Little White Dobbes

Jiyann - The Birth Story...

2012-01-04T07:48:00.000-08:00

When it happened, it happened quickly.

Not the most original way to begin a tale, but I'd say sincerely that it's the most apt. Jiyann took all of two hours to arrive and that included everything from the time of the first surge (contraction to most of you) to faffing about at home then driving to the hospital and popping her out. With Dobbes the fussy firstborn son, it was a 24 hour active labour in the hospital peppered with bouts of puking every five minutes and severe exhaustion/dehydration. When fully dilated, it was another 30 minutes before he finally decided he was ready to come out and meet the world.

So this short, easy birth was my karma. And no coincidence that it occurred on 20-11-2011. An occasion blessed by God's perfect timing.

It all began 50 minutes past midnight after Mobbes finished massaging my severely aching buttocks with Ortho-Ease oil. With both pregnancies I experienced terrible nerve pain in the final month and my glutes needed the nightly muscular assuaging. He had just heaved himself off the bed when I felt something shift within me - yes, in more ways than one. It felt like a deliberate settling of some sort, like a thud and then came the wave of sensations.

"Get pen and paper. Or your iPhone. You need to time this," I told Mobbes. "It's been about 20 seconds so far..."

I got out of bed and put on earrings while Mobbes looked for a notebook. He eyed me suspiciously.

"Er, what are you doing?" he asked.

"I'm putting on earrings so I will look nice when people come visit," I said calmly as the surge subsided. Then another one came. After the second one ended, I began packing some make-up items into a bag.

Mobbes, ever-the-predictable: "Why are you packing make-up?"

Me: "I might want to put some on for the photos."

He rolled his eyes and started to make the essential calls to my Dad, our doula Catherine and see that the trundle bag was packed and ready to go. Meanwhile, my surges were coming along swiftly and intensely. I was determined to stay at home for as long as possible, having regretted my first experience of checking into the hospital too early when in labour with Dobbes. I decided to get into the shower as both a comfort measure and to get clean. After all, what if it turned out to be another all night, all day affair?

When Mobbes next came to find me, he found me crouched on the floor under the shower-head, on all fours. I was breathing deeply through the surges as well as trying not to clench my jaw and toes. I was also a bit confused as to whether I was about to give birth or having really bad runs. Tried pooping but no go and didn't want to strain myself on purpose. So I stayed under the shower. Mobbes stood by the bathroom door.

"How long are you gonna stay there," he questioned. I can't remember exactly but he may even have been chewing gum.

"Hmm, leave me alone..." I mumbled, a bit drunkenly. A few more surges came and I tried leaning against the wet walls of the bathroom instead, which helped better. Every time I had a surge, I would call out to Mobbes, "Starting!" and "Finished!" when it ended. Next thing I knew, Mobbes was back in the loo.

He said, "Okay, I think you should get out of there now."

I told him I didn't want to and wanted to stay five minutes more. He said, "you've already been in the shower for half an hour". So I agreed and decided to step out. Then all of a sudden a tremendous surge came and along with it a huge desire to puke my guts out. No, no, no, I thought to myself, anything but the nausea... I can take anything but vomit, especially not at frequent intervals during a long labour. How long is this going to last? Please come quickly, baby... I'll forgive you for being a Scorpio girl if you would only come out QUICK, I prayed.

Having heaved the entire contents of dinner into the porcelain God, I actually felt much better. My head cleared and I managed to put on clothes and make it to the dining room table to have another surge. Then I put on shoes and had another by the door. And another in the corridor on the way to the lift. I didn't realise it then but the waves were only about a minute apart.

In the lift, I experienced such a gigantic surge that I could not help but tense up. And looking back, I'm pretty glad I did, otherwise I would have given birth to Jiyann then and there. I held it together, had another earth-shattering one at the lift door and made it to the car porch where Dad was anxiously waiting.

"Slowly, slowly," he said, trying to be calm. I refused to sit down in the car as I was feeling as if I had a beach ball stuck between my legs (yes, down there). So Dad pushed the front seat all the way forward and I crouched on my knees on the floor, resting my head on Mobbes' camera bag. Dad zoomed off towards NUH at top speed. Later Mobbes told me he was doing 110 on the highway.

Arrived at the A&E and as can be expected a wheelchair rolled up to the car. "No, no, I don't wanna sit..." By this time I was dazed and possibly drooling slightly. Tears were involuntarily sliding down my face. It was not from pain or suffering, it was just the feeling of being so... ripe with transformation and surrender.

They made me sit and while Mobbes quickly handed over our documents at registration, the porter wheeled me crazily into the delivery ward. Each hump on the floor felt like a violation; the guy kept muttering, "sorry, sorry!" every time we went over while I shrank into the chair.

Finally we entered the delivery room. It was a small one; not the spacious den I had before. All the ones with the tub for water birthing were taken. No matter. I told my doula Catherine that I thought I needed to poop.

"I'm just not sure if what I'm feeling is 'that' or the baby!" I said.

"Just go if you feel like clearing your bowels. I'll take a peep and tell you if it's ok," she assured me.

We got into the loo and she peeked between my legs. "All's clear, there is no dilation. Just go ahead and do what you have to."

I sat down on the bowl and relaxed into the sensation. Then immediately I stood up.

"Ok, there is no way this is poop." I said. Catherine hurried over and looked.

"OH! The membrane is bulging! The baby is near; get into the room again."

WHAT? Already? It was barely three minutes since I got wheeled in. I waddled into the room,legs wide apart. Mobbes was there, as well as two nurses who hurriedly rushed in when Catherine told them. Get on the bed, they said, we'll do a pelvic exam.

I gave them the evil eye. I am absolutely NOT going to do that, I told them. Seriously, get on the bed?! Seeing that I wasn't about to take any shit (haha! literally...) they hurriedly rushed at me with some absorbent liners in anticipation of the blood and water that would come.

Catherine said soothingly, "Just lean into Leonard, put your arms around him. You are safe here, go ahead and let baby come..."

I thought, oh my God, this is really it. I breathed and leaned my entire weight onto Mobbes - almost choking him, he told me later - and as the last surge came, gave kind of a low moan, I had to somehow put a sound to it and just LET GO. No struggling no pushing, no puffing. Definitely no medication.

Two seconds later, she came.

Actually, she shot out between my legs like a bullet. I was standing up, leaning slightly forward onto Mobbes who was sitting on an armchair, so she slipped out easily and naturally, right into the waiting hands of one of the delivery nurses. She passed a healthily wailing Baby J to me between my legs, cord still attached to the placenta inside. Mobbes and I switched places, I sat down and had skin to skin time with baby. Less than a minute later, Jiyann started to suckle.

We managed to take some photos after that but there were none during the labour. In fact, there was no labour at the hospital. I had planned candles, different types of oils for different purposes, "rice socks" to act as warm compresses etc. etc. etc. All packed for nothing. All plans foiled by a wee little babe who decided that she wanted to make her grand entrance on the sacred morning of the twentieth day in November, 2011 at 3.02am.

And it was a perfect birth, just like the last one.

Six months in...

2011-08-11T18:01:00.000-07:00

Well, this is a sorry state of a blog! So much for blogging every month, what more every week... still, this you must know, Dobbes: your mommy is NOT a "blogger". Bloggers in the Singapore "blog-o-sphere" blog because they want hair, nail and cheap trashy clothing sponsors. You must know I only go for the good stuff (like fun and meaningful vacations I can take you on).

From what I see, they also take a lot of pictures of themselves (your Adda and I prefer to take pictures of you...)

Like this one. Cos you're a far more interesting subject.

Still, this blog was meant to be a regular source of information for you later on in life, so that you have an idea of what things were like when you were growing up. I'm sorry I'm not half as consistent as the fake Chinese American Google Dad who wrote emails to his kid every time anything both significant and insignificant happened, but know that it is because I am WITH you living and enjoying the moment, not just writing about it.

(Thank God for pizza places with colouring stuff. I can only remember to bring the iPad out for you and only sometimes at that...)

Besides, I only write here when I'm feeling ruminative and (more importantly), when I have some time. So you're not going to get any: "Today we went to Wild Wild Wet and had fun!" kind of posts from me.

**********

Which brings me to the elephant in the room... namely me. I'm almost six months pregnant with your baby sister now but I feel much, much bigger...

See?

When we got the news, Adda and I were a little bit surprised but happy of course. I was actually planning for a Dragon girl, like myself, but this is good too. Having your sister due in November this year means that you would be almost exactly 3 years older than her, which I think is a perfect age gap. Last year you would not have been ready and neither would I; I enjoyed having you all to myself too much and didn't want any other baby in the picture!

I've been explaining you all about having a baby sister since we found out. You have been in equal parts suspicious, mutinous, resigned and now excited to see my tummy ballooning outwards. You would say, "Tummy! I want to touch!" and know that "Adik" is growing safe and warm inside. From time to time, you would suddenly come to me and say, "I love YOU, Mummy..." (emphasis on the "you" to make me feel better) and often when I'm having aches and pains or a bad day.

Other times, you've been developing and changing out of the little round being that you once were. You are elongating and stretching; a little too fast for my comfort although I hardly can stop you from growing up. Adda says your "terrible two's" are upon us and you do seem to test us at every turn: challenging what we say, not being as easygoing as before, demanding your way or the highway.

Not that we let you get away with it.

But you know what? I'm actually thankful for this. You are making us adapt and think and choose. You are turning us into better parents than if you had just been a quiet, docile child who only moves within our comfort zone. With every breakdown, you force us to decide, "ok, how will I handle this? what will I do?" and even though it is hard sometimes, it makes us grow along right with you.

It will be interesting to see you and our fourth cat member play, live and learn together. Exciting times are upon us.

**********

This was the year you started school and it came about quite haphazardly although it has been relatively a smooth take-off. We got a place in Bethesda Kindergarten almost literally a few weeks (or was it days?) before the term actually began and it was a whirlwind of getting uniforms and explaining to you how you would be away from home for a few hours every day.

So far, you've done as well as any other kid in school, but because this blog is all about the real stuff, here's the absolute truth: you don't like school very much.

It is something that I struggle with a bit. When I was young, I always liked school, right up until University and post-graduate studies. I even wish I were still a student now. School for me meant friends and having fun; books, libraries and being good at exams; holidays to look forward to but even more so when they ended.

But you'd rather just be at home with your toys and TV and grandad. And us.

School has also made you physically sicker more often than you've ever been before (which everyone says is a normal thing but I'm not sure if you have something to do with it...)

So I'm trying to accept the main idea (which I think is something all parents will grapple with at some point in time or other): that you are and will be different from me and that's ok. Besides, not liking school now doesn't mean you'll always not like it.

The challenge will be to get you to keep trying out new things beyond your comfort zone because you never know when you'll find something you'll fall in love with.

The best times I've had so far with you is when you discover something so new and fun that you exclaim (in a totally unironic way): "I TOTALLY ROCK!!!"

**********

Meanwhile as a rainbow child, you have been showing on quite a few occasions, your eerie sense of intuition and sensitivity. Like how you suddenly wanted to go over and "play with Nyang Mum now" the night before she passed away. Or the time when you suddenly said, "Uncle Terry, Uncle Terry!" and there were no Mini Coopers around but then on my iPhone, the WiFi showed up a hotspot called "Terry Trading'.

Now how could you have known that?

All parents think that the sun shines out of their kids' bottoms (some more than others) and I wouldn't be a good one to you if I didn't think that you're special in many ways. But the rainbow colours of your spirit are frighteningly palpable to me; when you stare at corners and smile for no reason I can discern and talk as if to fairies and sometimes suddenly kick and scream desperately for awhile in the middle of the night that only whispers of prayer calm you down, as if to remind me to pray too.

This has been a year of deaths and births so far, for me. The Universe has placed in my way many incidents, signs and reminders to stop, think and choose how I want to go on; what I wish to shape and create for myself and our family. It's a new experience and at times it's scary but you must know that you are my greatest strength and comfort when I feel uncertain and vulnerable. As much as you need me, sometimes maybe I need you more...

Round-up

2010-11-19T00:23:00.000-08:00

Wow.

Where did the year go?

How did the minutes, hours, days, nights, weeks and months slip by so quickly?

I would say I did not notice, but it would be a lie. Already you are stronger; you communicate better and as far as I can see, are ready for more than just me, your Dad, Bibik and Grandpa.

You had a great Pirate-themed 2nd birthday and were more interested in the smaller toys scattered around rather than the giant indoor play-scape you and the other little ones had the run of. But when we took you to a similar place a week later, you were as energetic and enthused as anyone could expect.

Who are you?

Not suitable reading...

I’m still getting to know, little stranger.

With you I have learned to adapt and not jump so quickly to conclusions. You are very much your own person and not the kind of child who is weak and easy to coax. You are determined yet affectionate, more inclined to the physical but just as sensitive with little details.

I can only feel my way through the decisions I make on your behalf at this point in time. I read, educate myself and talk to your Dad and our friends for advice but ultimately, I can’t say for certain that I’m doing the right thing. I just trust that there is someone bigger up there, guiding me while you are in my care and looking out for us.

What is next?

Two years has been an adventure: not really a roller-coaster ride but more like being on a massive schooner, sailing under bright blue skies as well as cloudy grey. Sometimes the waves are a bit choppy but mostly it has been a gentle swell in a wide-open sea of cozy days at home and happy travels abroad. Thanks to your Dad (and Canon – Delighting You Always…) we have the images to prove it. :)

I often fantasise about things staying the same yet I know that change is the only constant I can count on. Living in the moment, enjoying your little-baby voice and cuddly form will not last forever. So I remind myself to also look forward to the future, of golden stars and packed lunches, excursions to the zoo and a time when you will probably cherish the company of friends, perhaps even a little more than mine.

It is all part of what I signed up for, after all.

But until then, I won’t wonder too long about where the year has gone. Because I have been here and for as long as I can, you can count on it that I will be.

My Little Vader

Eat, Drink, Mom, Baby

2010-07-06T08:40:00.000-07:00

Dobbes has been feeding himself during dinnertime and sometimes lunch also for slightly more than a month now. He is 19 months old.

Some findings:

1. He eats faster on his own than when we try to feed him. Like 45 minutes faster.

2. He loves food. All of him. Even his hair and clothes.

3. He is very imaginative and picks up on things quickly. After seeing the kompang performance for the first time in his life at a friend's wedding last Sunday, he has started to use his plate to imitate the percussive instrument.

4. He loves penne carbonara. With full-fat cheese.

5. He can eat dinner after eating dinner.

6. They don't make "learning-to-feed-myself" spoons for babies in anything but metal. Why is this so?! My Mum-in-law gave me this spoon, which in terms of shape, is great for him:

I have been trying to find a plastic/rubber version of this. searched in Mothercare, Kiddy Palace, Ikea and many other kiddy sections of department stores to no avail. If anyone has any leads for me I'd appreciate it.

In line with the other aspects of Dobbes' learning and development (playschool, enrichment class, Chinese language skills), we have been bucking up. Somewhat. Mobbes manfully makes it a point to converse only in Chinese to Dobbes (this elicits varied responses ranging from laughter to disbelief and suspicious confusion) while I grab him for a reading session every week and began colouring yesterday (he ate the crayons and I had to dig the pieces out of his mouth with my fingers. I don't know if he swallowed anything but doesn't seem worse for wear).

Dobbes preferences seem to be rambunctious living room soccer (with Mummy, not Daddy), playing camping underneath the comforter and manipulating keropok out of unwitting victims in between mealtimes.

We live in hope and love.

Schools Of Thought

2010-06-09T18:55:00.000-07:00

It is slightly dreaded yet necessary. The time has come to consider putting Dobbes in school.

I write/think of this with a kind of sick feeling that makes me slightly ashamed yet it is true. Not too long ago, I had just given birth to Dobbes, was breastfeeding him and saw him take his first steps. And now it s already time for uniforms, schedules, school??? It seems unbelievable! Before I know it, he'll be in a suit and tie (or hardhat cap and steel-toe boots - I'll love him all the same...) going off to work and forgetting to have breakfast...

Of course I have the choice to keep him at home for another year; school for Dobbes right now is by no means compulsory in the legal nor developmental sense.

Yet, weighing our options, Mobbes and I feel that it is something that would be good for him.

Like it or not, we need to face facts: Dobbes, along with being the sweetest/cutest/nicest smelling baby we know, is also starting to get clingy, suspicious of "small people" and feverishly energetic in the way that the confines of our humble house and the little playground downstairs leaves him wanting.

Also a fact: most if not all the time, when I'm home after work, I'm too tired to really engage him with reading or numbers or any kind of academic-type learning. (I do try pathetically from time to time but I doubt it does him any good...)

Dobbes turns two in November and before you know it he will be of an age to enter Kindergarten. Much as we'd like to keep him small and cute forever, we had to shed our frivolous tendencies and summon up the streak of parental responsibility we didn't know we possessed (maybe it came free in the hospital goodie bag they gave out when Dobbes was born...)

***********

Pre-school is the precursor to Nursery, Kindergarten and then even more dreaded, the P1 registration. I can't even believe I'm even thinking about it at this time, but I really am. And I can't help it! Because considering a pre-school (even with the intention of it being just directed playtime for Dobbes so that he gets to socialise with other kids and have some concept of "school") makes one think of choosing one where he will also be able to continue at for the nursey and Kindy part.

Then there is the question of, gosh, will this kindy prepare him well for elementary school, especially if he is entering the nightmarish local school system?

Spanner in the works.

Okay, okay, I have an idea! How about if we enter him in a good pre-school, one near our home, that has a good mixture of local and expat kids (so he doesn't develop a "katak bawah tempurung/frog in a well" insular mentality) a good environment, and a fun learn-through-play curriculum....

Then for kindergarten we send to to a PAP neighbourhood one! Cos I heard they are really rigorous in their P1 prep!!!!!!!

*warning bells, no sirens, resound*

I am hating what I can become..... the most dreaded of them all..... THE KIASU PARENT!!!!

***********

I have lurked around the kiasuparent.com forum from time to time, of course. I mean, I'm a Singaporean living in Singapore, and the people of the site can really, really be bothered to comment/list/kaypoh/exchange info to the best of their ability. So it is very useful to scan the discussions and pick out what is ... er, useful.

But for some reason, I simply cannot bring myself to participate and register. For the reasons below:

1. I'm really too lazy/busy having a good time with my life/kid to really participate, what is more contribute anything very useful

2. I'm afraid of becoming like them. Even if I am already (ineveitably) kiasu as a parent, birds of a feather flock together. And I'm not just not one of the flock.

3. Do parents really need to be so kiasu? I wonder. Sometimes I'm ready to just throw in the kiasu towel and just let what will be, will be. Draw straws or lots or toss a coin or whatever. As long as I love my kid and stand by him and make sure he knows it, how much can go wrong???

**********

Anyway, shopping is the one thing I will always love. And in a way, shopping for a pre-school is kind of fun! You get to attend trial classes or at least walk around the various kiddy premises to see what goes on.

I'm doing the shopping mostly vicariously through Mobbes as he is the one who is free during the day to check out places while they are in operation.

And even though he is not at all, the shopping type, he has - of his own accord - began rating places on a scale of 1 to 5. Mobbes' Meter for Preschools.

His gradings thus far:

Cherie Hearts Kids Kingdom: 2.8 out of 5
Pros: Walkable distance from the house, super convenient
Cons: "Cheena" environment, very new so not sure about reputation, only 4 kids in the playgroup

Shaws learning center at Mountbatten: 3.2 out of 5
Pros: Good basic play environment, teachers speak well, good mix of local/foreign kids, cute uniform
Cons: Dilapidated dwellings, construction site beside school, not very spacious, teachers a bit "auntie"

Schoolhouse by the Bay: 3.8 out of 5
Pros: Large, beautiful compound, nice outdoor/indoor areas, is like a town for kids! Teachers seem professional and energetic, Chinese native speaker teaching Mandarin
Cons: Mixed reviews on the Internet about school's administration system and curriculum (based on my virtual kaypoh-ing)

Odyssey at Wilkinson Road: 4.2 out of 5
Pros: Wonderful facilities, large outdoor play area, friendly teachers
Cons: Expensive!!!!!

The one below we went to look at together:

Rosemary Hill Montessori at Marina Square: 3.5 out of 5 (my grading)
Pros: Very structured curriculum with good progress report processes in place, near my office
Cons: Small, very small indoor area only and shared between preschool/nursery/kindergarten levels! Shared outdoor area at Mall. Not sure how safe...

So the preschool search continues. Today Mobbes will visit Rosemount and The Little Skoolhouse At-Fidelio. We have five months and counting. Let's see which fit is right...

**********

Almost all the mothers I know (with the exception of one or two) are worried about their kiddy picking up Singlish in school. On some level, I commisserate. After all, for the first six years of my life, I mostly spoke standard English with a smattering of Malay. Singlish was alien to me. English Language was an easy score in school but later on, at Uni and Teacher College, I struggled to explain good grammar and proper pronunciation. I didn't know how to explain grammar rules as I have never been taught them properly. I just knew certain things were correct and others, not.

But back to the issue of Singlish. Is it really someting to be feared? The child will inevitably pick it up, if the family plans to continue living in Singapore. In fact, would it not be worse for your kid to be ostracised as "the loser who don't understand us one" and have no friends?

Of course there are no worries of Singlish usage if he is placed in an international school. At $19,000++ a year, your worry will be elsewhere...

**********

Ultimately, the most kiasu thought of all when it comes to your child and schooling: "Will he do well?"

Left unsaid: the fear that your child will be either the dunce of the class or just stupid, in a class of his own.

Growing up, I was well-acquainted with the parental pressures of doing well in school. My first foray into formal academia only began at age five when I entered school, a Madrasah (Muslim religious school) in nearby Ipoh Lane. I had not attended preschool/nursery/kindergarten but on my first end of year exams, I topped the class.

Okay, granted, being in such a school I was not up against tough competition. No offense to my old primary school classmates (but come on, I'm sure you guys know that it is true, Malay-minah stereotypes notwithstanding).

But the thing is, once I was top, I had to be nothing but top... at least for my Dad. To get second, third or worst, 10th in class is a cause for punishment, long lectures and my favourite storybooks taken away.

The teachers didn't help much either. I remember Ustazahs (untrained Malay-Muslim female teachers coaching English, Math and Science, oh my!) who laughed at me and said I was talkative. Ok, maybe I was, but I was only trying to help them out by pointing out the mistakes they made in class.

Was I incorrigible? Maybe. Stupid? Well, I have a whole life to find that out.

The lesson as a parent? Being aware, remembering my own childhood and think about what I'd like to do differently (or for that matter similarly) for Dobbes.

And when all is said and done, it's really all about letting him go. Stupid or clever, I'll let him make his own mistakes. And love him anyway.

If only there is a school who can teach us that.

When Bibik's away...

2010-04-21T20:10:00.000-07:00

I've always thought that a mother's toughest challenge this day and age is not to lose touch with her child growing up. Working a full-time job, no matter how hands-on I try to be, ultimately I miss out on something while I am away at work.

Then there is that challenge of staying engaged with him after a day's work, when I honestly just feel like zoning out and doing nothing more invigorating than stare at the ceiling.

But there is simply nothing more enlightening than spending a full day at home with your little one. And I mean, no distractions, no going out on playdates or walking around in a mall with baby sleeping in the stroller.

What I am reminded of time and time again is what a humbling experience it is to be a Mom. Because you are in the presence of someone who is discovering things at a rate beyond what you can now ever hope to achieve yourself.

That is the most powerful thing I learn from you Dobbes, that I only get to experience when I am present with you, not away at or tired from work. Otherwise, I just take for granted that, of course you will learn new things and say new words, after all you're growing up aren't you?

But to be there as witness to your acts of discovery makes me want to learn along with you, and be better myself at being open and seeking.

**********

Dobbes reaches out furiously as usual to grab his sippy cup, just beyond reach.

"Uhhh, Unnnnghhhh!!!!" are his usual methods of making demands. It doesn't matter what he is asking for.

"Dobbes, if you want a drink of water, please ask for it," I said carelessly.

Dobbes gave me a look, then wailed, "Waaaaa-teeeerrrrr! Waaaaaa-teeeeerrrr!!!!"

Now, whenever we say "water" he will chime in loudly as well.

"WAAAAA-TTTTTEEEEEERRRRRR!"

**********

Not having been acquainted closely with Dobbes' routine during the day, it amazed me to know that he will reach for the bidet as I take off his diapers in the bathroom to clean him.

He will also race ahead of me into the room and position himself on the bed to receive his bottle of milk when it's "my milk" time. Once done, he will give me the bottle, burp, flop over on his front and go to sleep.

Bibik being away has not really hit him very hard. He does not miss her especially, although once or twice he looked a little confused, as if he had misplaced something very important. But he has not gone moody or off his food.

Instead, he seems to relish having his parents attentively around him 24/7.

**********

Mobbes is clearing leave and at the same time taking on stay-at-home-Dad duties since I'm at work the whole day.

I think he's already lost a little bit of weight, cooking Dobbes food, cleaning the house and most of all through chasing Dobbes around the apartment.

The boys have a nice time with the women away from the house. They burp, dig their noses and read comics in peace, both lying down on their stomachs on the bedroom floor: Mobbes with his Marvel characters and Dobbes with his new flipbooks on Things That Move.

**********

Dobbesian Vignettes...

2010-04-01T19:07:00.000-07:00

The baby babble has given way to caveman-like grunts (in a cute, high-pitched voice however), demanding and purposeful.

"Hnnnggh!" + pointing finger = "Give me my drinking cup/nearby toy/bird outside the window!"

On another front, words are flowing liberally out his mouth. Repetitively, but still considered speech.

New words:

"Hot!"
"Don't!"
"Touch!"
(see a pattern?)

"Nose"
"Mouth"

"My milk!"
"Mammmmmma?! Mammmmmmma?!"

(said angrily when I'm not home yet...)

More often than not, the most demanding thing of all is when he gestures for Mobbes and me to get close together, with him in the middle (carried by either of us). The he will put his chubby arms around each of our shoulders and just be happy.

************

Dobbes hair has a life of its own. It is a far cry from the days when he had a bald patch on the back of his head and a few comb-over like strands across his brow.

Now he has a full head of hair which I let grow long, because it suits him. Now he looks like a little Beatle.

Of course it also means that the mop of heavy fringe always gets in his eyes and during sleep he is forever scratching at his face, waking up with cuts. His fingernails grow at a vampire-like rate too.

Sue's solution is simple and cute. But it will definitely not stop strangers from remarking what a cute "girl" Dobbes is....

What Dobbes is doing these days...

2010-02-09T19:33:00.000-08:00

When you turned a year old, I fussed and worried that you weren't saying any words and did not seem as if you could pay attention to anything we tried to communicate to you.

"It's amazing that he can't, he looks so smart," I did think quietly to myself. I admit now, sheepishly: I had become one of those parents. Yes, the kiasu kind.

I sms-ed Pris and asked her: "How is Faith doing? Is she jumping yet? Can she talk or at least say a few words?"

She could. And I was benchmarking you against her.

But I'm being honest: as your Mom, I do worry. Not a lot, but these things do get to me and make me a little bit anxious. Theoretically I know all the right things: every baby is different, every child develops in unsimilar ways. But I can't help wondering when you would show your gifts.

And it would be wrong of me to put undue pressure on you. Because, you are you, no matter what and no one, least of all me, should expect otherwise.

A short month later, you showed me how silly I was to be so anxious.

You had already (since before aged one year) babbled "Mama" and "Dada" indiscriminately, but suddenly the same sounds seemed to hold a meaning for you. You started to call us and give reference to the words.

The you pointed into the sky and said, "Bird".

(Okay, you don't actually say it like that. It's more like, "mmbuhd, mbuhd..." but we know what you mean.)

You show off your billingual ability and can say "bohbok" (sleep) and "pa-pung" (bathe), words in the Javanese language.

You also say "my milk!" when it's time for your bottle and "mam mam" when it's time for meals.

You know that "hidung" means nose and "mata genit" would have you winking your eyes.

And yesterday when we showed you how to greet your relatives for Chinese New Year, you put your chubby hands together and bounce them vigorously.

You can jump, climb up and down, run like the wind and dance to music.

All the while, your chubby-cheeked smile never falters and never fails to make my day.

So once, again, thank you for letting us teach you and teaching me an even bigger lesson in return: that of having patience & faith in the one you love.

"You're Keyaan, right?"

2010-01-20T21:29:00.000-08:00

Yesterday, your Atuk and Bibik and I were at NUH for my annual check up with Dr Chong (just to make sure all the plumbing is in good working order ...) and he asked me if I was planning for another baby this year.

"Yes, but we're not planning," I told him.

He raised his eyebrows. "Well, that's good of course," he said. "I thought the first labour might have put you off for a while."

"No, why would it?"

"Well, it was pretty long."

It was a 24 hour labour, but I had only decided to check in at that point in time because I was up-chucking my guts every 20 minutes. And no one had pre-empted me on that being a normal part of labour.

"There have been longer labours by others," I shrugged. Doc agreed. "Besides, I was glad that I waited it out and didn't do anything in a hurry. Because of that I got the natural birth I wanted. I would say, all in all, it was a pretty great experience, giving birth!"

And it was. Being back at NUH, even if for a routine check-up, reminded me of the earliest days of you being in my life. Without a doubt, the day you were born and the hours that followed were the happiest times that Mobbes and I have spent together, the "high" of which was incomparable to anything else.

Apparently, you and someone else remembered something of those days too.

When I completed the check-up, I went out to the lobby to look for you guys. You were running around, being chased by Bibik and Atuk was taking a break, texting someone on his iPhone.

"The funniest thing happened just now," remarked Atuk to me as he put away his mobile. "Keyaan was tired out from running around and was sitting quietly beside me on the sofa. Then two nurses appeared in front of us, talking to each other. Keyaan just kept staring and frowning at one of the ladies!"

"And then?" I asked, wondering where all this was going.

"The nurse who was talking actually stopped when she realised Keyaan was staring at her. Then she turned to him and said, "This baby is just staring at me! I think I know who he is. Lemme, guess, his name is "Keyaan", right?" I was so shocked!"

So was I. "What?! Who is she?"

Atuk said the nurse also remembered that Keyaan's mother's name was "Ana" and apparently, he was one of the babies under her care when he was born there, more than A YEAR ago!

"And Keyaan would just not stop staring at her. Like he remembered exactly who she was as well!"

I don't know if this nurse recognises all of the babies she has helped deliver and remembers all of their names and the names of their mothers. But I'm sure not surprised that you were special enough for her to remember you, Dobbes.

And I guess you must have remembered something about that special time too. :)

Well Come 2010

2010-01-04T19:27:00.000-08:00

Dear Little Dobbes,

Yes, it has indeed been a while since this Mummy penned down the things that Little White Dobbes has been up to. And bearing in mind that all this is for Dobbes, I have been awfully remiss in my diary duties.

I promise you, Dobbes that in 2010, you will have at least one update a week. *cross my heart*

Now that that's been declared, there's no way out of it for me!

What have you and we been up to so far? So many adventures, new joys and learnings.

We have taken to bringing you out for frequent walks in the grounds of our lovely little new estate. At 13 months, you are romping and running and have proven yourself to be a strong, active little tot; always climbing up and down steep stairs – all by yourself too! – and slopes are now your new best friend. Perhaps the most inspiring thing you have shown Mummy is how swiftly you always get up after falling down, without wasting time on tears or looking back. If there is anything that I hope will remain with you as age takes over, is this same sense of perseverance and willingness, never to let mishaps or difficulties confound you when the only thing that is important is the next step you take.

You now need three or four baths and showers a day because you sweat so much, your preference is always for the physical. You are still refusing to talk properly, although you babble constantly and I know you understand every word I say. When I reprimand you for violent play or your stubborn little ways, the depth of emotion in your eyes tell me that you are processing, acclimatizing yourself to my tone of voice and different ways of being. I only wish that I could be good enough to show you and guide you in being a good person, and a truly confident individual without breaking your spirit or interfering in your process of discovery.

Being with you now has come into a new phase of learning and commitment. The more you are able to do for yourself, the more I grapple with my responsibilities and abilities as a parent and I question myself. Although love comes naturally, good parenting doesn’t. I just want you to know now and forever that although I may not have all the answers, you should never feel afraid to come to me with your questions, your thoughts and your fears. Because even though we will both make mistakes, I know nothing can change how I feel about you.

So go on walking, go as far as you can, get up when you fall and then keep going. I may not always walk by your side and there will be a time where you will outrun me and have to leave me behind. But until then, I promise that I will be there to comfort you when the road is tough and you can count on me to be your biggest cheerleader.

Love,

Mum

Things have come to a pretty present

2009-11-22T12:35:00.000-08:00

"You're such a big boy for just a 1-year old!" gushed nurse Charlottle when we brought Dobbes down to Prof Lee's clinic on Sunday. He was to have his MMR vaccination then.

Dobbes tramped around the clinic in his huge, white Adidas Superstars and grabbed everything in sight - from important-looking documents on the desk to tiny bits of dust on the floor - with his quick little fingers.

"No, baby!" seems to be a constant refrain of mine these days, as I leap to snatch away whatever his cunning fingers have managed to get at and then freakishly wipe his hands clean or if a sink is handy, submit them for a wash.

He has four little pearly whites in his mouth now and knows how to use them. Everything goes right in and his favourite teethers are my Blackberry holder and Mobbes handphone, both definitely crawling with a magillion germs.

Not that Dobbes has shown any ill-effects from gnawing at them whenever he has the chance. And part of me has accepted that I can't keep saying "no" to him and that efforts to constantly sterilise his movable parts are futile. More than that, I simply cannot repress his natural instinct of simply wanting to grow and discover.

"He is very robust. What kind of formula is he on now?" asked Prof Lee, the Paed who is also a Clinical Paediatric Immunologist/Allergist at Mount E.

"Just breastmilk and lots of food," I said, a little embarrassed thinking about the way Dobbes gobbles up a large bowl of potatoes, rice and vegetables at each meal. "Oh and by the way, he was born with a right aortic arch. I didn't get a chance to tell you that before."

Both the doctor and nurse were silent for a while as they examined him. Dobbes gazed back at them with his enormous eyes, a dancing smile on his lips. Who knows what naughtiness he was plotting behind all that baby charm?

In a second, he reached out for the nearest toy on the table and threw it resolutely on the floor. I jumped but the doctor chuckled benignly.

"Wow, what fast fingers you have! You're so expressive, aren't you, handsome boy?" she said to him.

It took me only a second to realise that she probably says kind things to all babies in order to soothe and prepare them for the discomfort that was to come but it was little a while longer that I knew as his mother, I could be just as tolerant and calm with him. For now, Dobbes days of being quiet when content, helpless on his back and merely watchful are long over. Now he's walking around with tremendous speed, experimenting with different taste textures and flavours and screeching at the top of his voice when especially delighted.

And who am I to say he shouldn't?

"I wouldn't worry too much about him," said the doctor, referring to his heart anomaly. "He doesn't in any way look like anything but a happy, healthy child."

Words that would comfort any mother. As Dobbes squealed his discontent at being poked in the arm and almost immediately allowed himself to be distracted by Mobbes waving a musical tortoise in front of him, I was convinced that he would be allright. Even though I knew that he, like anyone else would eventually face life's risks, dangers and challenges, I allowed myself to be happy that he is here at the moment, experiencing with all of his senses what life has to offer him right now.

And whether it is the crashing sound of a toy being thrown or his fingers happily tearing into a piece of paper, I am grateful for it. And thankful for Dobbes being with me the way he is.

Dobbes is ONE....

2009-11-08T18:30:00.000-08:00

365 days adds up to 12 months equals to 1 year. ONE. A number which may seems so small but mean so much, especially when it comes to me as Dobbes' Mummsies.

It is hard for Mobbes and I not to think of you as our little baby. In some ways, you will be my baby forever. Mobbes has an even scarier habit of saying to you (while hugging you tightly and burying his nose in your neckfolds): "Don't grow up, little Mini. Don't change. Stay the same!"

But of course, the changes come all too soon. It seemed like barely any time had passed since Dobbes could only lie flat on his back, limbs a-flailing. And now here he is, jumping, crawling, rolling around and defiantly trying to run before he can walk.

The party was a blast and more than that, a lesson in trying to do too much all by ourselves. I wanted Dobbes' party to be hugely fun for everyone who came, especially the kiddies. So I pulled out all the stops and wanted you to enjoy it, Dobbes. Your two bibiks cooked delicious food, Aunty Shila made an incomparable cake and Aunties Tjeannee, Kai and Sheena and especially Uncle Paul made the party so colourful and brilliant that guests asked, "Are these people professional party entertainers?"

No they weren't, Dobbes. They were my friends, and not "just", my friends.

Because although it was a nightmare carting things around from our house to the party venue, of course it was all worth it when you have friends to support your creative intentions and to celebrate with you joyously. You had plenty of presents: enough toys and books to last you at least a year if not more. You had good wishes drawn out and decorated colourfully in your very own scrapbook. And more than that, you had friends who played games with you and plenty of aunties and uncles who showered love and blessings upon you.

Not forgetting your beloved Atuk who shunned golf and his business trip just to get home early enough to help plan, prepare and be there on your special day.

So even though you will probably not retain the memory of your first birthday, do know this: on this day and all the days you have been in our lives you are so loved.

And personally from me to you: when you breathed, my life changed. There is no where else I'd rather be and no one else I'd rather be with than with you and your Daddy. For this year and all the years you walk this earth and ever after, I thank you for coming.

Mis-takes and mis-haps

2009-09-15T13:35:00.000-07:00

It is September. There is somehow a feeling of in-completeness about things in general. We received keys to the new flat ages ago but still have not got renovations going beyond the re-tiling of the bathroom alls and floor. Still waiting to hear back from the bank about the loan despite responding urgently to their requests for this and that document. Work has become more demanding and time together as a family challenged.

And where is the little white Dobbes in all of this?

Leonard and I have a gesture and saying for when we are making plans together and Dobbes somehow can't be a part of it.

"But what about Dobbes?!" we would say to each other dramatically, faces frowning, hands held palms up, heads shaking side to side.

It is because we know that whatever we do without Dobbes as a participant is an aberration. Sounds kind of hardcore, but the feeling of completeness when we are together, the three of us, is hard to describe. It is comforting, yet fleeting, with a certain sense of precious time passing.

*

Dobbes fell off the bed the other day.

The creepy thing about it is that I have always had morbid thoughts of him falling down, someday. It is almost as if I had asked for it to happen, but of course I didn't, could never ever want him to be hurt the way he was.

But the thoughts had always been at the back of my mind.

"What would I do if he falls down?"

"If I turn away for just one second, is he going to fall off?"

"Is it safe just buckling him onto the changetable for a while?"

"I really need to just quickly run to the toilet and not another soul is free to watch him..."

So anyway, he fell off the bed. It happened in a split second, WHILE I was there with him and watching him. One minute he was leaning back against the pillows (somewhat close but not really to the edge of the bed) quietly playing with his hands, and another he was on the floor, face down and wailing.

The sound of him falling was a soft thump like a sack of potatoes suddenly dropped to the floor.

Mobbes heard the noises and poked his head out of the loo.

"What happened?!" he yelled, obviously fearing the worst.

"He fell off the bed," I said sheepishly, Dobbes now in my arms and howling incosolably. Tears rained down his fat cheeks and his eyes were screwed tightly shut, making him look like a little red-faced Chinaman.

"WHAT?????"

Mobbes and I rubbed his forehead and chubby knees, searching for bruises and other signs that he was physically injured. Apart from the red cheeks, there seemed to be none, no swelling, nothing, not even later on.

He demanded milk and then proceeded to nap at my breast. A couple of minutes later, he woke up pacified and wanted to jump around again.

Oh to have the response and resilience of babies!

*

Dobbes is about 10 months and one week now. We celebrated his tenth month with a slice of lemon meringue pie from an anonymous cafe in Siglap. It was pretty good. Dobbes had some too, mostly the fluffy meringue bit.

He is beginning to eat more "normal" foods that are not pureed to death. Apart from fruits and vegetables, he eats mushy rice and pasta, ricotta cheese and baby potatoes.

His Grandpa like to sneak him a little taste of ice-cold orange juice and Coke! He thinks we don't know it but we grew suspicious when Dobbes would always be grinning triumphantly and licking his lips, everytime he comes out of his Atuk's room.

Bad habits begin early...

The other day I was eating keropok lekor (okay, who am I kidding - I'm always eating it these days...) and Dobbes was in my arms. His eyes traced the movement of my hand holding the keropok as I fed myself. I directed the crispy cracker towards his mouth and it automatically opened to receive the treat.

I didn't want to disappoint him so I poked it against his tongue for a split second.

It didn't kill him.

*

There is a youtube video going around Facebook of a little Chinese baby boy lighting up, starting and then smoking a cigarette. He was leaning against his father (I am guessing) and his father's mates were standing around him laughing at the freakshow.

I cannot understand why anyone thought it was funny.

*

About an hour ago, Dobbes woke up gasping and screaming in bed. I tried to give him my breast to comfort him but he wasn't having any of it, pushing me away. He was sweating buckets in his onesie, the flat little pillow he aways used completely drenched.

"Is he having a nightmare? Is he teething?" I thought frantically.

Mobbes was soon awakened by the loud wailing. Dobbes' face was wet with tears even as I sat up in bed and tried to cradle and comfort him. For a moment I had the dumb idea that he was still asleep and shook him but then he opened his huge eyes and looked at me in agony.

The feeling of not knowing what to do is overwhelming when you are a mother. It's like you're supposed to know because your child needs you to and otherwise, how can you help him?

"Get the teether from the fridge," I told Mobbes. He got up dutifully (albeit sleepily) and came back with the object. I put it in Dobbes' mouth but he turned his face away and continued crying. I did it a few times but nothing doing.

I stood up and brought him nearer the air-con vent to cool him down. He leaned his head against my shoulder and complained softly. At least he had stopped howling. I started singing to him.

Hush little baby don't say a word

Mummy's gonna buy you a mockingbird

And if that mockingbird don't sing

Mummy's gonna buy you a diamond ring

(... although what on earth would a baby do with a diamond ring? I'd be better off having it, 'cos it probably wouldn't fit him...)

The complaining dimished to become soft, sleepy sounds. He was still fidgeting so I asked Mobbes to help me change him into a tank top and thin cotton pants. Of course the minute we took off his clothes, he started screaming again.

We made a quick job of it and I settled him against my shoulder again, facing the air-con. This time he was quiet.

Mobbes collapsed against the pillows, exhausted. I clambered onto the bed with some difficulty but managed to lay Doobbes back down on his side. He made motions to suckle, so I let him. Minutes later he was out. His Dad lay on my other side, snoring lightly.

And of course, here I am, at 0539, unable to get back to sleep.

August

2009-08-27T01:53:00.000-07:00

It’s been an embarrassing lapse in the blogging, but not due to embarrassing reasons.

Sometimes, living takes over. I have decided to forgive myself if my accounts and archiving of Dobbesian adventures are a little time-warped. After all, I was there with you, Dobbes, in all your ooh-ing, aah-ing and ah-chooing.

But still, I have made a commitment to write to you and keep writing, so here is the latest.

August 2009 has been a month of illness and attachment for you. I am not sure why you are so prone to catching fevers and colds. No doubt your immunity-challenged Daddy has been picking up various bugs from his daily duties in camp and passing it on to you (and sometimes me) but you have been particularly susceptible to then contracting them from him lately.

Also, I can’t quite decide whether it is amusing or aggravating that you would appear so weak and ill in the mornings just before I go to work, but the minute I decide to take the day off and bring you to the doctors, you would appear all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed again.

Seems a little suspicious to me…

But if you are up to tricks of dramatic deception for us to gain time together, I can’t say I blame you. It is in your blood. At least I know that you crave me being near you and our time together is precious to you too.

***
Mobbes and I have been taking time off once in a while to go on “dates” again. It’s easier to get away with the car at our disposal. But when I say a while, I really mean a while: not more than three hours and most of the time just one or two.

It started with mundane things like picking up groceries or buying furniture for the new house but lately it has been some parties and events that I’ve been invited to. We caught a movie the other time too, after having a pancake supper at a new café.

Every time we go out with just the two of us, Mobbes and I start out happy but end up missing you and rushing home. It’s not just me, it’s your Daddy too. Sometimes he’s the one to say it first.

Although I do admit it is nice to wear something that does not necessarily button in front (for breastfeeding) sometimes and carry a tiny purse instead of a huge bag of supplies, there is just something about having you with us that is preferable.

Maybe it’s about feeling complete.

I don’t know if this feeling will last forever or if it is just because you’re so tiny now and obviously need us around.

But don’t get me wrong: it feels good to want to be with you.

You are what I look forward to when I come home. You are home.

2009-07-07T20:34:00.000-07:00

Today, to put it in the spirit of my favourite musical, is day which is like no other.

There is no day but today.

No day to celebrate life’s little surprises, especially one as special as you.

I’ve always known that you’re special, not only because you grew within me as I nourished you, but because you came into being to fulfill a bigger purpose, the least of which is to make your mother a better, braver person.

You made two people think beyond themselves and have courage to do what few would have done in the face of something unexpected and difficult. You made the unknown beautiful and the unreasonable adventurous. You have made a wonderful relationship magnificent and life on earth unforgettable.

You have made us, come home today.

On Reading

2009-06-17T00:56:00.000-07:00

There is reading and then there is reading.

There is reading on the train to pass the time, there is reading for exams in school, there is on-the-john reading and then there is the kind of reading that you just must do, be it under the covers on a rainy day or stealthily hidden behind your thick Physics text book in class for fear of being reprimanded. It is the reading that you look forward to when Saturday afternoon comes round and the baby is napping (at last). And it is the kind of reading you choose over going out for a movie or a night on the town.

I am glad that I have a penchant for the latter types of reading. Mobbes reads too: comics and Star Wars novels and of late, he has ventured into slightly more classic works like the Narnia series, even thinking of venturing into Tolkien-land. I’m happy about this I must admit, because I hope that one day Dobbes will cultivate the same love for real books and keep it with him forever.

I used to laugh at Mobbes when he claimed to be a reader. Maybe it’s a little bit pompous of me but at that time (and maybe even now) I don’t think he has the same relationship with books the way I do. I still have books from my childhood, books which have been re-read to death, fluff fiction, serious heavy novels, books that I have two copies of because I thought I lost one and simply needed to read it again so had to get another copy (then promptly found the old one). I keep all my books. Granted, they are in boxes now, having made way for Dobbes’ things but I can’t wait for the day I can resurrect them and house them properly in the library of our new home.

Mobbes, on the other hand, has given his books away (ok, I would too if I all I had were Japanese comic school series I never read anymore…) and borrows new ones from friends or the library. He doesn’t think it necessary at all to buy books to keep.

“I keep them so I can re-read them,” I tell him. “Or even if I don’t, it’s just to have, because I want to collect.”

I’m not one of those pristine book collectors either, which Mobbes also cannot understand. If one were to collect books, their spines should be intact, their corners sharp, perhaps even should be bound in clear plastic sheets, the way collectible comics are treated.

Unfortunately my books aren’t like that. They have creased spines, jagged corners, pages inside where I’ve spilled coffee and also maybe some tears. Different books chart different phases of my life, where I’ve sought them out for refuge against cruel words or a broken heart. And then there are books that contain paragraphs and paragraphs of food descriptions which I’ve devoured along with hot buttered toast or chocolate-chip cookies… I think there are still crumbs stuck in between the pages.

I grew up surrounded by books and grew to love them, often choosing them over toys or clothes as birthday presents when I was young. I moved from reading only fiction to essays (initially forced upon during ‘A’ levels and then Uni), then I began reading books on experiences which I sought or could relate too. Travel (my faves are the Rough Guide series, Luxe and Wallpaper guides) will always be a beloved book category, with fashion (Assouline books) and food (the Modern Food Library series: I LOVE them and want to have them ALL) coming in second together and design and décor third.

When motherhood beckoned, I boned up on every bit of baby-reading I could get my hands on, from Bibles such as the “What to expect when you’re expecting” series to Gina Ford’s books, The Baby Whisperer and Super Baby Food among others.

I also read magazines and used to keep them in stacks until the time came when space became a luxury I could no longer afford. Now I cut out articles and pics I like from mags and try to file them (sometimes they end up with curled edges and wet marks from being used as makeshift coasters…)

I guess the point I’m trying to make is that books have always been and will always be a part of my life. Having my books around comfort me, just like snuggling in old jammies and a blanket with soft tunes on the iPod and milk and cookies nearby. Books remind me of who I am and how far in life I’ve come. There will always be books wherever I build a home for myself, Mobbes and Dobbes.

And as you Dobbes, grow stronger, cleverer and more independent and playful than ever, I will turn to books for an excuse for us to cuddle and talk. And maybe, just maybe, you will love these sessions and books too (and it is telling the way you keep grabbing the ones I try to read…) just as much I do, even though they come in far behind me loving Mobbes & you.

Gosh, has Dobbes Grown...

2009-06-09T07:14:00.000-07:00

I've been so busy enjoying baby Dobbes that I haven't been recording any of his progress and it's been almost two months!

Ok, way to state the obvious...

For one, he's started on solids...

For another, he's embarked on travels...

And now he has MUMPS!!!

Am gladdest of all, that he's been the joy of my life these past 7 months and counting... and that he always has a sense of humour...

Something gave, hence I'm blogging...

2009-04-20T07:25:00.000-07:00

It's a bittersweet thing, writing this blog.

On one hand, this means I am adding more memories to the ever-growing archive meant for you, Dobbes. And I know I haven't been good at updating lately and I'm sorry about that.

On the other hand, being too busy to write means that I have been devoting all spare time playing or just being with you and Mobbes.

So what gives?

Mobbes is on one of those dreaded out-field exercises (I just hate how these "army" terms just roll off my tongue now, so familiar I am with them) so he isn't here to nag me to go to bed early. Also, for once you are asleep without too much fuss.

There is much excitement in the days and weeks to come. Mobbes and I are busy laying out plans and ideas for our new apartment and although you will probably never remember it, you will soon be soaking up the sights and sounds of two major cities, one in Asia and another in Europe, one called Hong Kong and the other Paris.

Ah, the joy of travel! If you're anything like me, Dobbes, the tendency for wanderlust will be in your blood. You may be penniless at a time but you will find some way to always be able to plan that month-long trip to New York, and then go again a year after. Sometimes I think that Mobbes may have wanted to travel on his own too, the way I did.

(But then again, frankly speaking Dobbes, if not for me and you, your Daddy would probably be too lazy to plan on going anywhere except Bangkok...)

Life looks different from where I stand with you, Dobbes. There was a time when I didn't think I would ever want this. Partly because I was exhausted trying to find the right guy to share my life and the other because I wasn't really sure if he existed at all or if I was meant to be a wife and mother.

Parties and cocktails, hobnobbing with so-called "cool" people, caring about what I was wearing every day and being extremely independent was fun but kind of lost its charm after a while.

I'm glad the path I was on, confusing and challenging though it may have been, led me to you and Mobbes. Without you and him, travel is just an escape; shopping, a way to kill time and a house, never a home, no matter how perfect its design.

Soon, Mobbes will return to us and in the not-too-distant future there may be more of us cats in the family and it will make me even happier. But for now, relishing having you all to myself, I cannot envision a better time than this, when all it takes to give me tremendous joy is your smile, your laughter, you just being here.

Dobbes Cackles Again

2009-04-20T06:56:00.001-07:00

For some reason, he thinks his Daddy is hilarious.

Dobbes Cackles Away!

2009-04-20T06:55:00.001-07:00

My cutie-pie thinks that laughter is the best thing since sliced bread. And I'm glad he does.

New Landscapes, New Beginnings

2009-04-09T10:31:00.000-07:00

Too fast too soon, time spent with Dobbes all day is over again even before it really began. The two full days I had with him were a flurry of medical and lunch appointments, errands, phone-calls to rectify administrative mistakes and harried shopping.

Also his little body finally succumbed to the nasty cough and cold that had taken hold of his Atuk. Despite trying to stay away from Dobbes until his antibiotics course ended, his favourite playmate couldn't resist cuddling him on Friday, two days before the deadline.

So we ended up taking Dobbes to the docs last Sunday and the sounds of his pitiful sniffles and phlegmy coughs are like painful lashings to my heart. Mobbes does a good job of using the mucus extractor to drain Dobbes' blocked nasal passages but he would wail, kick and scream as if being branded by a hot iron. And he hates the nose drops that we use too.

If that isn't enough, I've just started the new job and work has kept me back from being home in time to give Dobbes his evening bath. In fact, I don't do it anymore. Mobbes tries to rush home to it but I think most of the time it's just faithful Bibik Su who does the job. Meanwhile Dobbes is outgrowing his jammies and beginning to wear the new ones (meant for 6-12 month-olds) even though he's drinking slightly less milk daily. Probably because the blocked nose and tickly throat don't exactly whet his appetite...

Speaking of which, on the milk front, I am going through quite a prolific phase. Perhaps the soups are helping or the little break in between jobs has helped me to stockpile a fair bit of munitions to survive the long hours away from my lovely fatty. It helps that at work, I have a good environment to pump in and now have a pantry and fridge where I can store the milk properly and sterilise equipment so that I don't have to keep carting everything back and forth like a pack mule. Today I expressed twice at work and had to get Mobbes to come down to bring extra arms because I ran out.

The new workplace is also more decent and accessible so the plan is for Bibik Su and Dobbes to come over for lunchtime feeds from next week onwards.

So there's the good and bad in these times. It's hard to leave Dobbes in the morning as he clings to Bibik and looks on while I put on my shoes and leave for work. He still smiles when I rain kisses on his face and blow raspberries on his neck but beneath that is a graver understanding that I am leaving him for eight hours and Bibik will be the one to do his cards, feed him, change his diaper and sing him to sleep.

I am happy that I have the help and jealous at the same time that to help me is to take over my place as Dobbes' main caregiver. Which is why I am doubly committed to make the milk flow for as long and abundantly as I am fit and able to provide it.

And Dobbes will never want for love and hugs and comfort in the night because they are, like me, his for the taking. Even in sleep, he is my king.

Dobbes Turns Over

2009-03-31T08:59:00.001-07:00

Another milestone recorded. :-)

Swingapore, Singapore - Global Shim Sham - Frankie 95 Festival

2009-03-29T01:27:00.001-07:00

Dobbes dances in the hot sun!

Hug Tight

2009-03-13T14:11:00.000-07:00

Something that he does with increasing frequency now, as if he knows that time is precious and when together, love is all that matters.

The winds of change are blowing. I am happy and excited but typically me, I worry in my constant strive for perfection. I'm a worrywart beneath this carefree veneer. I think too much and do even more, so sometimes I'm on the point of bursting (although regretfully, not with milk).

On that note, Su has been making me soups of all kinds. Spinach soup, wintermelon soup, soup with "chekor manis" leaves all with the express reason for me to be able to well, express myself. It's actually working but it takes discipline. I never thought of love as being disciplined before - it's a new concept for me but it's also true.

Back to Dobbes. He's learnt to turn over and surprises himself most times he does it. When he struggles to get his fat butt over from a side position, he wails helplessly and sometimes Mobbes slyly pushes him over when I'm not looking. Then Dobbes ends up on his face, arms and legs flailing as he flaps about haplessly while Mobbes looks on and laughs before righting him.

This process then repeats a few times until they both give up or dinner is ready.

I find myself suddenly remembering things that I must or want to do with Dobbes and do them on the fly. Grab that book, it's got touchy-feely things in it, good for his development. Why am I not using all these rocker-bouncer-contraptions and baby-gyms that we were given; get them out and get him in it. Those flash cards, they're good for him, let him have a view now before it's time to go to bed.

And all this while, the guilt, the guilt, of not being there 24/7 to be able to do this at leisure with peace even as we swap slobbery kisses and hug each other tight.

So for now, it's just the hugging tight. Because if I have to choose just one thing, it is for him to know and remember that not for one second do I stop loving and just loving him.

Love Takes Time.

2009-03-04T07:32:00.000-08:00

And so it seems that time is slipping by, so fast that it is already March, I'm back at work and Dobbes is growing.

Growing OUT, it seems. He hurries through four full bottles of milk in seven hours, wears clothes meant for 6 month-old babies and eyes our meals as he drenches his bib with drool within 5 minutes of putting it on.

While he doesn't seem particularly obese, his triple chins has three red patches of irritation that refuse to go away, and also at the backs of his chubby knees sprouting from thighs resembling fat drumsticks (the kind Alley Oop tears apart with his teeth... am I showing my age much?)

I have already waxed lyrical about how Dobbes changes everyday and is hardly the tiny being I cradled home from the hospital close to four months ago. No mother would lament how her child is well-fed, healthy and growing steadily and strong. The trouble is when she can hardly catch up.

Like a Superhero Mum I aspire to be (breastfeed, career, fashion, lustrous curls... we can have it all!), I made a commitment to breastfeed for two years. It's not a difficult decision: mother's milk is the best food and nothing is too good for Dobbes. Besides, my supply had always been abundant and I'm good at multi-tasking.

But a month back at work and the cracks are beginning to show (though thankfully, not on the nipples). I started with a 3-day workweek but the changes in schedule, activity and focus were enough to make it hard to well, produce. Dobbes does not automatically sleep through the night because Mummy has to go back to work. And it doesn't help that milk expression at the office is mostly a hurried, harassed affair, filled with thoughts of rushing back to work, so that I can hurry through my tasks and speed back home to the Dobbes.

A vicious cycle it is, chasing for time.

I've taken to ferrying bottles of milk back during the day to his highness. Daddoes is a faithful servant when it comes to his grandfatherly duties. Naturally, Dobbes laps it all up (literally).

What mother would begrudge her son, her only son, good food to eat? So what if it's a little challenging? To even view this issue as a predilection is almost an insult to Dobbes, the magic baby himself who made the impossible possible, who inspired an exercise in faith, feats of imagination come true and a new resolve for all things bright and beautiful.

I blunder about in the mornings bleary-eyed, throwing on pre-fabricated outfits planned in my head as I shower and train the unruly rat's nest on my head into some semblance of a french braid. All this an effort to save time so that I can smell him a little longer, or even find time to wash him up myself instead of always depending on Bibik Su.

It's no use trying to fight time. Love is a commitment and making it work derives from a place where time, stress and hardship have no meaning and still I keep on.

Dobbes is 3 months!

2009-02-08T08:00:00.000-08:00

Little and wise...

We had a little chocolate opera cake and gave him a smidgen of taste on Daddy's finger. A check with Babycentre shows Dobbes is progressing speedily and is probably ahead in the area of speech development.

Love our little Chatterbox. Thanks you, Dobbes for making our lives a fruitful adventure!

FEED the children!

2009-02-03T00:21:00.000-08:00

These are children of the world that go hungry and are challenged even as my Dobbes is given every opportunity to have big dreams, a warm bed at night and just love.

I feel for them as a mother differently than I would have as a single person, even with education and empathy. Ignoring them would be like ignoring Dobbes' cries in the middle of the night when he's hungry.

So if you're like me and always need a new bag, you may as well go buy a FEED bag. The FEED 100 bag costs US$30 and pays for 100 nutritious school meals for children in Rwanda.

That it makes a great diaper bag or toy storage receptacle is just an extra. :-)

And so it goes...

2009-02-02T16:35:00.000-08:00

Mobbes the Daddy is quite smug that he wrote the last entry and became excited about me updating the blog. I don't know whether to think it's cute or roll my eyeballs at him, so I did both.

Yesterday we waded through tens of over a thousand pictures of Dobbes that we've been taking since his birth. It has only been two months and 27 days but already we miss his teeny-ness even while enjoying how much cuter he's getting as he grows bigger, chubbier and more cherubic.

Just compare:

I know I'm a new Mum but it is like looking at two different babies. After poring over the pictures, Mobbes pined after the tiny newborn we used to have and is paranoid that current memories would also pass us by quickly. From now on, must always take videos, he says.

So...

I really shouldn't be lazy in updating the blog. Probably no one really follows this journal and that's okay because this is a repository of thoughts, feelings and memories of our adventures with Dobbes that is just for us, the Cat Family. And the good and the bad, it's all here.

***

Speaking of the bad, Dobbes had a fever after his vaccination.

In early days we had freaked out over every little red bump of rash that appeared on the precious' skin. After being assured by the pediatrician (people in the know call them "paed") -- all the way at the National University Hospital miles away from home -- that yes, that is indeed miliaria and cradle cap, we proceeded to buy every known moisturiser, cream and oil that would be safe for Dobbes.

I even managed to stop picking at the skin bits on his scalp. Kinda.

So when he had the fever, Mobbes put on a brave front for all of two seconds before declaring that we should "take him to the hospital". Apparently, my attempts with the cold compress did not impress him. Of course Mobbes also conveniently fell asleep while I stayed up with Dobbes pretty much the whole night, compressing and hydrating him with feeds.

From time to time I would shake Mobbes awake to take temperature. It hovered on the higher side of 37 degrees, even venturing to 38 plus degrees at one point.

At dawn, when Dobbes woke up crying for a feed, his forehead felt cool to the touch. He fed voraciously. I was relieved, knowing instinctively that his fever had broken but poked Mobbes in the ribs just to be certain. He scrambled for the thermometer.

(By the way, we use an OSIM Ear Scan which for the life of me, I can't figure out. Even Mobbes takes about three tries or more to get "correct readings", annoying little Dobbes in the process...)

"36.5 degrees. He's okay!" pronounced Mobbes happily.

We proceeded to celebrate by dressing him up fancy and taking him to Starbucks to play.

***

By the way, best products EVER for Dobbes' skin...

My First New Year

2009-01-27T19:47:00.000-08:00

"Daddy makes a blog entry so i stick my tongue out to give him some cheeky inspiration"

As Dobbes celebrates his first new year of his life he goes around delighting not only Ana and i but all other family members as well, i smile to myself and feel a sense of gladness that he has come in to our lives.

Dobbes got shot...

2009-01-22T10:22:00.000-08:00

... with the 6-in-1 vaccination and was also dosed againset Rotavirus. This was what he looked like before we walked into the procedure room.

... and this was him after:

Don"t think I'll ever, ever be okay with seeing him in pain. Ever.

And he teaches me...

2009-01-21T07:14:00.002-08:00

It's been about 2 months and three weeks since Dobbes came out of my womb and into my life and the experience has been breathtaking to say the least.

A whole new meaning of the phrase "being in the moment" has opened up for me. It's like I have been sleepwalking most of my life and suddenly I have a new pair of eyes, only for him.

It's not just because with a baby, you literally have to watch him all the time. He could turn his face into the pillow, get smothered in the blankets, suddenly attempt to roll over (the edge of the changing table) or remain absolutely still in your arms and then violently jerk his head backwards, missing that sharp corner of the bookcase by half an inch.

With Dobbes, watching him all the time has progressed from a paranoid first-time mother's fear that he may inadvertently be hurt to the sheer joy of basking in his presence. Every moment, every second my child is growing and learning something new and my being there makes a difference. To see him smile because I've made a face and to witness him struggle to let out his own voice and then scream with delight because he did, is a treat I cannot even begin to explain.

I cannot imagine missing out on hearing his first word, to be looking the other way when he attempts his first step, to not be able let him know it's okay when he takes his first tumble. Sometimes I catch myself drifting away when I'm carrying him or nodding off as I breastfeed at some ungodly hour, and often at the same exact moment he would make the cutest sound or pull at my hair as if to tell me, "Hey Momma, look at me. I'm here and I'm all yours."

There are many times in my life I'm on autopilot and I don't think, realistically, that would change. It makes a quick job of showering in the morning, the train ride faster, the ten minute walk from the station to the office in the blazing sun easier to bear. I take for granted that the wind blowing gently on my face is relaxing, that having help at home is convenient, that when I reach sleepily across the bed at night my husband's hand will automatically find mine.

But life also offers me many reasons to be fully present, and to reap the blessings bestowed. In Dobbes, I have found the biggest and most precious.

And because of him, my eyes are wide open.

And a Happy Moo Year to all...

2009-01-14T01:57:00.000-08:00

The Cat Family has been busy eating, partying and opening presents together over Christmas and the new year, hence the hiatus.

January has seen many new dreams coming true very quickly. Mobbes and I have wanted to travel together extensively last year but happily put our plans on hold for Dobbes. Now there's some real opportunity/support to travel as a family to some of the places we really want to visit! Cat family's really excited about that... Hong Kong and NZ, here we come!

Meanwhile exclusively on the Dobbes front, it's been all good too. He's gurgling more, staying awake longer during the day and is predisposed to play a lot. Couldn't ask for more... except maybe to say, "Mama" or some similar facsimile sometime soon? I can only hope; been trying everyday but he keeps responding with "Nnak Ai!"

Only 1.5 months remain of my maternity leave and long, lazy days with Dobbes. Am not really looking forward to leaving him but work I must and besides, I need to get back into shape and lose all my Dobbes-weight...

What's left of the month will be spent luxuriating together and of course, orange and ang pao time looms near. And a veritable feast of laughter and smiles awaits. Til then, happy moo year of the Ox!

Doing the Dobbes...

2008-12-30T19:22:00.000-08:00

He sneezes, grins and coos...

A Very Dobbes Christmas

2008-12-26T14:51:00.000-08:00

Our very best gift this year and every year after...

Date Night without Dobbes

2008-12-26T14:26:00.000-08:00

Tonight, Mobbes and Bobbes left Dobbes at home with Bibik and had their first date night out at Absinthe, the Restaurant Francaise at 48 Bukit Pasoh Road.

It was a little strange not to have to pack the red Kate Spade baby bag and get the Baby Bjorn out for him. I chose my own outfit instead of obsessing over which mittens and socks go with which romper or onesie.

We made sure there was more than enough expressed milk in the fridge and Mobbes gave our little wriggling worm his evening bath before leaving. Daddoes fed him and when we kissed Dobbes goodbye, he was smiling contentedly in his cot, eyes closed.

As if saying, "Go on ahead, you guys, you deserve a little romp on the town!"

I refrained from calling home from the carpark on our way out.

We met Phillippe at the restaurant, which was minty new and very chic indeed. I started with scallops and proceeded with duck while Mobbes had his meat and potatoes. Matt gave me a splash of red wine although I couldn't resist joining them in a glass of bubbly as an aperitif. All the better to let Dobbes sleep through the night.

I gave in to temptation at about 8pm and called home. Bibik picked up.

"Everything all right?" I asked, visions of him crying out for us, refusing his bottle, etc. etc.

"Yes, Mam!" said Su, our helper. "He's drifting off to sleep, only thing is he wants to be cuddled."

A flood of emotion when through me as I pictured a typical night in with Dobbes: us in our jammies feeding and I felt the 'ol familiar tingle. Thank god for breast pads!

I turned to Mobbes, who was considering splitting an order of Absinthe with Matt, who told us he "lost two days" the last time he imbibed it.

"Let's hurry home soon," I said. "I miss Mini."

He looked a bit surprised but pleased. "You sure you don't want to shisha after this?"

I had initially hankered to visit my favourite Arabian cafe in Arab Street to have a session of hookah after being deprived of it during pregnancy and confinement.

"Nah, it can wait."

When we got dropped off home by Shila, we ran to the door, tore off our shoes and banged on Su's door. She opened it smilingly but looking a little tired. Dobbes' white Moses cot was in her room and he was wriggling happily inside.

I sniffed at his strong, sweet, baby scent and wanted to pick him up but Mobbes beat me to it. He led the way back to our room and I thanked Bibik for watching him.

Predictably, the minute we shut thebedroom door, Dobbes opened his eyes and wailed.

I settled into bed, got a boob out and cuddled him. All is as it shoud be.

Full Moon In Dobbes Town

2008-12-08T23:51:00.000-08:00

Our darling turned a month old, Dec 7th 2008. The days are passing by too quickly for me already.

"Nnak Ai!!!"

2008-12-05T12:36:00.000-08:00

One of the persistent motifs in Dobbes' crying pattern is "Nnak Ai!" which varies in regularity and cadence according to whether he's warbling, whimpering or wailing.

Hunger pangs would warrant a steady, hopeful "...nnyakk ai... nyakkk aiii..."while a shitty diaper gets a "nnakk.... aiiiii..... nnakkaiiiiii.... nnakkk.... aiiii!!!!"

If he's in pain, it would be an all out "NNNNNYEAAAAAAKKKKKK!!!!!!!!!!!"

Recently I remarked to Mobbes how cute his "nnak ai" crying sounded. When he wasn't wailing it into our eardrums at 10,000 decibels, that is.

"It's cute the way you say it lah," grumped Mobbes who was trying to settle back into slumber after waking up for a 4am diaper change and night feed.

"It IS cute," I insisted, while cooing,"Nnak ai! Nnak ai!" to a wide-eyed, busily-suckling Dobbes at my breast.

Mobbes sat up. "You do know what 'Nnak ai' means don't you?"

I shrugged.

"'Nak' is the Malay word for 'want'..." began Mobbes.

"... and 'ai' is Chinese for 'love'," I finished, smiling.

All Dobbes wants is love. And even at a couple days old, he knows his mixed heritage.

2008-12-04T22:57:00.000-08:00

During my sixth month of pregnancy, an ultrasound showed Dobbes to have an abnormality of the heart: a mirror image right aortic arch. The cardiologist was concerned that the veins would form a ring around his trachea and, given time, may choke his windpipe.

Such news for a mother indeed.

It did not help that the sonographer running the tests was a curt, tactless woman from mainland China who displayed all the stereotypes of her people. She rudely told me in the middle of the examination that my baby's veins were "not forming properly" (as if I somehow caused it to happen on purpose) and even complained when Dobbes refused to turn into a convenient position for her and kept hiding his heart with his hands (like, can you blame him, with her attitude?)

I chose not to take a recommended amniocentesis to ascertain if Dobbes had other chromosomic abnormalities yet undiscovered. What use would that have been? I was sixth months along already and even from the beginning, there was nothing on earth that would stop me from wanting to have him in my life.

But it did not make the knowledge of his heart condition any easier for me to accept. The only way I managed to get through the following months was to not invest energy into negative thoughts. I was aware that nothing could be done before he was born and also at that point in time he was still forming and growing. Even the cardiologist admitted that there was nothing wrong with the way his heart was functioning.

But it was a different story after he was born and we had to revisit the cardiologist three days ago. I was totally unprepared for the level of anxiety, fear and helplessness I felt when I saw little Dobbes lying on the huge white hospital bed, being prodded in the flesh by the sonographer and cardiologist. There was no escaping this time; my uterus no longer provided him the hiding place he wanted.

That was when it struck me that there would never again be a time like those magical ten months when I was all that my little white dot needed to feel safe. Conversely, I am now powerless to protect him.

Even if the monitoring eventually shows his condition to be safe or if he recovers from any surgery needed, there would always be something in this big bad world for me to worry about for my son. From diaper rash and baby acne to skinned knees, bullies, unrequited love and job politics, Dobbes may either suffer or pull through any one of these or more.

While all my life, I have always been very certain that this is what I ultimately want -- to be happily married to the love of my life with kids in tow -- nothing has quite prepared me for the possibility of experiencing love this deep, when hurt is felt most intensely when the one you love is in pain.

Maybe this is something that only Mothers ever feel. I only know that when Dobbes is peacefully asleep and cooing in his cot, I drink in the sight of this greedily, vowing that I'd throw myself in front of a speeding bus if it can guarantee his health, safety and well-being.

Yummy Mummies

2008-12-02T01:44:00.001-08:00

In the current (Dec 2008) issue of Motherhood magazine. Someday Dobbes, you'll see this and know that your Momma was proud of her bump.

My Angel-Monster

2008-12-02T00:59:00.000-08:00

When I was pregnant, I was the kind of mummy-to-be who did everything she could to bond with her would-be baby. From Day One. Well okay, starting from when I was six-and-a-half-weeks along.

The shock and trepidation gave away quickly to borrowing baby books, Mozart CDs playing every night and reading stories out loud to Dobbes. Any excuse to be close to him, to commune and to eke out whatever information I could about the being within me.

What I got was such a strong sense of his personality from very early on. Call it sixth sense or a Mother's intuition but I knew what made Dobbes Dobbes.

It was in his insistence for making his presence felt, his need to be spoken to, to feel close to the people around him and his enthusiasm to meet the big bad world. He somersaulted his way through 10 months in the tummy, always excited, so much so that he would get hiccups more than twice a day.

The first few days after he was born, Dobbes was in neutral mode, pretty much a benign baby who seemed watchful and observing of the ways of the people around him. He slept a lot and fed just enough, but when he was awake, he was alert and quiet, as if planning something. More than one person remarked on how wise he seemed, how it was as if he knew what whoever carried him was thinking.

Then the days passed and Angel-baby very quickly became a force to be reckoned with. Not for him the clockwork two-hourly feeds and being googoo-gaga'd to. In defiance of what the baby books said a newborn ought to be capable of, he started showing strength very quickly, raising his head high by the end of his first week, standing on his little feet determinedly for a couple of seconds before his quivering knees bested him. He cries at night for conversation and companionship and demands to be spoken to in proper sentences, else he'd look away or roll his eyes.

It did not really come as a surprise to me nor was it a complete turnabout. My sweet monster is the same baby who used to nudge me violently in the ribs from my seventh month of pregnancy and who would kick me reassuringly when his Daddy was away in camp and I was sad.

He seems to save the basic baby 'tude for his Daddy. He has already peed on Mobbes twice and shat all over him once. It's like him saying, "Well, you didn't have to carry me for ten months like my Momma, so here's some extra payback."

Most times Dobbes just wants what every baby want: breast, clean diaper, the room temperature just so and to be jiggled to sleep correctly. But sometimes when it's just him and me again, I catch him smiling that sweet, secret smile and I know that he remembers a time when we were joined by a cord, blood, body and soul.

Our nicknames for Dobbes...

2008-11-28T00:29:00.000-08:00

1. Monstercat -- because he stretches like a cat and eats and shits copiously at clockwork-regular intervals.

2. Baby Bird -- because he roots around like one at my breast.

3. Sylvester the Kitten -- because the picture of this little Looney Tunes baby (on the tissue box) looks almost exactly like Dobbes.

4. Sayang -- obvious reasons.

5. Minicat/Minimeow -- because he is the smallest of us. Mobbes is Maxicat/meow and I am Midicat/meow.

6. Caterpillar baby -- because when he is swaddled, he wriggles about like a caterpillar about to burst out of his cocoon.

7. Babykitten -- because long ago, I was already Babycat.

8. Dobbes -- because we are Mobbes and Bobbes.

Dobbes is Organic.

2008-11-26T16:49:00.000-08:00

As certified by the good people at the National University Hospital.

It's like the human equivalent of a kampung chicken or free-range eggs. Heh.

Blessings in a bundle

2008-11-21T01:35:00.000-08:00

Because of Dobbes...

1. Mobbes and I have a clean house, our laundry done and great food to eat everyday (through our helper Su).

2. Friends and family have rallied support in one way or another, be it in the form of diapers galore, ang pows, healthy supplements for me to nurse my way back to health (Yomeishu, boiled tonics, chicken essence, foul-tasting restoratives...), Kate Spade diaper bags and just plain good company.

3. Our lives have taken on a comforting routine: bath-time every evening at 7pm, dinner, some TV, feed time and husband n' wife time on the bed. Weekends are for cuddles, photo shoots, more good food and fun.

4. Our own Dad (mine) and Mum (his) have a new lease of life as doting grandparents (from which we too benefit!)

5. We look forward to a rainbow-bright future filled with exciting plans of travel, a new home, magical experiences and a lifelong love-affair.

Thank you, Dobbes!

I was put on Earth...

2008-11-19T23:15:00.000-08:00

... not to be an only child, a Madrasah-attending Muslim girl, a PSC scholar, a half-hearted schoolteacher, a show-off Lindy Hopper, a writer, a globetrotter, a party gal about town, a heartbreaker or a paid smooth-talker. All these roles I have played, some with aplomb, others grudgingly. Some I still enjoy and can even get excited about.

But now that I am where I am, it's like finally coming home.

Bobbes was made to fall in love with Mobbes, have Dobbes and fall in love with both all over again.

I'm convinced that I waited all my life for this.

What Dobbes Does...

2008-11-18T17:18:00.000-08:00

A few seconds after birth:

wailed
reached for Bobbes' face with bloodied arms
smiled
suckled expertly at Bobbes' left breast

Day Two:

cried when he pooped for the first time
slept like a log
woke up and smiled for visitors

Day Three:

wore his own steez
hibernated
sleeps with Bobbes on the couch for three hours
hated being bathed
peed in an arc over Bobbes' left shoulder
begins night feeding

Day Four:

suckled like an expert in different positions (cradle; cross-cradle; football; lying down)
made faces when awake and asleep, especially when poo-ing
can hold own head up for a few seconds
had first bath at home and cried through it
lets Bobbes and Mobbes have a long sleep at night

Day Five:

took his first billirubin test and BCG; cried a little but stopped promptly when returned to Mobbes
ate voraciously
sat in the sun
greeted new helper who can cook and clean beautifully!

Day Six:

regained his birth weight
took second billirubin test; hugged Mr. Bear for comfort
went to IKEA
slept with a nightlight

Day Seven:

received visitors at home
charmed them

Day Eight:

third billirubin test, oh my!
continues demand eating
sits in the park again
clears up Jaundice!

Day Nine:

hangs out with Mobbes in front of telly
is determined to produce as many soiled and wet diapers for Mobbes to clean up
inspires a frenzy of cleaning

Day Ten:

suddenly seems very much bigger to both Mobbes and Bobbes; tolerates their cooing

Day Eleven:

receives more visitors and presents including 3 nifty new swaddles and an OSIM uPure for the kitchen sink!

Mechanics Vs. Intention

2008-11-13T11:02:00.000-08:00

Daddoes volunteered to watch Dobbes the other day as he often does whenever he gets the chance, so I took a long shower.

As I soaped myself (taking great care to stand breast-side away from the warm spray), it occured to me that this year has been all about possibility and results.

When Mobbes and I first started dating, it was founded on impulse, serendipity and gut instinct. There was no reasonable explanation how a long-term committed relationship could follow so quickly or easily but it did, in a very natural and sincere way. Who would have thought giggling over a fellow dancer's nutty, unrequited crush on him would eventually bring on love, marriage and a baby in the carriage et. al.?

The initial bloom of excitement at getting together and so in love quickly grew from the being-inseparable stage to an impossible-to-live-without-the other situation. So I moved in, we did the party rounds enjoying couplehood and planning a life together in a not-too-distant future when suddenly came the Dobbes early this year.

And what a spanner in the works. Unforseen and unplanned but witnessing his existence today, how could we have made any other choice but him?

The rational side of me considered the mechanics of having a baby immediately: money issues; having to put our travel plans on hold; no big wedding; no childcare support; what would our famillies say; etc. etc. etc....

And of course Mobbes had an easy answer for all my questions.

"The mechanics," he said, "can be handled." And he was right.

There has been no end to the luck, joy and blessings that little white Dobbes has heaped our way. Our relationship with our own parents have improved, our friends banded together in emotional and physical support for the baby (want pram? electric breast pump? baby-sitter? help with household? Done!) our lives are organised and focused, we have a helper who cooks us delicious healthy meals as we cuddle up cosily together every night, a warm satisfied cat family...

Soon, we'll have our own nest in good time and Wobbes cannot wait to join us when that happens.

This year has seen big changes in our lives that we made happen that others take years to consider and ruminate upon and may not even end up achieving in a lifetime.

All this because Mobbes and I were clearly intentioned when we chose Dobbes. Everything else is just easy.

Here Comes The Son...

2008-11-13T00:51:00.000-08:00

He arrived close to full-term on the 7th of November, 1937hrs. I had been cooking with Mobbes a lot the past few days before and spending some time with Dad talking about my own Mum. A lot of domestic and nesting moments, feeling more and more ready and settled mentally and emotionally, although the room was still in a shambles and many things -- the maid situation, the baby stuff lying everywhere, the cord blood issue -- left uncertain.

But when the surges started, it was early in the morning, before Mobbes left for camp. I was lying in bed and as he cuddled me in the minutes before leaving as he does each morning, I felt the intensity and the coming of something.

"I think Dobbes is coming today" I told him.

Well, it was a full day and a half later before the moment but the pre-labour hours were surreal. Least expected was the incessant nausea coming at every half hour interval or even more frequent.

By the time I got to the hospital I was 3cms dilated. A little early to go in perhaps, but the feeling of sick made me want to be taken care of and move the delivery forward.

The water birth didn't happen for me as planned but I managed to labour in the water for two sessions, using it as a form of pain-relief. I'm happy that I managed to avoid artificially rupturing my membranes and only took a bit of Oxytocin and a few gulps of Entonox towards the end before I was fully dilated and Dr. Vanaja came in.

"He's crowning already! Can you try pushing? You look like the pushing sort!" she told me.

And push I did, maybe about ten times or less. It was only 30 minutes and he was out, my beautiful rainbow Dobbes. We decided not to store the cord blood so we delayed the cord clamping, Mobbes prodly holding the scissors to snip it when it stopped pulsing.

I had asked Mobbes to cut off the front of my nightgown so that I could hold Dobbes skin to skin, which I did for at least an hour or more. Weighing, measuring and bathing the baby could wait! The staff and surgeon smiled while Mobbes and I beheld little Dobbes euphorically, with Catherine our doula by our side.

Later when Grandaddy, Grandma and Uncle George had left after visiting and all was normal again (and I had found time to faint twice in the bathtub while cleaning myself, falling into Mobbes' arms), the cat family found themselves alone in the neo-natal ward. The nurse came to give me medication.

"So what is your pain scale now?" she asked.

"Zero," I said honestly.

I took the medication anyway, since she told me that the endorphins of giving birth naturally would waer off and the discomfor between the legs where the tiny tear had occured may eventually set in.

But nothing could possibly feel stronger than the abject love I feel for Dobbes that enveloped me like a magic cloak that night.

Even now, I catch myself looking at him, smelling him and feeding him while feeling that nothing on earth would ever be as good as this choice I made: to have him in my life and birth him the way I did, with no drugs, his father present and involved all the way.

And now, the journey is just beginning again.

Pre-natal Yoga... at 37/38 weeks...

2008-10-28T23:20:00.000-07:00

Okay, so I left it a little late.

But really it's better late than never. I am lucky that pre-pregnancy I was always active: running around, dancing/teaching dance and did yoga from time to time. So I've been quite supple. Even in my first, second and towards the beginning of my third trimester, I made it a point to walk short distances often.

Towards the end of my second trimester, you started getting heavier than I thought you would be, Dobbes. I looked small, so I thought I'd be okay. But I started experiencing Pelvic Girdle Pain, a.k.a PGP that increased in intensity. Today, I can't walk ten steps without my right buttock seizing up in a sudden spasm that can last anything from a couple of seconds to long minutes. It gets scary when I'm crossing the road...

So now that I am officially on leave, I started pre-natal Yoga classes with Colleen Simmonds who has been teaching it for quite some time. The class was generally rejuvenating as well as relaxing; far from the strenuous yoga I used to do when the belly was flatter. I was horrified to discover how out of yoga-shape I am. Maybe it is because the belly is in the way, but my joints are now so loose and tender that I feel I have lost a lot of strength that I used to have in the past.

So ladies who are pregnant, or planning to get pregnant: keep on the yoga and start early (after 1st trimester should do the trick...).

I miss teaching Yoga Kids and remember the fun play stuff I used to do during class-time, especially the ones at Club Med. The kids were so game and fun and the setting -- with the open air by the beach/pool -- was so conducive.

You're definitely doing some baby yoga with me Dobbes. I think from the way you keep moving and flowing in my belly seems like you're doing the sun and moon salutation all the time!

Until then, I'll just wait patiently while you have all the quiet time you need in there to grow a strong body and a beautiful soul so that when the world greets you, you will sit in lotus and calmly offer your gifts.

Namaste.

On How Mobbes Met Bobbes...

2008-10-27T23:46:00.000-07:00

So the column has attracted a range of attention: from those who are honestly interested about our story (I honestly can't think why... I mean, our lives are waaaay normal from our point of view!) to those who are inspired and supportive and finally those whose own lives are so mundane/predictable and whose minds are so small as to be offended by our very existence.

I'm just thankful that me plus him equals you Dobbes. I wouldn't change that for anything, my love.

Dobbes has tons of media coverage secured...

2008-10-14T03:53:00.000-07:00

So far he's been mentioned my two my paper columns, a feature in Style Weddings and has dedicated stories on his birth in Today's Parents and Mamabaobei.

Oh and Motherhood magazine wants me and my belly to model for an editorial they're planning.

Okay so he's not quite Shiloh or Suri and we're far, far removed from TomKat and Brangelina.

But I definitely like Mobbes&Dobbes better. :-)

Oh the halcyon days...

2008-09-03T10:30:00.000-07:00

I am not nearly on the verge of hanging up my bananaskirt just because I'm becoming a Mummy soon.

Not just anyone's mummy at that, but Dobbes' Mummy. Dobbes, son of Mobbes whom Ferlin (good friend, sage and Angle Oracle) says is a special child, far better, wiser and "gooder" than I could ever be if I tried. Dobbes knows whether I'm sad or glad, varying the tempo and tone of his kicks according to my mood.

He has a personality which is growing stronger everyday. When I first saw him somersault on the ultrasound screen, I thought to myself, "Okay, that is all Leonard's genes -- wired and physically active!" but now I am realising that Dobbes is not just a combination of Mobbes + Bobbes but larger than the sum of our parts. A gestalt baby, so to speak.

He has a mind of his own and needs to be spoken to reasonably and rationally. No amount of cooing would work on him I think, though he calms down from his vigorous stretching and jazz dancing with a lot of loving belly-petting and attention. My tummy varies from looking quite averagely bloated to beached whale proportions especially after dinnertime. But Dobbes always, always feels huge and all-consuming, his presence felt every second of every hour, our bond so strong that I cannot possibly tear my thoughts away from him or anything to do with him.

Even in sleep, he dominates and reigns supreme. No amount of pillows (pregnancy ones or otherwise) and propping can satisfy him to allow me to drift into slumber for more than twenty minutes before getting up to toss, turn or pee.

Cuddling with his Daddy all night like I used to is a sweetly distant memory. He kicks between us so that we spring apart and I have to shift again. When Leonard tries to spoon me, Dobbes will either kick or nudge violently into my ribs, sometimes in a fervent pulsating way that makes me afraid for his safety, what more comfort. So Daddy will eventually give up, roll over to the far side of the bed, leaving me with our son to contemplate the sacred, secret developments of our bodies and how we're both preparing to meet each other soon.

And all the times when Mobbes is away, it is just me, Dobbes and sleepless nights filled with love and longing. For comfort, to have our family whole and anticipating a time when all that is meant to be falls into place.

In the meantime, I revel in this exquisite pain-pleasure because I chose this... I choose Dobbes and I choose to be alive.

Loving Dobbes

2008-08-25T12:29:00.000-07:00

As the journey progresses to phase two, we read up in preparation. We can't wait to meet you, Dobbes!

I Could Write A Book...

2008-08-21T14:53:00.000-07:00

Synopsis: Boy and girl meet, fall in deathless love amidst trials, self-protestations (as well as from others) and lots of food and travel. A story as old as the hills. But better for being real.