reading old posts

I've had this blog since 2005. Its seen me through the darkest and happiest days and I've always had something to share. Lately, I've had less and less to say. With the gaps in the narrative, I dont know how to continue this story authentically. So I spent an hour today, reading old posts. Warmed by the comments I've received. Smiling at the stuff which used to bug me. Snapshots of my life with the crayolas when they were smaller and when everyday, was a big big adventure in this new thing, called motherhood.

I miss those days.

I miss being vulnerable and at once, more grateful for all the tiny blessings. 

I miss posting with that level of intensity on this insignificant blogspot. 

places we will not go together

I've noticed that older married couples are ok about going on separate holidays. The husband goes overseas for a golfing trip, the wife goes to HK for a shopping trip with her girlfriends.

It comes with years of acknowledging the separateness of one's likes and dislikes and having a comfort level with that, I guess.

Since my fitness has improved and I agreed with my running friend that we would climb Kinabalu after our 10k, I've started to research into mountain climbing and places to go if you are into nature trails. There are so many beautiful untouched places if you are into that sort of thing.

I didn't know if Gary would go with me one day. So I asked. We had never talked about it before.

Me: I'm just asking to find out if there is a possibility of us going on an trekking holiday somewhere, like Nepal. The capital is Kathmandu right? SIA flies there direct.

Gary: .....

Me: If that's too much, how about Malaysia? Taman Negara.

Gary: As to the former, I will not enjoy the smell of horse manure. As to the latter, I do not fancy the idea of being bitten by mosquitoes. To add insult to injury, to pay good money to have to go through that!

LOL. I love it when he speaks his mind.

New Year's Eve

Fish

In an hour, a good friend who is going away for 2 months is bringing her fish to me. Six fish with a bottom feeder. Just because I have kids, people assume I can take care of small creatures (not!). I tell her that I am really bad with fish and that they have very limited life span under my watch. That they will surely die and she must not feel bad or ask for them back. She tells me that its ok, its ok if they die and she will not feel bad. I don't know how this is any better than flushing them down the toilet but the fish will be delivered to me in an hour - the hospice for abandoned fish.

Cat Recollections

Obviously people have faith in my animal rearing ability despite my bad track record. Earlier in the year, my brother brings me his fat cat, Chloe because he is going to the States for 2 weeks for training. He arrives with a large litter box and a pack of dry food and snacks and a tshirt bearing his scent. Chloe runs under my sofa and pisses on his lap when he tries to comfort her. She is soo scared. For the next 2 weeks, Chloe pines for my brother in my house losing weight even though we lay out lots of food for her. I rationalise that the weight loss is healthy for her. 2 weeks passes by too slowly. My brother returns and as I watch her reunite (happy meows and affectionate purrings) and as she piles into the car with my brother...it is as tearjerking as seeing an orphaned child returned to her parents she thought were dead but were not actually.

Clearing out my wardrobe

I end the year with a happy story about my wardrobe. It was a big mess so I tried to organise it into neat piles today. Its funny how your wardrobe can tell you a story about what's happened in your year. I tried on my old pair of Levi's faded jeans which I couldnt fit in at the start of 2008 and due to running, it now fits. For a change I put aside clothes which had become too large instead of too small. I also packed in a neat pile, my new clothes - dri fit tops, running shorts, swimming cap.

That's just a reflection on what's on my mind today and also, I wanted to wish everyone who has been giving me encouraging comments and just being there, a very happy new year.

Postcript Jan 1 - one fish died today.

Mr Andrea Bocelli will you do house call?

Mr Bocelli: And they lived happily ever after.
Elmo: Aw, that was a nice story.
Mr Bocelli: Hey Elmo, time to close your eyes and go to sleep.
Elmo: Aw, Mr Andrea Bocelli does Elmo have to?
Mr Bocelli: Elmo, we had a story, a song, its late and you must be slee-py.
Elmo: Elmo isn't sleepy. Elmo wants some water and another story. Elmo's eyes are open wide awake and Elmo doesn't feel so snory!

first 10k

A strange out of body experience happened over the last 13 weeks. I got abducted by a UFO - the exercise aliens who switched my earthly body (which never went beyond 2.4km) for a new one.

Well, that’s what it feels like confronting the new me, who likes to run! If you had a camera panning how hard I trained the past few weeks, I would not recognize myself....but crossing that 10k finish on 7 December 2008 in that turquoise tank top size L and running shorts revealing my fair and meaty arms and legs, you only had to see in my sweat streaked face, that this was really, one of those moments which makes me want to break out into that theme song from Greatest American Hero.

As I ran, I thought about the female heroes who have lifted me at times when I was down - Jinn, my sister in the US who I am missing this Christmas and Min, my running partner who ran with me throughout this journey even though she's much faster.

My cheerleader and sporting apparel consultant who still looks great in tight jeans, Gary and the crayolas for providing the most compelling reason to get off my ass.

As well as the other sistas who have kept me inspired along the way.

And the plate of char kway teow at the end of the rainbow.

Sing with me!

Look at what's happened to me
I can't believe it myself
Suddenly I'm on top of the world
It should've been somebody else

Believe it or not
I’m walking on air
I never thought I could feel so free eee eee
Flying away on a wing and a prayer
Who could it be?
believe it or not, its just me! – Greatest American Hero

The painter and me

A few months ago I looked up the ads in the paper to find a painter.  I wanted to find a painter who would complete the job quickly, with pride and not cut any corners. Someone I could communicate with directly without having to go through a main contractor.

Poh, as he called himself was the quickest to respond. Within an hour of calling him to make an enquiry he turned up at my doorstep with a book of Nippon paint samples. He looked over 60 but he had the lean and leathery appearance of someone who had spent a lot of time working in the sun. He spoke to me with halting English and I tried to respond with halting Chinese. He told me that he had 17 years of experience, that he would complete the job with his brother and that he would start immediately by tomorrow. He would need an upfront payment to buy the paint and he would go buy it now. I was struck by the directness of his approach and gave him the payment. The next day, he turned up with the canisters of paint and started working. I was pleased that i had found someone so reliable. 

The same evening, I turned up to inspect his work. He was shirtless and I was startled to see that he had tattoos over his back. These were not fashionable tattoos but old style Chinese gang tattoos which were crudely rendered and had turned the colour of jade over the passage of time. I wondered what sort of rough past he had but that was irrelevant now - he was working hard for honest pay. I felt an enormous welling of gratitude, offering to go out and get a packet of dinner for him. He must be hungry, working so long? 

He accepted the offer for food, but stopped painting to say "Ms, I am going to ask you something but you can say no. I have a bungalow job in Katong. I need to pay for scaffolding. Can you advance me more?"

It didnt take me long to say yes. I wanted to support his work. I wanted to help him take on more jobs so I skipped down, got charsiew rice and made a withdrawal from the ATM. I gave him the money and he assured me that he would complete my painting job by the weekend. I told him that I was trusting him and he could not run away. He laughed "If i run away with this small piece of money, I would get knocked by a car, my whole family would get knocked by car".

The next day, I couldn't get Poh on the phone. I rang and rang to check on the progress of the job but there was no answer. Finally at the end of the day, I got him and he said that he was busy working "Very sorry Ms." He arranged to meet me on Saturday at the flat. He said he would discuss paint choices.

The rest of this story, it is painful retelling the details. The unanswered phone calls, the hours he made me wait without turning up, my elevated blood pressure. For someone I moved my trust in, beyond that of a stranger and represented whatever I wanted to see, goodness, honesty, a rugged old man struggling to make a living with his hands - he did a runner on me.  

I went on to finish painting the flat with help from Delwa, my mom's condo gardener, a Bengladeshi who turned up when he said he would and never stated what he wanted...he accepted whatever I paid him whenever. It was Delwa basically who restored my faith.

Did i make a police report? No.

I let it go.  

water bottle

Someone who has lived only slightly more than 1000 days on earth has caught on to one of mommy's unhygenic tricks  - bringing out 1 water bottle for the purpose of delivering water to 2 kids. 

I have no qualms about letting them share a water bottle. After all, its just saliva and it saves me from carrying out 2 water bottles.

Carrying out water bottles I do not enjoy. They leak in your bag if you don't screw the cap tightly  so 2 water bottles enhance the odds of water leakage.  2 bottles weigh more than 1, not bad enough you are carrying wet wipes, their enrichment textbooks and crumbly biscuits which have a tendency to become a collection of crumbs finding their way to corners of the bag.

I brought out 1 bottle on sunday and before Shane went to reading class, I gave him a swig...I never let him bring a bottle of water to class because he doesn't close the cap properly and i can always tell which enrichment bag belongs to my son even if you remove the name tag - it is the one with soggy textbooks and water dripping out of the corners. Like mother like son.

When Shane goes into reading class, I take this time to be with Alix. Routine always is:

1. see the live crabs at supermarket

2. shopping treat of the week - glico pocky or yen yen biscuits

3. one spin on the mechanised helicopter or train

4. go to v hive the furniture shop for free spin on the rotating office chairs

5. go to diy shop to look at strange looking tools

With all this activity, she got thirsty and I offered her water off the spout of the water bottle. It was her pink water bottle, the one she carries to nursery everyday.

Alix: I want water.

Me: Here.

Alix: I smell something.

Me:....

Alix: I smell ko ko shane.

Me: .....

Alix: It is ko ko shane saliva!!!

Her super sensitive nose detected the alien traces of saliva!!! So I started offering ways to placate her.

Me: I can wash it. [using tissue to wipe] see clean already?

Alix: Still smelly.

Me: It is not shane's saliva. It is MOMMY'S SALIVA!

Alix: I don't want mommy's saliva!

This went on and on for about 20 minutes.  I considered letting her go thirsty but water is essential for survival. Factoring the cost of bottle of mineral water, the emotional cost of having her unhappy for the rest of the day and the possible impact of her refusing the saliva stained water bottle the next day in childcare (the place where children fend for themselves), I relented and let her buy another new water bottle.

In the hygiene battle, 3 year old wins:

Alix: 1

Mommy: 0