Dammed Reserved Seatings

Disclaimer: this is a rant entry. Navigate away from this page NOW if you are not comfortable with reading about how the world is an unfair place to be right now.

Blame it on insurgent hormones but an incident happened this morning that left me seething with anger and completely ruined a perfectly good working day.

I was on the way to work in the MRT this morning and happened to snag a Reserved seat (yes, I checked that there were no elderly, preggies, physically disabled or people with munchkins around before sitting down). Less than 2 stations after I sat down, along came an elderly gentleman (probably in his late fifties or early sixties) who said ‘Excuse Me?’ and looked at me expectantly, indicating that I should give up my seat to him.

Now, I don’t think I belong to that 90% of MRT commuters who pretend to sleep or fiddle with their electronic gadgets in order to avoid giving up their seats to folks who need them more. But given my condition right now, I do feel I am as entitled to have a Reserved seat as other ‘needy’ people. At 17 weeks, my tummy merely looks like I have over-indulged at a buffet spread, instead of outright pregnant. Comments have been made that I don’t look pregnant at all; others have been made that I should be grateful I do not have to lug around a heavy stomach all the time. In fact, I will be wondering about the new life waiting to come out in mid-May 2014 if she (nothing between the legs! So the good doctor says…) hadn’t shown up in ultra-sound scans.

Anyway, back to my rant. So this uncle was looking at me and expecting to sit down. I didn’t want to cause a scene as he was nice enough to ask politely and I was trying to avoid being the next Stomp/Facebook/Youtube star for ‘Woman Creates A Scene & Refused To Give Up Reserved Seat To Ah Pek’. Heaving an inward sigh of resignation, I stood up and the elderly gentleman happily settled down in his seat, unaware of the breathless, light-headed/giddy effects that he has caused for the lady who had given up her seat.

What made me so mad was because today’s incident was the second time this has happened. Last month, I had the ‘misfortune’ of snagging a reserved seat and having this same uncle come into the same MRT carriage as me. Same shit happened and I gave up my seat for him as well then. The first time it happened, I wrote it off as an amusing incident to be shared with people in the know but not this time. The uncle is absolutely within his rights to ask to sit in the reserved seat under normal circumstances and nice enough to ask politely for it; but I am P-R-E-G-N-A-N-T! Does having a tummy that doesn’t show disqualify you from sitting down when you need to? Is it my fault that my tummy doesn’t show?? Who can I blame if I faint on the train from the lack of air and giddiness??

To top off a crappy train-ride, I was standing in front of another reserved seat beside another man in his early/mid-fifties after giving up my seat. When the train entered Dhobby Ghaut which was an interchange station, the reserved seat in front of me was vacated and the gentleman beside me gave me an enquiring look to see if I was going to sit down. For the second time in 30 minutes, I felt like I was being set up for a booby trap. The man in question is definitely of a certain ‘vintage’; can I in all good conscience sit down when there is another person out there who, on the surface, appears to need the seat more than I do? Dammed if I do and dammed if I don’t - the man got his seat. =(   

Le Grandpa

The maternal Grandpa. For folks who have had the fortune to meet my pa before, the comments usually run along the lines of: "He looks very stern." or "He seems like a very fierce man." On the surface, this may be true. Perhaps it could be being the firstborn son in a time when responsibilities were foisted on you before you werely barely out of your teens. Or a simple matter of being born the way you were. Or a lethal combination of the two. 

It is a completely different story for Grandpa however, when it comes to his only grandson. As much as he maintains a stoic facade when the Rascal is present, the pussycat in him lurks beneath the surface, waiting to emerge. I have on several occasions observed very uncharacteristic behavior in him, things that made me cock my eyebrows in secret amazement. 

1. Tare Panda

Being the undisputed patriarch of the family, one will rarely see my pa in positions other than the sitting and standing ones. This probably sound strange to folks who are not in the know but c'mon, have you ever seen men of power depicted in less-than-dignified poses (misbehaving civil servants none withstanding? 

So imagine my surprise one Chinese New Year , where we were gathered at my aunts' house and the Rascal was on a mattress with his cousin (mattress cos both they both just learnt to sit upright and the aunts were concerned they may start doing the breakdance on e floor). The grandpa got up from his usual seat, away from the sofa and down flat on the floor to play with the Rascal. That was really a kicker, cos I honestly have never seen him in such an unfamiliar position, not in my 30 odd years of existence...For friends who are viewing this post, evidence of Gramps' unprecedented pose can be found in my FB album (T's album in year 2012 I think)

2. Washer Man

My pa grew up in an era where womenfolk are the ones who did all the housework and take care of kids while men's sole duty was to bring home the dough. Once they reach home, their whole existence revolves around 'lepak one corner' and to ask them to lift a finger in helping to take care of the kids is almost a profanity. 

We were at T's grand uncle's house one afternoon for a visit and the rascal got himself thoroughly smelly and sweaty from playing ball catching with the Grand uncle. I hied him off for an impromptu shower when my pa (who was around as well) popped his head into e bathroom to do an 'inspection'. That in itself is already a surprising move. The move became more astonishing when he started taking over e showerhead and bathing the rascal. Suffice to say that I was goggle-eyed throughout the whole episode...

Statistics

I have a strange obsession recently....

 

When I first started my blog account, I was directed to this page which shows statistics on the number of page views, traffic sources, type of audience etc. I thought to myself: "why would anyone need that type of statistics?"

 

To me, blogging was just an online journal where you share your thoughts and feelings at a particular moment. Would you honestly need to know that someone in Russia (I got one page view from there once!) using a Firefox software(whatever the heck that is) from a Linux system read your entry on a certain day? It boggled the mind and for a while, I couldn't for the life of me, unravel the mystery of how http://blogsrating.pw/ directs readers to my blog. And I do not get how there are instantly 5 page views 4 seconds after I publish my latest entry in FB. Still can't figure it out to date, by the way.

 

As the ideas came rolling and my post entries kept increasing, I looked at the statistics page in a different light. I do not set out to write my blogs in the hope that I become a celebrity blogger like Xiaxue or Mothers Inc. Rather, I am doing this to free up whatever little brain cells I have left for everyday, mundane tasks while preserving the good/special moments for posterity. My target audience is those friends/people that I do not get to see or speak to often (I don't speak much when I do see them but that's beside the point); it's my way of letting them know "Hey there! I am still around!" I don't talk very well - the keyboard is my weapon of communication.

 

Anyway, back to the stats page. It has became a habit for me to check the page every day just to peek at how many folks have graced my blog. The number of page views is nothing fantastic but it has became a strange compulsion for me. As of today, I am 128 views shy of 1,000 page views. Wonder how many posts more I will need to write to hit this number of page views... 

 

 

 

And The Tortoise Emerges From The Mountain...

I have made it through my first week of work without much excitement or trauma. This is not to say that my workplace is boring – there are so many things to take in (where is the exit door??), so many procedures to learn (how do you request for an extra pen around here??), so many people to know (all 160++ of them!). I will go as far as to say that it has been a week of sensory overload for me as I try to muddle my way through. There are certain things that stick out vividly in my mind though, and I shall share these impressions in this blog.

First Impressions

I was ushered into my new office premises by an induction officer. The sight that greeted me when I walked through the door was this humungous work area about the size of a football field with partitioned work stations. I was suitably awed, considering that I could fit four of my previous office space in this place and still have room to roller-blade (after someone teaches me how to do so of course). It is not till a few days later that I realize the draw-backs of this huge space…

Something that stands out vividly in my mind for some reason was my work pedestal. Yes, that little movable side-table most people get at their work stations. In my previous office, stationery came from a chest of drawers where anyone can help themselves to the stationery inside. If what you need is not inside the drawers, you have to nicely ask our receptionist to help you buy or pay out of your own pockets and get reimbursed later. The pedestal would already be at your work space when you first come in for work.

Here in my new office, you literally get your pedestal rolled/pushed to your work station on the first day of work by unseen elves (it could be from the Human Resource / Corporate Services department too, but I was away from my desk when the pedestal appeared =P). After getting the keys (from yet another department – the number of departments and subdivisions here are mind boggling!) for unlocking, I was pretty amazed to find a fully stocked pedestal replete with pens, wooden pencils (no pencil sharpeners were provided though. Yeech!), calculator, stapler right down to company logo embossed stick-it notes and paper-clips. I was again suitably impressed.

Oh! Still waxing lyrical about impressed impressions: before I reported to work formally on the first day, I was given a briefing by my induction officer. But this was not before the officer presented me with an induction kit consisting of a ‘leather’-bound organiser, stylo milo writing pad, paper weight (for an air-conditioned work environment, ironically) and a coffee-mug, all emblazoned with the company logo. The fact that the paperweight read ‘Service Blah-blah-blah Day 2011’ and the organizer calendar stopped circa 2011 was completely irrelevant; I was still (everybody let’s say it together now!) suitably impressed.

For folks wondering which mountain this tortoise just came down from (FYI – there are only 2 notable hills in Singapore: Bukit Timah Hill where adult monkeys raise their babies, and Mount Faber where Singaporeans try to make babies. I don’t originate from either of these hills!), I can only say in my defense that I have always worked in SMEs (that’s Small and Medium Enterprises to you peasants out there) since graduation.

Part of the reason why I switched jobs was wanting to see more of the bigger outside world, instead of being stuck mid-mountain and getting polite, blank looks when people ask me where I was working. And a very big leap of careers it was! I keep telling people in the know that I was previously only a Charles & Keith bag – in demand with the masses, presentable but nothing extraordinary about it. With this new job title under my very skinny career belt, I have been elevated to the status of a Louis Vuitton bag – not easily available (rich, materialistic Singaporeans are beside the point!), comes with an impressive (?) reputation and very desirable by the market. The fact that I am doing something which will be completely irrelevant to companies outside is not of any significance here. =P

List of Complaints

The new job is not all a bed of roses and fluffy bunny tails: I have many grouses too.

1. Commuting

My legs are tired from the walking up and down of escalators from my home to NEL to the green line to my office. Repeat said steps backwards at 6pm again. Besides living in fear that the train will break down at any time, I have to jostle with the usual peak-hour crowd. After getting into the office, it’s an additional bazillion steps to go to the washroom, go to the pantry (see estimation of office area in ‘First Impressions’ above) and to buy lunch. On the bright side, I will have perfectly toned legs. On the down side, I feel completely detached from said legs at the end of each day. For the May-flowerians reading this, I am hereby shamelessly soliciting for a few bottles of glucosamine for Christmas; my knees and feet are killing me!!!

2. Unearthly Hours

Since starting this new job, I have been severely sleep-deprived. Previously my alarm clock could go off at around 7am and I could laze in bed for a while before getting up. Now I am out of the house before 7am to get to work in time at 8am. The government has recently implemented a MRT scheme where commuters get free/subsidised rides if they get out of specific train stations before a certain time. Thankfully, this is an added incentive for me to get to work early but damm the lack of sleep is killing me! Where a caffeine kick when you need one?

3. Fashion Sense

Let’s face it: I am working in the heart of the CBD area where Singapore high flyers and crème de la crème are more likely than not to be working in the same area as me. Power suits, sharply tailored attire and stiletto heels are a dime a dozen here. Having come here from the fringes of town area where office attire ethics are more relaxed, I suddenly feel very under-dressed. If you want to know what the latest fashion trend is, this area is the place to go. Same goes for perverts who just want to ogle office ladies in their body hugging work attire and 4-inch heels but that’s beside the point. I foresee a gradual overhaul of my previous working attire and goodness knows the extent of the damage to my impoverished wallet. =(

All in all, it has been an interesting experience working in my current company (strictly speaking, it is not even a company. Anyway….) I am looking forward to learning more about it and in the meantime, I will enjoy going around telling people that I am now offi cially an Analyst. Sounds very big-shot for someone who knows close to nothing about computer systems eh?

Goodbye Fortune Centre

28 June 2013 marks my last day of work at 190 Middle Road Fortune Centre. I have been with my current company for a good 5 years now and these 5 years had been a emotional one for me. I shared happy moments with some wonderful people whom I was fortunate to meet and met some detestable, downright awful humans.

 

I can't say that it has been an easy journey; it was not. I had struggles with inner demons on many personal issues associated with my job, including trying to meet certain expectations and understanding complex human machinations that are so very different from my straight-to-the-point nature. In the early days, I was completed baffled by the very new and strange work environment and had shed many a tear over things I could not control. You may think I am crazy for investing so emotionally in a run-of-the-mill job. Perhaps I am but for myself, I value a conducive work environment over a well-paying job. So sue me!

 

Instead of long paragraphs of what I will miss about the place, I will compile them into a list instead:

 

1. Lunch times with Eleen Tay
2. The convenience of going home after work (30 min of train from Little India as opposed to 1 hour of train from Tg Pagar) 
3. Cheap, decent meals ($5 will get you far in Middle Road!)
4. Friendly, wonderful colleagues who work hard and play harder
5. Approachable boss and immediate manager
6. Knowing the insides and outsides of the company system since I am practically a fossil there
7. Flexibility of work hours and leave days
8. Easy availability of every single thing I need (Retail therapy? Bugis Junction. Chinese herbal stuff? Dime a dozen around my office. Baby stuff? 20% discount at OG!)

Today being my last day at work, I was treated to lunch at Manhattan Fish Market by my colleagues and I think the staff was taken aback at our numbers. Twenty one, to be exact. They had to scramble to get enough tables and chairs for us and there weren't enough menus to go around. I was also presented with a Crabtree & Evelyn 'hamper'. In the words of the purchaser in charge: 'I wasn't sure which fragrance you like so I got different products. You will smell completely different from head to toe.' Sandy Wong, I had a good laugh when I saw that message.

 

Thank you to the wonderful people at CPA and APP. I really will miss you guys!

 

 

 

My farewell lunch at Manhattan Fish Market

 

 

My farewell gift (looking forward to using them!)

 

Blurred Perceptions

My heart-beat accelerated. I was mesmerized by the sight. My breath hitched in anticipation of what is to come.

 

Nope, that wasn't the start of the story of how I fell in love with a tall, dark, rebellious stranger - I already did that 18 years ago :p :p  Now, if you guys are done puking...It's the start of my rant against the awful smog which has been the hot topic of conversation these few days in our small smoggy (opps, I mean sunny) island.

 

What had started off innocently as a heat wave escalated quickly into a god-awful blanket of filth, ashes and soot covering our once fresh & green country. Now as I walk on the streets, I feel like a cast member of Freddie's Nightmare.  You know the one where an unsuspecting sucker walk on the streets alone at night and get pounced on by good ol' Freddie who suddenly leaps out of the mist. Not so much the sucker part but more the kind of fog involved. Strange analogy but hey, you try coming up with a better one after you have watched World War Z and had wierd dreams after that.

 

For days, the media was filled with news about everything haze-related. For me, I was more concerned about to how keep my family safe from the possible effects of the haze. I got a friend who was (thankfully) in Taiwan on holiday to buy up supplies of cloth face masks. When news announced that N95 masks were on sale,  I became a popper. As in pop in, "hello! Are the masks in stock yet?" pop out again when the answer was no. Repeat motion 3 more times. The Rascal, for the 4th time (possibly less) in his 36 months of life was permitted to sleep in his air conditioned room, for fear of breathing in too much yucky stuff. It should be mentioned that his room is the only unobstructed room in the house and it gets excellent wind conditions in usual days, hence our concern.

 

The Husband was not spared. His throat itches and he retreats to the air con comfort of our bedroom once he finishes his shower. Yet we are still unable to crack Level 147 of Candy Crush to date darn it!

 

It is truly an unpleasant time right now and I am hoping hard that no one in the family falls prey to the ill effects of the haze. Soldier on people!!

Happy Father's Day

First up, happy belated Father's Day to all the male folks out there who qualify for the job description! 

To kick off the special ocassion, Papa Yeow had a sweet treat in the middle of the night from Mama Yeow. It came in the form of.......bread and butter pudding. For those who are guilty of it, u can get your minds out of the gutter now. Papa Yeow for some strange reason, had taken a liking to the traditional British dessert and finding that it is actually quite an idiot-proof dish to make (for a decidedly non-domestically inclined me), I decided to christen my new multi-function Healsio oven with it. After packing the Rascal off to sleep at 10pm, I started getting down to making the pudding. All in all, the pudding turned out well albeit a little unsweetened. This was attributable to the fact that I do not owe weighing scales to measure the required amount of sugar needed and could only rely on estimation. The issue was compounded by the fact that Papa Yeow's sweet tooth was plucked out and flung out by the dentist eons before I met him.

We set out to explore Punggol Waterway on the morning of Fathers' day, the main highlight being a water play area for the Rascal to get wet in. Having parked in the extreme end of where the said water play area was NOT located, we landed up trekking from the car parking area (note that I did not term it a car park because it was not. It was more a roadside parking area on a flyover leading to goodness knows where) to our final destination. 

Now, it would have been a nice trek except for the small fact that our journey was fraught with caterpillars. Yes, you read me right - caterpillars. Our path was littered with bazillions of the disgusting creepy crawlies with the occasional millipede thrown in for good measure. Squished ones, living ones, half-squished ones, shrivelled ones: you name it, the path has it. Being deathly afraid of  the dammed critters, my hairs stood up and I had to keep my eyes peeled on the walkway to make sure that the cat pillars do not try out their hiking boots on my leg! The Husband was kept occupied giving his son Science lessons on the bug kingdom and trying not to laugh his head off at the sight of a freaked-out woman shrieking and yipping each time a live caterpillar crosses her path. As if things were not bad enough, there was a particular stretch under a bridge where all the caterpillars seem to have chosen as their final resting place (for squished or half-squished ones) or settlement area (for living ones). For the first time in as many years, I did the 100-metre sprint while simultaneously yelling my head off. For clarification purposes, this is not a dramatisation - I am just thankful that there weren't many people around to witness my strange behaviour. 

Having finally reached the water play area, we set T loose and sat down to scope out our immediate surroundings. The water play area was quite decent, save for the fact that there was a wading pool in the middle of the play area and due to the long term accumulation of water, the ground has turned slimed and algae-ish. This makes for kinda dangerous conditions for kiddies to run around in but thankfully, those kids who did slip when we were there treated it was part of the fun. Also in the immediate area was a sand pit which we did not have a chance to go cos a wet toddler + only 1 change of clothes + dry sand was not a good combination.

We ended our outing with a BBQ buffet lunch at Punggol Marina which was relatively decent but nothing to shout about. 

 

On Turning 3 - The Weekend Edition

For folks who has given feed-back that my blog entries are very sporadic and does not get updated on a regular basis, I now have a valid excuse for it. IT IS JUST SO FRIGGIN' HOT NOWADAYS!!

 

My blog time is spent in front of the desktop computer with only a floor fan for company (we ditched the room air-con last year). It is fine and dandy under normal weather conditions but when Singapore gets hit by heat-waves like the ones we have been experiencing recently, I break out in sweat just sitting still. My instincts tell me to get the blog out ASAP so that I can escape to the cool comfort of my sleeping sanctuary. Anyway, I digress...

 

1. Dinner With the Ah Ma on Saturday

 

The Saturday celebration was a relatively calm one, with a quiet dinner with my mother in law and brother in law. The food was good, the Rascal was talkative and the ever-adoring Ah Ma almost had her ears yakked off with his incessant patter. The Husband and I sat back and got to enjoy a brief respite.

 

 

2. Joint Celebration With 'Girlfriend' on Sunday

 

T shares the same birthday with his 'girlfriend' Renee (nice coincidence eh?). This year, it was a triple celebration as we welcomed the latest addition to our May-Fruits (how else would you term the offspring of May-flowerians? It's lame but scientifically accurate!) - Mr Seah Junyi, the youngest progeny of Ms See.

 

The baby shower was a good opportunity for all of us to gather and had a joint celebration. As we all became more and more occupied with having to juggle family, personal and work life, the time we have had to meet up became proportionately lesser. As the stork is expected to bring in more bundles, I foresee that the occasions for meeting will dip even further. Even if we do manage to meet, there won't be much time for girl talk as our immediate vicinity will be a mad-cap playground of children.

 

Anyway,I will end this very brief entry with the only decent photo captured of the May-fruits that day....

 

Happy birthday to Tristan and Renee!

 

 

P/S: Am going to bask in the air-con goodness of my room now. Bliss!

 

 

 

 

 

On Turning 3 - The Weekday Celebrations

The Rascal's birthday fell on a Sunday this year. But, why stop at one celebration when you can get four?

1. At the Nanny's On Thursday

To kick-start the festivities, T had his first party at his nanny's house, where all kiddos under her care get a mini birthday celebration on their special day. This signifies a yummy treat where the kids get to stuff their gullets with chicken nuggets, fish balls and the whole smorgasbord of junk food which they are otherwise 'forbidden' to eat on normal days.

T was the only June baby in the house so he got a customised cake all for himself. And a hug-ass cake it was too...

The huge-ass cake, reminiscent of the cakes that we used to get on our first birthdays

Taking a deeeeeeep breath

Surrounded by people who love him...(when he is not busy bullying them)

Surrounded by parents who love him...(when he is not busy yakking their ears off)

2. At His School On Friday

Before T started childcare in November last year (01 Nov 2012), I was very much against having celebrations in school. To me, it felt like a Mafia operation where you are pressurized to have a celebration just because another kiddo has invited you to his party and you feel obliged to return the favour. And goodness knows T's class are populated with many kids. Friends tell me that I am wierd when I share this line of thinking with them - I don't deny this. Then again, I also have fewer friends now =P

To cut a long story short, I decided to give the cc celebration a try cos like they say: 'don't diss it till you try it'. The online sourcing of possible party favours (that's another concept I don't understand: why is the host supposed to give out door gifts when he should be getting burried in presents?) began and my brain goes into overdrive trying to decide on the party theme. Angry Birds was given a short respite from free-falling tower blocks and invited to T's birthday party in school for a while. 

Despite having very few pre-conceptions about what to expect in a cc party, I was completely unprepared for what I can only describe as the 'sterility' of the class atmosphere.  The celebration took place after the kiddies' afternoon naps and a handful of T's classmates were looking more than a littler zoned out when we arrived at the centre, including the birthday boy himself. He was sitting at a table on his own, possibly known as the Birthday Table, while his classmates were sitting at separate communal tables. Birthday songs were sung, cutesy photos were taken and Angry Birds were mutiliated into kid-sized pieces for kid-sized tummies. Throughout this whole episode, T's Chinese teacher and her aide were there to maintain law and order.

'Stand around the birthday boy!' 

'Let's start singing a song for T!' 

'Let's do the Chinese version too!'

'Say cheese!'  

'Go back to your seats now!'

'If anyone makes a sound, they will not get their cake!'

I'm not quite sure if I am the only one who feels this way but since it is a birthday celebration, shouldn't the kids be allowed to let down their baby-fine hair and just monkey around for the short duration of the party instead of being ordered around like robots? If I had wanted to have a party with such high levels of discipline, I would wait for when T turns 18 and throw him a bash in his Pulau Tekong canteen! Suffice to say that having experienced  the sterility of a cc party, T should not be expecting to have many cc celebrations in the immediate future. 
 

The party favours

3 different packagings

The sleepy birthday boy

 



Say 'cheese'!!

Picture perfect

Enjoying (hopefully) the Polar birthday cake

Who says you can't have your cake and eat it too?

 

 

 

On Turning 3 - The Present

The Rascal turned 3 over the weekend.

 

Preparations started for his birthday way waaaay beforehand as his parents (by that, I meant his mom) went through an evolution of thought processes in pursuit of the Perfect Present befitting the Rascal's ripe old age of three.

 

The initial idea sprung by Mum was to get him a scooter bike which seemed all the rage recently with young folks and old folks who are trying to act like young folks. That idea met with an untimely death when I shared it with the Husband and was shot down (pardon the pun) with the comment: "Your son does not have adequate motor coordination and muscles to ride that thing. He will probably ride it into a wall and crack his head."

 

Despite my urge to crack his head open with a frying pan for daring to point out non-existent inadequacies  in my flesh and blood (aren't all children super beings in the eyes of their  mums?), I dragged him to the Eden of Toys for children (also known as Toys R Us) to scoop out possible vehicular offerings.

 

As luck has it, the scooter bikes were on sale but looking at the real thing, it suddenly struck me as ridiculous. What does he learn from riding this? Is there a life skill that he can pick up from going mostly one-legged Davy Jones style? (go Google 'Pirates of the Caribbean' if you just crawled out of a rock!) 

 

Having seen the Light (no, I am not dying yet. The OTHER light), a flash of green caught my eye as I was mulling over my new revelation and the Husband is standing by the side with a imaginary thought bubble with the words 'Can we get out of this place before you start buying more toys to clutter the house now?'. It was a kiddie bike which was hung up on display. Upon closer inspection, we  (yes, me and that guy with the thought bubble) saw that it was missing its foot pedals.

 

Fast forward the copious amount of online research done on balance bikes, asking around of current owners of such bikes and discussions with the Husband (thank goodness there were no further untimely death of ideas), we finally decided on buying a JD Bug balance bike (in blue) with detachable pedals for the Rascal.

For all the late nights searching online for reviews on the various brands of balance bikes and models readily sold in Singapore (we only had a 2-week timeframe to get the bike before T's birthday came about so pre-ordering from Germany/USA was out of the question), our efforts (by that I meant mine) were rewarded with the simple words as the Rascal sat on his shiny new present:

"This is my favourite bicycle!"
(Ed's note: it's his only bicycle as well...)

Some Inspirations But So Little Energy

I have so many ideas for my next post but there is so little time and not a whole lot of energy at the end of a working day to sit down and give life to the words inside my mind.

 

It is the start of a crazy June and hopefully, there will be time enough between the mundane nightly housework and getting precious me time to finally satisfy all 2 of my ardent blog fans out there. May blogs come easier now that I have downloaded the Blogger app on my mobile. Then again, things are in a very sorry state when the only time I have to blog is on the 1 hour daily bus ride!

 

Later!!

 

- mindless ramblings of a stoned blogger who is only half awake right now

Sickly May

It has been a month of trips down to the doctor, medical certificates and generally, a Mardi Gras of viruses going on in the Hougang household. 

 

The 'festival' started with YSY coming down with the sniffles shortly after a round of night classes. Being afflicted with the Male Syndrome, he refused to visit the doc despite being wrecked with fatigue and the Usain Bolt of running noses for a couple of days. His wife finally had to tweak him by his ear and dragged him to the clinic for some medical help. (Note: no husband was harmed in the making of this trip). The man is happily recovered the next day.    

 

There was that. Shortly after the husband-ly (my blog, my corruption of the English language!) bout of sickness, a strange prickly sensation appeared in my nose and before I knew what hit me, I started having body aches and the Usain Bolt virus had made its merry way to my immune system (or lack thereof). This coincided with the same time where the Rascal started sprouting eye boogers like nobody's business and becoming whiny and tantrum-ish. At that time, we didn't think that it was a problem as he did not come down with any fever (the most common signal that something was brewing) and life went on.

 

To cut a long story short, Mum went to the doc, Mum took medication and Mum barely recovered. Monday came and in the morning when I was preparing the rascal for school, I noticed that his left eye was pretty red but attributed that to some eye-rubbing. Fast forward to 2 hours later: we found ourselves back at the doc when the rascal has been ejected by the cc. To cut the story short again, Rascal saw the doctor, Rascal was diagnosed with an eye infection (it is unclear at the time of publication if this was contracted at the cc or due to being in some other unfortunate place where he contracted the germ/bacteria/virus), Rascal got well again.

 

Shortly after T has recovered from his eye infection, his mum felt a familiar prickly sensation. Not in the nose this time; but in her left eye. It was bloodshot and swollen, not unlike Captain Hook sans eye-patch. This warranted a trip to a 24-hour clinic AGAIN - the 4th time in as many weeks. In retrospect, I should have asked MOH/NHG if I can get a VIP card for being so supportive of the physicians under its Medical Register. A free visit for every 3 paid trips to the doc's would have been nice...that last visit blew a $75 hole in my wallet!

 

Still awake after reading my ramblings? <3

 

 

PS: I just learnt that new '<3' symbol above. Pls lemme know if it doesn't represent a heart; wouldn't wanna be called up by the Censorship Board for (unintentionally) using a vulgar sign!

 

 

 

What I Am Thankful For Part II

In the wake of my blog entry yesterday, I received a  FB message from an irate friend. It went something along the lines of 'why weren't we mentioned in your post, u ungrateful wretch??' Ok, not really along those lines but the meaning was clear: my OLD friends have been sorely and undeservedly omitted from the list of things/people I am thankful for.

 

Therefore, tonight's blog shall be dedicated to my immediate mummy support ring - those ladies to whom I turn to for navigating the mysterious path of motherhood, a journey in which I have yet to find my way through.

 

 

The Secondary School Friends

 

A saying that my teacher once imparted has left a very deep impression in my memory: "Of all the friends you will meet in school, the ones that you make in secondary school will always be the ones that the strongest bonds of friendship are forged. You are too young to remember the friends you meet in primary school; the ones in JC/poly/uni would have already have besties."

 

I do not know how applicable this saying is to everyone out there but it holds true for me. Well, except for one exception but I will get to her shortly.

 

 

The ladies most likely to kill me after reading this post - Shu & ET

The one suffering from serious occupational hazards - Sel

(Ed's note: we have yet to find a cure for her)

 

The sweetie pie of our group - La

 

 

We have gone through fights, we have gone through disagreements and at times, social castration. All of us are settled down with families and young ones of our own now, and gatherings nowadays greatly resemble make-shift childcare classes with kids of all sizes and ages running amok. Being well-trained in the school of parenting, we turn blind eyes and ears until it's time to go home.

 

 

 

The Really, Really Old Friend

 

The only one who has defied my teacher's saying: Ms J (funky moniker eh? Sounds like that judge in America's Next Top Model, of which we are/were both fans)

 

 

 

Seen here with a baby Furgie in her arms and baby Anya in her tummy

 

 

If my memory serves me correctly, we got to know each other in Primary 3 through a mutual friend. Since then, we went through the same secondary school and JC as well. She played match-maker (together with the help of YSY's best friend) and assisted in kick-dropping me and YSY into the tombs of marriage. Still trying to determine if I should thank you or strangle you woman! *wink*

 

Though we live on different ends of the island now and I don't get to see her and her brood as much as I will like, this is a friendship that doesn't need frequent meet-ups to maintain. We are pretty much up to date with each other's happenings and she was the muse for my turning into a blogger.

 

Hurray for friendship - I love you ladies! XOXOXOXO





 

What I Am Grateful For Part I

This blog is dedicated to who/what I am grateful for in my current life:

 

The Husband

 

 

The Unsung Hero

 

When we took our marriage vows on 20 July 2007, we vowed to be there for each other for better, for worse, for poorer, for richness (?), in sickness and in health. Accordingly, he is the only one who can comment on how well/badly I have kept to those vows. On my part, I can assuredly say that he has to the best to his ability, tried his hardest to create a safe and stable home for our little household of four. Woof!

 

Though I do get frustrated and angry at times trying to  get through to what I call the  Male Syndrome (that terminal 'handicap' that 99.8% of all male homo sapiens seem to be born with...), I have grown over the years to accept that he is what he is, that no human is perfect. I have moments where I want to conk him over the head for all his lack of emotional EQ but having said all this, YSY has been a rock-steady element in our family life (there really is a reason why his Chinese name has a 'tree' in it) and to be without him would be pretty much unimaginable. I'm still cherishing fond thoughts of conking him with a large frying pan someday though...

 

 

The Rascal

 

 

The Chatterbox

 

Since there are many existing and future blog entries about T, I think I will quickly sum up the main points:

 

• I am thankful that he is growing up healthy and cheerfully each day. (though this is with a wistfulness of those days where he was just a little Oompa Lompa and completely dependent on me for everything.

 

• I am grateful for his sunny and cheery disposition, which seems to bring sunshine to the people around him.

 

• I am thankful for the affection that he showers unreservedly on me and the people who loves him. Toddler-sized hugs and kisses are in abundance in the house right now and I will miss these when the testosterone kicks in and he will be too cool for Mummy's kisses and hugs.

 

 

Furgie

 

 

Bambi Eyes

 

The long-suffering pooch who has been with me through swollen feet, puking spells and sudden invasion of a alien crying human into the house.

 

I feel guilty that the level of attention and affection has dropped drastically since the Rascal came along BUT. T has levelled up the imbalance somewhat by playing ball with her, giving impromptu concerts and generally growing attached to Furgie. Each day I come home, I am thankful for those beautiful doe eyes gazing up at me and showing levels of devotion that I probably do not deserve.

 

 

The Grand Parents

 

Por Por

Ah Ma

 

I am thankful for Ah Ma and Por Por's help on weekends when I need a breather from talkative rascals or when the Husband and I slips away on short dates.

 

Ah Gong, though never a person that  the rascal approaches without some level of caution, attempts to teach T life lessons through play, logic and humor. The same way that he has taught his daughter - me. Pity the logic part fell through though...=P