Take Care, Miss Lim!

Lately, this part of my Multiply site is looking more and more like some message board.

Kailing, have a great, great, great time in UK! I so envy you for being able to take time off to study. At UK, some more. Tsk. That was my dream a looooong time ago but well, knowing me and my procrastinating ways, it has yet to materialise. Instead, I've been bugging Man to go and find a course to do there for a year while I continue my taitai ways there.

You'll definitely miss your family very much in the first few weeks but don't let that stop you from achieving your dreams. You'll feel much better by the 3rd month, I'm sure. :) Burying yourself in your work is perhaps a good way to distract yourself. So, perhaps, it's a blessing that the delays cropped up so you won't have much time to miss your loved ones.

But one year is not that long. Just look at my NPL; it's almost coming to an end. So, we'll meet again soon.

Take care and I'm sorry I can't be there in December!! (If only they have a flight with a huge playroom - ummm.. there is, I realise. I just have to charter my own flight.)

888

Ai Li, you cannot keep your table neat, huh? I also cannot. As if you don't know. I think there must be a course somewhere in TRAISI on this.

And so here are random facts about me and (can I cheat? of course I can) people around me.

1. I keep on forgetting if Ai Li's name is spelled Aili or Ai Li. There are some things which my brain is simply not wired for and spelling is one of them. I can't spell occasion/ocassion and I can't figure out if it's spelled or spelt. Sometimes, things like that bother me enough to get out of the bed at night and check the dictionary.

2. That brings me to #2. I am becoming quite an insomniac this year. My brain will be whirring with activity even when the rest of my body is screaming for sleep. I think it's because the first two years of motherhood is physically challenging but not so taxing mentally so my brain (should it be brain or brains cos we do have a set of two brains, right?) is severely underused and it returns the favour at about 1 am in the morning.

3. I can tolerate messiness but dirt is not a friend. If a place is very dirty and I'm stuck there for a while, I'll get depressed. Seriously depressed. But it has to be terribly dirty to make me depressed. A bit of dust here and there in someone else's house does not bother me. In fact, I feel relieved that other people have problems with dust too. Sometimes, I find myself trying to surreptitiously wipe the dust off other people's TV cabinets. NO, you may not invite me to your house when you are doing spring cleaning. My siblings used to think that I have OCD. Because I'll be mopping the floor of my room at 11.30pm at night. I used to be unable to sleep in an unmade bed. Hmm. I think I did have OCD. I also married the right person because my husband cannot tolerate messiness. So, between us, our place looks pretty okay. We just have no eye for design.

4. And that gives me an idea for #4! Our house is very, very plain. It's very functional but no spot in the house will make it into the pages of home decoration magazines. I am aesthetically handicapped. And The Husband is only interested in having things at right angles and correct symmetry. (He's another OCD case, I'm sure.)  How handicapped am I? In primary school, whenever drawing was involved, I'd cry non-stop and my mother would end up drawing for me. My mother was not so free to draw for me all the time so there was once in Primary 3 when I had to draw a picture of a goat. Of course, I cried and cried the whole night but nobody wanted to help me. In the end, my 5-year-old brother drew the goat for me. That is still a story exchanged at family gatherings. In secondary 1 & 2, my mother and sister did some of my art work for me. In Sec 2, one of my art work was put up in class. But it wasn't mine. It was conceptualised by me, drawn by my mother and painted by my sister.

WAH!! From not quite knowing what to write at first, I've written 4 rather lengthy paragraphs about my deepest, darkest secrets! Now, for 4 more.

5. There are times when I just have a strong and urgent need to break into Singlish. These moments usually surface in the middle of an English Language class or when I'm in a meeting with complete strangers. I can't! I can't!! I'm a fraud! I don't speak English! Singlish is my first language!

6. If I need to poo, I almost always rush back home for it. I can't poo satisfactorily in public toilets. Because I hover. This, I'm quite sure, is related to my OCD.

7. A few days ago, my mother was rearranging a part of the house and she moved the entire box of albums from one area to another. I took a look at the albums and it is for the sake of world peace, international harmony and well, generally being concerned about everyone's welfare, photos of myself from the time I started wearing Coke-bottle glasses (Primary 4) to the time I discovered contact lenses (NUS, Year 1) will be banned from the public space. The photos are frightening. If you are pregnant, you should not look at them. Those photos are the type that can make even the most good-natured child bawl and not sleep the entire night. SCARY. If you happen to go to my mother's house for whatever reason, do not go near the shelf where she puts the photo albums. Please treat this as a warning and I shall not be liable for any permanent damage you may face as a result of viewing such photos.

8. Thank you for  reading up to this point. I think if you have successfully read up to this point, I should reward you with something short and sweet to end all revelations about myself. So, I shall end this with a piece of secret which is really embarrassing. I'm scared to death of irregular shaped sponge. (There's yet another long story to go with that but I think you should be very breathless and tired by now so I'll spare you.)

Hmm. That wasn't as difficult as I thought it would be. Reading would be a pain, though.

Thank You, Mrs Kong!

BIRD!!!!!

Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!! Thank you for suggesting Milo!

Last night, I added half a teaspoon of Milo to Nan 3. (I think Milo + goat milk would have tasted so weird cos goat milk stinks real bad.) I wasn't expecting much cos the last time I added Milo to her Pediasure, she didn't like it much. But, Rohana reminded me about the 8-10 exposures, so I should give it another shot.

At first, Huda flatly refused the bottle and when I tried spoonfeeding her, she pushed my hand away, spilling her milk all over the mattress. GRRRRRR.

Then, she got tired of fighting and took the bottle.

She started drinking - 20 ml - before she passed the bottle back to me.

She tossed and turned and when she finally found a comfortable position on my lap, she took the bottle from my hands and finished everything up! I just have to repeat that. Finished  E-V-E-R-Y-T-H-I-N-G.

It was 12.30am. The Husband & I just could not stop gushing about how Huda guzzled everything.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Irrelevant Pictures of Huda in a Something-That's-Supposed-To-Be-A-Sari

Weber

Now that I am attempting to wean Huda off, there are two unintended consequences of this process.

1. Huda doesn't wake up as often at night

Woohooooooooooo!!! This means, I am finally having better sleep at night. I have not yet reached the stage of an uninterrupted 6 hours of sleep but 4 hours of continuous snooze is good.

 

Last night, she only woke up at 1am and 6am, after going to sleep at 8pm. Nice.

 

2. She's eating more

Woooooooohoooooohoooooooooooooooooo!!! Finally! This is most probably the result of rejecting all the bottled milk that I've been trying to give her. Now, she's eating a slice of bread for breakfast, a couple of biscuits in between meals, 4 tablespoons of rice/porridge for lunch, another slice of bread for tea and 4 more tablespoons of rice/porridge for dinner. Ooookay. Some of you are rolling your eyes. Big deal for some, I know. But this little kid used to make her momma cry when she only took 2 teeny eeeny little bites for lunch and that was it. She's one fussy eater. Still is. But at least she's eating more now. And I must be grateful for that.

 

 

However. There is still that little problem with the bottle of milk. She's beginning to reject it with greater frequency and ferocity these days. That, I'm having great difficulty dealing with. But I'll save that for another day, hoping and praying that she will hate the bottle less.

The Kite Runner

Rohana, babe. This is the long reply to your SMS. ;)

When I saw your SMS, I was pretty excited about the movie too. I have to admit that I prefer Splendid Suns to Kite Runner. But I suppose because I read Splendid Suns first, I had ridiculously high expectations of Kite Runner. Kite Runner seems to have too neat a story. Everything is perfectly connected and seamless. Like, it's so easy to find a kid at an orphanage in Afghanistan? Afghanistan is a country with only one orphanage and say, 14 kids in it? Still, I thought, must watch.

Then I saw that report in today's Straits Times.

That the boy acting as the young Hassan is paid USD10, 000. Yes, that's a lot of money in a country where teachers are paid USD70. What's the going rate for child actors these days? I'm not too sure of the amount but I'm pretty certain that movies made by big, big companies with deep, deep pockets normally pay lead roles a lot more than USD10, 000?

And, the boy's family is worried about the rape scene in the movie. When the father expressed his concern, he was told that they would cut the scene? Somehow, I find that dificult to believe because the rape scene is an integral part of the story. It's when things seriously change. Were the big movie execs just trying to placate the father?

I dunno.

Now, I have misgivings about this movie.  :(

Weaning Ways

Part 2 of my attempt to wean Huda off breastmilk (this is for raggedyanne, whose nunu is a hantu t*t*k)

I told myself to diligently jot down the amount of milk that she drinks, what time it is, how long it takes to finish that amount, whether she can finish the amount etc BUT, this 'myself' who's tasked with the job simply made mental notes and nothing, absolutely nothing, on paper. Sigh. Now, how on earth am I supposed to crunch the data and figure out the whats, whens, whys and hows of weaning with no statistical back-up? Nad, you cow.

So far, I've fed her goat milk (stinks; but she liked it), Pediasure (nope), Nan 3 (okay in small amounts) and Dugro 1 Plus (she finished it but only if spoonfed). Each time I put in 2 moderately heaped teaspoons of the milk powder and added water til it reached the 100ml mark on the Avent bottle. Why Avent? Because, someone told me that the teats are big and if the kids can be duped, they can think that the silicone stuff around their lips is their mothers' breasts. (Sidetrack a bit - can those who've had silicone implants breastfeed?)

Day 3 of Weaning is okay. In the morning, she took about 40ml of Nan 3, spoonfed. And in the afternoon 80ml of Dugro 1 Plus. (I was supposed to make 100ml but I stopped pouring water at the 80ml mark and hmmm... I dunno leh? Why I never go on to 100, ah? \bimbo)

She also did not nurse to sleep. Hooray! Ah, this one is another story. For the past few weeks, in preparation for that one day when I would start weaning Huda off, I have stopped nursing Huda to sleep. In the past, it would be me spending an hour or more, lying down in the room, breastfeeding Huda. But, a few weeks ago, I would feed her in the living room and when she's had her fill, I'd pass her to The Husband who would make her sleep (by gripping her tightly, completely preventing her from moving about, tolerating her 140-decibel cries) and she would sleep in 10 minutes or less. Such miracle!

Of course, some days, she would fall asleep while being nursed in the living room. I think she purposely fell asleep to avoid her father's Sleep Grip (registered trademark).

So, where was I?

On Day 1, after she took in even more milk at 2am in the morning (errrrrr... I practically sat on her, stuffed the bottle into her mouth and held her head in place using my knees - do I hear the sound of someone calling some ministry to complain about child abuse? :PPPPPP), she fell asleep again. As I looked at her innocent sleeping face, I started feeling the pangs of guilt and overwhelming feeling of sadness that mothers who have successfully weaned their children feel. I questioned myself, doubted my decision, almost regretted my decision, thought of not going through with my decision. Sigh. Why is it so difficult?

I initially thought I had gone through hell when I tried to make Huda latch on direct after her 1 and half month stint in the hospital. But, no. Hell is weaning. The process is tough but the battle you have to wage within yourself is worse. Feelings vacillate from hour to hour. Like, now. I'm engorged. Should I just let her have the freshest milk possible? Or should I persist and let her have bottled milk? I can't bring myself to hand-express and see all the milk wasted. Gaaaaaaaaahhh!!!

---

Psssssst - For those who shudder at my liberal use of the word breast, sorry hor? But childbirth and breastfeeding (and having the lactation consultant knead your breasts like it's some prata dough) will desensitise you. Breasts are not so sexual anymore. They are merely milk bottles. Only better. So convenient. No sterilising needed. Milk is fresh all the time. Sigh. There I go again.

Goat

This entry has nothing to do with ants, broken speaker stands or glasses.

I am now actively trying to wean Huda off breastmilk. It has been 18 months; my target was 2 years but I think I've got to start weaning her off NOW if

a) I intend to return to the workforce (boohoohooo!!!) in January and not have to pump; and

b) I want baby #2 to appear before I turn 40

This morning, I decided to try Karihome's Goat Milk on the kid. And she managed to take 30ml of it, spoonfed. My sister-in-law managed to spoonfeed 4 ounces of milk to my niece. That's almost 120ml! If every tiny spoonful is about 0.5ml, she would have to stuff the spoon into her daughter's mouth a gazillion times!!

Just now, the little kid woke up from sleep and insisted on more breastmilk, direct from the source, mind you. I sooooooooooooooo regret not pumping diligently when I started going on my no-pay-leave. For baby #2, I am definitely going to insist on the kid downing at least one bottle of expressed breastmilk daily. That way, weaning won't be as tough as it is now.

So, I gave her 10 minutes of breastmilk after which I prepared 2 ounces of goat's milk. I spoonfed her and, she took in about 10ml. Then, I tried making her drink from the bottle like it's a cup (no teats; she was playing with the teat) and the smell must have put her off. She put the teat on the bottle so I screwed it on for her and she started drinking the milk from the bottle!!!!

She didn't take much. Only about 30ml. But, it's a good start.

I have already made my baju kurung with zippers by the side. It's okay if I don't have to pull down the zippers this Hari Raya. I am slowly warming up to the idea of having a thermos flask, powdered milk, bottled water, bottles, bottle warmers and the entire milk-making paraphernalia in the luggage that I'll have to lug around during Hari Raya visiting.

Another Object Broken

Dear Husband,

Your daughter has not been at her best behaviour.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

.

Ants

SATURDAY, 1.30PM

I pulled out a file in which I kept recipes cut out from magazines.

As I was lying down and flipping through the plastic folders which I have not touched for more than a year, I noticed ants.

More ants.

More, more ants.

AAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGHHHHHHH!!!! An entire colony of ants have set up home in one of the folders!!

I held the file with my trembling fingers, stifled my scream (because Huda was beside me and she must not grow up a wimp like me - if not, who will help me clean up ant colonies when I'm old and decrepit and The Husband is equally old and decrepit?), threw the file into the sink and turned on the tap to drown the ants. (Yes, I AM cruel.)

With chattering teeth and hair raising on its ends, I banged on the toilet door where The Husband was and asked for help. The Husband, always amused by how cockroaches and lizards do not send me scurrying to him, grinned cos he knew that hero worship time had come.

I looked at the shelf where the file came from and (yikes! yikes! yikes!!) there the rest of the ants, quickly forming a thick black line moving off to an undisclosed location, far away from the recipe books shelf. Shivering with extreme ickiness, I pointed to the shelf and Hero Husband once again came to the rescue and wiped away the remaining ants.

"Maybe, they were attracted to the picture of the foods in your file," Hero Husband explained. "They wanted to eat the food."

 

SUNDAY, 4.30AM

I woke up for Sahur and I saw a thick black line snaking from behind the microwave oven to a cupboard above the recipe book shelf.

Hero Husband swiftly went into action. He wiped off the ants, found out where they were heading - the nest was rapidly being built, whitish powdery substances lacing disposable paper plates which were then immediately disposed - and anihilate, anihilate, annihilate.

 

SUNDAY, 10AM

An occasional ant spoted here and there, killed at sight by Wimpy Wife. Another ant sighted. Squashed. Three ants having a conference. Die, die, die!

 

MONDAY, 5.15AM

"You know, ah, ever since we started our war on ants, they seem to have disappeared. They no longer appear in our water jug," Wimpy Wife told Hero Husband.

"That's what you think. They are regrouping, planning their next strategy, planning their revenge."

"Do you think they'll know it's me?"

"Yeah. You better be scared. They are going to attack you while you sleep. Enter your ears and nose. Beware."

Gulp.

Men, Women and ?

I thought my sister was pulling my leg. But, no. It's true.

From Channel News Asia's website:

First Tree Climbing Championship attracts over 20 participants

SINGAPORE: It was literally a race to the top when over 20 participants took part in Singapore's first tree climbing competition.

It took place in Dhoby Ghaut and using a rope and saddle, the climbers were seen pulling themselves up skilfully.

The participants are judged on their footwork and poise and are also awarded points each time they reach a new target.

The competition was divided into three categories - men, women and foreign workers. ...  http://www.channelnewsasia.com/stories/singaporelocalnews/view/299854/1/.html

FOREIGN WORKERS?????!!!!!!!

Space

I have been sending blog entries via email and I hate how there's a huge space between paragraphs when I press Enter.

I shall no longer be pressing Enter twice.

This has been a rather meaningless post.

WAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAA!

Sleep Mode

An idle mind is not good.

 

So how do you keep a mind occupied?

 

By going to work?

 

Surely there must be other means.

Fears

Hmm.

 

My fears, many.

 

Heh heh.

 

I fear that:

 

1. I will become too tired without living my life.

 

Among other things.

 

But now, I must get some sleep because the alarm clock says I have about 3 hours and 46 minutes before the alarm goes off.

A Woman of Nice Substance

After days of internal questioning, I've figured out the problem that kept me awake at night.

 

I fear that I am becoming substance-less.

 

When I look at others, I realise that besides having great brains (which then makes me feel like a retard), they also have beliefs and values that they strongly hold to.

 

Me?

 

I am never militant about my beliefs - be they religion, breastfeeding, service quality, you get the idea. Never.

 

Then, there's the realisation that I am actually a boring person. I listen to people but I don't provide quality comments, opinions or advice. I'm just a listener, a sponge.

 

There was once The Husband told me, after I related my experience with him, that my behaviour was okay because it was important to have principles. And now, I can't even remember what had irked me so much that I stood my ground.

 

But, that's the thing about me. Even if something annoyed me, I would (normally) just keep it to myself and tell The Husband about it later. I do not stand up for my beliefs.

 

Which then reminds me about something that happened in Secondary 4 when my English teacher made us think of adjectives that alliterate with our names. Not being able to think of any adjectives which really applied to me, I said, I am Nice Nad. And Miss Lim Q F immediately banned the word Nice, because 'nice' is - I can't remember what exactly she said - meaningless, or something like that. So, I think I said I was Narcissistic Nad, which I'm not because I really don't care much about my appearance. But I couldn't put my name together with any other adjectives beginning with N - necrophiliac? narcotic? nasty?

 

Anyway, nice.

 

Nice people are boring and spineless.

 

Is that what I am?

 

Perhaps.

Broke

What does it mean to be broke?

 

I know a woman who had to forgo discounted diapers at NTUC because if she bought the diapers, she'd have absolutely no money for her transport to work for the next 2 days.

 

I am thankful that I do not have to face such a dilemma.

 

Money (for now) is enough for the three of us even though we are living on one income. I can still afford extras like taxi rides. Alhamdulillah.

 

I'm going back to work next year to build a bigger nest-egg.

 

What am I saving for? I have no idea. As it is, my savings remain pretty much untouched now.

 

But, I fear that a day will come when I'll be broke. How that will happen, I have no idea but the thought that such a day may come is very scary.

 

 

Crooked and Broken

This is my fourth pair this year.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Her fingerprints are all over it.