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

 

 

 

Yakkers & Languages

Donkey years ago when I was pregnant with T, I made a pact with the Husband to educate T bi-lingually. (does this word even exist? If it doesn't, heck. It's my blog and the English language is mine to corrupt for the moment, thank you very much!) This form of education will take place through the use of 2 extremely specialized language departments: namely me and the Husband. He shall be the Head of the Mandarin department and occasional bellows of 'listen to your mother or I will tan your hide with a belt d***mit !', while I shall be the Head of English and frequent yells of 'listen to your mother or I will tan your hide with a cane d***mit !'

 

 

That was 3 years ago. 3 years down the road, I have kept up my end of the pact (yes, frequent yells included) and kept up an incessant patter of English when talking to T. This has resulted in the scales tipping too heavily for English and not a hell lot for Mandarin, which he is seldom exposed to unless talking to the grandmothers or grandaunts. I despair over this, cos I believe that he should be able to speak his mother language as well as English, which is apparently the common denominator for most conversations with Singaporeans nowadays. I shudder to think that I have raised a child who is unable to speak the language of his roots or even worse, deny this language completely.

 

Thankfully, he is given Mandarin lessons in childcare and even better, his Chinese teacher hails from Taiwan/China (more authentic Mandarin, rather than the corrupted version of Singapore Mandarin, I like to think). Though T still shows more interest in learning things in English, I am grateful that the exposure to his mother tongue has not be obliterated completely. And through observation, T is a fella who behaves differently for different audiences. For example, he will always speak English to his grandfather and myself yet switch smoothly to halting Mandarin to his grandmothers and grandaunts. I console myself about his 'half bucket water' Mandarin by resolving to speak more to him in Mandarin. It is early days yet.  

 

For all the deficiencies in T's ability to speak fluent and proper languages, another issue surfaces. The Husband and I are not naturally out-going people who can carry on conversations with anyone and everyone under the sun. Yet, the fruit of our loins yak. A LOT. As a baby, T did not belong to that category of babies who babble and squeal incessantly the whole day long. But as he grows into a toddler, he is unable to restrain his vocal cords and finds it necessary to fill his immediate surroundings with the notes of his dulcet voice.

 

Examples:

 

(in the car while making a left turn)

T: Papa why you turn left? Why not turn right? Papa, why?

 

(at the traffic light)

T: Papa red light stop. Green light go. Papa, why u stop behind the ___ (insert color) car?

 

The above situations are often met with silence or mumbled replies from the Husband. And woe befalls us if T was unable to hear/solicit a reply from either of us as he will just keep repeating the same question over and over and over again till one of us responds. For all you folks sniggering out there, this is not funny. The Husband and I are either (a) too worn down by T's game of Twenty Questions or (b) unable to find a logical reply, in which case we will reply by posing another question to T. It goes on and on and on till I am ready to cut my own throat with a blunt knife.  

The inspiration for this blog:

http://www.offsprings.blogspot.sg/2013/04/learning-mandarin.html

 

On Turning Older

The horsey sight that greeted us when we got to our destination

Today marks the day where I turn younger by one more year. Wanting a novel experience, we decided to go for breakfast in Bukit Timah Road at 8am in the morning, an unearthly hour by most Sunday standards.

 

Eagerly waiting for breakfast (one gu-ni siew dai please!)

 

 

Having done intensive homework the night before, we decided on the Riders' Cafe for its unique scenery, potential animal lessons for the Rascal (we spotted monkeys, cats, horses and even a humungous python!) and breakfast menu which got rave reviews.

 

When our orders were served, we were not disappointed. The adults got 'The Usual', which comprise of scrambled/fried eggs, sour dough, garlic mushrooms, bacon, chicken sausage  and roasted tomato, something we could have done without... *gag*. My scrambled eggs were oh so moist and fluffy and the sour dough + mushrooms were divine!

 

 

 

The Rascal got a mini-version of our breakfast - sausage and scramby on toast.

 

The testament to the delicious-ness of our breakfast? A satisfied Husband who in his normal habitat, does not take breakfast and when he does, will deviate more towards more hearty Asian meals like wanton mee or fishball noodles. *burp*

 

The restaurant itself is situated right in front of a horsie exercise ring and we were lucky enough to catch one in action as we enjoyed our balcony view of the surroundings.

 

The Rascal getting restless after his yummy breakfast and peeking at a horse getting bathed.

 

Satisfied customers who will be back again

 

Having sated ourselves on a more than satisfactory breakfast, we headed out  of the place and along the way, saw a huge dead python on the road. Pity it was already covered in black flies and goodness knows what else, or I could have gotten myself a new bag...*wink*

 

 



 

From Cot To Bed

I had originally wanted to continue my blog as Part 3 of the Furgie trilogy (Twilight and Narnia has nothing on us!) but decided to dedicate this space tonight to announce that T has made the transition from cot to toddler bed as last.

As T is fast approaching the big 3, his weight is increasing disportionately to his age. By that, I mean that I am no longer able to lift him up and set him into the cot like when he was a little baby. Well, I could but a trip to the nearest hospital for a broken back doesn't sound quite appealing, pardon the self-preservation! This simple transition does not sound terribly exciting but to me, there is a certain tinge of wistfulness attached cos it marks yet another milestone that my baby is no longer a tiny helpless being. A cheeky, mischievious boy stands before me now, someone who is more than capable of climbing in (and out) of bed by himself.

When he got home from Granny's house earlier, T was pretty excited to see his 'big-boy' bed and could not wait to clamber onto it. And off. And on. And off again - you get the picture.

Furgie (Part II)

Furgie was officially introduced into our newly minted household sometime in early Oct 2009. We did not know at the time that it was to be a significant year for us, nor did we expect to be welcoming TWO new members into the folds of our home. In just under 2 months of Furgie setting paws over our threshold, I found myself accidentally pregnant (the pregnancy I mean, not the finding out part though that was very accidental too!).

 

From looking up books on understanding more about the breed, I found myself back in the bookstores reading up about how to aclimatise Furgie to the idea that she is going to have this Hobbit-like fella as a companion around the house. Our main fear was that we should be so "lucky: (lucky lucky lucky! I should be so lucky in love! So says Kylie Minogue...) to have gotten a pooch who is hostile towards incontinent Oompa Loompas covered in regurgitated milk.

 

Fast forward to 02 June 2010: T. Yeow was officially drop-kicked by the stork into the hallowed wards of Mt A, into the arms of a woozy mum and a (???) dad. One of the research materials I read suggested that new parents gently introduce the new wrinkly arrival to a pet already residing in the house by letting it scent objects belonging to the said wrinkly bundle. That was exactly what we did. The Dad snucked used baby clothing out at night while I was still recovering in hospital and let Furgie sniff them to her heart's content.

 

On the day that T was brought home, the first thing we did was a Divide & Conquer - Mum going down to dog level (with a corgi, that was a very low level indeed) with T and Dad hung on to Furgie for dear life while simultaneously allowing her to sniff T's tiny feet and bum. As tired as I was then, it was kinda funny to see Furgie very curiously sniffing out T's diaper-clad bum, the same way a dog will check out another dog. I dunno, it could be the lovely pungent smell of baby poo that aroused Furgie's interest...Happily enough, Furgie displayed no sign of hostility towards T and went on her merry way after the initial introductions were made.

 

(to be continued....)

Furgie (Part I)

This blog entry is dedicated to a family member whose perceived image is divided into two main schools of thought:

 

1. Rambunctious bundle of energy who strikes terror in non-believers; or
2. Rambunctious bundle of fur who is oh-so-adorable

Yup, you have guessed right: that would be the only furry member of the Hougang household - Furgie.

 

It has always been a childhood dream to have a dog of my own but due to parental objection, that dream was to be fufiled only after I set up my own home. Luckily enough, I also married  a man who is (1) an animal lover (sort of) and (2) not allergic to dog hair. With all angles covered, we set out in search of the Perfect Dog. 

 

Before setting out on that journey, we had debates on which breed of dog we wanted. Unfortunately, YSY and I had widely differring views on this.

 

"Pug?" Epitome of fugly. 

"KC cocker spaniel?" Too pansy-ass.

"Boston terrier?" See 'Pug'.

 

The debate went on and on cos basically my idea of a pet dog ran more along the lines of cutey-pie-lapdog-ish while his was anything with perky ears and pointy snout. Digression: I like my Men In Black while he watched The Mask one time too many - animal cum movie buffs will remember Frank and Milo well.

 

Anyway, to cut a long story short, we settled on corgis after months of debate. Next came the issue of where to source for one as corgis were not (and still is not) a popular breed in Singapore. Purchasing one from a pet-shop was not one of our favoured options as we have read about the horrors of puppy mills and the terrible conditions in which dogs are bred. To buy from a pet-shop will only encourage the financial motives for which puppy mills are set up for and that is not something that we want though the cost of a dog from the pet shop will probably be easier on our wallets. To find a specialised corgi-breeder in Singapore (who hopefully is ethically responsible as well) was almost impossible because as mentioned earlier, corgis are not a popular dog breed here.

 

By a stroke of luck, we found an online ad by a home-owner looking to sell his corgi pups. This fitted our goals exactly: not from a pet-shop where the corgi could possibly be puppy-milled and it was not bred with the intention of profits thereby compromising the dog's health. We arranged a meet-up with the uncle to assess the corgi's 'buy-ability' and Furgie was presented to us for the first time in a carton box, sleeping soundly. Our concerns that the uncle was home-breeding for monetary gains were allayed when he told us that if we wanted to buy Furgie, we could only bring her home after her second vacination (this would be when the puppy was around 4 months old which conincide with the minimum legal age requirement for which puppies can be sold in Singapore).

 

When Furgie was finally ready to be taken home in October 2009, she has changed radically from the tiny bundle of sleeping fur when we first saw her to a playful puppy who is eager to jump all over us (unfortunately, this trait has remained with her till this day. Trust me: being jumped on by 2kg of fur is waaaaaaaaay different from being ambushed by 25kg worth of muscle - I have the bruises to prove it.) Her ears which were droopy at 2 months of age, had also stand to attention in the characteristic 'antenna ears' of corgis all over the world. I fell in love again...

 

 

(to be continued...)