32-going-on-Two

Just when I thought a good night's rest was all I needed to help 'the dust settle', my emotions were given yet another rattle-about this morning.

The trigger? An innocent conversation with my daughter:

8am ~
Danielle: (groggily) Mummy!
Me: Yes? Good morning, Danielle!
D: Where's Papa?
M: He's in the room sleeping.
D: Where's grandma?
M: (lump stuck in throat) Where do you think she is, Danielle?
D: In Shing-ma-pore.
M: Do you miss grandma?
(D nods head, thoughtfully.)
M: I miss her too. (tears)

and a few minutes later...

D: Mummy? Where's grandma?
M: ... (i have no words, no words.)
D: Maybe she('ll) come back tomorrow?

Oh help, here we go again...*dab dab*

I'm friggin' 32 this year. But in moments like these, I may as well be that 2YO who wakes up crying coz mummy isn't the first face she sees in the morning...

Dust will settle, but the longing... that's something I'll have to manage.

before leaving for Heathrow

* sorry for the incessant whining. I take time to recover. But I'll get there. In any case, this is MY blog! So I'll whine if I want to! :)

Goodbyes

I hate goodbyes, particularly when they involve loved ones.

Even as I type, my mum's on her 12.5 hr-long flight back to Singapore.

I miss her already.

I'm glad we said a hasty goodbye at the airport. I simply could not hold back my tears and could only muster a brief hug before the waterworks inadvertently turned themselves on.

In Singaporean terms I'm (emotionally) jin jia lut.

I tried to think up a dozen happy thoughts like: I'll see her in a few months' time (Christmas '07 or February '08?), I'll be back for good in 2008, I can see Dad & her on Skype... But these thoughts literally 'flew out the window' when the time came for her to go through the departure gates.

I wish she was still sitting at our dining table, furrowing her brows, poring over the Sudoku puzzles in the London papers we get free from the Underground.

What Mum leaves behind are subtle traces of her visit - a 3/4 eaten loaf of bread, a jar of nearly-finished Ya Kun Kaya, my plants ALL given a new lease of life with soil she took care to replace, rye crisps she'd have for breakfast almost every morning, a newly-opened jar of Tesco coffee, my chai sim wrapped up in newspaper sitting in the fridge, the Andrew Brownsword mug she so pain-stakingly cleaned out for me of all its stubborn tea stains, and her towel, still slightly damp, hanging out to dry on our banister...

I'll miss Mum fussing over me - prodding me gently to have lunch, advising me to sleep early, asking me whether I'd taken my meds for my toothache, advising me to wear a jacket out in case the weather turned unexpectedly cool.

I guess it doesn't matter how old you are - or even if you've become a parent yourself - for once you're a child, you'll always be your parents' child.

For the past 2-ish years, I've transformed myself from being someone's child to being someone's mummy. So yes, it was nice to take on my 'child' role again, even if for a short few weeks.

I thank God I'm your daughter, Mum. And your daughter forever I will be. Thanks so much for visiting, for your thoughtfulness, your company. They meant the world to me...

I love & miss you.

Mum & me @ Big Ben

Our last day with Mum/grandma, a visit to Tower Bridge

* Is it just me or do other daughters find it equally as hard to say goodbye when their mums leave? How was it for you, Mich? Or Vick?

Dream a little dream...

I had it all planned out:

• 7am - wakeup, washup
  
• 7:10am - bolt out of door, hop onto bus 155 to Balham High Street
• Wait in line for Sainsbury's to open their jaws, or doors as they insist on calling 'em (whatever, I say!)
  
• Make a beeline for that 5 pound bag
• Impt note to self: in event of a man pile, be sure to shove all others to the ground (in manner of Daniellosaurus), clutch bag with herculean strength, whilst (all the time) professing undying allegiance to ALL Green projects henceforth!
  
• DASH darnnit!
  
• Shove 5iver to cashier! Forget about receipt! No time, no time!
  
• Get the hell outta there! (remember to look over shoulder intermittently coz you never know... them green-eyed demons!)
  

But at 7:30am, I didn't stand a blinkin' chance.

Snake-like queues started forming as early as 4am (don't Brits sleep?!!) and within minutes, the eco-friendly totes were snapped up. What the bleedy * &@b#*! *

Oi! Doesn't 'frump queen' count for anything? I'm royalty too, for crying out loud! Show some respect!

Unfortunately neither regal nor aristo status will get you anywhere in this Bag...I mean, Big country. It looks like momma's gonna be delayed by a few more weeks, my precious. But I'll be sure to get my hands on them pre-allocation orders once the US version goes online in May.

The US version in navy blue writing

+++++++++

According to the local tabloids, some queues began at 2am! And on ebay, the once-upon-a-yesterday 5 pound bag is already being sold for as much as 400 quid! For the love of @#g&@$!

These are hearsay reports, of course. I wouldn't know for sure since I wasn't even there.

Ah yes, I hear your jaws dropping collectively...what the?... konk konk splaaah.

Yesiree, I made a more sensible choice of bringing my mum out of London to the quiet serenity of the English countryside (and away from the bag-grabbin' London vultures!). We visited Stonehenge, Bath, Cotswolds and Stratford.

Here we are @ Stratford-upon-Avon (Birthplace of Shakespeare)

I surmise it was a much better way to spend the day. And a more valuable keepsake to store than any storage bag in the world.

So I guess that means I'm not shallow after all? *fingers tippity-tapping till May*

:P

Saggs version 2.0

Do you ever feel you've become the worst version of yourself?

I do. Did. Today.

Sometimes I find it so hard to be good. To think before I speak. To be patient. To be understanding. To be kind. To not hurt the ones I love most.

But more often than not, I fail.

And what comes after is inconsolable remorse and regret. For things out there - said and done - of which I cannot take back.

Today, I became the worst version of me - the worst mum, worst wife, worst daughter, worst sister, worst friend...worst human being.

Fashionably Green

This, has to be The World's Most sought-after grocery bag. From fervent fashionistas to frumpy housewives (me! me! me!), this holdall is this season's supermarket fashion must-have.

Wait a minute, supermarket fashion? Whatever do you mean? Certainly we're not expected to traverse le frozen food section in sexy Jimmy Choos, Chanel glasses and cute summer tunics?

Or are we?

'I'm not A Plastic Bag' is the brainchild of famed British accessories designer, Anya Hindmarch (notice her signature 'tiny bow' emblazoned inconspicuously at the top of the bag?). And this is her first foray into what I term, 'supermarket fashion'. Her motives are genuine (I suppose) and this bag is eco-friendly, and designed to address the issue of plastic bag usage that blight the environment.

But I suspect the advent of this tote bag will change the mart-shopping arena forever.

Now everybody and anybody wants to be seen with The Bag. From Keira Knightley to Lily Cole, even celebrities are coveting this limited edition. And all in the name of 'the environment', of course. Or so they say...

Soon, it'll be hip to pop into your local supermarket to load up on your fromages, tomatoes, yoghurt, and pint of milk. In fact, the bag may well cause supermarkets to ring up robust sales?

Perhaps I'm jumping the gun here, yet already there are tell-tale signs.

Even before its launch in March '07, this limited edition tote was 'sold out' online, i.e pre-order allocations were made available but forced to close due to overwhelming demand. The bags then flooded eBay selling at up to £200, around the same price as a regular Hindmarch bag!

Despite its green credentials, this bag is more desirable as a fashion item than one to save the world. What's more, with its utterly seductive pricetag of FIVE British pounds (!!!!), it's a trawl line that requires no bait.

Call me shallow (ok, I am) but if a fiver is all it takes for me to do my bid for the environment (and hopefully up my hubba-hubba housewife quotient by a notch), then let's save the Planet already, I'm gonna 'bag' me one of those!

My precious...

* 'I'm not a Plastic Bag' goes on sale in Sainsbury's stores nation-wide on 25 April, at 8am. Each store will carry only 30 bags. I've already briefed Mum to queue alongside me on that day. Sales are limited to 1 per customer so let's see whether I'm lucky enough to score one! Do you think Q-ing at 7:30am is kiasu enough? Do ya? Do ya? Keep your fingers crossed for me, peeps!

Finally... A Blog Premier

The long-awaited announcement. Presenting NIMO... Found, at last.

Why the delay in divulging this EXCITING news? Blame it on Nimo's mum who was constantly 'having kittens' over the safe period, or nail-biting at every test/gynae visit... It's understandable though, I suppose parents do begin worrying for children from time of conception till... well, does the worrying ever stop?

Having said that, let's remember that our children are God's gifts to us. Their lives are in His hands and He knows them intimately because afterall, He created them... :)

CONGRATULATIONS again, Ni-s! May the good Lord always shine His face upon your little family!

* why NIMO? Well, that's kinda a long story... go ask his momma!

A Blog Entry Trailer...

Coming Soon
to a blogsite near you

Saggs Productions is proud to present...

FINDING NIMO

(Nope, I didn't do a typo. I really mean N-I-M-O, not Nemo.)

Who is NIMO?

WATCH THIS SPACE TO FIND OUT*.

* for the love of God, it's been over a week! Send me those pictures pronto! You HEARD me?! Bah! :P

Naughty or Nice?

Danielle's behaviour has been rather appalling of late. She's taken on this strange 'I-don't-like-anyone-but-my-parents' attitude. Since returning to the UK, she's been exceedingly possessive over Dennis and myself, our things, and doesn't like it when others have our attention.

If her fluctuating 'neuroses' were perpetrated on her papa or me, I might be more tolerant. But her recent behaviour has seen her rude, defiant and behaving like a downright brat to my mum (and don't get me started on her equally deplorable behaviour towards my MIL in SGP!).

And that, does NOT sit well with me. At all.

At her worst, she's 'beat' and 'admonished' my mum, brandishing her index finger (a habit she picked up from me. Oh bad, bad). Other ghastly behaviour include screaming blue murder, refusing to follow instructions, rejecting to hold my mum's hand, asking my mum to leave her bed, using hurtful words like 'Go away!', 'I don't like you!', and 'I don't want you!' (we never use the last 2 phrases on her so I'm wondering where she picked them up from? TV? School?)

We're utterly nonplussed by her recent behaviour and find it hard to marry her 2 very diverse personalities together. On one end of the spectrum, she's all manjah, eager-to-please and a sheer joy; on the other, she's a diabolic little monster who wittingly, or unwittingly hurts others with her words & actions.

We've tried different approaches to tackle this mind-boggling issue - from soft reproach to harsh reprimand- but nothing's worked so far.

I've had to apologise profusely to my mum for my daughter's atrocious behaviour. Whilst my mum's been understanding, and even tries to analyze the reasons behind it, I'm ashamed.

I've tried explaining to Danielle that grandma is 'Mummy's mummy' and that she has to treat her nicely or Mummy will be upset. She always nods her head thoughtfully, but within minutes, is at it again.

Is this yet another phase all parents have to go through? I know toddlers are a handful but are they charateristically mean to their grandparents at this age? Surely this is not normal?...

Danielle turns 3 in another 4 months. With that comes another set of milestones, another uphill task trying to 'psycho-analyze' her ever-changing moods and behaviour.

Just when I thought my SAHM status has made me know my daughter whole-hog, I'm humbled again...

++++++

On other news, I'm pleased as punch to announce that... (drumroll) Danielle's toilet-trained*?! *fingers crossed fingers crossed* We drilled her on the potty whilst in Singapore and by the 3rd week, she could announce quite proudly, 'I need to shee-shee'.

At last. Phew!

* she still wears diapers to bed and wears pull-ups when she goes out. But she doesn't wet them at all. So does this mean I'm home free? Whoopee!

Pooped Out in Paris

I won't lie to y'all - we did not exactly enjoy Paris.

For some reason, my mum and I were constantly fatigued. Were we suffering from remnant jet lag? Or was it the sweltering heat from the strange, summery weather that did us in? (I hear Paris is NEVER that warm in Spring.)

Je ne sais pas?

We left Paris last night with nothing but a sketchy opinion of the city and our digital photos (I took no less than 355 shots). Oh, and a newly-developed aversion to bread, baguettes and crepes. I'm not a fussy holiday eater, neither is my mum. But 4 consecutive days of carbohydrates - tho' served in different styles, with different sandwich fillings - can be a tad nauseating.

Shocking as it may seem, we did not visit any of the museums (du Louvre, d'Orsay, Rodin etc), didn't walk down the 'most beautiful avenue in the world', Champs-Élysées , nor take a boatride down the Seine River. In fact, our visit was so scanty we didn't even sight a Starbucks outlet to purchase a Paris City mug or buy a fridge magnet as proof of visit, as we often do during holiday visits.

Even then, there were good things.

Paris certainly lives up to its reputation as one of the most beautiful cities in the world. The roads are wider compared to London, and are lined with (seemingly) endless rows of well-coiffed trees & shrubs. And because it's Spring, the gardens were abloom with all kinds of fleurs, covering the landscape with hues of lavender, pink, yellow and red.

C'est beau!

We put up at a modest (read: el-cheapo) hotel located at rue Saint-Honoré, near Musée du Louvre. The accommodation was clean & adequate enough. But there was a tiny hitch- there was no flask for boiling hot water. So every day, we had to climb up and down the stairs (there was no lift to the 4th floor either!) to get hot water for Danielle's milk. Amenities mishap aside, the hotel's location was pretty good - a stone's throw to Louvre Museum, Metro/RER stations and lots of eateries around the corner. Eateries that sell crepes, baguettes and croissants, that is. Bah!

Most days, we took the 'open bus tour' to get around and that gave us a quick overview of Paris, its famous landmarks and monuments. Unfortunately, unlike in the UK, Parisian bus tours (or at least the one we took) had no tour guides to provide running commentary. Instead, we had to rely on headsets for interesting nuggets of information on Parisian history and architecture. Trouble was, the recorded commentary was indecipherable most times due to interference. Merde.

Nevertheless, Tour Eiffel et Arc de Triomphe did not disappoint. They were 'suck-your-breath-in-ly' awesome. And we took many a happy family shot at the world famous monuments.

And not forgetting, the lovely wedding. It was a cosy affair celebrated with friends and family from all over the world. Joanna was stunning in her champagne gown and Emmanuel cut a dashing figure in his suit. The Catholic ceremony was held in a quaint church and I thought the priest did pretty well speaking in both English (albeit haltingly) and French. The reception was held at a clubhouse about a 15-min drive away. Needless to say, we were treated to a full-course French dinner that included favourites like duck confit and foie gras. Ooh lala!

+++++++

If you ask me what I thought was the highlight of the whole trip? I'd say being holed up in the stuffy hotel room chatting with Mum and Dennis. We reminisced bygone days, shared life experiences and family stories. We even gushed over (at least, I did!) how good chichi was/is! I know, we ALL have ISSUES! Heh heh.

But most of all, the look on Danielle's face as she took her first ride on a donkey at Tuileries garden! :)

J'adore, Maman!

En vacance à Paris

Oui oui, we are heading to the 'City of Lights' ~ Paris! We board the Eurostar first thing tomorrow morning and will be back to London on Monday. Hoorah!!!

This trip, besides being my maiden sojourn, is extra special coz we're attending Joanna (ex-PlanetMG) & Emmanuel's wedding!

More updates when we return! :)

Look who's here for a visit?

I made a cursory mention of this in my previous post so in case you blinked and missed it - my momma's in da house! Uh-huh, uh-huh...

I can't begin to describe how wonderful it is to have someone from my side of the family visit for a change. I'm sooo thankful for this opportunity to share my life in London, as well as the places I frequent, with my mum.

We're taking it slow and easy for now. I fear jet lag and sore neck/shoulders are impeding my mum from venturing too far. So I'm starting with places around our vicinity first - visits to the various supermarkets (my mum's started to baulk at the prices of things here!), the commons, and thrift shops.

I do hope I make a good host. I so want my mum to enjoy her stay here...

But hosting duties aside, let the 'mee hoon kuay' feasting begin! Sluuuurp!

Look Grandma, daffodils!

Enjoying mee hoon kuay together

Salivary glands going on overdrive!

CockaDoodle - D...Zzzzz

There's no denying it - I am no longer a spring chicken.

Just what IS a Spring Chicken?
A young person. The phrase is usually found in the negative, as 'She's no spring chicken.' The implication is that she has reached an age when she is no longer a chick.

Uh huh, that describes me to a T alright.

And whilst I'm on this 'poultry' (or 'paltry' as it is) subject, let me add that when I scoured my usual Stock Images website for a photo of a 'spring chicken' (oh u know how I like to embellish my blog entries with all sorts of pictures!), these are all I found:

'Chick' material? Not Saggs.

More like this, she is.

Just how did I reduce myself to this cold, featherless, lifeless bird carcass?

I O.D-ed - with endless streams of appointments, meetups, excursions, makan sessions etc. These past three weeks in Singapore, though enjoyable, was debilitating to my '32-going-on-85' body.

I'm certain every joule of energy's been sapped out of me coz when I landed at Heathrow, I was a vision... of swollen eyebags, dark circles, sallow skin and flyaway hair caused by static from the airline seat. Hubba hubba...Gag!

The whole household's still trying to recover from the unbelievable jet lag. My mum's nursing a headache, Dee slept from 11am~ 5am the next morning then upped and left for work, Danielle woke me up at 3am this morning and resisted sleep till 11am...$%#&(@*@$%!

The funny thing is, I don't even remember 'cheong-ing' that much? Sure, I had a few late nights having coffee or prata but such days were (literally) few and far between?

Oh well, guess I have to come to terms with my new-fowled status.

Cluckity cluck cluck, people.