motherhood

Mother of all storms

February 26, 2009

The weather was totally barmy today. I haven’t seen a thunderstorm like that in ages, and I think it’s Tru’s first real thunderstorm. You know, the kind that howls like a ghoul on crack outside your window and threatens to blow down your house.

Thing is, I used to like thunderstorms. There’s something very comforting about being snuggled up warm and toasty during a storm. Usually on a day like this, I’d be curled up in bed with a cuppa hot chocolate, an indulgent novel and the soothing vocals of Diana Krall in the background. But I forget that I’m now a mother, which means I’m curled up in bed with a screaming kid who refuses to sleep. He’s slept through downpours before, so I didn’t think he’d be daunted. But today was different.

No matter what I did, he just refused to lie down in his cot alone. I tried lullabies, bedtime stories, nursery rhymes and every other distraction tactic I could think of to calm him down and get him to sleep, but without avail. And the blasted thunder would crack every three minutes, which would get him worked up into a frenzy again.

Then I had a stroke of genius. If you can’t beat them, join them. I decided to go rock, and brought out good old U2. Just like that, he was out cold.

So today, I was curled up in bed with my baby boy, a cuppa coffee (to soothe my nerves) and U2. Which really isn’t so bad after all.

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kids inc

What’s in a name?

February 24, 2009

I am of the opinion that Shakespeare got it all wrong when he said “That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet.” I’m guessing his idealism got the better of him. I, for one, am certain that names do matter. A lot. Chances are, Romeo and Juliet would probably not be the classic that it is if it were called Romeo and Julio (read Hoo-lyo). Snigger, snigger.

I’ve been putting off the whole name selection process for 5 months now, and I think it’s time. I mean, it’s the kind of huge decision that sticks with them for life, and I really don’t want to muck it up. Plus, it doesn’t help that their last name will be, wait for it… KAO. Cool last names like Smith or Williams can go with practically anything, but with Kao, that’s a different story. It’s a delicate balance between being unique and keeping it cool.

Take for example, a lovely name like Abarne. Pair it with most names and it works, but if I were to name my daughter that, her name in itself would be a knock-knock joke.

Knock-knock. Who’s there?

Abarne. Abarne who?

Abarne Kao.

Snigger, snigger.

As a rule of thumb, literary devices also don’t work in a name. Rhymes (Julia Gulia), alliterations (Peter Piper) and onomatopoeias (Ling Ling) are a no-go. If you haven’t already noticed, kids are brutal when it comes to name-calling and a badly chosen name would be like sending her bleeding and blind into the pack of wolves.

After mulling over it for a couple of days, the list was narrowed down to Ava, Emma and Kirsten. Emma Kao got voted off first, because it sounded too much like “I’m a Kao”. Ava, I really liked, but of all the things in the world, it had to mean birdlike. And I hate birds. (There’s a story here which involves a crow getting lodged in a woman’s frontal skull, but I’ll save it for another time.)

So we’ve decided on Kirsten Kao. Yes, I know it breaks the alliteration rule, but if you say it enough times, there’s a rather nice ring to it.

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motherhood

Sleep-giggles

February 23, 2009

There is a defining moment in every parent’s life where everything suddenly clicks. Like an epiphany. For the most part, being a parent does not make any sense. I’ve traded my nice, quiet evenings for scream fests, romantic dinners for mush-slinging food fights and my dancing shoes for bedroom slippers. These days, my idea of a nightcap is a shot of valium and not vodka.

Inevitably, it begs the question, “Is it all worth it?”

And just when I thought its all downhill from here, the pieces falls into place.

As usual, Tru was out cold after his late evening feed last night. It’s like clockwork. He’ll yank the bottle out of his mouth with a flourish and flip over to his side, which is his trademark “Do Not Disturb” signal. Normally, we’d put him back in his crib, but last night his dad decided to have some fun at his expense, which involved some tickling and pseudo-chopping of his limbs. I was half expecting an irritated swat, but instead he broke out into hysterical sleep-giggles.

If you haven’t seen a sleep-giggle (kinda like a step up from a sleep-smile), you don’t know what you’re missing out on. He was too tired to even open his eyes, but the grin was almost involuntary. It definitely topped my list of 10 things to experience before you die. That right there was my defining moment, and I knew I was doing something right.

So it’s a truckload of sacrifice. But I’d trade all the movies and dinners in the world for some sleep-giggles.

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