a better dee

I write this with a great deal of reservation.

Because I am not quite sure if she is better.

If there is one thing I can say about Dee, she is consistently inconsistent.

You think, after months of cajoling, persuasion, treats, threats, that she’s finally learnt.

That mummy, for instance, will only lie in bed with her for five minutes before going off to do work. Suddenly, she does a completely turn-around and we have to start from Ground Zero.

With Day, we steadily kept on building the Rules tower and while a block dropped off now and then, it keeps going up.

With Dee, it’s like trying to build on reclaimed land in an earthquake zone. The progress is infinitesimal, collapses occur far more often and the destruction is complete.

She keeps trying, you know?

She never stops trying to batter down the wall of rules we try so hard to erect around her.

Right now, she eats in front of the TV instead of with the rest of the family, does not eat at the same time, and is making a new assault on the sleep front.

But – I genuinely felt this about a fortnight ago – she was really better.

I had even written a post starting off with “Six months. That’s just about how long Dee took to snap out of her Terrible Twos, if that’s what it was.”

At the time – meaning a fortnight ago – this was her Progress Report over the last 3 months.

* She goes to bed willingly (most of the time), the only concession being that the door is wide open and that I have to lie down with her for five minutes, and she no longer kicks gor-gor on purpose or sings songs very loudly for hours. She burrows into her corner and quietly tries to sleep.

* She finishes her food (half the time, which is a huge victory) and, holding up her bowl, very proudly proclaims so to everyone who is within earshot.

* She bathes willingly (always), the only concession being that mummy is the only person who can bathe her and that I have to give her the “hair salon” treatment – bending her face-up over my lap and washing her hair so the water doesn’t get into her eyes. The toilet training is down pat, except for the big business.

* She quickly picks out her clothes (always), the only concession being that they have to be HUGE T-shirts and long pants.

* She is still terribly abusive of Day (always), but is slightly more considerate. Work in progress here.

* Rules-wise: She observes all the rules and is rather a stickler. If Day spills his drink, she scolds: “Eh! You spilled the drink!”

I am still very proud of her.

I do think she has become better.

Just that right now, she is actively seeking new ways to make life more interesting for me.

Pushing and shoving Lu, for instance. But that’s another story.

I am also very conscious of the fact that she pushes all my wrong buttons and I need to do something about my own reactions, to be a better more consistent parent. I just need to find the time to go and do some reading up or attend some course specifically for parents with very difficult children.

Or a support group kind of thing. Yes, I think I need a support group.

baldy lu

Now you see it…



Now you don’t!



Deepavali was one of those strange days when I thoughtfully looked over at KK, said “Let’s shave her” and he, who’s always been sentimental about Lu’s thatch, said “OK let’s do it”.

Anyway, her hair was starting to look very messy and uneven and dry and light brown at the tips, like she had split ends. The hair had to go.

Her first haircut came courtesy of our family hairdresser Vincent, who’s been exhorting me to shave her since she was born and who strongly encourages us to shave her not once, but many times. Like 2 or 3. Just so she will get a thick mop so thick that, in his words, “will make her sweat even if the weather is not hot”.

I figured too, why not just give the legend a go (the more you shave the baby the thicker the hair will be) and see if Lu ends up getting KK’s sort of hair. We shaved Day too, but not Dee. Day has thicker hair.

The hair came off, no sentimentality whatsoever, I got more gleeful by the minute as her gleaming scalp emerged.



She, quiet and sweet as usual, only yelped towards the end.



Me, I absolutely adore her bald head which is beautifully round and - to my surprise - has a small strawberry mark, so she looks a bit like a dart board from behind.

I can see now just how much she sweats (a lot) because her head is always covered with a fine sheen, and when I kiss her head it’s always cold and wet, like a dog’s nose.

Occasionally, she reaches up and scratches, puzzled at the prickly fuzz. I am sure she feels cooler and maybe happier.



I am tempted to give the shaving another go when the hair gets a bit longer.

bed games

Dee. It’s always Dee.

She is up. It’s midnight. She’s been in bed since 10. She is still perky as a pogo stick.

I turn in, exhausted, after giving up on doing any more work.

Dee: “Mummy you finished work already? You finished?”

Me: “No. But Mummy is going to sleep now.”

Dee: “Come here, Mummy. Come here. Lie down with me.”

I lie down, facing the ceiling, my favourite sleeping position. As always, she flings an arm over my throat, right over where a man’s Adam’s apple would be. As always, she tightens her arm. As always, I want to retch.

Me (as always): "Jody, that is very uncomfortable for Mummy. Please don't do that. Take away your arm."

As always, I move her arm down. As always, she moves it up. I move it down. She moves it up. I move it down.

And tonight, she tries something different. She moves her arms further down, right over my boobs. And presses my boob.

Dee: (giggles) “Mummy I’m touching your nan-nan.”

Me: “No Jody. I don’t like you to do that. Mummy isn’t comfortable. Take away your arm please.”

I move her arm up, to somewhere around my collarbone. She moves it down. I move it up. She moves it down. I move it up. She moves it down.

This time, I turn on my side. Putting Dee on her back, I fling MY arm over her tummy and hug her tight.

After a while, she flings my arm away.

She wants to possess. But she does not want to be possessed. It's her alright.

memory

Memories,
Light the corners of my mind…

I misplaced a whole bicycle and a pair of new shoes.



That’s right. I left Day’s bicycle and his pair of brand-new shoes at the beach.

This is the last photo I took of his gray Bubblegummers, next to Dee’s dark-blue ones.



Incredibly, I didn’t even realize it until four days later when I started thinking: Where the hell is his new pair of shoes? And where could the big-ass bike possibly be?

Then I thought back and I figured: I MUST have left it at the beach.

But I don’t quite remember forgetting it, you know?

How did it happen?

A possible reconstruction: I walk back to our car - which is reverse-parked - carrying Lu and holding Dee by the hand. Day is cycling on the bike, with his brand-new shoes in the bike basket (since his feet were sandy).

I order the two older kids to stop at the kerb. I put Lu in her car seat, which is behind the driver’s seat.

I walk over to the other side, fully intending of course to settle the bike only after I settle the kids.

I open the back door for Day to get in. I open the front door for Dee to get in, strap her in – a process which takes a while with a lot of persuasion because she goes on and on about making sure her shoes never leave her feet, that the seatbelt straps are not too tight, that she can press the radio buttons.

I shut the door very impatiently. I walk round the front of the car - missing the bike entirely - to the driver’s seat. Get in.

And drive off.

After going through that mental checklist of many tasks it takes to get the kids into the car, I clean forget everything else.

Dear me.

Honestly though, my mind is always crowded. When I am doing kid stuff, I push it all away, stuff it into the bulging brain drawer.

The minute I have a minute, everything spills out and there are times when I am momentarily stunned, like a deer in the headlights, unsure of what amongst the million things I should do first. I end up eating.

I’m sure everyone – women in particular, I think – is like that. Full of things to do.

I try to write down and cross out when something is done.

But sometimes, in my task-oriented haste, I forget little things.

In my lifetime I have probably lost more than 10 mobile phones (the thing I lose most often), a wallet or two, an IC or two, a marriage cert, a BC and lots of other small things.

Now the bike. I hope I never leave my kids behind anywhere.

birthday excursions

Interesting. How kid’s birthdays are getting so… interesting.

Ethan’s 3rd birthday would be the second birthday excursion we’ve attended, the first being Ally’s Bird Park party.

Birthday excursion meaning a birthday party that has an itinerary.

Not a one-place cut-cake thing, or a magician-balloon sculpting thing, but a birthday that involves the whole birthday posse moving from one station to another.

It is a whole lot more challenging than a one-spot party, but can be a lot more fun.

My lucky kids happened to be on Ethan’s guest list – the little tyke picked his guests himself, so the parents are really hangers-on and completely unimportant (apart from child minding) in the whole scheme of things.

Birthday venue: Vivocity. Really!
Duration: From roundabouts 2pm to 7pm. Really!

FIRST STOP: The Build-A-Bear workshop.

Where the kids spent a good long time picking limp unstuffed pets of their choice, stepped on a pedal at a machine to stuff it, picked sounds to go into the pet, stuffed red hearts into the pet before it is stitched up, picked clothes / accessories / shoes / bags / roller blades at the pet boutique.

This is where Dee made Twee and Day made Thomas.

The birthday boy in the bin.



Dee, who takes her shopping – in particular her shopping basket - very seriously.



SECOND STOP: Marche.

Where we all eat to our heart’s delight, Janet brings out her unbelievable made-at-home and carted-all-the-way-to-Vivocity chocolate birthday muffins, and where the birthday boy blows out the candles.

The birthday muffins.



Where Ethan threatens to catch Twee and Dee runs for her cat’s life.



Where Dee, in usual mopey form, screams for a jellybean before anyone is even supposed to touch the muffins.



KK, having a ball of a time with Ethan (as always) and who always says somewhat wistfully, after any encounter with Ethan: “Why don’t we have another boy?”

ball and chain

I wanted very badly to bring the kids to Little India, it being Deepavali and all.

I was going to cab there this afternoon, with all 3. Visit a temple, eat something, see the lights.

I tell KK. He says: “What, all 3? Your hands will be full. How are you going to keep track of them? What if the worst happens? What if someone comes along and kidnaps one of them? Why can’t you go to somewhere more benign?”

Oooh. Bigot.

I stubbornly persist.

He says: “OK if you want to go, go. But don’t forget you are responsible for all of them. If anything happens, you are responsible.”

I mean, I am well aware of the fact. But when he rubs it in, in the form of a threat, I am irritatedly brought down to earth with a thump.

I suppose some would say, thank goodness he's there to rub some good sense into my head! But I'm still sore. He'd never follow me to Little India. Which means I'd probably not get to bring the kids there. The temple exhibition ends tomorrow. Drats.

my dream

Kids-wise, that is.

DREAM A

KK gets posted overseas.

I relish the thought of another overseas experience, for me and especially the kids. Yes, all three. I love it love it love it. I want, I want, I want to fly away.

Australia, Macau (it was a possibility for a while), China, Indonesia. Wherever.

Doesn’t look like it’s going to happen. Although civil engineers are apparently in demand most places, KK himself is quite averse to the idea of going anywhere.

DREAM B

We get our own place. No maid.

Every morning, I drop Day and Dee off at school. Dump Lu with her grandparents. Do my own thing the entire glorious morning: Exercise, write articles, do housework.

Noon, I collect the kids, home we go, the rest of the day is as it is now, just me and them plus papa in the evenings.

Two nights in the week (maybe Friday and Sunday), kids go stay with their grandparents, one set per night. Couple time! Date nights! Movie nights!

The GLORY!

I'm sure reality will be nothing like that, if we get our place.

But it's nice to dream.

And I am still keeping my fingers crossed for (the crazy) Dream A.

At least KK'd have a salary (versus Sydney).

7 months of lu

7 months today.

All of a sudden, she's gotten even twitchier and less easy.

Now she:

Twitches incessantly. Head swiveling left right front back at all times. Sudden unexplained lunging downward for interesting bits she spots on the ground which give me a heart attack because I almost drop her.

Moves incessantly. Never again has she laid her head against my shoulder or on my chest. I put her sitting down on the kitchen floor, turn around to toast my bread and OH MY GOD she’s standing up against the stool! Quick catch her before the stool moves and she falls flat on her face!



Refuses to sleep, especially in her cot. Although she is rubbing her eyes and has not slept for hours, once in the cot, she stands and paces around the inside of the cot perimeter. I peep, 5 minutes, 10 minutes, she is still playing. Only in the maid’s arms does she fall asleep (never mine, in my arms she perks up) and that REALLY gets to me. When it comes to my kids, I hate dependency.

Farts with her mouth when she is fed. Many many times. Just so she can eject food and then scrape at it, smeared all over her high chair, in great fascination with one finger.

Refuses to bath properly. At bathing time – I chuck her sitting in the bathtub and give her a shower – she no longer sits pretty and still while I wash her and sing. No. She grabs the bathtub sides, stands up and almost tips over because there is no water in the bathtub yet. As I grab her during the bath, she twists and turns like a slippery fish towards the water, as if she wants to swim. She swallows water and squeals.

How does all this happen in a few days (all this week)?

I remember, Dee’s changes were similarly dramatic. Suddenly she’s like that and suddenly she’s not.

Of course Lu is a normal growing baby and of course she will get more active. But there seems to be some sort of personality change here.

At the moment, she’s no angel, but rather an imp. But still a happy imp (not a grouchy gnome like Dee once was).

Oh and we also brought her for her first swim: 11 October.

apples and oranges

How she eats her apples. Like oranges.

dee says

KK: You’re a tomboy.
Dee: No I’m not a tomboy. I’m a tomgirl.

[ KK is fixing up a walker for Lu ]
KK: (talking to Dee, who is handing him nails) Hey thank you Jody. You’re a good carpenter.
Dee: No I’m not a carpenter. I’m a engineer.

An auntie: Judy, which sweet do you want?
Dee: I’m not Judy. I’m Jody. Jody.

A friend: (waving goodbye to Dee and her cat) Bye, Jody. Bye, Tree.
Dee: It’s not Tree. It’s Twee.
Friend: OK OK, bye Tree!
Dee: It’s not Tree. It’s Twee.
Me: Say BYE, Jody. Say BYE.
Friend: Bye, Jody. Bye, Tree!
Dee: It’s not Tree. It’s Twee.

[ On an outing where she suddenly decides she must wear Day’s slippers ]
Dee: Mummy I want to wear gor-gor’s slippers.
Me: Then what is gor-gor going to wear?
Dee: (pauses) Your slippers.
Me: Then what am I going to wear?
Dee: (pauses) Nothing.

[ Sometimes after she sings / dances ]
Dee: I am a good singer / dancer.

[ After dinner one day ]
KK: Jody why is your tummy so big?
Dee: Because I have a baby inside and it’s so pain and I have to ung-ung so hard then the baby will come out.
Day: Haiya no lah! Your tummy is so big because you ate so much food!

lu on diet

Oh my little Lu. She is truly Little.

As I have lost weight, so has she.

She, nearly 7 months old, apparently weighs 6.4kg now, down from 7kg 1 ½ months ago.

I say apparently because I even wonder if the polyclinic weighing scale is off.

For a baby to lose 600g, that is a lot.

For a baby to plummet from the 90th percentile to the 25th percentile on the weight charts in such a short time, that is extraordinary.

To be consistently in the low percentiles is one thing. At least the growth curve is followed. But to lose weight?

My first thought: I seriously have to take Lu’s solid feeding a lot more seriously.

For in the last two months, I have not.

Yes I attempt to feed her once a day, sometimes twice. Oats in the morning, maybe rice cereal or a boiled potato in the afternoon. She never manages more than two spoons of oats and less than half a boiled potato before arching her back.

She is consistently anti-food, whether it be sweet apple or banana or peas or Heinz bottled stuff.

I usually put the food aside, take her out of the high chair and leave it. I never force-feed.

It seems I have to.

My real self is telling me that Lu is OK, so what if she loses weight, she is developing fine, she is happy as a lark, strong as an ox.

But (again) that gan cheong spider mother self can't quite get over the fact that my baby (apparently) LOST WEIGHT.

She is 180 degrees different from her sister in this regard. Though Dee had her picky days at least she never lost weight.

Anyway, here is Little Lu wearing two tiny items of clothing – nicer than her own - from Day and Dee’s soft toys.

Top from Dee’s Twee cat.



Pyjamas from Day’s Thomas bear.



The clothes on the toys.



I hope Lu outgrows the toys soon.

junk food song

In the mood for vids.

Here's one of the kids singing the Junk Food Song.

It's in a compilation CD by the National Library Board, given to new-borns.

The lyrics, written by staff, are horribly unsavoury. Particularly for the kids who are supposed to be listening to it.

But it's cute.



If unclear, the modified lyrics, sung to the tune of "Are You Sleeping" or "Frere Jacque" go:

Hot dog, french fries
Onion rings
Chocolate ice-cream sundae
Large milkshake

Roti prata
Chicken rice
Rojak or mee rebus
Wonton soup

atelier

Day’s incredible school principal does it again.

She goes and does something so completely out-of-the-box it takes me a while to grasp what she is telling me.

This time, she has run out of space in the tiny school-bungalow. Too many kids, too little space.

So, she opens up an art studio in a shopping centre where Teacher May does her thing. It’s called an Atelier, which is a fancy name for an artist’s studio or workroom.



I've never heard of a pre-school renting a commercial space for its kids.

Probably half the size of an average bedroom, six kids inside just about fills up the space.

We, the stay-home parents who can make it, were bussed there along with our kids for the official opening ceremony last month, during their school day, for a simple buffet lunch.

It’s a nice space: Halogen lights, low tables, loads of art media and mediums.



Once a week, Day and his friends are chauffeured there by the golf teacher Janek, who is temporarily on driving duty, for class with Teacher May. Janek literally drives every day because the atelier can only take, well, about six kids at one time.

School bus fees, obviously, will cost. So I’m not sure how the principal is working her sums out.

I suspect, too, that if I wanted Day to continue classes with Teacher May in the near future – she is now talking art therapy and play therapy - I will have a financial nose bleed. For the record, I will not continue if I had to pay. I can’t.

Laughing Lu

It's a lovely phase: When baby laughs and laughs and laughs at the silliest thing. It's such innocent laughter.

Dee used to do the same, here's Lu.



The clown: Day. He is imitating his papa, jumping and turning around, which really tickles Lu. She laughs so hard she sounds like she's going to choke. Seems highly likely that both the girls are going to love their gor-gor to bits.

Neither me nor Dee have that kind of success with her. I think females (from toddler girls - like Dee - to grandmothers) generally really suck at this entertaining-kids thing.

bye, friends

Sunday, two of my friends (single, unfettered and free for adventure) leave to experience life in another country.

Amazing Arli heads for tumultuous Jakarta where she will doubtless chalk up more outlandish, unbelievable, but true life experiences as a hot-shot news correspondent. Go, Arli, go!

Out-of-the-box JJ heads for Germany where she does a five-year course in videography in a language medium – German – she barely speaks and where I hope she meets a nice German man.

What exciting times.

The kids will miss JJ, who is delightfully childish and who is just as enamoured of the kids as they are of her. They have been hanging out.



They grab handfuls of the biscuits in her kitchen, dig into a tub of incredible chocolate ice cream from Ice Cream Chefs, play splash in the pool downstairs, dance to Abba’s Mamma Mia and Money Money Money, listen to pastor Joseph Prince on one of his $8 CDs, play laugh-a-minute games of catch-the-bunny.



Dee has never enjoyed herself more at anybody’s house.

handphone adventures

My Sony Ericsson K660 is their handphone playground, and where some of their first handphone experiences were forged.



HER FIRST PHOTOS

Not with a camera, her first photos were taken with my phone.

She's been pretending to take photos with my phone so I let her try it for real a few days ago. Here are her first pictures.

Like Day before, she points the lens up, down, left, right, and she gets a huge thrill out of capturing things - from sofa prints to her jeans to lu's nose - on the screen.

A random stranger in the playground who readily poses for her



Lu up close



Her chalk



Mummy. I give her all sorts of screwed-up faces. She likes.



HIS FIRST SMS

Day types his first SMS today.

We were in the car, there was nothing to do, I sent an SMS, he wanted to try, I passed him the phone, I told him to look for the right alphabet, press once or twice or thrice if it's the 1st or 2nd or 3rd letter next to the button, told him how to make a space, how to do a backspace, and with a little effort, he typed his first SMS and carries on a little SMS conversation.

He takes about 5 minutes to do his first SMS, asking me now and then how to spell things, but he revels in it. I'm sure he feels very adult.

He hangs on to the phone after he sends the SMS, staring very intently at the screen waiting for the other party to answer.

The lucky recipient: Uncle Choon in Darwin. Because of this.

Here's the conversation:



Choon: But your birthday is so far away. I might come back before your birthday and we can go Toys R Us. Are u going to buy a new train?

Day: I want New Truck pleaes

Choon: Hey David, Ka Fo Choon was sleeping just now. I'm going to go play soccer. When I come back to Singapore, we will go Toys R Us to buy a new truck OK.

Day: OK but can you come back from Australia

Choon: Yes, I can come back. Maybe sometime in Dec or early Jan.

break out

One day a few weeks ago I put her in her cot as usual and closed the door so she can cry herself to sleep (yes she still cries).

After a while, silence. I thought she had gone down.

I took a peep.

She was half-leaning over the cot railing, standing on her bed, hands braced on the rail which was at her waist level, on the verge of falling over and hitting her head hard a metre below.

We lowered the cot bed in a Great Big Hurry.

Nowadays this is Miss Sunny's favourite activity whenever she wakes up or whenever she refuses to sleep.



Just a few months more now to independent locomotion. Go girl, go.

the sibs

Then and Now.