counts!

no seats

What am I, five months pregnant now?

And still, NO ONE HAS OFFERED ME SEATS!!!

It's the perpetual bugbear of pregnant women everywhere, especially in everyone-sleeps-on-the-bus-and-train Singapore.

And it's been said so many times, complained about so many times. But things don't change.

The last few times I was on a train (usually shoulder-to-shoulder packed), believe it or not, I actually make it a point to wiggle my way into the middle of the cabins where the people sitting down on both sides can have a clear view. Then I face the front so my side profile would be apparent to all.

In typical fashion, most people don't even notice. Seriously. People here are so self-absorbed they seldom look up. They are either frantically SMS-ing away, reading newspapers or a book, or most often, sleeping. Sometimes they "sleep" AFTER catching a glimpse of me so they can play innocent. Grrrr.

Sometimes, I see people see me. And I see them think about it before deciding: Nah, forget it. I have a long way to go.

Same on a bus. Only it's a little bit worse because the bus sways and brakes rather alarmingly and it can get perilous. Just the other day, a boy plugged into his i-pod was staring and staring at me. For ages. In the end, I rolled my eyes at him and refused to look at him for the rest of the journey.

Worse when I am carrying loads. Like my violin and a big bag. GRRRR!

My feelings veer between fury and trying to be nice - "Maybe they think I am fat and don't want to offend me by offering a seat". I shouldn't actually expect anyone to give me a seat though. It's not a right in Singapore.

When and if someone ever offers me a seat, I shall certainly note down the momentous occasion.

botanic gardens

Day has visited the Botanic Gardens several times, with Tiger.

But his paternal grandparents - Ta Ta and Ne Ne - have both never been there in their lives.

So yesterday, instead of letting him run round and round in circles in the flat and in the void deck, we decided to take everyone to the Gardens. Good for the grandparents, they get to see something new, and good for Day because he won't get bored.

As usual, he had a great time there.


What worked particularly well was the fish pond. Lots of turtles and catfish with gaping mouths and frond-like whiskers. The grandparents were just as fascinated by the fish, I really don't know when was the last time they saw a fish pond. They are really simple folk who mostly stay home for years.


We just made one round around the fish pond before parking ourselves on the big green field in front of the stage. In all the times I went to the Gardens with Day, I have never ventured beyond this route.

While we sat down, Day ran around, drank water, made a nuisance of himself.


I also got to take a picture with him. Big deal: For all the time I spend with him, I probably have fewer than 10 half-decent shots of the 2 of us together. So here we are: Me, Day and #2 (hidden behind Day).

"starbucks coffee"

I hope this works. All 9 seconds of it.

Anyhow, did I ever mention that Day loves coffee (on top of beer)?

He even seems to like it black, without sugar.

#2 at 19 weeks: my girl

Well, as the saying goes, you never know. Turns out #2 is a girl after all. Hip hip! I’m all smiles…

Today was time for the detailed you’re-halfway-there ultrasound scan. The very affable, gentlemanly and soft-spoken Dr TC Chang was my scanner and wow, he sure charmed the socks off the both of us.

I’m glad KK took a day off to see the show (he missed David’s) as it was probably a full 15 minutes of seeing, as clear as we will ever see, what our girl (!) is up to.

Dr Chang methodically “sliced” her with the ultrasound from top to toe, so he could check that everything from her stomach (little black pouch), kidneys (two little black beans), fingers and toes were all there.

He spent a time on her face, to make sure she doesn’t have a cleft palate (don’t have). She opened and closed her mouth a few times.

Anyway, the climax came when he went beyond the abdomen and he stated, with absolutely finality: “Well, the sex will be pretty clear today. I’m sure you have been told it’s a girl.”

We just gawped. I managed to gasp out stupidly : “Er, no, Dr Tan said it was a boy before”. Dr Chang smiled and said: “No, it’s a girl. Definitely no sign of a penis there”.

For some time after that, I had to suppress silly uncontrolled smiles on my face. My girl!

Thereafter, I didn’t really pay attention to her femurs and feet. Who cares? My GIRL!!! KK was mighty happy too, as he’s been hearing horror stories from his colleagues on fighting sons, and he reckons Day might be more loving towards a mei mei. Though I told him not to bet on that either.

In any case, she’s a Big Girl. Even bigger than Day was at the same time. She weighs 310 grams now, compared to Day’s 292 grams. But funnily enough, I am 2 kg lighter than when I was carrying Day at the same time. Maybe it just means she is better at leeching off me.

Some other differences: My placenta is on the left with her, while it was on the right with Day. She’s also got a bigger head (17.2cm) than Day (16.1cm). Eeew, the head better not get too big or I’ll have to be cut up.

In the meantime, let's get ON with the spree! The dresses! The hair accessories! The pink shoes!

room of his own

Day has a truly gorgeous bedroom. His wooden-frame bed is just high enough for him to swing his little legs down on to the ground, shiny blue balls which he loves to pull dangle just above his head, and at night his UFO lamp projects coloured moons and stars on the ceilings and walls.


We wish!!! We so want to decorate a room or even a little corner for Day, a place to call his own. But from Day 1 when he was brought back from the hospital, he's been stuffed into everyone else's room.

Regrettably, there was never a nursery or cutesy baby's room for us to do up for Day.

The decision was made early on, that our couple pad – perfect for us – would not be suitable for a baby. He could drop off the thigh-high platform, fall out of the grille-less window, or knock out his eye on any one of the sharp corners around the place.

And at my folk's place, where we are now, there was no room left for him.

That point was hammered home when I brought him to Ikea today, that wonderful furniture shop where looking is just as gratifying as buying.

Those smart Ikea folks certainly know how to make a point, and one lovely bedroom after another were on show for kids like Day to lie on the beds, bang the drawers, pull the toys and generally act as if they were living in it. No irritating "No sitting on the beds" signs.

Day was so happy there, it pained me to have to hoist him away when we had to go. Because he hit me.

His favourite room at Ikea was probably the star-moon room with the toady bedspread and dangly Christmas balls.


I didn't really have time to let him peruse every one, but he rather liked the flower lights in this sugary pink concoction of a room. (KK, on seeing the photos, lamented at the pink-ness of it)


For now, he'll have to make do with these awful spaces, which are the closest things he can call his bedroom. One is his uncle's bed (on which he sleeps during the day and where we put him to sleep at night, and on which he reads and flings his books all about).


The other is this pathetic green mattress. It just goes on whatever floor space is available in our bedroom, after we lay out all our things.


One day, Day, we promise you'll have your own space.

going barefoot

Babies have such soft, pink, tender feet. Newborns have soles that are certainly softer than any patch of skin I can find on my body.

Day started out with lovely rosebud-soft soles. They don't look so good in the photo because he was going through the peeling phase. But if blindfolded, anyone would have guessed that was his face.


Now his feet are, to be fair, still kinda cute because they are small (though in relation to his peers, he has BIG feet)

But his soles have developed a thick hide and they feel tough and dry. No doubt, due to his love of running about everywhere without his shoes.

On the hottest afternoons, in the broiling heat when we all yowl to put our bare feet on the ground, he is happily scampering down the tarmac.


That's KK on the left and he's obviously got his slippers on.

Whenever he goes to his granny's place on Saturdays, he insists on yanking off his shoes after we struggle to strap them on, and pads around, on grass, playgrounds, roads, HDB lifts (YES. With potentially dried up pee on the lift floor), everywhere, in his bare feet. He always comes back with black soles.

The only thing that might make him keep them on, is if he forgets ie. he is distracted by something else. Or if I tell him that the ground is VERY dirty and that there are sharp objects which might poke him in the foot.

But otherwise, he really likes to get in touch with whatever he is walking on. A real kampong boy, as Norma puts it.

floor tantrum

Day is one of those kids who flings himself on the ground in public places and makes a spectacle.

It happens when we forcibly try to pick him up because he's doing something illegal, for instance, trying to topple a stack of soft-drink cans, or if he is going somewhere we are not intending to go. Or if he is sleepy and cranky.

Anyhow, we were at Suntec on a public holiday. The shopping centre was packed with people. He chose to throw a tantrum right next to the escalator going down to the Suntec fountain.


Reason: We wanted to go down the escalator, but he wanted to continue running in and out of the legs of people who were gawking the Nissan cars on display.

Worse, he chose to go FACE DOWN instead of face up. What's the difference? He was licking the ground, that's what.

If there is anything to be thankful for, it's that he doesn't scream or pound the ground. He wails a bit and when he realizes that we can't be bothered (sometimes we walk away and leave him there), he gets up and runs after us, sometimes with a slightly put-out expression.

#2 kicks

I felt a little scrape on the inside of my stomach. That's #2.

It's supposed to be so marvellous, this feeling of life. Yes, it is. But I've always felt a little leery too.

When I pressed down and felt a definite limb somewhere to the right of my belly button just now, I was a little grossed out. I massaged it until he presumably shifted position so there isn't anything there now.

I must say it's taken me remarkably long to feel #2 too, nearly 20 weeks now. With Day, I recall it was much earlier when I started feeling little bubbles in my tummy as I was acutely watching out for and squealing over signs of development.

I'm very lassez-faire about #2, I can't help it. I'm hardly thinking about him, my mind is so filled up with Day. (who, by the way, has been sticking to me like a leech and yowling for me whenever I disappear)

No wonder there are first and second child syndromes. They are treated differently from the time they are in utero.