Crayon Box

life is who you love

2011-08-09T02:50:00.000-07:00

Has it really been 7 years?

Alix never met my father but she has been asking questions about 'gong gong'. Remembering brings on a kind of ache - it always gets more intense around his birthday in July.

The most poignant birthday we celebrated was his last one. He was in the advanced stage of cancer and he couldn't eat but he insisted that we order in pizzas so that all of us could enjoy. We had pan pizzas in his bedroom and all I remember was looking at my father, choking inside at how frail he looked, choking at the little corner of pizza in my mouth. Choking in disbelief that all this was happening.

The Garden of Remembrance is somewhere in Lim Chu Kang; in that big maze of green land on the north west corner of Singapore which I am unfamiliar with. Gary offered to drive us there. I couldn't find my way there by myself. We packed in Shane, Alix and Grace and set off, sunglasses on our noses. It would be a long drive in the blazing hot sun.

By the time we got there, it was almost noon - the hottest time of the day, but inside the Garden, it was remarkably cool and a gentle breeze greeted us as we started searching for my father's niche. Gary found him first, along a bank of shelves. A little nook with a marble plaque and the face that I knew so well.

Pa.

Shane and Alix took out their drawings for Gong Gong - "I love you Eugene Chan", "I miss you Khong Khong". Most of the niches had artificial flowers inserted into a narrow metallic vase. We rolled up the drawings and they fit perfectly in there. They sang a song. Posed for photos. It was as if they were visiting a live grandfather.

We walked around the shelves of niches, looking at the different marble plaques. In the end, we will all be reduced to that.

This morning, we saw a woman with a t-shirt which read "Life is who you love".

And I guess that basically sums it up.

brave new hamster world

2010-10-16T02:58:00.001-07:00

Create your own digital scrapbooking design

Baby ballerina

2010-04-10T00:51:00.001-07:00

This wasn't a class in ballet. This was a class in not giving up.

Alix started ballet classes about 6 months ago even though I had the ballet baggage. I sucked at it. Absolutely hated it and dropped out after a few lessons. In the girls school I attended, ballet was a big thing and the prissiest girls excelled in it. When the ballet girls were showcased at the school events, we would sit at the back of the hall and laugh at their tu tus.

History seemed to repeat itself when Alix started ballet. She was really shy at first and refused to participate but a friend advised.

Put her in the tu tu. Tie up her hair. Make her feel like a princess.

She gave me a tu tu which her daughter had outgrown and I put it on my daughter and watched my baby become a ballerina. Every Saturday morning, Gary and I attended to watch her dance and I can tell you, my heart just burst with pride. She moved with confidence and determination and was nothing like my younger self, who failed fabulously at ballet.

xxx

But something happened over the last month. Alix got 'abandoned' in class first by my helper and then by myself. We were sending Shane to his Chinese class, it starts at 11.10 am just before ballet ends at 11.15 so we step out to send him there.

Alix failed to see us on 2 occasions and each time the psychic trauma pierced deeper.

By the second time, she didn't want to dance. And she's refused to dance for 2 weeks now. We sit in class and she attaches herself to my lap like super glue. Dad tells her lessons will be canceled, she gets more negative and we get closer and closer to ending her ballet forever.

I tried to check myself:

Had I become one of those obsessive parents who watch their offspring overcome their own childhood fears and become even more obsessive about watching them succeed?

But no, it wasn't about that even.

So I sat with her at today's lesson both of us just watching in silence. I didn't scold her. There were no threats. But I told her after at the food court having lunch - what I wanted to tell my younger self. The same thing I would repeat to her at age 5, 15, or 35.

Alix, when you are scared, you musn't quit. Don't give up.

I couldn't make her dance.

And we both knew she was scared. But if ever she had to face her fears, become independent and chase her dreams - she had to learn this.

I sounded like an annoying caption on a motivational poster.

She looked up at me. The first time all morning she looks at me without the fear in her eyes.

Is that how the man builds the house? He doesn't quit?

I don't know where she got that analogy but I think the message got through.

We'll see how it goes. For now, I'll be there and give her as much time as she needs to get over her fears and dance again.

Starfish Stories - Crystal Tears and the Dream Nebula

2010-01-03T06:12:00.000-08:00

I love the new album from Starfish Stories - Crystal Tears and the Dream Nebula - free download at http://bit.ly/7ZyPeI and this is why.

Firstly, you need to get past that:

a) It has the word "nebula" in its title track. What the heck is a nebula?
b) It has a blue green planet as a backdrop in its album cover! Which makes it look like a soundtrack for a sci fi documentary.

Get past that and bring your ears really close to this seashell of an album and it whispers at you with feeling and deep personal expression. Now, that's true appeal. The album which tries its best on first impression to be un-sexy and then surprises you with wave after wave of pure enjoyment.

So lets get intimately acquainted with the songs and a few tracks which really got me.

The title track is "Crystal Tears and the Dream Nebula". You know that the guitar instrumentals are emoting the poetry when your hair starts to stand when you hear the track, and I mean that in a good way. A nebula is a cluster of gases in the midst of becoming a star. Even though I've never been close to a star, this track brings you close to imagining what it would be like to be a speck of gas - invisible and insignificant, then becoming a star. For me, this track emotes hope.

"We Wonder" is the sort of song which would make me cry on cold wet rainy days and I am recalling something sad. Damn, it would hurt so good.

"Stroke of Midnight" starts with dirty guitar riffs and shows off some mean guitar work. Do these guys really have day jobs which don't involve music coz they play real good! And its not just the technicality of the guitar work, its the raw and personal expression which would make me scream my head off if I watched the Starfish band guys play live.

"To be Free" - pretty keyboard work, even prettier guitar work and it falls on the ear like a gentle breeze. Check out the shredding at the end of the track. Class.

"Run towards the Sky" - my only quarrel with this song is that it sounds a bit like an Olympic song which makes it also likeable coz' it makes you believe that anything is possible.

Nebula. Planets. Stars. Whatever. The Crystal Tears album touches me on a human level and it is truly romantic, that 2 guys are making this music in a corner of their universe and launching it out like a nebula.

One last thing, I would totally pay for this album if released commercially.

Back, 2 hours later

2009-11-16T21:47:00.001-08:00

Went for a run yesterday at the beach. It wasn't a run for exercise. It was a run to 'run away'.

I brought Shane to the playground on Sunday. He fell from the monkey bar. Didn't seem serious. It was only when we got home that he started complaining of pain in his leg. I thought he pulled a muscle and asked him to rest but it got worse. I brought him to the children's emergency at KK on Monday. It was xrayed and doc says that there might be a hair line fracture in his femur although they can't really tell from the xrays whether there is a fracture. They put his leg in a cast and he can't walk for now.

Last sunday, I was also at children's emergency when Alix woke up very weak and with bad stomach pain. It was constipation and they gave her something to clear her system. After that cleared, another emergency visit from Shane.

But that's not the most upsetting thing. We've planned a family trip to tokyo last week of nov so that we can bring them to Disneyland. If Shane's leg is still in bad shape, he'll have to miss out on the trip.

By evening yesterday, I was a miserable mom. Shane was very frustrated that he couldn't walk. While guilt wracked about whether i should go out for a run with my son's leg immobilized in a cast, I knew if I stayed in, I would explode. So I put on the cartoon channel, told Grace that I had to go out for a while and ran out in the direction of the beach. It was after the rain so it was really cool outside. It was one of the most loveliest nights I experienced, for running. I got back 2 hours later. My shoulders which were stiff before the run, eased up.

Shane was still cranky by the time I got home and like he was a baby again, there were no words that I could use to cheer him up. The run had calmed me down so that I could nurture him with a touch...a gentle head massage which did the trick in getting him to sleep. And all I could do was send a prayer up that somehow this little boy would be well enough for Disneyland by the end of the week.

mango sticky sticky rice

2009-10-29T06:21:00.000-07:00

The husband and I spent the last 4 days in Bangkok. It was our first trip since the crayolas arrived in our lives. Our last trip, just 2 of us was in 2001. 8 years ago.

We did the usual Bangkok things. Shop, Thai massage, explore the poky lanes and buy cheap stuff. Didn't have to break the exercise routine coz there was a rocking swimming pool and gym in the hotel.

We had a night out with a Thai friend who showed us their home and way of life. In Bangkok, babies as young as 10 months old travel in the driver's seat. No seat belt. No car seat. The baby's mom even breastfed her kid while driving at the same time!

Anything goes in Bangkok. That's why its so refreshing.

Also I forgot how fun it is to get away. Just the 2 of us.

First Sprint Tri

2009-09-14T00:42:00.001-07:00

Any person. Any age. Any fitness level. And a bike crash.

A year ago, I couldn't run more than 2 rounds of a track, swim more than 2 laps of a pool without stopping and cycling to me, was renting a bike at the east coast park.

No one understood why I wanted to do it. I couldn't explain it too. But I had thrown myself so completely outside of my comfort zone the past year, it didn't matter anymore.

I loaded up the car.

Turned up at the race.

And CRASHED.

It was the turning before the second loop of the bike route. I crashed on the bike taking the turn too quickly and landed on my helmet. My face and stomach hit a branch. My neck was sprained badly and I struggled to get up. The bike chain came off. A crowd gathered to see if I was ok and a guy helped me put back the bike chain. They asked me if I was ok? If I needed first aid? I was pretty dazed but found myself asking if the bike was ok? Could I stil ride it? They said yeah you can still ride it and I said I want to go on. As I wobbled up on the bike, the crowd which gathered around started to clap.

I didn't realise how bad I looked until I finished the race and people started looking at me sympathetically and offering me tissues and water. It was only when I looked at the car mirror that I realised my face was entirely streaked with mud and swollen from the fall. From the way I looked you would've guessed I did an adventure race through a jungle and fought a crocodile!

I didn't want to fall...it was my worst fear realised. The lowest low of my physical and mental limitations but if you had to ask me what the last year has been like and how it has changed me, this would've been the defining moment. The old girl would've quit but in trying and trying so hard the last year, I had rehearsed this a hundred times before. Falling down, picking myself up.

So when it came down to it, I knew what I had to do after the crash.

Dust the dirt off. No bones broken? Keep going.

2009-09-06T07:05:00.000-07:00

First 21

2009-08-20T13:58:00.000-07:00

Made it there just on time at 530. Started the first 1 or 2 km by following the pace of this girl who looked like she knew what she was doing but lost her on the incline at Sheares Bridge....By that time, i was thinking should I U turn? But it was too late! And there seemed to be no practical u turn points.

I had some sort of strategy to jog 9 minutes and walk 1 minute but the adrenaline of being with the crowd and the route march sounds of the pounding feet kept me going. I started walking a bit more after 10k. The U turn at East Coast Park seemed like it would never arrive but I saw the sun rise over the orangey tinted clouds....which was quite a beautiful sight.

Thought i would want to pee at the toilet stops at East Coast but by then, the urge to pee stopped. Has that happened to you? Want to pee, but lose that need to pee after you've sweated.

There was this guy who cut across my path suddenly causing me to trip and almost fall. Wanted to #$%^! at him but he ran off and I had no energy to yell at him.

The GOOD : It was quite well organised - I liked the stilt walkers and the drums. I tried to pysche myself that I was running and watching a street carnival. There were enough water stops and I had half a banana to eat at some point.

The BAD: sweaty army boys. Taking mrt home smelling like sweaty army boy.

The UGLY: There were some serious female runners I think who were aiming to run a fast 10k. They would CLAP very loudly if anyone got in their path and shove people aside. Very ugly.

What I found out about myself: I am a complete sucker for torture and pain! My legs felt like a ton after 15 km. But I sorta kept shuffling

Towards the last turn, with whatever i had, I tried to burst into a sprint. V tired but still pretend to finish strong.

Time 2:46

Going halfway

2009-08-15T00:18:00.000-07:00

Ok I've got the running bib for the ancient women's category and I will be flagging off at 5.30 am with a lot of sweaty army boys. The route starts at the Padang, down sheares bridge, to east coast park and back to the Padang.

To clear all thoughts from your mind that I am completely out of my mind, I give to you, the one reason why running has totally rocked my world.

After 11 months of doing this, I am 15 kgs lighter. 5 kgs is what a bag of rice weighs. Imagine the joy of movement on a frame which no longer carries those 3 bags of rice.

Will be taking it really slow by slow. Jog, walk and aim to enjoy and complete it. If I feel ill, I can always u turn. The way i see it, whether or not I complete, this the furthest I've ever got with moving my lazy ass.

No one asked me to do this. Its going to be really hard going and every step will be a fight against the urge to quit. But I'll be doing this for the fat girl, that I know so well:
- who signed up for her first 10 k 11 months ago,
- who embraced her size XL arms in an adidas clima cool running tank top,
- who had absolutely no idea how she would complete the distance.

And I can't quit on her now.

reading old posts

2009-04-02T07:39:00.000-07:00

I've had this blog since 2005. Its seen me through the darkest and happiest days and I've always had something to share. Lately, I've had less and less to say. With the gaps in the narrative, I dont know how to continue this story authentically. So I spent an hour today, reading old posts. Warmed by the comments I've received. Smiling at the stuff which used to bug me. Snapshots of my life with the crayolas when they were smaller and when everyday, was a big big adventure in this new thing, called motherhood.

I miss those days.

I miss being vulnerable and at once, more grateful for all the tiny blessings.

I miss posting with that level of intensity on this insignificant blogspot.

places we will not go together

2009-01-25T04:22:00.000-08:00

I've noticed that older married couples are ok about going on separate holidays. The husband goes overseas for a golfing trip, the wife goes to HK for a shopping trip with her girlfriends.

It comes with years of acknowledging the separateness of one's likes and dislikes and having a comfort level with that, I guess.

Since my fitness has improved and I agreed with my running friend that we would climb Kinabalu after our 10k, I've started to research into mountain climbing and places to go if you are into nature trails. There are so many beautiful untouched places if you are into that sort of thing.

I didn't know if Gary would go with me one day. So I asked. We had never talked about it before.

Me: I'm just asking to find out if there is a possibility of us going on an trekking holiday somewhere, like Nepal. The capital is Kathmandu right? SIA flies there direct.

Gary: .....

Me: If that's too much, how about Malaysia? Taman Negara.

Gary: As to the former, I will not enjoy the smell of horse manure. As to the latter, I do not fancy the idea of being bitten by mosquitoes. To add insult to injury, to pay good money to have to go through that!

LOL. I love it when he speaks his mind.

New Year's Eve

2008-12-31T00:02:00.001-08:00

Fish

In an hour, a good friend who is going away for 2 months is bringing her fish to me. Six fish with a bottom feeder. Just because I have kids, people assume I can take care of small creatures (not!). I tell her that I am really bad with fish and that they have very limited life span under my watch. That they will surely die and she must not feel bad or ask for them back. She tells me that its ok, its ok if they die and she will not feel bad. I don't know how this is any better than flushing them down the toilet but the fish will be delivered to me in an hour - the hospice for abandoned fish.

Cat Recollections

Obviously people have faith in my animal rearing ability despite my bad track record. Earlier in the year, my brother brings me his fat cat, Chloe because he is going to the States for 2 weeks for training. He arrives with a large litter box and a pack of dry food and snacks and a tshirt bearing his scent. Chloe runs under my sofa and pisses on his lap when he tries to comfort her. She is soo scared. For the next 2 weeks, Chloe pines for my brother in my house losing weight even though we lay out lots of food for her. I rationalise that the weight loss is healthy for her. 2 weeks passes by too slowly. My brother returns and as I watch her reunite (happy meows and affectionate purrings) and as she piles into the car with my brother...it is as tearjerking as seeing an orphaned child returned to her parents she thought were dead but were not actually.

Clearing out my wardrobe

I end the year with a happy story about my wardrobe. It was a big mess so I tried to organise it into neat piles today. Its funny how your wardrobe can tell you a story about what's happened in your year. I tried on my old pair of Levi's faded jeans which I couldnt fit in at the start of 2008 and due to running, it now fits. For a change I put aside clothes which had become too large instead of too small. I also packed in a neat pile, my new clothes - dri fit tops, running shorts, swimming cap.

That's just a reflection on what's on my mind today and also, I wanted to wish everyone who has been giving me encouraging comments and just being there, a very happy new year.

Postcript Jan 1 - one fish died today.

Mr Andrea Bocelli will you do house call?

2008-12-28T05:30:00.000-08:00

Mr Bocelli: And they lived happily ever after.
Elmo: Aw, that was a nice story.
Mr Bocelli: Hey Elmo, time to close your eyes and go to sleep.
Elmo: Aw, Mr Andrea Bocelli does Elmo have to?
Mr Bocelli: Elmo, we had a story, a song, its late and you must be slee-py.
Elmo: Elmo isn't sleepy. Elmo wants some water and another story. Elmo's eyes are open wide awake and Elmo doesn't feel so snory!

first 10k

2008-12-14T05:54:00.000-08:00

A strange out of body experience happened over the last 13 weeks. I got abducted by a UFO - the exercise aliens who switched my earthly body (which never went beyond 2.4km) for a new one.

Well, that’s what it feels like confronting the new me, who likes to run! If you had a camera panning how hard I trained the past few weeks, I would not recognize myself....but crossing that 10k finish on 7 December 2008 in that turquoise tank top size L and running shorts revealing my fair and meaty arms and legs, you only had to see in my sweat streaked face, that this was really, one of those moments which makes me want to break out into that theme song from Greatest American Hero.

As I ran, I thought about the female heroes who have lifted me at times when I was down - Jinn, my sister in the US who I am missing this Christmas and Min, my running partner who ran with me throughout this journey even though she's much faster.

My cheerleader and sporting apparel consultant who still looks great in tight jeans, Gary and the crayolas for providing the most compelling reason to get off my ass.

As well as the other sistas who have kept me inspired along the way.

And the plate of char kway teow at the end of the rainbow.

Sing with me!

Look at what's happened to me
I can't believe it myself
Suddenly I'm on top of the world
It should've been somebody else

Believe it or not
I’m walking on air
I never thought I could feel so free eee eee
Flying away on a wing and a prayer
Who could it be?
believe it or not, its just me! – Greatest American Hero

The painter and me

2008-11-02T04:10:00.000-08:00

A few months ago I looked up the ads in the paper to find a painter. I wanted to find a painter who would complete the job quickly, with pride and not cut any corners. Someone I could communicate with directly without having to go through a main contractor.

Poh, as he called himself was the quickest to respond. Within an hour of calling him to make an enquiry he turned up at my doorstep with a book of Nippon paint samples. He looked over 60 but he had the lean and leathery appearance of someone who had spent a lot of time working in the sun. He spoke to me with halting English and I tried to respond with halting Chinese. He told me that he had 17 years of experience, that he would complete the job with his brother and that he would start immediately by tomorrow. He would need an upfront payment to buy the paint and he would go buy it now. I was struck by the directness of his approach and gave him the payment. The next day, he turned up with the canisters of paint and started working. I was pleased that i had found someone so reliable.

The same evening, I turned up to inspect his work. He was shirtless and I was startled to see that he had tattoos over his back. These were not fashionable tattoos but old style Chinese gang tattoos which were crudely rendered and had turned the colour of jade over the passage of time. I wondered what sort of rough past he had but that was irrelevant now - he was working hard for honest pay. I felt an enormous welling of gratitude, offering to go out and get a packet of dinner for him. He must be hungry, working so long?

He accepted the offer for food, but stopped painting to say "Ms, I am going to ask you something but you can say no. I have a bungalow job in Katong. I need to pay for scaffolding. Can you advance me more?"

It didnt take me long to say yes. I wanted to support his work. I wanted to help him take on more jobs so I skipped down, got charsiew rice and made a withdrawal from the ATM. I gave him the money and he assured me that he would complete my painting job by the weekend. I told him that I was trusting him and he could not run away. He laughed "If i run away with this small piece of money, I would get knocked by a car, my whole family would get knocked by car".

The next day, I couldn't get Poh on the phone. I rang and rang to check on the progress of the job but there was no answer. Finally at the end of the day, I got him and he said that he was busy working "Very sorry Ms." He arranged to meet me on Saturday at the flat. He said he would discuss paint choices.

The rest of this story, it is painful retelling the details. The unanswered phone calls, the hours he made me wait without turning up, my elevated blood pressure. For someone I moved my trust in, beyond that of a stranger and represented whatever I wanted to see, goodness, honesty, a rugged old man struggling to make a living with his hands - he did a runner on me.

I went on to finish painting the flat with help from Delwa, my mom's condo gardener, a Bengladeshi who turned up when he said he would and never stated what he wanted...he accepted whatever I paid him whenever. It was Delwa basically who restored my faith.

Did i make a police report? No.

I let it go.

water bottle

2008-10-14T13:00:00.000-07:00

Someone who has lived only slightly more than 1000 days on earth has caught on to one of mommy's unhygenic tricks - bringing out 1 water bottle for the purpose of delivering water to 2 kids.

I have no qualms about letting them share a water bottle. After all, its just saliva and it saves me from carrying out 2 water bottles.

Carrying out water bottles I do not enjoy. They leak in your bag if you don't screw the cap tightly so 2 water bottles enhance the odds of water leakage. 2 bottles weigh more than 1, not bad enough you are carrying wet wipes, their enrichment textbooks and crumbly biscuits which have a tendency to become a collection of crumbs finding their way to corners of the bag.

I brought out 1 bottle on sunday and before Shane went to reading class, I gave him a swig...I never let him bring a bottle of water to class because he doesn't close the cap properly and i can always tell which enrichment bag belongs to my son even if you remove the name tag - it is the one with soggy textbooks and water dripping out of the corners. Like mother like son.

When Shane goes into reading class, I take this time to be with Alix. Routine always is:

1. see the live crabs at supermarket

2. shopping treat of the week - glico pocky or yen yen biscuits

3. one spin on the mechanised helicopter or train

4. go to v hive the furniture shop for free spin on the rotating office chairs

5. go to diy shop to look at strange looking tools

With all this activity, she got thirsty and I offered her water off the spout of the water bottle. It was her pink water bottle, the one she carries to nursery everyday.

Alix: I want water.

Me: Here.

Alix: I smell something.

Me:....

Alix: I smell ko ko shane.

Me: .....

Alix: It is ko ko shane saliva!!!

Her super sensitive nose detected the alien traces of saliva!!! So I started offering ways to placate her.

Me: I can wash it. [using tissue to wipe] see clean already?

Alix: Still smelly.

Me: It is not shane's saliva. It is MOMMY'S SALIVA!

Alix: I don't want mommy's saliva!

This went on and on for about 20 minutes. I considered letting her go thirsty but water is essential for survival. Factoring the cost of bottle of mineral water, the emotional cost of having her unhappy for the rest of the day and the possible impact of her refusing the saliva stained water bottle the next day in childcare (the place where children fend for themselves), I relented and let her buy another new water bottle.

In the hygiene battle, 3 year old wins:

Alix: 1

Mommy: 0

Jinn

2008-10-03T12:27:00.000-07:00

The only person who believed that I could run; made me believe that I could do it, was Jinn.

I got to know Jinn in Secondary 2. She was the skinny girl who ran fast during PE. In Secondary 3, we sat next to each other and found common ground ignoring classes in favour of acquiring real life skills.

When we were caught reading romance novels under the desk, she’d whisper to me:

Stop looking so guilty. If you stop looking so worried, you won’t get caught.

I never unschooled myself from that look of guilt but every so often, when my brows furrow with worry, I remember.

xxxxx

She was good at things that I was bad at - Art, Chinese and singing the latest hits; though she never made me feel inferior. She’d look at my still life of a watermelon and laugh. Trying her best to make me feel better, she'd say

Even if I tried really hard, I could never draw like you!

She never corrected my badly worded Chinese compositions because she thought it was pure art that someone could assassinate the Chinese language the way I did.

And when it came down to singing the latest hits, I never had to sneak the radio into class because she was my live feed. Fans of the hottest pop channel back then, Zoo 101.6, we gave ourselves animal DJ names – Jinn Jaguar and Carrie Cougar. We spent many hours pretending to be radio DJs, anything to escape the oppression of being 16 and spending most of your day in a classroom.

She excelled in places I never went, making it to the school team and running competitively in the 100m and 200m sprints. Naturally, she was nominated the sports captain of our class but very unnaturally, she asked me to be her sports assistant.

We’ll just plan for sports day and take lots of time off to go stadium ok?

Ok.

As sports day approached, the slots for the short distance sprints filled up, but there were 2 glaring empty slots which no one wanted to volunteer for.

The 1500m race.

She persuaded me to run it with her. She told me we’ll just go there and try not to be last.

But I can’t run!!!

No, you can. We’ll be ok.

I only did it because she was my friend. We turned up on the day of the race, with zero preparation and late. There was only enough time to drop our skirts and dash along the track in our shorts.

I never stopped to look behind, but when I crossed the finish line, it was never discussed what position I came in…we had done the race! With aching thighs, we had no more energies to make it back to school so we went to watch Rainman.

xxxxx

We went to different JCs. She joined the JC athletics team. I joined the choir. She had several boyfriends and I had just one. On my 21st birthday, she gave me a painting depicting both of us, with full chests. I knew immediately that I was the one with the guitar and she was the one with the long cigarette.

When I went to university overseas, we exchanged a few letters. Most of my letters contained pleas to her to PLEASE USE CONTRACEPTION!

There was always something dangerous and reckless about her choices, but I never stopped her. I just didn’t know how to. In fact, I got sucked in.

We were 21 - the legal age to do things without parental consent. She wanted to marry a guy that she met several months before. Her parents would not approve it right now. Would I be her witness at the ROM? I knew it wasn’t the right thing to do but I couldn’t say no.

You will tell them when they’re ready to accept it yes?

Yes. Yes.

And so I just went along and we never told her parents. Do I regret doing that now?

Yes. Yes.

xxxxx

Just as Jinn’s life seem fully sorted out – she enrolled in a course at the polytechnic, got married to a guy who seemed fully committed to her, something happened which made her stop running. Which crashed not only her life but also the shape of our friendship.

I was 24, working in the law firm late. My first job. The phone call came in. Jinn is in the intensive care. She got hit by a motorcycle crossing the road.

At the intensive care unit, I saw my best friend – fighting for her life.

As time passed, I saw less and less of her husband who was with her when the accident happened. He was very caring at first, made journals of their love, drew her pictures of the past but after some time, he annulled the marriage and disappeared from her life.

In a way, I also disappeared - into my own life. I got myself out of the law firm only to start making new plans for myself. Get married. Travel. Start a family.

This is where it broke down. Realising that I can’t really get back Jinn - not the Jinn who meets me at the burger king in Holland Village wearing her Air Maxes and showing off her muscular calves from all the running she’s done. I couldn't face it so I hardly ever called, visited less and less. It seemed cruel to tell her about my life and the plans I was making. Did she even know me fully? Would she remember?

xxxxx

After some time, years, I received greeting cards from Jinn. Her right hand was no good but she had regained her ability to write with her left hand.

I love you!!!

It was left handed scrawl but the handwriting was the same and she had drawn hearts!

Still, something had crashed inside myself.

Harder to accept than not getting Jinn back was getting Jinn (back with full mental faculties) without the use of her legs. Her rich voice, which was the sweetest sound, was now a shallow whisper.

xxxxx

Jinn was really, the only person that could make me run so it really caught me by surprise that I’ve started to WANT to run again. Slow steps on the treadmill and then my first jog/walk on the open road. And now training for my first 10k in December.

I’ve always been shy about running in the open because I get breathless so fast. Neither do I have a 15 year old heart or the structure of a lean bird, but something has been lifting me beyond my limits and it would have to be Jinn.

Telling me that I can do it.

That its ok to persist against the pain.

To take that worried look off my face.

To be grateful that I can.

Through running comes a sweet relief against the fatigue, fear and breathlessness ….we’re on the track again, hearts ablaze and the only way to run the race is to keep going.

music education and why wear grass skirts according to G

2008-09-21T12:17:00.000-07:00

So I just got myself a uke, inspired to learn how to play it after watching the awesomeness of what the legendary Israel Kamakawiwo Ole could do with this 4 string instrument in his hands.

I learnt some basic chords (off youtube again) and starting showing off my new skills to Gary.

G: Too fast. Slower. No, slower.
Me: So slow already.
G: You know why you have to play slow right?
Me: ....
G: The ukulele is from Hawaii and you know, Polynesians they sit at the beach and they play it really slow.
Me: ok
G: You know why?
Me: Because they are chill. Because they are at the beach!
G: No, not really.
Me: Then why?
G: They have to make the song LAST LONG. All day long, there is not much to do. So they make the song last as long as possible.
Me: ....
G: They also wear grass skirts. You know why?
Me:?
G: Grass skirts mean no laundry. They don't even have to do laundry!

No one (not even youtube) does a better job explaining such things.

one can miss mountains

2008-09-05T17:56:00.000-07:00

From the May 12 issue of the New Yorker

ONE CAN MISS MOUNTAINS

and pine. One

can dismiss
a whisper's

revelations
and go on as

before as if
everything were

perfectly fine.
One does. One

loses wonder
among stores

of things.
One can even miss

the basso boom
of the oceans's

rumpus room
and its rhythm

A man can leave
this earth

and taken nothing
---not even

longing---along with him.

By Todd Boss

little star

2008-07-01T14:28:00.000-07:00

Pointing his finger at the date of my last post, he says "you haven't blotched". Despite the lack of posts, one of the most faithful followers of this blotch, remains my husband. He's seen me through my worst self, adult acne, different dress sizes and he's still there. After 10 years of marriage and 17 years being together.

I marvel at this. I marvel at how anyone makes that decision to remain with one person for the rest of their life and remain true to that commitment.

The year was 1998. That year, Madonna had just given birth to Lourdes and she sang a sweet song about her called Little Star. I remember how he sang it to me all the time that year. And hearing that song again, I recall now, how I actually did it. Get married. He assured me that all he needed me to be, was me.

Never forget who you are, little star.
Never forget how to dream, butterfly.

videographic evidence of the surrogacy of the crayolas

2008-05-25T04:18:00.000-07:00

Did they bring them out again? THEY DID!

My brother and girlfriend brought the crayolas out again. This time, to plaza sing where they debauched on milk shakes, happy meal toys and a visit to the bear making workshop.

how i started juggling and why i'm just passing it on

2008-05-02T16:49:00.000-07:00

I am completely obsessed about colourful flying objects but it wasn't always that way.

Juggling was one of those things that I was interested in, but i never seriously thought I could do it. With 'no balls' to try it, it took a push from someone and a cold and wet winter to get the obsession going for colourful flying objects.

Juggling has brought me so many hours of fun. It has has never advanced my career, brought me closer to material success and lots of people think its clownish. I just smile to myself knowing that - I must really love doing this. That's why.

So, I recently ordered a new set of juggling balls and ordered another set for a friend who told me she was interested and appended this note.

A true story about how I started juggling - which reminded me why it feels so good, to get a new set of balls and to be able to pass it on.

===============

Hi M

When i was a first year student in cold and wet England, I was stuck inthe hall of residence (a very gothic and old manor) over the christmas break. Most of the residents returned back to their homes so I was one ofthe very few who lurked around the hall.

I had no phone or tv and very little money. Staying in hall was quite spooky so i started hanging out with a malaysian guy. We were both from ACJC and he lived in an adjacent hall of residence. He was a quirky fellow and we didnt talk much but we started hanging out to overcome the loneliness of the being in Bristol over christmas. Most of the time he was juggling.

After some time, I thought it would be cool to try it out but I never had it in me to get a set of juggling balls,because i felt that i was too uncoordinated. I really thought that it would be one of those things that I try and fail.

One uneventful December day, in what felt like an unending December month,he passed me 3 oddly shaped juggling balls.

These are for you. they are marked with a cross because they're defects. I got them for a quid each.

I started juggling from that day, spending many hours and days learning the 3 ball cascade. Althought defective, they fit perfectly in my hand. They were made for me. I would have never started juggling if he never pressed those juggling balls on me.

So, guess what....

Since you indicated the last time that you were interested in juggling, please allow me to pass on to you a really gorgeous green and white panelled set of juggling balls of identical design and weight to the ones I started with. I had these ordered and shipped from England (i needed to get myself a new set too).

sofa mom

2008-04-13T00:36:00.001-07:00

The crayolas are asleep, there are dishes unwashed in the sink and I have an hour before they wake up.

I've spent the past 2 weeks at home fulfilling the function which is Grace without the crabbiness encumbent with coming back from the workplace everyday. I pictured myself actualising life with 30 minutes of cardio everyday, going to yoga and baking classes in between day time television while the crayolas were off at daycare. None of that actualised really. I went for one trial session of Hatha at True Yoga and didn't like it. After that, the nightmare ensued. The sales consultant kept calling and I had to alternate between ignoring his calls and blowing him away politely. Truth is, I make a really bad yoga mom. The only yoga pose which i like doing is the one I do at home called 'the tv recline' with a bag of chips, watching all 27 episodes of the last season of Grey's Anatomy.

What troubled me was this. Being at home, really feels like better mothering. I mean, just being there at all times whenever they need you. The simple act of gathering and preparing each morsel of food which enters their tiny mouths and feeding them with the methodical care of a mommy bird who brings worms for her little ones. There is nothing quite like the satisfaction of watching them open their mouths for more.

I thought I'd tire of it. The thing is, as my leave ends in 3 days, I too want more. The house is dirtier. The clothes are not ironed but I will really miss this.

Because

2008-03-21T09:42:00.000-07:00

my OS keeps committing suicide 10 minutes after I start doing anything related to the internet.

Because Grace has been off for the last 2 weeks. Vamoosed to the Phillipines.

Because I really don't know how to fix my computer and my brothers who built it feel zero urgency to repair it.

Posting has been sporadic and dried up much like the plants which I am supposed to be watering every other day.

I have belated posts. Cactus chatter will return soon.

play the guitar, write songs, make pie!

2008-03-16T00:33:00.000-07:00

I received an email from my brother's girlfriend, L. An offer to take them out.

Herbert and I would be happy to take Shane and Alix in exchange for your uninterrupted afternoon/evening 'me' time. :) So, let us know! Go read, play the guitar, write songs, make pie!

As the day rolled by, I told the crayolas that their uncle and je je would bring them out for FUN. Shane was so excited he refused to take his afternoon nap. He kept opening his eyes asking for "when will uncle Herbert come and the fun start?". They did come. This was their first time taking them out by themselves. I had no words, no words to describe to my 32 year old brother - how challenging this could be. It would be best if they just experienced it for themselves.

"There is a sweater in Alix's bag and I put on a diaper to be safe!"

With those words of assurance, I left them holding the babies.

============

I kept checking my phone but received no calls during the first hour, second and even the third. Boy, they're good at this! At about 8 pm, L calls telling me that Alix is crying. She hands the phone to Alix who is sobbing into the receiver.

"We just sat down for dinner, but suddenly Alix started to cry. I don't know what's wrong, I've asked her. I also brought her to toilet."

"She's probably tired and wants to go home."

"OH"

They were experiencing their first taste of TODDLER MELTDOWN.

I wasn't home when they got back so we didn't get a chance to talk. Next day, I receive another email. They crammed in a day more than what Gary and I could have crammed in a month! This was one trippy trip but I'm keeping this email forever, because it is pure love and self sacrifice when someone offers to take your kids out for a day they and I will never forget.

Unlike me, my brother's girlfriend found the words, the words to describe the experience. They spared no expense in making them happy. Alix was given her first barbie and I now know, why ever since the outing - she stops at the ladies section and gazes extra long at the high heel shoes.

=====

I believe Herbert's conclusive words were: I have a new-found respect for Carrie.

The day started out great - we read 'Mog's Missing' in the car. Apart from my very poor enacting of "GULP", I think they liked the story. We had trouble finding parking at the theatre but we got settled in quickly once we got them their own copies of every brochure, flyer, programmer booklet and pen. When the show started, I thought Alix looked a little uncomfortable - she was wiggling about on the cushion seat on the floor, and kept looking up at me. I asked if there's something wrong but she didn't say anything so I pointed out the glowing puppets and kept her attention on the stage. When her discomfort became more obvious, I asked if she wanted to go outside for a while and she said yes. We went out and she admitted that she was afraid of the dark (and perhaps the glowing clown). I read her the story of Circo Korjak from the programme booklet, hoping to entice her with the story and getting her involved with the plot since she has such a fondness for reading and fables. I asked if she wanted to go back in to see Olej become a magician and she said no, so we gathered our things and we headed down Cairnhill to look for a cab.

She was very cooperative and compliant - made no protest at the long walk or even the terrible long wait (30mins). She even helped me hail a cab. We went to Paragon and she was excited about all the bright shops and shiny things and we looked at jewellery and shoes (I showed her what a high-heeled shoe is, as we were talking about the different charms on her Barbie bracelet; we later spotted a rose and a crown). We then sat down for a chocolate oreo milkshake and she was very happy about it. She ran around in the open lobby of Paragon until Herbert and Shane came by to pick us up after the performance ended.

From Herbert's account of the event, Shane was clamouring all over him but was overall, engaged with the performance. They even showed a 'behind-the-scenes' segment,demonstrating the use of puppets and how the entire performance was staged. Shane even got an autograph from the performer!

We were heading to United Square but somehow ended up at Novena Square. It was probably this detour and anti-climatic discovery that we were at the wrong place, coupled with the extra driving etc., that contributed to the kids' fatigue by the time we sat down for dinner. We had a quick energy perk by letting the kids pick out some sweets for themselves before heading to Toys R Us. As we passed a clothing store, I asked Alix if she wanted to look at dresses first before toys, and she said yes. We went to our respective gender-specific sections and allowed the kids to pick out what they wanted. Here, Herbert and I operate very differently. :) He tells Shane that he can choose clothes that are not too expensive, so Shane went about looking at all the price tags first, then eliminated his choices by size. He doesn't show any disgruntlement when something he chooses isn't in his size, he merely tosses it away and looks for another. He saw the pants and said "I want camouflage!".

Alix shows such maturity for her age. She helped me fold the clothes back and put them on the shelf, and is very decisive about her preferences. I would take things off the shelf to show her and if she likes it, she'd insist on seeing if it fits her first. "It fits me", she will declare
before saying okay to getting an item. The only item she independently chose was the salmon-pink top with brown lace.

We went to Toys R Us and again, gave them free reign to choose their items. Alix immediately chose the Barbie with the tiara because of the book you got her I'm sure and she was very excited about listening to the CD. Herbert gave Shane a budget of $20 so whenever he saw something above that price, he would fling it aside with disgust. We are still unsure of Shane's
fixation with 'orange juice man'.

Dinner was (supposedly) at Globetrotters and everything was going well with getting the kids prepped to enter the Play Area. Alix was waiting for Shane to have his shoes and socks removed (we had some difficulty with negotiation over 'orange juice man' albeit appealing to 1) logic: you need both hands to climb up and down the play gyms; 2) security: I promise we'll take care of 'orange juice man' because he's only going to get more broken if he's in there or even, lost! 3) deceit: there is a regulation against taking outside toys in).

Somewhere in this hash session that Alix started to rub her head, cock her ear to her shoulder, squirmed about and started crying. We couldn't get her to tell us what was wrong because she acted like she was in pain, and when I asked if she wanted to go to the bathroom, she nodded. Once there, there was no activity and she cried more, so I asked if it's a tummyache, and she said yes, so I thought she was shy and said I would wait outside. When I checked on her, she said she was done even though she didn't do anything. I have very little experience with children so I said "Alix, I really like you and I think you're such a good girl and you've been so great today. And I really want to help you so I'm going to ask you a few questions okay? Are you in pain?" etc but I guess when she gets in that zone, she closes up. Her distress was so terrifying (for me) so I suggested that we go back out to call you, so she can tell you what is wrong, and in turn, you can interpret her cries for me.

You were right though - she did want to go home. The sudden onset is mystifying but I suppose their impulse control is very limited during their formative years and when something becomes a priority, it is hard to lose focus, or fast. She was now wailing in the restaurant, and by some stroke of luck, 'orange juice man' was no longer a problem and Shane was in the Play Area making friends. We ordered the Bob's Pizza (kids make their own pizza) and a fish and chips to share, but seeing how it was, we got the waiter to make their pizza instead and bag everything. I reassured Alix that we were going home to eat pizza and we did the activity sheets and puzzles, which stopped the crying. Shane was adamant against leaving once he saw that we were bagging the food so we bought Shane some more play time. Then I brought Alix to the Story Book corner and we read a story about an enormous turnip. Alix was still getting teary sporadically so Shane was really nice about leaving eventually, and saying goodbye to all his new friends.

We stopped for Ben & Jerry's (Shane chose chocolate and Alix chose Strawberry) and I guess that was the clincher. She brightened up immediately and we packed into the car singing Pearly Shells.

Thanks for letting us take them out, Carrie, and I'm sorry about Alix's distress. On the whole, they really are quite a joy and I guess this teaches us that fatigue plays an important part in their enjoyment and we should have been more aware of that.

Sorry about the long mail, but I thought you'd like to know how their day went. :)

5 and 3

2008-02-03T04:22:00.001-08:00

The crayolas turned 5 and 3 this week. Their birthdays follow a day after each other. The only reason they do not share the same birthdate is that our obgyn didn't want to conduct a csection on a Sunday in 2005.

In the time it took to conduct 2 emergency c sections (ie 1 hr), we whizzed into their classrooms bringing cake and goodie bags. As they cut their cakes, I recalled the slice which brought them into the world. Seeing them grow never ceases to amaze me. I purposely stood away as they cut their cakes - no longer attached to the umbilicus - they are autonomously - human beings in their own right. Capable of independent thought and action.

Seeing the cute faces and happy expressions of their classmates made me want to barf with the sentimentality of it all, because I am switching preschools in 2 weeks time after 5 years in the present one. The crayolas don't know it yet. Like all changes that are introduced into their lives, this is not their call. Its mine. There is the uncertaintyventuring into this unknown. Wondering whether you're really doing the right thing for them and hoping against wrecking their lives in the process.

The past few weeks have been a conflict of emotions. I've been asked to go overseas for 5 nights as part of training. I said yes but as the day approaches, i feel like barfing again. I can't bear being apart from the crayolas. Part of me, still wants to transplant them back into my stomach again. One day, they will slice away all dependance on me. But right now, 5 nights away from them feels like a csection all over again. A major surgical procedure and painful one.

pass the donut please

2008-01-09T04:48:00.001-08:00

Was it all the festive feasting?

Or was it my sis in law's snap into her pre pregnancy figure 3 months after delivery?

Or was it just wanting to recapture that first flush of being young and in love?

(this is really an excuse to post photos of my bro's new gf. In her hand, she is holding a vodka bottle.)

I slept in for the countdown this year and woke up on new year's day with an

uncontrollable
instatiable
craving for

A DONUT..

Huh, huh that wasnt actually too far from the truth.

It must have been new year madness, but I wanted to get me a treadmill. Yup, one of those things that you overpay for then slowly watch it become a very bulky clothes hanger.

I found something off ebay. Something which was going off at a steal because the guy who had it, stopped using it. While we negotiated the price, he petted his belly to prove to me that it hardly been used.

My wife bought it for me 6 monts ago so that I would lose weight, but as you can see I did not lose any weight.

Its arriving in 2 days time, then I'll provide you with live updates on whether the spirit or fleshy flesh prevails. Worst case situation it becomes another one of those failed new year resolutions which find its way to Cash Converters.

In the bleak midwinter

2007-12-26T09:37:00.000-08:00

I've been a fan of Corrine May ever since I saw her play her songs live in Gloria Jeans cafe in Holland Village in 2002. You might be over Christmas but this song is so intimately expressed, it puts you right in that coffeeshop where she's playing. There is something very comforting about being in a toasty cafe on a cold wet winter's day. While the cars buzz outside, inside - its calm and peaceful.

Watch her perform live at her neighbourhood Peets Coffee where she sips tea and writes song daily.

year end concert

2007-12-15T08:58:00.000-08:00

During my wedding, I didn't even have a someone style my hair professionally.

But Shane got his hair done for the year end concert. Like Dragonball.

I kind of think, that preschool concerts are too elaborate these days with their costumes and choreography and many hours spent practicing. Last year, Alix experienced stage anxiety and burst into tears when the performance started...I wondered if she was better off not having to get up to do this all over again.

I decided that I would stand near the stage ready to whisk her away if she started to cry.

What I wasn't prepared for was this.

Waving to me when she entered the stage.

Doing her own thing.

Watching her on that stage, was like seeing her take those first steps again. That burst of pride and also wanting to burst into tears because your two year old has overcome bursting into tears.

I guess that's why they hold year end concerts.

Once

2007-12-02T08:14:00.000-08:00

In the plane, I hooked up the crayolas to Dora the Explorer and started surfing the inflight entertainment channels for something to watch. I nearly fell off the seat when I found the movie 'Once'.

L told me about Once. She makes films so she's clued into the really good stuff. Interest piqued, I watched a few You Tube clips and started falling-rapidly-in-love with the pairing of Glen Hansard and Marketa Irglova in the movie.

Glen Hansard is the sort of guy that my father never approved of but I always had a tendency to fall for. Scruffy. Lonely. Grungy street musician with zero real career inclinations. With nothing to offer except sad songs and a hunger to create something.

Marketa sings and plays the piano really well but downplays her talent so that Hansard takes the spotlight. In a troubled marriage, she starts to fall slowly. In the end, she chooses family unity before gratifying her own desires. She looks 18 (is about that age actually) but has gigantic adult sized responsiblities.

They are both poor and struggle to make a living. He busks in the streets. She cleans houses and sells flowers. Their first meeting is ackward. Their romance implausible. They never kiss and in the end they don't end up together. But what happens between them making music for that fragment in time, is better than xxx, better than kissing or having a relationship.

Alix's first trip to NY

2007-11-10T12:33:00.000-08:00

I've tried explaining to Alix about New York but there is nothing like her experiencing it for herself. This will be her first trip, unlike Shane who was exactly her age when he made his first trip and done it twice.

Her wee sized world which consists of taking the bus to nursery and hanging around katong will explode to:

the plane experience
a cold climate
wearing different clothes and closed toed shoes

Since I work, there is hardly an opportunity for us to spend so many days together without a break. While it is stressful catering to their needs when I am not used to dealing with them 24 hours in a day, let alone in a confined cabin space of the airplane - the crayolas don't really know all about that. All they know, is that dad and mom are with them, we are going off on a family fun trip and there is no 'work' which will prevent us from devoting our attention to them. Sure, there will be moments that I will wonder what made me want to do this, but very nearly crashing into that divider and not having gotten over that, has made me so grateful for just being around for them.

So, off we go.

flying nanny

2007-11-09T21:37:00.000-08:00

We are taking the crayolas with us to New York tomorrow on the free ticket. We are flying for 20 hours, away from our normal routine and everything which distracts so there will be no intermission from their moods, my moods, their needs and my needs. We will all be mished together, sharing one queen sized bed in a hotel room quarrelling over whether we watch the Disney channel or Ricki Lake.

Fun fun fun.

crazy, losing our mind

2007-11-03T09:00:00.001-07:00

While i like writing songs, I've never been good enough to play in a band or sing in public. Its a solo activity unless you have guitar kakis. A guitar kaki is someone to go to the beach with, drink coconut juice, sing some songs and extract the poetry which is life. It doesn't matter if you don't play well or sing badly, they would still cheer you on. After all, that is what guitar kakis are for.

I left a comment on the Rambling Librarian's music blog about a song he arranged through Garage Band. I thought it sounded great. I wanted to be his friend and have his guitar mojo rub off on me. He introduced me a group of songwriters called Songcraft. It started several months ago, when a guy called Jeremy inspired by the film 'Music and Lyrics' rented a room in the Substation for songwriters to gather once a month. He didn't know how many would turn up but turn up, they did. There are at least 8 regulars now.

I joined in on the 5th session. The format is an open mic. If you have a song to share, you share. If you just want to listen, you are most welcome too. For people who write songs in the isolation of their own bedrooms, it is a big-big thing to share to more than an audience of zero.

Which brings me to my latest song which can be heard in the Songcraft recap - warts and all - bad chord changes and croaky singing. The song was uncompleted for the longest time. If not for this group, I would not have found the inspiration to complete it.

what if love was just a word
a flower that won't bloom
a touch that you could never feel
a moment that was lost

how can you express
the colour and the sound
red is red and blue is blue
so why can't i have you

never to wander too far
never to wake up and find
what you were dreaming
it could be real
its passing like a cloud
what if love was just a word

maybe like the stars that come out in the night
shine so bright
and fill the sky
too far away to find

====

Sometimes I wonder why make up songs. To what end being this emo and spending late nights into the creation of songs?

But finding this bunch of songwriting kakis affirms that I am not the only one sweating blood and emotion into a song. We are all just as crazy losing our mind over this.

not dead

2007-10-27T17:38:00.000-07:00

My last thought turning into the ECP was I am going to a hari raya lunch and I am not bringing a present for the host. My last words to the crayolas were I'm going out but I will come back and look for you.

The morning started ordinarily enough. Playing the guitar. Watching tv. Watching the poster paint dry on the pieces of drawing block. Green. Yellow. Blue. When all combined, they are the colour of autumn leaves. Trying to get them to finish their lunch. Just one more spoon of noodles ok?

I just got into the car when G called to get him from the airport. The timing was perfect. I would pick him up then we would go for lunch together. Turning onto the ECP, I tried to turn on the radio but gave up with fiddling with the knobs, turned up the AC because it was hot afternoon and stepped on the accelerator. It was a simple drive. Straight, no traffic lights and in less than15 mins I would reach the airport.

Because I'm not a fast driver, I took the middle lane. The rest of the journey is a blank recollection. Lulled by the sun, the quietness of the car and the AC burring at me, this is what happened. I dozed off - at the wheel.

The thing which saved my life, which woke me up was the rumble strip installed by LTA. I was jolted awake by the loud BRRR sound.

Rumble strips are grooves or rows of raised pavement markers placed perpendicular to the direction of travel to alert inattentive drivers. As a vehicle passes over the rumble strips, noise and vibration are produced, alerting the driver they are approaching a hazard.

From the middle lane, the car had veered to the rightmost lane. In that split second before I met fatality or the-end, I jerked my steering well to the left. Crunch! The right hand side of the car impacted the metal divider and I barely scraped away alive...I looked at my mirrors. There were cars behind me. I couldn't stop so I continued to drive on.

At the airport, G walked towards me smiling. It could have been a lot different. He asked me whether someone scraped the car. I give him the car keys and wobbily shifted myself to the passenger side "I'll tell you later, but i nearly died". I repeated it several times. I nearly died. Nearly died. G kept a calm and reassuring hand on my lap. His hand felt warm against the layer of cold sweat which had settled on my skin.

The rest of the afternoon continued in a blur - hari raya goodies, warm tea which my friend made for me to calm me down. I admired her new plasma tv then felt ashamed at how, i was hankering again after a new TV. We do all these things. Build our castles. Accumulate our possessions. Distract ourselves with media and pretty things. The vanity of all the things we do to preserve our physical selves. And all it takes is one crash.

I thought about the rumble strip. About the amazing guy who invented it. I wanted him to know that he saved my life with this simple invention. I wanted go on my knees and kiss the entire length of rumble strips along the ECP as well as the LTA. God was that you? You, who mercifully knew that I was unprepared to meet you and sent angels to save me?

When I got home, the enormity of returning to a life which could have ended in an instant, made me feel like a ghost returning to a life that didn't belong to me.

And I can't really get over it.

all poked out

2007-10-21T07:21:00.000-07:00

I've lost my impetus to do anything online ever since I got on Facebook. It is socially exhausting but exhilirating to meet so many lost contacts from the last 20 years from your life. Strange things happen in there. I found a lost uni friend in Facebook who studied medicine. Turns out he's a dermatologist now. I told him about my skin issues. Showed him my spotty images (over facebook), set up a consultation day (over facebook) and after the consultation, he gave blood test results (over facebook).

What was life like before pimplebook?

We have a pet. 3 male guppies who've been named by Shane - Cressie, Boogie and Dolly. The live in a small glass tank with one plant. We feed them food flakes once in the morning. Clean out the tank once a week. After 4 weeks, they are still alive!

What you are seeing is a top view of the tank.

Cardboard house. We've had it living in our living room for the last month and despite the fire hazard and eyesore, it is staying put.

Converse all star high tops. Can I just tell you that they are even cuter when they are sized for toddler sized feet?

you're beautiful but your nose bridge will be pinched

2007-09-14T10:12:00.001-07:00

His eyes are closed but they are quite large when he's awake. Double eyelids too. After 5 days in hospital with no access to internet, my brother had started to notice the behaviour of people for entertainment.

"Staying here, I've observed the behaviour of people. When they are leaving the hospital and the grandparents are holding the newborn...you already see them start pinching the nose bridge to make it sharper. Of course this doesn't work. But people still do it."

Today is his first day at home with his parents. Let the nose bridge pinching and sleep deprivation begin.

Russel

2007-09-11T22:55:00.000-07:00

Russel came into this world on 8.29 am on Sept 11. He is my newborn nephew. Not a minute has passed in the past 2 days without my thoughts being with my sis in law as she was going through this passage called labour which every woman fears but knows she has to brave.

I didn't want to overwhelm them with too many calls but every few hours or so, I would receive a text message.

9 Sept:

First inducement 10 pm little effect and painless so doctor will do second one at 10 am. Gotta wait and see.

10 Sept:

Update. At 6.20 pm, elaine's water bag bursts naturally. Just arrived at delivery suite.

Text message at 10 am today 11 Sept:

El delivered naturally at 8.29 am. Russel small but healthy. Call you later.

When I finally got to see them in the evening, feelings of relief and joy washed over the anxiety the past 2 days. My nephew is in the special care ward, tiny arms connected to a feeding tube. At only 2.1 kilos, it will take a day or two more before we can start holding him.

As my mother, brothers and I peered through the window of the nursery looking at the new addition to our family, my mother remembered the family member who wasn't with us "Your father would have been so happy". Yes he would be. He would be.

Edie Brickell - once in a while once in a blue-ooo moon there comes somebody like you

2007-09-02T01:57:00.001-07:00

How to draw a heart?

2007-08-30T12:16:00.000-07:00

Came home today with a headache made worse by Shane's loud complaints that I

didn't put a present in his bag for teacher's day.
didn't help him make a card for his teacher.

Was also guilted.

All my friends gave a present and card. Chocolate! flowers! EXCEPT me!

Of course I felt bad. Instead of helping him make a card the night before, I made Gary go with me to Timbre to watch a sassy lady with spiky hair play with her band. Basically, everything I wanted to be to be in my teens, she is channeling in her real life. One jug of strawberry margaritas, a late night out and I was paying for it with a headache.

Most parents, the good ones especially, make the effort.

Shane, its just a day. We'll give her a present next Monday ok?

No no I want to make a card. You help me. How to spell Happy Teachers Day?

He started sticking stickers onto a patch of paper kitchen towel folded into fours (to make a card). I gave him a ball point pen. I had never seen him write his letters so neatly and quickly.

"H-A-P-P-Y"
"D-A-Y"
How to spell Teacher Eileen?

My head was spinning as I watched him try.

T! is it T?
How to draw a heart?

By this time, my brain was haemorraging so I walked out to my room for some quiet only to hear him wailing at the top of his lungs. He punctured a hole in the card with the ball point pen and had torn up the entire card in his frustration. He was inconsolable. He had to make a card. Like right now. The time was 1045 pm. Way past bed time.

I remembered there was chocolate in the fridge. One pack of kinder buenos.

D'you want to give chocolate to Teacher Eileen?

But I want to eat chocolate!
Well, if you want to eat it, then you can't give it to her.
I won't eat it. Can I sleep with it?
Don't crush it.

Happy Teacher's Day Eileen from the one whose behaviours and feelings you know so well. I'm writing this post as he sleeps sucking his lower lip dreaming of kinder bueno...kinder bueno....and giving it to you. I can't in three words capture just how much you mean to Shane and us. When you called me to prevent him from climbing, I knew you really cared. Thank you for the past two years and truly, the love you give is the love you're getting back.

V for potty time

2007-08-26T01:17:00.000-07:00

When you're mom to two whose butt washing functions you are responsible for, its best to consolidate tasks.

Want to go to potty?
Both of you go to potty!

And then you wait and wait for the moment that they're done; then you get down and dirty only once.

I don't know when I will pass a day without washing a butt. But right now, the little people sitting on their thrones have the victory.

by the way...

2007-08-22T08:45:00.000-07:00

Once you get your own myspace band page, there is no end to the limits of whoring in order to get friends on your profile.

Today I resorted to calling my baby bro, Herbert.

Me: I haven't talked to you for some time.

Herb: I've got a girlfriend now you know.

Me: Yah, Sherbert! hehe

Herb: Her name is Luwyn. She's really intelligent. There is a lot of chemistry. I can really talk to her.

Me: Is she a Kling-on?

Herb: No, we don't see each other everday."

Me: Cool. "By the way" I have a myspace band page now you know.

Herb: I'll check it out.

Me: I'm making FRIENDS in there too. Dyou have a myspace?

Herb: No. Tell you what, I'll make you a profile then I'll friend you ok?

Mission accomplished :)

Loving it

2007-08-19T22:30:00.000-07:00

At 9.30 pm, I got a text mesage from Tony.

"U must be 'loving' the getai next to ur home."

"I can hear it from my bedroom. Grooving to it."

Every year, I get Getai 10 metres away from my home. The stage area gets erected on a corner of state land. The electric generator comes in. The shiny happy performers arrive.

For those who don't get Getai right outside your house, you don't know what you're missing.

Its time to sleep, but I can't.

lost and found

2007-08-18T11:37:00.000-07:00

Shane, we were supposed to see the National Day parade. We had two tickets! Not just preview tickets but actual day tickets. Someone won in a ballot and gave them to me. I couldn’t believe his generosity but I accepted the tickets gleefully. Fireworks. Goodie bags. Helicopter fly past. Just like Disneyland only free!

I brought the tickets home, kept them somewhere for safekeeping then completely forgot where I left them.

From excitement (getting the tickets), to desperation (losing them), I realized after several days of searching and scouring the entire house that there was really no sight of the tickets.

As the days to the NDP approached closer, the resignation set in. I stopped talking about the NDP so as not to raise your hopes and mine. I even convinced myself that it was too much trouble to go. So crowded. What if it rains. So torturous to sit for so many hours. Who wants to see fireworks?

The sour puss in me, so completely convinced myself that it was not worth watching the NDP that I avoided watching the telecast of the parade with you.

The 9th of August rolled by. The newspaper reports the next day screamed “first NDP at Marina Bay!” For every photo of a kid that I saw waving the tiny national flag on the ST, I actually felt a stab of regret and remorse that I had failed you as a mother. But well, I lost the tickets. I should just write it off.

The thing is, these things have its way to come back to bite you on your arse.

2 days ago, I found the tickets. I found them in all places, in my Bible. I had placed the tickets in there for safekeeping because I was shifting offices and my papers and files were everywhere. I would have found them, if I had just read my Bible! That was how long I had not opened my Bible.

=============

I’ve left the tickets in there. 2 pristine perfect tickets to the NDP. Unused. Not just to remind myself of the NDP that I missed watching with you, but a physical reminder of what happens, when I don’t open the Bible to find the goodness in there. When I put other things, like fretting about the NDP and shifting offices, before my search for God. This was the bittersweet lesson.

my girly girl

2007-08-14T07:04:00.000-07:00

One of the biggest nightmares I had attached to having a daughter is having to tie her hair. I am crap at tying hair. Absolutely hopeless.

Turns out that Alix is a girly girl who likes nothing more than wearing dresses, the colour pink in all her clothes and having her hair tied up and decorated with little clips. All this is very alien to me. When I pick up little girl fashions for her, I have to think about not what my 3 year old self would want to wear (dungarees and tshirts) but what Alix (the dress and skirt loving) would want to wear. When she wants her hair tied up, I call out for GRACE!!

su the bandit

2007-08-08T05:51:00.001-07:00

Between jobs, I had a midlife crisis of sorts contemplating things I did, things I never did. Lost loves. Yoof. First love. Time. How quickly it passes.

I came up with a list of things that I wanted to do before I conk off and decided that I would just do them without thinking of the consequences or feeling malu about it. Just about this time, I discovered myspace band pages and the desire, deeessiiiire, deeeesiiirre (U2)to have my own band page took over. I booked an appointment at a record studio near my home, took my guitar, electronic tuner and just turned up at 9 in the morning.

The sound engineer was a guy called Chia. I asked him for his first name, but he established the distance repeating again his surname "Chia". He was bot-like and emotionless as I spilt my guts singing those songs. He said nothing positive and nothing negative. It was probably the most intimate act I had ever been in with a stranger and robot/engineer to boot. Still we marched on. In 4 hours, the songs were recorded. I nearly died with embarassment when Chia replayed my warbly voice over the speakers but that was besides the point, if I should conk off, the songs will still live!

When I met Chia to pick up the recording a week later, he went through the tracks one by one to see that they were ok. I vigorously nodded my head to ok them, wanting to get away very quickly when Chia said something out of the ordinary "I liked fused to you". Even more ackward than recording the songs with Chia, for a split second right there, I had fallen madly in love with a robot.

This is for G who inspired the songs and for the crayolas who gave me the courage to archive them. Thanks for listening goofiest midlife project evar

creep

2007-07-27T13:39:00.000-07:00

After 6 years working in a job that I love, I'll be posted out real soon. I took some leave not to travel overseas but to catch up with some old friends and hobbies.

The lipstick pink electric was rusty and needed restringing. I went to a guitar shop near my place called EBENEX. The guitar technician used to be with YAMAHA. There was no conscious decision to use him. It was only after he set it up and told me that his name was Beez and used to be with YAMAHA, that everything clicked. He was the guy who sold the guitar to me in 94. It was my 21st birthday present from my father who stood outside the combi shop disapproving of the purchase but buying it anyway.

It was coming back full circle 13 years later.

I've been a but queasy about starting in a new work place. Adjusting to the new job will only add to the white hairs on your head. Is it too melodramatic to contemplate the end of life even before the new job has begun?

In the meantime, I'm driving everyone nuts squacking along to a very bad cover of Creep by Radiohead whose lyrics have more emo-resonance in mid life than in yoof. I'm a creep. I'm a weirdo. I don't belong here.

where the sidewalk ends

2007-07-08T10:34:00.000-07:00

The rains came at night washing away all traces of the fun we had today.

I opened the box of sidewalk chalk bought several years ago before the crayolas arrived. I left them in my office and forgot about them, only discovering them recently when I was clearing my office.

This was the right time. The backlane at our home got recently repaved. Time to deface some public property with my street gang!

Jellyfish

Crab

2007-07-08T00:07:00.000-07:00

Living in Joo Chiat long enough, you notice that there are a lot of bicycles. These are not the latest flash mountain bikes or racers. They are usually left exposed to the rain, chained to a lampost, tree or railing.

These made in China steel work horses are serious modes of transportation, ridden by ah jeks, aunties and foreign workers who have to make their way to market, mrt, beach and Parkway. Seeing how they are used, I want to get one too. There is no need for COE, petrol, parking or maintenance. There is something liberating about chucking them anywhere and so far, I haven't seen the authorities booking them.

Like this.
It was time to get my own ah jek bike. I wasn't willing to spend much for something that could be stolen if I left it out. I fully intend to leave it out in the open chained to a lampost exposed to the sun and rain. But I needed one with a basket. The basket you see, is essential storage for the bicycle chain.

I asked the bike shop guy if he would sell it to me second hand. I wanted something cheap so that I wouldn't fear theft. Best of all, it had that Joo Chiat flavour. Left in the sun. Rusty and probably stolen off someone else. It cost me 45 dollars including installation of a brand new basket. I rode it the wanton mee shop where I would previously have to walk or parallel park and left it on the pavement. As I ate my wanton mee, I saw construction workers sitting opposite checking out the bike.

Yes, that's my bike. Its been on the road and its more beaten than yours. D'you have a problem with that?

I'd stay awake

2007-07-04T14:11:00.001-07:00

Gary got badly injured while playing football on the first day of June so he hasn't worked the past month. Which means he hasn't flown a plane to a far away country which operates 12 hours behind Singapore. I am so used to our time zones being separated, it is weird and wonderful to experience him sleeping when the sun goes down. Usually, he is sleepless when I fall asleep. And when he's asleep, I'm awake or at work because by golly, the sun is out!

I had forgotten what it is like to have a man asleep next to me at night. I don't want to miss a thing. Ironically, I'd stay awake just to hear him breathing/snore (Aerosmith).

After four weeks of getting used to this, I'll miss that when he flies out this Sunday.

I believe in teachers

2007-06-13T13:46:00.000-07:00

Since the crayolas were practically infants, they've attended daycare for most of their waking hours in a large black and white bungalow attached to a big green field. In that big green field surrounded by a large perimeter fence, 60 kids can easily run amok without running into danger. Most of the day they are in non-airconditioned premises. This also lessens the spread of viruses. I liked that it was run-down, kampung and dreamy. But like all old things in Singapore, it will be soon be torn down.

The only thing which is making me stay are the teachers.

=============

Dear Eileen, June and Fiona

Earlier this month, I attended the briefing on the renovations to be done to Arthur Road. In 6 months, the old black and white structure will be no more. In its place, a modern structure with a sheltered drop off area, air conditioned classrooms with the latest teaching equipment and a rubber play area. The parents shared similar concerns - the dust and noise caused by the construction. Would daily activities continue as normal? Would fees be increased?

I kept quiet. The building was after all, badly in need of refurbishment. But a totally brand new learning experience? I wanted the old one. As a parent, I am fearful of any change which would shake the secure foundations that Shane and Alix grew up in.

I asked myself:
With renovation noise, possibly higher fees and a smaller green field, what is stopping me from fleeing to another daycare?

The reason I’m staying is this. It is because of you. The steady and assuring care that has seen me through the best and the worst. Fever, HFMD, kid tantrums, first steps and butterfly kisses. Far beyond just caring. Far beyond the ABCs - you have nourished Shane and Alix’s spirit, deepened the dimples on their cheeks, wiped up their tears and lavished your love.

There is so much that I have to be thankful for. From being a first time parent standing at the threshold of the infant room terrified and unsure about:

a) returning to work
b) entrusting my infant son to daycare
c) whether I could make parenting work while working full time
d) having no other external support

I have learned that when you send a prayer out for help, God sends angels in the shape of teachers.

Even as the bulldozers come in and the construction piles destroy the solid ground on which Shane and Alix learned to walk, then run and play, you are the safe and secure foundations in which I place my trust.

Thank you for always being there.

baby, don't forget my number

2007-05-27T09:40:00.000-07:00

We sit down for our nasi lemak breakfast. Gary and me.

G: Have I told you about Ah Hong?
M: Nope
G: There is this woman who keeps calling me on my handphone asking for Ah Hong. I keep telling her sala! (wrong number). But she keeps calling my number asking for Ah Hong, Ah Hong
M: ...
G: After a while, I get so fed up I tell her Ah Hong xi liao!
M: Hee hee. What did she say?
G: She scolded me lah
M: Does she still call?
G: No
M: That worked really well
G: But that’s not the worst. Wait till, I go on the OFFENSIVE. I have her number. One day, I’m going to call her number and ask for

Ah Hong? Ah Hong?

hoo ha over a skirt

2007-05-18T16:43:00.000-07:00

I have pale and tubby legs but lets just say that they attracted the stares and hoots of all my co-workers today.

When I first started work in the dark ages of 1998, my employer had a no trousers rule for women so I wore skirts on a daily basis. Short ones, long ones…I wore them up the bus and everywhere. I wanted to wear pants but it wasn’t allowed. It was only when I started working at my present work place in 2001 that pants were accepted. Liberated from the skirt, I started to wear pants most of the time.Over time, as the legs did not see the sunshine, they became even more pale.

Through the two pregnancies in 2002 and 2004 and as my belly swelled, I went on to elasticised waists. I thanked my lucky stars for the pants which provided cover for the lower half of my body which was grotesquely expanding, sprouting veins and retaining water.

My legs disappeared forever from public view. At the heart of it, I had a disembodied relationship from my legs and I hated them.

====

But I wore a skirt today. The legs which had never seen the sunlight. A public strip show. The moisturiser was lathered on and the stray hairs extracted.

It isn’t even a very short skirt. It goes past the knee and you get only a small glimpse of the calves. But based on the external reaction, I felt like a middle-eastern woman who wears full body coverings but had titillated the world with a view of her ankles.

There were warm looks of encouragement all around. I walked to the toilet and noticed a male co-worker behind me. I turned behind and he gave me a smile. Not a lecherous smile. He look amused.

A crowd gathered around staring in the general direction of the hem of the skirt and at the nakedness which was the pale-pale legs.

”wow!”
“it makes you look slimmer.”
“so sweet!”
"you should wear skirts more often"

This made me even more self conscious. Should I have worn a longer skirt. To my toes?

romancing kopi tiam

2007-03-30T13:22:00.000-07:00

At the junction of Crane and Onan road, is an old coffee shop. It has been my regular breakfast spot since 1999 when I first moved into Joo Chiat.

I like getting there while its still dark. Spreading out my straits time and teh peng, waiting for the roti prata to get done just the way I like it. Crispy.

All sorts of people trundle there at 6 in the morning. The newspaper vendor and the old man still wearing his pyjamas.

I found out when Gary and I first started dating that he doesn't really eat. If left alone for an entire day he wouldn't eat a single morsel of food. The first meal of the day would be the dinner that I tar pow over to him. But since the crayolas arrived, he makes it a point to go with me to the coffee shop no matter how sleepy he is. He doesn't even fancy prata. But he will do it because it is the only time of the day when we can spend time together without the crayolas.

Sometimes, I see my gym instructor there and we look guiltily at each other because we are both having prata for breakfast.

fierce moment

2007-03-25T14:43:00.000-07:00

Alix is the light child of a plump mom. I've tried everything to coax her into eating more but she will eat only bird sized portions. She won't guzzle formula milk too. The only thing she will consume voraciously is breastmilk.

I don't even think that I have very much left of it but when I am with her, we do this a lot. Sitting on the sofa, she sits on my lap issuing her demand "I want to drink nilp". Then she will proceed to chomp on what I imagine to be dry pulpy remains of sugar cane which has undergone too many rotations of the roller which squeezes it for juice. And what remains are just the dregs and the very last few drops.

At 2 years and three months, I think that it is high time to wean her off. But everytime I come back from work the combination of a) missing her so badly and b) knowing that she will probably be the last baby that I will have, makes it hard for me to refuse.

I've tried asking several mothers. This is what they advise:

a) Use reasoning. Tell them that it is only for babies and they are not a baby anymore.
b) Go somewhere else for 14 days. Somewhere far away where you can't hear her cries and she can't look for you.
c) Apply salt.

So far, I've tried method a. Method b and c are pending.

=====

I found out a week ago that Alix had HFMD. She told us herself "my mouth pain". When I looked inside I saw an ulcer at the side of her mouth. As more and more ulcers developed, she totally refused to eat her solids.

The only nutrition that I could deliver to her was through the petrified remains of the sugercane. And as she chomped away, I banished all thoughts of ever stopping this.

This was that fierce moment again. The first time she rooted when she was a newborn.

Every mother who ever lived has faced that fierce moment when a baby turns its milky mouth to her breast and she knows she is all it has.

Nobody tells you that motherhood is this hard, or you'd probably jump off a bridge. Nobody tells you how all consuming it is to be a mother - how reading goes out of the window and thinking too. - Erica Jong

I don't know if it is her or me. But at the rate we are going and as long as I don't keep a log of time, we'll probably be going on like this until she hits 30.

Eternal Flame

2007-03-10T10:05:00.000-08:00

20 years ago and 20 kilos lighter, I attended my first function at the Mandarin Garden function room. For those of you who are to young to know what this is, the function was THE in-thing for teens in the 80's.

All that was required was:
a) a function room (therefore, the name)
b) mobile disco
c) hormonally charged teenagers who have minimal opportunity to meet with the opposite sex

In order to prep our dancing skills for the function, we would watch Top of the Pops and mimic the dance steps. After practicing many times, I mastered a dancing movement comprising of rhythmic side-step, side-step from left to right together with upper body duck flare of arms for grace and elegance.

The Mandarin Gardens function room held special memories only because it was the site of my first slow dance. The slow dance was the most terrifying feature of attending a Function - from having zero experience with any physical contact from anyone from the male species, you were expected to dance together in an intimate and close proximity if commandeered for the slow dance. That is why I scampered to a dark corner of the room when the tempo slowed and Eternal Flame started playing.

Close your eyes
Give me your hand
Can you feel my heart beating

I wished myself to be swallowed up by the floor when my other friends got asked for their slow dance and I was left standing there, until someone actually asked me.

We stood a metre apart as far as our arms extended like a very straight rod would go. This was as intimate as playing London Bridge is falling down (and we were making the bridge).

Apart from the function, the other vehicle we had for meeting guys was the Campfire. Nobody became a girl guide so that they could learn how to tie knots and pitch tents. The main perk of being a girl guide was attending Campfires.

All that was required was:

a) basketball court
b) Campfire in the middle
c) Campfire songs which were printed on a Campfire Programme
d) hormonally charged teenagers who have minimal opportunity to meet with the opposite sex

It was the tradition for the Campfire Programme to be 'autographed' by scouts after the campfire had ended. So if you noticed someone by the light of the fire, you could signal your interest by asking for their autograph. In their campire programme you could write something cheesily obvious like "Stay Cute!".

====

The trigger for all this nostalgia was attending a one year old's birthday party at the Mandarin Gardens function room today.

The parquet was chipped from the many years of use. It held those ackward teenage memories. Never would I have thought that the next time I go there, I would be meeting a tall pink furry animal. Thankfully, this time no slow dance.

Two

2007-03-09T22:17:00.000-08:00

I kept rewriting Alix's birthday post because i couldnt express just how proud I was about her turning two without boring the internet with my gushiness.

But here it is.

We made our way to her toddler class on Alix's birthday. Two years ago, the same party of people accompanied me when I got admitted to hospital for her delivery. First Shane, then Alix, bonded us all together in this baby love. Holding video cams and phone cameras, the paparazzi of loyal fans focus all attention on Alix.

We went at 3 pm just as she roused from her afternoon nap. The teachers set the table into an afternoon tea setting for 8 tots. She looked absolutely regal when we entered the classroom. She sat upright in her chair with a paper crown on her head. She knew what we were here for. After we sang the birthday song, she insisted on cutting the cake by herself.

The simple celebration in her nursery brought together the primary core of people who have supported me as Alix has grown including (but not limited to) my bro and Elaine, Grace and her teachers, June and Fiona.

Teacher Fiona gave Alix a soft toy rabbit. It is not the daycare norm for teachers to give birthday presents. But this is how much she loves Alix.

Happy birthday Alix! Truly madly deeply, we all love you.

Song for Faithbeline

2007-03-06T14:42:00.000-08:00

Written by the pastor's daughter (aged 15)
In loving memory - 7 May 2000 to 22 February 2007

Is this all that's supposed to be
The meaning of life and I don't know
Why some get to live, others have to die
Diseases and death...robbing people of life

Why, why
God I just don't understand
Yet you are sovereign over all
When the screaming music turns to silence
You say, I'm with you...I'm with you

There must be more than the touch of pain
Found in this life and still I don't know
Why some are in poverty, others in royalty
You say I'm with you. I'm with you.

When I am weak, you make me strong
When I am down, you lift me up
You're the the Faith that makes me see
You're the Hope that carries me
You're the Love that's holding me.... Jesus

Missed Call

2007-03-06T13:41:00.000-08:00

I received a missed call on my hand phone in early February. It was P and I knew the purpose of the call. It was about church. Everytime I missed attending for several weeks, she would invite me again. She had done this faithfully for the past two years. In early 2005 when Alix was 3 months and Shane just 2, I started thinking about attending a church within walking distance of my home so that I could bring the crayolas along with minimal inconvenience. One evening, on my way home from the MRT station, I noticed a sign tacked outside an ordinary looking terrace. On the sign, were times for church services.

The congregation was small about 50. In their pamphlet, they promised not to “prod” and they welcomed the “unchurched”. During the worship session, I heard the most beautiful expression of a traditional hymn that I knew. The hymn was How Great Thou Art and it was sung by the entire congregation in Hokkien. Something in me felt that this was what I was searching for.It was here that I met P. On our first meeting, she told me abouther life story. About her older child Lincoln from a previous marriage,aged 11, who was autistic and her younger child, Faithbeline who was conceived after several miscarriages. Her doctor had advised her to stop attempting for a child due to a blood incompatibility between her husband and her. But they persisted in faith and Faithbeline was the miracle.

As if that wasn't hard enough, when Faithbeline was still a baby, P had a stroke. Somehow, she managed to pull through and take care of both her children without any additional help.

We were the same age. I marvelled at her optimism. In the lottery of circumstances, I was much more privileged with no major health setbacks. And yet she was telling me about the goodness of God?

In the weeks and months which followed, I attended church whenever it suited my convenience. I wasn’t regular with my attendance. During the times I showed up, P always welcomed me to sit with her during service. Our children played together. Her husband doted on Faithbeline and carried her throughout the service. P told me that ever since her husband’s conversion, he stopped drinking and her family would attend church 3 or 4 evenings in a week not including the sunday service.

I admired P's simple but strong faith. She had endured so much suffering. When I sat with her, I felt sheltered. We were collectively under an umbrella of God’s protection and things would be ok no matter how stormy the weather.

=====

After the missed call, the phone rang again. This time I picked it up.

“I just want to let you know that Faithbeline is in hospital. She has a chest infection. The doctors also say that she has a hole in the heart. When her chest gets better, the doctor says they will do surgery to repair the heart. She is now in an isolated ward because her immunity is very low."

The next call was a few days later. It was the third day of Chinese NewYear.

“Is Faithbeline discharged from hospital? Sorry I didn’t visit. The kids were sick and I did not want to carry the bugs.”

“She is still in hospital. We have been here more than a week. We want to go home. The hospital aircon is very cold. Say hello to Aunty Carrie.”

“Hello Aunty Carrie, happy new year”

“Hello Faithbeline!”

“On new year's eve, the doctor gave us 5 hours home leave for reunion dinner. She was sohappy when she got home. My relatives were shocked. They could not recognise her with her face all swollen up. My husband had to carry her. She is only 13.8 kilos.”

“When can she get discharged?”

“Don’t know. They say one two days, maybe one week. I ask them what if morethan a week passes and her condition does not get better….they say she will have to go to ICU.”

The next day, P calls me. Crying.

“She collapsed this morning in the toilet. She is now in ICU.”

I went over to KK at lunch hour. I walked past clinic K where I had seen the haematologist about Alix’s blood results. I remembered the period of anxiety and broke into a cold sweat as I walked into the ICU. As a mother, I cannot think of a valley darker than the ICU of a children’s ward.

Later that night at 3 am, I wake up. I had a missed call from P at 23.37.

At 6 am, the phone rings again. Through the sobs, I hear this ”Faithbeline passed away. The doctor told us to go home to sleep. We were not there when it happened. When I go to hospital, I call her but she did not answer.”

At the funeral service, I saw Gary cry (I have never seen him cry so openly). If it is hard for us to accept, how much more hard is it for P and her husband? Of all people, they could least afford a setback like this. P was a stay at home mother. Faithbeline was everything. They were faithful.

We cry because she reminds us of an older version of Alix.

We cry because you can love your child and want to hold onto them forever but you can run out of time.

I can’t forget the child sized coffin. Her brother had bought a doll and put it inside.

I repent for the many missed calls I’ve felt annoyed at or deliberately ignored from P to attend church with her. For reducing not only her calls but God to an inconvenience.

Her parents bought her new shoes for primary one this year. They will never be worn.

Four

2007-01-30T08:45:00.000-08:00

Because a birthday rolls around only once a year. Because a birthday is a time to overturn all rules banning sugar.

You comply: Party bags. Cake. Balloons. And a fourth resurrected pony.

We made our way to Shane's nursery to celebrate his birthday with his friends. When I heard there were 27, I anticipated disorder but what I witnessed was order and obedience from everyone.

First item on the agenda - cutting the cake. Shane served the slices to everyone who waited in their seats patiently. When they each received their slice, they said "thank you Shane!". So this is the good behaviour in childcare that I never see at home.

When it was time for the pony, I couldn't control the horde so the teacher did the GLARE and all 27 of them settled down for a while. I am so going to acquire a GLARE too.

They each took turns to beat the pony until its outer skin burst. And as the innards of sweets sprinkled over their heads, there were squeals of delight and laughter uninhibited. I memorised that sound in my head because long after Shane tires from paper ponies, I never want to forget what it was like at this moment and time. That sound of all 27 of them when the pinata cracked open will bring it back.

Let them eat cake

2007-01-20T12:40:00.000-08:00

2 weeks away from the real thing I told Shane that we will be celebrating his birthday soon. BAD IDEA. Every morning, he wakes up asking "Is it my birthday?" And I go "Not yet not yet". It is hard explaing the concept of waiting to someone whose concept of gratification consists of having his birthday presents and cake like-right-now. He has been telling everyone in advance that he is four! four! four!

About to be four has gotten specific about his birthday requests. These are:

a) papa and mommy to go to his nursery classroom
b) bearing cake
c) party bags for his friend
d) balloons

I have been fending non stop birthday related requests (CAKE! BALLOONS! ICE CREAM) so when G told me that we had been invited to his friend's birthday party, never mind that it was in swanky Orchard road apartment with lots of grown up genteel adults...this was a good chance to quench Shane's burning birthday desires. There will be CAKE right?

We pulled up at the Colonade. I've always marvelled at the architecture of the building and now I finally get a chance to go inside. We took the lift up 20 over stories. This was my first time meeting the host and birthday girl, Cheryl. The first thing I saw were cupcakes and cookies which Cheryl had baked herself. Not only do they look good, they taste good too. The crayolas stuffed themselves with cupcakes and went crazy on the sugar overload.

I noticed that Cheryl's boyfriend was relocating the wine glasses from the coffee table to locations impenetrable to the small people. Wise move. The loud music didn't bother Alix. She was busy weaving her way in and out of the large sofas looking for an electrical socket that she could play with.

By the time we had to go, fellow January birthday babes had connected. Cheryl read Shane's innermost desires and gave him more cake to go.

Happy birthday Cheryl! For someone to open that gorgeous apartment to us and the little people must be a) out of their mind b) doing it for the first time c) incredibily generous and big hearted. You made a little boy very happy. May the creamy goodness and sweetness of a thousand cupcakes follow you always.

Betel Box

2007-01-11T10:26:00.000-08:00

is a backpacker's hostel in Joo Chiat. Walking by, I always wondered what went on in there. I heard good things about Tony, the owner. Apart from running this 24 hr operation, he finds the energy to personally conduct foodwalks for his overseas visitors and brings them out for tours in exotic parts of Singapore. With no business going in there, I've never gone in. Gary and I got to know Tony recently and he invited us to join him for his 43 km cycle ride around Singapore which happens on Sundays. Gary wanted to try out his new bicycle so off we went. Me, I just wanted to imbibe the energy of a backpacker's hostel on a lazy Sunday morning.

The briefing for the cycle tour started once we popped in. An international assortment of young people, bleary eyed but ready to adventure out for the 43 km cycle ride.

More interested in lazing, I cozied up to the surroundings.

Alix fitting right in.

We got a chance to hang out with Lucky the resident cat and Xuelun, a 23 year old who recently graduated from university but works at the Betel Box part time.

I asked Xuelun what life is like working in a place like the Betel Box. What is the first thing she does in the morning? She gamely answered "In the morning, guests look for three things. Internet, breakfast and laundry. Oh and clean toilets too."

And just as I was thinking of how cool it is working in a place like the Betel Box, I saw the future. The crayolas will become teens and one day, home will perform this function to them too. Internet. Meals. Laundry. Toilets. That didn't seem so cool. I am not sure that when the time comes, I will find it in me to have the good spirit of the people who run the Betel Box. Apart from tending to internet, meals, laundry and toilets....they are hospitable, maintain an open mind and find the energy to do fun stuff and go for explorations with their guests.

When the time comes, I certainly will remember the Betel Box and remind myself to be more like Tony and Xuelun and less like a grumpy old woman. Maybe we can even go backpacking together.

car fumes and fireworks

2007-01-01T01:31:00.000-08:00

This is what alone on New Year makes you do.

After the crayolas fell asleep, I tip toed into the kitchen and made a load of ham sandwiches (ham leftover from Christmas) and made my way to Sentosa. My east coast massage buds were ringing in the new year on siloso beach. G was away working.

The jam started once the van hit the ECP and we snail crawled up benjamin sheares bridge. We ended up on the top of the bridge at midnight. Without planning, I got front row seats to the fireworks display. The jam made it happen. The cars started horning loudly and continuously at 12. There was an open-top lorry which held a family of more than ten next to us. Their cheers when the fireworks started was the opposite of my fouling mood. I rolled down the windows off the van to yell happy new year. After that the window mechanism went kaput so the window wouldn't roll up. I inhaled the collective fumes of 10,000 cars jammed on the bridge. I was feeling pretty ill and I wasn't sure which factor was contributing more to it a) fireworks and car horns b) car fumes inhalation c) van starting and stopping in the jam and d) being thousands of miles away from the person I really want to ring in the new year with.

On Siloso, massage beds and the company of Ivan.

He does massage with angel wings.

There were foam pits but I stayed far away. I made my way to a bunch of people dancing to brazillian samba drums and danced ackwardly. It felt ackward too. Assured myself I am much cooler like, when I am not dancing and trying to be a beach partygoer.

After watching the weird and wonderful sights for 2 hours, I headed back. Alix had woken up and was still crying when I got in. As I raced up and picked her up warm as a puppy, I thanked God for the normal in my life and Grace who kept watch while I went dancing in my beach slippers. Sometimes it takes an escape so that you can could honestly know, I am much better off at home.

Dragonfly

2006-12-28T08:02:00.000-08:00

Petite Fleur reacts like a mimosa (touch-me-not) among unfamiliar people and surroundings. She cocks her head inwards and withdraws into her shell.

We were at Katong Mall's Christmas carnival. Loud music. Crowds at the stalls. The sort of place that she clings on even tighter. A nice lady was doing glitter tattoos. I wasn't sure whether she would sit right through it. But she nodded her head to indicate that she wanted one.

Pensively, she maintained her courage.

This wasn't just glitter and glue. She overcame her shyness and got her first tattoo.

All I want for Christmas

2006-12-24T18:41:00.000-08:00

You don't have to visit Santa's toyland to find toys. These are toys in the shower tray which are there all year round.

I don't need a present when all I want is right here.

No sleeping in late too when the tiny occupants go shopping at 7 am.

Free man for grabs. The cutest member of my family, my baby bro Herbert aged 30 has offered himself up for the Free for all Christmas Grab! He bears resemblance to Tay Ping Hui and some say Ekin Cheng. 1.8 m. Eats healthily but smokes too much. If you fancy babysitting duties with the crayolas and see yourself nagging at him to stop smoking, you have passed the sister's audition.

In his own words "Lets just say that in love and relationships, I am very PASSIONATE."

Through the looking glass

2006-12-22T05:20:00.000-08:00

I took the week off before Christmas so that I could soak in the festivity of the holidays. It was literally soaking wet in Orchard road due to heavy rains. I walked around the Hilton en route to Toys R Us at Forum Galleria. Was imagining an alternate reality of what life would be like if I was a tai tai doing my usual daily rounds - sending my child for enrichment at Forum Galleria and shopping in designer boutiques. Watching the rain pour as I sip a latte slowly from the al fresco portion of Coffee Bean. After that, I made my way to Wheelock and imagined what it would be like to book an appointment at the nail bar. Laughing at the overpricedness of it all and how boring and empty that would become on a daily basis.

Until I was annoyed to find, a scrap booking shop on the second floor nestled between the overpriced nail and facial bars. Annoyed because, of all the things that I saw that day, this was the ONE thing that I would die for to do. I stopped to observe a live scrap booking class. Before my eyes, the insult! They were given free run of gorgeous paperie in all manner of colours. They were using special scissors to cut eleborate edges on the paper. One of them, was musing what manner of font she should use for her photo captions. When the class ended, they packed up their craft material into cute bags with custom made pockets to organise their craft material.

=====

My leave ends tomorrow as I return to work and a reality of paperwork which pays the bills. But somewhere in my dreams, a fantasy version of myself is in that scrap booking shop working on paperie which does not pay the bills.

Wishing everyone, a fantasy Christmas and a very happy new year.

A genteel party

2006-12-17T08:10:00.000-08:00

The tables were set. For 7 adults and 6 little people.

The genteel hosts.

The great thing about having friends over for a meal is that they will cheer in approval at any food that you present so long as its home made. The shepard's pie looked liked the real thing. The rehearsal helped. But nothing incited whoops of delight like the children's centrepiece. Doesn't it look out of this world, like it landed from outer space? Hey its actually a cabbage, used as a pin cushion to pierce the cocktail sausage, quails eggs and cheese cubes.

We recycled the third used pinata, a pony by wrapping toilet paper around the cavities which were previously beaten out of it. Without having seen the pinata yet, a mom, noted as a word of advice to us all.

"We don't choose ponies, cats, animals as pinatas in case the children get the idea that its ok to hit animals. We usually get a flower, star or non animal object."

Right there and then, in the pent up frustration to wield violence on the pinata which would yield the sweets falling out, Shane yelled.

"I WANT TO BEAT THE PONY!"

Bollywood Queen

2006-12-12T10:55:00.000-08:00

The All Shapes gym that I go to held its first annual D&D. The theme - Bollywood nite. I am not good at dolling up, neither do I have any clue how to dress up in Bollywood style but Maria, my next door neighbour who is one of Singapore's top bridal planners and make up artists totally sorted me out.

I went into Maria's bridal studio in my shorts and T shirt and emerged. Bollywood Queen.

This was my handsome date.

I want to include photos of my posse of exercise friends, but am not able to because most of them are conservative head scarf wearing Muslims. The party kicked off once the last male catering staff left the function room.

"Ladiees, you can take off your head scarf now!"

Maria did such a great job transforming me, I was selected out of 80 women at the dinner party to be one of the 20 contestants for the title of Bollywood queen. When my name was called, I walked on stage and had to catwalk in my outfit.

Sashay. Sashay. There was no inhibition. The women there had seen me at my worst. Sweaty in the gym, straining through ab classes with no abs to speak of.

From 20, they eliminated to final 5. I was in the 5! I was more interested in wolfing up the gado gado but they made me dance on stage again to Hindi music. With no talent there, I didn't make it to the final 3. But still. It was truly a night to remember for life.

I had LONG TRESSES, people. Maria affixed a hair piece which gave me these long brown curls which draped on my left shoulder.

Some of the women took the mick.
"You look like a movie star. Can I have your signature?"

The funniest thing was when people who knew sat next to me, didn't know who I was until I opened my mouth to say something. Their mouths dropped when they realised it was me.

I was just attending a dinner. But through the makeover magic, I felt like a celebrity attending a Bollywood gala to receive an award.

Several women got up on stage to share about their weight loss. There was laughter and tears all around, for what is Bollywood without these elements?

The most valuable memory from that night was the Oprah affirming moment, when our trainer took the stage and talked about why she went into women's fitness. It was to help women with their weight.

"Weight" she said "is not a number. It is how good you feel about yourself."

Thank you All Shapes. I'm feeling much better.

Do I hear party?

2006-12-05T08:31:00.000-08:00

Sometimes, if you're afraid of doing something. Saying it aloud helps.

"I was thinking of having a little Christmas gathering"

Then, you request for dates of availability.
"Are you available for lunch on 16 Dec?"

When they reply that the date is good, there is no backpaddling.

I'm having 6 adults and 6 kids under the age of 5 over for lunch on the 16th.

After brainstorming the possibilities of cuisine, I've come down to the conclusion that Shephard's Pie is it. Easy to cook, requires minimal chewing and will suit the palate of both adults and children.

The only thing is, I have never cooked a shephard's pie. And rehearse I must. There is nothing more terrifying than cooking for a party of friends and attempting a new recipe that you're trying for the first time. In order for it to look effortless, practice is the key.

After work today, I shopped for beef mince, onions and garlic, potatoes and milk. Grace wanted to learn something new too. I couldn't shoo her away so I narrated like a talking cook book.

"Brown the beef together with the onions and garlic. Add in the peas and carrots."

She did most of the preparatory work. Peeling the garlic and onions, mashing up the potatoes. I was the head chef, doing the tasting work and giving out directions. I wanted to be the junior chef, really. But she wouldn't let me. That's why I need to take over the kitchen on Sundays.

We put lots of cheese on top of the mash and put it in the oven to bake. As I guessed, you can't go wrong when you combine beef mince, buttery mash potatoes and melted baked cheese.

The most deceiving thing about Shephard' s pie is that it is such an ordinary comfort food, they will think that I am just whipping out something that I normally do which happens to taste great at the same time. Oh its just home cooking you know...chortle chortle.

Try to present something out of ordinary like a hungarian beef ghoulash or a sushi platter and they will think that you are trying to impress. But of course, it is all about making an impression and slacker cook is cramming for the final presentation.

Slacker cook

2006-12-03T13:00:00.000-08:00

Apart from boiling up pasta and frying up the odd fish finger, I haven’t really cooked much in the past few years. Grace prepares all the kids meals and she is so capable, I leave her to do the menu planning and marketing.

Sometimes, if I have friends over, its always the same presentation. Tiger prawn linguine with shitake mushrooms. It’s the easiest dish to prepare which requires minimal preparation. You chop up the garlic and shrooms, boil up the spaghetti, peel the prawns and you’re done!

The other thing I’m lazy enough to cook up are leftovers. Half onion in the fridge will be tossed into the egg omelette. Overnight rice is fried up with the meats and veg left over from yesterday’s dinner. That’s why Chinese cooking is perfect for a slacker cook like me. Toss up something with soya sauce and a bit of pepper and you have a stir fry.

But today, I attempted something very different. A Thanksgiving Meal comprising of:

Pumpkin soup
Christmas stuffing
Mashed potatoes and
A roasted bird!

I had the guidance of my mom’s friend who is visiting from the States. She is married to a westerner so she knows how everything is supposed to taste and turn out.

The kitchen looked like a war zone after we’d done. By actual cooking, I realized that my kitchen lacked very basic items a) potato peeler b) knives to accompany forks for western cuisine c) flour for thickening the gravy. I made a quick trip to the 7-eleven to get more butter for the mashed potatoes.

Its been a long time since I’ve been that drained after cooking but I felt a great satisfaction when my brother and his wife came over and tucked in. There was so much to go around, I managed to feed an additional friend. The smells of butter, thyme and sage were permeating in the house from all the cooking. When Grace goes off on Sunday, I usually request that she prepares our meals in advance but there is no need for this in future. Today’s meal provided me with the ‘kick’ I needed.

So this is my December's Resolution:

Once a week on Sunday, I will make it a point to navigate my own kitchen and feed family n' friends food prepared by my own hands.

This isn't something which I thought of myself. My colleague, Lynette started cooking every Sunday. The reason: so that her kids could grow up with a concept of how their mom's cooking tastes like (good or bad). Some things will not change - we'll be trading our quick and easy fish and chicken recipes, some of which start from a base of campbell's mushroom soup.

Wildlife encounters

2006-11-19T10:10:00.000-08:00

Ever wake up in the morning not sure whether its a working day or not and being relieved that its a weekend day after all and you don't have to go to office?

Well, I woke up this morning, not quite sure which day it was. Upon realising it was Sunday, I thought to myself.... another working day. Which is what weekends are like. Hard work. I flex muscles which I don't use the entire working week and it shows. The tension headaches which follow after my eyes dart in all directions in order to keep an eye on the crayolas. They are so active - I get such good value for my daycare dollar.

I threw them out into the five foot way to let them run out their energy. All this activity has this single purpose in mind. Are you tired now? Want to nap?

We noticed some top soil was scattered on the floor next to one of the plants in the corner. A closer inspection revealed this.

A lizard or little reptile dug a little hole and was laying its eggs onto one of the flower pots! We didn't have to travel to Kuantan to see the turtles laying eggs. Wildlife egg laying was happening right in front of us.

This was the best shot I could get using the zoom function on my point and shoot. Too scared to go close.

The crayolas were fearless. They crouched near the pot and made a lot of noise observing the lizard laying the eggs. But the lizard didn't move at all from its spot. It was so focused on completing the job.

This is what we were watching.

If you think that this is an amazing wildlife encounter, on Saturday we had to call in a pest exterminator to remove a bee's hive which was growing on a wall near the roof. Grace saw it and brought my attention to it. She is always calm even when conveying alarming news.

"I show you something. Very dangerous."

The pest exterminator showed me a specimen of the bee after they removed the hive. He explained that it was a Malaysian bee. Larger than a normal honey bee, I asked the pest exterminator what happens if these type of bees sting you.

"You die lah."

Which explains why I had to use his services.

A nutcracking time

2006-11-10T22:31:00.000-08:00

It was time to set up the tree. The fake tree with blinking lights which would make us feel all warm and oozy with the spirit of Christmas.

The wooden ornaments from the $2 shop were duly assembled.

The theme? A russian nutcracker ballet. But we were true to our roots. The tree, lights and ornaments were entirely made in China.
A few tips:
1. Start with the lights
2. Then the background
- baubles and silvery strings
3. The foreground is last
- ornaments

We were so eager to do the silvery strings and the ornaments, we did the lights last and had a hard time stringing them without messing up the ornaments which were already hung.

Not bad for a first attempt?

Happy Birthday Matthew

2006-11-10T12:16:00.000-08:00

My nephew, Matthew turns 3 today. I have only seen photos of him because he lives in North Carolina - in the southern part of the USA. My sister and her husband who is a cardiologist moved to the USA several years ago to further his medical training.

Now, I don’t know much about North Carolina. Someone told me that there are lots of wheat fields. So I imagine, my nephew sitting in a wheat field and my sister hanging her clothes on an outdoor clothes line. But that’s just my imagination. The internet tells me that North Carolina has more than 8 million people. It has one of the fastest growing immigrant Asian populations. It is many times bigger than Singapore and it is mostly urbanized.

Mostly I’m still amazed how my sister does it. She manages her 2 sons and a 3500 sq ft house without additional help. I’ve seen her do this before. When I was 9 till uni, my sister who was the oldest child was given the responsibility of taking care of her three younger sibs. She practically raised us. She was instrumental in how I turned out.

Unlike me, my sister always had the study smarts. She was a straight A student. When I was in my final term in college, she made me accompany her to the law faculty library to study. She wanted the best for me and when I didn’t get a place in the Singapore law faculty, she encouraged me to pursue a law degree abroad. When I told her that I had apprehensions about studying the law because it was a difficult course meant for really smart people, she (who was already a practising lawyer) said this.

“Don’t worry, lots of STUPID PEOPLE practice the law.”

=================

Happy birthday Matt! . I couldn’t wish on you a better birthday present than the one you got in the first day of his life – your mom, my sister.

Weekend at home

2006-11-07T12:23:00.000-08:00

We were going stir crazy so we crammed in lots of activity.

Planting green beans into cotton wool and to value add to the fun - water guns.

There was nothing I could do to positively encourage the crayolas to be interested in the piano except discourage them.

"No, piano is for big children only."

They climbed on even more eagerly onto the old upright. It was out of tune and the strings were rusty due to the teardrops shed into those keys during forced practice sessions (endured during my childhood).

Aerial shots of duplo are kinda cool.

The weekend is over, but we have bean sprouts.

The Ring

2006-10-26T18:53:00.000-07:00

See this kid here?

He made me cry two nights in a row while we were in NY.

First Night. We arrived there jet lagged and sleepy. Shane started bouncing in the hotel room and while I momentarily dozed off, something happened.

He ate an adult sized panadol. I had placed it on the hotel table in a tranparent toiletry bag. Zipped up. He managed to undo the zip and swallowed the pill.

When I woke up, I noticed that one of them was gone and it was too late. It was already ingested, overdosing his kid sized organs and we were were thousands of miles away from familiar healthcare.

On the Second Night, we were getting ready to go out for rice and pork katsu. He was excited "hurry up! I want to eat pig!". After getting ready, I turned around and noticed that my wedding band was gone.

"Where is my ring?"
"I do magic! Its in my ear. See?"
[Frantically looking around, but not finding it. ]
"Where did you put it?"
[Sticking out his tongue, still thinking it is a joke.]
"I do magic"
"Did you EAT IT?"
[Guilty nods, tears welling in his eyes]

This is where it got very ugly and dramatic and mommy started to cry.

To cut a long story short. We nearly made it to a hospital in NY at the dead of the night at 3 am. We called 2 cousins who were doctors in Singapore for over the phone advice and there was much mashing of wooden chopsticks over poop to find the ring.

The next morning after what was one of the worst nights of my life, Gary said we should do a thorough combover of the room just in case he didn't swallow the ring.

We found it, under the bed. The boy had thrown it under the bed and told me he had eaten it when he couldn't find it. It was that or I had 'beaten' a confession out of him.

I asked Shane why he told me a lie. It was only now, he told me the truth.

"I only ate the poison [panadol]."

Fear of Flying

2006-10-16T03:30:00.000-07:00

3 days from now, we’ll be taking our annual trip in the sky to expend the Free Ticket. To get maximum mileage out of this, we’re flying 19 hours to New York on the non stop.

Alix will stay behind in Singapore. Everytime I go on a plane, I have horrible thoughts. I wrote a will, appointed guardians for the crayolas and scenario planned for the worst. I wondered how airline personnel and their families opened themselves to the risk of air travel, then did a double take. Wait a minute, my husband is a pilot.

Bursting my bubble

2006-10-15T19:43:00.000-07:00

Scenario:
Grocery run. Mustafa’s Café. 2 am.

Gary: You have to try the Mustafa’s special blend coffee. It’s the best.
Me: Is it strong? I don’t like it too strong.
G: Its smooth, creamy. Just try. You can ask them to put ice in it.
M: Ok. Mustafa’s special blend please with ice.

[Yum! This is da bomb. Turning to the barista]
M:Your coffee tastes very nice. Very smooth. [wondering what special type of Arabica bean was employed in the brewing process]
Barista: This coffee you also can buy upstairs. Owl Brand White Coffee 3 in-one!

Black Beauty

2006-10-10T06:30:00.000-07:00

Can't peel myself away from my new computer! The black beauty of assembled parts which brings the INTERNET into my home. It is very early in morning now, the sun has not risen. I am torn between this computer and going out for prata at my favourite time of the day. Remaining here, is the calorie free choice.

The computer was set up last evening and it was a family affair with my 2 brothers and sis in law all piled into my bed oohing and aahing when the monitor flashed its first image. The crayolas were wide eyed at the "puter!" and competed for world domination of the mouse. It is only now, that the crayolas are still in bed that I can luxuriate in my personal monopoly of broadband. I can't believe that this is all mine.

No more perilous postings from unknown locations. The birds are singing and I have to go now because the call of prata is even stronger.

Back to the Future

2006-10-06T17:20:00.000-07:00

I have not owned a personal computer for the past 10 years. But all that has changed the last week.

Since broadband has entered my life, the next step was clear. We would get a home computer. One of those machines which bring the INTERNET into your life.

In my past few weeks, my computer vocabulary has expanded. I can tell you the composite parts – processor, hard drive, power supply, dvd writer, monitor, keyboard. I know Apple from Dell, Intel from AMD.

It was very confusing and I felt like a person popped out from a 1995 time capsule into the future. In the end, I went down to Sim Lim with my brother Herbert who helped me pick out something at a shop which completely intimidated me.

I’ve been bugging Herbert to get the OS quickly installed so that I can get my hands on my new baby. He gets irritated when I hurry him “You’re like a kid you know!”

But that’s how it is, when you get a new toy.

Fake Plastic Tree

2006-09-13T20:20:00.000-07:00

Shane, we’re having a Christmas tree this year! Something you did last Christmas melted all my resolve against those fake plastic trees.

The first hint that Christmas had hit you hard was when you started to sing jingle bells. Your secular nursery taught you that song and you sang “jingle bells,jingle bells” whenever you saw a string of lights. Never mind if that string of lights was actually the large neon crabclaw outside the zhi char coffeeshop or the numerous KTV signs which dot Joo Chiat.

As Christmas rolled by, we cobbled a present for you - a cheapo China made radio controlled excavator which would greet you on Christmas morning. For a laugh, we got you a midget sized Christmas tree from the $2 shop which was as tall as the entire length of your palm. It had tiny red bows, and golden glitter. You carried the tiny tree everywhere and you fell asleep to it clutching it like a precious teddy bear.

That image of you clutching that tiny $2 tree and your eyes gleaming with that crazed christmas look, has haunted me to this day.

Right now, my BIG question is the Christmas tree we’re going to get. This is a big deal for me. In all my adult life, I have never decorated, dismantled or stored a Christmas tree! I can’t believe we’re going to expend money and electricity on something which does nothing except bring us an intangible feel-good. Do you know how CAMP this feels?

To some, big questions are “What am I going to do with my life, what will I do about my career and what is the next mountain to conquer?” Now, these are very (boring) important questions that you will have to contemplate later in your life.

For right now, I’m sure you agree that what really matters is - Pimping our Living Room for Christmas!!!

5 ft? 6 ft? Candy canes? Nutcracker theme? Where will we hang the socks?

2 years

2006-09-01T18:34:00.000-07:00

Dear Pa

You who always distressed that I had bad tv connection, will be pleased to know that I just got cable connected.

In my bedroom, I’ve kept the footstool from your leather Eames chair. The leather is cracked and it must be as old as myself. I rest my feet on it when I watch TV. The TV is also yours - The 40 inch Sony projector. You loved watching TV. It was your favourite form of relaxation. At night, when I curl on the chair with my feet up, the comforting boom of the TV brings back my earliest memories of you - as a child piling into your bed,waiting for the Love Boat and making a tent under your blanket. Bringing in the newspaper in the morning and sharing the different sections. How you'd get annoyed when I hijacked my favourite parts of the paper.

The one thing I never got to tell you was whether it was a girl or boy. You had a grandaughter, pa. Her name is Alix and the sunshine she now brings in my life, I trace to you - the most important value you imparted quite apart from the education and upbringing was the warmth and joy of family love. In one big family bed, TV and newspapers, you're still with us.

One year ago

2006-08-25T00:00:00.000-07:00

Crayon Box was started with this post.
===========
I'm still getting my head around the idea of a blog.

I mean, its safe, yet very unsafe.
Private yet very public.
personal but also quite publicly damning.

What if you say the wrong thing ...
and what if i blurt out personal details which hurt the people close to me?

What if i fill it up with crap?
What if i have no time to update?
Do i have anypoint to make?
and if not, would it be too self indulgent tojust ramble and talk about myself?

The choices we make.

==========
I wondered what blogging was and what it wasn’t. I was guarded about my privacy. I was curious about it as a medium to rediscover my writing voice and as a space where I could play and speak my personal truths in a haphazard sort of way.

A year later, its still going!

The blog was first named “The Choices We Make” and then, I renamed it to "Crayon Box". I thought of adding some links and a banner maybe, but my blogging skills haven’t advanced that far. I’ll try to keep the updates going. No, I haven’t been totally swallowed up by cable TV. To commemorate the first year, what better than a Girl’s Night Out?

So I’m going out tonight to try something completely new. I’m curious to find out about a group of mostly women who meet regularly and tell stories. They are called the Storyteller’s Circle and they meet in a shophouse in Little India once a month. Adults only.

To everyone who’s been coming in to check up on me, thanks for stopping by. I’m still here and there will be a lot more stories to tell.

Cable on my mind

2006-07-18T00:36:00.000-07:00

As the excavator makes its tired last rounds along our street and the dust starts to settle we are standing at the cusp of a new day.

Without cable, media players in our home have been stuck in a time warp. There was no point getting a larger screen tv when we had crap reception. The 14 inch CRT from Gary’s old room (circa 1992) did the basic job of delivering the fuzzy free to air channels. The 14 inch lived in our family room and faithfully delivered the evening news at 9.30 and Shane’s cartoon DVDs.

We get Malaysian channels on free to air too. Clearer than Singapore channels. RTM 3 delivered the Filipino soap at 3 pm for Grace’s viewing pleasure everyday.

Without broadband, we’ve held out purchasing a home computer. How do I update this blog? Its your guess.

I see the 24 international channels. E entertainment! The Disney Channel! Much as I want cable, I’m wistful about the life we might leave behind:

Watching the World Cup at the 24 hr bak chor mee shop alongside the bookies and taxi drivers.

Evenings out on the five foot way when Shane’s DVDs were stale from overplay watching the parade of dogs go by.

Watching so little TV, that a date night is watching CSI, ER and actually being grateful for the free to air offerings we have.

Most of all, I am going to miss the advocacy and ability to speak as one of the disadvantaged and left out. I’ll miss sending out a random angry letter to the cable provider and crank calling the cable guy whose number I now know by heart.

What will I fight for now that I have no TV antenna?

Cable update

2006-06-29T01:02:00.002-07:00

At 3 am, I heard the crash and thunder of a large heavy vehicle making its way slowly to our home. The loud sound went on for 15 minutes then I heard its engine shudder to a stop.

Could it be?

I got out off bed and walked downstairs. In the moonlight, I saw an excavator parked outside my house. I did the happy dance in my pyjamas.

Its still early days. The tunneling works are going on right now. The cables will need to be laid and it will take 2 more weeks before we obtain crystal clarity of tv reception.

Ask me a week ago and I would have cussed and sweared as I told you about the fuzzy flickering reception of our 14 inch CRT. Now that the excavator is parked outside, it is delicious foreplay watching the dumpy 14 inch knowing full well, that it will be ditched in favour of a handsome hi def.

And boy, am I excited.

How do I love thee? Let me count the ways

2006-06-15T18:09:00.000-07:00

In the living room:

Shane: Don’t love Alix
Me: Who is Alix’s mummy?
S: Outside [he points to the door]
M: No, I AM Alix’s mummy. But I love you two times [kiss, kiss] and I love Alix one time [kiss] ok?
S: ok

Just before bedtime in Shane’s room:

S: Don’t love Alix
M: How many times can I love Alix?
S: Two times [he shows me two fingers]
M: How many times do I love Shane?
S: Three times [three fingers]. I’m hungry, I want to eat biscuit.
M: Go down to the kitchen with Aunty Grace. I’ll put Alix to sleep.

Alix falls asleep, A short while later, Shane stumbles into bed.

M: Shane?
[He nods]
M: I love you three times
S: ok

Part 5 - Resolution

2006-06-05T02:09:00.000-07:00

We were out priced, out bid and eliminated. Apartments around Dunearn Road cost upwards of a mil for anything 1000 sq ft and up. Unless we wanted to live in a shoe box, there wasn’t anything affordable. HDB flats in Bukit Timah? None at all.

I didn’t have any other ideas so I started railing at the unfairness created by the proximity rule – wouldn’t it just be the rich kids then? The crayolas will be better in another school near my home. They will receive a more rounded education in a non-socially stratified learning environment.

Then something happened. It wasn’t as dramatic as selling our house and buying another one.

It wasn’t parent 'volunteerism'.

I found out that I qualified for membership to the school alumni. As part of the old girl and old boy network, we were still in the game. The system which made me initially panic, scheme and later, rail against social injustice now worked to my own advantage. There was no more ugly wrangling, so I sat pretty.

======

The other day, I met a school canteen operator. She worked in a neighbourhood school. I asked her about the situation in there. Is it true that there are gangsters and the teen students fight?

She started to tell me about how a group of 15 year old girls started a fight due to a staring incident in the canteen. They started throwing soup at each other and tore at each other’s shirts.

I cackled long and hard. Maniacal laughter.

She was surprised that I found it so funny. It wasn’t THAT funny.

I laughed because I felt so SMUG. In the survivor jungle of primary one registration, we had a) averted elimination b) played the game with no ethics c) served self interest and d) acquired the secret immunity idol (membership of the alumni).

There was a time when I swore I wouldn't return to my schooling roots once I left it. I was in the last class, an outsider and didn't really fit. I remember fist fights, breaking classroom windows and wanting out.

But becoming a mom and finally, competing in this jungle has changed this.

2006-06-04T18:26:00.000-07:00

Ring! Ring!

“Hello”

“Hi, this is Mary the housing agent. I want to arrange a viewing for you. 2500 sq feet. This is a good size. Only 1.7 million.”

“Whah?”

“It’s a good buy.”

[That's what they always say. Good buy. Good buy. Its supposed to add value to my decision making. You know. Good buy.]

“Sorry, I’m busy now [not]. Its above our budget. GOODBYE.”

“Yes, it’s a GOOD BUY!!!”

Part 4

2006-05-31T18:37:00.000-07:00

From scanning the moe website to scanning the property listings in the classifieds, primary one registration brings on a unique high. I was only going slightly mad.

The thought process went along like this:

So we sell our dream home in Joo Chiat, move into premises one third the size of our present house and sell all our worldly possessions.

The property agent echoed our thoughts.

“This is for your child’s future. You buy first. Rent for two years. You need to show proof of 2 years of ownership. Then you use the address just for the school admission. Don’t get emotionally attached to the house. Remember it is for the higher purpose. After you buy, you offer to volunteer your services to the school. Start attending the Methodist church attached to the school. ”

If you are going to start trying, you might as well go all the way. I wondered what skill sets I could offer as a parent volunteer in the school. Gardening? Grass weeding? Traffic warden?

Part 3

2006-05-30T21:02:00.000-07:00

You realise that thinking about your old school relives a childhood narrative which you tried so hard to forget.

You realise that as much as you hated certain aspects of your old school, you are irresistibly drawn into the idea of of seeing your daughter in the same school uniform you spent 10 years in.

You realise that moving within a one kilometre proximity of the school greatly enhances your chances of entry.

So you do what you have to do.

We started home hunting in the school district of Dunearn Road.

Part 2

2006-05-29T22:46:00.000-07:00

Like a demon possessed, I started scanning the MOE website for details on Primary One registration. Never mind that Shane is three years away from primary one registration, I heard that spaces were scarce in good schools and you had to start obtaining certain credits.

What is a good school? I reflected on my educational experience in a so-called elite all girls’ school. Personally, I felt like a social misfit in that school. I was very weak in maths and instead of receiving additional tutoring, the teachers pitied me and attributed my academic weakness to a crumbling family situation.

They asked me tragic leading questions which led to the inevitable conclusion that yes, my life was tragedy.

Teacher: Who looks after you?
Me: I look after myself.
Teacher: Who supervises your work?
Me: No one.
Teacher: Should I speak to your parents?
Me: [Silence]
Teacher: I want to speak to them both.
Me: But you only need to see one of them.
Teacher: I need to see them both separately because your parents are divorced.

I was weak in maths. That was normal. What I didn’t expect was to be treated abnormally.

Part 1

2006-05-29T22:04:00.000-07:00

Between here and the last time I posted, I became possessed by a spirit.

This demon came upon me quite unsuspectingly. It all started when Gary wanted to take a look at his old school – St. Andrew’s. We drove down on a rainy day and he guided me up to his old school building.

“This was where we sang the national anthem. When the boys graduated from primary school we would line up in a row and run across the field to the secondary school. That was the only time we were allowed to run on the field. The secondary school boys would cheer as we ran across…”

There was a lot of pride in his voice.

“You know, we really should start thinking of where we are going to send Shane and Alix for primary school.”

And as soon as he said those words, that demon spirit possessed me. PRIMARY ONE REGISTRATION.

To be continued.

Playdough WWF

2006-04-28T19:39:00.000-07:00

Scene:
3 year old boy and his 15 month sister.

What's at stake:
One pot of green play dough.

The fight:
The 15 month old snatches a blob of play dough from her brother. It remains in her clenched fist.

Fists raised, the posture of a wrestler on TV, the 3 year old issues a SCARY threat:

“I WILL SQUASH YOU LIKE A PLAYDOUGH!I WILL BURST YOU LIKE A BALLOON!”

As in war, it is the silent threat which is the most deadly. Jamming the playdough in her mouth, the 15 month old coats the entire blob of play dough with her SALIVA.

Fight over.

Smoke gets in your eye

2006-04-25T02:21:00.000-07:00

The fences have come down on an empty plot of state land near our home. In its place, a brand spanking new park with a sand pit and play equipment. Its just what I wanted. A safe place for the crayolas to run around while I sit, stoning on a stone bench. I should be happy but I don’t know why, I'm annoyed that I don't have a park to fight for anymore. Or cable for that matter.

After 3 years of waiting, I got a call from the cable guy last week “We’re ready to sign a contract for cable with you”. We set up the meeting right away and as I sat there picking out the channels, I realized that I no longer desired cable having lived without it for long enough. I wanted cable so bad, couldn’t get it even though I fought hard and now, we were getting back together after I got over cable.

I signed on anyway. Cable, I wish I knew how to quit you.

===========

I bumped into someone from my past recently. We were never really an item but everyone in college thought we were an item.

R had a baby daughter recently. He proudly flashed me photos of his newborn in his camera phone. Realise that while we had not much in common when we were 17, we had something in common now. Baby-gushing. We would have made the ideal Singapore couple. With R, we'd just fixate on our offspring, live a sanitary all Singapore life in an executive condo, watch DVDs for entertainment, hang out with our old friends from college and have nothing to talk about except, our offspring.

It was hard not getting sentimental catching up. For a moment there, the smoke got in my eye. But then, as sure as the baby slide show ended, I was glad we left it just there.

Baby Boy Rabbit

2006-04-07T02:10:00.000-07:00

You are a sturdy boy of three. But I will never stop loving you with the tenderness and surprise as when I first saw you.

The first time we met was in doctor’s clinic. It was the first month of your conception. You revealed yourself as a beating heart encased within a sac only 2 centimetres long. I deeply desired a child. My tears of joy on seeing you for the first time, confirmed this.

Over the next nine months, your father accompanied me to every doctor’s appointment. We were expectant first-time parents not knowing what to expect.

For starters, what temperature of room does a baby sleep in? The book on raising babies said 19 degrees. Any hotter and the baby risks heat suffocation. Your father and I had a debate on this. We argued over the centigrades. We angsted over whether we were ready. We attended pre-natal lessons and read more books and still felt unprepared.

The doctor blinked patiently at each of my questions. What temperature of room? What do I feed the baby? What does a newborn wear? He looked amused and gave me an answer which didn’t address my questions, yet it answered everything all at once.

"Babies have very few needs.
Babies needs WARMTH
Babies need a CLEAN SPACE
Most of all, babies need LOVE"

To this day, whenever I don’t know what to do as a mother, I fall back on the doctor’s answer.

=======

Your delivery story? I wanted a natural delivery. I chose a doctor who was reputed for his low rate of C-sections. The doctor was so in favour of natural childbirth, that he allowed me to labour voluntarily for 48 hours before the decision was made to have you by emergency C section.

After 48 hours of labour, I was disappointed but grateful for the medical intervention. They increased the painkillers until I experienced no pain except the sensation of several pairs of hands squeezing you out of me like a big nub of toothpaste. Your first cry was a low growl. Like a magician bringing a rabbit out of a hat, the doctor produced you like magic, behind the surgery curtain.

This can’t be. It must be.

Your father was the first to hold you. He assured me “We have a cool one!” I was puzzled. How does one derive coolness at first sight? Then I saw you. My cone head son, a scrape on your forehead where they had nicked you in the delivery, deep dimples on one, two cheeks!

Yes, we had a cool one.

Family Wedding

2006-03-23T19:55:00.000-08:00

My brother Ed, is getting married to his girlfriend, E in May.

With this marriage, we have secured the best surrogate parents, super babysitters for Shane and Alix. This is why they are better versions of Shane and Alix’s real parents.

a)When they go out for dates, they often ask if they can bring Shane along. Why in heavens would a dating couple want to lug a 2 year old, eat at family friendly restaurants, plan their activities around naps, when they are supposed to be on a romantic outing, I don’t know. We just pack the diaper bag - in a hurry.

b)They've spent hours pc-loading the entire Thomas the Tank engine series and Wallace and Gromit series on DVD to entertain them.

c)When E carries Alix in the shopping mall, walking behind, I get jealous…you know those annoying women who post natally, regain their figures in a zip and still manage to look glamourous? E looks just like one of those flat bellied women, casually balancing a baby on her lap.

Imagine that after I lose my post natal weight, I’ll get closer to looking like Gwyneth Paltrow too, carrying Apple. Heh.

d)They have adequate sleep ergo, boundless energy and patience.

e)Generally, they possess a killer set of parenting skills including getting the babies to sit still on their high chairs, entertain them with their favourite videos, cute songs and games and feeding them variety of nutritious food such as freshwater fish which they will specially go marketing for.

After an entire afternoon with Ed and E, Shane comes back looking happy and slightly lost having landed back at reality. It soon becomes apparent that his real parents are boring him. That’s when, I try my best to console him.

“Sorry, its just us, your real parents. The set God gave you. There’s nothing you can do about it.”

petite fleur

2006-03-19T21:37:00.000-08:00

on sundays, grandma comes to visit
you shy away, hang on tightly
as if afraid a gust of wind would blow you away

it takes some time for you to warm
then you’re ready
your arms reach out like petals extending to the sun

and she giggles in the sweet fragrance
which is our petite fleur
every sunday, it is the same refrain
take care of petite fleur
hold her tight
protect from harm
she is a gentle-lady

grandma looks at me with lines in her face
tired eyes which tell me that she is fast fading
I can’t bear to look

as if reading my thoughts
she reminds me again to prepare her will
in case she conks off
this I have been putting off

I laugh off her anxiety
as you hang on to me
I hang on to her
as she hangs on to you
our petite fleur

Wheezing

2006-03-15T23:52:00.000-08:00

through a kick boxing class, it occurred to me that I’ve never seen so many fat bottoms. However, these fat bottoms are not hiding under long tshirts.

They are in slinky black tights
They are grooving
They are kicking some butt

And you know what? No one I’ve met in gym , even thinks that the roundedness of their butt is a bad thing. Its your womanly right! It’s the real woman in you!

There is nothing as motivating as another woman with a bottom bigger than your own, messaging you on your morning commute to work. “Going to gym today. CU there."

I wanted to run out of a step class because it got too fast but i was stopped on my tracks out by a a fellow fat bottomed chick, marching on a spot telling me that it was ok to catch my breath doing step....just don't quit.

Fat bottoms rule.

Fat Chick Club

2006-03-01T17:56:00.000-08:00

I haven’t told you about the latest change in my life. I’ve joined a gym. A ladies fitness club actually.

All Shapes (great name huh?) is located in Joo Chiat. It was previously a gym for muslim ladies who needed a place to exercise. It is also a 5 minute walk from my home so I can slip in there on my way home from work.

I was relatively slim for the first two decades of my life. Then I turned heavier in my twenties - a kilogram for each year. Add five more for each successive pregnancy. I couldn’t shake off the added kilograms without doing anything. Running in the hot humid weather got me all sweaty. So many excuses.

Two weeks ago, I spotted the sign. ‘ALL SHAPES - A fitness club for women by women. Discover the Real Woman in you.’ I took the lift up and emerged into a fitness club. There was a group of very overweight women huffing and puffing to a circuit style of exercise. Every 30 seconds, a voice over a CD player would tell them to go on to the next form of exercise.

The next morning, I turned up for the trial session. I broke a sweat and made it through 30 minutes of continuous exercise.

For the last 2 weeks, I’ve been going almost everyday. The thing is, the ladies in this gym are very committed. They keep my motivation up. They are mostly Malay muslim women in their 30’s, 40’s and 50’s just trying to keep fit and look good.

There is a factor of feel good in this FAT CHICK club. I knew that this was the place when I saw a 100 over kilogram woman smiling while on the treadmill. She had lost over 20 kgs already. The feel good factor I guess, is knowing that others who are heavier and even older than me have made progress, then well, so can I. Among the fellow fat, I don’t feel embarrassed that I am panting after 5 minutes. We all have to start somewhere.

The trainer understands the psychology of shape. While holding my legs up for ab crunches, she remarked

”People do funny things when they put on weight. They wear looser clothes. They hang their head down. They stop buying nice clothes.”

Tick. Tick. Tick. The beads of sweat from my forehead trickled into my eyes causing them to tear.

Giving me a hand so that I could sit up, she looked through my sweaty glasses and gave me a look which almost caused me to choke – that of deep acceptance and belief targeted at me, me, me.

“I am a trainer and interested in results. After a month, you see the same woman coming in here with more confidence. They move better. They wear tighter clothes. They start to flower again.”

Text Message

2006-02-27T00:37:00.000-08:00

Received last night at 2 am from my mother. LARGE CAPS are actual.

"Please wear double Tshirt and socks for Alix. She is SKINNY and gets COLD EASILY. Also no cold drink for her or anything from fridge or her INTERNAL ORGANS CAN BE SHOCKED AND DAMAGED. Thank you."

Bursting my bubble

2006-02-19T21:04:00.000-08:00

Shane was playing with his dad when i thought he reached religious epiphany

Shane: I want Jesus....I want Jeesuz....Cheessus....
Me: D'you hear that? He wants Jesus!
Dad: Uh, I think he wants Cheezels.