Cold Storage Kids' Run 2010
Some of the things we did in the presence of the camera in the last three months. And there were also many things done without the camera present.
Tuesday, August 03, 2010
May June July '10
Cold Storage Kids' Run 2010
Some of the things we did in the presence of the camera in the last three months. And there were also many things done without the camera present.
Friday, July 30, 2010
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.
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.
Saturday, July 03, 2010
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!
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!
Tuesday, June 29, 2010
Misery
I am miserable.
I've been spending intimate moments (line stolen from my second brother) with Johnson Suisse since 2.50am this morning. Things have come out from both ends. I am not pregnant.
I woke up in the wee hours of the morning thinking I could catch the Brazil-Chile match. But 20 minutes into the game, my stomach was having some kind of Jabulani party. And the sounds of the vuvuzelas that accompanied it..
I'm so weak and miserable now. TheHusband took the morning off to settle the kids but he couldn't take the entire day off. Farah's diaper is as dry as a bone. This is a good time to wean her off but I could barely carry her, what more deal with her violent protests should I try to stuff the milk bottle in her mouth.
Go away, upset tummy.
I've been spending intimate moments (line stolen from my second brother) with Johnson Suisse since 2.50am this morning. Things have come out from both ends. I am not pregnant.
I woke up in the wee hours of the morning thinking I could catch the Brazil-Chile match. But 20 minutes into the game, my stomach was having some kind of Jabulani party. And the sounds of the vuvuzelas that accompanied it..
I'm so weak and miserable now. TheHusband took the morning off to settle the kids but he couldn't take the entire day off. Farah's diaper is as dry as a bone. This is a good time to wean her off but I could barely carry her, what more deal with her violent protests should I try to stuff the milk bottle in her mouth.
Go away, upset tummy.
Monday, June 21, 2010
Bare
Dear Husband@work,
I was washing the dishes. I turned around and this greeted me.
Please take note of the metres of cling wrap and aluminium foil pulled out. Please also note the Ziploc sandwich bags scattered behind her.
I scolded her, shooed her away from the kitchen and went about putting things right.
Coming out of the kitchen, I saw this:
I was washing the dishes. I turned around and this greeted me.
Please take note of the metres of cling wrap and aluminium foil pulled out. Please also note the Ziploc sandwich bags scattered behind her. I scolded her, shooed her away from the kitchen and went about putting things right.
Coming out of the kitchen, I saw this:
-
Sunday, June 20, 2010
Wake-ah
WARNING: This is dreadfully dull but it's here anyway so that my dear dear children will know what they were up to when they read this blog a few years down the road.
Socceroo
I am a sometime soccer fan. I don't follow the local league; neither do I follow the European leagues but once every 4 years, I'll savour every little story about the World Cup I can get. (They can be very blistering at times but written with such wry humour - one player from France was described as "loitering without intent on the right". You just gotta read such brilliantly written stories again and again.) And it's not just the stories I read. I also stay up to catch the matches. To the detriment of my sleep. The last match of the day kicks off at 2.30am. Lest you think I paid the telcos $90+ for such a privilege, I watch it free over the internet. The wonders of technology!
Anyway. I can't sleep now not because I'm staying up for the 2.30am Denmark-Cameroon match - I've decided that I absolutely must have more than 4 hours of sleep today - but because I'm so disheartened by Australia's draw. They fought so valiantly but things were not meant to be.
Wake-ah Wake-ah. This Time For Snoozing
So, my sleeplessness means I'll be writing about my kids here.
I've decided that June is the month when I'll start attempting to wean Farah off breastmilk. I have been thinking about it for months now but something I read somewhere strenghtened my resolve. It says that you should stop when you are not enjoying it. I wasn't enjoying it anymore because this little girl could wake up up to 6 times a night for milk. Actually, it's not that she woke up for milk. She woke up for various reasons but each time, she woke up with a loud loud loud and prolonged cry. And the only way to silence her was to feed her.
Starting from the end of May, I tried to replace the middle-of-the-night feeds with plain water, fresh milk and formula milk. I tried. She threw the bottle with such vehemence when I shoved the bottle into her crying mouth. I refused to give in and let her cry. And cry. And CRY. And thrash about violently. And kick anyone who tried to come near. And arch her back so that she seemed to be in danger of snapping her neck. It was such a terrible period. She could cry (and do all of the above) for 2 hours (remember that this is in the middle of the night and I live in a quiet neighbourhood), sleep from the exhaustion for about 30 minutes and then continue crying again for about 1 hour. By 4am, I would give in and give her some milk. This went on for many many nights.
It was such a trying time.
Now, some 3 weeks after I started this, she still wakes up at 11pm/12mn. But, she will cry for about 10 minutes and then go back to sleep. Around 2am, she will cry again for about 10 minutes and then go back to sleep when she realises that she's not getting anything. Around 4am, she'll cry again and that's when she'll get some breastmilk.
Obviously, this is not weaning her off and introducing formula. But, if this is going to be her pattern for the next few months, I will find breastfeeding enjoyable again. I will have no problems continuing breastfeeding til September/October when I absolutely must start introducing the bottle to her in preparation for my return to the workforce in January next year.
Facebook
I don't like how multiply is looking more and more like a marketplace but I am stuck here because I don't like having to migrate everything in here to another location. Of course I could very well leave everything here and start afresh on a brand new location but I am very ngeow and OCD so I like everything to be together and not scattered everywhere.
Okay. I'm stopping here. I really really want to upload pictures taken recently. Maybe the next blog entry will be a pictorial entry. It's 1.25am now which means I'll get a luxurious 5-hour sleep if F does not wake up til tomorrow morning. Bye.
Socceroo
I am a sometime soccer fan. I don't follow the local league; neither do I follow the European leagues but once every 4 years, I'll savour every little story about the World Cup I can get. (They can be very blistering at times but written with such wry humour - one player from France was described as "loitering without intent on the right". You just gotta read such brilliantly written stories again and again.) And it's not just the stories I read. I also stay up to catch the matches. To the detriment of my sleep. The last match of the day kicks off at 2.30am. Lest you think I paid the telcos $90+ for such a privilege, I watch it free over the internet. The wonders of technology!
Anyway. I can't sleep now not because I'm staying up for the 2.30am Denmark-Cameroon match - I've decided that I absolutely must have more than 4 hours of sleep today - but because I'm so disheartened by Australia's draw. They fought so valiantly but things were not meant to be.
Wake-ah Wake-ah. This Time For Snoozing
So, my sleeplessness means I'll be writing about my kids here.
I've decided that June is the month when I'll start attempting to wean Farah off breastmilk. I have been thinking about it for months now but something I read somewhere strenghtened my resolve. It says that you should stop when you are not enjoying it. I wasn't enjoying it anymore because this little girl could wake up up to 6 times a night for milk. Actually, it's not that she woke up for milk. She woke up for various reasons but each time, she woke up with a loud loud loud and prolonged cry. And the only way to silence her was to feed her.
Starting from the end of May, I tried to replace the middle-of-the-night feeds with plain water, fresh milk and formula milk. I tried. She threw the bottle with such vehemence when I shoved the bottle into her crying mouth. I refused to give in and let her cry. And cry. And CRY. And thrash about violently. And kick anyone who tried to come near. And arch her back so that she seemed to be in danger of snapping her neck. It was such a terrible period. She could cry (and do all of the above) for 2 hours (remember that this is in the middle of the night and I live in a quiet neighbourhood), sleep from the exhaustion for about 30 minutes and then continue crying again for about 1 hour. By 4am, I would give in and give her some milk. This went on for many many nights.
It was such a trying time.
Now, some 3 weeks after I started this, she still wakes up at 11pm/12mn. But, she will cry for about 10 minutes and then go back to sleep. Around 2am, she will cry again for about 10 minutes and then go back to sleep when she realises that she's not getting anything. Around 4am, she'll cry again and that's when she'll get some breastmilk.
Obviously, this is not weaning her off and introducing formula. But, if this is going to be her pattern for the next few months, I will find breastfeeding enjoyable again. I will have no problems continuing breastfeeding til September/October when I absolutely must start introducing the bottle to her in preparation for my return to the workforce in January next year.
I don't like how multiply is looking more and more like a marketplace but I am stuck here because I don't like having to migrate everything in here to another location. Of course I could very well leave everything here and start afresh on a brand new location but I am very ngeow and OCD so I like everything to be together and not scattered everywhere.
Okay. I'm stopping here. I really really want to upload pictures taken recently. Maybe the next blog entry will be a pictorial entry. It's 1.25am now which means I'll get a luxurious 5-hour sleep if F does not wake up til tomorrow morning. Bye.
Friday, May 28, 2010
Super Dino
1. The title is Super Dino because Huda's book is beside the laptop and 'Super Dino' is part of its title. This entry has nothing to do with the jurassic era but I am not one who can come up with relevant titles so I get completely irrelevant ones.
2. Farah is now almost 16 months old and she has begun to hate eating. Her weight is sliding off the charts and she is exactly on the 3rd percentile now. She's dangerously close to falling off the charts but she no longer wants to eat now!! BOOOOHOOOOOHOOOOOOO! As with Huda, I've been cooking all sorts of potions and concoctions (I have at least 4 baby cookbooks) but nothing's working. The one thing that worked recently was nasi lemak. Just plain nasi lemak.
3. She went to the doctor's for a check-up recently and was sent for a whole lot of blood tests. One for thalassaemia, iron count, liver and kidney functions and something else. They had to take 5ml of blood from her vein and she was screaming violently while the blood was drawn from her. Results of the tests would be available at the next appointment but as for now, she's a confirmed anaemic case. Being anaemic, I want to feed her beef at least twice a week but - as expected - she rejected it even before the spoon touches her mouth. And if I manage to push the food inside her mouth, she'll spray everything out. My neighbour told me to make a drink for her using a teaspoon of wolfberries (qi zi), 2 red dates and some dried longans to help with the anaemia. I'm trying that as soon as I get the wolfberries.
4. Farah is also walking. Hooray! She started doing so from around her 15th month. Now, I no longer have to cringe in pain when I see black-ish spots around her knees. When she was actively crawling, I dressed her in long pants so that her knees are protected against rough surfaces. But, despite mopping the house daily, she has a way of showing me that my mopping is no good because by the end of each day, where the pants cover her knees, it will be grey. It got to the point where I decided that maybe I should make her wear mittens and she can do the mopping for me.
5. It's now 12.56am and I can't sleep because of my overactive brains. While I was lying in bed and waiting for sleep to take me, my brains were busy translating sentences from English to Malay. I then realised that my Malay is really not up to scratch. It is good enough to communicate with a 4-year-old and a 1-year-old but beyond that, I need to do some serious work. So, since I couldn't sleep, I decided to get up and write here.
6. We were supposed to go to Bangkok from 9-14 June. But who wants to go Bangkok when Central World (the place with the ultra ultra nice and clean toilets - I bet Farah's knees won't even turn a shade darker had she crawled in the toilet) is gone? Well, it's not just about Central World, of course.
So where are we going instead? Kuala Lumpur. We were there last December (when we had to change our destination from Langkawi) and again in February (that was planned a loong time ago). I won't say I'm sick of the place but because I've been there much too often in recent times, it has somewhat lost the charm it used to have over me.
7. Huda. One day, we went out for dinner. She was so stuffed, she couldn't have one more bite. On the way back, she saw some junk food (I think it was Kinder Bueno) and wanted us to buy it for her. Me, being the junk food police ("only one junk food a day") refused to buy it for her and soon she started whining about how hungry she was. All the way home, in the bus, on the way back from the bus stop to our home, the whining went on and on. Of course from excessive hunger, it escalated to extreme exhaustion. By the time we reached our door, she said she needed to pee. Run to the toilet and take off your pants in there, we instructed. But by this time, our little drama queen was beyond exhausted and was in danger of fainting from her parents-induced hunger, she started crawling, dragging her poor almost-lifeless body to the toilet.
8. My parents were expecting guests, one of whom is a Mr Green who used to teach TheHusband when he was in secondary school. So we were at my parents'. The first few guests came and as I was putting Farah to sleep (and falling asleep myself), I wasn't part of the welcome party. Huda came into the room and I asked her if Mr Green was there. TheHusband came in at the same time and he said that Mr Green wasn't there yet. Huda immediately rebutted, "Dah! Dia dah datang. Dia yang pakai baju green dengan tudung green." (Yes. The person's here. The person is wearing a green blouse and a green tudung.)
(Dia = third-person pronoun for both males and females, no distinction between genders;
Tudung = a headscarf worn by Muslim women)
Huda is my Malay-speaking daughter who has no idea that 'Mr' is a salutation for men or that people can actually have colours as names.
9. I'm not sleepy but it's 1.24am and I must force myself to sleep because my kids have no respect for public holidays. Then again, they respect public holidays so much that they will wake up at 6am to greet the arrival of one.
So, goodbye for now. Til the next time when I try to translate English to Urdu or something.
2. Farah is now almost 16 months old and she has begun to hate eating. Her weight is sliding off the charts and she is exactly on the 3rd percentile now. She's dangerously close to falling off the charts but she no longer wants to eat now!! BOOOOHOOOOOHOOOOOOO! As with Huda, I've been cooking all sorts of potions and concoctions (I have at least 4 baby cookbooks) but nothing's working. The one thing that worked recently was nasi lemak. Just plain nasi lemak.
3. She went to the doctor's for a check-up recently and was sent for a whole lot of blood tests. One for thalassaemia, iron count, liver and kidney functions and something else. They had to take 5ml of blood from her vein and she was screaming violently while the blood was drawn from her. Results of the tests would be available at the next appointment but as for now, she's a confirmed anaemic case. Being anaemic, I want to feed her beef at least twice a week but - as expected - she rejected it even before the spoon touches her mouth. And if I manage to push the food inside her mouth, she'll spray everything out. My neighbour told me to make a drink for her using a teaspoon of wolfberries (qi zi), 2 red dates and some dried longans to help with the anaemia. I'm trying that as soon as I get the wolfberries.
4. Farah is also walking. Hooray! She started doing so from around her 15th month. Now, I no longer have to cringe in pain when I see black-ish spots around her knees. When she was actively crawling, I dressed her in long pants so that her knees are protected against rough surfaces. But, despite mopping the house daily, she has a way of showing me that my mopping is no good because by the end of each day, where the pants cover her knees, it will be grey. It got to the point where I decided that maybe I should make her wear mittens and she can do the mopping for me.
5. It's now 12.56am and I can't sleep because of my overactive brains. While I was lying in bed and waiting for sleep to take me, my brains were busy translating sentences from English to Malay. I then realised that my Malay is really not up to scratch. It is good enough to communicate with a 4-year-old and a 1-year-old but beyond that, I need to do some serious work. So, since I couldn't sleep, I decided to get up and write here.
6. We were supposed to go to Bangkok from 9-14 June. But who wants to go Bangkok when Central World (the place with the ultra ultra nice and clean toilets - I bet Farah's knees won't even turn a shade darker had she crawled in the toilet) is gone? Well, it's not just about Central World, of course.
So where are we going instead? Kuala Lumpur. We were there last December (when we had to change our destination from Langkawi) and again in February (that was planned a loong time ago). I won't say I'm sick of the place but because I've been there much too often in recent times, it has somewhat lost the charm it used to have over me.
7. Huda. One day, we went out for dinner. She was so stuffed, she couldn't have one more bite. On the way back, she saw some junk food (I think it was Kinder Bueno) and wanted us to buy it for her. Me, being the junk food police ("only one junk food a day") refused to buy it for her and soon she started whining about how hungry she was. All the way home, in the bus, on the way back from the bus stop to our home, the whining went on and on. Of course from excessive hunger, it escalated to extreme exhaustion. By the time we reached our door, she said she needed to pee. Run to the toilet and take off your pants in there, we instructed. But by this time, our little drama queen was beyond exhausted and was in danger of fainting from her parents-induced hunger, she started crawling, dragging her poor almost-lifeless body to the toilet.
8. My parents were expecting guests, one of whom is a Mr Green who used to teach TheHusband when he was in secondary school. So we were at my parents'. The first few guests came and as I was putting Farah to sleep (and falling asleep myself), I wasn't part of the welcome party. Huda came into the room and I asked her if Mr Green was there. TheHusband came in at the same time and he said that Mr Green wasn't there yet. Huda immediately rebutted, "Dah! Dia dah datang. Dia yang pakai baju green dengan tudung green." (Yes. The person's here. The person is wearing a green blouse and a green tudung.)
(Dia = third-person pronoun for both males and females, no distinction between genders;
Tudung = a headscarf worn by Muslim women)
Huda is my Malay-speaking daughter who has no idea that 'Mr' is a salutation for men or that people can actually have colours as names.
9. I'm not sleepy but it's 1.24am and I must force myself to sleep because my kids have no respect for public holidays. Then again, they respect public holidays so much that they will wake up at 6am to greet the arrival of one.
So, goodbye for now. Til the next time when I try to translate English to Urdu or something.
Tuesday, May 04, 2010
Tissue Box
I have not uploaded pictures for so long and so here's some now. Why is this album called tissue box? Because that's what I saw when I looked away from the computer to think of a title for this album.
The cousins feature prominently here but the 2 latest additons are not in here. Next round of uploads, the 2 little boys will definitely make an appearance!
Saturday, April 24, 2010
Charm
I love to complain.
Each time 911 is late, I'll complain. Sometimes to my husband, sometimes to my sister, sometimes I'll just call the SMRT hotline. How can I not complain? LTA says that 80% of buses come every 10 minutes (or some statistics like that). But a feeder bus service like 911? It's just not right that I have to wait 40 minutes for the bus! 911E comes instead. 911E that terminates at the interchange. I need that 911 to fetch my daughter, okay? So I end up taking a taxi sometimes. I get real agitated when the bus that I want doesn't come within 15 minutes.
But that is what life is like in Singapore, isn't it? Things function like clockwork. Or almost like one. We are so used to things happening when it's supposed to happen that we get all riled up when it doesn't. We are just not used to waiting - perhaps for a short while, it's okay; even then, during our short wait, we'll be fiddling with the gadgets that we surround ourselves with.
My friend Suraya lives in India. She's there because her husband works there. I've always thought that she's making the mother of all sacrifices by leaving Singapore. I sound so jingoistic. But reading a recent blog entry from her made me see why people don't necessarily want to uproot themselves from India. And it is also no wonder that there are so many great writers that hail from India.
Yes, she had to wait more than, a whole lot more than my 40 minutes to get her train. But there's something about the long wait, the uncertain arrival time and the train journey that is so lyrical and poetic. It's charming. And the experiences that her boys go through are things that no born-and-bred-in-Singapore-kid can ever get. Charming.
Each time 911 is late, I'll complain. Sometimes to my husband, sometimes to my sister, sometimes I'll just call the SMRT hotline. How can I not complain? LTA says that 80% of buses come every 10 minutes (or some statistics like that). But a feeder bus service like 911? It's just not right that I have to wait 40 minutes for the bus! 911E comes instead. 911E that terminates at the interchange. I need that 911 to fetch my daughter, okay? So I end up taking a taxi sometimes. I get real agitated when the bus that I want doesn't come within 15 minutes.
But that is what life is like in Singapore, isn't it? Things function like clockwork. Or almost like one. We are so used to things happening when it's supposed to happen that we get all riled up when it doesn't. We are just not used to waiting - perhaps for a short while, it's okay; even then, during our short wait, we'll be fiddling with the gadgets that we surround ourselves with.
My friend Suraya lives in India. She's there because her husband works there. I've always thought that she's making the mother of all sacrifices by leaving Singapore. I sound so jingoistic. But reading a recent blog entry from her made me see why people don't necessarily want to uproot themselves from India. And it is also no wonder that there are so many great writers that hail from India.
Yes, she had to wait more than, a whole lot more than my 40 minutes to get her train. But there's something about the long wait, the uncertain arrival time and the train journey that is so lyrical and poetic. It's charming. And the experiences that her boys go through are things that no born-and-bred-in-Singapore-kid can ever get. Charming.
Saturday, April 17, 2010
Oil
1. Once again, I missed a meet-up with friends.
It's becoming too much of a habit.
For weeks, I look forward to the day of the meeting. Then, the little one will fall ill. Not just a little cough or a bit of the sniffles. No, oh no. A full-blown something, it has to be.
Today, I'm supposed to have some dear, dear friends over.
Three days ago, Farah developed a fever. No problem, I hoped. Saturday would be the third day and she would be okay by then. Maybe it was just a low-grade fever related to her teething. But of course that wasn't the case.
On Friday night, her temperature soared to 40.9 degrees. We gave her the suppository medicine and her temperature went down to 38.5.
In the morning, it shot up to 40.1 and we packed her off to the clinic. At the clinic, we were referred to the hospital. After blood and urine tests were conducted at the hospital, she was allowed to go back.
The reason for her fever? Possibly viral fever.
She's been having fever almost every month and she does not even go to school (where she can easily pick up all these bugs). The doctors said that although it is rather frequent, it is not a cause for alarm. As it is, she's seeing a doctor at KK for regular check-ups after her bout of bronchiolitis.
The blood tests done today and another one done last month (when she had fever) showed that the haemoglobin levels in her blood is rather low. Her red blood cells look paler and there are more ovalocytes. (I think that's what the doctors said. I'm really quite lousy in all these science things. Ask me about cation and anion if you don't believe me.) Anyway those things point to two possibilities: thalassaemia or iron deficiency. If it's thalassaaemia, I hope it's just the minor one and no further treatment needed. If it's iron deficiency, then, there are supplements to help her. I just hope that there's a cure to her monthly fever.
Aaaaaanyway, coming back to the main point, last month, I was supposed to meet another group of friends. You know how difficult it is to plan meet-ups when you get to this age and everyone is busy with their own lives. So, when a window of possibility opens, you grab at it and make yourself available. I was sooooo looking forward to seeing my friends from uni days but Farah was sick and as one of my friends had given birth to a preemie (29-weeker!), I would not want my kids going anywhere near that girl and sharing all their germs with her.
Two months ago, it was a gathering of my friends from primary school that I had to miss. See the pattern?
TheHusband told me not to talk about future meetings and gatherings in front of the kids. We will just whisper to each other and we won't even write it down on the calendar at home lest the kids look at it and decide to fall ill on that very day.
Random picture of a girl at a hospital today. Picture inserted to give your eyes a break from all the text.2. Since I'm talking about my dearest Farah, I will continue talking about her.
She is now 1 year and 2 months old.
I am quite sure I have done more than my share of worrying during Huda's era so now with Farah, I am a lot more relaxed.
At 1 year 2 months, Farah is just learning how to walk. She would take two or three steps before tumbling down. Sometimes, I think she just enjoys crawling around. That way, she can inspect every square inch of the floor for dust and bugs and other strange stuff found on my floor and eat them up. She thinks she's a vacuum cleaner.
And only now, at the grand old age of 14 months, her teeth made their appearance. 4 of them decided to pop out of her gums at the same time. She's been a toothless baby for the past 14 months. No complaints there because I'm still breastfeeding her and a toothless baby is much easier on the, erm, on the, erm, on the body parts which it involves. :p
Speech? Hur hur. She can call out for me. She does not seem to have a name for Ayah although sometimes she seems to call out Daaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa for Huda. Besides that, bird is buh. Cat is buh. Bus is buh. Tree is buh. MRT is buh.
But, I'm not worried. Huda was a late developer too but she is all fine now. So, take your time, Farah.
3. Huda is 4 years old now and she has an insatiable curiosity for everything. The Whys are coming very very frequently. Why does it rain, Mak? Initially, I would tell her the story of the water cycle but it's much too boring for her and she didn't understand my explanation so she'll ask again and again. I've since learnt to tell her that it rains so that the trees can drink water.
She's into pretend play now and she often pretends to be a teacher to her roomful of students. Sometimes it's a cashier. She's going to visit a farm next week with her classmates so I bet she's gonna be a farmer next.
She has finally, finally (!!!) started sleeping through the night and her toilet training is complete. She's off diapers for good.
4. I've signed the girls up for Kids Run at the end of May PROVIDED none of them falls ill on that day. (Sigh. Why do I have a bad feeling about this?) Anyway, to prepare for the 800
5. This entry has taken me a long time to write. I've been here since 8.30pm and now it's 10pm. Goodness.
Gonna stop now and hopefully, the next time I update won't be such a long time from now.
When allowed to make her own choices, she'll end up wearing a red T-shirt with an orange skirt and turquoise pants.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)