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.

Summer Break

Going away for a bit.

See you guys in July.