seriously somewhat serious

Doing the difficult thing

January 31, 2012

It’s taken me 31 days into the new year to get my resolutions done and after mulling over it for an entire month, I’ve come up with a grand total of 1 resolution. I know, I astound myself with my productivity sometimes. Well, here it is.

DO THE DIFFICULT THING. 

Let me preface this by saying that having to do the difficult thing sucks. That’s why it’s called the difficult thing.

Nobody wakes up one morning and says “Aha, today, I’m going to make my life more difficult. I’m supposed to wrestle a minotaur, but that’s too easy. Let’s get that minotaur really upset first by stealing her baby and while we’re at it, throw in a second hungry minotaur that hasn’t eaten for 2 weeks.”

Unless you’re that sort of person, then much respect to your badassery.

But not me. I’m naturally predisposed to doing the easy thing. In fact, the easier, the better. Which is why I spend so much time lying on the floor while pretending to play with the kids. I like to ease into things, tackle the easy stuff first before working up the nerve to do something more intense, all the while hoping that the difficult thing will magically disappear and I’ll end up not having to do it after all.

Except that the difficult thing is always going to be sitting there mocking us till we get it done. And the longer we leave it, it gets bigger and more difficult. Sometimes, I accumulate so many difficult things to do that it just starts to look impossible.

Until we decide to just do it.

Take a deep breath, have a coffee, then grab the minotaur by the horns and wrestle the shit out of it.

So this year, I’m doing it the other way around. Do the difficult thing first. Get the hard work out of the way before doing the lying on the floor thing. Or as we Chinese like to say, First Bitter, Then Sweet.

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motherhood

Mommy Moments

January 30, 2012

The 2 most common remarks I get when people hear that I’m pregnant again is “you guys are very fertile!” and “you must really like kids!”

The fertile bit is probably true, and for that we’re incredibly grateful.

But the bit about really liking kids isn’t necessarily true all the time. To be precise, 87% of the time, I love being a mom. The other 13%…well, not so much. And the secret is to focus on the good parts so that when you feel like making lists of all the terrible things you want to do to the kids, you remember how much you actually love them.

Maybe all this excitement about having a new baby has been making me sentimental but here’s what being a mom is like for me.

It’s having icy-cold tiny toes dig at my shins in the middle of the night and feel both annoyed and comforted at the same time.

It’s getting unlimited baby kisses whenever I make up imaginary aches and pains.

It’s not having any money to spend on my own shopping because I spent it all on super cute baby clothes. But so worth it.

It’s feeling the softness of a tiny hand inside mine and not having to let go.

It’s arbitrating fights and then see them hug it out all lovey-dovey minutes later. And then see them fight all over again.

It’s being there for a snuggle the moment they wake up from their naps and peer at me with eyes that can barely open.

It’s sharing a slobbery ice-cream cone that’s melting all over my hands and not be grossed out.

It’s hearing them say “I LOVE YOU SOOOO MUCH” even if I first have to ask “do you love mommy” eleventy billion times.

It’s losing all my me-time and not really minding because all my happiest moments are spent with them anyway.

What’s your mommy moment?

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pregnancy

Pregnancy hormones

January 27, 2012

Thanks for all the congratulatory messages, it means a lot!

I’m still trying to wrap my head around this new pregnancy thing, alternating between sublime OMG I’M HAVING A BABY kind of euphoria and a terrifying OMG I’M HAVING A BABY kind of distress. Mostly the second part.

While I like the part about having the baby come out, I’m not too keen on the 9 months of pregnancy. I have friends who make pregnancy look so easy. They get that beautiful pregnancy glow. They get curves in all the right places. They get nice shiny hair and perfect skin. And they spend their entire pregnancy prancing around in size 6 designer maternity clothing.

Me, I get 30 kgs of curves added to my ass, which means I have difficulty getting into a size 12 and have to lumber around feeling downright miserable.

I’m hungry all the time but when I look at food, I immediately want to throw up. I’m exhausted but when I lie down, I toss and turn for hours before falling asleep. Most days, I just want to curl up on the floor and wait for time to pass me by.

Just two days ago, I had 30 minutes to grab a quick breakfast with the husband before he left for work. Being the third day of the Chinese New Year, most of the food places were still closed.  We settled for this coffeeshop along Beach Road but when we got in, we realized that only one stall was open and that my only options were kaya toast and soft boiled eggs. The husband was all spritely, like “sure, let’s eat here, everywhere else seems to be closed” so I figured I’d just grab a Milo and then go for a proper breakfast after he left.

But as I watched him enjoy his eggs and toast, I basically lost it.

“What kind of a ridiculous coffeeshop turns on all the lights and then only sells drinks? And who eats stupid kaya bread for breakfast? It’s not even a real breakfast and the smell is making me want to vomit. Baby needs noodles or rice or a piece of steak. They obviously hate my baby, it’s like they’re trying to starve me, amirite?”

The husband just sat there calmly and when I was done with my tirade, he was like “is this going to be like the *ice-chips incident?”

The “ice-chips incident” is a complicated one that will require another post but it is what we say when we refer to a pregnancy meltdown of epic proportions.

“No, it’s not like the ice-chips incident at all. Are you saying that I’m overreacting?”

“It could be the pregnancy hormones.”

“It’s got nothing to do with hormones. Baby is hungry and all I have to eat are half-cooked eggs. I’m going to need some real food. Do you want the baby to be malnourished?”

“I think the baby is going to be just fine. But you should go eat something nice later ok.”

“I’m not even sure I’m going to make it till later. I might pass out from hunger while driving and then it will be all your fault.”

“Definitely ice-chips.”

“I’m going to poison your eggs when you’re not looking.”

I made it to the noodle stall in Tampines without passing out but when I got there, I felt too nauseous to eat, so I went home and had a second milo, feeling all sorry for myself.

On the plus side, there are only 2 more weeks of my first trimester left and if the previous pregnancies are anything to go by, it’ll be a lot better then.

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