Out of a muddle puddle

On Saturday, somewhere between Battersea and Chelsea - as bus 137 trundled along its planned route over Chelsea bridge - Cheeks rattled off, 'D-A-N-I-E-L-L-E! That's MY name!'

It was the first time I'd heard her spell out her name correctly, all by herself. Her other spelling attempts always began well with letters 'D' and 'A', then got a little fuzzy in the middle, but always managed to end off confidently with 'ELLE'. The repetitive 'Ls' and 'Es' were easier to commit to memory? I don't know.

So Saturday's name spelling was no small feat. Not to her Papa and me at least. I think we'd always assumed she'd take some time to learn to spell her name, seeing the number of alphabets involved. But she finally got all the letters down pat.

Hubs and I gave her a thunderous applause. Right there, on the bus.

+++++++

Today, she finally learned how to write the numbers '5' and '9'. She'd always found writing these two numbers a little tricky and despite patient coaxing, would give up halfway.

For '9', I tried to make it easier by asking her to draw a circle with a long stick by its side. She took one look at it today and said it looked like 'a person's head with long hair'. After that, she wrote it out exactly the way she saw it.

'5' was more challenging. She'd always managed to get through the first bits - the horizontal then vertical line - but the curve was somehow beyond her. I asked her to imagine it as a hook, but to no success. But something must've clicked inside her today coz when I showed her the strokes, she suddenly exclaimed, 'the curve is round like a pregnant woman's tummy!'

She couldn't have written the number more perfectly after that.

I guess it's very true how children learn things at their own pace, and in their own time. It's now my turn to learn, and commit that to memory.

TIME

Day light saving started on Sunday, March 30, 2008 at 1:00 AM local standard time.
Current time zone offset: GMT +1 hour.

Tea buds do Ladurée ...

In part 3 of our continuing 'Tea Buds' series, the fanteastic foursome, Valelee, Saggs, Cheeks & Woof (better known as Luke, but he likes to pretend to be a dog sometimes so let's call him 'Woof' today, shall we?), found themselves in the more upmarket part of London - Knightsbridge, home to the world-famous Harrods department store.

Knightsbridge is the epicentre of the rich and richer, and trawling haunt for fashionistas with a penchant for expensive, high fashion.

As Cheeks and I ambled along Brompton Road, gazing into shopwindows, I chanced on a pretty, pink display at Harrods that featured a joint promotion between Moët et Chandon and Ladurée, the renowned french patisserie. The display made mention that a Ladurée tearoom was located on the ground level at Harrods. I'd never tried Ladurée's famed macarons, much less experience a quintessential french salon de thé, so the idea was extremely appealing. I wasn't sure if Woof and Val'lee would be ok with my suggestion but they were very sweet and obliged, despite having visited Ladurée while on holiday to Paris.

The Ladurée tearoom is situated at the far end of Harrods, through the foodhalls, past the Krispy Kreme counter. It doesn't have a lot of seating and is split to 2 areas - dining in the brasserie, and a 'tea only' section. We were offered a table by the windows by the friendly waitstaff. I was very taken with the pastel-hued surroundings and wall display neatly stacked with giftboxes, tea cannisters and the prettiest satin ribbons you ever did see! A pity photography was not permitted in the tearoom, but under the guise of taking shots of the kids, I surreptitiously snuck in a snap or two, like this one of Woof:

how's THIS for sneaky? heh.

After surveying both menu and the irresistable panoply of pastries at the counter, I laid my bets on Macaron Pommes Caramel, while Val'lee opted for her favourite, Ispahan, which she adores because it contains lychee. We each ordered a pot of tea - Val had Thé Royal aux fruits, a blend of China and Ceylon tea with cornflower and scented with black wildfruits, red berries and flowers, whilst I had Thé Mélange Spécial Ladurée, a delicious blend of orange, rose, vanilla and cinammon. Comforting!

I now understand why Ladurée is a much-lauded patisserie. Unfortunately, I'm an amateur when it comes to writing up a proper food assessment. I have but a tacky hyperbole to describe the moment I bit into my crisp-shelled, apple and caramel filled macaron - I thought I'd died and gone to heaven.

It was gorgeous. Fragrant roasted apples paired with thick, gooey caramel cream. Together, they were a match made in dessert heaven. I was sweetly sated.

Whilst their mums basked in sweet, heavenly decadence, the children entertained themselves by being 'LOUD & LOUDER'; they pretended to call their dads on their mummies' mobile phones, played nicely, then bickered with each other. It was clear they cared nothing for the propriety of the tearoom!

Woof wolfing down his pistachio macaroon

the customary 'after tea' shot

So after taking a last, lingering swig of my tea, we reluctantly left Ladurée and adjourned round the bend to Hyde Park.

Once at the park, the children took off like a bunch of feral monkeys on the loose. They scurried hither and thither, refusing to heed our frenzied hollers directing them to go 'this way!' and 'that'! They made their poor ol' mums run races with them. They pretended to be firefighters, taking turns to use Cheeks' yellow umbrella as a waterhose to put out fires which were 'torching': 1) their mums (!!!), 2) trees, 3) dustbins, 4) postboxes. For the rest of the time, they happily picked up twigs, walked hand in hand, sang silly songs, held private conversations with each other.

They had a GRAND time.

And what of Val'lee and me? We became human icicles.

Damsel in distress, Cheeks, calmly calls Firefighter Woof on
her mobile, then patiently waits to be rescued

not quite lapdancing but there were
pretty nifty lap-patting moves goin' on there!

A Walk to Remember

We took full advantage of the absence of rain to spend time at the Common yesterday. I realised how much I've missed it even though our last visit was a mere few weeks ago.

All around us was the blossoming evidence of Spring.

I've walked the Common a thousand times since moving here. So many sections are familiar to me. But today I took my time to acquaint myself with it. All over again. I lingered to admire, to appreciate, to take in the vast expanse of greenary around me.

If only my mind could somehow retain, capture scenes the way I see them, I could play them back, again and again, like one of those scenic powerpoint presentations we so often receive through email. But our ability to remember, though amazing, is unreliable. And to commit everything simply to memory would be somewhat imprudent, ill-advised? Too careless an action. For memory is but a mental impression. And that, will fade over time.

I cannot leave such moments to chance. I do not want to strain to remember. But perhaps through these, I'll never forget.

Never marry a man...

...who throws his weight around!
all 16 1/2 kg of it! ;)

For better or for worse...

to have & to hold...

Sometimes the relationship between a mother and child feels vaguely connubial.

When we become parents, do we not enter a sacred covenant ordained by God to be earthly guardians of our children? Do we not vow to love, comfort, honour and keep, in sickness and in health, for richer, for poorer, for better, for worse, in sadness and in joy, to cherish and love... as long as you both shall live? (I'm paraphrasing a bit here but you get the idea.)

I can think of so many ways parenthood can be likened to a marriage. Let's see, we:

• Prepare their meals,
  
• Launder/iron/fold away their clothes,
  
• Clean up after them,
• Make their beds,
  
• Smother them with 'hello' and 'goodbye' kisses
  
• Make time for them,
  
• Invest time building that strong, meaningful bond,
  
• Share their meals, lament the amount of wastage when there are leftovers,
  
• TRY HARD NOT to eat their scraps,
  
• Share many precious, loving moments with them,
  
• Listen to them talk, or at best pretend to listen to them jabber on and on
  
• Patronize them (guilty!)
  
• Listen to their grouses, their victories, their stories (tall, or otherwise)
  
• Guffaw at their jokes, yes, even the bad ones
  
• Encourage them when they fail,
• Buy their underthongs, toiletries... stuff
  
• Cajole them into doing things WE want them to do (oh yeah...),
  
• Worry about them,
  
• Care for them when they're sick,
  
• Catch them when they fall
• Love them like every day's the last
  

How's that for a list?

Still, despite the conjugal similarities, there are differences. 'course there are.

There is no courtship before this 'marriage'. No weeks/months/ years spent wooing, beguiling, impressing. No sitting around, twiddling thumbs, waiting for that warm fuzzy feeling to bulldoze its way into our hearts.

After birth, we're thrust with a child who - love or loathe - is ours for keeps.

We have no say in choosing a parent or a child. We're not shown swatches, nor given a grand selection to pick and choose from. We can't try on for size. There's no waiting around to see 'if the shoe fits'.

Because every thing is decided by God, in toto.

Perhaps that's why I can't help but feel Cheeks has the raw end of the deal here.

Instead of a mum, she's stuck with an idiosyncratic, impatient, dismissive, emotional, highly strung, stickler for rules and schedules, disciplinarian, persistent nag, boring old stick-in-the-mud.

(In case you're thinking it - no, I'm not attempting to self-deprecate.)

How often I've failed her. My Achilles' heel being my perennial inability to curb the torrent of emotions within me. I emote too easily, recklessly. But as a mum, you simply can't give in to impulsive emotions. You. Just. Can't.

Yet time and time again, I do.

Sometimes I watch her, watching me. I notice how she cowers ashamedly when I show my displeasure or disappointment. How visibly distraught she is when I'm upset. How she reacts nervously when I'm impatient with her.

And in my moments of delirious fury - when my face darkens and my voice transforms into a thunderous boom box - her apple-shaped face crumples up, her tears fall like rain. She reaches out for me, arms extended half the way, wanting to be held and comforted, yet unsure, afraid. She's desperate to know if I still love her, and when I hold out my arms, she quickly burrows her head in my chest, and whimpers, 'I'm so sorry, Mummy, I won't be naughty again', or 'I love you, Mummy. Even when you're naughty,' after I've given her a lashing.

And my heart - it dies inside of me.

I worry how my thoughtless words and actions will have an adverse effect on her. But often, it's a thought that pops to mind too little, too late.

Many a time, I feel I'm the one who should be apologising for appalling behaviour. I'm the one who needs the assurance that despite my foibles, I'm still loved.

But Cheeks, she's always a step ahead. She offers them to me ever readily, freely.

My manjah munchkin is always quick to proffer cuddles, profess 'I love you so so much, Mummy', pucker up for a kiss - sometimes for no apparent reason.

She makes me feel loved. All the time.

I am totally undeserving of this adoration. This love and adoration that seem to echo the marital vows 'for better or for worse'.

So here's mummy thanking you for loving me, Cheeks. Even when I'm naughty...even at my worst.

Cornwall

I began this post a million different ways in my head. I even scribbled notes (in bullet points!) because I didn't want to leave any memory out. But I'm sure I have, inevitably.

Despite the lovely holiday, it's great to be back in London and I'm immensely grateful for today's burst of sunshine. If only the Easter weekend could've been this sunshiney. Still, I cannot gripe since we were blessed with good weather on most accounts.

For the past 4 days, we immersed ourselves in Cornwall history, food, culture, enjoyed every square mile of its breathtaking coastal view. From scrumptious cod & cornish cream tea to cliffs & coastlines, it's no wonder many have fallen for the quiet charm of Cornwall.

+++++

I had in mind a whole list of things I wanted to share with you about our trip but it's hard to write when you're not 100%. And I'm not. So I find myself struggling to find the words. Sorry about that.

I have no choice but to leave my memories of our trip in those bullet points I spoke of earlier. Unfortunately, they will neither paint a decent picture, nor do the lovely hols any justice. But, they are all I can manage for now. I am putting up some photos though. Perhaps they will help give you a glimpse of our sojourn there. Afterall, nothing says it better than pictures. Sometimes.

Harbour beach @ St Ives

A fishing village called Mousehole (pronounced as 'Mow-zel') that we visited

Blotches of memories:

• Crazy detour to Wales due to my folly. Saw a magnificent rainbow there though.
• Daffodils, snowdrops growing willy nilly by the side of roads
  
• Enjoying delicious Cornish cream tea
• Experiencing hailstones at Lands End
• Almost blown away by gusty winds
• Sent various postcards to self
• Vast expanse of sky that went unobstructed for miles
• Amiable locals
• Great seafood
• The distinct smell of charcoal emitting from village chimneys
• Half-dressed children playing by the beach, running in and out of the water, having absolutely no concept of cold
• Cheeks the social butterfly, making friends with children at Hastletown Pub/Inn
  
• Cheeks ordering food on her own at The Mermaid Seafood Restaurant. Asked for 'more water please!'
  
• Went off the beaten track, visited a lavender farm in Devon. Made friends with farm cats Eleanor and Tabitha
• Cheeks eating baked beans and brocolli!
• Cheeks suffering from motion sickness and vomiting twice in the car. Over the same side of my sleeve
  
• Hair is slapped across forehead in almost every photo due to gusty winds. Bah!
  
• Listening to Simply Red's 'For your babies' during a car ride and feeling on top of the world
  
• Lovely stay at 'The Hollies', our B&B. Great breakfast every morning.
  
• Visited a local 'Craft Farye' in Hartland, Devon. Tried malt cake for the 1st time. Bought the best fudge.
  

My favourite shot of the whole trip - craft hanging outside a shop

Hubs keeps it together with a beanie. I, on the other hand...

Cheeks building sandcastles at Harbour Beach, St Ives

The first time I've seen a child play at the beach in winterwear!

The rocky cliffs @ Lands End

Before Easter

I'm listening to tracks from Maria Lanza: The Essential Collection off iTunes. Picked up the CD while out on a jaunt to Sainsbury's. For 2 quid, I get a double CD of his ultimate hits. Woot! But geez, how my tastes in music are changing, and mirroring those of my Dad's. Point to note.

There are days where Hubs looks at me fixedly and utters 4 'magical' words - You. Should. Blog. This.

Today, is one such day.

Hubs would like me to remember TODAY - carve it in stone for all eternity if you will - because (he thinks) it marks a milestone for me.

I successfully baked a cake. He loved it.

And there you have it. In 2 disjointed sentences. My ONE achievement for 2008.

Then began his sagely speech on the virtues of practice, how MIL didn't get to where she is without practice... lah dee dah.

Bottomline, he's proud of me. But geez, I feel like a 5YO getting a smiley star for a job well done? Fine, shall not be ungrateful. He's a v supportive hub and I'm truly, truly blessed. I know that. I married him, didn't I? :)

I don't have a pretty picture of the banana cake (recipe courtesy of Happy Home Baking ) but no matter. Me blogging this is all I need to conjure the image of him enjoying morsel after morsel in my mind.

So what happened over the course of the week? I feel like I have to religiously jot down my weekly goings-on, from now up till the day we leave. Which, we've set on 20 July, btw. Hey, I sound pretty calm revealing this over blogosphere! Did I mention the vigorous heart palpitation as I typed THE DATE out?! Breathe, breathe, breathe...

Loads to look forward to though, going back - minor renovations to the flat, getting Cheeks settled into a new nursery, thinking about work options, and of course celebrating my 33rd year on Planet Earth! I haven't had a proper celebration in yonks so methinks a nice party is in order, eh boys and girls? *WINK*

Coming back to the week's events. 'Twas a usual week, dappled with some sunny highlights:

• Went through 3 new DVDs - Annie Hall, Shadowlands (cried buckets!), & On Golden Pond -- Val, they'll be heading your way!
  
• Lovely playdate @ Yao's
• Cheeks made Easter cards for her fav friends at nursery - Poppy, Hannah, Sebestian (but of course)
  
• Made that deeeeeeelicious banana cake
  

Also, here's a bit of personal trivia I thought I'd share. I'm in luuuuurv truly. madly. deeply with COUSCOUS!

For the past 2ish weeks, I've been scoffing down bowls of these fluffy grains at PRACTICALLY EVERY MEAL! I'm compulsive, I know I know. I fear I'll have to chow down bags full of cc till I finally tire of it, or die of excessive consumption, whichever comes first. Man, I really LOVE that stuff! That, and marks&sparks 'Percy Pig'. Me be nibblin' on Percy's ears now. Chew-weeee!

And lastly,

HAPPY EASTER WEEKEND, y'all!
We're off to Cornwall!

The tale of the animals who went under covers

One hot, summery day, a long long LONG time ago, the animals on Earth - silly, loopy creatures that they were - decided to take a leaf out of Adam & Eve's book, and clothe themselves in garments.

So they did.

After the last animal had been clothed and dressed, they went about the savannah doing exactly what they did every, single day. As if nothing was amiss! They sun-bathed in the muddy murky river, grazed lazily on the grassy plains, stretched out their legs for a run, and kept an eye out for easy prey. They did EVERYTHING with clothes on!

They were rather pleased with their new looks and some animals, I have to admit, looked rather stylish.

Giraffe - looked stately in her poncho

Elephant - preferred to keep things under wraps

even Gorilla sported white, sexy underpants!

Then one day, a young zebra, who'd braved rocky terrain, arrived at the savannah. He was not from those parts and had walked a great distance. He was a handsome beast with shiny black and white stripes and a mohawk-like mane. He knew nothing of the clothing madness that had taken over the savannah.

The animals were aghast when they saw him. Nervous whispers buzzed around the animal community - Who was this zebra? Where did he come from? But more importantly, why was he NAKED?!!

The female creatures felt faint with embarrassment. The males went hot under the collar appalled by the young zebra's lack of decorum. They marched up to him in unison - while trying hard not to trip over their long gowns - and demanded an explanation.

(Suddenly, a hunter with gigantic binoculars appeared from nowhere! The hunter was kind and did not seek to harm the animals, merely to observe them. Imagine her surprise when she found she'd stumbled on a rather peculiar scene. As you'd expect, she could hardly contain her excitement so she whipped out her binos to take a closer look. But let's not dwell on this insipid character since she's not critical to the story, shall we?)

So where were we? Ah yes, the affronted animals and the 'naked' zebra.

They marched up to the bewildered zebra.

'How dare you enter our grounds without any clothes on! Have you no shame?' they bellowed.

'Clothes? What need have I for threads when God has blessed me with a handsome black and white coat?' the zebra replied, quizzically.

He continued, 'Why should all of you be clothed in garments when God has given you gorgeous feathers, silky hair, thick luscious fur, cool scales and hides of different wonderful prints & patterns? Why do you hide your natural beauty under uncomfortable clothes? Shouldn't you be proud of what God's given you, and be comfortable in your own skin?'

Startled by this revelation, the animals suddenly felt silly and very ashamed. Slowly, one by one, they took off their ridiculous garments and... began preening themselves rather furiously, worried that the clothes might have inflicted damage on their God-given skin!

Later that night, everyone threw their clothes into a heap and burned the lot. (Well, not quite everybody. Gorilla, kept his pants on because he suffered from incontinence.)

When the flames died down, all the animals gathered at the savannah square and feasted on a gigantic lemon because, ahem, it happened to be lying around.

THE END (thank God!)

In the wee small hours of the morning

At precisely 3:48am this morning, I got out of bed, groped my way through semi-darkness to the far end of the house, got under the covers and snuggled up next to Cheeks. On her bed.

It was a surprising reversal of roles.

Today, the little one did not have to wake up to yet another one of Mummy's 'disappearing acts'. Neither did she have to drag her limp body and favourite bolster to papa and mummy's bed in search of comfort and security.

Because today, Mummy did the seeking instead.

As I lay beside her, my unsettled mind began to calm - miraculously lulled by the sounds her snorts and snores, and the steady thumping of her heart as I lay my head against her back. I clasped her cool feet in my hands - slightly miffed that she'd taken her woolly socks off again - and within minutes, drifted to sleep.

I felt safe, comforted.

And I'm the Mummy.

I've always heard it said that 'children are a blessing from God' but I never quite realised the depth of its meaning, or how real it is in my life. For all the heartaches, sacrifices, difficulties we endure for them, with them, our children remain our little BIG blessings.

You may not know it now but as much as they need us, we as parents, need them too.

I was a little late finding that out. But I'm glad I eventually did. Today.

Renewed

Cheeks with Xueying and May

Here's a photo to make some of you gawk in disbelief. That's Xueying in the photo alright. Not some superimposed shot of her plastered next to Cheeks who, I might add, is grinning rather contrivedly in the Taiwanese snack joint.

I brought Cheeks to Leicester Square today to hang out with old schoolmate, Xueying, and her flatmate, May.

This was not our first meetup with Xueying in London. We caught up over local food at Bugis Street Brasserie off Gloucester Road some weeks ago. The local fare there is satisfactory enough, although I still feel it pales beside Malaysian-run C&R.

So the next time Xueying and I decided to meet, I told her I'd introduce her to the more authentic spread at C&R. She and May were not disappointed with their cha kway teow and nasi lemak orders. :)

Xueying and I go a long way. We were in the same primary school together and were in the same class in lower secondary. I learned she was in the UK through a mutual friend of ours who alerted me via Facebook. The wonders of networking websites!

I haven't seen this girl in eons but was pleased to catch up on her current life. She's here doing a 3rd Masters (!!!!) but before this, she worked as a curator in some of Singapore's museums as well as the Buddha Tooth Relic Temple/Museum in Chinatown.

Anyway, I'm glad to be able to rekindle an old friendship, and thankful for the chance to catch up from where we left off.

Creative Xueying folding
a paper napkin 'monster' for Cheeks

Musings in the time of a Tempest

This has got to be a hasty post!

The internet connection has, for the past 2 days, been most sporadic. Never have I played a more competitive game of 'peekaboo' with an electrical device. Our modem has been teasing (taunting, more like) me incessantly with flickers of hope - a hope that bears a certain greenish gleam that signals "Yes! We have liftoff". But ohhh no, the insufferable contraption chooses to remain unflaggingly erratic - denying me entry into cyberspace.

I've tried different means of getting it to function. I've done the whole 'I'm not looking at you, so you go ahead and do your thang' thing, I've stolen furtive glances, mere glimpses, only now and then, so it doesn't feel the 'pressure' to perform. I've even left the computer off for HOURS ON END (which is over and above what I can manage!). Yet, it remains unmoved. Just irritatingly skirt-ish.

I am most distressed. And I blame it all on the confounded weather again! This whole not being able to connect nonsense? It's the WEATHER's doing!!!

Now, most people when left with one less preoccupation flitter naturally to some other more productive means of pastime. Uh uh, not me. I am not 'most people'.

In fact, I am an embarrassing excuse for a human being.

I should be more productive. Instead, in the hours left to my own devices - when Cheeks goes off to nursery - I re-watch videos, try to take power naps, iron, snack on the bed, flip through free mags, mooch around. Before you know it, it's time to pick Cheeks up and I'm none the wiser, literally. Literarily.

I should read more. By my bed are 4 books I've purchased from thriftshops: Atonement, The Girls' Guide to Hunting and Fishing, Anybody Out There, & Under the Duvet by Marian Keyes. They would constitute as easy reads, would they not? Instead, I find myself strangely (read: mind bogglingly) hesitant, almost digging in my heels from picking them up and poring over page after page of easy literature.

I'm daft, in this draught. ---> Oh, humour me.

So anyway, hey! So much for a hurried post! Verbose, c'est moi.

One beary blustery day...

1/2 a chocolate easter egg (thanks Ros! I had the Flake one. Err, but were they meant for Cheeks? Opps.), 1.5 packets of Maggi Mee (assam laksa), 1 mug of milky tea, and a couple of Charlie and Lola episodes after, I am not closer to shaking off this 'blue bug' that's been plaguing me all day.

It's going to be a sluggish, dreary week what with depressing reports from the 'Bay-bay-say' on v stormy weather ahead. When Cheeks and I popped out to her nursery and the supermarket, we could already see varying levels of devastation left in the wake of them raging winds - mangled, turned-out brollies, fallen sign boards, stray dustbin lids - littering the pavements.

It is so NOT umbrella weather.

And I'm in desperate need of a laugh.

Yet, I find out later, it takes very little to lift the spirits.

There's no wow factor in the activity Cheeks and I engaged in. So alright, we baked again. What's new?

The thing is, despite the rather frequent sessions, baking remains a big deal for me.

You see, I am not prodigiously adept in baking, cooking or anything that involves being holed up in the kitchen for hours on end. It takes some measure of willpower to get me into that part of the house, much less work from it. So whenever we complete a 'kitcheny project', I can't help but feel a tremendous sense of achievement.

I got this recipe off a blogsite Roslyn directed me to. And I think it's amazing. The recipes are easy to follow and the author of the blog is - get this - a mother of TWO... now wait for it...BOYS! Honestly, I don't know how these mothers do it. I find myself constantly floored...

So anyhoo, Cheeks and I slaved all afternoon to create these:

Beary milo biscuits!

Will you take a look at that ginormous grin on her face? Now that, was all I needed to quell the pesky blue bug.

Dental Ditty

This, is Cheek's toothbrush. Or otherwise known as Captain Toothbrush.

In case you're wondering why the honorific for a common bathroom object, let me assure you it's purely tactical. We've not turned looney here.

Our bathroom seems to be the backdrop of choice for many of Cheeks most atrocious outbursts. I blogged her bathtime 'madness' previously, and now have to add teethbrushing woes to the list. She prances wildly round the bathroom, squeals, squirms, goes on a kicking rampage, gnashes her teeth when I advance towards her with the toothbrush.

Please! Tell me that other mothers face the same problems with their kids during teethbrushing! Tell me I'm not alone!

The tussles I get into with Cheeks at EVERY SINGLE teethbrushing episode make me think it might be easier to train a koala to do circus tricks, persuade an eskimo to migrate to a desert, convince MJ that he's REALLY black, not white, than it is to get my daughter's 'wired shut jaws' to open.

I've tried various methods to get round the problem, but have to say this latest attempt has met with the greatest success.

I've made up a silly ditty. With accompanying marching actions coz, ehh, it's got a marching band tempo goin' on there.

So now, before we brush her teeth, I do a whole song and dance number just to prep her for the session. She's been lapping it up and getting her pearly whites polished in the process. Score!

I'd sing it for you but I fear you'd barf all over your screen, your ears melt into your temporal regions, or something vile happens to your innards.

Hence, I leave you with its amateurish lyrics. Perhaps when Cheeks gets the words down pat, I'll upload a video of her 'performance'.

Capt'n Toothbrush will save your teeth
When he flies to spaceship mouth!
Capt'n Toothbrush will kill the germs
that make cavities in your mouth!

Blast! Blast! --> Cheeks fav part of the song

Speaking of ditties, I'm reminded of this beautiful one which not only bolstered ad retention but worked wonders for its campaign.

Remember?

Age of Reason

I'm one tiny step away from reaching the end of my tether, and one mammoth step closer to taking a suicidal leap into the fiery depths of (parental) Hades! Because hell, I want to be a diabolical mum!

Pardon the theatrics again. The drama mama in me cannot help rear her flamboyant head. Remember, peranakan blood yada yada yada...? Ok enough.

Lately, I've been consumed with nefarious thoughts towards my cheeky offspring.

You see, she's been acting like a rabid mule - madly stubborn. So in my mind, I've been playing out scenes that involve hitting her head *gleefully* with a skillet to render her unconscious, slinging her over my shoulder, then dropping her like a sack of potatoes infront of her school's frontgate. Leave her to the experts!

But the problem is - school. That IS her problem.

The past 72 hours have been a nightmare where taking her to nursery is concerned.

My poor ears have been subject to screams, yells, wails, howls and yowls of varying decibels. The girl's begged to be left alone, left at home. Her behaviour at the dropoff have invited horrified stares from other mums. Even the principal had to step in, the teachers had to pry her from my ankles. That was lovely day 1. Drama.

(I should not have sent her to school on the day we arrived back in London. But I thought - against better judgement - that by keeping her awake, she'd be able to shake off her jetlag quickly. Deranged is me.)

Day 2 fared no better. She began the waterworks at bathtime. Then came a litany of complaints involving Sebestian calling her 'ugly', classmates throwing things at her and calling her 'impertinent' (!!!), teachers not liking her et cetera. To be honest, I wasn't sure if she was telling the truth but decided that if she was really getting bullied, she'd just have to learn to stand up for herself. But I had a niggling feeling she was fibbing to get herself off the hook. That day, she single-handedly pulled the nursery down, brick by brick, with her screaming.

Day 3 (today). Before she can pull any stunts on me, I sit her down for a MAJOR pep talk. Tell her no amount of tears is going to make Mummy change her mind about school. If she isn't liked at school, no matter, Mummy & Papa love her. Sebestian thinks she's ugly? Poppycock, Mummy thinks she's beautiful, God made her beautiful, so she should ignore other people's comments. I tell her I know she can be brave at school and that' ll make me so proud of her. But, I hastily add that if she REALLY wants to stay at home then she' ll have to stay in her room ALL DAY and be IGNORED. Now, is that what she wants? I then leave her to her thoughts.

That had to be the clincher. Coz 10 minutes later, she walks up to me, lips quivering, blinking back tears, tells me she's sorry for making me upset, asks for a cuddle and promises she will not be difficult at nursery later .

And she wasn't. Huzzah!

Well, I've made myself sleepy writing this long post. My tenses are running all over the place and I am now stuck with no pithy ending.

Just to add...

It must be awfully unsettling for her to come back after such a fun-filled holiday. I'm just glad she finally relented and opened up to reasoning.

How long more will she bend to reasoning? I'm not sure. But I'm going to enjoy it while it lasts.

Hoooooooooooboy.

Home

Ask me what I miss most about Singapore and I'll tell you - hand over heart, barring family and friends - it's the ability to come out of the shower, dripping wet, with absolutely no fear of catching a chill.

Honest to goodness.

I ain't loving the return of the goosebumpy chicken skin reaction that surfaces post shower.

Apart from that, it's good to be home. Here. Although, quite ironically, London isn't home, nor is this old Victorian conversion flat our very own pad. Yet, everything feels safe and familiar. Everything is just as it was. My plant is still stubbornly on strike, refusing to flower. It's all bendy windy, with stalks careening towards the kitchen window trying to catch some sun. Our laundry sits dry on the horserack. My towel is draped over the radiator. And I can still catch whiffs of our 'beddy scent' in our room.

It was, afterall, 12 short days. Even then, I did miss home and life here.

This trip to Singapore was something of a foretaste of life back on our sunny isle. A family life chockablock with social commitments and activities.

We were forever zipping somewhere, filling time with something, perpetually meeting with people. We scarcely left time for ourselves - moments where it was just us. The 3 of us. Of course there were pockets of time where we'd (individually, unfortunately.) spend time with Cheeks - Dee brought her swimming, I brought her almost everywhere with me and utilised transport time to catch up with her, talk to her.

But aside from such moments, well.

In case I sound like I'm griping, I'd like to qualify by saying I know we had a choice. We could've lain low but Hubs and I - with our proclivity for social activities - chose to meet with people close and dear to us. So we did.

And it felt as though we'd never left. Apart from the new buildings, new facades, new attractions, new T3 - the constant strive for progress that's expected of Singapore - nothing else felt new.

The kids squealed at the mere sight of each other, smiley faces abound, uncontrived conversation - our 12 days were filled with raucous, side-splitting laughter, tears of joy, sentimental moments, great catchups, overindulgence, joyous celebrations, eager pursuits of the baby trail.

Come July, this may well be the sort life we lead henceforth.

Yet, a little part of me wonders whether I'm prepared to embrace it all again.

We've quickly eased back to life here. Hubs has left for work, I resumed my daily routine with Cheeks, I packed her off to the nursery, I did the laundry and ironing, picked Cheeks up, we played, read stories, ate dinner, slept.

Life here, though markedly quieter, is wholly ours. Time is ours. And it's just us. Just the 3 of us.

With a mere 3 odd months to go - whilst I'm excited & eager to return to all whom I love and hold dear - a part of me is sad to let go of this life. My home, here.