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.

For the tears you cry

No man or woman is worth your tears. And the one that is, won't make you cry.

After everything was said & done --
some words. better left unspoken
some memories. better left forgotten
some hearts. better left unbroken
some people. better left...


- For a dear friend -

That, which begins with P

Imagine if you will - me, with a tie-dyed scarf wrapped around ma head, yellow-tinted glasses, long wooden beads strung round my giraffe-esque neck. Oh, let's not forget a limp, floppy afro (becoz let's face it - my hair's so darn thick there's no way in hell I can hold up this 'formation').

I'm a vision of PEACE. LOVE. and... omigosh, omigosh, I can scarcely say it -- FREEDOM!

I'm giving y'all the hand-gesture of peace even while I type. Oh yes, sweet, sweet, sweet solitude.

Danielle's snoring behind me. She's asleep, at 7PM. *neon lights flashin'*

I'm pinching myself in disbelief, I am.

For the past 2~3 weeks, I've been maxing out the hours of the afternoon with Danielle. We make trips to the One O'clock club. We feed ducks. We trawl the supermarket. We enjoy free babycinnos at Starbucks (I'm a paying customer of course!). We visit the local libraries, or another common.

We also meet families for playdates. And that's been rather productive of late. We've met new families, in addition to Makiko and Dan, Silke and Nelson. There's Yuki, Yumiko (Yuki's mum) and baby Kai, Yemi and Bunmi, and yesterday, we went to Tooting Common with Leo and his mum, Justine.

colouring wth Yuki, who's 4 and is half Jap/ English.

Bunmi & Danielle, expending all their energy. Woot woot!

So with nada naps in between, Danielle is one VERY knackered bunny. And I'm one VERY happy hippy. :)

PEACE!

D-A...but not quite Danielle. Yet.

This week saw Danielle making a mammoth leap into the world of literacy! She can manage the letters 'D', 'A', 'I' and a funny looking B at the moment. And her drawings are no longer confined to bodyless heads with asymmetrical faces. They come attached with bodies and limbs! Whoop whoop whoop! :)

Watch!

Molly Wishin'

I've been feeling rather broody. I could put it down to a case of raging hormones that occur every month, but I suspect it's the news of births and pregnancies that have heightened my senses for all things babyish & maternal.

I get all giggly and coo-ish when I see a newborn, and I ogle at expectant mums with their orblike bellies, all bulbous and beautiful. Going off tangent for a mo, don't you think pregnant bellies closely resemble shiny bald pates? Makes one itch to give 'em a good rub-a-dub-dub. Heh.

I've been surfing for baby girl names over the internet, and that's become another fav past time. It's sooo difficult finding another nice-sounding D name though. Especially one with a strong meaning attached. So far, I've scoured through heaps of eeky-sounding ones like: Damica, Delmira, or what about Dayanara, which spine-chillingly means 'husband slayer'?! Who, in their right mind, would name their child that?!!

Without going into coital details (dad/mum, I hope you're NOT reading this!), Dee and I have been rather fruitless in our attempts at creating bébé deux. Every month, I wait with bated breath in the hope that I'll not have to slap on my 30p value sanitary pad. But up to this moment, it's been peel, slap and errm, adjust.

At night, while Danielle lies all curled up and sleeping, I hold her hands in mine and try to recall how much smaller those hands were when she was a wee bub. Then lament that she has my rough, liney hands. I take a whiff of her hair and it smells of the fruity sweetness of her kiddy shampoo, not the milky peachy (methinks it's Johnson's Baby Bathgel) scent of a newborn.
Whilst I love Danielle at this age (or any age for that matter!), I yearn for another mini me. Or another mini dee.

I know everything has its place and time. So I hold onto Hope and Faith that God will provide. That is, if He so wishes... :)

danielle, a day old :)

danielle's hand @ 3mths

DUBSTAR

I've been cracking my head for months over the name of this 90's UK band. After countless futile searches on various music websites, I finally located them on a blogmusic site. Oh happy day!

I've added their songs to my Favourite Playlist on YouTube and they're playing on my computer like a broken record.

TGIF all!


NO MORE TALK - DUBSTAR
Talking is useless when your cards have all been shown
I'll make you feel bitter and I'll never use the phone
'cos I'm not the kind of person soft enough to cry
I'm not the kind of person to hide when I can fight

So breakout now let the feelings out and take the blame away
and leave the past for another day
please no more talk today

'cos I'm not the kind of person who likes to hang around
I'm not the kind of person to sympathise with self indulgence
breakout now let the feelings out and take the blame away
and leave the past for another day
please no more talk today

Talking is stupid now my interest has flown
I'll make you feel useless if you call me on the phone
breakout now let the feelings out and take the blame away
and leave the past for another day
please no more talk today

* their song 'Stars is also a good listen. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bm1e1j3YEHQ

And that little piggy...

This space is fast becoming a bulletin board for births. Did I mention 2007 is THE year for babies? Sure I did. And let me tell you, these piglets are popping out faster than I can say 'Oink!'

This entry is particularly close to my heart as the precious bundle of joy is Clarissa Tay. My niece. Also the third and latest (last?!) addition to my wonderful sister Viv's family.

I just received her photos via email today. The Tays are still in Australia post-birth and probably enjoying the winter there, snuggling up close together. Looking at the photos made me smile, and made my heart swell with pride just that bit more...

I could not ask for better, or more for my sis. She deserves every bit of the blessings our Father has bestowed on her and her family. I've never been prouder than I am today - an Ah Yee to 3 lovely little girls, and a sister to a wonderful mother, sister, person, friend.

This place in time? It's slowly climbing up the charts as my favourite family moment.

my fav 3 roses

the ever-loving Tay family

This little piggy...

In a span of 2 weeks, I've become not only an Ah Yee (for the 3rd time over!) but also Aunty Saggs.

I wanted to combine the announcement of both births in this entry. But seeing I only have 1 baby's picture and not the other, well... let's focus our attentions on the boy first. :)

World, welcome lil' Jared Ong (Weng Zhe Rui)!

Born: 8:31am, 18 June 2007 (38 weeks)
Weight: 3.3kg
Height: 48cm
Parents: Dearest B & Papa Jo.

Papa's lil boy... he looks JUST like his dad!

Congrats to B and Jo on the health and safe delivery of their bundle of cuteness and joy! We can't wait to be back to cuddle, smell and hold him! But I must caution you - Danielle is a VERY bossy che-che. Be forewarned! :)

another birth I missed. darnations.

Being Mummy Saggs

Motherhood came slowly for me. By that I mean I didn't embrace it as quickly as I thought I would.

People were always telling me, Saggs, you're 'Mum' material, or that I had motherly instincts, that I hover around people like a clucky hen. Everyone was certain I'd be a great mum. And secretly, I thought I would slip into the role easy-peasy.

But I didn't.

Throughout the course of my life, I've worn different hats, taken on diverse roles. I am/was a daughter, sister, friend, ah yee, aunty, tuition teacher, employee, colleague...all of which I took on with gumption. But a mother? That, was my jagged little pill.

After my maternity leave, I dived straight back to work and soon became a Weekend Mum - one who left her baby with the parents'/in-laws - visiting twice a week (sometimes ONCE!) and bringing the bub home only on the weekends. Even when I switched to a more relaxing job, I chose to remain a Weekend Mum.

Oh, I know I was judged for it. Especially by aunties (not my relations, thank God!), fellow mums, even friends and family members couldn't help but voice their disapproval at my apparent 'lack of commitment' to my child. But at that time, weekends were all I could manage. I hadn't fully embraced how my life had changed and I didn't know how to handle another life. Hell, I still struggle to handle my own life properly, what more that of another?

So baby steps, safe steps I took. All the way till mid 2006 when I decided to take that ginormous plunge into being a full-time mother. What's more, in a foreign country! I didn't know whether I could do it. I know some were holding their breaths, their hearts palpitating wildly, wondering whether I'd suffer a meltdown.

Which, I probably did. But I learned from it.

And I didn't give up. Or more accurately, I didn't have a chance to give up.

I still have bad 'mothering' days (yesterday being the closest to date!) but I'm a little less unsure, just a tad more confident, and I read my daughter's temperaments better. But I still struggle to put her needs first in my life. And I still harbour countless flaws.

I took a long time to embrace Motherhood. Yet, it steathily managed to wiggle its way into my life, and find a resting place in my heart.

Today, I love my daughter more than I ever did. I know she loves me back. And this love we share? It's all that matters.

Voice of an angel

Oh alright, she had me in tears too!

It's murder on the kitchen floor

I could be Sophie Ellis Bextor and do a celebratory groove now that I've got blood on my hands.

I walked into the kitchen today and while clearing the trash, found the lifeless, rigor carcass of the scuttleboo we've spent weeks trying to nail.

It wasn't a pretty sight. Altho, that didn't deter me from taking ONE photo to 'commemorate' the macabre victory.

I had thought I'd feel more elated now that we've finally put an end to days finding our trash bags nibbled through and little lumps of mouse poo along the kitchen tops. But I didn't.

In fact, I'm feeling pretty awful because I realised that mouse was a mum. How did I know? Her nipples were erect the way that showed she was nursing young.

She was a mum. And now I can't get over the fact that I killed a mummy mouse .

In the whole scheme of things, this would constitute a double victory: 1. I killed a pest, 2. I killed off her scion's one and only food source.

I related the incident to Dee over the phone, and even he had to agree that it was 'kinda sad'.

Also, I'm wondering whether mammals have the same vindictive, revengeful reflex as us humans. Every time I walk into the kitchen now, I half expect a legion of mice to lunge at my feet in a vicious attack to avenge her death?

*shudder*

Releasing fish can be liberating

How better to tell you guys 'we're moving!' then to feature 5ive out of a gazillion boxes I've packed. So far.

I hate moving. There - I said it. I told myself I wouldn't utter those 3 negative words but I can't help myself. This irksome 'exercise' floats precariously above my pet peeve - the sound of styrofoam against each other. Now you didn't know that, DID you? :)

Today, I cleared 4 shelves, emptied 1 drawer, and I asked the Tesco staff what time was best for me to collect boxes before they shred them for recycling -- 8 friggin' AM!

Wait a mo, I AM awake at that time? Hip hip hoorah. dah.

We're moving to Lynn Road 4 days before my bday. Which means I'll be celebrating ma 32nd at the new pad, with unpacked boxes to pry open that ain't my presents. Whoop-hoop-pee, I can't wait. I think I'm going to throw me a birthday bash as a reward for the sh*t I'm ploughing through. I'm thinking 'Animal Theme' and will invite my sassy lil' primate and my rotund long-suffering buffalo. I'll throw in some Guinness. It'll like that.

What? You thought I meant Dee?!! Puh-lease.... doo doo dee doo.

Hey hey, waddya know. I didn't think I could make snide remarks while blogging but here's evidence! Sorry if I sound a little disgruntled here. I hate moving. Baah, said it again.

Lynn Road's officially 'off' the market now that we've surrendered our 600 pound deposit. We'll need to pay another 200ish pounds to have the place professionally cleaned. There's also the first month rent to pay upfront. And oh, 170 pounds to get a moving company (1 man with 1 van) to help move some of the big items. Where does that leave us? Ah yes, that gorgeous B word. BROKE, BUST, BEGGERS?

(Mel in one of her Yoda-ish moments says this is God's way of telling me I 'have to save'. That, I like.)

I've also had to tell Silke we can't make it to her Berlin wedding coz we simply do not have the moolah for it. I could not find the right words to break the bad (see, another B word! Bah!) news to her. I had hoped to see her in the stunning Pronovias gown we went shopping for.

It's no wonder I've been muttering alot of good words today. But it ain't a pretty soliloquy, I must confess. To cushion the mounting angst I feel, Dee has (or had since he's been using this since, oh I don't know, time immemorial?) concocted a new cuss word to be suitably used in moments like this.

What.the.FISH! As opposed to using that which rhymes with...

Duck... and her cutie ducklings! Danielle and I saw this quack-quacking family by the Clapham Common pond today. Aren't they precious? Tee hee hee.

It's a much more civilized word to use, yes? My Dee, he's genteel that way.

Speaking of 'da man', I'm distraught. Dee's left for a course at Windsor and won't be back till Wednesday. Fish! I need a cuddle!

But having him away is somewhat 'timely' coz fish fisheroo!... Asian Banana sent me a whole stack of Grey's Anatomy all da way from DOWN UNDA last week! Whole Seasons! 1 ~3! You're a fishin' good mate, A.B! Hug hug hug!

After ironing out the kinks and downloading the right software, I'm ready to head for Melancholy Central!!! (or so says Chum).

I think I've got all the ammunition I need: tissues, check. pillow in arms, check. snack within arm's reach, check. I'm poised and ready to dab!

Oh fish. I don't think I'll be sleepin' today.

Missing then... and now

taken Oct 2006, taken May 2007

Danielle... she's growing up so fast before my eyes. A mere 8 months back, she was clinging onto me like a leech, yooowwling every, single time I dropped her off at playschool.

Now? She's an eager beaver who skips happily to the schoolgate, greets everyone with a chirpy 'hello!', then flashes her trade-mark cheeky grin. She's confident, cheerful, and 'rather talkative', so teacher Teresa tells me.

If all this is sounding a tad bit conceited - forgive me. I'm just a mum who can't help but feel a surge of pride seeing her little girl turn into a little lady...

I know I'm going to continue loving every moment growing up with her. But whilst that is happening, I've started to miss her. Now.

No Diggity

Say, did I mention I hadn't seen the Gaskarth unit till Tuesday (5 June, Happy belated again, NY Jo!)? When I put up the post on sizing our selection down to 2 units, I hadn't seen G house yet. We knew it was already on the market, but the agents hadn't brought us round coz they hadn't gotten the keys from the procrastinating landlord.

Anywayz, Tues came and after a short coffee with our neighbours, Emma and baby Jack, we skipped over (it is, afterall, ONE street away) to view the apartment.

Shivermetimbers! Put a hood over me! Strike me (temporarily) blind! It was - as the Brits would put it - RUBBISH.

It was a such a stinker, I tell you. And I mean it, literally. It reeked of something I-can't-even-put-my-finger-on-it FOUL.

Dirty carpets, make-shift/broken furniture, red torn fabric for curtains... it's a place only an untidy grown man could live in. And slap me silly, waddya know, it's inhabited by not one, but 3 grown, sloppy men! Urrrrgggh!

I could go on and on and on and on... using different adjectives to describe the squalid! decrepit! dilapidated! shabby! conditions. But let's geddoverit and move on.

As you'd expect, I didn't take any pictures of Gaskarth. I was honestly too embarrassed to show the world where '3 little pigs' lived. I now know why the estate agents didn't post more pictures of the unit on their website. The kitchen IS the best part of the house?!!

So I guess this means only one 1 thing -- Lynn Road, it is -- without a doubt (Shalom, you get your wish for an easy-to-spell address. Ha!).

We've put in an offer for it yesterday. All we can do right now is wait wait wait, and nibble at our fingernails while at it. Is it gonna be a Deal or No Deal?

Life In Transition

Do you ever feel friendships are like taking a ride on an elevator? We go in, we come out. Some journeys are long, others short. Some of us journey together, some alight first, some linger. Some choose not to get on. Sometimes, we even find ourselves travelling alone... There are times we go up, then other times we head down. When there are glitches we instinctively (?) hit the 'alarm' button. And all the while, we have choices.

I've been thinking about the phrase 'people come, people go' alot lately.

Perhaps it's the recent slew of departures that's made me ponder about the transcient nature of friendships both here, and in SGP.

Us with Reubs on his last day in London (2 June)

Chor chan (ex-SONY), during her 1 week stay with us

Through the years, I've certainly had my share of people come in and out of my life. Some have decided they like me enough to stay the long haul. Others have made pit stops, and in a flash, they're gone.

I've been in London for 11 months but save for a fistful, the other friendships have turned out to be short-lived. Sure, we've had chats, we've exchanged numbers, we've even met up for playdates or coffee sessions. But all too soon, many return to their home country, move away, or simply 'disappear'. I suppose some knew before I did that they were my 'transitional people'. And sadly in the UK, I am not short of them.

Perhaps that's the way it's meant to be. Afterall, I'm only in the UK for 24 mths. What am I expecting? To be lifelong penpals with some of the people I've met here, after I return to my life in SGP? What am I, 12?

Perhaps these people are aware I'm here for a short stint and thus friendships will not go further than a smile every time we meet, exchanging niceties, and a playdate or two. Afterall, what's the point of deepening a friendship with someone who's going to leave anyway?

Does this make me their transitional person then? Am I a temporary 'filler' who's good to have but not worth investing time and effort on? Perhaps I'm the 'intermission' before they move onto something else, someplace else, or someone else in their lives.

Whatever the scenario, these transitional folk have done little to assuage my desire for deeper friendships...

I can choose to bemoan the ephemeral nature of friendships here. But I won't. Deep in the recesses of my mind, I know these deciduous people were placed in my life for a reason. Some have left positive marks in my life, and for that, I'm grateful to God they stopped by, however fleetingly.

Next year, Dee, Danielle and I join the ranks of those who have gone before us, where our faces will fade out of existence in London. But while we're still 'in transit', I'd like us to leave footprints over the lives of our friends here. I hope they'll remember us fondly, as we will of them.

The Finalists

I know I've been rather quiet about our househunts lately. That's because quite frankly, there wasn't much to report.

To date, I've viewed 17 units. Some were downright deplorable, others were 'dream' homes with hefty pricetags we couldn't afford.

After sifting through the cans and cannots, our final decision lies with these 2 houses: Gaskarth Road & Lynn Road.

Located 1 and 2 streets from where we are now, these 2 properties have ticked more boxes on our checklist than any other - situated within a comfortable distance to the Tube, a stone's throw to Danielle's school, close to everything we're familiar with; and best of all, we can afford the rent.

I'll put up more photos of the Gaskarth unit later. Then perhaps y'all can be our 'guest judges' and help us decide on the champ house? :)

Summer Sun

After months under wraps, Londoners are gleefully exchanging their winter frocks for skimpy, summery togs.

Everyone's in a bouyant mood now that the Sun is out. And my oh my, do they love their Sun!

The usually olive-green commons are aburst with colour - women in bright bikini-tops; blokes in vibrant low-slung beach shorts. Cheeky...

They sit there all day, basking under the sun and slathering on their sun-screen. You'd think you're by the beach if not for the overhanging oak trees that act as eaves for the 'lobster-pink' sun-bathers.

As for me? I'm loving the Sun too. There's nothing like a healthy dose of Vitamin D to lift those spirits! :)

* I'm so loving the fact that I can wear shorts around the house now! Yippee!