Happy 3rd Birthday Sprong!

21 Jan 2011,

My darling boy,

All of three today!

A little dynamo that chatters non-stop and who floods us with smiles, hugs and kisses as well as tantrums and furious tear-fests, bringing amazing joy and great drama into our lives.

My firstborn; warm, beautiful and absolutely huggable. 'Don’t worry mommy, Captain Sprong will help you clear up' you say when I get started about how messy the house is.

I love that you have your own little world with all your make believe friends consisting mainly of Thomas, Percy and James as well as of late, the fear of the shark in Pororo (so you refused to go into the water when we went to the beach because you thought that the shark was going to come and attack anytime). Sometimes, you also think that at night, there’s something behind the red curtrains.

I love that you still say trouyers and lellow. You used to also say Bob ka biddle.

I love that you always ask me to sit and watch the rain with you. Just you, me and thambi sitting in the patio, quietly watching the rain pelt gently on the earth.

Our 'Sprong and mommy time is something I treasure –there is an impenetrable circle between you and me which have included train rides to A&W, an afternoon in kidzport, eating fries together at the burger place in Bangsar, lots of sand art, playdough and simply lying together on the grass in the garden.

Did we have a life before you? I am sure we did (and it definitely involved your papa and me going to art galleries, eating at elegant restaurants and travelling somewhere!) but now, today, life is all you, you and you. School , playdates,ice cream dates. Boundaries. Temper tantrums. Pororo and Friends. Railway tracks and tunnels.

For your 3rd birthday party at Kidzport, you had a Thomas the tank engine cake and Tidmouth sheds for all your engines.

Did I mention cakes –all kinds, chocolate, carrot, coffee - which can be in any colour green, bue, yellow, pink. Also of late, lollipops. Of course, you also try your luck – every morning, you will wake up and declare ‘it’s a holiday mommy’, so that I don’t go to work and you don’t have to go to school.

Even on the lowest days, when my energy is sapped and I feel that the world is breaking me, I have you to go home to. I have you to remind me of all the goodness in the world and feel that is right again. ‘Are you happy Mommy?’ you ask me.

‘Yes, always, as long as I get a hug and a kiss from you’.

I wish you a blessed life my darling boy.


XXX

Key words influenced largely by Playhouse Disney:
Cool mommy!
I’m hungry, my tummy is growing
I’m not going to school (daily occurrence)
Hola it’s Kandy Manny
Let’s make a bridge mommy

Likes: cakes, cookies, ice cream, trains

It's Okay to be Awesome

It’s OK to be awesome.In fact, it’s preferable. Highly-recommended.

Perfect 10s across the board.

It’s OK to be the smartest, the cutest, the sassiest, the brassiest, the best-dressed, the most well-versed AND the most ambitious person in the room.

It’s OK to know exactly what you want and to GO for it — guns a-blazing, Lady Gaga-style.

It’s OK to be an artist, writer or performer, and NOT be poor.

It’s OK to quit your day job.It’s OK to have dreams that make no sense to the casual observer — and to actualize them.

It’s OK to kick everything to the curb and start from scratch.

It’s OK to be a Jack of All Trades, and a Master of ALL.It’s OK to be a supernova.

It’s OK to be sought after.

It’s OK to spend more time packing the perfect bento box lunch than actually eating it.

It’s OK to take more than 2 weeks of vacation per year. Much, much more.

It’s OK to spend a lot of time, energy and money improving your mind, body and soul.I

t’s OK to be the life of the party.It’s OK to love so fiercely it hurts.

It’s OK to be legendary.

It’s OK to surround yourself with people who are just as awesome as you are … and maybe ever awesomer.It’s OK — really, truly, honestly — to be awesome.

What makes you awesome?

XXX

I pinched this from http://www.yesandyes.org/2010/10/its-okay-to-be-awesome.html.

Love,love, love the self affirmation - to remind me that everything's going to be ok on days when it is absolutely raining crap.

October News

So so much has been happening..........

so my silence is absolutely unjustified. I just have no time and when I do have the time, I feel so shite/tired/crap that I don't write anymore.

Had a few really good reads these few months. Must update on that. What will I do without my books- I will hollow and empty out, especially when life constantly straggles.

Sprong and Wispy have been good and well except for the bouts of flu/running nose/fever etc that kids tend to perpetually be having. My source of great joy and greatest exhaution.

I dream everyday of running away for a fabulous holiday all by myself, deep blue sea, pina colada and great book in hand but know that the minute I reach there, I will miss them like crazy. I just can't win. So it must be.

Work? Downhill all the way really. Moving soon I hope, not sure if it's a good thing in terms of timing though.

Fat quotinent? Way, way too high. Some guy wanted a donation at the concourse of The Weld and asked if I was pregnant. Of course I didn't donate but also know that he was trying to be all pally wally and said it as it was. I need to eliminate this rolls but with no exercise, how? And please don't tell me to find time to exercise. I work from 9-7 (most of the time inc lunch) and have 2 hours tops when I come back with the kids. Where got time?

I am miserable.

work, work, work

Why do I find it so hard to take a break ? In fact, when did I last take a real break- you know, even if physically you go somewhere else, it must at the mental level. I find that once I scale a particular project/issue/job, I need to do something else, bigger, better and more dramatic. Once this is done, move on to another. Repeat as nauseam.

Why is it surprisng then that I am mentally so, so, so exhausted????

"Our culture invariably supposes that action and accomplishment is better
than rest, that doing something--anything--is better than doing nothing. Because
of our desire to succeed, to meet these ever-growing expectations, we do not
rest. Because we do not rest, we lose our way. We miss the compass points that
would show us where to go, we bypass the nourishment that would give us succor.
We miss the quiet that would give us wisdom. We miss the joy and love born of
effortless delight. Poisoned by this hypnotic belief that good things come only
through unceasing determination and tireless effort, we can never truly rest.
And for want of rest, our lives are in danger."
Wayne Muller, Sabbath: Finding Rest, Renewal, and Delight in Our Busy Lives

A Loss

My aunt passed away last week. A tumour had eaten into her voice box and a heart vessel ruptured during the surgery. My mother collapsed when she collected the butchered body of her sister.

I wasn't particularly close to this Aunt but found that I was affected nevertheless- I had grown up always knowing her so felt some semblance of grief. The thing that struck me was as a family, we needed to cling together in facing our loss.

The communal grieving process was a coping mechanism for us and the Hindu ceremonies that ensued provided some kind of organized system to the inner chaos that we all felt. These were the necessary processes that have helped us manage.

A nation with no soul

My friend Awang Goneng has got it absolutely right:

“.....we should teach our children again the value of literature, its disciplines and its propensity to give a deeper look into life, and love and everything that no scientist could dissect on a cold slab nor accountants calculate in a balance sheet.”

How many CEOs have I met in corporate Malaysia who are 2 dimensional accountants or scientists, with nothing to offer beyond their vocational skills? Too many.

This is the price we pay today, two dimensional technocrats who have no soul.

More here: http://www.nst.com.my/nst/articles/Theimportanceoflanguageandspeech/Article/

Browsing

I was researching a entirely different story for a work related project when I chanced this. I don't know Najib Rahman and when his father the IGP was gunned down, I wasn't even born but he writes with such candour that I felt the pain reading this son's account of his father's death.

My father, the IGP, was gunned down

Somedays only a Poem Will Do

The Coming of Light

Even this late it happens:

the coming of love, the coming of light

You wake and the candles are lit as if by themselves,

stars gather, dreams pour into your pillows,

sending up warm bouquets of air.

Even this late the bones of the body shine

and tomorrow’s dust flares into breath.

-Mark Strand

Weekend Rambling

Finished the Brooklyn Folllies - Paul Auster spins a nimble tale, a postmodern paean that deftly explores human follies. It's a bit too clever for my liking, the loose ends come neatly tied in co-incidental sequences. It doesnt detract the fact that he is such a good writer though.

Also trying to read Middlesex by Jeffrey Eugenides and feel like I am living in some kind of Greek tragedy except that it is in Detroit. Its very, very good so far. It sings.

Book of the week: Malaysian Maverick Mahathir Mohamad in Turbulent Times by Barry Wain . Will write another post about it.

XXXX

Everyone seems to be watching Glee. What is this? I miss being part of popular culture (with the resolute exception of Big Brother). I miss the simple things like being part of a TV series or show, waiting every week for the next installation. Once upon a time M and I used to do TV dinners almost every night. Our favourites were The West Wing, House and Gray's Anatomy (M wasn't too mad about Gray's but for me, it was the droolicious Patrick Dempsey that did it).

Now, there is too much mayhem to have a TV routine. A good weekend is one that is spent in Jungle Gym.
XXXX

My maternity break is almost over. Oh, the misery of going back to work. Of driving everyday into the city (did I mention that I work in downtown KL, 10 mins away from KLCC which means perpetual battle with the traffic EVERYDAY).

Oh,if only I had the guts to quit everything and write a novel. If only.

But I need to feed two children.

Cartography

Mother's day weekend. I am not really mad about Mother's Day and all that. As much as mother's pour love, they can also wreck havoc and create serious damage in the lives of their children so I really think all this exulting of all mothers is just a bit much.

I worry about the impact I can potentially have on my boys and can only hope that they grow up into decent, well adjusted adults who live good lives. M has big plans for them, thinking of their careers and universities, etc. For me? I just want them to be absolutely happy.

My gift for them as a mother?

I want to give them choices and possibilities. I see my job as cartographer, I draw the map with all the roads out and they get to choose their path. My aim is to be damn good at cartography so that they have all the right roads before them. What they end doing and how they ultimately lead their lives is in their hands after that.

What do I expect from them?

I expect them to live a good life. That will be their gift to me.

managing

Managing a toddler and a baby has been much harder than I ever imagined particularly because toddler has been throwing numerous horrific tantrums including rolling on the floor when not getting what he wants. I am at wits end, having tried everyting except for whaking (M and I agreed that we are not going to raise them like that no matter what). You know, love begets love and all that.

I am however seriously reconsidering this because 2 year old doesnt seem to have registered any of my admonishments.

The other thing that is worrying me is that he is just not that into sharing -his toys, etc. I know that this is normal but how do I inculcate a sharing habit. This evening, at the playground, he refused to let go of the swing when another boy wanted to have a go.

All the world is a birthday cake, so take a piece, but not too much

Dear Wispy,

You are 1 month old today. I can’t believe how fast it’s been. Soon you will even be no longer the wisp of a thing that I held on Feb 25th. In fact, you hardly look like the wrinkled cabbage leaf that you were and have been thriving well.

Your birth itself was serendipity. On the 24th afternoon, I was already 3 cm dilated for 3 days. M and I went to watch a movie, My Name is Khan (which by itself was pretty mundane) and it made me pretty wistful that this will be my last movie/outing/social event for a long, long time before you popped. I remember after Sprong, it took me 2 whole years to go back to the cinema to watch a movie.

That night, while putting Sprong to bed, I suddenly felt mild contractions. Mild means enough for me to have a warm bath, have a cup of milo, give orders to the maid, get my mom to come over and call M to hurry from the office. It was 12 pm by the time we reached the emergency ward and I was buzzing with pain already. After this, I was in an epidural induced haze- god bless. I even managed to nibble some crackers, suddendly hungry as the last thing I had was popcorn at the movie.

By 6am the next day, I was again in a fair bit of pain, despite the epidural. The midwife had a look at me and declared that I was in labour. By 6:45, my gynae was next to me and out you slid, ceremoniously plonked in my arms all gooey and gnarled.

The world when you were born: Orang aslis were caught killing tigers in jungles in Pahang, a survey revealed that young people spent 2-4 hours a day on social networking sites on the internet, a French hostage was freed by Al-Qaeda.

Famous birthdays : George Harrison ( title quote is his) , Anthony Burgess, Auguste Renoir

Blogging Again

So yes, blogging mojo has been regained. I really want to maintain momentum this time because blogging is kind of one of those 'me' things that I enjoy doing but has been one of those casualties of motherhood and a busy career combination- which also includes movies, reading with abandon, TV, rambling walks/runs, coffee with friends, holidays and any other remotely social undertaking.

This time around, I am quite determined to balance me time and mommy time, though it's proving to be trying with a toddler and a baby.

But I'll try.

XXXXX

Updates

1. So, yes baby No.2 Wispy was born on 25th Feb. A Tiger baby to my Golden Pig Sprong.
2. In 09, I moved to another job but it has come with its own set of frustrations. Hmmm...
3. In a way I am glad to be on maternity break, I need some time to re-think where I am heading now.
4. M's been pretty busy with work and with my schedule and the kid(s), I sometimes hardly see him. We seriously need to resolve this.
5. Our 7th wedding anniversary is in June and I want to do something nice but not sure what.
6. I turned 34 in January. 40 creeping closer and my personal strategic plan nowhere activated as yet.
7. Don't think a holiday is going to happen soon ie in the next year although I am dying for one. Just the thought of dragging a toddler and a baby anywhere is tiring-the last one we had was aeons ago to South of France last summer.
8. I miss Croftie, Ira, Maur, Steve, Rajesh (and Delio) so so much - I dont seem to have friends like that in Msia. Or maybe I have no time to cultivate friendship now.

Okay, Wispy is fussing.

Books read, loved and loathed

Books read 09

Jan/Feb Eat, Pray, Love by Elizabeth Gilbert

March The Trial by Franz Kafka ,Calcutta Chromosome by Amitav Ghosh

April What was Lost by Catherin O’Flynn

May The White Tiger by Aravind Adiga

July Norweigian Wood by Haruki Murakami , The Other Hand by Chris Cleave

August Their Eyes were Watching God by Zora Neale Hurston

2010 Reads Jan-March

The Good Earth by Pearl S. Buck – cry fest which was nurtured by pregnancy hormones.

One Night at a Call Centre by Chetan Bhagat – Stay away unless you have too much time on your hands. I picked it up after watching the inspring 3 Idiots which was based on another book by the same author. I didn’t expect too much noting its ‘popular’tag but this was absolutely badly written drivel. To be fair, I read it till the end but it never got any better.

The Return by KS Maniam- Re-read. It gets better actually after the 5th chapter or so. I do think its an important piece in terms of Malaysian reading with all the necessary questions of identity and corresponding angst, driving a stake in Malayan ground and all that.

The 5 People You Meet in Heaven by Mitch Albom. Hey to be fair,I wanted to read something light during labour and maternity. It was between this and Paul Astler’s Brooklyn Files. Give me a break okay, I was in no mood for CK Prahalad and saving the world.

yawn

Yawn! This blog is dusty.

Haven't attempted to blog for the longest time, the biggest excuse really is of laziness. Yes, I've been busy etc but I think I have been slowly losing the will to blog....which I do intend to remedy in 2010.

Talking of which I can't wait for the new year- 09 in introspection in the next post.

My dear bunny boy is hitting the Terrible Twos Very Early On

My dear Bunny Boy,

As you toddle into your 17 months, I know the world is increasingly becoming complex. There is a need to establish boundaries and carve out your identity.

I want you to know that it's okay, it's okay to be frustrated and sometimes show it loudly. Because it may seem that nobody understands you or bothers about what's really important.

I do also want you to know that I am trying my hardest to understand some of that frustration and how difficult it may be for you to be assaulted by this constantly changing world. I may sometimes disagree with you and not allow you more time for colouring or tell you to stop playing your bus so that you can have a bath. I know that this is terribly annoying but you must know that I do make sense. If you have a bath too late, we wont be able to go out afterwards and if you want to spend all your time with your crayons, when will you have lunch?

Always remember that you are making choices. If your choice is to throw a tantrum and fuss, then all that energy is wasted. Just think if you make wider choices, then your world view will open up and your day can just be so much brighter and fun filled.

I want you to have fabulous, magical days -every day.

I try my best to do this but you've got to help me as well. All that you've got to do is just be your usual sunshiny self and spread your Sprongy goodness into the world. You definitely make it a better place.


lovelovelove

mommy

17 Months - I see the moon and the moon sees me

At 17 months, Sprong-isms include:

- Little happy jigs for mommy when she is back from work

- 'Roar' like a lion

- Turning DVD player on

- Scrunching of nose and hearty laughter when tickled

- Obessessed with the 'mun' (moon), stars and SUNNN

- Favourite song: I see the moon and the moon sees me

- Favourite show: Mother Goose song series

- Can march like a soldier on order, left right left right

- Not very good with sharing toys

- Loves raisins, prunes, cheese

- Likes to do his weekly painting

- Is fussy about what T-shirt he wears except for ELMO

- Likes to run and make mommy catch him

- Is able to order Papa around , sit, Papa, sit, Papa SITTTTTTT

- Likes to open and close bottles and tins and says OPENNNNN

- Has learnt Malay words courtesy of Indon maid, vocab includes atas, habis, lapar (in context)

- Is learning to play badminton with Papa

- Digs his nose (uncultured part of DNA must be courtesy of paternal side)

Today is one of those days

Today is one of those days.

When everything unravels, my eyes smart from the lack of sleep, my mind too numb to sort out that never ending to-do list and my spirit all shrivelled, lacking the energy to navigate the constant quagmire.

Of what? The pressures at work, the worries at home due to current state of being without maid, the new career path that I intend to carve, the financial implications....and a million other things like a new oven that needs to be bought, airconds that need servicing (damn the climate change police), passports to be collected, sippy cups, the right nursery/playschool, walking shoes for Sprong, change of diet.......

Oh, how trivial.

This writer captures my feelings so well.

" After all, there are bigger events. There is a world at large, and my, it’s large. Tanking economy. Greedy banks. Bloody wars. Power struggles. Politics and pundits, media glee.

We are aware of the blazing ring of fire circling us. In the middle of it, we change diapers. We wipe little bottoms. We shop in bulk. We return overdue books at the library. We go to work. We try to find work. We love and we lose our spouses, our children, our way. We cry in the shower.

None of this gets much press.

And yet. "

And yet.

Growing Up in Terengganu

The last person I recommended Growing Up in Terengganu (GUiT) to was my articulate Italian friend, Dr. I. Although she is a top city lawyer, she is a big Italian mama at heart and truly enjoyed the culinary delights that spewed out of the book. Delish Terengganu concoctions are redolent in GUiT and she assured me that she was salivating reading about all those teeming cucurs and kuehs.

The writer, a certain Mr. Awang Goneng is a delight himself, being purveyor of Terengganu vignettes. A good friend, I have had the privilege of joining him and his lovely wife for lunches, teas and dinners (including some involving lobsters).

I myself missed AG's readings in KL, the one involving singing especially, as I was over 9 months preggers at that time and was having one of those false labour alarm days. I did get my copy of GUiT signed at a later day in 1 Utama. I devoured the book in three sittings, absorbed by the salty Terengganu monsoon and the escapades of folks.

Kak Teh tells me that GUiT is now up for Popular-Star Readers Choice Awards 2009 for non- fiction. I do hope that with the attention, the book will be read by more Malaysians everywhere. And I do sincerely hope that it wins because it is one of the rare books that captures a slice of Malaysiana, wraps it up in lilting prose and warms your heart.

Go grab a copy now y'all.

kamala

I belatedly discovered the quiet passing of Kamala Das Suraiyya.

Her poems had been an influential part of my early 20s where I was a bit of a man-hater type feminist.

Perhaps, more than Adrienne Rich, Rachel Carson and Catherine McKinnon, Kamala Das had impacted my young self. The angry young woman phase that I was going through found solace in a woman from a fairly repressive culture - Kamala could boldly explore sexual longing, feminine wiles and freedom. Every word of her poetry reeked with pain and pleasure.

Of course, she has also been contradictory in her ways. In her late age, she took on the burqa which confused and infuriated people. The eloquent Huree Babu explores the Kamala Das phenomenon.

Rest in peace.

When I die
Do not throw the meat and bones away
But pile them up
And
Let them tell by thier smell
What life was worth
On this earth
What love was worth
In the end

A Change Will Do Jane Sunshine Good

So, save for signing on the dotted lines, I have decideded to move elsewhere. Something more connected to my professional and personal direction.

XXXXX

Summer holidays are being planned and all that I want to do is board that flight TOMMOROW. I wonder how people ever planned holidays in the pre-internet age.

XXXX

Currently trying to read Map of the Invisible World by Tash Aw. So many books to read, so little time.

twittwit*

obviously the next natural step would be twitte*. now, i just need to go look up how do i do this stuff....will keep you posted on twitt* ville escapade.

Kak Teh, I know that you are on FB anymore but twitte* any good?

Personal Strategic Plan

Having just conceptualized a strategic business plan for the start up centre, I am now going to craft a Personal Strategic Plan 2009-2015.

Why 2015? Because that's when I turn freaking 40.

When I write it this way, 40 seems so close. Not that I am one of those women afraid of getting old and all that brouhaha (though I must go and ask the Msian PM's wife her secret to youth. In every new shot, she looks ever younger, what is it my dear- botox, jamu, other elixirs, hahaha).

Anyway, 6 years isn't a long time and 40 just seems to be an age where you better have it together ie life in general. For me, this will translate into family and MONEY. While I have drifted through most of my 20s and early 30s without much of a plan, I do feel that it's time I come up with a framework towards financial security, esp now that I only have 6 years to go (5 and a half to be exact, yegawds).

I never really thought of financial security- I let M worry about that- but now, with a child, it is increasingly on my mind because I want to ensure that I have done everything possible to ensure that he can explore all chances in life esp in terms of education.

How to go about doing this is where I need to think things through.

six years hence

I seem to be posting only at events/annual landmarks but such is the way things are now....

So, 6 years of marriage, not yet the 7 year itch. We are old marrieds now.

I think back of the time when I first saw you, in the office pantry (I know, how boring). I never knew that I had walked into my destiny as I went for a cup of coffee (cheesy). But what a walk its been.

Running around for new bathroom tiles, the airport fights, the long distance phone calls, burnt lamb curry, afternoon naps under the sun, the moonlit kisses, the star clad dinners, the burping baby. We've done it all.

And I am so glad that we are still doing it together.

Give Cheese

My dear Sprong,

You are 16 months today.

When you were a wee bud in my tummy, I had promised myself that I would write letters to you every month recording all my thoughts about you and my feelings as mom, etc. Fast forward 16 months and I realize that I have 2 miserable letters and other moms like Dooce have been actually doing it assiduously for YEARS.

So, that kind of sums up your mommy. A frazzled, disshelved , unorganized, crazy mommy who nevertheless loves you to incredible bits.

You kind of said your first sentence last month 'Give Cheese' you said. I glowed in pride and struck at the wonder that soon you and I will be having proper conversations. You’ve already started in that direction- you now like to hold on to the mobile phone and pretend that you are saying hello to Papa.

I want to say thank you to you my darling little bubba. For being you –a wholesome sunbeam who has made my life shimmer in joy.

I pray that I have the strength to be a good mom- not just to nurture but also as a guide who shares the world with you and navigates the difficulties that may be there.

FB- couldnt have said it better about the past resurrecting in strange dimensions

Online social networks are so new that it’s impossible to know their long-term impact. There’s some evidence that college students have mixed feelings about being guinea pigs for the faux-friendship age. One student interviewed for a study of why and how college students use Facebook, which was published last year in The Journal of Applied Developmental Psychology, admitted that being privy to the personal details of “friends” who she had not seen in years made her uncomfortable. “Someone from earlier in her life had broken up with a boyfriend,” an author of the article, Sandra L. Calvert, a professor and chairwoman of the psychology department at Georgetown University, told me. “She felt she knew all these intimate details about this person, yet they hadn’t actually been in touch for five years.” On the other hand, a study published in 2007 in The Journal of Computer-Mediated Communication suggested that hanging onto old friends via Facebook may alleviate feelings of isolation for students whose transition to campus life had proved rocky. Evidently they took comfort in knowing that “Dylan is drinking Peets.”


That may well be, but something is drowned in that virtual coffee cup — an opportunity for insight, for growth through loneliness. Perhaps my nieces will find a new way to establish distance from their former selves, to clear space for introspection and transformation. Perhaps they will evolve through judicious deleting and updating of profile information, through the constant awareness of their public face. Maybe the Greek chorus of preschool buddies will be more anchor than albatross, giving them strength to take risks or to stick out tough times. It could be that my generation was the anomalous one, that Facebook marks a return to the time when people remained embedded in their communities for life, with connections that ran deep, peers who reined them in if they strayed too far from the norm, parents who expected them to live at home until marriage (adult children are already reclaiming their childhood rooms in droves). More likely, though, the very thing that attracts us oldsters to Facebook — the lure of auld lang syne — will be its undoing. Kids, who will inevitably want to drive a stake into the heart of former lives, may simply abandon the service (remember Friendster?) and find something new: something still unformed, yet to be invented — much like themselves

Q1, 2009

Is it really April?

Some turbulent, choppy seas have been sailed this first quarter (hyperbole for dramatic effect) both on the professional and personal front but in my best Gloria Gaynor impression, I will survive.

I do hope that Q2 will be chirpier, lighter and simpler. But I suppose the lightness or heaviness is mine to decide and choose.

Also, this Q2, I am going to ROOAAARRRRR (this is my best Sprong impression). Don't mess with Jane Sunshine, y'all.

Dying and Other Thoughts

I am due for a scheduled surgery sometime next month. The surgeon was shocked that I had put off the surgery for as long as I did. I have a sebaceous cyst (sp? too lazy to link) growing on my head. It is fairly benign and a small incision is all that is needed to slice it off, roots and all. He was just surprised that I had let the tumscent protuberance grow as much as it did.

'Nobody can see it, it's hidden under my hair' I say, quite sheepishly.

He tsks, tsks, tsks and orders for immediate surgery.

'But....who is going to take care of Sprong?' I wail.

'If it turns septic, you will be away from your baby wayyyyy longer' he admonishes.

The upcoming surgery makes me think of mom's who are dying young. Natasha Richardson and Jade Goody, two people who I didn't particularly know or care about. But the fact that they are young moms who have died has made me sit up and think of my own.

My death is not something I have ever given much thought. Until Sprong arrived. What would happen to him -in terms of care, love, etc. I wake up one night and make M promise that he will marry again if I die. He tells me to go back to sleep. I have no will, no guardian in place.

This Newsweek article captures the whole young mom dying :

When my daughter was two weeks old, I was standing at the top of some steps and, for a minute, I held her tighter because I was truly afraid that the wind would blow her out of my arms. It sounds crazy now, but the urge to protect your child is hardwired and sometimes irrational. Indeed, for the first few years of their lives, it seems like our main occupation is to keep them from certain death. You scoop tiny chokeable bits of things out of their mouths; you grab them by the pants just before they fall off a chair, the stairs, the top of the slide; you stop them from prying old gum off the sidewalk.

And of course sometimes kids do fall, and there you are in the emergency room, freighted with guilt or panic or both. Most of the time, they are fine, and you get used to a certain level of parental worry. But there's another opposite and almost equally terrifying thought that we don't talk about as much: what if something happened to us before our kids were old enough to take care of themselves?

We're usually so preoccupied with our children's well-being that our own safety is an afterthought. But the deaths of two notable mothers over the past week, both with young children, have made those thoughts hard to avoid. Last Wednesday, actress Natasha Richardson died in New York from a brain injury after a skiing accident. She and her husband, actor Liam Neeson, had two sons—just 12 and 13 years old. Then, over the weekend, 27-year-old British reality-TV star, Jade Goody, succumbed after a long and public struggle with cervical cancer. She left behind two little boys, ages 4 and 5.

Neither woman was superstar famous, but the stories of their deaths were chilling to the mothers I know. Some of us could barely remember a movie we'd seen Richardson in, we just knew that she was gracious and well loved and just 45 years old. Her passing from something as capricious and random as a minor fall on the gentlest of ski slopes was so jarring that we couldn't stop talking about the how and the why. We hoped that an autopsy would show that something else, a pre-existing condition maybe, caused her death. But no. These things happen. It could have been any of us.

And when we learned that she waved away an initial offer of medical care after her fall, we understood. I'm sure that if one of Richardson's children had bumped his head she would gone to an emergency room immediately, and stayed for as long as it took to be absolutely sure that the boy was fine. But how many parents, if we'd taken a small tumble, would have looked at the day's plans and said, "No, I don't want to ruin everyone's vacation only to spend hours at the hospital over a minor bump. We don't have time. I'll be fine."

We find it easy to postpone our own doctor's appointments, but not the ones for the kids. We helmet them, but not ourselves. This is why airlines still have to remind parents to put their own oxygen masks on before they take care of the kids.

The passing of Britain's Goody inspired another trail of questions for parents. She was known as a kind of over-the-top "wrong side of the tracks Lady Diana," and had become famous after a controversial stint on the reality show "Big Brother." When she learned that she had an aggressive form of cervical cancer, this young woman who had not much else to offer, decided to sell the rights to televise her last days so that her two sons would be provided for.

Her decision caused an uproar in England. But it made me think twice about what I'd do for my two daughters if I knew I wasn't going to be around. So many of us haven't properly sorted out a living will, or even a regular will with provisions for guardianship should our kids be left without either parent. And as for less concrete types of preparation, I'm not sure what I'd do if I were given the terrible luxury of time to prepare my two daughters for my own passing. Goody told her sons that they could look to the sky and find her there, a star to watch over them. Hearing that, it was impossible not to think about what I'd say to my girls. It's like the unexplainable urge to put your finger right into the blue center of a candle flame. Horrible and irresistible.
But another week of work, school projects and laundry is already upon us; it won't be long before we forget Richardson and Goody. That's perhaps one blessing of having young children. The struggle to simply keep up with the everyday doesn't leave much time for fretting over hypotheticals. Still, I am going to finally make an appointment for a long overdue checkup. I'll do it for my kids. And I'll be thinking about Richardson's and Goody's children as I do it.


So yeah, I am going to go for the surgery. And keep all my medical appointments. For Sprong.

Why I do What I do (On Days That I Forget and am Miserable and think that I want to Float Away)

From the fabulous Jacqueline Novogratz

"I think there are lots of different paths and that the path isn’t always clear, but you just should start; that work will teach you; and that I can’t imagine a more joyful way of living than a life when where you are serving in the spirit as equally of adventure as you are of change"

Thoughts for interminable days.

At the end of the day, I persevere because I truly believe in my body of work. A personal and professional commitment that guides my thoughts and decisions. Even on doggone days. Yeah, lots of those lately.

First Day of Spring

Somewhere out there, it is the first day of Spring. Dandelions, peach blossoms, billowing skirts, scurrying squirrels, raspberry trifle and rhubarb tarts.

Love the Google take on Eric Carle's The Hungry Caterpillar . One of Sprong's favourite books- he loves to thread his fingers through the apples and oranges.

1st Birthday Celebrations

Here are the pictures, albeit belated. It was a relative - only event ie uncles, aunties, cousins, second cousins, the whole lot amounted to nearly 50 in dribs and drabs.

The celebrant had the honour of being photographed by photographer extradordinaire, Unc Helmi. We so love the shots. Thank you to Mrs Helmi aka Lana and Haiqal for turning up as well.

highly recommended

After a whole year, I managed to watch a whole movie at ONE go ie no interruptions for feeds/sleep/play-with-me-now-mommy screams....and I managed to catch Slumdog Millionaire on DVD. Can't recommend it enough. How did a British director get into the psyche of the sprawling Mumbai slums. Dharavi pulsates.

Now, I need to go get Vikas Swarup's book Q&A from which the movie was based to see how it was translated into film.

Highly recommended. Frieda Pinto is a vision.

Mommy Tag Via FB

Tagged by Ms Blabs via Face Book and doing it here.

1. WAS YOUR FIRST PREGNANCY PLANNED?
Yes

2. WERE YOU MARRIED AT THE TIME?
Yes

3. WHAT WERE YOUR REACTIONS?
I was so, so shocked that I went cold for a while- I went to sleep clutching my heart that night, waiting to do the home pregnancy test again, just to be sure. I was too afraid to be happy

4. WAS ABORTION AN OPTION FOR YOU?
No.

5. HOW OLD WERE YOU?
32

6. HOW DID YOU FIND OUT YOU WERE PREGNANT?
Home pregnancy test kit.

7. WHO DID YOU TELL FIRST?

Murali – we were driving back home and I told him we needed to get a kit. My period was late- and I thought maybe? SO, I went home, peed on a stick and told him – ‘there’s a blue line’.
He: ‘Does it mean that we are….?’
Me: ‘I don’t know- maybe’. And burrow my head on his shoulder.

8. DID YOU WANT TO FIND OUT THE SEX? DID YOU FIND OUT?
Of course.

9. DUE DATE?
January 30, 2008.

10. DID YOU HAVE MORNING SICKNESS?
I had all day sickness for about 4 months- morning, evening and night. It was horrible.

11. WHAT DID YOU CRAVE?
Nothing much actually. During the first trimester, I couldn’t eat anything spicy or strong, Pretty much survived on yogurt, rice and lightly cooked veg - the blandest of food.

12. WHO/WHAT IRRITATED YOU THE MOST?
The fact that I couldn’t (wouldn’t take coffee), that I was chucking up all the time in the first trimester. That I was tired all the time. That we had to move twice during the pregnancy, one intercontinental and one in Malaysia.

13. WHAT WAS YOUR FIRST CHILD'S SEX?Boy

14. DID YOU WISH YOU HAD THE OPPOSITE SEX OF WHAT YOU WERE GETTING?
For some strange reason, I was very sure that it was boy way before we scanned.


15. HOW MANY POUNDS DID YOU GAIN THROUGHOUT THE PREGNANCY?
I put on 15kgs. Some of it seems to have stuck around still. Sigh.

16. DID YOU HAVE A BABY SHOWER?
We did have a picnic of sorts at Russell Square which was farewell cum baby shower.

17. WAS IT A SURPRISE OR DID YOU KNOW
Yeah, I knew about it.


18. DID YOU HAVE ANY COMPLICATIONS DURING YOUR PREGNANCY?
I think resembling a beach whale would come under this.

19. WHERE DID YOU GIVE BIRTH?
Pantai Medical Centre, Bangsar.

20. HOW MANY HOURS WERE YOU IN LABOR?
21 hours, though I did sneak out for thosai and tea half way, when I was about 3 cm dilated. Ha. I always remember this when I go to Lotus Jalan Gasing now.

21. WHO DROVE YOU TO THE HOSPITAL?

Murali. My parents came along as well despite my protest- I was insistent that we were wasting time because although I had a bit of a bloody show that evening, I didn’t really feel that it was labour day. How wrong was I because in a couple of hours, I was admitted!

22. WHO WATCHED YOU GIVE BIRTH?My gynae and a whole team of nurses who did the one-two-push rara. Murali was there but I held on to the nurse as my legs had gone numb by then (no thanks to the epidural) and I needed her to tell me when to push (I was chucking up as well, so it was pretty miserable).

23. WAS IT NATURAL OR C-SECTION?
Assisted delivery via vacuum.

24. DID YOU TAKE MEDICINE TO EASE THE PAIN?
I was ready to take anything and had the epidural.

27. HOW MUCH DID YOUR CHILD WEIGH?
2.99 kgs.

28. WHEN WAS YOUR CHILD ACTUALLY BORN ?
21 January 2008

30. WHAT DID YOU NAME HIM/HER?
Sprong (he he). More often that not, Bubba boy or Bunny boy.

31. HOW OLD IS YOUR FIRST BORN TODAY?
12 months 3 weeks

Mama Gets Her Groove Back

Last year, I was a terrible friend. I didn't reply emails, forgot birthdays and never kept in touch much. Just because I had a baby.

Yes, I became one of those women, who was always dishelleved, always late, always never kept an appointment, cancelled the book club invite, didn't go for her high school reunion, was more interested in her baby's burping habits than talking about poverty/death/war.

My insularity bugged me and made me want to scream but in a way, I think it was a necessary process.

Now, I am reconnecting and want to thank my friends for being so patient with me.


XXXX

Current reads:

January: The Kite Runner by Khaled Hosseini , The Calcutta Chromosome by Amitave Ghosh


Feb: The Audacity of Hope by Barack Obama

One Today

My dear Sprong,

You are one today!

I am simply amazed that the wrinkly little alien baby who could hardly breathe and had to be rushed into the neonatal intensive care for the first three hours of his life has now become a smiley little chatterbox who loves people, balls, buses and cars (sometimes in that order).

I want you to know that you are one amazing dude. Everyday, my heart does many twirls and spins watching you doing your thing, going about being yourself. You are all sunshiny goodness watching the world unfurl, gleeful at the wonderful adventures awaiting you at every corner (including messing with the remote control, light switches, drawers, sliding doors...yes, we're baby proofing the house).

As you chew into the delights of the world (literally), I feel so privileged to be part of you, to introduce you to some of the miracles and magic that is in store. Some mornings, when I get a hearty 'gaa' and that floppy puppy dog face burrows clumsily into mine, I melt into many saccharine highs.

The stored memory is bursting in its seams. The first time I heard you laugh, a light gurgle floating like an airy bubble, a sweet lurch fluttered in my heart and remains lodged there, imprinted forever. Your toothy grin, framed by that shock of hair, and those twinkling eyes, sometimes brimming with obstinate tears, are fleeting images that light up many a boring afternoon office meetings.

You've given your papa and me new directions and perspectives. Our views about life and living now totally revolves around you, the centre of our universe. Our priorities have changed and we are the better for it I think. We want to give more and do more, not just for you but in our little way, to the world at large. We realize that we are thinking like this because we want the best for you. You've also made us examine our actions more, the implications of what we do and the reactions as a result.

There were hard days, days when I thought I couldn't go on and felt like an absolute failure. The colic that hit us hard, followed by gastrointestinal reflux had you spitting out every feed and cause me to be a tensed, mechanical mom. Then the eczema that sprouted all over, angry, suppurating spots that had me sitting at various paediatricians office, unsure of all that steroids that they were prescribing to my wee baby. Looking back at those times, I feel that they made us both stronger and more resilient.

You and me, we are made of strong, hardy stuff, aye.

Thanks to you, my faith and belief in God and the goodness in the universe has also been amplified this past year. Your blooming after that period of health problems and how everything else has fallen into place since- my job which offers some level of flexibility to be with you, grandpa and grandma who help out whenever they can and of course, at the end of the day, we both have Papa who is always there, no matter what.

Your magic is of the ethereal kind, one that wraps my heart with showers of wonder and joy. The suppleness of this magic endears you to your daily world audience consisting of your grandparents, the postman, the old newspaper man and the retired couple next door.

Did I tell you that you are a dancer? When Barney and Baby Bop come on TV to sing, you do your little jig along with them. You are a whirl of mobility now that you've found your feet. Yes, your drunken sailor walk fills me with such pride. Mobility does mean that the idea of sitting still is a bit of a bore, one that wee little babies did. So, reading, which you enjoyed so much is not on top of your agenda at the moment. For now, there is a world to be walked into.

Some nights, when you are fast asleep, your papa and I trace your form again and again, almost in disbelief that you are real. This is what angels must look like, I whisper to him. Somewhere, somehow, we must have done some good to have been blessed with you.

Love,

Mommy

08 The Year in Books

January



Sons and Mothers by Colm Toibin

Growing Up in Terengganu by Awang Goneng

The Gathering by Anne Enright

The Gift of Rain by Tan Twan Eng

The Shock Doctrine by Naomi Klein

In the Country of Men by Hisham Mather

My Antonia by Willa Cather

Shantaram by Gregory David Roberts (lyrical but still unfinished)



January 29- May 6: Sprong pops out. No reading unless The Baby Bible aka The American Academy of Pediatrics counts



June

New Complete Baby and Todler Meal Planner by Annabel Karmel

123 Brain Games for Baby by Jackie Silberg

Evening is the Whole Day by Preeta Samarasan



July

How Children Learn by John Holt (Unfinished)

Empire's of Profit by Daniel Litivin



August

Unaccustomed Earth by Jhumpa Lahiri

How Babies Talk : The Magic and Mystery of Language in the First Three Years of Life: Roberta Michnick Golinkoff, Kathy Hirsh-Pasek



Oct - mid Dec

I start work so hardly any reading for pleasure unless Newsweek and the Financial Times count



Current

Trying to read The Audacity of Hope by Barack Obama

Christmas 08

Yawn! Yes, still around, just not been blogging.

Time for the annual audit. Must. Do. Soon.

obamul

Joint branding I've heard but this one is just genious. Indian dairy producer Amul cashing in on current phenomenon. Read tag line with heavy Indian accent for full effect please!

XXXX

On a more serious note, I am not really sure if Obama's win is really going to structurally change race relations. In fact, I think it may actually work against African Americans - you know, the President is black, what more do y'all want? kinda thing.

Also, I think the whole world is expecting too much from one man. He is going to save the world and change things from North Korea, middle east to spin around the credit crisis. Only a mythical man can do this. Or a Kyroptonite superhero.

Still, it's amazing to have a leader the world looks up to, after such a long time. The last great leader who brought the world together like this whom I can think of is Winston Churchill.

obama

you would never think its possible- a black man in the WHITE house but there you go.....

even brought me out of blogging hiatus.

One Year Ago Today.....

....I sat down in my hollow living room. Ammerton Drive and every memory of it reduced into 63 boxes, all labelled and ready to go. Tear fest was made worst by raging 5 and half months pregnancy hormones.

I miss. I miss.

guacomole and other such

wow. i am almost posting everyday after a long, long time.

After going through a period of loving avocado, Sprong suddenly is turning his nose away. Must seriously look for guacomole recipe pronto before the few sitting in fridge go bad.

Otherwise, am currently reading the Diaper Free Baby by Christine Gross-Loh. Yes, I am thinking of potty training Sprong as I hate diapers - just the fact that it is so chemical-fied and what not. His eczema is further aggravated as well because of the synthetic material. I have been using cloth napkins (I bought a couple of Bambino Mios) but I am paranoid about the cleanliness- much effort needs to be exerted in ensuring hygience, etc which is a headache I can do without. Solution? Go diaper free in 6 months. That's the plan anyway.

This is almost becoming a mommy blog

Today, I sat at a cafe and Sprong could self- entertain himself for 15 mins by which time, I finished my nasi lemak. How amazing is that?

Sprong turns 8 months in 2 weeks - no its not been as quick as some people tell me its been. It has been a long drawn, protracted 8 months interspersed with some of the most magical, ethereal spells.

XXXX

This blog is avowedly apolitical - in other words, it's all about ME, ME, ME and once upon a time, I was able to talk about quite a range of subjects. Yet, in these few months, I realize that 98% of posts have been Sprong related.

My perspectives have changed forever I think, though I am still me, in many ways I am mom-me first. Funny how all other roles, daughter/friend/employee even wife never defined me like this.

snap out of it

hrmph...am burrowing further and further in a downward spiral. snap out of it jane sunshine. tomorrow is another day.

btw, how come it's already september?

mothersandsons

A few days before delivering Sprong, I read Colm Toibin's collection of short stories Mothers and Sons. Toibin is an immaculate observer of human foibles and this comes across every story. How do you judge a selfish mother who ignores her only son's wishes in order for herself to have freedom to live life the way she wanted. Was she a lesser mother?

What about the mother who finds out that her son, a priest, had raped the boys in his seminary? Will she still love that son?

Difficult questions which Toibin unpacks without supplying easy answers.

It's a complicated relationship that has been delved since Oedipus. Some of my favourite books explore this relationship of boy/man with the first woman in his life. DH Lawrence in Sons and Lovers, Lionel Shriver in We Need to Talk about Kevin and Hisham Matar's In the Country of Men. To a lesser extent, The God of Small Things has lovely glimpses of the son-mother relationship. Ammu reaching out to mess Estha’s Elvis puff comes to mind.

Then, there is Lucy Ceccaldi whose brazen brand of mothering (or non-mothering maybe) stands out. She says this about her literary son: "this individual, who alas came from my womb, is a liar, an imposter, a parasite and above all". The question someone like her poses is what happens when mothers and sons become enemies?

Sprong is currently going through an early form of stranger anxiety: he wants his mommy exclusively ie mommy has to run out of the shower/ rush back from the corner 7-11 because of meltdown moments. Everyone is exasperated except me. I am quite aware that after this stage, Sprong will never quite want me this way again. One day, I know that he is going to walk to school with nary a backward glance (later rather sooner hopefully). For now, I am quite happy to smother (pun intended) him any which way he wants.

yawn

this blog is dusty. need to update soon. but...yawn...so sleepy all the time. bubba is teething and can't sleep at night. poor babe seems to be feeling awful. otherwise he's been eating apple/pear sauce, courgettes, leek, potatos, avocados, bananas, papayas, brown rice, carrots in various combos - or not. solids been hit or miss really. but real fun for me - i let him hold the spoon and we make a total absolute mess!

Tired

I am so, so tired. Of everything.

XXXXX

When S finished his soy milk today (after some serious struggle), I told him that he is a superbaby. I just wish that I am supermommy who can make his eczema go away.

Community Message for Parents (ideas most welcome)

1. Everywhere I go in KL, I see Avent (by Philips) baby bottles on SALE. There's a reason for this folks- traders want to get read of their stock as Avent clear plastic bottles have been recalled in Canada and the UK gvt is considering the same.

Avoid ppl! Clear plastic baby bottles contain Bisphenol-A, a chemical that leaches and leads to all kind of side effects. Of course, the science is unproven but my take is, why risk when it is your baby at stake? I used Avent myself till I stumbled upon this fact and am unsurprised that traders in M'sia are trying to dump the bottles on unsuspecting parents. A friend of mine just bought SIX bottles, quite happy that she got them at a hefty discount only to discover her folly.

2. We started rice cereal yesterday for S at 5.5 months (there have been feeding issues with his reflux so that's why we are starting slightly earlier). I am so excited about him starting solids with his own proper bowl and spoon! I've been referring to Annable Karmel's New Complete Baby and Toddler Meal Planner which is fairly good and idiot proof. Any other weaning ideas are welcome. I would like to make my own rice cereal but not really sure how.

3. I have resigned to the fact that an outing in KL means going to the mall what with the heat and all. We have so far ventured to ones where people don't go much so we can manage when he is fussy and wailing his lungs out ie Subang Parade. I discovered that SP has a lovely Mother's Room with private cabins for breastfeeding, diaper changing etc. We are in Bangsar Village a fair bit as well but its crap with regards to breastfeeding facilities and the changing room is with the toilets which I hate. Someone told me that The Curve is also v. good with facilities (plus there's a brand outlet store) so must check that out. Any other ideas re: KL malls, please let me know.

4. There's not going to be an Epping Forest or a quiet country farm to take him to here but there have been some good finds. With regards to parks, the Taman Tun one is great excpet that it so packed over the weekends. Avoid the Kelana Jaya park with a vengeance -it is not buggy friendly and tends to be dirty. Last weeked, we discovered the Kiara park (I can't remember what its called now) and loved it because it was guarded, clean, buggy friendly and also not crowded. Yeay!

5. I suppose there are lots of non-mall related activties that can be arranged in Mall-Asia if one looks hard enough. When S is older, I can't wait to take him to Planeterium Negara (sp?), and the various butterfly/flower parks.

6. I called to find out about a play nest for babies 6 months and above and am shocked with the astronomical prices that I was quoted! I am thinking of starting an informal play nest for S with other babies myself. Just a couple of moms singing and doing some puppet shows etc. Any takers (preferably in the PJ/Bangsar/Damansara area) please email me privately.

Loving 'Evening is the Whole Day'

For two whole days now, I have been holed up at home, sporting eye bags from lack of sleep and leaving baby with maid for tending. Guilty I know but the object of my adoration- Evening is the Whole Day by Preeta Samarasan.

At heart it is a book about love and loneliness framed by hyphenated identities, what it means to be Malaysian and Indian. The present time is set in 1980 but I think most if the issues are still relevant. Looming over the characters is Ipoh. Although I never went to school there, at many levels, due to family connections, I consider myself Ipoh mali. I was delighted with the Ipoh details and anecdotes.

Growing up I always wished my name was Jennifer or Amy or something more American sounding. Besides, nobody in my books ever sounded like anyone I knew in real life. In real life, my big cousin sister was action-action for not friending us.We drank from kovalai's, bought bread from the roti man and tapau-ed food from FMS Bar. On special days, we got to makan at Station Hotel. And run to the corner shop for tinned milo, dried chinese plum, kandos, axe brand medicated oil. Every Divali, we went to get kain for tailoring from Kwong Fatt textiles. This is the Ipoh of Aasha and family. It is also the Ipoh I know and love.

Finally, a book that sounded like all of us with real people, grappling with their hyphenated identities and fractured by family secrets. Rich in detail and finely executed, the characters leap with intensity, the narrative is taut and kept me rapt right till the end. Incidentally, the last sentence is one of the most powerful ones I've read for a while-it captured every anguish and made my throat dry.

Yet there are some problems. Appa's farcical descent bears a false note, a change so abrupt that it appears more to feed some tragicomic need. Also, the need to tie the occupants of Big House to 1969 was built with gusto only to crash and then suddenly disappear. That part seems to be almost diembodied from the rest, a Necessary Section towards making The Book a Serious One. What causes Appa's incendiary chants to fade away is never really explained. Also, the need to rely on Arundhati Roy-esque language is A Perplexing Matter to Consider. How necessary was it to the narrative? Why bother when the tone already works?

Still, I am being finicky.

This is a remarkable first book and Preeta Samarasan pens a truly Malaysian tale. The dialogue is scintillating, its cadence and singsong beauty made my heart leap. She also captures the Malaysian Indian psyche with candour. The attachment to fair skin which denotes beauty and class. Children must not call house-help as servants but the mothers are free to gloat how well provided their own servants were treated. When Kooky Rooky sits to gossip with Amma at the kitchen formica table, I tell you, it is a scene that has been repeated on countless kitchen tables. More importantly, the untold class distinction between the urban Indian who feels superior to the rubber estate fellow, like what Suresh says: 'a real estate woman she (chellam) is'.

Go out and grab a copy y'all- not just Malaysians but lovers of good fiction everywhere. This is a stunning debut and I will look forward to more of her work. I hope that the book receives the adulation it richly deservers.

M-Day

The thing about Mother's Day that irks me is this outpouring of luurrvvvee. How all mothers are so fabulous and all-sacrificing goddesses.

Don't get me wrong. '08 marks the first year ever that I can demand some kind of celebration and gloat at my own greatness with regards to raising my own little pet, oh sorry, kid (in any event, nothing much happened cause I have a husband who forgets this kinda things unless nudged. And since motherhood has happened, I have no energy to nag anymore, much to his benefit).

But still, to treat mothers as a homogenised entity seems incredibly naïve. I am sure that there are those filmi mothers who sacrifice life and limb for their babes but what about the regular ones, who are imperfect, lazy, selfish and infect various complexes on their children. Do they get celebrated as well?

I have more thoughts on this but (yawn) later. I had a long day entertaining one very active baby.

Blessed (again and again and again)

Last Tuesday, I sat for a while at a pub in Holborn, gathering my thoughts. I watched the shuffling crowd, entangled in the after office rush. A few minutes ago, I had stood on the grey pavement with a giddiness that made me want to slump. I felt emptied out, knackered beyond belief.

When the panel congratulated me, it didn't quite sink in. It still hasn't I think. What is a culmination of a lifetime's work seemed to have pirouetted into this one singular moment. So, I can now sign off as Dr. Sunshine.

Afterwards, surrounded by some of the loveliest of friends who came together to celebrate, I had to ask what is it that I had done to receive such benevolence.

To the universe for conspiring to bring such goodness in one fabulous year. Thank you, thank you, thank you from the bottom of my heart.

This sure takes the cake

M swears that I sang 'here's tommy kitty' out aloud in my dreams last night. How do I reconcile this with my readings on communitarian politics?

Otherwise, kiddo is okay. Just waiting for his reflux to go away.

Birth Story

Been silent for so, so long.

Wanted to recount birth story and decided that I better do it before its too late. Baby S is 10 weeks as of yesterday. When I look at pix of him in the hosp, I can't believe how much he's changed and grown. Was it yesterday that I gingerly held that tiny, wizened old froglet? Today, he can lift his head briefly already- so proud of my little bubs.

XXXX

So, we had reached the stage where we were 39 weeks, heavy, heaving and counting. No baby in sight. 'Who knows' said my gynae. 'Maybe the tyke will appear on your due date itself which will make you an interesting statistic'. Then, on the 20th of Jan ie Sunday, I thought I had some bloody 'show'. Not sure what to make out of it as I had a gynae appointment the day before and she did mention that this would happen as she had examined me. My parents and M insisted that I drop by the hosp nevertheless cause 'what if?'

'No way' I said. 'Today is so just not it, I tell you'. I even had a list of 'things to be done' for Monday morning ie bank in cheque, pay electricity bill etc. 'I will be right back after this - we are wasting our time today - I still haven't finished my errands' says moi. Plus, I didn't have time to wash my hair that morn. For months, I had told myself that I must have nice hair on the day of delivery (must look nice in photos with baby okay), so made sure I washed and blow dried everyday that I felt 'is today the day?'.

So I was quite certain that day would not be it.

When I went in, I was told that I was 2 cm dilated and was in labour! So much for instinct. Had to send M back for my hosp bag. 'Oh wait' I asked. 'Can I go out and have dinner?'-suddenly realizing that this will probably be the last time ever that M and I will be a couple, go to a restaurant without a second thought.

And there I was, over 2 cm dilated, sitting in Lotus Jln Gasing having thosai and tea, being very pensive.

The rest of course you know. Baby S was born after almost 20 hours of labour and I had matted hair in all the pix.

And Baby Makes Three

I didn't expect it to be this tiring.

I wish I could say that the minute they laid my son on my chest, in full bloody glory, I was totally in love. Instead at that moment, all that I could think of was 'why wasn't he crying?'I remember Blake's babies who made 'sweet moans, sweeter smiles'.

A fear gripped me that something was not quite right. My baby, born through assisted delivery, was vaccummed out on Monday, 21.1.08. He spent the first 3 hours of his life in neo-natal intensive care (NICU) due to lack of oxygen. Once out of NICU, he wailed his chest out into his mummy's heart.

A strange hollowness gripped me the minute he was born. I feel emptied out, as if some part of me had been ripped away. Pregnancy, though accompanied with a steady stream of whining and winges, had been incredibly fulfilling. I felt that my body had reached for its own rhythm, as a vessel carrying life. The baby in my tummy shared many little secrets and we both kept each other company throughout the major upheavals of those few months.

Once he was delivered, for the few hours that he was placed in a glass incubator, I was strangely detached. As the epidural slowly eased off and I could feel my legs again, I felt that the baby was no longer mine. We couldn't share secrets anymore. It didn't help that a steady stream of visitors popped around to claim their stake on him.

The hospital stay was a blur of distress. I was exhausted from the whole labour process and when the baby was put to breast, he didn't latch on. I didn't lactate for a good 5 days which was a greater source of stress as I had been quite intent on breastfeeding him exclusively. We had to use formula which broke my heart into many tiny pieces. Even now, he is still on supplement though I try to pump as much a possible to increase my supply. Then there was the first few times that I tried to pacify him and he continued bawling, I felt personally rebuked. I had never felt like such a failure before.

But I am being pragmatic about it now. I do what I can do, and beyond that call for help. M has been a hands-on dad and I don't think I would have survived the first two weeks without him. There will be days when this whole motherhood thing is going to be more fulfilling than others and I must allay self doubts. Granted, I am never going to be one of those militant soccer moms, will go on to make loads of mistakes and am often clueless as at what to do.

But so what? If there is such a thing as pure love, then I am experiencing that every day. That and those 2-3 hourly feeds.

(oh yeah, he is going to be Baby S on this blog).

32

I turned 32 a few days ago. Too many candles on the cake if you ask me. Made me wistful as well - next birthday, I will be a full fledged mom....don't know if I am ready or even cut out for it but I will just have to learn on the job I suppose.

I am at the stage where everyone keeps calling and asking whether I've had the baby or not. Well, the doctor thinks at least not for another week . I'll let Sprong decide when, really.

Don't really want to go into details about current physical discomforts but its really miserable being this big. I've gone into nesting mode as well- clearing the house from top to bottom, filing away all bills, notes, etc.

Happy New Year

Obligatory New Year post or more like wake up-and-update-the blog post. But seriously. Have a great '08 ahead folks.

As for me, '07 has been a year of serious ups and downs. In a funny way, I think I really grew up last year, all considering......

Many things to look forward to in '08 including our little bundle of joy, due end of Jan but as per gynae's instructions, to be ready from now basically. So, my hosp bag is packed, there's a stroller in the store room and a cot to be assembled. Whatever it is, I am quite certain that I would have forgotten something.......

XXXXX

These few weeks past saw me mired in a depressive state- combination of hormones and niggling issues but found myself salved in the form of Growing up In Terengganu (GUiT). GUiT is such a charming delight, housing a cornucopia of chuckle inducing tales. The humourous vignettes made me smell the East Coast monsoon, drool over the gorgeous food and simply enjoy the journey back in time.

GUiT has been a beautiful perk-me-up these few weeks and I would recommend everyone grab a copy! Congratulations to my friend Awang Goneng (AG) for such a beautiful slice of Malaysiana. Makes me want to go to T'gganu NOW!

Thanks to GUiT, am all ready for 2008 now.

63 boxes later...

....we are settled.

Sort of. Moving continents while being pregnant is not the best of ideas but things have been such. Finally, we have a semblance of a home. (most) Things are out of boxes and in some kind of organized place.

How have I been surviving Kuala Lumpur? With lots of air conditioning, that's how (at 7 months, my concerns for the environment take a back seat unfortunately).

Big, big sigh. I won't go into details with regards to all the super-stress this move entailed but for a variety of reasons, it had to happen. M's been a troopper in this process, bearing the full brunt of all my pregnancy winges and whines. We found a place not that close to Raju the Banana Leaf man but not that far either (taking into consideration leasehold properties vs convinience).

I am officially unemployed for now. Well, I still have a thesis to submit so that's work in a sense. I have found this state very marginalizing but that's a post for another day.

It was really tough saying goodbye. Sometimes, late at night, I think of Ammerton Drive, our cute little house, my garden, my sun dappled spot at the dining table where most of my thesis was worked on. I miss driving down to Borough market for fresh veg and fruit. Tate. Bundling down to the British museum to just unwind when work got to me. Feeing the ducks at Epping forest. Food fests at Holiday Villa (at regular table) with scrumptious company to boot. The second hand bookshops at Charing Cross Road. Coffee at Holborn high. Saturday Guardian. Autumn walks.

I miss. I miss.

Waiting to Exhale

All I can say is that the year so far has been one of ups and downs, most importantly, of transitions. Won't be writing for awhile now, at least until things settle and yes, when I get a chance to exhale.

Little Gidding
TS Elliot

What we call the beginning is often the end
And to make an end is to make a beginning.
The end is where we start from.
...
And any action
Is a step to the block, to the fire, down the sea's throat
Or to an illegible stone: and that is where we start

A Wedge of Dusty Sunlight

Verdict on Atonement? I am not nearly done yet but I think I've bee reading it at the perfect time- with fabulous summer sun. The first part of the book is set amidst a sun dappled day and harrowing night which sets the tone of lightness/darkeness, happiness/unhappiness throughout.

I am reminded of atmospheric reading. How reading a book at a particular time or place enhances the experience.

A few months ago, when I was sieged with grief and loss, I re-immersed myself in Anne Fadiman's charming little book on books Ex Libris Confessions of a Common Reader.She says this:

I begin writing Ex Libris when it occurred to me how curious it was that
books are so often written about as if they were toasters. Is this brand of
toaster better than that brand of toaster? At $24.95, is this toaster a best
buy? There is nothing about how I may feel about my toaster ten years hence,
and nothing about the tender feelings. I may yet harbour for my old toaster.
This neatly omits what I consider the heart of reading: not whether we wish
to purchase a new book but how we maintain our connections with our old
books, the ones we have lived with for years, the ones whose textures and
colours and smells have become as familiar to us as our children's skin.

I entirely agree because I cannot ever think of books as acquisitions. My favourite books have personalities and lives of their own for which I am eternally grateful. I strongly believe that as much as I choose my books, they choose me as well. Why do I end up reading a particular book at a particular time? Book karma, that's why. The good ones sometimes tiptoe into the radar subtly, camouflaged amidst the louder and brasher ones. Books are a lot like men.

When I remember all the books that accompanied me over the years, my younger self comes tumbling out again. Some of these books have grown up with me, like Franny and Zooey. There is a much scribbled Potrait of the Artist that stores my 18 year self. How can these just be cheap books, expensive books, torn books, leather bound books, picture books? Between the covers are memories, pain and laughter. Rereading them is a kind of comfort food effect, a feel good warmth without calories. Some pages bear old food stains, obviously because I tend to read during meals a lot. There are also chunks of underlined passages which would have particularly caught my attention and often, scrawny scribbles of my thoughts. Sometimes, other stuff that have been submerged for years spring out-movie tickets, shopping lists, forgotten postcards, payment receipts, parking fines, blades of grass, an odd stamp or two.

Some books have travelled with me far. A few years ago, on a sweltering July day, I sat down at the banks of the Ganges in Rishikesh reading Globalization and Its Discontents by Joseph Stiglitz. Amidst the lazing cows and half clad sadhus, this is a book that continues to influence my work and shades my thinking.

All cried out at 22, the book that helped me get through my first break up was Sons and Lovers. Like Miriam, I felt that I would never find a man to truly love me because no man will be able to reach out to my soul. I was too complicated and to be part of any man's life, much less the superficial a***hole with whom I was going out with. But I also saw that Miriam deserved better and surely I did too. Slowly, I picked up myself and the year.

In Kota Kinablau I walked with sea spray in my hair and dried flower bracelets laced on my wrist. My colleague Nora slept while I stayed up reading The Inimitable Lightness of Being to make sure we would be up by 4 am to make it to the seafood wholesale market. My mother made the most delish prawn stir fry from the purchase later in the day and my copy of Kundera's book still has some of those stains.

I remember the night I spent in a hotel room, unable to sleep as my first trial loomed in the morning. I had re-read my files and notes 25 million times and it made me fidget. So I opened Angela's Ashes which I had bought that afternoon at the airport. The sodden, gloominess of the lives of the McCourt boys kept me rapt, and I dozed off after a few hours. The memories of my first trial remain intermingled with the McCourts.

I've also traced the steps some of my favourite characters and poets. When I went to Bath, I brought along a copy of Persuasion to re-read all the Bath escapades again. Anne Elliot is my favourite Austen heroine and the sense of tracing her steps as well as the dishy Fredrick made my heart skip a few beats. Last week, I went to the Keats museum in Hampstead. With the gradual change in season, I re-read my favourite poem, Ode to Autumn. The words tumbled with a calming cadence.

Happy 50th Malaysia

Selamat Hari Merdeka kepada rakyat Malaysia di mana-mana jua.

Malaysia is like family- full of warts and skeletons but can't be severed from my identity either. Sometimes it is a happy family, sometimes it is not. Like Tolstoy says, 'all happy families resemble one another, but each unhappy family is unhappy in its own way'.

We need to sit and think about the gnawing unhappiness that is increasingly glaring. Today however, is a day to celebrate so lets put family altercations aside.

bankholiday

Over the weekend, warm, honeyed sunshine streamed in, casting the whole world in a magnanimous warmth. Happiness. Happiness. In twirls.

What little it takes to make me happy (especially after weeks of interminable grey skies).

XXXXX

I am madly trying to sneak in reading Atonement amidst harried schedule-before the movie. Saw the trailer and Keira Knightley looks ravishing. This is my first Ian McEwan and now know what the fuss is all about and why people worship the ground he walks on.

A Sprong Sprang Last Spring

Yes, we are pregnant!!! Its been a mad ride so far what with trying to finish work and moving and hundred and one other things happening at the same time. I had a text book first trimester which was nausea and puke-filled. Not the best times.

But all's well now that we are well and truly in the second trimester. My energy has returned and so has my appetite.

I miss my morning coffee so much. Just that one cup of perk me up that used to be the highlight of my morning is now well and truly a memory. I now sneak a cup of tea here and there in the evenings, caffeine police be damned.

Overall, I think pregnancy is one of the most spiritual experiences to have - where your body transforms a couple of cells into a living, breathing human baby-apart from the fact that you soon resemble a beached whale to achieve this.

I am quite keen on this blog not to be morphed into a mommy blog. I don't have anything against mommy bloggers but personaly, it's important for me to have a life/personality beyond being a mom or soon-to-be mom. Plus, I don't think talk about books, travels and travails really sit well with baby buggy purchase and other such ilk.

But for repository of pregancy related tales, here's link http://sprongsprang.blogspot.com/

superpowers

I'm mildly addicted to Heroes, the NBC series.

If you were to be gifted with a superpower and could choose your gift, what would you want it to be?

To fly? (no need any more for waits at airport lounges).

To be invisible?

To have superhuman strength?

To hear other people's thoughts?

To see the future?

(in the tradition of comic book good guys, you can only use your power for good causes).


My superhero power wish: to eat all that I ever want but never to gain weight or have health issues like ordinary mortals.

Elsewhere

-Truly drowning under all this work. So much to do, so little time.

-Thought of calling for a blog hiatus but I hardly update anyway.

-I have a fox surreptitiously living in my garden at the moment and its driving me crazy. My neighbour has a 1 year old baby and we were wondering if foxes attack babies like dingos? As a result, we both don't open our back doors unless we have to. Sounds pathetic. M thinks the council can do something about it but they don't seem to be too bothered.

-The weather's got better so I can't gripe on that end but I don't have time to go out and enjoy it so that's current source of consternation.

- I have been trying to read Lionel Shriver's We Need to Talk about Kevin before going to bed and its so fascinating. She explores how motherhood is not all that its cracked up to be. She's such a great writer, working on the unreliable narrater technique with eloquence. The only complaint is that I am so tired these days that by the time I get around it, I can only manage a page or two before getting knocked out.

-Have to mention about this dissapointing documentary on Channel 4. I've been following the Empire's Children series on and off. It explores how the British empire has impacted the lives of people in and from the 'colonies'. Malaya, during the communist insurgency was documented with comedian Jenny Eclair tracing her soldier father's steps. Her father was part of the British troops that were sent to combat the insurgency. They had some fantastic footage of the Emergency but why oh why did they get an airhead of a woman to cover such an important and painful part of Malaysian history? I got the impression that here was a hormonal woman striving to hear only what she wanted and as a result, painted a sloppy history.

-I had pasembur about two weeks by chance (laced with some crazy conversation with an even crazier bunch) and am craving for it again. Should do it again soon. Along with some mee rebus. Malaysia Hall anybody?

Reads

-Looks like I may actually end up reading Harry Potter what with this intense hype building all around. I used to follow the series quite religiously until the 3rd book (is that Order of the Phoenix?) but my interest sort of fizzled out when I realized that Rowling was actually borrowing so much from other writers. But I am one of those sad consumers who gets easily swayed by marketing glitz and may just fall for this one as well. It's kinda nice to be part of the madness in a way.

- If you really, really want to read just one book this year, my recommendation is something from last year's Booker Prize. I finally finished The Inheritance of Loss. I can only use superlatives to describe how well Kiran Desai writes. The whole book is poetry in motion, a luminous exploration of displacement and identity. Her ultimate strength is in the language- it has an uncomparable cadence and beauty which took my breath away.

-Summer reading is currently work related so I won't bore you with that though I am quite tempted to pick up Alistair Campbell's Diaries. I've been following the dramatization on TV and am enjoying all the high drama behind the Blair years. Campbell's role was something like Director of Communications at No.10 and he was spin doctor extraordinaire. Which made him one of the most unpopular persons in the country at that time. Or was it Cherie Blair?

Where is Summer?

Lack of updates due to mountains of work since coming back from longish break but I think the bigger excuse is plain laziness which hasn't been helped by this horrible weather. What's happened to summer? Summer means languid lunches at the park, shorter skirts, falling asleep in a green field, strawberry's and cream and endless days of bountiful sunshine.

This grey gloom is making feel totally crap and cranky. Few things happening in the next few weeks which are going to keep me even busier, not least the fact that the in-laws aka out-laws are visiting. Part of the reason why I keep this blog anon is simply because I want to be free to bitch and moan. And this I will probably be doing when Dowager Queen of High Drama arrives. Grin and bear Jane.

Otherwise, I am working this weekend to make up for holiday time out. In fact, what holiday? Can't remember it now.

I think I'll write when I am feeling sunnier or if the weather gets better.