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
Showing posts with label Baby S. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Baby S. Show all posts
Thursday, June 25, 2009
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)
Thursday, May 21, 2009
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.
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.
Wednesday, March 25, 2009
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.
'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.
Saturday, February 14, 2009
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
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
Wednesday, January 21, 2009
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.
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
Monday, September 08, 2008
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.
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.
Wednesday, August 27, 2008
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.
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.
Monday, August 11, 2008
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!
Friday, May 16, 2008
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.
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.
Tuesday, April 15, 2008
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.
Otherwise, kiddo is okay. Just waiting for his reflux to go away.
Friday, April 04, 2008
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.
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.
Saturday, February 09, 2008
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'.
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.
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.
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).
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