Despite feeling under the weather, Cait went for the competition. At first, she was not inclined to compete, looking a bit pale and with hair still uncombed from sleep. But with the bright lights and the excitement, seeing all the little girls and her team-mates wear their leotards, getting made up (glitter eye shadow!) and hair pulled into high perky ponytails, plus some egging on by me, finally she turned to me and nodded.

The competition, organised by UWC, looked more like a Sunday family carnival than a formal competition. Announcements were not clear, we could not tell when warm-up ended and the competition formally began and lastly, prize-giving was very informal - more like Uncle Charles' backyard barbie funfest prize-giving ceremony for the egg-spoon race.

In any case, I think the girls had fun and it was a good, tension-free introduction to the competitive arena. No prizes for Cait but her team came in 4th in the invitational section. The other CHIJ team came in 5th.

Cait looked better and happier when competition was over, so maybe it was just what she needed to get over the bug.

Okay, life is definitely not returning to normal anytime soon.

I write this perched on Trinity's bed in a 4-bedded ward in KK Women's and Children's Hospital.

At around 9pm last night, she started throwing up. And kept on throwing up. Each time she vomited, the tummy spasmed so badly that she would scream and alternately call for me, her daddy and her Loli. I know how she felt - throwing up and retching so hard that your stomach feels turned inside out, wishing that someone can help you and make it go away and the awful thing is, no one can. When people throw up, one can only hold the person, but there is nothing one can do to make it go away.

We brought her and Owain (who was also throwing up and had been listless with a high fever since Monday) to the KK emergency room. Both were given meds and Owain managed to keep his down after observation for an hour. But Trin, despite given domperidone via a suppository, was still retching and throwing up like clockwork every 15min. By midnight, I think she had thrown up around 10 times. The doctor said we should admit her.

So KH brought Owain and his meds home and I ended up in a 4-bed ward (the singles were all out) spending a fitful night on a tiny foldable campbed next to Trin's bed. Would you believe the campbed actually had an indentation where the butt lies? How many parents have camped out on this bed so that it hollows out just right where the hips lie?

Trin was a trooper. I insisted on lidocaine cream before they inserted the plug. I was afraid she would scream to high heaven and throw one of her tantrums. But I need not have worried, she was so tired/sleepy and with the lidocaine, she barely flinched when the inserted the plug. I was the more anxious one, feeling the pain for her.

They have given her a glucose drip and for now, its nil by mouth. Despite that, she still woke up at least twice in the night to cry weakly and puke - the little that is left to puke, that is.

I had a restless night - babies and children crying and wailing in the night (poor babies) and frazzled tamped down sounds of mothers drowsily hushing, the beep of monitors, nurses coming in and out... I did not even dare use the toilet in the night lest it sets off the baby sleeping in cubicle just beside. Had to go out of the ward.

I am going to ask for a single room again. I am NOT looking forward to a second night like this.

Back home, things are also not looking good. Gillian is down with bad upper respiratory tract infection that has spread to her ears and left her nasal and clogged.As of last night, Isaac had diarrhoeaed twice and thrown up once. Caitlin has been diarrhoeaing over the past days but not been affected energy-wise. But last night, she threw up 4 times. By 3am, both Isaac and Cait were in the emergency room with KH. Poor man hardly slept with ferrying the kids to and from the emergency room. The senior doctor there took a look at KH and did a double take, asking KH: you look familiar. Didn't I just see you here? and poor KH had to say yes, bringing back batch no. 2.

I worry about Cait's competition on Saturday. We were up for filming on Sunday for a CNA documentary on big families but looks like that is going on the back burner. We have made plans for a trip up to Penang for our complimentary stay at the Parkroyal at Batu Ferringhi for the following week so hopefully the kids all recover in time.

Had to take a deep breath just writing that.

I was away from the office for two weeks, and out on child sick leave. When I came back, I was told some smart aleck passed this remark: she has too many children. My take is, its none of their business but if they choose to be narrow about this, too bad for them. I don't live my life by the yardstick of others who have narrow minds and small hearts. My life is hectic and full because I have five children, but this is what I signed up for and I will roll with the punches. There is never a dull day and today, I am living it.

Ach dilemma again.

We're back from a numbing but so-lovely trip to Japan and life is trying to settle back to Normal. If there was such a thing in a crazy house with 5 kids.

Training has resumed for Cait - in dance and in gym. We got word from her Chinese coach that Mr Lim was displeased that she had been shortlisted for dance. They did not want her attention diluted and wanted her focus to be solely on gym. Before we left, Mr Lim had told her pointblank - choose. Can't have both. We left it at that two weeks ago, with KH and I still adamant that she would try dance and see how far this would go.

So yesterday, back from Japan, we resumed the juggle for now. Cait has dance practice from 12 to 2pm daily but because she's got the UWC competition coming up at the end of the week, she will leave dance early at 1.30pm to go for gym training from 1.30 to 6.30pm. Luckily both are held in school so its just a matter of rushing from the dance studio on the ground floor to the gym on the 5th floor.

When we picked her from training, her Chinese coach had a word with us. She said she would not be staying long in CHIJ as a coach. She would stay until the first term but once the national inter-school competition was over, she would move on to be a coach in the centralised training for national squad. Now my Mandarin is not very good and so I'm not sure if I heard correctly but the gist of it was, both Coach Shao and Mr Lim think Cait has potential to go further. So they are suggesting that she train with the national squad in the 7 to 9 age group, under Coach Shao. So instead of training with the school team, Cait would go for centralised training with the aim of representing Singapore one day.

Coach Shao saw that we were confused and hesitant, not sure about what this all means and the kind of commitment it would entail. To clarify, she said it means ramping up training significantly to three hours a day, seven days a week. But for a start, she added, we could just try it out three days a week. This means, AFTER school training ends at 5pm, three days a week, Cait would go with Coach Shao to CCAB at Evans Road and train from 6pm to 8pm.

Well, we're kinda gobsmacked. We actually just wanted to talk to Coach Shao about the competition schedule this weekend and did not expect this. We told Coach Shao we would think about this and let her know. Meanwhile, KH says privately to me, time for a family meeting. Because with her intense training, we'll have to rope in the older ones to help fetch/send to/from training and this may mean sacrifices on everyone's part.

In Japan, I teasingly called her my "world-class gymnast" and Isaac et al would protest ("WHAT world-class gymnast?!") but that was just a loving little joke. In the light of what Coach Shao said, this does not seem like a joke anymore.

We're proud of her, so proud that she has the talent and potential to go far. But what does all this mean and how far will we go? There will be lots for our family to discuss in the following days. Isaac and Gillian have no hesitation - "It's an opportunity, mum! It's not going to come again," says Gillian. And Isaac muttered, "I don't know what you are all waiting for, go for it lah. National squad you know!"

I know, and I am thrilled but scared.

So I am walking to the canteen for lunch, a late lunch. I had just come off the phone from a 45-minute phone marathon with a Call-Centre Clone from the travel insurance company dancing circles around me. All I wanted was clear information on claiming for mum's flight cancellation and information on how I should claim if I went to Japan and had to fly back urgently. The Call Centre Clone was trying to be perky Pollyanna giving me the standard lines in sugar-coated tones. And calling me by my first name.

Pity the sugar did not last long. You know how the Call Centre Clones are right? They speak in caveats, footnotes and addendums in very fine print? Ah that was the case today. We were shadow boxing with definitions of words like "unexpected" and "original documents". To say it was frustrating is an understatement.

We had gone a few pointless rounds before I gritted my teeth and asked to speak to her boss, or her boss's boss - anyone who could give me a concrete answer. There was a stiff silence. Ms Pollyanna called me by my formal first name (no longer on casual first names!) and said she would put me on hold while she called in the troops for airpower support. She was no longer sweetness and light anymore. Thank God because any more sugar and I would have gone into a diabetic fit.

Her boss came on the line. Five minutes later, I got the answers I needed. By the way, remind me never to let Call Centre Clones call me by my first name. It just makes me angrier when they try to do the shuffleboard with me.

But I digress. So there I was - tired, stomach growling, faintly nauseous already, my eyes aching from proof-reading the prospectus, my mind mangled from the onslaught of too many thoughts and worries from all directions - Japan, insurance, work, dad, mum, new maid and so on.

And then The Voice comes. Literally right into my head, it goes: "Why are you always and forever questioning me ah? I already told you it will all go well and be as it should be. You don't trust me to make it right is it? You keep asking so many questions - I've told you: it will be okay! Now stop it!"

The voice of God perhaps? He didn't sound like God. But then who is to say God speaks the way the bible says He does, with all the thee, thy and thou of ancient texts? There was no booming Charlton Heston voice either. In fact, He sounded uncannily like Phua Chu Kang.

And He also sounded quite exasperated. I felt better immediately. By the time I thanked Him and tucked into my nasi padang, I was feeling quite cheery.

All in His hands - me, dad, mum, trip, insurance, Call Centre Clones. The Man juggles many balls but He would not drop them. It will all work out just as He says.

Dad has been extubated on day 3 post surgery. He has had an additional Coop loop inserted into his left lung to drain the fluids collected there. The x-ray had showed the lung almost entirely opague and collapsed with no air activity, hence the need for a Coop loop. The loop worked very well and more than a litre was drained in the first 2-hrs post-insertion.

With dad, there is always good and bad news. So the not-so-good news is that the right lung is beginning to show some signs of fluid collection and dad is coughing out yellow phlegm, a sign of infection. Mom frets about pneumonia. But this may not happen and we will cross that when we get to it.

He is more lucid/conscious than previously and that is a good sign. He's also been a bit of a bad boy in trying to pull out (actually he did pull out) the tube in the nose that drains the bile. So the nurses have had to tie his hands with restraints. We were dismayed to see this but we understand that it is necessary. Dad, of course, is NOT a happy camper to be restrained.

Depending on who you talk to, his facial expression can be interpreted in two ways. My sister says it is a big eye-popping glare that he directs at her and mom because he hates being restrained and having all the tubes inserted etc. Mom, on the other hand, interprets the look as one of 'desperation'. I think its a bit of both. He is probably desperate, frustrated and angry at all that has been done to him. I don't blame him. In his shoes, I would have felt the same.

Dad went for emergency surgery yesterday morning. He is now in ICU under close observation.

I think the surgery had mixed results. The gall bladder was removed, as planned. But the original intent to join the pseudocyst to the stomach wall did not materialise because of the condition of the pancreas.

Dad had lost a significant amount of blood during the op and his BP was very low post-op. The approach is to support him in whatever he needs - that includes blood transfusions and any blood products where necessary, drugs to boost the blood pressure and close monitoring for his glucose levels. They are also giving him morphine for pain management as well as sedative drugs. He is intubated and the machine is helping him breathe for the moment. When his vital signs are more stable, they will remove the tube.

In his sides are four drains, draining blood and fluid from the abdominal cavity and the pancreas. It is likely, says the doctor, that he will have to have at least one drain for a long time. They will slowly take the drains out over time, but it is likely that he might have to go home with one drain still in place. He also has a naso-gastric tube in place to drain biliary fluid - which is a fascinating electric green in colour!

I think we are all a bit numb by now. It is never easy to see so many tubes coming out of him. But I have a good feeling that dad will make it. It will take time but I think he will make it. As always, we take things a day at a time. For now, he is in ICU receiving constant attention and care, really the best place for him. Nothing much we can do for him at the moment and overall, it is best for him to just recuperate at his own pace. Spiritually, dad has made his peace with God - he has received the sacrament of the Anointing of the Sick and has made his confession, so I think there is a certain level of peace.

What began on 26 Sept came full circle yesterday Nov 1 2009. This is all of us in the queue that hot Saturday morning, a friendship started by a common goal - Neil Gaiman tickets!

picture by Janice Tay

My Gaiman queue kakis had sent a string of emails planning lunch before the Gaiman event on Sunday. I missed that because I did not check my emails in the days prior to Sunday. I am usually check my email daily but the days in the lead-up to the signing were busy with several birthdays, visits to the hospitals, to the maid agency, running last-minute errands for the Japan trip and so on. Hence I missed the whole arrangement about meeting for lunch and sitting together in the VIC.

On Sunday afternoon after my own quick lunch with Isaac and the family at Marina Square, KH dropped me at the VIC. We were not late, but not early enough to grab good seats either. So we ended up towards the last one-third of the VIC. I was busy messaging Xuemei trying to find them. Finally saw Eldred - right in the front row!! Waved frantically. Wanida messaged me immediately to tell me she's got two seats right up front. So with seconds to spare, as Neil Gaiman walked on stage, Isaac and I hotfooted it over to the front. Prime seats - second row! Well within ogling distance! Plus I got to sit with my queue kakis too!

Gaiman was funny, self-deprecating, charming. He spoke about a project he was doing in China - Journey to the West! Can't wait to see what he would do with that mythological favourite. He also spoke at length about my favourite Japanese animator Hayao Miyazaki, bee-keeping, blogging, Coraline the movie, his new 8-minute silent movie with Bill Nighy, how his nick ' Scary Trousers' came about, his partner-in-crime for children's books and graphic novels, Dave McKean and there was even his encounter with a birth educator! I felt like I got a special shout-out when he talked about how he felt when the birth educator, while demo-ing the baby's passage through the pelvis (complete with baby doll and pelvis - so familiar!), accidentally yanked the baby's head OFF - I can tell you this is every birth educator's worse nightmare and one that I pray would never happen when I teach! Mr Gaiman, famous for his graphic and sometimes gory descriptions in his books, actually turned greenly squeamish when that happened.

The hour-long dialogue with Gaiman went by too fast, went everywhere (from movies to books, to his personal life) and I think we all wish it could have lasted longer. But no, there was another queue to be formed and autographs to sign. So even before the man finished his last sentence, we were already tense in our chairs, ready to spring out the nearest exit. In our case, being in prime front row seats, the exit nearest the Arts House was right next to us. Yay yay yay!!!

Then Gaiman got up to leave and so did we. We didn't even wait for the man to get off stage, just sprinted out the door, down and helter-skelter over the green lawn to skid to a halt where (impossibly so!) a queue had already formed. Still we were the lucky ones and got in where the queue was just beginning. Later, we saw that the queue had stretched all the way to the Singapore River! Had Wanida not saved us those prime seats, God knows how long Isaac and I would have had to queue.

Spent a lovely couple of minutes deciding WHICH book to let the man sign. We were initially told to bring only two items. But on that day, due to the sheer crowd size, signing was limited to ticket-holders only and then, only ONE item. The Graveyard Book was clearly one of them. My other favourite, Smoke and Mirrors had gone missing, to my frustration. I could not find it and figured I must have lent it to someone - mum or Gayle perhaps? After some deliberation, we decided on Neverwhere being the other book for the man to sign.

All too soon, my queue kakis and I reached the table where the man was seated. Wanida brought a cutting of Janice's column in ST. The longer version of the article can be found here in Janice's blog. My queue kakis and I had honorable mentions in it. So Wanida had brought it along and gotten Janice to sign. Mr Gaiman also signed on it - a huge signature. And gave Janice a hug - lucky woman!

picture by Kymberly Huang

A picture of all my queue kakis. I am not in the picture. This is because Mr Gaiman is looking at ME and signing my book. Yes, I am the unseen one right in front of him. Haha!

Here he is, signing me books!!! For the record, he drew two tombstones with our names on it and a moon on The Graveyard Book and on Neverwhere, he wrote "Mind The Gap!"

Having a very brief chat with Gaiman while he signs away. I asked if we would ever find out what happens to Bod after he left the cemetery. Gaiman smiled and said it is very likely that we would. It would not be a Graveyard Book part 2 but one where we will learn more about Silas and the underworld and so on. I said we would look forward to that! Can't wait to get hold of that when it comes out.

And finally, here we all are with Gaiman still busy signing in the background (except Xuemei who is still a little further behind in the queue) clutching our signed books and graphic novels and newspaper article. The line that we started on 26 Sept has come full circle. This is what I like about life - surprises, coincidences, serendipity, synchronicity, fate... whatever you choose to call it. Who knew what a queue could bring? I know this for sure, the next time Gaiman is in town, my queue buddies and I will reunite. And in the meantime, there is always email, facebook and visits (to Kyoto perhaps?) to keep the Gaiman link going.