Japan here we come... again!

Tempted by the MAS offer of S$398 all-inclusive fares Japan, we pressed the 'buy' button last week. The kids fare is slightly less at S$382. We'll have to transit in KLIA but for this sort of fare, ah, okay. I never thought I'd see fares to Japan go as low as this and I thought the earlier NW deal of $498 was already pretty low. SQ's lowest fares to Japan hovers around $598. Amazingly, KH was the one who said book 'em.

Our trip is scheduled for Nov 14 to Nov 28 inclusive. 15 glorious days of autumn in Japan!

This means we will take Caitlin out of school a week before school officially ends for the year. The older kids would already be on holiday since sec schools close for the year earlier than their pri counterparts. We would also not miss O's P1 orientation at SJIJ on Nov 7.

We're all very excited about it and the pleasure of planning has started in earnest.

I am torn between heading along the Inland Sea coast, covering the rural Shikoku island or moving inland to Kanazawa, then Takayama, the Shirakawago World Heritage Site and then down to Tsumago and the old post towns. Or cover Nagano, take in some snow at a highland resort? In late Nov, the ski season has not started in earnest but you could still get some early snowfall in the higher elevations. I know that Karuizawa starts officially on Nov 1 with artificial snow. But Karuizawa is known to be very expensive, so while I am tempted, it does not seem likely.

For sure we will cover a bit of Kyoto again - this time, the rock garden of Ryoanji, Kinkakuji and definitely also, Nara. Spend a day on Ohara - splendid autumn foliage there. Possibly a night on Koya-san? Also definitely on my list is Hiroshima and Miyajima, Himeji. I would also like a day and a night in Kobe and Arima Onsen but might have to sacrifice this for time if we go inland.

Looks like we'll buy the 7-Day JR Pass but also exploring car rental. If we are heading along the Inland Sea coast, stopping at pretty fishing villages, then trains would not be possible. And certainly, a car would allow us to drive through the gorges and valleys of Shikoku as well as rugged cliffs of Shikoku where the trains don't go.

Decisions, decisions... I feel like such a kid in a candy shop!

Mum is coming with us this time and it would be great! She's such an experienced traveller herself and is always gung-ho for something new, fun and different. Definitely not the aches-and-pains, can't-do-this-and-that sort. My sister may just hop along for the ride. The kids are thrilled to be going back too.

Oooh, I am so looking forward to this!! I'll post more on the travel blog.

Caitlin is now training 4 times a week for gym.

Friday, 2pm to 5pm
Saturday 9am to 12.30pm
Sunday 4pm to 6pm
Monday 2pm to 5pm.

She is now in the school team, the training squad. They are gearing her up for the Singapore International Junior Cup competition in Dec to gain some experience in preparation for the Inter-Schools Nationals next year in April. No expectations but good to have some experience in competitions under the belt.

During Sunday training her coach took them through the choreographed routine for the floor exercise. Proud mummy that I am, I think she looks so graceful! Monday training same thing but with music which Cait said was "very funny!" and lasted only for about a minute.

For all this to happen, ballet has been sacrificed. I'm mixed about this because I think it would have been good to keep up ballet and some form of dance training which would (a) keep her options open and (b) benefit gym as well. But I do acknowledge that with Berries re-shuffled to Wed afternoons, ballet 2x a week and gym 4x a week, this will take its toll on her studies. So something has to give.

KH thinks that Cait will have no time for her studies (which have been flagging since the CAs in March). This is true because she comes home from gym tired enough to fall asleep in the car. Once past dinner and a bath and she's out like a light - no time for work. She'll have to learn how to adjust and juggle this better. Learning curve ahead for all of us.

Owain is now officially an SJI Junior boy.

I was toying with the idea of sending him to Maris instead of SJI but he was balking at the thought of too much Chinese. As Sam said, being in a place where disliking chinese is the norm or even 'fashionable', vs a place where chinese is in the environment, is important and can make a difference in terms of one's attitude towards learning the language.

But my gut feel from observing Owain says that SJIJ might be a better fit for him. He's always been the sort who learns best when he is (a) not bored and (b) not discouraged/turned off the subject. As we all do of course. But I read Owain as a bright kid and I would not want to stump his efforts to shine in other areas - which might be hampered if I put him in an environment where he is totally unhappy in. As was the case in Magdalene's Kindy - hence the switch to Lumiere, where he is much happier and has made big strides in learning.

My key worry, be it SJIJ or Maris, is still Chinese. We're going to pump him with as much help as necessary. Berries will continue, Wink to Learn and YiXiu are now household DVD staples and if necessary, we'll have to hire a tutor to keep Chinese going. I don't want Chinese to be the archilles heel that loses him the race in the long run.

Owain, half tongue-in-cheek and half seriously, told me to get him exempted from Chinese like his elder brother and sister. And to be honest, I am considering this. When I work with him for chinese, I can really see the difficulty he has in differentiating the tonal values of each word. He just can't seem to grasp the differences in sound/tone. I saw the same thing in Isaac. Which makes me wonder if his phonological awareness is just as poor as his brother's. We'll only know through a psych eval. I'm not going to do this now, but will keep plugging at it with him, at least till the end of the year or next year.

So while I am not just throwing in the towel just yet for Chinese, I am keeping my options open. With Isaac, I regretted that I did not seek exemption sooner. Had I done that, he might have taken a different path in his primary school life since the kids are 'streamed' into classes of varying ability depending on their overall grades in P2. With Isaac scoring well below 25marks most of the time, his overall grade was natually pulled low and he spent about 2 years in a class which did not match his ability for English, Maths and Science. Still, the boy says those were the best days of his school life in SJIJ.

With Owain, I'll see how it goes for P1. His Chinese teacher in Berries told KH that he cried in class on Saturday. He either could not recognise the word, or pronounced it wrongly. He cried out of frustration. When I worked with him, I saw the same thing - not recognising the same words, not able to retain the meaning and sounds etc. I could see that he was frustrated but I'll say this for him - he has determination and grit. He moaned, groaned and complained about 'doing Chinese' but you could see him trying and trying. I love him for that and I feel for him.

That same grit was seen in swimming class on Saturday.

He was told to swim the length of the pool (50m) - and he did. When he reached the end, he was told to swim back. KH was swimming beside him. Midway through the lap, he noticed that O was gasping up to breathe, clutching at the wall with every stroke. Each stroke was degenerating gradually. Whereupon KH stopped him and asked why he was swimming like that. And only then did he realise that O was in tears. He was too exhausted from swimming the first length and found it "too hard" to do the return lap but had to do it. So he pushed himself but was also so tired and frustrated that he cried.

When he related the story to me, my heart hurt for him and I was rather indignant: "Why did the coach do that? You know his strokes aren't even right yet, so naturally all this takes a toll on him. Two laps for this little boy at this stage is really a bit much!"

To which my dear husband, taking on the boot camp instructor role, retorted: "Good! Toughen him up! He is a BOY. If he does not push himself now, NS would be worse!"

Well, I can't and don't buy that. My heart went out to my little fishball. How to protect him and his spirit?

With all this running through my mind, I registered him for school at SJI on Monday. Owain seems happy and I think I made the right choice. Next step - Orientation on Nov 7.

Owain is finally vaxed.

I think, as a parent, I've done as much as I can to minimise the risk of any adverse reactions happening. These are:

Extended breastfeeding to build immunity
No vaccinations in the first year of life
Delay vaccinations until immune system is stronger - ie 6 to 7 years of age
Vaccinating only what is legally required
Single shots instead of combination vaccines
Supplemented with high levels of Vit C, Vit A, echinecea, probiotics before and after vaccination
Specified needle length
Specified location of shot
Spacing out the shots
Keeping him home from school for better recuperation

I dosed Owain with extra high levels of Vit C and A before the day. He had more than 5000IU of Vit A and I gave him 1000mg of Vit C. This is far above the usual norm recommended for children but for vaccination, which stresses the immune system, this was acceptable.

We went to the Japan Green Clinic yesterday. I promised him ice-cream and sushi if he would not panic and freak out on me. He asked if it was okay if "a little tear" came out and I said, it would be okay for him to cry if it was painful and I would hold his hand.

The doctor was surprised that he was not vaccinated yet and confirmed with me that the measles shot was his primary shot and not a booster. I asked the doctor to verify that the needle used is a 25mm and not a 16mm. He was happy to check the packaging and confirmed that the clinic only uses a 25mm or a 35mm. The needle, being longer, goes deeper and these lengths have been associated with less adverse reactions.

He asked where I would like Owain to be injected and I specified - upper arm. Less pain and swelling reported with an upper arm injection site as compared to the thigh. Doctor grinned and said, "Smart!" heh.

With all this about needle lengths and injection sites and questions on batch nos (I wanted to be sure that the batch nos were clearly reflected and in his notes too), he asked if I were medically trained. No, I said, just a very concerned parent who does her homework. As if to further reassure me I guess, he told me that the Japanese company manufacturing the vaccine has been around for more than a hundred years. Hmm, while that is interesting information, I am not and I guess I will never be, convinced of any vaccine's safety, so 100 years of history notwithstanding, I would not vaccinate unless I absolutely had no more choice but to do so.

The injection itself went smoothly. I think I was more anxious for Owain, as I gripped his little hand. He looked at me and grimaced a bit as the needle went in but otherwise, seemed fine. It looked like there was localised swelling almost immediately but he said it didn't hurt. After that, he was back to his usual self - rough-housing with Isaac, irritating the girls and pinching my butt again. I checked with him several times (paranoid!) but he seemed fine - did not report pain in the arm, no fever yet and his appetite was good (yes I made good on my promise and we took him for some sushi).

The injection, including consultation with the doctor, cost $96.30 (includingGST). Compare this with Raffles Hospital's Children Centre and Olive Tree, which charges around $200 for the whole thing. Moot point anyway because RH and OT both did not have ready stock when I called. As for the diphtheria vax requirement, I will give the DT vax at least a month or more from now. Incidentally, only the Japan Green Clinic has the DT vaccine.

Owain's health book, once pristine and free of any notations on the vaccination page, now has one lone mark in the box tagged 'measles'.

Hopefully this will be enough to get him registered for primary one for now.

Yesterday I did something I had not done in a long time. I went to the post office, bought a congratulatory card, stamps, wrote a message on the card for a friend's daughter, and posted it.

Snail mail.

I enjoyed that. It felt good. Brought back memories of the old days when snail mail was the norm and email unheard of. When I was younger, as a teen, it was always a thrill to open the letter box and find cards and letters. Christmas cards, birthday cards, good luck cards, Valentine's Day cards, Chinese New Year cards. It was all fun to send and to receive.

Back then, we use to send cards for everything we needed to say. Or could not say. So if we were interested in a boy or a girl, ah a sweetly-worded card would say it all. Or tenderly wish a loved one a happy birthday. I remember standing for hours at card racks reading all the mushy messages, trying to find that one perfect meaningful card for a guy I once loved. And receiving one in return. Or getting cards from bashful guys who had a crush on me but never dared say so in person. I still keep them all.

Yes, more often than not, it is not poetry and the words are corny, the sentiment overly-mushy. I don't know about you, but they still touched me very much - but then I am a sentimental romantic at heart!

Seeing someone's handwriting on a card somehow makes it so much more meaningful and personal. We may have fun e-cards today with sophisticated animation and even sound effects and music. But they can't beat the cards of yesteryear for sheer meaning and significance.

It is easier to send a card with just a few clicks today, but for someone to actually buy or make a card, handwrite it, lick and stick on a stamp, there's so much more effort involved and therein, the meaning and the care.

Fell asleep on Fri night thinking about the finer points of the recipe for hawker style soupy prawn noodles. Woke up on Sat inspired. So I gathered the ingredients at the market and on Saturday afternoon while the kids were at their assorted classes and KH working at the dining table, Lolita and I got to work.

It didn't taste good at the stock level but the finished product was surprisingly tasty and sweet. Not a bad attempt for a first time, declared KH. Isaac rated it 6.5 out of 10. But the girls liked it and I finished all the soup in my bowl, something which I don't usually do at the hawker joints no matter how much I like the noodles.

While I largely followed Mrs Lee's recipe from the original Mrs Lee's Cookbook, I also did not adhere strictly to it and adjusted for taste. For instance, Mrs Lee added MSG, while I went without. She also added pig's tail and pig skin, which I also skipped. I substituted brown sugar for her white sugar. Oh and I added a fat clove of garlic to the stock. I also changed the order of some steps but other than that, it was similar.

I do want to document this before I forget, so here's my recipe (and notes) for prawn noodles.

1 kg yellow noodles and half packet of bee hoon (parboiled. Be careful not to keep this too long in hot water because the yellow noodles get soft and soggy.)
Kangkong - also parboiled (Mrs Lee included tow gay but I omitted this because of my towgay-hating kids)

500g of soft pork bones (neng kut)
200g of pork fillet (shoulder butt - nicely marbled and considered the 'redder', softer part of the pig)
200g pork fat (cut into small cubes)
500g small prawns (peeled but keep the heads and shells)
4 dried chilli - pounded coarsely
4 small shallots - thinly sliced
1 fat clove of garlic (lightly bashed)
two tablespoons of white peppercorns
brown sugar
salt
dark soya sauce
light soya sauce
2.3l of water (enough for about 8 to 10 bowls of noodles)

First, fry the pork fat in a wok - smells heavenly but the cholesterol must be sky-high! Then I remove the bits of pork fat, leaving the oil and fried the shallots till golden-brown. Remove that and most of the oil. Fry the 500g of soft pork bones including the 200g pork fillet. Add a bit of oil when necessary. Remove the pork to a large stock pot. The pork would have emitted a bit of water in the frying process but don't remove that from the wok. Add the pounded dry chilli flakes and fry. It forms a paste with the tiny bit of pork stock left in the wok. Add in the prawn shells and fry until it turns bright red. Add in the 2.3l of water. Leave to boil, add peppercorns, clove of garlic, brown sugar, salt, dark and light soya sauce to taste and for colour. Stock should be a dark brown with a tinge of orange. When you are happy with the taste (this is not the point where you taste and decide if you'll have a winner on your hands, just taste to see if it is adequately salty or sweet enough) and with the colour, strain the stock in the wok (hey it rhymes!) into the larger stock pot where the pork is resting. Bring to boil again. Boil the de-shelled prawns, remove when cooked. Also remove the 200g pork fillet and slice thinly.

Serve the parboiled noodles, kangkong, slices of pork and prawn in very hot soup (keep stock pot bubbling hot) garnished with the pork fat and shallot oil, side dishes of chilli padi and soya sauce. Add in a dash of chilli powder if you like the chilli-hot kick. The soft pork bones can also be served with the dish since soft pork bones have a generous padding of meat, this would have softened with the frying and boiling and the meat slides off the bone very easily while still tasting sweet.

The taste of this can be described as mellow and comforting. The pork and prawn stock blend in nicely so that you can taste both elements of land and sea. The proportion of 500g pork bones and 500g prawns to 2.3l of water ensures a stock that is thick with flavour. Mrs Lee's original recipe called for 200g prawn and 300g pork bones, so I'm confident that this version would have a tastier stock.

Note that the prawn stock, once blended and reboiled with the soft pork bones, would taste much better and more 'complete' after being mixed and boiled with the pork. I made the mistake of tasting only the prawn stock and grimaced thinking something was missing. I thought I had a disaster on my hands since the prawn stock tasted weird and 'off'. But later, when I had a go at the finished product, the prawn and pork had melded into a nice blend of flavours - sweet, tasty. And no MSG! So overall, I would declare this effort a success but would need to work on it to refine it again and add that oomph factor. Maybe next time I'll include the pig's tail and the pig skin.

Finally, the taste would not be complete without the sinfulness of pork fat oil. Even plain shallot oil cannot make up for the fragrance and texture of lard in the soup. The extra lardy bits, shallots and oil went into a glass bottle for future use. Really, throw the diet plan out of the window when eating this otherwise you would not be doing the dish justice by omitting the lard and the oil.

Trin reads!

Was busy over the weekend adjusting my powerpoint slides for a talk on birth and babies with Trin on my lap as usual. To my surprise, she read the words "happy" "God" "birth" "baby" along with her usual sight words - to, on, the, can etc.

Any progress is good progress. I'm happy she's picking up words that she's seen often. The word 'God' obviously was picked up from the slides shown at mass!

Speech-wise, I'm working with her on using correct particles - which are now missing from her speech/sentences. Also, concepts like 'on/under', 'front/behind' and early math concepts like patterns, comparing length and size.

Baby steps. All very heartening to this lazy mom - I am inspired to get off my lazy butt and do more now!

Also nice to note that she prays before bedtime. Very cute, goes like this: "Goodnight God, goodnight Jesus, goodnight Mother Mary, goodnight angels, goodnight saints. Thank you for everything. I love you. Please take care of me. Amen."

Owain does not know how to make the sign of the cross but Trin can and will. Unlike her brother, she 'participates' in mass by going for communion with me, arms crossed/folded over her chest and she enjoys bowing, the sign of peace and identifying words on the big screen. I find her so cute and I'm not alone. The other day she wore this cute long maxi dress to church, her hair pinned up with a dozen flowery clips, her arms nicely folded, marching back to the pew - elicited lots of 'oooh so cute' remarks from other worshippers.

According to the Mayan calendar, the world will end in 2012.

Yeah, it just might, since the Mayan calendar runs out of days just about then. And then mankind will be decimated in a mighty nuclear apocalypse or aliens will come in motherships with flashing disco lights and enslave humans to distant star colonies. Or maybe there will be giant tsunamis that wipe all land off the face of the earth - all because we did not heed the global warming warning. People will be lining up from here to eternity at the Pearly Gates and St Peter will be striking names off his longish list (about 144,000 according to the bible). There will be much weeping and gnashing of teeth.

Something like that.

But before all that happens - there's my 20th wedding anniversary to celebrate. I refuse the allow the world to end before then.

Like crossing the international dateline, depending on your perspective, the actual 20th year is either in 2011 (where we registered our marriage and could now have permissible legal sex) or in 2012 where I had that horror-story of a tacky wedding with a bad perm and pink-eye. Either way, the world must NOT end until I've had my 20th anniversary fun. (for planning purposes I think I will define the period as being from June 28 2011 to Feb 8 2012)

Because I had a tacky wedding, I am determined to do it right this time and have a super-duper, solid, no-holds-barred anniversary celebration.

I don't want any fancy expensive diamond rings to commemorate 20 years together - why waste good money on a rock? Instead, just like how Singapore loves to celebrate milestone events - with many 'fringe' and 'core' events, that's how I'll plan our 20th WA celebrations! Cue gleeful handrubbing and evil cackling. Poor KH... he just does not have a clue what will hit him. Okay, neither have I, but I'm having fun with this for now!

Whatever plan I have definitely includes a weekend in Marriage Encounter. He owes me and the church. We didn't go for the church's Marriage Preparation Course back then and he promised Fr Francis that we would go to ME to make up for it. But of course, the man turned squeamish and thinks ME is marriage counselling AA style so he refused to go. But with the 20th year coming up, no more excuses!

But the biggie for me is The Trip. It will be our first trip sans kids in I dunno how many years! I think the trip will last at least 2 weeks if not more. Not sure where we will go and that's part of the fun of planning.

With my current Japan craze, its likely to cover Japan (ooh, onsens, rotemburo, ryokans - reason to splurge on a relatively expensive one for a night since we will not have kids with us! - love hotels, capsule hotels, backpacking). Maybe take an overnight ferry from Japan to Vladivostok and then train down to Beijing? I've always wanted to just backpack Japan with KH. We'll take the train mostly but also do a bit of driving eg in Shikoku. We would just stop for the night at any town when we got tired enough or if the place looked nice enough. Not too much planning, just spontaneity. We have not done this sort of trip for so long.

Or maybe we'll go back to Europe - its been so long. We'll visit old haunts like Venice, the Italian lakes, our favourite hotel in Sienna and in Sorrento (Hotel Lorely et Londres - surly waiter, beautiful room, old terazzo floor, a generous terrace, fragrant lemon groves below and the blue sea further down). And then there's pretty Vernazza on the Cinque Terra. I still remember the sunset on the top of the ruined castle on a hill overlooking the Mediterranean and the colouring-book cute pastel houses down below. You can't get more romantic than that... Only thing is, the euro is just too high to make any European trip value for money these days.

Or perhaps we will revisit Hawaii where we had our honeymoon in 1992. We still talk about it and remember all those quirky bits - when we unknowingly stayed in a 'boutique' hotel which had the night trade as a sideline and the slinkiest streetwalkers I've seen, getting lost in the misty hills off Kiluaea on the Big Island and then chancing upon the cutest little B&B I've seen, driving up past pastureland, into and above the clouds in our red convertible to the roof of Haleakala to watch the sunset, and of course, me puking three times on the 300 hairpin turns on the infamous road to Hana. Who can forget that.

This time, might be nice to go back to Maui and bring that long-held fantasy to life - renewing our wedding vows on a clifftop in Maui with the Pacific Ocean pounding on the rocky shores below, in a picture-perfect vermillion Hawaiian sunset... ooh yes nice thought... but first got to lose enough weight to look good on that clifftop! And we'll have to bring the kids for that vow-renewal thingy if we go that route. Would be more costly then... but still, wouldn't it be nice? To have my children around us as we renew our vows? I can see Isaac and Gillian rolling their eyes at their cheesy mom again...

In 2011, Isaac would be 15 and Gillian, 16 by then. Caitlin would be 10, Owain 8 and Trinity 6 years old. Just thinking about all this makes me sigh - how big they will be, how far we've come.

After all the hills and valleys that KH and I have trudged up and down together for 20 years, I think we've earned the right to celebrate this and celebrate this well! I'm off to do more fantasising... no, I mean planning...

I've liquidated my life insurance. Finally got round to doing this after procrastinating over months/weeks.

I bought this policy for all the wrong reasons 18 years ago. Insurance as a form of investment, ie if you hope to see returns, is really the wrong instrument. The policy had no coverage for critical illness (not that this is a great idea anyway) and I'm no longer so altruistic that I would buy insurance just so that I can leave a tidy sum to my kids when I'm dead and gone. Not as if the death payout for this policy was so great either.

So couple of months ago, I bought a term life plan for higher coverage and lower premiums - my kids will now get more when I die and I pay less while I'm alive. Hm sounds weird but there's logic in that sentence somewhere. Anyways, with the lower premium, I can take the extra bit and add it to a savings plan and grow the money.

Now that I've cashed the policy in, I have a modest five-figure sum from the policy cash-back. Which means I need to invest it. The banks pay crap interest and honestly, there are better ways to grow money. I plan to invest this lump sum, then turn my MSA account (which pays crappy interest) into a regular fixed savings-investment plan.

I don't intend to touch this money in the short to medium term. My only aim is to grow the funds a bit more before I take them out and re-invest again. Slow and steady is the way to go here, so I'll be patient.

Only thing is - which plan and/or which fund to buy into? Mindboggling headache since there are so many funds out there.

Having this teeny nest egg sure makes me feel good. It's not much and in fact, most people would definitely laugh at the amount, but for someone like me, whose never had this much money before in her bank account and who lives from month to month in a mild panic with a near empty bank account, it sure feels good to have a little more padding in the money dept. I mean, to have enough to even consider 'investment', that's something! Me and my money now, feels kinda like Scrat and his acorn.

So why I am depressed? What is this blue funk I am in? That led me to massacre my hair.

Two weeks ago, my vaca plans were dashed when KH said he was anticipating a large tender coming in and he'd have to design the system. We had to pay extra to defer our plane tickets to December. Luckily his company paid up. But still, there went my two weeks of vaca in Penang.

Just then, my colleague told me I'd have to move. Move from my cosy cubicle in the sky, with its own window space, down to the bowels of the general office. Okay, I exaggerate but yes, I will have to move. The space I have now is lovely - a largish cubicle, great roomies, the water-cooler is right next door and I have a window - premium stuff! Here, far away from my boss, I could listen to music while I worked, check on emails etc. Okay, generally slack off, bad girl that I am.

But now, the party's over. I have to move. Down to the main office where I lose my window and my sense of privacy. I've looked at the plans and its 'open concept' office where basically every Joe that walks past behind me gets to see what's on my screen. I feebly protest. Didn't get anywhere. Bargained for a 'screen' - quite desperately - but does not look like it will succeed. I have ideas for hot-desking but I also don't think it will work and right now, am too uninspired to try raising it.

Went home in a big depressed haze. Brooding. Panicky.

When KH's big tender papers failed to show, he decided to cheer me up by taking us to Malacca for a short extended weekend trip.

There, the full extent of my stress and depression was unleashed - on my face. I broke out with a red, tender, splotchy and swollen mess of a rash that spread from my left cheekbone to my left eyelid, down to my left earlobe. It wasn't any ordinary rash. It had irregular shaped blobs of pus.

To say I looked awful is an understatement. KH said I looked like someone bashed me up. But I gamely walked around Malacca and KL. Did I care that I looked like shit? No. I didn't know anyone and trusted that no one knew me and anyway, I was happy to wallow in depression.

Notwithstanding all that, I had a decently good time eating my favourite stuff (mee siam at Donald and Lily's, razor clams in belachan, prawn mee, wanton mee) and discovered where Madam Fatso had gone to. Next trip I will have my milk crabs. I was also happy to find a good range of Kdramas and their OSTs. So now I know where I can get my K-drama fix in Malacca.

Came home to find that while the rash on the face subsided, it had erupted on my left arm. A visit to the doctor and to the specialist drew blanks. Even a swab and culture came up empty. The doctor was baffled but as it was clearing up, we let it pass. I think its remnants of a mutated herpes virus that got triggered by my stress and depression over my office move.

On top of that, I had a fever while in Malacca. Spiked high one night and then went away. But as the days passed, I developed a dry cough which is now getting worse. As I write, I can hear the chest-rattling phlegm whenever I coughed.

So now, my funk. I was actually relieved to be on medical leave and not be back in the office. Could not bear that I am one day, one week closer to moving. Not just moving location but moving to a different phase of my work life. Gosh that sounds so drama, but I feel it so. I think this move is just a catalyst for what has been swirling deep inside me for the longest time.

This weird mix of restlessness, boredom, sadness.

My funk - if I have to put it simply, I guess I'm searching for some meaning in life. That sounds very trite.

I don't know what else there is to do in life. Not very happy at work. I find work and life in general, a grind and generally I'm feeling very restless but I'm also scared to probe, look too deep or ask myself too many hard questions in case I don't like what I see. Does it make sense to say I'm running from myself?

I think I know my problem. Too lazy. Have it too good and now cannot stir myself. Thats why work looks so unappealing. I've thought about it. The only cure for laziness is to cut off choice. Throw me into the deep end where I have no time to decide if I would like to have a pina colada on the beach or pink champagne on the lounger - I just have to swim. But the very thought of that horrifies my lazy soul to the core. Look at the poor starving masses in a famine or poverty-stricken land - no choice, they just take what is given. Laziness is an affliction of the well-endowed. Not talking about financially rich. I'm certainly not that. But in my life, I have been very blessed and look what I have done with it. I've become fatter and lazier and wasted it.

I am naturally indolent but its now eating away at me. I procrastinate and am easily gratified by cheap retail therapy. The hair therapy was a mistake. I am not a productive mother at home and I'm not productive in the office either. Then I feel guilty for being non-productive.

I look in the future and ask: so what's there eh? Solution: quit boring job but that is too frightening and too much for my lazy butt to comtemplate. Even that might not be an answer. Find a passion and do something - but like what? Even birth issues make me feel laggy. I don't feel the same passion/fire for it. So then what? I did think of going back to school - picking up a uni course since I never did go to uni. But its just idle empty thoughts. I don't think I have the courage to do this.

See what I mean when I say I am going around in aimless circles?

After two weeks of feeling grief at losing my comfy space in life, my cubicle and generally anger at being uprooted, I think I have come to terms a bit better with it. I tell myself God has a plan. He must surely have a plan for me when I move. I may not like it. I may not know what's coming. Indeed, it might force me into action from my current slug position. I don't know. I just get the feeling that there are rapids ahead but also I cling on to the knowledge that God has a plan. And whatever plan, it will work out for me somehow. So that makes me feel a bit better. Maybe this is exactly what I need. Not want, but need.

I'm still thinking so tune in next time for another episode of Momto5 Goes Quietly Insane.

Combine mild depression, restlessness, boredom and a trip to the hairdresser and what do you get?

Yes, exactly that. A hairy recipe for disaster!

I ended up doing something which I have not done for more than 15 years - get a perm. Thanks to my hairdresser who coaxed me into it - though to be fair, she'd tried before but I never caved, until now. The magic words she uttered which finally did the trick: "I just want you to try it. If you don't try anything how will you know whether you like it or not?"

So in a reckless moment of abandonment, I said: Okay lah!

Before that, I cross-examined her on maintenance, hair damage, cost, how long the perm was going to take, if my puffy face was going to look puffier and to be specific, "just how curly is curly? wavy curly? afro curly?"

Wavy curly. Big curls. You will look soooo cute, she assured me happily. And young too!

$273 poorer and 2 hours later I emerged.

Owain ran out to greet me when I came home, stopping short and staring and finally saying: You look funny mom. And then he yelled for the rest: COME SEE WHAT MOM DID TO HER HAIR!

Cait's frank opinion summed it up: "you look like yoo-jin three years later."

That cryptic line is shorthand for godawful-ugly.

For non k-drama fans, Yoo Jin is the female lead character in Winter Sonata. Played by k drama queen Choi Ji Woo, she had short hair in the serial. But in the last episode, the story flashforwarded three years. And tada, here comes Yoo Jin in the most stilted, stiff hair extensions I'd ever seen. They seem attached to her straight hair as an after-thought. Back then, while watching, I'd rolled my eyes at the hair and got the girls laughing about it.

But now, its payback time. So I look quite the ageing (and puffy) version of Yoo Jin. Argh. Very ajumma.

Later my sweet Cait said, while playing Monopoly Deal with her depressed mom, "Mom, I actually think you look better in this hairstyle. Really. I'm not just saying that."

Sweet liar.

KH came home late so he never saw my hair last night. But this morning he said, very bluntly: "What happened to your hair?" When I didn't reply, he snorted: "Ah-soh hair!"

Yes, kick me when I'm down, why don't you?

There goes $273. Never. In. My. Life. I've never paid so much for mere hair. *sob* All that went though my mind as I trudged down Orchard Road after leaving Shunji was:

"$273 is half an air ticket to Japan."
"I could buy three $90 Japanese melons with that"
"That's like, 5 expensive freshly-shucked oyster laden buffets."
"A night's stay in a hotel here"
"Two nights stay in a KL hotel, or two rooms for the whole family for one night in KL"
"More than 10 CDs"
"About 13 DVD boxsets"
"Two family sushi treats"
"The price of one facial package at the Body Shop"
and
"WTF was I thinking????"

Live and learn. Live and learn. I thought I did. Thought I passed my salad days of bad hair decisions made while deep in the misery trough. Obviously not. 40 years old and I'm still making vanity mistakes.

I will be in hibernation until my hair grows out or until I get used to my hair. Whichever comes first.

Meanwhile, I'm still depressed.

Tay Ping Hui winked at my daughter.

Okay, I've been instructed by KH to blog this. So for his benefit and the benefit of my children who will read this blog later in life and realise how cheesy their mother was, here it goes.

We had finished gym practice on Sunday and were grocery shopping at J8. On impulse I stopped to buy some snow ice. Only while I was paying did I glance up at the guy next to me and yikes, it was the very tall and dishy Tay Ping Hui.

Of course, I got all fluttery and flustered and KH was busy shaking his head at me. Not that I'm a fan of Mr Tay's but seeing him in the flesh and a mere inch away really made the old heart go pitter-pat.

So because KH was making tsk-tsking noises, I had to regain some dignity right? So I turned away when I realised Mr Tay was heading towards us - we'd already moved off to stand near a pillar devouring our shared cup of snow ice. Cait was facing me and my back was towards the approaching Star. Then KH chuckled in amazement and said: Wah, Tay Ping Hui winked at my daughter!

According to my sole eyewitness, he said Tay was approaching and Cait was just looking at him and then the guy gave a roguish grin and a wink at Cait. And Cait? Jaw dropped!

My turn to tsk-tsk. Knew the guy was a lady's man but this is too much!!! Now why didn't I turn instead? Darn it all.

Three seemingly random events took place over the past week that now appear to be linked in some indefinite way after all.

Now I'm no mystic, not into any New Age mumbo-jumbo and I'm not particularly religious, but I do believe that from time to time, God speaks to us in ways that are not immediately obvious. Call it a sign from heaven or what you will. My phone connections to God have never been crystal clear and the reception is often poor with lots of static noise in between. So while I believe that nothing ever happens in isolation, I do find it hard trying to decipher the message (if any!) that He sends.

Case in point - these three odd events that took place recently.

First, on Wednesday last week, my colleague showed me photographs he had taken of the church St Mary of the Angels. Beautiful place. He lived in Bukit Batok and enjoyed walking around the neighbourhood, taking pictures of the people and the places he visits. On Sunday, he had gone to St Mary's and taken some pictures. He had taken some nice shots. As he was showing me the pictures, he paused at one bronze statue and asked: Do you know anything about St Bernadine from Sienna?

My first reaction was no, I've heard of St Catherine of Sienna and we visited Sienna and the places associated with her, but I'd never heard of St Bernadine. Curiosity piqued, I googled St Bernadine and came away with a cursory paragraph or two but nothing really stood out and I thought no more of it.

Later that same afternoon I was flipping through my church bulletin in search of Ascension mass times when the usual paragraph on saints' feast days caught my eye. There was that name again - St Bernadine of Sienna. And his feast day was - May 20, that very day. So imagine if you will, the swirl of 'coincidences' that already surround this - Sunday, the day I picked up the church bulletin from church was the same day that KJ my colleague took pictures at St Mary's; Wed, May 20 was when he showed me the pictures and pointed out St Bernadine to me and the same day happened to be St Bernadine's feast day.

Don't you feel a chill yet? It does not end there.

On Saturday while on our usual free time sans kids in the morning, instead of going to the Botanic Gardens where we usually go, KH suggested going further afield. We ended up driving past Upper Bukit Timah Road, towards Bukit Batok Park. I've been thinking hard about it and I'm pretty sure that it was KH who said casually: you know that church, the state-of-the-art one, where is it? Let's go check it out.

St Mary's was re-built in 2004 to a bold and fresh design which later won it architectural accolades. The premises housed the church, the friary for the brothers, a kindergarten and a columbarium. Sleekly designed with straight elegant lines, pared down minimalist in tone... it was quiet and understated but yet bold in many ways. While we've often said we'd visit it and see, we never did. It was just not in our neck of the woods.

So up we drove to the church - which was indeed inspiring and lovely. It didn't look like your typical church but it kept faithfully to Catholic church design requirements.

What threw me was when we entered the columbarium - a lovely airy space with lots of natural light, black stone wells of running water and sandstone niches. I was taking my time admiring the light and the feel of the place when KH called me over. He pointed to the small bronze statue perched on a marble pillar and said: Look at this! Sienna! Do you remember this saint?

I shook my head and corrected him: We visited St Catherine's house not St Bernadine. But it was all I could do to remain coherent - what was going on here? How many references have been made to this obscure little saint in the space of just one week? Hello God, are you trying to tell me something? Paulo Coelho where are you when I need some insight into deciphering this one!I've only won 4D once in my life but I know the feeling of thrill when luck or coincidence or a higher cosmic order comes into play in my life. And that was precisely what was going on then.

I went back and did some research on the net again, trying to find out more. St Bernadine was a dedicated lawyer, orator and preacher and he had refused Bishophood thrice. Yes, he worked tirelessly, selflessly and at great personal risk to himself caring for people during the plague, and his work had made a big impact against the encroaching tide of Protestantism, so yes, he was a good man etc. Yet, nothing particularly outstanding. Just like any old saint. Led a life of general good. That's it. Nothing stood out for me - what was the message? I felt there had to be something in there for me. I just wasn't sure what it was.

Only two possibilities. One, St Bernadine was known for his strong and harsh attacks against sodomy. Was that it? Was this all because I had blogged earlier about my views on homosexuality and how 'neutral' (so AWARE huh?!) I was in my views? Was God trying to give me a kick in the seat for that? Was I being a bad Catholic mummy in having neutral, even sympathetic views on homosexuality? Was this because I was so hooked on Coffee Prince and all its homosexual undertones? And was all this string of sneaky little coincidences God's way of telling me I'd better toe the line? If so, I wish He'd just come right out and say it. All this guesswork is tiring and a real hit-or-miss affair.

I also found out that St Bernadine is the patron saint of advertising, communications, compulsive gambling and respiratory disorders. Okay, if you count the fact that I had childhood asthma, worked in advertising and communications and get a kick out of making scissor-paper-stone bets with my kids (if I win, they give up the computer for the week and if I lose, I owe them a ramen treat) then yes already - I get it, St Bernadine has to be my go-to saint for life.

So which is it? Both? Neither? One or the other?

Like I said, there's no such thing as coincidences. Cosmic events harkening days, thoughts and actions to come? Bah, like tarot cards and other New Ageism - these hold no water with me. But I think I have enough of a streak of mysticism in me that says that nothing happens for nothing - after all, how did He call those other ancient prophets of His - through dreams and in their sleep right? And if we're talking mysticism, you can't go more mystical that St Teresa of Avila and her ecstasies. So He speaks through fuzzy dreams and big showtime productions like a burst of strong light, stigmatas, burning bushes and such. Mine must be somewhere in between because I stubbornly believe the Big Guy up there is trying to tell me something. Only thing is - what?

So frustrating. I wish He would hone His "God calling Earth" act to limit any comedy of errors that might occur and for me, I guess I really should start working on my listening skills.

Pay attention woman! He's talking...

Been following the AWARE sage and the resultant controversy over sex education and its place in our lives, or more accurately, our children's lives. While its been interesting to watch the drama unfold, my comments were usually kept to dinner table talk. But last week Lianhe Zaobao interviewed me briefly on my views as a parent on this issue, which forced me to think carefully about the issue before opening my big mouth on it on a national platform.


So here are my two cents:


First, I don't think there is an either-or solution to this. Sex ed should not be the premise of either parents or schools but a good partnership and mix of both. While the call has been for parents to be actively involved in sex ed for their kids - ie talk to them about the birds and the bees and the values that go with these, I believe schools have a very important part to play in all this too.



A key reason being that not all parents are comfortable with speaking to their children on all this. Yes, ideally, we SHOULD. But the reality is, many, or most, don't. Many feel uncomfortable broaching this topic. Many may feel they do not have the facts themselves. Parents who want to speak to their children about sex may not also know the best way to approach this without looking stiff and authoritarian. Heck, once kids turn teenagers, its hard to even talk to them about the weather without the usual blank stoned expressions and monosyllabic grunts. So how to talk to them about something as delicate as sex? Trust me, the kids feel as paiseh as their parents about this!



So maybe sex ed should be for parents and not for kids - not just about the facts but HOW to talk to their kids about it. How to adopt the exact correct combination of cool nonchalence, and parental concern. After all, the hip quotient has to be just right!



Ultimately, no matter what, there will be parents who feel extremely uncomfortable and I guess this is where schools come in. I think whatever sex ed the schools take should follow the social norms of the day. Or the values that the schools themselves espouse. So naturally if you send your child to a catholic school, you can expect any sex ed dispensed there to follow catholic precepts.



It takes a village to raise a child. And schools are a valuable extension of the village concept. Thus it has to reflect the views of larger society - what does Singapore society at large think about homosexuality or premarital sex etc. Note, I said larger society - not the loud voices of the liberals, which I believe are a minority. So if we say we live in a conservative society which views heterosexual sex as the norm, then let sex ed reflect this.



There was a letter in today's newspaper which called for schools to just teach the biology and parents, the morality of sexuality. I don't think you can divorce these issues so neatly. And honestly, I'm not sure how many parents really think about the morality of sexuality themselves.



Take me for instance.



The whole episode has forced me to think long and hard about my views on homosexuality, premarital sex etc. I've never been one to be particularly conservative and neither am I too liberal. On an intellectual level, I am comfortable with homosexuality. I have friends and colleagues who are homosexual and that is fine by me, or rather their sexual orientation have never made a difference in our friendship. I think so what if two people of the same sex love each other? Being of the same sex does not make their feelings any less relevant, real or important.



But then, what do I tell my kids? At the age of 13 or 14, do I give them this liberal viewpoint?



And if I censor, then am I not being honest or real? But if I say all this at a time when they are just beginning to discover their own sexuality and are prone to confusion and crushes, do I not complicate things even further for them?



Probe deeper and I ask myself - what if one of them has homosexual leanings? Can I accept this? I think I can. I hope I can. See how unsure I am? All I know is that I love them no matter what. But do I tell them this?



Now throw religion into the mix and the waters get murkier. We are Catholics and while the church is not anti-homosexual (love the sinner hate the act), heterosexuality is promoted as the norm. They go to catechism class in church, they are taught about sexuality as viewed by the church. My personal values and views might well clash with those of the church. Does this make me a bad Catholic? How then should I guide my children?



And that's just about homosexuality/heterosexuality alone. Let's not even go into premarital sex!



The good thing for us is that sex is not a taboo subject. It's dinner table talk. So everyone from the 14-year-old to the 3-year-old listens and joins in. We've discussed what French kissing is, what is oral sex, teen pregnancy, heavy petting (and its perils) and so on. Body parts and functions are (pun unintended!) touched on. And of course, kids keep their ears open whenever its time to test Gillian on her favourite science chapter - human reproduction! At home, we're also comfortable with our bodies and our nakedness - we still change in front of the kids - well, the younger ones at least!



So maybe I'm luckier that in my family, we find these things easier to talk about. But how many others out there have the same experience and are just as comfortable?


Parents, schools, religious groups - it takes a village and a multitude of views to raise children. The burden and the responsibility does not just rest with one group. So it's not just so simple as to say well, its the parents' job. Because I think parents have their share of personal baggage and angst and unless parents really sit down and think hard about their own personal views and convictions about sex, they are likely to muddy the waters more than clarify it.

First off, I found my English-subbed Coffee Prince - yay! And a very nice 3-disc soundtrack from Lovers in Prague. Both of which I am enjoying at the moment.


Just wanted to put on record the funny stuff that Owain and Cait did recently that almost my side split.


Owain has started swimming lessons. He's the smallest guy there in his group and always looks so cute in his trunks and wet curly hair (Gill and I agree that he's a mini version of Gu Jun Pyo!). He's doing well, gamely doing everything the coach tells him to, and he seems to enjoy it. He has little fear of water since we've brought him to the pool as a toddler, so learning the proper strokes etc is just the logical next thing to do.


During swim class, there is one boy there who loves to 'bully' Owain. The guy is at least a head taller, bigger-sized and fits KH's definition of a bully (in other words, loves to pick on someone smaller than him but who would fall to pieces if confronted!). So this guy picks on Owain - pushing him, splashing water at him, taunting him, stepping on his feet etc. To all this, Owain just assumes a resigned indifferent attitude. Nothing the guy does fazes him. He does not bother to retaliate or tell the coach or lose his cool. Finally, in the shower room with his daddy, KH asked: Owain, that boy loves to bully you. Why don't you fight back?


And my son tells his father patiently: Dad, it's okay. He will just go to hell faster than me, that's all!


And as for Cait...


The other day, she was doing a comprehension passage for exam practice. The passage was a touching one about a young man who chanced across a little boy in tears because he could not afford flowers for his mother. The young man himself was about to just order a bouquet from the florist to be sent to his mother since he could not make time to celebrate her birthday. Touched by the little boy's tears, the young man bought the flowers for him and gave him a lift. He directed the young man to the cemetery and laid the flowers on a fresh grave. His mother had died recently and the little boy wanted to tell his mother how much he loved her. After he heard the story, the young man immediately went to see his mother.


The comprehension question asked was: Why did the young man visit his mother suddenly?


And my dear daughter's reply: It was cheaper to send the flowers there himself instead of asking the florist to send!

Forgive me for I am addicted.

It has been one month since I confessed my K-addiction and I am more deeply addicted than before.

In that time, I have spent sleepless nights and endless hours in front of the television. I have neglected my children, forsaken my books and ignored my cat. I have spent much money wantonly on numerous boxsets. Mysoju and Dramabeans are now part of my permanent list of favourites (thanks Mag!).

In that one month, I have watched The Vineyard Man, Boys Over Flowers, My Girl, Princess Hours (twice!), Lovers In Prague and one episode of Winter Sonata. I have three more boxsets bought on impulse and still unopened. I have taken to haunting TS and Poh Kim in search of Coffee Prince with English subtitles. I know I can catch this online but I like the idea of watching it on a bigger screen with much clear visuals. And anyway, I need an excuse to keep popping in to TS all the time!

We are so immersed in the Korean language that I think the kids speak better Korean than Mandarin these days. Korean dramas, K-pop at home, on the car radio, K-sites online. Isaac has taken to striking up a friendship with the lone Korean boy in his class. Gillian even greets me in Korean when I get home from work with a cheerful "Annyeonghaseyo Oma!" We are trading Korean words and phrases these days. My favourite is "Pahbu!" heh... Even Owain now asks: "Boh?" instead of "What?" and Cait warbles K-pop (she doesn't understand a word of it but just takes it on a phonetic level!).

Only thing we have not done so far is eat Korean - but that might change soon!

Of all the series I've watched, I still like Princess Hours - great sets, very lush colours and overall beautiful art direction. Interesting plot, cute leads and coupled with a really nice soundtrack. The much-touted Boys Over Flowers runs along similar lines - fish out of water concept where ordinary girl gets thrust into the lifestyles of the rich and famous. The art direction and set design was nice, even extravagant in some places - think beautiful scenes in the South Pacific heaven of New Caledonia compared to PH's shoot in Bangkok!

But despite the big budget overseas shoots that BOF had, I thought Princess Hours was still a superior production. I found BOF to be inconsistent in terms of quality - plot, continuity and acting. The soundtrack is not bad. But overall, the whole package does not measure up to what I expected given the hype. Still, have to say Lee Min Ho makes the best-looking lead compared to the Japanese Hana Yori Dango and Taiwanese Meteor Garden leads.

The series I liked the least is The Vineyard Man. Fast-forwarded my way through most of it. Even though it had the lovely Yoon Eun Hye from PH in it, I did not like the plot or the setting and the soundtrack was meh. Worse, the male lead had googly eyes!

Now that I've just finished Lovers in Prague (ah, great scenery, very nice cinematography - some shots very beautifully framed and angled, interesting plot and premise, likeable characters, smouldering male leads and hummable soundtrack) I'm looking for the next Big One to watch. Will it be Winter Sonata or the mega omnibus of Dae Jang Geum (Jewel In the Palace)? Not quite in the mood to plough through so many episodes and not in the mood for the teary histrionics of Winter Sonata even though both were apparently big hits and have garnered strong positive reviews.

Now where's my Coffee Prince when you need him? If I can't find him and I'm feeling desperate for K relief, I think the DVD boxset for My Lovely Kim Sam Soon is now going for a mere $15 at TS...

Cait's commitment

Cait is going for extra gym practice on Sundays, having been identified by her coach and teachers as someone with 'potential' to do well in competitions. Next year would be the first year she can go for the nationals so this is the year to start preparing.

When Cait came home with the letter from her coach, I was in two minds over this. First thing that came to mind was: she's only 8. And she's already so busy. This extra gym practice will take away more of her personal time. The next question for me is: push or don't push? And is this more for her or for me?

We've had two or three long serious conversations about what this means. If she was serious about gym, she would have to work hard during training. This may mean she's extra tired or maybe sometimes, even incur some pain along the way. Training being on a Sunday evening means forgoing some family activities which she might enjoy. There is commitment and sacrifice to be made if she wants to pursue this seriously and she must be prepared to commit to this wholeheartedly. She cannot be half-hearted about this.

And then there is the issue of dance, which she loves equally as much. She learns fast and she is imbued with a natural grace and a strong sense of rhythm. In last year's year-end performance, she was among the three girls chosen to execute more complex moves than the others in the front and centre of the formation and according to her, it is the same again for this year's year-end dance performance. If she is shortlisted for dance, another core activity in IJ, what then? Might seem like I'm counting many unhatched chicks and being presumptuous. But I like to consider all possibilities and this one is very real. I've seen what she can do and each time KH and I see her dance, we're just bowled over. Where did all this come from? Not from us that's for sure! If we see this love and this talent, should we not as parents, support this, develop this?

But bottomline is, she can't have everything. Both gym and dance are core CCAs for the school and very demanding in their time and commitment. There is still academic work to consider too. While Cait is doing well in school so far, the work is still easy for now. What happens when the pressure builds in P4, P5 and P6?

So I outlined all this for her. She went away thinking about it. As recently as last night, I brought this up again. She said nothing but this morning when I came downstairs, she was poring over the gym form with her father and he was already signing his consent.

When I asked her in the car why she made this decision, she said simply: "I want to win. I want medals."

I can't describe how I felt. Cait is very different from her siblings in that she can be very ambitious and very driven. On one hand, I felt proud of her for knowing what she wants and being willing to work to get it. On the other hand, I wanted to protect her - from any disappointments that might come out of this. Does this mean I have no confidence in her to succeed? How disloyal is this lack of faith. Should I, as a parent, brush aside all my inner concerns and fears and just blindly believe too? Do I just egg her on in her self-belief and in her ambition? Or do I temper her ambition, water down her appetite for success?

It was on the tip of my tongue to say: "but you know, sometimes no matter how hard you try, how much you want it, you might still be disappointed because others might be better."

But caveats like this pour cold water and dilute the flip side of the equation, which is the belief that if you try your best, and you want it bad enough, you work damn hard for it, you will be rewarded for it. And this is the kind of fighting spirit we want to encourage in her which can only help her in her life.

KH is not very supportive either. He never was 100% in favour of Cait taking gym. And while he's proud of her, he would be happier to see her leaving gym and moving to dance. Likewise while he's chuffed to see her being recognised for her efforts, appointed leadership roles in class (believe it or not, terms like "subject reps", "class ex-co" roll effortlessly off her tongue these days), doing more in gym, ballet, dance etc, he's also pragmatic enough to worry about the impact that all this will have on her academic work. That, for him will always come first. While I am the first to applaud her achievements, push her and strategise with her, he views all this with some amusement and scepticism. He sees this as more of a 'pushy-mom' initiative than hers. But I disagree. I know how much Cait values approval, applause and accolades.

Maybe I find this all a bit scary - that I have this over-achiever of a child in my midst. Cait is moving so fast these days in a way that impresses and scares me. How to manage this?

I'm still thinking hard about this one.

Perfectly imperfect

KH bought me a 16GB Creative Zen on Sunday. So this is my new toy. Very excited about it and still trying to figure this out. But 16GB is a big improvement over my current player which is only a 1GB baby. So many possibilities! Now the kids are elbowing each other trying to be in pole position to inherit my 1GB player. I'd mentioned that I was running out of space on my player and my new fascination with K-pop and K-dramas meant that I was looking for something that would allow me to store my favourite K-drama scenes and K-pop videos. It was just a passing comment but KH noted that and on Sunday, he made it a point for all of us to go to the Creative store at Marina Square.

KH has been very sweet lately. Not just because of my new toy, but he's turned a tolerant blind eye on my latest craze for K-dramas. I think he can be exasperated by my antics - buying the umpteenth box set, blasting K-pop in the car, pulling all-nighters (I lasted till 3am once and he gamely sat with me to watch) and generally neglecting our children for the gogglebox. But I give him full credit for not scolding me for it or being scathing about it and taking interest in what I am watching. And then there are our Saturday brekkies in the park. I look forward to those. Actually I look forward to our daily brekkies when we go to work in the morning after we send the kids off to school.

Also he gets my deep emotional thanks for being there over the past few days when I've been crouching over our toilet bowl, puking endlessly. He was sweet enough to take me home from work in the middle of the morning last week when I puked four times in a row, send me to the doctor, stroke my back when I retched and retched and then taking the rest of the day off, making sure I took my meds and keeping the kids away from me. He did the same again yesterday when I was still violently sick. I guess when a guy can see you at your worst - and how elegant can puking over a toilet bowl be huh? - and still care for you, I guess it's gotta be love huh?

The MCYS ad making its rounds these days - depicting a woman's deep love for her husband through her moving eulogy made me teary more than once - in fact every time I see it. How many of us can see past all the imperfections? And I'm not talking about the snoring or the 'rear wind action' either. Though, with KH, I get plenty of that! Made me think what I would say about KH in a eulogy. And that made me reflect on my life with KH.

This blog has seen me through a time when I was very low and found marriage hard-going. Good friends will know exactly what I mean. I spent months in a funk. Contemplating painful and once unimaginable impossible scenarios. But you know what? I'm glad I did. Doing that was good for me. The very exercise itself threw open possibilities and scenarios that I walked myself through, and having done so, I know exactly what I could or could not do. What I could let go of, and what I could not. The knowledge gave me strength and peace of mind. And then days passed, then weeks, and the funk eased off. I saw things in a better light. Didn't happen overnight. Took me a long long time.

Today, a friend emailed me about how hard she was finding it - marriage.

Here's my take. I think we walk on life roads that take us through valleys and peaks. And right now, this is her valley. But it's not necessarily bad to be in the valley for a while. Sometimes, we just have to hang on for the ride. I did that. And I think I have emerged from that dark period - and I say this cautiously because I do not want to over-reach myself - with the certainty that while I can certainly live without KH and life will go on, life would be far, infinitely far less rich or complete without him. As I sat on my porch last night, I think of all that has come and gone - my life with KH, that MCYS ad, the K-dramas I watch, even Richard's death, everything came together in one jumbled mess and my only coherent thought is - I'm glad I hung on.

I don't say that to everyone. I don't believe all marriages are made in heaven and meant to last forever. Sometimes it would really be for the better for people to part ways. But I also think that these days, maybe most people give up very easily. The imperfections overwhelm. Or maybe that wall of pride is just insurmountable.

I'm not the best person for marital advice. But here's my two cents. I think there are people who are worth hanging on for and some who are better let go. Some whose paths are just utterly divergent from yours - you know then that perhaps its best to go separate ways. But there are some whose paths start out the same, deviate a little, take the scenic route but ultimately have the same destination as yours - those are worth keeping right? Worth hanging on for the ride - even though the ride might be scary and too fast for your liking and you feel as though you are in danger of being flung off.

For this second group - even with the most ferocious 'rear wind action' - you know you should hang on to them for dear life. I guess KH falls into this group for me. We've had our tough times. I'm sure we would have equally challenging times ahead. And no matter how I rant and rage, how many tantrums I throw on this blog about him from time to time, KH is still someone worth hanging on to for dear life. I actually think he's a much better person than I am. Maybe if I hang around him more, this might just rub off on me.

In case you're wondering, KH does not read this blog. And I am not the most emotionally expressive person around. We're both gruff recipients when it comes to mush and I cannot remember the last time we even told each other those three little words (which I think are over-rated anyway!). KH would probably roll his eyes! So if anyone has suggestions on how I can tell KH all this - without being too mushy, maudlin or sentimental, post it!

15 minutes

Last night, I had a rare 15min of being alone in a house full of people. The kids were in bed. KH was coaching Isaac in Maths. The cat was out on the prowl. And I had 15 blissful minutes alone outside on the porch. In semi-darkness illuminated only by the orange glow of the streetlamps, I sat, enjoying the breeze. It had been such a hot muggy still day and the house felt so stuffy - despite all our large windows flung open. It was sheer pleasure sitting there in the cooler outdoors, with earphones playing my favourite music stuffing my ears.

For once, I could sit and watch as lightning streaked and glowed across the night sky. I could see the resident bats swoop from one branch to the next, one tree to the other. My thoughts could roam where they will without interruption.

And then, came a voice plaintively calling: "Muu-uuummmmyyyy..." and my alone-time ended.

But for 15min - sheer bliss.

Cherry blossoms

I've said before that I found a certain loneliness in Japan. And I feel for the place because I feel the same loneliness many times. Today, I'm seeing pictures of cherry blossom in Japan, in most places, the trees are now mostly green, the blossoms mostly on the ground already, the crowd thinning out. I used to think that the best time to visit Japan is during the height of the cherry blossom season. But now, I think otherwise. Perhaps the best time to visit Japan is really the end of the season. When the leaves turn green, when the wind blows pink and white petals hither thither and the ground is littered with trampled blossoms and the parks return to their quiet, crowdless state.

Cherry blossoms last only about a week or so on the branch. For the Japanese, the coming of the cherry blossom signals re-birth, fresh beginnings. And the very fleeting nature of the cherry blossoms signify the fleeting nature of life itself. There is a certain poignancy to this. So when the petals fall, perhaps that would be the best time to really savour the meaning of cherry blossoms.

I've always said Japan is a place I'd like to travel alone to. One day, when the kids are older (or is that only an excuse?) I'll take myself off to Japan and I'll be sure to go at the tail end of the cherry blossom season.

Gobsmacked!

Ever watched the musical Victor/Victoria? About a woman playing a man playing a woman? I watched it once and emerged totally confused about the whole thing. I'm sure there were clever gags and insider smirks but those were totally lost to me.

I feel just as lost now when I think about Tigerlily.

Turns out that my Tigerlily is not a 'she' but a 'he'!

We'd sent the cat for spaying yesterday morning only to get a very abrupt call from the vet at 4pm. "Your cat... this Tigerlily... did you get it as a kitten or just adopted?" he demanded without much preamble.

I was a bit taken aback because he sounded a bit indignant. Before I could gather my thoughts, he went: "Did you know your cat is a male?!"

After my first "WHAT???" the whole car (we were in the car then, together with the children) erupted in a huge uproar and I could barely hear the man on thel ine. A few incoherent sentences later, we agreed to pick the cat up immediately and get the facts.

"Oy, the vet checked and said it was a girl cat what!!" That was the general shocked and upset mood in the car.

We all had trouble getting our heads around the fact that the 'girl cat' was actually a boy cat in disguise! And all this time we'd been calling her 'girl' and using all the female pronouns! Yikes!!

How could she be a he? She was growing breasts - so said Caitlin. No penis - show me a penis - demanded KH. No balls, daddy don't all boys have balls? Tigerlily has no balls - went Owain. "How can the vet make such a mistake? The very first vet said she's a girl... "(that was me repeating the same line dully over and over again) The only reasonable voice in the cacophony was Isaac's who said: It must be a mistake. Just bring the cat to another vet and get a second opinion.

To the vet we zoomed, all full of anxious questions. Cradling a very drowsy and tranquillised Tigerlily, he showed us the penis, a very teensy pink one that had to be probed and pushed out of the inner folds of the body. He also pointed out the vulva lips, part of the female sexual anatomy, but noted that there was no vagina and no uterus. The vet also showed us the scrotum, two tiny bulges just below the anus. They were certainly not like other adult male cats, whose scrotum hung outside the body. They looked like, forgive me, mangosteen slices instead. And when probed, there was nothing there. No scrotal sacs. It could be that the testicles were undescended but given the cat's age as an adult cat, this did not seem likely. Your cat, he said, is bisexual.

Owain yelled excitedly: We have a gay cat!

No! Apart from being very politically incorrect, that is just the wrong description of his/her condition. The vet said this was due to its mother cat's hormonal imbalances during gestation, that caused this strange development.

A hermaphrodite cat! Who knew?? Tigerlily has joined the ranks of snails, hamlets, earthworms and banana slugs in the genre of homogamy.

The vet was fascinated and said that in all his years, this was the second case he had seen. He took pictures of Tigerlily and her unique anatomy for his personal records. Very rare, he kept saying. But for the record, he said Tigerlily was more male than female. Even so, he could never impregnate other cats because he didn't have the hormones for sperm production and scrotal development. Despite the presence of a vulva (which was how the younger vet was hoodwinked earlier), there were no other female sexual organs - no vagina. So definitely can't get pregnant.

It ended with the vet refunding us the sterilisation fees and telling us that we were 'lucky' - this cat would never exhibit the tomcat-like aggressive territorial behavior of male cats (not enough male hormones) but neither would it get pregnant etc as a female cat. So no need to spay - for the moment. But if the testicles look like they are forming and the cat starts caterwauling, then I've got to bring it back for a second look. But, he said, this is not likely to happen.

We're all still a bit dazed by this development and we all still trip over the pronouns, so used were we to the 'she' and 'her'. And now, there's the big issue outstanding - what to call him? Whoever heard of a male cat called Tigerlily? Fairy stories aplenty! KH, pragmatically said, just call him Tiger. But he's such a gentle cat, certainly far from tiger-like, the name would not suit!

Family meeting tonight for sure - we need to talk about a name for our unique bisexual cat!

Just catching up

Back at work for a week now and I'm still adjusting. Luckily its term break now so things are very quiet and most people are on leave. Adjusting to a longer work week and getting some resistance from my inner self. After working 2.5 days for more than 7 years, it seems harder even to just work one more day a week! I'm sorely feeling my loss of personal time and half regretting the move to work 3.5 days. But I've just got to bite the bullet and do this. Pathetic as it may sound, Trin can use the money for her Nursery education.

Yes, we've decided to go ahead and continue her in Lumiere Montessori. KH was very reluctant but after thinking long and hard, I think its what is best for her. She's used to the place and to the teachers, the Montessori way of individualised learning is still what is best for her (particularly given her extra strong will and personality), it's also more convenient, etc etc. Have to say I visited the PAP kindy just to have a feel of the place and within five minutes, I pretty much decided against the mainstream kindy. I disagreed with practically everything I heard! So, feeling this way, I could not in all good conscience put her there - even if the disparity in fees is at least 3 times!

Trin's really cute when she goes to school. She eagerly puts on her uniform, takes her bag and bugs everyone to get ready when its time to go! She loves it there, so even though I hate working 3.5 days a week, it's worth the pain if she really enjoys school and if she grows and learns.

The speech therapist did another test with her and said that she shows signs of attentional deficit. She was fidgety during the test, could not seem to process information well and responded only to binary questions. Therapist recommended that Trin start language, not speech, therapy and to be further evaluated by an educational psychologist.

One part of me is so resigned - why am I not surprised? Given our experience with Gillian and Isaac, this does not faze me as much, but I still feel a big sigh coming. Asked myself over and over again - what did we do wrong? I kept ultrasounds to a minimum, had a natural unmedicated birth, delayed cord clamping, declined all vaccinations, breastfed until she was at least three. So what went wrong?

Then again, I'm not the kind to keep wallowing. So best to just do what needs to be done - I've pushed her paed appointment at KKH up two months to May, spoken to Eileen at Lumiere about this and asked for her observations of Trin. By the end of this term, I would have more information to feed the paed and push for a referral to an educational psychologist. Hopefully by the second half of the year, we would have embarked on some early intervention programme. I'm quite prepared to get Melissa back on board to work with Trin on attentional issues.

Owain - being a real gem of a kor-kor in school. He does a lot for his baby sister. They fight a lot at home but in school, he seems pretty protective. He reports to me on a daily basis what Trin does in school and it looks as if he wanders over to the Nursery section often just to check on Trin!

Caitlin is starting the new term well. She's been appointed Social Studies Monitor and earmarked to go for 'training' in a special leadership training workshop for student and CCA leaders in the school. She's doing well in gym and in dance. So I think there will come a day when she's got to make a choice between gym and dance as a CCA.

Isaac is rather quiet these days - I don't hear much from him. The doors of adolescence seem to have cracked open a teensy bit and there is a new sort of tension between him and KH. I can sense it whenever KH comes down on Isaac and I try to soften things whenever I can. From past experience I already know that Isaac will not back down from a clash of wills. So I try to deflect it or talk to him separately. He's not outwardly rebellious or rude or defiant. He's just very quiet about it and that is the scary bit - because a lot of how I approach him is based on my gut feel and less on what I actually know. He reminds me of an iceberg - quiet and still, a small piece showing above the water but massive on the inside. Lucky for me that our bond is still quite strong and we have a lot in common. That helps.

Gillian is... shining like a beacon these days. She is really coming into her own now. Today is the first day of the C Div Nationals for bowling. She was very psyched up and very nervous this morning - worried that she would pull her team's scores down. But I think she'll be fine. Yesterday she played three games under her grandad's eagle eye and she was scoring well above her targets. Saturday's training also saw her scoring on target. We had set these targets for her to reach as gradual milestones. She seems to be hitting her stride and once she plateaus, we'll push her harder again. She's slowly improving and we are happy that she has the focus and determination to do so - that really is what's most important to us.

Gill has also been shortlisted for the GEM programme in KC. We attended the first briefing and she's gone for the first camp already. Its a nine-month long programme filled with camps, workshops, meetings and so on. I thought it sounded like a good programme to build self-confidence, self-discipline, motivation etc. Already after the first camp, she told us that she had such a good time that she's made new friends (more positive ones than her usual gang in class - which I am trying to steer her away from) and she's inspired to become a mentor and return to serve in the camp next year. You don't know how happy I was hear this coming from her - positive role modelling, self-motivation growing - so different from the girl she was a few years ago. Even at home, these days when it comes to work, we hear fewer moans and complaints than before. She grumbles a bit but knuckles down to work more willingly.

Random thoughts from Owain

This came from Owain. We were at the computer and he just started to say this out of the blue. I thought it was pretty insightful. So I wrote everything down verbatim. Dated 25 March 2009.


“You have to let go of stuff because you will die soon. And you have to say goodbye to everyone.”

What is the stuff you have to let go of? (This is what I asked him)

“The stuff that you like very much, like your mummy and your children. But soon you will meet each other again.

I think this up inside my mind.

Either you will go to hell or heaven but you don’t need to do anything in heaven but in hell, you have to work fast because hell wants to trick people that hell is heaven. The devil will treat you very bad but in heaven you will always be happy.”

Interesting take. I'm just wondering why he said this to me out of the blue.

Hooked

I've finally done what I swore I would never do.

One by one, friends have succumbed to this addiction and how I have scoffed and sniffed at them and their weakness. But as they say, the more you scoff the harder you fall. Or something like that.

It started in the hospital, when bedridden, thanks to the bloody urine bag, I was forced to watch, night after night of My Sassy Girl Chun Hyang - bubble-gum pop Korean drama dubbed into Mandarin. I can thank my drama addict Gillian for this.

Yes I could have surfed to a different channel, but anaesthesia does funny things to your judgement and I have to admit that the bubble-gum, as with all bubble-gum, is sweet goodnatured fun.

My disease progressed thus:

By the time I was discharged, watching the daily episodes had become a daily highlight I looked forward to.

By week 1, I had developed the habit of zooming straight into the drama synopses section of 8 Days just to get the plot of the week. Even that wasn't enough.

By week 2, on the day I visited my doctor, I took the opportunity to visit the video shop to surreptitiously suss out the boxset of My Sassy Girl. I told everyone who asked me (with that once familiar aghast look I once wore myself in similar situations) that it wasn't for me - it was for Gillian.

But who was I kidding?

And by the way, since it was a buy 1 - get 1 free deal, I nipped another box set. Full House - which had the awful-looking Rain and the very pretty Song Hye Geo in it. It came with rave reviews. I had descended to the point where I actually accosted virtual strangers in the shop to ask their opinions on what was a great K drama to watch. A really nice lady obliged my madness and we really bonded over 15min of recommendations and suggestions. It was good fun and I thank the lady who fed my thirst, though I never got her name!

By week 3, it was the school holidays and Gillian and I had polished off every disc in the My Sassy Girl boxset. For the first time, Gillian willingly came home early from school without the usual excuses for dawdling after school. By 3pm, both of us would be perched on the sofa, the dvd player humming and the familiar theme piping through the speakers.

The day I actually finished TWO discs back to back, I knew I was a goner. The telly was on from 10am to 6pm. I've never felt so guilty about electricity usage in my life. Lucky the kids were all at their cousins' for the day. Gillian was really sore with me for finishing two discs (8 episodes) without her!

Have to say Gillian and I really bond over the K dramas. We bitch about the villains, we sigh in sympathy when the lovers separate, we grin in delight when they reconcile. We have a lot of fun discussing what happened and what will happen next. Gillian and I have had many happy moments tearing away in front of the TV together. Its been great fun!

Unlike the heavy handed TCS dramas, the K dramas were light, frothy fun. There was no sex, and any on-screen kissing did not involve tongues. They were either chaste pecks on the cheeks or boringly dry 'chin' kisses. Any suggestion of a carnal nature in the series was met with wide-eyed horror by the main characters.

What's there not to like? The actors and actresses were all good-looking. Doe-eyed, bee-stung lips (and those were just the men!) Okay, so we know the plastic surgery rate in Korea is sky high and nothing you see there is really real or natural... big deal. Yes, we can tell who has had a perky nose job. So what? Everything about the K-drama is sheer fantasy anyway. The plots are often trite - boy meets girl, fall in love, meets with obstacles, enter a rival/s, they separate, they reconcile, overcome obstacles, live happily ever after. Not award-winning stuff, but just plain fun. Everything is just too cute. And rather than pathos and tragedy, I really enjoy the light bubble-gum flavours of the romantic comedies I have seen so far.

The characters are so likeable, I just can't help rooting for them, and of course feeling a twinge of pain when the sad bits hit. I've been so long out of the old romantic grind that watching stuff like that brings back nice memories of what it was like back then. All that teen angst! So fun! Man, I miss those days...

And finally, I've never met a K drama soundtrack I didn't like. They really know how to work those strings arrangements! Cue soulful violins and contemplative piano! So much so that Gillian and I have hit the CD stores and the video stores - looking for K soundtracks and for new box sets. We've even gone online to discover blogs and sites on K dramas! Which of course makes us more eager than ever to find new boxsets to sigh over.

So I guess I'll just go ahead and admit it - I'm now officially a K drama addict. There. I've come out of my closet and joined the K fan club. If anyone out there has a good suggestion for a delicious K drama for me to sink my teeth into, please send it my way.

Even better, fork over those boxsets.

Over the moon!

I just came back from Gillian's parent-teacher meeting. I am totally, absolutely over the moon today! I've got a grin plastered on my face like a toothpaste advertisement. I can't remember how many times I told Gillian how happy and proud of her I am! So just bear with me while I give my proud-mama boast. Dodge the exclamation marks ahead if you can!

First - a bit of an explanation on the school's target setting. The MOE computer system set targets for the various subjects she would sit for and the teachers would also set their own targets for her accordingly. Because she scored 98 for the PSLE, the system expected her to hit at least all Ds for all her subjects. The school had set similar targets.

But this girl just took off running and never looked back and whacked those targets out of the window. She scored a C for English (which needs working on but looking at the previous year's grades, she is scoring better now). Wonder of wonders, she made it to a C for maths!!! Something she has never ever done in her life, having flunked maths for all her life since P1! I expected something like a borderline pass/fail grade but gosh, she actually leapfrogged past that. Her position in class for Maths scores was 10 out of 32 - which means the whole class probably sucked at Maths but the point was - what a big leap she made!!

She scored an A for Science, taking 4th place in the cohort, an A for Computer Applications at 6th position in class and another A for Home Econs coming in 1st in class. Her overall position - 7th place in class.

When I looked at her results over the last year, I could see her moving up the ladder slowly but surely. She started out in 28th place last year term 1, crawled up to 23rd place, then 22nd place and finally 14th place in the overall full-year scores. And today she's in 7th place. Her overall score has moved from 54% early in Sec 1 to 62% at the end of Sec 1. Today, she's hit 71%. So it looks like she's been consistent in moving up and on, but this first quarter results are just like a huge sprint up, let alone baby steps in improvement.

Why am I so overwhelmed? Because this girl has had such a hard tough journey getting here. We've been through so much. Among family, we've all commented that she seems changed in some way this year that we find hard to define. Quieter, less impulsive perhaps. She seems more focused. The results bear this out.

I think she's hitting her stride and I'm so pleased, so proud of her to make these great big leaps. For parents who have children who are naturally gifted, who always do well in school, they have every reason to be proud. But perhaps after a while, a sense of expectation and comfort sets in. But for people like Gillian and for me, it has never been easy. Never at all. So when she does a hat-trick like this and upend all our expectations on our ears, we are just so very puffed up full of pride. The victory is even sweeter.

This does wonders for her self-esteem. Plus the fact that she got into the school bowling team this year and is actually selected to compete in the coming C Div Nationals. Two days ago she came home and flashed her team t-shirt, happily beaming away, ah well... it was wonderful. And now this icing on the cake. She's in such a good place in her life now.

The sense of achievement and pride will give a different perspective to how she views herself, and how she views life. It will help keep her focused and less interested in the 'fun' that some of her classmates engage in. Now she knows - that she can do it, she's not dumb, hard work is all it takes. That this is not just something mummy mouths off about. Hard work does pay off.

We tried to keep our feet on level ground though, I reminded her that she should keep this going, don't lose the momentum and slack off and she soberly nodded. But there's just no getting past the giddiness we have right now. Family celebration ahead!

Not quite back in the saddle

I think I spoke too soon about my recovery. I knew I must have hexed myself posting about how good I felt.

It started with a burning sensation when I peed and my lower abdomen felt uncomfortable - it ached and kinked up everytime I stood from a sitting position. Add to that a constant lowgrade fever that came every evening, left me in chills by 8pm and asleep by 9pm. A dipstick test showed high alkalinity and significant haemoglobin levels in the pee.

From the sound of it, it was a UTI. Thanks to the catheterisation of course.

Made my way to the polyclinic today with my fretting mother in tow who angsted over "why your belly so distended? Is it bigger than before? Maybe you are having a slow bleed inside!" to "that stupid doctor of yours, why didn't they discharge you properly, tell you what to look out for!" etc etc. Love my mom, she's absolutely on my side. A bit paranoid thanks to 40 years of nursing, but useful to have in a corner when dealing with the medical establishment.

The goondu doctor at the polyclinic at first brushed me off - "You're just 9 days post-op. Its not unusual to feel this sort of pain. Its major surgery you went through. Go home and if you feel worse, go to the A&E."

Huh??? Go home? I know what I'm feeling and you know how I feel about unnecessary interventions and tests and drugs etc. But my gut tells me something's not right. Otherwise why bother to make the trip to the polyclinic right? Duh!

I noticed my mother quietly walk across the room to stand beside me. Before she could go ballistic on the goondu doctor, I insisted that something was not right and he reluctantly sent me for a urine test and a full blood count. Turns out that there was a whole column of red on the screen when the results came back - white blood cell count elevated in the abnormal column, red blood cell count down, haemoglobin, haematocrits all down. Clearly signs of an infection.

But believe it or not, the goondu refused to prescribe anything and told me he would refer me back to the hospital. Argh!!

Back to the hospital I went. After looking at the test results, the doctor there said it was a clear-cut case of UTI and treatable. Mom was wondering why they ushered us in so quickly after triage. And one look at the referral letter by the goondu doctor and it became obvious - the guy had written - "suspected septicaemia"!! Huh??

To cut long story short - I am now on stronger antibiotics (there goes my gut!) . Keeping fingers crossed that the infection will blow over.

After

Exactly one week ago, I was lounging around in my room in a white surgical robe, impatiently wondering why they hadn't yet called me into the OT. The op had been delayed for hours. I finally made it to the OT only at noon. Things moved swiftly from there. The anaesthetist after poking me twice to find a vain - big ouch - finally put me under in less than 10min. Have to say it was a really nice feeling to just drift off. Woke up at 3pm hearing someone call me from a distance. The rest of the day I just faded in and out of consciousness, letting people ask me questions, do things to me that I was only vaguely aware of. The pain and the cramps kicked in hours later when most of the anaesthesia had worn off and they fed me the painkillers. Which I have been faithfully popping since then.

Flash forward to today where I am sitting at home, Trin on the desk, writing this entry in the blog. I am feeling loads better today than a week ago. Day by day, I feel better, and stronger. I feel so physically and mentally, emotionally.

So yes, they've taken my womb. The doc asked me cryptically minutes before surgery: Do you want us to keep the womb if its a 50-50 situation?

And I go: Well gee thanks doc, for asking me this question now just mere minutes before cutting me open! I don't know. I feel sad about losing it but I have psyched myself up for this already, so either way do what is necessary.

He pats me absently, nods and says: Ah, a thinking woman.

Whatever it was, he said later that they pulled it as far as it could go and that was pretty far! So they took it out. Gave me a picture for it which I decided best not to post on the blog. Left my ovaries. Repaired the rectocele and the whole back wall.

Was it painful? Only when I tried to be a hero and wean myself off the painkillers. The one time I did it, I was awakened at 2am by the pain and had to crawl downstairs to get them. Not fun.

Today, maybe because I am getting more rest than I ever had even after birth, I feel rested and restored. I feel optimistic. Hopeful. Energised. I get the feeling there is a lot to look forward to, lots more that will be happening in my life. I actually feel renewed. My friends and family have played a major role in getting me back on my feet - spoiling me with home-cooked food, nourishing soups and sesame seed stews, bottle upon bottle of chicken essence. One friend walked in during dinner when I was in hospital and promptly, despite my protests, threw out the hospital curry dinner and bought me fish soup. She proceeded to deliver a stern lecture on what to eat for healing, then when the kids came, good-humouredly did the nagging and mothering I was too out of it to do. I feel so pampered!

And then there are the dreams. I have never dreamed like this in all my life. I don't know whether it is the anaesthesia or what, but I have had the lushest, fully-technicolour dreams in my sleep everynight. I no longer night-wake feeling my heart pound in my ears. I wake instead feeling rested with a strong sense of well-being.

Trin no longer actively nurses at night, and she nurses so seldom these days that perhaps this is really the season for letting go of that part of my life. I am careful about nursing also because I am pumped full of antibiotics and painkillers so I try to keep the rare nursing sessions that come, short as possible. At this point, is it child-led or parent-led weaning? I don't think it really matters. We have come to this point so gradually. Never forcefully, no tears. She seems ready and so am I.

I have one month at home before returning to a three and a half day work week which I applied for before going for surgery. So I will make the best of it - not by rushing around doing as much as I can but just by savouring it. Taking my time, doing what I feel is good and right. And its not as if I'm not looking forward to work - strangely enough, I feel ready and anticipatory.

To share one last vignette of life. Two nights ago at dinner, all of us around the table, under cheery yellow light, sharing food and the day's events. The cat curled up watchfully at the glass doors next to us. My family is complete and I felt utterly content.