A birthday and a forum
Okay, this is rather a self-indulgent post, since I am writing about my birthday. I'll keep it short.
It was a Saturday like any other - marketing in the morning, ferrying the kids to various assorted classes.
KH and I had a nice 2 hours having morning brekkie in the lovely Botanic Gardens. This is not unusual or special because we usually do this every Saturday morning when the kids go for Berries. To kill time before picking them up, we usually hang out at the Botanic Gardens, or we head for the nurseries to pick up gardening supplies or the odd plant or two. Time alone, and time at the Botanics is always a pleasure. This time, Trin came with us. KH and I always get a kick out of grinning at each other and saying: Today, we are a one-child family!
Trin ran ahead of us all the time. Its always hard to keep her with us and she's always frantic to be let loose to run freely ahead. But the problem is, she goes so far and so fast she's usually out of sight. By the time we catch up, we are usually the recipients of annoyed glances from other parents or adults who tsk away at our 'irresponsibility' in letting a 2-year-old run ahead like that. I wish they would try taking charge of Trin for half an hour and just see!
The afternoon was spent at a residents' forum with the MP because of estate upgrading issues. They want to 'upgrade' our estate. And they plan to do this by putting up a godawful looking 'estates marker' at all the various entry points to our estates, pave the entry ways with red brick to make it 'distinctive'. They plan to upgrade our tiny park by adding exercise equipment too. But the worst of it is that they plan to COVER all our drains with cement slabs. That would be the end of my lovely moss-covered drain.
I have this thing for lovely glossy saturated green moss in the slopes of my drain, on the pavements etc. We live in an old estate and all these little things give it a dignified patina that newer concretised estates lack. So I will be very very sorry to see all that go. That also means they will take away all our 'ledges'. Right now, as with the design of old terrace houses, every house comes with a concrete ledge just outside the gates. This has been a lovely place for us in the evenings to just shoot the breeze, chat with neighbours walking dogs, pick up our children as they emerge from the school buses etc. These concrete slabs/seats have different treatment - some neighbours pave it over nicely with ceramic tiles, others leave it concrete but paint over it. It will be sad to see this go.
Why on earth can't we leave things be and enjoy the distinctive and unique characteristics of old estates? Why must Singaporeans have this insatiable urge to 'upgrade' everything old they see? Not everything new is nice or tasteful. Don't even get me started on the big joke they call 'conservation' in heritage districts like Chinatown!
I wasn't the only one who pleaded for things to remain as they were, a very articulate Ms Dawn Kua (whose name I recognise from the Cat Welfare Society) and another gentleman also stood up to say this. He said, rightfully, that we live in a tropical society and we have lived with open monsoon drains for decades. This has worked well because it is easy to maintain. So why rock the boat with closed drains which may present a maintenance problem?
I couldn't agree more but the powers that be seemed to have made their minds up. This seems to be quite common in Singapore. Both Dawn and several others suggested that votes be taken on this and other contentious issues such as the removal of the traffic restrictions. But all this fell on deaf ears. They said they had sent out one survey form, conducted this current forum and that's already very 'consultative' and to bring the issue to a vote would only make the process more protracted than it is.
I wonder what the rush is. But I think this is very typical. Conduct 'surveys' and congratulate themselves on being 'consultative'. Hold a forum but instead of spending time listening to what people have to say, they are busy being defensive.
I left the forum feeling quite annoyed and defeated. I have decided to talk to some neighbours and see what they think. If they agree that the drains should not be covered and if they vote against the road widening (all of 20cm for crying out loud!! What on earth would be the bloody point of spending thousands of tax dollars, create noise, disrupt traffic etc just to widen the road 20cm barely the width of one tire!) then maybe we can bring this up to the MP and his pals and say we don't want this, leave us out of it.
But my sad guess is that Singaporeans want anything 'new' and 'new' is automatically assumed to be 'better', so I am likely to stand alone in this. Sometimes I wonder that I am Singaporean!
Luckily my day ended on a nice note. We had to go to my cousin's housewarming. Midway, a cake was brought out and birthday song sung by all my relatives, my family etc. It was lovely. I thought it was very sweet of KH, who sneaked out while I was at the forum, to buy the cake, drive all the way across the island to my cousin's place to store the cake in the fridge before returning to pick the rest of us up. Also, very sweet of Gillian who had the same idea of surprising me with the cake, but who was one step behind her daddy.
So just like that, the day ended.
And now, I am 40.
Tuesday, September 30, 2008
Selling breastfeeding - warts and all
This is the crux of a perennial debate going on between mothers who do and mothers who don't breastfeed.
Having been on both banks of the river, I've always found it interesting to listen to the ongoing debate. It is one that can get really loud and passionate. Because at the very heart of this, it is not about defending a product ie the quality of breastmilk vs the quality of formula - though both are very valid issues. Rather, it is the defense of an ideal of motherhood.
When you consider that throughout history, across cultures, the image of motherhood is consistently personified by a mother with a baby at the breast, it is not difficult to understand why breastfeeding forms the sensitive core of our definition of womanhood and motherhood. Women everywhere debate this - within themselves, with other women, with doctors etc. This is why guilt is such a key issue in any formula vs breast debate.
What makes a good mother? If I choose the path less travelled, am I less of a mother? If I choose not to give my baby 'the best', do I freely admit this as a lifestyle choice I have made, or do I cloak under the excuse of 'not enough milk' and be defensive about my choices? On the other hand, what about mothers who breastfeed but do not enjoy it, mothers who decide to "breastfeed only the acceptable minimum period - ie 6 months, or a year or whatever the authorities decide is recommended". Does this make them better mothers than mothers who choose not to breastfeed at all? Or what about mothers who breastfeed all the way, and are in favour of child-led weaning?
It would be easy, according to your own value systems, to place such mothers on pedestals. But this would be overly simplistic and in the end, just not a fair assessment. Motherhood is touchy business.
So whenever people debate the merits of formula vs breast, I think they are debating deeper issues. And in my view, there are no winners, only opinions.
To me, breast is not about just infant feeding or infant nutrition. Clearly when you look at the facts, there is no contention that formula is vastly inferior. But breastfeeding goes far beyond just a dietary choice. There is emotional baggage attached to it - if not for the mother, certainly for the baby. Hence the mother who is eager to wean and baby who is not eager and in fact, exceedingly reluctant. When you get this sort of dichotomy, then any weaning efforts can potentially be painful - for both mother and baby.
I wonder if this is something all new mothers are told. Often, in my work when I meet mothers, they invariably say: oh sure, I'd like to breastfeed if I can. But this is because they have been told that 'breast is best'. And nowhere in the fine print are they told about the amount of attachment that breastfeeding commands in a relationship. Maybe they know vaguely about bonding, but I suspect they don't think so far as to what this exactly means - WHO is bonded? For how long?
Well and good if a mother enjoys nursing her baby - the ride is likely to be smoother and the baby nursed for longer. But imagine if they don't enjoy it? Chafe at the lack of 'freedom'? Resent frequent feedings and so on? Many women don't expect how much hard work breastfeeding can be. Many women come into the maternal relationship expecting auto bonding and for breastfeeding to 'come naturally'. But it isn't always so.
In the interests of making informed choices, perhaps birth educators, lactation consultants and breastfeeding counsellors should be honest and upfront about these issues as well. By all means, give the facts on the superiority of breastmilk, but make it clear that it demands commitment, hard work and perseverance as well. And the fruits of all this hard work? Ah, then we can 'sell' the merits of breastfeeding.
For now, in case anyone wants to see an interesting fact-based debate on formula-feeding, they can access this site: http://www.opposingviews.com/questions/will-formula-feeding-harm-my-baby
This is a debate between a La Leche League representative and Dr Joan B Wolf from Texas A&M University. Like I said, this debate is perennial. But it is never boring.
This is the crux of a perennial debate going on between mothers who do and mothers who don't breastfeed.
Having been on both banks of the river, I've always found it interesting to listen to the ongoing debate. It is one that can get really loud and passionate. Because at the very heart of this, it is not about defending a product ie the quality of breastmilk vs the quality of formula - though both are very valid issues. Rather, it is the defense of an ideal of motherhood.
When you consider that throughout history, across cultures, the image of motherhood is consistently personified by a mother with a baby at the breast, it is not difficult to understand why breastfeeding forms the sensitive core of our definition of womanhood and motherhood. Women everywhere debate this - within themselves, with other women, with doctors etc. This is why guilt is such a key issue in any formula vs breast debate.
What makes a good mother? If I choose the path less travelled, am I less of a mother? If I choose not to give my baby 'the best', do I freely admit this as a lifestyle choice I have made, or do I cloak under the excuse of 'not enough milk' and be defensive about my choices? On the other hand, what about mothers who breastfeed but do not enjoy it, mothers who decide to "breastfeed only the acceptable minimum period - ie 6 months, or a year or whatever the authorities decide is recommended". Does this make them better mothers than mothers who choose not to breastfeed at all? Or what about mothers who breastfeed all the way, and are in favour of child-led weaning?
It would be easy, according to your own value systems, to place such mothers on pedestals. But this would be overly simplistic and in the end, just not a fair assessment. Motherhood is touchy business.
So whenever people debate the merits of formula vs breast, I think they are debating deeper issues. And in my view, there are no winners, only opinions.
To me, breast is not about just infant feeding or infant nutrition. Clearly when you look at the facts, there is no contention that formula is vastly inferior. But breastfeeding goes far beyond just a dietary choice. There is emotional baggage attached to it - if not for the mother, certainly for the baby. Hence the mother who is eager to wean and baby who is not eager and in fact, exceedingly reluctant. When you get this sort of dichotomy, then any weaning efforts can potentially be painful - for both mother and baby.
I wonder if this is something all new mothers are told. Often, in my work when I meet mothers, they invariably say: oh sure, I'd like to breastfeed if I can. But this is because they have been told that 'breast is best'. And nowhere in the fine print are they told about the amount of attachment that breastfeeding commands in a relationship. Maybe they know vaguely about bonding, but I suspect they don't think so far as to what this exactly means - WHO is bonded? For how long?
Well and good if a mother enjoys nursing her baby - the ride is likely to be smoother and the baby nursed for longer. But imagine if they don't enjoy it? Chafe at the lack of 'freedom'? Resent frequent feedings and so on? Many women don't expect how much hard work breastfeeding can be. Many women come into the maternal relationship expecting auto bonding and for breastfeeding to 'come naturally'. But it isn't always so.
In the interests of making informed choices, perhaps birth educators, lactation consultants and breastfeeding counsellors should be honest and upfront about these issues as well. By all means, give the facts on the superiority of breastmilk, but make it clear that it demands commitment, hard work and perseverance as well. And the fruits of all this hard work? Ah, then we can 'sell' the merits of breastfeeding.
For now, in case anyone wants to see an interesting fact-based debate on formula-feeding, they can access this site: http://www.opposingviews.com/questions/will-formula-feeding-harm-my-baby
This is a debate between a La Leche League representative and Dr Joan B Wolf from Texas A&M University. Like I said, this debate is perennial. But it is never boring.
Friday, September 26, 2008
My last hours of being 39...
...are spent nursing a bad headache. Chalk it down to a combination of the flu and over-eating.
Today was the day of my big pig-out luxe lunch. And boy, did I pig out.
It rained earlier when I left the house so I was not confident about getting a good view from the lofty heights of Equinox. But the rain soon cleared up and up there, while not blue skies and sunshine, it was clear enough to see quite far.
I was given a good seat next to the window. From there I could see Esplanade Drive, which has been turned into part of the track for the F1 night race. The road was empty far down below, all ready for the practice sessions to come later in the afternoon. I would be long gone by then, but till then, I could still enjoy the rest of the view. The Singapore River was one long, BROWN ribbon of water snaking its way past the shophouses and skyscrapers. I was taken aback at the Milo colour - two years ago when I sat at the very same spot, it was all bluish-green. So what happened? Was it the construction of the Marina barrage or was it the IR coming up?
The spread of dishes for the buffet was pretty much the same - it was not very wide, but it had all my favourites. So I feasted on oysters on ice, four different types of sashimi, various sushi, zaru soba (cold Japanese noodles), prawn salad, and of course, my foie gras. I think I overdid it on the foie gras, going back four times for the sinful little slabs. In between food, I was transported to life in Tahiti in my current favourite trilogy of novels from Tahitian writer Celestine Hitiura Vaite. Dessert was yummy creme brulee, bread and butter pudding with vanilla sauce, tiramisu and raspberry and pear sorbet.
I think the cooking was not remarkable, but still serviceable. The buffet comprised only appetizers and dessert. For $10 more you could have a main course from the menu, but I wanted to concentrate on the oysters and the foie gras so I gave it a miss. The buffet spread did contain small chinese saucers of cod with french beans in a white buttery sauce, which was quite tasty, so that satisfied any craving I had for a main course.
I sat there eating and reading and perfectly content for almost two and a half hours. Initially, I did wonder if I was setting myself up for an uncomfortable experience - going alone for a chi-chi lunch. But once there, I felt okay. I was probably the only one lunching alone, but I didn't mind. The book was perfect company. By the time I had to go, I had finished the book. It was a good book and it was a good lunch!
To make myself feel a bit less guilty about all that foie gras now sending my cholesterol to stratospheric heights, I decided to walk from Raffles City to The Cathay and to Plaza Singapura. Down in Raffles City, the mood was definitely buzzing because of the F1. I don't follow the F1 so I wouldn't know who was who even if the drivers themselves bumped into me! But there were lots of women there, dressed in bright vermillion orange crew suits. Were they crew? I can't imagine them changing tires in the pit, but they sure looked the part!
So here I am, hours away from turning 40.
I had a nice afternoon, just walking in the sunshine. And I think, my life has not been bad. I am in a good place where I am now.
Healthwise, I know things could be better. I saw the doctor on Tuesday for my blood pressure. He was left shaking his head: pressure still not well controlled despite the addition of the diuretic. I showed him my urine sticks to ascertain that they were indeed testing for protein leaks and not microalbumin. He agreed. So this means my kidneys are definitely starting to leak protein. He wanted to add an ACE Inhibitor to my drug cocktail to help control the BP better and to protect the kidneys. But because I was still breastfeeding, this would not be possible. So the poor guy had to spend some time cracking his brains about what could be prescribed for me. In the end, he decided to just up my dosage of the diuretic to see if this has any effect. But he didn't look optimistic. I will see him in two months and he has ordered a blood test to check on renal function.
I'm sure he would appalled if he saw the amount of oysters and foie gras I was piling on! But heck, I don't turn 40 everyday.
It just occurred to me that I can now safely be called 'middle-aged'. Since life expectancy for women are in the mid-80s, I reckon that I have just about made it to the middle of my lifespan. Half my life is over. The other half awaits.
When I turned 30, I had already given birth to 2 children, headed a magazine, head-hunted to start another (but turned it down), and had just sold my house. Today, on the brink of 40, I have 5 children (3 that came in the 10 years that passed between 30 and 40!), gotten my graduate diploma, down-shifted to a half-time job, got offered another editorship but turned it down again, have my own little business and am now living in my tiny yellow house.
Life has a funny way of moving around. At 30, I could never have imagined myself to be where I am now. So I wonder what I will be when I hit the next milestone - 50!
But first, there's 40 to deal with. And that happens in just a couple of hours.
...are spent nursing a bad headache. Chalk it down to a combination of the flu and over-eating.
Today was the day of my big pig-out luxe lunch. And boy, did I pig out.
It rained earlier when I left the house so I was not confident about getting a good view from the lofty heights of Equinox. But the rain soon cleared up and up there, while not blue skies and sunshine, it was clear enough to see quite far.
I was given a good seat next to the window. From there I could see Esplanade Drive, which has been turned into part of the track for the F1 night race. The road was empty far down below, all ready for the practice sessions to come later in the afternoon. I would be long gone by then, but till then, I could still enjoy the rest of the view. The Singapore River was one long, BROWN ribbon of water snaking its way past the shophouses and skyscrapers. I was taken aback at the Milo colour - two years ago when I sat at the very same spot, it was all bluish-green. So what happened? Was it the construction of the Marina barrage or was it the IR coming up?
The spread of dishes for the buffet was pretty much the same - it was not very wide, but it had all my favourites. So I feasted on oysters on ice, four different types of sashimi, various sushi, zaru soba (cold Japanese noodles), prawn salad, and of course, my foie gras. I think I overdid it on the foie gras, going back four times for the sinful little slabs. In between food, I was transported to life in Tahiti in my current favourite trilogy of novels from Tahitian writer Celestine Hitiura Vaite. Dessert was yummy creme brulee, bread and butter pudding with vanilla sauce, tiramisu and raspberry and pear sorbet.
I think the cooking was not remarkable, but still serviceable. The buffet comprised only appetizers and dessert. For $10 more you could have a main course from the menu, but I wanted to concentrate on the oysters and the foie gras so I gave it a miss. The buffet spread did contain small chinese saucers of cod with french beans in a white buttery sauce, which was quite tasty, so that satisfied any craving I had for a main course.
I sat there eating and reading and perfectly content for almost two and a half hours. Initially, I did wonder if I was setting myself up for an uncomfortable experience - going alone for a chi-chi lunch. But once there, I felt okay. I was probably the only one lunching alone, but I didn't mind. The book was perfect company. By the time I had to go, I had finished the book. It was a good book and it was a good lunch!
To make myself feel a bit less guilty about all that foie gras now sending my cholesterol to stratospheric heights, I decided to walk from Raffles City to The Cathay and to Plaza Singapura. Down in Raffles City, the mood was definitely buzzing because of the F1. I don't follow the F1 so I wouldn't know who was who even if the drivers themselves bumped into me! But there were lots of women there, dressed in bright vermillion orange crew suits. Were they crew? I can't imagine them changing tires in the pit, but they sure looked the part!
So here I am, hours away from turning 40.
I had a nice afternoon, just walking in the sunshine. And I think, my life has not been bad. I am in a good place where I am now.
Healthwise, I know things could be better. I saw the doctor on Tuesday for my blood pressure. He was left shaking his head: pressure still not well controlled despite the addition of the diuretic. I showed him my urine sticks to ascertain that they were indeed testing for protein leaks and not microalbumin. He agreed. So this means my kidneys are definitely starting to leak protein. He wanted to add an ACE Inhibitor to my drug cocktail to help control the BP better and to protect the kidneys. But because I was still breastfeeding, this would not be possible. So the poor guy had to spend some time cracking his brains about what could be prescribed for me. In the end, he decided to just up my dosage of the diuretic to see if this has any effect. But he didn't look optimistic. I will see him in two months and he has ordered a blood test to check on renal function.
I'm sure he would appalled if he saw the amount of oysters and foie gras I was piling on! But heck, I don't turn 40 everyday.
It just occurred to me that I can now safely be called 'middle-aged'. Since life expectancy for women are in the mid-80s, I reckon that I have just about made it to the middle of my lifespan. Half my life is over. The other half awaits.
When I turned 30, I had already given birth to 2 children, headed a magazine, head-hunted to start another (but turned it down), and had just sold my house. Today, on the brink of 40, I have 5 children (3 that came in the 10 years that passed between 30 and 40!), gotten my graduate diploma, down-shifted to a half-time job, got offered another editorship but turned it down again, have my own little business and am now living in my tiny yellow house.
Life has a funny way of moving around. At 30, I could never have imagined myself to be where I am now. So I wonder what I will be when I hit the next milestone - 50!
But first, there's 40 to deal with. And that happens in just a couple of hours.
Thursday, September 25, 2008
Hard core
I need help. Seriously. I have an internet addiction that is ruining my life slowly but surely.
Its not Facebook. Not MySpace. Not Friendster. It's not even email anymore. It is nothing remotely social even.
Its Big Money. I am addicted to it.
Ever since I repaired the home PC, forked out about $300 for a new hard disk, upgrade my RAM etc, the home PC is now as good as new and my internet connections fixed and raring to go. With the kids, we re-discovered the joys of Pop Cap games, Mini-Clip, Nitrome etc.
And now I am hooked. My drug of choice: Big Money. Its the new version of Collapse. Keep clicking on the coloured balls and grabbing money bags to advance. Each level you clear gives you a title - from Pauper to Chairman of the Board.
My right shoulder is slightly numb now as I type this - after an hour of mindless clicking. My right index finger is frozen and stiff.
My kids are going to seed outside, unsupervised, unstimulated, unchallenged and uncared for. They run around in a variety of chocolate-stained t-shirts, and soggy diapers. I holler out commands from my desk while glued to my PC. Commands like: "Stop that at once or else!" and "If I hear one more argle-bargle!!" I try to tell myself its not so bad - at least I am not in the office. The kids can hear me, even if they can't see me. And if they do want to see me, they just have to wait until I finish one level, not the whole game. This is bad isn't it?
I only pause for toilet breaks.
Right now, the baby nurses at the PC. Heck. The baby has gotten into the game too! She not only can finish up to Level 2 unassisted (her rank is Ditch Digger), she can now officially recognise the word 'Big' - she pointed it out to me when she saw the word in a newspaper headline. That should tell you how hooked I am, how many hours I have lavished to earning my virtual big bucks online and how many times baby has nursed at the keyboard while I am frantically clicking away.
I need help. I have to break this addiction. But the bloody PC is so damn tempting! Should have just let the PC die. As it is, with all the wanton clicking, the mouse is dying a slow but inexorable death, losing responsiveness day by day.
And to make me feel worse, right outside me now, I can see my neighbour - the model mom. She's not clicking away, cooped up in a room, uncaring of her kids. She's out there, in her model garden - gardening! Her kids are her assistants, handing her stuff she needs. Spending time together fruitfully. Probably learning something along the way... While, me? I call my kids to me in excitement everytime I hit a high score.
It makes me ashamed to say this, but I even took a picture of the screen when I hit Chairman of the Board. Just to prove to the kids that I have been where none have been before.
To make me feel somewhat better, I share strategy tips with the kids - like how you should not just randomly click, but be patient and wait until enough balls fill more than half the screen and then you click at the bottom to form large chunks - more points that way. Sorry. This is only relevant if you are as addicted to Big Money as I am.
So the kids and I have an unofficial competition. Gillian, Isaac and I are Chairmen of the Board. But I win in terms of high score. Heh.
Okay, got to go. Its dinner time. But before that, maybe just one more game for the road...
I need help. Seriously. I have an internet addiction that is ruining my life slowly but surely.
Its not Facebook. Not MySpace. Not Friendster. It's not even email anymore. It is nothing remotely social even.
Its Big Money. I am addicted to it.
Ever since I repaired the home PC, forked out about $300 for a new hard disk, upgrade my RAM etc, the home PC is now as good as new and my internet connections fixed and raring to go. With the kids, we re-discovered the joys of Pop Cap games, Mini-Clip, Nitrome etc.
And now I am hooked. My drug of choice: Big Money. Its the new version of Collapse. Keep clicking on the coloured balls and grabbing money bags to advance. Each level you clear gives you a title - from Pauper to Chairman of the Board.
My right shoulder is slightly numb now as I type this - after an hour of mindless clicking. My right index finger is frozen and stiff.
My kids are going to seed outside, unsupervised, unstimulated, unchallenged and uncared for. They run around in a variety of chocolate-stained t-shirts, and soggy diapers. I holler out commands from my desk while glued to my PC. Commands like: "Stop that at once or else!" and "If I hear one more argle-bargle!!" I try to tell myself its not so bad - at least I am not in the office. The kids can hear me, even if they can't see me. And if they do want to see me, they just have to wait until I finish one level, not the whole game. This is bad isn't it?
I only pause for toilet breaks.
Right now, the baby nurses at the PC. Heck. The baby has gotten into the game too! She not only can finish up to Level 2 unassisted (her rank is Ditch Digger), she can now officially recognise the word 'Big' - she pointed it out to me when she saw the word in a newspaper headline. That should tell you how hooked I am, how many hours I have lavished to earning my virtual big bucks online and how many times baby has nursed at the keyboard while I am frantically clicking away.
I need help. I have to break this addiction. But the bloody PC is so damn tempting! Should have just let the PC die. As it is, with all the wanton clicking, the mouse is dying a slow but inexorable death, losing responsiveness day by day.
And to make me feel worse, right outside me now, I can see my neighbour - the model mom. She's not clicking away, cooped up in a room, uncaring of her kids. She's out there, in her model garden - gardening! Her kids are her assistants, handing her stuff she needs. Spending time together fruitfully. Probably learning something along the way... While, me? I call my kids to me in excitement everytime I hit a high score.
It makes me ashamed to say this, but I even took a picture of the screen when I hit Chairman of the Board. Just to prove to the kids that I have been where none have been before.
To make me feel somewhat better, I share strategy tips with the kids - like how you should not just randomly click, but be patient and wait until enough balls fill more than half the screen and then you click at the bottom to form large chunks - more points that way. Sorry. This is only relevant if you are as addicted to Big Money as I am.
So the kids and I have an unofficial competition. Gillian, Isaac and I are Chairmen of the Board. But I win in terms of high score. Heh.
Okay, got to go. Its dinner time. But before that, maybe just one more game for the road...
Monday, September 22, 2008
Updates on the Fishball
Fishball, aka Owain, is always so affectionately sweet.
Like my knight, he defends me against all slurs - his daddy teasingly accused me of being greedy last night (In all honesty, I probably was being greedy, having polished half a plate of oyster omelette, a bowl of prawn noodles and two mega mugs of sugar cane juice!!) and my knight in shining armour immediately leaped to my defence. He growled back at his daddy: Don't call her that! Mummy is not greedy. She is perfect! She's the best mummy in the whole world!
Then last night, after all that food and a walk round the neighbourhood, I lay on the floor and drifted into a nap. Along came a familiar little voice that asked very solicitiously: Mummy, mummy, would you like to go upstairs to sleep?
I must have mumbled something and the little voice floated back: Can I get you a pillow for your head mummy? And the next thing I knew, I heard him say: Here mummy, I've brought some pillows for you. Lift your head up so I can put them under you... there, and here are some more pillows... (he placed one on each side of my face, effectively covering me under the cushions!)
Later when I roused myself and went upstairs to his room, I was still feeling sleepy, so I sat on the floor and rested my head against his bed rail, closing my eyes. He came in, full of concern and said: Mummy, would you like to lie on my bed? Its more comfy for you. I can sleep on the floor.
When I declined, he thought for a while and said: Mummy, here. Here's my pillow. I can sleep without a pillow. Let me put my pillow on this (the bed rail) so it won't be so hard on you.
I declined yet again and he offered me his comforter. I assured him I was okay and tucked him in nicely, told him a bedtime story before saying good night.
That's Owain for you - always considerate of others, full of TLC.
Its not the first time that he's thought of the comfort of others. Even KH agrees - wheneverOwain cuddled with daddy on the sofa, he would always make sure daddy was comfy, offering to turn on the fan, fetch cushions, position himself nicely etc. In school, whenever Trin cries (and that is pretty much every time she goes to school!), he would spend time with her, sitting with her, stroking her hair, trying to distract her, play with her etc until she stopped crying. My friend related this incident when we went to the zoo together with both our families. Her little girl was asking her about getting some apple juice. Owain was walking several meters ahead of them and overheard. Immediately he turned around and offered her his apple juice. "You can have mine," he said. My friend's daughter said no, but my friend was struck by his spontaneity and kindness.
He's really sweet, that fishball son of mine. I love him to bits! Everyone says I am very bad - picking favourites, but I can't help it. He's got such a loving, winning, sunny nature.
For the umpteenth time, I wonder what I did to deserve such a sweet-natured kid. Did nursing him for so long have a part to play? Was it because I practiced more attachment parenting principles with him, Cait and Trin than the rest? Whatever it is, I loath the days passing and my boy growing up. All these beautiful days where I am the sole object of his adoration will soon go. For now, I am, in his words, his "queen" and "bestest mummy". But once past a certain age all that loving affection and loyalty may end. So I should treasure it all while it lasts, and record all these gems of days in my memory.
Speaking of days, these days Owain and I have a project.
He's been complaining of boredom. Nothing to do, he says, its so boring! He would love nothing more than to play on the computer, internet games from Nitrome or Mini-Clip, but I can't have that all the time - hence his complaints of 'boredom'. Even those puzzle IQ games we've bought have fizzled thin with him. He hardly touched the Safari game and he finished River-Crossing in less than two weeks! To his credit, he is not a TV person and does not particularly hanker for TV-time. I don't want to pile worksheets on him either.
So I have been racking my brains on how to manage this - finding an activity that would stimulate, challenge him and keep him occupied?
Quite by chance, I hit on the solution. Eileen, the director from Lumiere Montessori, Owain's school, suggested letting him type words on the PC. So I went home and fleshed out the idea - not merely typing words (which helps him learn how to spell and how to read), but typing with a purpose. This also gives him something to do with the computer that is different from just playing games.
So we sit together and Owain tells me what he wants to say, I write out the sentences - nothing long, just simple ones like "I am five years old. I like to eat sushi." Then he types out the sentences, we plan the layout and the font etc and I draw an empty box. We print the page out. He then draws a picture in the box, colours it. When we get enough pages, we will collate this into a book.
The idea caught fire with him and his eyes lit up. His first question was: "Can we sell the book and make lots of money???"
Entrepreneurial boy. Okay, I said, but it will only make money if it is interesting so you've got to write interesting things in it and draw interesting pictures. He nodded, eyes shining in anticipation. We've started doing this already and we plan to do at least one page a day. I plan to gradually get him to think about stories, write them out and type them in too. Hopefully this project will sustain his interest for a bit longer! And who knows? It might just grow into a really big, nice book that records his thoughts and his days as a five-year-old.
Fishball, aka Owain, is always so affectionately sweet.
Like my knight, he defends me against all slurs - his daddy teasingly accused me of being greedy last night (In all honesty, I probably was being greedy, having polished half a plate of oyster omelette, a bowl of prawn noodles and two mega mugs of sugar cane juice!!) and my knight in shining armour immediately leaped to my defence. He growled back at his daddy: Don't call her that! Mummy is not greedy. She is perfect! She's the best mummy in the whole world!
Then last night, after all that food and a walk round the neighbourhood, I lay on the floor and drifted into a nap. Along came a familiar little voice that asked very solicitiously: Mummy, mummy, would you like to go upstairs to sleep?
I must have mumbled something and the little voice floated back: Can I get you a pillow for your head mummy? And the next thing I knew, I heard him say: Here mummy, I've brought some pillows for you. Lift your head up so I can put them under you... there, and here are some more pillows... (he placed one on each side of my face, effectively covering me under the cushions!)
Later when I roused myself and went upstairs to his room, I was still feeling sleepy, so I sat on the floor and rested my head against his bed rail, closing my eyes. He came in, full of concern and said: Mummy, would you like to lie on my bed? Its more comfy for you. I can sleep on the floor.
When I declined, he thought for a while and said: Mummy, here. Here's my pillow. I can sleep without a pillow. Let me put my pillow on this (the bed rail) so it won't be so hard on you.
I declined yet again and he offered me his comforter. I assured him I was okay and tucked him in nicely, told him a bedtime story before saying good night.
That's Owain for you - always considerate of others, full of TLC.
Its not the first time that he's thought of the comfort of others. Even KH agrees - wheneverOwain cuddled with daddy on the sofa, he would always make sure daddy was comfy, offering to turn on the fan, fetch cushions, position himself nicely etc. In school, whenever Trin cries (and that is pretty much every time she goes to school!), he would spend time with her, sitting with her, stroking her hair, trying to distract her, play with her etc until she stopped crying. My friend related this incident when we went to the zoo together with both our families. Her little girl was asking her about getting some apple juice. Owain was walking several meters ahead of them and overheard. Immediately he turned around and offered her his apple juice. "You can have mine," he said. My friend's daughter said no, but my friend was struck by his spontaneity and kindness.
He's really sweet, that fishball son of mine. I love him to bits! Everyone says I am very bad - picking favourites, but I can't help it. He's got such a loving, winning, sunny nature.
For the umpteenth time, I wonder what I did to deserve such a sweet-natured kid. Did nursing him for so long have a part to play? Was it because I practiced more attachment parenting principles with him, Cait and Trin than the rest? Whatever it is, I loath the days passing and my boy growing up. All these beautiful days where I am the sole object of his adoration will soon go. For now, I am, in his words, his "queen" and "bestest mummy". But once past a certain age all that loving affection and loyalty may end. So I should treasure it all while it lasts, and record all these gems of days in my memory.
Speaking of days, these days Owain and I have a project.
He's been complaining of boredom. Nothing to do, he says, its so boring! He would love nothing more than to play on the computer, internet games from Nitrome or Mini-Clip, but I can't have that all the time - hence his complaints of 'boredom'. Even those puzzle IQ games we've bought have fizzled thin with him. He hardly touched the Safari game and he finished River-Crossing in less than two weeks! To his credit, he is not a TV person and does not particularly hanker for TV-time. I don't want to pile worksheets on him either.
So I have been racking my brains on how to manage this - finding an activity that would stimulate, challenge him and keep him occupied?
Quite by chance, I hit on the solution. Eileen, the director from Lumiere Montessori, Owain's school, suggested letting him type words on the PC. So I went home and fleshed out the idea - not merely typing words (which helps him learn how to spell and how to read), but typing with a purpose. This also gives him something to do with the computer that is different from just playing games.
So we sit together and Owain tells me what he wants to say, I write out the sentences - nothing long, just simple ones like "I am five years old. I like to eat sushi." Then he types out the sentences, we plan the layout and the font etc and I draw an empty box. We print the page out. He then draws a picture in the box, colours it. When we get enough pages, we will collate this into a book.
The idea caught fire with him and his eyes lit up. His first question was: "Can we sell the book and make lots of money???"
Entrepreneurial boy. Okay, I said, but it will only make money if it is interesting so you've got to write interesting things in it and draw interesting pictures. He nodded, eyes shining in anticipation. We've started doing this already and we plan to do at least one page a day. I plan to gradually get him to think about stories, write them out and type them in too. Hopefully this project will sustain his interest for a bit longer! And who knows? It might just grow into a really big, nice book that records his thoughts and his days as a five-year-old.
Friday, September 05, 2008
Sore about it
When it comes to health problems (for me at least), it seems to never rain but always pour!
First it was the high BP (which by the way does not seem well controlled even with the additional diuretic - last night I recorded a BP of 134/105. Could be because I was in discomfort/pain, but generally over the past nights when I checked, the diastolic still hovered around 95 to 98.), then it was the dang prolapse, and now, its the right breast.
The right breast has always been 'Owain's breast'. Ever since Trin was born and I tandem-nursed them both, one kept to the right, the other to the left. This has stayed until the day Owain stopped nursing. Even now, Trin keeps to the left. So the right breast has been unused for almost a year already.
The last time I tried hand expressing to see what came out of the right breast, all I got was oil seeping out of the pores and some thickened milk solids.
My breasts have always been lumpy. And since I am turning 40 soon, it was always at the back of my mind that I should be going for the usual exams - a pap smear, a mammogram. But thanks to the cost, I keep putting this off.
Knowing that my breasts are always lumpy, I never saw cause for concern. But two nights ago, while lying down, I was idly doing a breast exam, just feeling around the rim of the right breast when I noticed a mass near the wall of the breast. This has always been there but I could not be sure if this was just ligament or muscle connective tissue or was it a real mass. The same area on the left breast did not seem so enlarged or prominent. It didn't hurt as I palpated it. So I just sort of filed it away mentally as a note to "remember to book a slot for a full exam soon".
But something must have niggled at me. The next day I tried hand expressing again and this time, not only the usual oil oozed out, but also a stream of pus. Eeks! I hope no one is reading this while eating!
I could not be sure at first and thought it was milk changes again. But the breast did feel lumpy and was starting to be a bit sore and tender. The more I expressed, the more pus oozed out.
So I think I must have some sort of breast abscess. I have not nursed for so many months on that breast, so I cannot understand why or how I could get any form of breast infection. But as the afternoon wore on, it began to feel more and more like a plugged duct, bordering on mastitis. I know I have been feeling a bit fluey and under the weather generally, and the trip to Malaysia over the weekend also left me pooped. My sleep at night has been interrupted by bouts of anxiety that wake me and leave me feeling restless and worried (Don't ask me what I am worried about! I just get a sense that something is UP.)
So maybe all this could have triggered some form of breast infection??
Right now the right side is definitely tender when probed. It does not hurt otherwise. It also feels warmer to the touch than the left. So it does feel like plugged ducts. But as the how and why, since I am no longer lactating on that side, I am absolutely clueless.
I have made an appointment at the KK Breast Centre and the earliest appointment is for Tuesday. But since I am already in some form of discomfort, I think I'd just go queue at the polyclinic later today and get some pain-killers or something. I would like to avoid the antibiotics, but I don't see how that would be possible. I'll just have to dose myself concurrently with probiotics then. Maybe the polyclinic would give me a referral to the Breast Centre - so any investigations done would be a lot less expensive! I would imagine that any preliminary exam would also include an ultrasound of the breast and possibly mammography as well. All that would certainly cost an arm and a leg if done as a private patient!
When it comes to health problems (for me at least), it seems to never rain but always pour!
First it was the high BP (which by the way does not seem well controlled even with the additional diuretic - last night I recorded a BP of 134/105. Could be because I was in discomfort/pain, but generally over the past nights when I checked, the diastolic still hovered around 95 to 98.), then it was the dang prolapse, and now, its the right breast.
The right breast has always been 'Owain's breast'. Ever since Trin was born and I tandem-nursed them both, one kept to the right, the other to the left. This has stayed until the day Owain stopped nursing. Even now, Trin keeps to the left. So the right breast has been unused for almost a year already.
The last time I tried hand expressing to see what came out of the right breast, all I got was oil seeping out of the pores and some thickened milk solids.
My breasts have always been lumpy. And since I am turning 40 soon, it was always at the back of my mind that I should be going for the usual exams - a pap smear, a mammogram. But thanks to the cost, I keep putting this off.
Knowing that my breasts are always lumpy, I never saw cause for concern. But two nights ago, while lying down, I was idly doing a breast exam, just feeling around the rim of the right breast when I noticed a mass near the wall of the breast. This has always been there but I could not be sure if this was just ligament or muscle connective tissue or was it a real mass. The same area on the left breast did not seem so enlarged or prominent. It didn't hurt as I palpated it. So I just sort of filed it away mentally as a note to "remember to book a slot for a full exam soon".
But something must have niggled at me. The next day I tried hand expressing again and this time, not only the usual oil oozed out, but also a stream of pus. Eeks! I hope no one is reading this while eating!
I could not be sure at first and thought it was milk changes again. But the breast did feel lumpy and was starting to be a bit sore and tender. The more I expressed, the more pus oozed out.
So I think I must have some sort of breast abscess. I have not nursed for so many months on that breast, so I cannot understand why or how I could get any form of breast infection. But as the afternoon wore on, it began to feel more and more like a plugged duct, bordering on mastitis. I know I have been feeling a bit fluey and under the weather generally, and the trip to Malaysia over the weekend also left me pooped. My sleep at night has been interrupted by bouts of anxiety that wake me and leave me feeling restless and worried (Don't ask me what I am worried about! I just get a sense that something is UP.)
So maybe all this could have triggered some form of breast infection??
Right now the right side is definitely tender when probed. It does not hurt otherwise. It also feels warmer to the touch than the left. So it does feel like plugged ducts. But as the how and why, since I am no longer lactating on that side, I am absolutely clueless.
I have made an appointment at the KK Breast Centre and the earliest appointment is for Tuesday. But since I am already in some form of discomfort, I think I'd just go queue at the polyclinic later today and get some pain-killers or something. I would like to avoid the antibiotics, but I don't see how that would be possible. I'll just have to dose myself concurrently with probiotics then. Maybe the polyclinic would give me a referral to the Breast Centre - so any investigations done would be a lot less expensive! I would imagine that any preliminary exam would also include an ultrasound of the breast and possibly mammography as well. All that would certainly cost an arm and a leg if done as a private patient!
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