Each time I get into a self-meditative mode, I start reading past journals/entries/posts which only I’m privy to.

And I surprise myself every single time.

Just 2 years back, I seemed like a confident soul. My skin was glowing despite the exhaustion of going through pregnancy planning and making trips to & fro to see the first gynae I’ve ever seen in my life. Nothing seemed to be able to conquer me. Not even the blank faces on a pee stick. Not even disappointing fertility related news over the phone.

Maybe the combination of working & continually enriching myself with books of all sorts (the theme then was: God’s plan for pregnancy and everything else revolving that topic) were the magic dust. I enjoyed reading about my past thoughts. I relished the zest I placed in everything. Even in the negative that I wrote about. There was hope in the depressing news I received. And in hope I felt so alive.

Each word was honest. Genuine. Informative. Uninhibited. Something I ironically can’t seem to replicate on this blog despite wanting to countless of times.

Probably because anonymity didn’t warrant the need for a facade. The lack of photos meant that every word had to be thoroughly thought through & accurately used. No disclaimers nor explanations were needed. Who cared if anyone judged. You didn’t have to edit photos to reflect partial truths. Everything you wanted to write about, could be as is. No battles were waged from quivering hearts.

If you’re wondering where this sudden loom is coming from, it’s from some news I received today. Not the end-of-the-world worrying sort, but something that shook me up for a bit because yet again I took my health for granted. And during such precarious moments, I usually over-medidate and seek solace in myself (through past posts).

I need to start having faith in myself.

I haven’t been feeling very inspired to blog of late due some unpleasant & unexpected experiences which occurred recently.

God knows how I felt & dealt with everything that happened, and in Him I confided.

To add on to the series of not-so-great events, the little fella’s health also hit a low twice – once, vomitting twice in the wee hours of the night for no reason (there was a moment I froze and didn’t know how to react) / second time occurring exactly one week later, at about the same time as the week before, when we were greeted with explosive diahorrea, twice. Thanks to ru yi oil which made the night more than manageable till we got to a PD in the morning.

Definitely milestones-of-a-different-kind that weren’t welcome, I was so relieved that the chungkin remained his active, cheeky self throughout both incidents.

Like a rebellious child, I have been taking a break from everything, post-valiant effort of offering apologies (accepted) and doing closures on my part. And with the heed of a good o’ proverb, my body has been healing with play, my mind with laughter & my spirit with joy.

A door He closed out of my life, many windows He then opened, with the roof ripping off the top taking the icing on the cake. The recent good news has been overwhelming. God is more than good -  and I wish I say and believe it in more often.

People are often unreasonable, irrational, and self-centered. Forgive them anyway

If you are kind, people may accuse you of selfish, ulterior motives. Be kind anyway.

If you are successful, you will winsome unfaithful friends and some genuine enemies. Succeed anyway.

If you are honest and sincere, people may deceive you. Be honest and sincere anyway.

What you spend years creating, others could destroy overnight. Create anyway.

If you find serenity and happiness, some may be jealous. Be happy anyway.

The good you do today, will often be forgotten. Do good anyway.

Give the best you have, and it will never be enough. Give your best anyway.

In the final analysis, it is between you and God. It was never between you and them anyway.

- Mother Teresa

Draft entries on the one year milestone, recent adventures have been on the back burner but I promise that I’ll work on them :)

Moments ago, my son, the adventure wanderer fell from some stairs with his head banged onto the cold hard marble. He cried what seemed to be the longest, saddest, loudest in a while and as I hugged him in comfort, soothe the bump on the head, I replayed the scene in my head and knew that it could have been prevented if I had just been a little more watchful.

I haven’t been much of a cheery self lately and it would be such a lame excuse to pin the blame on ‘having too much on my mind’ for the accident that just happened. But of late his too-rapid growth spurt on being the fastest crawler in the household coupled with desire to always get on the floor and be on the move, knocking into things while cruising; and me needing to contain him when we’re out at cafes because he can’t sit still now that he knows there’s more to babyhood than sitting on mama’s lap or in a stationary pram while she sips her cuppa caffeine HAS BEEN TAD BIT MUCH TO HANDLE [mental note to self: an active, noisy & bubbly nature is always a good thing].

Unless we’re at kids-safe playgrounds/play gyms where it’s practically haven for the active crawler, which also happens to be the places I’ve been frequenting of late (another post on it, when time permits!).

But a baby is what I cried, pleaded, asked, seek, wrote on a wishing tree for, and striving to be the best mom I can be to this precious child together through the good, bad, trying, tough, moments was my solemn promise. So when I knew that an accident could have been prevented if I had just concentrated 200% on the kid instead of trying to multitask some me-time & fiddle with the evil-social-apps-on-the-phone which could obviously wait, I knew it was sign that I’m starting to take the life before me for granted. Which feels horrible because being granted the opportunity to watch my son grow for the past year has been a privilege.

So while I’ve been reminded countless times to put away the phone when with Liam (to which I say, ya-ya, will do), now’s definitely time to walk the talk and be the social app recluse when I am with my spirited little darling till he can walk and climb down stairs/ledges/steps properly without tumbling.

Granted boys will be boys and falls and bruises will be all part of growing up but not on my watch if I can prevent it. And really, I don’t want to be encouraging the little fella to do his “free-fall from baby gate which is attached on the stairs” stunt hoping someone will always be able to catch him in time. Too stressful to always be monitoring for unusual behaviour when I can use all that energy positively.

I’m not proud of this series at all.

But I figured if it freaked & affected me that much, I ought to document it down. You know, just in case I need a mental walk down memory lane for when #2 comes, or if some friend gets a similar panic attack as much as I did then I’d be able to console her on how she must be feeling!

Though all I’m really hoping is that some weeks later, I’d be re-reading this post and laughing in relief (phew, nothing happened). Just as I did recently with this post. 

***

This morning, we decided to soak in some sun, fun & take photos at the Botanic Gardens. The Bo & I haven’t been there to explore its grounds since our teens  - unless you consider walking from car park to Halia and back.  And now that we have a kid, it made sense to attempt a “family outing” to the gardens/park.

We were blessed with lovely weather. The sun wasn’t too scorched, passing clouds provided hints of shade.

The little man was all excited seeing dogs, swans in the lake, little kids running amok green pastures.

We found a nice spot just below a huge tree and decided to park ourselves to give the little crawler some roaming space (by this point he was showing his displeasure in being cooped up in the pram or in one of our arms).

And more than roam the little one did. Soon little man’s hands were dusted with dirt, soil & grime. The protective dad asked if we should wipe his hands right away, and guess what nature-mom-wannabe-for-the-morning replied? “Don’t worry about it! He’s going to soil those hands again. Might as well just wash them later on”

<there might have been some snide undertones along the lines of: I hang out with the boy everyday, I would know better that he can handle grimy hands and not be silly enough to put them into his mouth right, don’t be so paranoid LAH>

But of course being the surprise guest that murphy always is…

THE LITTLE ONE SUDDENLY GOT BORED OF EXPLORING, LOOKED AT HIS HANDS AND PROCEEDED TO LICK ALL THAT WERE IN THEIR HANDS ALL IN A SPAN OF 30 SECONDS or before I could say STOP (whichever is faster).

You can only imagine what happened next.

I screamed, pulled Liam’s hands out.

He froze in shock literally – his mouth did not move nor close, which was a good thing – as I used my hand to clam on to his cheeks to make the mouth open

I quickly removed all the big bits that were visibly on the tongue. Liam got annoyed and started to scream and the same time.

The Bo then took a wipe, grumbled how I did not clean out ALL the dirt (wow, bionic eyes?) and then took a swipe on little man’s tongue before showing me “you see!” the remnants.

I then took another wipe and swipe the little tongue for good measure and by now Liam was in tears.

And of course I got a earful from the Bo after that…”why didn’t you anticipate”, “how couldn’t you see it coming”, “arghhhhh we should have slept in this morning”, “this is how HFMD starts…”

It was understatedly dreadful, the aftermath of the Liam-eating-soil incident and being on the receiving end of papa’s endless rants (thankfully he rarely does this) . How was I to know! And why wasn’t I freaking out as crazily as papa! I definitely didn’t want to be the cause of soiling Liam’s clean slate of not falling sick since birth yet.

During moments as such, thank goodness for FB and rally of supporters who promptly left comments. It definitely did wonders in making me feel better…till at least the Bo’s fury was iced.

EDIT as of 26 Feb 2013: After monitoring 9 poops since the incident (all looked rather normal to me), looking out for rashes (none appeared), abnormal behaviour (hyper and manja as ever) and praying hard that nothing poisonous or baby-damaging went in, so far so good for now. *fingers crossed till he turns 1*

After 10 years, 4 of which I’ve been hinting, nagging, asking, hinting again until I didn’t need to do anything no more when a part of it decided to snap…we decided to trade a resort teak style bed for a modern, storage, hotel-esque one. The spur of the purchase was further catalyzed by the idea of spring cleaning (out with the old, in with the new self-assurance logic) and so we told the salesperson that we would only confirm the deal if it could be delivered before CNY.

It arrived today. And woah, it sure was huge. I don’t recall needing to have to heave myself onto the bed when we were bed sampling at the recent home & design fair but oh do I forget, that the platforms at those exhibitions? They do not exist here.

So yes, I will need to use more effort to get on bed for a good night’s rest from now on. My mom even joked and asked me not to roll off the bed while sleeping lest I get a bigger injury. But I’m happy that I’m finally sleeping on a brand new bed that feels like I’m perpetually on vacation. Which may be a good idea since I don’t foresee a holiday anytime soon. But probably a bad thing (the bed) since getting out of bed in the mornings is already an achilles’ heel. And can I add in the random tidbit where I no longer have the cobweb thought that some girlfriend in that early party of the decade got to roll around the bed before I did. Petty, I know!

***

A friend of the husband recently contacted me to inform that the school her daughter’s currently attending is starting to open for pre-registration for YOB 2012 babies. Being the lazy ass mom that I’ve been told, I didn’t think to action on anything for the son till her little nudge. And so I decided to write to the school to enquire about the process of registering one’s kid into a pre-school. I was pleasantly surprised to receive a reply some hours later that there was availability at the new campus which was practically across the road from the existing campus which would also have availability next year. Now, being the greedy…I could wait it out and potentially end with no play schools for Chungkin to socialize in. Or I could say yes, jump on it (will have to do the school visit and FAQ, vet through curriculum & all that), and then scurry to plan ahead for Q3, I don’t know…perhaps consider a permanent part-time work arrangement if anyone’d have me, or put that free time to some good use. BUT just thinking about it makes me so undecided! Here I am, wanting my son to share his coming-of-terrible-twos with his other terrible-twos mates for at least half the day before sharing the rest with me. I can already picture myself telling the Bo that I’m working to mainly finance this school thing and also to have my own socializing while the little man has his. Yet on the other, I could still continue what we’re doing now – parent accompanied classes whenever he feels like it. Learn things together, do an extension of it back home.I’d probably have to find a way to be a little more firm though and not let him twiddle me around just by flashing those pearlies.

Experienced and been there done that moms, do share your experiences! Play school or not? Worth the sanity? What on your preschool’s checklist?

What I do know now is that I absolutely dislike how the “system” here flows and how it is inadvertently turning into one heck of a momzilla. It’s probably what’s expected out of kindy & primary school kids these days that’s sounding all alarm bells and chuck aside all plans to just do the learn through play, explore through environment type of thing.

You know what you want. And what you love. You love building brands. You love digital media. You’d love to work for a leading digital media company that has audacious growth plans in this region. But you also want time for yourself, your family and friends. You’d really want to work 3 days per week.
You positively enjoy collaborating with people. You simply love to be inspired and inspiring. Add that to the fact that you have a natural interest in metrics-driven performance monitoring and you might well be just the person we’re after.

Ever so often whenever I decline job interviews that come my way including those that I would have jumped at in a heartbeat pre-Liam (how often is it that an industry you’re unfamiliar with is willing to give you a shot and still maintain a similar pay scale as per last drawn), the busybody in me will still click on job listings (I used to subscribe to every single job search giant out there!) just to suss out if there was ever a possibility of really liking anything enough to give it a go and get the work-life balance I yearn for. We all know how insane the first few months at a new job can get, least being able to gain the understanding of colleagues on why you leaving on time to spend time with your kid would be more important than theirs.

So when I saw the above-mentioned job description last evening. I had to take a second read. Okay, maybe a third. It seemed so fitting – digital media being right up my alley, and woah a 3 days work week? Time for myself, family and friends? Was that even possible considering how I’ve hardly time to myself and friends being the SAHM that I currently am. Enjoy collaboration with people? Just what I’ve been busying myself with of late trying to be boss.

Truly, the idea and sound of it is such sweet nectar. Too good to be true, or simply too true. Gaah. Torn, torn, torn.

{a scene from the extremely loud & incredibly close}

The Bo & I have been doing our own mini movie marathon recently – watching a DVD almost every other night after dinner (with the baby monitor right in front of us of course) – and last night we watched ’extremely loud & incredibly close‘.

After watching the movie, I was all weepy and I told the Bo that how grateful I was that this blog actually exists.

I know how unduly pessimistic this is starting to sound…but as I watched the inventive 9 year old ‘Oskar Schell’ embark on his arduous-and-ambitous journey to search for a lock that would fit a key he found in his late father’s closet (one year after losing him to the 9/11 attacks which he also labels as ‘the worst day’), determined & convinced that there was one final message from his dad for him hidden somewhere in the city (or so his dad often says during their father-son scavenger hunt games), I couldn’t help but feel how terrible it must have been for Oskar to deal with the loss.

He must have had lots of questions which needed lots of answers. Or lots of insecurity (he is, after all 9 years old) which needed reassurance.

And then I thought of Liam. And the what ifs.

Would it console him more to read about how much he meant to us (and our documented moments with him) instead of hearing it from someone else?

Would it encourage him and give him strength when the situation calls for it?

The Bo’s father passed on very suddenly and during the early adult years of Bo’s life. And though he may not say it out much, I know how much he wishes that his mom could guide and direct him when the need arises just like his dad might have if he was still around. Instead, he did what he deem was right – continued to be filial & gave up personal sacrifices to provide for his mom’s insecurity and sibling’s education. Would it have made a difference if his dad had left behind some memoirs of sorts letting him that it was okay to think for his own future  instead of entirely hearing & assuming it through his mom?

I don’t know.

But what I hope for Liam is through the chungkin chronicle initiative – a series of letter I aspire to write to my son on a regular basis – that he’ll know the love we have for him. That even on his angry days, days when he might not understand why certain decisions are made, days when he doesn’t want to talk to us – that he’ll be able to have somewhere to digest it all at his pace.

Oh what an exhausting weekend it has been, caring for my 2 boys.

The Bo injured his lower back earlier this week – the worst he’s ever had – leaving him with a very slanted lower back, a lot of pain; thwarting all attempts to stand, sit or walk. Lying down has been his only form of pain relief so far, apart from the pain killers prescribed and I know as much as he feels “useless” not being able to perform the simplest of tasks or cuddle Liam,  there’s nothing he can do to hasten recovery but to rest, rest and rest.

Coupled with our little man’s recent bout of random activities – early morning wakes @ 4.30am for 2 days, giggling in his sleep (and this is when I get a few strong nudges to go check on him) and doing 270-degree rotations in the cot from his original sleeping position (let’s give momma a heart attack shan’t we?) through the night with the occasional flips from back to tummy – I am officially in sleep deprivation mode.

I don’t know how I’m getting through the day but I do think motherhood has strengthen my physical &  mental stamina a lot more than it used to. I don’t just whine, procrastinate or sulk. I know I have to do something about it becuase our tag-team is only half strength.

Special thanks to momma dearest for spending most of her weekend to help babysit Liam while I accompanied the Bo to the doc/ran errands. And also to the BR, for the very thoughtful & lovely get-well hamper.

For the past 3 months, whenever the husband & I go out during the weekends without little Liam in tow, I’ve been assumed by many that I’m still pregnant.

When we were trying out mattresses, a salesman told me that I should have a go at it because pregnant ladies knows comfort best (which had me at huh? whose the pregnant lady you’re talking about) and the husband at “wahahahahahahahah”.

When we were enquiring about which brand of anti-hair loss shampoo was good, saleslady said: you can use this from now till after you deliver which again had me at huh? (like who was she referring to, as I literally turned around to see if she was simultaneously communicate with someone else who was perhaps preggy?) and the husband at “muahahahahah”.

When we were lining up to pay for our purchases, a salesperson pulled a chair near me and asked me to have a sit while she help me place the items at the counter. I couldn’t resist the offer to have a seat while waiting for my turn to pay, and so both the hubs & I went “hahahahahah” and accepted the kind offer.

Jokes aside, as much as the Bo has been supportive by asking if I wanted to buy new clothes to wear (no, thank you) instead of dealing with my endless staring at the wardrobe full of pre-pregnancy clothes which I grumble ever so often about not being able to fit into them, I have been feeling a little upset about the whole postnatal weight issue.

Granted, if it took me 9 months to put on a whopping 18kg, rightfully I should give myself 9 months to shed the weight. But it hasn’t been easy. Especially when the moms I hang out with have shed their preggy weight like it was the most natural thing to happen post partum. Not! At least not to me.

I did the crazy full-on breastfeeding in hopes that the weight would go off along with the milk expressed out. Nope, didn’t work out. Instead I ended up feeling even hungrier after every express session which led me to think that it was okay to load up on the carbs (plus I’m such a carbs lover. Urgh).

I did the carrying of baby up and down the stairs, to & fro, again it didn’t help much except to cause me to sweat buckets and feel hungry.

And so post natal self confidence deflated big time. Didn’t help that the Bo also teased that I was also starting to look more “mommy” in photos now, which was akin to saying that I was looking like an “auntie” or more haggard. I didn’t like that I was becoming the sort of mom I didn’t want to be – inferior. Yet as much as I didn’t want to be shallow, I couldn’t ignore ‘em flabby arms, legs, face & tummy which were just screaming fat fat fat in the photos.

The last time I had a fat period was when I was 12 years old and it was because mom was buying too many of those delicious Marks&Spencer cookies for my consumption and suddenly revisiting it again some 16+ years later…was something I least expected.

So though the Bo has been encouraging me to give myself till end of this year to shed the kilos, and that’s only because he doesn’t want me to go into depression come festive season in case people start asking when baby chungkin #2 is due (lol), I think it’s time I quit the grumbling & started walking the talk.

I enjoy food with the Bo too much to have a drastic diet going on, plus it’s not advisable for breastfeeding moms. Hence to kick things off, my first step is no more snacking & binging like I’m still baking muffins in the oven.

I hope to start on a weekly exercise routine too and hopefully slowly but surely, I’d go from fat & flab to fit & flab!

But first, let me just finish that last bits of that yummy tip top curry puff…

It seems that I might be the impatient one after all.

For all the denying I’ve been giving myself that I still had some time to go before D-day, I found myself nudging & asking the little nugget last night if he would just come out already.

I had my first taste of insomnia yesterday and it was not enjoyable.

I basically woke up at 3am+ to take my first pee after falling into slumber, only to find myself tossing & turning, wide awake and noticing a lot of movements from the little man. My pelvic region was hurting badly and I was drifting in and out of a numb sensation which would overtake almost half of the belly only to subside the moment I shifted my sleeping position and then back again. I didn’t want to excite myself  nor wake the Bo up unnecessarily so till 5am+, my mind was on hyper active mode as I ran through outstanding tasks to do for the day, what I should wear to the hospital, wondered if I should google what constituted signs of contractions while at the same time just hoping for either a bloody show or a burst in the water bag. I finally did fall back asleep for a short while (thank goodness!) only to be woken up at 7am by baby movements and dull aches.

So far, the aches/discomfort has been manageable so I supposed that might just have been really bad Braxton Hicks.

What I do hope is that this cycle of insomnia won’t come visiting me tonight again because feeling zombified due to an exhausted body but alert mind is making me feel really horrible right now.