out of the box

Tru has been sick again and every time he falls ill, it’s not pretty for everyone involved. And by that I mean me.

I’m inclined to say that it’s a boy thing because I hope to God that baby girl will not go through this awful phase. He does this massive meltdown 3-4 times every hour. He wants to eat, then he doesn’t want to eat and spits it out and swipes the bowl away, then screams for water but hates the water bottle and wants to drink from a cup but spills everything on the floor. He wants strawbabies and gapes and coffee. Seriously? Coffee?

He’ll fling himself onto the ground in a very primal manner and shriek like a banshee when I’m a split-second too slow. And in that split-second, he suddenly decides that it’s not what he wants anymore and even when he gets it, he shrieks some more. It’s all very fun to watch if you’re a sadist.

meltdown mode alert

There’s something about a baby’s screech that drives your blood pressure into overdrive. It makes me want to join in but I obviously can’t because I’m a responsible adult with self-control so I take 10 minute breaks to hide under the sink and take deep breaths.

Whenever he’s in this state, I need him to take his naps but what fun would it be if he actually went to sleep without fussing? So during nap time yesterday, he gave me a thousand reasons why he didn’t have to sleep it was then that I realised he’s learnt the art of pooping at will. He figured out that every time he poops, he gets to delay sleeping and have fun watching me scrub, dry and diaper his bum. He did it 3 times and each time, he’d say that he was all done but the moment he’s all clean, voila, a fresh pack.

After being in negotiations with him for over an hour, Kirsten woke up so I made him lie down to sleep and left the room. The whole time I was feeding baby girl, he stood at the door and said “mommy, open the door, please, open the door, mommy, open, please” in various combinations. So I did, and he rushed out, tears and mucus flying everywhere, hugged me and said “sorry mommy“.

I hugged him back and said “mommy’s sorry too, sweetheart. I guess you don’t have to sleep if you don’t want to.” And with a glint in his eye, he smiled.

That, my friends, is how you get pwned by a baby.

Introducing solids to a baby is messy and gross and often frustrating. One day they love it and they can’t get enough then the next day, they decide it’s horse turd and it lands all over your living room floor. The feeding ain’t fun, the food slinging ain’t fun and the cleaning up after sure as hell is not my idea of fun.

So what makes a mom keep up the ordeal? Pretty little food cubes that are so fun to make.

a fresh batch of spinach, corn and pumpkin

It’s like therapy for me, steaming and mashing and blending all the colors of the rainbow to make stuff that may just turn out to be a hit with my kid. And when it’s thrown up everywhere, at least I had fun making it.

First shot at riding a bike

The first day of school has always been traumatic for me, mostly because I’m shy and awkward and resistant to change. I thought things would be different when it came to my kids but it is still as nerve-racking for me. My son, he’s chillin’ like ice cream filling but momma, not so much.

I was actually real excited about having 3 whole hours to spend alone with baby girl since she hasn’t had me all to herself in like… ever. I had my week all planned out. On Mondays we’ll go to the library, Tuesdays and Thursdays to the park, Wednesdays to Starbucks and on Fridays we will go visit friends for playdates.

Yesterday for the first time, I neatly labelled and packed Tru’s bag, made him a sandwich and dropped him off to school like a big boy. Just like we expected, Tru hit the ground running and fell right into formation like a trooper. On the first day, he played in the sandbox, tried riding a tricycle and made a new friend (and by friend I mean groupie). Something tells me that he’s going to have a lot of fun in school.

So all is good, except that I really miss him. It’s a breather for me and baby girl seems thrilled but it’s so different without him around. The 3 hours of freedom I got, I spend missing my little man.

Last year started off well enough. I had the cutest kid in the world and another one on the way, this time a girl. My dream of being able to take care of the kids myself had come true. I had just left my job without the faintest idea how we were going to make it through the year. All I knew was that the kids were worth the foregone holidays, shopping sprees and maître d’s.

I was well on my way to having my white picket fences, 5 kids, 3 dogs and a garden of pretty white hydrangeas. Well, almost.

It was a fairly ordinary start to the year. Nothing like the shindigs we used to have before the kids came along. Seeing that I was pregnant and exhausted, a couple of university mates brought the party over to our place so that I could crash after midnight while the soiree continued. I raised my glass, cheered a little, exchanged some pleasantries and went straight to bed.

For me, the new year came without much fuss or commotion. But I went to bed with a nagging suspicion that even though the new year had sneaked up on me, the year ahead was anything but typical. As a matter of fact, it turned out to be one of the wildest years I’ve ever had. Even crazier than the year I got married, went on my honeymoon, shifted to my new place, took a sabbatical from work and went to bible school. Way crazier.

Here’s what I did this year.

1. I pushed an entire baby out of my child bearing bits. It was different from having the obgyn grab the baby out while I lay on the table like a piece of meat. Totally doesn’t count. This time, I managed to do the whole sweaty, screamy thing. It was indescribably satisfying.

2. I lost 30 kg. Without even trying. It was even more satisfying.

3. I went without sleep for the most number of days in a row. It was not satisfying at all.

4. We won the premier league without much of a fight. Again. Somewhat satisfying.

5. I learnt what it means to love. Which is to choose letting them vomit into your mouth over flinging them against the wall. Which is to spend your every waking minute loving them (even the 20 minutes that they’re off throwing a hissy fit). Which is to put them first at the expense of yourself all the time. And not because you have to but because you want to.

6. I walked out of the worst case of depression I’ve ever had in my life. There were days when I thought I’d never walk out of it, but I have. At least the worst is already over.

7. I started a blog, which has turned out to be one of the best things I’ve done. It’s opened up a whole community of mothers who’s been through all of it and worse and still managed to keep it all together. To all the people I’ve met in the blogosphere, you are all awesome.

8. I survived the year without having a job. Technically, I do have a job but in some countries, being a slave is doesn’t count as a real job. The thing is that we made it. Without needing to sell any of my internal organs.

9. I grew as a person. I feel like I’ve aged, but in a good way. These days, I feel less and less like a kid and more as an adult. We’ve all got to grow up sometime. This year, it was my time to grow up.

10. I went from mom to supermom.

My favorite quote from Ally Mcbeal is this. If you think back, and replay your year – if it doesn’t bring you tears of joy or sadness, consider the year wasted. This year, it’s got plenty of both. It’s been one hell of a tough year. I don’t think I’ve ever cried this much in my life. But it’s been a good year and I’ve never been happier.

So here’s to 2010. They say in 2010, we’ll have time travel, flying capsules and robots to do our bidding. Or not. Either way, have a good one this year.

Priceless

I don’t remember much about my great grandmother, except that she had a really large house and large dogs, but not much else. So I’m really glad the kids have a chance to know their great grandmother because not many people get to even have great grandparents, much less a cool one who’s crazy about them.

I almost don’t mind that she spoils them rotten because it comes with the territory. You don’t get to be a great grandmother unless you spoil the great grandkids. When the kids get bigger, they’ll figure out that if they can’t get something from daddy and mommy, chances are they’ll get it from grandma. In the rare chance that it doesn’t work, the great grandma card is a sure win.

Looking at baby girl, I think she’s got that figured out already.

I just spent the last 2 days battling the worst fever of my life. No, I didn’t die from being electrocuted. Instead, I developed a nasty infection thanks to the blocked ducts (again), which is possibly worse than being jolted by electricity. I just spent the last 48 hours like a zombie, alternating between shivering and perspiring buckets.

I’m too stoned to blog right now, so here are a few photos to keep you entertained. Pics courtesy of Aunty Jan during our Sunday brunch at Hatched.

My very own Pixar character

Full of cheek as usual

Cheeks are full as usual

The one good thing that came out of this debacle is that I’ve finally lost enough weight to fit into my old jeans. Ok, so it used to be my fat jeans (for when I’ve eaten too much KFC), but at least it’s my first pair without an elastic waistband in 2 years. So yay, I guess.

I didn’t think this day would come but feeding a toddler is one of the most frustrating things in the world. When Tru started solids at 4 months, I thought I had a shark on my hands. He would eat anything and everything I shoved into his mouth, even when it mostly looked and tasted like vomit. No salt, no oil, no artificial flavoring. Just the natural goodness of organic fish and vegetables.

Then we introduced “adult food” and it was never the same again. It all started out of convenience. On the days that we had to head out all day, we’d just feed him whatever we were eating outside, so he got to taste the magic of McDonalds and finger-licking good fried chicken. I rationalized it away, saying that it was just a treat once in a while. But for Tru, it was like tasting the Turkish Delight offered by the White Witch. Or like how Adam and eve felt after they ate the apple, like “I didn’t know I was eating dog vomit all this while when such marvelous food actually exists.” (Except that they were more like “I didn’t know I was running around au naturel when I could wear fig leaves and pig skin.”)

Everything else paled in comparison and when I offered him his nutritious but nasty gruel, he’d give me an emphatic NO and shake his head violently. One time, he got so frustrated with his food that he swiped it off the table and all over the floor, which naturally sent me into a hissy fit. Long story short, he got timed-out in his naughty corner while I had to pop prozac to calm my nerves.

It’s gotten to a point where feeding him is like playing Russian Roulette. I went out to get books on “How to feed your baby” and “100 Best recipes for delicious meals” just to find something he likes. I also caved on the no salt/sugar rule. The worst thing is kids are about as predictable as the lottery so one day it can be “that’s DELICIOUS, mom, I LOVE risotto” and the next day it’ll be all “Ew, that’s disgusting and worse than elephant turd”.

There’s few things that can frustrate you like having the food you spend an hour chopping, dicing and cooking swiped off the table with a single, swift flick of his tubby hands. Or I’ll have to distract him with TV and toys while I stealthily sneak the food into his mouth. “Look Tru, it’s Thomas” and a spoonful of pasta. But you see, doing that 85 times every feed is not the funnest thing in the world and I cannot count the number of times I almost want to order Mackers to save myself all that trouble.