Back to Nursery

J has been to the nursery for about slightly more than a month now. He still cries when I leave him there and when I pick him up. Basically, he cries when I am in sight. However, this is a big improvement from before, when he would cry once he remembers that I am not with him at nursery.

And while it used to be painful for me, parting is a lot more manageable now. I have come to realise that this is as much a learning experience for me as for him. That, as a mother, I have to teach him by example. And parting is a fact of life, in fact, even everyday life. And so now, I myself have a sort of routine. I talk to him from morning onwards about going to nursery later: about his carer and the rest of team who will take care of him, about the many friends he has there, about all the toys and fun activities that he gets to play with and do, about the delicious food he will have at snack time and tea time. I show him the bag with his spare clothes that we will bring with us (He is now using the nursery's tote bag, while we look for a cute companion bag for him to go to nursery with) and he loves carrying his bag on one shoulder and walking about with it... even if it is way too big for him at the moment. In the car on the way there, I go through the whole spiel again about the nursery, his frens etc.

All these doesn't stop him from crying at the nursery. He now recognises the place and unfortunately still associates it more with our parting than the fun toys and activities inside. But I have my routine down pat in my head and as we go through the corridors to get to his room, I talk to him about the goldfish by the doorway (His name is Brian), the toy flowers and dolls on the wall, his clothes peg with his photo along the corridor just before entering his room. And once in his room, I hug my bawling baby close and tightly once, then hand him over to the carer and tell him exactly what time I will be back to pick him up. He is usually all red and wet in the face now and sometimes hands outstretched, but I wave goodbye to him cheerily and make my way out of the door again. I tell myself not to turn round for a second look, so that he gets on with it, as do I. I walk to the car, unlock the car, start the engine, take a deep breath and sit for a bit before driving off.

And I believe this routine has helped both him and me. His daily reports come back now with less mention of him feeling sad (I used to get "Julien has been sad today." all the time!) and increasingly more about J having a good time playing with this toy or enjoying the older kids coming over to say hello when he is in the garden. I was really happy and relieved to see the change.

Today, I brought J to nursery with some trepidation. He has not been to nursery for a week now, because he had been sick. Will he remember that nursery is a fun place? Or would we have to start all over again? Then, I reminded myself that how he will feel is as much about how I feel. My energy will affect him, so I have to start feeling positive and calm. So, I went through my routine of talking about going to nursery with him again. 

And when we reached the nursery, he started to wail a bit. I thought he was already starting on the waterworks... but no, I opened the door and his attention was caught by the leaves rustling in the trees above. He started to chatter about it. I picked him out from the car. And contemplated that maybe we could walk in together, now that he is starting to walk and does seem to enjoy walking while holding our hands. Then, the image of me dragging a crying toddler pulling towards the car made me decide against it. And I carried him in. "Maybe a few weeks down the road," I thought.

We made it through most part of the building without incident. He started crying in the room before his. And once through the door, the carer came forward and I was ready for the last bit of my routine. Interestingly, he leant towards the carer, even as he was crying. It took me by surprise. Guess despite his crying, he was ready after all! So, I said my firm goodbyes and left the room. I can hear him still in the background, but I know he was alright after all.

Thank you, Julien. Thank you, for not making us have to start all over again. I am really so mightily pleased. Let us both have a good, fruitful afternoon! 

Kisses, Mum X

A Ramble in the Park

Armed with our new National Trust membership, we set out for Anglesey Abbey today.  Anglesey Abbey is the work of one man, Huttleson Rogers Broughton, the first Lord Fairhaven. He bought the Abbey at an auction sale and set about remodelling it into a country house. But his idea of home was not confined to the house itself. Despite being no trained plantsman, he did an excellent job in shaping the extensive grounds into a garden paradise. The desolate marsh landscape was transformed into one of England's great gardens. There were picturesque open park spaces with manicured lawns and dedicated areas for different trees and flowering plants. And sprinkled among these were statues, ranging from classical to whimsical, that lent a decided European air to the grounds.

We had decided on Anglesey Abbey, because it was recommended for beautiful autumn colours and we were not disappointed. A beautiful blend of red, orange and yellow hues greeted us throughout. We found delight in the curvy pathway landscaped with graceful trees and many were sporting berries or flowers that were rather unusual. It was rather like being in a wonderful, strange land with surprises at every bend and corner.

Another extraordinary feature of Anglesey Abbey is the Lode Mill, whose waterwheel has been turning in the same spot for hundreds of years.  Lord Fairhaven bought the mill and restored its exterior to create a stunning vista along the river. There were 3 floors in the mill and I was hesitant to go up, since Daddy Low had J in a backpack carrier and the stairway was steep and narrow. Amazingly, we did go up in the end. And on the way down, we had to face the stairs while coming down. I don't know how Daddy Low did it, but he did it effortlessly.  J was not only safe, but I think he really enjoyed the unusual ride. Especially on the way down, since we were greeted by a ring of people, all waiting to go up after we were done!

It was an interesting visit - the Mill not only exhibited the machinery used to grind the wheat into flour, it also had pictures accompanied with explanations. And if you so wished, you could also buy flour freshly ground in the Mill itself.

Outside the Mill, there was a little garden framed by lovely trees much like weeping willows and we could see it slowly opening up into an enchanting glade. I suggested to Daddy Low that we let J out for a bit of walking, since the grass looked so nice and soft. And what a good idea it was! J simply loved walking on his own and I think his new shoes gave him more grip and stability and so he really started to enjoy his newfound mobility and freedom. He would walk confidently and triumphantly from one of us to the other, receive our cheering and applause, then turn and make for the other again. He was a bit wobbly and fell a few times, but simply would not rest one bit! When we wanted to move on again, and Daddy Low tried to put him back in the carrier, he became a bit upset and was really reluctant to get back into his "sedan". Sigh, ungrateful fellow! :)

Dahlias were the blooms of the season. And Anglesey Abbey had a proud display of them. They were planted in an arch in an enclosed part of the gardens. When you enter and see the vista of dahlias stretching out before you, it's almost like you have stumbled upon a secret garden. And what a profusion of colours - starting from the lightest (white) to the darkest (a strong purple). It's like a little floral rainbow of dahlias in there. Everyone was enchanted and bust snapping away on their cameras in a bid to capture this transient beauty. I must say I have never seen such huge dahlias and such vibrant colours too. I think J too was a bit overwhelmed by the colour explosion - he was pointing here, there, everywhere :)

We moved on to the house itself. And we were really lucky, because today was the last day the house will be open for the year! First, we admired the exterior. There was a free tour of the exterior going on at that time, but we were too busy walking with J to bother. Or rather, J was too busy walking to let us bother - he had one hand holding my hand and one hand holding Daddy Low's hand and we let him lead us in his clumsy steps. For one moment, you really forget the world - your vision sort of just zooms in to you and that kid pulling you along in his baby steps. I think we became a sort of entertainment focus without realising it. People passing by us would inevitably stop, smile, chat or cheer J on. A little baby, especially one just on his first steps does always make one sort of melt inside, I guess.

The interior of the house was just as impressive. The deco was leaning a bit towards the darker hues for me, but it did have a nice character of its own and its own unique sense of harmony, I would say. Lord Fairhaven had a vast collection of paintings and his love for hunting and landscapes was evident. Apparently, he also had a real penchant for clocks - the house was full of them. And they were a nice collection too. The rooms had a nice, homely feel and even though it was a home decades ago, one can easily imagine living in here. In fact, we were told both the Queen Mother and the Queen had stayed here before. The bedrooms were generously sized and so were the toilets! And the libraries - he had two - they were dream libraries with dark wood shelves from floor to ceiling, and many books, we were told, have been rebound in leather. All in all, a very handsome house.


The grounds were big, and daylight hours were just becoming shorter and shorter, so we naturally did not see all of Anglesey Abbey. But it had been a perfect day, as far as we are concerned. J got his walking on the grass and we all had some fresh air amidst beautiful surrounds. And all this walking was bringing on a spot of hunger. It was, in any case, time for a nice late lunch. And I think that was the second surprise - the food in the restaurant was really nice! I had not expected National trust to put any focus on food in its work, but I must say this is one of the best Sunday roasts I have ever had. So good, that J wanted more than a bit from my plate! What a wonderful way to end nice lovely walk :)

J's 1st Pair of Walking Shoes

Today's agenda was to buy Julien's first pair of walking shoes. And interestingly, without any discussion or any further research of other brands, we knew we would be getting him a pair of Clark's.

Now, I never thought I would be buying shoes from Clark's. 2 reasons - (1) very expensive and (2) not for me, 'cos the association for me is that its shoes are known largely for comfort, especially for older people; and my mum and others' mums make sure to buy at least a pair before they leave UK. 

Well, the second reason is certainly important to us in this task. It is after all, Julien's first pair of walking shoes and we do want him to be comfortable. Unfortunately, that means we do have to accept the higher price tag of the shoes here. 

We went with a lot of anticipation because of what we have heard from other friends who have already made the visit to get their babies their first shoes. (How important word of mouth is in children's products!)  Apparently, it is a quite an experience because of the star treatment! 


So, we walked in... a staff member came forward to assist us. I told him of our mission. I think he was expecting it; after all, we had a baby in tow. The only thing he would not have known is whether we wanted crawling shoes, cruising shoes or walking shoes (Yes, they sell shoes for the first categories as well, though I am not sure who would pay through their nose for them, especially when the babies outgrow their shoes so fast!)


He replied with no hesitation while pointing to a corner in one smooth action, "Let me help you take a number." So, Step1 for children's shoe fitting: Take a queue number, dude!

Number 49. We held our slip and sat down. We started to take the scene in - other little islands of family units sitting around, waiting for their turns like us. There were 2 staff doing the fitting. Accompanied by an obviously excited mother, Client A was a little toddler girl accompanied, shopping for her first pair of walking shoes like us. And Client B was an adolescent boy, trying to decide between 2 pairs of boots, while Mum was droning on the side, "It's your choice, Charlie. You have to decide what is more comfortable for you", while Dad looked on listlessly, listening to what must have been the umpteenth repetition of the same advice.


Both had boxes of shoes piled up to a little tower near them. They clearly had no lack of choices. Excited Mummy of Client A coaxed her little girl to walk about in the sweet purple shoes with flowers on her feet. Client A took a few hesitant steps, then broke into a smile and started walking faster. Mummy crowed, "Oh, she loves it! That's the pair then!" As they walked to the till, Mummy's eyes lit upon a ladybird backpack on the rack and showed it to her baby, trying it on her little shoulders immediately. Baby couldn't take her eyes off it and walked away with the bag on and the staff said, "It is a lovely bag, isn't it? They have been very popular. And it's our last one now", whereupon Mummy said, "Yes, we will take that as well!" And I think to myself, "Oh, you! Took it line, hook and sinker!" ... but of course, my own eyes had been looking at that little ladybird bag and thinking. "Now, if J was a girl, that would be sweet..." Haha... the consumers that we are!


Client B had been walking round the shop in his possibly-would-be shoes for a while now and finally said, "Yes, I think they fit." Daddy seemed to come to life magically at those words and the slightly "dog-earred" staff smiled jubilantly, quickly asking, "Would you be keeping the shoes on for now or do you want them in a box?" No-nonsense Mum went," Oh, he will keep them on," and they trooped to the till to pay.


"Number 49!" And so finally it was our turn. Having observed others, I was nonetheless excited when it was our turn. The staff first measured Julien's feet. Step 2: Feet Measurement. Both feet: the length, the width, ankle fit as well as heel grip. Having got his size, she asked if we had any specific colours, features etc in mind. We didn't. She disappeared into the back recesses of the shop and took quite a bit of time, I thought. When she returned, she was, of course, carrying a tower of shoe boxes. There must have been 5 or 6 options there.


She had Julien sit down on the floor, then took out a pair of grey-red boots. Clearly, she had the boxes ranked. This was her first choice. Daddy Low really liked the boots, and she said boots are great for J 'cos he has rather narrow ankles. But I wasn't sure that J would like the feel of high boots wrapping his ankles. 

Once on, we tried to persuade J to walk, so Step 3: Walk! But no amount of encouragement would move him. He stood there looking at us and I suddenly felt like I am in a Gary Larson cartoon, and that J must be thinking something like, "What strange things, these adults! How do they expect me to walk on demand?" or something like that... like he was the thinking one, and we the silly billies. 

But really, that was, of course, all in my mind. For he started to take a tentative step after a long while. I think he was really just trying to figure out what we want of him. After all, this is the first time someone other than us is putting shoes on for him. And these shoes were very different from the flimsy ones we had on for him when he was still cruising. These felt a lot more sturdier and definitely much heavier!


One step, two steps, three... and he seemed fine. The staff felt J's feet through the shoes and said with finality in her voice, "Looks like this pair fits him well. It's snug; there's no big gaps between the shoe and his toes and his ankles look well supported. "  She looked ready to keep the other boxes and bring us to the till.


And after seeing the process with Clients A and B, I understood what she must be thinking - this pair fits, so let's pay and move on to the next number in the queue.  For that must be how her day is like - an endless line of numbers, an endless row of towers of shoeboxes and then trying on of pair after pair with an energetic Mum, encouraging the child on and a weary Dad in tow. 

Well, alright - we were not exactly that stereotype, but we were sure like all other consumers and that's not buying the first and only pair we tried when there were all these other boxes waiting to be opened and shoes to be tried! So, on with the rest of the boxes.


It was interesting that when more pairs are tried, you can actually see the difference in the way it affects walking. With a pair, he walked really awkwardly as if, and I suppose, it is probably true, that it is indeed too tight. With another pair, his few steps looked difficult and the staff said that pair was heavier, so he must have felt the weight. In the end, it was down to the boots and a pair of soft leather shoes. And the leather ones won in the end, cos J walked so easily and quickly in them. So, Step 4: Decide - done!

So, we thought that was that. Then, the girl said, "So, if you wait with a bit, I will go get the camera." Ooh! Step 5: Take a picture with your first pair of walking shoes! :) She came back and we spent time getting Julien to stand properly, so that we can see his shoes. The lighting was not perfect, the camera was basic and the colours did not come out brilliant... but we loved it! It was a cute little picture with a sticker backing and together with the shoes, we were given a height chart with a little space at the bottom for that sticker.


Back home, the height chart went up on the back of J's bedroom door, where he never ceased to point and look at it. And his shoes? They now sit proudly on the shoe-rack with the Mummy's and Daddy's shoes. And every time he sees his shoes, he pulls them down, puts them near his feet and wants me to put them on for him. 


These shoes will be seeing lots of action now, I'm sure! :)

Cool boots!

J loved the dinosaurs on the side, but this pair was big and clumsy.

The One - the soft leather shoes!

Going Places

On the day we were supposed to fly to Singapore - 31 Aug - Julien started to stand. And I mean stand rather stably on his own. I was busy packing, when I heard an excited shout from Daddy Low. J had stood up and stayed upright for quite a while, before tumbling down to the ground. I know Mum has been teaching and encouraging J to stand for a few days now and finally, he has gathered enough confidence to try and I supposed mustered his babyful of strength to stand for that few lengthy seconds. J certainly looked very pleased with himself. We coaxed and encouraged him to stand once more for Mummy and Grandma's benefit. And he did, the darling, repeat his feat. In fact, he was so proud of himself that he held his position and danced a bit with his arms, bobbing up and down when we sang to him!

We thought he would walk soon, but true to a boy's nature, he was happy to continue crawling and cruising. And so we saw no more of the standing or any attempts to walk...

Until we came back to the UK. About one month plus after that standing performance (6 Oct to be exact), J got up again and this time, tried walking. He would walk 2 - 3 steps, then fall down to the ground.  I think sometimes he just lost his balance, while others, he just felt tired and wanted a rest. And I know this, because I see him deliberately fall face down sometimes, and he always chose to take his break when he was walking on his padded mat in the living room. This Parklon mat, in Daddy Low's eyes, is probably the craziest thing I wanted for Baby. It is a good sized mat, basically sized like a carpet, but is made of a waterproof padded foam. A Korean product, it became a must-have item among mummies in Singapore and Malaysia, but boy, is it expensive! But I knew we had to have it once I saw it and heard from all my Singaporean frens in UK that they swear by theirs. All had bought it in Singapore and brought it here; in fact, one had the merchant ship it here and shipping costs about one-third of its retail price! I felt a bit guilty wanting to buy such an expensive item; luckily, family brought it here when they came to visit. And now that J is learning to walk, the mat has proven its worth. J seems to know it is safe here, for he appeared to like to practise walking there. He would also choose to fall down there just so he could take his break.

So, it was 2-3 steps days for a few days and I did not think J would be walking for a long time yet. He was happily cruising and can be a streak of lightning when he crawls. We have a walker at home, the A-frame type, which means no sitting down. Ever since he is strong enough to stand on his own and to walk his 2-3 steps, he has loved whizzing about on his Winnie-the-Pooh walker. In fact, he races about with it - you would have thought he is trying to be a F1 driver! :) So, this is another item I am glad we bought, cos I have no doubt that this walker has helped J to get used to walking.

Then, it happened.  One evening 2 weeks later (21 Oct), J walked 7 steps. Again, it was Daddy Low who witnessed it. I was cooking in the kitchen and was summoned by Daddy Low's exclamation "He just walked 7 steps!" (Ay, Daddy Low, actually, you caught many of J's "firsts" - his flipping, his standing and now his walking! Lucky man, you!). J did not do it for me again that night, but the next day, at a birthday party, in front of everyone, J walked 7 steps towards me. Everyone was clapping for him and praising him. And my little tiger had a big smile plastered on his face. I think he was mightily pleased with himself and sure liked the attention!

Now, he is walking more and more steadily. I was pleasantly surprised today, when the carer at the nursery told me that J was walking lots in the nursery today. I think she was surprised too. And today, at home, I saw that J was not just walking more steadily, but he was walking a lot more confidently.  He no longer walks just in the area of the mat. And he no longer walks in just a straight line - today, I saw him make a right turn! And he did it without being aware.

I told Daddy Low about it, and we have decided that we will go shoe-shopping for J this Sat! His very first pair of walking shoes! If only he knew! I can barely sleep just thinking about it! Heheh... :)

Step 1 - Get ready!

Step 2 - Put your hands up for balance.

Step 3 - Bend your arms to stabilise, if Step 2 was not enough...

Almost there now....

Voila! Standing complete! Applause please! :)

 

Sleep, Baby, Sleep...

Julien slept throughout the whole of last night. 12 hours straight. Unbroken. And that's a first in his entire life of all 14 months and 2 days. YES!

All along, J would only sleep about 9 hours at night. It doesn't matter what time he sleeps, he will still wake up at 7am. I always felt so cheated, when I read online and listen to frens about their babies' 12 hours' sleep.  That seemed to be the norm and these 12 hours are on top of the naps in the day too! I was just about resigned to my fate of shorter sleeping hours at night plus being woken up for nightfeeds until recently... when we decided to get rid of the nightfeeds.


I did my research reading and asking frens' for their tips. A few swore by The Baby Whisperer's Pick-Up-Put-Down method, where you pick up your crying baby from the bed to soothe them, then put them down immediately once he has quietened down. I was told persistence is the key and that it could take anything from days to weeks to get Baby used to it. We tried that and to be honest, we were both tired out. Daddy Low had more success than me, 'cos supposedly, Baby is used to Mummy's smell and would then put up more of a fight when you try to put him down. But at the end of the day, this method was just hard for us, since Daddy Low had to work and asking him to do more of it was just exhausting him. More importantly, it seems to us that J becomes more awake when we try this method whenever he wakes up at night - he seems to become energised and cries harder and longer at each separation. 


We also tried giving him water, but he would refuse it, so sometimes we ended up giving him milk again. And milk is great, because it helps him to drift off to sleep. At times, I asked myself why not just stick with the milk then; it's easier for everyone - just get up, prepare the milk and stick it in his mouth and he goes to sleep and we can go back to bed as well. But the thought of the possibility of no-nightfeed nights was just too tempting, which also means no need to prepare hot water or bottles on the ready etc. Brilliant! I have also read that nightfeeds increase the risk of tooth decay once Baby has teeth and J has lots of them! 


In the end, we turned to our last measure, something that I thought I would never do - we just let him cry it out. It sounds horrible and it is horrible to lie in your bed at night and listen to your baby cry on and on. But I made myself lie in bed, reminding myself that this is for him, to help him to sleep throughout and have a better rest at night. And for us, so that we can live like humans again and not half-zombies in the day.

Everyone who's done it told me that it just takes 3 days to unbroken sleep. And true enough, that's all it did for us. The first night, J cried and cried, getting louder and longer each time. Interestingly, I also noticed that when he stopped, he would stop totally, and at times, I get the feeling that he was waiting and almost as if he was listening, trying to hear if there's any reaction on our part. Those in-between silences were the most pregnant pauses I have ever felt in my life. He cried for about an hour, then drifted off to sleep, but woke up a few hours later and cried again, but for much shorter this time and at times, it felt more like whimpers. And when he woke up in the day, it was like nothing happened the night before. He was just as cheerful and full of smiles when I popped in my head and said "Good Morning!"


The second night was largely peaceful till about 6am and he slept at about 9am. Daddy Low took him out, soothed him, then tried putting him back in bed, but he would have none of it, so he ended up in our bed. But that was alright, since it was near waking-up time anyway. Daddy Low told me later that he enjoyed holding J and watching him sleep, and smelling him just beside him. I think it was a nice time to spend together, since Daddy Low gets very little time with J by the time he knocks off. And when J woke up between us, he was so sunny and bright, poking his face into mine with a loud "Ma!" 


The third night was last night. He is used to drifting off to sleep after his bottle of milk on the mat on the floor. Then, we put him in bed after. I decided to try getting him used to his bed, so I put him in his cotbed when he was already drowsy after his milk. It is strange how he is near to falling asleep while on the floor, but becomes much more awake once he senses himself in his bed. He put up quite a fight, but I was prepared for a long night. So, every time, he sat up, I made him lie down again. There was much crying and wailing, but because he was already drowsy, the struggle did not last long thankfully. At the point when he no longer sat up after being made to lie down, I knew I had won half the battle. I just kept patting him, then changed to rubbing his back and he was soon fast asleep. Jubilation! :) And the good boy slept from 9pm till 9am. Unbroken sleep. Wonderful!


We did the same routine when putting him to bed again tonight. I am hoping for another brilliant night. And when J has mastered the art of sleeping throughout the night without waking up for milk, cuddles, whatever, we will move on to getting him to sleep earlier. How brilliant it would be if he is on a 7pm to 7am sleep pattern instead! 

For now, Bonne Nuit, mon bebe! :)

Weaning Julien

Today, I was fascinated by a documentary called "My Child Won't Eat".  Basically, it was about children who are literally unable to take solid food - 12 year old Rachel eats chocolate for every meal, while 13 year-old Kayleigh would only eat McDonald's meals, believing that any other food is poison and she would die form eating them. Then, there's 2.5 year-old Bobby who has never moved to solid food and still only takes milk - he throws up when given anything with lumps, so never went past weaning. His liquid diet means  16 nappies a day! Psychologist Dr Gillian Harris, featured in the show, explains these as cases of food phobia.  It is an interesting take on eating problems, and I can only imagine the difficulties and the physical and emotional strain on the parents who try to help their children move on to proper food...

While we never had problems this severe while weaning J, the film did remind me of how stressful it can be for the mothers at the weaning stage. For a few weeks, J had refused to move on to solid food, no matter how pureed they were. And I had felt frustrated, angry and tired at having to throw away another painstakingly prepared baby meal. Interestingly, this week, a fren had asked for any tips on weaning, so I think back on our weaning days...


I remember the first food I tried with J was some carrots. I can't remember now if they were steamed or boiled, but anyway, I made them very soft and in small pieces. With a new bib around his neck, I had placed J in his Baby Einstein sitter and took out his weaning spoon with anticipation to use for the first time... but he would have none of it. And I could not understand why - it was soft enough, small enough and so sweet that even I liked it! I also remember making congee with fish, carrots and sweet potato and all were so mashed from boiling that it would literally slide down anyone's throat... and he rejected that as well. 


Dejected, I ended up going back to milk and delaying his weaning. I read up, did research online, asked frens for tips and I am not sure how it happened in the end or how long it took to happen, but he came round to solid food after a while. These are some things I tried and helped:


1. Giving the spoon to J to play with, even when it's not meal time. For babies who have been used to only the teat in their mouth, a spoon can be a very intimidating and definitely foreign feeling in the mouth. The first few times, the babies will gag as a natural reflex. Giving the spoon allows the baby to explore the spoon by himself at his own pace, since babies tend to put things in their mouths to make sense of them.  Gradually, he should be able to get used to the feeling of the spoon in his mouth. And if he doesn't gag anymore once the spoon is placed in his mouth, it's easier to get on with the next step of teaching him how to use his tongue to bring the food to the back of his throat rather than use it for the normal function of sucking milk in.

2. Modelling. I took a spoonful of food and ate it in front of J, before trying to feed him the next spoonful. He watched my every move and it took a few tries, 'cos I don't think he understood what was required of him at first.


3. Make the first weaning foods baby rice mixed with some of his normal milk (be it breastmilk or made from milk powder), so the taste is also familiar and not strange. If J was capable of thought then, he might have just wondered why his usual milk was suddenly more viscous! :)


4. The ideal texture for purees should be soft and runny, so that the texture is not a sudden jump from the liquid milk Baby is used to. But generally, J did not have a problem with purees, 'cos I think they were sweet from the natural fruit and vegetable sugars. Fruits was easy, cos they are always sweet; for vegetables, sweet potato and parsnips were a hit!


5. Make mealtimes a happy time. If Baby takes a spoonful, smile and praise him. At 5-6 months, Baby is not as aware or expressive yet, so it can be hard to tell if he is encouraged. But babies do feel assured by smiles and can tell the difference between happy and angry tones. Anyway, I found if I make it a happy time, I myself am not so stressed by weaning and can enjoy the process and J's company as well.


6. Go at Baby's pace. I found that if I had no expectations, I have no pressure. If J wanted to eat, he would eat. If he didn't, he didn't. This one takes practice. God knows how many times I have felt upset or beaten myself up after another failed weaning attempt!


As I think back now on those difficult early days, I marvel at how much progress J has made. After the initial easy fruit and vegetable purees, I moved on to making him little meals of meat and vegetables. I drew my recipes largely from a popular children's food chef - Annabel Karmel. Her weaning recipes were delicious and I was very encouraged when J even accepted the salmon recipe. So, every week, I would spend one day cooking up a storm, then freezing the food in little pots, each pot the equivalent of one portion. I think aside from the crazy amount of chopping to be done, I did enjoy cooking these little meals. There were a few core recipes I cooked again and again - the salmon baked in orange juice and cheese, the beef casserole and the caribbean pork. The pork was J's favourite, 'cos it was cooked with apple. I tried it myself and have to admit it was yummy; even Daddy Low was sold!

Today, J eats almost everything. And luckily for us, he is not a fussy eater. Among his favourite fruits are avocadoes, bananas, grapes, papayas, mangoes, melons, strawberries and believe it or not, figs! (He wasn't too sure about the texture at first, chewed hesitantly initially, then decided it was alright and pointed to the plate for more.) Dried fruits are also popular, with raisins heading the list. Recently, I was delighted when he showed his affection for sushi and was totally surprised when he took to olives a few days back. And while he does not reject anything, he does show preference when he can see options - if there's cereal and fruit on the table at the same time, cereals don't have a chance! And just in case Mummy tries to sneak in a spoonful of cereal, he does inspect the spoon for its contents before opening his mouth... In which case, he will push my spoonful of cereal away and instead point to the other plate - the one with the fruit. I am only able to get him to eat cereal these days if I place a bit of fruit on top of the cereal in the same spoon! Haha, strategies, strategies! A mum needs to come up with strategies! :)

And because J is now much more adventurous with food, cooking for him has also become more enjoyable. I started sauteeing his meats recently, besides the usual method of boiling and simmering meat with the vegetables in my trusty slowcooker, and he seems to like it. He also eats a lot more now, so when cooking rice, I have to add in his share. And after his main meal, he takes some fruit as well. 


Of late, he has shown an interest to hold the spoon himself, so we have also had times when I would let him hold it, while I guide his hand. This bit of 'independence' seems to make him more interested in his food. Oh boy, my little baby is growing up fast!

Jules and the Telly

For a long time, I have been conflicted about letting Julien watch telly.  The image of one girlfren snatching her child up where he had stood transfixed to the screen and turning him around, so that his back was facing the TV remains etched deeply in my memory.  I had thought then, that she was surely too paranoid, but now that I am a parent myself, my mind often returns to that image and the question whether TV is really so bad for children...

In the end, practicality wins out. When one needs to cook etc and have an active, inquisitive 14 month old who likes to investigate drawers and cupboards, TV is a godsend. And much as I had tried to ban watching TV during mealtimes, I have strangely come to find that J actually eats better when thus occupied.

So, our daily mealtime company now includes Spongebob Squarepants (his favourite cartoon) and sometimes, the Penguins of Madagascar, Scooby Doo and Garfield. And it is really sweet watching him because he gets all excited when I say "Spongebob Squarepants" and he points to the telly and the remotes and is all ready to climb into his highchair.  And once the theme music starts, he smiles and bobs up and down in his seat. He loves it when the episode has lots of music and when characters scream, he screams along... And as much as I used to wonder why such an ugly character like this yellow sponge can be even remotely popular, I am starting to enjoy the nautical nonsense and actually find the residents of Bikini Bottom enduring. I don't remember anything from my one-year-old days, but I sure hope J will remember these lunchtime cartoon dates with me!

A friend told me not to throw the baby out with the bathwater, that TV can be good for children too. After all, we control what they watch and how long they watch etc. And I totally agree. Yesterday, we watched a documentary on dinosaurs with J and it was such a nice family thing to do together. J was actually interested and engaged. He was very focused and spent much of his time shouting and pointing in excitement. And when the dinosaurs roared, he would sometimes follow and give a little roar too.  Seeing how much he was engaged, Daddy Low said that we should bring him to the Natural History Museum one day. I am not sure if he will make much sense of bones and fossils now, but the thought sent a thrill through me - it's always been my dream to share the wonders and secrets of museums with my little one when I have one of my own.  And somehow, the image I have always had in my mind was me and a little boy checking out an exhibit together... :)

Today, we shared a moment of history together. We watched the news today and they reported on (1) the firing of the Russian Soyuz rocket carrying the Gallileo satellites into space from French Guinna and (2) the death of Gaddafi and the new independence of Libya.  the firing of the rockets was a live event. We were 2 minutes away from the firing. And I remembered how I was sort of buzzing inside, thinking that J and I are going to witness this historic event together. it was the first time a Russian rocket was going to life off from European soil. And it was a first-time collaboration too - a Russian rocket carrying European satellites into space. How awesome is that?! We saw the lift-off. A lot of noise. A lot of smoke. And the rocket lifting, going up, up, up....  J watched everything intently. Of course, he is too young to understand now, but hopefully, one day when he is all grown up and reads this entry, he will appreciate this momentous moment we shared together. 


And Gaddafi's departure from Libya's political scene! For a nation whose population has never experienced a day of democracy in their life so far, what a significance their dictator's death makes. No more fear about what they say. No more living in fear and having to watch your back the whole time. And the very real possibility of their first free and democratic elections in 2 years... Wow! Will the Libyans make it? Or will Gaddafi's demise mean that there is no more check on tensions and differences among the people and in the Libyan Transitional Council and only lead to the ruin of the country? Jules, what exciting times! Have you any idea the meaning of all that has happened, my happy little munchkin! :)


So, thank you, telly! J may not understand all that now, but he was drinking it all in, thanks to your visuals and sounds. For now, you are to him the magic box where his fren Spongebob lives! :)

Off to Nursery

Buoyed by J's good response to nursery the previous time when he had stayed an hour on his own, I had driven us to nursery on Tuesday in high spirits for his 3rd settling-in session. We entered the nursery and walked through the various rooms without any incident....until we entered his room and he saw his carer.

I felt his grip on me go tighter and his face started to crumple. Then, the dam burst and the waterworks began.  It was awful. Awful to see your own baby cry like that. And hold on to you frantically...

A huge wave of guilt washed over me. He was crying because he understood that I would be leaving him behind. In a child's world, that must be really scary and terrible. I am, after all, his closest friend, the one he sees day in, day out and cares for him.  How do you explain to a child why he has to be in a nursery for some days, that he will have fun, and that he will be ok?

You can't, because he is too young to reason, to young to understand. And so, really, he will just slowly learn on his own that it is okay. He will gradually realise that nursery is a fun place, that he has many other little friends to play with and nursery has many fun activities which he will not get to do at home. 

And with that thought in mind, I reluctantly disentangle him from my arms and handed him over to his carer. I felt really lousy as his cries became louder, as they walked away from me. It was only 2 hours, but it was the longest 2 hours of my life. 

And the whole crying thing happened again on Thursday, his last settling-in session and this time I had asked for 3 hours to help both him and I adjust. Again, another agonising afternoon, and I was so glad to hold my baby again at the end of the session.

Today is his first official, full afternoon session. 5 full hours. I must admit that I was feeling apprehensive all the way from the house to the nursery. I felt like I was doing something wrong to my baby, sending him deliberately to  a place where he feels sad. Daddy Low just snorts at me with his "emotional rubbish" expression and tells me to snap out of this softie nonsense. And as much as I think he is cold and heartless on this point, I recognised the truth in his response - that I am just as guilty by responding in the other extreme.


So, we entered the building and J seems to be on full alert. I could almost feel him stiffen when we entered the room and when he saw the carer with her outstretched hands, he went off like a siren. I collapsed inside and asked her weakly, " How do I do this?" The good woman's reply? "Just pass him over." I did and J tried to hold on tightly, but the break was done and I exited with his cries following me down the corridor, out into the warm sunshine.


How easy those 4 words sounded "Just pass him over". How do they account for the heaviness in my heart at the parting, the frantic clawing on my baby's part, the stream of tears that rolled from his red, puffy eyes? But how strange it is as well, that it is really as easy as that? Literally, just pass the baby over. Turn around and walk out, back to your car and out the driveway. 


I told myself I must be making it even harder for myself by indulging in the emotional bits. And if a mother cannot make herself stronger for her child, then she is not much good as a mother. She has to, after all, be the pillar of strength, the tree whose sturdy branches give ample shade to her little one. So, I walked out, with my back straightened and my breath even. And as I drove away, I told myself that my boy shall not quiver again in distress and not be able to draw strength from me when he looks at me at our next parting. He shall find in me a promise that everything will be fine and that I shall return for him. For surely, that must be his fear, that I will not return. My dearest Julien, be strong. And know that I will never forsake you. I promise :)

Nevertheless, it did still prove to be a nerve-wrecking afternoon. Daddy Low was supposed to pick him up, and while waiting for them, I was trying to cook, but really, my heart was pacing up and down the room. I tried to avoid checking the clock or look out the window, and was really only able to breathe normally again when they came home and J was in my arms again. Oh boy, we are going to need practice with this going-to-nursery thing. Both J and I!

Pho Paradise!

4 days ago, I was introduced to a new restaurant in town. A Vietnamese restaurant to be exact. In the past, I am hardly excited by Vietnamese cuisine. I am more of a Thai cuisine kind of person, all for the hot and sour kind of taste.

The only Vietnamese dish I know is pho, the very traditional Vietnamese dish of beef rice noodles. And in my mind, that is a very super-duper dish. So super-duper that I had a major craving for it during my pregnancy last year. But guess what? There was no Vietnamese restaurant in MK then. So, pho took on a sort of mythical dimension and became THE dish to have whenever we visited London last year.

When I was told about the Vietnamese restaurant early this week, I went with tempered expectations. I mean, this is not London; we are just really suburbia out here. But I should have had more confidence. After all, I was going under the charge of my Vietnamese fren.

So there we were at the restaurant and she took care of the orders. I had only one must-have dish and that is of course, pho.  In Thai restaurants, the key dish to have and to judge the restaurant's food quality is tom yum soup; for Chinese restaurants, that would be hot and sour soup. And for Vietnamese, it would be pho. Besides pho, Thao's must-haves include the sizzling monkfish with herbs and the spring rolls. 


And boy, was she spot-on! The fish was stunning! I have never had a dish where the herbs make such a significant difference. The dill and lemongrass blended so well with the fried fish, but more than anything, the Vietnamese pepper makes a distinctly outstanding contribution. Coupled that with vermicelli, salad leaves in a sweet chilli dip, oooohhhh, I could eat this forever!  By the time the pho came, I was already sold. The pho was excellent - wonderful soup stock, thinly sliced, melt-in-the-mouth kind of beef and the thai chilli sauce gave it that extra zing. But there was no doubt - the star of the show is the fish... and it was only a starter, priced very decently at 7 pounds with 5 pieces of good-sized monkfish.


I raved about it at home. And even though, I gave Daddy Low 2 choices for his belated birthday dinner, I was pushing for it subtly (or maybe not so subtly as Daddy Low will say).  

And so back we went today with Julien in tow. And besides the pho and the monkfish, we ordered the grilled pork on a bed of shredded salad leaves and a sizzling baby squid dish.  I watched Daddy Low's expression as he took his first bite and his response was as effusive as mine. I think he too came with little expectations, and so was mightily pleasantly surprised. The fish was a hit; the grilled pork a winner; the squid dazzled and the pho absolutely rocked! It was an excellent dinner indeed. And somehow, J was just as happy with the restaurant, being content to sit in his highchair most of the time.


And as I sipped the delicious pho soup, I could see us coming back to this restaurant regularly, especially in the cold winter season, when one would happily slurp down a steaming hot bowl of fragrant beef noodle soup. And with that image, I thought of our days in America in 2005, when Daddy Low and I would drive out to the only Vietnamese restaurant in the small American town we lived in and pay way too much money for our favourite pho. As well as the cold winter days in Switzerland, when my dear fren Unhie and I would trek to a small Vietnamese eatery for the same noodle dish. Oh, pho holds a lot of fond memories for me indeed.


So with the Vietnamese restaurant on my foodie list ticked, and Jamie's Italian just newly opened in MK, all I have left now on my wishlist is a Japanese restaurant. A proper Japanese restaurant. Oh, for a good solid bowl of miso soup, some agedashi tofu, grilled ika or saba shio... Now, that would make me all set for winter now!

Feeling My Roots

Recently, I have surprised myself by having a liking to express myself in Chinese. Now, this is a bit of a odd thing to understand for foreigners, but my generation of Singaporean Chinese really largely communicates in English. I will not go into explaining the hows and the whys here, since it involves government thinking and policies that has affected a nation's perspective and proficiency of English and its various mother tongues. But suffice it to say that I am always tickled by the confusion and awe when I explain to non-Singaporeans about how my generation would communicate amongst ourselves largely in English, while with our parents' generation in our mother tongue and with our grandparents' generation in dialect...

Certainly, it does mean we, this generation, know quite a few languages. For me, I profess I know the rudiments of the other languages, with English being the exception, since it is my rice bowl :)  And while I laugh when foreigners tell me I can teach Mandarin in a foreign land, I too do feel regret inside that my proficiency of my mother tongue is not any better. I can speak the language fluently, but as a typical Singaporean, my use of Mandarin is often mixed with English and dialect and until we started having PRC Chinese friends, I did not know my Chinese vocabulary was severely limited!

So, hence this entry. Hence, my delight that I actually feel like expressing myself more in Mandarin these days.

Does being overseas make one miss home and appreciate one's roots more? Certainly! But more than anything, I think being a parent now, and an overseas parent at that, makes me feel more acutely the need to ensure my son knows his roots and culture. And language is, after all, the key to the culture. 

We agreed that I would speak Mandarin to J, while Daddy Low would do the English bit. But I must say that it feels more natural to speak to J in Mandarin, in part because we were so used to hearing my mum speak to him in Mandarin when she was here. In our trip to Singapore recently, we went on a Chinese book shopping spree for J. Personally, I get intimidated and overwhelmed when I see a mass of Chinese characters together. It does not necessarily mean that I can't read them, and I can't explain it, but it does make me wish to close the book and choose an English one instead. So, when we shopping for the books, I was a bit apprehensive. To my pleasant surprise, I find that almost every book comes with Hanyu Pinyin. And while my Chinese is not tip-top, I can proudly say my Hanyu Pinyin is not too bad at all! :) They do make the pages look cluttered with the images, but I console myself that I would at least be able to read them and probably also improve my Chinese in the end! :)

So, we came home with all these books and J has been luckily interested. Well, in the first place, he likes books and I think with these, it helped that they have large colourful pictures. I don't think he is actually paying too much attention to the Chinese characters yet, but hey, they did say a child's best window of learning is from 2 to 7 years old. And while mine is not 2 yet, he can get used to these funny blocky characters being on his books first :)

At the nursery, they try to ask me for some Chinese words that J is familiar with. I think they see it as a sort of magic mantra that they can use, should J break into hysterics. And that is fair enough. But I tell J's key carer not to be too bothered and to just speak to J in English, cos I would like him to learn English there, while we converse with him in Mandarin at home. After all, what beats learning the language from the native speaker? My boy might just come home with the cool British accent some day! :)

For myself, for now, I take little baby steps by commenting in Mandarin now and then online. I mean, hey, technology makes it so much easier - I love how with the computer, you can just type the Hanyu Pinyin and the whole list of similar sounding words come out and you just choose the right one. I may not be able to write it by myself, but I sure know my words, cos I dun often make a wrong choice :) And with the hassle of knowing which is the right word out of the way, I am actually surprised by how my expression is actually quite decent! :) 

I think the next thing for me when I return is to get a lunar calendar or something, so that I know when we celebrate the Chinese festivals. Always wish I know when to eat dumplings, mooncakes and tang yuan! :)

A New Kind of Free

J is registered to start nursery soon, so these few weeks will be settling-in sessions for him, an orientation if you like. Our first session was on Tuesday and I was sitting beside him the whole time, as one of the staff went through numerous forms with me. He sat in my lap at first, then slowly, with some coaxing, started to venture out. He never went far, but seemed to be quite at ease.

Today was our second session. And I was asked to leave him. We sat together for a while, again with him in my lap, then him slowly venturing out. And before long, he was crawling over to check out a pile of toys, then next, a chest of books. The carer gave me the signal and I left in as inconspicuous a manner as I could.

Did I feel worry or sadness at leaving my boy behind? I think I was too busy trying to leave unnoticed to be emotional. I was, in part, also confident that J would be alright and, in fact, will be having too much fun to miss me. 

And unabashedly, I admit I was on a bit of a high, as I realised I was stealing away to my freedom. This realisation came upon me, when I was sitting in the car again and thought, "Darn! I should have brought a book, so that I can just sit in the car, in case J cries and they can't manage and call me to come back..."  After all, I really only had an hour's break...

In the end, I decided an hour's good time anyway and sped away to the mall. And I was not wrong. In that one hour, I checked out the baby section in a departmental store, went to the pharmacy, and walked from one end of the mall to the other. I contemplated having a fancy lunch to luxuriate in my own company, but figured that one hour would be too short for such a significant indulgence and perhaps, I ought not to celebrate too early. I had no specific shopping in mind, but suddenly decided that I would pick up my favourite salad and soup for lunch, and so brisk-walked to the other end of the very linear mall. As I passed by my various favourite shops, I toyed with the idea of browsing, but really, there was no time. I promised myself to do so on a proper nursery day.  It is funny how when one is pushed, one prioritises. And so even if I did not go everywhere my shopaholic heart was trying to pull me to, I did what I wanted to do - get my beautiful lunch - and then went back to fetch my boy.

I was 15 minutes late and for a minute, the thought went through my head: What a bad mummy I am to be late the very first time to fetch my boy from nursery, cos I have been shopping?! But I soon brushed that thought away, refusing to be chained or held captive by silly emotional blackmail or crippled by narrow-minded thinking about what makes a good mother. I reminded myself not to apologise for being slightly late and breezed through the nursery doors to sweep my boy in my arms. 

When he saw me for the first time, I thought J's face sort of became a bit red and for a moment, I thought he was going to burst into tears. But he was alright; he just gave a bit of a start at seeing me, as if his mind was juggling a little to figure out who this familiar face was. I could almost hear the click in his mind when he remembered I was Mummy and started crawling rapidly and excitedly towards me. I picked him up and was it my imagination, or was that an especially strong, tight hug? Or perhaps I was the one squeezing him and not vice versa? :)


The carers went on to tell me how he had been a most wonderful ward. Just smiling the whole time and playing happily. And how he wanted to share his banana with his carer at mealtime. He cried briefly when they went outdoors, but curiosity soon took over and he was off again, busily checking out the garden. So, all seemed well and J certainly seemed to have become a hit at the nursery with the adults.

As we walked back to the car today, I felt myself swelling with pride, like a proud mummy hen. On the way home, my boy fell promptly asleep and while he slept, this mummy wa busily devising plans for her future adventures and escapades on these glorious nursery days! Yes! :)


PS: Thanks, Daddy Low, for insisting that J goes to nursery, so I get some "Me" time :)

An Activity-Filled Day

I suppose one can rightly say that today is the beginning of me and J having our activity-filled life again, the real test, so to speak. After all, yesterday, we had no agenda and were still sort of resting.  Our 2 main items today were the Song and Rhymetime at the library at 10am and in the afternoon, J's first settling-in session at the nursery he's registered with. 

Waking up in time for the library was not the worry - we've been waking up early everyday since returning from Singapore. Curiously, it was not as painful as I thought it might be, given how difficult it was when Mum was around. (I think that was one of the things she disapproved when she stayed with us and observed my daily habits; her generation seems to think that sleeping-in late is a sin, especially when one becomes a wife and mother...) I suppose it must be a mind thing, that when one has someone around to help, one feels assured enough about Baby's care and so becomes more self-indulgent :)

So, we did wake up in time, but it was the getting ready and getting there in time that was the issue. J was co-operative, so there was nothing to fault him on there, but getting both of us breakfasted and ready, getting his bag ready, getting the buggy into the car etc took me some time. And if I had been too busy to be homesick or miss Mum before, I felt her absence acute at that moment. Her extra pair of hands and eyes when she was here was a great help every time we were preparing to leave the house and get somewhere in time.

When I spoke with a European girlfren recently, she had expressed her amazement at my mum coming to stay and help us in UK for so long. I think this must be a cultural difference, since it is very common for Asian mums to come and stay for months to help their overseas daughters (generally children, but especially daughters) once they have delivered and even as their grandchildren grow, while it seems, for our Western counterparts, the strong belief of independence for both parties does mean a shorter stay for mums when they come to help their overseas children. But whatever the case, all overseas daughters will agree on this - it is only when one is overseas that the lack of family help is sorely felt! 


The other thing that strikes me is how Skype is so indispensable for overseas daughters like me. This came home twice recently when 2 different frens on separate occasions said they do not have Skype when I asked in the hope of connecting through it. My immediate reaction was incredulity; how can anyone not have Skype, not use Skype? It is such a basic thing to have... then, of course, I realise how presumptious I was and how different our contexts and living realities are. I have been a Singaporean-at-large for near to 2 years now and Skype has been nothing short of a lifeline to me. And I suppose that is why I come back to my newfound understanding of my new identity - my belonging to a different "breed" of people and that is, the overseas-daughters-recently-turned-mummies.


I suppose this is my focus today, 'cos interestingly enough, this came up again when I brought J to the nursery. I was being interviewed about J's daily habits and other information and at some point, the conversation turned to when we came to stay in UK... after which, the carer just exclaimed how amazed she is by my bravery to come to a whole new country in the midst of my pregnancy and deliver here etc. It is a strange perspective for me, 'cos for me, it was a matter of no choice. If I had stayed in Singapore, I would have to deliver J without Daddy Low and that was just a no go for us. I could not imagine depriving Daddy Low of that magic moment as well as all the months leading up to the birth. I remembered how we had enjoyed seeing my little bump grow bigger and bigger and how thrilled we were to feel his first kick. How could I let Daddy Low miss out on all these? And not to mention how I had felt a whole new kind of love and respect for Daddy Low as he took such tender care of me in those difficult months and as he grew into his daddy role. He attended antenatal class with me, learning all about the birth process as well as how to bathe and care for Baby when he arrives. As much as it was hard and perhaps unimaginable, it was a road that we are meant to take together, since we are travelling mates in Life's journey. And through this part of the journey, we grew together, to go past our roles as husband and wife, to become parents working hand-in-hand to care for our baby.


Then, others ask: How do I manage alone? In Singapore, family help is readily available and it is easy and in fact, common to get a maid once the children arrive. My frens think it is amazing that I take care of the baby as well as cover the household chores. And I think, " Yah, how nice it would be to be in Singapore!" but understand really I am not doing anything out of this world. Having stayed in Switzerland and UK now, I know it is do-able even if not easy and we are just really having it good in Singapore. Here, it is a common sight to see a mum push a trolley in the supermarket with a baby in the baby seat, a toddler sitting inside the trolley and the eldest child walking beside the trolley... So, honestly, I dun feel like I am doing any special feat, and in fact sometimes think I probably am having a much easier time than those here with more than one child.


And I am grateful that I had a chance to be overseas to learn these lessons, to develop this part of me, to know myself better and grow stronger. More than anything, I am glad that I have the opportunity to take a few gap years off to care for my baby. 


At the nursery, we saw a boy on his second day and the poor tike was crying for his mummy. I felt a sudden twinge of guilt at what confusion and panic I might be setting Julien up for... And as much as I had looked forward to having some time off him, I started to regret a bit, had a sudden rush of love and just want to squeeze my boy hard and have him with me, in my sight the whole day... but steeled myself finally that some time at a nursery would benefit him as well as me.  At the end of the day, J did well at the nursery today. He started to wander further and further from him and warmed up to the carer. It was more Mummy who started to feel like she couldn't let her baby go...


So, the day turned out to be a good one, especially when you throw in a Vietnamese lunch at a newfound Vietnamese restaurant. But doing back-to-back activities in a day is just too much for me, not forgetting that J is in a phase now where he wants me to be within his sight at all times and play with him every 20 minutes.  When Mum was here, I was well rested and had difficulty sleeping at night; now, when I have to do everything myself, I am dog tired by the end of the day. One thing for sure - I am sleeping like a log tonight! :)



 

Happy Birthday, Daddy Low!

Today is Daddy Low's birthday and stuck at home with no car keys and no special ingredients to make a super-duper dinner, I try to think what else would make a good present for him.

Light bulb! A blog entry - Daddy Low just grumbled yesterday that I never write anymore and that he likes to read my blog... so here it is, Papa! This is for you! :)

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We are back in UK after a 2+ week return to Singapore. Landed at 5.50am on Saturday. And amazingly, we agreed to a weekend packed full of activities. But planning to go to a birthday party at 1pm after having landed in early morning is pure madness and I ended up sending in notice of our absence with apologies, especially since J came back with a phlegmy cough and I with a burning sore throat and dry, persistent cough. 

We spent that Saturday by ourselves and it was a nice change for a bit from the meet-ups in Singapore. The foremost thought in my mind was to get J back to UK time and his routine, so the baby is the one who gets star treatment - play for a while, then breakfast, then shower, then nap etc.  (Although it was not the first time for us to see this, it was still funny to see J rediscovering his toys - his eyes would brighten up, there would be excited "ahs" and pointing at his toys while he crawls rapidly towards them. And every time, I am reminded how I ought to "rotate" his toys by keeping them in storage and taking them out in turn, so they are always novel and desirable to J :)

Then, of course, we had to do the grocery run to stock up the fridge, and unpack and do laundry... as well as call the parents on Skype to say we are safely home. Breakfast and lunch were takeaways, while I cooked dinner and Daddy Low returned to his workplace to clear some backlog. (And I cooked porridge for J for the first time! And it was not burnt; it did not taste odd, but was in fact really yummy! Yay!) And so our Saturday turned out to be quite tiring after all and all three of us slept very soundly that night - Yes! Even J - he slept through and did not wake up for his midnight feed! :)

Sunday's programme - a wedding in London! Not much of a lie-in for me, as I tried to keep J to his routine of waking up at 7am - and he did not need prompting anyway, woke up at 7am... but man, are we tired! I must admit, I half wished that we didn't have to go. The house was in a mess, I feel and look like a panda (and Daddy Low too) and was not in much of a mood to pretty up for a wedding or get into some interaction action... but one only marries once and a wedding is always a good way to catch up with old frens, so there we go again - packing baby's stuff, getting angpow ready, trying to look fresh and not like some wilted cabbage and bravely, Daddy Low stepped on the gas, propelling us towards London.


There is something about weddings - it always makes one go misty-eyed and all soft inside as the beauty of love pervades the air, while watching the couple exchange their vows. I could not see my friends' expressions as they exchange their vows, but I could hear the emotion in their voices and with each "I do", you could almost hear a sigh of contented bliss from the audience. It is hard to explain, but for one moment, the very building itself seems to join in the celebration with a slight throbbing of joy and happiness. 

This was an American-Swedish wedding and a first experience for me to hear three readings by the best man, the bridesmaid and the bride's aunt. They were excellent selections, all very relevant and I thought, made a lot of sense. As I listened to them, I was flooded with emotions. Probably like several others in the crowd, I am reminded of our own big day as I exchanged wedding vows with Daddy Low. I thought of how young we were then, how heady we were that particular day (According to the audience, I paused noticeably before responding to the Solemniser addressing me as "Mrs Low"), and how ignorant I was of how to be the right partner..

I have to say, after spending more than half a decade together as husband and wife, I am aware of how wonderful my husband is to me ... and how willful and selfish I am comparatively as a wife. Daddy Low gives in to me constantly and is always mindful of my feelings. Poor him, his wife is more wrapped up in her own world and needs ... and now that J is here, in J's needs :)  And many times too, this wife takes him for granted. He may complain, he may get mad, but at the end of the day, he still loves and accepts me. 


Lucky me.


I am thankful to have such a loving husband. And I am thankful that I am reminded today of his wonderfulness and of how a marriage can only be made with hard work and contributions from both.  Thank you, Daddy Low. You are the treasure I have the fortune to find in this life. And because I am not as articulate, and because I was so moved by the readings, I leave them here for us both...  love you and feeling blessed to have you and J in my life, your wife K :)




Extract from Les Miserables
by Victor Hugo



You can give without loving, but you can never love without giving
The great acts of love are done by those
Who are habitually performing small acts of kindness
We pardon to the extent that we love
Love is knowing that even when you are alone
You will never be lonely again
And the great happiness of life is the conviction that we are loved
Loved for ourselves
And loved in spite of ourselves



I Promise
by Dorothy R Colgan


I promise to give you the best of myself
And to ask no more than you can give.
I promise to respect you as your own person and to realise that
Your interests, your desires and needs are no less important than my own.
I promise to share with you my time and my attention
And to bring joy, strength and imagination to our relationship.
I promise to keep myself open to you, to let you see through 
The window of my world into my innermost fears and feelings, secrets and dreams.
I promise to grow along with you, to be willing to face changes
In order to keep our relationship alive and exciting.
I promise to love you in good times and in bad, with all I have to give and all I feel inside 
In the only way I know how.
Completely and forever.


The Act of Marriage
by Alfred Perdersen


A good marriage must be created.
In the marriage, the little things are the big things.
It is never being too old to hold hands.
It is remembering to say "I Love You" at least once a day.
It is never going to sleep angry.
It is having a mutual sense of values and common objectives.
It is standing together and facing the world.
It is forming a circle of love that gathers in the whole family.
It is speaking words of appreciation and gratitude in thoughtful ways.
It is having the capacity to forgive and forget.
It is giving each other an atmosphere in which to grow.
It is a common search for the good and the beautiful.
It is not only marrying the right person,
It is being the right partner.