With this ring, I gave them the permission to scream.

I haven’t done this in a long time. Blogging in my room. Or doing anything in my room that does not involve tiptoeing and breath-holding.

Since baby girl was born, I’ve been banished to the living room to do everything except sleep. And also making the sexytime in absolute silence. Which is like having melted ice-cream – no fun at all.

Kirsten just made the move to Tru’s room today and at this moment, they’re both sound asleep next to each other. There was a bit of adjustment at bedtime because Tru kept talking to her and trying to climb into her cot and all that commotion was a little too much to take so Kirsten started screaming, which led to Tru screaming at her to be quiet. You know the drill.

It took a while to settle them both down but it’s a small price for getting my room back. I can blast the air-conditioning until icicles start to form without worrying that baby girl will die of hypothermia. I can shower in my bathroom again and read a book in bed. It doesn’t take a lot to make me happy and reading in bed is one of them (which is why I’m practically blind but again, small price to pay). Days like these, it feels like we’re back to being newlyweds without the kids. Except that I miss them a lot and I keep sneaking into their room just to hear the faint rhythm of baby breathing.

Speaking of newlyweds, we just attended our first wedding at The Fullerton Hotel. Besides our wedding, that is, because it doesn’t count as attending if you’re the one getting married. Three years and two kids in, we were walking down the same steps to the ballroom where we had our wedding. Complete deja vu. I remember looking at Kelvin all dapper in his tux and thinking that life would finally be perfect. We’d have our perfect kids and perfect holidays and perfect jobs.

If I had known then that this was how my life would be three years down, I might have turned and ran for the hills. Or at least made him go for a vasectomy. Or performed it myself.

Going through that much in the last three years, it’s easy to forget the way you felt when you held hands and said your vows. It’s easy to lose the fuzzy feeling in your stomach when babies are screaming at you all the time. I have a theory that screaming makes you forget practically anything. It’s like repressed memory, except less scientific.

But it was nice to remember. And honestly, even on retrospect, I think I might have done it all over again. Ask me again in five years when I have another two kids.