A harsh reminder that my toddler is only two plus

Today, a friend of mine reminded me that Tee is only two and a half. Only?

Yes, only.

I was verbalising my frustrations about Tee; how she has this innate talent in augmenting MY voice (I don’t even know how to augment my own voice!), how she knows just how to boil my blood at a certain temperature, how she wears me out till I feel like a shrivelled 1000 day old dried apricot……..the list goes on. Nevermind the good bits.

Di, the child psychologist, reminded me that a toddler does not understand the concept of ‘now’. She will not do what you want now yet she will want everything NOW. So it is pointless to get angry at her because firstly, it’s not even her fault and secondly, I am getting all riled up for nothing.

“Practise patience,” she said.

A cloud of guilt started forming over my head as I nodded. Yes, easier said than done. But I will try harder. I will try harder in making this challenge a turnaround with some out of the box thinking.

********************************************************

Tee woke and asked for milk. She drank 10ml when I made 120ml. The milk magically flashed sour and she was not having any of it. All stories of growth, strength and calcium, including MY happiness, were chucked into bin city.

*lightbulb*

I told Tee that the 10ml that she drank was the Milk’s Mummy. Now the remaining Baby Milk (110ml) missed his Mummy so much and was sad and crying. Would she help Baby Milk be together with Mummy Milk?

*glug-glug-glug-glug-glug*

“Are they together now, Mummy?”

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Ahhh….the look of love….

dsc_0833.jpg

Breastfeeding in the 22nd century – I can’t begin to tell you how funny it is when Tee searches for her hidden nipples to feed her baby milk. I mean, at this age…their tummies are so big and round that their lack of tits are really just that. LACK OFF.

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New writing contract

I just got my 2nd writing contract yesterday to write children book reviews and a few parenting articles. What do you as parents want to learn about? Tell me, tell me, tell me…… For me:-

  1. The effects of long term yelling at your children
  2. How to make money from home – for real
  3. Ideas for feeding fussy eaters (actually, this one, I have ideas to give but welcome more)
  4. Is there a right way to read to your children?
  5. Mummy cloning – unchartered territory of the 21st century

As for my lawsuit, I am currently negotiating legal fees and then we start the suit next week. Initially, we were awaiting settlement but it looks like the other party is too busy and hasn’t given their lawyers a mandate. I ain’t waiting forever.

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Fitness First – the first flim flam of fitness in Malaysia

I joined Fitness First KLCC a couple of years ago only to be the bearer of unfortunate circumstances that prevented me from going further. I changed my membership status to an absent member and paid RM35 monthly. After paying my absent membership fees for more than a year, I decided to cancel my membership knowing that I will never have the opportunity to go back, since I am a full time mom now, without a babysitter. I was paying RM35 every month for nothing.

So imagine the impact of the blow when I called them up to tell them of my predicament and they told me I had to pay RM300 to cancel my membership and oh, by the way….you have been paying full membership fees ever since errr…..after you paid one year of absent membership fees.

WHAT THE FUCK!??!!!! You mean, I have been paying RM160 every month all this while without knowing? Why didn’t you inform me that you were going to deduct a different amount off my credit card? (The Hubs never told me of the bills on the credit card either, he doesn’t question) Don’t you think I have a right to know?

I was SO PISSED OFF. It’s the principal, you know. I threatened to go to the newspapers to warn fellow citizens to be careful and not get conned because they never tell you what they don’t want you to know. Another point to note is, once you decide to join Fitness First, they make you list 10 phone numbers (mobile numbers) of your friends so they can spam them into coming in for a trial. It’s like……make the sale first, then throw in the surprises. I find that totally unethical.

When I worked at Regus before, I used to warn people of all the items in the contract that they needed to be aware of. It was a very tight contract that worked towards the favour of Regus, naturally. But still, we made tons of money. By being upfront and honest.

So people out there! If you want to join Fitness First, be warned.

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Three ants sleeping

There were three ants that lived in the bathroom. It was time for bed, so they each chose where they were going to sleep. One slept in the sink, one slept in the bathtub, and the last one slept in the toilet.

The next morning, they discussed their sleep. The one in the sink said his sleep was comfortable. The one in the bathtub said his was great. Then they asked the ant that slept in the toilet.

“My sleep was horrible. First it rained, then it thundered, and if I hadn’t had jumped on a log, I could have died!”

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“Don’t yell at your children.”

Says our Prime Minister, Datuk Seri Abdullah Ahmad Badawi, today.

“…let us correct them with love and care and not by yelling at them,” he advised parents.

That’s it. Tee is doomed. I might as well start a fund for her future therapy sessions……..

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TM Net and their Debt Collectors

TM is the country’s leading integrated telecommunications company in Malaysia. Or so they claim.

Many years ago, before I moved out from my Mother’s hotel, I subscribed to a TM Net line so I could practise patience with slow internet access. My monthly bill never showed more than a hundred ringgit and in fact, stayed much lower than that. I paid my bills religiously.

When I could take no more of bad service in the hotel, I moved out. And cancelled that internet line.

Lo and behold! Five years later, I got a letter from TM saying I owed them more than 700 bucks. As far as I knew, I had no outstanding bills with them. I called them immediately to dispute but according to their records, I definitely owed them money.

I chose to ignore it because no way was I paying for something I did not use.

Then one day, two big rough looking thugs showed up at my office. Sure scared the living daylights out of my secretary. They claimed they were TM’s debt collectors. Fine – I told them it wasn’t my bill but they kept insisting I pay up. Subsequently, they kept calling me to harrass me with threats, smashed my windscreen, broke my side view car mirror (I have no proof but….), they followed me everywhere.

At that point, I couldn’t believe that a quasi-governmental organisation could behave in such a way. So I went to see them at the TM headquarters. I pleaded innocence. And then I saw the files. Files of thirty debt collectors, all working for TM.

I can’t remember what happened exactly now but I eventually paid them off to stop the harrassment. It wasnt fair.

My brother just received a letter last week from TM saying he owed them 3,ooo Ringgit for a whole year’s worth of phone calls. My brother still lives with my Mother and he does NOT have a phone line. Yet, on the phone bill that TM sent him, it was clearly his name but not his address. Someone had used his identification number and had access to his details somehow and applied for a phone line under his name. The address was in Subang. My brother has never lived in Subang. He is now going through the same process with TM but so far no debt collectors yet. Just investigations…….

Scary.

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From Rags to Riches

My MIL told me this story.

There was once a girl called Rain who hailed from sunny Kota Bharu, Kelantan. She married a teacher and was often seen riding on a motorbike. Rain was very ambitious and hob-nobbed with potential suiters often despite already being married. She had quite a voice which she used to serenade men with her eyes till their knees got wobbly.

One fine day, a very important man who was related to the former Prime Minister fell in love with Rain and paid the teacher off so he could live happilly ever after with his new found love.

It was a win-win deal. The teacher had never in his entire life dreamt he could have achieved so much wealth and Rain followed her new love back to start a new exciting life in a different world.

As wealth accumulated, Rain began putting on weight and suddenly, she was no longer the apple of her Man’s eye. She ate more. And more. And more.

Till she decided to kill.

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It would be so nice….

It would be so nice

If Tee could leave me alone for only a day

It would be so nice

If I didn’t have to decide what to eat or feed today

It would be so nice

If I could stimulate my brain without distractions

It would be so nice

If I had some ‘me’ time, even for a fraction 

It would be so nice

If I didn’t have to brush her teeth, bath and clothe her

It would be so nice

If every moment would just be filled with laughter

It would be so nice

If I could overcome all that I lack

It would be so nice

If I could have a bit of myself back

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Shouting at your toddler

I just did.

*gulp*

It was an all out yelling voice shout as well. Like a hysterical mad lady who’d just got her handbag snatched.

*gulp*

She has been climbing all over me while I read on the laptop and whining when she is supposed to be sleeping. She is lucky that I am even here beside her whilst she falls asleep. Why is she so demanding? I’m still recovering from the flu she brought home, I’m tired and irritable and she is just being bloody annoying! PEST.

Do you ever shout at your kids?

I know it is wrong but sometimes I just snap. It doesn’t happen very often but right now I just feel like giving her a big smack!

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Nosiness – A Barracuda Woman activity

Heard whispering at the Baraccuda Women’s Club today:-

“Hey, have you seen that woman before ah?”

“Where? Which one?”

“There….the one sitting with the three men.”

“No, don’t think so.”

“I wonder if she is a member. She doesn’t look like a member. I think she is not a member.”

They stretch their heads to peep further.

“Oh, she shouldn’t be here then.”

“Yeah, let’s complain. Huh? Shall we make a complaint?”

“Yeah, let’s go and make a complaint.”

And the two in their tight gym gear walked towards the reception to lodge their complaint.

It really pissed me off. What business is it of theirs? The woman was not doing anyone any harm, and surely if she was there and not a member, then a member would have brought her in. How come they didn’t have a problem with the MEN being members? And how do they even know if she is a member or not? Grrrrrr………….*sei paht pohr*

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Why I don’t have a maid

Having a maid (full-time or part-time) in KL as a Mother is like wearing underwear. Everyone has them, they get changed often and only a select few choose not to have any.

I am one such Mom (err…the maid part, not the underwear).

I have never had a maid. Having a maid would make me lose control because I am particular in that I like the sink cleaned with exactly 27 rubs clockwise with a 20 cent coin amount of Jif. And I am a control freak. Anyone who’s ever seen me begin to lose control knows that I start having epileptic fits. And asthma attacks. And I physically pull my hair out till I can make new scourers with a bit of glue on it.

So you can imagine. With the track record of 98% of maids here, if I had one, I’d very soon be in the headlines as Malaysia’s Most Wanted Mother. On Interpol even. For psychotically skinning a foreign maid.

Plus, the Hubs likes his privacy. We live in a 1800sf apartment after all. Having a maid would put an end to his boxer strutting. She might even try seducing him. Friends suggested I get an old maid but what I don’t need is a post menopausal bitch with attitude telling me how to raise my kid.

So rather than subject myself to pay a monthly wage to a potential runaway, I’d rather suffer the abuse of being a maid myself.

Total control, money in the bank AND I get to seduce my husband on the job.

Stupid, I know. It must be that parental lack of attention thing that causes me to afflict self-abuse on myself. To have to continuously talk to a toddler after getting an ounce of sleep, to have to upkeep a germ free environment when my muscles are perpetually begging me to stop, to have to prepare delicious meals for the family when all I want to do is feed them cat food.

WAH!!! Poor me!!!! Someone buy me some good quality panties, please! PLEASE!

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Where did I come from?

When I was 10 years old, my Mother bought me this book titled “Where Did I Come From?”

Back then, it was the ONLY book which described the birds and the bees to children. I brought it to school one day to share it with my friends, who subsequently borrowed it. And then the book was lost forever. I was terribly upset as my Mother had lugged it back all the way from England and getting a replacement locally was as difficult as getting my Mother’s consent to sex at 10. Even at 10, I already had the idea to keep the book for my own children one day because it explained everything to me. Everything finally made sense.

Then I borrowed another book from a library for Tee – can’t remember the title now but it was similar to the above, humorous cartoons with cute explanations. I’m sure there are many of these now.

Tee has been bugging me to have a baby brother and I keep telling her that she has to ask her Daddy. But one fine day, she asked me how babies get into Mummies tummies. I was totally unprepared and said that Daddy has to make love to Mummy, then a baby will enter Mummy’s tummy. Knowing how long it has taken her Daddy to give her a baby brother, she sighed,

“Let’s not wait for Daddy, Mummy. I will make love to you so you can have a Baby!”

Today, I found this. (click on book pages to see story)

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A typical Saturday morning for the Lees

I knocked off at 5am this morning. Woke at 9am. It’s like being back in Architecture School .

Brought Tee to a “pink-pink” themed birthday party at Caterpillar. I love parties like these – short and sweet, because really….how much excitement and sugar can 2-3 year olds take?

All the presents presented were……one guess? Duh, pink! They looked real pretty stretched out against a long counter, various prints, ribbons and textures of wrapping paper. The kids had face painting, enjoyed cookie art, did some boogie-ing in the dance studio, had a treasure hunt and had tons of cake and jelly.

Met an old friend at the party – senior executive of Hwang DBS. He asked me if I would like to do some technical writing for him. On financial stuff? No thank you. Not only am I NOT qualified to write about finance, it is so dry la….macam ikan kering. But how I wish I knew how because he’d pay me good.

After that, we went to do our week’s groceries. Now, for the longest time, my Fairy GodMother has paid our grocery bill (because if she didn’t, we’d be living on bread and sardines like in the Bible and there’s no way she’d have any of that) but today, I wanted to do a full week’s groceries at the supermarket to know how much it would really set us back if we did not have a Fairy GodMother.

RM389.18 !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

So I have a resolution. I will be wet marketing from next week onwards. Because RM4.50 of Pak Choy can be obtained for RM0.70 at the wet market. I kid you not. My friend tells me she only spends RM70 per week on fresh produce from the wet market. Then some additional at the supermarket for processed food. Once I go to the wet market, I will tell you what my adjusted bill is. Gotta save money.

Just as we were to leave for home, Tee insisted on having a pretzel to which we refused. Because. She not only had tons of sugar already at the party, she had a donut at the supermarket AND asked for a muffin as well.

Meltdown.

Asked for my phone. Pressed Speed Dial 2 and the Green Button. She knows how to call her Nana and her Daddy, when confronted with a problem. On Speed Dial. Whined. Cried. Pleaded. Taled to Nana.

But we stood firm. 

That was our morning.

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Barracuda Women

Where I gym at the local club, between 9-11am, I have the veteran crowd for company. This is not a problem for me as I get along well with people of all ages, from gurgling babies to waffling grandpas.

However, I have such passion and arousal when certain ladies in their 50s and 60s wearing tons of make up, coiffed dyed hair, jewellery and wait.

Tight. Skimpy. Leotards. (ala Flashdance)

……approach me.

NOT.

What ARE they thinking???

These are no ordinary leotards. Thin fabric for nipple protrusions. High cut thigh to emphasize their different bulges. At that age, it is no longer sexy. Then with matching tights that sillhouettes their cellulite.

They don’t come anywhere close to looking like Goldie Hawn or Jane Fonda.

A friend’s Mom (who happens to own a sexy 60 year old husband) once told me, “I don’t allow Uncle L to go there to exercise. It is full of Barracuda Women.”

I didn’t quite ask her what Barracuda Women meant but now I know.

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A Royal Wedding

It was a marriage of convenience.

He and she have been very good friends for the longest time and she has royal blood. The other doesn’t.

5 years ago, they were beside me at a restaurant. Definitely good friends.

Not lovers.

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London, a sweet breath of reminiscence and nostalgia

I spent a third of my formative years in London so London is very special.

The last time I was there with the Hubs in 2001, London had already metamorphosised from what it was when I was a student. I am sure when we go next year, London would have changed even more. My life in London was so dense, rich with experiences, it is almost as though I can categorise my life into three segments – Childhood, London and Motherhood.

We are doing a big family trip next September due to a wedding in Holland, thus taking the opportunity to visit old friends around Europe and tour England.

It will be so fun having all of us there together. Since I am a Stay at Home Mom and people think I have so much time on my hands, I have been given the monumental task of planning/designing/budgetting our month long trip. I’m going to make sure each and everyone signs a form with an arbitration clause before we leave. You know how it is when groups go on holidays….

“What do you want to eat?”

“Anything”

So you take them to ‘anything’ and the complaints start pouring in.

There will be 7 of us and Tee so really, we’d need to hire a minivan if we choose to drive around but otherwise we will coach or train it. As I remember it, all three modes were just as efficient. It is now a matter of cost.

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A much deserved holiday

Pray for me, EVERYONE!

The Hubs is close to agreeing to babysit Tee for 4 days and 3 nights whilst I take a much deserved all expense paid break to Hong Kong. I am SO excited, I can’t wait till he says YES!

Initially, my Fairy GodMother was going to bring Tee and I (and the Hubs, but he is too busy at work). Then after much consideration whether Hong Kong or Perth was more baby friendly, I joked “Why don’t we leave Tee with the Hubs and we ladies go ourselves???” Everyone laughed and nobody believed it possible since Tee has been joined at my hip since birth. She has not slept a single night without her Mama, her bedtime cocaine fix.

So I asked him tonight. Guffaws of laughter was his immediate reaction.

“It’s only 3 nights.” I pleaded…..”So let her cry for 3 nights…”

He has been having working conversations all night with Tee about what FUN they are going to have together when Mummy goes to Hong Kong. And I added the salt and pepper that Daddy would take her ANYWHERE she wanted to go and buy her ANYTHING she wanted. (Oops!)

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My new toy

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Thank you to Apple and the person who gave this to me 🙂

My two year old is already eyeing it……

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My emotional hole – lack of parental attention

A friend of mine told me the other day that I have an emotional hole due to the lack of love in my life whilst growing up. It totally threw me off guard. Surely if I had an emotional hole before, then it would have been filled up by now with the love I get from the Hubs, Little Tee and my wonderful family and friends. Even overflowing, causing a bulge!

She said the emotional hole never gets back to what it was. She is a medical specialist and has some training in psychology. Yikes! I am flawed.

We were discussing my huge craving for attention, now as a desperate mother. I admit that whilst growing up, I did a lot to attract some attention – getting lead roles for school plays, excelling in sports, doing well at school; then rebelling as a teenager, running away from home, cutting school. None of which worked.

So does my desire for a little attention now stem from a neglected past?

Surely not? I think it is understandable that if you were a stay at home mom with only a toddler for conversation, day after day, without the resources to go out socialising to indulge in some adult interaction, you would start feeling a little……out of sorts. Especially since I used to get so much attention whilst at work, and then now, apart from being a Mother, I am really quite useless.

Of course, I want some attention!

Apart from doing what I do, I feel as though I have lost myself. Who am I?

Nobody knows me anymore. Apart from bringing up Tee, I am not contributing to society (I suppose that is an arguable point since I am hopefully nurturing a better member of society), I am not known for any skills, I am not a somebody. I just feel like part of the wallpaper.

This is what being a stay at home mom does to me.

But I wouldn’t change it for anything……..

Because I’ll be damned if little Tee forms an emotional hole!

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While we’re still on the money topic….

I just found out that wordpress (the freebie blog platform that I am on) doesn’t support Google Adsense so my first attempt to *ahem* feebly earn an income has spiralled into the bog.

Maybe it’s just not my karma to make money online and I should just stick to what is true to my heart.

BUGGER!

In attempt to console myself, I am glad to hear from the Narcissistic Woman that after a year with Adsense, her monthly cheque was not more than USD85 and the woman probably gets like 400 visitors to her blog per day.

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The journey of fat loss

I burned 380 calories this morning on the cross trainer. I had a 400 calorie breakfast. I had a total of 1100 calories today.

If I can keep this up, I have hope.

I learnt the kind of food I should be eating and the portions from here.

Right. NO WONDER I am as heavy as my husband.

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The root of all evil

Everyone has their own ideologies about money – the all powerful entity that makes our world go round.

Money has shed blood, broken families, stirred contempt, yet brought gratification to many. It also feeds us, clothes us and shelters us – in varying degrees.

How much money do we really need? And how much money do we really want?

How do we go about getting and making money?

The adage that money makes money is fundamental and true but it is not impossible to make money from scratch.

In the following months, we will explore just how.

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Make money blogging – really?

The more I read about it, the more curious I get.

I mean, if I could buy a Starbucks by merely writing what I love, that would be pretty cool…..wouldn’t it?

I think I will start experimenting.

What’s there to lose?

Who’s up to throwing advise?

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Where am I going?

This has been a nagging cloud of late. Back in my heydays (yes, I did have them – where have they gone???), I had direction. I had purpose. There was a plan. All was well as I approached my estimable life goals. I was a confident, ambitious career woman, set to take on the world on a global scale. I was in control.

I even knew that I would be a working Mother one day, in my designer suits, juggling all factors of my life flawlessly to perfection.

*sigh*

Such idealism. I always knew there was a part of me perpetually in lala-land.

CRASH. BANG. THUD.

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The mouth of defiance!

Rushing Tee to go to bed tonight as I had a date with a girlfriend (actually, I rush her to bed every night – y’know, I just can’t wait for that moment of peace; it’s like crossing the finishing line of a 10 kilometer marathon. With a GOLD medal.), I yelled out to her to clear MY bed of her toys. She was allowed to sleep with us tonight because I didn’t want to waste time negotiating. My mind was focused on 9.30pm.

“No, YOU keep it. I’m busy right now.”

“Excuse me, young lady. Do NOT talk to me that way and those are YOUR toys, YOUR mess, so you’d better clean it up quick.”

Sensing my authority, she mumbled and grumbled towards my bed and started packing her things away.

Then she came towards me whilst I was looking for what to get changed into and asked, “Whose is this, Mummy?” It was that catty expression that made me look up to see her holding onto my hair accessory.

“It’s mine. You know that.”

“Well, you keep it then.” she hands it to me and walks off with her folded arms.

Hmmph.

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CPR for Babies and Toddlers

As promised – a boring but informative post.

First and foremost, babies and toddlers (BT) are made up differently from adults so before you ever touch a BT in distress, read my lesson. Hollywood movies teach us to tilt the unconscious person’s head back and start pumping with both hands and your bodyweight on the victim. Don’t ever do that to a BT. You may end up with Baby Mash. Nasty….

CPR – Cardio Pulmonary Resuscitation – used ONLY when someone has lost consciousness and is NOT breathing or when heartbeat/pulse/breath is slowing down. A healthy adult’s pulse is around 60 beats per minute. A healthy baby’s pulse is 120 beats per minute. When someone faints, they are still breathing thus do not need CPR.

When an accident happens or you find a BT slumped over unconscious, first and foremost, check that it is safe to approach and carry the BT into lying down position. Safe to approach means, if the BT looks like he’s been electrocuted, ensure no power is on. If the BT is involved in an accident, ensure no oncoming cars can approach; move dangerous objects away from BT. If oil/hot water is spilled, move BT to safe area. You get the drift. SAFE TO APPROACH.

Next, with 2 fingers, jiggle the BT’s chest lightly and call out their names for a response. Check for breathing and any other signs of life with all your senses. Put your cheek next to his nose to feel his breath. Look at his nostrils if they flair up. Look at his chest if it rises. Try feeling for a pulse on his inner arm at the inner side of the elbow. The pulse of a baby is extremely light so do practise feeling it now when there is no emergency till you become a BT pulse reader pro. The strongest pulse in a BT is felt on the inner thigh joint between the thigh and the groin but in an emergency, it is unlikely you would go there because you would need to remove clothing, diapers etc first, wasting time.

If you cannot feel a pulse or you feel a slow pulse (below 80 and dropping, although in an emergency you probably won’t have the presence of mind to be exact so just make your best guestimate), you need to CALL FOR HELP, then practise ABC – Airways, Breathing, Circulation. Are we OK so far? Remember again – Safe to Approach, Call for Help, ABC.

Get help. Call your husband/wife/mother/neighbour/anyone with some common sense in order for THEM to get the ambulance/hospital because you need to focus your time in saving the BT’s life, not give your address to the hospital. (If you’re in a public place, then just shout for someone to get help and pray they have common sense). For Malaysians, make sure that the nearest hospital’s numbers are programmed into your phone, not 999 or 911 or whatever the emergency number is, if you do not want to risk communication and language problems or worst, deal with snails’ response time. Better still, get the direct line of the emergency department of the hospital to save a transfer from the General Line. Make this number accessible to your emergency gang and for goodness sake, make sure your emergency gang knows your address and directions to your house at the back of their hands. Every second counts here. Brief them in 5 seconds what you think may have happened.

AIRWAYS (A) – You want to gently place two fingers (index and middle fingers) on your BT’s chin and the other hand supporting the top of his head. Shift the chin upwards very, very, very slightly so that the earlobe of the BT is in line horizontally with his shoulder from highest point of shoulder from floor. This is to open the airways of the BT. To check if you are doing this correctly, look for a chest rise NOT a tummy rise, when you breath a tight, surrounding breath into his mouth. You must press your mouth surrounding his mouth or air will escape and not get into his lungs. For newborn babies, your mouth will surround both his mouth and his tiny nose – that’s OK. Just make it tight.

BREATHING (B) – Give the BT TWO rescue breaths i.e. blow twice into his mouth. More often than not, unconsciousness is caused in BTs first and foremost due to failure in the lungs, then the heart, so these two rescue breaths may be all that is needed to revive the BT. After your two rescue breaths, try reviving him again gently with your two fingers and by calling out to him. If still nothing, then that’s when you go on to step C.

CIRCULATION (C) – With a newborn up to one year old plus, place your two fingers again (index and middle) one centimeter below the BT’s nipple line and press five times followed by ONE rescue breath. The amount of pressure to put on the chest is to press down one third of the BT’s body. It may seem harsh but believe me, BT’s are more resilient than you think and don’t worry about breaking any bones as their bodies are still quite spongy and flexible. You need that kind of pressure because you are helping him manually pump his heart. Do the five time pumping and one rescue breath sequence continuously for one minute. Then check his pulse rate again. If there is no sign of improvement, you keep doing this all the way till help arrives. Don’t give up. You can do this for up to 45 minutes plus minus.

If the BT is one year plus up to five years old, use your palm and apply the pressure with the base of your palm near your wrist. Do not lift up and lose contact with body. Keep palm on chest and pump five times followed by one rescue breath. Follow the same sequence above. And don’t forget when you give your rescue breath each time, to put the BT into open airway position or you will be wasting your breaths.

Remember, five pumps to one rescue breath. Five pumps. Rescue breath. Five pumps. Rescue breath. etc……..

The speed in which you do your five pumps is also faster than 1 second per pump since BTs pulse rates are faster.

If possible, go for a course – it is well worth it and you never know when you may save a life.

I hope this has helped. Somewhat.

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The case of the missing McDonald’s Cheeseburger

After 5 hours of sleep (which is more than I get some days), I did the school run and determinedly headed off to the gym. Half way there, I get a distressed phone call from a friend who’s lost her way and is late to teach a Baby First Aid/CPR course at the Mummy-Baby organisation where I volunteer. I made a detour and offered to bring her there.

Anything to get out of the gym, eh? *bad girl, bad girl*

I sat through the First Aid/CPR class (which I will post later) which I found extremely useful but before the class was over, I looked at the time and shock, horror, I was late in picking Tee up from school!

Driving like a fearless teenager on speed knowing no danger, I raced every car on the road till I screeched the brakes at Tee’s school. I have always promised her that I will not be late, you see. And she has reminded me many a time at that.

Thankfully, bless her heart, Tee’s best friend at school and Mom waited with her in class till that mad woman with hair that came straight out of the washing machine spin cycle showed up. Me.

Tee was sooooooooo happy to see me. In whatever state I was. That is true love, ladies and gentlemen.

And of course, I hadn’t even thought of what to feed her for lunch by then so we impulsively made a trip to hamburger city.

Bad move.

There were no parking spots at peak hour lunch so I double parked (Sshhh….) and explained to Tee that we couldn’t eat in despite her really wanting to because there were no parking spots and if we parked here where the yellow line is, the police would take our car away. As quick as I could, snatched her out of the car seat, banged fists for burgers; almost stumbled with toddler, bags and burgers on the way out, then arrived back at car.

Then.

“I want to eat my burger now. I’m hungwy…”

“No, let’s eat it when we get home. It’s only 5 minutes.”

“Can I drink my Milo now?”

“Hurry, Tee…get in. Put your safety belt on. NOW.”

“I need to eat my burger NOW. I’m hungwy, Mama!”

Then.

As I hurriedly belted her up with my hippo ass sticking out of the backseat, a big tall burly man with an earing and an unfriendly, mean face approached us. Slow motion. Shit. My eyes met his as my hands fumbled on the belts (note to self – time to practise baby seat belt with eyes closed). My eyes did not leave him, and he walked composedly right past us. Slow motion.

Finally, when he was ten feet away from the car, my eyes diverted to the blasted seat belt. Click. All of me bounced into the driver’s seat, causing the car suspension to falter, then click again for the car lock.

Check pulse rate. I am dripping with sweat. Then from behind,

“Mummy!!! I need my cheeseburger!”

By now, I had stopped worrying of smeared cheeseburger on my car. I unwrapped the yellow and red plastic wrap and heard giggles behind.

We drove home whilst my mind loaded itself with a million unimaginable thoughts and all the things that I must not forget this week. Bloody traffic. Between pendulum swings of driving concentration and sneaking peeks at the baby mirror to check on Tee, my fingers tapped as I counted the minutes before we got home. It seemed like a lot more. All is cool behind for the next 15 minutes.

Then.

“Mummy, I dropped my cheeseburger!”

“Well, I’m driving honey. I guess you can kiss your burger goodbye.”

“But I need my cheeseburger. Can you get it for me, please? I’m hungwy…”

“Tee, Mummy’s driving right now. You will just have to wait. Anyway, you can’t eat that anymore. It’s dirty. I’ll give you Mummy’s burger when we get home, OK?

“No. I want MY cheeseburger. It’s not dirty….Daddy washed the car already.”

“I want my cheeseburger..!!! I WANT MY CHEESEBURGER!!”

Great. Exactly what I needed.

I practised my contortionist moves and tried searching for the fucking burger at the next red light. Negative. The whining continued. My ears could take it no longer. After I raised my voice over some private conversation between us, I pulled over at a taxi shoulder, climbed into the backseat to look for the fucking dropped cheeseburger.

“Where did you drop it?” My search got more frantic.

“Down there!”

“I can’t find it. Are you sure you dropped it? Where? Where exactly?”

“There!” She pointed but I gave up and got back into the driver’s seat. The whining escalated. I asked her if she had thrown her burger out of the window but don’t remember the window ever opening unless in my stressed state of mind actually missed the sound of wind heaving in. She started crying and begging me to find her cheeseburger because she was ‘apparently’ wayly hungwy. There was nothing more I could do but to focus and continue our journey home.

All this time. My mind was working hard to crack the code of the missing burger. We arrived home. I unlocked her and began the search for her dropped burger again. I must have removed the floor mat ten times. I looked under her car seat. I checked every nook in the back seat. I finally grabbed our bags and asked her if she would like some chips instead?

“OK!!” she grabbed the whole pack of chips and headed towards the lift door. Why didn’t I fucking think of that earlier?! DUH…

I came in to unload the bags only to discover that they had missed out on MY fries! Not that I am a fan of fries but I paid for it. I resorted to calling the store to complain, to finally yell at somebody. Really, really yell. But I realised I didn’t even have the fucking receipt to get a phone number and really couldn’t be arsed to search another source. A few minutes later, I found my fries which they didn’t leave out after all. Shit. I was really losing it.

When the Hubs got home that night, I told him that he might find a piece of cheeseburger in the car and related the events of the day. Before I could even finish, he disapprovingly rushed off to search for the missing cheeseburger (a stickler for no mess, no dropped food and no dirt. We have a toddler, like HELLO?). 15 minutes later, he was back. He couldn’t find it either.

We formed the conclusion that the only logical explanation for the case of the missing cheeseburger is that Tee had eaten it all up.  

For sure.

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Worshipping your Chinese Ancestors – Cheng Beng

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Every year we go back to Kota Bharu during Cheng Beng to pay our respects to the Hub’s grandparents who have passed on. This year Tee got to come along and had a swell time helping us.

The routine is to clean out the graveyard site, then place food and whatever else the person whose grave is likes, or should I say used to like, and then pray to the tombstone. On the grave itself, we cover the whole grave with gold paper (symbolic of wealth/money – I think!), topped up with flowers and fragrant leaves.

The reason Tee is holding a spade is because we had to pour sand and rocks over the ‘paper money’ to keep it all from flying off into the wind.

Tee had a great time and worked really hard. It was her first time ‘meeting’ and ‘speaking’ to her Great Granparents. She now only has one last living Great Grandmother (my Gran).

I know….it sounds morbid.

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Kuala Lumpur on a bad day

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Ladies and Gentlemen,

Directly to the left of the lamp post, stands the majestic Petronas Twin Towers of Kuala Lumpur. Only you cannot see it on this hazy day. It disappears into the clouds, soaring to great aeroplane heights. So if an aeroplane were to crash into it, can we really blame the pilot?

This was taken along Jalan Tun Razak crossing a flyover around the National Library area.

A picture really does paint a thousand words. Doesn’t it?

Bleach.

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Laughter, the best medicine

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We go through this on a daily basis. 

Actually, it happens for the most part of our day.

For the muscles strength and toning, weight lifting exercise is done. Different types of bars are used for muscles building. One such form is curl bar which have many curls and used for isolating development of muscles. Another form is olympic bar which are made sturdy and accommodate any condition or body type.

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You know your toddler has reached a developmental milestone

…..when she allows you to have a crap all by yourself.

For the last 2 and a half years of her life, Tee never liked being alone. What more, she’d rather be stuck in a cubicle of tarantulas with such a stench than be alone, most especially in a thunderstorm. She isn’t called my shadow for nothing.

Today there was a thunderstorm. We were in the living room doing whatever we do and suddenly, I felt the urge. I told her that I had to go and asked if she’d like to follow me or wait out here.

“No, no…Mummy, you can’t go!! I’m scared of the thunder!”

“Whaddya mean I can’t go? I can’t control these things! You decide. Are you in or out?”

Like a little girl who’d blossomed overnight into a young lady, she announced, “I’ll wait outside in the bedroom. I will bring my toy.”

So she follows me into the bedroom with her ABC machine and tells me rather politely that she will wait for me on my bed. Really? Nodding rather self-assuredly. Yes, really.

“I don’t want to smell stinky poo!” she exclaimed with her little fingers wriggling in front of her nose.

Oh my God!

This is my passport to freedom! I’ve got to start having daily craps now. Hey, maybe twice or thrice daily! I’d bring my laptop, ipod, junk food, nail polish and just hang out!

Now if only my bathroom was that of the Peninsula Hong Kong penthouse gazing the views of the ocean.

*sigh*

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Separation Anxiety at Playschool – part deux

I swear by this theory.

I spent close to 10 days observing Tee’s playschool when she first started and observed the whole play of what experts define as separation anxiety. In particular, I observed the kids who had one parent carers, that is to say, they have been with only one carer from the day they were born, hence know none the better about being left with anyone else.

From what I observed, kid’s actually settle quite quickly into the new environment, considering all else is good, but only make a play of Mama’s attention that they get physically and mentally abused at playschool. For the first and second day, and sometimes the third but rarely, the kid goes into shock and clings onto the carer with claws, even drawing blood, the instant they realise they are about to be flung into Darth Vader’s dungeons.

Here the school plays a part depending on how creatively their Princess Leia’s have been trained. What they usually do is tear the child from the carer, then distract the child, except that some refuse to be distracted just like Tee. A point to note is that the person who tears the child away should NOT be the class teacher that you want the child to bond with. Get them to use someone else, another teacher, the cleaner, the garbage man. It is important that the class teacher becomes the GOOD guy who saves and protects the child from Darth Vader’s dungeon. Be prepared that you will see a look on your child’s face that you have never seen before. A look of horror. A look that penetrates deeply from the soul of their eyes, and cuts into your heart strings and twists them like a clothes wringer……

Fear not. It is only temporary. Fifteen minutes max. The child will scream and all hell breaks loose. But only for fifteen minutes after you leave. Then throughout the day, there will be intermitent sobs for five minute intervals, but for most part, the child is actually curious with the fun that the rest of the kids are having. Teachers usually make the children draw pictures of their carers and talk about their carers when the child starts sobbing and missing their carers. As long as they have one loving person beside them to console them, they will be fine.

From the fourth day onwards, and up to a whole year, your child may still cling on to you and cry everytime she gets dropped off but I assure you, it lasts only for as long as you are there.

If you do not believe me, send in a videocamera to record the class or better still, get the school to install CCTVs where you can observe from the comforts of your home.

No shit.

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Earn an income from home online

That’s a fantasy of mine.

Now that I’ve settled into Motherhood slipping farther and farther away from the corporate world, I wonder when my next income will materialise. If ever.

For the last four years that I have not stepped into an office, I have been doing bits and bops to put some money into the bank. But it’s pittance. Not even a quarter of what I used to earn before. What hope left is there for Moms like myself?

I read abundantly on the internet about people making it big online but it sounds too good to be true. Even if I were to make some big bucks eventually online, I’ll bet it doesn’t come quite as easy as it sounds. I’ll bet that to make that kind of money, you’d have to be working 12-16 hour days. So it is no different then from having a ‘real’ job. Almost.

So I’ve almost come to the conclusion that there are no short cuts. If you want to be a Mother, you cannot earn a sizeable income. That’s just the reality of it. If you did, then surely time would cut into your Motherhood role.

Am I right?

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Separation Anxiety at Playschool – the drama unfolds

After skiving for 5 days (since we had the flu), I expected Tee to be clingy again when I dropped her off at school this morning; only to be informed that her favourite teacher was absent today.

WHAT?!!!

Tee caught on quickly and held onto me for dear life, started bawling that she only loves Pat (her teacher), she only wants Pat and not the other two teachers horrific gargantulas from Scare City. Oh dear….

The two sweet teachers tried their levelled best to distract her to no avail as my little pumpkin is willful and strong. I stayed in class for an hour and reassured her that I will stay and NOT GO. Once she believed that, she was happily bouncing about like a Easter Bunny.

My escape came when another Mother came late and I quickly told Tee that I had to have a chat with that Mother urgently, waved a swift bye and reassured her I WILL BE BACK!

And dashed out.

2 minutes later, she had stopped whining and continued her Easter Bunny antics.

I checked.

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Toddler Parties

I’ve read that the number of kids you should invite to a toddler’s party is equivalent to the toddler’s age. If she is one year old, you invite one other friend. If she is two, two friends, three – three friends etc. Of course, this is KL and we never follow the rules book.

Most of the parties we’ve attended have anywhere between 15-30 kids per party. What is it with parents? I know….it’s like hosting a wedding. If you invite A, how can you not invite B. Right? Then the invite list gets bigger and bigger and bigger.

I made the decision last year that this year at Tee’s third birthday party, she will have less than a handful of friends. I haven’t yet figured out how this will materialise because in her class alone, there are 11 other kids. Her regular playgroup friends consist of another five. Then there are the friends from the charity I volunteer at (which are more my friends than hers), and then the bits and bops of friends (there must be like what? Thirty of them??) whom she sees like five times a year because there just isn’t enough time to see everyone often enough.

It will be a simple house party (NO MATTER WHAT MY MOTHER SAYS THIS TIME!!!). And we will have this to entertain the handful of kids with so they can BOUNCE away!

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NB – in case you’re wondering what this is, it is a 6 feet diameter mini bouncy castle that has made real estate in my 1800 sf apartment.

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Toddler Flu on Men

Tee brought home a nasty flu from school last week and since then we’ve both been moving around with yellow green snort trickling from our flat noses. Then mine got worst and I was out for a whole day and a half. It’s been a week and the Hubs has finally caught it. He usually manages to withstand our diseases but not this time.

So today he moans when I kick him out of bed, “Please, please….I know it’s Mother’s Day but I really can’t deal with her. Please, my face is numb and my body hurts.”

I ask him, “What do you think Mother’s do when they are stay at home Moms without any help AND THEY HAVE THE FLU LIKE YOU???”

“I know, I know…but I really can’t. I can’t deal with Tee, she’s a different species.”

“YOU JUST DEAL WITH IT!!! Like any other Mother, alright.”

“No, no….please….If I deal with her, I’d have to turn into an alcoholic. You have to be constantly numb to deal with her!”

At which point I cracked up and thumped him with the pillow. My poor Tee…

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“Happy Mother’s Day, Mummy!”

First thing in the morning after I heard not so silent whispers from the Hubs.

Tee later tells me she loves me very much, to the moon and back, forever and ever. She has rehearsed those lines pretty much at the back of her hand and knows when and how to use them.

She loves me because:-

  1. I make her spaghetti
  2. I make her milo
  3. I make her milk
  4. I give her chocolate
  5. I let her wear spaghetti straps (huh?)
  6. I read to her
  7. She loves me, she loves me, she loves me…!!!

I guess up to 6 reasons is where she starts getting bored of thinking up reasons……

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Reality Bites

It’s happened finally. I received my annual blood test results.

Not good.

High Cholesterol (potential heart attack). High Blood Sugar (potential diabetes). Above Average Uric Acid (potential gout). I was warned to exercise at least 4 times a week for at least 20 minutes.

Tell me something I don’t know.

That piece of paper is telling me something.

So last night I vowed that it was the last piece of chocolate cake I was going to have for awhile. Then I had another piece today. What does this mean?

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Youth Cooking Competition

It finally happened. Me and my brilliant idea of a cooking competition for my Mother’s birthday. I really needed to see how far today’s youngsters were willing to go to make an elderly (not that you’re old, mom…) happy and I was curious how they’d fare in the kitchen. The results as follows:-

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Chocolate Surprise by Me, me, me!!! It was a BIG hit, dish was cleaned out. But because it was dessert, it couldn’t really compete with the rest but my Mother knows what a great cook I am anyway. Ahem…

This is the best chocolate cake ever, topped with chocolate mousse/or pudding, then thick cream, then whipped cream, then diced Toblerone chocolate with strawberries and chocolate sprinkles. Refridgerated. Heaven….I could tell everyone was having chocolate orgasms all over my tiny apartment. Heaven and orgasms? Mmmm…..

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This is Chilli Chicken, an old time favourite family dish cooked by my Grandmother. Chilli Chicken is a Portuguese dish cooked purely with dried chillies and vinegar. It is an acquired taste and sends the backside burning (those kinky Portuguese!). I had cravings for this when I was pregnant (ate it every week, straight from the fridge, straight from the wok, whatever, as long as I had it) hence perhaps why my daughter is so fiesty and fiery *sigh*. My grandmother usually makes the best chilli chicken in the entire family but this time round it wasn’t so good. Maybe because she is now 85 years old or maybe because she had to cook this in the dark. Yup, there was a power outage when she was cooking this yet she chose to continue. Bless her heart.

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This was overcooked by my beloved brother. He is 31 years old, does NOT cook but found this Thai scallop vegetable dish from the internet. It was NASTY!!! Not only was it not finished, we threw it out. We kept asking him why it was so sour and he kept defending himself saying it was THAI. Well, it tasted more like errr…..7 day old fishball and beans gone off. EWE…so he has resigned to bringing the KFC bucket for our next pot luck.

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This beef strips and vegetable dish was also overcooked by my brother’s girlfriend. She apologised for the overkill on corn starch but the brocolli and carrots were a little soggy soaked too. Tasted alright, just didn’t feel perfect. 6 out of 10.

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This was a very interesting Chinese wine vegetable dish cooked by a close family friend who also does not cook. It tasted great but was a little overcooked because we nuked it just before serving, perhaps a little too much. It comprised red peppers, shitake mushrooms, ginko, Chinese red seeds, peas, snow peas, ginger and crisp radish.

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Cashewnut prawns cooked by another family friend of 31 years old who ALSO does not cook (now you know why I had the competition – they ALL don’t cook! HAHAHA). It was a winner (with my help….). The participant got the cashew nut chicken recipe off the internet and substituted it with prawns. When she looked into the recipe which said 1 onion, then saw in my kitchen that I had so many different kinds of onions, went into a little panic *roll eyeballs*. Then she asked me if she needed to marinade the prawns first. Huh? Lucky for her, I helped her but unlucky for her there were protests that she didn’t clean and peel the prawns herself. So she got disqualified.

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Thai mango salad cooked by my Mother’s maid. A little heavy on the fish sauce otherwise OK.

There was one more dish not featured here, a great Indian curry chicken (the winner by default) because it arrived late and I was too busy digging into the food by then. It was very spicy, just the way I like it and had like 15 different spices and a LOT of onions. Yum……

All in all, it was a fun evening with some conclusions made that today’s youth (those that surround me anyway) spend way too much time hanging out at cafes and restaurants. I’m sure they all learnt something about themselves after this.

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I leave you with my daughter singing Happy Birthday to my Mother just before we ended the evening with Pictionary and Charades. Thank God there were no complaints from the neighbours!

PLUS Mom said it was the best birthday party she’s ever had despite the huge surprise birthday bash we organised for her at a hotel penthouse for her 50th birthday with a hundred people dressed in themed outfits, emcee, music machine, tons of coordination etc. It was like a mini wedding! Yet, it was this simple labour of love from loved ones who went out of their way to do something they never do, that clinched her heart. It was funny. Watching people who don’t usually cook, cook for the first time, is damn funny. 

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Fat lady Insomnia

5am – I am not asleep.

Tomorrow:-

830am blood results arrive

930am window blinds supplier comes in for measurement

11am kid’s birthday party to attend

1600 help/supervise amateur chef’s cook in my kitchen

1800 final touches on my chocolate surprise dish

1900 guests arrive with their dishes – I’m holding a cooking competition. It’s my Mother’s birthday and she is the JUDGE!!!

2200 make sure Tee is in bed. Keep myself awake with lots of caffeine.

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Validation of a good day

7 blog posts in one evening. See?

Definitely a good day!

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Some days are sane, some days are not

Today was a sane day. I could live with days like that. There have been moments where I’ve told the Hubs, “I can’t do this anymore. I’m not cut out for this. Help me….I need an outlet. Let me get back to work. Something. Anything!”

Yes. I’ve been that desperate.

Then days like today come. And I tell myself, all is above water. No sweat.

I gave Tee my almost all today. It’s funny how when I decide to give her my almost all, she doesn’t seem to be so demanding. I went through the alphabet book with her because SHE wanted to. So she tried writing her alphabet till she got bored. Then she did some stickers. We did her giant jigsaw puzzle one and a half times. Then I read her some stories. After lunch, we made cake together till she wanted to cut hearts.

My blood didn’t bubble at all today. How I wish I could have more days like these.

……………………..Zen……………………….

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Pee on Hearts

Whilst I was busy baking my mother’s birthday cake today (yeah, the cost of medical bills this month threw all plans to buy a cake out of the window. It was that bad.), Tee ran up with some blue paper that she’d rummaged from our study asking me to draw some hearts on it. She said she wanted to cut out hearts. Not thinking anything of it and wanting her to LEAVE ME ALONE, I did as instructed and left it at that; reminding her to be careful with her scissors.

Later, she came along again to ask me to help her open her glue stick. Again, I didn’t bother thinking she probably wanted to do her usual sticking paper onto paper.

But then for quite awhile, there was no pesky disturbances, no attention whining, no royal requests. Just the pitter patter of little feet running to and fro the washroom and the living room, which gave me a hint she was up to something.

So when I finally put the cake into the oven, washed my hands and went in search for her, I was greeted with an extremely excited toddler, chuffed as hell on her play potty (which she has never used).

And then I noticed the blue hearts stuck onto the pink potty…..

And then I saw the book where she got the idea from…..

What can I say? I thought it was SO cute…….she was SO proud of herself.

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Caught in the act

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This is Tee’s class on a Friday. They usually have uniform but this week is book week and they were asked to come in their favourite book characters. Tee was out partying the night before hence the yawn….can you see???

Hang on! Wait! What’s she doing now?

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Oh Lord, woman! Please don’t follow my footsteps. Certainly NOT at two and a half!!!

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My little mermaid….

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Tee doing her best mermaid pose under duress…

And then came the protests…”Are we done yet?!!”

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Printing onto a mug can make you commit crime!

2 weeks ago, I walked into the neighbourhood print shop to order a mug for my mother’s birthday. It was to be a present for my mother from Tee. I had selected 2 cute photographs of Tee to be printed onto the mug and told the counter guy what I wanted in DETAIL. That is to say….I pre-selected the font, the colour, the font size, the font direction and the mug. I do this because I am an architect. I’ve been in marketing. I am a designer. I know what I want. I know EXACTLY what I want. And I also know that if I don’t spell it out CLEARLY in DETAIL, I would NOT get what I want. I was told it would be ready in 3 days.

7 days later, I went to pick up the mug. The mug was chipped. The words were in the wrong direction. The photos were not big enough leaving a lot of white space. I was totally dissatisfied with it. And it showed. I asked them to redo it. I didn’t mind paying for another mug but there was just no way I was going to give such an ugly mug as a present. I also offered to pay for the ugly mug despite the mistake, being the kind sucker that I am. Feeling bad, they gave me a discount.

I then suggested that I review the design of the mug after they inserted the images before it went to print and asked if we had time as I needed it latest by this Friday (today). Very well. I was told to come back in 2 days. I went back in 3 days and waited a whole 2 hours for the shop to open. When it finally did, the guy who serviced me was invincible. So I asked the visible guy about the mug design. Of course, in true Malaysian fashion, he didn’t have a clue. Obviously communication wasn’t a big prerequisite of this print shop. So I made him call the invincible guy who eventually rushed to work. Late. After waiting 2 hours, what was another half hour….

“Oh, can you please walk around? I’ll get it done now.”

“Whaddya mean you’ll get it done now? You were supposed to have done it by Monday night!!!”

“Yeah, err…I had so many problems. You know, my printer wasn’t working….and then…blah blah blah….”

You know, what does creating a design have to do with a bloody printer? The prick thinks he’s dealing with a lemon. I know exactly what it takes to create an artwork in the software that he was using and here he was spinning me a tale.

The fact of the matter was, I was given a date that it would be done. I had gone all the way to see it. It wasn’t done. I was mad. So he quickly resolved our dilemma and offered to email it to me. Fine. I asked again if it could be done by Friday. No problem.

I got the email that very day, approved it and emailed back to say go ahead and print. I did not hear back and wondered if all was going ahead. Assumingly so.

Apparently NOT. I went to pick up the mug today and GUESS WHAT??? It was not ready!!!!

The idiot said I had not come back to confirm the order. So I brought up the email and he asked how I could rely on email, what if he hadn’t received it? I should have called. WHAT THE FUCK???!!!! The bugger has so much time to loiter about with his young Malay girlfriend but has no time to work on my mug!

I totally lost it in front of Tee and some other customers and started talking very calmly, firmly and sarcastically to the bugger who by then began arguing with me to try and turn things around. So instead of arguing further which was going to get us nowhere, I gave him one last chance to resolve the matter. He said he could either go to the headquarters right now and get it within the hour or to come back tomorrow at half eleven.

Well, I had to rush home to put Tee to bed so I couldn’t wait another frigging hour and the next day, we had a birthday party in the morning and then my Mother’s birthday party in the evening. Quite a busy day. But nevertheless, I told him I’d collect it tomorrow and walked out. When I asked him to deliver it to my place, the bugger said it was out of the way. For your information, I live 8 kilometres away (a 5-8 minute drive). We shall see if they charge me for it tomorrow.

I have half the mind to call up the owner and get the bugger sacked!

When we walked back to our car, the Hubs asked why we were diverting. I told him that it was because if I saw the little fucker’s face, I would kill him. And it wasn’t something I wanted to do before my Mother’s birthday.

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Sharing toys – Don’t Undermine Your Kid

What do you do when your kid snatches a toy away from another kid or vice versa?

For the longest time, I’ve made Tee give in. Give in to anything. Just because it is the simple solution. If she takes a toy away from another, I make her give it back. If someone else takes a toy from her, I tell her to play with another toy. For the most part, it has worked. She may grumble a little but I can usually whip up a story good enough to make her forget the old toy. I know some mothers who just remove the toy in question so both parties are denied.

But since that boy punched my daughter at the Thomas the Tank Bouncy Castle at BSC, I’ve been thinking…..

Why didn’t I take action there and then because I really regret it now. I guess I was just stressed by the situation and it seemed like everything happened so fast. She was bawling and all I wanted to do was comfort her so comfort her I did.

But what COULD I have done? The boy’s parents weren’t there. They were hidden away and did not see what happened. Would I have scolded the boy? Would I have told his parents to sort him out? Would I have punched him back (BOY, is that what I want to do right now!) What do you do?

So I had a chat with my paeditrician, the child psychologist. The professional says that I should not undermine my child. If Tee had the toy first, then I should make the other kid wait for XXX amount of time, then make Tee share it once she is done. Likewise, if someone else has the toy first, Tee has to wait XXX amount of time before she can play with it.

The question then is, what is XXX amount of time?

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Depression – A Mommy’s Burnout

You know you have it when you don’t feel like lifting a finger to do anything. I mean….. ANYTHING.

I have tons to do. A house to sell. A house to rent. A proposal to pitch. Some articles to write. A house to clean. Some furniture to design. A house to organise. Food to cook. Emails to send. Phone calls to make. Oh, and a kid to raise. Friends don’t even come into the picture. Nor myself.

I’ve been feeling lifeless for about 2 months now and today was the black bang (you know, when you hit the bottom of the hole….).

I struggled out of bed this morning. Again. Then struggled to get Tee to drink her milk. She didn’t finish it but I didn’t have any energy left so I packed her off to school without breakfast. She wouldn’t eat. I don’t know what else to do.

I parked a distance away from my destination thinking I’d save some money AND get some exercise. The blinking shop I was visiting wasn’t open till 11am so I hung around and had breakfast. Alone.

When the time came, the guy who serviced me wasn’t there. When he finally arrived, the work he was supposed to have completed by YESTERDAY, wasn’t done. Did I flip? You bet.

Picked Tee up from school and rushed her to the dentist. Again she fought lunch. I am so tired of these food fights. So the dentist discovers a mega huge cavity in her lower right molar. A big hole visible with my naked eye. My mother, who was present because they had the same appointment, acted surprised that Tee had too much candy. My mother, the grandmother who feeds Tee in one day – a Bob the Builder Lolly (size 7×3 cm), 15 chocolate balls (size 2cm diameter), 25 Hershey’s versions of M&Ms, a cup of fresh whipped cream, a Chuppa Chup Lolly and 2 Jelly Beans. IN ONE DAY. Within 5 hours. Then the kid can’t sleep. Then the kid can’t wake up. It’s a viscious cycle I hate.

Then when it’s my mom’s turn at the dentist’s chair, she tells him she has ACC. Her tone is patronising and she spits, “To put it bluntly, my cancer is terminal.”

What the fuck was THAT about?

It made me realise that my Mother is very alone in this fight for her life. She obviously feels she needs some pity but I just don’t know how to dish it out. How?

To make matters worst, some bigger kid punched Tee in the face whilst she climbed up the bouncy castle at the mall. There was a bruise and a scratch on her nose. I didn’t see it happen so I didn’t do anything, which I now regret. I was mad at the Bouncy Castle lady because I said I didn’t really want Tee going in it because it looked like she was a lot younger than the rest and she reassured me that there were some even younger than Tee and it wasn’t a problem at all. Sure enough as soon as she stepped in, she got punched. I got a refund.

My mother’s parking ticket wouldn’t register at the paying machine. La didadida…..she gets into a really foul mood every time she visits a dentist as her cancer is at the tongue area and holding her mouth open for any length of time is pure torture. After walking to the ticketing office to sort her spastic ticket out, the ticket wouldn’t work again at the boom gate. She started yelling at the innocent security guard who got so terrified, he opened the boom gate immediately for her without any checks. Mind you this is a mall where women have been abducted and murdered.

I forgot to add….my Mother also came down after her dental treatment to yell at the Bouncy Castle people for not operating professionally enough and causing her precious grandaughter grievous harm (her version). Only that the person she scolded was totally innocent as well – he had just changed work shifts with the previous lady. Nevertheless, he got the disappointed attention of all the surrounding shopkeepers. And shoppers.

For some reason, I had like 8 heavy bags to carry out when I arrived home. What the fucking fuck! And 3 had to be carried out immediately because they had to be refridgerated. Tee was asleep. I tried waking her because I was mad at her for sleeping at the wrong time. You know how it is? Eat at lunch. Eat at lunch. Eat at lunch. Nooooooooooooo. Then 2 hours later, “Mummy, I’m hungwy. I need to eat now. I’M HUNGWY!!!” Same thing. She wouldn’t wake. So I struggled with her on one arm and the 3 heavy bags and the car keys and the house keys and using my toes to open doors and press lifts, I did this all with a smile. Sweating like a wrestler on WWF. Or is it WWC?

I throw her onto bed, dump the groceries into the fridge and head down for round two. Once all is settled, I sit and stare into space. I feel sad. I feel bushed. I feel overwhelmed. I feel tired. I ask myself…..when. I stare into space till Tee wakes two hours later. Then I put on my happy face and we have a shower. I ask her what she’d like for dinner as I’d not planned anything and she happily suggested we go out for dinner.

So whilst we’re chatting away in the car, I miss a turn and we end up in Chow Kit (prostitute city) and I am worried. I don’t know the area and it is filled with one way streets and dead end cul de sacs. I call the Hubs for directions. I panic and Tee panics. The area is clearly different from what we’re used to. She is suddenly quiet and helps me with directions as per the Hubs. When I finally find my way out, I rejoice and we start our banter again. I told her Mummy wasn’t concentrating hence why we got lost.

The little imp sniped, “Concentrate next time, then!” To think that SHE was the bane of my concentration or lack of.

After Tee sleeps, I tell the Hubs I am depressed. “So am I! You think I have anytime for anything???” 

WRONG ANSWER.

He starts getting defensive. I start recoiling.

Then as true soulmates, we talk. We talk and I realise that my husband is still the only person on this planet who can talk me out of the blues and actually make me feel happy. The old grouch still has his magic. I hope he has it forever.

x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x

Tomorrow is another day…..

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Super Healthy Fish & Vegetable Pasta

I modified this dish ala Annabel Karmel (who is great with baby/toddler food) and it turned out real yum, not only for Tee but for the Hubs. So here it is if you want a really nutritious meal for baby that tastes fantastic enough for Papa. Apologies that it is not in conventional recipe format but this is coming out of my head direct. 🙂 And I admit. I am a lazy arse.

1 piece of lemon sole fish 200g poached in 150ml milk with 10 peppercorns, chopped parsley and coriander plus some spring onions, if desired. Remove the cooked fish and keep milk liquid aside.

Cook leek (5 inches) in a dollop of butter. Then add in chopped up carrots (half a carrot), broccoli (8 sprigs) and 1 chopped up tomatoe. Add water just enough to cover vegetables and boil till vegetables go soft (15-20 minutes). Boil some pasta shells (5 fistfuls) separately. Grate 50g of cheddar cheese.

Once vegetables are cooked, combine vegetable water with fish liquid and simmer. Turn off fire and stir in cheese to melt. Then pour in vegetable mix, pasta and flaked fish and mix, mix, mix. Add black pepper, salt and chilli flakes (if you wish – I am an addict). VOILA!!! Delicious.

Recipe makes enough for 2 adults and 1 toddler. It offers more than your daily dose of Vitamin A and C, 65% of your iron and calcium requirement, lots of fibre and low in salt.

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