side effects of motherhood

Where do I sign up for the Hello Kitty revolution?

July 8, 2011

So obviously you guys were all in favor of baby girl’s obsession with all things Hello Kitty (well, thanks y’all…)

Which is just as well because the new swimset I ordered from Old Navy just came in the mail. She tore open the package and made me put it on for her immediately. Just so that she could prance around in her “OMG IT’S SO CUTE I’M GOING TO SCREAM” rashguard all morning. In the living room.

Every minute or so, she looks down at her chest to pat and admire the exquisite beauty that is a snorkeling Hello Kitty. “Oohh the cat got hat! (um FYI, that’s a snorkel mask babe but who cares about such trifles in comparison with a Hello Kitty)” “The cat go swimming like Kirsten!” “OH I’M NOT GOING TO TAKE THIS OFF TILL I TURN 12 YAYYY!”

So a day after I successfully made her wear the “very nice” swim cover-up, it’s been relegated back to its unfortunate place at the bottom of the drawer.

It’s the Hello Kitty revolution all over again.

BTW, that sound you hear is me resigning to my fate. I’m going out to buy myself a pair of Hello Kitty crocs. You know what they say: if you can’t beat them, wear Hello Kitty.

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side effects of motherhood

Of swimwear, shoes and badly-named cats

July 7, 2011

I got this irresistible swim cover-up for baby girl a while back but she has been resisting all efforts to put it on with a dismissive “It’s not nice, I don’t like it!”

All this time, it’s been sitting at the bottom of her drawer because I knew better than to argue fashion with someone whose idea of very nice involved as many Hello Kitties as possible.

In her world of fashion, anything that has 1 Hello Kitty falls into the “nice” category. Anything that has 2 Hello Kitties is “so cute, I like it.” and anything with more than 5 Hello Kitties is “VERY NICE MOMMY YOU BUY NOW!”

Till this day, I still struggle to see the appeal of a cat whose name is made up entirely of a generic feline greeting. I mean, I would never name my child Hello Human unless I was certain she would be the last surviving human in the face of a martian invasion. In which case, I suppose it would be appropriate and somewhat cool.

But back to the swim cover-up. My little fashionista pulled this out from her drawer, stared at it for a minute, then decided it was time to promote it to the category of “ok fine, you can wear this for me.”

We had to compromise on the footwear but it’s still a step in the right direction. Baby steps. It’s all about baby steps.

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

Asian Parenting Faux Pas: Redux

July 5, 2011

A while back, I did a list of Top 5 Asian Parenting Faux Pas (Passes?) and one of them was to threaten kids with scary uncles. Being one to practice what I preach, I’ve made it a point never to scare them with policemen or hobos.

Regarding the former, we tell them that policemen are very kind and helpful, so if they ever get lost or need to rescue a cat from a tree, they should not hesitate to approach a friendly neighborhood policeman. As for hobos, we buy them a cup of coffee and remind them to say no to drugs.

The other thing you should know is that my son has a thing for big red buttons. Like the power ON/OFF button on remotes, or the emergency alarm button in the lifts, which he has to press repeatedly. It’s like he can’t help it and if left to his own devices, would probably end up as an evil villain with a secret lair filled with giant red apocalyptic buttons. We’re getting him tested for villainous tendencies.

Several nights ago, we were at the airport doing our usual rounds and on our way down an escalator, Tru suddenly reached out and pressed the emergency stop button. The one that gets you fined like $5,000,000 or thrown in jail or something.

Naturally, the escalator came to an abrupt halt and the husband said “OH NO TRU! You can’t press that! Now we’ve got to explain to the police what happened.” Before he completed his sentence, Tru promptly burst into tears and in the minute that followed, proceeded to have a complete meltdown. In between sobs, I could make out the words “I’m sorry…don’t want police to catch me.”

As far as we can remember, we’ve never even once used the police as a threat but he must have overheard us talking when we got that ill-fated warning letter from the police.

We hugged him and said it’s ok, we would never let anyone (no, not even the police) catch him. Like if there was a grizzly bear attack, the bear would have to first eat the husband, followed by…ok, let’s hope the bear gets sufficiently nourished by then and decides to lie down for a bit. Or if anyone needed to take the fall and go to jail, it would be the husband first, then me. Although the husband says I should take this one because I could blog in jail anyway or maybe even find the time to write a masterpiece like Jeffrey Archer.

Anyway, Tru didn’t seem entirely convinced because he spent the rest of the evening pretending to sleep in the stroller looking noticeably subdued.

I like to consider life’s episodes as lessons and this one would be to never use the police to threaten my son. Or to buy a police uniform. I’m still pondering that one.

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