Yearly Archives

2009

Product Reviews

All Jamu-ed Up

August 12, 2009

My first experience with Jamu after giving birth to my boy last year was quite an ordeal. There was this tiny lady with giant muscles who attacked my back with tremendous gusto and then proceeded to slather globs of hot green goo on my body. After 5 sessions, I decided to call it quits, vowing never to try it again. I also didn’t seem to lose any of the weight I gained from pregnancy. Total bummer.

Naturally, when I was offered the chance to try a complimentary Jamu massage by Origins Jamu, I thought long and hard about subjecting myself to the torture all over again. Besides, this second pregnancy has not been kind to me, leaving my 30kg heavier and my back all tied up in knots. I was exhausted and in pain most of the time.

Before I decided to go for it, I did my homework and checked out the Origins Jamu Massage website. It didn’t seem as brutal and I also heard a lot of good stuff about the benefits of hot stone compress, like alleviating backaches and aiding lactation. I badly needed both.

To be honest, I was a little nervous when the therapist arrived, and I prepared myself mentally for some serious pain. I also took a not so casual glance at her muscles, just to make sure they weren’t oversized. She came prepared with an array of lotions and the hot stones, which she proceeded to heat up over the stove. It was all so awesomely primitive that my curiosity got the better of my nerves.

As it turns out, the massage was a lot more enjoyable than I expected. There was none of that karate chopping and plenty of nice, relaxing massage. In fact, it was so good I almost dozed off a couple of times, which is a pretty mean feat considering my recent bouts of insomnia. I particularly liked the hot stone compress, which instantly cleared my engorged breasts and caused them to spontaneously leak milk like it was raining. For a breastfeeding mom where milk is a scarcity, leaky breasts are a welcome sight.

I still can’t say if it’s any good in the weight loss department because it’s too early to tell, but I certainly stepped out feeling better about myself. Now if it will just shave off that remaining 15kg I’m still lugging around, that would be perfect. I hear my old sized 27 jeans calling out to me.

by
literally a crappy post, motherhood

Wholly Crap!

August 11, 2009
Yes, it looks way cuter than it actually is.

Yes, it looks way cuter than it actually is.

So, my kids have developed a new game, which is to see who can produce more poop in a day. It used to be that Kirsten was hands down the champion in that division, since breastmilk makes her defecate 6-7 times a day, which she tries to reserve for the times her diaper is off. Occasionally, when she is all out of poop, she can produce foam from her ass. Oh, trust me, I didn’ t think it was possible either, until I SAW IT WITH MY OWN EYES.

Ever since Tru started taking the ancient Chinese herbs, his bowel movements have also been miraculously multiplied. I’m attributing it to the detoxification process. Instead of the usual package he delivers once a day, it has recently gone up to a record 6 packs of poop. All I can say is that I hope this detox is doing some good to his system. Or else I’d be cleaning extra crap for no reason at all.

So the other day, in the midst of the mayhem that goes on in my house, Tru somehow managed to smear his crap all over the back of his romper. It also had to happen when I was momentarily otherwise engaged with feeding the little one so I could only watch in horror as he made patches of crap stains all over my living room with his ass. See, I’ve heard of finger painting but this is a real first. I was all like “Tru, Nooooooooooooo, don’t sit down!”, but of course the shock from my outburst had him landing flat on his ass. He then got up, crawled a few steps and sat right back down again. Rinse and repeat. Until my living room was covered with a layer of ass-shaped crap designs. If you ask me, it trumps his last masterpiece.

Not to be outdone, Kirsten had her own version of crap-smearing. After numerous accidents on my bed, I’ve shifted her nappy changing area to the couch in the living room. The good thing is that I don’t have to keep changing bedsheets but the flip side is that my faux leather sofa is now infested with all kinds of bodily fluids. From experience, I’ve learnt to anticipate the jet stream of poop that flies out during her nappy changes, but after 5 minutes and nothing, I thought it wasn’t going to happen. But just as I swiped the diaper from under her bum, lo and behold, a fresh stream of mustard mash gushed out and almost hit me in the eye. It’s only thanks to my ninja reflexes that I’m still alive at this moment. Inevitably, the shit hit the fan (except that it was the floor, stool,  remote control, and some parts of my body).

I suppose it could have been worse. Tru could have been around when it happened (he was sound asleep) and he would have had a field day grabbing it and smearing it liberally on multiple surfaces. For that, I am eternally grateful.

I used to be terrified of cleaning crap but 2 kids in, we’re now practically best friends. Like real tight.

by
motherhood

My kid went through ancient Chinese torture

August 10, 2009

I love long weekends but this one is turning out to be the worst long weekend ever. Now I wish it was a short weekend. First, Tru was taken ill with a flu of the most massive proportions. Then I broke my specs so it’s got a huge crack on the right lens and it keeps slipping off my nose and I have to keep pushing it back up like some gawky kid (the husband wants me to fix it asap as I also apparently look like the victim of domestic abuse.  And Kirsten has been terribly cranky, refusing to sleep and screaming away for extended periods.

After hearing a lot of good stuff about traditional chinese medicine, we decided to bring Tru for a consult. Believe it or not, the doctors are called physicians and this one had a particularly deadly name – Peng Ya Ling (whom I suspect was a former pugilist master). I was half expecting her to channel some “qi” (internal energy) into his system and attack his acupuncture points, but it was all pretty mild. All she did was look very thoughftul and  scribble furiously on her notepad while we explained all his symptoms. After that, she came back with a concoction of 25 herbs and spices in 14 neat little packs. On another note, despite his illness, Tru decided to turn on the charm and spent the whole consult flirting with her, touching her hand and smiling at her. Little Casanova.

Returning home with the meds, we were instructed to feed him the powder twice a day for 7 days. Now how does one feed POWDER to a BABY? The husband had a couple of ingenious ideas.

Husband: Maybe we should add it to his milk.

Me: He’s not stupid. He’ll refuse the milk and after that we’ll have to struggle with feeding him milk.

Husband: I know, we can add it to peanut butter to disguise the taste.

Me: Oh i know, i know- how about putting it into a piece of bread and rolling it up?

Husband: I think we’re just going to have to go primitive.

The first attempt, we tried adding water to it and then feeding him with a syringe, except that we added way too much water and he had ingest 15 full syringes of meds. The whole time, we had to pin him down and force open his mouth while he was screaming and kicking like he was being tortured.

The next round, I wised up and decided to go with a spoon. I also added less water to the mix so it ended up like a HUGE CLUMP OF HERBY PASTE. The screaming and kicking continued and this time, the clump was so huge that he puked it all out and there we were, trying to force back the puke into his mouth. I felt like a Nazi.

it looked like this - except worse. I kid you not.

it looked like this - except worse. I kid you not.

We can”t quite post an actual picture, just in case Social Services hauls us down for an interrogation.

I think the whole experience traumatized him so much that for the rest of the day, he was suffering from panic attacks, resulting in random screams throughout a day. And as I found out, crankiness is contagious. The screaming rubbed off on Kirsten and she too decided to join in the fun.

So that’s how my weekend went. Hang on while I push up my specs. I hope I don’t develop a lazy eye from having to see through one eye.

by
Father Inc

The biggest relationship secret ever, unveiled.

August 8, 2009

For those that are popping by this blog over the weekend and expecting just the random musings of a dad of two with absolutely no take away – eat your heart out, because what I’m going to share with you is something that is going to change your life irrevocably and immeasurably for the better.

I’m not talking about good advice here. I’m talking about a movement. A campaign. A paradigm shift that is going to shatter your predispositions toward  logic, justice and women.

This is post is really meant for men. If you are a woman reading this post, and are in any sort of a relationship – you need to share this with your partner. Email them this post. Put it up on your Facebook. Retweet it. Shout it out on the streets. We’re talking about millions of lives here.

I am putting forth a hypothesis, no, a definitive truth,  that will shorten the duration of quarrels, prematurely terminate conflicts, and ultimately effect an increase in the life expectancy of men to finally match that of women.

Here’s how it goes.

Men should sincerely apologise to the woman with the greatest remorse possible in every single conflict.The apology must be made regardless of the reason nor the circumstances leading to the conflict.The apology must be heartfelt, sincere, non-patronising and suffer the dual tests of continual agitation & abuse .

In other words, the man must just say sorry.

Just say sorry.

Repeat after me.

Just say sorry.

Before you start hurling inflammatory comments at me (watch it fellas, this is a mommy blog after all) – i have already prepared an FAQ to address those concerns you may have. Now put the gun down, young man.

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

1. What should I “just say sorry” if it wasn’t my fault in the first place??

A: Whether it was your fault or not is really subjective.  There was no overarching, neutral and benevolent authority that chronicled the details of what happened that led to the conflict and then decided that it was my fault.

The famous Johari Window talks about a potential blind spot every person may have, whereby your faults are known to others but not known to self.

It is probably your fault.

2. That is the most ridiculous thing I have ever heard. Everyone was appalled at what you did. There’s no way on planet earth I can apologise for that!

A:  Remember the time when I asked why you loved me, and you sang that incredibly cheesy song about letting the reason for love be love and it wasn’t even quite right because if I asked why you liked bacon potato chips would you have said “i love sour-cream and onion Pringles, just because.”?

3. Uh, I’m kinda confused. Look, I do love you, but that DOESN’T MAKE WHAT YOU DID RIGHT!

A: People value many things in this world. Amnesty International is commendable in that it values justice and honours symbols of freedom in oppressed countries, like Aung Sang Suu Kyi.

Modern society came to a point where it eschewed dogma and started to value logic and rational thinking. As a result, civilisation advanced in many forms, be it arts, culture but in particular, science and technology.

4. What has that got to do with ANYTHING?

A: I need you to value me above justice. I need you to adore me above freedom. I need you to cherish me more than logic and rational thinking.  I need you to love me because of me.

5. That doesn’t make sense.

A: I need you to love me more than your love for sensibility.

6. Look, YOU are the one that made the mistake. YOU should be the one to “just say sorry”. Why should it be me?

A: We bleed every month and get utterly terrible cramps through no fault of my own.  We are expected to stay in shape but if you eat and get fat, you are just being a “regular dude”. We need to strip and squat down to pee while you just “whip it out”. We  cover the choicest parts of our body to prevent you and your menfolk from grabbing at them. We have to spend hours powdering and grooming our faces to prevent our “out-of-bed” look from dispersing crowds as though there was a zombie invasion when we go onto the streets. We squeeze out an entire human being from within ourselves through an opening no bigger than the size of a ten-cent coin.

Moreover, women have been marginalized through the ages – the pain of  thousands of  years of suffering weigh heavily on my soul, as though they were my own.

7. Wow. Alright, I get the point. It’s my fault, and I want to “just say sorry”. What exactly do I apologise for?

A: If you raised your voice at me, you need to apologise for that. If you didn’t but you ignored me or were cold to me for any duration longer than 30 seconds, you need to apologise for that.

If you didn’t raise your voice at me, nor did you ignore me – you need to apologise for not saying sorry earlier.

8. This is one of the craziest things I have ever heard. Are you sure it’s going to work at all?

A: I may take advantage of your expected subservience in the face of total indignation but that is merely temporal. Chances are –  but I’m not promising anything here – that a couple of years down the road when I have cooled down sufficiently, I may accept some responsibility for what happened. Or I may not. It really depends.

9. That’s amazing!  Sign me up for the “Just Say Sorry” Campaign!

A: Sign yourself up. And get your dude friends to sign up as well. Visit www.justsaysorry.org to make a pledge.

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

Oh by the way, this is a chain letter type of post. If you have read this post, you need to send it to at least five other people, or they may get “accidentally” run over by the love of their (albeit short) life  in that harmless looking pink Vespa.

Remember, Hell Hath No Fury Like a Woman Scorned.

Just say sorry!

by
kids inc

Eeny Meeny Miny Moe

August 7, 2009
Guess Who

Guess who..mommy is going to pick?

One of the downsides to having 2 kids so close together is that my boy is forced to grow up a lot faster than he would otherwise have to. At 14 months, he’s still very much a baby, but with the arrival of an even smaller baby, the contrast makes him seem like a giant of a child.  I often find myself thinking that he’s a big boy, then I stop myself short and remember that he’s just barely made it into the stage of toddlerhood.

To be honest, if things were a little different and I didn’t have Kirsten around, I’d still be babying him till he was 12. But with 2 kids, he’s just gotta learn to deal. We all do.

Only thing is, while he’s been amazing these past weeks in making room for his little sister and having to play by himself and coming to terms with the fact that Mommy’s not all his anymore, there are days where I can tell he’s struggling to adjust. And it shows up in different ways. One day he’s clingy and needy and stuck to my hip and another day he’s refusing to let me carry him. Also, after months of sleeping on his own without fussing, he screams bloody murder every time I try to put him to bed. I need to hold him and snuggle for a good hour before he’ll be contented enough to drift off to sleep.

That’s the dilemma though. On any given day, both kids will be demanding for Mommy AT THE SAME TIME and God forbid they have to wait a fraction of a second for me to magically appear. Much as that is a boost to my ego (I’m hot property), it breaks my heart to have to decide who’s turn it is to get me first. At first I was all like “of course I have to attend to the smaller one first since she’s a baby and all”, then I realize that they are both still babies and it’s not really fair for Tru to have to wait all the time. In fact, Kirsten is probably too small for a little bit of crying to do any permanent damage, but Tru’s at an age where he might actually remember that Mommy wasn’t there for him because she was too busy taking care of his baby sister.

So I’ve kinda developed a system to assuage the guilt. Kirsten gets first dibs if she’s hungry (which happens like MOST OF THE TIME and you don’t want to mess with her when she’s hungry) and all other times, I’ll attend to Tru first. When I’m particularly insane ambitious, I’ll try to tackle both at the same time. Although there’s that one time where I hid under the kitchen sink until they both stopped crying and fell back asleep.

I’m totally kidding. About the kids falling back asleep part. I was hiding under the sink but the screaming went on for hours. I think I must have been the one to fall asleep.

by
getting ready for baby

Top 5 Essential Baby Items

August 6, 2009

Following up to my list of most useless baby stuff on the planet, I have decided to come up with the top 5 baby items I simply can’t do without. These handy little devices have saved me hours of unexplainable torment – both physically and emotionally, and they each deserve their place on that pedestal of sell-off-some-organs-to-buy kind of stuff. Trust me, motherhood will be so much easier with them.

1. Miracle Blanket

Miracle Blanket

It works miracles

I only stumbled upon the miracle blanket just before Kirsten was born and boy, was that a lifesaver. This ain’t no misnomer, because it works miracles! With Tru, swaddling him was akin to overcoming a wild stallion. After 15 minutes of struggling, I’d finally have him swaddled only to have him break free within seconds. I tried all kinds of wraps and swaddles but none could hold him down.

The ingenuity of the miracle blanket lies in its use of the baby’s own body weight to hold down his arms, while providing a nice, firm hold without strangling the baby. It takes me all of 5 seconds to get Kirsten swaddled and she’s as snug as a bug in a rug baby in a miracle blankie. And there’s a point to the swaddling – it has bought me hours of uninterrupted sleep because she’s not rudely awakened by her own flailing limbs.

Just remember to get spares in case they get puked or pooped on.

2. Medela Purelan Nipple Cream

Kiss sore nipples goodbye

Kiss sore nipples goodbye

Expressing milk 8 times a day for 40 minutes each time has rendered my nipples as  sore as a distended hernia. Sometimes, I accidentally brush against stuff (yeah, they are THAT BIG) and I feel like I’m about to pass out from the pain. Good thing there’s this amazing cream to the rescue. Now I can go on my merry way and pump away pain-free.

3. Arm’s Reach Co-sleeper (Mini)

No more getting out of bed at night

No more getting out of bed at night

Again, this is a recently discovered gem. It was originally meant to aid my breastfeeding (direct from the breast) endeavors but since that has gone horribly south, I still use it to make myself feel better. Either way, it’s nice to have the baby literally within arm’s reach but still in her own cot. During those middle of the night cries, I can reach out and pat her without having to get out of bed. Sometimes when I can’t sleep, I just prop myself on a pillow and look at her.

I also love that the mini version is small enough to hold her comfortably without blocking up the entire walkway. If not, I have to scoot over all the way to the foot of the bed in order to get up, which would eventually give me a hernia.

4. Jujube Diaper Bag

Bring everything you need in style

Bring everything you need in style

Going out with 2 kids is not funny. You will not believe the amount of stuff I need to bring on every outing – milk, diapers, clothes, wipes, bottles, pump, bibs, food, snacks… It takes us 2 hours in advance to pack in order to leave the house. The question is where does one put ALL THAT STUFF and be able to find them all in an instant. I could use a large-ass tote but I’d have to spend 5 minutes scrambling to search for Baby Bites or some wipes.

That’s where baby bags come to the rescue. It’s so thoughtfully crafted, with teflon coating, insulated bottle pockets, a scrunchy key chain holder and beautiful designs to boot. Everything is neatly compartmentalized so I don’t have to dig for stuff like I’m looting some swag bag.

5. Medela Pump-in-Style (with Pumpin’ Pals)

Double breasted pump

Double breasted pump

Technically not an item that I have right now because it costs $700 a pop. I knew I should have sold off that spare kidney. I’m using the PIS’s poorer cousin, the Medela Swing, which is only half as good. For mothers who are expressing exclusively, a double pump is the way to go as it cuts down the time by half. That’s 3 hours of spare time a day, 21 hours a week, 90 hours a month, you get the drift. I could complete an entire game of Final Fantasy in that time. Heck, I could invent a new baby item, sell a million pieces and get rich in that time.

The Pumpin’ Pals also come in handy as it leaves your hands free while expressing milk so you can cook, feed or bathe the baby all at the same time.

by
motherhood

Why does it always rain on me

August 5, 2009

why does it always rain on me

Barely halfway into the week and I’m down with a bout of the flu. Granted, it’s been that kind of week that doesn’t seem to end, as opposed to the kind of week where I try to savor every moment. God, I haven’t had one of those for a long time. These days, it’s all like “drats, it’s Monday again” followed by a dramatically anguished sigh that Shakespeare would be proud of. Or he may just roll over in his grave. Which is kinda the same thing.

But I digress. After taking a beating by motherhood (x2) for two days, I think my body has just had about enough and started to go on strike. My immune system, I think it’s gone for a holiday in the Bahamas because I’ve subjected it to too much torture. It’s probably never going to come back. So the whole of yesterday, I felt the familiar beginnings of a flu and I got more depressed than ever. My throat was on fire and I was trying to hold back the sniffles so I wouldn’t pass on the germs to the kids (and also so that I wouldn’t get nagged at for falling ill during my confinement – which is a whole different issue altogether). I was so paranoid that I was scrubbing my hands every 5 minutes like Jack Nicholson from As Good As It Gets. Yeah, I love OCD.

And the nagging. So apparently, falling ill during the confinement is like the mother of all cardinal sins because according to the Chinese, all flu is caused by wind or water or some other bizarre elements. It’s got nothing to do with say, the friggin’ H1N1 bug skulking around the country world right now, or the fact that my immunity is understandably AWOL because I’ve been pulling 23 straight all-nighters. I can’t even curse the wind because it’s wind and it would probably come back and freeze my ass off at some point in the future.

So today, the kids are at my mom’s place taking refuge while I try to sleep off this bug. It’s such an irony though. Now that they’re not with me, I miss them like crazy and I wish I wasn’t ill so I could at least smother them with kisses. That always makes me feel better.

I’m all drugged up like a junkie and in a state of delirium so this will probably not make any sense and if you’re lost, just check back tomorrow when my head is less fuzzy and my hands have stopped trembling. Hopefully.

by