Tuesday, September 29, 2009

Acid Reflux

I'm starting to chat with Fetus2, like I did with D. While I drive, before I sleep, when I'm doing number2, just whenever I feel like it.
I like to build the connection early, like you know, feel 'connected' but I think it's still early as I don't really feel anything yet. I am anxious to feel the kicks and movements, I miss them so much! It is amazing to feel a life inside.

So the pregnancy woes goes on. First the nausea and zombiness, then the acid reflux and now the nose block and nosebleed galore. Nature is preparing me for disturbed sleep nights. Thank you very much.

Back to acid reflux. It is a horrible symptom from hell. Air keeps coming up my esophagus and I had to belch myself or induce puke to expel the trapped air in my throat ALL DAY LONG. Swallowing triggers vomit sensation so I couldn't just eat and eat whenever I wanted. And oh yes, excess saliva ALL DAY LONG. Saliva is alkaline and it's the body's way to neutralize the acidity of the stomach. So I was a spitting queen as well. Spit, belch, puke air, spit, belch, puke air. Rinse and repeat.

I learnt a lesson. I drank primarily bottled green tea, chrysanthemum tea, jasmine green tea, ribena and LOTS of juices because my mouth rejected water. Those could be the culprit of my gastro reflux. Big mistake. SO, it is important to moderate the intake of such drinks, and also tomatoes/tomato-based food, caffeine, fruits, anything acidic. Got it, mom-to-bes?


Tuesday, September 22, 2009

Nissan Latio

Few months ago, I gave up my faithful 5 year-old black Honda City and took over the champagne gold Nissan Latio from the hubz.

Long story short, inky pinky ponky, father bought a Latio, could no longer afford, son took over, inky pinky ponky.

Now, being quite a car enthusiast, a modern man in his prime would unlikely choose A Nissan Latio, champagne gold in colour. But being a good son, he gave up his beloved old model Camry so he could take over the champagne gold Latio. Problem solved.

But a car enthusiast is a car enthusiast. These folks cannot survive driving a non-trophy car for long. Their image is tarnished. They lose their identity on the road. They lose their voomness. They become depressed. So, after less than a year, the husband's backside itched. He was itching to get a white Accord. He proposed I sell my City and take over the Latio. Being an arts n' craft enthusiast instead, I didn't care. Besides, I was getting a newer car. Right? Who cares if it's champagne gold, right.

Wrong. I'm hormonal and I'm picking on this sucky champagne gold Latio. Ya ya ya, it's got better pick-up power than my City. Lighter steering, great for town driving. But the little things begin to creep up to your face and scratch it.

1. It's champagne gold coloured and I'm starting to feel the uncle-ness. Lin lao peh beh song ah, an tzua an tzua!
2. The seat recliner handle/lever SUCKS big time if you're not a muscular burly big man with STRONG HANDS. It looks and feels like cheapskate plastic. To recline or upright my seat, I have to use BOTH my hands and violently summon every ounce of my strength to pull it A FEW FUCKING TIMES before the seat responds. No, it's not stuck. It's just the way it is designed. Bloody morons.
3. It's a bumpy car. Not so much if you're the one driving it. But if you're the back seat passenger sitting in it from JB to KL, it's enough to send you straight to the porcelain bowl as soon as the car stops.
4. The misc compartment lid slams hard. The spring seems to be an unrefined industrial type. When closing the lid, it SLAMS. And that could wake a baby up.
5. The exterior design itself is NOT better than City. Seriously, ugly.
6. When you start up the engine first thing in the morning or day, it is seriously noise pollution. Sounds like a 30 year old junkyard car.

Did I mention it's champagne gold in colour? Oh well, a car is a car to me. Nothing more nothing less. The hormones hate it.

Tuesday, September 15, 2009

Traffic Police and the Sweet Innocent Lady

This morning, as I cruise slowly through the first traffic light junction, in line with other cars, heading to the JB checkpoint, the Ops Sikap traffic policemen were waiting at the notorious spot. The light was amber the last I saw. I was stopped. License and ID requested.

"Miss, you tak nampak lampu merah?" (You didn't see the red light?)

"Saya nampak lampu kuning" (I saw amber)

"Lampu dah merah la. You lalu saja. Ni kena saman ya" (Light was red already, you went on. This has to be summoned ya)


"Saman ni. Tiga ratus ringgit." (Summon you know, three hundred ringgit)


"You kerja kat Singapore ya" (You work in Singapore?)


"Kerja apa?" (what do you work as?)

"Makmal" (lab)

"Apa?" (What?)




"Apa? Tak dengar la"


"Apa? Makmal?"


"Ni kena saman ni" (I issue you summon ya)


Walks to the front to 'copy' my car plate number.

"Saman 3 ratus ringgit tau. Sebab ni Ops sikap, tak boleh rayu, kena bayar 3 ratus ringgit" (This summon will cost you three hundred ringgit. And because this is Ops sikap, no appeal can be made, have to pay 300 ringgit)

"Ya. Bayar mana?" (Yes. Where do I pay?)

"Mana-mana la boleh. You nak kena saman ni?" (anywhere. you want this summon?)

"Ya, saman la" (Yes, issue me the summon)

"Betul ni, nak kena saman?" (really, you want this summon?)


OK, I did not say that.

"Ya, saman la" (Summon me)


"OK la, I kesian you. I bagi warning. Lain kali jangan buat lagi. I tak saman la" (OK, I pity you. I'll just give you warning. Don't do it again. I'm not issuing you a ticket)


OK, I did not say that.

Tips for possibly squirming your way out from being issued a traffic offense ticket:
1. Look sorry. Look apologetic. Look remorseful.
2. When asked or told about being issued a ticket, accept sincerely. Like you deserve it.
3. Don't explain much. Don't even get friendly and do the chit-chat thingy. Just look like you're in deep thoughts. Wait for the ticket. Getting friendly means you want to haggle the price.
4. Sneeze. Look like you're having a mild cold. Or allergy.
5. Imagine the moment you found out that you lost your job, found out you're pregnant and you don't know who the father is, and that last pair of Manolo black heels you're been eyeing on was just sold during a 70% off Sale. Practice this look when the officer is not watching. He will know because his colleague would've noticed you and he'll probably tell him "Eh, tengok tu, kesian dia merana. Lepaskan je"

Works best if you're a petite lady who looks like you're about puke, like me.

Wednesday, September 09, 2009

How Stock Markets Work

Once upon a time in a place overrun with monkeys, a man appeared and announced to the villagers that he would buy monkeys for $10 each. The villagers, seeing that there were many monkeys around, went out to the forest, and started catching them. The man bought thousands at $10 and as supply started to diminish, they became harder to catch, so the villagers stopped their effort.

The man then announced that he would now pay $20 for each one. This renewed the efforts of the villagers and they started catching monkeys again. But soon the supply diminished even further and they were ever harder to catch, so people started going back to their farms and forgot about monkey catching. The man increased his price to $25 each and the supply of monkeys became so sparse that it was an effort to even see a monkey, much less catch one.

The man now announced that he would buy monkeys for $50! However, since he had to go to the city on some business, his assistant would now buy on his behalf.

While the man was away the assistant told the villagers. ‘Look at all these monkeys in the big cage that the man has bought. I will sell them to you at $35 each and when the man returns from the city, you can sell them to him for $50 each.’

The villagers rounded up all their savings and bought all the monkeys. They never saw the man nor his assistant again and once again there were monkeys everywhere.

That concludes your lesson on how the stock market works.

Tuesday, September 08, 2009


Well, Fetus2 more like it for now...

First trimester woes
1. You name it I got it. Nausea, sleepiness, dizziness, bloating, hyper-salivating, restless leg syndrome and bitchiness.

With D, I was sick for just a short while. Not as sensitive as this time round. Go ahead, gimme the "OHHH!! IT'S GOING TO BE A GIRL!!!!" theory.

2. Is it me or do you tend to get aware of what you see. It's a stage where you can't help but 'fall' to believe a bit of the superstitions, like don't go to the zoo and look at animals. That day I watched Planet of the Apes. And I ter-saw pictures of mutant goat or something with two heads and human deformed face, and I quickly flip the pages. How ah. Invalid fear I know.

3. Been there, done that. Therefore, the worry is doubled this time. I'm not innocent anymore. I KNOW what's going to happen and what CAN happen.

With D, the labour was already taking place and me not realizing it. When I saw the 'show' (blood-tinged mucus discharge is a sign of labour) I called my doc and admitted myself for a day of monitoring. The machine I was strapped onto showed regular strong contractions. But all I felt was just painless 'tightening' of my abdomen. Next morning, I was 3cm dilated. Doctor said "Looks like you're going to have this baby today" I was at 37 weeks. Then, fetal heartbeat rate dropped. He pooped inside. Not a moment to lose! And everything happened so fast after that. I was shaved, given spinal block, wheeled to the OT and all I remember is the shivering. And then there he was. Tiny as a little kitten, red and cautiously alert. He was keeping his eyes open and looked like he was trying to find something. I was in tears. I cooed to him "Hey there... look at you! You ok? I'll see you soon ok?" Then he was whisked off to be observed for 24hours. Then more shivering, and more shivering. And then you get this question of a lifetime. "You nak you punya placenta tak?" Shiver shiver shiver.

In retrospect, anything could've happened, I thought. I'm deeply thankful that everything went alright.

4. "Hmm, how is this baby going to be like" thoughts. You WILL compare.

5. "I can't handle two kids" thoughts.

How could I possibly? I am an only child. I know nuts about sibling rivalry, jealousy, fights and the 2X mess. I had 26 imaginary friends and we all live peacefully! Can I love my kids equally? I don't know. Will my firstborn always be special? Maybe. Will I be able to impartially judge a squabble? I hope so. So many questions, 6 months to go.

Parenthood is not for the faint-hearted.

Friday, September 04, 2009


My 4 yr old started school at BJ Kindeeland since the beginning of this year. So far, I'm very pleased with their syllabus, the teachers and the environment.

The branch he attends is a biiiig custom-built house, with a children's pool (by Asiapools) nestled in a green lush surrounding, next to a small suburb estate. Nice, quiet neighbourhood. Many trees. Fresh air. Fairly safe. Double lane quiet road, easy to park, easy to drop off and pick up the kid. The number of little students is reasonable. A nice warm size I would say. Not too few, not too crowded.

Reasonable ratio of teachers to students as well. The teachers and staff are nice people. They handle the kids intuitively and have their system that seems to work. The head teacher (or is she the vice principal, not sure) handles most of the chaotic situation like screaming or naughty kids. She makes the effort to ensure each child feels safe, secure and happy there. When a child misbehaves, has tantrums or cries uncontrollably, she brings him/her to her office to settle down and have a talk. She's stern yet caring, so the kids listen.

He has about 6 workbooks that he does in school, one or two a day. English Phonics, Chinese, this abacus thingy, Maths and I can't remember the rest. He brings home a Homebook to do at home with me everyday. Just a page a day, usually alphabets, numbers and recently simple addition and subtraction. A routine before his bathtime. I was surprised kids start maths so early these days. I only learnt my alphabets and numbers when I was 5! Why is the world in a rush?

So, he learns amazing stuff at school. He likes his teacher and a couple of his friends in class. He is a well-behaved obedient kid in school, but a monster at home sometimes. Isn't this the norm huh. He spends 3 hours developing his academic and social skills in school, and then goes home to watch too much TV and play with his toys all day. Isn't that the norm too... heh heh heh.

Of all things, I'm most impressed with how the kids are taught to be independent. He puts away his dinner plate after eating. He actually brings his plate and his soup bowl back to the kitchen. Then he brings me and his father a glass of water each. Recently he bathes himself. He showed me what he was taught. From washing his hair down to his toes. He even learnt the correct hygienic hand-washing technique where you scrub the front and back of your palm and in between the fingers and all.
Not bad. He also learns that he must wear his own clothes and not depend on mummy.

So far so good. I am a laidback mom. He is a laidback kid. Laidback father, laidback grandfathers and grandmother. Everybody laidback. Go with the flow hey buddy. So, BJ Kindeeland has been a great help. Kudos for the awesome teachers!!

Wednesday, September 02, 2009

Skinny is As Skinny Does

10 Things
1. Water tastes like shit to me now. I live on juice, diluted Ribena and Sarsi, soup, and chrysanthemum tea.
2. I'm controlling gag reflexes throughout the day. Morning sickness my big smooth ass. It's fucking-wholeday sickness.
3. I'm bloated, I'm not. I'm bloated, I'm not. My new pastime is farting. The silent kind.
4. Fong yao is my new best friend.
5. Can't sleep well.
6. Watching Naked Chef makes me seasick. Been watching the Asian Food Channel. I want to be Nigella and I want her kitchen.
7. I want to watch chick flicks, namely The Proposal (Ryan Reynolds is H O T ).
8. I can multitask like a pro. Procrastinate, slack and stone all at the same time. Woo hoo.
9. I lost weight recently.
10. I cry easily at sad TV scenes now.

Because I'm hormonal and have the right to be, I shall talk a bit on point no.9.

I'm thin. Genetically cursed...no, blessed with this CNPOW gene. Can Never Put On Weight gene.

Why leh? Same reason the Earth is the only habitable planet in the universe. *roll eyes*

SO, I've lived with it. People have been commenting on my weight for the longest time. I used to get sensitive and hurt when I was younger, like a teenager. I was dark, lanky, nerdy and skinny. Just like famous supermodels and A-list actresses when they were younger! Except for Megan Fox, she looks hot throughout her life so far. Bitch.
I tried to prove 'em wrong. But the genes won. So I accepted that I am what I am and I don't give a rat's ass. As long as I'm walkin' and talkin', and havin' a good time.

Here's the real deal. Let's talk about courtesy. Imagine a fat cousin/friend during weddings or new year gatherings or other gatherings or just on the street. You don't say "Wah lao, you so fat!". Even most old aunties won't say it out loud. The most is "Hey, maybe you should lose some weight there". It's like an understood rule of courtesy that you don't say the F word because it is sensitive and it hurts. Same thing if a person is ugly.

When it comes to skinny folks, people are more quick and generous on their comments. They think it's different, like it's not going to hurt as much as being called fat. And usually they sound sympathetic like someone just died. You know, the face. The "Awww... so sad" face. Or the disapproving look. I got that a lot.

Skinny comments are fine actually. Things like "Oh you lost weight la, are you ok?" That's genuine concern. It's alright. Some think I don't eat enough. It's alright too because I know I do and that is what matters. Some say "Husband not feeding you enough ah". It's alright too, because I know he will get me the chocolate cake from Season's anytime I want it. All in all, the skinny comments I got is alright. They're considered mild and harmless until...

...I met the Ultimate Panel of Missile Judge. She is a the wife of the husband's friend. She's the typical fair and chubby prosperous looking lao pan niang. She's friendly, talkative and 'social' like a typical lao pan niang. One day hubz and I dropped by her massage centre because she got her maid to cook us some assam fish curry (OK thank you). This was only the second time we met.

The moment I walked in and until I got out, it really felt like someone just died. She looks at me from head to toe, and shakes her head like I'm a little dying kitten. The wince. Oh yeah... the wince. "AIYO, jiang sou!" Repeat 200x.

She holds my arm and inspects it up and down, occasionally pinching here and there lightly. She does the TSK TSK TSK TSK TSK. She looks constipated. And then I just smile and nod and give her the "I'm so sorry I'm not Lydia Sum" face.

The whole ten minutes. No how-are-you, no eaten-already?, no hello. Just AIYO jiang sou. Like I'm a freak show circus, and you want to make your 2 bucks worth.

Some people can be insensitive or just forgetful about their manners. They don't realize it hurts sometimes. Like fat people being called fat for ten whole minutes and the TSK TSK TSK part. It's..... humiliating, no?

The general belief is that it's easier to gain weight than lose weight. Because majority of population is trying to lose weight at some point of time. That explains 9 out of 10 ads are for slimming. And there so many slimming techniques around. Latest technology summore.

But if you want to gain weight? Sure, you have Gain milk powder and the common "Aiya, just eat more hamburger la". No latest technology. So pathetic genetically skinny people like me are stuck with two choices, which by the way, are not likely to help. So how? Just practise the smile and nod.

I'm not sour about being thin. I'm sour about the encounter with the fat bitch. Anyway, I lost a bit weight for a blessing, so it's fine by me. Tell me how you can eat when you feel like puking your brains out all the time right.