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Funny or So I think, kids inc

A Hair-Raising Affair

March 13, 2009

It’s that time of the month again. The dreaded haircut. For me, a haircut is like a head spa. I’ve got a people fussing over my hair, giving me a head massage while I sip my earl grey and catch up on Cosmo, plus I walk away with a nice do.

Not quite the same story for my son. He hates having itsy hair bits stuck to his face and neck and he’ll squirm like an eel out of water.

The last time he had a haircut, it didn’t go very well. Peruse specimen A.

Geek in the Blue

Despite telling the stylist (I’m being generous with the term here) not to take off too much from the fringe and the sides, she completely butchered his hair with her evil shaver. And I still had to pay $16 for it.

For almost a month, he had to go around LOOKING LIKE MR. SPOCK. Peruse specimen B.
Other Geek in the Blue

This time, I wasn’t taking any chances, and I decided to cut his hair myself. In case you haven’t noticed, I’m talented in so many ways. Anyway, how difficult can a haircut be? I’ve seen them do it a hundred times, just grab a bunch between my fingers and snip away.

Before you decide to work on your own hair, you might want to start with your dog, cos it’s kinda tougher than it looks. The squirming was uncontrollable, and half the time I was close to dislodging his eye. And once you start, you can’t just abandon ship halfway, or it’ll look like he got attacked by a rabid dog.

After about an hour, we stood back and surveyed the final product. It was really not bad at all, for a virgin attempt.

*Excuse me while I go show off my chef d’oeuvre.

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kids inc

The Low-Down on Chow-Down

March 10, 2009

The way I see it, when it comes to eating, there are three kinds of kids. The chickens, the hamsters and the sharks (pardon the analogy, it’s an occupational hazard).

The chickens are the colossally picky eaters. They’re not particularly fond of food and eating is merely for sustenance. They’re usually fine with french fries and ice-cream, but the moment you bring on the broccoli and peas, they’ll grab their heads and retch.

But you gotta give it to them, they’ve got an arsenal of vomit faces to convey their immense displeasure, ranging from “looking at this pile of goo makes my head throb” to “I’d rather die than swallow that”.
bleahh

Then there are the hamsters. They keep the food in their mouths like they’re storing up for winter and refuse to swallow. It would seem like they are eating a lot, since each mealtime takes an average of 3 hours. By the time they’re done with breakfast, it’s about time for lunch. And so on.

In fact, every day is like a never-ending meal punctuated with food of different temperatures.
built-in food pouches

Finally, there are the sharks. They’re the kind that grabs life by the horns and eats right through them. They eat anything and everything. It’s like feeding a bottomless pit, and they seem to be hungry all the time. When the food is too slow or too little, they bang their little hands and scream bloody murder.

“Give me food!” is their battle-cry, and when it doesn’t come, they know how to improvise.

Tru, he’s definitely a shark, and a pretty enterprising one at that. His favorite move is what I like to call the I’m-starving-please-feed-me-look, complete with doleful eyes and half-pout (surprisingly effective). When that fails, he progresses to the hand-banging and screaming (also surprisingly effective).

Recently, he’s acquired a new tactic. The sneak attack. When he know it’s something he can’t eat, (like cookies or chocolate) he’ll act all innocent and sneak up on you when you’re least expecting it. Then with one swift bite, he’ll grab the food right out from your hands and smirk like he’s real pleased with himself.

“Take that, mama!”

Then I look at the chickens and hamsters and I’m actually glad that I’ve got a shark.

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kids inc

What’s in a name?

February 24, 2009

I am of the opinion that Shakespeare got it all wrong when he said “That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet.” I’m guessing his idealism got the better of him. I, for one, am certain that names do matter. A lot. Chances are, Romeo and Juliet would probably not be the classic that it is if it were called Romeo and Julio (read Hoo-lyo). Snigger, snigger.

I’ve been putting off the whole name selection process for 5 months now, and I think it’s time. I mean, it’s the kind of huge decision that sticks with them for life, and I really don’t want to muck it up. Plus, it doesn’t help that their last name will be, wait for it… KAO. Cool last names like Smith or Williams can go with practically anything, but with Kao, that’s a different story. It’s a delicate balance between being unique and keeping it cool.

Take for example, a lovely name like Abarne. Pair it with most names and it works, but if I were to name my daughter that, her name in itself would be a knock-knock joke.

Knock-knock. Who’s there?

Abarne. Abarne who?

Abarne Kao.

Snigger, snigger.

As a rule of thumb, literary devices also don’t work in a name. Rhymes (Julia Gulia), alliterations (Peter Piper) and onomatopoeias (Ling Ling) are a no-go. If you haven’t already noticed, kids are brutal when it comes to name-calling and a badly chosen name would be like sending her bleeding and blind into the pack of wolves.

After mulling over it for a couple of days, the list was narrowed down to Ava, Emma and Kirsten. Emma Kao got voted off first, because it sounded too much like “I’m a Kao”. Ava, I really liked, but of all the things in the world, it had to mean birdlike. And I hate birds. (There’s a story here which involves a crow getting lodged in a woman’s frontal skull, but I’ll save it for another time.)

So we’ve decided on Kirsten Kao. Yes, I know it breaks the alliteration rule, but if you say it enough times, there’s a rather nice ring to it.

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kids inc

Of Princesses and Peas

February 20, 2009

To be honest, I’m a little nervous. My first brush with motherhood wasn’t the nightmare I anticipated, and it definitely helped that I had a little hardy boy. But girls are so pretty and princessy. I mean, what they’re made of should tell you something – sugar and spice and everything nice.

Now don’t get me started on what boys are made of. They can run around oblivious to the large packet of poop plastered to their asses and by the time you realize, most of it would have already caked. Half the time with Tru, I’m grabbing him by the ankles to stop him from flinging himself off the bed. To date, he’s fallen off the bed/sofa/chair four times, (once resulting in a whole mouthful of blood) and bumped his head on various hard objects enough times to induce a mild concussion. To our credit, we’ve saved him more times than we can count, so I guess 4 don’t seem so bad.

But back to girls. It’s their prerogative to squirm at dirt, have sand picked out of their sandals and have big brothers give in to their every whim and fancy. They don couture and braid their hair. It’s not fair, I know, but little girls are princesses and should be treated as such.

Boy, it’s gonna be good. But as Borat Sagdiyev would say, “Is not good for me.”

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kids inc

10 things to know about babies

February 12, 2009

The good thing about being a mom is that I get to dish out useless information like an expert to other non-moms or moms-to-be.

Which makes me feel intellectually superior for once.

10. Nursery rhymes are best sung a hundred times. Again! Again!

9. Everything else is more fun than my toys. i.e. remote controls, laptops, phones, keys.

8. It’s fun to bang stuff that are not my toys. And eat them.

7. No means yes. Yes also means yes.

6. Whining gets me what I want.

5. If whining doesn’t work, just flash my killer smile.

4. I need to be carried. All the time.

3. The best time to cry is at 3 in the morning.

2. I have the urge to defecate when my diaper is off.

1. Sleep is for the weak.

The little guy sure knows how to work the camera

The little guy sure knows how to work the camera

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