Thirty-Two and helluva thankful

I'm officially 32. And when you're 365 days older like I am today, you're jolted to a realisation that:

• instead of looking fab, you are a sad-looking flab-bag.
• there is no way in hell you're going to look like other irritatingly gorgeous and va-va-voom vampish looking 30ish YOs the likes of Cameron Diaz, Angelina Jolie, Victoria Beckham (??!), without undergoing MAJOR nip & tuck, collagen and botox injections, hairdyes, gruelling sessions with personal trainers, luxurious spa treatments, facials... oh dang, every manner of beauty treatment known to women!
• there is a perfectly good reason why it is called the gluteus MaXiMus. I mean seriously, it WILL NOT shrink. Or, in my case, stop sagging. Not ever, ever, EVER!

But enough of superficialities. To me, being 32 this year has been more about:

• POWER. How else can I badger Cheekyboo and Hubs to do my every bidding (well, almost), sing my bday song on demand, smother me with kisses and cuddles, and stuff me silly with all the junk I love?!
• CONTENTMENT. Mel, when she's not busy spaming me, sometimes sends me meaningful nuggets of wisdom such as this --The happiest people in the world are not those who have no problems, but those who learn to live with things that are less than perfect. Contentment - it comes with age. This doesn't mean I stop striving for perfection. I'm merely more accepting when things fall short of fab. I far from live a perfect life but I am nevertheless content. Why? For all its shortcomings and imperfections, I still have much to thank God for -- my life, my wonderful family, my luverly friends, and for loving a silly ol' sinner like me.
• LOVE. How better to spend a birthday than with countless emails, sms-es, phonecalls, e-cards, presents in the mail, a dedicated blog entry, and 2 hilarious, warm fuzzy homevideos from the girls. (I'd love to show them on this blog but I need their permission first! Drop by again for updates, if any) I feel ever so loved...

Being 32 can't get any better than this.

Thank you all for remembering and for taking the effort to make this flab-bag the happiest girl in the world today.

xx

Saggs

the beginning of the end

Lochinvar Oct 2 2006 ~ 20 Jul 2007

I once did a personality test on Blogthings and trivial as the test was, I thought it was spot on when it revealed: ...also nostalgic, you rarely forget a meaningful moment... even those from long ago.

++++++

Tomorrow is Danielle's last day at Lochinvar Pre-school Playhouse.

The school's closing for the summer. When it resumes on Sept 4, Danielle will not be amongst the children returning for a new term.

This September, she'll begin a fresh term at another nursery.

It is not without a tinge of sadness that we say goodbye to the school we've both grown very attached to these past 10 mths. It's proven to be an excellent playschool for Danielle. She's made lots of friends, enjoyed 2-odd hours of educational, creative, energetic playtime, 5 times a week. Through their 'cooking sessions', she experienced many 1sts -- she made her 1st-ever pita bread ensemble, hand and foot sandwich, baked wheatbuns, and dabbled in cookie/muffin decorating.

She painted, drew, coloured, glued, cut, stamped and playdoh-ed. So much so that I amassed a huge collection of all her artwork and used them as 'wallpaper' in her room.

They went on cool excursions like the one to the Natural History Museum, and warm, intimate ones like the Teddy Bears Picnic last week. They oohed and ahhed together when the fire brigade, the dentist, and the police popped by the nursery for a visit.

She attended costume parties, celebrated special occasions (Christmas, CNY, Diwali, St Georges's Day) and competed on Sports Day.

The funny thing is, Lochinvar wasn't even on my list of potential schools when I was busy scouting for playschools last year. I'd just happened to walk pass it on my way home from a nursery viewing. When I peered through the window, what greeted me was a sea of smiley, grinning faces. And I was absolutely and utterly beguiled. Then I thought to myself -- a playschool filled with happy, smiley children must be doing something right.

I never regretted my decision.

the window that clinched it for me

In this post, I thought it befitting to leave a picture of Danielle taken on her first day of school. In it, she weeps tears of anxiety, knowing school would separate her from Dee and me.

don't leave me...

If she only knew that tomorrow was the last time she'd play and interact with her fav Mandy (the teacher who works on her most), Jo, Teresa and Sandra. I'd wager a guess that her sentiments would be exactly as it was on her first day.

Kinda funny how things go a full circle.

Tomorrow is Danielle's last day at Lochinvar, so this is me remembering the moment for her lest she forgets. This is me remembering the moment so I never forget.

Here's a tribute to the wonderful school where Danielle laughed, played and blossomed...

Note to self:
The little friends Danielle leaves behind: Bunmi, Alexi, Leo, Tom, Joseph, Muhamed, Isabella, Valentin,Ramon, Shakira, Toby, Lola, Aaron, Anthony, Stuart, Phoebe, Hosan, Elliot, Zak, Dorothy, Amber, Ryan

The little friends moving to the same nursery in Sept: Hannah Leung, Hannah-Grace, Jamie, Mathew

Uh-huh, that's her alright

If there's one surefire way of confirming that Danielle is really, truly, ABSOTIVELY my daughter, this little fella would be it - this brown, oval-shaped, thinly-shelled, chock-full of protein-y goodness.

(last Tuesday)

D: Mum-may, why do we peel eggs?
M: Becoz we don't eat the shell. It's hard & crunchy, cheekyboo.
D: Why?
M: The shell protects the babychick that's inside. Or if there's no chick, it protects the lovely boiled egg inside.
D: Why?
M: Well, the shell protects the egg till we eat it. Keeps it safe...
D: Why?
M: Becoz God made it this way.
D: Why?
M: (what the...) Erm, don't you like to eat eggs, Danielle? Don't you like to peel the shell off to eat what's inside? The eggwhite and the yummy yellow yolk?
D: (thinks for a bit)
D: Oh yes please! I LOVE EGGS! (wide beam)
M: I love eggs too!
D: We love EGGGGGGGGGGS!

Oh yeah, that's my girl.

Come to think of it, I should've asked her whether she'd like to sell them too, i.e consider eggselling as a profession.

Coz that would totally seal the deal, wouldn't it, girls? :)

Mmmm-mmmm


I've got sunshine
On a cloudy day.
When it's cold outside,
I've got the month of May.

Well, I guess you'll say
What can make me feel this way?
My girl. (My girl, my girl)
Talkin' 'bout my girl. (My girl)

Girl Interrupted

Okay, so we haven't exactly been disciplined when it comes to teaching Danielle Mandarin.

I honestly don't know what Dee's problem is. I mean, he has a good, clean, passing record. He can chat nineteen to a dozen in Mandarin (& Hokkien!) with my MIL so seriously, the onus should be on him to teach Danielle her ethnic tongue right? RIGHT?

Oi, you guys have to stand on my side! Hey, don't you go rolling your eyes at me!

Fine.

Armed with only ONE Mandarin poster in the house, I've been teaching Danielle a smattering from it. Words like 袜子, 面包, 蛋糕, 手表, 玩具, and 一 to 五. We practise them everyday, except on the weekends coz even the lil one needs a break!

So anywayz, she knows Mandarin is different from English. She also knows it's Papa and Mummy's 'secret language' when we don't want her to know what we're talking about.

Lately, she's seems a tad more confident using Mandarin to converse with us, as seen from this conversation plucked from yesterday:

Mummy: 她讲的话越来越象Lola.
Papa:真的嗎?
Danielle: (interjecting) Hey, hey! 糖果!

So like I said, she can so speak Mandarin now.

SWEET...

* Note to parents -- do NOT make the same mistakes we made. Start your kids early!

Sacré bleu! Mes parents are imbéciles!

(note: may contain strong visuals)

Allo, je suis Danielle. Je suis 3 ... err, soon.

On Samedi, we visited à Legoland. Oh, j'aime Legoland! It's fabuleux! Mais (But)...

J'ai été complètement embarrassé par le comportement juvénile de mes parents! Oh merde!!!!
(or VERY loosely translated --> I think my parents have just 'flown over the cuckoo's nest' coz they're acting like a bunch of loons. And I am so embarrassed by their lack of decorum in a public place like this! Oh stinky poo!!!!!)

Regardez! (Look!)

C'est mon père. Il licking 'le Gherkin'.

Et now, ma maman

Mon père trying to move 'le Gherkin'!

Ma maman relaxing against 'le Gherkin'?

Can't you guys be normal?!!!
Oui, that's more like it.
Hmph. *pout*

Know Doubt

Every once in awhile, I doubt my decision in becoming a SAHM.

These past few weeks have seen me standing at familiar crossroads, where I struggle to find my bearings in the roadmap of Life. With its intersections, twists, and bends, I inadvertently find myself lost in its labyrinth.

I was chilling with Danielle at Starbucks the other day when all of a sudden it struck me - my tete-a-tete coffee sessions have been reduced to this - childish chatter, decaf coffee and gratuitous amounts of babycinnos with an almost-3 YO.

We talk about her day at school, we read our magazines quietly (she reads this, while I flip through Reader's Digest, courtesy of Debs *muack muack*), she doodles on her petit drawing pad, she dunks her biscuits ('da bao-ed' from home) into little papercups of milkfoam dusted with chocolate powder.

It's no wonder my knowledge of the world at large has (lately) been limited to what's on Cbeebies, episodes of Charlie and Lola (Series 1 vol. 1, 4 & 5), and how 'E' makes 'eh' and 'ee' sounds.

Or perhaps that's just my sorry excuse for not being as worldly-wise as I should be.

Has my brain been reduced to vacuous nothingness? Was my friend half-jesting when he mentioned my writing was bordering on infantile? Or was there some measure of truth to his jocular comment?

As I wheeled Danielle for our daily jaunt around the neighbourhood, I struggled to recall how I'd plan & piece together a powerpoint presentation, or work out a govt tender document, the words I'd use at work and for work. Acronyms like 'WIP', 'ROI', 'KPI', 'POP', or terms like 'branding', 'holistic thinking', 'timeline', 'target audience'. These terms - that once rolled off my tongue and punctuated my sentences - hold little or no meaning to me now.

In their place are daily/weekly timelines, schedules of library reading sessions/One O'clock club. Instead of the who's who in MNCs or the ad industry, I rattle off names of childrens' book authors. My 'To Do List' is a mess of scribblings highlighting planned playdates, grocery items, or errands to run while Danielle is at playschool.

Do I worry that I'll lose my work 'mojo'? Sure, I do. It springs to mind only every nanosecond of the day, hour, minute. Okay, so I exaggerate. But I do think about my marketability, the loss of income, my place in the corporate rat race. Pretty often.

After these 2 years are up, where will I stand? As a woman, employee, wife, Mum?

Have I lost? Or have I gained?

If I could live life in perfect equilibrium, I would. But sadly, I know something's gotta give. And I'm not sure whether I've gotten myself into some sort of emotional quagmire.

I question myself whether everything I've given up is ultimately worth it? Will my daughter remember these bonding years which will undoubtedly - save for a few photos or video clips of my 'fleeting presence' - end up as fuzzy, faded memories? Coz let's face it -- who here remembers what happened when they were 2, or 3?

Will Danielle grow up more - for lack of a better word - 'balanced', simply because Mummy's at home with her?

I wonder.

Whoever said kids who grow up with working parents fare worse than those who had 1 parent stay at home? My parents worked throughout my growing up years, and I surmise I turned out alright? Dee's mum was a widow (at 23?) with 2 young kids to care for, and a business to run. But he turned out great too. And I don't think we felt our parents loved us less just because they worked.

With Kumon classes, Montessori and all sorts of educational and enrichment classes kids can attend these days, aren't these activities far better for them since they will be dealt with by professional carers/educators -who will, undoubtedly - be able to maximise children's talents and learning capabilities?

Oh I hear you, you're saying nothing beats bonding with Mum. But hey, I grew closer to my mum in my later years. And I love her to bits. Being with Danielle during her formative years will surely not make her love me more? Will it?

So exactly what are the merits of me staying at home with Danielle?

I often feel women have to struggle to defend their choices. I'm certainly not the first mum who's found herself standing at these uneasy crossroads. A change in the times has seen a thrust in power to women. Whilst they are able to command more things for themselves now, this 'all-empowering' attribute has also become somewhat of an Archilles Heel. When we decide to stop work to look after our children, we're (possibly) 'branded' as skivers/loafers, who are taking the easy route out from the workforce. When we decide to work and leave our kids under the care of parents/maids/nannies/childcare, we're criticized for not taking on our 'mothering' duties and investing time on our children. Then, there are those of us who try our hand at juggling both, and we're (practically) 'accessed' on how well we fare, whether we're really 'superwomen'. But this critical assessment feels more like someone's waiting for us to slip up.

And slip up, we do. Because behind the 'superwoman' tag we'd all love to fall under, we're not super-beings. We're flawed, imperfect. We're imperfect mums, imperfect wives, imperfect employees, imperfect human beings.

While we're on the topic, do we take it upon ourselves to be 'superwomen' or is that label placed on us by society, expecting women to be Mrs Do-it-all?

Anyway, I could go on a lengthy discussion on imperfection and how as humans, we're practically 'expected' to err and fail. But I'm not going to go into that, nor expound its theories. I'm sure we all have our own interpretations of what that means to us, individually.

I'm not quite sure whether all this makes sense to any of you? With this entry, I'm not saying I want to dive straight back into the workforce and resume a working mum's role. I do love my time with Danielle. And the past year spent with her has been priceless.

So to be honest, I'm not quite sure what I'm really driving at, or for that matter, quite sure what I really want?

I'm just a mother who's feeling just a little lost right now. I'm looking at Doubt in the face and he's looking right back at me.

Whilst I continue to find my way out of self-doubt and into (hopefully) self-worth in all this, I blame this whole befuddling episode on the ever-fluctuating weather. Again.

But hey, thanks for dropping in. And bothering to hear me rant and rattle.

I think I'm done now.

10.07.2006

12 months ago today, we bade farewell to all we loved & were familiar with and took a 12 1/2-hour 'badly-serviced' flight from Changi to Heathrow.

We arrived in London at approximately 0500hrs with the stark realisation that we were 10,869km away from home, that there was a 7-hour time difference between us and those we left behind.

There was (an almost) 0 chance of turning back.

12 days later, we happily moved into our rented unit at H Road. We lugged 5 large suitcases, 7 pieces of handluggage, 1 very sleepy soon-to-be 2YO on 1 mini cab that cost us a whopping 90pounds to hire.

4 hours later that day, we received our 60-odd boxes that'd spent 6 weeks floating out at sea.

2 days later, we celebrated my 1st bday in London. I turned 31. My cake was a Victorian sponge that cost 2 pounds from M&S.

It's been exactly 1 year to the day that we first arrived in the UK.

Over the past 12 months, we've welcomed great friends/family members, bid others farewell, celebrated birthdays, Christmas, CNY, enjoyed Bank holidays, and got through a few harrowing weeks when Dennis' was stricken with Bell's Palsy.

Today, I sit in a house filled with flattened boxes waiting to be filled, and filled boxes piled halfway to the ceiling.

In 10 days' time, I say goodbye to the very house I said hello to just 1 year back.

How things change in the twinkling of an eye. How things change when you least expect them to.

For what began with uneasy uncertainty has given way to fond familiarity...

my first glimpse of London

just 10 more days before we say goodbye, dear house

Read, set, phweeeet!

Danielle had her first ever Sports Day today. It was held on the bowling greens at Clapham Common, near the tennis courts.

I must say, it was brilliantly organised by her playschool. The kids had tons of fun competing in the various races. I laughed so hard at some of their antics, I'm certain I've raptured a vessel somewhere!

Some things I found out about my daughter's dexterity (or the apparent lack of) - whilst she's not adept at balancing things on her head (yet? or not ever?), she certainly delivers a powerful KICK!

Take a look!

Seriously. SERIOUSLY?!!!

Seriously? I need these.

I seriously need somebody (or some 'dee'?!) to get 'em for me. If they came in anorak designs or trenches, all the better. Or better yet, umbrellas.

This, is why.

how it fecking looks like at noon.
how it fecking looks everyday.
how it fecking looks like in SUMMER?!

I wonder whether this is all part of the Brit wit & charm. That in the whole scheme of weather reports and forecasts, this is supposed to represent the Best of British satire, irony and what-not. The BEST of BRITAIN?!

I'll wear this bright red t-shirt in open defiance and mockery of the London weather. I want to punch my fists at the sky and mutter my few good words.

And yesterday, I had to do the cha-cha. With Danielle's buggy! Step to the front, (tap tap tap), take a step back, (tap tap tap), Turnaround! I had to repeat the steps thrice at our front door.

And I don't even like cha cha! So BAH!

Am seethingly foul. This weather is not good for my nerves.

Seriously.

We do ever so like Lola ...

Do you think I'm creeping into my mid-30s? or worse, a creepy adult thing? Like the rest of yoooous?

Well, *buzzer* you're wrong! Wrong! WRONG!

I'm actually 3. Though I must admit I'm rather tall for my age, and have the most appalling crooked non-milk teeth that make Gollum's look like gleaming dental caps. Nevertheless, I AM little. Truly, I am.

So here's a re-introduction.

Hello, I'm Little Saggs! I'm 3 and I have an 'apple child'- toddlerfriend- type-relation-thingamaroo named Danielle Cheekyboo. She's almost 3 too ('I'M 3 IN AUGUST', she pipes, 'AUGUST 20!'). She likes to shout.

Danielle Cheekyboo and I have a new favourite friend. Her name is Lola and she's 4. She likes pink milk and loves to chatter. Just like Cheekyboo and me! We like her very, VERY much because she ever so clever & funny.

Lola has a brother named Charlie. He's 7 and although he's older, he's not like other icky-sicky boys. He's kind and smart and we think he's jolly nice to Lola. He never thinks she says silly things and always explains things v nicely to her. We like him ever so much too.

Everyday, Danielle Cheekyboo & I spend loads of time with Lola and Charlie. We listen to their stories online, play games with them, and catch them on telly too. We do Absolutely have So much fun!

+++++++

My life hitherto has been spent as a boring mummy adult-thing. Little Saggs is my smashingly fun alter-ego and quite honestly, I'd rather be her any time of the day.

It's nice to be little. Well, most times.

Eversince I borrowed Lauren Child's 'I am Too absolutely small for School' from the local library, Danielle Cheekyboo & I have been hooked. Oh by the way, those monikers 'apple child' and 'cheekyboo'? They're real alright. I use them on her from time to time. Why? Coz she looks like a bright red apple, with oh-so-pinchable cheeks. They suit her, don't you think? :)

The reason why I enjoy 'Charlie and Lola' (as much as Danielle, if not MORE?) is because these 2 characters are so childishly refreshing. Lola is a precocious 4YO with a fertile imagination. She's creative, independent, intelligent and assertive. Just the sort of traits I hope Danielle will develop, growing up.

As for Charlie, I like him because quite frankly, he reminds me of my sister. (Oh yes, you are SO going to hear me drivel on & on about the merits of my chichi! Na-na-nee-noo-noo.)

It's not often you see siblings share a fuzzily warm & fun relationship with each other. But that was all I ever knew growing up with my sis. She was (and still is) kind, thoughtful, and caring. Not to mention zany and corny. She would regale me for hours with her 'imaginary' fairy friend. I think her name was Fiona? Flora? I forget. 'Fiona' looked absolutely like my sis (ya.duuuuh?!), and lived behind the cupboard at the far end of our room. Which then, of course, led to a faraway fairyland. She would brandish a ruler (?!) to convince me she was Fiona, and not my sister, whom she sooo closely resembled. Uh-huh. The resemblence is too uncanny. *roll eyes*

My sister's 1st bday gift to me was 2 packets of Ka-Ka and pencils. She bought them with her paltry 20 cents recess money. When I turned 8, she presented me with a S$10 doll with a pink & white frock and curly locks that cascaded down to its waist . That was 1983, when S$10 was a BIG deal. I don't know how, or even why, she bothered to save so hard for a doll for me. But that $10 is now worth so priceless a childhood memory...

Anywaaay. Like I said, 'Charlie and Lola' remind me of the rare, loving, funny bond between siblings. A bond unparalleled even by the closest of friendships. And for this reason, these 'kids' are here to stay - right at the TOP of my kiddy booklist for Danielle.