Another Stage in Life

If everything goes well, I'll be moving house in mid-Dec. Wanted to pen this down before I go nuts from excessive brain work and gets institutionalised in IMH, which is very conviniently located right across the road from my new place.

First - The interior designer
He is a young Malaysian chap whom I thought look kinda like Qi Yiwu at certain angles. He has proven very competent at marrying ideals and designs so far and we are hopeful that the reno process will be a relatively uneventful one.

Second - furnishings
2015 happens to be Singapore's Golden Jubilee year and one can hardly go anywhere without seeing SG50. Retail shops seemed to have cottoned onto this and the Husband and I have been going to places which offers generous SG50 discounts. Congrats to those shops who got our money and are laughing their way to the bank. A heartfelt thank you to Ms J who told us abt her staff discount and we managed to save plenty on lighting stuff and such.

Third: The property agent
A VERY young chap who has probably made his first (or second. Or third) pot of gold and sports a Rolex and BMW. Smooth talker who seems to like psychological warfare and 见人说人话, 见鬼说鬼话. Definitely good traits for someone in the sales industry...

Fourth: The MIL
There are 2 living persons on earth whom I trust to take care of the youngest member of our family - her nanny and my MIL. The latter has thankfully jumped to the rescue (albeit on a vonlunteered basis) on the numerous occassions when we need to meet the ID for discussions on the weekends. The only time we tried bringing her to the ID's showroom, K nearly demolished it with her cos we had the audacity to get into discussion with the ID while she was waiting to be entertained, the cheek...the Husband and I were in very bad mood by the time the meeting ended and it was by unwritten agreement that K will never darken the hallway of our appointments with the ID ever again.

Finishing this post up with some pictures of the new house in its errrrr.....retro glory *shudder*

Time

If there is something that I miss from my former life (the one that is not filled with the pitter patter of two pairs of little and not-so-little feet, it would be time.

Time spent in bed, waking up only when I could sleep no more. Instead of leaping out of bed to feed hungry tiny mouths.

Time pampering myself with masks and lotion and primping. Instead of slapping on moisturiser (when I can remember to) and dashing out of the room to a crying toddler who is 'afraid' of being alone.

Time to go places and knowing that I have the entire day to myself without having to be home at a specific time. Instead of having to plan what I want to do on a rare day off so that I am in time to fetch the kids.

Time to warm the sofa and vegging out. Instead of having to cook the porridge one minute, hang out the laundry the next, fold dried laundry another minute, changing diapers/feeding water yet another.

Some weekends pass without my realising it and come Sunday nights, I am raring to go back to work just so the things that need to be done are properly planned without a ghost of a milk bottle or dirty diaper in sight.

Those were the days...

Sunday Nights

This entry is for posterity sake.

Something for me to bring up when K eventually brings her boyfriend home and I become an auntie sharing childhood stories that will make her squirm in embarassment (tit for tat darling...tit for tat)

Everytime Sunday nights come about, I flop to the sofa in exhaustion after 2 days of time with the second born. Not to say I don't enjoy playing with her but my temper is considerably shorter after playing her maid-in-waiting. Going back to work for 5 days suddenly seem preferable over 2 days of porridge spit, crankiness, water-drinking (don't ask...) and eardrum busting cries.

Cinderella rues 12 midnight but I love the stroke of 9pm when both kids are finally in bed and I get a few minutes of breather after spending the day being a MS Windows system (i.e. many 'programs' running at the same time).

Its 9.15pm now and sinking down on the sofa has never been more enjoyable. Bliss....

Road of Recovery

K had a follow-up review with her very cute PD Dr Chua today (I can see u rolling your eyeballs Ms TS...) and we are happy to announce that she is hitting the roads far far away from the Bronchiolitis Monster. The lung infection has cleared and though she will be coughing and phelgmy for the next 2 weeks or so, Dr Chua gave her a clean bill of health.

Now I can crash and burn.

Now we can see her smiling her toothy grin up at us again.

Now she's free from the Nebuliser, which has caused her much anxiety.

Welcome back baby; we missed your feisty antics cheekiness...

My Poor Baby...

Apart from the fevers and teething symptoms here and there, K was a pretty healthy baby.

Untill recently. And when the mighty falls, the mighty falls hard.

She came down with bronchiolitis on Tuesday and it made her a completely miserable kiddo, from the fevers (High ones, low ones, Saturday Night - you name it, she has it. Well, except dengue. Choi choi choi!!), phelgmy coughs, running nose, vomiting,  watery eyes yada yada yada...

Medication time consists of at least 3-4 medicines plus a 10 minute session with the nebuliser. Luckily enough she is (a) too fascinated with the new "美美" strapped around her nose and/or (b) too groggy (boo!) from the sickness to put up huge struggles when inhaling the vapors.

Somewhere, I think i heard a piece of Papa Yeow's heart broke as well. He takes every chance to carry K and gives her words of comfort each time after she pukes and gets startled by all the mess on her person.

Me? I will break down after this whole episode is over. Bronchiolitis is something that can turn nasty and messy if not nipped early - my heart aches when K turns her watery eyes on me and is a picture of utter misery and crankiness. But it is more important to get her out of the pits of misery and onto the road of recovery first.

There are many disruptions to our household's routine these few days and Papa Yeow and I are getting by on an average of 4 hours sleep each night, on TOP of all the exciting changes that are coming soon.

Now, can someone buy me a vodka shot pls!?

First Food Foray

For lack of a better blog title, I hereby declare that at the ripe old age of 13months, K is an "adult food" maiden no more!

I'm feeling a little guilt here, a dash of relief there and seeing a ray of light at the end of the Porridge tunnel finally.

So yesterday we made an impromptu pilgrimage to the Mecca of Furniture and Everything Cheap But Easily Spoilt- IKEA to get some stuff and home ideas. Set off at abt 11am which is usually the time K's porridge gets set down in the slow cooker to cook. To cut a long story short: lunch for her yesterday was IKEA pasta and salmon, which was ladden with salt and goodness knows what other kidney-damaging stuff.

1. Guilt - see "kidney damaging" above

2. Relief - no more having to set schedules on what time to cook porridge, add veggies, add protein since it is her primary source of food (not apparent in the favors she like to return in the form of spit out porridge though)

The point of this blog is:
The second-born gets started on many stuff earlier compared to her gor gor.

- adult food (I used to give death stares to anyone *ahem grandma/grandpa!* who dares to try giving T adult food before he turned 2. Even after he did, it was very hard on me to mentally let go and give him adult food...)

- bathtub vs shower (T was enjoying his baths till he grew too heavy for me to plonk down/lift up from the tub; K made the acquaintance of Mr Shower Head shortly after she became bipedal.)

I'm still trying to wrap my head ard the fact that K is taking sodium so young but with 2 kids, every nano-second not spent chopping veggies/mincing meat/boiling stock is oh so precious!

Random Ramblings

It's amazing how a bout of viral flu can bring forth materials for a new entry on my dusty, creaky blogspot (dun ask me what the connection is; maybe the meds for puking and LS-ing brought me to a new high which may possibly be illegal).

Looking at K over the weekend, I was suddenly struck by how she have grown.

A cheeky fun-loving girl stands where the teething monster used to crawl. Super manja too! She cosies up to YSY whenever he is carrying her (which is very frequently I assure u) and beams him a toothy smile (four teeth, to be exact). "Pa-pa!" in different intonations fill the house, which makes me feel murderous cos who was the one who cleaned most of her muck-covered bum? Who gets porridge facials when she hates her lunch?? Why isn't it "Ma-ma!" instead??

Anyway, this K is a vain pot for sure. Her wriggly body stills whenever I put on a 美美 on her head. It's a win- win situation; she looks adorably ridiculous and I get to doll her up without re enacting WWII.

Conclusion: she's hell on wheels when she doesn't get what she wants, but oh so cute in her fun moments. What's a mama to complain about?

A combination of what I have described above - toothy, vainpot and cheeky