Fabulous

Thump..Thump..THUMP! THUMP THUMP THUMP THUMP THUMP Wahhhh....!!!!!

A shrill chuckle ensued as I pounced on our baby daughter who is lying on our bed, still giggling.

Hopping back a metre or so with both hands stretched out T-Rex style, I began the exercise all over again, thumping my left foot followed by my right, quickening at very step and finally pouncing on her like an over-aged Barney less the hideous purple dinosaur suit. The anticipation in her eyes coupled with a cheeky smile is absolutely too tempting to do this over and over again.

I peeped into my watch and told myself I should be leaving for work in 15 minutes time, but then again that was what I said exactly 15 minutes ago.

“You know, you love your daughter more than your wife now”, came the occasional tease from the missus.

“No lah, where got?”, I would massage her shoulders and then sped off to work, sneakily.

But its always so hard to let go after a hearty weekend together. Knowing you have to spend most of your time at work and then come home to a sleepy daughter on most weekdays. Perhaps to add oil on fire, its also because its a Monday. Yet another long wait for the weekend to spend your entire time with the family.

Don't get me wrong. I love my work. I do not have the usual Monday blues. I am one of those who like to work their sorry ass off even after the working hours are over. But I still have my Monday blues, largely felt while I am still holding baby Angel when I am supposed to be heading off to work behind the driving wheel.

Which is why weekends have been more precious than ever. Which is why the OTs on weekday nights to make room for Saturdays and Sundays. And also the reason I try to squeeze out every minute I have on these two days.

It had been a great Saturday with much activity going on. We met up with two of my friends and their lovely one and half year old son at Vivocity for Tim Sum. This meet up have long been overdue and I was looking forward to it. Their lovely son named Issac with dimples so deep you simply want to hug has grown so much taller since we saw him. Nevermind the shyness because whenever I approached him he would smile and glance away either saying “Papa there, or Mummy there” even though both of his parents might not necessary be in the direction that he is pointing.

He is just so adorably cute and so shy.

Hui and Willson have been our long time friends since our NAFA(Nanyang Academy of Fine Arts) days. Seeing their friendship blossoming into a courtship is like traveling time through a spaceship. In a snap Issac had been born, and is now a healthy toddler walking on his feet. Time flies, and its true.

Time also passes by swiftly especially when you are enjoying yourselves. We had to bid them goodbye as they had to head back home for Isaac's nap. And promised to meet up again soon.

In an effort to squeeze time dry after the meet up, we met up with another friend of us, Steve, who gamely followed us to our second mission by the order of the missus to bring baby Angel for a swim. Before you ring the “Report The Abusing Parents” helpline to MCYS, please hear me out. Its a controlled environment where you dunk your baby in a water filled tub as opposed to dumping her into the South China Sea swimming with the sharks. Although the swimming float wrapping around Angel's neck does come close to those movies whereby prisoners are dug beneath the mud with only their heads sticking out.

But still it is not a cause for concern. Because Angel's mum is more concern with hygiene issues.

“Did you bring a towel along?” ask an elegantly aged shop assistant, “Here, use this one.” and then produced a dull green color towel with mouldy prints when viewed at certain angles from afar.

“And this is clean?” ask the missus.

“Oh yes, these towels are used only once and then throw away,” came the reply.

Call me cynical, but the towels looks like it's been washed at least 50 times. It looked like it's previous life had been a bright lime green piece of soft fabric. Currently it looks like an SAF(Army) no.4 uniform.

Well, I don't really care because the swimming float around my daughter's neck looks more menacing and may I add, suffocating. Well, what the heck, its a little too late to back out now because the little one is about to dip into the pool.

There could have been a better interior designer to engage, but apparently the shop owner favors the open concept à la “Ding Tai Fung” restaurant style which people can peep through transparent glass from outside to have a kaypoh look at what you are cooking, or rather, doing. I can't help but feel like monkeys in the Zoo because there must have been like more than ten kaypoh sods outside the shop with popcorns in their hands waiting for the next matinée. And when baby Angel is plonked into the basin of water, the oohs and ahs from the crowd followed suit and they immediately rushed forward smacking their faces onto the glass panels.

From where they are standing, they can see our baby Angel's little performance of aqua aerobics. But when they realized this is hardly Michael Phelps or the exotic north polar bear somersaulting in the water ripping off fishes, they left the scene only to be replaced by a newer crowd of kaypohs.

“This is like the Singapore Zoo”, suggested my friend.

“No, its more like The Singapore Night Safari,” I said as it is almost close to 8pm in the night.

Whichever case it was, one thing was clear. Baby Angel was totally immersed in her world of water kicking and tremendously enjoying the dip. An average first time swim usually lasts about ten minutes, but she was soaked in the tub for more than twenty. It also helped that the missus kept on shouting words of encouragement such as “Well Done Angel!!”, and “Keep it Up Angel!!”, and then more “Well Done Angel!!” and “Keep it Up Angel!!”

Seeing my wife going gaga at this for a lengthy twenty minutes, my heart was beaming with warm feelings. The missus is a fully transformed mum, she doesn't care that she looked like a lunatic shouting words of encouragement while the kaypoh crowd watches on. Her mind was focused only on caring for our little girl, and showering her with the best love she can give. I almost wanted to hug her. Well almost, because the shop assistant popped over before I could.

“Some babies can go like this for one full hour.” she said.

Wow. Baby Angel could probably have no problem keeping it up for an hour after the tenth visit. But can the missus do it? Going gaga for one bloody hour? I cannot imagine further.

The last mission was to have a hearty dinner to wind down the day. Now, I must stressed that I am not a cheapskate, but to have two meals paid for in a day is still a welcome gesture under the current economic climate. Steve ended up paying for the dinner, and so did Hui and Willson on the Tim Sum meal. Thank you guys for the meal. We really should meet up more often.

The night ended on a less jovial note after the Japanese dinner. Sleeping in her pram, baby Angel started to wail out of no reason. I had to carry her out of the pram and pacify her with my fatherly skills honed in the past months. It did not worked. The most disadvantaging aspect of a loving father would probably be the fact that he cannot breastfeed. When the milk bottle does not work, and everything else fail, the missus had to be called in.

And in the breast feeding room provided by the mall, away from the crowded noise, I sat beside Angel's mum watching over them. Life had never been better. We could have married later, or learning to party hard like there is no tomorrow, or we could have a kid later. But nothing comes close to this, just the three of us enclaved in the warmth of each other.

One day down, Sunday awaits us. I still have time to treasure this.. before the Monday morning today.

And outside the baby room, a patient friend awaits. It was time to go home.

It had been a fabulous day.


*I would like to dedicate this post to my lovely wife, and all the mothers out there. The baby might have been born. But we(the fathers) have not all forgotten about you, because you are simply fabulous!!

Twenty Six February Two Thousand & Nine - The Curious Face of Baby Angel

26th February 2009.

Today is a historic day.

Not because Obama rolled out an audacious $3.55 trillion budget set for reform. Nor is it because I finally see a lump on my stomach after weeks of trying to gain some weight (It is not a pleasant sight, I think I prefer to be slim despite the missus's constant effort in strumming my ribcage for obvious reason).

Today is historic because baby Angel made a hamster face. Yes you hear me, a hamster face. The type of expression that suggest heaps of nuts have been deliberately stored in both cheeks, complete with gigantic innocent eyes almost exploding while she is trying to compress her upper and lower lips into one lump of a sausage.

She has grown up. Faster than I can imagine. She is 4 months and 5 days old today. She weighs a healthy 6.53kg and covers a length of 62.5 cm. The figures probably doesn't mean a lot except for potential 4D betting inspiration because in another week or so she will be taller and heavier, hopefully just a tad heavier because I have been having sore arms and a disproportionate back lately. But that is not the point, the point is; she is starting to pick up new learning examples and slowing moving away from the territory of a new born baby.

I am almost weeping.. she has finally grown up.

“Don't be silly, she's still a baby, its not like you are marrying your daughter off or something.” I can imagine my missus sneering at me.

But who can blame me? My silly tricks of hoaxing my daughter have not been working of late.

I will go, “Huah Wah Wah Wah Wah” with my mouth wide opened and Angel will maintain indifference.

Or:

“Angel girl girl girl girl GURL!!!” I will squeal in a melodic high pitch yet disgusting tone. The little one simply frowned and attempt to suck at her fingers instead. I can almost sense what she's thinking, “Dad please.. I am 4 months old, stop embarrassing yourself”. And then more hamster face for the whole bloody day.

I had no idea where she learned that from. But the fact is she is starting to explore new things and making faces because she is fast turning into a toddler. In another few months or so she will be crawling all over the place tearing down the house, doodling on car leather seats and probably reading pictorial books with fat hamster illustrations in them.

I braced myself ahead with mixed feelings. Here's one father who doesn't have a clue on how being a parent is like barely one year ago. He has grown accustomed to a new born daughter, living a life of sleepless nights and no longer finding human poop smelly, which is well... a cause for concern. He has also learned to communicate in baby speak but only to find the language now obsolete because baby Angel cannot grow up learning to speak gibberish. Proper pronunciation must be enforced, a conducive growing up environment must be provided and so forth and so on. The anticipation of my daughter calling me 'Dad' and standing on her feet is exciting, however her moving away from a cuddly new born will be something I will dearly missed. To be honest, when she made the hamster face for the first time today, I was totally thrilled and happy. So yes, things are going to get more and more exciting with this little girl of mine. I will have to teach her how to poop properly on a toilet bowl sometime later, and I will have to teach her manners and ABC in time to come. But the feeling of cuddling her as a new born will not go away either, it will always remain fresh in my memory and in my heart.

The first challenge currently though is to concoct new tricks to communicate with her.

Yeah... I am learning how to make that hamster face now...

Family Portrait

Today I just swallowed the most expensive steak of my life, a "Fillet Mignon single cut" set me back at SGD $79.00. The missus had a salmon with a price tag of $52.00. We skipped our Valentine's Day meal last Saturday as we were attending a friend's wedding dinner, so we thought we could celebrate on a separate day and at the same time do away with those overpriced commercial set meals.

We dined at Morton's Chicago Steakhouse this evening. They had this "impressive" method of introducing the restaurant's menu by putting forth a whole tray of raw meat and seafood in front of us as our dedicated server explained the courses (the poor sod was basically dictating a prepared script which I didn't catch on totally). And seeing the slabs of sliced up dead cow meat before ordering isn't exactly tantilising.. I half suspect I saw some chopped up crab legs moving as he spoke.. I am sure my mind was screwing with me after an entire week of OT and hectic workload. But alas I still managed to wind it down over a decent though overpriced meal with my wife and daughter.

As the week curtains down....

Alright this is a bloody boring post. I wish I have some wild escapade such as skinning a crocodile or something to brag about, which I haven't. Instead I have been cooped up with work and more work going for meetings and designing endless stuff for my clients. I did however spent some useful time on and off drawing a family portrait for our family of 3. So here goes, an illustration of the missus, baby Angel and myself attached in this post. Borrowing an art style I did for a current project, I created this pictorial. Not very polished yet as I didn't have the luxury of time to touch up more shadows, details, and possibly a background. Nonetheless its counted as completed although Angel's mum would like to see herself in a hip jeans and stylish sandals instead of an "ah soh" black skirt with horrific red color flat slip ons. I promised to work on it again some day once the client cut me some slack.

Lastly, Have Happy Weekend!

From Ken, Wife and Angel.

Angel Updates

And so the client said, "Take away this, minus that, multiply those and axe these."

"Your wish is my command.." was my reply, and I sent the ammendments over.

And then the client said, "Change this chunk and dunk those crap."

"Your wish is my command.." again I said, and sent the ammendments over again.

And then the client said, "Change again, change again another time, change again one more time, CHANGE CHANGE CHANGE!!"

"Alright you bitch, sod off."

I didn't really say that. Although I am so bloody tempted to. Well, this is just the regular life of a designer, adapt and make changes all the time.

Not complaining. Just taking a break from my work so that I can post some updates about my daughter. It relaxes me, just by blogging and talking about my daughter who is nearing her 4th month. How time flies, the day my wife's waterbag broke we were supposed to catch a movie, "Tropic Thunder", which we still have yet to watch. Today our little one has got more pattern than badminton, she pushes her milk bottle away during her feeding and attempt to drown us by crying a Singapore river. The moment the bottle tit is out of her mouth she chuckles and giggles non stop, that is until the tit is back into her mouth.

I recall a famous Mac Donalds ad on TV eons ago. Seated on a swing, the baby was laughing when she was swung forward, and then crying when swung backward. The clever editing showed in the perspective of the baby's eye, a big "M" logo appears whenever the camera heave upwards and then disappears when swinging downwards, and reappear again in another swing upwards. Our baby Angel is exactly like that, laughing and crying with the milk bottle in and out of her mouth.

Enough talk. Some photos of our three and half month old daughter uploaded here :)

Have a great week ahead.

From Ken, wife and daughter.

Dream On

I had the weirdest dream last night.

I thought I must share this.

Glimpse and bits still lingering in my head now. And it was weird. I get the occasional silly dreams whenever I had too much work and too many things hovering on a 34 year old brain trying to keep his tiny multimedia house alive amidst a screwed up economy. But I never had it this surreal. Trust me. Just keep reading.

The past weeks have already been a nightmare for me doubling up as a designer, art director, human resource manager, account servicing manager, toilet cleaner, and probably a sales man prick selling some design bullshit. In times of pressing datelines and creditors knocking at your doorstep, multi-tasking can make a man go crazy sometimes, and you desperately needed some cool headed advice. You need a figurehead, a consultant, a leader to guide you through. As a small time boss of a minuscule company, I had none of the above to look up to. And then it had to happen.

My jaws slammed on the concrete dragging a total of 100 feet because someone I so god damn admire came to my rescue. MR LEE KUAN YEW!! Singapore's Minister Mentor and founding father of our country. Gasp!! arhhmmp. I was bloody choking.

Well, in my dreams, literally of course, .

"Ken Poh?" asked a suave looking Mr Lee who looks like he was still in his earlier years, as he marked a tick in a list he was holding.

A stunned and fucking blur face me still looking at him in total disbelief. Am I dreaming? Is this for real? Or is this a joke? (well, hours later I woke up and slapped myself silly. Heck, its a bloody dream alright, what am I, Barack Obama?).

And in a mutter of confusion and excitement, I can still remember what I said. "Er yes, Sir.. I erh.. I bought this book, your latest book, can you sign your name for me please?" I was so excited I was like a teenager sissy chasing the boy band "Fahrenheit" because I added, "I am a big fan of yours."

I looked at him, I looked at the hard cover book in my hand with his face on it, I looked at his bodyguard with the grim face, and I looked at my daughter sleeping in her cot. Yes, even in my dreams, my daughter cannot spare me, and she looked like she's needing some milk in a bottle.
I cannot decide whether to feed my daughter or chase after my idol. This is driving me crazy like a teenage bitch.

It was house visit. The Minister Mentor doing his round of house visits in the night. And then the bodyguard grabbed my book. Before I could say anything Mr Lee said, "I'll come back to you." And then he left, with the body guards still tagging along. And I begged please, please have the book sign and return to me, while my daughter still wailed a trail behind me. A jump cut scene later, I was looking at the overwhelming crowd in the streets on top of a building. And I was still asking for the bloody bodyguard to give me back my book with Mr Lee's signature on it.

I never got the book. And Lee Kuan Yew never spoke to me again as he promised in the dream. But it was totally mind blowing, me speaking to Lee Kuan Yew, and seeing him face to face. But alas it was a dream only okay. Sigh..

I guess the heavy workload really screwed my brain. I figured out I needed guidance from someone on top which is why I had this really crazy dream. At least I think so. I am not a dream interpreter, I don't buy books like "101 dreams Interpretation", I had to find a logical explanation to this.

But dreams are not logical aren't they, because the great Mr Lee cannot be speaking to me, a saliva dripping twat with his mouth wide opened holding a Minister's Memoirs..

Just Another Thought I Pondered

When I was a teenager, the world we live in operate on faxes and telegrams. There was no internet, and "Cyberspace" is a term that sound like some sort of hollywood movie. The favorite haunts were Mac Donalds and Burger Kings. Starbucks Coffee have not even been bought over by Howard Schultz its founder, and there is certainly no such thing as 'people watching' in a cafe. Plus paying 6 bucks for a cup of 'kopi peng' is a luxury most of us cannot afford. Heck, a combo meal at Mac Donalds cost less than 4 bucks in those days.

The youngsters today have it all. They carry mobile phones that send messages across continents, have never operated a cassette walkman, while mp3 and IPOD is the standard denominator in their dictionary. They hogged cafes like their living rooms and smoke cigarettes at the age of ten. They might have invented the term "alcohol bingeing', and they prowl the roads like they paid road taxes more than the capacity of songs that their multi-gig IPOD can hold. Some of them can even be hard to fathom.

Unusually hungry straight after dinner on the first day of Chinese New Year (those set meals in Chinese Restaurants during the CNY period doesn't exactly tickle my tastebuds), I drove to a movie mall frequent by youngsters, Orchard Cineleisure, for a takeaway Burger King meal. The green man in the traffic light has turned red, and the crowd dispersed fast on the walkway only to reveal 2 teenagers taking their time strolling on. I rested my hands on the steering wheel and waited patiently for those 2 chaps to cross over while the car behind me is increasingly finding my car bumper as attractive as a canine's ass.

For easy reference, I will name them Mr Moonwalker and Mr Colorblind who obviously cannot differentiate green from red. Watching them stroll across the pedestrian walkway is like smoking weed and making you witness everything in slow motion signature of John Woo's style. With pressure building up from a salivating car behind my ass, I tap a quick horn behind the wheel.

Mr Moonwalker fast paced himself a little, but still enough to annoy because concubines in Qing Dynasty movies walked faster with their feet binded. A more dramatic Mr Colorblind still in the middle of the road gave me a stare and waved his hands across the walkway still holding a half-smoked cigarette. He must have muttered something which I am guessing is hokkien swearing. I pointed towards the red man sign suggesting he should go back to kindergarden for some coloring lesson. Clearly displeased, he lingers in the middle of the road displaying gangsterism by swaying like a monkey.

Now, I know you might probably be looking for some drama that might involved an uncle slapping 2 teenagers thereafter. It did not happen. I stepped on my accelerator and moved on. Compliments of my wife who reminded me that there is a baby at the back of my car. And it is a small matter to begin with anyway, I probably wouldn't mind if there were no cars behind me, but because of those 2 jokers I had road hogged the entire stretch of cars. But I have to say I was very agitated for a moment, holding back my fume I parked my car and promised my wife I wouldn't beat anyone up. I got us some burgers and drove off.

Those two looked barely 18 to me. They were in fact, boys who have not even entered the army for national service. And yet they behaved like they own the world. I was concerned. Although rebellious teenagers are spotted around everywhere in the world, especially in the west where they went about their killing spree by firing machine guns into crowds, I find the trend escalating in Singapore. News of teenagers beating people to death locally have tolled up over the years.

My personal observation simply in Singapore context alone is that, things are getting worse. I have witnessed fights that erupted simply by a mere stare while sitting in a coffee joint. And these kids were mostly in their secondary schools. I have also witnessed kids talking back to their parents in total disrespect. Their behaviour suggest a total revisit in our education system and uninspiring parenting.

A recent article I read suggested these are the "Generation Y" lot, intelligent and well informed with IT knowledge. They know what they want and usually have a short attention span to things that interest them, simply because, well they are too intelligent. The article also suggested that to keep the 'gen y' nation in your workforce you will need to constantly give them new and challenging roles or else they will move on.

I say screw it.

Because whether they are 'gen y' or 'gen x' or whatever, basic courtesy and personal conduct of behave still matters in life.

I did not live through the times of hardships like my parents did. But they taught me well, instilled mannerisms and dignity in my approach towards life. I was brought up with confucious values as a Chinese descendant. I doubt many of these kids bother, afterall our fast advancing society had diffused our roots and cultural values, opting for one that is perhaps more westernised. But still it is not an excuse for impoliteness, a lot of ang mohs are in fact cultured and polite people.

Back at home after some burger dining in car, I looked at my baby daughter who was sleeping like an angel in her cot. I am sorry the word 'angel' is so overused in my entries that it is probably a cliche now, but that is only way which best describes her at such an adolescent age. That is until she grows up to be a teenager who has to succumb to peer pressures and what not.

For a moment, I shuddered at the thought of my little girl talking back at her dad. But that is a little too far in the future for me to anticipate. For now, I'll just watch her grow up with joy and promise to instill to her the very same values that my parents instilled in me.

And for the first time in my life, I felt old, like a father, a parent.

Pissed

I am not talking about my daughter's urine.

I am talking about an adjective that is used in a vulgarised manner. If you key in "Pissed" in dictionary.com, it is described as : "Used in the imperative as a signal of angry dismissal", among the many other interpretations.

Or alternatively the web dictionary suggest the noun :Pissed Off.

Honestly, I don't really give a hoot. To me it is best described as "Fuck Off". Well, for added emotional agression, I would rather delved into the international four letter word.

The day started pleasantly on the 2nd day of Chinese New Year. I woke up to a hungry wail of my lovely daughter now 3 months and few days old. I fed her, played with her, bathed her, dressed her, acted out a comedic performance in front of her to make her chuckle and giggle at her father who is increasingly mutating into a jelly fish (Yes, I still turned soft when she laughed and smiled at me, every single time).

Barely walkable thereafter, the 3 of us (including the missus of course) commenced our special "pai nian" day trip. A special day marked this year's calendar for the CNY because of our newly arrived daughter. Now, if there is a business proposition most profitable under the current screwed up economic situation, then it must be to bring a baby out for some ang pow collection. The lucky girl had already made a tidy sum in a single day while I lament at my undernourished bank account.

During this time of the year every year, I will make sure I visit my best friends and their family. And in turn they will pop over to my house and we can catch up with one another and reminiscence the good old days of peeing on roof tops and throwing urine bombs to our neighbour's houses. Not exactly a proud and heroic childhood, but least it was fun and we got to save some toilet paper.

This year is eventful because most of us brought our kids along, and also because my father hogged on to my friend's one month old baby boy refusing to give him up to his proud parents.

"Hey look, this is my grandson", my dad who is still carrying the boy in his arm said to my relatives.

Now, jokes are best kept funny when conveyed once or twice. Anything more than that is pushing for a tight slap across the cheek.

"Hey look, this is my grandson", chuckled my old man again to another relative for the 98th time in 3 minutes.

He may be a grandfather, and he most undoubtly brought his son up to be the fine young chap I am today, but he still deserved a tight slap, which I of course didn't paved it on his face. Well, afterall the old man is my father. But if you ask me again, yes, he deserved a tight slap.

I can understand the older generation for the infatuated idea of a grandson instead of a granddaughter, but it has gone so bad that my friend's wife came over and gave a tight slap on my shoulder, "Ken, you better buck up and try harder, your dad keeps holding on to my baby".

"Why, because he is a boy?", I asked.

I can't excactly remember what she said in return, but in an emotional blurt-out I retorted, "That is why my brother always FUCK him. What is wrong with a granddaughter?"

I think my friend's wife mentioned something about the old folk's mentality of wanting for a baby grandson, but I was so blinded by the Piss that was bestowed on me and added again, "Thats why my brother always FUCK him."

Now, I must mentioned that my younger brother who also have an adorable baby daughter of nine months old is a true champion because he really fucked my dad whenever this boy/girl issue arises. I never felt the need to do so until today.

I was pissed off, very, and totally.

A slight embarrasement pursued after my blunder to my friend's wife but it was too late for any action of recovery. I chosed emotion against a logical diplomatic reply. But I was glad I did, because I realized I loved my daughter so much more than I thought.

The night settled with my friends going home and I headed to my wife's relative encavement of a 5 room HDB flat for dinner. And while the relatives were smashing majong tiles and soaking prawns in the steamboat, I held on to my daugther tightly in a separate airconditioned room. She looked at me with beam in her eyes and seemingly knew what I had gone through during the day. With more chuckles and smiles, she mewed and stretched opened her arms, I had mutated into a full-fledged jellyfish again.

Thoughts raced through my head swiftly, the events of the past few days, weeks, and months. And I thought to myself, I am truely blessed god gave me and my wife an angel to behold.

Then I suddenly have an urgent urge to pee. The little started crying, it could be feeding time again, and quickly called for my lovely wife.