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

 

 

 

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