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motherhood

Sugar and spice and all things nice

February 9, 2010

Remember how I was so sure that Kirsten was a boy before I found out that she was a girl? Most of you probably haven’t even started reading yet but I went around telling everyone that she was a boy and I even called her Travis for 5 months. I was kind of bummed, not because I don’t like girls (quite the contrary) but because if she grows up to have gender issues, it’s all on me.

I told the husband that I couldn’t care if I had 5 boys or 5 girls, it’s all the same to me. “As long as they were healthy” was the politically correct phrase. Now that I have one of each, I’ll fess up, I do care. I would be massively bummed if I had 5 boys and no girls. I’d feel like I was missing something and also, too much testosterone in the house is very bad.

Tru is all about adrenaline and adventure. His idea of love is doing crazy stuff to make us laugh, he squirms the moment I get too huggy kissy and if I smooch him too many times, he goes “no no no no noooooo“.

That’s why I’m really glad I’ve got baby girl. She loves sitting on my lap and gazing into my eyes. She lets me hug and squeeze her for as long as I want (which is forever). She breaks into this shy, girly smile when I nuzzle my nose into her ears. Even her giggles are so saccharine sweet that my heart turns to mush. She loves me back exactly the way I love her and that’s really awesome.

my heart doesn't even stand a chance

by Daphne

kids inc, motherhood, not feeling so supermom, side effects of motherhood

Breathe, just breathe

February 8, 2010

When Tru was born, I called him chicken legs. Mostly because he had chicken legs, all skinny and bony. Every time I changed him, I held them ever so gingerly because I was afraid they would snap if I yanked too hard.

I remember looking at him during his first week at home and thinking how ironic it was that the most precious thing we had was so fragile and so easily broken.

It’s an irrational fear but nonetheless a very real one. As parents, we can’t help it. It’s terribly instinctive. My heart races and I can’t breathe and my mind goes blank because it can’t even handle the thought that something bad will happen to him.

But we held him and fed him and showered him with love and within 3 months, we had to call him thunder thighs. Mostly because he had thunderous thighs, all fat and juicy. Just as we reveled in chewing his juicy rolls, he came down with a bout of the flu and he was back to being broken all over again. He sniffled and sneezed and coughed and I felt like my heart broke with every whimper. His eyes were all teary so I held him for 6 hours straight until he managed to fall asleep on my chest.

Every time we start think that he’s alright, he would trip and knock his head or bleed all over his shirt or catch another flu bug and that awful feeling of panic would come back.

As he grew, my heart got stronger as he got stronger. The feeling of dread dissipated and I started to believe that he’s actually going to make it.

Then on Thursday, he came down with the sniffles again, which was fairly normal. But by Friday, he started wheezing and his chest heaved as he struggled to take in tiny breaths of air, which was not normal at all. Also, all that running and climbing made it worse so he would stop occasionally to catch his breath. We rushed him to the hospital and it was diagnosed as bronchiolitis, which sounds like a terribly scary word. Anything itis is bad, like meningitis or laryngitis or prostatitis, all bad.

It was by far the worst experience ever. They swabbed his nose, x-rayed him, pumped his system with ventolin and a whole ton of meds. He was back to being chicken legs all over again. He clung on to his blankie and shuffled his feet and smiled weakly when I made faces at him. During his entire hospital stay, we had to pin him down and make him inhale ventolin every 2 hours while he screamed and flailed and cried for mercy.

He’s finally home and all better now but I honestly don’t think I can take much more. Watching him struggle for breath is possibly the most painful thing I’ve ever had to do and I could feel myself breathe harder because just maybe it would help him.

That’s the thing with having kids. A piece of your heart breaks every time you see them hurting and I’m not sure I have that many pieces to spare.

by Daphne

kids inc, motherhood

Daddy’s Girl and other tales of gender bias

November 30, 2009

There’s just something about girls and their fathers. At five months, baby girl is unabashedly biased. She’s a daddy’s girl through and through, just like mama was.

I know exactly what it’s like because I was a daddy’s girl too. I loved hanging out with my dad, whether it was running errands, having a latte or secretly eating a double whopper just before dinner and then pretending to pick at our nutritious, home-cooked food after that. You need mommies when you’re sick and miserable, but daddies, daddies are *special*. Maybe it’s the feeling of security that fathers provide, like they’re going to make everything ok.

Tru lights up when daddy’s around but not excessively so. Kirsten, however, goes into her “where’s my daddy” mode all day from the time daddy goes to work, right up to the point when daddy comes home. She’ll be all like nonchalant all day with momma around. I mean, once in a while, she will oblige me with a patronizing smile if I try real hard to make her laugh, like “erm, ok mom, you can take the chopsticks out of your nostrils now.” When she learns how to talk, I won’t be surprised if she asks me what time daddy is coming home about 200 times a day.

where's my daddy?

And the moment she hears daddy’s voice go “hey baby girl, I’m home!”, she breaks out into the widest grin of her life. Her eyes dart to the door and she starts to chuckle and gurgle, like she’s trying to get daddy’s attention. So far, no one else but daddy has succeeded in making her giggle. It’s like he doesn’t even try and she’s giggling like well, a little girl. And the look of sheer delight when she’s in daddy’s arms, that’s priceless. NOT FAIR. How come I don’t get that kind of reception when I step out huh?

But I don’t really mind though, because I’m reluctantly going to admit that daddies are cooler. They teach you how to do all the badass stuff like making a fire with stones and killing zombies with a sledgehammer. Moms just make you eat your vegetables and clean your room.

So I’m cool with having a daddy’s girl. As long as we get to have our special girly time doing manicures. sticking rollers in our hair and checking out hot guys.

by Daphne

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: 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 Daphne

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 Daphne

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

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 Daphne

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

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

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 Daphne

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