My Angel

A lot had happened over the past few weeks. My Birthday celebration, Angel was sick again, I caught up with a friend from Switzerland, attended my hairstylist’s new pub’s opening (I didn’t put rat poison in his cocktail in case you wondered, and I have finally trimmed off my parrot tail yesterday), my car broke down and was repaired subsequently (horrible nightmare this one, perhaps will talk about it on another occasion), done a good deed helping an Indian guy who collapsed out of sudden at the IRAS revenue house (poor guy had nobody to help him while he lay flat face down motionless, those fuckwit security guards were all standing from afar whispering “Mati ar? Mati ar? JUST my luck to have walked passed, couldn’t possibly do nothing, luckily a doctor came by to offer instructional advice otherwise I would have to perform the CPR and possibly ended with some curry lingering in my mouth), also flew to KL to help out a friend’s wedding, and so much more.

But what I want to talk about on this post is simply, my daughter. My Angel. My joy. She is the most beautiful thing that had happened to my wife and me for the past nine months. Every night my eyes met her while she’s engrossing in her zzzzzzzz’s, I told myself life without her will be a total meaningless affair. And I know deep down inside my pathethic soul, she will be my biggest bully for the rest of my life. Her demands will always be reasonable, her requests will always be met, and her future boyfriend will be sure to get a bloody horrific hard time from me.

My first trip away from home last month for my friend’s wedding proved too much for me to bear apparently. The entire trip was merely a grueling test for a poor dad, to see how much my endurance measured up, how long I can survive not seeing my daughter, and to track how many times I have to flip through the photos of my daughter on my Iphone before the poor gadget self destruct in protest.

I slept at 3 am on the first night in the hotel. I woke up at 4am, went to pee. 5am, pee again. 6am, pee. 7am, tried to pee. And finally got dressed up. No matter how much eye serum I rubbed underneath my eyes I still ended up a big panda eyed man over the entire 2 day trip. I couldn't sleep without my daughter by the side. I was almost over it when my friend GZ had to bring his 2 daughters to the table at the wedding dinner. (You bloody insensitive prick) That was when I started to flip photos on the Iphone again before receiving a reprimand from another friend, Steve. I then handed the phone to my wife (with Angel's pic still on the screen) and told her, “Take care of my daughter. I am going to pee.”

Life had so much changed over the past nine months. From a carefree chap who only cared about the next season of line up fashion and what next to mod my car, I had become an uncle with his supply of milk powder and a weak heart for my daughter. I am screwed, in a beautiful kind of way of course.

She’s 2 weeks past her ninth month now. Her figure of speech extended beyond gibberish to “papa” and “mama”, her new tricks included rocking her body up and downwards in response to our command of “dancing”. She has also learned the famed flying kiss, the bye bye wave, and the extreme kissing of smooching whichever stuff toy she fancy.

How time flies. Soon she’ll no longer be a baby. She’ll learn to take her first steps in a few month’s time, and she’s going to weigh a tonne judging by her appetite. That means more business for my physiotherapist.

Before that, let’s revisit her early moments as a new born baby with the below collage of photographs, all taken within her 1st week of her life.



Next up, her happy moments captured.



And finally, her greatest moments with a silly dad and a great mum.



Thank you everyone for following us on this blog til date.

Have a pleasant and enjoyable week ahead.