Product Reviews

All Jamu-ed Up

August 12, 2009

My first experience with Jamu after giving birth to my boy last year was quite an ordeal. There was this tiny lady with giant muscles who attacked my back with tremendous gusto and then proceeded to slather globs of hot green goo on my body. After 5 sessions, I decided to call it quits, vowing never to try it again. I also didn’t seem to lose any of the weight I gained from pregnancy. Total bummer.

Naturally, when I was offered the chance to try a complimentary Jamu massage by Origins Jamu, I thought long and hard about subjecting myself to the torture all over again. Besides, this second pregnancy has not been kind to me, leaving my 30kg heavier and my back all tied up in knots. I was exhausted and in pain most of the time.

Before I decided to go for it, I did my homework and checked out the Origins Jamu Massage website. It didn’t seem as brutal and I also heard a lot of good stuff about the benefits of hot stone compress, like alleviating backaches and aiding lactation. I badly needed both.

To be honest, I was a little nervous when the therapist arrived, and I prepared myself mentally for some serious pain. I also took a not so casual glance at her muscles, just to make sure they weren’t oversized. She came prepared with an array of lotions and the hot stones, which she proceeded to heat up over the stove. It was all so awesomely primitive that my curiosity got the better of my nerves.

As it turns out, the massage was a lot more enjoyable than I expected. There was none of that karate chopping and plenty of nice, relaxing massage. In fact, it was so good I almost dozed off a couple of times, which is a pretty mean feat considering my recent bouts of insomnia. I particularly liked the hot stone compress, which instantly cleared my engorged breasts and caused them to spontaneously leak milk like it was raining. For a breastfeeding mom where milk is a scarcity, leaky breasts are a welcome sight.

I still can’t say if it’s any good in the weight loss department because it’s too early to tell, but I certainly stepped out feeling better about myself. Now if it will just shave off that remaining 15kg I’m still lugging around, that would be perfect. I hear my old sized 27 jeans calling out to me.

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literally a crappy post, motherhood

Wholly Crap!

August 11, 2009
Yes, it looks way cuter than it actually is.

Yes, it looks way cuter than it actually is.

So, my kids have developed a new game, which is to see who can produce more poop in a day. It used to be that Kirsten was hands down the champion in that division, since breastmilk makes her defecate 6-7 times a day, which she tries to reserve for the times her diaper is off. Occasionally, when she is all out of poop, she can produce foam from her ass. Oh, trust me, I didn’ t think it was possible either, until I SAW IT WITH MY OWN EYES.

Ever since Tru started taking the ancient Chinese herbs, his bowel movements have also been miraculously multiplied. I’m attributing it to the detoxification process. Instead of the usual package he delivers once a day, it has recently gone up to a record 6 packs of poop. All I can say is that I hope this detox is doing some good to his system. Or else I’d be cleaning extra crap for no reason at all.

So the other day, in the midst of the mayhem that goes on in my house, Tru somehow managed to smear his crap all over the back of his romper. It also had to happen when I was momentarily otherwise engaged with feeding the little one so I could only watch in horror as he made patches of crap stains all over my living room with his ass. See, I’ve heard of finger painting but this is a real first. I was all like “Tru, Nooooooooooooo, don’t sit down!”, but of course the shock from my outburst had him landing flat on his ass. He then got up, crawled a few steps and sat right back down again. Rinse and repeat. Until my living room was covered with a layer of ass-shaped crap designs. If you ask me, it trumps his last masterpiece.

Not to be outdone, Kirsten had her own version of crap-smearing. After numerous accidents on my bed, I’ve shifted her nappy changing area to the couch in the living room. The good thing is that I don’t have to keep changing bedsheets but the flip side is that my faux leather sofa is now infested with all kinds of bodily fluids. From experience, I’ve learnt to anticipate the jet stream of poop that flies out during her nappy changes, but after 5 minutes and nothing, I thought it wasn’t going to happen. But just as I swiped the diaper from under her bum, lo and behold, a fresh stream of mustard mash gushed out and almost hit me in the eye. It’s only thanks to my ninja reflexes that I’m still alive at this moment. Inevitably, the shit hit the fan (except that it was the floor, stool,  remote control, and some parts of my body).

I suppose it could have been worse. Tru could have been around when it happened (he was sound asleep) and he would have had a field day grabbing it and smearing it liberally on multiple surfaces. For that, I am eternally grateful.

I used to be terrified of cleaning crap but 2 kids in, we’re now practically best friends. Like real tight.

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motherhood

My kid went through ancient Chinese torture

August 10, 2009

I love long weekends but this one is turning out to be the worst long weekend ever. Now I wish it was a short weekend. First, Tru was taken ill with a flu of the most massive proportions. Then I broke my specs so it’s got a huge crack on the right lens and it keeps slipping off my nose and I have to keep pushing it back up like some gawky kid (the husband wants me to fix it asap as I also apparently look like the victim of domestic abuse.  And Kirsten has been terribly cranky, refusing to sleep and screaming away for extended periods.

After hearing a lot of good stuff about traditional chinese medicine, we decided to bring Tru for a consult. Believe it or not, the doctors are called physicians and this one had a particularly deadly name – Peng Ya Ling (whom I suspect was a former pugilist master). I was half expecting her to channel some “qi” (internal energy) into his system and attack his acupuncture points, but it was all pretty mild. All she did was look very thoughftul and  scribble furiously on her notepad while we explained all his symptoms. After that, she came back with a concoction of 25 herbs and spices in 14 neat little packs. On another note, despite his illness, Tru decided to turn on the charm and spent the whole consult flirting with her, touching her hand and smiling at her. Little Casanova.

Returning home with the meds, we were instructed to feed him the powder twice a day for 7 days. Now how does one feed POWDER to a BABY? The husband had a couple of ingenious ideas.

Husband: Maybe we should add it to his milk.

Me: He’s not stupid. He’ll refuse the milk and after that we’ll have to struggle with feeding him milk.

Husband: I know, we can add it to peanut butter to disguise the taste.

Me: Oh i know, i know- how about putting it into a piece of bread and rolling it up?

Husband: I think we’re just going to have to go primitive.

The first attempt, we tried adding water to it and then feeding him with a syringe, except that we added way too much water and he had ingest 15 full syringes of meds. The whole time, we had to pin him down and force open his mouth while he was screaming and kicking like he was being tortured.

The next round, I wised up and decided to go with a spoon. I also added less water to the mix so it ended up like a HUGE CLUMP OF HERBY PASTE. The screaming and kicking continued and this time, the clump was so huge that he puked it all out and there we were, trying to force back the puke into his mouth. I felt like a Nazi.

it looked like this - except worse. I kid you not.

it looked like this - except worse. I kid you not.

We can”t quite post an actual picture, just in case Social Services hauls us down for an interrogation.

I think the whole experience traumatized him so much that for the rest of the day, he was suffering from panic attacks, resulting in random screams throughout a day. And as I found out, crankiness is contagious. The screaming rubbed off on Kirsten and she too decided to join in the fun.

So that’s how my weekend went. Hang on while I push up my specs. I hope I don’t develop a lazy eye from having to see through one eye.

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