My absence

No excuses, just the truth. I haven't felt sane enough to write. For the past 7 weeks or so, I've been plagued by blinding nausea, though for a very good reason. We've found that I'm expecting our second baby. We've just reached week 12 and the nausea is not showing signs of abating. Every night, I hope I wake up in the morning to find the nausea has gone and each morning, I wake up disappointed. Then I look at baby Vader still sleeping beside me, and somewhere within, I know it's worth it, even though every inch of my body screams for the nausea to stop. 

As I'm writing this, my tummy's churning and my dinner's rising up my throat again...... somehow staring at the screen gives me a splitting headache....  just leaving a recent picture of baby Vader.

Pure bliss

I've found my iphone :) thanks to Uncle Rahman (who is back to driving Baby Elephant and I in the mornings!!)

I'm fighting extreme exhaustion as I work, but can't resist putting up this picture. Why do I love watching him sleep? I cannot answer that and I cannot help myself.

Lost

Loss of concentration

Loss of motivation

Lost the need for caffeine

Lost my pictures with baby Elephant and Vader

Lost my camera (the one that i actually do bring around)

Lost my music

Lost my phone contacts

Lost my schedules

Lost my budgeting tool

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Lost my iphone.

You know you're turning into an auntie when....

Just this week, I found myself actually googling for cleaning tips and for baby-safe ant-killers. I didn't chance upon the sites because they advertised somewhere and I clicked on them. I actively searched for them:)

One site I like is http://cleaning.tips.net/ , and I've subscribed to their free weekly email newsletter with tips on cleaning. Tips on getting rid of stains, whitening white clothes naturally (i.e. without chemicals), tips for the different rooms in the house :) It's just exciting!!

Love it! Love it! Love it!

Wishing you all the best, Uncle R :)

Every Tues, Wed, Thursday morning, I bring baby Elephant to his Grandma's place. Uncle R picks us up in his taxi. Each of those mornings, I receive an sms around 6.30am that says very simply, "10 min". So I make sure everything's ready by 6.30am, before I receive the sms. Then I bring baby Elephant down 5 min after I receive the sms, because I noticed he is always early and prefer not to keep him waiting, although he says he would prefer that he waits for us than us him.

The journey to Grandma's place takes less than 15 min, but over the course of several months, baby Elephant and I have grown used to and even fond of the routine. The faithful sms, the lively, jive-worthy Tamil songs playing softly as we enter the taxi, the very smooth drive, the stories that Uncle R tells us and his opinions on a variety of subjects.

He would always tell me that young couples need to save up, be content with what they have and to appreciate each stage of baby Elephant's development. He says he doesn't understand why some parents would complain that their child is naughty and constantly moving or jumping around and tugging on things. He once knew a young boy who could not walk, only crawl around the house and rarely spoke. This boy was later diagnosed with an illness and on the hospital bed, they did not know if he would ever recover. He was still as quiet as ever. Uncle R would visit him and just sit and talk to him and hand him his toys. One day, as he was leaving, the boy called out to him, "Uncle R!". Uncle R bounded across the room to hug the the boy. The boy passed away a few days later. I could see Uncle R begin to choke up as he talked about the boy. So to Uncle R, if the child can jump around, we should be thankful.

Uncle R told me about his family, about the sudden passing of his father, his relationships with his siblings, his wife, his three children, how he had been so strict with the eldest but that he misses him terribly because he's studying abroad, his previous company where he been a loyal employee for more than twenty years, until the company stopped operations in Singapore and the list goes on.

He is very passionate about his faith, often stating that prayer is essential, a non-negotiable, because without it, you shouldn't say you are a follower of the faith. He said he never fully learned to read the Koran when he was a young boy, and so as a young adult, in his mid-twenties, he felt a great sense of remorse at the number of years he was not a faithful follower and shame because when he went for prayers in the mosque, he would not understand what was going on. Slowly he learnt how to read the Koran, and made changes to his life so that he could live according to his faith. Since then, every year during the fasting month, he extends his fast by an extra week so as to make amends for the years he had not fasted. He has been doing this for more than twenty years. While we do not share the same faith, there are many things he has taught me about the attitude and posture of a follower of a faith.

This morning, he told me that today will be the last day he will drive this taxi. The main hirer for the taxi had been involved in an unfortunate accident and was in a coma that lasted a couple of months. After he had come out of the coma, he remained home to recover fully. For the past three months, the hirer's brother covered the night shift (as he still continued his day job) while Uncle R drove the day shift, with extended hours so as to help the hirer's brother a little. The main hirer has now fully recovered and will be resuming his full day shift duties. Uncle R showed such joy that his hirer had fully recovered, because it was nothing short of a miracle. Prior to this hirer, Uncle R's previous hirer had to return the taxi because he could not meet the rental charge, even though Uncle R was always faithful in paying for his portion. So Uncle R had to search for another hirer and found the current one.

There was a time gap of slightly more than a month between the first and second hirer. Uncle R had no job during that time, but he told me that he would remember me and would call me when he got another hirer. Honestly, I thought he would forget all about it, because he was under no obligation to help me. But he did call, and resumed picking us up on three mornings every week. This morning, he told me the same thing, that he would call me if he found another hirer and if he was going to continue driving a taxi. He had been recommended for another job, as a security guard. The job location is far away and he would be getting half his current earnings, but the job is not half as exhausting as driving a taxi. The company has not yet given him a firm offer, but he says the likelihood is quite high. If he doesn't get the job, he will most likely search for a new hirer. He views his hirer's notice as a chance to take a well-deserved break and to see where God leads him next. Again, I learn from him here again.

He has always told me he does not like the job of a taxi driver, but he had few career options after being retrenched. Despite this, he does an excellent job daily and never fails to meet his rental charges and still take home more than enough for the family. Even though baby Elephant and I would be delighted to receive his call and the next "10 min" sms from him again, we hope even more, that he will find a job he enjoys and will provide for him and his family. Baby Elephant recognises him and his voice. Once, when Uncle R was on leave and I had to call for a taxi, Baby Elephant stared at the driver for a few minutes then proceeded to ignore him for the rest of the journey. With Uncle R, he sits on my lap and listens, occasionally giving a shout or a chuckle. Uncle R says it may all seem like a dream to Baby Elephant next time. He will vaguely recall a particular person but will not be able to place who he is or where he met him.

All I know is, Baby Elephant never once cried in Uncle R's taxi and we were always ferried safely and briskly to Grandma's house. As a bonus, we learnt many things about life from Uncle R. So for now, we wish him and his family all the very best and maybe our paths will cross again :)

Walking Baby Robot

I've finally gotten his walking down on video. I've got 2 clips actually, both taken on different days and in different places, but he's thrilled in both!

The second video was just taken over the weekend.
I've noticed he's beginning to exert his preferences and his will more strongly now, as if his newfound mobility has made him realise he can choose where he wants to go and what he wants to play with. And choose he will. Once he has set his eyes (and mind too, it seems) on a particular toy, he will scream if anyone tries to pull him away from it. Vader and I are usually easy going about allowing him to explore, but we draw the line at objects we deem dangerous or when he is obviously sleepy but keeps trying to get up to play. The only way to prevent the tantrums is to distract him tactfully and briskly. Too slow and he gets wind of our true motivations and shrieks even louder than if we had just pulled him away without any attempt to distract him.

Despite the obvious inconveniences of now having to deal with a more assertive child and having to run around more now that he is a whole lot more mobile, I find myself strangely pleased. Not just proud of his achievements, but more so, I am relieved that he is beginning to possess some level of independence. Not relieved because I want to be rid of the need to be constantly watching over him the entire day. Contrary to that, I actually love spending entire days with him on the weekends because I am unable to on weekdays. Not that sort of relief, no.

I am relieved because now he can begin to communicate through gestures, a variety of sounds and through his walking, where he wants to go, what he wants to play with, what he is irritated by (by very deftly swiping away our hands, turning away and raising his voice all at once!) and what he loves. As a tiny baby, there was so little he could do to tell us what he didn't like, he could only cry. If there was an itch somewhere on his tiny body, we wouldn't know. Even if we knew it was an itch, we wouldn't know exactly where. He can now scratch the itch himself. He can differentiate between the type of food he likes and those he dislikes, and he can clearly indicate this! He can choose to explore the things around him and he can choose to come back to us for a hug because he knows we're always watching and never more than an arm's length away. He doesn't need to wait for us to find out what he needs, because sometimes it can take an eternity :) It's as if, he now has free will and is beginning to recognise it. This naturally comes with its own set of complications and risks, but I feel he is better off this way. He is becoming his own person, a distinct individual.

Maybe it's because this strikes a chord within me. Why we were created and given free will, even though it risks the possibilty of us self-destructing, and dragging along the entire human population while we're at it. We are given the gift of experiencing life in all its abundance and for that I am thankful. Funny how I this concept never sunk in until baby Elephant came along. Not funny, considering the fool that I am haha :)

Three quarters of the way

Baby Elephant has just turned 10 months! His developments have taken us by surprise. He has been able to stand and balance on his own for almost 2 months now, and has been eager to walk, with assistance of course. Anything stable and within his grasp, our hands, legs and furniture, he uses to pull himself up and to walk.

Just last week, the 17th of September, he took his first 3 steps, unassisted! We were not around, but my mum's helper told us. We've been trying to get it on video, but each time, it happens too fast. By the time the camera is filming, he's overly excited and starts to jump and shriek at his own achievement, and so loses his balance after the 4th step or so. He now looks like a tiny robot walking, it's hilarious.

This was at 9.5 months, at the nearby park. He loves the park!

A few days before his 10th month. He would attempt to take one wobbly step on his own and then reach for us for support

A week after his 10th month, when he realises that he's gotten so stable just holding on to the sheets with one hand, that he can hold on to mummy's scrunchy with the other and attempt to chase mummy!

Whining when Vader tried to wrap his hair in a towel. His drooling has gotten so bad, Vader decided the tiny baby face towels are now insufficient. He took out the adult-sized hand towels! Hand towels, mind you, not face towels! Of course, Baby Elephant dislikes the large towel with a passion. I think he dislikes anything that reminds him of a blanket. When I try to cover his legs with a blanket when he's asleep, he immediately kicks it off. No idea how he does this and still remains asleep.....

It's hilarious how Vader refuses to let Baby Elephant walk around with a bib, because he says it will only send him the message that he can continue drooling. He says we can teach him not to drool so uncontrollably. I really wonder....... hahhaha but since it's not a monumental issue to me, I just let it go and wipe up the drool when I see it. 

Still waiting to catch his walking on video... it eludes me still!!

Hairstylin'

Just for the fun of it, we styled baby Elephant's hair to resemble a nerd's :)

He still seems playful and somewhat docile here, until he realised that Grandma and Mummy were amusing themselves with his new look. He then shot us this dirty look. I was clicking away on my iphone camera, and when I looked back at the pictures, I was so tickled that both Vader and I give the exact same look when we're annoyed with something.

He wanted to be carried out of the chair, because he had finished his meal. This little one doesn't like sitting or lying down. He doesn't even like crawling, he prefers being on two legs. Yet, we were dawdling.... he knew we were aware that he wanted to be carried, his arms were outstretched, both of them. As his annoyance escalated, he let out a shrill shriek, his entire face an expression of his great displeasure!

He had had enough of our nonsense, we had had enough of goofing around with his hair. He was finally liberated from the confines of his chair, and peace returned to the house. I'm just amused by his expressions and insistent behaviour. He may get distracted, but he rarely forgets what he wants or was originally hankering for. Now, I wonder who he gets this from. Hmmm...

Perspectives, standards, generations apart

Following post is a great big rant on my son's caregiving.


Last Thursday was extremely trying for me. Sometimes, in having the best intentions, and trying to ensure the best gets to the child, I end up becoming such a monster. I had a disagreement with my son's day caregiver, about how certain guidelines that Vader and I give need to be followed and not constantly criticised. I've made a list of the criticisms we have had to endure and probably have to continue living with:

1. The food portions we give him are too large, the books are wrong, don't listen to them - this on the back of my son being able to finish his food

2. Our pram is so big - even though she has only seen it in pictures

3. Why the need to take him home almost every night? Leave him here (at the caregiver's home)

4. Our preferred brand of milk bottles and teats are lousy, because they are supposedly expensive - then why in the end are the teats being used, just because she mistook them for another brand of teats?

4. All our bottles are lousy, because they require the cap insert when making a bottle of formula. Another brand supposedly does not need the insert, because you can shake the bottle with the teat and cover on, and no milk will spill out.

5. Breastmilk is not as good as formula, because the milk is so thin, or at least she says that mine is thin

6. We are being overly considerate and stupid because we would allow the helper to keep her passport - even though she declined and said it would be safer if we kept it for her

7. We are stupid because we don't believe in allowing the helper to clean any other house apart from the one that she is employed in

8. We should mind our own business and not offer to bring the helper to church with us on a weekly basis, because we don't even know if she attends church in her own country. When we say bring the helper to church, we mean, she can follow us if she would like to attend, and that she would not need to help us take care of our son. She can then choose to go on her own if she finds her own friends there in the future.

At one point last Thursday morning, my annoyanced reached its peak, and I couldn't stand the fact that if I needed some peace away from the caregiver's home, I would also have to leave my son there. So I took my son home with me to take care of him for that day, since I would be able to work from home. I hate the fact that I have to be the one to seemingly disrupt the peace, just because I feel strongly about certain issues. I told his day caregiver not to raise her voice at me, because I didn't want to quarrel.

Despite last Thursday's disagreement, I have little choice but to leave my son in the caregiver's hands, because I still have to work. The only saving grace is that I know the caregiver loves my son with her life and he loves her in return as well, and that she would never do anything dubious, or at least not consciously.

This is an indulgent post, haha, for Mummy's pleasure. Many times, I catch myself watching baby Elephant sleep, when I am actually around, that is. Here are some snapshots of him snoozing. He used to sleep on his back when he was younger, then on his side while sucking his thumb. Later on, he began nibbling on his frayed, pink star with yellow tips. Nowadays, he beginning to take on stranger positions, like being face down on the bolster in the last two shots. We've begun taking away his star when we can, especially right after a feed, because of late, he's been sucking on it until he wretches. 

Exhausted after a BIG feed at 3 weeks, I certainly felt that way!

 

Taking up as much space as possible

Godma and Godpa would be so proud that he's taken to praying so readily

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Claiming his space right in the middle, much to the annoyance of Vader :)

Tripled

I have not posted any pictures of baby Elephant when he was born. So this morning, as I was watching him sleep, I realised the changes have crept up on me. He's almost tripled in size and his features have taken on a more boy-like quality instead of a small baby's.





Here he is when he was only a day old.







At four weeks


8.5 months, this morning


Vader refers to him as "Young man!" when he calls out to him, rightly anticipated. HAHA!

The Other person's struggle

I've been looking at some pictures posted by a dear friend and her husband. Many of the pictures are of them with their friends' kids or with their own nephews or nieces. Yes, I know the first question is, when will they have their own or are they trying? It is obvious how much they love children and how they are loved in turn by them. If we as observers wonder when they will have a child of their own, imagine the level of anxiety they might possibly be undergoing if they were to keep harping on the fact that they have yet to conceive.

I do not know why some of us are blessed with children relatively quickly after the wedding and others are made to wait a little longer, and then there are others who are unable to conceive naturally. I am always tempted to ask why, but having asked for many years (I ask why about several issues, not only about this particular one), I realise sometimes, the answer doesn't come. In place of this answer, a better path emerges. If I had continued to harp on the losses and the have-nots, I would not have appreciated the better plan that had been laid out for me.

My grouse is with the persistent questioning that couples like my friends have to face. These questions are more often to satisfy curiosity than they are out of geniune concern, despite being done unconsciously. While I am not ashamed to post pictures of my son and talk about him freely, I am also keenly aware of the difficulties other couples might be facing. It is always temptingly convenient to ignore the struggles of others, but because these are people dear to me, it is harder to choose convenience over empathy. Each time they play with baby Elephant or comment about how he's growing well, I wish I could ask about their child, but there is none, YET. It makes me feel utterly useless. Then again, it's not about me, is it?!

You are not a Replacement

I dedicate this post to baby Elephant, although as always, there are always comments from and about others involved.

A few months before baby Elephant was conceived, I was already with child, but that child barely survived seven weeks in the womb. It was the single most painful moment I'd ever encountered, but I know that the child is now in the safest of places and ultimately, it is not my call how our lives pan out. After that episode, we wanted to allow some time for my body and our hearts to recover. We were not 'trying' to conceive, we have never tried because we have never viewed having children as an objective to be achieved. If we are honoured with a child, we will welcome the opportunity gladly. A few months later, I was with child again. This time, it was baby Elephant.

When an acquaintance heard about the previous loss and that I was pregnant again, she said, "well, at least you have a child now." I'm sure this was an attempt at getting me to forget the previous child and to focus on the one inside me then. While I was annoyed at this, I never replied, because I knew she couldn't have known any better. It is still a bloody stupid comment nonetheless. How could anyone in the right mind, think that this child could, in any way, replace the previous one? They are different beings althogether. It's like taking you and dropping you in the middle of the ocean to disappear into nothingness and then putting another guy or girl in your place, as a daughter/son/wife/husband..... and expect nothing to have changed.

So, baby Elephant, when you hear about mummy and daddy's previous loss, know that you are not a replacement. You are not digit number 2. You will always exist as if you were the only child we had. Even if you happen to have siblings in future, it will not take away from the love we have for you. Granted, there will be less time for everyone, mummy and daddy included, but the intensity of the love will be multiplied. We will give everything we have to try to make sure this is the type of household where love binds us together.

At this point, I keep hearing dissenting voices saying, "Love doesn't feed you, can't clothe you or give you an education." Yes these voices will always exist, both in and out of my head, but as long as Vader and I know we are not living from hand to mouth, we will continue to fight to create this world for the family. To these voices I say," You live your dreams of having that penthouse condo and we will live ours of having so, so much more."

My reality

My blog needs more pictures, I was complaining to Vader the other day. Not because I need them to decorate the blog or to capture the memories for myself, but because I think, many times, they can better communicate the experience at any one time than words. Because either Vader or I am behind the camera, maybe baby Elephant will one day understand why we take certain pictures of him, and what emotions we wished to capture and freeze in time. Perhaps these pictures will help him catch glimpses of our reality with him when he is still not fully aware of his.

Here are some pictures of baby Elephant in action.

I finally figured out how to reposition my pictures, very rudimentary stuff I know... but I was puzzled by it hahhahhahaha.......

I was catching up with a friend the other day, and her daughter came to join us for dessert after school. She reached out to caress her daughter's cheek and hair, but of course, her daughter responded by backing away and brushing away her hand. Humoured, I commented that I used to do the exact same thing when my mum tried to touch my hair or cheek. Her daughter smiled in agreement, like she felt I understood why she backed away. What I failed to add, was that now that I have a son, I understood why mothers instinctively reach out to touch their children. I find myself constantly touching baby Elephant's hair, cheeks, kissing his head and eyes when he's asleep. I think to mothers, our children will always be miracles of creation. For me, I know baby Elephant is a gift that I've been honoured with and that I don't deserve. So I reach out to touch him to convince myself that he is real, that it is not a gift I hope for or that I'm dreaming about. When I put my face to his head and inhale his sweaty baby smell, my eyes close unconsciously as I let myself be overtaken by his presence. Then his legs give hulk-like kicks against my arm, and he shrieks into my ear to be hugged or carried, and I know. I know this is as real as it gets. As quickly as my child sends me into a giddy fantasy about how sweet babies are, he also drags me back to reality at breakneck speed, when he bounces nonstop, reaches out for everything in sight to play with or for the next piece of furniture to pull himself up on.

We're always tempted to say, baby Elephant got this certain trait from me, or from Vader. Well, I'd like to pretend I can speak up for baby Elephant now and say that while he's certainly inherited our genes, he is still, a hundred percent himself. That is the reality I would like him to live out, that he needs to discover his own dreams, his own mission in life and live it.

Convergence at Six Degrees

The funniest thing happened when I decided to sit in a favourite coffee-joint this morning to surf, plan and write. As I was writing the previous entry, the store manager came up and asked if I would like to sit in on a book promo session. I had seen the book earlier at the counter and was initially attracted to it, but told myself I had come to complete some work and would look at the book after I had accomplished my task for the day. So as luck would have it, the manager came up to me with the invitation and I couldn't turn it down. This book is of course Six Degrees of Expatriation by Maida Pineda.

I hope I don't get into trouble writing about my encounter here, but it made an impression deep enough for me to want to blog about it. The author, Maida, is like a breath of fresh air. Contrary to my very ignorant impression of writers, she wasn't loud and intimidating (don't ask where I got this impression from, I probably just conjured it up from nothing). Instead, she was open and polite, always smiling and for want of better words, amazingly sweet. She shared with us a snippet of the book, about her experience when her honeymoon period in Singapore had come to an end, and when she experienced a fall, both literally and figuratively.

What touched me was her curiosity and and her desire to learn more about our culture, while remaining non-judgemental. I asked her if there was anything that struck her about Singaporeans and she quipped eagerly, "you mean something positive?". I replied that it doesn't matter, just that I wanted to know how an Expat viewed us, and was prepared to receive an honest opinion. She commented that Singaporeans are all hardworking and concerned about getting ahead. I enquired if that meant that we were caught up in consumerism, and she apologized and said, yes. She almost looked sorry that she had to admit it, but I on the other hand, was happy and surprised, that her views echoed mine. She said that the prevalence of consumerism was sad, but that as long as we knew who we were, then we could pay more attention to our spiritual selves and work on it. Rightly said, I see it as a constructive comment instead of a criticism of our identities and our goals.

It was a fulfilling morning, to see that someone supposedly sitting outside the fence of our culture had views that converged with mine. Of course, these are general comments in a casual conversation and do not in anyway characterise the entire Singaporean community (this disclaimer is here for fear of the backlash I'll get when my comments get distorted to something like "Singaporeans are empty or have not emotional core or shape"). There were other things that we chatted about that made me feel I wouldn't mind talking to her again. Just in case I don't get the chance to meet her again, I'd just like to say a warm welcome to her, to come be part of our eclectic culture.

Letters to Nowhere

I miss writing letters, old fashioned letters where you actually sit down and think about the other person you're writing to. Yes, modern technology allows us to update each other on our whereabouts, vent our frustrations, share our joy almost instantaneously. Almost at the exact moment we encounter something that intrigues us, our friends get to know about it via sms/facebook. It announces what we are, who we are at that moment to a wide audience. I feel, still, it lacks a certain depth and intimacy.


I used to have a penpal a long time ago, when I was just a little girl. I think she was a girl of my age from Germany. Our teacher managed to get us matched to penpals to write to, and then it was up to us to keep the writing relationship going. It was such a long time ago that I can only recall that she sounded so bubbly even in her letters. Her letters arrived in nice colourful envelopes and she had neat, rounded cursive handwriting. I on the other hand, never mastered writing in cursive, so it was always individual, blockish letters, not much different from my current handwriting. I made up for it by writing to her on my best paper, the prettiest designs that I always struggled to use, because all I wanted to do was keep them on my shelf, unused, and stare at them forever. But I would use it anyway, because strangely, writing on it was as pleasurable as staring at it, and I knew I would get bored soon enough anyway. This relationship was shortlived however, barely a year, if my memory doesn't fail me too terribly. I don't remember who stopped writing and why I never sent another letter to continue the relationship.



The second person I used to write to and with, was a very dear friend, let's call him/her T. This time round, we never bothered with nice paper or handwriting. T obviously knew of and shared my love of writing letters, so T bought us a shared journal. When T and I weren't spending time together, we would write to each other in this journal. I would write an entry, and pass T the journal the next time we met, then T would read it and respond. So the journal was passed back and forth, and constantly accompanied one of us each time we left the house. Its entries were read in the silence of our own bedrooms, on solitary bus rides, read and reread, savoured slowly and responded to and then past entries reread again. What thoughts passed through the journal? Everything that mattered to us. Raw emotions were laid bare on its pages, our joys, fears, insecurities, frustrations, at life, at each other. There was little or no inhibition as we talked about our past, present and future together, although I was always apprehensive about broaching the topic of the future.



This writing relationship lasted longer than the previous one with my penpal. The writing lasted 3 years, the relationship longer. The writing stopped when I couldn't meet the next milestone in the friendship and put up barriers to entry. And so the journal became unwanted property, because it held memories we no longer wanted to keep, and yet could not bare to destroy / discard it with our bare hands. I kept it in a shoebox and stuffed it in the corner of my wardrobe, together with other random letters written on cocktail napkins or torn out notebook pages when we didn't have the journal, but wanted to write to each other. Then one day, several years after the writing stopped, I knew I had begun to use the journal as a psychological crutch. Each time I wanted to retreat from the world, I would take it out to read, and pretend time had stopped and I had become Alice in Wonderland again. The memories shackled me to the past and crippled me so I never wanted to move forward. The moment I realised this, I knew I had to get rid of the journal, so I did, nice and clean. Not forgotten, but no longer attached, and I felt like I could run again and let the sun into my life, instead of hiding within the confines of my closet.

Now, I write letters to nowhere, to no audience, or perhaps to an open audience. Like a cruise to nowhere, there is no intended destination, but we enjoy the journey anyway, and we do find ourselves at certain endpoints, and it takes us by surprise and is all the more fulfilling. Sometimes I write stuff on impulse and when Vader reads them, I wish he would respond in kind, but I realise, I no longer need a response all the time, I no longer need to hang off every word in the response, when there is one, that is.

Who's Opinion counts?

When we become mothers, all of a sudden, everyone seems to have an opinion on what a good mother is. Many of these opinions irk me, not because they are ill intentioned (people are mostly well intentioned actually, when they voice such opinions), but because they seem to think that because a certain method was used before by another mother, then it would work for the next one. Did anyone have the sense to check with the mother if the method continued working ten /twenty/ fifty years down the line? Can anyone be sure they have a guaranteed foolproof method regardless of the individuality of the child? Or maybe, as some of the older folks would say, "All babies the same lah, will work one lah..." yada yada yada... Yes, I sound ungrateful and unneccessarily critical of people who care, so sue me.... I never said I disliked the people, or their concern for that matter, it was the opinions that annoyed me.


Here is a list of opinions on what a good mother should be:

1. should continue working until the child is in primary school to ensure a steady stream of income and also because prior to primary school, children are merely babies who eat, sleep and play
2. should ensure that the work she does is high paying, because it would be irresponsible to bring a child into this world and only be able to provide him the basics (time and love do not count even as basics apparently)
3. must breastfeed until the child is 12 months. Any shorter and the mother is lazy and does not love her child enough
4. should send her child to enrichment classes from 6 months onwards so the child doesn't fall behind when he starts going to school
5. should send the child to some famous nursery/play school because only then will the child develop well
6. must be prepared to move to the area where there is a good school to send the child
7. must strongly encourage (i.e. give the child no other option) the child to become a doctor, because only doctors are smart and are worthwhile human beings. The rest of the population makes up the scum of the earth, that's why pollution is on the rise.
8. must enforce filial piety by ensuring the child gives me money in future

I'm glad I made the list above, because now rereading it, it makes me chuckle. I know the people who voiced the above opinions, and most of them are really sweet people who meant the very best for me, and they each have gone through their own set of challenges and each have grown up with a slightly different belief system, that led to them thinking this way. The list merely isolates the opinions and has taken them out of context, so they sound ridiculous. But I wouldn't be surprised if there are several people who would readily take the above list as serious should-dos when they have their own kids.

So who's opinion matters? Beats me, but I sure as hell know one thing. Observe your child before intervening, talk to your husband about what matters to the two of you, because it should always be a family decision, not an individual one. That's my take, at least. Does my opinion count to others? Doesn't bother me as much nowadays and I am happy.

Shedding

For the past 22 months, I have put on a cloak every single day, on weekdays. Each day, the cloak got thicker, tougher and more fitting, so tight it almost seemed to melt into my own skin. Each Friday, it got harder to remove the cloak. With each passing week, when removed, the cloak seemed to leave stains on my skin, until I realised that my entire body was covered in a layer of the cloak. I was covered in anger, fear and resentment. This was the fabric that was the cloak.

Yesterday, I removed this cloak and forcibly scrubbed off any remnants that had crept into my skin. I no longer have to ask why incompetence is rewarded and guarded in certain people and not in others. I no longer have to be the obedient sheep, who while is resentful of the fact that she has to pick up on stuff carelessly (or perhaps intentionally) left undone, still does it and ensures it is done well and efficiently. I no longer have to sit in silence and resist the urge to hurl my chair across the room. I can finally enjoy peace within and without.

Father's Day

What this picture means to me.

Today is Father's day and while I've always thought the world of Lord Vader as a both a husband and a father, I've never found the words to express it. I bought him a book when baby elephant was 5 weeks old, about him being the best Dad in the world and I've always felt blessed when I talk about how he helps in taking care of baby elephant, but I always felt like I wasn't expressing what or how I felt fully. Then last night, as I was watching baby elephant sleep, I realised how I knew Vader was the greatest dad in the world. The one defining moment, was when I saw this picture taken by Vader. Vader was sitting in the living room with baby elephant after having fed him. He was talking to him and playing with him and all was silent in the house.

I was in the bedroom weeping like a deranged woman. I wept every single day after baby elephant was born. Until this moment, I'm still not sure if I was suffering from a genuine case of post natal depression or if was just a bad adjustment period for me. I constantly felt inadequate as a mother because I wasn't proficient at diaper changing, bathing, producing enough breastmilk, calming and putting my child to sleep. I constantly read about how mothers bond readily with their baby and start emanating warmth and are filled with joy when they look at their newborn child. My experience couldn't have been further from this. I constanlty swung from feeling like I had not done enough to love my child to wishing that I had not had baby elephant, even to suggesting to Vader that the three of us might be better off if we gave him up for adoption. I couldn't seem to calm him down without offering him the breast, but I also didn't want to encourage him to use the breast as a pacifier. I was constantly at a loss and I'm sure baby elephant could feel how jittery I was.

Then Vader showed me the picture of him smiling. Some may say it's gas, or a reflex, but to me at that moment, it meant he could be calm and happy in this house, with us. Because I was not around when he smiled, it meant he felt safe enough in Vader's arms to smile and later proceed to fall asleep. It was to me, an expression of Vader's love as a father. How did I know Vader was a great dad? I saw it in my son's face.

Growing an Elephant

My hubby, Lord Vader, and I were having a discussion about work and the role it plays in our lives. We both agree that we should carry our values into the work place, so that the work we do reflects who we are and can also function to impart lessons and even be an expression of our love for those we hold close to our hearts. This means it is inadequate to work merely for financial sustenance.

He asked, "What do I want my son to learn while he's growing up?". This simple question is the impetus for me to decide how and what I want my life to be like because it now has bearing on a growing child. My relationship with Lord Vader, the work I do, how I work and how I treat others will affect how baby elephant perceives the world. This doesn't mean we are going all out to present a perfect picture of ourselves to baby elephant. He also has to realise that we are individuals with eccentricities and I think it would benefit him to see how we struggle at times to come to certain decisions. With this, I begin documenting our growth. As individuals, as a family, as elephants.