i embarrass myself sometimes

Parting is such sweet sorrow

March 31, 2009

Before I gave birth, I used to laugh at parents who developed severe separation anxiety disorders. A friend of mine had originally booked a holiday without the kid, but then decided it was too painful to jet set off to see the world without her little precious for five days. She started bawling her eyes out at the airport, and came right back after spending a grand total of 24 hours in the Maldives.

Naturally, I had a ton of witticisms about that particular incident. In fact, my mom can attest to the fact that I declared I’d take a 3-week holiday to California without Tru within a year of his birth. Apparently, I said “I’m too cool to be that clingy and needy.” (it’s all a little fuzzy in my mind right now)

Obviously, I spoke too soon, and I’ve got a funny feeling I’d have to eat my words at some point.

So during my prolonged battle with the flu, my mom offered to watch Tru for 2 nights so I can take a break and get some rest. It seemed like a brilliant idea. My mind told me to shut up, thank my lucky stars and celebrate 48 hours of uninterrupted sleep.

But as soon as I stepped out of the house, I started experiencing a whole host of unexpected symptoms, including but not limited to nausea, breathlessness, headaches, dizzy spells, heart palpitations, profuse sweating and blurred vision. I also had this horrible, homesick, sinking feeling in my gut, reminiscent of the days when I was away at school camp without my mommy and my teddy.

I stood outside my mom’s house for several minutes, torn between sleep and my miracle drug. I couldn’t believe I was turning into one of those disgustingly needy mothers. I was hoping Tru would kick up a big fuss so I’d have an excuse to bring him home, but he seemed perfectly happy to spend the night at Grandma’s.

Well, it was way too embarrassing to turn back so all I could do was suck it up, wipe the snot from my nose and stop being a wuss. But I have to admit, I was bawling all the way back home.

Laugh all you want, but there’s no way I’m going for a holiday without the kids.

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Funny or So I think, not feeling so supermom, pregnancy

Hush, little baby, don’t say a word. Mama’s gonna buy you a mockingbird

March 30, 2009

I thought that after the flu virus made its rounds on the family, I’d be done with it. But a mutated strain has come back to bite me in the ass, so on top of all my other problems, I’ve also completely lost my voice.

See, I can totally appreciate the irony of it all. Serves me right for going on and on about not having anyone to talk to. Now I don’t even have a voice to whine about it. I feel like the universe is mocking me. But it’s not gonna stop me from blogging about it. Hah, take that!

Last evening, I decided to go get some new meds from the clinic near my place, since my immune system has decided to go on strike. It was a rather reputable clinic, the kind that opens till 9.30pm on a Sunday night. Which makes it all the more uncanny that they had a quack on shift just when I needed a consult. (like I said, the universe was mocking me) First up, he looked like an Asian version of a Hillbilly, except with a stethoscope around his neck.

He eyed me with suspicion the moment I walked into his office. After describing my various ailments in my barely audible croak, his first question was “Are you working?” (Translation: That was the most pathetic fake loss-of-voice I’ve ever heard and I bet your lazy ass just needs to be excused from work tomorrow.)

“No,” I mumbled. Another suspicious look. (Translation: Tsk tsk, not another knocked-up teenager bumming around at the expense of us taxpayers). He proceeded take my temperature and do an obligatory check on my throat.

At this point, I was starting to feel uncomfortable. This is the first time I’ve had to endure a silent castigation at a clinic, and by a doctor I’m not sure even made it out of med school. This was an absolute outrage.  I mean, even when I was faking it to be excused from school during my errant years, the doctors still (although unwillingly) had the courtesy to give me the benefit of the doubt.

I thought of making a snide remark along the lines of “I hope your Hillbilly quackery won’t get me killed from a misdiagnosis”, but I wasn’t entirely sure he wouldn’t prescribe me laxatives just for kicks, so I decided to refrain. I didn’t think it was possible, but I left feeling worse that before I went in.

I get it. Some days are just meant to be a test of character. My ego just took the beating of its life, my son thinks I’m Lord Vader, and even the blackbirds are having a field day outside my kitchen window taking pot shots at my plight. Talk about learning endurance the hard way.

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out of the box

Word of the day: Peckish

March 28, 2009

One of our banal conversations.

Husband: Babe, what do you feel like having for dinner?

Me: I dunno. Anything is fine, I guess.

Husband: Are you starving or not really hungry?

Me: What’s the word to describe when you’re not hungry but just want to munch on something small?

Husband: Moderately hungry? I don’t think there’s a word for that.

Me: Peckish. You know, like a chicken. It’s a nice word, peckish.

Husband: Yeah, sure.

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