Archive for December, 2008

it was really hard getting the twins in the same picture – either one was asleep while the other was awake.

so we had fun watching the older kids instead. boy-chasing starts early for some girls, apparently! so much for our warning on aniq zohan’s t-shirt – lock up your daughters. ;p

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we had the rare occasion of a willing babysitter for the night, dinner reservations were made, outfits picked out, but as i’d written in the previous entry, plans sometimes go awry…

so we were a few couples short, and scaled down our own celebration in respect to a dear friend who’d just lost a beloved family member.

our initial dinner reservation at hotel intercontinental was cancelled, but we still had that table at 3 Monkeys for later that night, so seeing that birthday presents still needed exchanging and tummies still needed filling, we braved the traffic into town on a saturday night for that couples’ night out we needed so much.

All the 'single' ladies...
all the ‘single’ ladies…

we’d never been to the now-defunct boom boom room, so this was the first time seeing kumar’s show (i hear he’s singapore’s only real national institution, hurhur), and omfg – the things he gets away with!

Fadz's favourite
what a drag!

no holds barred, risque and irreverent, raunchy and bawdy, he basically entertained only our table and another’s next to us, both filled with, yes, melayus, lol! because, erm, we were like the most boisterous and ‘appreciative’ ones in the room, and got his (mostly dirty and/or racist) jokes. he loves us melayus lah.

and oh, what’s a birthday without being duly humiliated in public, right?

THANKS EH KORANG FOR SABO-ING. macam siak i tell you. but nevermind, because you give me cake and present, i still loves you. next time i give each of you a lapdance… NOT!!!

now, my fellow birthday girl lydia on the other hand…

Go, Lydia, go! :D

i think she’s secretly a professional laptop lapdancer, can??

Lydia & Hana

aside from that, thank you once again for the wonderful time, and for getting me to break into that LBD… which i’d probably never find the chance to wear again. :D

ps: and happy birthday to another december babe, ayu, who is busy slogging away with flour and eggs all the way in perth. you are sorely missed by the 77clan, whose AGM should be right about this time of the year. xoxo.

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i know i’ve said it before – twice actually, after the past two birthdays – that i wouldn’t plan anymore parties, but… it would seem that i have a sick addiction to it. coupled with my masochistic tendencies, the birthday party monster reared its ugly head yet again for the third year.

(they tried to make me go to rehab, but i said no, no, no…)

so The Plan was to hold a soccer party for the boy at the futsal pitch where his daddy and friends, aka Footsie FC, usually convene for their weekly soccer.

everything was set – barely a few days before the event, seeing how i thrive on deadlines and adrenaline – but, as the scottish poet robert burns wrote, ‘the best laid schemes o’ mice an’ men, gang aft agley’.

or in other un-cheem language, you can plan swee swee, but something sure go wrong one lah!

i’d naively hoped that it wouldn’t rain, but as nature has proved time and again, december is indeed a month fraught with uncertain weather.

it’d been nice and toasty all week, so my heart sank when i woke up to a wet and chilly sunday morning. don’t worry, it’ll clear up, the ever-optimistic husband said, looking up at the grey heavens.

an hour before the party, the clouds still refused to budge and continued to relentlessly drizzle its contents, literally taking the piss out of the harried party organiser underneath.

so an executive decision was made for a change in venue, caterer and guests redirected, and well… we ended up at the same, boring ol’ multipurpose hall nearby. there goes the photo ops with a nice backdrop and change in scenery for my – err, i mean, his party!

and of course, soon after the call was made and guests streamed in, the sun sneaked peeks behind its cumulus curtains. yeah, play games with my heart, why doncha.

anyway, i’d engaged Socatots to organise the games and activities for the kids, in line with the soccer theme (i’m big on themes, if you haven’t noticed), and i think that was definitely fun, especially watching the little ones follow instructions from the soccer coaches and run around in a (somewhat) orderly manner. age 3 is great for these things, and i think, my favourite age.

The Team
the Team

Boys with balls
boys with balls

Cake
cake!

Song singing
sing-along

Izadnhana
“i loves mummy, i loves daddy, i loves baby auni” – aniq

Feed me, aunties!
stuffing the poor baby with cake. not that she’s complaining.

so that was that. never mind that we didn’t have a nice sunny romp on the synthetic grasses of the futsal field. we had lovely company, and the kids were happy.

and i shall now head to birthday party rehab.

wait, would it count if i did for auni’s 1st birthday…?

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i am, undoubtedly, still a novice and mere amateur in the art of dressing up a little girl (god knows i even have trouble dressing up myself), and she’s still at that rapidly-growing stage where i’m reluctant to splurge on her clothes (i may have bought her a grand total of, oh i don’t know, four ‘nice’ dresses to date?), relying solely on hand-me-downs and gifts from kind-hearted friends and family.

other than spending loads on clothes, the challenge is to make her look… girlish, despite her bald pate. so what’s a mum to do but accessorise her follicle-challenged baby, right?

i’ve been getting a number of enquiries about auni’s hair(less) adornments, so i thought i’d care and share once and for all, the site where i’ve been getting her little bows from… AND with a little discount at that!

so, mosey on over to http://www.sugar-bows.com, and choose from a buffet of candy-coloured bows, and get 10% off your total purchase!

before you proceed to checkout, just remember to enter the Discount Coupon Code: 10BPH01, exclusively for izadnhana readers. :p

and you can use it over and over again for one entire week (or pass it on to your friends and fellow ribbon-fetishists alike!), ending midnight next wednesday, 23 Dec.

have fun shopping!

ps: if you’re looking for the nylon headbands auni has in pink and white, they’re currently out of stock, but i’ll keep a look out for them when they’re in, okey?

pps: thanks, angela, for setting up this bow party~ ;)

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i blame my WAGs-wannabe friends (hah! wannabe! wasn’t that a spice girls’ song? zigezig ahh…) for inspiring this.

nevermind the bad press about her, and i don’t really care much about her excessive collection of designer dresses, bags, and shoes (though they are, admittedly, amazing).

what i do like, or at least what’s portrayed in the media, is her clear devotion to her children, while looking RIDICULOUSLY FABULOUS, with nary a hair out of place. i mean, this woman seems to go almost everywhere with her kids, bringing them herself to something as domestic as soccer practice, without a nanny in sight, and appears to manage them admirably well too. sure, there are probably bodyguards hovering around… though, hmm, come to think of it, maybe she pays them to make sure her boys don’t misbehave in public. :p

in any case, she’s quite a force to be reckoned with, methinks. coz it surely can’t be easy handling three boys (that’s another point, i love that she has all boys instead of prissy mini-me versions of her – makes her look even more ‘fierce’, somehow!), while looking like the million dollars that she’s worth, and cameras flashing at their every move.

and in the spirit of the event that's taking place this sunday (*wink wink*), here's something i made up for my WAGs-wannabe friends, who harbour secret crushes on her... lol!

(to sing to the tune of Beyonce’s ‘If I Were A Girl’)

If I were Posh Spice
Even just for a day
I’d roll out of bed in the morning
And throw on my skinniest jeans and go
Eat out with the girls
And chase after kids
I’d shop with who I wanted
And I’d never see those credit card bills
Because my Becks will pay up for me

If I were Posh Spice
I think I could understand
How it feels to love Hermès
My Louboutins and all those brands
I’d wear just high heels
Though I know how it hurts
And I’d have my boobs inflated
A tan that’s never faded
And to-die-for hair that’s perfectly coiffed

It’s a little too late for a Spice Girls comeback
Say it’s just a mistake
To sing in a girl band
If you thought I’d grow frumpy
You thought wrong

But you’re not Posh Spice
You don’t understand (yea you don’t understand)
How it feels to love Hermès
Someday you’ll wish you had a richer man
You don’t like soccer
You don’t care how it’s played
Until you have your boobs inflated
A tan that’s never faded
And to-die-for hair that’s perfectly coiffed…

see you girls on sunday!

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so he officially turned three.

we brought a cake to his school the day before as a mini pre-birthday… thingy, since there would be a ready group of kids his age who were likely to contribute to the liveliness of a birthday party and pounce at the sight of cake. (my other motive being, of course, to contribute to a positive schooling experience for him. riggghhht.)

ohh, the birthday cake.

because we didn’t want to spend so much on this cake, and because we didn’t have time to get one any earlier, all four of us trudged our way across tampines the evening before, in full raya gear, braving the drizzling rain and the holiday crowd, in search of a ready-baked one that would suitably impress little children.

we must have gone to at least… SEVEN bakery shops, to no avail. we had almost exhausted the list of bakeries we knew of in tampines when finally, at the eighth shop, just before the shops started to shut down for the day, we found something, well, close enough to our criteria. sufficiently cheap, slightly childish, and somewhat cheesy (doraemon, nemo and tweety – a mismatched combo of characters, if any.). :D

we were like, “omg, bertuah ni anak, what ridiculous lengths we go to for him. eight bakeries! tsk.”

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for a few weeks prior to his birthday, i’d been prepping him to discard his bottle for good.

yes, i’m ashamed to say that, despite our success in toilet training and other aspects of ‘big boy’ behaviour, weaning him off the bottle was the last to go. dentists will tell you to get rid of the bottle when a child turns one, but seriously, how many of us actually have the heart to do it, right?

he’d never lingered on the bottle or hung on to it – he actually guzzles down his milk in 60 seconds flat – so i wasn’t too worried about his teeth. i suppose my reluctance to wean him off was because it took a pretty long time (a year, actually) for him to accept a bottle from me, being the faithful tekboy that he once was.

but it had to be done eventually, so i gave him the cut-off date, and he nodded in understanding each time.

“i throw my bottle, because i big boy, i abang!”, he’d repeat when asked what he had to do on his birthday.

so after his last drink that morning, i brought out the dustbin, set it in front of him, and let him do the deed.

“bye bye, bottle!”

and that was that, you think.

well, just as with many kids and drug addicts, surely there would be initial lapses, my 3-year-old included. thing is, he only threw it in *our* house, but we should’ve done it at his oma’s house too, because when he came back from school later, he demanded it from his oma, lol! she called to consult me, and we both agreed not to give in. cold turkey, baby.

funny thing is, when i got back, he reiterated his “i throw my bottle, because i big boy, i abang!” to me, and didn’t ask for it at all. but in the middle of the night, he suddenly appeared and climbed next to me in bed, something out of character for him.

so i concluded, there’s more to the bottle that meets the eye. the bottle is more than a mere receptacle for drinking – there are comfort and security issues attached to it, even for the most gungho of kids, my 3-year-old included. i had a pep talk with him again today, and i think we’ve come to an understanding.

as with other things – he’ll get over it.

after all he’s a big boy, he’s abang.

i just hope i didn’t ruin his third birthday too much with the memory of his dearly departed Avent.

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hurtling past the 30 mark, plunging further into the vortex that is Thirtysomething, i think some changes have taken place within myself more than i’d like to admit.

foremost, things and people and situations that used to matter or bother me, well, they don’t anymore. or at least not as much as they used to. many of them have been brushed away under the categories, ‘Not Worth My Time’, ‘Can’t Be Bothered’, or ‘Heck It, Who Cares’.

and as much as i’d like to place myself at the top of the list – more ‘me’ time, more ‘me’ activities, more ‘me’ money – i find myself consciously taking the backseat (figuratively and literally – i can’t wait to re-claim my front passenger seat in the car!), foregoing my wants, and revolving my life and schedule around these two. sure, i’d love to chuck them somewhere and go off on a holiday. but… nahh. not now.

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my chunky monkeys

so, here’s to my Thirtysomething years, fraught with my all-consuming pursuit of attaining uber-mom status (this, of course, being one entire level above nirvana, ie. impossible!).

it better be ‘Worth My Time’, dammit.

and here’s an example of ‘Heck It, Who Cares’… if a seven-month-old baby gets a taste of Triple Chocolate Chunk ice-cream! :p

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i hope some day you’ll repay me with more than fine vermont ice-cream, my little ones. (maybe fine belgian ones, ha ha.)

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On Aniq's bed

she crawls like a little commando girl, the same way her big brother used to when he was a baby. she creeps all over the house, discovering new nooks and crannies, collecting a trail of dust and hairball along the way. when her ‘engine’ stalls as she contemplates her next destination, her legs go kick-kick-kick behind her, like a curious little kitten swishing its tail. her favourite room is her big brother’s, which has plenty of things, big and small, for her to grab at and stuff into her mouth.

she loves to be held up on her feet, and when she hears some music or mummy singing her scratchy renditions of “tepuk amai-amai”, she will attempt to clap her hands. attempt, because the claps come off totally inaudible. her favourite nursery rhyme is humpty dumpty, especially the part where he falls.

she adores her big brother – still! – and her face lights up in a bright cheesy grin whenever she sees him. repeated acts of big brother silliness elicits fits of giggles from the little one, and she will pull at his hair to slobber him at any given occassion. the big brother loves the attention, the adoration clearly mutual, hair-pulling and face-slobbering notwithstanding.

she eats brown rice porridge with veges for lunch, and mushed up fruits like bananas, apples, pears, papayas, and tomorrow, avocado (finally!), for tea time. i think she eats much better than me. and poops better too.

she still drinks mummy’s milk full time. well what do you expect, right? the freezer is still full of frozen bags of milk, barely needed because her mummy prefers to give the fresher stuff – she’s hardcore like that. sometimes her big brother unwittingly chugs down his friso laced with mummy’s milk. like today, when we realised there was only one scoop left in the friso tin. one time, we tried getting her to nurse on mummy’s good friend, for the heck of it, but barely a few suckles in and she realised that it wasn’t mummy. so it looks like she can still marry abang rayhan in future, lol! ;p

she doesn’t know yet that ‘bye-bye’ means mummy will be going out of the door and leaving her behind for some ten hours or so. so she cluelessly breaks into that disarming grin of hers and jumps up and down excitably when i wave ‘bye bye!’ and go to work. oh, wait till she eventually gets it.

she has a hard time sleeping in the day now, long gone is the time when all she ever seemed to do was sleep. she takes a few half-hour power naps, much to the chagrin of her grandma, but sleep she does at night, a good nine hours before calling out to me in the morning like a faithful alarm clock.

sometimes she irritates me, sometimes she amazes me; sometimes i resent her, sometimes i adore her; sometimes i feel drained by her, sometimes i just want to smother her soft puffy cheeks; sometimes i gladly push her to the nearest available arms, sometimes i want her back in my arms and no one else’s.

sometimes i think i can’t go through this whole baby thing again. sometimes i think… we’ll be ok, she and i.

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