1. the stroller is a necessary evil when we go out for long trips. It is a pain in the ass to carry up and down the bus, a horror to wheel out of Orchard MRT station and super irritating to navigate the never-ending construction.
2. the able bodied people who insist on taking the lift and try their best to avoid my gaze as they refuse to lift a finger to keep the door open when I reach just as the doors shut. *say is that a dandruff I see on your hair?“
3. more able bodied people whose eyes are glued to their handheld games and refuse to move their legs. Nevermind when said person is sitting. Even when said person is sitting in the ‘privileged’ seats. Just move your FEET. (Oh, nevermind, I’d just roll over your feet…)
4. idiots who insist on rushing into the train as I try and alight with bulky stroller. “Now, I really do not want to go down another stop!!! Let me out!” or even for the ‘wheelchair’ access gates. Really why do you need such a big walkway? Scared your precious monogrammed bag gets caught on something?
5. money grubbing kopitiam drink stall owners who insist on asking for 20cents for some water. So atas. But wait, Paragon has a lovely water dispenser for mummies on the go (although it is utilised by cleaners on a break… you can hear metal spoons clanging as they stir their kopi).
6. every Tom, Dick or Harry that turns into the world’s expert paed when a child is sick “chicken pox! too hot lah! measles! rash!” (when Jayden was experiencing the roseola fever rash).
7. having to navigate a shopping trolley filled with groceries, a folded stroller and a fussy kid who insists on being carried. Multiply irritation when kid has soiled diaper.
8. diaper changing by myself. All hell breaks loose. Oh yes, why do some inconsiderate parents allow their kids to pee into the washbasin?!
9. other inconsiderate people who insist on rushing past me to board the (empty) bus. Can help carry stroller? The bus driver will still have to wait for me to be done
10. shopping malls with no mummy friendly washrooms (Compasspoint, for example, only has diaper change stop right on the top floor…!), lots of steps (WISMA!!!) and just plain unfriendly staff who eyeball you when you push the stroller around.

K, gripes aside, I have met some really lovely people who stop to help. Like the bus driver eons back (service 105) who actually got down to help me with the stroller. The kind man, a fellow commuter who helped on the shuttle service between Mt Alvernia and Novena MRT. The nice passengers who gave up seats for us so that we could feed the boy on the way home. The really friendly cab driver who dropped us at Plaza Singapura who got out of his cab to help me with the stroller and tried to entertain the boy enroute. There is hope yet…

but meantime, I bite.

Scary. I thought they were giving me away. I decided to play it cool but I kept my eyes WIDE OPEN, ready to raise a din the minute they try to abandon me somewhere. I am sure with the cries I am capable of, they would not get very far. Not even when there are 4 of them against little me.

But nothing happened. When daddy stopped the van, mummy carried me out and we ended up in a lift. It was similar to the one as when we head to P grandparents’ place in Yishun but but, she pressed the 9th floor instead. Usually she presses the 6th but then again, this lift did not have that available either. Hmm. It got stranger as we got out of the lift. Everything was different. We ended up outside this brown door and when we entered, they all said something about that place being our home. Weird.

I was placed on the rocking bed… my eyes were looking all over the place but could not figure out where we were. Later they put me in another playpen and in a foreign room. Strange. Very strange. The next few days got even stranger. Especially on the 17th. Suddenly I see so many people! Some were familiar, I seem to have seen them at the hospital. They came to welcome me soon after I was out. But there were many more new faces.  I heard them saying they were either friends of daddy or mummy. Either way it was good having them around. More people to carry me!!!

Unfortunately they all left and I am stuck yet again with mummy and daddy. Sigh. I wonder when they will come again…? Any clue? Next week maybe?

In my calendar, there was suddenly “29 Feb, 30 Feb…” and more days in February 2007 than any other February before if not for the sleepy dormant brain deciding to wake all of a sudden. I was updating the records of Jayden’s intake to monitor what goes in (and comes out) and happily just continued climbing the numbers. Gah…

We have settled into a routine of sorts. Jayden has his first feed of the day at 12plus or 1ish then proceeds to have a blissful sleep all the way till 5.30am where he wakes us all up with his hunger cries. We all know he will wake around that time but just are too exhausted with looking after him in the day to crawl out of bed any earlier to prepare. He continues on with his next feed at 8.30 and knocks out till lunch or close to. Inbetween we wake him for a bath where he tests the foundations of the house again with his screams though we have learnt that a nice HOT bath will do the trick in silencing him. Afternoon rolls along until 5plus again with another feed and one midway through… the afternoon meals are dependent on him. He has not worked out his schedule nor submitted it for approval thus far.

Mealtimes are a constant struggle for the bottle (EBM, some mine some thanks to Angela! *thank you very very very much!*), trying to get him to latch onto the breast (not working out all that well thus far) and also towards the end, keeping him awake. He can manage between 90 to 120ml per feed but once he passes 60ml, he gets sleepy and not very eager to feed… sometimes even falling asleep during the feed. *Geez*

Still he does seem to be growing. We do try to wake him up but time has taught us, no point… this babe will wake when HE feels like it. Daddy V has been pretty naughty, getting his sleepy escapades on video. Nothing stirs him. Like just now when some colleagues came by after work… they happened to come shortly after his feed when he was full — satisfied. He had fallen asleep and I was using the bolster to tap him to wake him up. No go. A stretch and its on to the next lap of dreamland he goes. The whole half hour we spent talking around him was probably more effective as a lullaby.

Occasionally, he has shown that he likes to be carried. Crying a little to get your attention, he squirms his way into your hands and falls asleep there after a few minutes. Silly boy. But somehow, such times are quite precious because he sleeps most of his day away. It is about the only other time we get to spend with him.

Between feeds, he keeps us busy with washing and sterilising bottles, laundering his clothes and folding them, changing his diapers, expressing milk and warming it for use… It is a real full time job. So I really buay song the reader who commented in TODAY that “to put the homemaker on the same pedestal as that on which we place NSman is an affront”. Grr. I mean, seriously speaking, if NS was not enforced, how many would willingly go through it?

I quote Siao Kian Kiong who wrote to TODAY regarding homemakers and the budget…
I refer to the article, “A plea for those who miss out” (Feb 28), which called for housewives/househusbands to receive benefits under the recently-announced budget.
Being a homemaker is a self-centred decision, made only for the benefit of one’s family. On the other hand, National Service is compulsory and it involves sacrificing for the nation. NSmen have the sacred task of defending the nation in time of war, to the extent of laying down their lives for their country.
To put the homemaker on the same pedestal as that on which we place NSmen is an affront.

I say he has no wife. Don’t get me wrong, I do not disagree that the decision is somewhat self-centred but surely the benefits that comes along with that decision also benefit the larger community. No time to sit and seriously pen out my arguments on this… but you can if you want.

Off to look on my sleeping beauty prince.