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stuff best described as not safe for parents

The ultimate bag for daddies.

February 10, 2010

Mothers get all the fun baby accessories. You have the awesome but also feminine-looking beco baby-carrier, Kate Spade diaperbags, the Medela Twin Turbo Breast pumps, to name a few.

Daddies basically carry around the aforementioned which is totally inergonomical and ill-fitting to our muscular frame *flex*.

Despondent by the lack of customised accessories and crackpot gizmos for the new father, I have spent the past year and a half working closely with Deuter to come up with the ultimate bag for dads that is called – wait for it – the BagDad.

In spite of the apparent misnomer it is well known that Iraqis do not make anything besides chemical bombs so I’m not too concerned about the implications here.

The Bagdad is a ground-breaking, cutting edge piece of technology that blends the best of military, motorbiking and culinary equipment.

The Bagdad

1. Milk Distillation/Hydration System

The man-boob debuted in 2004’s Meet the Fockers but the past six years have seen tremendous strides taken in the field of perfecting what is now commonly known as the “milk moob”.

The Bagdad’s milk moob involves a complex liposuction system that basically breaks down the fats of the carrier in yet another complex process similar to that of a woman expressing milk. Without going into the technical details, fathers can now lose anywhere between 10-25 kg wearing the Bagdad and also feed the baby for somewhere between 18 months to a year.

2. Helmet

A child’s mind is his most valuable possession. This helmet has a built-in audio system that will loop the theme song from Special Agent OSO as studies have proven that too much Sesame Street increases the intelligence of a person disconsolately. It was King Solomon who said that “too much study wearies the mind” and I totally concur.

3. Tantrum Stabilizing

This is for strapping the baby’s arms together similar to that of a mental patient in a straight jacket. Best used with the Contoured and Removable Hip Belt with Gear Loops (See below).

4. Food Channelling Sternum Strap

Older babies will move towards consuming solids like crushed oreos with melted butter or shredded lard deep fried in olive oil (cos its *healthier* that way). The food channelling sternum strap feeds your little twinkie baby from an interior storage compartment that maintains it at an optimum temperature to maintain a thin crisp,especially for the shredded lard.

5. Contoured Shoulder Straps for Baby’s buttocks.

There are times when you absolutely need to hoist your baby high up in the air; for example when you’re clubbing and there’s a hovering cloud of smoke just about face-height or when you get caught spitting gum onto the ceiling. It’s self-explanatory, really.

6. Poop Suction (the Deuter Alpine System).

The irritating thing about kids is that they do their business as and when they feel like it. By purchasing the S-plug or the Splug (sold seperately at $39.90) to connect your child to the Poop Suction or as the fancy-pants suit at Deuter insists I call it, the Deuter Alpine System, you no longer have to worry about diaper changes or wet-wipe warmers.

7. Contoured and Removable Hip Belt with Gear Loops.

I’m a firm believer that every child needs to be disciplined. Inspired by Mel Gibsons’s the Passion of the Christ, The Contoured and Removable Hip Belt with Gear Loops will ensure a memorable and life-transforming disciplinary session for your child. You can also customise it by purchasing Barb Hooks with Heatable tips at $9.99 or simply purchase a Whip Extension at $4.99 to give you that extra dimension (and length) for that escaping baby.

**********

To purchase Bagdad, visit www.deuter.com.

Key in [Motherinc] as the promo code for a 20% discount.

by Daphne

kids inc, literally a crappy post, stuff best described as not safe for parents

Hot water is surprisingly handy in sticky situations

February 3, 2010

One of the things I do best is improvisation. Problem solving, I like to call it. Now that I’m unemployed, it’s the only thing that makes me feel useful.

Like the other night our kitchen was invaded by a mutant lizard and the husband said it was too high to catch so I formulated a plan to terminate its miserable life. He loaded up a water pistol and armed himself with a glass of boiling water. The plan was to shoot it and when it falls off, douse it with the boiling water. Hasta la vista, baby.

Ok, so the hot water didn’t kill it like we planned and it escaped into the air con vent in the living room but it was pretty much fatally wounded so I have a feeling it crawled in there to die. Which counts for a win. I’ll improvise again when a foul smell starts coming out from my air con in a few weeks.

The only thing about improvising as opposed to advanced planning is that you end up winging it a lot. And your instincts take over so you end up doing stuff that seemed ingenious at that time but on retrospect seems like the sort of thing an airhead would do. You know the feeling you get at the precise moment where you do something and realize that it was massively moronic but it’s already done and you can’t undo it. Yeah, that feeling. I get that a lot.

See, I have 1 rule when the kids are sleeping. #1. Never wake a sleeping baby. Even if that means you have to hold in your pee and tiptoe around the house, you do it.

So when I was all out of wet wipes and Kirsten did the number 2, there was no way I was going to risk going into the room to get a new pack and wake Tru up. My other option was to wash her bottom at the basin direct without first scraping off the residual poop. On hindsight, I should have used normal tissue soaked in water but it was too much of a hassle.

Next thing I knew, there was a large piece of semi-soft poop lodged in the sink. That was when I grabbed a chopstick from the kitchen to try to poke it into the drain but it made it even more stuck and I was actually spreading the poop all around the sink drain. Flushing water down didn’t seem to work and it was too far in for me to pry it out with my hands.

It was a nice little pickle. I thought of leaving it there for the husband to discover when he got back but I’m responsible so I improvised some more. Hot water is my solution for most problems (like perverts and pests) so I spent 5 minutes pouring hot water into the sink while scraping off crap from the edges. Except that I didn’t anticipate the smell it would cause. Trust me when it say that it is FOUL. Seriously, the smell of boiled poop is exquisite beyond description.

I used to think that becoming a mother automatically makes you all grown up and smart and responsible. Guess not.

by Daphne

Father Inc, stuff best described as not safe for parents

Now I can’t even fart in public anymore, not that I used to do it. I’m considerate that way.

January 28, 2010

If you know Daf and I personally or read this blog long enough, you would know that we were both classmates from the same university and took a course that landed many of my peers jobs in the media industry.

And apparently being young parents is a news angle because we get approached for soundbites more often then I would have liked.

Daphne has been in the news for her wisdom-in-a-neat-box quote of ” a wedding is but for a day, marriage is for a lifetime.” Hear, Hear.

We also (reportedly) beat the recession of late 2008-2009 by stocking up on expiring can food and a diet of spinach and tofu.

So some time back, she did yet another email interview with a writer friend from a woman’s magazine which had to be weird because it was another of those too-much-information types.

The first signs of regret came quickly – a few weeks ago a colleague (more of an acquaintance actually, he was from the other side literally and figuratively speaking, but the devil is in the details and I don’t want to sin) came up to me out of the blue and said “Hey! I saw your photo in this woman’s magazine. Man, you looked different back then, dude.”

I mumbled something about putting the “fat” back in “father” and made a quick escape, scrambling to recall which it magazine it was and the context of the story.

Stepping into my boss’ office on the same day brought a cynical, split-second stare and a rhetorical “I read your article. Good job there.”

And the proverbial straw that broke the camel’s back came when a colleague that sat right behind me (no escape!) spun her chair around and blurted suddenly- “I saw your wedding photos! Man, i dig those suspenders. You looked different back then.” Incidentally, this was the same girl that declared my virility to the entire office when she found out that Daphne was pregnant with Kirsten less than six months after Truett was born. (Which was also why I was really keeping my fingers crossed during the recent pregnancy scare. I love them kids, but one at a time please.)

I mumbled something punny about “Dad’s the reason why” and headed off to the pantry pretending to make a drink -without my cup. Drats.

But there was no escaping the paparazzi and 2 days later I got a message on MSN.

“Read your article, good job dude. “

“Uh, yeah. Thanks. What the heck were you buying a woman’s magazine for anyway?”

“I clicked through a link on Asiaone.com, man. I thought it was about handjobs or something.”

By the mountains of Kilimanjaro, the story was online, on a major news site nonetheless. And totally searchable on Google if you key in the right words. Heck, we should have charged loading fees.

And if the camel’s back wasn’t broken (is there a gay joke in here somewhere?) he was truly, completely severed into two when my mother started dishing out very descriptive advice on family planning and the host of contraceptives out there. Apparently she read the article too.

Note to all mothers, do your children a favour – avoid any description, not matter how matter-of-fact your execution is, avoid ANY description that conjure mental images of you getting it on with Dad. Just don’t do it. Please.

Well the fact is we’ve been bumping into people on the streets, shopping centres, parks that have been reading Mother, Inc. While no doubt Daphne can work the prose as a kickass writer, I wasn’t getting quite comfortable with the meet-and-greet thing. So, this will sound totally idiotic since we’re evidently not celebrities or anything but I’ve been feeling like I can’t even “let it rip” in public. I’m just afraid people may be like, “hey you saw the guy that just farted, he’s actually the husband of Daphne from Mother, Inc. You know that blog with all that stuff about handjobs and getting it on.”

Sex does sell though (there, you’ve got the context of the interview) and given the rising divorce rates in Singapore, I suppose there’s no nobler cause than towards the building of strong marriages through some smokin’ hot sexytime.

You can quote me on that, thankyouverymuch.

by Daphne

kids in motion, stuff best described as not safe for parents

Do the robo boogie

January 25, 2010

When I was a kid, everyone used to say that in 2010, we’ll have robots to do our bidding. While the idea was cool, I knew that a showdown between man and machines would be inevitable. And the outcome: a complete massacre.

So I used to say, give me human slaves any day. I’m way more confident of taking on a malnourished slave that hasn’t eaten for a week than a giant chunk of metal. Not that I’m encouraging slavery. That sort of thing is illegal now. I’m just saying that if I needed to have slaves, I’d pick humans, you know. You don’t want to mess around with stuff like robots.

But nobody listens to me anyway. These days, there are robot vacuum cleaners, robot mops, robot toilet bowls, robot practically anything.

As it turns out, my son, he’s terrified of robots and well, basically all kinds of inanimate objects that move by themselves. He calls them bots very ominously.

My mom has a roomba irobot that’s in charge of keeping the house spick and span (which I must admit is a formidable invention). Tru goes ballistic every time it comes alive. I think he thinks that it’s going to attack him.

Then the other day, he was watching Baby Einstein on DVD with Kirsten and he suddenly starts bawling. Which was bizarre because he loves tv. So I asked him what was wrong and he kept saying bot, bot. And I realized that there were 2 robots (like authentic R2D2 lookalikes) doing the robo boogie on screen.

To test out my theory, I showed Tru this video. And it TOTALLY freaked him out. This, I’m not kidding.

httpv://www.youtube.com/watch?v=B1BdQcJ2ZYY&feature=related

So it’s begun. The robot invasion. In 2010, the not so distant future. I’m teaching him to do the robo boogie so that in case the robots decide to attack, he can blend in and assimilate. It’s a skill I learnt from Sun Tzu (blending in, not the robo boogie). And you can never go wrong with Sun Tzu.

by Daphne

stuff best described as not safe for parents

A “Get out of Jail free” pass, three hours a day.

January 11, 2010

Going out is fun

It’s nice to be out on a Monday morning. Or any morning for that matter.

The whole of last year, I spent being at home. As far as the world was concerned, I fell through the cracks and off the map. It’s like I didn’t even exist. Except for a couple of hours during the weekends, I spent all of my days and nights at home in my PJs.

For a while it was nice not to bother about makeup and pretty clothes because there is no way I’m dressing up just to be at home running after two crazy kids. Comfort trumps all, I thought. But as I’ve come to realize, feeling that comfortable all the time is not good for morale. It’s nice to dab on some makeup and head out for some fresh air. It’s nice to meet people again, even if it’s just making small talk about how cute my baby is. It’s nice to have a real latte and a scone. Did I mention the fresh air? I really miss fresh air.

Anyway, baby girl has been enjoying the time out. She’s been surprisingly adaptable and unfussy. I was prepared for some adjustment on her part but she’s been eating well and taking hour-long naps outdoors, which gives me some time for breakfast and a nice book.

Although I got to say, being out is a hell of a lot more tiring. There’s still a thousand things to pack when I’m out with two babies, and also a lot of contingency planning and improvisation like when they projectile vomit or have such a massive pack of poop it spills out of their diaper and onto everywhere else or throw a colossal hissy fit for 15 minutes. When these things happen, I ask myself why I’m pathological enough to venture out of the home alone with two kids.

Then I think about the alternative, which is house arrest. I think I choose fresh air.

by Daphne

stuff best described as not safe for parents

Sleep training update: Momma wins this round

December 16, 2009

Did I already mention that my life has been in a state of affliction ever since Tru started sleeping on his new bed? He’s been getting up several times every night crying and one of us has to go in and sit beside him till he falls asleep, which can take up to a whole hour. IN THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT. IN THE DARK. Sometimes, I would fall off my chair and cause a ruckus, which was actually counterproductive. That’s not to mention the 30 minutes I spend trying to get him to sleep in the first place.

I’ve got to make sure he’s truly asleep before I tiptoe out because I tried sneaking out too soon and ended up being busted by the sleep-deprivation mafia. It was like a flashback to my sneaking back home past curfew days as a teenager. Thanks to all that training, I can enter and exit rooms without so much as a squeak. But my son, he can detect your presence by the oxygen balance in the room. Either that or he’s psychic.

I also tried shifting my chair nearer and nearer to the door but he doesn’t care where I am as long as I’m inside the room. When I shifted my chair outside the door (leaving a small crack so he can still see me), he goes ballistic and climbs off to come stand beside me.

In the past week, I must have carried him back to his bed at least 1000 times. I lost count after a thousand. But the good thing is that now I have arms of steel. Silver lining.

As the week wore on, it was becoming apparent that our methods were not working so we decided to show hand, as it were. We put him in his bed, kissed him goodnight and left the room. The first night, it was like we unleashed a very angry bobcat in the room. Every 10 minutes, we would go in to calm him down and tuck him in again. 40 minutes in, he finally stopped and fell asleep on his bed. That’s when we did our victory lap. If he had ended up slumped over the floor, we would have been so guilty that we’d spend the next year sitting beside his bed every night. I would end up snappish and foul-tempered and eventually become the crazy woman with a hundred cats.

Instead, we now sleep through the night again because ever since then, he hasn’t woken up once. Also, the shrieking has gotten shorter and shorter. Last night, it took him 3 minutes before he fell asleep. And it was more of a whine rather than a shriek so that’s a good sign.

Update: I put him down tonight and NO CRYING. He didn’t even attempt to get off his bed. He just looked at me with resignation, flipped over and slept. That, my friends, is an out of the park and into the stratosphere kind of home run. VICTORY.

by Daphne

not feeling so supermom, side effects of motherhood, stuff best described as not safe for parents

Just so you know, toddler sleep training is a pain in the ass

December 8, 2009

So Tru’s new nursery looks great and all, but it’s thrown his sleeping patterns all off, which is not good for me. I think the reasons are twofold. First, it’s way too fun to be doing any sleeping in. He can play on the bed all night and when he’s bored he can easily climb off anytime. FREEDOM!

Also, I think he feels insecure without his crib, like maybe it’s too exposed and therefore susceptible to attack from unknown entities. I tried explaining to him that if something was to attack him (ie a flying cockroach or gorgeous zombie with killer hair), it’s far better to be able to escape rather than be caged in but I’m not sure he gets it.

If there’s one thing I learnt about parenting, it is the need to change and adapt. Just when you’ve settled into a nice routine and you think that life is good, it’s time for a change. Sort of like ninja training. You have to keep an eye out for sudden sneak attacks because the so-called sense of security you feel, that’s false. Prior to the new beds, the kids were doing good. They sleep on their own without any fuss and they sleep through for 12 hours every night.

This transition to a toddler bed was harder than I thought. Now when I put Tru to bed for the night, I can’t just put him down on the bed, kiss him goodnight and walk out. He climbs off the bed like a streak of lightning and reaches the door before I do. Either that or he starts screaming his head off. I spent the whole week reading up on toddler sleep training methods and tried them all. You might want to know that ALL of them were a real pain in the ass.

1. Every time he gets out, just put him back into the bed and say it’s time to sleep.

According to the books, this is supposed to work after a week or two. Except that I may already be committed to the asylum by then. One nap, I did it 83 times (I counted) and he was still bright as a button. He thought it was some sort of a game and kept giggling. I gave up after that and let him sleep on my bed.

2. Put him on the bed and leave the room.

He shrieks like a banshee the moment I leave and goes on for a very long time. This worked when we were training him to sleep in his crib but somehow this seems terribly cruel and it would totally break my heart if I went in to see him slumped over on the floor after an hour.

3. Sit beside him and pat him till he falls asleep.

Anyone who’s tried this will tell you that sometimes, you can pat and pat and pat until your hands lose all feeling and they will still be grinning back at you. Tru does one better. He’ll be digging my eyes, putting things into my ears and then just as I’m about to lose it completely, he spread his arms wide and says hug. He knows that’s one thing I can’t refuse.

So it’s been a harrowing week. I came up with my own method which is perhaps an amalgamation of all of the above. When it’s time for a nap, I sit down beside him but on condition that he lies down without playing. If he tries to get off, I tell him that I’ll leave the room and he’s got to sleep on his own. Obviously he tried it and I left the room for 10 minutes while he screamed his head off. Now all I do is say lie down and close your eyes and it totally works. But it still takes him a while to fall asleep and if he wakes up in the middle of the night, I’ve got to be there to help him fall asleep again.

Which means that the little sleep I’ve got has gotten even less. My only consolation is that this transition has got to happen sooner or later. Might as well get it out of the way now and hopefully he learns to sleep on his own bed without momma’s intervention. Soon.

by Daphne

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