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stuff best described as not safe for parents

Funny or So I think, stuff best described as not safe for parents

I’ll remember to blog when I’m in jail

January 11, 2011

This came in the mail yesterday. In an important-looking On Government Service envelope so at first I thought we were going to be given some GST credits or something. Until the husband opened it up and it was basically a warrant for our arrest for making nuisance calls to the police hotline.

Whoever said that having kids was boring clearly didn’t have my kids. With my kids, I have to be prepared to be hauled off to jail at anytime for something that’s not even my fault. Well technically, it is possibly my fault because I should be vigilant and preempt all the mischief they get up to but there’s no way I would have expected my 18-month & 30-month-old kids to dial 999 and then breathe heavily at the police officer.

As the responsible, law-abiding citizens that we are, this is not something we find in the mail everyday. Or ever. Worst part was that we didn’t even get to feel all badass about prank-calling the police just for fun (yeah, don’t tell me you’ve never wanted to do that). Now I have to be extra careful to make sure they don’t prank call the police again or get hauled off to jail.

Also, Mr. Police Officer, there’s really no use putting the phone on a high ledge somewhere because there’s no place to high for the kids to reach. Especially since they learnt that dragging a stool around the house gives them a height-boost. One time I came into the room to find them scaling the window grilles in their room (which were securely locked but it didn’t stop me from going psycho-mom on them for dangerous behavior).

The way I see it, the only probable option was rehabilitation, where I made them realize the severity of the issue. So I gathered the kids and told them that they weren’t supposed to play with the phone and particularly not to dial 999 under any circumstances.

Tru looked very serious during the talk and after I was done, he grabbed his chest, gave a fake cough and said “Truett never play with the phone. I need to call the ambulance because I’m very sick.”

I’m pretty sure that’s a sign my kid is way too smart for his own good. That’s also a sign we are probably going to be arrested.

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coolest kids ever, stuff best described as not safe for parents, unqualified parenting tips

The 30 Day Shred, Kirsten style

December 30, 2010

I’m into day 10 of the Jillian Michaels 30 Day Shred and it has already been the most exercise I’ve done in um, the last 10 years. I shall rave about the awesomeness that is what I think is the most badass workout video I have ever seen in another post, right after I show you my rock hard after-2-kids-abs.

For now, I bring to you a rip off of the 30 Day Shred, Kirsten style. You probably want to do this if you have no intention of losing any weight or getting in any real exercise. Otherwise, I recommend that you seek professional help (ie. Jillian herself).

Ladies, if you want to look exactly like this, just do what my baby girl does and you’ll get there in no time. Also, eat a lot of french fries.

If you’re ready, let’s begin. First, you want to put on some protective headgear so we keep those brain cells warm and safe.

Moving into side stretches. Make sure you get in a nice big stretch to open up your core. We don’t want any injuries here.

Alright, you need to really get into it. Work those muscles in, injuries are not allowed, people.

And going right into windmills. Keep your arms locked in a straight position and bring them around; you should start to feel that heart rate going. If you’re not sure how, just flail them around wildly, that always works.

Now for a serious strength move – squats. You need to feel those legs burnnn. Or if you’re tired, you can just chill out there for 5 minutes.

Finally, give those muscles a good flex. Come on, flex it like you mean it.

Congratulations, that brings us to the end of workout one. Keep this up and you’ll look exactly the same as you did before.

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i embarrass myself sometimes, stuff best described as not safe for parents

Believe it or not, I can pass off as 16. Apparently.

December 29, 2010

According to my calendar, it’s 3 days till the end of the year. Instead of the usual “WHERE HAS THE YEAR GONE” meltdown, I’ve decided that what this year really needs is for me to finish it up with aplomb.

While that used to mean a very late night with loud music and some tequila, it has now come to mean some very early mornings with lazy breakfasts and walks in the park.

In a week, we’ll all be back to the usual routines, geting all busy with work and school and important things to look into. And then before we know it, another year will have gone by. And then another. That’s how people get to become old and tired, as the years pass us by without stopping.

So just for a couple of days before the year ends, we’re starting a new tradition. To make the year stop. Or at least, make ourselves stop and take a breath before sprinting off again. Press the reset button. Relax a little.

Since the husband is on leave till the new year, we’re clocking in some proper family time these couple of days. Maybe even sneak in some alone time without the kids and act like kids again. On a bunny trail, I was out shopping with my mom and my sister when a girl from the store told us she thought I was 16. Or at most 19. I used to think that being happy to be thought of as younger than you really are was lame. The obnoxious 21-year-old me was all like “there’s nothing wrong with looking your age, as long as you still rocked the look.” But I realized that when you got to 28 or 30, all you want is for people to think that you look much younger.

I hate to admit it, but grown ups are so predictable.

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blogging about blogging, stuff best described as not safe for parents

Somebody needs to fix Facebook.

December 9, 2010

I was trying to upload pictures of our trip to Universal Studios yesterday on Facebook and I got to this page where the face recognition system groups all the faces that look alike into the same group for easy tagging.

Apparently, both my kids look alike, which is hardly surprising seeing they came from the same factory. But apparently, they also don’t look like me because my face was put into another category. That’s fine, though, because I’m not the picky sort when it comes to having kids that look like my clones.

What’s really disturbing is that Facebook thinks that if my sister and a fake Marilyn Monroe came together to have a baby, they’d get my kids.

Seriously, I couldn’t even make this stuff up. Thanks a lot, Facebook. You’re obviously broken.

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i embarrass myself sometimes, seriously somewhat serious, stuff best described as not safe for parents, the gripes of wrath

A tale of two kinds of kids

November 23, 2010

So baby girl was going on and on about french fries at 7am this morning and because we haven’t had our dose of unhealthy fast food for a total of 6.5 days now, I brought her to McD’s for some Mcjunkfood. They didn’t have fries for breakfast but as far as my baby was concerned, anything made of potato and fried till golden brown was called FANFRIES!! Tater tots, hash browns, chips, criss-cut fries, all FANFRIES, GIMME FANFRIESSSS!!!

It’s lame to disclaim but before anyone gets all judgey on me, I’ll state that she only gets to eat them on very special occasions like birthdays or christmas or parties or when they catch me snacking on chips from my secret stash of Ruffles cheddar and sour cream (I’m a potato chip snob, it’s got to be worth the fats for me to eat it).

When we got to mackers, there were no baby chairs around except for one at the outdoor al fresco section. Which I went out to get while carrying Kirsten in one arm and bunch of groceries in the other. In my experience with Singaporeans, about 37% of people will hold the door open for a frazzled mother carrying twice her weight. About 50% will pretend to not notice and the final 13% will watch on like it’s some kind of slapstick comedy.

I encountered the final 13% today. In the form of giggling schoolgirls. As the previous guy walked out and the door swung back after him, I stuck out my foot to keep it open while balancing on the other and trying to manoeuvre everything else through.

The whole time, these 6 Secondary School girls were standing about 3 metres away, watching us struggle with the door. I know because I saw them momentarily pause midway through conversation and look at us. So I stood there pondering if I should make one of them hold the door open for me (while I gave them a lesson on helping others in need) when a little boy no bigger than 8 ran up, opened the door and ran off with his friend.

Saved by the bell, girls. And I found myself thinking, if I were that boy’s momma, I’d be so proud.

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milestones & musings, motherhood, stuff best described as not safe for parents

Yay I get to be the favorite

October 13, 2010

Every now and then, I still think about whether I should have left my job to stay home with the kids. Especially when I’m missing my holidays and I start reading all these studies that show how having mommy at home doesn’t necessarily make them smarter or more successful people and I’m like you’re telling me this now, after I spent the last 2 years thinking that me being home with them would be the reason they are getting into Harvard Law School. (No pressure, kids, Yale or Princeton are ok too)

Honestly, I don’t know how successful they are going to be when they grow up, but that’s not really the reason why I chose to stay home in the first place. The whole point was to be around for them during these years that they needed mommy the most. To clean their poop and fix them snacks and snuggle in bed and read stories after a nap.

Just because I’m their momma doesn’t make me their favorite person in the world. All relationships take time and effort and they’re going to be closest to whoever spent the most quality time with them, whether it’s grandma or the maid or the teachers in childcare.

Like yesterday, Tru woke up from his nap early and he was in a particularly snuggly mood. He made me put aside my laptop and said “mommy don’t do work, mommy hug Truett.” Which I did for a long time. At that point I thought of how immensely sucky it would be if he was home alone with a maid or stuck in childcare all day.

Bad scenario: He needs mommy to snuggle and ends up snuggling with Aunty Mina and one day momma comes home from work all ready for some snuggly time and he’s all like “don’t want mommy to hug, want aunty to hug” and I will go stab myself with a fork.

Worse scenario: He needs mommy to snuggle and goes to Aunty Mina and she’s too busy watching tv so he cries himself to sleep and grows up emotionally shut down and has to spend the next 20 years in counseling therapy.

So yes, I have to put up with all the tantrums and mess and screaming fits but I also enjoy the fun stuff like baby kisses and cuddles and I get to know that they mean it when they say “Mommy FAVORITE!”

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lists you should paste on your fridge, side effects of motherhood, stuff best described as not safe for parents, unqualified parenting tips

Here’s one for all the cleaning pragmatists

October 12, 2010

A lot of moms get really stressed out over cleaning. I used to be one of them, especially when it seems like I’m spending so much time cleaning and things never stays clean for more than half a day and I get all frustrated and start yelling at everyone a lot more, which is all so unnecessary. Until I discovered a formula to determine what needs to be cleaned up immediately and what doesn’t. Now my house is in a constant state of disarray but the important thing is that I feel SO much better.

Formula:

M (How bad is the mess) x B (How much does it bother you) / H (How long it is likely to stay clean) = C (Should I clean?)

Let me illustrate with examples to make it clearer.

#1: Kid’s Room = Don’t Clean

I call this the war zone because epic battles go on in here. At any given point in the day, someone will be emptying boxes of toys into a massive heap on the floor and then someone else will observe the destruction, throw her head back in maniacal laughter, and proceed to fling toys everywhere. Because it’s so fun to watch mommy grab her head and look horrified.

I used to categorize their toys into neat little boxes. One for vehicles, one for play cooking, one for animals, one for pirates and one for weird items (broken doll limbs, that kind of thing) that don’t fit anywhere else. I had a whole complicated organizational system going on that made the Dewey Decimal System look like child’s play. But the moment it’s all neatly packed up, they would drag out all the boxes and dump them onto the floor all over again in less than a second.

With the formula, I’ve learnt to leave it the hell alone. That way, I didn’t have to spend hours packing up or nagging at them to pack up only for it to be messed up again. WIN.

#2: Dishes, Laundry, Spills = Clean

No brainer. It’s relatively easy to clean and it stays clean for a decent amount of time. I mean, only slobs leave dishes piled up in the sink for weeks and I’m no slob. Only a cleaning pragmatist. There’s a difference.

#3: Living room = Debatable

I have clearly demarcated territory in my house. The kids know that toys are meant to be played with in the room but the occasional toy encroaches into my space and I put it right back where it belongs, i.e., the war zone. Other times, I leave it until the end of the day when I do my evening clean up of the house.

Cleaning is like money – there’s never enough. Everything could always be cleaner if it bothers you enough to get off your ass and put on those scrubbing gloves. Or if you have someone to do it for you then just flog them every now and then to give them some added motivation. But if you find yourself getting all high strung over cleaning, I suggest you try the formula and spend that cleaning time having a cup of coffee.

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