18

I better start writing down everything which I've been intending to write before my memory fails me.

1. Farah is now almost 18 months. The tests she went through show that she's anaemic. She's on an iron supplement now. There's an article in today's Mind Your Body about how deficiency in iron and copper affects sleep because some hormones (or something) which induce a restful sleep need iron to ensure that it's released (or something along that line; the main point is, if you dont have enough iron and copper, you won't sleep well). The iron supplement must have finally entered the blood stream last night because she woke up only twice. And she's been napping rather well too.

2. The few nights before last night was most most challenging. Perhaps because my period was coming, my milk supply was pretty low. (That always happens a few days before my period arrives.) She latched on for a long looooong time and woke up at least 4 times at night. I stopped counting at 4 because I was so zonked out. It was driving me to tears and so I resorted to formula milk. Good 'ol formula milk, my saviour.

3. I have been letting Farah play with the milk bottle for about two months (?) now and occasionally, she drinks some milk from it. I no longer give her chilled milk. Just milk at room temperature. So last night, when she started fretting at 11pm, I gave her a bottle of milk. At 4am, she woke up again and I gave her another bottle. Both times, she took it readily. There was a bit of rejection at first but it was nowhere as violent as it was with Huda.

I foresee a future when I can get at least 6 hours of uninterrupted sleep. I hope that future is soon.

I will still breastfeed her in the day. Maybe I'll give her one bottle of milk in the daytime but I won't completely stop breastfeeding until I go back to work. Which is most probably in June next year.

4. Have I written about that? I'm most likely extending my NPL by another 6 months. If you are envious, there's really nothing to be envious about. It's all about trade-offs. Money is of course, the big one. I'm not earning any (save for tuition - and even so I'm dreadfully lazy and I only have one assignment which I tried my best to not take), am dependent on my husband's income. I'm reluctant to dip into my savings other than to pay for insurance and (if I ever do continue) my driving lessons. If not for the internet, I will have very very little communication with the outside world. I have no excuse not to cook. But when it comes to cooking, I have since found saviours in two things: a) 3hungrytummies.blogspot.com - really reliable recipes and b) any recipes from Asmah Laili.

Lest you think I'm complaining, I'm not. :)

5. We brought the girls to the mosque to perform Maghrib prayers in preparation for the nightly tarawih prayers during Ramadan. I was completely horrified by H's lack of mosque etiquette. Immediately after the prayers ended, she shouted for her father who was 3 storeys down. Shouted. I don't know where to put my face. My sister told me that these kids need reminding of the expected behaviour every time. But, while I would expect the younger one to do this, I was aghast to find my 4-year-old doing this. Someone without kids would say that they are just kids. But if you have a 4-year-old yourself, you would know that by this age, they know better. Gaaaah! I need to take them to the mosque more often so as to acquaint them with the proper etiquette so that I can perform the tarawih prayers at the mosque at least 3-4 times this Ramadan.

This is not the first time we perform our prayers at a mosque. We have done this a number of times. So for my beloved H to behave so uncharacteristically is not quite acceptable.

6. I'm teaching H how to read the Quran using the Iqra' books. The Iqra' books is something like Arabic phonics. Book 1 is very simple. We are now at Book 2 (out of 6) and it's getting challenging. My Queen of Excuses can come up with the most jaw-dropping excuse to escape Book 2 (she wants to read Book 1 forever).

She has ulcers on her mouth a few days ago. Not HFMD. She bit her lips when she fell and ulcers developed. She came back from school. Showered, played. Ate dinner with some sambal, mind you. Even ate a piece of cut chilli. Played some more. Then, I told her that it was time for Iqra'. Suddenly, she was all whimpery. "Bibir Huda sakit." My lips hurt.

7. I was telling The Husband that I wish to be one of those zen, enlightened mothers who never have to raise their voice or invoke fear in their children to get them to do anything. But sometimes, I think that is what works.

So sometimes, shouting and rotan work hand in hand. No rotan, balloon stick  (ie, the stick that comes with those balloons that they give away at events and shopping centres) also can.

8. I realise that Huda is pretty much like me in some ways. (Hopefully not the coming up with excuses part.) During the Meet-the-Parents session, her teachers told me that she didn't enjoy colouring as much as her friends. Her cikgu says she will finish the writing/matching/circling part very quickly but if she has to colour, she'll just take a colour pencil and with big big strokes, cover the picture in scrawls. And during her most recent concert, she dances like me (which is really really not saying much).

My former colleagues would attest to that. I had to take down notes to remember the steps. Something like "Wipe windows right x 3. Turn around. Wipe windows left x 3..."

And when I was a student, the subject I hated most was Art and Craft. In Primary 1, I came home crying because my teacher wanted us to draw something in our Health Education book. My mother ended up drawing it for me. This crying whenever drawing is involved is a recurrent theme in my life. Various family members would inevitably take pity on me and help me (only after rounds and rounds of laughter - at me).  I was so glad to get rid of A&C by the time I was in Sec 3. But not before being a complete A&C teacher's nightmare in Sec 2.

9. Farah likes all forms of entertainment. Rough-and tumble games, nursery rhymes and being sung to are some of her likes. I'm not sure if I'm doing damage to her musical ability by singing to her. I'm really not good at anything to do with the arts. She plays rough with her sister and I know she can defend herself. She may be tiny but she packs a mighty wallop. Poor Huda has scars to show for it. No bruises, thankfully.

10. She can be a loud and boisterous child at home but the moment we are in the company of people she's not too familiar with, she will be on her guard. She takes quite some time to warm up to people. That's fine by me. I'm not sure if I want a rambunctious, boisterous child who is like that 24/7. At least in the company of others, there's an 'OFF' button even if it's temporarily.

11. I don't worry about Farah's development as much as I fussed over Huda's. Occasionally, I check the milestones and I think that Farah is moving along just fine. She's not far ahead and neither is she lagging behind her peers. What's important is I have a happy, healthy child (slightly underweight lah but not worryingly so).

As usual, it is now the wee hours of the morning. I am no longer making sense and I don't know if I myself can understand half of what I'm writing when I wake up tomorrow morning.

Questions

1. Huda is now a very protective older sister. Overprotective, we think. The first time we noticed such behaviour, we thought it was cute. Endearing even. But now...

Farah, being all of 17 months old, wants independence. She wants lots of it. If we are at a shopping centre, she wants to walk all by herself. It doesn't matter if she's not heading where we wanna go. She does not care one bit. If I dare stop her and carry her, she'll throw a mighty fit which involves violently swinging her body and arching her back making it impossible to carry her unless you have a very firm grip. Accompanying that is of course a prolonged roaring from her. Sometimes, I'll put her down on the floor and she'll start rolling all over the floor (of the shopping centre, if you have forgotten where we were), kicking and screaming.

So, whenever she has visions of independence and we have the time, I will just let her walk about. I'll be a short distance away (about a metre or less), just enough space for her to assert her independence and for me to keep a watchful eye over her and anyone with evil thoughts on my daughter. (Having said that, however, I must tell anyone who has any intention of kidnapping her of her incessant nightly cries. The kidnappers will pay me to take her back.)

Anyway, coming back to the main point, Huda gets jittery and panicky the moment Farah is more than 5cm away from me. "Mak, mak mesti angkat Farah." Mak, you must carry Farah, says Huda in a whiny tone. "Mak tak boleh tinggalkan Farah." You cannot leave her behind.

Imagine. Every single time Farah goes wondering about (under close supervision, mind you), I will have the overprotective sister badgering me not to abandon her. Every single time. I will ask her if I have ever abandoned Farah. She will look thoughtful, realised it has never happened but continue whining anyway.

AARGH!! It drives me nuts!

What on earth can I do about this?



2. I managed to give Farah the bottle on 3 occasions on 3 consecutive nights!

She cried.
I ignored her.

Cried some more.
Ignored her again.

Cried one more time.
I made a bottle of milk.

She went back to sleep.
The bottle of milk went to the fridge.

Cried.
Milk came out of the fridge.
Too sleepy to heat it up.
Gave her the chilled milk.
She finished all 5 oz.

Next night.
She cried.
I made the milk.
Gave her the milk.
She refused.
I put inside the fridge.

Cried again.
Gave her the chilled milk.
She finished all 5 oz.

The following night, she finished all 6 oz.

So for 3 nights, she has breastmilk at around 8pm, one bottle of milk at around 2/3am and then wakes up at around 7am. This is a huge improvement from waking up 4-6 times a night for milk. Hooray!

I wonder if it's okay to give a kid chilled milk in the middle of the night. It just does not seem right.



3. H has been coughing for 3 days but I have not taken her to the clinic. Sigh. Thought she would get better using the cough medicine she received 3 months ago but looks like tomorrow will be spent waiting for our turn at the clinic. Isn't there a magical remedy for kids' cough?



4. I had been calling my girls Princess MonMon. They took turns to be Princess MonMon. Rarely were they on MonMon's throne together. Normally, it's the younger girl who ascended the throne.

Originally, MonMon is simply short for Monster.

The monstrous behaviour the younger one displayed at night started the entire thing. But ever since I started calling her that, her night-time behaviour worsened. See? My mom always tells me not to say bad things, nanti jadi do'a. Everything you say is a supplication and so, if you say nonsensical things, your request may just be granted.

So while I still call them PrincessMonMon, it is now Mon for montel. Chubby. 


It's 1.35am now. I'm reeling from Brazil's loss but at least I still have Argentina.

/end of disjointed thoughts



Oh wait! One more.

5. My friend put up the song Don't Cry by Naked on her facebook wall. Mak kau.. Lagu jiwang habis seh. (Gosh.. what an emo song.) It reminds me so much of my JC days. Actually quite a few songs from the year 94/95 remind me of my JC days because that was the only period of time in my life when I used the walkman heavily. Before that, in secondary school, we were not allowed to bring such devices to school. Besides the journey to school then was too short. Clementi to Queenstown. In JC, it was Woodlands to Jurong. The walkman, along with Amelia and sometimes Nomad, was my regular travelling companion. Later on, in NUS, the walkman was hardly used because it was just too inconvenient to stuff the earphones under my tudung. Besides, the MRT provided a smooth enough ride for me to do my tutorials and readings so there was no need for entertainment.

I met my primary school friends last week and other than my classmates I am pretty clueless about my schoolmates in primary school. My memory of primary school is very hazy. In secondary school, I found a few close friends but I was still rather reticent. I woke up from my stupor in JC and that was when I started enjoying school activities and everything that life had to offer.

And so, I always remember my JC life with a lot more nostalgia and fondness than any other periods in my life. I'm gonna go into reminiscing mode now while waiting for the Uruguay-Ghana match to start.

Toodles!