This orange kitty is a perennial favourite with the Husband, who used to chuckle out loud whenever he sees Puss go goo-goo eyed.
I had wanted to use this picture to reminisce about back in our dating days but since it's his (the Husband) birthday today, hope this classic brightens up his day when he sees this post.
HAPPY BIRTHDAY MR YEOW!
The differences between having a firstborn and a secondborn:
Bun Baking
Firstborn: Rubs tummy every other 10 minutes. Worries if baby doesn't kick every other second. Talks and sing to baby every other hour.
Second-born: Tummy-rubbing? Mostly when baby kicks. Baby not kicking? See "Tummy Rubbing". Talking and singing? Where got time (or energy)??
Tools Of The Trade
Firstborn: Only the best will do. Tendency to buy too much stuff, just in case you need them for purposes unknown to mankind.
Second-born: Chin chai lah...Improvise. Make do. Bare basics. Hand me downs.
Care Giving
Firstborn: Oh no! Why is baby crying? He's been asleep for so long; is he still breathing??!
Second-born: Anything goes as long as she is not crying the house down.
From blowing raspberries, the little lady has graduated to drooling solid streams of saliva as she learns to communicate with us (so says Baby Center or some other baby behaviour guru).
So much so that I have to put her on the bib to avoid another piece of clothing hitting the laundry basket the minute it gets soaked through with 'holy water'. I hardly have enough bamboo poles to cope with T and K's combined laundry as it is!
Comparing K with her big brother, T never had much use for the bib cos he very much preferred to keep his drool to himself even during Teething Season. With K, goodness! It's everywhere. On her fists, on her chin, on our clothes after carrying her...it's almost like monsoon season without the rain. And thicker, stickier H2O....
Dear skinny jeans, how do I love thee?
By wearing you to death of course!
Four months after delivering the baby that is K, I'm still enjoying the maternity jeans I got from ASOS. For one thing, the water/fats that have been lurking in the hidden recesses of my now nonexistent hips are just that: lurking. Still there. Hovering. Stuck (?!?!).
Coupled with the sad fact that I have upped one dress size post pregnancy, one can imagine how fragile my little ego has become when it comes to wearing clothes. In comes Super Jeans to save the day! No sucking in your guts, no tight waistband to pinch your flab, no worrying about whether you have zipped up your fly after a particular 'relieving' time at the potty (opps, I mean toilet. Was thinking too much about training K to pee and poo sans diaper)
Who needs Levis when you have extra thick elastic bands??
