Good News, Bad News

Good news, I’m back (blogging). Bad news, I’m back (end of my visit to my hometown, end of my break). Good news, hubby is still on leave (he can help me with the kids!).

Good news, I’ve stuff to share with you (I wanna blog). Bad news, our home computer has breathed its last breath! (HELP!!!). Good news, hubby’s work laptop is here cos hubby’s on leave. Bad news, hubby’s going back to work next Monday. Hopeful news, hubby will FIX this problem before he returns to work (new computer? Anyone giving theirs away over at Freecycle?!)

How? What will become of me… if I’ve to go computer-less even if it’s just for awhile… HUBBY DEAREST PLEASE FIX THIS BEFORE MONDAY, PLEEEEASSSE. Pretty please, with a cherry on top????

Sometimes small and simple is good enough

1 Thomas & Friends Cake

2 Large Oishi Pizzas (and 12 yum-delicious chicken wings)

2 Close Friends (who’ve known each other since 4 months old) and their little siblings (that totals 5 children guests)

2 Mommy’s “motherhood” friends

That was what I whipped up in two days for my son, Hubby-jr, to celebrate his birthday. And that was all it took to make him a very happy boy.

My son is turning five tomorrow.

I was mulling for sometime in May as to what I should do for his birthday. Organising a birthday party on a weekend was one of the ideas I had. BUT when the holidays started (almost 2 weeks ago) I ditched the idea. You see, I was just plain too exhausted. It’s my first time winging a holiday with 2 kids without my parents (yup, they usually visit during the school hols). We (hubby and I) then decided to just bring him for a movie on his special day.

B-ut… then… just two days ago my friend asked if we’d be celebrating Hubby-jr’s birthday and that led me to ask my son what he wanted to do for his birthday. Would he prefer his friends coming over or going out to watch a movie? Without hesitation and with much excitement he chose the former. So I called his two “babyhood” friends’ mothers that evening. Next day I brought him to choose his cake. This morning I called for pizzas. And that was that, we had a mini birthday celebration.

It was great seeing him brimming with excitement in anticipation of his friends coming over for his birthday the last two days. To think he was once afraid of parties. He has really grown.

“Thank you mommy for preparing for my friends to come” he said after I spent some time in the morning getting the house and things in order.

“I really enjoyed my birthday (party) today,” smiling as he told his daddy over dinner.

And that was all it took for this mommy-fied woman to think and feel - it is all worth it. Being mommy-fied isn’t so bad after all. 

My Space

I never knew how precious this particular commodity is until I became mommyfied.

And I’m feeling so stripped of it now that it is the school holidays!!!

Help! I need space. S-P-A-C-E.

Oh yeah, I get “some”, here and there, but that’s NOT ENOUGH!

My dear speech delayed son has improved enough to want to chat incessantly. Yes I am thankful (thank you Lord) BUT… I need MY SPACE.

To curb cabin fever I’ve to schedule sporadic outings. Traveling and eating out with two young kids can be fun but unavoidably there are “those” times where it’s just nerve wrecking.  

On quieter non-outing days… yes, my two kids can and do play with each other so I don’t have to play with them… but after 15 minutes or so, one of them will come looking (or shouting) for me. They need mommy’s help or something or just my attention.

Little Missy naps for 2-3 hours (God bless her!) BUT almost 5 year old Hubby-jr may or may not. Thankfully I’ve trained him to stay in his room for an hour (if he can’t nap, he can read his books).

BUT people, that’s all I’m getting - ONE hour. Out of 11 hours (yes, hubby’s away daily for that many hours).

Can you now understand my dire need for space? Yes, S-P-A-C-E!!!

Just when will the d*mn holidays be over?!!

“I can do this. I can stay sane. I’ve survived a week already. Late next week we’ll be off to visit my parents in Malaysia. Hang in there mommyfied. It’s only a few days more…deep breaths. Take deep breaths. I can do this… I can…”

My Girl and Shoes

It is apparent that my darling Little Missy has inherited my shoe fetish genes (which I’m sure is not unique to me and plagues most women)!

The telling signs appeared when she just about 18 months, she tried on shoes along with me at the shoe department one day. She jumped out of her stroller (after she saw me trying on my third pair of shoes), took off her shoes and signalled daddy to pick shoes and help her try them on!  (Mommy was obviously too busy…)

Dear Hubby just shook his head and blamed mommy, yeah moi. He thinks she picked up the “bad habit” just from observing how gleeful I looked whilst I was trying out shoe after shoe after shoe. What can I say? Trying out shoes for fun is one of my “hobbies”. Sometimes I end up buying them, often I do not.

Anyhoo, the fetish is here to stay (with Little Missy). But mind you, she has a mind of her own. She determines which shoes she likes and which ones, NOT.

These fake pink crocs used to be her favourite. It was her “default” going out shoes although she had a good number of shoes. Then a few weeks ago I decided to buy her more shoes as her little feet were growing. It was not easy. She rejected MANY shoes and just wanted her fake crocs. “No! Don wan. Wan pink shoos!”

Unfazed, I pressed on (yeah I love shopping for shoes for my girl as much as for myself!) Finally she picks the cute blue flip-flops (with a back band). How did I know she liked them? She refused to take them off after trying them on?! Then she does a gleeful kind of skip out of the shop, squealing now and then! The same happened with the light blue denim and pink shoes (at another shop, another day…)

“Mommy, what are you doing to her?!” exclaims dear Hubby. Oops, he happened to be there when I bought the blue denim shoes and he saw her pure excitement over her new shoes.

Okay, so I like to indulge my little girl now and then (sue me!) The other of her two current favourite pairs of shoes are hand-me-downs (see! we’re not snooty, a shoe is a shoe, even if it’s not new). For the world of me I can’t figure out why she loves the spiderman slippers (see how worn out they’re getting), they are her “default” walk around the neighbourhood footwear.

Woah, this is a pret-ty long post about my two year old’s… shoes! Might seem like nothing but a load of fluff to some of you. Oh well, one man (woman)’s fluff is another’s fetish. Serious fetish!

P/S: She has other shoes I have not featured here.

What is a fulfilled life?

This song moved me to tears.

As a mother I want my children’s world to be perfect. If not, the closer to perfection the better. I realise in part this is because unconsciously I’ve been subscribing to some degree to the notion that a “successful” life is a “fulfilled” life. Yes I’ve unknowingly believed that if my children are successful in this world they’d be fulfilled. By success here I mean doing well in school, socially, etc.

It is not something I’m proud of as a Christian mom but the truth hit me recently.

Why else would I catch myself at times so saddened by my son’s speech delay? He’s otherwise a healthy, cheerful and well rounded boy. And what if he wasn’t?

“I’m just afraid he may have a hard time adjusting to school or society…” is the usual argument I give myself.

So what? I now realise that a fulfilled life has nothing to do with a “normal life” or a “successful life”. It has to do with how we feel about ourselves. Do we feel valued? Do we know we were intrinsicly made? Our Maker didn’t go “oops, oh dear…” We were beautifully crafted (blemish and all) for a purpose. Our lives are valued and meaningful.

Psalm 139: 13, 14

For you created my inmost being; you knit me together in my mother’s womb. I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made; your works are wonderful, I know that full well.

John 10:10

(Jesus said) I have come that they may have life, and have it to the full.

With this wonderful renewed realisation, whatever unnecessary anxiety I had over my son has gone away. With faith he can lead a fulfilled life and that’s all that really matters.

P/S: This is the link to the song, God’s Will by Martina McBride. Click (More info) on the right hand side of the youtube page for the lyrics to the song.

What would you have done?

The other evening we had a poop accident. Little Missy did the deed in her pants. Yes, we are in the midst of potty training.  

Hubby had the honour of being the discover-ee. By that I mean he was the closest to our screaming daughter. (That’s what she does whenever she poops or pees in her pants). Incredulously the poop was contained within her pants. Dear ol’ hubby whisked her to the toilet took it off and cleaned her.

After the drama subsided (i.e. Little Missy stopped screaming), he looked at me and asked, “What should I do with this (the-pants-with-the-poop)? Should I just throw it away?” I took a peek and saw some ghastly sh*t. Without hesitation I replied, “Yup, just throw it away!”

And that’s what we did; we threw away a decent pair of shorts. The alternative was unimaginable.

But I could just imagine if my mom was here, she would have actually taken the trouble to clean and wash up the mess. And I swear I could hear her saying, “it’s a nice pair of shorts, why throw it away? Just clean it up, what’s the big deal?”

“Well mom, it’s just a pair of shorts. Throw lah. What’s the big deal?”

How about you? What would you have done?

Is Mommy Fun?

On a particularly cranky day of mine, after I went through an “overreacting, shouting and later apologising to my son” episode, I had this conversation with Hubby-jr just before his bedtime.

“Is mommy fun?”

Hubby-jr looks at me quizically and answers cautiously, “Yes…”

“Are you sure? Do you have fun with mommy?”

His eyes wonders around his room and spots some of the stuff he plays with me, “Yes!”

Was there a hesitation? Not quite satisfied with the answer and desperate for affirmation, I had to “verify” that my son knew what he was saying. (Ya, I know, I’m pathetic!)

So I asked, “Is mommy fun when mommy is angry?”

“No…o” Hubby-jr says grimly shaking his head.

“But mommy is fun when mommy’s not angry?” I probe AGAIN.

“YES!”

Phew! Just checking, just checking. I really don’t want to be a tyranical, “fear-the-very-ground-I-walk-on” mother. A fun…no, make that very fun, yet “the-one-who-must-be-obeyed” mother suits me just fine. *wink*

There are days where

I swear I think I should be institutionalised. Days when I turn into Mr. Hyde simply because it is the “time of the month”. It’s not something I’m imagining or conjuring. I really turn Ug-Ly.

Not quite physically. None of my facial characteristics change, well, not structurally anyway. But I’m sure I look worn out, haggard and downright grouchy. Rather, what I mean is, suddenly one morning I wake up feeling like a truck just ran over me and I’m super duper uptight for the rest of the day.

Whatever patience I have in the first place (not much) goes entirely out of the window (and then some!) Innocent mistakes by my two lovely children drive me absolutely nuts. And to their detriment I sometimes lose it and shout at them. After shouting, I see their eyes swelling with tears and I sink deep (I mean d-e-e-p, deep) into guilt. I try to explain to them their mistake(s), then I apologise for overreacting, and then I kiss them and tell them I love them incessantly. Then I pray in my heart that there’ll be no permanent emotional damage. Drama huh? This drama will repeat itself a few times before the “days” are over. You have no idea the kind of emotional roller coaster I go through during these “times”.

Hubby knows my cycles by now and can tell from the signs when the “season” is about to arrive. The most obvious one being, “honey, I feel fat. Am I fat?” So he knows how to tip toe around me and keep the kids at bay. But when he’s at work… sigh.

How do I explain to my kids that it’s the time of the month? How do I explain that once every month mommy’s not quite mommy but it’s just for a few days? Sigh… Hmm… perhaps there should be an institution just for that.

P/S: This is not my first post (and probably not the last) on PMS, this is. Seriously, it is a problem and yes I’m going through it. Duh!

More About Me…

I’m sort of a personality test junkie. I simply can’t resist participating in a personality test when presented with one. And even though I’ve done the MBTI test more than 3 times already, I’d still do ONE more when asked to. AND whaddaya know? Recently I completed another one (free mah). Someone stop me please!

But you know what? Each time I do these tests I learn a little something more about myself. Well actually… they just spell out some of what I already know intuitively. The tests also make me realise that not everyone is wired the same. So I should just “chill” about the differences, not compare and be more accepting of others and myself.

The last test I did was quite enlightening. It gave a really indepth description (it has been sometime since I’ve read a lengthy one). Most of it was spot on too. What struck me particularly was its description of my type, ENFP, as parents. Here’s just 3 paragraphs.

ENFPs as Parents
ENFPs take their parenting role very seriously, but are also very playful. There’s a bit of grown-up kid in every ENFP, so they get a lot of fun and enjoyment from playing with their children. However, they consider it essential to pass their strongly-held values and beliefs down to their children, and will strive consistently to create a positive, ideal environment for their children’s growth. (That’s largely why I chose to be a stay at home mom.)

The ENFP may exhibit an inconsistency in their roles with their children. At one moment, they might be their child’s best friend, laughing and whooping it up, and in the next moment they may appear the stern authoritarian. This inconsistency seems to be a result of a conflict between the ENFP’s genuine desire to relate to their children on the children’s level, and their compulsion to follow their deeply-felt value system.

The ENFP is able to take care of day-to-day necessities, such as picking children up at the correct times, getting them to softball practice, getting them fed, etc. However, it is a chore for the ENFP and is not a natural strength. The ENFP also has a difficult time disciplining their children, unless a very strongly-held value has been violated.

Disciplining my kids definitely takes a lot out of me emotionally. Each “time-out” drains me. When we got married I told hubby that he would have to be the disciplinarian while I’d the “good” parent. Unfortunately that didn’t quite pan out since I’m the one who is with them all the time. I’ve unexpectedly (I certainly didn’t expect it) become a strict mom. Sigh. Hey, but I am fun OKAY! 

And YES it is a major chore for me to take care of the day-to-day stuff. Definitely not a natural strength. In fact I asked my hubby, “you mean, there are people who find it natural and who actually enjoy doing such stuff?” Dear hubby answered, “apparently so.” I guess that’s what separates the Martha Stewarts from the non-Martha Stewarts.

Tagged! 5 Things About Myself.

Oh, I’ve been tagged by Pilgrim Parent. I’ve to share 5 things about myself that most of you do not know about me. Hmm… this is not going to be easy since I’ve written 102 things about myself already… but here goes.

1. I’m terrified of birds! Yes I think they’re beautiful creatures and I like to admire them… but only from AFAR. Ask me to get near one or God forbid, stroke them… oh my, I’d probably collapse in fear. Once a bird flew into my room, I ran out, shut the door and waited (shaking) till it flew out again. Really, it’s tantamount to finding a rat!
2. Yes, I’m afraid of rodents too.
3. Speaking of birds… I can’t chop chicken that’s still whole and yes I’m talking about a cleaned up chicken sold at the supermarket. Chicken that’s intact with a neck (worse, a head!), Wings, thighs, feet… you get the picture, a whole bird. I’d probably cringe and gag if I HAD to do it. How do I cook dinner every night? I buy cut up pieces. Strangely I can cut those. Yes, I’m chinese and I grew up watching my grandma and mom chop up whole chickens but… I. Just. Can’t. Do. It.
4. In fact I can’t eat chickens whole. Serve me a fried spring chicken or those baked ones from the supermarket without cutting them and you’d probably see me freeze. There was once when I was in Macau our well meaning local host served us fried pigeons, whole (with the head, mind you)!! I almost died. Thank God my friend helped by cutting them into smaller pieces for me.
5. However, I can eat fish whole. I can even eat parts of the head especially yummy fish head curry. Yummm. I stop at eating the eyes though. Goooo…eeey!

There! 5 things you probably didn’t know about me. It may seem like I cheated a little but technically it IS a list of 5 things. Ah well, that’s another thing about me - I try to get away with whatever I can every now and then!