Funny Tummy & Skinny Jeans

My biggest bugbear throughout the course of this pregnancy would be the circumference of my tummy. Yeah, for folks who have been following the blog posts since I officially went public with the pregnancy, they probably may have noticed that not one post goes by without some form of mention of my itty bitty tummy. Though my memory isn't so good anymore, I seem to remember a bigger tummy from when I was carrying the Rascal. Though it wasn't very big at that time, it was round enough to make me look obviously pregnant and not 'is she or is she not'.

Despite this very huge bugbear, it is not without a good dose of amusement to see fellow co-workers do a double-take when I told them that I am 5.5 months along my pregnancy. In the words of a colleague: 'I can't believe I have been working with you for the past few months and not realise that you are pregnant!' Quite unlike my previous workplace where news and gossip will spread like wild-fire 3 seconds after it has left the mouth of a perpetrator, folks in my current organisation kept pretty much to themselves. Even within my department, personal information is pretty well contained unless asked for.

Though my tummy is not sufficiently huge enough to look outright pregnant, my waistline has still expanded somewhat that I can't fit comfortably into my usual wardrobe now. At the recommendation of a friend, I bought some maternity wear online and one of these included a pair of skinny jeans. Now, I had previously shunned skinny jeans like the plague when they first became all the rage across the fashion world. Kate Moss I am not, and shunting myself into those skin-tight denims will be akin to an elephant trying to fit into leotards. Anyway, ASOS (the online store I was ordering from) carried only skinny jeans and I needed casual clothes, so skinny jeans it was.

When my order arrived and I tried the jeans on, ooooh! I was immediately struck by how elongated and 'shapely' my legs appeared. Skin-tight does indeed work its magic...in a time where I feel perpetually bloated and shapeless in loose fitting clothes, you will not believe how amazing I felt when I saw my jeans-clad reflection in the mirror :) The jeans are now a favourite piece in my current wardrobe (not that I have much to choose from) and who knows? I can continue to wear them post-pregnancy..

2013

Heralded in January

Gone in February

Was to be a Virgo

Replaced by a Taurus

Penning this down

As the only remembrance

Of a fleeting moment in time



A Good Ol' Whine

I am well into my 22nd week of pregnancy this week without realising how quickly time flies. With this pregnancy, three things stand out in very stark contrast to when I was carrying the Rascal.

Symptoms
I had a whale of a time during my last pregnancy, with morning sickness being limited to saliva spitting and the odd piece of undigested food. Had all the usual swollen feet, mild heartburn and sudden leg cramps but all these happened during the last few months. This time round? OMG....I graduated directly into full blown throwing up, abrupt flaring of temper and absolutely disgusting loud belching that came out of nowhere. In fact, if you like half digested red cherries coming out of your throat and burping fish oil capsules,  pregnancy is the way to go.

Common symptoms aside, I also get strange happenings that I did not even know was part and parcel of lugging a (non existent) tummy around. Cue Exhibit A: Did anyone know that pregnant women are more prone to nosebleeds? I sure as hell didn't. But it happened one evening and scared the heck out of me and YSY to see blood soaked tissues after I blew my nose. It apparently had something to do with increased blood supply and overworked blood capillaries.

Exhibit B: Spotting. The birds and the bees happened and the spotting came one day during my second trimester. For folks who are not aware, spotting/bleeding are never a good sign during the second and third trimester as this may indicate all sorts of pregnancy complications or even miscarriage. Again scared the heck out of me and the Husband, more so the Husband cos his precious daughter may be in danger. Humph! Anyway, the spotting stopped and our pounding hearts stilled.

With the first pregnancy, I breezed through it with shiny hair, glowing skin and a general feeling of sunshine. Alas! This was not replicated for the current one. Even in my second tri, the general feeling was one of crappiness though I am having an easier time now without any morning sickness. However, the heartburn is still bad enough that mass hoards of undigested food are migrating my poor gullet. Let's not even go into the distressed complexion and fizzy hair...

Le Showing
The Tummy - how do I describe thee? Non existent, that's how. Whenever I see pregnant ladies with ginormous tummies on the streets, the one thought I have everytime is: how is it humanly possible for a tummy to stick out so much? Will it burst with the next inch that it grows? Sadly or happily (depending on how u want to look at it), I will never know.  At 22 weeks, my tummy is woefully small, more like a love handle rather than the protective container of a living thing. According to the good doctor/nurse/lab technician at TMC, the size of a pregnant tummy is determined by the curvature of the mother's hip bone - the curvier the bone, the more contained the tummy. At least I know I have curvy hip bones now...

Attention Seekers
When I broke the news to T, he apparently was not too affected about the arrival of a baby sister (yup, it's a girl!!). So it came as a surprise to me when during a conversation with his Chinese teacher, I was told that his attention span has greatly shortened in school when he previously loved learning in class. Also, he became fidgety and kept telling everyone that his mummy has a baby. This out-of-the-blue behaviour coincides with the time I was trying to prep him for his new sibling. At home, he starts crying over the slightest thing and gets very emotional.

Being cared for at the nanny's where babies are a dime a dozen, I am actually very surprised that T is reacting so strangely to my pregnancy. Anyway, it is still an uphill trek to deal with his behaviour right now: too strict and it will merely reinforces the idea that a new sister is associated with negativity but relax the discipline and we risk undoing all the good of past enforcement. What's a mother to do in times like this?

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?