Yearly Archives

2009

stuff best described as not safe for parents, Videos I dig

Bat Fight

November 17, 2009

The first time you watch this, you’ll think it’s probably some lame spoof of Batman fighting the Joker or Riddler or some other nefarious circus act. Then it starts and it sounds like it’s taken off the soundtrack of Kill Bill where Uma Thurman takes on Lucy Liu.  2 minutes in, you’ll be wondering if the video actually has a point.

Just wait for it, because it does and you’ll be all like WTH?!! No, no, no, no, no.

Right after that, you’ll watch it again and again and again and really listen to the lyrics and be blown away by the sheer ingenuity of it because it is that awesome. You will wake up in the morning and involuntarily go Hot dusty day, nothing’s going down…

Or you might probably hate it.

by
Funny or So I think

I’m going to be *famous*

November 13, 2009

For real, y’all. It’s always to be my dream to make it big, you know. Unfortunately, I possess no useful talent whatsoever, which explains why I’m still languishing in obscurity. But Diana Ross told me that dreams never die and I believe her. One day, I’m going to be famous. And I think fame just came knocking on my iPhone.

I’m going to be featured on a real magazine, with photos and all. Like a real celebrity. I think I’ve just hit the big time. Just to make sure, I’m going to send in a photo with me in a beegini and just jeans. That’ll get me some attention. Who knows, I might even get spotted to be the next Miss Singapore World. I can rock leppard printz like you’ve never seen.

Wait, the point I was trying to make was that I got interviewed again. This time on the topic of Happily Ever After. Right up my alley, because I am an expert on this, seeing that I have sustained multiple stab wounds in the last 17 months alone. I only do it when I’m happy, don’t you know. Incidentally, I wrote a post on the pursuit of happiness sometime back but it just didn’t feel right to post it yet, so perfect timing. And after that, I’ll throw in my responses for the interview. The pertinent ones at least.

*****

It seems to me that when you grow older, it takes more for you to be happy. I know happiness is a choice we make blah blah blah, but really, is it all that elusive? Will I turn into one of those jaded old hags who’s scowling all the time because life has no meaning at 85?

When you’re a kid, life’s pretty great. All I was concerned about was whether I could go down to the park at 5.30 to play with my friends. There were exams to contend with, but I just needed to mug the night before the paper and then go in and ace it. I had little tiffs with my BFF over whether Tom or Brad was hotter but then we’d make up and be best friends again.

Back when the husband was just the boyfriend, we didn’t have a lot but it wasn’t a big deal. I remember being happy. We were happy to hold hands and share a bowl of instant noodles under the night sky outside our dorm rooms and talk the night away. We would walk 30 minutes out to grab supper, see a bimmer zoom past and say that one day, it’ll be us in it. But honestly, I couldn’t have cared then if we never owned a sweet topless ride.

““This is all we need. A couple of smokes, a cup of coffee, and a little bit of conversation. You and me and five bucks.”“, we used to say. (Yes, we pilfered it from Reality Bites but it was true, except for the smokes part.)

Then you grow up a little more and you want the fairytale wedding. The fairytale honeymoon. The fairytale mansion. And car. And kids. And bank account. You want it all. Along the way, you start feeling less happy because you’re so caught up wishing you had everything and you lose yourself. Or the version of you that was happy with $5 and good conversation.

The practical me says “it’s for the kids“. I can’t just fly by the seat of my pants and hope for the best all the time. Besides, it’s what grown ups do. Work your ass off, earn a shitload of money, then try to spend it all when you’re 65. You tell yourself that there’s more to life than that (only the poor people say that) but folks with tons of money all think it’s pretty awesome to be obscenely rich.

The husband came home early from work last week and we brought the kids down for a walk after dinner. Tru’s new obsession is the swing at the playground. It’s one of those metal swings that can hold 4 people (or 6 if you’re really tiny). He took us by the hand and made us all sit with him on the swing. So that’s what we did for a long time…without even talking.

It was a profoundly epiphanic moment. Sitting there, I realized that I do have everything I want. And I remembered what it felt like to be happy.

*****

1. What are the key ingredients to having a happily ever after for you?

Lurve. Friendship. Kids. Grandkids. Money. Holidays. White picket fences. Bubble tea. To become really famous and have many servants.

2. How important is having kids to the success of your marriage?

Very important. We love kids so we’d feel like something is missing if we didn’t have any. It’s great to have alone time and all, but at some point you’re going to get bored staring at each other all the time. Kids add a new dimension to the marriage and it’s the ultimate test of how much love you’ve got to give away. I think I’m more in love with Kel after seeing how awesome a father he is. Like I *know* he’s going to take care of me and clean my ass if I ever become retarded.

3. How important do you think sex is to a marriage?

Very important. You NEED the sex to have the kids. Don’t ever believe anyone who tells you otherwise. They’re probably lying. Unless you’re (Mother) Mary, then yes, it’s possible. Also, sex is wonderful. Releases endorphins and gives you reason to take a shower everyday.

4. Do you think that kids and sex are overrated or truly essential to having a happily ever after in a marriage?

If you ask me, they’re underrated. First of all, there’s really no point to getting married if you don’t want the sex. Be BFFs or something. And I don’t mean FWBs. People mix them up these days. Premarital sex is wrong (That’s my slogan for the kids right now). It adds that little bit extra to the marriage. Friendship is great but sex adds the spark, the magic, the fireworks. Usually, when the sex takes a hit, the marriage also takes a hit. Most people overlook the importance of sex AFTER they’re married. Big mistake.

Kids, it’s probably 50-50. I know people who are perfectly happy without kids but we wouldn’t be. The kids really make us happy. It’s tough as hell but there’s nothing like having a mini me to squeeze and cuddle everyday. They’re so tiny and cute and they make you laugh. You can also use them as manual labor once they turn 4.

5. Do you think that your marriage is well on its way to happily ever after? Why or why not?

I see what you’re doing. You’re not going to trick me into jinxing it. Seriously, I don’t know about happily ever after, but we’ve got more happy moments than those please-God-let-me-kill-myself-NOW kind of moments. Isn’t that all we’re looking for sometimes? I’m jaded enough to know that there’s no such thing as happily ever after. So I take the next best thing, which is accumulate happy times and hopefully 30 years down the road, we’ve got enough of those to say that life has been good to us.

6. Do you think it’s realistic to expect a happily ever after in marriages these days? Why or why not?

Again, if you asked me 10 years ago, I’d say yes, give me the dream. Give me the happily ever after. That or nothing at all. But I think age makes you a little wiser. These days, I take happy with a pinch of salt. Because marriage is being happy with each other even when you’re not. Profound, I know.

7. Is marriage and having kids all you expected it to be?

Can’t say I didn’t see this coming. I knew it was tough but really, it’s the extent and intensity of it that knocked me off my feet. I was prepared to grit my teeth through a little bit of pain but it’s been a non-stop, never-ending party since the kids came along. Some days I wish I had more me time and us time before we plunged into having kids. Lesson: The withdrawal method is NOT a real method of contraception.

8. Can you share some tips on how couples can improve the success of their marriages?

I wish there was a secret recipe for success but it’s just a matter of hard work and compromise. You just got to find your groove. Do whatever works for you, you know. But whatever you do, just don’t try S&M. Don’t ask me how I know.

by
pregnancy, the breast things in life are free

Meet Harry and Sally

November 11, 2009

The only thing I remember from my French lessons besides je ne parle pas francais is the fact that everything french is either male or female. The french are smart because they know stuff like how a doormat is indisputably male. But for me, it has always been a pain to figure out what stuff is masculine or feminine.

I’ve finally figured it out though. My boobs – they’re both. My right boob is a dude and my left one is a chick. It’s been puzzling me for a while now, and eureka! I’ve got it.

Everyone, meet Harry and Sally.

See, all this time that I’ve been expressing milk, I’m thinking that there’s a central milk storage system that channels all the milk to one side or the other. Like how if you tilt an hourglass, all the sand falls to the side that’s lower.

I usually start off with the right side. Let’s call him Harry. I go for 30 minutes on the pump and I get about 100ml. Harry is oozing with testosterone and always ready to go. Basically, it’s a wham-bam-thank-you-ma’am no nonsense affair. Get in, get out and he’s done. And I always know when he’s done because there will be a steady flow of milk all the way till it almost completely stops. That’s my cue to switch sides.

The left boob, she’s definitely a lady. When it’s Sally’s turn, it’s a little different. I used to do the same thing – 30 minutes on the pump but I only get 30ml. At first I thought, oh, ok maybe all the milk has flowed over to the right side and there’s no more left. Then I googled it and turns out, no. Each boob gets its own reserve of milk. So what up, Sally? What are you doing with all that milk?

I decided that Sally was spoilt (I mean spoilt like broken, not spoilt like throwing a tantrum) but hey, at least I still have one good boob so I should be thankful. All this while, I’ve been assuming Sally was retarded but now I find out that she’s actually a woman.

Which is to say, she can’t be hurried. She’s perfectly capable of producing plenty of milk, but she’s a little shy. She needs to have Kenny G in the background, some candles, a back rub and whispers of sweet nothings. You’ve got to treat her right before she gets in the mood. And here’s the awesome thing. Once she’s there, she can keep going and going and going. Seriously, once she’s on a roll, SHE DOES NOT STOP.

I had a little experiment yesterday and after an hour, she’s still producing milk. I did 150ml on that one boob alone.

Now I’m smarter and I’ve got a system going. During the day when the kids are thronging me, Harry steps up and does his thing. 30 minutes and bingo. Then after the kids are asleep and I’ve got more time on my hands, Sally gets her turn so she doesn’t feel neglected. How do you say awesome in french?

by
kids inc, motherhood

I call this quid pro quo

November 10, 2009

Just when this motherhood thing seems like it is as good as it gets, it suddenly gets better when you least expect it and it makes you feel all woggly inside.

Moments like these make you remember why you wanted to be a mom in the first place. When these moments come knocking, I write it down so that when it gets really bad and I feel like stabbing someone with a fork, I make myself take deep breaths and read it over and over again until I feel my blood pressure come back down.

Kirsten: please don't crush me

Kirsten: please don't crush me

Kirsten: now I will eat your brains

Kirsten: now I will eat your brains

1. Tru saying I love you for the first time. I tell him that about 500 times a day and I just assumed it was too difficult to say. He was busy doing his rounds in the living room one day when he walked over to me, cocked his head to one side and said I love you in the sweetest little baby voice. It could have been I need more cookies, but I’m almost certain he *meant* I love you.

2. Watching the kids and hug and kiss each other. Most of the time, Tru squeezes Kirsten too hard and makes her shriek but deep down inside, she really loves the attention from her big brother. It’s probably a shriek of delight.

3. Snuggly time. I put both kids together on my bed and tumble around and hug them real tight until they turn a little blue before I let them pause for air. Rinse and repeat.

4. Hearing Kirsten giggle. She’s got a deep, rumbly chuckle for such a sweet little baby. The only thing that sets her off is when Daddy goes “Ooohhhhhhhh” in her face. (Doesn’t work for mama) It’s terribly lame and there’s nothing funny about that but she clearly thinks it’s hilarious.

5. When Tru offers me the last piece of his favorite biscuit. He’s probably figured out that we’ll give him 2 more pieces extra for “sharing” so when he’s down to his last one, he needs to make it multiply. Still, brownie points for offering it to me.

6. No matter how awful she feels, baby girl will always stop and flash me a smile whenever I pick her up.

7. Surprise hugs. Makes me feel oh-so-special.

8. Group hugs. Right after we high-five and chest-bump each other.

9. Doing the Mickey Mouse Clubhouse Hot Dog dance with Tru in the living room. He also rocks the same moves to Lady Gaga. It’s a riot.

10. When he suddenly breaks into song and makes me follow his lead. Usually I have no idea what he’s singing so I just go watermelon, watermelon and it always works.

Some days you wonder what could possibly make being a mother worth it. I must be a raving lunatic to trade my entire life for a couple of baby giggles and snuggles. Then they surprise you and you know you really did get the better end of the bargain.

by
motherhood, not feeling so supermom

Someday I’ll sleep again

November 9, 2009

Sleep is one of the most underrated things in life. You don’t think about it and you take it for granted because it’s always there. Until it’s not. I used to think it was all a matter of mental strength. Pull 3 straight all-nighters in a row partying my guts out? No problemo. I’ll just make up for it the next day. Mind over matter.

Before I gave birth, every parent I met told me the same thing. Get as much sleep as you can now, because you will never sleep again. I was all like “Unlike you weaklings, I don’t actually need sleep. I’m like the Terminator. All I need is my doppio espresso and I’m good to go. Besides, I can always sleep when the baby is asleep.”

Now first of all, there is no such thing as sleeping when the baby sleeps. Their sleep patterns are about as predictable as a chick with PMS. Just when they fall soundly asleep and you think “here’s my chance” and snuggle up nice and comfy in your bed and allow yourself to drift off to dreamland, they suddenly pounce. Then you feel the cold, heartless hands of reality yank you back to a world where the baby is screaming and there is no rest for the weary. That is by far the most wretched feeling in the whole world.

So the next time, you down yet another shot of espresso and sit by the bed waiting for the baby to wake up. This time, I’m prepared, you tell yourself. And the baby decides it’s time to sleep for 5 hours straight. While you sit there with a bottle of warm milk in hand waiting for the crying to start any moment now. Only it doesn’t start. That is next most wretched feeling in the world.

After a few rounds of this happening, you lose it a little and start hearing voices in your head. Imaginary screams are a mother’s occupational hazard.

Your only chance of getting any sleep is at night, after the baby has learnt to sleep through the night. At first, you’ll be like “Woohoo00… 8 hours of night time sleep” and you’re doing your victory lap around the house thinking that your life will finally go back to normal. Except it doesn’t. 2 of those 8 hours will be spent expressing milk. And in the remaining 6 hours, they’ll surprise you with random cries just for the fun of it. “Aha, gotcha again, sucker! Now wake up and do back flips to amuse me because it’s the middle of the night and I need some entertainment to help me sleep.”

The result? Even when you do get to sleep, it’s a pathetic excuse for sleep. As a parent, you have to master the art of pseudo-sleeping. It’s far more painful to be rudely awakened from a deep sleep, the kind where you dream that you’re a James Bond on a mission to save the world. Eventually, you learn to sleep without really sleeping. You go into screensaver mode instead of shutting down.

As a reward for my services, the husband has valiantly agreed to send me on a 48-hour hibernation expedition. It will consist of me checking into the Ritz alone for 2 days just to sleep. There’s no way I’ll get any real sleep at home with the kids trying to pry open my eyelids and jabbing things into my ears.

I’m going to curl up in bed with a large cup of hot chocolate, read a nice book and do nothing but sleep for 2 whole days. It’s going to be awesome.

by
kids inc

Ahoy, me hearties!

November 3, 2009

Aaaarrrrgggghhhh! So me sister came bearin’ gifts from Paris, ‘n one ‘o them included ’tis full ‘o awe scurvy pirate chest wit’ real pirate lovely booty. It comes wit’ a dress up pirate kit, a treasure map, a sword ‘n a compass.

Pirate booty
Pirate booty

I ain’t shout I encourage piratin’ as a viable career in th’ future, but then again, if he’s a really jolly buccaneer then we’ll be RICH so I be not rulin’ it out completely. So in other words, I be predictin’ I be Arrr if either one ‘o them can pick up some swashbucklin’ moves ‘n locate th’ in the scurvy dog Davy Jones’ treasure chest. Savvy?

Yo ho ho ‘n a bottle ‘o spiced rum!

me big scurvy pirate
me big scurvy pirate
me wee lovely buccaneer
me wee lovely buccaneer
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