But first, HallowEeeeEeeeEen!

I am finding it extremely challenging to blog about the week-odd holiday spent in Bath, Edinburgh and Rome. I've been too lackadaisical with blogging (even tho' I had internet access at the el-meager guesthouse in Italy and could've easily updated stuff there and then), and the current backlog is beginning to resemble a monstrous mountain of unwritten posts up 'there'.

Speaking of monsters and monstrosities, it was Halloween yesterday.

With Venomously Vile JH and Mel the Serpent-haired Hag in our midst, I thought it was a fantabulous excuse to hold a perfectly ghastly shindig.

So part-taaay we did!

the ghouls and goblins that dropped by yesterday!

Halloweeny, autumny grub
Will you puh-lease chk out my chow-tah corn!
Suitably repugnant for Halloween, don't you think? Heh.

silly slippery lychee 'eyeballs'...

Evil monkey spawn & grizzly ghoul
with grotesque hand growing outta its ear! Grrrraaaah!!!

Sadako's in da house!!!
(And she's stealing our cookies!)

the Jack-O-Lantern cookies we each decorated

the REAL cookie monster!

You can betcha Danielle was très thrilled by the party. Even though it failed parlously on the Spooks factor, no one else was dressed in a costume except her, the party decor was all hand-made or printed off the Internet, the corn was burnt, and no, she was NOT allowed to eat the M&S Halloween chocolates Mummy had placed on the table as decoration - our lil' goblin fairy was happy & content.

party decor done by Mel, Sadako (EEEEEEE!!!) and Cheeks

And the rest of us? I think we myuumsters were happy for ANY excuse to stuff our already-distended bellies!

Oh and one last bit, I thought my beef stew was guuuuuuu-oooooooood!...

...even though it resembles lumps of cow turd

Surely I can dispense with all manner of modesty on my own blog? *cackle*

* Mel suggested we bring Cheeks Treat or Treatin' but I wasn't too keen on the idea since no child had ever knocked on our door, and besides, I didn't think the occasion is THAT big in the UK? Is it?

Mel & JH - Day 1

Crikey.

I am sooooooooooooo behind in my blogging RE: Mel and JH in London that quite frankly, I no longer know how- much less where - to begin.

Bear with me as I slowly plough through our adventures, thus far.

Day 1:
Slovenly-dressed, blurry-eyed, unshaven Dee sporting a mohawk/cockatoo-esque/turgid comb on cockerel-type hairdo, Danielle still dorning her PJs - we must've looked an absolute sight to our chums.

Could they blame us? It was after all 5ish AM!

After that warm fuzzy teary welcome, we whisked them back to our SW pad in the rented 1.2l Fiat Punto (for our marathon roadtrip. more on that later). Our game plan? To 'force' them out of jetlaggedness by keeping them awake till UK nightfall.

After a quick lunch of tuna mayo cheese sarnies, we spent the rest of the afternoon exploring the neighbourhood whilst Danielle was at nursery. I brought Mel to Tooting Bec (to see 'her people'!) and we did a bit of shopping at Primark. Unfortunately, all that was cut short by an unexpected call from Danielle's nursery informing us that Cheeks had been complaining of an earache. We picked her up from school, and made a quick stop at the Tooting Bec Walk-In Clinic where we had to spend the next 3 hours waiting to be attended to! Oh yeah, that's public healthcare for ya!

What a way to spend their 1st day in London, eh?

After the doc's, we headed back to ours for a home-cooked meal, then it was off to bed. We were aiming for an early start the next day, and everyone wanted to be fresh for the 1st leg of our travel adventures! Saturday - a roadtrip to BATH!

++++++++++

Oh bah humbuggedy bah! This is ALL I can manage for a premier post. More updates once I'm able to better corral my thoughts together.

Methinks I need a new brain.

Presenting... JH & Mel

Suffice to say, it was emotional. Here are some 1st pictures of Mel and JH in London...

Me and my teary issues...

banner bearer, Danielle

after a year's wait, they're here at last...

Tomorrow

Tomorrow, this gang of 4 will be reunited.
Tomorrow, we begin a journey to far off destinations, seeking thrilling, mind-blowing adventures.
Tomorrow, we continue where we left off...

Just 1 more day.

Dans la conversation avec une petite personne...

...which, when directly translated means 'in conversation with a little person'.

Little people. They are extremely literal, direct - COMPLETELY no-holds barred.

For the most part, I love the candid way they express themselves because oftentime, they mean what they say. Well, unless you count the times when they - in a brief moment of dementia, tell you how much they 'DO NOT LIKE' you - which I certainly don't! C'mon, it's poppycock! Afterall, how can she possibly not like/love Mummy, eh?

Eh?!!!!!

Danielle - she speaks like a little BIG person sometimes. Her ability to string sentences (that make sense!) and her vocabulary seem to have expanded exponentially in the past couple of months. Where I struggled to have proper conversations months before, I now engage in discussions with her.

There are times though, where I wish she would exercise a little discretion when she erm, decides to call a spade, a spade. Take for example, the time where she stared pointedly at a bald bloke walking infront of us and piped 'That man's botak!' (yes, she loves saying 'botak' alot, and has taken quite the interest in shiny, bald palates. DON'T EVEN ASK.). Then yesterday, while on the Tube, she looked at an Indian man sitting mere seats away from us and uttered, ' That man has unkempt hair, Mummy'. When I smiled in embarrassment and tried to shush her because goddamit THE WHOLE CARRIAGE could hear us, she repeated it yet again, and more audibly than before, 'THAT MAN HAS UNKEMPT HAIR, DOESN'T HE, MUMMY?'

Oh bury me under a rubble of shame!!!

Conversation misdemeanors aside, I really enjoy my chats with Danielle.

Last evening, as we got off the Tube, she turned to me and said, ' It's late, Mummy.'
M: How do you know it's late, Cheeks?
D: Because the sky is a different blue.
M: What sort of blue is it?
D: It's night blue.

And then this morning:
D: Mummy, why are you carrying the blanket out?
M: I'm bringing the duvet out because I have to bring it to the dry-cleaners, sweetheart.
D: Is it because it's too extremely big to fit in our washing machine?
M: Yes it is. So I have to bring it to the dry-cleaners to have it washed and cleaned.
D: (thoughtfully) I see... they have big washing machines there, do they?

(actually, big washing machines do not equate to dry-cleaning but what the hey, I'll get to explaining that bit to her when the time comes!)

These are but some of the examples of amazing conversations we have daily. I know they seem trifle and even uninteresting, but living with this little dudette - watching her grow and articulate herself better and better each day - makes me wanna puff my chest out in pride, you know?

Days of Rotten Tomatoes & other foul-smelling banal bits

Do you ever wake up feeling like a rotten tomato? A squishy, stinking, mossy mess of glop? FOUL?

Well, today was my rotten tomato day.

I woke up with an irrepressible urge to sleep more. I wanted to crawl back to bed and play dead. Actually, I wanted to BE dead... dead to the world. I truly abhor such days because it certainly puts into perspective what it means to be a full-time mum - where I can't hang up my apron of SAHMotherdom, and simply wet-wipe my hands clean from looking after Cheeks.

You can't live life on a whim.

Anyways, back to 'Rotten Tomato Day'.

On RTD, I get to berate a shifty-eyed DHL man for being late in picking up the delivery. I would normally 'let such things go' but as the DHL lady who'd arranged the pick-up today chose to be sooo inflexible - despite my best efforts to suit their timing - I let fly. Lady, I DO HAVE a kid to drop off and pick up from school, y'hear?!! Bah.

On RTD, while Danielle is at nursery, I finish a bday card and wrap up a present for Es, do up a coupla Happy Halloween cards, 1 Get Well Soon card, and listen to Snow Patrol's 'Chasing Cars' again and again and again... definitely not good for somber days like this.

I reflect on our trip to the National Portrait Gallery on Sunday and decide I like NPG best - even more than the very eclectic V&A, even MORE than The 'steeped-in-history' National Gallery. J'aime NPG.

After picking Danielle from nursery, we head for the Post Office for stamps. Post bday stuff and Get Well card. Halloween ones will have to wait. Make a mental note to look for 'em treats for 'em kiddies before sending out.

We go to the library. There, Danielle begins picking out books we've read, while I pick out books we haven't...

Look at sky. Clouds a-threatening...again. Bah bah.

Next, Balham High Street. Our 1st stop: Woolworth's - for assorted artcard sheets and stickers. End up buying slightly more than planned. Snagged me a 1/2 priced microwaveable dish- great for pies, thought I - and a roll of bday wrapping paper for more endless present wrapping...

Last stop, Boots. I pick out a hair conditioner for 99p, and some shower gel. JH and Mel are coming and NO ONE should be caught unscented, with their worst smells unfurled... Heh heh.

We get home. Danielle starts hounding me to do the 'paper bats' as promised. So we do. It keeps us busy for about an hour ('tis good). Am all 'batted' out now.

Like generous bloggers who share their recipe secrets and DIY handicraft tips on cyberspace, I too, want to jump on this altruistic bandwagon. So, here are the items needed to make paper bats, if you please: (drumroll)

1) Artcard sheets
2) Scissors
3) Little round stickers
4) and of course, a bat shape. Duh?

And voila, you have your bat.
Great for ze 'appy 'olloween, no?

(Did you catch a whiff of sardonicism? You did, didn't you? Smartypants.)

Had dinner. Nothing douses a dismal day further than a very green goo...broccoli soup.

Whey hey! It's 9:08pm now. And Cheeks and Hubs are sound asleep like babies in a crib!

My RTD is finally over.

Finally!

RATification

I want to address the issue of 'the mice' again (yes, again). God forbid they're running behind the kitchen cabinets! I am QUITE SURE THEY ARE ERADICTED!!! (pardon the 'shouting' on screen, I need to say this with a measure of conviction!)

More accurately, I want to address Danielle's seemingly keen interest in rodentia.
(I'm not sure how many 'royalty-free' shots I can download from gettyimages but I'm thinking more than I hope to blog!!! Isn' it amazing how fantastically cute they look on photos?!)

She loves talking about these furry critters. I'm not sure whether it's the posters of Ratatouille that line the walls at the Underground, the delightful tales of mice and rats by Beatrix Potter, or the artful mouse from Julia Donaldson's 'The Gruffalo' that are keeping her fixated.

Anyway, this is what she's been saying of mice/rats lately:

M: Danielle, pls eat over the plate so that the crumbs won't fall onto the floor. You know what happens when crumbs are on the floor, don't you?
D: The mice will eat them!
M: Yes, and we wouldn't want that, would we?
D: Noo.... but I will fight them! With... my bolster!

D: When we had mice in the house, we put traps in the kitchen...we did catch them, didn't we?

D: (when in the Underground) Mummy, mummy! Ratatouille! Ratatouille! The rat is stealing cheese from the broken plate!

D: I want to see Samuel Whiskers, and Anna Maria, and Tom Thumb and Hunca Munca and the children, and grandchildren and great-grand children. I want to see many, many mice & rats! (throws head back in laughter)
M: (utterly mortified)


Oh crumbs.

Soup of the Day

I'm almost embarrassed to blog this. Especially when my kitchen exploits are nothing to rave about, much less document.

But I really have to rant.

This kitchen appliance, this handheld wonder, has totally changed my life.

It whisks. It whizzes. It whirs. It transforms insipid-looking spuds and greens into potfuls of healthy, flavourful, sluuuurrpy soup.

I'm telling you, it is 'The Kitchen Appliance of the Year' in my books. Bar none.

It's not only solved all my vegetable woes with Danielle - because she can no longer look at stringy, chopped up bits of carrots, lettuce and broccoli in disdain, nor pick them out - it's settled some of my 'what to cook' dilemmas as well.

Why didn't I get one sooner?!!

Anyhew, I'm so moving on to puddings after this love affair with soups is over. I'm on a roll, peeps, I'm on a roll!

* Jh, Mel - soup's on the menu while you guys are here! Oh boy, next week! Woohoo!

my very 1st carrot & potato soup,
served with toast

Ma October girl...

Everybody, meet my Mum. Isn't she cute? Heehee... we have the same button noses and ermm if you look closely, the same crooked teeth! Bwahahahahaha!

Anyway, it's my Mum's birthday today so won't you be darhhhlings and send her a birthday greeting on this blog?

Thanks! :)

A Party for Three

Why do I begin this entry with a sizeable picture of a made-from-scratch-and-utterly- yummilicious-mount-of-gooey-chocolate-decandence?

Simply because this was a BIG DEAL for me. I mean, how often does one go to a party where the birthday cake is actually baked by the host's mum? (Betty Crocker's cake mixes are not counted, I don't care how good they are!)

Besides, foodie pictures are great 'blogstoppers'. Heh.

We attended a fantastic birthday party on Sunday.

Now what was amazing about this party was not only the droolworthy cake, or that the games and activities were so carefully thought out and executed (I personally thought the Treasure Hunt was brilliant), party bags meticulously made-from-scratch (another jaw-dropper!), that the 'local' party grub sat VERY well with me - no, the AMAZING part about the party was it felt kinda like a 'blind date'.

You see, prior to the party, we'd NEVER laid eyes on the host family - save for blog posts and family pictures plastered over the Roslyn's blog. We hadn't seen them upclose and personal.

So imagine my surprise (and delight) when Roslyn popped over to my blog from another blog we both read, to invite me to Lavigne's 3rd bday party!

This was certainly a first for me. And I'm glad we both took a leap of faith in 'connecting' ourselves with each other in real life, not just in cyberspace.

Ros, thanks once again for inviting us to the party. You didn't know me, only through my blog. I could've been schizophrenic, a chain-saw murderer, a con-artist, but you chose to extend your friendship to me nonetheless.

I just wanna say that I'm proud to count you as a friend and fellow crazed Facebooker soon! (I feel it in ma bones, girl! Hahahahahaha!)

Also.

The great thing about kids (at this age, let me quickly add) is that they're easily entertained? Seeing Lavigne, Louisa and Danielle horsing around after the party made me think that even if the party had just been for the 3 of them, they would've still enjoyed themselves immensely.

Having said that, Lavigne and Louisa are very blessed to have a mum like Roslyn. Her efforts in throwing fab parties for her girls are not only touching, but inspiring.

These girls will certainly have a whole treasure chest of cherished memories to look back on.

We can't wait to hang out with all of them again...

* for full set of photos, view them here:

Ready for baby

I feel bad. B-B-B-B-Bad to the bone.

I haven't been blogging much about Cheeks - especially her smart alecky antics and developmental milestones - so I'll make up for it now.

I fear my desire to have #2 has meme-ed to Danielle. Though I'm slightly baffled how, and why? I swear, I have not been obsessing about babies infront of her. Well, at least not wittingly.

Sure, I've asked her whether she's wanted a baby brother or sister before. Okay, twice. Thrice? But I've not gone further by, say, coercing her to play with baby dolls (so she practises playing big sister), coo-ing at every baby in buggy or moses basket, reading her books about having a new baby, nor have I pretended to have a bump in my tum.

But somehow, she's taken to saying things that make it seem as though I do have a baby in me. She utters earnestly, 'When you (referring to me) have a baby...', ' this is for our baby', 'I want to share this with your baby', and 'I want to have a baby brother, not sister, Mummy'.

What's more flummoxing is that she's actually prayed, uncontrivedly, to God.

I can't quite quote her verbatim, but this is a gist of what she said:
'Thank you God for today, and thank you for my food. Please let Mummy have a baby in her tummy. Amen'.

*choke*

Last Friday, I decided to distract her from Nainai's very recent departure back to Singapore by bringing her on a shopping spree down Oxford Street. With Christmas 'round the corner' and soooo many October boys & girls on my bday list, I thought a bit of retail therapy would do us good.

We found our way to the kids section at H&M where I began sifting through racks, looking for onesies, smocks, little woolly caps and mittens for our various friends' babies/kids. Danielle, on the other hand, set upon picking baby clothing for 'our baby'. She picked out smart polo Tshirts, a little stuffed jaguar, some tropical-print skirts, Hello Kitty pyjamas, a rucksack and some woolly gloves... for our non-existent baby.

She looked every bit the proud, big sister.

And I felt a pinch of regret having to put all the things she'd carefully picked, back.

I hope her enthusiastic mentions of 'baby this' and 'baby that' is a show of support, and her readiness to have a sibling.

But. While it's sweet seeing her so enthusiastic to have a sibling - this, to me - remains bittersweet.

+++++++

Hey hey hey!

In more upbeat news, here are some of the cute-ish things she said recently.

" Mummy, why is Abraham botak?" (see above. Aha!)
"Mummy, you can only have 1 baby ok? Not so many. "
(in response to God's promise to give Abraham as many children/ grandchildren/ greatgrandchildren as there are stars in the sky)
"I want to go to HK with Nainai. You and Papa stay at home so you can talk to each other."

Cheeky.

Why Caffeine and I cannot be friends

We all need some time to ourselves - just a few minutes a day to get reacquainted with the one who's been there since the beginning...

Oh yeah, I have been busy reacquainting 'me' with 我, saya, watashi, je, alright. I've been spending helluva lotta time with myself, and of course, Facebook. But let's not even go there.

If there's one person I really love hanging out with, that person - beyond a shadow of a doubt - would be me.

Hey, I'm not going to hide it under a cloak of modesty - I do love hanging out with myself. Don't you? I don't mean hanging out with me (becoz I'm dead sure you do! Ha!)! Don't you love hanging out with yourself?

Afterall, who knows what you like to do better than yourself?

So anyways, there I was, at Starbucks, having my caramel macchiato, getting serviettes for messy crêpe eater Danielle and equally messy eater MIL (hohoho!), and taking aimless photos of the pictures on the walls when I came across this lovely introspective bit of writing.

All of a sudden, I was paralysed with fear.

The ONLY reason why I've been able to luxuriate myself in a soapy, rose-petaled tub of 'Me' is because MIL IS HERE. And she's been here for close to 3 weeks. Thus explaining the OVERindulgence in self.

But she leaves Friday. Oh steady me while I drag myself soaking wet outta the bath, and help burst all of my illusory soap bubbles, won't you? Wooeeeeee is meeeeeeee!

Eeep. Help.

The thought of her leaving is actually making me hyperventilate. I swear it's not the caramel machiatto I had at Starbucks. Or maybe it is? Or perhaps it's the potent brew of sucrose, caffeine and the soon-to-be-lost hours of freedom that is doing me in.

I am a wibbly wobbly jelly.

Her presence here lifted (almost) all mothering duties off me. But soon, it'll be back to the grind. I'm not complaining. Just facing up to the fact that I have to go back to being 'Saggs the Mum' first, and not just Saggs.

I hell am grateful I had these lovely 3 weeks though!

Meantime, while I'm still in this hyperventilative (who cares if this word doesn't exist!) state, can I please remind myself NEVER to pick up the phone to chat with someone after a coffee fix! I found myself yabbering 19 to a dozen to Mabes. It was as if a bullet train re-routed itself to appear quite startlingly out of my tunnel-mouth. I swear I was speaking 7728729 words to her per minute! I wonder what she got out of that conversation. Hmmm, I should call her and ask her...

+ Remind me that I SHOULD NOT have coffee. Not ever. Not good for them wobbly nerves.