Yearly Archives

2009

motherhood, not feeling so supermom

If you’re all happy clappy today, you should just come back tomorrow.

October 30, 2009

Somebody should have told me motherhood is this hard. I mean, I knew it was hard, but not this hard.

just shoot me now

just shoot me now

I thought I had a very high threshold but this, this is a whole new level of insanity. People shouldn’t have to deal with this. Alone. Everyday. Not without booze. Or ending up in an asylum.

They told me the pregnancy was tough. Nine months of heartburn, carpal tunnel syndrome, cramps, nausea, insomnia. Sure, it was mildly uncomfortable but if you ask me now, piece of cake. I got to go to bed at 8pm, sleep like a baby and walk around feeling all smug for I don’t know, making an entire human being in my body. “Hey, I’m like friggin’ Cleopatra, so you better start scrambling to feed me grapes and massage my ankles while I lie here on my side.”

I basically had a super pass to behave like a spoilt brat. “It’s not me, baby wants to eat durians. And don’t come back with the crummy ones. Baby needs Mao Shan Wang (it’s a top of the line durian variety) that’s specially air flown in direct from the jungles of Sumatra. Handpicked by Oompa Loompas.” Next thing I knew, durians would magically appear. Damn, I miss being pregnant.

They also told me the delivery was bad. Think of the worst pain you could possibly imagine, then multiply it by a gazillion times and you get childbirth. Ok, it’s no fun being in labor for 27 hours and it’s not fun having to push a screaming, kicking, giant of a child out of my child-bearing bits. But that’s what epidural was invented for, people. And the whole time, I got to scream orders at everyone in the room so it was kinda fun.

Then the baby comes out and bam, I’m no longer royalty. All of a sudden, I’m now like a slave. “MOMMMMMMMMMMMM… Where’s my milk? Why is my diaper poopy? Who took all my toys? WHY AM I WAITING???” And the party never stops. I try yelling for durians and the husband is all like “God gave you hands and legs. Use them. Anyway, are you sure you should be eating that much durians?” I actually haven’t tried yelling for durians yet but it’s because I’m considerate.

There’s no break from being a mom. Superdad gave me a day off last week to go out and get some fresh air. 2 hours in, I get an SOS call because Tru is refusing to eat his food and cranky and baby girl can’t sleep. Hello, welcome to my world.

So my dreams of taking a nap by the beach vanishes into thin air and I’m back to the mill.

While we’re at it, being a dad, totally not the same. The decent fathers change an occasional diaper. The really awesome ones can maybe hold the fort for a day or so before they cave. Then they pass the kid back to you and their lives go back to normal and it’s back to “Hey honey, I’m home. How’s the kids today?”

So I think I get to give myself a nice big pat on the back for getting through each day. Because the plate I’m holding, it’s full. And keeping everything there is a delicate balance while I’m getting pulled in a thousand different directions. You see those Chinese acrobats spinning 20 bowls on chopsticks. That’s me right there. Must. keep. my. act. together.

Maybe one day I’ll get to ask the question. “What about me?”

Now I understand why some women choose not to have kids. Like ever. Perhaps they know something I don’t. Perhaps I’m just tired of being a martyr.

by
kids inc, motherhood

Yet another post about how great my kids are. Also, I really miss Bubbles.

October 28, 2009

Before I became a mom, I used to hear other parents talk about how their newborn has such a sparkling personality and I would roll my eyes so far back into my head they would get lodged there for days. Seeing that all they do is drink milk and sleep, I’m pretty certain my pet hamster, Bubbles (God bless her soul) had more of a personality. That was until she got really old and she fell off the top storey of her massive apartment and her eye popped out and she lost the will to live. I spent my last $100 on her surgery and she died the next day but it all worked out because I was too heartbroken to eat for the rest of the month anyway.

And I wasn’t sure about the whole nature/nurture debate. I thought that a kid’s personality is largely shaped by the environment they grow up in, but then how do you explain the fact that siblings can grow up with the same parents and turn out completely different.

Now with 2 kids, I’m almost completely certain that a parent can only do so much and children are not as some claim, a blank canvas for parents to create a masterpiece on. They come out all perfectly packaged and the most we can do is add a couple of finishing touches here and there. So really, if my kids grow up to be brats, it’s got NOTHING to do with me.

Just take my kids for example. They are as different as they come. Tru is a hardcore adrenaline junkie. He needs to be entertained every second of every day and he can’t sit still even for a while. There’s a little voice inside his head telling him that life is too good to waste maintaining the status quo so he’s always out seeking for a new adventure. He’s also gotta be at the center of attention all the time.

When they're not looking, I'm going in head first

When they're not looking, I'm going in head first

Kirsten is a little more unassuming. Totally like me in that regard. She homely and likes her equilibrium maintained. And she’s happy to blend into the background while her brother demands all my attention. If she could talk, she’ll be all like, “It’s ok mom, you can hang out with Tru. I’ll just lie here and watch my mobile quietly. Then when I’m tired I’ll go to sleep on my own without fussing.” Not that she doesn’t like the attention. When she gets some quality alone time with mama, she beams and beams like it’s Christmas morning.

I like my bed

I like my bed

These days, I try to give them equal portions of my time but truth is, the bulk of it goes to Tru. I have to constantly make sure he’s not in any mortal danger because it is incredible how he can hurt himself with the most harmless objects like a a piece of tissue. He can stuff it into his ears or dip into the toilet bowl and then eat it or use it to strangle himself. It just blows my mind.

But I think they’re good for each other. Tru’s really gentle with Kirsten and he will kiss and pat her on the head when she’s upset. And you should see the look of adoration he gets from her. If they grow up to be best friends, I wouldn’t have much to complain about.

by
Funny or So I think, kids inc

I shouldn’t be allowed to talk to children

October 26, 2009

I really like talking to kids. It’s so different from talking to adults because there’s none of that being politically correct nonsense. They don’t beat around the bush and they say it like it is.

Then you grow up and start using euphemisms and double entendres and satire to say something that seems perfectly innocuous but it’s far nastier than just coming out and calling a spade a spade. And sometimes I get so sick of it that I’d much rather be spending my time talking to children. Also because they crack me up.

I have a friend’s kid who’s like the smartest 8-year-old I know. She’s like totally my kind of kid. Smart, witty and insanely hilarious.

Tru's best friends in the whole world

Tru's best friends in the whole world

The awesome thing about 8-year-olds is that they are old enough to really understand stuff and they don’t give two hoots about being politically correct.

Joie: Sometimes I wish I could be a boy. It’s tough being a girl.

Me: It’s fun to be a girl. You can do all sorts of girly stuff.

Joie: No, girls have to get pregnant and give birth. And boys just sit around and play computer games and drink coffee.

Me: Yeah, you’re right. It totally sucks to be a girl.

***

Joie: What are your favorite subjects in school?

Me: Well I liked Literature and a little bit of History. Not so good at Math.

Joie: I like dead bodies.

*stunned silence*

Me: You like what again?

Joie: You know, dead… like died?

Me: Why, why would that even be relevant to the conversation?

Joie: You get to cut up dead bodies.

Me: Ohhhhhhh, like in biology and pre-med. I guess that is kinda cool. You get to cut up frogs and hamsters.

Joie: Can I don’t cut up my hammie?

Me: I’m pretty sure that can be arranged.

***

Joie: Did you watch this show last week where the guy got trapped in the mountains and died and woke up after 4 days?

Me: Er, no. Is it like a true story?

Joie: Ya, it’s a true story. He was frozen and he really died. Then he came back to life after 4 days. And his brain wasn’t working.

Me: Like Jesus? Except that it was like 3 days instead of 4.

Joie: Not really like Jesus. Jesus wasn’t frozen, you know.

Me: Excellent point. Jesus is way cooler.

by
kids inc

I’m having an Easter Egg Hunt in the middle of October

October 23, 2009

The husband and I, we’re major scatterbrains. I attribute it to the fact that I was born three months premature and the doctor said I was probably going to be retarded. So it’s like a miracle that I managed to survive all these years without eating my own hair and I guess I can live with losing stuff now and then. The husband, he’s got no excuse because his brain is broken so I don’t really blame him for it either.

In the years that we’ve been together, we’ve lost phones, wallets, wedding rings, keys and countless other stuff. We’ve been locked out of our own house and car enough times that it has stopped being funny. It says a lot that I consider it a personal achievement that I haven’t lost my babies…yet.

Now that Tru is a little bigger, he’s not helping the cause because he has taken to hiding our stuff around the house like some great Easter Egg hunt. Not like we don’t have enough trouble finding them as it is. Usually, we just leave everything on the dining table and even though it’s a mess, it’s an organized mess because I know exactly where everything is (after some scrambling). But you see, that was before Tru started hiding our stuff.

And he doesn’t just leave them sprawling on the floor in plain sight. It’s all strategically hidden in places I would never have thought to look. It was funny at first like “what’s this potato doing in my underwear drawer?” but after a while, it’s not fun having to search for the house keys when guests have been standing outside twiddling their thumbs for 15 minutes.

I’ve narrowed down his favorite hiding places and the list is getting longer by the day.

1. In the tissuebox

2. In the trash bin

3. In his shoe

4. Under his bed

5. Under my bed

6. In various drawers around the house

7. In his car boot (One day, I’m going to destroy that car)

I’m trying to teach him to locate stuff instead of hiding them, but when I ask him where’s my credit card or iPhone, he grins and says “no”. (Whaddya mean no, young man?) Then he’ll toddle behind me and peer knowingly as I start panicking and scrambling to turn the house upside down.

I’m being mocked by a baby.

by
kids inc, motherhood

By the powers combined, I am MegaDutchess.

October 22, 2009

Sometimes I astound myself with my abilities. And by that I mean I’m like a new X-men, with special powers and all. If I were an X-men, I’d be Vishnu, or is it Krishna or Shiva. You know, the one with a thousand arms sticking out from everywhere. But I’d have a much cooler name like Megadutchess. Incidentally, I got the name from a kick ass Superhero Name Generator (this is the kind of thing I spend my free time doing).

Right, so yesterday, I brought BOTH kids out for a walk around the neighborhood alone. By myself. With only 2 arms and 2 babies. Impossible, you say? Not with Megadutchess to the rescue. Because I’m a psychopath superhero.

Tru has been down with a long-drawn battle with the flu and he’s been itching to leave the house. After whining for the whole day, making me wear his shoes and saying BYEEE repeatedly (his cue to leave the house), he finally got his way and I figured it was way easier to take him out for a walk than to be driven mad cooped up at home. This would be easier if I had a lift that came right up to my house, but I have to walk down a flight of stairs to get to the lift. Which means lugging a stroller up and down with 2 kids is out of the question.

I grabbed Kirsten with one arm and handcuffed Tru’s hand to my own and made my way slowly downstairs. It took me 20 minutes just to get from my doorstep to the playground and half of that time was spent shouting “Tru, come back here this minute” while he attempted to lie on the floor, pick at dirt, eat ants and dig out trash from the bin.

Then when we reached the playground, there was this brattish 4-year-old girl who tried to terrorize him. Obviously she could run faster than Tru and she monopolized every inch of the playground that he tried to touch, the whole time raining curses on him like “you are very naughty” and “I’m going to beat you”. When she thought I wasn’t looking, she threw a bottle cap at him. I was about to burn her with a cigarette stub when her mother suddenly appeared and started going ballistic. It was like I had some psychic powers that summoned her.

She pretty much smacked the living crap out of her right there in the playground and I watched with more than a little bit of satisfaction before grabbing the kids and making a quick getaway. Talk about poetic justice.

But I digress. The point is I don’t even know why I do these things. Like finding new ways to torment myself. By the time I got back, my arms were deadweight. But Tru was happy though. And Kirsten looked better with some fresh air. Although now I think they expect this is going to be a regular feature in their daily activities. Megadutchess, transform.

by
kids in motion, kids inc

Peekaboo

October 20, 2009

All parents love to take indulgent videos of their kids and make disgustingly awful home videos and then post it on youtube and make everyone they know watch it multiple times.

I’m *NOT* one of those parents because after I make one of those home videos, I post it on my blog and make strangers watch it till their eyes bleed.

httpv://www.youtube.com/watch?v=S70C50F0Q1g

If you actually know me, you’ll be compelled to leave a perfunctory comment on how cute/smart/awesome my kid is.

If you don’t, be thankful I actually edited it down to 23 seconds instead of showing you a full length feature film .

by
motherhood

The *terrible* twos

October 19, 2009

I always thought the terrible twos started at two and it wasn’t just because some guy was trying to think of a number that started with ‘T”. Because it’s supposed to leave me with another seven months before I have a little monster on my hands. But apparently that bubble has burst for me. My 17-month-old has entered the phase commonly known as the terrible twos.

I used to look at toddlers throwing magnificent tantrums in malls and tsk tsk at the mothers who clearly have no control over their heinous spawn. There’d be screaming, kicking, flailing limbs, headbanging and curious stares from onlookers complete with looks of pity. Sometimes there would even be whispering and finger pointing as the frazzled mother tries to pry her kid off the floor with a spatula.

Naturally, I wasn’t looking forward to it at all. The parenting authorities all have different advice on how to deal with it. Leave them to scream it out, bring them home immediately, give them the spanking of their lives, bribe them with candy, distract them or just cave and give them whatever they wanted in the first place. Frankly, none of the above options sound like any fun. Plus, I’m not the caving-in sort.

In any case, I thought I had some time before I had to deal with it, so I kinda just left it in the back burner for a while to contemplate the intricacies of disciplining a monster. I thought I’d still have several months of the one-derful ones (see, I can do alliteration too).

Last week, we brought Tru to the airport to pick up my sister who was away having foie gras in Paris. It was supposed to be a grab-and-go thing, but it turned out to be a friggin’ nightmare on elm street – a 30-min nonstop screamfest. And it would be fine if it was just a one-off blip in the chart, but according to the experts, it’s more like a foreshadowing of things to come. Like I’m supposed to be prepared for this kinda thing. Hell, no.

Anyway, Tru’s been fascinated with fountains, basically anything that squirts water is like GOD’S GIFT TO MANKIND for him and he will watch in wonder and clap his hands and go “WOWWWW” (which is so cute). But then he’ll want to go near it and grab the water and make a colossal mess (which is fine at the pool but not fine anywhere else). At the airport, it’s only see no touch but that concept is foreign to him. When I told him he wasn’t supposed to touch it, he started whining, so I grabbed him and ran (literally) and he broke out into a full scale hissy fit.

He was screaming at the top of his lungs and started flailing wildly. Nothing I did could make him stop. I tried distracting him with every possible object I could find (including my iPhone which is usually off-limits) but nuh-uh. I had become one of those mothers with a brat of a kid screaming his head off in a public place. Pretty soon, EVERYONE was staring and whispering and I felt like the absolute worst mother on the face of the planet. I would have grabbed him and gone straight home but my sister’s flight was delayed and I just had to improvise.

I brought him to a corner and held him (flying mucus and all) and just let him vent his frustration. The episode lasted almost 30 minutes and thats a *very long time* to hold a screaming kid while strangers stared at me. I did think of losing it and screaming as well just to give those prying eyes a proper show. You know, to make it really worth their while. Except that my mom was right beside me and she would probably have given me the spanking of my life.

I’m usually thrilled when Tru is advanced for his age but this time, not so much. The terrible twos are upon me and there’s no turning back now. All I can say is I hope Tru grows out of it before Kirsten gets there. I can’t possibly deal with two terrible twos all at the same time.

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