Browsing Tag

kids

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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seriously somewhat serious

A Tribute… of sorts

March 16, 2009

Thanks for all the times you would have been there for him,

For all the times you’d hold his hand,

For all the wonderful stories you’d tell,

For all trips to the zoo and the park,

For all the toys you’d have lavished on him,

For all the times you’d scoop him up if he was tired,

For all the kisses and hugs,

For all the tickles and giggles,

For all the mischief you’d encourage,

For all the times he’d sit on your lap just to be held,

For the beaming grin he’d reserve just for you,

For the look of pride in your eyes every time you’re with him…

I’m sorry you never got the chance to meet. I know he would have loved to spend time with you. One day, I’ll sit him down and tell him all about the amazing Grandpa you would have been, and his eyes will open in wonder.

We miss you.

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kids inc

The Low-Down on Chow-Down

March 10, 2009

The way I see it, when it comes to eating, there are three kinds of kids. The chickens, the hamsters and the sharks (pardon the analogy, it’s an occupational hazard).

The chickens are the colossally picky eaters. They’re not particularly fond of food and eating is merely for sustenance. They’re usually fine with french fries and ice-cream, but the moment you bring on the broccoli and peas, they’ll grab their heads and retch.

But you gotta give it to them, they’ve got an arsenal of vomit faces to convey their immense displeasure, ranging from “looking at this pile of goo makes my head throb” to “I’d rather die than swallow that”.
bleahh

Then there are the hamsters. They keep the food in their mouths like they’re storing up for winter and refuse to swallow. It would seem like they are eating a lot, since each mealtime takes an average of 3 hours. By the time they’re done with breakfast, it’s about time for lunch. And so on.

In fact, every day is like a never-ending meal punctuated with food of different temperatures.
built-in food pouches

Finally, there are the sharks. They’re the kind that grabs life by the horns and eats right through them. They eat anything and everything. It’s like feeding a bottomless pit, and they seem to be hungry all the time. When the food is too slow or too little, they bang their little hands and scream bloody murder.

“Give me food!” is their battle-cry, and when it doesn’t come, they know how to improvise.

Tru, he’s definitely a shark, and a pretty enterprising one at that. His favorite move is what I like to call the I’m-starving-please-feed-me-look, complete with doleful eyes and half-pout (surprisingly effective). When that fails, he progresses to the hand-banging and screaming (also surprisingly effective).

Recently, he’s acquired a new tactic. The sneak attack. When he know it’s something he can’t eat, (like cookies or chocolate) he’ll act all innocent and sneak up on you when you’re least expecting it. Then with one swift bite, he’ll grab the food right out from your hands and smirk like he’s real pleased with himself.

“Take that, mama!”

Then I look at the chickens and hamsters and I’m actually glad that I’ve got a shark.

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