Thursday, April 25, 2013
Tuesday, January 25, 2011
A Chinese New Year Post
I am not going to whine about the suckiness of parenthood in this post.
I love being a father, love hearing my daughter call me ‘PAPA’, I love to show off my children wherever I go, dress them in the prettiest and hippest clothes, I love people to watch us a happy family of four, I love how my son’s fatty cheeks bounce like water balloons whenever I shake him, I love my life as a parent.
Sure, partying and late night movie days are now something only attainable from some galaxy far, far away, but life is better with company, with family.
Chinese New Year is round the corner, this call for a time of family bonding. Not just my wife, Angel(daughter), Kenzo(my son) and me, but the greater family as a whole, my dad, mum, brother and sister with their kids.
But with every year passing, it gets less lively, with less people coming over to our house for visits, and for me, obviously less gathering with friends. I used to have a tradition of heavy drunkard drinking at a certain bar with my friends on Chinese New Year eves. Now those days are but a fairy tale tucked in some book from the National Library. Heck, the bar I mentioned is now even closed down. But that is fine, my friends have all grown up, most with their kids tearing their hairs. Whoever still has the energy to ‘TA’ mugs of Bourbon and pints of Beer anymore?
But the family members, relatives distant and close, their visits have become somewhat shorter, with less members of their family turning up for the traditional ‘Pai Nian’. Well, the old ones they made sure that pop over year after year, my aunties and uncles, but their children whom a decade ago were still sucking lollipops and candies have all grown up to be rebellious teenagers, and I supposed, do not quite feel obligated to do the CNY visits anymore. Instead, I would guess they pretty much want to hang out with their friends making themselves general public nuisance.
Who is to blame them? I had gone down that road before, I had been a teenager too. I have taken up smoking in the past, had my share of public mischief, prowled the billiard rooms like some wannabe 'Ah Beng', kick asses in Arcade Centres playing Street Fighter, I understand all teenagers are assholes.
But come this Chinese New Year, let us all behave a little more sensible, and show some filial piety to our parents, who have sacrificed their entire life for us, who had tolerated our nonsense all our entire lives, let us have some quality time with our family together, and may the teenagers of the world be nice and polite and respectful to the elders for at least once this time of the year.
Or Uncle Ken will poke your ass deep deep with a 3 metre long billiard cue, yeah, all you suckers, I am now an elder too.. Don’t play play.
I love being a father, love hearing my daughter call me ‘PAPA’, I love to show off my children wherever I go, dress them in the prettiest and hippest clothes, I love people to watch us a happy family of four, I love how my son’s fatty cheeks bounce like water balloons whenever I shake him, I love my life as a parent.
Sure, partying and late night movie days are now something only attainable from some galaxy far, far away, but life is better with company, with family.
Chinese New Year is round the corner, this call for a time of family bonding. Not just my wife, Angel(daughter), Kenzo(my son) and me, but the greater family as a whole, my dad, mum, brother and sister with their kids.
But with every year passing, it gets less lively, with less people coming over to our house for visits, and for me, obviously less gathering with friends. I used to have a tradition of heavy drunkard drinking at a certain bar with my friends on Chinese New Year eves. Now those days are but a fairy tale tucked in some book from the National Library. Heck, the bar I mentioned is now even closed down. But that is fine, my friends have all grown up, most with their kids tearing their hairs. Whoever still has the energy to ‘TA’ mugs of Bourbon and pints of Beer anymore?
But the family members, relatives distant and close, their visits have become somewhat shorter, with less members of their family turning up for the traditional ‘Pai Nian’. Well, the old ones they made sure that pop over year after year, my aunties and uncles, but their children whom a decade ago were still sucking lollipops and candies have all grown up to be rebellious teenagers, and I supposed, do not quite feel obligated to do the CNY visits anymore. Instead, I would guess they pretty much want to hang out with their friends making themselves general public nuisance.
Who is to blame them? I had gone down that road before, I had been a teenager too. I have taken up smoking in the past, had my share of public mischief, prowled the billiard rooms like some wannabe 'Ah Beng', kick asses in Arcade Centres playing Street Fighter, I understand all teenagers are assholes.
But come this Chinese New Year, let us all behave a little more sensible, and show some filial piety to our parents, who have sacrificed their entire life for us, who had tolerated our nonsense all our entire lives, let us have some quality time with our family together, and may the teenagers of the world be nice and polite and respectful to the elders for at least once this time of the year.
Or Uncle Ken will poke your ass deep deep with a 3 metre long billiard cue, yeah, all you suckers, I am now an elder too.. Don’t play play.
Tuesday, January 4, 2011
Break Point
It gets complicated, with one plus one.
That equates to two, of course.
Simple Math is a no brainer of course. But the science of it is.
Two babies.
You can multi-task at work, drive while you smoke and talk on the phone at the same time, or run while you listen to the ipod plus many more. There is no learning curve in these. But managing a 2 year old daughter and a 5 month old baby boy as a father, husband, son of my parents, son-in-law of my parents-in-law, plus running a small design biz, finding time to work out, and no social life is tough.
So that summed up the entire year for me.
Of course, all is not grim. I am basically putting down my lifestyle in a factual manner. You cannot measure the joy of parenthood with anything. It simply does not make sense to do that.
But still, learning to cope with 2 kids of my own is like tearing your hair and burning it with fire and then pouring water over your head.
I love my daughter, and I love my son, both, extremely.
But I have yet learned to manage giving love to them equally in the fairest equation.
My daughter is having the hardest time of her life. Imagine a little brother comes into her life, the little member has everyone is the household glued to him like a precious gem, she gets neglected, NATURALLY. Come on, do not educate me with some diplomatic stupid answer that she still gets treated fairly. I don’t buy bullshit.
So she clings on to me like the Koala from down under, wailing in protest when I have to leave for work. This is also natural. I have fed her since she was a little baby, woke up numerous times in the middle of the night losing my sleep for her, bathe her every day, clean her poop and change her pampers every day, do just about everything with her every single fucking day, especially when the mum was pregnant and had to leave most of the chores to me. What do ya expect. She is only TWO. You can’t reason with her effectively. Sure she makes noise and she cry if I carry her brother, but what the fuck do you expect, this is life.
Back to my son, the cutest boy on the planet. And he is just about the happiest boy you’ll ever meet. He laughs like he’s watching a comedy all the time. And I’ll love to play with him all day. But the fact is I can’t. There are also times I feel extremely guilty not paying as much attention to him like I did with his sister when she was a tiny baby. But I CAN’T. We have 2 kids now, and playing the no neglect game is extremely tough. But yeah, life, like I said, is like that.
So there is no direct equation, no fairness in such matters, as with all things in life.
It pains me to see my daughter being chided all the time for making all the noise, clinging on to me, and me only. But she is not at fault. The nature of things is. But why do members of the family shake their heads when they see her misbehaving. The little girl has no idea, the more she is being loathe, the more she wants to cling on to me. She has no freaking idea, I bet this is the most stressful thing she had ever encountered in her life, and the only thing she knew is “at least I still have my dad”.
I do not blame anybody for anything, life is a bitch anyway, blame life.
But give me a break sometimes, I have done my best. If my best is not enough, I’ll do better.
But I do need a fucking break. I have been a dutiful dad for the past 2 years over. I need to party now, even if it is just one day. I really need one mad crashing party. Perhaps I will get my wish this year in 2011. To be fair to me.
Happy Fucking New Year.
Post dedicated to Angel, Kenzo, and May.
That equates to two, of course.
Simple Math is a no brainer of course. But the science of it is.
Two babies.
You can multi-task at work, drive while you smoke and talk on the phone at the same time, or run while you listen to the ipod plus many more. There is no learning curve in these. But managing a 2 year old daughter and a 5 month old baby boy as a father, husband, son of my parents, son-in-law of my parents-in-law, plus running a small design biz, finding time to work out, and no social life is tough.
So that summed up the entire year for me.
Of course, all is not grim. I am basically putting down my lifestyle in a factual manner. You cannot measure the joy of parenthood with anything. It simply does not make sense to do that.
But still, learning to cope with 2 kids of my own is like tearing your hair and burning it with fire and then pouring water over your head.
I love my daughter, and I love my son, both, extremely.
But I have yet learned to manage giving love to them equally in the fairest equation.
My daughter is having the hardest time of her life. Imagine a little brother comes into her life, the little member has everyone is the household glued to him like a precious gem, she gets neglected, NATURALLY. Come on, do not educate me with some diplomatic stupid answer that she still gets treated fairly. I don’t buy bullshit.
So she clings on to me like the Koala from down under, wailing in protest when I have to leave for work. This is also natural. I have fed her since she was a little baby, woke up numerous times in the middle of the night losing my sleep for her, bathe her every day, clean her poop and change her pampers every day, do just about everything with her every single fucking day, especially when the mum was pregnant and had to leave most of the chores to me. What do ya expect. She is only TWO. You can’t reason with her effectively. Sure she makes noise and she cry if I carry her brother, but what the fuck do you expect, this is life.
Back to my son, the cutest boy on the planet. And he is just about the happiest boy you’ll ever meet. He laughs like he’s watching a comedy all the time. And I’ll love to play with him all day. But the fact is I can’t. There are also times I feel extremely guilty not paying as much attention to him like I did with his sister when she was a tiny baby. But I CAN’T. We have 2 kids now, and playing the no neglect game is extremely tough. But yeah, life, like I said, is like that.
So there is no direct equation, no fairness in such matters, as with all things in life.
It pains me to see my daughter being chided all the time for making all the noise, clinging on to me, and me only. But she is not at fault. The nature of things is. But why do members of the family shake their heads when they see her misbehaving. The little girl has no idea, the more she is being loathe, the more she wants to cling on to me. She has no freaking idea, I bet this is the most stressful thing she had ever encountered in her life, and the only thing she knew is “at least I still have my dad”.
I do not blame anybody for anything, life is a bitch anyway, blame life.
But give me a break sometimes, I have done my best. If my best is not enough, I’ll do better.
But I do need a fucking break. I have been a dutiful dad for the past 2 years over. I need to party now, even if it is just one day. I really need one mad crashing party. Perhaps I will get my wish this year in 2011. To be fair to me.
Happy Fucking New Year.
Post dedicated to Angel, Kenzo, and May.
Monday, September 20, 2010
A Tale About An Angel
I like the warmth of her tiny palms on my cheek,
when we lay on the bed,
before the night closes the day.
I like the feeling of her peck from her lips to mine,
the wetness of it,
sometimes dry.
I like the reflection in the mirror that smiles back at me,
her head slightly slant, her shoulders shrugged,
when I carry her in the bathroom,
brushing her teeth and stroking her hair.
I like the laughter she makes,
when my hand found her stomach,
tickling away her sanity.
I like the steps she makes,
with knee up high when she runs,
with pace alike a puppy leap.
I like the kick she makes on my back, using her tiny feet,
stomping away the soreness from my spine,
her way of waking me up in the morning,
when the clock strikes eight, sometimes nine, at times ten.
I like her breath in my ears,
a tiny wind that blows into my drum,
when I carry her up the stairs.
I like her face on my chest, the roundness of it,
slammed against my heartbeat,
when I shook her to her favorite song.
I like the voice vibrated through her throat, the spontaneity of it,
the epitome of affection, the need to be with me,
when she calls me:
‘PAPA’.
when we lay on the bed,
before the night closes the day.
I like the feeling of her peck from her lips to mine,
the wetness of it,
sometimes dry.
I like the reflection in the mirror that smiles back at me,
her head slightly slant, her shoulders shrugged,
when I carry her in the bathroom,
brushing her teeth and stroking her hair.
I like the laughter she makes,
when my hand found her stomach,
tickling away her sanity.
I like the steps she makes,
with knee up high when she runs,
with pace alike a puppy leap.
I like the kick she makes on my back, using her tiny feet,
stomping away the soreness from my spine,
her way of waking me up in the morning,
when the clock strikes eight, sometimes nine, at times ten.
I like her breath in my ears,
a tiny wind that blows into my drum,
when I carry her up the stairs.
I like her face on my chest, the roundness of it,
slammed against my heartbeat,
when I shook her to her favorite song.
I like the voice vibrated through her throat, the spontaneity of it,
the epitome of affection, the need to be with me,
when she calls me:
‘PAPA’.
Friday, March 12, 2010
Daddy And Me
Baby daze are over, toddler madness is here.
From wailing to kicking to biting, she has performed them all.
16 months old, and already a little tyrant, my Angel has finally grown up.
Below are some of the pics which I had the time to compile, though not the latest. Some of which she is barely one year old.
Happy weekend!
From wailing to kicking to biting, she has performed them all.
16 months old, and already a little tyrant, my Angel has finally grown up.
Below are some of the pics which I had the time to compile, though not the latest. Some of which she is barely one year old.
Happy weekend!
Wednesday, December 30, 2009
Happy New Year
I ought to write a blog post. 29th December 2009, the day is Tuesday, two days away from the 1st day of 2010. This will be my last post for the year, my best year. Not because I am richer, (I never will be, because I remain a pauper despite my vow to expand my bank acct same time last year, the year before, and the year before and before), nor is it because I finally gain an extra kilogram since I last weigh myself, but simply because I have led a fulfilling journey as a father for the year of 2009. It has been extremely and undeniably awesome!
The little one is the reason that kept my spirit alive when lights go dim, she is the first person I want to see in the morning when I wake up, and the person I definitely have to smooch before I doze off to dreamland every night. She is simply, everything to me.
Nevermind the screwed up economic climate that carried through the year of 2009, nevermind the bitching demands from my clients, nevermind my car broke down for the tenth time, nevermind all the woes that hogged some of my worst days throughout the entire year, there is always a healing ritual every day when I head home from work. Although the particular ritual at times involved the inhaling of human poo and occasional physical abuse (she scratched my handsome face once that left a faint scar on my face), her cheeky chuckle and sweetie pie demeanour is enough to melt me like an iceberg in a tropical climate.
And beat this: “PAPA, PAPA bao bao” she would ratter on while extending her open arms as she laughed when I reached home daily from work. Her expression is one that tells a story about a baby who has waited for an entire day for her dad to scoop her up from her feet, to play with her throughout the entire evening, to bathe and sing her lullabies, and smooch her to sleep. NOTHING, I repeat, NOTHING comes close to this! This is Nirvana, this is what I breathed and lived on, this is what makes me weak, and the reason and meaning to life.
Alright, I am intoxicated. It is the missus’s theory. I am mad. The sweet little one has gotten me poisoned in my brain. Because I repeatedly pronounce my daughter the cutest baby in the world when in fact I must have been in the sea of poisoned parents who claimed the same, their baby is the cutest. ...Nah... this of course is not true, because mine is. Alright... I admit that am beyond medical help.
But seriously, I never thought I would be so deep in this. I will like to think I am the macho, heck care, cool headed type, and definitely no weakling to a sweetie daughter. But I am, because despite the crazy hours of midnight waking up to baby wails, the anti-social lifestyle without partying, movies, and booze, this is still unmistakenly, the best year of my life, the best year, the BEST!
I want to shout out A Very Happy New Year to all of you out there! Whether 2009 had been a tough act or a breeze for you, I am sure as with my case, there must be surely something, or a special someone in your heart, or perhaps a special occasion that must have made it a great, great, great year for you people.
HAPPY, HAPPY, HAPPY NEW YEAR, and a great welcome to an even better year come 2010!! (yeah... the casinos are opening in Singapore in 2010, this time round I am sure I will strike it rich)
*Angel is 14 months old now and she is walking, and I am chasing, mostly in circles...
The little one is the reason that kept my spirit alive when lights go dim, she is the first person I want to see in the morning when I wake up, and the person I definitely have to smooch before I doze off to dreamland every night. She is simply, everything to me.
Nevermind the screwed up economic climate that carried through the year of 2009, nevermind the bitching demands from my clients, nevermind my car broke down for the tenth time, nevermind all the woes that hogged some of my worst days throughout the entire year, there is always a healing ritual every day when I head home from work. Although the particular ritual at times involved the inhaling of human poo and occasional physical abuse (she scratched my handsome face once that left a faint scar on my face), her cheeky chuckle and sweetie pie demeanour is enough to melt me like an iceberg in a tropical climate.
And beat this: “PAPA, PAPA bao bao” she would ratter on while extending her open arms as she laughed when I reached home daily from work. Her expression is one that tells a story about a baby who has waited for an entire day for her dad to scoop her up from her feet, to play with her throughout the entire evening, to bathe and sing her lullabies, and smooch her to sleep. NOTHING, I repeat, NOTHING comes close to this! This is Nirvana, this is what I breathed and lived on, this is what makes me weak, and the reason and meaning to life.
Alright, I am intoxicated. It is the missus’s theory. I am mad. The sweet little one has gotten me poisoned in my brain. Because I repeatedly pronounce my daughter the cutest baby in the world when in fact I must have been in the sea of poisoned parents who claimed the same, their baby is the cutest. ...Nah... this of course is not true, because mine is. Alright... I admit that am beyond medical help.
But seriously, I never thought I would be so deep in this. I will like to think I am the macho, heck care, cool headed type, and definitely no weakling to a sweetie daughter. But I am, because despite the crazy hours of midnight waking up to baby wails, the anti-social lifestyle without partying, movies, and booze, this is still unmistakenly, the best year of my life, the best year, the BEST!
I want to shout out A Very Happy New Year to all of you out there! Whether 2009 had been a tough act or a breeze for you, I am sure as with my case, there must be surely something, or a special someone in your heart, or perhaps a special occasion that must have made it a great, great, great year for you people.
HAPPY, HAPPY, HAPPY NEW YEAR, and a great welcome to an even better year come 2010!! (yeah... the casinos are opening in Singapore in 2010, this time round I am sure I will strike it rich)
*Angel is 14 months old now and she is walking, and I am chasing, mostly in circles...
Monday, November 23, 2009
Your Highness
I finally heave up my lazy ass to type this sentence.
I have been a bad father.
3 nights ago I experienced a phenomenal that shattered my heart crushing every artery that made up the pumping organ. My adored daughter for the first time in her life shoved me away while I attempted to pat her on her back. It was 4.30 am in the morning. I had just finished a shower and dying to crawl into bed after a torturing OT in the office. The past weeks had been rather unforgiving as I pushed myself to work on projects, designing, illustrating, meetings, and all those crap that will make any chap think otherwise on becoming his own boss. In other words, I was a freaking bee that couldn’t spare a second for my daughter. I was an OT maniac, unwillingly though.
The little princess woke up in the middle of the night, and reiterated in protest. She clung on to her mother like she had just seen a complete asshole for the first time in her life. I turned to meet her in her face only to be rewarded with an annoyed look from her while she turned away from me to the other direction. That heart smashing process apparently repeated ten folds until I gave up. Not only did she not want to look me in the eye, she aggravated my heart crushing moment by crying and pushing me away.
I resented eventually, wavering the white flag.
Normally she is like the koala from down under that stubbornly hugged on to you even if an earthquake is shaking the ground at 100 Richter scale. Be it in a restaurant if I have to leave for a moment to pay for a meal, or walking away from her to wash my hands, or any scenario that warrant a two metre proximity detachment, she never wanted to leave me, protesting in wails and tears will fix a 2 month drought.
What exactly happened 3 nights ago?
It was as if she knew. That I was working too much to be bothered with her, leaving her with the poor mum to coax her to sleep every night, that I have been a bloody asshole shoving her aside every morning heading to work, that I neglected her blog updates without even a single pic of her 1 year old birthday.
I deserved to be spanked!
And decapitated, and be ignored by the great, great, great grand princess.
The aftermath? I spent a good weekend with the highness by showering her with all my love and care. Lights, Christmas trees in Orchard road, extra long baths for the kiddo and lots of smooches. So much so the missus had been teasing my sorry ass for the making up effort. I was a pathetic dog and servant to the greatest of greatest, highest of highness, and prettiest of princess in the whole wide world.
So have you forgiven me yet, my darling Angel?
Sorry daddy’s been a prick.
It’s 1.52 am in the morning. I better check on you before the day draws a close for me. And double cross my fingers that history does not repeat itself within a 3 day time frame...
Hang in there dowager, here I come.
*To fellow bloggers, sorry for not being able to visit your blogs lately, lets catch up again soon. S O R R Y.
I have been a bad father.
3 nights ago I experienced a phenomenal that shattered my heart crushing every artery that made up the pumping organ. My adored daughter for the first time in her life shoved me away while I attempted to pat her on her back. It was 4.30 am in the morning. I had just finished a shower and dying to crawl into bed after a torturing OT in the office. The past weeks had been rather unforgiving as I pushed myself to work on projects, designing, illustrating, meetings, and all those crap that will make any chap think otherwise on becoming his own boss. In other words, I was a freaking bee that couldn’t spare a second for my daughter. I was an OT maniac, unwillingly though.
The little princess woke up in the middle of the night, and reiterated in protest. She clung on to her mother like she had just seen a complete asshole for the first time in her life. I turned to meet her in her face only to be rewarded with an annoyed look from her while she turned away from me to the other direction. That heart smashing process apparently repeated ten folds until I gave up. Not only did she not want to look me in the eye, she aggravated my heart crushing moment by crying and pushing me away.
I resented eventually, wavering the white flag.
Normally she is like the koala from down under that stubbornly hugged on to you even if an earthquake is shaking the ground at 100 Richter scale. Be it in a restaurant if I have to leave for a moment to pay for a meal, or walking away from her to wash my hands, or any scenario that warrant a two metre proximity detachment, she never wanted to leave me, protesting in wails and tears will fix a 2 month drought.
What exactly happened 3 nights ago?
It was as if she knew. That I was working too much to be bothered with her, leaving her with the poor mum to coax her to sleep every night, that I have been a bloody asshole shoving her aside every morning heading to work, that I neglected her blog updates without even a single pic of her 1 year old birthday.
I deserved to be spanked!
And decapitated, and be ignored by the great, great, great grand princess.
The aftermath? I spent a good weekend with the highness by showering her with all my love and care. Lights, Christmas trees in Orchard road, extra long baths for the kiddo and lots of smooches. So much so the missus had been teasing my sorry ass for the making up effort. I was a pathetic dog and servant to the greatest of greatest, highest of highness, and prettiest of princess in the whole wide world.
So have you forgiven me yet, my darling Angel?
Sorry daddy’s been a prick.
It’s 1.52 am in the morning. I better check on you before the day draws a close for me. And double cross my fingers that history does not repeat itself within a 3 day time frame...
Hang in there dowager, here I come.
*To fellow bloggers, sorry for not being able to visit your blogs lately, lets catch up again soon. S O R R Y.
Thursday, September 24, 2009
A Walk In The Park
We survived the challenge on Monday. When I suggested the outing, I had my own skeptic mindset and obstacle to wrestle over. A day in the Singapore Zoo could have been better, or the Night Safari and the Underwater world which we had both conquered triumphantly lugging our gears of baby ration and pampers mercenary.
But we went ahead anyway. However I was still skeptical behind the wheel driving towards the Singapore Botanic Gardens. It would have been so much more interesting catching rabbits and chasing tigers at the zoo with all the animal shows and gigantic elephant poo, but a day in the garden?
I imagine myself rattling to our baby daughter, “Wow Angel, look, its a green leafy tree with barks and brunches”, “Wow baby, another green leafy tree, and this one's got a darker shade of green”, “Hey over here, another tree, wow, also green in color, wow, isn't that cute darling? Wow”.
She may be a baby with a little brain but she's no push over. You show her the same trick twice she'll make an effort to feign interest. You conjure a similar trick one more time and her face will suggest you are insulting her intelligence. And believe me, it makes you look really stupid.
The way it turned out for the three of us, it was a walk in the park, and literally too. It was a splendid day at the biggest park in Singapore. Angel enjoyed herself tremendously although we were sweating like 3 fat pigs in this outdoor event. Spanning across 32 hectares of land, the garden had its root back in early 1822 when it was established as a “Botanical and Experimental Garden” at the Fort Canning Park. But it was only in 1859 that the piece of 32 hectare landscape granted its birth as the Singapore Botanic Garden. Today it is a prized tourist attraction in our tiny island of Singapore.
I hope I had the history correct because I am too lazy to google its proper origin. But you guys get the idea lah, it is a park, a solid great park, made up of er... lots of green stuff. Ok, now that we get that introduction part over let's move on to the pictorial segment of this post.
I wanted this post to be of a photography kind of post, with lots of well taken angled pics sprawling everywhere, but apparently my photography skills never improved since my NAFA days when I had to borrow fellow classmates' shoots to hand up for assignment. Also, armed with an idiot camera and pressing on the “auto” mode at every shot, I guess as much no photography awards will be given. So I ended up with much color tweaking in the Photoshop software which hopefully disguised my lack in photography shoots. But since I had already spilled the beans that I sucked in photography, I do hope everyone will still enjoy with us on our little journey in the garden of ...er... lots of green leafy trees.
Angel's absolutely cute smile!
Angel's cutie pose.
Angel's mummy pulling off a smooch.
Daddy time, hooray!!
Against the backdrop of the Bandstand, known as the “Gazebo”.
Angel in her pram by the Symphony Lake.
Mummy and Angel.
Angel's on the park bench.
Nothing, I put this in to show that the park is not all packed with green leafs.
Daddy time again! Woohoo!!!
But we went ahead anyway. However I was still skeptical behind the wheel driving towards the Singapore Botanic Gardens. It would have been so much more interesting catching rabbits and chasing tigers at the zoo with all the animal shows and gigantic elephant poo, but a day in the garden?
I imagine myself rattling to our baby daughter, “Wow Angel, look, its a green leafy tree with barks and brunches”, “Wow baby, another green leafy tree, and this one's got a darker shade of green”, “Hey over here, another tree, wow, also green in color, wow, isn't that cute darling? Wow”.
She may be a baby with a little brain but she's no push over. You show her the same trick twice she'll make an effort to feign interest. You conjure a similar trick one more time and her face will suggest you are insulting her intelligence. And believe me, it makes you look really stupid.
The way it turned out for the three of us, it was a walk in the park, and literally too. It was a splendid day at the biggest park in Singapore. Angel enjoyed herself tremendously although we were sweating like 3 fat pigs in this outdoor event. Spanning across 32 hectares of land, the garden had its root back in early 1822 when it was established as a “Botanical and Experimental Garden” at the Fort Canning Park. But it was only in 1859 that the piece of 32 hectare landscape granted its birth as the Singapore Botanic Garden. Today it is a prized tourist attraction in our tiny island of Singapore.
I hope I had the history correct because I am too lazy to google its proper origin. But you guys get the idea lah, it is a park, a solid great park, made up of er... lots of green stuff. Ok, now that we get that introduction part over let's move on to the pictorial segment of this post.
I wanted this post to be of a photography kind of post, with lots of well taken angled pics sprawling everywhere, but apparently my photography skills never improved since my NAFA days when I had to borrow fellow classmates' shoots to hand up for assignment. Also, armed with an idiot camera and pressing on the “auto” mode at every shot, I guess as much no photography awards will be given. So I ended up with much color tweaking in the Photoshop software which hopefully disguised my lack in photography shoots. But since I had already spilled the beans that I sucked in photography, I do hope everyone will still enjoy with us on our little journey in the garden of ...er... lots of green leafy trees.
Angel's absolutely cute smile!
Angel's cutie pose.
Angel's mummy pulling off a smooch.
Daddy time, hooray!!
Against the backdrop of the Bandstand, known as the “Gazebo”.
Angel in her pram by the Symphony Lake.
Mummy and Angel.
Angel's on the park bench.
Nothing, I put this in to show that the park is not all packed with green leafs.
Daddy time again! Woohoo!!!
Monday, September 7, 2009
Pain
The pain is more than I can bear for the past 4 days. What started out as a normal day last Thursday turn out to be a hellish trip of fucking lower back pain all through the bloody weekend. I could hardly walk. I am surprise at my own threshold, I beared it all through Thursday, Friday, Saturday, and Sunday, and now I am at the fucking point of breaking.
3.40 am in the morning, Monday today. The pain is overpowering, I woke up in the middle of the night feeling sorry for myself. And I haven’t felt this sorry for years. I always thought only wimps feel sorry for themselves, apparently I have recruited myself in the army of sorry sods. I sighed and resigned to the fate of 2 slipped discs bowing low to human structural degeneration.
I have done all I could to keep myself healthy and fit. At least 4 times a week I would waddle in the swimming pool and once a week visit to the neighbourhood stadium. I also make regular visits to my physiotherapy centre and ensured that I keep myself mobile all the time, less idling and more activity is what I need according to every damn doctor and therapists I have consulted.
I really have done my best. But I walked like a waddling duck with a 10kg dumbell tied to its feet for the past 4 days and felt like an apologic dog whenever my daughter cried for me. This is the worst weekend for me, and the only days of my life that I hadn’t make my daughter very happy. I cannot carry her like I always did, and it is breaking my heart. I am serious, my walking speed made me a member of the snail community due to the extruded discs pressing on my nerves sending pain signals to my brain. I felt like shit.
It doesn’t help either that I am currently limping with my right arthritic knee that is equally pissing me off like a pregnant woman feeling the need to visit the toilet every 10 freaking minutes. This weekend had been nothing but shit, elephant pile stacks of shit that comes in tonnes! DAMN!! Chee Bye!!! Nah Beh!!
Ok, I think I am done. I am done complaining and whining in the true essence of a qualified wimp. Let me try to get myself some sleep. Apologies to those of you who have read until the final words of this post, an unconstructive post made up of complains and swear of a pain ridden ordinary chap.
Damn, I am feeling sorry for myself again.
Sorry guys. At least I made it to 2 post entries this month.
hmmmm...
3.40 am in the morning, Monday today. The pain is overpowering, I woke up in the middle of the night feeling sorry for myself. And I haven’t felt this sorry for years. I always thought only wimps feel sorry for themselves, apparently I have recruited myself in the army of sorry sods. I sighed and resigned to the fate of 2 slipped discs bowing low to human structural degeneration.
I have done all I could to keep myself healthy and fit. At least 4 times a week I would waddle in the swimming pool and once a week visit to the neighbourhood stadium. I also make regular visits to my physiotherapy centre and ensured that I keep myself mobile all the time, less idling and more activity is what I need according to every damn doctor and therapists I have consulted.
I really have done my best. But I walked like a waddling duck with a 10kg dumbell tied to its feet for the past 4 days and felt like an apologic dog whenever my daughter cried for me. This is the worst weekend for me, and the only days of my life that I hadn’t make my daughter very happy. I cannot carry her like I always did, and it is breaking my heart. I am serious, my walking speed made me a member of the snail community due to the extruded discs pressing on my nerves sending pain signals to my brain. I felt like shit.
It doesn’t help either that I am currently limping with my right arthritic knee that is equally pissing me off like a pregnant woman feeling the need to visit the toilet every 10 freaking minutes. This weekend had been nothing but shit, elephant pile stacks of shit that comes in tonnes! DAMN!! Chee Bye!!! Nah Beh!!
Ok, I think I am done. I am done complaining and whining in the true essence of a qualified wimp. Let me try to get myself some sleep. Apologies to those of you who have read until the final words of this post, an unconstructive post made up of complains and swear of a pain ridden ordinary chap.
Damn, I am feeling sorry for myself again.
Sorry guys. At least I made it to 2 post entries this month.
hmmmm...
Wednesday, September 2, 2009
Riding Out The Challenge With My Wife.
I am facing a blank screen trying to type sense of things lately.
Good, now that I had typed the first sentence and currently on my second, I’ll try keeping it going. You see, truth is, I haven’t got much I really want to express on my blog lately. Life is gel of baby sitting, work, meals with dad and mum, in-laws, my routine runs and laps in the pool, and that’s it. My social life pretty sucked these days, so you won’t see any wild party pics in this blog anytime soon. Plus, with my age catching up, I kinda feel like I am out of the social circle made up of young people in their skinny jeans and hip hairdo (I know, not wise to mention anything about hairstyle especially after my ‘Rooster Tale’ post), and I am beginning to feel a little bit of an ‘uncle’ myself. By that I mean feeling a little old, but not old age walking stick clutching old, just... matured old. If you know what I mean.
The problem is, I don’t totally feel comfortable heading into that direction at times. The thought of my screaming kids running wild along shopping aisles while the missus prowl ed the shelves of yet another ‘Toys R us’ or ‘Kiddy Palace’ store is enough to further lengthen another wrinkle across my forehead, and at some point in time the scenario will present itself. There are no two ways about it, kids are still kids, they will misbehave no matter how well taught they are.
The challenge has already begun.
Because Angel is ten months old and a little over, she has a bigger brain now I presume. And that little brain has started to extend it’s capability beyond feeding her information to demand milk and the things that little babies do. That little brain demands that she must grab one of those yellow Paddington bears hanging down from the ceiling of the ‘Guardian Pharmacy’ store. Failing which will trigger a signal that would entail a loud wail from her mouth or something on the line of breaking the weak dad’s heart.
With a sigh, I enlisted the help of a patient service staff who duly took down one of the stuffed bears. The crying and complaining stop, just like magic. I am sure if you ask David Copperfield or Chris Angel to teleport the Statue of Liberty or float in the air they would perform the act like eating cake. But they won’t stand a chance against good old Paddinton bear when it comes to making babies stop crying. This is the sort of thing that is hard, parenting, it’s deep knowledge. Because I have to decide against swiping my credit card or simply putting the bear back to where it belonged. I almost chose the former, but the missus had the good foresight to put the toy back.
She was right and I was wrong, I supposed. If my little girl start to cry and demand her way through all the time, my future would no doubt be the aforementioned, screaming kids along ‘Toys R Us’ alleys and overlapped wrinkles that would shame my neighbour’s bulldog. The curve is steeper than I imagine. Logic vs emotion, which would you choose? When it comes to soap opera Korean dvd serials, the missus wins hands down in the emotion department, you need to slay a tree or present a carton of soft tissue papers to pacify her. But when the real situation such as the abovementioned presents upon itself, trust the missus to play the logic card. Amazing split personality she has. She could be the perfect subject for any psychotherapist.
But seriously, she’s the perfect mum. When it comes to situations like this, she’s the better decision maker. I have no doubt she would also be the better discipline master as well. I, on the other hand gets bullied by my little princess more often than not. Picture this, the feel of warm and tiny palms running down your cheeks, your daughter looks intimately godly at you as she was stroking your cheeks, soooooo sweet... and while you are still savoring the loveliness, you heard a sudden smack, before you knew it the little bugger had drop a slap on your face. By the time you had come to, she’s already facing the opposite direction in her own high, smiling and chuckling away. She does have a knack for pulling off stunts like this.
That would be my little Angel for you currently. A big baby who has started to develope her own opinions, and already picking up her first few steps (with assistance of course). Despite her growth developments, she’s still a tiny baby at heart who is ever so glued to her weak dad. Walk away from her without carrying her when I returned home from work and I am asking for trouble, for she would cry and break my wretched heart. I am cursed for life, willingly.
There is an irony here. The future is coming and I have to embrace it, the aniticipation of learning more things in life and seeing your children grow up is exciting. But at the same time, it also meant I am leaving a lot of things behind, such as my carefree frame of mind which I tremendously enjoy when I was a younger me. Instead, I have to learn to grow up faster than my daughter would, and guide her well in her own path of bright future.
But my first course of action is to go up the mountain and learn from the great master. The one that is emotionally more logical than her husband.
Thank you May, my wife and a great mother, I can’t do this without you.
Tuesday, August 11, 2009
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.
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.
Wednesday, July 8, 2009
A Rooster's Tale
When viewed from the side, it looks like a cross between a parrot, a hedgehog, and a rooster. Meet it head-on frontal, its a swoosh of broom swipe trimmed to resemble a gigantic paint brush. The back facade is fine art at its best, it is an installation art form made up of an entangled load of farm hay. It is designed to make parents nag and propel hair clay companies to another year of indecent profit. Yes, this is my new haircut and the reason to my sore arms and neck. Arms because I have to spend five minutes every fucking morning pushing those damn strands up so that it will not be mistaken as unkept grass from Lim Chu Kang Cemetery. Neck because laying on a head rest is now history as doing so will result in forfeiting all the morning efforts in styling the hair. Vanity has its price.
Creative people can sometimes snap. Inspirations come and the sense of adventure clouds practicability. I am talking about my hairstylist, not me, who coincidently shares the same name as I do, Ken. (I will like to be seen as the victim here) I know I can be adventurous when it comes to personal style of grooming. Like the time when I had my hair touching down on my shoulders that resulted in an SIA air stewardess mistakening me as a "miss" instead of "mr", and the auntie who offered me to co-seat with her on the bus and then frozed dumbfolded when I turn to meet her eye to eye. She probably had at that moment met the "ugliest female" on the planet. I have done so many different hair styles all these years but never this rooster head. This is on par with the punk level. This positioned me alongside the "Ah Beng" demographic. Hang a gold chain on my stiffened neck and pop a cigarette in between my lips and I can start collecting protection money.
It was so bad my adored daughter could not recognise me when I first came home after the snipe. She had her mouth wide opened with an unsure look for a good ten seconds or so and then turned towards her mum for confirmation whether the punkster would be her father. That repeatedly happened for a few times before she finally got settled down and resigned to the fact that her vain dad is a hopeless case of a 35 year old man trying to look a punky 25 years in age, and obviously one who sucked at it.
"You look like a Lao (old) Ah Beng!" - My mum's comment.
"What kind of hairstyle is that wearing on your son's head?" - My dad's comment towards my mum.
"This hairstyle is ok. On it's own." - My wife's comment.
"And certainly not the kinda hairstyle for a man of your age." - My wife added.
"Siao Kia (crazy punk). One of those crazy idiots on Harley Davidson bikes." My wife further added.
There were other hurls of unkindly comments which i shan't continue to elaborate. They were all under the same category of insults and verbal abuse anyway. Truth is, to a certain degree I have to admit these accusations sounded all so true. I am no
longer in my freakin teens to slice stares in a parrot hairdo, and my wrinkles definitely doesn't match the wavy spikes. My "chao bin" (smelly face in hokkien) escalate the "Beng" factor even further. So, am I doom??
Nah. More than a week had passed since the Ah Beng invasion to the household. The world had finally resumed it's norm. Because my mum had apparently been hoaxed. (I told her a lie, that I would trim the parrot off my crown). As for my dad, comment no. 2 never left my mum's ear but it has been turned into a deaf ear anyway. My wife? She's liking the hairdo now. All woman fancy a little bad ass attitude in a man anyway right. And that is the reason why girls fall for bad boys right. Well, yes, of course... except that I look like an over aged 'Beng' instead of a suave 'Bad Boy' in his masculine persona. I merely said that to humor my own pathetic self. So don't you all go puke in the toilet bowl.
My nonsensical analogy aside, matter of factly, it is a simple case of getting used to. Over time, hype and shock spins away with the rotating hour and minute hand eventually. So, the moral of the story? It doesn't matter what the heck you did to your hair, skin it, dye it pinkish with a dash of electric blue, or model it after a porcupine and garnish it with a rooster's tail, all verbal insults will die away over time. Instead, go with NIKE's gungho attitude, "Just fuckin' Do It!"
And this is just what I am going to do next up, the porcupine head! Join me anyone?
Sorry about the 'F's. Eh hello! You are talking about "Ah Beng" here leh!!
*I wrote this on a bullshitting myself context. I ain't gonna do another funk head. I am just venting my insecurities away. I have to give credit to the missus who had been a kind support so far on this issue although a little too shocking for her to handle initially. I am also beginning to like this hairstyle of mine. Did I mentioned I will be coloring it at the salon tomorrow? Just pray that the outcome isn't a chin cheong gold!! So I guess the true moral of the story is, ultimately I am still a vain bastard!! HAHAHA!
Creative people can sometimes snap. Inspirations come and the sense of adventure clouds practicability. I am talking about my hairstylist, not me, who coincidently shares the same name as I do, Ken. (I will like to be seen as the victim here) I know I can be adventurous when it comes to personal style of grooming. Like the time when I had my hair touching down on my shoulders that resulted in an SIA air stewardess mistakening me as a "miss" instead of "mr", and the auntie who offered me to co-seat with her on the bus and then frozed dumbfolded when I turn to meet her eye to eye. She probably had at that moment met the "ugliest female" on the planet. I have done so many different hair styles all these years but never this rooster head. This is on par with the punk level. This positioned me alongside the "Ah Beng" demographic. Hang a gold chain on my stiffened neck and pop a cigarette in between my lips and I can start collecting protection money.
It was so bad my adored daughter could not recognise me when I first came home after the snipe. She had her mouth wide opened with an unsure look for a good ten seconds or so and then turned towards her mum for confirmation whether the punkster would be her father. That repeatedly happened for a few times before she finally got settled down and resigned to the fact that her vain dad is a hopeless case of a 35 year old man trying to look a punky 25 years in age, and obviously one who sucked at it.
"You look like a Lao (old) Ah Beng!" - My mum's comment.
"What kind of hairstyle is that wearing on your son's head?" - My dad's comment towards my mum.
"This hairstyle is ok. On it's own." - My wife's comment.
"And certainly not the kinda hairstyle for a man of your age." - My wife added.
"Siao Kia (crazy punk). One of those crazy idiots on Harley Davidson bikes." My wife further added.
There were other hurls of unkindly comments which i shan't continue to elaborate. They were all under the same category of insults and verbal abuse anyway. Truth is, to a certain degree I have to admit these accusations sounded all so true. I am no
longer in my freakin teens to slice stares in a parrot hairdo, and my wrinkles definitely doesn't match the wavy spikes. My "chao bin" (smelly face in hokkien) escalate the "Beng" factor even further. So, am I doom??
Nah. More than a week had passed since the Ah Beng invasion to the household. The world had finally resumed it's norm. Because my mum had apparently been hoaxed. (I told her a lie, that I would trim the parrot off my crown). As for my dad, comment no. 2 never left my mum's ear but it has been turned into a deaf ear anyway. My wife? She's liking the hairdo now. All woman fancy a little bad ass attitude in a man anyway right. And that is the reason why girls fall for bad boys right. Well, yes, of course... except that I look like an over aged 'Beng' instead of a suave 'Bad Boy' in his masculine persona. I merely said that to humor my own pathetic self. So don't you all go puke in the toilet bowl.
My nonsensical analogy aside, matter of factly, it is a simple case of getting used to. Over time, hype and shock spins away with the rotating hour and minute hand eventually. So, the moral of the story? It doesn't matter what the heck you did to your hair, skin it, dye it pinkish with a dash of electric blue, or model it after a porcupine and garnish it with a rooster's tail, all verbal insults will die away over time. Instead, go with NIKE's gungho attitude, "Just fuckin' Do It!"
And this is just what I am going to do next up, the porcupine head! Join me anyone?
Sorry about the 'F's. Eh hello! You are talking about "Ah Beng" here leh!!
*I wrote this on a bullshitting myself context. I ain't gonna do another funk head. I am just venting my insecurities away. I have to give credit to the missus who had been a kind support so far on this issue although a little too shocking for her to handle initially. I am also beginning to like this hairstyle of mine. Did I mentioned I will be coloring it at the salon tomorrow? Just pray that the outcome isn't a chin cheong gold!! So I guess the true moral of the story is, ultimately I am still a vain bastard!! HAHAHA!
Thursday, June 25, 2009
A Side Tracked Father's Day Post
A couple of weeks ago, I was patronizing the Starbucks Cafe near my house. The Starbucks at Civic Centre would be my regular haunt whenever I needed some caffeinated aromatic therapy. The baristas spinning blended coffees and the long list of high class kopi blends knew me by my ang moh name "Ken". Forget "regular", you can say I am almost a "day-gular".
A specky barista had her jaw wide opened when I ordered my Ice Caramel Macchiato lugging baby Angel with one hand and attempting to pull out a fifty dollar note from my wallet using my other hand.
"BABY??" she asked, almost stunned.
"Yeah. She's my daughter, isn't she cute. Say 'Hi' Angel," I replied proudly.
"I thought you are still single!" she exclaimed.
Oh, that startled me a little. Oh yes, I had my coffee breaks after lunch during workdays, I had my 2nd cuppa in the evenings some nights, I had ice grande mochas after my swim, I had the 'croque monsier' on the go for breakfast before heading to the office, but was never seen with baby Angel tugged under my arm, not to mention the missus and my 10 year old niece who tagged along.
"You are a father...", her braces beaming under the chic yellowish interior lighting, the green leafy veggie stucked in her braces was beginning to bother me a little.
"Yeah... well... yah..." (I didn't know what to say)
"So... father of... TWO...??" she asked, pointing her finger at my overweight 10 year old niece.
That triggered a laugh from me. I almost choked on my saliva, but luckily I grabbed Angel tight with my arm.
"Hahahaha. NO!! One lah!", I replied. And then both of us blurted loud laughters. I had no idea why she laughed, but I laughed because the idea of fathering another 10 year old daughter mused me. She probably might had snapped her braces should I proclaim my other daughter a ten year old primary 5 kid. How possibly is that? I know my wrinkles cut like MRT tracks but surely I don't look that old?
I realized I am used to acknowledging myself as a dad, but not used to someone seeing me as a father. It was the same when I just got married. The word "husband" rather than "boyfriend" needs getting used to.
But "Father" is a big word. Father means responsibility, means bringing rice to the table and more. If "husband" is a rank higher than "boyfriend", I suppose "father" outrank "husband". My self denial on being older each year and my remaining youth slipping away might have done some tricks on me, I am not sure. But this only apply when I am being seen as a father by outsiders. When spending time alone with my daughter and wife, I feel perfectly like a dad.
Three days ago was Father's Day. I told my wife I have yet earned my place as a father because I have only been one for less than 8 months. I don't think I deserve Father's Day. My dad deserved it, he had been a father for 35 years. He had slogged and tolled all his life for us. My wife then explained it doesn't work like that, if you are a dad, you are. I had a pleasant surprise when she got me an Armani Exchange black Polo Tee for Father's Day. So I guess she meant what she said, and definitely no excuses for not feeding my daughter in the middle of the night.
So I'll take her word for it. I have got to fit this role better. Drive carefully with my baby in the car, spend money wisely, be less vain and dress like an uncle, buy John Little's oversized checkered short sleeves at $15 each instead of that DKNY's spring summer $289 trendy city-print shirt (BULLSHIT of course, everyone knows I am a vain bastard, but well, but I'll spend less) , forget parties and bars, stop being nonsensical, quit being silly, swear less (I can't possibly not swear, I drive in Singapore), alright... it may get gloomier and doomier as I typed... but I guess seeing Angel's peaceful face while she is engrossing in dreamland is more than worth it (I am sitting with her, typing, while she sleeps in front of me on the bed right now).
8 months 1 day old today. Never less demanding since day 1, but more adorable each day. My personal favourite though a little cruel is that she will laugh, kick in the air, and clap her hands whenever she see me coming, but cry if I stop a few metres away without carrying her. That is how much she is attached to me and wifey. She has also grown up to be a jovial gal. She laughs, every single day. She scream with excitement when played rough. A very interesting act worth mentioning is how she engaged in a coughing competition with my wife. Angel coughs (she's faking it
so that we would carry her), then wifey coughs, then Angel coughs again, then wifey, then Angel, then she chuckles out loud. Then all three of us have a good laugh. I wonder why she finds it amusing and fun, but as long as she is happy, we'll play this game with her, over and over again.
I actually wanted this post to be about Father's Day, but obviously I have side tracked a little. I could probably carry on rattering and rattering about the 3 of us, about our little baby, but I should stop now, its getting lengthy. Besides, it is about time for a father's job, feeding time.
Happy Father's Day, belated, well... I am such an expired blogger, waddoya expect? Hee.
A specky barista had her jaw wide opened when I ordered my Ice Caramel Macchiato lugging baby Angel with one hand and attempting to pull out a fifty dollar note from my wallet using my other hand.
"BABY??" she asked, almost stunned.
"Yeah. She's my daughter, isn't she cute. Say 'Hi' Angel," I replied proudly.
"I thought you are still single!" she exclaimed.
Oh, that startled me a little. Oh yes, I had my coffee breaks after lunch during workdays, I had my 2nd cuppa in the evenings some nights, I had ice grande mochas after my swim, I had the 'croque monsier' on the go for breakfast before heading to the office, but was never seen with baby Angel tugged under my arm, not to mention the missus and my 10 year old niece who tagged along.
"You are a father...", her braces beaming under the chic yellowish interior lighting, the green leafy veggie stucked in her braces was beginning to bother me a little.
"Yeah... well... yah..." (I didn't know what to say)
"So... father of... TWO...??" she asked, pointing her finger at my overweight 10 year old niece.
That triggered a laugh from me. I almost choked on my saliva, but luckily I grabbed Angel tight with my arm.
"Hahahaha. NO!! One lah!", I replied. And then both of us blurted loud laughters. I had no idea why she laughed, but I laughed because the idea of fathering another 10 year old daughter mused me. She probably might had snapped her braces should I proclaim my other daughter a ten year old primary 5 kid. How possibly is that? I know my wrinkles cut like MRT tracks but surely I don't look that old?
I realized I am used to acknowledging myself as a dad, but not used to someone seeing me as a father. It was the same when I just got married. The word "husband" rather than "boyfriend" needs getting used to.
But "Father" is a big word. Father means responsibility, means bringing rice to the table and more. If "husband" is a rank higher than "boyfriend", I suppose "father" outrank "husband". My self denial on being older each year and my remaining youth slipping away might have done some tricks on me, I am not sure. But this only apply when I am being seen as a father by outsiders. When spending time alone with my daughter and wife, I feel perfectly like a dad.
Three days ago was Father's Day. I told my wife I have yet earned my place as a father because I have only been one for less than 8 months. I don't think I deserve Father's Day. My dad deserved it, he had been a father for 35 years. He had slogged and tolled all his life for us. My wife then explained it doesn't work like that, if you are a dad, you are. I had a pleasant surprise when she got me an Armani Exchange black Polo Tee for Father's Day. So I guess she meant what she said, and definitely no excuses for not feeding my daughter in the middle of the night.
So I'll take her word for it. I have got to fit this role better. Drive carefully with my baby in the car, spend money wisely, be less vain and dress like an uncle, buy John Little's oversized checkered short sleeves at $15 each instead of that DKNY's spring summer $289 trendy city-print shirt (BULLSHIT of course, everyone knows I am a vain bastard, but well, but I'll spend less) , forget parties and bars, stop being nonsensical, quit being silly, swear less (I can't possibly not swear, I drive in Singapore), alright... it may get gloomier and doomier as I typed... but I guess seeing Angel's peaceful face while she is engrossing in dreamland is more than worth it (I am sitting with her, typing, while she sleeps in front of me on the bed right now).
8 months 1 day old today. Never less demanding since day 1, but more adorable each day. My personal favourite though a little cruel is that she will laugh, kick in the air, and clap her hands whenever she see me coming, but cry if I stop a few metres away without carrying her. That is how much she is attached to me and wifey. She has also grown up to be a jovial gal. She laughs, every single day. She scream with excitement when played rough. A very interesting act worth mentioning is how she engaged in a coughing competition with my wife. Angel coughs (she's faking it
so that we would carry her), then wifey coughs, then Angel coughs again, then wifey, then Angel, then she chuckles out loud. Then all three of us have a good laugh. I wonder why she finds it amusing and fun, but as long as she is happy, we'll play this game with her, over and over again.
I actually wanted this post to be about Father's Day, but obviously I have side tracked a little. I could probably carry on rattering and rattering about the 3 of us, about our little baby, but I should stop now, its getting lengthy. Besides, it is about time for a father's job, feeding time.
Happy Father's Day, belated, well... I am such an expired blogger, waddoya expect? Hee.
Thursday, June 18, 2009
Simple Moments in Life
The couple of weeks haven't been too taxing for me. My designers in the office slogged day and night currently though (it was their turn after mine hahaha I am the evil boss from hell lah), I had a much more paced out working schedule. In light of that, I found myself slowing down to enjoy some very simple happenings lately.
1) The Physiotherapist
Peter is about twice my shoulder width, add another 2 heads above mine, and factor in that biceps that could probably cover my face, you get one menacing trainer from Finland. Peter is my physiotherapist. My slipped discs brought me to him. 2 unhealthy discs from the spine and an arthritic knee plus a 8 kg daughter is too much for me to bear. So I undergo a back strengthening program.
Peter is a nice guy. Because he jokes with you.
“Okay, you do 3 minutes. Pull forward and let go, lengthen your spine as you bring your back down” He said in his Finnish English accent and then pressed the 3 min timer button.
“Huh? I just finished 10 of those,” I protested.
“That was a warm up”, he grinned.
I could have cursed but it made me laughed. It was a short moment, but it was a light hearted moment. It took the tension out of me. Of course there were many jokes he would cracked. Because this was the first one when I met him, I thought it made an impression.
2) The “Sian Tao Uncle”
I was reading a book, “Dark Alchemy”. The title suggest a dark tale adventure with intense battles and wizardry. It is a fantasy book. I was immersed, almost.
“All succshessfoo women hadth the soopport ofth a man behindth her”
Where did that come from? My eavesdropping ear searching for a soundwave direction.
“Why?” returned a female voice.
“Becoth I amth behindth you mah...”
Then some giggles...
I turned around and saw an uncle holding his swollen jaw with his left hand, and with his right hand, supporting a woman, the woman was leaning on his body. They looked past 45 years of age.
And then more giggles...
I almost dropped my book. All of us were patients in the dental clinic waiting for our turn. It was a mild joke, but it was funny one to me. The uneasiness heightened by the fact that the sweet talk came from an elderly uncle. Even at his age, he was clearly a sweet talker. The women, whom I am not sure would it be his wife or mistress, glued to him like chewing gum.
Wah lao eh, I was almost electrified after hearing that. He is one big “Sian Tao” lor! (Sweet Talker in hokkien)
3) The Daily Jogger
Despite my screwed up back and knee, I still jog regularly. I jogged much lesser now though, but added swimming to my routine to make up for it. My evening runs around the sport stadium a stone's throw away from my house exposed me to some very unique characters. There was this uncle, whom I deem almost 70 years of age or perhaps more, who would be running at the stadium whenever I was there. That concluded to me he ran everyday.
But he is no fit uncle. The way he walked, twisting his neck and limping on every step as his roamed every 400m around the stadium suggested I would be the future him, a old skinny man with a crushed knee and back. My prospective future looked bleak. But on a positive note, he still manages to keep up with his activity despite his physical shortfall. It was most commendable. Regulars in the stadium knew him, waving at him whenever they see him. So you can say he was never alone, although he came alone.
I bumped onto him again after an evening swim. On my way back to the car my eyes met him in a distance. He was twisting his neck and swaying his arms back and forth walking with a limp. He became my instant idol. I would have left myself to rot in a condition like his. But none of those deterred him, he was walking towards the stadium for his regular jog.
It warmed me, and naturally I smiled at him, giving him an assured nod in the event of it.
His returned smile made my day. It was fantastic and I realized I had forgotten to smile in recent years. I had re-explored the magic of smiling, it brings people closer, it is so simple yet it is magic.
I guess I'll see him again on the tracks on the next running session, perhaps a chat to top it off.
These are the simple things in life that had made some days seem a breeze through.
Dear friends, as the weekend draws near, relax, unwind, and smile.
With Smiles,
Ken & Family
1) The Physiotherapist
Peter is about twice my shoulder width, add another 2 heads above mine, and factor in that biceps that could probably cover my face, you get one menacing trainer from Finland. Peter is my physiotherapist. My slipped discs brought me to him. 2 unhealthy discs from the spine and an arthritic knee plus a 8 kg daughter is too much for me to bear. So I undergo a back strengthening program.
Peter is a nice guy. Because he jokes with you.
“Okay, you do 3 minutes. Pull forward and let go, lengthen your spine as you bring your back down” He said in his Finnish English accent and then pressed the 3 min timer button.
“Huh? I just finished 10 of those,” I protested.
“That was a warm up”, he grinned.
I could have cursed but it made me laughed. It was a short moment, but it was a light hearted moment. It took the tension out of me. Of course there were many jokes he would cracked. Because this was the first one when I met him, I thought it made an impression.
2) The “Sian Tao Uncle”
I was reading a book, “Dark Alchemy”. The title suggest a dark tale adventure with intense battles and wizardry. It is a fantasy book. I was immersed, almost.
“All succshessfoo women hadth the soopport ofth a man behindth her”
Where did that come from? My eavesdropping ear searching for a soundwave direction.
“Why?” returned a female voice.
“Becoth I amth behindth you mah...”
Then some giggles...
I turned around and saw an uncle holding his swollen jaw with his left hand, and with his right hand, supporting a woman, the woman was leaning on his body. They looked past 45 years of age.
And then more giggles...
I almost dropped my book. All of us were patients in the dental clinic waiting for our turn. It was a mild joke, but it was funny one to me. The uneasiness heightened by the fact that the sweet talk came from an elderly uncle. Even at his age, he was clearly a sweet talker. The women, whom I am not sure would it be his wife or mistress, glued to him like chewing gum.
Wah lao eh, I was almost electrified after hearing that. He is one big “Sian Tao” lor! (Sweet Talker in hokkien)
3) The Daily Jogger
Despite my screwed up back and knee, I still jog regularly. I jogged much lesser now though, but added swimming to my routine to make up for it. My evening runs around the sport stadium a stone's throw away from my house exposed me to some very unique characters. There was this uncle, whom I deem almost 70 years of age or perhaps more, who would be running at the stadium whenever I was there. That concluded to me he ran everyday.
But he is no fit uncle. The way he walked, twisting his neck and limping on every step as his roamed every 400m around the stadium suggested I would be the future him, a old skinny man with a crushed knee and back. My prospective future looked bleak. But on a positive note, he still manages to keep up with his activity despite his physical shortfall. It was most commendable. Regulars in the stadium knew him, waving at him whenever they see him. So you can say he was never alone, although he came alone.
I bumped onto him again after an evening swim. On my way back to the car my eyes met him in a distance. He was twisting his neck and swaying his arms back and forth walking with a limp. He became my instant idol. I would have left myself to rot in a condition like his. But none of those deterred him, he was walking towards the stadium for his regular jog.
It warmed me, and naturally I smiled at him, giving him an assured nod in the event of it.
His returned smile made my day. It was fantastic and I realized I had forgotten to smile in recent years. I had re-explored the magic of smiling, it brings people closer, it is so simple yet it is magic.
I guess I'll see him again on the tracks on the next running session, perhaps a chat to top it off.
These are the simple things in life that had made some days seem a breeze through.
Dear friends, as the weekend draws near, relax, unwind, and smile.
With Smiles,
Ken & Family
Friday, June 12, 2009
A Nightmare, Fret not, Some Lovely Pics to Light the Day
This is an account of what I dreamed last night. It felt so real:
I was cruising on a stretch of road. Behind in the back row, my wife and daughter were enjoying the serenity of trees and palms zooming past as I stepped on the accelerator. It was a most relaxing car ride scenario.
Our serene moment was then disturbed by a sudden jerk! Although it happened too quickly but I could feel my car swaying to the side of the road and eventually coming to a full halt. I could not recall what exactly had happened but my baby daughter seemed to have been flung out of the car, or not, but either how I was sure I had lost trace of her after the bumpy hit. And wifey seemed to have disappeared in a flash. The shock within me far out-matched the impact of the car knock. My immediate instinct was to pick myself up and raced towards the direction where I thought I saw baby Angel was heading.
I floored the gas petal and drove like a demon. I do not seem to give a fuck about any other thing except to speed off in the direction where I deem suppose to be.
Another knock.
My car came to a full halt once more on the side of the road. Everything was silent, I hear no screeching tires nor the bang of metals against metals, or perhaps metals against concrete, I do not care. It was most odd. I only recalled I recovered quickly on this one and fucking pissed. I stepped out of the car to see a man dressed in blue walking towards me shouting and demanding something from me.
It appeared I had been stopped by some sort of policeman (peculiarly, a mustached one) who claimed I had exceeded the speed limit. I fucked him and told the "George Lam" lookalike that I don't have time to explain this as I have to catch up with my missing daughter. The bastard wouldn't let it go and so instinctively I gave him a hard kick to the ground and hop right back into the car.
I floored the gas pedal again and sped off.
I think I witnessed lights, red & blue sirens from the rear view mirror. But I do not give a shit, I need to find my family.
I sped, I sped and sped.
A very obstructing cut scene later. I was among people in a recreational park environment. Parents were playing with their kids in the park and there were some see saws parked around. I was already weeping, uncontrollably. There was anguish, sadness, fear and panic all swelling inside of me. I was hunting for baby Angel among the crowd. I do not recall why Angel's mum was with me out of sudden, but there she was, following me wherever I go, searching high and low, low and high. Where was baby Angel? I had not stopped weeping, tears kept streaming down my cheeks, I kept on weeping as I searched.
I felt like shit.
After much combing from area to area, at last to my relief I spotted our baby daughter rolling on top of other toddlers in a far distance! And she's sucking her thumb for comfort, she appeared to have been a little soiled and bruised. I ran like a leopard could and pounced on her before she rolled out of the stack of babies. I caught her with my very own hands, and I wept again. This time, one loud but relief wail...!
By this time, I am absolutely sure I am a fucking big sissy because I woke up with tears still in my eyes!! And a patch of tears still lingered on my pillow. I turned around and find baby Angel sleeping by my side and eyes wide opening, she kicked and opened up her arms flapping them, and then rolled close to me and gave me that angelic smile that still melt me a like warm chocolate.
THANK GOD. It had only been a freaking horrible nightmare.
Yet it felt so realistic that I actually cried in my sleep. It was really scary, more scary than any horror show screened on any cinemas. Plus it dented my macho-ism. I WEPT, LIKE A WIMP!!
I'll end my post with some jovial pics of my 7 and half months old daughter who had already started to grow her first set of teeth. She had become so active now hopping and kicking her legs whenever I carried her. Then the rolling... she's been rolling herself over and over when placed lying on the bed. So much so that I have to place 2 pillows on both the far left and right of the bed to prevent her from tumbling on the floor.
I wonder if that's what triggered the horrific dream...
Enjoy the pics:
Mummy's Gem.
Daddy's Little Girl.
Forever...
I was cruising on a stretch of road. Behind in the back row, my wife and daughter were enjoying the serenity of trees and palms zooming past as I stepped on the accelerator. It was a most relaxing car ride scenario.
Our serene moment was then disturbed by a sudden jerk! Although it happened too quickly but I could feel my car swaying to the side of the road and eventually coming to a full halt. I could not recall what exactly had happened but my baby daughter seemed to have been flung out of the car, or not, but either how I was sure I had lost trace of her after the bumpy hit. And wifey seemed to have disappeared in a flash. The shock within me far out-matched the impact of the car knock. My immediate instinct was to pick myself up and raced towards the direction where I thought I saw baby Angel was heading.
I floored the gas petal and drove like a demon. I do not seem to give a fuck about any other thing except to speed off in the direction where I deem suppose to be.
Another knock.
My car came to a full halt once more on the side of the road. Everything was silent, I hear no screeching tires nor the bang of metals against metals, or perhaps metals against concrete, I do not care. It was most odd. I only recalled I recovered quickly on this one and fucking pissed. I stepped out of the car to see a man dressed in blue walking towards me shouting and demanding something from me.
It appeared I had been stopped by some sort of policeman (peculiarly, a mustached one) who claimed I had exceeded the speed limit. I fucked him and told the "George Lam" lookalike that I don't have time to explain this as I have to catch up with my missing daughter. The bastard wouldn't let it go and so instinctively I gave him a hard kick to the ground and hop right back into the car.
I floored the gas pedal again and sped off.
I think I witnessed lights, red & blue sirens from the rear view mirror. But I do not give a shit, I need to find my family.
I sped, I sped and sped.
A very obstructing cut scene later. I was among people in a recreational park environment. Parents were playing with their kids in the park and there were some see saws parked around. I was already weeping, uncontrollably. There was anguish, sadness, fear and panic all swelling inside of me. I was hunting for baby Angel among the crowd. I do not recall why Angel's mum was with me out of sudden, but there she was, following me wherever I go, searching high and low, low and high. Where was baby Angel? I had not stopped weeping, tears kept streaming down my cheeks, I kept on weeping as I searched.
I felt like shit.
After much combing from area to area, at last to my relief I spotted our baby daughter rolling on top of other toddlers in a far distance! And she's sucking her thumb for comfort, she appeared to have been a little soiled and bruised. I ran like a leopard could and pounced on her before she rolled out of the stack of babies. I caught her with my very own hands, and I wept again. This time, one loud but relief wail...!
By this time, I am absolutely sure I am a fucking big sissy because I woke up with tears still in my eyes!! And a patch of tears still lingered on my pillow. I turned around and find baby Angel sleeping by my side and eyes wide opening, she kicked and opened up her arms flapping them, and then rolled close to me and gave me that angelic smile that still melt me a like warm chocolate.
THANK GOD. It had only been a freaking horrible nightmare.
Yet it felt so realistic that I actually cried in my sleep. It was really scary, more scary than any horror show screened on any cinemas. Plus it dented my macho-ism. I WEPT, LIKE A WIMP!!
I'll end my post with some jovial pics of my 7 and half months old daughter who had already started to grow her first set of teeth. She had become so active now hopping and kicking her legs whenever I carried her. Then the rolling... she's been rolling herself over and over when placed lying on the bed. So much so that I have to place 2 pillows on both the far left and right of the bed to prevent her from tumbling on the floor.
I wonder if that's what triggered the horrific dream...
Enjoy the pics:
Mummy's Gem.
Daddy's Little Girl.
Forever...
Sunday, May 24, 2009
An Extraodinary Movie Outing
When my wife mentioned she badly wanted to catch a show I realised it had been roughly 20 full moons ago since we caught one. How is one going to manage a baby, a pram, 1 milk bottle and a bag full of baby toiletries in a theatre? I would like to point out Adiddas’s current marketing tagline, “Impossible is Nothing” is a total BS (bullshit) in this context. No one can manage a new born baby in a cinema.
Years ago, the forum section under the local newspaper sparked a big debate. Some idiots actually brought their babies to the theatre complete with prams parked alongside the seat aisles. Fellow Singaporeans have been accusing these parents as inconsiderate, selfish and dumb sods. Being the carefree much younger designer without parenting responsibilities, I couldn’t care less. All I cared was where to hang out on a Friday night and how to hang a crying baby when I am watching X-Men. Heck, I even almost agree to the insensitive comments hurled at those parents.
Now I can empathise with the accused.
I too, badly wanted to bag a heap of popcorn in a cinema watching the latest blockbuster. But with a baby daughter lugging around during our every available off days, this can only be happen in dreamland. Yes, even a simple leisure such as catching a show is merely a talk in the air these days. Parenting does come with many things, joy, excitement, fun, and of course sacrifices.
So you can imagine the ‘shiokness’ when my wife and I were slumped onto the seats of Cathay Cinema yesterday during an office afternoon hour (We decided to screw work and just go for it). A lover’s combo means a bag of popcorn and 2 soft drinks, and that was just what we had... but alas it was not for long.
Barely 20 minutes into the show, Ben Stiller was just trying to budge into the archive levels of the museum (We were watching Night at The Museum 2), and then everyone sitting in the theatre were asked to move our ass out of the cinema promptly.
A fire had broken out. The whole mall had to be evacuated. Sluggish and annoyed cinema goers thronged out of the multiplex to be greeted with a smoke-filled shopping centre. And suddenly everyone wasn’t so sluggish anymore. Everyone was becoming excited! How often do you get to be trapped in a fire broke out mall on a Friday afternoon? Especially when you haven’t been to a cinema in eon years and you finally decided to skip work to catch your favourite movie only to be kicked out of the theatre seats you barely warmed (pointing the finger at myself of course). And imagine if you were doing your mani and pedicure and you had to be ushered out of the shop dripping nail polish. What about those in the salon having their hair colored mid way? Hordes of them would be scrambling out of the shop in multi-colored procession. How totally awesome is that?
In the midst of evacuation, I saw kay pohs snapping photos everywhere with their cam phones, I saw excited aunties excavated from hair salons still combing their wet hair as they sashayed down the escalators, and I witnessed SCDF fire fighters with their water hoses combing the top floors of the mall as my wife and I descended from the topmost cinema level among the crowd. I only had one thought in my mind then, “I don’t want to die.” And the imagery of my daughter’s face hogged my entire vision. I kept thinking “I don’t want to die...”
Perhaps to kill off the dramatic scenario, what I saw when we climbed down from the higher floors to the lower basements was business still going about. It was quite clear smoke had reached these areas but most shoppers maintain indifference. Wow, this is the true Singapore spirit I thought to myself. Never mind the chokiness I can manage, but take away my shopping and I will die. Instead, let me die shopping. All right folks, you can continue to hunt for your bargain blue ray DVDs; I still want to be alive to see my daughter.
Both the missus and I scrambled out of the mall and drove out of the car park like a pro racer. In the process of it, I renacted Vin Diesel in the movie “Fast and Furious” pulling off a car park stunt because a fellow driver was stuck at one of the exit gantries with a undervalued cashcard. I had to swerve out of the queue and cut into another gantry lane like a GTR racer. Yes, a rather selfish act it seems, but returning home to Baby Angel with a full intact body was my priority, besides I did it with a skill act that could have put Vin Diesel to shame, ahem, because I did it without obstructing any fellow motorists. (Alright, I suppose any lame excuse counts when one is scrambling for his life)
Outside, we saw 2 fire engines and the excavated crowd. Interestingly, we saw some more cars trying to drive into the mall. Yeah, long live the Singaporean shopping spirit, my deepest salute to fellow countrymen with such steely determination with regards to credit card abuse.
Finally, we arrived home safely with a cup of ‘Zapple’ still in hand. And more than happy to greet our baby Angel with opened arms. This is indeed one extraordinary Friday afternoon for us. We might really have a higher chance striking the 4D, like I said how often do you encounter a fire while catching a show. Speaking of which, the missus is still sore over the incomplete movie outing. But that's gonna be another excuse for another slack afternoon...
Probably “Angels & Demons”?
Yeah, it’s gonna be Vin Diesel meets Tom Hanks. (guffawed laugh) Well, I can sense the mockery coming from you guys already...
Years ago, the forum section under the local newspaper sparked a big debate. Some idiots actually brought their babies to the theatre complete with prams parked alongside the seat aisles. Fellow Singaporeans have been accusing these parents as inconsiderate, selfish and dumb sods. Being the carefree much younger designer without parenting responsibilities, I couldn’t care less. All I cared was where to hang out on a Friday night and how to hang a crying baby when I am watching X-Men. Heck, I even almost agree to the insensitive comments hurled at those parents.
Now I can empathise with the accused.
I too, badly wanted to bag a heap of popcorn in a cinema watching the latest blockbuster. But with a baby daughter lugging around during our every available off days, this can only be happen in dreamland. Yes, even a simple leisure such as catching a show is merely a talk in the air these days. Parenting does come with many things, joy, excitement, fun, and of course sacrifices.
So you can imagine the ‘shiokness’ when my wife and I were slumped onto the seats of Cathay Cinema yesterday during an office afternoon hour (We decided to screw work and just go for it). A lover’s combo means a bag of popcorn and 2 soft drinks, and that was just what we had... but alas it was not for long.
Barely 20 minutes into the show, Ben Stiller was just trying to budge into the archive levels of the museum (We were watching Night at The Museum 2), and then everyone sitting in the theatre were asked to move our ass out of the cinema promptly.
A fire had broken out. The whole mall had to be evacuated. Sluggish and annoyed cinema goers thronged out of the multiplex to be greeted with a smoke-filled shopping centre. And suddenly everyone wasn’t so sluggish anymore. Everyone was becoming excited! How often do you get to be trapped in a fire broke out mall on a Friday afternoon? Especially when you haven’t been to a cinema in eon years and you finally decided to skip work to catch your favourite movie only to be kicked out of the theatre seats you barely warmed (pointing the finger at myself of course). And imagine if you were doing your mani and pedicure and you had to be ushered out of the shop dripping nail polish. What about those in the salon having their hair colored mid way? Hordes of them would be scrambling out of the shop in multi-colored procession. How totally awesome is that?
In the midst of evacuation, I saw kay pohs snapping photos everywhere with their cam phones, I saw excited aunties excavated from hair salons still combing their wet hair as they sashayed down the escalators, and I witnessed SCDF fire fighters with their water hoses combing the top floors of the mall as my wife and I descended from the topmost cinema level among the crowd. I only had one thought in my mind then, “I don’t want to die.” And the imagery of my daughter’s face hogged my entire vision. I kept thinking “I don’t want to die...”
Perhaps to kill off the dramatic scenario, what I saw when we climbed down from the higher floors to the lower basements was business still going about. It was quite clear smoke had reached these areas but most shoppers maintain indifference. Wow, this is the true Singapore spirit I thought to myself. Never mind the chokiness I can manage, but take away my shopping and I will die. Instead, let me die shopping. All right folks, you can continue to hunt for your bargain blue ray DVDs; I still want to be alive to see my daughter.
Both the missus and I scrambled out of the mall and drove out of the car park like a pro racer. In the process of it, I renacted Vin Diesel in the movie “Fast and Furious” pulling off a car park stunt because a fellow driver was stuck at one of the exit gantries with a undervalued cashcard. I had to swerve out of the queue and cut into another gantry lane like a GTR racer. Yes, a rather selfish act it seems, but returning home to Baby Angel with a full intact body was my priority, besides I did it with a skill act that could have put Vin Diesel to shame, ahem, because I did it without obstructing any fellow motorists. (Alright, I suppose any lame excuse counts when one is scrambling for his life)
Outside, we saw 2 fire engines and the excavated crowd. Interestingly, we saw some more cars trying to drive into the mall. Yeah, long live the Singaporean shopping spirit, my deepest salute to fellow countrymen with such steely determination with regards to credit card abuse.
Finally, we arrived home safely with a cup of ‘Zapple’ still in hand. And more than happy to greet our baby Angel with opened arms. This is indeed one extraordinary Friday afternoon for us. We might really have a higher chance striking the 4D, like I said how often do you encounter a fire while catching a show. Speaking of which, the missus is still sore over the incomplete movie outing. But that's gonna be another excuse for another slack afternoon...
Probably “Angels & Demons”?
Yeah, it’s gonna be Vin Diesel meets Tom Hanks. (guffawed laugh) Well, I can sense the mockery coming from you guys already...
Monday, May 18, 2009
Now & Then
My wife walked into my office while I was looking intently into my 19 inch LCD monitor. Not that she was going to “tarik” and walk away even as I appear seemingly serious and focused onto something very, very important.
I should have known the missus, without a hoot she marched right towards my desk and looked into my monitor screen.
“Wah lao, you slacker!” she said.
Well, I was not onto something work related, instead I was casually surfing the blog sites of fellow bloggers. All the more I had to put on a “I am busy so call on me later” face, I had to act like I am busy even though I am the boss. I shamelessly told her I needed time to relax as I had been so cooped up with work for the past weeks. I guessed my lame excuse didn't stop her from pulling in a discussion on project schedules and concepts needed for a forth coming meeting.
Yes, I was slacking, but that means I finally can get my hands off on some work as my work load eased off a little. I finally have some decent time for simple leisures, and that includes updating this very expired blog.
Angel soaked off much of our energies for being ill for almost 3 weeks the past month. A flu virus was passing around the house and eventually everyone living under the roof caught it. The recent swine flu thingy also sparked some precautionary measures and we avoided going near anywhere crowded. All is well now and everyone had recovered since. But something caught me rather off-handed.
My little girl is now very long. I mention long and not tall because she doesn't yet stand on her feet. And If you place her lying on the bed now, she is rather long. I realized what everyone told me was true, they grow up faster than I can imagine.
A few days ago, I was organizing some files on my new laptop for a coming presentation and chanced upon the digital photos snapped from since Baby Angel was born till now. She was so tiny when she was brought home. Her reactions then were so much different from now. Then, she was just like a little cat mewing softly all the time, now she chuckles and shrill occasionally. Then, she doesn't have a clue who I was yet, now she recognizes me as her dad whom she will gladly open her arms wide indicating she demands a carry whenever I walk pass her. Then, she was just drinking 30ml of milk from the bottle, now she consumes organic porridge and drowns 160ml of milk at the same time. Then, carrying her was a breeze as I could sweep her off in a scoop and carry her with a single arm, now I have been thinking of picking up Yoga to correct my twisted back. There are so many 'thens' and 'nows' that I could probably draft out a list that could crawl the great wall of China over and over again. Alright, I do have the tendency of exaggerating things but you get the point.
The 6 and half months of living with this new joy of mine, our baby Angel, have been one of the most enjoyable rides of my humble life. I realize I cannot live without her anymore. It is like falling in love for the first time all over again. I know this is freakingly mushy, and if none of you can bear to read on, I do not blame you. Call me a wimp, sissy, weak, or anything you like. But these feelings are true and I shamelessly want to document it down :P
I am also glad Baby Angel's face is still silky smooth despite the pool of saliva I had smacked on her after all the kissing and smooching all these while (including the extras from Anton). I only pray she will grow up with beautiful white facial skin like her mum and not my crinkly skin texture that have once been described as a tangerine or orange skin peel. (This is true, which is why one fine day the missus brought forth a slew of Biotherm products for me and smacked them on my face. I am glad she did that, otherwise I would have resembled my neighbor's bulldog by now.)
Angel's mum walked into my office again 5 minutes ago while I finished typing the above liner. I was greeted with a slap on my arm and and reprimanded “Want to die ar you, writing blog here in the office.” But she was smiling and cringing like a sneaky thief as she spoke. Oh I love her expression, and I am sure my daughter will one day be as animated as her.
Alright, this mushy cushy stuff is really suffocating everyone. I better call it off and let the pictures do the talking. As of today, Angel is 6 months and 19 days old. And she is waiting for me as I prepare to go home from work.
You didn't think I was really going to stop this mushy conversation did you...
I should have known the missus, without a hoot she marched right towards my desk and looked into my monitor screen.
“Wah lao, you slacker!” she said.
Well, I was not onto something work related, instead I was casually surfing the blog sites of fellow bloggers. All the more I had to put on a “I am busy so call on me later” face, I had to act like I am busy even though I am the boss. I shamelessly told her I needed time to relax as I had been so cooped up with work for the past weeks. I guessed my lame excuse didn't stop her from pulling in a discussion on project schedules and concepts needed for a forth coming meeting.
Yes, I was slacking, but that means I finally can get my hands off on some work as my work load eased off a little. I finally have some decent time for simple leisures, and that includes updating this very expired blog.
Angel soaked off much of our energies for being ill for almost 3 weeks the past month. A flu virus was passing around the house and eventually everyone living under the roof caught it. The recent swine flu thingy also sparked some precautionary measures and we avoided going near anywhere crowded. All is well now and everyone had recovered since. But something caught me rather off-handed.
My little girl is now very long. I mention long and not tall because she doesn't yet stand on her feet. And If you place her lying on the bed now, she is rather long. I realized what everyone told me was true, they grow up faster than I can imagine.
A few days ago, I was organizing some files on my new laptop for a coming presentation and chanced upon the digital photos snapped from since Baby Angel was born till now. She was so tiny when she was brought home. Her reactions then were so much different from now. Then, she was just like a little cat mewing softly all the time, now she chuckles and shrill occasionally. Then, she doesn't have a clue who I was yet, now she recognizes me as her dad whom she will gladly open her arms wide indicating she demands a carry whenever I walk pass her. Then, she was just drinking 30ml of milk from the bottle, now she consumes organic porridge and drowns 160ml of milk at the same time. Then, carrying her was a breeze as I could sweep her off in a scoop and carry her with a single arm, now I have been thinking of picking up Yoga to correct my twisted back. There are so many 'thens' and 'nows' that I could probably draft out a list that could crawl the great wall of China over and over again. Alright, I do have the tendency of exaggerating things but you get the point.
The 6 and half months of living with this new joy of mine, our baby Angel, have been one of the most enjoyable rides of my humble life. I realize I cannot live without her anymore. It is like falling in love for the first time all over again. I know this is freakingly mushy, and if none of you can bear to read on, I do not blame you. Call me a wimp, sissy, weak, or anything you like. But these feelings are true and I shamelessly want to document it down :P
I am also glad Baby Angel's face is still silky smooth despite the pool of saliva I had smacked on her after all the kissing and smooching all these while (including the extras from Anton). I only pray she will grow up with beautiful white facial skin like her mum and not my crinkly skin texture that have once been described as a tangerine or orange skin peel. (This is true, which is why one fine day the missus brought forth a slew of Biotherm products for me and smacked them on my face. I am glad she did that, otherwise I would have resembled my neighbor's bulldog by now.)
Angel's mum walked into my office again 5 minutes ago while I finished typing the above liner. I was greeted with a slap on my arm and and reprimanded “Want to die ar you, writing blog here in the office.” But she was smiling and cringing like a sneaky thief as she spoke. Oh I love her expression, and I am sure my daughter will one day be as animated as her.
Alright, this mushy cushy stuff is really suffocating everyone. I better call it off and let the pictures do the talking. As of today, Angel is 6 months and 19 days old. And she is waiting for me as I prepare to go home from work.
You didn't think I was really going to stop this mushy conversation did you...
Sunday, May 10, 2009
Mr Lee Revisit & A Long Break
Something is very wrong with me. I woke up in the morning, fed my daughter, took a shower and assess my stress factor.
Cannot be what... I am healthy, exercise regularly, not psychotic, and I look like the Japanese heart throb Takeshi Kaneshiro. Alright, the latter is a sick joke, I resemble nothing near him. The only reason why I mentioned Kaneshiro is because I have been using the skin product he so dearly endorsed.
But why do I keep dreaming of our MM Lee (Minister Mentor Lee Kuan Yew). He revisits, in my dream after a 2 month long hiatus. The last time he appeared in my dream he was doing his “meet the people session” at my house. This time he chatted with my mum! I was dumb-folded and rightfully so, and I was still as nervous as a misbehaved kid waiting to be spanked.
The fact that my mum doesn't speak English doesn't bother him either. They had a great chat, although I couldn't make up whether they were conversing in any sign language of sort. But Mr Lee is in a great health of younger days about the age of 60 (similar of my previous dream). And my mum? Weird, she looked much younger in her early days too!! Even while sleeping I am concious I was dreaming. And dreams are not supposed to be logical, so I am sure my mum does not know him on a personal level…
And this time round in dreamland, no wailing from Baby Angel, no bodyguards, I gleefully presented something for him to sign on it. I glanced around the superficial room that never existed in real life for an item to have his signature scribbled on, I only managed to grab hold of a bright red T-shirt I designed for my company a couple of years back. The print on the T shirt with a devil-like creature read “Jian Gui Le” in mandarin (translated in English as: Seen a Ghost).
Now, how hospitable is that… He revisits my house and I present him with a “Seen a Ghost” pictorial for him to sign. Still, like a under-aged ignorant kid, I handled the T shirt to him with shaky hands. The great man had never for once smiled when he appeared in my dream, but he nevertheless signed on the T shirt even as he was wearing his signature stern expression.
Surprise surprise!! I finally got his priceless signature! And that was not the end. I also managed to have him signed on my ‘Lee Kuan Yew Memoirs’!! This is like lottery! No, this has to be a lottery. The morning I woke up from the absurdness of this dream, I dived into another absurd conclusion. I am going to strike “Beh Piou” (4D in hokkien). So I jotted down all the dates related to Mr Lee and marched fiercely to the Singapore Pools.
Of course none of the numbers came out. What was I thinking. I concluded I was just a regular stressed up chap in a Government aided economic buyout environment.
I am sure the common man on the ground must have their own fair share of absurdity on certain days, such as dreaming about dating a film star or something. But mine has gone a fair bit far fetched…
That happened more than 3 weeks ago.
Which means I haven’t been free of work load since, and I haven’t had the time to post and ratter complaints on Blogosphere like a true Singaporean. But I will be back. Because Baby Angel is now 6 months and 2 weeks old. She has made tremendous progress since the last update. And I feel imperative to document my daughter’s growing up moments before she start to walk and become less of a baby but more of a toddler.
Meanwhile I am stitching up a collage of Angel’s recent and past photos, including the missus’s birthday pic at Verve restaurant. Til the masterpiece is done, take care all, on this Vesak Weekend.
Be blessed.
PS: And if anyone can interpret my silly dream please let me know, preferably with a more accurate set of numbers…
Cannot be what... I am healthy, exercise regularly, not psychotic, and I look like the Japanese heart throb Takeshi Kaneshiro. Alright, the latter is a sick joke, I resemble nothing near him. The only reason why I mentioned Kaneshiro is because I have been using the skin product he so dearly endorsed.
But why do I keep dreaming of our MM Lee (Minister Mentor Lee Kuan Yew). He revisits, in my dream after a 2 month long hiatus. The last time he appeared in my dream he was doing his “meet the people session” at my house. This time he chatted with my mum! I was dumb-folded and rightfully so, and I was still as nervous as a misbehaved kid waiting to be spanked.
The fact that my mum doesn't speak English doesn't bother him either. They had a great chat, although I couldn't make up whether they were conversing in any sign language of sort. But Mr Lee is in a great health of younger days about the age of 60 (similar of my previous dream). And my mum? Weird, she looked much younger in her early days too!! Even while sleeping I am concious I was dreaming. And dreams are not supposed to be logical, so I am sure my mum does not know him on a personal level…
And this time round in dreamland, no wailing from Baby Angel, no bodyguards, I gleefully presented something for him to sign on it. I glanced around the superficial room that never existed in real life for an item to have his signature scribbled on, I only managed to grab hold of a bright red T-shirt I designed for my company a couple of years back. The print on the T shirt with a devil-like creature read “Jian Gui Le” in mandarin (translated in English as: Seen a Ghost).
Now, how hospitable is that… He revisits my house and I present him with a “Seen a Ghost” pictorial for him to sign. Still, like a under-aged ignorant kid, I handled the T shirt to him with shaky hands. The great man had never for once smiled when he appeared in my dream, but he nevertheless signed on the T shirt even as he was wearing his signature stern expression.
Surprise surprise!! I finally got his priceless signature! And that was not the end. I also managed to have him signed on my ‘Lee Kuan Yew Memoirs’!! This is like lottery! No, this has to be a lottery. The morning I woke up from the absurdness of this dream, I dived into another absurd conclusion. I am going to strike “Beh Piou” (4D in hokkien). So I jotted down all the dates related to Mr Lee and marched fiercely to the Singapore Pools.
Of course none of the numbers came out. What was I thinking. I concluded I was just a regular stressed up chap in a Government aided economic buyout environment.
I am sure the common man on the ground must have their own fair share of absurdity on certain days, such as dreaming about dating a film star or something. But mine has gone a fair bit far fetched…
That happened more than 3 weeks ago.
Which means I haven’t been free of work load since, and I haven’t had the time to post and ratter complaints on Blogosphere like a true Singaporean. But I will be back. Because Baby Angel is now 6 months and 2 weeks old. She has made tremendous progress since the last update. And I feel imperative to document my daughter’s growing up moments before she start to walk and become less of a baby but more of a toddler.
Meanwhile I am stitching up a collage of Angel’s recent and past photos, including the missus’s birthday pic at Verve restaurant. Til the masterpiece is done, take care all, on this Vesak Weekend.
Be blessed.
PS: And if anyone can interpret my silly dream please let me know, preferably with a more accurate set of numbers…
Wednesday, April 15, 2009
A Shopping Trip & A Great Birthday
Baby Angel was still running a block nose and the awful cough, and I wasn't sure if I should bring her along for my niece's birthday dinner. Well, we went ahead anyways, we simply cannot skip this wonderful celebration. My brother's daughter celebrated her 1 year old birthday last Sunday. Much preparation was administered, and it was a fantastic family dinner. Our friend and colleague Paul, was robed in as the official photographer for the highly anticipated event. Everything was prepared thoughtfully. I even survived “Giddy Palace” shopping for our lovely niece Xinyue's birthday present.
I am sorry the correct moniker should be “Kiddy Palace” instead , but in my dictionary of meager vocabulary it must be referred to as “Giddy Palace”. Giddy Palace you see, is a massive super chain store for everything baby and children. Need a flirtatious Barbie doll in hideous pink mini skirt, go to Giddy Palace. Need a gayish look alike male companion for Barbie the doll, go to Giddy Palace. Need an overrated dinosaur in purple suit, hop to Giddy Palace. Need a VCD that plays Barney's version of American Idol, sing your way to Giddy Palace. Need a baby cot, milk bottle, lullaby CDs, baby jumper, sleeping suit, toy gun, wrapping paper, stroller, pampers, and the oversize maternity wear, head over to GIDDY PALACE.
If you haven't already had a spinning head digesting the products listed above, try surviving and breathing inside the superstore physically. I had a better chance surviving the current credit crisis. On the left alley you spot a crying toddler, on the right intersection you see a defiant toddler screaming at the top of her voice. Behind you a crying baby wailed, and above you (ironically) the store music plays a happy song with an Elmo vocal that sounded like a 40 year old man faking orgasm.
I know I am being ruthlessly crude here. And I apologize for offending anyone out there if I ever did. I never meant any harm. I just never fancied an excursion up the king of toddler superstore. Which is why whenever the missus suggested popping over, I needed a construction type pull up crane to heave up my inverted smile.
By the time I stepped over 3 spoiled toddlers, wrestled with Hello Kitty, flip over baby strollers with 5 year olds still sitting in them, pushed away selfish parents, and probably stabbed Barney with a Swiss army knife over and over again we finally arrived at the sales counter with the item in hand. The gay music continued to play above, but the mood isn't particularly gay or rather, happy for the sales staff behind the counter. I have been to the place a couple of times but I have never encountered a smiley sales attendant. Their facial expression suggested they were forced to watch Barney VCDs every morning as part of the norm before they kick start their work day. For Barney fans out there I am sorry if purple is your cup of tea, I just cannot agree wearing that color on a dancing dinosaur, and I am from the creative industry. Creativity must be encouraged but it cannot be absurd. But interestingly the kids love the big cuddly dinosaur. I guess that is the reason why adults can never quite comprehend the imaginative world of children.
No prizes given out for what I did not buy for my niece as her birthday gift. Yes, no Barneys. Just a useful Fisher Price brand shopping trolley designed to aid her in learning to walk. The useful product has an extended handle for the girl to hold on and then walk as she pushes it. Interestingly, those folks at Fisher Price does possess a children's perspective when designing products meant for the kids.
Happy with the purchase, we had the gift wrapped up in teddy bear wrapping paper. We also bought a Polo Ralph Lauren dress for the one year old queen a few days earlier. As a known branded 'xiao' to my friends and family, there is absolutely no way I will pass off shopping for a designer apparel for my niece. The end result had been more than rewarding. Seeing the joy on Xinyue's face meant she was more than delighted with the propositions. The gift unwrapping ritual must be the most exciting highlight for any Birthday kid. The chuckles and excited body language from your child will definitely make any parent feel rewarded. I can see that in my brother's eye. A long anticipated 1st Birthday for your kid is perhaps the joyous occasion of the year. It was such a fantastic Birthday, not only for Xinyue, but for everyone, including my mum and dad who held on tightly to their 2 granddaughters, Xinyue and of course our little Angel.
With one great Birthday over, another one arrives in another 6 months time. And I am already wondering what to buy for our little Angel when it is her turn for her birthday. How about a chic Armani Kid dress complete with the signature eagle logo? Top it off with sparkling crystals sewn over the logo. That would be perfect.
But I can already hear the missus ratter in my head now, “Please don't make your daughter into a spoiled brat! You vain bastard!!”
I am itching all over now...
I am sorry the correct moniker should be “Kiddy Palace” instead , but in my dictionary of meager vocabulary it must be referred to as “Giddy Palace”. Giddy Palace you see, is a massive super chain store for everything baby and children. Need a flirtatious Barbie doll in hideous pink mini skirt, go to Giddy Palace. Need a gayish look alike male companion for Barbie the doll, go to Giddy Palace. Need an overrated dinosaur in purple suit, hop to Giddy Palace. Need a VCD that plays Barney's version of American Idol, sing your way to Giddy Palace. Need a baby cot, milk bottle, lullaby CDs, baby jumper, sleeping suit, toy gun, wrapping paper, stroller, pampers, and the oversize maternity wear, head over to GIDDY PALACE.
If you haven't already had a spinning head digesting the products listed above, try surviving and breathing inside the superstore physically. I had a better chance surviving the current credit crisis. On the left alley you spot a crying toddler, on the right intersection you see a defiant toddler screaming at the top of her voice. Behind you a crying baby wailed, and above you (ironically) the store music plays a happy song with an Elmo vocal that sounded like a 40 year old man faking orgasm.
I know I am being ruthlessly crude here. And I apologize for offending anyone out there if I ever did. I never meant any harm. I just never fancied an excursion up the king of toddler superstore. Which is why whenever the missus suggested popping over, I needed a construction type pull up crane to heave up my inverted smile.
By the time I stepped over 3 spoiled toddlers, wrestled with Hello Kitty, flip over baby strollers with 5 year olds still sitting in them, pushed away selfish parents, and probably stabbed Barney with a Swiss army knife over and over again we finally arrived at the sales counter with the item in hand. The gay music continued to play above, but the mood isn't particularly gay or rather, happy for the sales staff behind the counter. I have been to the place a couple of times but I have never encountered a smiley sales attendant. Their facial expression suggested they were forced to watch Barney VCDs every morning as part of the norm before they kick start their work day. For Barney fans out there I am sorry if purple is your cup of tea, I just cannot agree wearing that color on a dancing dinosaur, and I am from the creative industry. Creativity must be encouraged but it cannot be absurd. But interestingly the kids love the big cuddly dinosaur. I guess that is the reason why adults can never quite comprehend the imaginative world of children.
No prizes given out for what I did not buy for my niece as her birthday gift. Yes, no Barneys. Just a useful Fisher Price brand shopping trolley designed to aid her in learning to walk. The useful product has an extended handle for the girl to hold on and then walk as she pushes it. Interestingly, those folks at Fisher Price does possess a children's perspective when designing products meant for the kids.
Happy with the purchase, we had the gift wrapped up in teddy bear wrapping paper. We also bought a Polo Ralph Lauren dress for the one year old queen a few days earlier. As a known branded 'xiao' to my friends and family, there is absolutely no way I will pass off shopping for a designer apparel for my niece. The end result had been more than rewarding. Seeing the joy on Xinyue's face meant she was more than delighted with the propositions. The gift unwrapping ritual must be the most exciting highlight for any Birthday kid. The chuckles and excited body language from your child will definitely make any parent feel rewarded. I can see that in my brother's eye. A long anticipated 1st Birthday for your kid is perhaps the joyous occasion of the year. It was such a fantastic Birthday, not only for Xinyue, but for everyone, including my mum and dad who held on tightly to their 2 granddaughters, Xinyue and of course our little Angel.
With one great Birthday over, another one arrives in another 6 months time. And I am already wondering what to buy for our little Angel when it is her turn for her birthday. How about a chic Armani Kid dress complete with the signature eagle logo? Top it off with sparkling crystals sewn over the logo. That would be perfect.
But I can already hear the missus ratter in my head now, “Please don't make your daughter into a spoiled brat! You vain bastard!!”
I am itching all over now...
Wednesday, April 8, 2009
The Culprit
I am wearing a mask... and I am writing a diary.
No, I am not renacting the scenes of the comic character 'Rorchac' in the film “Watchmen”. Although with the mask down I look perverted and sick enough at times. At least the missus thought so. My habit of mimicking a film character after every inspired movie is a near push factor for a divorce paper from my wife. There were many examples to quote. But probably the most irritating one was when Brad Pit played an insane character in the film “Twelve Monkeys”. I was so inspired that I wore that idiotic expression for an entire week. The missus should have dumped me for a real Brad Pit lookalike, but the woman had an amazingly steep threshold. Places switched, I would have lost the will to live (it was that bad). However, it was not easy to spot a potential Brad Pit. So she stood by me all these years.
We are both wearing masks now, surgical masks to be exact. With the masks on and a syringe pumped up with medicine, we looked very much like the doctors in “Prison Break”. Our subject now though is not the famed Michael Scoffield (the lead hero in the show). We are working on our Baby Angel instead. And I am the culprit for this operation.
Yes, baby Angel had fallen sick for the first time in her human life. And I am to be blamed. Viruses from my gastric flu had probably invaded her weak immune system, or the lack of it. Born with a hole in her heart, she has a tendency to be weaker than her peers because her lungs have to work harder due to the presence of the tiny hole in her heart. And that means she is more prone to viruses.
Our subject wailed and kicked while doctor daddy is holding her close to thy chest. Playing nurse, the missus had to speedily squeezed out the drug from the syringe into baby Angel's mouth, and then we wait for more kicking and wailing. This is breaking my heart out while she is desperately plucking out the hair underneath my armpit for comfort... Yeah, as if coming back at me with a vengeance, baby Angel is resisting all her might to thwart the doses of bitter drugs. And in the event of this saga, it looked like I might have lost a few strand of body hair. But surely this is nothing compared to the discomfort baby Angel is experiencing being sick for the first time in her life.
I felt really bad for this. To make it up, I am teaming up with my wife to give our little gal the best attentive care we can give in exchange for her speedy recovery. And in the event of this, I am willing to let go of some of my bodily hair while the little one is being coerced to down the few ml of those nasty drugs.
The pediatrician advises against stepping out of the house the entire week for baby Angel, a welcome suggestion in the view of her grandpa, who until today continue to threaten grounding his son inside the kitchen. I guess parents will be parents despite how old you are. And it is only now that I am a parent myself I can somehow relate my dad's irrational actions.
I once mentioned this to Angel's mum. “When she grow up I am not sending her for overseas studies.”
“Why?” mused the missus.
“I just can't bear to do so.” I said.
“Don't be silly. By habouring such thoughts you are not helping to nurture an independent child. You are not doing good for Angel.” The missus was right.
Protecting your child does not mean fielding her from everything. Your children need to experience the necessities of life. Life is never meant to be a bed of roses. I grew up under the roof of overly protective and strict parents. I used to dread my father for calling me up at the age of 25 when I was still hanging out with friends in the night. My dad was so strict and protective that made me, once a immature lad, into a rebellious kid. No, I wasn't a gangster, mischievous as I was, I still adhered to the good values that my parents impresses upon me. But I could be rather ill-tempered during those days. Mostly because I wanted to break free the norm that my parents wanted me to be in. I am not blaming my parents for this, they meant me well, looking back I was just an immature lad. It was just food for thought, because whatever actions handed out by me to Angel will definitely trigger a reaction. And I would like those reactions to be positive actions.
But in the heart of doting and anxious parents, how do we measure the balance? How much to let go and how much to reel in. I have no idea, and it is a profound knowledge every parent have to seek, in our very own ways, because we tend to be the culprit of our children's actions, and it is a course we need to tread carefully.
The future may be full of learning curves for me, I am guessing steep ones mostly. And I have to learn to let go of our little girl when the time calls for appropriate actions. But right now one thing is very clear, Angel should not step out of the house as advised by the pediatrician. My old dad is right in this case.
And being the lone culprit for Angel's misadventure, I must work towards having our daughter well again. Do whatever that is necessary. Whether it is donning that surgical mask for preventive measures or having the entire family grounded for the rest of the week, I will just have to do it. All in the well-being for baby Angel's recovery.
But on second thought, I will probably be hunting for the shaver now..
*I must thank fellow bloggers for popping by now and then seeking for Angel updates. When I started blogging, I never thought I could connect with great, warm and nice people, you people!! I merely wanted to document my simple life and a dose of my family story so that I can look back in time and reminiscence the memories in time. By now I can probably gather the familiar handful lot of you that kept popping by in anticipation of Baby Angel's progress.
I am deeply touched.
The past weeks were a mash up of hectic workload, friends and family issues for me. I was not able to keep up with more updates as much as I wanted do. One of which was Angel's special act of biting everything she fancied. I could have written a light hearted tale on this, but right now I simply have to be contented with the below photograph that somehow tells the story.
One very easy culprit to point finger to is of course my work. The economy is bad, and that means me getting my hands dirty doing some major design work in the office on top of the other daily operations.
I would like to share with you a recent project I completed last month. It is a children website for the International Friendship Day. I am not much of an illustrator, I am more of a graphic multimedia artist. This production is interesting to me because I have to draw a lot of cartoons which is so not my usual style. There is game component in this website www.ifd2009.com.sg. It is a Q&A game testing your knowledge of ASEAN countries, have a go at it and see how well you fare. It is quite interesting, I couldn't answer all questions correctly relating to Singapore myself. And feel free to comment on the production. If it sucks, just be frank. It will improve my direction in my future projects.
With that, I end my post. And I wish all of you a very pleasant week ahead!
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