motherhood

This just in: entomophobia could be hereditary

February 28, 2011

I just realized that parenting is a terrifying journey of self-discovery, one I don’t really want to be on.

It’s reminiscent of the time back in Secondary School when a couple of teammates staged an intervention because I was being too bossy on the basketball court (believe it or not I was actually the captain of the school team). I was apparently the equivalent of Hitler by making everyone come down at 6am to run laps around the school, among other things. Exact words were “tyrannical”, “irritating” and “not even that good” if I recall correctly, although I try to block that particular episode out of my memory.

At first, I was all “rubbish, GO RUN 20 LAPS NOW, MINIONS”. Ok, I might have just done that in my head because I had the good sense to not want to be punched in the face but I obviously thought I was being horribly maligned. Only after some discussion, I reluctantly admitted that I had in fact been just a little bit bossy.

It was an important journey of self-discovery albeit a very painful one. I like discovering things like buried treasure but bad stuff, I don’t like to discover them so much.

Over the years, I’ve discovered enough to think that I know myself pretty well. Or maybe people got tired of telling me that I sucked.

My kids though, aren’t tired of it at all. In fact, it’s so much fun pulverizing my ego that they don’t bother telling me about my flaws, they just skip right to the part about showing me instead. They’re brutal that way. And now I’m terrified that my kids are going to grow up to be exactly like me.

Let’s see. They hate vegetables, love Mraz, eat their fishball skin before the meat, laugh at inappropriate moments, are impatient, demanding, slightly insecure and also just a little bit bossy. The way Truett orders his sister around, let’s just say I can see a lot of myself in there. Best part is, Kirsten is learning to do the same. These days, she’s always “kor kor, COME HERE NOW WEAR SHOES!!”

Just the other day, I was feeding the kids dinner and as I went in to the kitchen to get a refill of water, Tru went completely batshitcrazy and started SCUH-REAMING for his life. I sprinted back into the dining room thinking that he got hurt real bad or was in severe pain and started checking him all over for cuts but there were none. He was too traumatized to talk so I just held him for a long time. Finally, after a lot of shhhhushing and gummies, he pointed to the chair and said “the insect wants to bite me.” I thought it had to be at least a madagascar hissing cockroach or a tarantula but turns out, it was a very tiny flying ant.

Before my son came along, I was the queen of overreacting to insects and the like but I’ve just been ousted by my mini me. I don’t know if I should be proud or appalled.

 

by
a spot of singapore

Sweet sugar candyman

February 25, 2011

What do you get if a peppermint candy cart had babies with a trishaw?

This baby.

Wait, I think you need a better view of it.

We wanted to go cycling at East Coast and we saw this instead, which was just nice for the 5 of us. There’s a bigger version for 6 adults and 2 kids (or 15 adults if you’re Pakistani).

If you’re planning to try this out, call dibs on the centre seat because that’s the most relaxing one. You get to chill and shout orders at your minions to pedal faster, only the topspeed for this is 3km/h tops and that’s considering we were pedaling so fast we couldn’t feel our legs after a hour and a half.

In fact, it was so slow I thought the kids would get restless but they loved it so much they sat completely still and gaped the entire time.

Or rather, they sat very still until Truett sensed that we were on our way back to return the bikes and he started making a preemptive strike by declaring firmly “I don’t want to give uncle the bicycle.” He’s exactly like his father that way. He’s got a spider sense to detect when his fun is about to end and spends half the time worrying about not having more fun instead of living in the moment and enjoying it.

We cycled all the way to the Bedok jetty for a breather and there were all these people there fishing under the blazing noon sun on a Friday afternoon. Like don’t these people have to work or something? And they were obviously experts because this guy caught a whole bunch of these pointy fishes. He caught 3 in the 10 minutes that we were there and was nice enough to let Tru hold one.

You can’t really tell but it’s got a row of very menacing teeth; it’s a good thing he didn’t lose a finger to the crazy snapping fish.

PS. A couple of friends are looking for volunteers to knit hats for preemie babies as part of their Weaving For Hope project. Every hat you knit is going to keep a preemie baby snug and warm, and they’ll feel like they’re being held in bosoms of fluffy warm clouds all day long so you’re not just weaving hats people, you’re weaving hope. If you’re keen to help, find out details here.

by
love bites, sexytime, unqualified parenting tips

Supersex: the parent edition

February 24, 2011

What I’m going to say next falls squarely in the category of too much information so if you’re weirdish about this sort of thing or happen to be my kids, you can STOP READING NOW and go see some pictures of cute puppies instead.

You’ve probably heard people say that the sexytime game changes the moment you have kids but they don’t say exactly how it changes or what to do about it. They make generic statements like “kids are the opposite of aphrodisiacs” and laugh uncomfortably, which just makes you feel even more uncomfortable for them. It doesn’t help the cause when you look at frazzled couples holding a screaming baby and snapping away at each other.

When you’re baby-free and having smokin’ hot action, you tell yourself that you’re the exception to the rule. You’re all “baby or no baby, momma’s bringing her A game”. In your head, you think you can sneak in a quickie during their naps or do the long snuggles when they’re nicely tucked into bed at 7.30.

And that sound you hear is the present me totally mocking the pre-baby me right now.

The moment the kids came along, it was like my libido hastily bought a one-way ticket to Siberia and has been sending me postcards ever since. Where we used to do the whole spontaneous clothes ripping routine to boom-chica-wow-wow music, now we have discussions on penciling in whoopie nights to screaming kids in the background that go something like this.

Me: How about Friday? Friday looks good, TGIF wooo!

Kel: We’ve got that thing on Friday, we’ll be way too tired by the time we get back. Saturday?

Me: Nah-uh. We’re playing Manchester City at 11. Unless we do it before the match.

Kel: Can’t. My match is before your match.

Me: Ok, Sunday afternoon 2.30 when the kids are asleep.

Kel: Cool.

Then along comes Sunday afternoon and one of the kids will refuse to nap or I’ll fall asleep for 3 hours while trying to get the kids to nap.

It’s not that parents can’t have great sex. It just takes a lot more effort and advanced planning, while dealing with exhaustion, postpartum depression, leaky boobs, cramps, fussy babies and a whole lot of tension. Seeing how we’ve been conditioned to think that the best sex happens in the heat of the moment, it’s no wonder that people don’t think much of postpartum sex.

Ok, so then the question is how to keep the magic going when it seems like sex is the furthest thing on your mind. Ah, let me refer you to my handy little list of awesome tips.

1. Plan to be spontaneous

That’s not an oxymoron. Babies don’t afford you much luxury for spontaneity, unless you count their spontaneous screaming and vomiting the moment you start start removing articles of clothing. You want to be spontaneous? Plan for date night, get a babysitter, put on those garters and go do something fun then see where the night takes you.

2. Dress up just for kicks

Here’s one for all the stay home moms. When you’re at home running after babies all day, you don’t care that you look like Susan Boyle on a bad day, or that your milk-stained tee hasn’t been changed since you can’t even remember how long ago. Put on some makeup and find a reason to get out a little just to mix it up a bit.

3. Spend quality alone time without the kids

Parent mode is like preparing for battle – not at all conducive for the sexytime. It’s only when we get some time off from the kids that we get to feel like kids again, which means we’re more likely to do fun stuff.

4. Do the grand gestures

The problem with a routine is that you end up doing the same thing the same way because if it ain’t broke, why fix it right? Wrong. Girls still like the scented candles and rose petals even if it means the kids are likely to set the house on fire. Play the lingerie-treasure-hunt-dress-up game. Don’t know what that is? Never mind, make up your own game.

5. Manage the expectations

This is perhaps the most important part. Most of the time, the sex doesn’t happen and when it does, it doesn’t happen the way you want it to. You put on your wonder woman costume and the kids decide to have a bad dream. That’s when you got to roll with the punches and find some other way to make the magic happen, capisce?

by