Kidspeak

Po-tay-to, Po-tah-to

November 4, 2011

The latest is that Tru has turned the corner and he’s much better now. I know because he’s talking again, plus he just cleaned out 2 bowls of porridge for lunch after surviving on a liquid diet for 4 days. That’s always a good sign.

Unfortunately, Kirsten caught it too so she’s a little bummed.

But it’s like she seems to know that her brother has just gone through the same thing and is the only one who understands what it’s like. So she asks for him whenever it hurts.

“I want kor kor,” she’d say with tears in her eyes.

Moments like these, I’m glad they’re close because he’ll think for a moment, then put down his toys and go “ok ok, but you cannot take my cars.”

This morning, they were playing under the covers and I overheard Tru praying for his sister.

Tru: Dear Jesus, please kill mei mei…

Me: Um, sweetie? I think you mean heal mei mei.

Tru: I ask Jesus to kill mei mei so she won’t be in pain anymore.

Me: I’m pretty sure you mean heal.

Tru: No, not heal. KEEEEEL.

Me: Well, unless you mean that mei mei will not have any more pain *ever again*. But I don’t think that’s how Jesus works, baby. And you probably shouldn’t ever pray for Jesus to kill anyone, it’s not very nice. Let’s go with heal for now ok?

Tru: Ok. Dear Jesus, make mei mei better so she can eat food. Amen.

Me: Touché.

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Porcelain Skin Part 2: bring on the pain

November 3, 2011

Advertorial

So I was back for part 2 of my Porcelain experience and this time was not quite as um, relaxing. After the soothing Oxy Revive Treatment, I was in for some hardcore extraction in the Director’s Quintessential Facial. This is the one treatment most people come here for because it is that good. On top of the legendary extraction process, they also make use of LED Light Therapy to promote collagen production, reduce pigmentation and soothe the skin.

When I arrived, I braced myself, took deep breaths and kept my fingers crossed that it wouldn’t hurt as bad as I expected it to.

“Is this going to hurt?” I asked nervously.

“Yes, but it’s going to be worth it.”

With that, I experienced the most exquisite pain I have ever felt for the next 45 minutes. Seriously, childbirth is painful but at least there’s epidural. This was just pure unadulterated grit-your-teeth-and-suck-it-up sort of pain. I twitched like a fish out of water as Aunty Jenny meticulously extracted every blackhead, whitehead and milia seed from my face, even those I didn’t know I had. She would pause and show me all the impurities she extracted, which was a little gross yet strangely therapeutic to know that the pain was yielding such obvious results.

After the extraction, Aunty Jenny customized a blend of serums and mask to help the skin regenerate as I heaved a sigh of relief.

When it was finally all over, I looked like I was attacked by a very angry bobcat. In the face. But I was assured that it was temporary and when the redness wore off, it would all be worth it.

And so it was. When the redness subsided, my skin was smooth as a baby’s bottom. Well, maybe not that smooth but smoother and clearer than it had been in years. Some of the pigmentation was also considerably lighter and I was loving my new glowing Photoshopped complexion. In fact, I’m so sold that I’m willing to go through the entire ordeal all over again.

What can I say? I’m a believer.

This is a sponsored conversation written by me on behalf of Porcelain, The Face Spa. All opinions and text are my own.

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not feeling so supermom

Morphine would be so much easier

November 2, 2011

I’ve discovered the key to surviving an attack of HFMD and unfortunately, it’s not morphine. It’s distraction. Or as magicians like to call it, misdirection.

So this is pretty much how Tru’s brain looks like now.

The pain in his mouth is so immense that it’s hijacking all the other signals being sent to his brain. As a result, he doesn’t eat, he doesn’t talk, he doesn’t laugh and he doesn’t want to do anything at all. When he’s not crying, he just walks around in a pain-induced stupor.

And so my mission is to hijack those pain signals before it gets to his brain. That’s where the distraction comes in. Hopefully in the process, all the pain signals gets misdirected to say, his left butt cheek.

The thing with distraction is that it’s got to be interesting enough to direct his attention away from the pain, which means that I can’t just stick him in front of the TV or make him play with the same bunch of old toys.

It’s got to be fun, fresh and sufficiently engaging so that he momentarily forgets about the pain.

The other thing with distraction is that it doesn’t last for very long. The novelty wears off and his mind inevitably wanders back to “OMG MY MOUTH IS ON FIRE I’M GOING TO SIT HERE AND SCREAM.”

Which basically makes me a state of the art entertainment centre that’s supposed to come up with new activities to keep him occupied.

By mid afternoon, I got so desperate that I sat the kids down and performed a live magic show in my living room. One of the acts was to pretend to swallow a coin. Ok, it was the only act I knew but it worked so well that the kids spent the next 20 minutes trying to shove handfuls of coins into my mouth. And nose. And ears.

Tomorrow, I’m going to eat fire.

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